by Rhianna
Thayne tapered his fervency only when she responded with a kiss of her own — only not a frenzied, desperate kiss, as he had displayed. Rhianna molded her lips to his mouth tenderly, searchingly, but desirous in their own way.
Rhianna’s lips peeled slowly from his when she noticed his sudden stillness. His breath, sweet and intoxicating, flirted with her senses and his eyes even more so. When they met, they drew her deeper into his spell. Captivated by him at every angle, Rhianna observed all the smallest details that she could view only from this close distance — a small, flesh-colored mole directly before his left earlobe, the thickness of his upper lashes, and a brownish hue in his blue eyes. Just as those same eyes fell upon her lips a second time, he drew her in again and kissed her feverishly.
With a sudden gasp did she pull back, her breathing heavy and her parted lips pulsing. She turned to the children with a flush of embarrassment sweeping over her.
Crispin raised one eyebrow. Audra stood beside him, suppressing a giggle.
“Well done, brother,” declared Crispin proudly, and the two walked passed them for the stairs. “Incidentally, we’re not at all interested in backgammon anymore. Miss Kingsley and I will wait for you in the hall.”
While her eyes followed them, she sensed Thayne’s eyes — and hands — remained upon her. When she turned back to him, the tips of her fingers covering her mouth, he smiled widely.
“I am jealous of these fingers,” he said, taking them in his own hand and raising them tenderly to his lips.
She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but there were no words at the ready.
Finally, he suggested, “Perhaps we ought not to lose the children again.”
At last, Thayne released her and took a step back. He bowed, as though finishing their dance. Rhianna smiled nervously, just as he took her by the hand and together they hurried after Crispin and Audra.
• • •
As the families gathered in the Great Hall, Thayne hurried through the sea of goodbyes to Rhianna’s side.
“I have to go to London for a week or two,” Thayne whispered, looking as if he were struggling not to kiss her again. “I shall think of you every moment.”
This confession, however private Thayne imagined it, did not go unnoticed. There was one person who noticed this brief interchange and Thayne was not long out the Kingsleys’ door when halted by the sound of his name.
“A word, Brighton?”
As his mother and brother entered their coach, Thayne turned to find Desmond sauntering toward him.
“Certainly,” he allowed, cautiously.
“I’m just curious,” Desmond began, stalling until all ears were out of range, “wouldn’t it be easier to keep a mistress who lives under your own roof? In my experience, I have found that anything else is, well, hardly convenient.”
“I am not sure I understand you,” said Thayne. Though instantly understanding him and instantly incensed, he hoped to force something more from Desmond that would excuse his fist against the man’s jaw.
“I think you do,” Desmond returned obnoxiously.
“Well, then, you mistake me grievously, for I have no intentions of pursuing anyone as a mistress under my roof or any other.”
“Pardon my error,” Desmond smiled.
“I am inclined to offer much more than occasional, clandestine lovemaking.”
Desmond’s smile melted into a scowl. “You can’t be serious.”
Thayne warned, “I would advise you to be wary of whom you pursue as a mistress.”
“Would you, indeed? You know,” he taunted, “she’s no better than that.”
Hardly had Thayne’s clenched fist had time to turn white around the knuckles than it unleashed a punishing right hook to Desmond’s face. Thayne’s body thrust into action, following the lead of his shoulder; the blow was hard, and a loud snap was heard upon impact. Desmond fell sideways, but caught himself halfway down.
Meanwhile, the servants had seen enough to summon Lord Kingsley, with Lydia on his heels. Lady Brighton and Crispin had been close enough to hear the scuffle and they disembarked the carriage.
Desmond turned his head to both sides, the vertebrae in his neck cracking each time. After a time, he rose and stood face-to-face with Thayne. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.
“What is the meaning of this?” cried Lord Kingsley. When neither gentleman answered, he approached them. “Lord Brighton? Desmond?”
“Desmond!” cried Lydia, who at the sight of the injury rushed to his side.
The men’s eyes locked, each ready for the next move. Desmond’s nostrils flared. All looked on anxiously until, at last, Thayne took a step back, easing the tension.
“A misunderstanding, Lord Kingsley,” he managed.
“I should say so. Desmond, what have you to say?”
He wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand and, upon reviewing it, stormed into the house. Lydia followed him immediately without a word.
Crispin stood, his mouth open, at the side of the carriage. Lady Brighton quickly instructed him to get back in. He obeyed her, and she approached Thayne and Lord Kingsley. Neither she nor the latter said anything; their looks urged their questions.
Thayne took a deep breath. “I cannot apologize for my actions, Lord Kingsley, only to you, if I have offended you by them.”
“Ought I not to be offended?” he asked. His tone reflected a willingness to hear an explanation from his longtime friend.
“No,” he said, confidently. “You ought not. Lord Kingsley, it is no secret to my mother the feelings I have developed for Miss Braden. I feel I reacted appropriately to the suggestions Desmond Kingsley has spoken of her.”
“And what suggestions are those?”
“He has dishonorable intentions toward her. You cannot expect me to say more in the presence of my mother.”
