Rich Radiant Love

by Valerie Sherwood

  “We must wait, Linnet. We must bide our time,” he said fondly.

  “Oh, sir—oh, sir!” Linnet’s voice broke as she let go of the necklace and hurled herself violently into his arms, almost crashed into him. “I can’t believe it’s happened!” She began to cry, tears streaming down her face from sheer happiness.

  Nicolas stood his ground manfully before this onslaught. Only slightly staggered by Linnet’s catapulting form, he enfolded her in his arms and pressed on her eager mouth a long, slow, delightful kiss such as set his own hot blood to stirring again.

  But then that pair of reproachful remembered brown eyes intervened and Nicolas held Linnet off from him and stared at her for a long moment. He reached out and tenderly dried her cheeks with his fingers.

  “There’ll be another day for us, Linnet,” he said softly, for he could see that kiss had shaken her clear to her toes. Abruptly he strode to the door. “Jack,” he called loudly, and when there was no response he stuck his head out and shouted, “Jack, ’tis time to take my lady back now.”

  Not “wench” but “my lady.” As he came to the door. Jack lifted his heavy brows and looked at Linnet with new respect. His surprised gaze caught the flash of gold and diamond as Linnet hastily tucked the necklace beneath her white collar and then stuffed it farther down under her high-necked chemise. She had been truthful with Nicolas—no one would see the necklace. Linnet intended to sleep in that chemise and not take it off unless her bedchamber door was well and truly latched.

  “Have you got a fresh horse, Jack?” Nicolas asked and Belter gave a surly nod.

  With a cynical look on his handsome face, Nicolas watched Linnet ride away behind dour Jack Belter. Both of them were in his pay, he reasoned. Linnet’s price was just a little higher, but then she was going to deliver Georgiana to him.

  And as soon as Belter returned, Nicolas would have another errand. He must go downriver as fast as a sloop would take him and collect Arthur Kincaid, for Arthur too was a part of the plan he had formed while talking to Linnet. And there was a sloop waiting for him just beyond the trees, out of sight of this farmhouse—he had not wanted Linnet to see it. Now he strolled out the door, meaning to make his way down the riverbank to have a word with her captain.

  Jack’s mare was just cresting the hill that would take them beyond view of the farmhouse as Nicolas came out. Linnet, clinging to Belter’s middle with one arm, turned and gave him a last wave with a green-mittened hand. Her brown cloak was blowing in the wind. Her hood had fallen back and her bright hair spilled out of it. For a moment he saw them there, horse and riders etched stark against the pallid wintry sky. Then they were over the hill and out of sight, and Nicolas turned away to consider the details of the devious plan that he truly believed would deliver to him both Windgate—and Windgate’s bride.

  When Belter returned from dropping off Linnet, he asked Nicolas, “Will the wench help us?”

  Nicolas nodded absently. He had been standing at the window staring out into the late afternoon light, watching the shadows grow long and blue upon the snow. “She’ll do what I say, Jack.”

  And he was sure she would. Over and over again he had gone over in his mind what had been said—and what had not been said. It was unlike him, he realized, to have behaved so well. The old Nicolas would have bedded the wench, urged her “to do this little thing for love of him” and forgotten her before the day was out. What had deterred him, he wondered? Why had he taken all that tiresome time in argument when he could have had his way quicker and easier by way of a torn chemise? It did not occur to him that breathless Linnet, in that moment by the fire when she had first looked up at him, had had something childlike and trusting in her gaze that had reminded him of Mattie, a trust this new more fastidious Nicolas would not wish to violate.

  Nicolas never thought of that. Instead he wondered uneasily if he was getting old.

  Chapter 28

  Linnet rode home from her rendezvous with her mind awhirl with thoughts of a glamorous future. Clutching Jack Belter’s firm middle, she forgot the cold as she hugged to herself every word, every glance Nicolas had given her. And, Gramma—she cast a smiling wicked glance at the sky as a hawk flew over—she had remembered to tell her gentleman how—except for a whim of fate and the flash of the headsman’s ax—she would have been born a lady! And now she was going to be the wife of a patroon! Linnet gave such a deep ecstatic sigh that Belter was moved to swing his big head around.

