by Georgie Lee
‘Will you be able to tolerate me when I’m famous?’ he asked as she opened the book to the play and began to flip through the pages. At the turn of each one, she licked her fingers, her tongue flicking out to sweep the delicate tips and send a hard chill racing up his spine.
‘I’ll remind you of where you got your start.’ She ran her finger down the page to the place with his part and he envied the paper. Her fingers were long, ending in small, rounded nails he wished he could feel along the arch of his back.
‘Good, I don’t want to get a big head.’ Part of him was already straining because of her nearness. He shouldn’t be here beside her, especially with Alma and Edward watching from across the room. He glanced at the other guests, wondering if they were scrutinising his time with Miss Radcliff, but they were too involved in the rehearsal to notice their surroundings.
‘Go ahead and say your first line,’ Miss Radcliff urged with a seriousness he imagined she employed in the schoolroom.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t learned them yet.’ Instead of taking the book, he leaned in close to peer at the page, distracted by the curve of her breasts beneath the muslin and the flat fall of her stomach to where it led to thighs perched tight together against the chair seat. The heat from her cheek radiated off his and the scent of soap teased him like a bell sounding through a fog. He jerked back upright, the nearness too dangerous. ‘As you can see, I have more than three lines.’
‘How very fortunate for you and your admirer.’ Miss Radcliff nodded to Miss Selton who approached them with quick, commanding steps.
‘Major Preston, your character is on now and we have no one to be the nymph. Miss Radcliff, would you mind playing the part?’
‘She’s too busy for this,’ Miss Huntford scoffed and Luke imagined it was Miss Selton taking over the running of things more than her invitation to Miss Radcliff which tweaked their hostess’s nose.
‘Nonsense, since your sisters are here we might as well employ her.’ Miss Selton brushed off Miss Huntford with a flick of her dark-haired head. ‘Miss Radcliff, it’s only a few lines, say you’ll do it.’
Aware of everyone watching her, especially Miss Huntford, she clutched the open book to her chest and pressed back against her chair. ‘I don’t think I should.’
‘You must, otherwise the play will be ruined.’ Luke took Miss Radcliff by the elbow and ushered her up on to the stage before Miss Huntford could open her mouth to protest. Her arm was soft beneath his grip and he slid his thumb over the smooth material to trace the curve of it. Her perfect lips parted with her surprise and he let go of her, just as startled as her by the intimacy passing between them.
‘You stand here.’ Miss Selton hurried forward to guide Miss Radcliff to her place on the stage.
Luke followed, trying not to notice the sway of Miss Radcliff’s hips beneath her dress. What the hell had come over him? If he didn’t regain control, he’d embarrass himself, and quite possibly her, in front of everyone.
Miss Selton tilted the book away from Miss Radcliff’s chest and pointed to her lines. ‘When he approaches, you say this. I know you aren’t used to attention, but I’m sure you’ll manage.’
She patted Miss Radcliff condescendingly on the arm before retaking her place. Miss Radcliff trilled her fingers on the edge of the book and Luke could almost hear the witty response coming to her lovely lips, but she pressed them closed, refusing to give voice to it. He wished he could hear it. It would be one of the most enjoyable parts of this morning. Instead, he resigned himself to listening to her deliver her lines in a clear, melodious voice before he answered with his.
When they were finished, Miss Huntford and Mr Winborn launched into their very lengthy scene which left Luke and Miss Radcliff alone together upstage waiting for their next cue. Not even Mr Selton took any notice of them as he stood on stage, his lips moving as he silently reviewed his lines.
‘You shouldn’t have encouraged my participation,’ Miss Radcliff whispered, nodding across the room to where the twins were whacking one other with wooden swords in a manner no one would call playful. ‘I have other duties to attend to.’
‘I’m sure your work is the epitome of excitement and fulfilment.’
‘Yes, every day is one of pure rapture and joy,’ she offered wryly.
‘Who was your letter from?’ It was none of his business, but he wanted to know what had upset her.
