Mr. Ludlow caught up to her at the bottom and tucked her hand in his arm once again. As they began to stroll towards the gardens Cora tried to remain focused on the serenity of the night and not allow his nearness to unsettle her, but she was having a tricky time of it. The snow became an afterthought as every footstep he took, every movement of his arm that registered beneath her fingers, every smoky breath he exhaled engaged her senses. He rattled her in a way she could not ignore.
"I can now understand why you wished to step out. It is rather enchanting, isn't it?" he said, not sounding nearly as affected as she felt. Curse the man. Why couldn't he have stayed inside and found his enchantment from the window scene?
"I must thank you for tonight," he said quietly. "You have done as promised and managed to turn a dreaded day into a good day, and I am grateful for it. I am grateful for you, Mrs. Notley—you and your unconventional ways."
The tenderness in his voice infused warmth, happiness, and anxiety into Cora's soul. What did he mean, exactly? Was he merely offering a kind compliment—one he would extend to any friend or acquaintance who did him a service? Or did he mean something more by it? She was not well versed in the ways of men and did not know if she ought to be thankful or worried.
Rather than respond, Cora searched her mind for a less dangerous topic—one that would allow her to find at least a little peace during their stroll.
Pulling her hand free from his arm, she stopped walking and mustered a teasing tone. "I have suddenly realized that I have given you the pleasure of my company too freely, sir. It is making me feel like a wanton, and I cannot allow it to continue."
"Indeed?" He appeared both intrigued and confused. "Are you suggesting that I return indoors, or can you propose a remedy?"
"I believe it can be remedied, if you are so inclined," she said. "As it was I who thought to take a stroll through this lovely, wintery night, it is now your turn to contribute something."
His eyes narrowed somewhat. "And what is it you would like me to contribute, madam?"
"Why, the entertainment, of course."
His eyes widened and his lips lifted in amusement. "Shall I dance a jig, Mrs. Notley? Or would you prefer I offer up a riddle of some sort?"
"What I would prefer most—and which also happens to be the price for remaining in my company—is for you to recount me the poem that caused you to lose your dignity once upon a time. If you refuse me this, I'm afraid you really must go back inside. It is not fair to me otherwise."
"Is it not?" he said, the words sounding a bit like a chuckle.
"No, sir." She strained to keep her expression earnest with incredible difficulty.
He clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. "Very well, Mrs. Notley. If that is the payment you require for the pleasure of your company, I would be a nodcock not to comply. Only let us continue walking so that I need not look you in the eye whilst I relive my downfall. I can only pray you are the forgiving sort and will not hold it against me."
They walked side by side, and after a few steps, he began. "As I said before, it was a crush of a soirée in London, with anyone who was anyone in attendance. My ridiculous friend, Christopher Jamison, was rather adept at landing me in scrapes, and this was no exception. Per the terms of our wager, he put a word in our hostess's ear that I had composed a poem I should like to perform at some point during the evening's entertainment. Not knowing how unskilled I was in the art of poetry, she added my name to the list. I'll never forget Lady Bethany's stirring performance on the harp that preceded my reading. She caused an awed hush to fall over the crowd, followed by the most exuberant applause, and such was the state of expectations when I took the floor. I realized then that I should have insisted on taking my turn first."
Cora laughed, enjoying the tale immensely. "You must not keep me in suspense any longer, sir. I must hear that poem."
"Only if you promise that you will not think less of me once you have. I have never claimed to be a poet of any sort, although I did get the thing to rhyme."
"How could I possibly think less of you then?" Cora teased. "Rhymes are so very difficult to achieve."
He drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he cleared his throat and began. "The Story of the Calf by Jonathan Ludlow. Once there was a wee calf, and that is half." He paused dramatically. "The poor creature leapt over a wall, and that is all."
Cora waited for him to continue, and when he did not, she said, "That is truly the whole of it?"
"It took me an entire two hours to compose those stanzas. I did not have time to add anything more."
She burst out laughing, attempting to stifle her giggles with the palm of her hand. "I never dreamed it would be that dreadful."
"Yes, that was Jamison's reaction as well," he said dryly. "Lest you forget, you did promise you would not think less of me."
"Of course I do not." She continued to giggle. "I only wish I had been in attendance to see the faces of everyone present. I can only imagine the stir you caused."
"It was more of a stunned silence. The applause was tepid at best, and no one could look me in the eye afterwards. Should I ever learn to draw, I will be happy to sketch out the scene for you. The image is still quite vivid in my mind."
"I'm certain it is." Cora tried her best to stop giggling, but it was of no use. The image that played out in her mind's eye was far too hilarious.
"Did you find my story as entertaining as you thought you might? Am I allowed to continue our stroll?"
"That was most definitely an adequate contribution," she said, thinking that she rather liked having him along when he was not touching her or wreaking havoc on her insides.
"Despite being brought so low," he said, "those were indeed happier days. I greatly miss Jamison and his antics."
"Where is he now?" Cora immediately regretted the words when she caught a glimpse of sadness in his expression. What if his friend had met with some horrible demise and her question had caused him to relive the pain of it? Would she never learn to hold her tongue?
