“And what is that?”
“A well-made woman.” He tilted his head to one side, his expression one of curiosity. “The gossips have already spread the rumors that a beautiful woman has come to stay at the manor house.”
Edward gave a low chuckle, his heart filling with warmth at the mere thought of Bianca.
“More beautiful than any other woman.”
“I might have to disagree with that,” his friend warned.
Abruptly recalling the return of Joseph’s beloved, he reached out to lay his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“How is Sally?”
A hint of sadness touched the ruddy features before the placid smile returned.
“London changed her, and there’s no denying that, but not all for the bad,” he admitted. “She no longer frets to be free of the village or believes that a quiet, comfortable life is for those too dull to dream of better. She has even begun stitching her marriage gown.”
Edward felt a genuine surge of happiness. Joseph had loved Sally since they had left the cradle. It seemed inconceivable that they would not be together.
“But that is wonderful.”
“Yes.”
There was a pause as Edward dropped his hand and considered all that had occurred since he had left the estate for London.
“And you, Joseph?” he at last asked softly.
“Me?”
“How do you feel after knowing she left you for another?”
Joseph flinched, but he did not seem offended by the blunt question.
“I will not deny that it cut me deep.”
“But you have forgiven her?”
He gave an awkward shrug. “It was never about forgiveness. I love her. That is all.”
Edward stilled. So simple, and yet so eloquent. Joseph loved and that was enough.
“What of trust?” he could not help but probe.
“Love and trust must go together. Neither can survive without the other.”
Edward gave a slow nod. “You are a wise man, Joseph,” he murmured.
Joseph gave a short laugh as he rose to his feet and held out his hand to Edward.
“Wise enough to send you back to the manor and your beautiful guest before you manage to mangle this new plow beyond repair.”
Placing his hand in Joseph’s grip, he allowed himself to be yanked upright. Already his stomach was clenching with anticipation of being in the company of Bianca.
“I suppose I could be convinced.”
Joseph gave his hand a shake before stepping back with a grin. “It is good to see you smile again.”
“And you as well, old friend.”
“You sent home my heart. I can do nothing but smile.”
“She is a fortunate woman to have you.”
“As fortunate as yours.”
Edward turned to head back toward the house. He wanted to be near Bianca. To assure himself that she was not just a figment of his imagination.
To convince himself that she was precisely where she belonged.
Entering the manor, he barely resisted the urge to seek out Bianca in all his dirt. Sanity thankfully returned and he forced himself to enter his chambers and have himself properly bathed and attired in dark breeches and a coat of blue superfine. He even chose a crisp length of linen to style in an elegant knot about his neck.
A splash of cologne and he was on his way to the dining room, where his place was set in isolated splendor upon the glossy walnut table.
A frown touched his brow as he noted the silver candelabra and large bowl of fresh flowers upon a sideboard. Obviously the sophisticated touch of Bianca, but where the devil was she?
He glanced up as Maggie entered the room bearing a tray heavy with platters of fresh trout in cream, steamed carrots, and potatoes with basil.
He took the tray from her hands to set it on the table, not surprised when she gave a startled squeak. The poor girl was always jumping or stammering when in his presence.
“Maggie, have you seen my guest?” he asked softly, so as not to send the maid into a panic.
“Oh…aye, sir.”
“And?” he prompted.
“Sir?”
He firmly held on to his thinning patience. “Where might I find her?”
The girl flushed as she stumbled backward. “I…I believe she be in the conservatory, your lordship.”
“Please set another plate at the table. I shall return in a moment.”
“Yes. At once.”
The maid bobbed a hasty curtsy before rushing back toward the kitchens. Edward did not bother to watch her retreat as he left the dining room and made a direct path to the conservatory his mother had constructed just off the garden.
He supposed he should not be surprised by Bianca’s absence from his table, he acknowledged ruefully. She was determined to play the role of his housekeeper. At least when it suited her purpose.
The door had been left open, and with silent steps Edward moved through the banks of flowers to where Bianca stood arranging a large vase of tulips.
He halted as he was assaulted by the scent of flowers and sweet woman, the memory of the night spent in her father’s grotto nearly sending him to his knees.
Dear lord, would there ever come a day when he could glance upon this woman and not feel as if his body were being flooded with pleasure? When he would not ache to carry her off to his bed and hold her in his arms?
A smile curved his lips.
No, such a day would never, ever come.
Moving forward again, he did not halt until he stepped directly behind her, rather surprised to discover she was humming beneath her breath.
“Very lovely, muirnin,” he murmured. “I do hope those are for my bedchamber.”
With a squeak that could have rivaled Maggie’s, the slender woman spun about to regard him with flashing eyes.
“Good Lord, do you make a habit of frightening your staff in such a fashion?”
He brushed a wayward curl from her cheek. “It does tend to keep them on their toes.”
“It is a wonder they have not all had heart failure.”