“Good heavens, Thayne. I’ll be in the carriage.” Lady Brighton offered her hand to Lord Kingsley. He accepted readily, as she said, “My apologies, Guilford. I hardly know what to say.”
Guilford shook his head. “Go in peace, Moira, and good night.”
She nodded and returned to the vehicle. Guilford raised his hand to his forehead and sighed.
“Lord Kingsley, I know you cared for her father. And I know you care for her. Desmond says she is nothing better than a whore,” he stressed, visibly distraught.
Guilford, too, was visibly angered by this. The blood rushed through the veins of his forehead and the skin of his cheeks flushed red.
“I cannot make excuses for him there.”
“I do not trust him, Lord Kingsley.” Thayne pleaded, “Watch over her.”
Lord Kingsley seemed to ponder this for a moment and he nodded. Then, his countenance softened and he placed a hand upon Thayne’s shoulder.
“Is Miss Braden aware of your feelings for her?” he asked.
Thayne fought hard not to become lost in thoughts of earlier when, with a gentle passion, she conquered him entirely.
“I imagine she has an idea …”
“Do you intend to make them clearly known?” he pressed.
Thayne examined him. “You think me injudicious?”
“No,” he told him, dropping his hand. “I know you better than to imagine you do not know exactly what you are doing.”
With this, Thayne had little hesitation. “Then the answer to your question is yes.”
Lord Kingsley paced to and fro. “Do you suppose she returns your affection?”
“I can only hope.”
“Indeed,” he mumbled distantly. “Brighton, if that truly is what you have decided, I would urge you to make your declarations sooner than later. Her visitors from France are arriving momentarily and one shares your hopes.”
“Yes, Miss Braden has mentioned it.”
“Has she?” he said, with surprise. He ceased pacing. “The Vallières seem to be a good family. I have been looking forward to their visit. But I have also
been under the impression from Marquis Vallière’s communication that Miss Braden would not stay long in England thereafter.” He shrugged. “For Audra’s sake, I think my daughter would like Miss Braden much better settled at Ravensleigh.”
Thayne smiled. “I should like very much not to disappoint Miss Kingsley.”
Guilford nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “Safe travels, my friend. In the future, do what you can to refrain from striking Desmond. I realize what I am asking will take considerable restraint.”
• • •
News of the incident traveled quickly throughout the house and reached Rhianna just as she had changed into her bedclothes. A breathless Katie fell onto the edge of the bed to tell her of the account. Rhianna sat beside her, her eyes wide and her breath still.
“What can the fight have been about?” she asked, after Katie was finished.
“No one seems to have been close enough to hear,” she told her. “Not even Henry.”
Guilford and Lydia could be heard arguing on the lower floor, though their voices were indistinct. Soon, Rhianna heard a light knock at the door. Katie rushed to her feet to answer it, and found Audra standing teary-eyed at the threshold.
“Miss Braden?” the girl asked, a lump in her throat.
“Come in, come in,” called Rhianna. “Whatever is the matter?”
Audra rushed into her arms. “May I sleep with you tonight?”
Katie silently excused herself as Rhianna stroked Audra’s hair. “Of course, you may. But why do you not want to stay in your own lovely room?”
She sniffed and wiped her moist eyes with her fingers. “I can’t hear them as well here. And we can talk of pleasant things.”
“Oh, there,” said Rhianna, resting her hand on the girl’s damp cheek. “Pleasant things like Lord Crispin?”
She giggled through her tears. “Yes.”
It was not the first time Lord and Lady Kingsley could be heard arguing within the manor, but it was the first time Audra Kingsley had come to her governess for comfort. Rhianna was touched and immensely happy that the girl thought to come to her.
“Well, hop in,” she invited, pulling the bedcovers back. “Tell me everything he had to say tonight.”
Instantly uplifted, Audra said much in a short span of time. It was not long before the comfort of the pillows, blankets, and Rhianna’s company — as well as her exhaustion from a full night — overcame the girl. Audra fell asleep contentedly beside her governess.
Rhianna, her mind racing — not only with Katie’s report, but the night as a whole — did not hope to have it so easy. Nor did she wish it. As Rhianna blew out her candle, she looked forward to hours of silent meditation, ready to fight sleep away if ever it came to claim her.
Chapter Seven
Guilford Kingsley sat as still as he possibly could while Audra put the finishing touches on his portrait.
“Is it very like me, Miss Braden?” he asked, fighting a grin.
“Oh, yes,” she confirmed, standing behind the easel as Audra stroked her brush liberally on the canvas. “Very like, indeed.”
There was a hint of humor in her tone, but Audra seemed oblivious. She squinted over the finer points, holding her breath as she made adjustments and smiling when satisfied.
“May I take a look?” Lord Kingsley requested, attempting to rise.
“Do not move, Papa!” cried Audra. “It is almost finished.”
“You mustn’t interfere with an inspired artist at work, Lord Kingsley,” Rhianna reminded him, smiling.
“Certainly not,” he agreed.
Moments later, a servant entered the schoolroom and announced an impending carriage.
“Oh!” cried Rhianna happily.
“Your friends must be here!” declared Audra.