She flicked the top edge of the book and he thought she wouldn’t answer, determined to remain distant from him. At last she did. ‘My friend, Rachel.’
‘Is all not well with her? You seemed troubled.’
* * *
He’d noticed. Everything inside Joanna told her to stop sharing confidences with him. When he’d taken her arm, there’d been no mistaking the slide of his thumb as an innocent slip. The shock it had sent through her was a warning to not allow his kindness to make her forget herself, but she ignored it. Luke’s concern melted her reserve and speaking with him was like speaking to Rachel, Isabel or Grace. There was no one else here who wanted to listen and she was tired of being alone.
‘All is well with Rachel. She’s caring for the children of Sheikh Malik of Huria.’ She took the letter from her pocket and opened it. ‘Her position appears to be a good one.’
‘Unlike yours,’ he finished for her, giving voice to a sentiment she feared to utter out loud in this company.
She glanced down at the letter in her hand, her friend’s words too brief.
Dearest Joanna,
I never appreciated the rain and abundance of green in England until I arrived in Huria. The endless sea of sand turns everything here different shades of orange. Then the desert ends right where the verdant oasis begins. Sheikh Malik’s palace sits in the middle of this paradise surrounded by plants so rich in fragrance they rival one of my recipes.
The people of Huria are accustomed to the harshness of the desert, but I haven’t adjusted to it or quite settled in with the Sheikh. While everyone here has welcomed me without reservation, he is more of an enigma than how people can live in this hot and desolate land. His wife’s death has left him shaken and his children grieve for their mother. I do my best to help him and to comfort his children. They are the sweetest ones you can imagine.
I hope you are finding the same contentment with the Huntfords.
Your devoted friend,
Rachel
‘Her description of Huria makes Hertfordshire seem dreary by comparison.’ And Joanna’s employment even more contemptible than before.
‘Huntford Place is dreary. The decrepit staff doesn’t add to its charm.’
Gruger shuffled by, pretending not to hear Edward asking for some refreshments to be brought to the ballroom. Joanna bit her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. She eyed Frances, wishing she knew the play better and how much more time she had with Major Preston before the scene ended and she must leave him.
‘I envy Rachel, especially the warm climate. I’ve never been further than the seaside in Sandhills in Hampshire.’ She raised her head to face Major Preston, refusing to give in to the melancholy threatening to steal over her. ‘The sea there was so beautiful, especially how the waves curled over one another. Grace, Isabel and I went there with Rachel’s parents. They assured Madame Dubois they’d chaperon us. They had the best intentions, but they were too wrapped up in each other to see much of the world around them, even us. We woke up one morning to discover they’d decided to go on to Brighton since they thought Sandhills was too dull. They left us with a note explaining their departure and a few pounds. We were forced to find our own way home and we did. We purchased outdoor seats on the last carriage to Salisbury and hung on all day, shivering in the rain. It was the grandest adventure I’ve ever had.’
‘So far.’ He tilted his head towards her, the question of something between them,
friendship or possibly more, heavy in his piercing eyes. This wasn’t the licentious interest Mr Selton had thrown at her this morning in the hallway, but something more intense and exhilarating. It reached into the lonely place inside her and pushed it back like a lit candle does the dark. It was everything she’d ever wanted to see in a gentleman’s eyes and she couldn’t have it because of his rank and hers.
The thrill inside her settled as she shifted away from him, but she kept her head up, refusing to allow sorrow or regret to ruin their time together. ‘You’re right. I don’t know where my duties might take me. It could be Huria, or Austria or even the London stage after this performance.’
‘You must invite all your friends to see your first performance, including me. We are friends, aren’t we?’
She gripped the book tight. She should stop this flirting and rebuff him, make it clear to him there could be nothing between them, but she couldn’t. He’d protected her at the ball, perhaps he could find a way to secure her continued employment if Frances or one of the other girls decided to make trouble for her. It was a great deal to ask of him and she wouldn’t, at least not until she needed to. ‘Of course we are and you’ll be the first to receive an invitation.’