  “Are ye sick?” he demanded sharply, for now that Nicolas had had his way with the wench (as he firmly believed), now that she was “in it” with them (as she must be although she hadn’t said so), he was concerned with her well-being—at least until whatever part she played in this game (and Nicolas hadn’t enlightened him as to that) was over.

  “No, I’m fine,” murmured Linnet to that bristly black beard—so different from Nicolas’s fine gleaming golden beard that had brushed her face like a skein of lustrous silk. How his mustaches had tickled! She giggled suddenly and Belter’s frown deepened. Mad, that’s what she was. He hoped not too much of the plan depended on her!

  He let her off at Windgate, wheeled his horse and departed.

  Linnet let herself in through a side door that was left unlocked by day, and put her things away. Having done that, she began to wander dreamily through the big rooms, deserted now since—with so many guests about to descend on them—all the servants had been pressed into temporary service in the kitchen. She was viewing everything she saw in an entirely new light. She might one day be mistress here! She could imagine herself prancing down to the big kitchen and giving cook her orders—no, she’d just let cook come to her, and waddle off some of that fat! And if someone came to the door she didn’t want to see, she would regally instruct Wouter to “turn the fellow away,” she wasn’t receiving! She saw herself refusing entrance to Erica Hulft, snubbing that stuck-up Katrina ten Haer, wearing clothes as beautiful as Georgiana’s—and twice as much jewelry, gorging herself on sweets, and sleeping blissfully beside Nicolas in the big square bed in Georgiana’s bedchamber.

  She shivered with anticipation. It was a dream that might not come true, she knew, for the English patroon had a hold like an eagle’s claws on this bank of the Hudson, but, she told herself with a slight pout, it couldn’t hurt to dream. And—she gave a little skip as she went into the drawing room—even if Nicolas gave up his claim and went away, he would still take her with him into some other bright future.

  She was just deciding how she would rearrange the furniture in this room and what color drapes would replace the present ones when she jumped—for she had heard her name called.

  “Linnet, wherever have you been?” Georgiana, dressed in the sensible gray tight-bodiced linsey-woolsey dress she wore when she was supervising household chores, was just coming through the door, wiping her wet hands on her enveloping white linen apron. “I’ve been looking all over for you. And why are you standing there holding that chair?”

  Linnet dropped the little straight chair she was holding as if it were hot. She had been so carried away with deciding how she would rearrange the furniture that she had actually picked up the chair and been carrying it across the room when Georgiana arrived.

  Georgiana gave Linnet a penetrating look that caused Linnet to shift her feet uncomfortably. “Cook said she thought she saw you riding in with Jack Belter.”

  Linnet’s face crimsoned. “Well, I—I might have done,” she stammered. She felt almost ashamed to face Georgiana, after having calmly discussed matters this afternoon that would mean turning her out!

  Georgiana looked at the girl in amazement. Of all the men in the world to pique Linnet’s interest, the last one she would have expected to have done so was fierce-looking Jack Belter. Suddenly she remembered having seen him on the dock at Haerwyck as they had stepped ashore for the ball, and how dour and forbidding he had seemed to her. She remembered remarking on his presence in surprise, and Brett saying, “Maybe Belter’s having a
n affair with one of the chambermaids!” Could the chambermaid Belter fancied have been Linnet? Could he have guessed she’d be at Haerwyck like the other ladies’ maids, and have pursued her there? And she’d had trouble finding Linnet that night when she wanted to leave. Could the girl have been closeted with Jack Belter somewhere, perhaps locked in fierce embrace, kissing him? If so, it would certainly explain Linnet’s odd unpredictable behavior ever since the ball.

  But—Jack Belter! And to have described him as “a gentleman”! Georgiana reminded herself wryly that love struck in odd places. And made people act most peculiar. And perhaps now that her secret was out. Linnet would settle down, for she had been very flighty lately, given to sudden sulks and even bursts of tears.

  “And here I thought you were so set on saving yourself for a gentleman!” she teased, for Linnet had confided to her that story about Gramma and the earl of Essex.

