Harry appeared especially delighted. He talked and talked, asking question after question, and telling Lissa that he liked the flies they had created and hoped they could create more.
“Can we, Lisha?” he asked, not quite able to pronounce her name, and totally forgetting to address her as “my lady.”
Lissa smiled, truly liking the little boy. Though he had none of his father’s coloring, he certainly had a way with her.
“Of course we can,” she assured him. “And do you know, Master Harry, there are other things we can do alongside this river,” she added, forgetting herself and getting caught up in the boy’s excitement.
“Truly, Lisha?” he asked.
She nodded. “Do you know,” she said, leaning closer to him, “there is a nest of birds very close to here that I’d like to show you some day. The nest is in a very old tree alongside this river. You would know it the minute you see it because the tree looks like an old troll with a tall head and seven arms on each side.”
“Oooh,” said Harry, “I would like to view such a tree! What kind of nest is it, Lady Lisha?”
“A cozy one,” Lissa said, warming to her subject and loving the way Harry hung on her every word. “It is deep and safe, and it has at least three eggs in it every summer, all summer. And every baby bird hatches and learns to fly.”
Harry snuggled next to her, eating a leg of chicken, contemplating all she’d told him.
“Will you take me there, Lisha?” he asked.
She looked at Gabriel, who was watching her and his son. Suddenly, Lissa’s heart spilled out and over within her chest, so keen was Gabriel’s gaze on hers. It was as though the two of them had bonded more during this picnic lunch than they had ever bonded thus far. And Harry was the reason.
“Yes,” she murmured to the boy, “I shall show you the nest some day.”
“Papa, too?” he asked.
She glanced at Gabriel, who had not taken his eyes from her. “Yes, your papa, too, if he would like.”
“Oh, he would like it,” Harry assured her. Then, tugging on her sleeve so that she lowered her head to his, Harry whispered, “I think he likes you, too, Lisha.”
Lissa felt her heart leap even as her cheeks warmed with a deep blush. She smiled at Harry, pulled back, then looked at Gabriel, wondering if he’d overheard his son’s words.
If he had, he made no show it. He merely took a bite of chicken, his eyes taking in both his son and Lissa, who were caught together in a ray of sunlight.
Chapter 12
It was late afternoon by the time Lissa and Tilly headed back to Clivedon Manor. Lissa felt as though she was walking on clouds, so light was her mood. Her day alongside the river with Gabriel and young Harry had gone swimmingly, and even though they had not hooked the trout she sought, Lissa decided she had never enjoyed a more perfect day.
“Ooh,” said Tilly, walking a step behind her and daydreaming as usual, “I swear his lordship’s boy looks not a whit like him. If ever there be two opposites, they be the ones, yes?”
Lissa frowned. “‘Tis none of our affair, Tilly,” she said. “And do remember, you are not to repeat anything you saw or heard this day, is that clear?”
“La, m’lady, I remember that right well, I swear! From this day on I will be the perfect maid for m’lady. It is my vow.”
Lissa felt a smile twist her lips. Yet another vow. Betwixt her own, Lord Langford’s and Lord Wylde’s, her life, it seemed, was filling with vows! Now she must add her abigail’s to the list.
“Instead of vowing such a thing to me, Tilly, please just live it and show me instead of telling me,” Lissa requested.
With that, Lissa hurried inside, leaving Tilly in her wake to stare after her with a befuddled expression on her face.
*
Once inside, Lissa found many missives awaiting her. Though exhausted from her day by the river and from her near-sleepless night before that, she sank down onto her chair at her writing desk in the day room and began to read through the notes.
The first was from Lord Quinn, one of the many gentlemen who had arrived in the shire seeking to woo her. He had asked Lissa earlier in the week to join him for an outing of watching a balloon ascension that was to take place on Thursday next. Though Lissa had not given him a firm answer, he now wrote to say he’d been summoned just this morning back to the Metropolis due to the illness of a dear aunt who was requesting his presence alongside her sickbed.
Lissa deduced Lord Quinn’s hasty exit from the shire had more to do with Gabriel’s presence last night than with any ailing aunt.
