But now he was nearing Portland Hall, his journey was almost over. For a while during his ride, he worried that he had missed Daisy on her return, and only hoped that she had stuck to the main road rather than chance injury or becoming lost using the footpaths through the fields. But on consideration it seemed unlikely. She said herself that she hadn’t ridden in weeks. And this journey would be harder on her than it was on him. She would have had to rest at some point. There was even the chance that she had not long arrived. And when she eventually reached Portland Hall, she would probably be too fatigued to do anything rash, though with the moon now bright overhead, who knew what his determined wife might be harebrained enough to risk. One thing he did know for sure was that she wouldn’t be riding up to the hall’s front door and announcing herself to the staff.
With this in mind, he encouraged his tired mount past the imposing front gates and followed the high brick wall until it turned the corner of the estate. Another mile on the track and he knew his assumption had been correct, for there standing enjoying nibbling the grass in the moonlight, was the stallion from his own stable.
The horse lifted his head and nickered softly as he recognized his stable mate and his master. Pierce dismounted and rubbed a grateful hand down the tired animal’s neck.
“Well done, my beauty. You have travelled far today. Wait here with your friend while I see if I can find my wayward bride.” He looped the reins through the locked wrought iron gate before letting his gaze travel along the wall. And groaned inwardly as he noticed the tree with the overhanging branch standing just a few yards away. She had always craved excitement, adventures other women would have thought foolish in the extreme. He could just imagine how enticing to a thrill starved Daisy the oak’s low branch would have been.
Ignoring the tree and mounting his horse again, reaching as high as he could, his fingers grasped the top of the gate. He swung his leg sideways. His boot caught over the wall and he hoisted himself up until he straddled the brickwork. He settled himself and peered for long seconds into the moonbeams and shadows. Nothing. Not even the bobbing white tail of a rabbit stirred.
Sighing in resignation, he wondered whether he shouldn’t merely wait for her to return to her horse, but worry nagged at him. What if she were caught? Would the old Dowager give Daisy the chance to explain her visit? From what he had heard while there, he seriously doubted it. No, Jane Benedict was more likely to throw Daisy into an unlit cellar, lock the door, and throw away the key until the she procured the required heir by any foul means.
Fear prickled in his gut at what that might entail. Daisy’s freedom couldn’t be risked. He slid down the opposite side of the wall into the estate, and looked around. The forest loomed to his left. If he could find the track through it, the way to the house would be a lot quicker. He wondered if wandering around it for two weeks while living rough had given him enough knowledge to find his way. In daylight, possibly. At night, with the near full moon casting so many shadows, he doubted it. Besides, Daisy surely wouldn’t be foolish enough to risk turning an ankle on the rough ground.
Taking a deep breath, he set off down the longer route along the track.
Daisy bit back the unladylike curse that almost crossed her lips after she banged her hip on the corner of the desk. She would be black and blue by the time this adventure was over.
Entering the room hadn’t been as easy as she had hoped. Wrestling a tenacious rosebush had been the first obstacle. Her subsequent scratches testament to the ferocity of the battle. Then came the window itself. The latch might have been broken, but it seemed that Robert had wedged the frame shut with some firmly folded paper. Two split fingernails and several splinters later, the window had at last given up the fight and had opened with only a gentle squeal of protest.
It was only when it was eventually open that Daisy thought about the logistics of climbing into the study. The ground outside the window was at least a foot and a half lower than the floor inside, meaning that a ‘leg up’ would be necessary.
Failing that convenience, she had taken a look around the immediate vicinity for something on which to stand. There was nothing obvious until she retraced her steps, turned the back corner of the house again, and spotted an upturned pail standing outside the scullery door. She picked it up, glanced inside the empty vessel, and shrugged. A strange place and position in which to leave it.
Except that the wooden pail clearly stood outside the scullery door for a reason. A reason that she only became clear when she placed it upside down outside the study window, and hopped onto it. Her right foot instantly descended through the bucket’s bottom and became wedged in rotten wood. The thing had obviously outlasted its usefulness and been chucked out of the house due to its bottom having more holes than a sieve.
Dragging her twisted foot from the resulting ring of splintered wood and tending to her scraped ankle took another few minutes. Balancing precariously on the still intact outer rim took several moments more. But at last she pushed up onto the sill and, not trusting the wobbling ring of wood a second longer than she had to, dived headfirst through the open window.
All might have been well at that point, until her derriere became stuck between the edges of the frame. Staring at the upside down edge of the skirting board, she rolled her eyes at herself. Good Lord! Was her bottom really that big? She placed her hands on the floor and twisted and wriggled furiously.
The sound of tearing fabric and a sharp breeze on her now exposed left hip gave further impetus to her efforts. She kicked her legs and clawed at the floor, straining with all her might. Until she felt something give.
More of the window frame, she suspected, but she didn’t care. She was on the verge of success!
She fell headlong into the study and lay sprawled on the rug, listening hard to see if anyone had detected her less than elegant entrance. But the house remained silent and she slowly staggered from her carpet burned knees to her feet and looked around.
