by Ella Edon
“Come on,” she told herself firmly. “Go back to the house. Whoever that was, they’re gone.”
She tried to move leaden legs. They moved forward with conscious volition. She walked slowly back to the house, her back to the arbor and the shadow.
As she reached the edge of the knot-garden, somebody grabbed her arms.
“No!” Raymonde screamed. “Let me go!”
Her voice was a hiss of surprising anger, and she surprised herself by being furious. She whirled around, ready to confront her assailant. She stared.
“Please accept my apologies. I didn’t mean to scare you – I simply had to talk.”
Raymonde looked with a mix of happiness and anger, straight into Cutler’s eyes.
“I hardly think that grabbing a lady in the garden is a way of starting friendly conversation,” she said softly. “Lieutenant,” she added as an afterthought.
She saw his eyes widen. He smiled.
“My Lady, I am afraid you will always shame me – both with your manners and your keen mind.” He looked into her eyes, a crooked smile twisting his lips down.
“And I am afraid flattery is no coin I barter.” Raymonde said it firmly, but she was surprised by the softness in her tone. It was more teasing than angered.
“I should know that, Lady Raymonde,” Cutler said, and he looked serious now. “And I do. I wasn’t teasing.”
“As you say,” Raymonde said tensely. She wasn’t about to let him see how his presence unnerved her. His hand had tightened on her arm, and she could still feel the throbbing afterburn of his touch, warm and firm on her skin, a tingle. She looked up into his eyes.
“Well, I do say,” he said, and this time he seemed somewhat withdrawn. “I am sorry I had to sneak up like that. It’s not my preference, usually, either. But I had to ask you about a matter.”
“A matter?” Raymonde asked, looking up into his face, her eyes wide with surprise.
“Yes,” he said softly. “I understand you saw the visitor who was here last week?”
“Visitor?” Raymonde pursed her lips, thinking. “You mean the tall fellow with the graying hair?”
“Did he have gray eyes?” Cutler barked.
Raymonde looked up at him with frosted annoyance. “There’s no need to shout. You can gain this information by civil means. As it happens, Lady Westmore saw him, too. Mayhap you could ask her with less… Urgency?”
“Sorry,” he said at once. “I’m sorry. I forgot my manners.”
“It seems you forget them often,” Raymonde said bitterly.
“Yes.” Cutler looked down sadly. He had a slight lift of a smile on his lips. She couldn’t help a sudden flush of excitement. “I am afraid I do. Spain took my manners from me, and my own character gets in the way of the little I have left over.”
Raymonde laughed – she couldn’t help herself. “It’s not that bad.”
“It is… I assure you. I have no manners. I’m sorry,” he added. A frown crossed his brow, making him appear weary to her. “I was far from on my best manners yesterday evening.”
“I suppose so,” Raymonde agreed. “I understand. One gets tired, at these occasions. Think nothing of it.” She did still feel annoyance for his behavior, and she couldn’t quite hide it in her nettled words.
“I wasn’t tired,” he said at once. “I could never be tired, talking to you.”
Raymonde stared at him. She couldn’t dismiss the comment, shrugging it off as idle banter His eyes were devoid of merriment and his mouth was set, a line.
“I think we should get back to the house,” she said firmly. “I promised Lady Westmore I would help with the flower arrangement.”
“I see,” Cutler nodded. “Of course. Can I carry something?”
He looked down at her, where she stood with the flat, hat-shaped basket of white flowers on her arm. It weighed perhaps an ounce or two. They both realized the ludicrousness of that together.
“Sorry,” he said, and Raymonde smiled at the bright blush in his cheek. “I suppose you don’t need help with that.”
She grinned up at him fondly. “I should think not.”
Together, they walked back to the house. The coldness between them had thawed a little, or at least, it felt so to Raymonde. She felt at ease with him as she had not before.
At the door, Cutler took her arm and she tensed, looking up at him. He dropped his hand at his side, looking down shamefacedly.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just have to talk to you about something.”
“Of course,” Lady Raymonde said, one brow lifting in a frown. “Whatever it is, tell me. I would be glad if you were unburdened.”
“Thank you,” he said, and she could see in his green eyes that he really meant it. “Nobody’s ever said that to me before. I value it.”
Raymonde looked up into his eyes and she felt that strange tug inside of her that she’d felt the other night; the one that had urged her to think of kissing him. She looked away.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s sit in the rose-arbor. It’s a good place to talk.”
Chapter Ten
Sharing a Secret
Cutler followed Raymonde into the arbor, feeling everything had turned slightly surreal. Her gentleness had touched his heart like nothing he had ever experienced before. He hadn’t expected her to seem so tender towards him.
