Thornbrook Park

by Sherri Browning

  “Was it dreadfully hot? I think I might die from heat if I ever have to go to India,” Lady Markham remarked as the first course, a glazed quail, was served.

  Mrs. Kendal took it in stride. “The heat kept the flies from becoming too active. They get lazy, you know, when it’s hot.”

  Marcus flashed Mrs. Kendal a look, and she winked at him. He knew she was having them all on. The heat would have brought the flies in droves.

  “Oh, flies! Dreadful.” Lady Holcomb recoiled. “Thank goodness you’re back in England.”

  “Thank goodness for me,” Sophia said. “I missed her. And I’ve missed Captain Thorne as well. Now I simply have to find a way to keep all my favorites here at Thornbrook Park. Alice, you must help me. How can we entice Captain Thorne to stay on?”

  “Ha. I’ll work to keep Eve on, perhaps. I haven’t made up my mind about Captain Thorne yet.”

  “I’ll have to convince you, but not too aggressively. I’m not set on staying for long,” Marcus said. Though Mrs. Kendal, if not Alice, made him consider the possibilities. Eve, a fitting name. Like the biblical Eve, she put thoughts of sin in his mind, original or otherwise. The combination of those eyes with that figure was too much for any man to resist. He was just about to steal another glance at her when Aunt Agatha made a pronouncement.

  “We have a new visitor in the room. Lady Markham has joined us.”

  “I’ve been here the whole time.” Lady Markham laughed and reached for her near-empty claret glass.

  “No, my apologies. I mean the first Lady Markham. She considers herself the only Lady Markham,” Agatha added in a loudly whispered aside.

  “Well, how about that?” Lady Markham humphed and reached again for her glass, barely waiting for the footman to finish filling it.

  “She does not approve.” Agatha shook her head sorrowfully. “Please take no offense, Lady Markham, or I should call you by your given name to avoid provoking her. Do not take it personally. The dead often don’t approve of their replacements.”

  Lord Markham smiled. “That was my Sarabeth, always finding fault.”

  “Your ghost wife passes judgment on me, and that’s all you can say in my defense?” The new Lady Markham pursed her lips, clearly not at all pleased with the conversation.

  “We’re talking to a chair.” Lord Markham gestured. Unsatisfied, his young wife crossed her arms and turned slightly away from him. He shook his head, defeated, and readdressed the chair. “Very well. Now, Sarabeth, darling, you left me and what was I to do? You know I could never manage on my own.”

  Lady Markham rose in a huff. “You never call me darling.”

  “Oh!” Agatha exclaimed. “That did it. She’s gone.”

  “What did it?” Sophia asked, drawn in to the scene. “Lord Markham’s confession?”

  “No, the new Lady Markham’s indignant reaction. The former Lady Markham threw back her head, laughed, and disappeared. Sometimes the spirits just want to make trouble, don’t they?”

  “Mission accomplished.” Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Now let’s get back to more pertinent discussion.”

  The new Lady Markham, perhaps realizing she looked silly, settled back in her seat.

  “Pray, what is more pertinent, Brother? ‘Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind,’ as Kipling says.” He smiled at Eve. “So go ahead, Gabriel. Intoxicate us!”

  Eve flashed him a look as if surprised he could even mention intoxication.

  “Lady Markham knows all about such states, I believe,” he whispered, delighted to see her blush in response. The spectacle with Agatha and the Markhams had interfered with his planned flirtation.

  “If you want a good drunk, I’ve got plenty of excellent scotch.” Gabriel missed his point, as usual.

  “I want to be drunk on words, Gabriel. You mistake me. Sophia, dear sister, you like words well enough. Go on, speak! Let us drink our fill from your font of wisdom.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever accused Sophia of wisdom,” Alice said with a laugh.

  “Now, now,” Marcus defended. “In the letter that lured me here, the lovely Sophia quoted Kipling.”

  “Kipling?” Alice laughed. “I doubt Sophia has ever read Kipling. Have you, dear?”

