So when Drake asked if she missed them, he didn’t realize what he was saying. After all, it was for them that she now risked everything, for them that she would forfeit her love for Drake, her very heart.
Sitting up slowly, she reached for the sheet. “Yes,” she said in a dull voice. “I miss them.”
Clearly sensing her pain, he rubbed a soothing hand over her back. “Perhaps you might like to visit them. If you would permit me to accompany you, maybe we could go there together in a few weeks. I could take you. Where do they live?”
In France, in Montsoreau, came her answer.
But those were two places Drake could not take her. Two places of which she must never speak.
But, of course, he thought her brothers lived in England, in the Lake District, where none of her family resided any longer. Even her maternal grandparents were dead, and any distant cousins had scattered to the four winds long since.
She should make something up, she knew, think of a likely lie. But she was so sick of lying, so tired of having to prevaricate and dissemble and watch over every word that rolled off her tongue. In a few days more, she would be gone from this house, from his life, so what could it hurt if she told him the truth? How could it matter now?
“Ambleside,” she answered honestly. “It’s a pretty place. Lush and green, with deep blue lakes and rolling hills that look as if they could go on forever.” Even now, all these years later, she could still recall the land, the lakes, vivid even in her childhood memories.
“Then we shall go,” he stated, as if the matter were already decided.
Turning her head, she forced herself to start lying again. “Yes, we shall go.”
Unable to bear another moment apart, she leaned down and kissed him, letting her love flow with a kind of near desperation. Despite his murmur of surprise over her sudden amorous zeal, Drake made no objection, his arms wrapping around her back to pull her tight.
Not long before dawn, Drake awakened to the slight movement of the mattress as Anne slipped from the bed. Rolling over, he lighted a candle on the night table, then lay back against the sheets to watch as she donned her nightgown and robe. After combing her fingers through her long hair, she extracted a ribbon from her pocket to tie back the heavy tresses. Padding barefoot across the carpet, she located her abandoned slippers and tucked her feet into them one by one.
“I suppose you have to go,” he remarked on a rumble.
She nodded, her eyes the dusky color of ancient gold coins in the low light. “Everyone will be rising soon.”
With an absolute lack of modesty, he directed a glance toward the unmistakable peak tenting the sheet that covered him. “It would seem I am risen already.”
Her mouth curved into a slow smile, a twinkling light in her gaze. “Sadly, I shall have to leave you to deflate on your own.”
He stretched out a hand. “You could at least console me with a farewell kiss.”
A soft laugh rippled from her throat, her smile widening as she shook her head. “Oh no, there’ll be none of that. I’ve far too little time left to return to my room as it is. If I let you kiss me, you’ll only muddle my senses and confound my resolve.”
“Is that what I shall do? I had no idea I held so much sway over you.”
The smile slid from her mouth, a kind of curious introspection stealing into her gaze. For a moment she looked vulnerable, almost fragile, her lips parting as if she wanted to reveal some deeply held confidence. Then her eyelashes swept downward, her gaze moving away. “Go back to sleep, my lord,” she told him quietly. “I shall see you after you wake.”
Rather than press her further, he let her go, silent as she walked from the room on a soundless glide.
What secrets are you hiding, my lovely Anne? he thought as the lock clicked closed behind her. Why do you keep a wall between us that you will not let me breach?
And there was a wall, invisible but formidably solid nonetheless. He’d sensed it for some while now, and knew instinctively that she kept bits and pieces of herself hidden and inviolate. When she was in his arms she was so open and giving, so utterly without pretense. In those moments it was easy to forget that anything stood between them. There were no differences. Only pleasure, only mutual delight.
But afterward, when their passion was spent and the pressures and responsibilities of the real world began to assert themselves once more, her barriers slid back in place, clanking shut like a set of iron bars.
What was it she didn’t want him to know? What was it she was so determined to protect?
Last night had been unusual since she rarely spoke of her family. Come to think, he could recall only one other occasion in which she’d revealed anything about them, and even then he’d received the distinct impression that she’d regretted allowing the confidence. That she loved her family was clear, so it seemed reasonable to assume that her reluctance to discuss them didn’t stem from a case of familial discord. Mayhap it was simply that she missed them and was too deeply pained by their continued separation to dwell on thoughts of loved ones who were so far away. Then, of course, there was her dead husband, of whom he knew even less.
His fingers tightened into fists against the sheets, his mind shying away from the subject. Even so, he couldn’t help but wonder about the man she’d married and about her relationship with him before his death.
Had she loved him? Did she still?
Is that the reason she keeps her emotional distance? Is that why she won’t let me in?
