In the first days, he would have thrown the words back into her face. He would have delighted in seeing her fine airs fade at the truth. That was before he discovered Sybill Hampton was not like her father. She was the one her father had longed to fulfill the emptiness in his heart. He could not find that woman, so he had raised his daughter to be her.
“Sybill, you never guessed what your father did?”
“I told you. He—”
He waved her to silence. “You can’t believe that. Not with what happened after his death.”
“I don’t know what to think. Father never told me of any problems, but I knew something had been bothering him since the beginning of the year.”
“Was it suicide?”
She looked at him quickly, then her eyes slid to gaze at her hands folded in her lap. There was no use denying the story which had spread out from the lovely house with the speed of a summer storm erupting over the hills. She could not refute the truth.
“Yes. His valet found him. Father hanged himself, and I still don’t know why.”
“Was the lack of money what forced him to take his life? Or something totally different?”
“No!” she cried. “Don’t you think I have asked myself the same questions a thousand times? That night he simply kissed me good night as he did every night and told me he loved me as he did every night. I have relived that night over and over seeking an answer. Nothing was different.”
He took her hands in his, not surprised how cold they were. “Until the next day.”
“Until the next day,” she repeated. “I don’t know how everyone learned so quickly, but it was as if there was a sign posted. All those who populated our home disappeared.”
“You know why. I do not have to explain it to you.”
She whispered, “I know what you think. You think they did not want to have their names sullied along with mine and Father’s. You accused me of being like my father. You told me to find a place for myself in a brothel.”
“Sybill, I’m sorry.” He stroked her trembling fingers. “I was prejudiced against you before I met you. I was unwise to speak before I knew the truth.”
“Because you thought I was like Father? Because you thought, like him, my bed could be shared if the reward was high enough? Oh, my!” she breathed as she realized what she was saying. Pulling her hands out of his, she turned to look out to where green had reclaimed the grass. Splashes of color marked the blossoming flowers. It all should be dead. As dead as her father. As dead as her childish illusions. She could not lie to herself any longer about what she always had known.
When she was very young, she was not allowed to come out of the third floor nursery without permission. Once she eluded her nursemaid in the middle of the night. A nightmare sent her running to her beloved father, who could always banish the monsters. Through the chambers of her memory, she could hear a woman’s outraged scream and her father’s soothing voice to both her and the one she could not see. The nursemaid vanished to be replaced by another who was more attentive to her charge.
The significance of what she must have interrupted had not intruded on her young mind. As the years passed, she blocked that and other similar events from her thoughts. Instead she acted as a charming hostess to her father’s guests, performing small tasks until she was kissed by her father and sent to her room to sleep in innocence. It had not seemed strange that a maid always slept in her room and that the door was locked from the inside. The key spent the night around the neck of her companion. For the past three years, it had been Kate who guarded her.
“Sybill?”
Fresh tears burned in her eyes. “Don’t say anything. You only force me to see what I have successfully denied for so long. My father acted as a lover for hire.”
He touched the obsidian glow of her hair. When she did not pull away, he caressed her softly. As gently he turned her to face him again. “It isn’t such a crime.”
“How can you say that? You despise him and what he did.”
Honesty forced him to answer with the truth. “Yes, I despise what he did, but I must laud the reasons why he chose that way.”
She laughed harshly. “Don’t try to spare my feelings at this late point, Trevor.”
“I would never do that.” Her bitter smile faded, as he continued. “You’re a grown woman. You must accept the world as it is. Your father’s lifestyle provided an excellent life for his child.”
“He was a good father.” A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. She did not wipe it away from the salt-tightened skin of her cheek. “No matter what anyone says about him, he was the best father in the world.”
His finger caught the next tear. Lifting his hand, he stared at the crystal droplet. “He wouldn’t want you to mourn him. He loved life. Surely he will be welcomed in death.”
“To whom? The devil?”
“You don’t believe that, Sybill.”
“I know one thing I believe!” she snapped. “You thought I was the same as Father. You thought I was here only to seduce Owen and gain myself wealth and prestige!”
The angry reaction she expected was not forthcoming. “I thought that, I will admit. Yet was it worse than what you considered me?”
“You?” Her outrage disappeared as he quirked a raven eyebrow at her. “Oh, all right. I did think you were trying to keep me from discovering the extent of your authority at the Cloister.”
His hand slipped along her dark silk sleeve. He watched as her eyes followed his enticingly slow motion. In a husky tone thick with the longing he took no pains to hide, he said, “It would seem we were both wrong.”
“Yes,” she murmured, unsure if she could disagree with him about anything when he touched her like this.
A finger under her chin tilted her face. Leaning forward, he kissed her right cheek. Her eyes closed as he did the same on her left. Her fingers reached to frame his face as his mouth lowered to meet hers. All sensation disappeared but the caress of his mouth against hers. When his arms enclosed her in the sweet lairs of his desire, she surrendered.
Raising his head, he ran a finger along her parted lips, which arced upwards in a happy grin. “After your tales of those fools who tried to seduce you, I was unsure if you would allow me to taste the luscious flavor of your lips.”
