My heart leapt, but I forced it to harden again. Promised or not, he was still a scoundrel. “Then you lied to Aveline when you cast her off?”
“When I—” A look of understanding dawned across his face, and he pressed a clenched fist into his forehead. “This contract has made me look like an utter fool.”
“What contract?” I demanded, my patience spent. A traitorous bloom of hope was trying desperately to sprout within me, and I resented him for it.
“The one that I drew up with my father. We both signed it.”
I folded my arms tighter, waiting for further explanation, but he just looked at me with a boyishly hopeful expression.
“And what did this contract say?” I prompted.
“That over the course of two months, I had to spend at least two hours in each week courting at least five different young women of noble birth.”
I stared, shocked. “I think that may be one of the most offensive things I’ve ever heard.”
He opened his mouth, but I bowled over him. “It’s disgusting! What kind of a libertine conspires with his own father to use people that way?” I looked at him, studying his face and the way he held his body, trying to determine whether I had ever known him at all. My mouth curled in disgust, and no doubt my eyes were spitting fire. “And have you fulfilled this contract?”
“Yes. I had to.” His regretful tone was easy to ignore.
“No!” I pointed a finger in his face, vaguely noting that it shook with anger. “No, you didn’t! You could have been a man and refused to take any part in it.”
“But now that it’s finally finished—”
“What?” I demanded. “Now all of those young ladies who you fooled into believing you cared for them will suddenly be healed of their hurt and offense?”
“I made every effort to make only the friendliest of overtures. I never suggested anything romantic or long-term.”
“And that makes it all right?”
“Of course not. But it was the only way! I never would have done such a thing if it weren’t absolutely necessary. And I was very careful. The last thing that I wanted to do was mislead anyone.” The sincerity and pleading in his voice did not make sense with his words. His expression was open and, dare I say, innocent. His hands were open toward me, as though begging for understanding.
But I did not understand. “Then why did you sign it? What on earth would possess you to even create such a document?”
“You!”
I pulled back, taken off guard. “Don’t you dare blame me for some ridiculous scheme you cooked up. I had nothing to do with this!”
“I’m not blaming you, Kinley. I would never blame you. But you are the reason I was willing to sign it.”
I gave a frantic shake of my head. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“I’m sorry, but it has everything to do with you because it was the only way I could court you.”
I drew back, my mouth gaping to find words, but I was at a complete loss. There couldn’t really be a good explanation, could there? “Court me?” I finally choked out.
“Yes.” He took a tentative step toward me.
I shifted back, too confused to let him get close and muddle my thoughts more. “This contract somehow lets you . . . court me?”
“Yes.” It was barely a whisper.
My heart thrummed in a desperate attempt to feel elated, but I tamped it down. The more rational part of me realized that it was ludicrous. Instead I glared. “That makes no sense.”
“Yes, it does, just let me . . . here.” He took my arms before I could prevent it and moved me back so that I sat down on the chair behind me. “It will be easier to show you.” He stepped to the side and then squared his shoulders and walked in front of me as if he were making an entrance, then proceeded to speak to the empty space in front of him. “Father, I’ve found a girl I’d like to pursue. Her name is Kinley, and she’s wonderful, and I’d like your blessing.”
My face went slack. He had asked his father for permission to pursue me?
He turned to face the other way, as if playing another character. “And who is this girl’s father?” His voice was lower and his brow haughty.
He turned back the other way, becoming himself again. “He’s a wood-carver. A respectable man who owns a small farm and orchard.”
I watched in awe as he continued to switch back and forth as the two-person dialogue continued. “A commoner?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
Disdainful lift of his brow. “You don’t have my permission.”
Brow furrowed indignantly. “Why ever not?”
“You need to marry someone of your own station.”
“But I don’t fancy any young women of my own station.”
He threw his nose in the air as he again took up the role of his father. “You never even give the time of day to those of your own station; how do you know there isn’t one out there you would like?”
“What does it matter who I marry? I won’t have a title. Shouldn’t my happiness be more important?”
“You have to make the effort. I can’t in good conscience let you marry some underling if you haven’t put the time into acquainting yourself with ladies of the nobility.”
“He called me an underling?” I asked, indignant.
Rylan looked at me, unsure. “Um, yes. He’s a terrible person; I’ve tried to tell you. And I’m only trying to be true to the story.” He gestured at the space between himself and the imaginary player across from him.
I sighed, exasperated, but also the tiniest bit amused. I motioned for him to continue, anxious to know exactly how this contract had come about.
“So.” He cleared his throat, getting back into character. “He says, ‘You have to make an effort.’”
He became himself and put on a mask of incredulity. “You think a certain amount of time with some other young woman will change my mind?”
“I’d be willing to wager that if you were to devote a couple of hours to several different prospects, at least one would strike your fancy.”
“How much time is necessary for me to spend with those girls before you’ll let me make my own choice?”
“I don’t think we need to put a specific time on it.”