Beyond the stage, the din of the twins’ wooden swords hitting the tin shields began to echo through the room.
‘Thank you, Miss Radcliff, we no longer need you.’ Miss Selton waved her off the stage, wincing with each ringing blow of wood against tin. She wasn’t the only one irritated by the girls. Near the windows, Miss Bell pressed her fingertips to her temples at the noise. ‘Be sure to memorise your lines.’
Joanna reluctantly handed Major Preston the book, avoiding his touch. Too many people were watching in their eagerness to see her silence the children. She hopped off the stage and crossed the long room, the gulf between her and the rest of the young ladies widening with each step. At Madame Dubois’s, she and the other pupils, despite their varied backgrounds, had all been the same, each one preparing for their future duties. Here, the difference between her and the other women was as stark as the line of dust dividing where the maids had cleaned the floor and where they had not. Joanna wasn’t like them in any way as they made clear by frowning at her for allowing the children to run wild and interrupt their folly. If they knew she harboured any kind of affinity for Major Preston, and he for her, their disapproving looks would turn into hate of the nastiest kind.
With some difficulty, Joanna wrested the swords from the twins and ushered them to the door, eager to be free of the silent rebukes and the source of her warring feelings. Catherine argued against leaving until a curt insult from Frances sent her all but running away in tears. With an exhausted sigh, Joanna led the twins, who giggled at their elder sister’s embarrassment, out of the room, determined to find Catherine and ease her hurt. With the girls demanding her full attention, there was no time to think of herself or what had passed between her and Major Preston. She was glad. She was tired of being reminded of everything she didn’t and couldn’t have.
* * *
Luke stepped off the stage, watching Miss Radcliff as she led her wayward charges out of the room, unable to spare even one last glance at him. He felt more than heard Edward come up beside him.
‘You and the governess had a great deal to talk about while you were on stage.’
Luke turned to face his brother, trying to remain civil. ‘She helped me in the woods after you nearly ran her down yesterday. I was thanking her for her kindness.’
‘I didn’t try to run her down. She stepped in front of me, but of course you’d accuse me of being heartless.’
The reminder to not feed their constant conflict showed itself in Edward’s stricken expression. It hadn’t always been like this. They’d liked one another well enough as boys playing in the woods behind Pensum Manor. Then Edward had gone off to school, the scion of the family, and everything had changed. ‘Of course that’s not what I meant.’
Edward shifted on his feet, the argument stunned out of him by Luke’s near apology. It was the first small victory Luke had enjoyed in his campaign to end the conflict with his brother and even he wasn’t sure how to react.
‘These came for you,’ the butler interrupted, tossing two letters at Luke before shuffling out of the room as quietly as he’d shuffled in.
Luke examined them. One was from Reginald, the other from Helmsworth Manor. He opened up the one with the Marquis’s seal. It was succinct and disheartening. ‘Damn.’
‘News from the Army?’ Edward asked with, if Luke wasn’t mistaken, concern. It didn’t seem possible and yet it did. His civility with Edward had garnered him the same consideration from his brother. Perhaps the conflict between them could at last be set aside.
‘No. Lord Helmsworth. He’s denied my request for a meeting.’ He stuffed the letters in his pocket. ‘I can’t discuss the issue with him if he won’t even see me.’
‘Good, maybe you’ll finally stop this fool’s errand and take finding a wife seriously.’
Luke levelled a finger at Edward, their truce short-lived. ‘I did what you and Father wanted. I gave up all my accomplishments to come home. It doesn’t mean I have to strut about like some prized bull every moment I’m here.’
‘Bull-headed is more like it. It’s hard to find a wife when the only woman you’re talking to is the governess. Don’t get distracted, Luke, by either a pretty face or Lord Helmsworth.’
