It didn’t matter. She had to give him the truth. He’d tried so hard and wanted so badly to help. She had to give it to him, and then….
And then….
Archie turned her face into the pillow and allowed herself the pitiful indulgence of crying her eyes out.
***
Ranleigh hurried back to the cottage bright and early the next morning, feeling like a schoolboy desperate to see his best girl. He was bubbling over with hope and happiness, yet it felt new and fragile and far from certain. Nervous excitement fizzed under his skin and he found no way of tamping it down. He hoped Archie would be pleased with him, however.
“Archie!” he hollered from the road, grinning as she poked her head out of an upstairs window a moment later.
“Ranleigh? What’s all this?”
He grinned from his position atop the horse he’d rented and gestured to her mount.
“I assume you ride, cub?”
Archie rolled her eyes at him and his heart gave an extraordinary little kick in his chest. “Of course,” she said, as if that were obvious. “Where are we going?”
Ranleigh shrugged. “You tell me. I brought a picnic and the sun is shining, so stop wasting time and get down here.”
“All right, I’m coming!” she exclaimed and ducked back into the house.
She appeared a remarkably short time later, dressed for riding in tight buckskin breeches, which Ranleigh had a remarkably difficult time not staring at. He fought the urge to dismount and help her onto her own horse. He’d not have done it if she’d been a man and he didn’t want her to realise he’d guessed her secret, still harbouring the hope that she would confess it to him of her own free will.
He needn’t have worried. With quick, lithe movements that made his throat dry, Archie mounted with ease. Ranleigh had never seen a woman ride astride before, let alone in skin tight breeches, and certainly not one he was discovering he was wildly attracted to. He averted his gaze before things could get uncomfortable in more ways than one.
“Lead the way, then,” he said, striving for nonchalance.
She did, guiding them down the lane and out into open countryside. It was a glorious day, warm but not scorching, and with a light, feathery breeze that ruffled their hair and cooled their skin. Ranleigh looked over at her, perfectly at ease on horseback, and his breath caught in his throat as she turned to meet his gaze. Mischief glinted in her eyes and he knew what was coming before the words had left her mouth.
“Race you!”
She was gone before he had time to react.
“Wretch,” he muttered, laughing as he followed.
Their horses flew over the flat ground and Archie looked over her shoulder and gave a whoop of triumph as she drew farther ahead. As he’d given her the best horse, Ranleigh didn’t have a hope of catching her on his hired hack, who was a steady and reliable sort rather than a swift mount.
“I’m carrying the picnic,” he said with dignity as he finally drew up beside her. “Including a very fine Burgundy, which does not deserve such appalling treatment.”
“Oh ho,” she said, laughing. “That’s the excuse is it, old man? Well, that’s a new one.”
“Devil take you, whelp,” Ranleigh exclaimed. “Who are you calling an old man?”
Before he could protest further, she was off again, leaving him to follow on at a rather more sedate pace as he regretted not having his own stable to hand. Old man, indeed!
They followed the new Royal Military Canal for a stretch, heading towards Camber. The canal had become a source of embarrassment to the government who had spent a small fortune on the thirty miles of defence against the threat of a French invasion. That the canal had only been completed long after the threat of war had disappeared had not helped matters. Still, the quiet waterway was a pleasant companion, sliding serenely through the countryside with only the occasional boat or bird to disturb its peace.
They made Camber by late morning and found a shady place to water the horses before exploring the dunes. The tide was out and the sea a thin glimmer of silver on the horizon with a vast expanse of sand stretching before them.
“Here?” Ranleigh asked, surveying a dip between two high dunes, thick with tall grasses that waved and rippled in the breeze.
“Perfect,” Archie agreed, flopping down in the sand and stretching out, one arm crooked over her eyes to shield them from the sun. “Lovely,” she added with a sigh, completely unaware of the impact she was having on her companion.
