by Deb Marlowe
But it would appear that he’d made a tactical mistake. He may have won the war, but damned if he didn’t miss engaging in battle.
He tried to fill in the time preparing for his new role at Cateswood. He studied the land management tomes in his library and spoke to his experienced friends about crop rotation, harvest schedules and tenant management. Somehow all of his grand ideas had lost their shine. He kept losing track of mangelwurzels, thinking instead of clear green eyes and sun-dappled skin and the soft press of pink lips.
He gave up finally and went in search of Peter. He wasn’t home, of course, but he eventually tracked him down at White’s.
“Hiding out?”
Peter grunted.
“From me or from yourself?”
His nephew closed his eyes and leaned his head back on his chair. “Both.”
The porter came around and Brodham sent him after drinks.
“You’re going to have to tell her.”
Silence reigned between them. Quiet conversation and laughter carried on around them. In the corner two men engaged in a low, furious political debate.
“I’m afraid.”
Brodham barely heard the whispered confession.
The porter returned with brandy. They each took up a glass.
“You know you don’t have to be,” he answered, almost as low. “In your heart, you know it with a certainty, or you would not have let it get this far.” Brodham tossed his drink back. “I’ll only say this once, stripling, so listen close. I loved my brother. I did all I could for him.” He leaned forward, awkward, but hoping Peter could see the love and pride he felt. “But you are your own man. You are intelligent, thoughtful and considerate. I’m proud to have you as my nephew and my heir.” He raised a brow. “You haven’t been toying with Miss Carmichael’s affections?”
“No!” Peter objected.
“No, you have not,” he soothed. “You are not going to hurt that lovely girl. In any way. It isn’t in you. And I’m fairly certain that I can say the same about her.”
Peter stared at him. “You won’t mind, then?”
“I’ve never been against you, lad. I’ve only wished for you to slow down, to make sure.” He narrowed his eyes. “To do the right thing.”
Peter sat up straight. “I will. And you’re right about her, at least. I do trust her. I’m going to tell her.” He stood. “And I’m going to marry her.”
Brodham nodded. “Get on with it, lad.”
His nephew shot him a speaking look of gratitude and left.
He poured another drink. Those two would be fine now, he knew. They would go into this marriage with eyes and hearts open.
He sighed. And Liberty Baylis would think she had won. He wondered if he’d ever see her again, if he’d ever get the chance to fully explain, to test his mettle against her fun, flirty, appealing ways.
A bleak hollow formed in his gut at the thought that he might not.
“I say, was that Gardiner? I hate that I missed him.”
He glanced up at the man who’d paused by his chair.
“Brodham!” the gentleman exclaimed. “It is you! Didn’t know you were back in Town, old man.”
“Ashburn.” He stood and greeted his old school friend. “Good to see you.”
They sat for a bit, shared a drink, talked over old times and news of old friends.
“Listen, will you see Gardiner before tomorrow, do you think?” Ashburn eventually asked.
“Likely.”
“Will you tell him that if he likes, he can meet Vickers and the others at the Borough High Street?” He brightened. “You should come along, Brodham—it’s an impromptu picnic up at the Richmond house. Worthe and his fiancé convinced me to host a group—just an informal gathering. We’d love to have you there.”
All the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. “Worthe and his fiancé, did you say?”
“Yes. Lovely girl. Can’t say no to a happy bride-to-be, can you?”
“Who else is coming?” But he already knew the answer, didn’t he?
“Oh, just a few friends. Vickers is invited. He might actually have a good time if you are there. Miss Charlotte Ridgley, and that American girl, too. Don’t worry, it’s to be small, not anything like my mother gets up. She’s still recovering from the time Cotwell threw her garden party into a frenzy by proposing in the midst of the roses. Heard about that?”
He went on to tell the tale, but Brodham wasn’t listening. He was too busy marveling. She’d almost done it. Liberty Baylis, that beautiful, sneaky chit of an American girl, had very nearly outmaneuvered him. His pulse danced loud in his ears.
It wasn’t over.
Unfamiliar chaos whirled inside of him. If he hadn’t been sitting down, it might have staggered him. He was used to dealing with the frothy mess of other people’s emotions, never his own.
Annoyance, respect, a warm glow of affection. A pounding thrum of anticipation. He couldn’t wait to see what she had planned, to surprise her with his presence, to engage her in battle. He couldn’t wait to see her.
Perhaps for the last time.
That triggered a wave of a different kettle of emotions. He squashed them. It was time. They would have a last call to arms and a proper goodbye.
He was prepared. Soon this all would be over. Peter would likely marry. Liberty would depart for home. He’d be left to a calm and quietly busy existence at Cateswood.
Just as he’d always wanted.
Chapter Seven
Ashford’s butler greeted him without apparent judgment for the lateness of his arrival.
“The party has gathered to dine al fresco on the lawn, my lord,” he intoned. “I’ll show you the way myself.”
Tardiness was part of his strategy. He wanted to give Liberty the same sort of shock she’d dealt him.
He tried to focus on the house and gardens as he followed the servant. The entire estate exuded a light, welcoming feel. He wanted, suddenly, to accomplish the same effect at Cateswood. It had been years since he’d been back, and he wondered how he’d find it.