"He purchased his colors and joined the navy years ago," he answered. "He was born to a family not so well off as I and needed to earn a living in some way. I suggested that he stay put and marry an heiress here in England, but that was not Jamison's way. He's rather like you in that respect—not wishing to be beholden to anyone for anything. I could only admire him for it, but I was very sorry to see him go. His departure marked the beginning of some difficult years for me."
Mr. Ludlow stared into the distance, his eyes unfocused as though lost to the memory of those years. Cora wanted to reach out and comfort him, but she kept her hands firmly at her side.
"What happened?" she asked quietly.
His eyes refocused on her, and he studied her a moment before he began walking again. Cora stayed at his side, and after several crunches of snow beneath their boots, he said, "About a year after Jamison left for war, I was invited to a house party where I met the most radiant of women, or so I thought at the time. Not only was she a stunning beauty, but she was intelligent, witty, and intriguing. We soon discovered that we had much in common and became quite inseparable. By the end of the month, I felt as though I had found my perfect match—someone with whom I could easily share my life. I returned home and explained as much to my parents, and they promptly extended an invitation for her family to join us at our estate for the entire month of December and through the Christmas festivities.
"It was during that time that my elder brother became caught in her snare as well, unbeknownst to me, and at my birthday celebration a few years ago, I happened upon the two of them in the library, locked in a passionate embrace. They were celebrating her acceptance of his proposal. They wished for my felicitations, if you can believe it, but of course I did not offer them. I slammed the door and walked away."
Cora's heart wrenched at his news and the sound of his voice—so wooden and hollow. Her hands fisted at her side, wanting to plant the woman and his brother a solid fa
cer. How could anyone behave so heartlessly?
"Later," he continued, "when I confronted and demanded an explanation of her, she said that it was I who she desperately loved and not my brother, but surely I knew that love was not enough. Her family's pockets were to let, you see, and my brother was the eldest and therefore heir to the bulk of my family's estate. Though I inherited a great sum from my mother and was quite wealthy in my own right, I also happened to be a younger son who was still beneath my brother. According to her, if she could attract his notice and win his hand, she would be a fool to let her feelings for me get in the way."
He paused, his tone taking a bitter turn. "But all was not lost, she said. Her greatest wish was for us to carry on in secret so that she would not lose me nor I her. She seemed to think it the perfect solution and could not understand my refusal or my outrage. I left Cornwall the following morning and went to London for a time, where I attempted to lose myself in the season. A wedding invitation eventually arrived, which I promptly tossed into the fire, and on the day they were to be married, I left London and eventually found my way to Yorkshire and this property. You should have seen the wretched state Tanglewood was in when I first laid eyes on it—so overgrown and rundown. But I knew it was exactly what I needed at the time and so I purchased it and threw all my energies into restoring it. In many ways, it has saved me."
His jaw clenched and he shook his head. "How I could have ever fancied myself in love with such a woman I cannot fathom. Even now, I feel like an utter fool."
Cora watched him, wondering how anyone could be as unfeeling as that woman and his own brother. It was no wonder Mr. Ludlow did not trust easily and had no tolerance for dishonesty. Perhaps that was also the reason lonely paintings appealed to him, why he had secluded himself at Tanglewood, and why his dimple was so elusive at times.
"You are not a fool, Mr. Ludlow," Cora said. "Merely human. It is a fault we all share, I'm afraid."
"Not you." He stopped walking and peered down at her, his expression raw and vulnerable. A tenderness had replaced the cold sadness from moments before. "Truth be told, I think you rather perfect."
His words caused her insides to flutter, her pulse to race, and her mind to shout out a warning. There he went again, upsetting the precarious balance between them. Why did he feel the need to say such things? And why did his words cause so great a disturbance to her emotions? She needed to be immune to him.
"If you believe that, sir, then I have deceived you as well."
"I believe you incapable of deception," he said quietly, lifting his hand to her cheek and touching it tenderly. "From the moment I first met you in my study, I felt as though I could trust you as I have not trusted anyone in a very long time. Your eyes were too honest, your expressions too telling, and your smiles too genuine. Add to that your beauty and charm, and is it any wonder my thoughts are consumed by you? You intoxicate me, Mrs. Notley, and I cannot tell you how badly I wish to kiss you right now."
Cora suddenly felt like she had been taken back to her childhood home, when she had stood before the fireplace in her room, transfixed by the flames that burned with such power, color, and vibrancy. She longed to play with them and see what they could do, so she had pushed one end of a dead and lifeless branch into the flames, delighting when the leaves sparked and the branch began to smolder and flame. As the heat crept closer and closer to her hand, she had thought, One moment longer. I will keep hold only one moment longer. It wasn't until she felt pain that she had dropped the branch and pulled her hand back, staring at the flames in shock. She had trusted them and they had burned her.
Cora had thought she had learned a valuable lesson that day, but now that she was standing before a man who drew her to him as the flames had done that day, she realized the only thing she had learned was the outcome. She was bound to get burned again and felt powerless to stop it from happening. Only this time, instead of her hand, it would be her heart.