Ranleigh stared, unable to avert his gaze though he knew he ought. He marvelled at her slender figure laid out on the sand, quite at ease in his presence. One shapely leg was a little crooked, her knee turned out to the side. The tight boots hugged her calves and the breeches clung to every inch of her, highlighting toned thighs.
The urge to go to his knees beside her and take her in his arms was beyond anything he’d ever known. Yet, he could not. Not until there were no secrets between them, not until his hopes that she felt as he did were proven justified. With regret, he tore his unwilling gaze away and lay out the picnic blanket, putting the basket down and sitting beside it.
His awareness of her thrummed under his skin, tantalising him. Her proximity was so damn tempting, urging him to push her, just a little, to see how she would react.
“Fancy a swim?” he asked, allowing himself to watch for her reaction.
“Got no bathing clothes,” Archie replied, after a pause.
Ranleigh shrugged, feeling rather wicked. “It’s of no matter. There’s no one for miles.”
He thought perhaps there was tension running across her shoulders, but it was far from obvious. She sat up, bracing herself on her elbows and staring out across the sand. “There’s no sea for miles either,” she pointed out, giving him a wry look.
“It will come in sooner or later,” he replied, unperturbed.
Archie pursed her lips, considering this, before turning to look at him, her gaze steady. “No, thanks. I already told you, it’s too cold for me, but… I’m quite content to watch you, if you want to.”
She never looked away from him, didn’t blink, and Ranleigh felt heat course over him in a searing wave at the idea of her watching him strip off to take a swim. Was that what she wanted? Was she hoping he’d agree to it?
He looked away, aware he was blushing and that she was giving him a curious look. Well, that served him right for trying to be clever.
“Perhaps later,” he said, aware that his voice was a little rough now.
Archie stared at him a moment longer, and then stretched out once more, closing her eyes. Ranleigh let out a slow, unsteady breath, and unpacked the picnic.
Chapter 12
“Wherein Ranleigh pushes his luck.”
They made it back to the cottage just in time for dinner.
The tide had come back in before they’d left, and to Ranleigh’s combined amusement and torment, Archie urged him to swim. He’d had half a mind to call her bluff, just to see her response, but he’d been too afraid of his own reaction being far more revealing and decided it best avoided. So, he’d gone so far as to dip a toe in the water, agreed with Archie’s assessment that it was too cold, and changed the subject.
He was shown to a guest bedroom to wash and tidy up, and the scent of another mouth-watering dinner was filling the cottage to the rafters by the time he emerged.
They dined in rural splendour. Fresh mackerel, roast chicken, mutton cutlets, and dishes of red cabbage and beans graced the first course. Mrs Potter, having been given some notice of his appearance at dinner this time, had gone all out. Roast duck, matelot of eels, macaroni, and a number of sweet tarts and jellies comprised the second.
“Good Lord, she’s trying to fatten us up for Christmas,” Archie complained as the food kept coming. “I should never have told her you were a duke.”
Ranleigh laughed. “How do you think I feel? It’s a wonder I’ve not the girth of our own dear king, the way everyone tries to feed
me up like a seasonal goose. Sometimes I have a longing to ask for bread and cheese, but I know it will only cause offense, so I do my best.”
“You always do your best,” Archie replied, so quietly that Ranleigh wasn’t sure he was supposed to have heard the comment. “Besides,” she added, giving him a quick smile and turning away again. “You’re not the goose, you’re the prize. The most coveted title still on the marriage mart. You’ll have to make good on it one day and beget all of those heirs to thwart young Bagshot.”
If he hadn’t known what he now did, he might not have heard it, might not have understood the aching sorrow behind the words. His breath caught, though, because he did hear it. He heard the wanting, the resignation, and his heart squeezed in his chest. It was all he could do not to go to his knees there and then and declare himself. The longing to tell her that she was the one he wanted warred with the need for her to trust him. For her to believe in him.