Her liquid laugh warmed the corners of the shadowed room. “You are the first man I thought I wanted to kiss me. That is very different.”
“Aye, very different. Now that you have sampled my kisses, do you feel the same?”
“No.”
“No?” He paused as he was about to kiss her once more.
“That’s right. I don’t feel the same.” Her chuckle was throaty unlike any she had ever heard from herself. “I don’t think I want you to kiss me. I know I want you to kiss me.”
“You minx!”
He pressed her tight to him as he took her lips beneath his own. Her teasing and sensual laughter lit the powder of his yearning for far more than the gentle contours of her mouth. As he felt her fragrant breath waft into his mouth, his passion detonated to blind him in its brilliance.
Her fingers entwined in his hair as she felt the softness of his beard while his lips moved to enlighten her face with his kisses. A gasp exploded from her as he placed his mouth along the pulseline of her neck. She had not thought anything could be as enticing as the warmth of his mouth teasing her to relinquish herself to joy. When the tip of his tongue found the curve of her ear, she giggled.
“So funny?”
From the amusement in his voice, she could tell he was as awed by the power of their unleashed emotions as she was. In the same light tone, she murmured, “Yes, very funny.”
“I didn’t think I’d bring peals of laughter when I held you in my arms.” Picking up a loosened lock of her hair, he twirled it around his fingers and drew her face near his again. Between quick, fiery kisses, he whispered, “I never know quite what to expect from you, Sybill. You are a mystery I would like to disco
ver all the answers to.”
“That would be—” Her head snapped up as she heard the latch rattle. She stifled a moan as her motion tugged painfully on the hair he held.
Trevor saw her fear. This was not the time for a confrontation. Sybill’s feelings about life at Foxbridge Cloister were tangled in a wild rhapsody of uncertainties. To allow Lord Foxbridge to know the truth would create only more problems. Without a word, he rose. He looked at her tremulous smile, but there was nothing he could say. They both understood the situation.
She watched as he walked to his desk. The door was moving, so she had no time to escape. Her hand reached up to grasp a book off the shelf. Opening it, she stared at the page without seeing the words. When she heard Owen greet his assistant, she closed her eyes in pain.
Today they had taken the first step along a path which would bring only heartbreak. Owen delighted in showing her how precious she was to him, but Trevor populated her dreams. She must decide what she would do. Owen wanted her for his Lady Foxbridge. Although he had yet to mention any such plans to her, she could see the truth etched into his face. His subtle comments about the years ahead warned her that he planned to spend them with her. What Trevor wanted was equally obvious. He wished to hold her close and enrapture her with more of what she had experienced too little of this afternoon. No promises could be made when they both knew how minuscule the chances were that they could be fulfilled.
For the first time in weeks, she wished she were back in London. She understood the intricacies of that society. She could not determine how to live this new life she had been flung into. She wished for sudden inspiration to solve her problems.
At first she had thought she was imagining Owen’s interest in her as other than his ward. When she discussed the household accounts with him, he urged her to sit next to him. He took advantage of any chance to touch her. Although all his kisses continued to be fatherly pecks on her cheek, she could feel a strange emotion behind them.
She worked to ignore any hints he made her. When he spoke of her future, she would switch to some other topic. Owen enjoyed having things his own way, and he was glad his initial impression that she and Trevor would be friends had become the truth. What would he think if he knew how close they stood to slipping into madness and becoming far more than friends? She doubted if Owen had intended for her to feel the first stirrings of love for his estate manager. She was sure Owen did not intend her to stay at Foxbridge Cloister to enjoy Trevor’s kisses.
She closed her eyes and leaned against the windowsill. She let the men’s conversation wash over her as she fought to keep from thinking about the trouble looming ahead if they did not force their hearts to be sensible. Knowing she wanted to remain foolish and in his arms did not help.
“Good day, m’lord,” said Trevor as coolly as if nothing was amiss. He could not help smiling. Nothing was amiss. Everything was undeniably wonderful now that Sybill welcomed his kisses.
Owen responded tightly, “Good day. I hope you have that letter completed. I want to send it to Mallory in this packet.”
“It is nearly done.”
“Nearly?” His face twisted as he tried to swallow his rage. “I told you how important that letter to the barrister was. You have had hours to complete it.” He picked up a page from the desk. “What have you been wasting your time on? Estate accounts? This is not your handwriting.”
Reluctantly he said, “No, m’lord. Sybill came to ask my help.” He allowed himself a short laugh. “She had trouble understanding the meaning of a few of my abbreviations.”
“Sybill?”
“Yes, m’lord.” Trevor fought to keep his lips from turning down in a frown.
The change in Lord Foxbridge when the woman’s name was mentioned was remarkable. From the eagerness on his face, it was obvious he could think of nothing or no one else. The change had not been gradual. Nearly from the time she arrived, Lord Foxbridge took no pains to hide that he wanted Sybill Hampton. It had been those strong emotions more than the rumors of her father’s life that had tricked Trevor into believing she was a fortune hunter.
Owen’s narrowed eyes glittered with an emotion his aide could not read. Leaning forward to place his hands on the desk, he asked, “Do you enjoy working with Sybill?”
