by Cheryl Howe
James had happily let Rudd continue in his delusion that James was under personal siege because he’d found it kept the man too busy to fastidiously groom him. And perhaps just a small inkling of doubt had crept into his mind that the clogged chimney had been something more sinister. James suddenly thought of the open suspicion from Lark. Who else assumed he was an enemy? Or could it be that his unsavory relationship with her mother had finally roused James’s rusty sense of morality?
“So, do you have any leads on who might be our culprit?” James said to Mr. Rudd. Only Rudd and Lark seemed to say what was on their mind around here.
“I’m not letting anyone off the hook just yet.” Mr. Rudd adjusted a rough leather satchel slung round his neck that ruined his satin livery.
“Apparently Lark’s nanny was telling anyone who would listen that I was going to send the family packing.” James had almost convinced himself that hadn’t been his initial intention along with selling the entire estate. Learning enough about English law had put a swift stop to that, though he hoped his better judgment would have prevailed even if that hadn’t been the case.
Mr. Rudd gave a dismissive shake of his head. “That’s old information and besides, such things happen all the time. New lord comes in with his family and their own staff. ‘Course, murdering the lord happens all the time, too. But you being an American, well, that broadens our field considerably. Who knows who’s still holding a grudge from the war?”
The heavy front doors had opened again while Mr. Rudd had been speaking and one of the groomsman sprinted past James to guide Astra down the steps. James glanced at Astra’s troubled features then back at Mr. Rudd who sounded all too gleeful about listing James’s enemies. “I’m still not convinced that the fire was anything but an accident so please don’t attack any random travelers we pass on the road,” James said.
Mr. Rudd gave James a short salute. “I have an eye for these things, Lord Keane. You’ll see.”
James intercepted the groomsman to help Astra into the carriage. She wore a modestly cut gown of lilac and white stripes. Her hair had been piled on her head and decorated with matching ribbons. With her pale, almost translucent skin and slight frame she could have passed for one of Lark’s fairies. Queen of the fairies—serene, self-contained. Smoldering.
“I think we should tell Lark we have found our resident fairy.” James climbed in behind Astra and sat on the opposite side of the carriage for now. Later, he hoped that would change. “You look lovely.”
“James, please understand, when it comes to Lark there is no We.” Her curt words proved he’d selected his seat wisely. “And don’t encourage her with her fairies and spriggans and such. Cornwall is very superstitious country and Lowell loved to recount the legends to Lark. I could not discourage him or her for believing, but now…” She sighed and James knew he was in trouble. “Now, fairy tales seem slightly dangerous. For all of us.”
James resisted the urge to defend himself. She’d set the parameters of their relationship, not him. Of course those boundaries consisted of a purely sexual nature and suited him perfectly. Still, he didn’t intend any harm by being kind to a child. Besides, he had a fondness for fanciful tales. Always had.
“I’m not an ogre, Astra. I am a stranger here and perhaps I don’t know your customs, but where I’m from, well, we let children be children.”
“And that is the problem, James. You made it clear that you are eager to return home. In fact, it seems you remain ready to sail out on the next tide.”
“That’s not fair,” he said, though that was indeed his original argument in persuading her not to take legal action against him. “I have agreed to stay until summer. Late summer,” he amended.
“Lark has already had too many losses.” Astra clasped her gloved hands in her lap and stared at them instead of meeting his gaze. “I don’t want her to suffer another in the event she becomes too attached to you.”
James guessed she wasn’t just speaking of Lark. He leaned back against the cushioned seat, feeling thoroughly defeated.
“I only wanted to make your daughter smile.” James shrugged. What else could he say? All and all, his relationship with Astra was indefensible. As was the fact that he had no intention of giving it up. The least he could do was keep her daughter free of harm.
His pathetic explanation somehow seemed to crumble Astra’s defenses. She reached across the carriage and took his hand. “And you did make her smile. Just don’t make her promises you won’t be able to keep. Eventually, we will need to leave Eastlan.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but she squeezed his hand and continued. “I know that is not your intention, but some day you will wish to marry. You say you don’t want children now, and I understand that. However, I saw how you were with Lark. You will make a wonderful father one day. You are a kind man, James, and I wish you all the world has to offer.”