He took her face in his hands, igniting delicious tingles that surged through her body and down her spine. As his mouth neared hers, Cora's heart pounded like a gong in her ears. She should not allow this to continue, and yet she could not move. A whiff of lemon captured her senses right before his mouth brushed across hers in a feather-light touch. His lips were warm and dry and soft. Caught up in the delightful sensations he stirred within her, Cora began to return the kiss, tentatively at first and then with more vigor. It quickly grew in intensity, pulling her into a world that felt far more wondrous and magical than the snow-touched landscape surrounding them. She had always wondered what it would feel like to be thoroughly kissed, but she had never expected it to be this exhilarating or magnificent. Her body had never felt more alive, and she reeled at the power of it. Her hands wound around his back so that she might pull him closer still. She wanted more of this, more of him.
A snowflake landed on her cheek, bringing an unwelcome nudge of awareness. Gradually, outside thoughts began to intrude, weaving their way into the back of her mind. She thought about her position and his, about proprieties, consequences, rules, and reputations. With every thought, the magic subsided until she came to a very real existence where an employer would kiss his housekeeper for only one reason—and it was not because he meant to declare himself.
Feeling suddenly ill, Cora pressed her palms to his chest and pushed him away. Only moments before she had jested about feeling like a wanton and now she had become one. How could she have returned Mr. Ludlow's kiss with such reckless abandon? What must he think of her? Did he believe her open to some sort of proposition now?
She fisted her hands, suddenly angry with him. "I may only be a tradesman's daughter, sir, but I am a respectable one. If we allow this to continue, we will be no better than your brother and the lady who jilted you most abominably. I am your housekeeper and nothing more. You must desist in seeking me out and… and…"
"Kissing you?" His lips began to twitch, and his dimple emerged. Under normal circumstances, Cora would be thrilled at the sight of it, but she found it most vexing at the moment. How dare he laugh at her? Did he think her silly for having principles and morals? She had told him in the beginning that she was not the sort of woman to cavort with her employer. Surely he had not forgotten that conversation already. The awkward nature of it should have embedded itself in his memory.
"Yes, that is precisely what I mean." She frowned at him, wondering why he continued to smile. Did he think this a great joke? Did he not see how much he had injured her pride and feelings? Cora had never felt more exposed or vulnerable and he did not seem to care at all.
Unbidden tears filled her eyes, and she immediately wished him to the devil. How dare he ruin this perfectly beautiful evening by causing her to cry?
Altogether too late, Mr. Ludlow's smile vanished. He reached for her shoulders but she flinched away from him, turning her face to the side in an attempt to hide her blasted tears. Why did they persist in coming? A person should only cry if he or she wanted to. Tears should never come unbidden, they should not!
"Cora," he said quietly, not attempting to touch her again. "Will you please look at me?"
She shook her head, pressing her eyelids together with the hope of keeping the tears inside. But it only served to squeeze them out. They trailed down her cheeks as a testament of her foolishness.
He took her gently by the shoulders, and when she did not resist he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She allowed him to hold her because she loved being in his arms. She loved his scent, his strength, the husky timbre of his voice, the rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek—she loved it all. And yet she should not.
He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. "How could you think that I would ever wish to take your respectability or virtue? I assure you that is the last thing I would ever want. Do you truly not know how dear you have become to me?"
At his words, Cora felt something resembling hope spark in her chest, like an ember on the verge of rekindling.
It soothed and comforted her, easing the ache that had throbbed so very badly. She untucked her head from his chest and looked up, wanting to believe him and yet not knowing how she could.
"What is it you want from me?" she asked.
He raised his hand to her brow and slid the back of his fingers down the side of her face, stopping just below her mouth. His thumb grazed her lips, causing them to tingle and yearn for another taste of him.
"More than anything else, I want to dismiss you."
What? Cora blinked, not comprehending. Was he in earnest? His lips were not twitching, his eyes showed no humor, and his forehead had furrowed. If anything, he looked concerned.
"I beg your pardon?"
His tightened his grip on her shoulders and held her firmly. "Do you not understand? Are you so blind to my motives that you cannot see them for what they are? I want to dismiss you because I no longer wish to call you Mrs. Notley. I'd greatly prefer to call you Cora or at the very least, Miss Notley. I would like you to return to the Shepherds and allow them to launch you into local society so that I might see you at dinner parties, luncheons, and balls. I want to play cards with you, dance with you, and be able to pay court to you the way you deserve to be courted. I want to sweep you off your feet with the hope of one day proving to you exactly how much I have come to admire you. You have become so much more than a housekeeper to me. You have become the reason I am out here in this cold, wet night, the reason I arise in the morning and find something to smile about, the reason my birthday has gone from bad to good. I am falling in love with you, and I need for you to not be my housekeeper any longer."
Cora could not breathe. Everything around her seemed to tilt and wobble. Had he really said he was falling in love with her—her, the lowly daughter of a tradesman turned housekeeper? How was that even possible? She could scarce believe it and yet he had said those very words. Hadn't he? Had she somehow imagined them? It did not feel real at all. In fact, it felt so very unreal.
The Rise of Miss Notley (Tanglewood Book 2) Page 15