“It’s always pleasant to work with someone who knows the job well.” He was pleased to be able to speak the truth, but was uncomfortably aware of the woman’s presence in the room.
“I thought you would get along well together.” He rubbed his gem-bedecked fingers against the front of his doublet. Taking one of the rings off, he dropped it on the desktop. “Have this sent to London and reset.”
“Reset? How?”
He smiled. “I will put together my needs in a letter for the goldsmith. Just package it so it will arrive without being stolen.” As if relieved to have business out of the way, he asked, “Do you know where Sybill is? I want to ask her if she needs anything from London.”
“She is here, m’lord.”
“Here?”
Trevor did not back down from the livid stare. Calmly, he stated, “I told you she came—”
“You did not—Never mind!” He spun about to see the silhouette at the window. “Finish that letter immediately,” he threw over his shoulder as he went toward the young woman.
“Aye, m’lord,” he answered with sudden fatigue.
He could not interpret Lord Foxbridge’s vacillating moods. In the same breath that he made it clear he wanted Sybill and Trevor to have as little interaction as possible, the older man spoke of his pleasure at hearing his ward was enjoying her work with him. Trevor bent his head to his task, but could not keep from eavesdropping. With difficulty he concentrated on the letter he was writing to the lord’s personal barrister, requesting him to be prepared to visit the Cloister at an undetermined time in the future.
“Sybill, my dear, what are you doing in this gloomy room on such a lovely day?”
“Reading.” She was afraid if she said too much she would betray what had taken place only minutes before. As she smiled at Owen, she wondered how these same lying lips could have been so honest when Trevor held her close.
“I thought you and Trevor—”
With a laugh, she interrupted him. “He helped me for a while, but he has more important duties. When he returned to those, I decided to read for a while.”
He tilted the book to read the title on its spine. “You read Homer in the original Greek?”
“Greek?” She fought to keep the spasm of dismay from her face, but her voice squeaked to lay her falsehoods open before him. Hastily she added, “No, I do not read Greek. I was simply enjoying the lovely illuminations.”
“Yes, it is a beautiful book.” He sat beside her. “And you make a beautiful picture sitting here enjoying it.”
Lowering her eyes from his, which seemed to see too much, she whispered, “Thank you, Owen.”
“I have embarrassed you. Forgive me.” He put his fingers beneath her chin.
With a gasp, she jerked her head away and leapt to her feet. His motion echoed Trevor’s when he kissed her so sweetly. She did not want anything to detract from that precious memory.
“Sybill?”
She smiled weakly. “It’s nothing. I must get back to work.”
“I did not intend for you to slave for me, my dear.” His pale eyes glistened in the sunlight as he smiled. “It is not as if you are an employee.”
Hoping the shadows concealed her high color, Sybill fought her rage. Trevor could hear Owen’s words, which were spoken without compassion. Her loyalty might be misplaced, but she did not like hearing her guardian disparage the man she was learning to care for so strongly. “I like the work, Owen. Excuse me.” Slipping the book back into the shelf, she hurried to the desk. She scooped up her papers. “Thank you for your help, Trevor.”
“Anytime, Sybill,” he answered, aware as she was of the man who would be listening. “I will see you at dinner.”
&nbs
p; “Yes.” She managed to keep the excitement from her voice. The door of the library shut silently behind her, leaving both men with their thoughts.
Sybill dressed for dinner with great anticipation. For the first time, she rued the dark hues of her gowns. Tonight she would have enjoyed looking pretty for Trevor and seeing the loving glow in his eyes as he watched her. Although she always enjoyed the meals with Trevor and Owen, tonight she could not still the tremble of her hands as she thought of being with Trevor again.
Even when Kate snapped at her for not standing still as she closed the many hooks along the back of her gown, Sybill could think of nothing but her joy. Often Owen would retire early. She prayed tonight would be one of those nights.
Opening the middle drawer of her dressing table, she drew out her treasured jewelry box. Inside were the pieces she had smuggled out of her home. She was smiling as she picked up a pearl necklace. On her violet frock, it would appear as lovely as the first snowfall.
“You are wearing that?”
She turned to see Kate’s astonished face. “Is there a problem?”
“You were so concerned with going from black to purple, but you seem to have no problems with wearing white jewelry.”
“Wearing a necklace does not hurt my father’s memory.”
Kate sniffed as she picked up the clothes Sybill had taken off. “All I can say, Miss Sybill, is that you do not resemble a girl who has lost her parent.”
“What do I resemble?” She leaned forward to check her hair in the mirror.
“A woman in love.”
Sybill’s voice dried up as she stared at the reflection. She could see Kate’s cold smile before the maid turned to the task of rehanging the dress and petticoats. Glancing at her own face, she saw Kate spoke the truth. The happiness within her could not be hidden. It reminded her of how vulnerable she was. Finally she managed to say, “Don’t be silly! I must be going, or I will be late.”
“Have a pleasant meal, Miss Sybill.”
She nodded but did not reply as she went out of the room. All her happiness was dimmed by her fear of others discovering what she had been foolish not to mask. Determined to be more careful, she went down the stairs.
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