Luke stiffened. He detested being reminded of his mission like some new recruit, especially since Edward was right. Miss Radcliff was distracting him like the seized winery with a cellar full of Madeira had once distracted his battalion. If he hadn’t rallied them, they would’ve lost the offensive. If he didn’t free himself of this infatuation, he and his family would lose the battle they’d been fighting since his grandfather’s time, the one he’d been excluded from when he was younger because he wasn’t the heir. ‘I won’t be made inconsequential again because I’m not you.’
‘You think I’m so privileged, but I’m not.’ Edward shifted closer and dropped his voice, the tone of it hard. ‘Once you find a wife and produce an heir, you’ll be free to do whatever you wish. It’s an opportunity I’ve never had.’
Edward marched to where Alma sat looking wan in the deep chair next to the sputtering fire. Edward paced in front of her, railing about Luke.
Luke exited the room, disgusted with Edward, the situation and himself. He’d vowed not to fight with Edward and he’d broken it. He’d also vowed to end the dispute with Lord Helmsworth and by heaven he would. He left the house and followed the long path to the stables. Lord Helmsworth couldn’t avoid Luke if Luke appeared on his doorstep.
He reached the stables and called to the groom to prepare his horse. He paced over the packed dirt of the paddock as the groom, as slow as every other Huntford servant, saddled Duke. His determination to ride to Helmsworth Manor faded with each dusty step. Luke’s unwelcome appearance would irritate the man further and Luke couldn’t hope to speak rationally to him while his insides were twisted like the blown-out end of a cannon. He’d ride instead, and think about the matter, plan and strategise like he used to in Spain instead of rushing in foolhardily and hoping he didn’t get hit with a musket ball.
At last the groom finished and Luke stepped into the saddle and kicked Duke into a gallop. He should go home and send a servant back for his things, leave this waste of a party and turn his focus to dealing with Lord Helmsworth until the London Season saw him back in the middle of the marriage mart. There was no point staying on, there wasn’t one woman here worth her salt except Miss Radcliff. The thought of leaving her hit him as squarely in the chest as having given up his commission.
The memory of Miss Radcliff heavy across his thighs, her curving ear close to his lips as they’d raced through the woods, was as stinging as the cold air against his face. Duke’s stride
was lighter, quicker without her, but Luke wanted her here as much as he wanted to be back in Spain. He bent over Duke’s neck and urged him into a run, trying to outrace both desires.
He rode for some time, working to clear his mind until the iron gate marking the road to Pensum Manor came into view. Luke tugged on the reins, slowing Duke into a trot. As they passed beneath the metal arch, fields of wheat spread out on the rolling hills on either side of him. The wind whipped across them, bending each stalk in unison like a contingent of men dropping into firing formation. For all its beauty, the wide swathes of desolate earth along the edges of the harvest and the patches of barren ground where the seeds had refused to grow were evident. This harvest would be no more successful than the last one, compounding their problems, the ones they were looking to Luke to solve.
Pensum Manor and the heavy responsibility of it pressed on him. Growing up, he’d never had to worry about it while it had dominated and dictated the lives of his father, grandfather and his brother. Now, it had ensnared him, commanding who he could and could not speak with or court.
He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself, but Edward was right. If he allowed the single woman he couldn’t have to distract him from his duty and hers, his family would suffer and she might, too. He was being reckless in his choices simply to be near her and it was wrong and it must stop. It would help neither of them to continue on.
He turned Duke back towards Huntford Place. He despised allowing the manor, the lineage from which he’d once been excluded, to command him like this, but he couldn’t walk away. Like sending men under his command into battle and possibly death to achieve an objective, he must sacrifice his friendship with Miss Radcliff, as well as his own wants for his family. She wasn’t here to flirt with him, but to make her school proud and he was stopping her from achieving her goal as much as she was interfering with his. He was a heel to withdraw his friendship after she’d accepted it and it burned to imagine the pain it might cause her, but he must. There could be nothing between them. He would do his duty by his family, marry and produce an heir. Afterwards, he’d be his own man, one way or another.