No. For her, marriage might one day be a possibility if she never saw Ashleigh again and the memories somehow faded, but that was unlikely. Her future had to lie in some other direction.
That was why she visited Mr. Prufrock so often, making herself useful by cleaning up and arranging the books in attractive displays. She had almost convinced him to take her on as an assistant, to teach her the business, so that he could gradually let her take over. She was not sure how much he would want for the shop when he was ready to retire, but she had those pearls. It might be possible to sell them for enough.
She was well away from the town now, though still walking along the path by the river. It was a warm day, and the slight breeze felt pleasant. She was wearing one of her new dresses, a pale green muslin with a lemon yellow stripe in it, and a yellow spencer. It was becoming and made her feel pretty. She knew men had in the past found her attractive and desirable but that was different. The way Farnsworth had looked at her had made her feel soiled.
Today, she felt young and pretty and even hopeful. She had convinced herself that she could look forward to the future. She did not have to fear it. And if she simply avoided Ashleigh, she would somehow manage to forget him. She stepped forward cheerfully, but then came to an abrupt stop. Up ahead, where the river veered close to the road, the duke was standing, watching her. He was very much the country gentleman today in his buckskin breeches and boots, holding a low-crowned hat. His horse was beside him, looking around as if to ask if this spot was really worth a lengthy visit.
Ashleigh smiled as he bowed to her. “Good day, Miss Darling. I did not mean to startle you, but I thought I caught a glimpse of you through the trees.”
“Yes, well, I was just out for a walk.” Good heavens, she sounded like an idiot. Why was she so flustered? “It is a lovely day, is it not?” Worse and worse. Now she was talking about the weather like some insipid miss.
His smile faded to a frown as he looked about. “You are alone? Do you not at least have a maid accompanying you?”
“Hardly.” She could not help laughing at that. “I have been walking alone all my life, Your Grace, and my aunt’s maids have better things to do than to tag along after me. Surely you do not think there is danger lurking along the river here.”
He continued to frown. “One never knows. A public road runs along here, and strangers, travelers pass along here every day. It is not suitable for a young lady to be walking unaccompanied. I will walk you home, if you will permit.”
He held out his arm for her to take, as if there was no doubt that she would permit it.
She shook her head. Did he not know that for her, he was the danger? “Really, Your Grace, does it never occur to you that someone might refuse? That I might not desire you to walk me home?”
He flushed and stepped back. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I did not intend to inflict my company where it is not wanted.”
She sighed. As if his company could ever be unwanted. Unwise, perhaps, but never unwanted. “No,” she said, reaching over to take his arm. “I am teasing you. Anyone would welcome your company. It is only that I am unaccustomed to such solicitude.”
He looked down at her hand on his sleeve and covered it with his other hand, tucking it more firmly into place. “Anyone?” He looked at her with a half-smile. “Only the welcome anyone would give?”
She blushed slightly. “Do not fish for compliments, Your Grace. It is not becoming to your dignity.”
“No man’s dignity was ever anything but enhanced by a welcome from a beautiful young lady.”
Kate looked away to hide a frown. These were empty phrases, empty compliments, the sort of courtesy mere acquaintances exchanged. Is that all they were? Perhaps that was for the best. Very well then. Polite acquaintances it would be.
He signaled to his horse, which stepped up to his side so that Ashleigh could take hold of the reins to lead him along.
“He is quite a beauty,” she said coolly, admiring the bay gelding. “Will he not object to being asked to dawdle along beside us?”
“Hector has already taken me to Schotten Hall and back today. He will not object to a relaxing stroll.”
“Hector?”
He smiled more broadly. “I have a fondness for classical allusions myself. I have always been somewhat in awe of Homer, making the most admirable character in his epic Hector, the prince of Troy, the enemy of the Greeks.”
“Homer was wise in that. It is foolish to underestimate one’s enemies.” Remembering her own enemies—Farnsworth and her brother—she felt chilled, as if the sunlight had dimmed.
As if he had noticed the change in her spirits, his voice sounded deliberately cheerful. “Besides, had the Trojans been pitiful, the Greeks would have won no honor in defeating them. David wins glory by defeating Goliath. Had the giant defeated the shepherd boy, we would not know the story.”
Kate made an effort to maintain a playful tone. “Nor would it have been remarkable had the hare beaten the tortoise.”
“Or if the dragon had defeated St. George.”
They continued on the way, keeping the conversation carefully lighthearted. Kate had always been given free rein to rummage through the squire’s library as well as Dr. Finley’s, and she had read widely if erratically. It was liberating to discover that Ashleigh did not seem annoyed when she could toss out examples from legends or the classics to match his. He seemed to actually enjoy it, and she found herself relaxing, enjoying his companionship. She would enjoy his friendship while it was still possible.
When they came to Hawthorne Cottage, Ashleigh reverted to his original concern. “I cannot but mislike it that you are wandering about the countryside unprotected. It is one thing when you walk into the town—it is not far and there are always people about. But you should not be walking alone beside the river.”