I thought she was absolutely vexed with me.
He followed her at a slow walk along the stone pathway. She was wearing a long, cream-colored day-gown, fresher and freer than anything he’d seen her wear before. She walked with a gentle sway of her hips, a sweet motion that made his body tighten with longing. He bit his lip and made himself think of something else.
She stopped at a low wooden bench, then turned to him and smiled.
“I think this is a fine place to sit. We have sunshine, but not too much of it – which is good, in this heat. What think you?” She patted the bench beside her.
Did she mean for him to sit beside her? So close? He felt his body tense with the thought of that. It was hard to believe she would be so ingenuous with him; let alone, that she liked him that much. Given how he had been feeling as he walked along behind her, it was more than a little tense for him to sit down on the narrow bench with her.
“Lieutenant?” she said gently. He recalled that she’d asked him about the weather, and he nodded swiftly.
“Yes. I think so too,” he said. He came to stand beside her.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” she asked with a wry smile. “I assure you, there’s no law against trespassing on the garden bench.”
“Yes,” Cutler said, sure his cheeks were flaring crimson. He sat down awkwardly beside her.
The bench had room enough to seat three people at a pinch. Raymonde sat two hands away from Cutler. He felt his body tense with longing. He could smell her cologne this close; a mix of lavender and something exotic and drowsy that made his loins catch fire.
“It’s a lovely day,” Raymonde said, staring out over the garden. Bees buzzed lazily in lavender. There was still dew on the grass in the shade. Roses, big and full-blossomed, grew in sweet-scented beauty around them.
“Yes,” Cutler murmured softly. “It is.” He racked his brains as to how he could change the topic of conversation to the serious one he needed to raise. Sitting here beside her, the very thought of leaving pained him sorely.
“Whenever I have to think, I come in here,” Raymonde said, after a long pause. “It’s a good place to talk, too. Far from everybody.” She tilted her head to one side, eyes wide.
“Yes,” Cutler agreed. He knew that she was telling him it was safe to talk. She was still watching him with those soft brown eyes. He felt his throat work, swallowing hard. He needed to find the words, to tell her.
“I need to go away,” he said softly.
“You had news, from home?” Raymonde asked at once. He was surprised to see no affront or shock there, only tenderness. It felt like somebody had poured warm oi
l on a wounded ligament – soothing and gentle. He nodded.
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “A letter and… A visitor. Not a friendly one.” He looked away across the hedge for a moment. What was wrong with him? Why could he not simply tell her who it was?
I think the visitor is the man who changed my life – and not in a good way.
“A visitor?”
Was it his imagination, or did he see a new alertness in her expression? Had she seen something? He drew in a breath.
“Yes. I wasn’t there when he arrived, or, rather, he didn’t stay to speak with me directly. He came the day after the recital…”
He stopped as Lady Raymonde turned to face him, her eyes big with shock. “Lieutenant,” she whispered softly. “If he’s a little older than us, with dark hair, I saw him.”
“What?” Cutler felt as if the bench had fallen out from under him, leaving him thudding to the ground.
Raymonde bit her lip, eyes focused on her hands. “I saw him that day,” she said. “Then, on the night of the ball…”
“What?” Cutler asked again. “Sorry,” he added, realizing that he was shouting, and not wanting to scare her.
Raymonde kept on looking away. She cleared her throat, continuing softly. “I fancied I imagined it all. But when we were outside, that evening, on the terrace…”
She stopped, and he wondered what she was thinking. Her big brown eyes were downcast, looking away from him. “What?” he asked gently.
“When we were outside, I believed I caught sight of someone, a man, in the shadows. I might simply have imagined it, but…” she bit her lip, “I think maybe it was the same man.”
He felt his heart stop. “That’s dangerous,” he murmured. He felt as if his heart had stopped. It was bad enough to think that he was being spied on, and by that man. To think that he might have seen Raymonde and himself, in such an important moment…
“He saw us together?”
“Yes.”
Cutler coughed painfully. He hadn’t realized how much she meant to him, until that moment. Now, looking at her, he knew that his care for her was such that even imagining her harmed would strike him hard.
And I know him well enough to know that he would harm her, if he knows of us, to get to me.
When he looked up, Raymonde was watching him. She looked frightened. He felt his heart almost stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s maybe unnecessary of me to think this way,” he murmured softly. “But I do not like the thought that this man knows of you.”