Ah, well, whatever the reason, she was now minus one suitor.
She broke the wax of the next missive. ‘Twas from yet another suitor, and, amazingly enough, he too had been called back to London. Instead of an aunt having taken ill, this suitor claimed one of his thoroughbreds had injured a leg during an exercise session out of the mews and he must, by all means, hurry home to oversee the care of his most prized piece of cattle.
Lissa read the next missive, and the next, and so on. All heralded the same information; her suitors, one by one, were begging off! What had begun as an uncertain day had certainly become a perfect day, she decided.
By the time she read through the bulk of them, however, Lissa’s good mood had but one cloud still to mar it—there was not yet a note from Lord Langford.
The door of the day room opened. Aunt Prudence stepped inside. “Here you are, my dear. I’ve searched the grounds for you the whole day long, I swear. Just now I spied your abigail, who told me you could no doubt be found at your writing desk. She’s drawing a bath for you, said you’d as like be needing one, what with all the time you spent alongside the muddy river. Dare I ask with whom you spent your day near the river, my sweet?”
Lissa pushed away the missives she’d already read, reaching for the last one. “Ask away,” she said, her voice sounding tired. “My guess is, you already know the answer.”
“Do not say you spent the entire day in the presence of that blackguard, Lord Wylde!” Prudence was horrified.
Lissa ignored her aunt’s dramatics.
Prudence pursed her lips. “As if his abominable behavior with you last night was not enough to set people talking, and your ridiculous notion of a pretend liaison to boot! Really, Lis, I do not like you being thrown into acquaintanceship with such a man.”
“I am not being thrown anywhere, Aunt Pru. Kindly cease referring to me as though I am some scatterbrained chit fresh from the schoolroom.”
“Faith, if only you were, perhaps then I could talk some sense into you. What possessed you to seek the man out after the vulgar scene he orchestrated last evening for all of your guests to view?”
“Lord Wylde was far from vulgar, Aunt Pru.”
“What fustian! The man intended to sully your good name, and the both of us know it to be true! His intentions, when he held you and kissed you so boldly at the cusp of the terrace and the dance floor, were notorious indeed!”
“Very well,” Lissa muttered, “if you must persist in knowing the truth, it is all because of a trout.”
“A what?” Prudence asked, not at all understanding.
“I sought out his lordship this morning because of a trout,” Lissa explained.
“You have quite befuddled me now, my sweet. What the deuce does some fish have to do with all of this?”
“Everything,” Lissa said. “This particular trout ate a locket given to me by one Lord Roderick Langford—”
“Ah, Lord Langford! For once, my dear, you’ve uttered a name I can approve. Langford is of a good air and address. He should do nicely… that is, should you ever decide to come down to earth and begin thinking of marriage.”
Lissa grimaced, then continued, “Lord Langford affixed this locket about my neck, telling me the same would be our private sign to him of whether or not I will accept his suit. If I return the locket before the end of the Summer Season, then he will know I am not interested. If I do not�
�� well, then, ‘tis obvious what he will think.”
Prudence failed to see the enormity of the situation. “Then simply let the locket rot, I say,” she suggested.“You could do worse than the likes of Langford, Lis.”
Lissa was not about to hash out her gut feelings about Langford—at least not with her marriage-minded aunt.
“I must have the locket back, Aunt Pru,” she insisted. “It is imperative to me. I will not be cornered with the dangling of some locket in my face.”
Prudence digested this information. “So, you went in search of Lord Wylde only because he may be helpful in retrieving this locket?”
“Yes.”
“And for no other reason?”
Lissa bit her bottom lip.
Prudence eyed her closely. “Out with it, my sweet,” she said.
“Very well… that isn’t the whole of the matter. I wanted to see Lord Wylde this day, and to spend time with him. I—I should like to get to know the man he is, Aunt Pru.”
“I dareswear his behavior last night was flag enough of the man’s ways. I give you fair warning, Lissa, the man is not at all of your cut. During his salad days he sliced a swath through the finest of London’s belles, and the poor woman he finally chose decided to end her life. Now I ask you, is that the sort of future you wish for? You would be far better off to choose one of the many other suitors who have come from the Metropolis in search of your hand in marriage.”