Kate wondered what he would think had he known that she had traveled alone from London, walking most of the way and accepting rides on farm carts the rest of the time. She could not suppress a little laugh. He seemed to have no idea what life was like for other people. “Really, Your Grace…”
“No, hear me out,” he interrupted. “I would not ask you to forgo your walks, but I do suggest that you take them on Kelswick land. Your aunt’s property borders mine, so there would be no problem for you in walking there.”
“Truly, there is no need for you…”
“Please,” he interrupted again, “you would relieve me of the need to worry about you if you would promise to walk at Kelswick.”
She shook her head impatiently. “Your Grace, I fear you worry about far too many people.” He said nothing, but continued to look at her solemnly until she finally had to smile. It seemed almost cruel to disappoint him, so she said, “Very well, Your Grace, I will take my walks at Kelswick.”
When he rode off on Hector, she watched, bemused. She had never before known a man who sought to protect her. Oh, at home, Squire Grant and Dr. Finley had certainly not threatened her, but they had not seen any need to protect her either. Or perhaps they had not felt they had the right. After all, she was the daughter of the fiercely independent Lady Newell. She did not need protection.
She shook her head. This was what Lady Talmadge—Alice—had complained of? Someone concerned about her, wishing to see her safe? It was like complaining about a fire to chase away the cold or a roof to shelter you from the rain. Could such protection turn into smothering? Perhaps, but for all Alice and Lady Merton—Miranda—had said of smothering, she could not but think that they had no idea what it was like to have no one to protect you, no one.
To have someone, someone who cared about you, someone you could rely on, someone you could trust—she could barely imagine such bliss.
*
Three days of rain followed. Heavy rain. Jem, the coachman and gardener, could be seen, hurrying out to care for the animals. Other than that, no one ventured out of doors if they could stay within. No one left Hawthorne Cottage, certainly not to
go for a walk. Ashleigh was reasonably certain of that. Several times each day, whenever the rain had seemed as if it might let up, he had ridden over to a hill from which he could see Franny Darling’s house. Hector bore up patiently and stood for half an hour and more under the sheltering branches of the cedar while his rider sat and stared at the cottage. No one was out and about.
On the fourth day, no rain fell. By late morning, the mist had dried off. In the early afternoon, Miss Darling left the cottage and walked through the rear garden gate to enter the grounds of Kelswick. From his vantage point, Ashleigh saw her. His pulse quickened as he watched to see which way she would go. He rode down to a spot she would soon pass, tethered Hector in a grassy spot, and leaned against a tree to wait for her to appear.
She was wearing a dress he had seen before, the blue one with the little green leaves on it. And she had that annoying bonnet again, the one that hid her face unless she was looking straight at him. He knew the moment she noticed him. She stumbled and looked surprised. Perhaps not entirely surprised. Then she looked pleased. He was almost sure of it.
“Your Grace, as you can see, I am taking advantage of your invitation to walk at Kelswick. I hope you do not mind.”
“On the contrary, I am delighted. Perhaps you will allow me to show you some of the more attractive views.”
He could have sworn he heard his own heart beating as he waited for her answer. There was a look of uncertainty on her face. He waited. It cannot have been more than a few seconds before she smiled and said, “I would be delighted.”
It had seemed like eons.
He breathed more easily once she was walking beside him, her hand on his arm. He looked down at the hand. It was such a small hand, and it hovered over his arm rather than resting there. He covered it with his own and pressed it. She started nervously, but then relaxed and did not pull away. Their eyes met, and she smiled. Tentatively, he thought, but then his own smile doubtless seemed tentative as well. It was as if they were both feeling their way, stepping onto an unfamiliar path, not knowing where it would lead them.
Neither spoke but after those first awkward moments, it was a comfortable silence. There was much he wanted to know about her, much he wanted to tell her about himself. Perhaps she felt the same way. But he felt no need to rush. He was simply enjoying the moment—not, he realized, something he often did.
Just then, they came to a break in the woods and, with a cry of delight, Kate stopped to look out over the prospect. Her pleasure surprised him. There was no dramatic scene before them, no crashing waterfalls, no soaring cliffs. It was nothing but fields of grain, still green. Not at all the sort of sublime, romantic landscape that was supposed to appeal to young ladies.
“How beautiful,” she said.
“It is only grain. Nothing in the least spectacular or unusual.”
“But look how lush, how healthy the crop is, how fertile the fields. That wheat will make bread for many hungry mouths this year.” She turned to look at him. “You need not laugh. I have seen enough dramatic scenes with rocky scarps and barren landscapes, where people scrape at the earth to persuade it to give them a few cabbages or onions. Fields like this…”
She shook her head, wordlessly.
He looked out over the fields, remembering the past. “When I inherited the estate, these fields were barren, neglected. It took years to return them to health. I confess I take pride in them now, in the knowledge that my lands and my tenants flourish.”
“And you should. Too few landowners do.”