He held his tongue and watched as she filled her glass to the brim. She’d already drunk a good deal today, far more than she usually did. More than was prudent. Was that sorrow that drove her? A belief that they could never be? Trust me, you little fool, he begged silently. Tell me and I won’t let you down.
After dinner they played cards, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. He managed to win a couple of games and felt anxious as she filled her glass several times. She was foxed already, and her unhappiness showed as alcohol lowered the walls she’d built about herself.
“Perhaps some water?” he suggested, pushing the jug towards her. “I think you’re dipping a little deep. You’ll have a wretched head in the morning.”
“Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die,” she murmured, the words slurring together.
“Nonsense, cub,” he said, aching to reach out and take her hand, to drive away the sadness that emanated from her. “Tomorrow will be the same as today, full of fun and frivolity, so there’s no need to get maudlin.”
She shook her head, staring into her glass. “It’s nearly done. Nearly over. All over.”
Ranleigh’s chest felt tight. She was going to run from him again. No. Damn it. No.
“It’s far from done,” he said, the words a little harsher than he intended, but the fear that she might disappear without a trace was too much to bear.
“It is,” she said, laying her head on table, headless of the cards spread out before her. She closed her eyes and Ranleigh watched as a tear slid from beneath her lashes. “It’s finished. Another day… two….”
“Archie,” he said, unable to keep the anguish from his voice. “No. Don’t you dare. I won’t let you go.”
He moved towards her, sinking to his knees beside her chair. Despite himself, he raised his hand to her cheek, stroking the skin and finding it impossibly soft.
How the devil could he have been fooled for so long?
He smiled at the idea, and then held his breath as she turned into his touch. God, but this was torture. He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted to kiss her, to take her in his arms, hold her close, and beg her to never run away from him again.
Knowing it was a risk, but suspecting she was far too drunk to care, he stood and lifted her into his arms. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder, her warm breath fluttering against his neck as desire fired beneath his skin.
“Come along,” he said, carrying her towards the stairs. “I think you’ve had enough for one night.”
Ranleigh took her to her bedroom, allowing himself a moment to gaze down at her, tenderness overwhelming him as he looked at the sweep of dark lashes, and that wonderfully lush mouth. He’d know what it was to kiss that mouth, he promised himself. He’d find a way to make her trust him, to tell him the truth, and then he’d give her his truth… and pray it was what she wanted to hear.
With care, he lay her down on the bed, aching with the desire to lay down beside her. She stirred, eyelids flickering, and said his name on a sigh.
“Ranleigh?”
“Yes, Archie. I’m here.”
As if that was enough, she gave a sigh of content and drifted back to sleep.
Ranleigh smiled, and moved to tug off her boots, before reaching for the covers and pulling them over her as best he could.
“Goodnight, cub.” He allowed himself the pleasure of stroking her hair before leaving and closing the door behind him.
***
They spent the next three days in each other’s company, riding, walking, and playing cards, and if Mrs Potter was scandalised, she at least held her tongue.
Every morning Archie promised herself that she would tell him. Today she would lay herself open, explain it all to him—well, at least the all that Will and Erasmus and her friends knew.
Only she knew the rest. Only she knew the darkest bit that seemed like something she’d dreamt long ago. A nightmare so vivid it only appeared real. The bit that still had the power to make her wake screaming in the night in a cold sweat, even after all these years. They couldn’t know that. Not that.
Yet her promises and the days came and went. They were having too much fun. Ranleigh had dispensed with what little remained of his privacy and told her everything. As if he was determined she know him inside and out. He shared his hopes and dreams, his fears… as though he believed she would still be a part of it somehow. It was such a beautiful thought and so wildly beyond possibility that she wanted to howl at the unfairness of it, even as she marvelled at the capacity of her own heart. Every time she believed it full to the brim with love for him, he’d go and surrender another little piece of his soul, laying himself bare before her as if to say, there you are, I did it… your turn.
