“Quite the lady of independence,” he teased.
“Not so independent I would willingly distress him. Any more than you would wish to offend Sir Mark.”
They both knew that they were not discussing her having called at the farm, and they gazed at each other, lost to their surroundings and their companions until Morris coughed, and suggested for the second time that they should go and find the constable.
Rossiter said with a start, “What? Oh—er, well I rather suspect that is where my people must be, Jamie.”
Also startled, Naomi felt her cheeks redden. Flustered, she turned to Morris and asked, “Pray what did you mean, Lieutenant, when you said ’twould be more awkward than I knew to return the other chess piece to the jeweller?”
“Burned up,” said Morris succinctly.
“Good heavens! Mr. Shumaker was b-burned?”
Morris nodded. “With his shop.”
She gave a gasp, and sat down in the chair. “Oh, poor man! How dreadful! And he was such a kind little person!”
“Naomi,” said Rossiter thoughtfully. “While you were at the Dowling Soiree you saw a chess piece similar to the one your father had lost. Did you mention that to anyone?”
“No. And in point of fact, it was not at all similar.”
“But, I thought you said—”
“I said ’twas the same, or almost the same, as the piece I had lost. But, you see the piece I lost was—”
“Was not your Papa’s. Of course. My apologies for being so dense.”
“I was dense also,” she said, smiling at him. “I should have realized ’twas not a chessman at all.”
“Castle?” enquired Morris.
“No. I mean ’twas something else. Not part of my father’s chess set.”
Puzzled, Rossiter said, “But you had seen his set before, surely?”
“No. Never.”
“Does he play often?”
“I’ve never known him to do so.” She hesitated, then admitted with a rather bitter smile, “An he did, I might not be aware. Unhappily, we share few interests. He had told me that the piece I was to collect from the jeweller was of great antiquity. That is why I did not question the fact that it was so—strange. Quite different from any chess piece I ever saw.”
Among the debris on the floor was a torn sheet of paper. Rossiter picked it up, found a pencil, and handed both to Naomi. “I know how clever you are with your sketchbook. Could you draw the article you lost?”
Using a book for backing, she began to sketch. “’Twas smaller than this, actually. About three inches tall,” she murmured. “And surprisingly heavy. It was of pink jade, I think. Rounded at the top … so. Like a gravestone. And with what looked for all the world to be rubies inset here … here … and here.…”
Watching her intently, Rossiter said, “Jove, but it does indeed look like a miniature gravestone. Was there any other design at all?”
“Yes,” she said, her pencil busy. “A carven face, similar to some of the drawings that have been found where the ancient people dwelt, so that it appears like a tiny man, with—”
Morris wandered up to peer over her shoulder, and exclaimed, “Blister it! That is my toy!”
Two pairs of surprised eyes shot to him, and Maggie, still tidying industriously, paused to stare at him, and say under her breath, “At his age!”
“Your—what?” gasped Rossiter.
Tearing at his hair in remorseful humiliation, Morris cried, “Oh, Jupiter, what a dolt I am! I thought ’twas a toy!”
Rossiter demanded wrathfully, “Do you say you have it? And have said nothing, all this blasted time?”
“Mea culpa,” groaned his friend. “I trod on the silly thing just after I shot that clod Falcon. When you started raving about a chess piece it did not occur to me— Well, I would never have thought of it as such!”
“What the devil did you do with it?”
“Popped it in my pocket. When I reached home, m’sister was there to greet me, with all the family, don’tcha know, and I presented it to my little niece.” He turned to Naomi and explained sheepishly, “Didn’t have nothing else, you see. Left the rest of my gifts at the Red Pheasant!”
“Then you know where it is,” said Gideon. “You can get it back!”
“I’ll—er, try. Have to post out to Guildford. Gad!” Morris looked daunted. “Have you ever tried to wrest a toy from a little girl?”
Naomi suggested with a smile, “You must make her an exchange, Lieutenant. A pretty doll would likely be more welcome than that small ruby man, or—whatever it is.”