He smiled without the least hint of apology as his finger stroked down the curve of her neck and halted just above the plunge of her neckline. For a breathless moment, he allowed himself to savor the feel of her rapidly pounding heart.
He did not believe for a moment that its frantic pace was due to fear.
“There is only one heart I care about.”
Her breath caught, but before he could take proper advantage she was stepping backward to smooth her hands over her skirts.
“I assumed you would be enjoying your dinner. Was the food not to your satisfaction?”
He leaned against the table she had been working upon. “Mrs. Chester has prepared a meal fit for a king. Or at least for an earl and the daughter of a duke.” He paused to stab her with a knowing gaze. “Which leads me to wonder why you are hiding among the flowers instead of sitting at my table where you belong.”
Her thick lashes fluttered downward to shield her expressive eyes. “A housekeeper does not eat at the master’s table.”
“This housekeeper does,” he informed her.
“Edward…”
“Will you come of your own accord or must I carry you?”
Her gaze jerked upward at his soft threat. “You would not dare.”
Too hungry to bother with a protracted argument that he fully intended to win, Edward took matters into his own hands.
Or actually his arms.
With a smooth motion, he had moved forward to scoop her off her feet, not even noting when she smacked him on the chest for his blatant manhandling.
“Edward, put me down this moment,” she commanded in imperious tones. Then, as they left the conservatory and entered the main house, her eyes widened in horror. “Edward…someone will see.”
He smiled at her unease. For all her bold and adventurous nature, she was still a proper lady at heart.
; “You will walk with me willingly?” he demanded as he halted upon the threshold.
“If it is the only means of halting this foolishness.”
Slowly he lowered her to her feet, his expression revealing he would not hesitate to chase her down should she be foolish enough to bolt.
Preferring dignity to flight, she walked at his side with her nose tilted in the air. She did not even balk when he led her to the dining room and settled her in a chair next to his own.
“There, this is not so terrible, is it?” he murmured, reaching to take her plate and filling it with the bounty. “Allow me.”
A reluctant amusement softened her features as he set the plate before her.
“Good heavens, I cannot possibly eat all this.”
Taking his own share, he allowed his gaze to lower over her pretty rose gown. “You have grown thin.”
She reached for her glass of wine. “I have always been slender.”
“Bianca, I am not such an idiot as to believe you would offer your patronage to a seamstress who cannot fit you properly.”
Her glass landed back on the table with a distinct thud. “I suppose you wish me to confess that I have been pining for you like a sickly mooncalf?”
“Never.” He reached to grasp her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers. “The last thing I would ever wish is for you to be unhappy. That is why—”
He bit off his words before he could reveal his deepest vulnerabilities, not surprised when she regarded him with a puzzled frown.
“Why what?”
“Let us enjoy the meal.” Nipping her fingers, he gently laid them back onto the table. “We would not wish to wound Mrs. Chester’s sensibilities by not appreciating her efforts.”
Bianca wished to ponder the odd manner that Edward had so abruptly halted his words. She was certain that he had been on the point of revealing something important. Something that might give her a hint as to why he remained so elusive.
But lulled by the delicious food and Edward’s charming stories of his childhood, she found herself simply enjoying the rare treat of being alone with the man who had captured her heart.
She was fascinated by the play of emotions over his handsome features as he spoke of his parents and their obvious love. His self-deprecating humor when he shared his youthful pranks. And most of all, his deep, unwavering devotion to the place he called home.
The dinner passed so swiftly she was caught off guard when Edward quit his chair and politely escorted her to a small library toward the back of the house.
Stepping across the threshold, she glanced about the room, her eyes widening at the endless shelves that were laden from floor to ceiling with leather-bound books.
“Good heavens,” she breathed, moving to stroke her fingers over the rich leather.
Strolling over the faded carpet, Edward poured two glasses of brandy from the decanter on the desk before returning to her side and pressing one of the glasses into her fingers.
“My one indulgence has always been fine books. I have been collecting them since I was a child.”
Bianca took a tentative sip of the amber spirit, pleased when she managed to swallow the liquid fire without coughing. It splashed into her stomach with a flare of warmth that she found oddly pleasant.
“You have much in common with my father,” she murmured.
“He is a collector?”
She smiled with wry humor. “My mother has accused him of devoting more care to his musty manuscripts than to her. His library in Surrey is one of the largest private collections in all of England.”
He leaned against the shelves, his eyes darkening as they drifted over her slender form.
“You are not attempting to seduce me with the lure of rare books, are you?”
Whispers of desire feathered down her spine. He was standing so close. Close enough she could almost feel his strong hands stroking over her bare skin. The taste of his lips. The heat of his body.
She shuddered. Heavens, but she ached for him.
“Is that how you desire to be seduced?” she demanded, her voice already husky with need.