How she wanted to. Yet, how she feared it.
It couldn’t last, this little idyll. She knew it. Will had made provision for her, created a job for her, and she couldn’t throw that in his face when he’d done it to help her. Part of her thought perhaps she need not go now, if Ranleigh would never expose her. That was stupid though. For she would see him, inhabit the same world. Good Lord, Mayfair wasn’t so big a place that a duke could disappear, and she would never see him. There would be the wife, too, of course. Whoever she turned out to be. Some eligible, lovely young creature, no doubt. Not some awkward creation that was neither fish nor fowl, but some bewildering mix of the two.
No, better to go long before that, to be far away where she’d not have to face him and everything she could never have.
“You’re very quiet.”
She looked up across the remnants of their evening meal. They had laughed and drunk and eaten until they thought they might burst, a convivial evening of such simple pleasures it was hard to credit how profound was her gratitude at having experienced it. Though she’d been careful not to drink too much after the other night. At first, she’d feared she’d said or done something whilst in her cups, but Ranleigh had not appeared in any way different towards her, so she assumed she’d managed not to make too much of a fool of herself.
“Yes,” she said, knowing she had to tell him she was leaving. She’d left it as long as she could. It was over, and she had to face it. He’d come and see her off tomorrow and before she went… before she went….
“Is something wrong, Archie?”
Archie heard something soft and sympathetic in his voice and looked up to find his eyes matched the sound, so warm and inviting of confidences.
She cleared her throat.
“I’m afraid I… I have something to tell you. I must leave tomorrow, you see.” She swallowed hard, praying she’d not do something appalling and embarrass them both by crying. “I won’t be seeing you again.”
“Nonsense,” Ranleigh replied, sitting back in his seat. “Explain yourself.”
She gave a huff of laughter at his indignation. Typical Ranleigh. “I have to leave. I have work. I’m… I’m going away. Far away.”
“Far away?”
“Yes.”
“To a mythical island with unicorns and faeries?” h
e demanded, and there was something in his eyes she wasn’t sure how to interpret.
“Er, no. Just—”
“Far away,” he repeated. “That doesn’t narrow it down much. Let’s see. India? China? Africa? Give me a clue.”
Archie blinked, a little taken aback. For some reason she couldn’t fathom, she didn’t hold her tongue and keep him guessing, though. “No. Scotland.”
“Scotland?” Ranleigh repeated, clearly unimpressed. “What the devil for?”
“For work,” she said again, shaking her head. “So, I’m afraid I’ll be off in the morning.”
Ranleigh narrowed his eyes. “Hmph.”
She wasn’t quite sure what that was supposed to mean but she didn’t get to ask him as he got to his feet.
“You’re going?”
“I am,” he agreed. “I suppose I’ll have to be up early to see you off?”
“Oh,” Archie said, a little taken aback at his ready acceptance. Somehow, she had expected him to object. “Well, yes. I suppose so. If… if you’d like? After all, I have no idea when I’ll see you again.”
“Next week most likely,” he threw over his shoulder as he walked to the front door ahead of her.
“No, I won’t be here next week.”
“I know. So, I’ll see you there.”
“W-What?” Archie said, frowning at the back of his head. “No, Ranleigh. I’ll be in Scotland. I won’t be here, or in London.”
“No, you’ll be in Scotland,” Ranleigh said, turning to face her and looking as if she was the one talking nonsense. “You said so.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Archie agreed, wondering if perhaps he was foxed again. He wasn’t normally slow on the uptake. “I’ll be in Scotland.” She sounded the word out this time, just in case.
“Jolly good,” Ranleigh said, sounding quite cheery. “I’ll see you there.”
“Wait. What?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “I said, I’ll see you there.”
“In Scotland?” she said, feeling as though the conversation was stuck in some peculiar loop that she couldn’t get past.
Duke and Duplicity (Rogues and Gentlemen Book 15) Page 14