“I do.” Rylan walked over to the table and picked up an imaginary quill and parchment, even going so far as to mime dipping his quill in an inkwell. “If I am going to go along with this, then I want specifics. What would satisfy you, Father? After how much effort will you let me lead my own life?”
Rylan stood up and looked at me, his display apparently done. “You see?” he asked. “Yes, it was a ridiculous notion, but it was the only thing I could think of to guarantee that he would allow me to pursue you once he realized that my attention could not be diverted.” His gaze was filled with such hope.
My lips were pressed together as I tried to comprehend what he was saying. “You wrote up a contract to court other young woman to satisfy your father?”
“Yes. And it sounds completely nonsensical when you say it like that, but—” He gestured toward the imagined desk and scene he had played out.
“You realize Aveline was smitten with you?” As jealous as I’d been, I still felt protective of the innocent girl.
“I swear, I did my very best to not raise her expectations, but Miss Aveline is smitten with any man that speaks more than two sentences to her. I have no doubt that she will be in love with a new beau by next week.”
I couldn’t deny the truth of that.
“I just . . . ” He searched my face, looking tired and desperate. “I just wanted to be free to be with you.”
He had done it for me. Rylan, who hated playing his part in the social realms of the kingdom—Rylan who preferred helping a common girl harvest her orchard over going to a ball or a party—had thrown himself on the mercy of society and endured the teas and musicales and dancing in whirlwind
fashion so that he could have his father’s blessing to court me.
It was all so . . . sweet. Like the Rylan I had thought he was before. Like the Rylan I had always known him to be.
“I knew if I didn’t get the agreement with my father in writing, he would find some other way to try to keep me away from you. I thought if I played by his rules for a short time, I might finally be free of his expectations.” He looked at me, waiting. “Say something,” he begged.
I didn’t want to speak. I wanted to throw myself across the space that separated us. I wanted to feel his arms wrapping around me. But I wanted to be sure. No misunderstandings. “Have you fulfilled your contractual obligations?”
“Yes.” He breathed out a great breath as if a tremendous burden had been lifted. “I’ve spent the last two days speaking with the young women who indulged me over the past two months, ensuring that they each knew where my heart lay and trying to avoid hurting any of them.”
I bit my lips together and put my hands on my hips, casting my eyes about while I tried to blink away the emotion pricking at them. Then I crossed my arms and looked back at him, hope flaring hot and beckoning inside me. “So now you wish to . . . court me?”
“I’m perfectly happy not to court you at all,” he said.
A horrified pain lanced through me, and a startled guffaw left my mouth. “Well . . . ” What did he mean he didn’t want to court me? He had just made his intentions clear.
He seemed to realize his mistake and reached out to take my hand. “What I mean is that I’d just as soon dispense with all the courting nonsense and marry you.”
“I don’t consider it nonsense.”
He looked at me as though frustrated with my response.
His words finally caught up to me and took in a startled breath. “Did you say marry?”
He stepped closer, raising a hand to run the back of one finger along my jaw as his other hand slid from my elbow down to my hand, intertwining our fingers. “Yes. I’m in love with you, and I just want you to be with me. In whatever way you see fit.” His eyes locked on to mine, more earnest than I had ever seen them as he drew me closer. “Tell me what you want, and I am at your disposal.” He rested his cheek against mine, his mouth at my ear sending a shiver down my spine as he spoke softly. “I will woo you for months if you’d like. Or I can propose next week, or we could get married tomorrow.” He moved back slowly, skimming his lips from my ear, along my cheek, until they reached the inevitable destination of my own mouth. His kiss branded his promises into my skin and left me aching to be with him every day of my life.
A hot spring welled up inside me, flowing along my spine, down my limbs, all the way to my fingers and toes. I loved him in so many ways, for so many reasons. I wrapped my arms around his back so that I could sink into the warmth of him and the security that made me want to stay forever. I kissed him with a confidence I’d never felt before, and his lips moved over mine in ways that left no doubt that I was wanted and cherished.
Our kisses slowed, and I opened my eyes as he pressed two more to my mouth before pulling me into his embrace. I lay my head against his heart and let it pulse through me.
After several minutes of serenity, he spoke again. “Regardless of what you decide . . . I am going to beg you to stop working as a servant. It’s a horrible job. Give us the time—”
“It’s not horrible,” I protested automatically.
“Of course it is. You need fresh air and Herman and your trees.”
I chuckled at the way he knew me so well. “I’m working so that I can keep my trees.”
He pulled back, his hands resting behind my ears so he could look at me. “Then agree to be courted by me or marry me or whatever you see fit, and then I’ll buy the orchard from Lord Hayworth and gift it to you on our wedding day.”
I tried to hide a smile, but it didn’t work. “You seem quite sure we will be married.”
He let one side of his mouth curve up as he shrugged a shoulder. “I haven’t heard you say otherwise.”
“Of course I haven’t said otherwise,” I said as I pushed up on my toes, brushing my lips against his. “That would be idiotic.”
He chuckled as he kissed me back, then broke away. “So you’ll marry me?”