“Take the carriage,” said Rossiter urgently. “I can use one of the hacks we keep here. Be a good fellow and bring the ruby figure to Snow Hill tomorrow, will you?”
With a good-humoured wink at Naomi, Morris grumbled, “I collect I must be grateful to be allowed to overnight with my sister.”
They walked outside. Both vehicles had been taken to the barn, and Naomi asked that Morris give her coachman instructions to prepare to return to Town. Watching the lieutenant’s swinging stride as he left them, Rossiter murmured, “Poor Jamie. He pays a price for his friendship with me.”
“As do we all,” teased Naomi.
He glanced at her, smiling. He was less gaunt than when he had first come home, and looked calm, but she knew him, and was aware that behind his poise he was grieved and raging because of the savagery perpetrated on his home. It was so typical that he would put aside his own concerns, and worry for his friend at such a moment. Sympathy brought a tightness to her throat. She said impulsively, “Mon pauvre, what a horrid time you have had. You must wish you had not come home.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “No, how could I wish that, when I had lost everything that gave my life meaning? My headstrong pride robbed me of my family, my home, my heart.…” One long finger touched the delicate curve of her upturned cheek. “I deserved what I brought upon myself. The worst aspect of it all was that my foolishness wounded others. Had I stayed in England, I might have persuaded my father to—different practices, so that all this worry and heartbreak could have been avoided. My sister need not have known such anxieties. I would not have lost my love.…”
Fighting to be sensible, when she longed to throw herself into his arms, she said, “You seem very sure of that last, sir.”
“I am very sure I mean to win her back to me.”
‘No man should have such speaking eyes,’ she thought, and was relieved when the carriage came rumbling up, Morris waving from the window and calling cheerily that he would “climb that confounded hill” again in the morning.
Rossiter waved, and shouted, “Be sure ’tis morning! I know you, slugabed! And have a care!”
The carriage was past then, and Naomi said, “I shall say farewell also, Gideon.”
“But you have not yet told me why you came.”
“You know very well.” She turned away, but he did not relinquish his grip on her hand.
“An honest answer, an you please, my lady.”
“I was coming this way, at all events. I go to Ashleigh to—er, to visit Mr. Neville Falcon.”
“I wonder Miss Katrina did not accompany you. She is said to be most fond of her papa.” Naomi disdaining to respond to this provocation, he suggested, “It might be as well to tell your coachman you have changed your mind again.” She frowned at him, and he pointed out, “You just gave orders that he was to take you back to Town.”
“Oh. A—er, slip of the tongue, is all.”
“My grandmama used to say one should not tell fibs, else one’s mouth will become crooked.” His fingertip drifted across her lips.
Determined not to shiver, she twisted her mouth grotesquely.
With a low laugh he said, “If you make your lips so kissable, dear heart, they will surely be kissed.”
At this, she trembled, and ducked her head.
He murmured, “Naomi … Beloved—look at me.”
She raised her eyes, met his own,
and was lost. “I am … so afraid,” she whispered.
Disregarding the possibility that the coachman would see them, or that Maggie might very well be watching from the window, Gideon pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, her cheek pressed against his cravat.
“Afraid for us, my lovely sprite?”
“Yes. No. I do not know, but— Oh, Gideon, I have such a dreadful fear that—that something terrible lies ahead! I think I could not bear it if—”
His hand was under her chin again, tilting up her face. His eyes adoring her, he asked, “If—what?”
Tears gemmed her lashes. She said threadily, “You have suffered so much. If aught were to happen to you…”
Exultant, he cried, “Then you do still care for me! Praise heaven! I have not lost you! How I dreamed of bringing you here to Tranquillity Terrace and—”
An arrow seemed to pierce her. Unutterably shocked, her eyes opened very wide. She pushed against him trying to wrench free, a sob of mingled pain and rage escaping her. “Oh, but you are vile! Vile! And I am a stupid, trusting fool! How dare you use that name in front of me, when you and your horrid lightskirt—”
His hands gripped her arms like steel bands. Without the faintest sign of remorse, he said, “My, how the gossips have gabbled! Sweet, foolish little one—do you not yet know?”