They continued on their way. “I had to make up for my parents’ neglect, you see. I inherited all this, all this wealth, all this power. The only justification for it is that I take care of those who live here, who work here. I must determine what is best for them, not just individually but as a whole.” He wanted to be sure she understood. “I cannot allow one man to divert a stream to run a mill if it means that three others will not have the water they need for their stock. I am responsible for all of them, and I must live up to that responsibility.”
“But sometimes people see you as autocratic?” There was laughter but also sympathy in her eyes. He could see it.
“Sometimes I must be. I cannot simply do as I please.”
She nodded. “I understand that. But one can become so accustomed to being the one who must make the decisions that one does not realize that it is not always necessary.”
She was looking up at him and he could see the smile tugging at her lips. She was laughing at him. To his surprise, he did not mind. He found he rather liked it. “You have been talking to my sister, I see.” He shook his head ruefully as her smile broadened. “You would not believe that when we were children, she bullied me mercilessly. Perhaps I am simply getting my own back.” She did laugh then, and he smiled in return. “No, I had simply failed to see that she has recovered from her years with Talmadge. When she returns from her trip, I will endeavor to consult her, not decide for her. Now, are we friends?”
“Of course.” She turned to look off to the side and noticed a building almost hidden by the trees.
He hesitated, uncomfortable, when he saw what she was looking at. “That’s only an old summer house.” He had almost managed to forget it was here, to forget it existed. But she looked at him with curiosity—something in his tone must have betrayed him—so he gestured her toward it. It was only a summer house, after all.
A short path led to the building, a simple hexagonal structure of wood, painted green as if to help it blend into the surrounding woodland. The door was locked, but he bent down and removed a key hidden under a rock. He stared at it for a moment, then said with what he hoped was a careless laugh, “Not, perhaps, the most secure of hiding places, but it is only locked to keep children from getting in and injuring themselves.”
They stepped into the single room. Within was a bed, a chest to hold blankets, and a wooden table and two chairs. A simple stone fireplace covered one wall of the hexagon, with fire tools standing at its side and a candlestick and tinderbox on the mantel. There was no glass for the windows but there were shutters that could cover them.
Kate stood in the center of the room and turned around slowly. “How unusual. I have never seen a summer house that was not situated to take in the view. This one is hidden in the woods, as if it is a refuge. And with a bed. Does someone stay here?”
“I have been known to. When I was a child, I would stay here whenever my parents had one of their parties.” She looked at him oddly and he realized he had to offer more explanation. “I would hide here. My parents were somewhat extravagant personalities, and their parties involved extravagances of behavior as well as expenditure. The behavior of their guests—well, it would give one some understanding of the French Jacobins. They made the house unsafe for children.”
“You stayed here alone?” She sounded shocked. He had not been able to keep the bitterness from his tone.
Trying for lightness, he continued. “Not always. Before her marriage, Alice joined me. With, I might add, the connivance of her governess and my tutor. Should our parents by any chance have asked for us, they were told we were ill. And the cook always made sure we had plenty to eat.” She looked stricken. He did not want her pity, so he forced a smile. “Don’t look so horrified. I always thought of it as an adventure. What boy does not want to run away at times, and I also had the honor of protecting my sister.”
She looked at him steadily. “One does not think of a duke, or a duke’s heir, as being in need of protection. It is difficult to think well of your parents.”
He shrugged. “I always had your aunt and uncle. On occasion, when the weather turned nasty, we stayed with them. And after Alice’s marriage, Merton’s grandfather, the old earl, made sure to have me to visit when my parents were coming down with a party.”
“Good friends can make all the difference in one’s life.”
He wondered at the distant look in her eyes and made a guess. “Your vicar?”
�
��Indeed. Without him, I would be ignorant, indeed.”
“You had no governess?”
She laughed at that. “Hardly. My mother taught me my manners and my letters, but Dr. Finley opened the world of books for me. And others taught me that goodness and kindness do exist—a lesson I sometimes forget.”
She had to learn that goodness and kindness existed? She should have been surrounded by nothing else from the moment of her birth. She should have been loved and sheltered. He cleared his throat. “Your aunt said that you are an orphan?”
“Yes.” She had turned to stare out the window and spoke without looking at him. “My mother died last autumn, but she had been ill for a long time. Years. A wasting disease.”
“I am sorry. And your father?”
That produced a shrug. “He died shortly before my mother fell ill.”
“And you were left to care for her alone? That must have been difficult.”
A short laugh. “It is not as if he had ever been part of our lives. I do not think I saw him above half a dozen times in my life.”
He found himself just behind her—he had moved close to her without even realizing it. His hands reached out to rest on her shoulders. “We were not well served by our parents, either of us, were we?”
She turned, and his hands slipped down and around her. Her face was turned up, only inches from his. “Kate,” he murmured, cradling her face in his hands before he brought his mouth down to just barely brush her lips.
It was such a gentle kiss at first. His lips brushed hers softly once again. Then they moved across her cheek. Her skin was so soft. She gave a little gasp and shivered when he kissed her neck and he smiled, pleased by her response. When his arms slid around her to pull her close to him, her arms reached up around his neck.
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