Rhianna hurried to the south window and looked out over the approach.
“Why do you not go to them?” suggested Lord Kingsley. “Audra and I are almost done. We will follow shortly.”
Rhianna spun around, biting back a wide grin. “Are you quite sure?”
“We insist, do we not, Audra?”
“Oh, yes! We will be there directly.”
“Thank you both!”
Rhianna flew down the stairs, through the Great Hall, and out the front door to the gravel drive. In the open gig they had rented at the inn, both Soleil and Philippe nearly stood at the sight of her, despite two horses at full trot and several yards of travel yet to go.
“We nearly jumped from the carriage half a mile back, certain in our excitement to outrun the horses!” cried Soleil.
“And outrun them we would!” declared Philippe. “But we feared a broken leg or two might dampen our adventures.”
“Good heavens, that you should conspire to do any such thing!” cried Rhianna, as the carriage slowed to a stop. “Never mind, now that you are here. Make haste!”
Both brother and sister leapt to the ground before any servant could assist them, and both took their turns embracing Rhianna. Rhianna’s hand, when once intertwined with Soleil’s, could not be pried away, and she was less than anxious for Philippe to remove his hand from the small of her back. For a moment, everything seemed right, with the best of both England and France joined in one location. Rhianna had never felt more at home than at that moment.
“Welcome!” called Lord Kingsley, approaching them from the manor house.
Audra raced ahead of him to greet them. “Bonjour!” she called, in an exaggerated French accent.
“Bonjour!” Soleil and Philippe echoed, amused.
Their bags were removed from the carriage by the time Lord Kingsley reached their small group. His movements were slow and he struggled to catch his breath. Since dinner with the Brightons two weeks past, his health seemed to be steadily declining, though he would not admit it.
Rhianna made the introductions, her heart swelling with unimaginable joy.
“Welcome,” Lord Kingsley repeated, extending his arms warmly. “I know I speak for the rest of my family when I say how glad we are to have you stay with us. I hope you will make our home your home. Stay as long as you wish.”
Effusions of thanks followed as the happy group made their way inside. Once they were comfortably seated in the drawing room, conversation flowed effortlessly while all manner of refreshments and cakes were served and enjoyed. Even when Lydia and Desmond arrived to greet them, awkwardness could not exist amongst Soleil and Philippe’s animated expressions and high spirits. Every compliment was paid to the Kingsleys themselves, their home, and their generous spirit. Lydia even seemed not to mind them, and Desmond, although Rhianna imagined he could do very well without Philippe, did not appear at all adverse to the presence of Soleil.
Rhianna could not have been more content. It was as if no break in their association had ever transpired and she felt none of the anxiousness she’d imagined she might with Philippe. Their company relieved her of all worry and, in ways she did not expect, renewed her feelings of familial attachment.
There was no want of dialogue. For some time, they could hardly keep up with the questions each had for the other. Much was covered, all promises of health for the Vallière family were ensured, and a general review of the previous year not already communicated by letter was fully established by all parties, albeit modified for a general audience.
The tears burst forth later, long after the afternoon and evening had passed. Rhianna hardly knew how the day had escaped, as she and Soleil languished blissfully on her bed in the rose room. Here, enjoying their first moments to themselves, all the emotions at last caught up with them. Soleil and Rhianna laughed at themselves as they sat with moist eyes, their handkerchiefs in hand.
At last, Rhianna felt at liberty to make a very important inquiry. “Now you must tell me. For weeks, I have waited and I cannot wait another second!” she declared, her hands clasped tightly around Soleil’s. “What is it that you could not tell me except in person?”
Soleil glanced at her with the
greatest of smiles before answering, “Armand has proposed! We are to be married in the spring!”
The explosion of delightful feelings this news released could only be fully expressed by an embrace.
“Oh, Soleil! This is the most wonderful of news!”
“I am so very, very happy.”
“I can imagine! Certainly, I recall him being very agreeable the one evening we met,” Rhianna recollected. “And Marquis and Marquise Vallière? What do they say to it?”
“They are very pleased,” Soleil declared blithely. “And I shan’t be very far from them, not more than fifty kilometers.”
“And what does Philippe say to it?”
“He has told me that Count Deveraux is an excellent man, and I could not have done better had chosen the gentleman himself!”
“Well, that settles it, does it not? It is the most desirable of situations!” admitted Rhianna. “And, you really love him, Soleil, do you?”
“I do,” she affirmed. “I love him, truly. I wish everyone could feel as I do.”
“Well,” Rhianna said, satisfied not with her friend’s words only, but with the whole of her countenance, “I cannot begin to tell you how very delighted I am for you. He is a very fortunate fellow!”
“No, indeed, it is I who am the fortunate one.”
A brief recount of the engagement itself was relayed, but for Rhianna it would hardly satisfy. “I want to know all the details,” she declared at once. “I must know everything about him, and how you came to this point.”
“Why do we not save that for tomorrow?” Soleil suggested. “The hour has grown late and I want us to get our rest so we can fully enjoy every moment of tomorrow. Lord Kingsley’s suggestion of this Thornton Gardens seems just the place for such pleasant reminisces.”