“I know I will not love you again,” she sobbed, scattering tears, and with her lips trembling pathetically. “I will not let you hurt me again! You are … are without conscience or decency! Womanizing all over Europe … and w-with children in … in every port!”
“Oh, egad,” he groaned. “I had forgot about my children.”
“Forgot!” Appalled, she gulped, “Infamous brute! I only hope—”
“Be quiet,” he said very softly.
Really, the command was redundant, for she could not utter a word with his lips crushing her own. For three whole seconds she tried to fight him, but once again, her resistance was overborne and she drifted with abandoned delight through a time that might have been a second or an hour, until Rossiter sighed and drew back.
Dazed, she opened her eyes. His cheek was against her hair. His arms, so strong, so dear, still cradled her. She uttered a whimper of frustration. She had weakened again! Despising herself, she pounded one small fist against his chest, and moaned feebly, “I hate you, Gideon Rossiter!”
He chuckled. “If that was a demonstration of your hatred, you may hate me forever. And indeed, were I as base as you believe, I’d scarce blame you.”
Pulling back her head, she looked up at him searchingly.
He wiped away a tear very gently. “Have you no notion of how much I love you? Can you really suppose that with your precious image always in my heart, I could really care for any other lady?”
“But—” she began, uncertain but yearning to be convinced.
He had not wanted to talk about this, but it was very evident that his reticence had deepened her doubts. He said reluctantly, “Beloved one, when I was in the hospital for so long, there were times when— Well, when hope seemed rather useless, and reality was so—unpleasant that I fashioned myself a retreat: a lovely country house just like this one. I put you in it, and as the months went by, I pictured you growing from the girl I had left behind, into a gentle and beautiful lady.”
Incredulous, she whispered, “Me?”
He said tenderly, “You were the lady I fled to, so very often and this was our refuge—my Tranquillity Terrace.”
“Oh, my dear! My dear,” she said, joy mingling with pity for his ordeal. “I feel so ashamed. But—but everyone said … I mean—you spoke so often of your lady.”
“I was delirious at times, and they tell me I raved so that the other fellows thought—” He shrugged, and admitted with a boyish grin, “They were all so envious. I decided not to spoil my newly acquired reputation. Besides…’twas a very personal thing, and not to be shared with others.”
Radiant, she said happily, “Then—then you really did still love me?”
“Every single minute. Perhaps you should know that— Oh, blast!” He put her from him hurriedly.
A horseman came at the gallop to draw rein before them. The rider, a well-preserved but weathered-looking man on the far side of fifty, touched his cap respectfully. “So you seen it, sir,” he panted. “Sorry I am you should come home to—to this wickedness! I took me wife into Tunbridge Wells. She were that put about. I’d say welcome, but—’tis a sad sight to greet ye.”
Rossiter shook hands with the sturdy farmer. “You were not hurt, either of you?”
“Not her nor me, no sir. They come whilst we was takin’ my grandson to the dentist ’smorning. My men see ’em, and come up to the house, not liking the look o’ things. They got theirselves beaten, and tied up, poor chaps, so I took ’em to the ’pothecary in the Wells. The constable be on his way here.” From the corner of his eye he had already taken in Naomi. Now, he glanced at her shyly.
Rossiter said, “My lady, this is my farm manager, Zebediah Upton.”
The farmer flushed and snatched off his broad-brimmed hat.
Naomi nodded to him pleasantly, too happy to care that once again she was compromised, since she was ostensibly alone here with Gideon.
“Lady Lutonville is my betrothed, as you know, Zeb,” said Rossiter smoothly. “I’d brought her down to see her future home.”
The farmer shook his head, “What a pity. I be that sorry, ma’am!”