“There is nothing quite so intoxicating as the scent of aging leather.” His hand lifted to trail down the curve of her neck. Her breath rasped through the heavy air as he reached the pulse beating wildly at the base of her neck. “Unless of course it happens to be warm honeysuckle on ivory skin. Now, that is a temptation no man can resist.”
Tension shimmered between them as their gazes locked and held. Bianca was hardly a lady of vast experience, but even she recognized that matters were slipping down a dangerous slope.
“I…” She was forced to halt and clear her throat. “Did your plow satisfy you?”
His brooding gaze lowered to watch his fingers trail along the cut of her bodice. Bianca bit her lower lip as a dark wave of pleasure surged through her body.
“In truth, I found it difficult to concentrate upon something so mundane as a plow,” he husked. “I had other things upon my mind.”
“What other things would those be?”
“Your unexpected arrival,” he readily confessed, those damnable fingers wreaking havoc as they lingered upon the curve of her breast. “The realization of just how desperately I have missed you.”
She froze in surprise. She had not expected his blunt revelation.
“Have you?” She frowned with uncertainty. “I thought…”
“What?”
“I thought you were determined never to forgive me.”
Something that might have been regret rippled over his countenance. And then, without warning, his hand was shifting to gently cup her cheek.
“Bianca, I am not going to deny that I was wounded when I overheard your conversation with Lord Aldron. The thought you might have loved the man and lied to me…” His jaw tightened with remembered pain. “Well, it made me a bit crazed.”
“Yes, I had noticed.”
He smiled wryly. “Of course I have only to be in your presence to be a bit crazed. I barely recognize myself when you are near.”
Bianca knew precisely what he meant. Since she had tossed herself into his arms, nothing had been the same.
“Will you listen to me now?” she demanded softly.
“There is no need. Your past is your past and not for me to judge.” His gaze ran a restless path over her upturned countenance. “It is your future that interests me.”
“I want to tell you of Stephen,” she persisted, knowing that the horrid man would haunt them forever unless she could banish his memory.
He grimaced. “I am not certain I wish to hear.”
“Please, Edward. It is important to me.”
“Very well.” With obvious reluctance he dropped his arms and moved back to the table to pour himself another shot of brandy. Only after he had emptied the glass did he turn back to regard her with a guarded expression. “What is it you wish to tell me?”
Bianca had waited for this moment for days.
She had plotted and schemed and risked her entire future for the opportunity to confront Edward and force him to believe that Lord Aldron meant nothing in her life.
But beneath his steady regard she found it oddly difficult to discover the words that would convince him of her sincerity.
“This is not so simple as I hoped.”
His expression did not ease, but he seemed to take pity upon her. “Tell me how the two of you met.”
She gave a lift of her hands. “It was not nearly so dramatic as our own meeting. Stephen attended a charity luncheon that I hosted, and he offered to escort me to a pantomime that was being held that evening.”
“And you went with him alone?”
Looking back, she realized it had been foolish. She had trusted Stephen with no knowledge of his true character, preferring to be blinded by his smooth charm. It was a wonder he had not attempted to force her into marriage from the beginning.
Of course, at the time he no doubt assumed that he would have her i
n a more conventional manner. It was never wise to anger a duke unless absolutely necessary.
“I was weary of my father’s determination to keep me sheltered from the world. I felt as if I were smothering, and Stephen offered hope of salvation.” She winced at the rather pathetic explanation, although at the time her desperation had been very real.
“Salvation?”
“He offered me freedom. The opportunity to see the world that was denied to me.”
He considered her words in somber silence. Bianca was deeply relieved he had not dismissed her rash behavior as that of a ridiculous child.
If he were to be her husband, she needed him to understand her hunger for a measure of independence.
“I suppose it would be thrilling for any young woman.”
She smiled wryly. “It was a grand adventure.”
“I see.”
She did not miss the edge in his voice. His emotions were still raw when it came to Lord Aldron.
“I thought him daring and bold,” she murmured as she slowly began to walk in his direction, “but now I realize it was nothing more than an illusion.”
He watched her approach with darkened eyes. “What do you mean?”
“There is little daring in taking a lady to a naughty pantomime or horse races or even boxing matches. What is the risk beyond a bit of scandal? It was not a true adventure.”
His large form stiffened as she halted directly before him. Close enough that her skirts brushed his legs.
“Then what is a true adventure?” he demanded in husky tones.
She met his gaze squarely. It may have taken a while. Goodness knew she was not always as bright as she should be. But at last she understood.
“Standing firm in your beliefs even at the risk of being shunned and disdained,” she said softly. “Devoting your life to helping others because it is right, not to impress society.”
His hands reached up to grasp her shoulders, his breath rasping in the still air.
“That sounds more like duty than adventure. Hardly the dreams of a young and beautiful woman.”
“I might have agreed until I encountered a gentleman who revealed that I possessed the most amazing opportunity to alter the world. Now, that is an adventure that is far more lasting than a brief moment of enjoyment.”
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