The moonlight hadn’t reached all the way into the room and she blinked hopelessly into the dark shadows. How she would ever find the right letters in this gloom, she had no idea, but lighting a candle was a risk too far. She would have to take them all and find the right ones when she had the light and the time to see them properly. But how many letters were in the locked drawer? A veritable stack of them, if she remembered rightly. There was no possibility of stashing them all in her jacket pockets. Something she hadn’t considered before setting out earlier that day. Perhaps she could stuff them down the inside of her shirt.
Rubbing her bruised thigh, she made her way around the desk, feeling for the drawers running down the right hand side. The second drawer remained locked and she slid her hand into her pocket to retrieve the key.
Pierce crept past the stables. No lamps flickered and even the horses remained silent. Not exactly the best atmosphere for creeping, as every one of his footsteps sounded as loud as a marching army in the still night air. He stepped into the flowerbed edging the path towards the house and prayed that Victor wouldn’t shout at him for dirtying his boots as his feet sank silently into the softer mud.
Guessing that after climbing over the estate wall and walking for more than a mile along rough track Daisy wouldn’t knock at the front door, Pierce stepped out of the flower bed at last and ran across the wide courtyard at the back of Portland Hall. He stood catching his breath before keeping his back to the hall wall and making his way along the rear of the huge building.
He ducked beneath the few smaller windows of the kitchens and quickly past the rear door before turning the corner to where the moonlight shone along the side of the house and would have given away his presence if anyone had cared to look.
But if there had been anyone looking, they clearly didn’t care. Or perhaps any shout alerting the occupants to an intruder was stunned into silence by the vision emerging from a window only a few paces along the wall.
Pierce stopped in his tracks, sucked in a long breath, and bl
inked several times, unable to believe what he was viewing. No! Surely not. It wasn’t possible. She wouldn’t dare. It couldn’t be... But it was. He would recognise those cheeks anywhere. Full, and rounded, and as pink as a ripening peach, Daisy’s almost bare backside wriggled and dimpled and wriggled some more.
Good Grief! It was just as well that the house remained quiet and no one could witness her undignified exit. Another loud ripping sound rent the night air as more of her breeches snagged and tore. Her cheeks heated. Both sets, she imagined as she felt the cool breeze against her skin. She wriggled with more vigour, eager to be out of the embarrassing position as fast as possible.
Her bottom free at last of the frame’s confines, she then had to battle with her letter stuffed jacket and shirt. She heaved herself up and pushed on the windowsill, forcing her shoulders through the gap and lowering herself as gently as possible to the ground.
She breathed out a sigh of relief as her feet touched the earth, stepped back, and would have screamed if a long fingered hand hadn’t reached around her shoulder and placed itself firmly over her mouth.
“What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Pierce whispered in her ear.
Daisy slumped in relief as she recognised his voice. His hand softened over her lips and she spun around in his arms.
“Climbing out of a window. I would have thought that was obvious,” she whispered back as she peered up into his shadowed face. “What are you doing here?”
Pierce held her shoulders as he glanced over her features. Her cheeks were flushed, her riotous hair tumbling from beneath the lopsided hat. Lord, but she was glorious! He fought the urge to ravish her full and inviting lips. He had the inclination, but it wasn’t the place or the time. Because he knew that once he started to kiss her, it would never stop there. He clenched his jaw while he brought his wayward thoughts back under control.
“Rescuing my wife from whatever situation she might have rushed headlong into,” he managed at last. “What on earth possessed you to come back here? You might have woken the whole household. Can you even imagine what the Dowager would do if she discovered you in such a compromising position.” He tilted his head downwards and raised his eyebrows at the amount of fabric flopping down her naked thigh. He gritted his teeth again. It was almost too much. Her pale, moonlit skin tempted him like nothing else. He wanted to fall to his knees and lay kisses along the line of soft and inviting flesh. Instead, he slowly brought his gaze back to meet hers.
Daisy’s eyes widened and she burned under the desire smouldering beneath his dark lashes. Grabbing the torn material, she attempted to cover her exposed limb.
“A gentleman wouldn’t look,” she hissed indignantly while her heart fluttered and her insides took flight. Did that look mean what she hoped it might? She couldn’t tell. Shadows covered too much of his features. What if it wasn’t a look of passion, but one of anger?
But Pierce suddenly grinned, white teeth glinting in what little light there was.
“Well that lets me out then. I’m your husband. I can look as much as I like.” Don’t look! His mind screamed at him. If he saw that creamy, velvet skin again, he didn’t think he could be held responsible for his actions. But a sharp indrawn breath caught his attention.
Daisy glared up at him.
“I don’t know why you are so bothered about a bit of flesh. It’s not as though you haven’t seen my bare backside before.”
Now she was going too far. Pierce’s grin became wider as he recalled the minutes before they were discovered in the woodsman’s cottage. Did she want him to take her right there in Portland Hall’s flowerbeds? The memory of those sumptuously plump cheeks as they peeked out from below her shirt had warmed on several nights since the occasion. But his smile soon dropped when he remembered that she had been engrossed in casting up her accounts and was completely ignorant of his avid perusal of her pert rear. Fool that he was. No, Daisy was thinking back to the day she had torn her breeches in the old oak tree when spying on himself and her brother.