“So am I,” said Rossiter. “But I’d as lief not have her ladyship mixed up in this business.” He turned to Naomi, his eyes softening. “You must go, my love. If your coachman takes the back road through the hills, you’ll avoid our intrepid constable.” He led her towards the coach that had come up, and murmured, “I’m glad you did not object to being named my betrothed. You’d as well become accustomed to it, for I do believe we are close to solving this puzzle. And then, my little lovely thing, you shall have to find another excuse for rejecting me.”
She looked at him lovingly. “I collect ’tis time wasted to pretend I mean to try very hard.”
“We have wasted too much time already!” Feeling eyes boring into his back he kissed her hand lingeringly. “Your coachman watches us, you know, and will doubtless report this to your father. Or had you advised him you meant to come here?”
“I was not so daring. But never worry. I am of age, and Papa can do no more than rage at me.”
His hand tightened. “You’re sure? An I thought he’d dare to—”
“Beat me?” She smiled. “I should tell Samantha Golightly and ’twould be all over Town within seconds, which he would not at all like! I think I see a rider coming, dearest.”
He glanced around. “So you do. Go now. I want you out of this.”
Leaning to him, she asked in sudden anxiety, “What do you mean to do?”
“Nothing tonight. I’ll likely be delayed here while the constable asks endless useless questions, and writes endless useless conclusions in his notebook.” He handed her up into the coach. Maggie came running in answer to Naomi’s call, and was assisted inside also.
Gideon asked, “When shall I see you again, my lady?”
Her mouth drooped and she said sadly, “Oh, how I loathe to deceive him. I feel so sly.”
“Would you wish I keep away, love? I will, sooner than distress you.”
“’Twould distress me more not to see you. But, I fear it shall have to be the park, for the time at least. I ride most mornings at seven, Gideon.”
“Not alone,” he promised with a smile, and slammed the door.
Naomi leaned from the window. “You will take care?”
“I have every reason to guard my future—now,” he answered, then waved the coachman on.
* * *
Gideon had no sooner returned home that evening than Gwendolyn was scratching at the door of his tiny private parlour. She told him worriedly that Sir Mark had been in a passion when he’d come home from Falcon House that m
orning, and that this afternoon his man of the law had called, “looking ponderous.” Gideon did his best to soothe her apprehension, and refrained from imparting his own unhappy news. When she left him so that he might change his clothes, Tummet warned him, with a marked twinkle in his eye, that Mr. Newby had been “fair aside of ’isself over a certain me-and-you (shoe).” Gideon gave a grim smile, and went downstairs prepared for battle.
Newby was waiting for him in the lower hall and launched into a fierce denunciation of the “theft” from his room, and of his brother’s top-lofty arrogance in having interfered with his plans.
“I fail to see what difference ’twould have made,” said Gideon with a shrug. “The lady who mislaid it—”
“Naomi Lutonville,” snarled Newby.
“You cannot prove that. And should you set such a rumour abroad, people will realize that you were the one who found the slipper and failed to return it. Scarce the act of a gentleman, twin.”
He started to move past, but his brother caught at his arm. “Much use ’twill be to behave like a gentleman when we are starving in a foul Westminster hovel, or clapped up in Newgate! I could have employed some rascal and wangled a pretty penny for the slipper. What—does that offend you? Then turn up your sanctimonious nose, and be damned! You’ve your oafish farm, and clod that you are would likely be willing to rusticate among the yokels. What have I? Where am I to turn?”
Newby’s voice had grown shrill, and his handsome face was white and strained. Realizing that his twin was actually terrified, Gideon said quietly, “You will live with us at Emerald Farm, of course. But—”
“Keep your confounded charity! Sooner would I rot in the Gatehouse!”
Gideon shrugged. “A doubtful piece of rodomontade. And your fears are premature. Can I but gather a few more facts, I’ll be ready to lay my case before the Lord Chancellor’s committee, and belike my father will be absolved of blame.”
“To what end? The old fool has bungled away our wealth, our houses and lands! Collington is full of juice and would not miss a few hundred to avoid a scandal. And a few hundred would help in the New World!”
“Help yourself only, my brave fellow? Or did your plans perhaps include a thought at least for Gwen?”
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