“Astra, you’re planning a future for me I’m not sure I want.”
She smiled, but the sadness in her eyes was worse than if she had continued to frown. “Perhaps. None of us knows what the future holds and Lark is impressionable. I would rather you two not create a bond that must eventually be broken. You are not to be a part of Lark’s life, we have agreed on that, have we not?”
James nodded. What could he say? Illicit sex in the carriage was not only out of the question, but a late night rendezvous was looking doubtful as well. “I did promise to take her to the Bainbridges’s garden someday. I don’t break my word.”
“I will ask Mr. Bainbridge if I can bring Lark. Her nanny has an eleven-year-old daughter whom Lark worships. I shall bring her along and Lark will hardly notice your absence.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to upset you.” James was surprised how disappointed he was. Now that he’d been banished from the outing, chasing fairies in a garden maze with a true believer sounded entertaining.
“You haven’t.” She offered him another wobbly smile. “We just needed an understanding before this matter became a problem. And now we have. Please stay away from Lark.”
Astra stared out the window at the passing scenery that had turned burnished with the fading afternoon. Suddenly, James wished for Mr. Rudd’s imagined ambush so he could be Astra’s rescuer instead of just one more threat she must guard against.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
In a shadowed corner of the Bainbridges’s drawing room, Astra perched on a Louis XV armchair’s heavily padded seat. Wesley rested his elbow on a marbled-topped table beside her. They remained out of the circle of boisterous activity lighted by over a dozen candles in strategically placed candelabras. James nestled next to Mr. Bainbridge’s eldest daughter on a narrow settee and was illuminated as if by the noon day sun. The youngest Bainbridge, Cordelia, performed another round of charades.
If Astra did not feel like such an outsider, she might find the openly affectionate family charming. Unfortunately, the moment Rosemound’s latest residents had spilled from the stately front doors, Astra knew the troubled afternoon had taken a disastrous turn.
Even before official greetings were exchanged, James beamed at Mr. Bainbridge’s boots. Though James gushed over the style, the craftsmanship, he never once mentioned that Astra had persuaded him to wear white stockings and buckled shoes when he passionately argued for riding boots. Nor did he toss her a smug glance when the Bainbridges graciously and enthusiastically welcomed him into their grand, yet comfortable home. The dogs roamed freely across Persian rugs, everyone spoke at once, and all gleefully agreed to forgo formality, exchanging their Christian names as if they were at boarding school. Astra would have felt less disturbed if the Bainbridges’s general merriment did not appear appallingly sincere. Overt happiness had never come easily to Astra, not even as a child. Games seemed a luxury for a girl with a frivolous mother and uncertain future. Formality was her only shield.
“What next, shall they break out batons and juggle while balancing on a chair? Or perhaps we shall soon be into the p
assing of the gin bottle?” Wesley’s words were low, but Astra feared their intent unmistakable. The Bainbridges pretended not to notice. James’s gaze darted in their direction.
“Wesley, do not be so unkind. They are a lovely family. And James seems to be enjoying himself. I think he feels like he’s stepped across the ocean and is home again.” Astra’s whisper evaporated in a hoarse squeak. Not that she worried about being overheard. James had dismissed them, shouting over the Bainbridges to be the first to guess Cordelia’s pantomime. But the truth in her words caused her the most unbearable slice of pain. How hard this last month must have been on James, having every natural instinct suppressed. Well, perhaps Astra did know a bit about that, but her forced reserve had become a way of life that she no longer noticed. That was until she met James.
“Yes, he does seem to fit in well doesn’t he?” Wesley swirled the sherry in his glass but didn’t drink, setting it back down instead. “James and Kerra make a striking couple.”
Astra glanced in their direction. Kerra whispered something to James and Emily, the middle daughter, accused them of cheating. “She’s a bit young for him, I think.”