  Linnet jumped as if a pin had stuck her. “Oh, I’ve forgot all about that,” she said quickly. Her voice dropped to a mumble. “Jack’s good enough for me.” Having said it, she brightened, relieved to find this easy way out of her predicament. And, besides, seeming to be having a romantic affair with Jack would explain her visiting his cottage at some future date—to meet Nicolas.

  “Well, I’m glad you’ve found someone.” Georgiana gave the girl an impulsive hug that made Linnet feel suddenly very guilty. But even through that stab of contrition, she reminded herself that Nicolas—golden wonderful Nicolas—was counting on her, and she must not let him down. That was the thought she must hold on to if she was to get through all these devious connivings he had embroiled her in.

  “I’m—glad too,” she managed.

  “Come along,” Georgiana told her gaily. “Brett is in his office consulting with one of his long-winded tenants who’ll keep him there for at least another hour. And while he’s in there I’ve a mind to try out my new ice skates. I’ve been determined to find a moment when he wasn’t looking—in case I fall flat on my face.”

  “Oh, you’ll fall—more than once,” Linnet assured her cheerfully, remembering some of the many nasty spills she’d taken herself back on Yorkshire ice.

  Georgiana untied her apron and they donned their cloaks. Georgiana pulled on fur-lined leather gloves and Linnet the green mittens she had taken off such a short time before. They left the house by the same side door through which Linnet had entered and set off on high pattens for the pond, carrying their skates.

  “You’d best tuck your skirts up,” Linnet advised her.

  Georgiana looked around. The pond, while near the house, was quite isolated actually, its snowy banks ringed by trees and brush. It might have been set in a woodland far from any house. There was nobody to see. She tucked her gray linsey-woolsey skirts up and let Linnet adjust her skate straps for her. She flexed her ankles, trying to get the feel of them. Linnet did a fast little turn before her. It looked easy.

  Determined to learn and learn fast, she let Linnet help her up and, then, scorning further aid, she made her first sally out onto the ice. The ice on the pond was smooth and firm—and hard, as she discovered when her ankles seemed immediately to give way, her feet promptly flew out from under her and she crashed down hard on her bottom.

  “That’s not the way to do it,” said Linnet.

  “I can see that,” said Georgiana ruefully, struggling up with Linnet’s help.

  Half an hour later she was still wavering, still falling. Feeling frustrated and ridiculous and not a little sore, she sank down, panting, on the opposite bank and acknowledged defeat—-at least for now.

  That was when Linnet had unveiled her tempting plan to switch places with her and confound Erica Hulft with a dazzling exhibition on the ice.

  At first it had seemed mad and unworkable, but the more Georgiana thought about it, the more attractive it became. And with Nicolas to help—and she had no doubt he would, he was sure to find it all vastly amusing—they could probably carry it off.

  “What are those tracks in the snow?” Georgiana asked idly as they shouldered their skates and prepared to walk back through the trees.

  “Fox tracks, I think,” said Linnet, peering down.

  Foxes... Georgiana was suddenly reminded of the reddish fox’s brush color of Erica’s hair. It hardened her resolve.

  “Come along. Linnet,” she said briskly. “We’ll see what we can do about a costume for you.”

  Brett met them in the hall as they were removing their tall pattens and shaking the snow from their wide skirts.

  “Well, I see you’ve tried it,” he observed, eyeing the skates. “Yes,” said Georgiana shortly, for there was still that coolness between them.

  “How do you like skating?” he asked mildly. “Or have you fallen down so often you’re too numb to tell?”

  She gave him a look of feigned astonishment. “Fallen?” she scoffed. “I didn’t fall. I’m quite good at it already. Linnet says I have a natural aptitude for skating. Perhaps it comes from having danced so much.”

  He gave her a sardonic look. “We must take a turn around the ice tomorrow and test this new proficiency of yours.”

  “I’m much too busy for that.” Georgiana’s voice was crisp. “With all I have to do. I will get in what practice I can at odd moments, for I intend to be dancing on the ice with the others.”

  Brett raised his dark brows at this bit of bravado, but he said nothing as she swished past him herding Linnet before her. His thoughtful gaze followed their progress up the stairs. Then he strode out the door and they heard it shut behind him.