Lissa, gnashing her teeth, was hard-pressed not to rally back at her aunt, but she knew Aunt Pru loved her and was only concerned about her virtue and her happiness.
Taking a deep breath, Lissa motioned with one hand toward the many missives she’d opened from the silver salver. “Witness these,” she said.
Prudence turned her gaze to the many notes. “Invitations?” she asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
“Not by far, Aunt Pru. In fact, they are, all of them, notices that I am being given the rub off. From Lord Appleby to Baron Xavier, my suitors have begged off one by one, scurrying back to Town and forgetting their weeks of wooing me in Derbyshire.”
Prudence’s face fell. ” ‘Tis Wylde’s doing,” she breathed. “How I loathe the man!”
“You do not even know him, Aunt Pru. Please, do not prejudge him as so many others have. And pray, do not look so crestfallen on my account. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have these missives.”
“Relieved?”
“Yes. Don’t you see? My plan of a pretend liaison is working famously. I have rid myself of nearly all my suitors in one fell sweep.”
“No, what you have done, my sweet, is begun a dangerous affair betwixt yourself and a man who has shown little care for those around him.”
Lissa refused to listen to her aunt’s words concerning Gabriel. “You cannot dash my good spirits, Aunt Pru, no matter what you say or think. I am glad, I tell you, to finally be given some room to breathe in my life. Nearly all of the gentlemen who have plagued me for so long have left the shire. There are only two who have not sent word to me. There is Chesney, but since he lives but a stone’s throw away—”
“You can nix young Chesney from your list of suitors, Lis,” Prudence interrupted.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Had you bothered to linger long enough to join us at the breakfast table, you would know that Chesney arrived this morning to escort Lavinia home.”
“He did?” Lissa smiled at the thought.
“It seems he is suddenly quite enamored of our friend, always was, or so he whispered to me. He’d thought, given all of Vinnie’s time spent cloistered at home with her books and her aged governess, that she was not interested in marriage, and so did not press his suit. Once they danced together and had time to themselves to talk, the two of them struck a chord.”
“How wonderful,” breathed Lissa, truly happy for her best friend. “I shall have to pay a visit to Vinnie and hear about all of this firsthand.”
“She requested that you do just that. She was positively glowing when young Chesney led her to his carriage.”
“I am sorry I was not here to see her off, or to say a proper goodbye. It is just that this dratted locket has me in high fidgets, Aunt Pru.”
“Not to mention the presence of Lord Wylde,” Prudence commented wisely.
Lissa blushed. “There is that,” she admitted. She lifted her chin, her gaze meeting her aunt’s shrewd one. “He is not at all what people believe him to be. Of that much I am certain.”
“He dared to kiss you on the terrace, in full view of all your guests, Lis!”
“Only to aid my own foolish plot,” Lissa quickly interjected.
“Was that his excuse?”
” ‘Twas no excuse. I truly believe a part of him wanted to help me.”
“And the other half of him?”
“I—I have not quite puzzled that out,” Lissa answered truthfully. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head, unwilling to dissect what had happened between herself and Gabriel. She did not want to ruin the sweet glow set inside of her from the happenings of this day. She’d enjoyed her outing with Gabriel and Harry so very much that it seemed a shame to mar it with worries about what his lordship may or may not have intended last night.
The truth of the matter was that his bold kiss on the terrace last evening had been overshadowed by his sweet kiss at her doorstep and even more so by the lovely morning and afternoon she’d spent with him near the river.
“What matters to me most at the moment, Aunt Pru,” Lissa said, “is that for the first time since ending the formal mourning for my father, I feel as if my life and my future have been returned to my own hands.” Lissa reached for the very last, unopened note upon the salver. “A-ha,” she exclaimed. “This final missive bears the seal of Lord Langford. Famous! I trust it is notice to me that he, for whatever reason, has found himself called back to the Metropolis. Once I open this, I shall be free to return to my old way of life.”