Safe. Comfortable.
He’d thought of those words with longing not so long ago. Now they were colored in his head with a tone of feminine scorn.
Ignoring it, he increased his stride as they crunched along the gravel paths of the formal garden terrace. There. On a flattened bit of lawn beyond the low stone border, the company had assembled. They were seated in groups on brightly colored linens. The spot was lovely, the lawn sloping gently down to the river, but Brodham had caught sight of Liberty Baylis. Her laughter floated toward him on the breeze. She was seated between two gentlemen. Vickers, it looked like. And another gentleman he didn’t know, one who stared at her with an assessing, slightly calculating gaze.
“A newly arrived guest, my lord,” announced the butler. “Lord Brodham.”
Her head snapped around.
“Glad you could make it after all!” Ashburn rose to pump his hand in greeting.
He nodded and watched her. That first, brief moment when she’d turned, her face had been lit from within. Happiness had shone from her and reached out to tug at his gut. But he saw the veil fall, too. Watched her wipe her expression clear and lift her chin high.
“Lord Brodham.” Jane Tillney smiled faintly up at him. “What a surprise.” He gave her credit for keeping her eyes from flicking elsewhere.
He couldn’t say the same. “Miss Tillney,” he answered with a nod that included the entirety of the group. But his gaze remained firmly on Liberty. “I hope it is a pleasant surprise.”
“Indeed!” Ashburn beamed. “Brodham, Vickers and I were at school together,” he announced. “Just a bit of good luck that I ran into him yesterday.”
“Yes,” Miss Tillney echoed. “What good luck.”
Liberty said nothing, although her eyes blazed. Brodham’s pulse quickened in the thready, eager beat that only she stirred up.
“Come, sit!” said Ashburn. “The servants
will fix you a plate.”
He did, choosing a seat on Ashburn’s blanket with a clear view of Peter, reclining next to Felicity Carmichael and within a few feet of Liberty, who was still studiously ignoring him.
The easy, cheerful chatter resumed. Brodham ate without tasting anything. He listened to those next to him without truly hearing what was said. All of his attention stayed centered on his opponent.
She, in turn, gave every indication of being absorbed in her companions. Vickers could be dangerous, but he looked as distracted as Brodham felt. The other gentleman basked in her attention. Brodham frowned until he at last placed the man. Sir Benjamin Something or Other. Minor peerage. He could not recall more. Neither could he enjoy his obvious infatuation with the American girl.
He might have had to do something about it, had the air between Liberty and himself not been charged with promise and expectation. Had he not known that, appearances aside, she was as intent upon him as he was her.
Point proved when Peter stretched and climbed to his feet. “A first-class spread, Ashburn. Thank you. But now I feel the need to walk a bit before we tackle the challenge of the maze.” He held out a hand to Miss Carmichael. “Care to join me?”
“Maze?” Brodham asked as he watched them move off.
“Mother’s pride and joy,” Ashburn explained. “My grandfather put it in, but she’s spent a good deal of time replacing the hornbeam with studier yew and she’s added a few specialties of her own.”
“Don’t worry, Brodham,” Worthe joked. “There are platforms positioned just above and beyond two of the side walls. A footman will call down directions, should we lose ourselves.”
“Yes. No need to frown, my lord,” Liberty had clearly been following the conversation. She addressed him at last as she rose to her feet. “A maze must surely be your natural milieu, given your twisted nature.”
He stood as well, and moved just a bit too close. “Every tangled knot has a beginning, Miss Baylis.” He leaned in and spoke low. “And I believe this one started with you.”
“I’ll end it as well,” she said with dark promise.
“We shall see.” He stepped away. “Now, I believe I would enjoy a stroll as well.”
“We’ll see you down there,” Miss Tillney called as he moved away. “Just take the stairs in the midst of that far border!”
He waved in acknowledgement and set off, his next move forming in his mind as he went.
Liberty hurried down the stairs before the main group could organize themselves to set off. Peter and Felicity were still roaming somewhere, as was Brodham. She must accomplish her mission before he returned.
The maze spread out before her as she descended. Green, vibrant and beautifully maintained, it also looked like it wouldn’t be so simple to navigate. From this vantage she could see the lovely courtyard in the middle, its drooping willow and double benches echoed in the semi-circular gardens that framed the entrance. At the bottom of the stairs, she moved quickly to the left of the maze, heading for the high platform and catching the assigned footman before he could climb to his position.
She whispered her instructions. He gazed dubiously at her, but nodded in quick agreement when she passed him a small purse.
Turning back, she saw the leading edge of the main group gathering at the top of the stairs. Not wanting to be caught, she turned the corner of the maze and ducked into the garden bordering the front. Shaped like a half circle, it crowned the square maze. A flagstone path divided the circle down the middle and led to the entrance. Back here in the corner stood a sizable grouping of rhododendrons. She ducked behind them and waited.
The chattering group moved slowly. Liberty hoped Lord Brodham was with them. The last thing she wished was to encounter him alone.