  “What do you think he thought, Linnet?” asked Georgiana in a worried voice.

  “He thought you were a liar,” said Linnet bleakly and Georgiana gave a short mirthless laugh.

  “Yes,” she sighed. “Brett’s good at seeing through people.” All except one—Erica Hulft.

  Accompanying Georgiana into her big square bedchamber, Linnet was having her own problems. Now that Georgiana had assented to the plan, she was suddenly terribly troubled by what she had promised to do. Georgiana, she reminded herself, had been kind to her—far kinder than any mistress she had ever had in her young life. Had not Georgiana given her the lovely clothes she had worn the night of the ten Haers’ ball? Why, where would she be now without the mistress?

  Still, a girl had to look out for herself and she now had Nicolas’s interests to think of.

  But consideration of Nicolas’s interests did not keep her from giving Georgiana a stricken look. “I—I wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt you,” she blurted. “If you think we’ll be found out?”

  Georgiana, searching for her costume among the clothes in her big press, took that to mean that Linnet was afraid this charade, if discovered, would cause trouble between herself and Brett. Well, suppose it did drive a further wedge between them? Georgiana asked herself bitterly. Wasn’t it worth taking the chance? For Erica Hulft would be after Brett at the ball and Georgiana as hostess would be too busy to be ever watchful. If she could just best Erica in this one thing, this exhibition on the ice, might not Erica in pique (sensing that she had been downed unfairly) become angry and offensive and thus alienate Brett? Georgiana’s delicate jaw hardened. “I think it’s an excellent idea,” she said in a new steely voice. “I’m only surprised I didn’t think of it myself.”

  Linnet, both glad and sorry, felt a sense of relief.

  “There.” Georgiana pulled out the dainty blue and white shepherdess costume she intended to wear, spread it out on the big square bed. She studied it, shaking her head. “There’s really no way this can be duplicated for you, Linnet,” she sighed. “The seamstress might have time to stitch up another but there are only a few scraps of this blue silk left and even if we sent downriver, there’s no guarantee that a proper match could be found.” Indeed, the material was old. She had found it, just the proper length to make a dress, in the anteroom with Imogene’s other things, left behind before her wild ride down the frozen river. It had probably c
ome from Amsterdam or Paris and it would be hard to duplicate that exact color and sheen. She frowned, studying the neckline. “Anyway, this neckline is very low cut and revealing and your bustline is heavier and lower than mine. My waist is slimmer than yours and your legs are heavier. No, it was a wonderful idea but I don’t see how we can work it out.”

  Linnet saw all her plans going out the window. “No one’s seen your legs in your long dresses,” she pointed out eagerly. “So if my skirts fly up, they’ll never know whose striped stockings they’re looking at!”

  Striped stockings.... That gave Georgiana an idea. She never wore striped stockings herself, preferring sheer plain color silks, but they were very popular, especially here in this Dutch colony, where the women fancied brilliant red petticoats and short dresses to show off their stockings.

  “They’ll have seen my ankles,” she murmured.

  “Who notices ankles?” scoffed Linnet.

  Brett and Nicolas do! she was tempted to reply, but instead she shot a question at Linnet. “Do you own two pairs of striped stockings exactly alike?”

  Linnet blinked. “No, I don’t, but cook’s daughter does—she got them for her birthday and hasn’t worn them yet. She’s waiting for the holidays. Red-and-white-striped wool, they are.”

  “See if you can borrow them. I’ll make it up to her. And there’s a lot of yellow wool yarn in the sewing room. Bring it to me, and bring the seamstress with all the ginghams and calicos she can find—we’re going to be a pair of rag dolls, Linnet!”

  “But your beautiful shepherdess costume!” wailed Linnet, who had yearned to wear one like that and prance before Nicolas across the ice—because of course he would know who was doing the skating!

  “Oh, I’ll wear the shepherdess costume,” Georgiana laughed. “And then I’ll change for the skating exhibition and the ice dancing—only of course there won’t be any ice dancing for me because I’ll pretend I hurt my ankle at the end of the skating exhibition.”