“Yes,” I breathed in ecstasy and relief.
“And you’ll stop working for the Mantocks and let me take care of your orchard with you?”
“Yes.” I snuggled into his chest. “Besides. I had already decided to stop working for the Mantocks.”
“Really?” He sounded pleased. “Why is that?”
“Mrs. Tate.”
“Who is Mrs. Tate?”
“The housemistress.”
“The one that hates you?”
“Yes.”
He kissed the top of my head. “We have a lot to catch up on.”
That reminded me of something else he needed to explain, and I pulled back to look at him. “What was all that business you told Aveline about being promised to someone else? Was that just a lie to ensure she didn’t harbor any hopes where you were concerned?”
“No, that was true. My heart was in every way promised to you.” He skimmed his hands over my shoulders and down my arms before twining my fingers with his and raising them to his lips. “You just didn’t know it yet.” He kissed the knuckles on both my hands, and I realized that, without knowing it, I had promised my own heart to him long ago.
✼ ✼ ✼
We ate the lunch my mother had prepared, and then I left Rylan to his own devices while I escaped to my room and made myself more presentable. I tried to be quick, but brushing out my unruly locks was impossible to rush.
Once I had changed my dress, washed my face and hands, and braided my hair into submission, I went back to the kitchen. There I found him in conversation with my father. I was surprised to see them both so animated. Papa was showing him one of the small wooden boxes he had recently finished, and Rylan was standing in front of his chair instead of sitting, so that he could lean over the table and better see what my father was talking about.
My mother was putting bowls and plates away in the cupboard, a smirk on her face. Was it Rylan or Papa that amused her? It was certainly a curious sight. Rylan in his fine clothing, speaking with my weathered father at our battered table, looking completely at ease.
My mother eased up beside me. “Why is it that you haven’t said a word about this gentleman?”
I felt my face flush. “I didn’t think there was anything to say.”
Her expression said she didn’t believe me.
“I mean, I never thought anything would actually come of it.”
“Whether something came of it or not, he was clearly very important to you. I wish you had told me.”
The hurt I saw in her eyes speared me with guilt. I laid my head on her shoulder. “Sorry, Mama.”
She kissed my head.
“I think I was afraid to jinx it or afraid to sound like a ridiculous daydreamer who didn’t know the difference between fantasy and reality.”
“He seems like a good lad.”
I smiled at my mother calling Rylan a lad. “He is.”
Eventually my mother shooed us outside, and I happily obliged. We naturally walked toward the orchard, and I pointed us toward the one section that still had some healthy trees. The leaves were nearly gone from the branches, crunching underfoot as we walked hand in hand in the cool air.
“My parents like you.”
He laughed. “I was more nervous than I have ever been when I knocked on the door. I fully expected you to open it and then slam it in my face.”
I smiled, knowing I probably would have done exactly that.
“Instead it was your mother. She was quite surprised to find me there, but she was patient as I explained who I was and why I was there. I’m certain I was babbling. But she invited me in anyway, offered me something to eat, and told me to take a breath and explain myself.”
We stopped walking,
and I turned toward him, tightening my hold on his hand while I wrapped my other hand around his forearm. “I’m glad she did.”
He reached out, capturing a curl that had escaped and was dancing against my cheek, and tucked it back behind my ear. “Living with me might not be easy, you know.” His fingers trailed from my ear and down the side of my neck.
“I’m not afraid of hard work,” I said as I tried not to shiver at the feather-light touch.
His eyes caressed my face, and then a smirk slowly curved his lips. “I nearly fell over when I saw you at the palace.”
I smiled, my nose wrinkling at the idea that I could have distracted him so well. “Why is that?”
“I hadn’t expected it. When I thought up the contract with my father, it seemed perfect. I would choose only young ladies who were known to be sociable and even flirtatious. The last thing I wanted to do was single out a girl who would take my interest seriously and end up hurt when I inevitably moved on. I could go about in society a bit more than usual while still making time to visit you in the orchard and at market.”
“You thought you could keep it a secret,” I concluded, unsure about how that should make me feel.
He shook his head. “I hadn’t planned to even try.”
I pulled back a little, confused. “What do you mean?”
“I was going to tell you all about it from the beginning.”
I struggled for a response, wondering how in the world he’d ended up doing the opposite. “Why didn’t you?”
“I showed up planning to tell you about the whole silly affair, thinking we could have a good laugh about it.” He looked away from me, his eyes roving over the orchard. “But then I found out your orchard had burned.”
My eyes swept the trees as well as I thought back to our conversation in the back garden that day, trying to remember if he had said anything about it.
“I changed my mind as soon as I saw you. You weren’t in the mood to have a laugh, and I worried that you would misunderstand and think that I was trying to cry off.”
“You could have told me later.”
“And I would have if my father hadn’t added a stipulation to our contract a few days later. He insisted that I tell no one about it. Not my mother, not my siblings, and most especially not you.”
Keeping Kinley Page 26