Raymonde’s face changed from fear to skepticism. “Lieutenant,” she said after a long moment, “why would my knowing you matter to him, or to you?”
Cutler felt his heart twist. How could he tell her that he thought his uncle had tried to send him to Spain to have him killed?
More to the point, how could he tell her that his feelings for her were already obvious, as was the fact that hurting her would strike his deepest heart?
Even he had not realized, before this moment, how true that was.
“Lady Raymonde,” he murmured softly. “I cannot tell you how I fear this man and his ability to cause damage. I can promise to tell you one day. I will reveal my reasons for it, but at a later time.”
He watched her face. He saw her lips twist into an expression he could not read, her big eyes downcast, one brow raised. It seemed as if she was having some inner dialogue with herself. He half-smiled, wishing he could read her thoughts. The sunlight shone on her pale, soft skin and he wished that he could touch it. She looked like a painting of thoughtfulness. He hoped she understood him.
“I believe you,” she said gently.
He felt his heart lighten with relief. “Thank you,” he whispered sincerely.
She smiled hesitantly at him and they sat there, side by side. Her hand rested on the bench beside him. He looked down at it, longing to touch that soft skin.
“What?” she asked softly. Her eyes were warm with a smile.
“I don’t know what to do.” He grinned, feeling helpless.
Raymonde raised one brow. “I think there’s only one thing for you to do. You should go back.”
No. I cannot leave you here, when he knows of you.
He shook his head. “It’s dangerous.”
Raymonde frowned. “I am safe enough here,” she said softly. Her eyes were full of care and curiosity.
“Nobody is safe from him,” he whispered.
Raymonde looked at him, with fear in her eyes. His heart flooded with feeling and he realized at once what he should do.
“Would you accompany me?”
He saw a shutter come down over her eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, was cold. “That is not a question you should ask of me.” She turned away. “You know it’s impossible.”
He had no right to ask her that, she was right. He was a fool. He swallowed hard. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “I meant no offense.”
All the same, he could not think why her offense was so instant, her manner so tense. He had noticed something similar in her before. He wondered, not for the first time, what lay behind the pain in her eyes.
She nodded stiffly, and her mouth turned down in the corners. As she half-stood, the meeting evidently over, he called out.
“What is it, Lady Raymonde, that makes you mistrust me so? I wish I could change it.”
She stopped and turned to face him. He saw her face soften. One brow raised. “I swear to tell you at a later time,” she said, in repetition of his words.
He smiled. “A fair agreement.”
She said nothing, but her eyes held his.
“I am sorry my suggestion seemed so improper,” he said softly. “It need not be. I meant only that I wish to see you safe. I could think of no other way to achieve it, other than that you should come with me.”
He saw her face soften. “We might make of it a less improper suggestion. I cannot think of many, though. And, more than most, I do not wish to harm my reputation – it’s not good already.”
He saw a sadness in her eyes and he thought frantically, though he tried to keep a calm exterior. “Our travelling together need not harm your reputation, as you say,” he said gently. “Were we to travel with your maid as chaperone, for example, we would incur no scandal.”
She regarded him steadily. “That is true,” she said. “But, sir, I cannot agree with you that I am in particular danger, were I to stay here.”
He looked at his hands. What could he say, to convince her? He did not wish her to see the fear in his eyes.
“I would not wish to alarm you, but the man you saw is dangerous. I am afraid for you and for myself.”
She was still for a long time. Then, one brow raised, she turned to face him.
“You consider he might strike at me, because it would harm you?”
“Yes,” he said.
It was only after he’d spoken that he realized he’d admitted the depth of his feeling. He looked up at her, smiling awkwardly.
She raised her brow again. “Well, then,” she said, “since that is as things stand, we should consider how best to leave together.”
He let out his breath in a long sigh.
“We should meet here tomorrow,” he said softly. “At the coach. I will make the arrangements with the driver. If you could inform your maid?”
To his surprise, she nodded. “I shall. We need to make an explanation to Luke and Emilia as well. If you will leave that to me, I will do so.”
“I thank you.” He nodded.
“And we should go to the kitchens to fetch victuals for the trip. I will organize them. And the butler should be informed, should any letters arrive for us in our absence. I will see to this. If you could organize the horses for the coach? We should change them at York.”
Cutler stared at her. Then he grinned.
“Thank you, My Lady,” he said sincerely. “I will be glad to travel with you.”
She grinned. “It�
��s just as well, I think, that I’m going to come with you.”
They smiled at each other like co-conspirators. Then she stood, turning around to face him, her one hand clutching her drawstring velvet reticule, the other, the basket of roses.