If only he hadn’t found them out! She’d had it all set in her head. Everything would go as planned today and the next time she saw the viscount, Felicity would be safely betrothed to Peter. Liberty would have been gracious as she congratulated Brodham on a war well fought. She would have been perhaps a little . . . sultry as she teased him about the war he hadn’t been brave enough to attempt. And she would have bid him goodbye, sure that she would always linger in his mind as what might have been.
Given his reluctance, that was the best she’d thought she could hope for. Now he was here and stirring up hope and dread and worse—she had to scramble to be sure he didn’t interfere with Peter and Felicity.
Truthfully, though, she didn’t think Mr. Gardiner would allow it. He’d asked for help in arranging a bit of time alone with Felicity. The pair of them should already be in the maze. She’d just assured that the footman would see them quickly guided through to the center.
He meant to propose to her friend, she knew it. But there was something else, too. She’d caught a hint of it and knew she had to give them time. Jane had agreed to slow the main group as she could and Liberty would hurry in after them and help.
Gradually, the noise from the group faded. She waited to be sure they had all entered the maze, then left her hiding spot and hurried to catch them up—
Only to find Lord Brodham approaching from the same vantage in the opposite corner of the garden.
They met on the walkway.
“Good afternoon, Lord Brodham.”
“Miss Baylis.”
A long moment passed before he extended his arm. “Shall we take in the maze together, then?”
She stared. Her head told her to take it. She didn’t really have a choice. And it was just an arm.
Her heart knew better. It was a hard, muscular appendage on a dangerous, reluctant male. It promised safe passage through the garden maze, while what she truly wanted was a partner for longer than that—her life’s escort.
“Liberty?”
So quietly he said her given name. The first time he’d used it. It sounded entirely different coming from him. Not silly. Rough edged and raspy. It sent a shiver down her spine. She should have turned and fled in the other direction. Instead she reached out, entwined her arm through his and let him pull her close as they set off.
How was it possible that she found her normal gait? His warmth was invasive. Her muscles were softening. She concentrated very hard on keeping up and keeping upright.
They passed through the dim tunnel of boxwood that marked the entrance, and then out into the first corridor of the maze. Surely not a good idea, to be alone with him in this narrow, high-walled world of green. Disembodied laughter and happy voices floated towards them, but it was difficult to see from which direction they came. She couldn’t see either footman from this vantage point.
They paused, neither sure which way to go first. A high pitched giggle sounded from the right, sounding eerily close. Their gazes met and together they headed off in that direction.
Silence held as they made their first turning and found themselves alone again in another long corridor. Not until they’d nearly reached the next corner did Lord Brodham speak.
“I noticed that Peter and Miss Carmichael are not included in the large group ahead of us. I assume they entered early?”
There was little point in keeping things from him now. She nodded.
“And they will be found together? Perhaps in a compromising position and thus forced to marry?”
She pursed her lips and hesitated. “We considered it,” she finally admitted.
His brows rose in surprise. “But . . ?”
She sighed. “To be frank, I didn’t think it a worthy gambit.”
“You were right,” he grumbled. “I appreciate you dropping the idea. And I also congratulate you on your arrangement of the picnic today. You very nearly left me behind.”
She ignored the little lurch his words dredged up. Later. There would be plenty of time to feel the pain of it all, later.
They walked in silence again. She thought she caught the nasal tone of Sir Benjamin’s voice coming from the left as they approached a crossways and led Brodham towards it.
“Lea
ving our skirmish behind for a moment, do you mind if I ask you a question?”
She shrugged.
“Why? Miss Carmichael is not your family. She was not your friend before all of this began. Yet you’ve been relentless in your quest to help her. I know you’ve grown fond of her, but surely there must be more to the reason why?”
Sighing, she stopped. “I’ll start by telling you the other reason we discarded the easier—if cheap and obvious—idea of compromise, shall I?”
“If you wish.”
“It was because of Felicity. I had my doubts, but she flatly refused. Do you know why?”
“Because no woman wished her name besmirched, even in pursuit of marriage?”
“That shows what you know. Felicity had two reasons. The most important one was that she worried for Mr. Gardiner’s name. Not her own. She refused any idea that would have anyone questioning his honor.”
“And the second reason?”
“You.”
He frowned. “Me?”
“You’ve done so much, she said. Looked out for Mr. Gardiner for so long. She refused to do anything that might upset you.”
He held his silence.
“That’s why I’ve fought for her. She’s truly lovely, in a way that doesn’t often grace this world.” A burst of laughter sounded somewhere close by. She looked both ways, and started off again, hoping she chose well. “Felicity would have been happy with a life of duty and sacrifice. Even now, after knowing such love, if pressed, I believe she might sacrifice herself, and consign herself to a life of misery.” She glanced over her shoulder to where he followed her. “I won’t have it. There’s no good reason for it. That girl deserves to reach for her happiness. The world deserves to be touched by her special brand of life and love.”
“I tend to agree with your sentiments.”
She stopped. “You do?”
“Yes. You’ve insisted on believing we’ve been at cross purposes, even when I told you I didn’t wish to block that pair of lovers, but only to slow them down. Peter needed the time to be sure.”