Dear heavens! Did she really think that the under developed buttocks of a skinny youth would have made such an impression? Clearly she did, for she carried on.
“At least this time you cannot go and tittle-tattle to my parents.” She huffed out a resentful breath.
Pierce frowned at the false accusation.
“Now just hang on one moment. I would never have said a word. It was Lucas and Bertie who informed on you when you climbed the tree, not me. I was almost as embarrassed as you, all the fuss they made about it.” His own indignation raised his tone.
Daisy shushed him loudly, but it was too late. A crunching on the cobbles alerted them to someone coming towards them from the rear of the hall.
“What’s going on ‘ere!” With what looked like a hayfork poised, Andrews voice sounded loudly from the shadows. The vicious looking tines drooped slightly as the man came closer. “Oh! Miss Daisy. And Peter Everard!” He exclaimed far too loudly.
Both Pierce and Daisy unfroze from their shock and rushed forwards, fingers over lips to silence the man. Andrews frowned suspiciously.
“What are you two doing back ‘ere?” He demanded, but his tone had lowered considerably.
Daisy held onto her torn breeches as she smiled warmly.
“I was just missing the place and thought to visit.” She ignored Pierce’s snort of derision and hurried as quickly as her injured ankles would allow, past the stablemaster while beckoning for both him and Pierce to follow her.
Andrews joined Pierce a pace behind her.
“The mistress will have you arrested if she sees you. The woman hasn’t stopped berating the pair of you since the minute you left. I’m fair sick of hearing about the scandal you have caused.”
Pierce grunted.
“There is only a scandal in that woman’s mind. We’ve not had a whiff of it in London.”
“But there will be if she catches you breaking into her house.” Andrews countered.
“My house, actually. If we want to be correct about it.” Daisy argued back.
Pierce shook his head.
“Let us talk about this out of view of the rest of the household.”
Daisy drew in a frustrated breath.
“Now I have what I need, I’d rather leave quickly.”
Pierce took her arm and guided her towards the block in the near distance.
“Better to take a short break. We have a long ride home. And a few minutes discussion will give our horses longer to regain their strength.
Resisting his pull, Daisy tried to free herself.
“What about Alfred? Is he still about?” She referred to the Dowager’s driver.
Andrews carried on towards the looming building.
“The man sleeps like the dead. So long as the cock doesn’t crow, there’ll be no waking him before dawn. And the rest of the household sleep at the front of the house. We’ll be private enough for the time being.”
Pierce didn’t have the man’s confidence.
“You woke up and found us.”
Andrews chuckled.
“You forget how old I am. I might wake several times a night to empty my bladder, but there’s not much wrong with my ears. I was about to have a quick puff on my pipe after relieving myself and enjoy a few seconds of a beautiful moonlit night when I heard you both talking loud enough to raise the dead, and came to investigate. Thought you might be burglars until I recognised you. Not that I actually did recognise you.” He looked Daisy’s outfit up and down. “Regardless, whoever owns the hall, it’s my duty to help protect it until I am told that I no longer have to.”
Daisy gave the older man a grateful smile.
“Thank you. As far as legalities are concerned, Portland Hall is still my responsibility. The new heir will not be declared until there is no possibility of Robert having fathered a child with me. And while we all know that is not the case, the Dowager has seen fit to take things into her own hands and arrange for a dela
y in any declaration. However, no one in authority has yet thought to enquire directly of me.” She slowed her pace as they reached the stable block and sat down heavily on a bench. She let out a deep groan of relief, crossed her sore ankle over her knee, and began to massage the twice turned limb through the soft leather of her boot.
Noticing that she was injured for the first time, Pierce squatted before her.
“What have you done?” He glanced at her face as Andrews lit a lamp. Shock registered as he saw the scratches across her cheeks and the pained expression in her eyes. “Daisy? Are you hurt badly?”
She shook her head.
“Probably no more than I deserve. I twisted my ankle walking through the woods in the pitch black, and then again falling through the bucket. And that was after I rode for hours, climbed a tree, and walked miles through the estate. Then I had the rose bushes to contend with and a far too narrow window frame,” she pointed to the rip in her trousers. “And then I fell right through the dratted thing earning carpet burns on my hands and my knees before bruising my hip when I stumbled into Robert’s huge, and very solid old desk.” She poked the relevant place and grimaced in pain as if proving her point. She sighed and looked at Pierce. “So am I hurt badly? I suppose not, but yes, I am in considerable discomfort.”
Pierce hid his smile. His Daisy was back. Impetuous, daring, and occasionally downright foolhardy. Exactly how he had always loved her.
“Well, I hope it was all worth the trouble. Did you discover what you needed?” Somehow his hand had caught hold of hers and the pad of his thumb massaged her palm.
She turned her gaze from his, unable to bear his open scrutiny. He wasn’t asking her why her mission had been so important to her, or even enquiring into the reasons behind it. He just assumed that her task had warranted whatever she had done at whatever the cost to her own wellbeing. His trust almost overwhelmed her.
A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4) Page 23