  Sophia’s cornflower eyes darted between Marcus and Alice, as if she couldn’t decide if she was pleased that they were interacting, even if it were at her expense. Or maybe she was trying to figure out if it was indeed at her expense.

  Sophia shook her head. “I can’t say that I have. I prefer Brontë.”

  “Brontë? ‘Better to be without logic than without feeling,’ as Charlotte said. I applaud your choice.” Marcus raised his glass.

  “You know Brontë, Captain Thorne?” Eve asked, surprised.

  “Charlotte? Perhaps she meant Emily. Or Anne,” Alice suggested.

  “I’ve read some Brontë, I must confess.” He met Eve’s gaze warmly. “I wouldn’t sneer at a book simply because it was written by a woman, as some of my fellow men might do.”

  “‘Terror made me cruel,’” Eve said, trying to hide that she was most favorably impressed with his answer. “Do you know that one, Captain Thorne?”

  “Was it Lockwood who said so? Wuthering Heights?” Marcus knew it was. Test him, would she? “Tell me, Alice, are you ever cruel, and is it terror that makes you so?”

  “I’m not sure I’ve ever been terrified,” Alice said, after a moment’s consideration.

  “Oh? I’m certain you’ve been cruel.” Marcus flashed a smile.

  “Why would you think so?” Sophia asked.

  “A beautiful woman such as our Alice, not yet wed? She’s no doubt disappointed any number of suitors. Haven’t you, Alice?”

  “A woman can’t be expected to say, Captain Thorne. You scoundrel.” Sophia tried to admonish him, although she couldn’t help but smile in her obvious delight at the flirting going on in front of her. “Don’t answer him, Alice.”

  “Alice has met her soul’s equal, but she didn’t know it at the time,” Agatha said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples. “He’s a shadowy figure. I see him digging in the dirt with bare hands. What could it mean?”

  “Perhaps he’s burying treasure,” Gabriel jested, probably for the chance to steer the conversation away from another spiritual reading by Agatha. “You’re destined for a pirate, Alice. My brother doesn’t like dirt. Do you, Marcus? He’s never liked to make a mess, always his nose in a book. As you can see from the way he quotes to us. Kipling, Brontë, bah.”

  “I was a bookish lad. But then I put away childish things and went to war.” He stared Gabriel down, aware of the hardness in his eyes even as he felt a rage edging in. “I learned to shoot. I don’t think my brother has the guts to bring me out with him, lest he find himself bested. Isn’t that why you haven’t invited me to join you, Gabriel?”

  Gabriel laughed and pushed the quail around his plate. “As it is, the fish are biting. I won’t be shooting again until next Thursday at the earliest.”

  “There’s a hunt!” Alice interrupted. “Isn’t there, Lord Markham? On your lands, I believe. A fox hunt? In a fortnight? I hope to practice some so I can take part.”

  “There is indeed,” Markham acknowledged. “But it’s only a cub hunt.”

  “A cub hunt?” Alice wanted to hunt, who knew why, but she clearly hadn’t mastered the terms.

  “A cub hunt serves many purposes,” Markham explained. “Some use it to cull the young foxes to make a more manageable skulk when the real hunt begins. I use a cub hunt to train my pups, so that they learn to go after foxes and not rabbits or squirrels. I have some fine hounds this season. I think they will learn well.”

  “Foxhounds?” Alice asked. “I love dogs.”

  “Foxhounds, yes. I also keep terriers. They’re more likely to go right into the burrow.”
/>
  Sophia fanned her hand in front of her face. “Oh, no. I think of the poor foxes and I feel faint.”

  “She’s never been one for blood sports, have you, sweetheart?” Gabriel took his wife’s hand most tenderly, and they shared a quick glance that made Marcus’s own heart tighten in his chest. In some ways, he wished he had someone with whom to share private glances. In other ways, he might be better off alone.