“She must be at least in her early twenties.” Wesley shrugged. “Long in the tooth by most standards. She’s got that healthy country-grown look. Good breeding stock, I’d say.”
“And how does that reflect upon me? You must find me ancient. I was already twenty-five when I married Lowell.” Astra glared at Wesley not needing a reminder that she was older than both he and James, not to mention her late husband.
“And a priceless relic you are.” Wesley laughed as if he were teasing, but Astra could not deny that Kerra would make a fine pairing for James even without her hefty dowry. Kerra was quite beautiful with her glossy golden hair and bright blue eyes. Her unfashionably sun-kissed skin only added to her appeal.
“James has assured me he is not in the market for a wife to begin his dynasty.” Astra picked up her saucer and sipped her tea. She should have requested something stronger but she had been behaving wickedly enough as things were.
“Not yet anyway, but it’s only a matter of time.” Wesley sighed. “You and I should run away together before we must witness the fall of our beloved Eastlan. The weather is marvelous in Greece. You must really travel abroad someday, Astra.”
Wesley’s wistful tone could be interpreted as merely musing, except Astra knew him better than that. James’s approach stopped Astra from having to comment on Wesley’s chilling assessment of their future.
“What are you two whispering about over here?” James gave them a reproachful look that shamed Astra.
“I’m not much good at games.” Astra found it hard to meet James’s gaze and hid it with a shrug. She certainly couldn’t admit that she was jealous. She didn’t have a right to be. “I have not had the opportunity to socialize much these last few years and I suppose I’m out of practice.” Not that she ever was in practice, Astra realized. When had she become so solemn? The answer came in a burst of clarity: when her father died and she was left with a remaining parent who knew nothing but playing games. Astra hated her morose thought and tried to wipe it from her face before James noticed.
“Come join us. Cordelia shares Lark’s interest in fairies and is quite well versed on the subject.” James shoved his hand in his pockets and held her gaze with entirely too much intensity. He ground his jaw, causing a telling muscle to jump. To her surprise, Astra guessed he desperately wanted to touch her with the same ferocity she wished to lay some sort of claim to him. The lie they were living wasn’t completely without difficulty for him either.
Astra glanced past him to find the dark-haired and dark-eyed Cordelia watching them. The girl smiled nervously at the eye contact. Astra surprised herself by winking in return. “Oh, I must discover what she knows and report it to Lark or she’ll never forgive me.”
“If there are any fairies in all of England they would be here, would they not, Da?” Cordelia gushed a little too cheerfully.
Astra stood, regretting she had let her troubled thoughts make her standoffish and cause the Bainbridges discomfort in their own home. She joined the group and took a butter cookie from the silver tray Mrs. Bainbridge had brought in after dinner. Though they seemed to have plenty of servants, they hardly used them, preferring to serve their guests themselves. Something else they had in common with James.
Astra nibbled on the cookie. “This is delicious,” and it was. Though not elaborate, the simple pastry was flaky and irresistibly buttery. “Your cook must give me the recipe to take home to Lady Phillina. She has a sweet tooth.”
“I’d be glad to send some cookies home to the dear lady. I’m sorry she has been ill for so long.” Mrs. Bainbridge smiled slyly and sat a little taller. “But if you’d like the recipe, ask Kerra. She made them. My daughters might have the finest things now, but they will not forget their roots. Hmm, girls?”
“It’s just a bit of flour and butter, but I’d be happy to share the recipe with your cook.”
Kerra glanced at Astra then glanced away. Instantly, Astra knew Kerra also realized they had a mutual interest in James Keane. Good Lord, was Astra that obvious?
“You must, Kerra,” James said with real enthusiasm. The only person at Eastlan who had a more demanding appetite for sweets than the elder Keane was James himself. “You can give it to her yourself at the ball. You all will be attending, won’t you?”
“That would be an honor, would it not, Mr. Bainbridge?” Mrs. Bainbridge tossed her husband a triumphant look.
Mr. Bainbridge cleared his throat. “That indeed would be very kind.”