Prudence did not appear convinced. “What about Lord Wylde? How will you extricate yourself from his pursuit?”
“He is not pursuing me,” Lissa said, even as she broke the wax of Langford’s note. “The two of us are simply playing out our own portions of a certain vow.”
“One that will doubtless have an unpleasant end for you, I fear.”
Lissa, though, was barely listening to her aunt’s dire prediction. Instead, she was amazed to read Lord Langford’s bold script detailing his pleasure of dancing with her the night before. He ended the note stating that he was now more determined than ever to win Lissa’s heart given the fact that Lord Wylde had entered the picture, that he would look for her wherever she tread in the shire, and that he could not wait for their planned picnic outing to take place on Monday next. He added, too, that he was glad she had yet to return his locket.
Lissa’s heart fell. “What a disaster,” she whispered.
“Do not say Langford has tucked tail and returned to Town as well?”
“Quite the contrary,” Lissa looked up. “Lord Langford seems all the more intent on sewing up a marriage with me. He has promised to shadow my every step.”
Prudence brightened. “Good. You would do well with reconsidering the man’s offer.”
“No, it is not good, Aunt Pru! Gabriel—er, Lord Wylde, has made the very same promise!” Lissa tossed down Lord Langford’s note. She sat back in her chair, overcome by a deep-seated and fearful shudder. “Only imagine what will happen should Wylde and Langford come to blows over me. Oh, Aunt Pru, what I have done? What have I began?”
“A pretend liaison, my dear, with not one man, but two.”
Lissa felt like crying.
Prudence, the bangles about her wrists tinkling, put her arms about her niece. “Just say the word, my sweet, and I shall step in and stop all this nonsense. In fact, I shall see that your bags are packed and you are soon away from here. You can come back to Mayfair with me. Or we could go exploring somewhere far, far away.”
“I do not
wish to go away, Aunt Pru. I love this shire, the river, these lands… And mayhap,” she whispered, her voice catching, “I—I might even love Lord Wylde.”
Prudence held her tighter, saying nothing.
*
The next two days began exactly the same, with Lissa up before the dawn and hurrying to the Dove to meet Gabriel. Though they fished for their trout in earnest, they did not catch the thing. But together they tied numerous flies, and discussed the habits of trout, the beauty of the river, and the many wonders they found alongside the Dove.
In the late mornings, with little Harry in tow, they searched for nutes and cadis flies at the river’s edge, then picked forget-me-nots.
On the third day, during the mid-afternoon after Harry had gone home with his governess and Lissa and Gabriel parted company, Lissa found herself filled with a restless energy. It seemed she’d been spending so much time with Gabriel that she’d forgotten how to occupy her own self! Not wanting to face up to the implications of that fact, she put on a fresh walking gown, pinned up her hair, then placed a straw bonnet atop her head. She decided she would walk to the rectory and leave a basket of baked goods.
She thought to take her nature journal along and perhaps jot down some observations. But the journal was not in her satchel. Had she forgotten it along the riverbank? She’d been in such high emotions over the past few days that she could not remember.
Not wanting to seek out Tilly, Lissa chose to go without her journal. She would simply brand every detail into her brain, she decided.
It was a perfect June day, sunny, the air filled with the scent of flowers, and light, fluffy clouds dotting the sky. Heading down the lane, with her ladened basket in hand, she thought she might look for some moon daisies, and perhaps keep an eye out for a painted lady butterfly.
But as she walked, a breeze rustling the ribbons of her bonnet, it was not the nature surrounding her that she thought about. ‘Twas Gabriel. It seemed that everywhere she looked, she saw a picture of him in her mind; his smile so handsome, his dark eyes so seductive. She could remember everything about him so clearly… the broad expanse of his cheekbones, the huge breadth of his shoulders, the feel of his muscled arms about her. Oh, the feel of those arms! So warm, protective, but frightening, too, due to his sheer strength! She recalled his kisses most of all… hot and demanding one minute, then soft and beguiling the next.
Lady Lissa's Liaison (To Woo an Heiress, Book 1) Page 14