  The rage. He’d even forgotten about comely Eve Kendal seated at his side when it started to come over him. Fortunately, the darkness passed with the turning of the conversation, leaving as swiftly as it had arrived. But he wouldn’t always be so fortunate. It might come upon him again, and what then? Perhaps he shouldn’t have come. He might be headed back to London sooner than expected.

  Eight

  Eve’s conscience nagged her that she’d been avoiding her business in London by living leisurely at Thornbrook Park. She needed to see to her affairs before Lord Averford deemed her incapable, an inferior female, and stepped in. Besides, she didn’t want to get in the way of a budding romance. Despite his proclaimed intention to flirt with her, Captain Thorne had turned his attention to Lady Alice before they’d even passed through to the drawing room for cordials.

  Sophia had been in delights. It was then that Eve had formed her plans, made arrangements, and gone off to bed early with the excuse of another headache. She woke before daylight and donned her most practical traveling suit, black like most of her wardrobe. She added a hat trimmed with pink ribbon for just a touch of color and set off. As the sun began to rise, she quietly left the house to find Dale waiting.

  “Shall we go?” she asked softly, approaching him.

  The chauffeur met her gaze only briefly before his eyes shifted to focus on something behind her. “Good morning, Captain Thorne. The car’s ready.”

  She startled, barely resisting the urge to turn. Captain Thorne? Her heart gave a queer flutter and her mouth went dry as ash.

  “Good morning, Dale. I see I’m fortunate to have company. Going to the train as well?”

  Before she could steel her nerves, she found him standing at her side, the warmth from his amber eyes spreading through her veins like whiskey. Yet her knees shook as if she were chilled.

  “I am.” She checked her urge to pinch her cheeks or smooth her hair, though her tongue darted out to wet her lips before she gained control of herself. It could only be that she’d been deprived of male company for over a year, and Captain Thorne was of a type she found pleasing—solid, athletic, and overwhelmingly male. “But you’ve only just arrived. Leaving us so soon?”

  “Unavoidable business.” He, too, wore somber black, coat and trousers, white shirt, blue tie, and a dark Homburg hat, much like the one he’d arrived in.

  She nodded. “Sophia suggested a night at Averford House in case my business goes late, as I expect it will.”

  She had no idea how long it would take to straighten out her affairs.

  “We’ll be a moment. I’m preparing the engine,” Dale informed them. When Captain Thorne placed his hand on her waist to escort her to the side of the driveway, a jolt of heat seared straight through her. Imagined, of course. She tried to discount it.

  “I’ll be staying the night at Averford House as well. Perhaps we can dine together.”

  “Yes. I would like that.” She hoped she didn’t answer too quickly. “Won’t Mr. Sutton be surprised?”

  “Ha!” Captain Thorne had a loud, merry laugh. She worried he would wake the house before they set off. “Won’t he, though? Perhaps I’ll pretend not to know you.”

  “Or I can pretend to be a figment of your imagination.” She smiled.

  “If I imagined you, I would have made sure you remained in the drawing room after dinner last night. By the time we finished our cognac and passed through to join you, Sophia told me you’d gone up to bed. How are you feeling today?”

  “Much better, thank you. It was just a headache. I’m better now. Perhaps I simply needed some time to adjust to a new environment.”

  “I know what that’s like. Unfortunately, I adjusted with an awful lot of whiskey followed by time alone in a dark room. After the war.”

  “Before the prizefighting?” She saw his eyebrows shoot up. He didn’t expect she knew. “Mr. Sutton had mentioned it to explain the bruises.”

  “The fighting did help me recover some, I think, yes. After I got in the ring for the first time, I started drinking less. Until that last time, when I obviously decided to let defeat encourage me to drink a bit more.” Was that a glint of embarrassment in his eyes?

  “And now you’re here.” She gestured around them. “I know Sophia’s so glad you’ve returned. You do plan to come back?”

  “I do,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation. “Probably tomorrow. But we’re both unsuitable houseguests. I made my excuses not long after you left us.”

  “You’re not a guest. You grew up here.”

  “That only means they place more expectations upon me. I suppose we’re ready, Dale,” he said, noticing the poor chauffeur standing at attention, waiting patiently for them to finish their conversation.