“Oh, we would love to have you,” Astra said. “Lady Phillina insists on addressing the invitations in her own hand and is horribly behind. I will send one round immediately.” Astra should have invited the Bainbridges in the first place since their ball was to introduce James to the locals more so than the aristocrats who were mostly still in London. However, Astra’s mother would be horrified. She had curtly refused the Bainbridges’s invitation for dinner tonight, shocked that James would agree to it. She had railed at Astra for her failing to convince James it was beneath him.
“Are there gardens?” asked Cordelia, the youngest.
“Yes, but not as nice as yours, I’m afraid.” Astra smiled at the girl and noticed she too blushed. Perhaps Astra overreacted about Kerra’s interest in James. Cordelia was barely thirteen if she were a day, and Emily only a few years older. Apparently Mr. Bainbridge had all his hopes set on the earthly sensual Kerra. Mr. Bainbridge was indeed a shrewd man.
James caught Astra’s eye with a lascivious gleam, as if her unhappy thoughts showed on her face. “Ah, but we have a lovely gazebo overlooking a pond. I’ll have to attempt to sail upon it this summer with a small skiff.”
His mention of the gazebo where they had sealed their agreement gave Astra a pleasurable shiver. The Bainbridges might have designs on James, but he subtly managed to let Astra know he had no intention of breaking their bargain.
“You’re a sailor, aren’t you?” Mr. Bainbridge asked, sitting forward in the green brocade high-backed chair that had almost seemed to swallow him.
“How exciting! I want to travel on a ship someday, but Mother is afraid of the water. Do you have a ship of your own?” Emily stood and came around to sit beside James.
“You can take to the sea when I’m dead and buried, Em, but not before,” said Mrs. Bainbridge in a huff. “I grew up on the tip of the peninsula. Too many shipwrecks to count there.”
“My ship’s anchored in Plymouth, as a matter of fact.” James glanced at Astra. He had failed to mention that fact and she had never thought to ask. No wonder he mapped the tides with his ship so near at hand.
“I enjoy the sea as much as Em,” Kerra said belatedly. “I’ve always dreamed of traveling to the new world.”
“The sea makes me ill,” said Wesley, who had all but faded into the brocade chair across the room. Astra knew Wesley’s comment wa
s for her. As children, she could not row across Eastlan’s pond without becoming overly anxious to get to the other side.
“I fear it does me as well, Mr. Hutton.” Mr. Bainbridge shook his head in commiseration, either not picking up on, or ignoring the edge in Wesley’s comment. Astra guessed the latter. “Still, against Mrs. Bainbridge’s wishes, I find I must look into the shipping trade. On the advice of my highly respected solicitor, I need to diversify my investments. One of the reasons I bought Rosemound. And since Cornwall is my home, the only other industry is the sea.”
James sat up, his interest piqued. “Well, you will not go wrong with investing in the shipping trade. Are you planning on purchasing a ship or perhaps looking to invest in a voyage or two?”
“Investing might be a nice place to start since I don’t know much about the trade. ‘Course I didn’t know anything about tin before I started with that and it’s served me well.”
“I would be glad to be of help in that area,” James said, not hiding the eagerness in his voice.
“And I would very much appreciate your input. I’d like to leave something solid to my daughters. With mining, you never know when a claim will tap out. The wind never runs out.”
“My thoughts exactly. Might I suggest you start with a small investment.” James stopped short of asking Mr. Bainbridge to invest in his own ship, but it rattled around the room like a lost puppy.
“As a matter of fact, James, I was hoping you would do a little more than make a mere suggestion or two.” Mr. Bainbridge glanced around the room. “But we are boring the others. Perhaps we can talk more in private. Maybe you would be so kind as to show me your ship?”
“I would be honored. I’m planning a trip to Plymouth within the week.”
“Excellent. I would love to accompany you. I have a friend in wool manufacturing who might be of some use to you,” Bainbridge said offhandedly, but no doubt knew exactly what his wealthy connections could offer James.