  “Yes, Captain Thorne.”

  “Ladies first.” Captain Thorne nodded in her direction as Dale came around to get her door.

  “But Captain Thorne,” she said, holding his amber gaze and savoring the warmth that flooded her. “I’m not a lady.”

  Instead of a reply, the scandalous man had the nerve to flash her a crooked, wolfish grin as he waited for her to get into the car.

  ***

  He’d had the opportunity to study her figure as he approached the car, her nipped-in waist and the slight curve of her bottom. She wasn’t as willowy as Sophia, but she stood barely tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder or to press the curve of her breasts into his chest, should he pull her close. She would be soft in his arms and smell of ginger and oranges, a heady combination.

  He’d caught the scent, exotic and unexpected, wafting from her when he’d run into her in the hall outside Sophia’s chamber, and he could catch a hint of it in the air intermittently as they rode along. Some perfume her husband had bought her in India, no doubt. He wondered if she wore it to remember the husband or to bring India back to life in her mind.

  As they pulled to a stop at the station, he didn’t wait for Dale to come around. Waving the chauffeur off, he stepped out and around to open her door. He liked that she took his hand and allowed him to help her from the car instead of protesting, and he wasn’t inclined to give the hand back even as they said their good-byes to the driver and walked away from the car. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, where it felt right.

  She raised her face to him, a smile in her blue-silver eyes. “I’ve known men like you, Captain Thorne.”

  “Men like me?”

  “Mmm.” She nodded. “Confident, charming, ready to say and do all the right things.”

  “You mistake me. I’m perhaps only one of the three.”

  “You would say so. You want me to try to guess which one. It adds to your intrigue. But really, you prefer to believe there are no other men like you.”

  He laughed, taking her comments lightly. She fancied herself a judge of character, did she? “I want you to believe it as well.”

  She laughed, too, a delicate sound that reminded him of the bubbles in champagne, refreshing and sweet. “Perhaps it’s best that I just smile and allow that I’ve been speaking out of turn.”

  “Speak freely, Mrs. Kendal. We can be friends, I hope. If you’ve known men like me, then you know I’m not like my brother.”

  They approached the ticket agent. He bought two fares without giving it a thought.

  “Oh, but—I can pay my own fare, Captain Thorne. I don’t believe we’ll be seated together.”

  “We will.” He waved the tickets. �
��Don’t leave me alone with my thoughts for the entire ride into town. Please. I enjoy having company.”

  He enjoyed having conversation, a distraction from the dark thoughts that crept in any time he was alone in the quiet for too long.

  She pursed her full lips, withdrew her hand from his arm, and reached into her pocket. “All right. But let me pay you for my share.”

  He took her hand back and put it in the crook of his arm. “We’ll work it out later. For now, let’s get settled.”

  The train was already at the station.

  “The first-class car?” She hesitated.

  “The first-class car, of course. What else?” To save on expenses, she probably hadn’t taken it to come to Thornbrook, but she deserved the best and so she should have it.

  He helped her inside and to their seats, his gaze drawn to her backside as she settled in. He hadn’t thought of women in months, longer perhaps, but God help him, she brought every basic male instinct back to immediate attention. At that hour, the train remained empty enough for them to take seats facing each other so he could watch her as they conversed.

  “Call me Marcus,” he said, leaning forward, hands on his knees. “At least while we’re away from Thornbrook Park.”

  She raised her thin, blond brows as if surprised but taking it under consideration. “You may call me Eve.”

  “I suppose we’re in a unique enough situation to be less formal around each other, considering that we were in intimate conditions before even having met properly.”

  She laughed again. “That’s not entirely true. You introduced yourself.”

  “Did I? I can’t remember.”

  “Catpin Marcus Thorne, at your service.” She mocked his deep voice and held out her hand.

  “Ha! Sounds like me. Catpin? I’m sorry that I can’t remember.”

  “Rest assured, Marcus, I did not take advantage of you in your unfortunate state.”