And he did want in, he realized with no small measure of surprise. He didn’t just want her body, though, he wanted her. Everything there was to learn and understand about Anne Greenway. Her hopes and aspirations. Her likes and dislikes. Her fears and regrets. Her mind and heart—yes, even her soul—he wanted them all to belong to him.
And should he find a way to win them, to win her, what then?
His heart pounded inside his chest with a heavy, almost painful beat as the truth came upon him.
Because, for the first time in his life, and quite without any plan or wish to find himself in such a state, Drake knew he was in love.
Now the difficulty was, what was he going to do about it?
Chapter 20
Just before ten o’clock on Friday, Sebastianne took a seat in one of the two carriages brought around from the mews for the servants. She remained quiet as the others settled themselves, content to let them chatter excitedly about this afternoon’s excursion to Green Park.
A couple of days before, Drake had surprised the staff with a generous invitation to join him for a balloon ascension. Apparently, he’d agreed to assist a friend in the launch of his airship and said he thought the servants might enjoy witnessing the event. Everyone from Mr. Stowe to Polk, the scullery maid, had cheered with excitement.
Everyone, that is, but Sebastianne.
The news had come as a shock, panic twisting through her with all the subtlety of a rusty knife. Not only was Friday her day off, it was the day she’d planned to travel across town to the locksmith’s shop and retrieve the copy of the key to Drake’s safe. More importantly, it might very well be her final opportunity to obtain the key, and thus the cipher, before the month Vacheau had allotted her expired in a few more rapidly dwindling days.
But hurrying off that morning on some essential errand would have required explanations, and begging off from the outing to Green Park was entirely out of the question. She had no choice but to attend, particularly since Drake so obviously wished her to be there.
“I’ll make sure you have a prime view of the ascent,” he’d promised when she brought him his tea later that afternoon. Closing the door of his workshop, he’d drawn her into his arms. “Have you ever attended a balloon ascension before?”
“Yes, actually, I have,” she said truthfully.
One of his dark eyebrows winged upward. “Really
? When? Where?”
In Paris with my father, she thought, realizing too late that she ought to have kept her mouth shut, particularly since balloon ascensions weren’t all that common an event. How should she answer?
“Oh, it was ages ago when I was a child,” she said as casually as she could. “I scarcely recall the details. Seeing it again now with you will seem like the first time all over again.” She fiddled with one of her cuff buttons, lowering her gaze so he couldn’t read the deceit in her eyes. “I’m quite looking forward to the outing.”
She waited, wondering if he would question her further and praying he would not.
“Well, I wanted to do something special that you would enjoy.” Catching her hand inside his own, he carried it upward and pressed a kiss against the tender skin of her wrist.
She trembled with undeniable pleasure at the caress.
“I hoped this might be just the thing,” he continued, “as you won’t let me take you out on your own.”
Her gaze flew to his as a new thought occurred. “Have you invited the entire household then, just so I could attend?”
“Am I so transparent?” He bent his head at a sheepish angle, then sent her a boyish grin that made her heart squeeze with love and longing.
“Yes, just a bit,” she murmured, silently marveling at his efforts. He desired her, she knew, but was there more? Did she want there to be more when nothing but heartache could come of it?
“I’d take you in my carriage,” he went on, clearly unaware of her musings, “but I suppose it would look odd if you didn’t travel with the others. So I shall see you as soon as you arrive, and afterward ply you with all the sweetmeats and lemonade you can consume.”
She couldn’t help but smile at his promise. “I thought you were supposed to help your friend launch his balloon, not worry over keeping me laden with treats.”
“Oh, I’m a man of many talents. I’ll assist him and find time to attend to you as well.”
How lovely it all sounds, she thought, as the coachman put the horses in motion to drive her and the others to the park. Or at least it would sound lovely if only there were time for her to visit the locksmith and collect the key as well. Though while she was wishing, what she’d really like was to have no need for the key at all. In her wished-for world, there would be no Vacheau, and her brothers and father would be safe and sound instead of living in fear for their lives. If only there was some other way out of this dangerous tangle. If only she had no need to lie to anyone, most especially Drake, whom she grew to trust more and more each day. Yet was that trust enough to overcome her fears and allow her to reveal her secrets.
So many times, she’d imagined how he would revile her if he knew the truth. But what if he didn’t? What if she confessed and he understood her dilemma? What if she confided in him, and he found some means to help her?
But no, such a thing would be too much to hope.
Or would it?
Striving to calm her nerves, she forced herself to listen to the excited chatter going on between Parker and Cobbs, who were busy speculating aloud on what they might see in the park.
Not long after, the coach arrived at Green Park, the grounds thronged with spectators, some who’d come on foot, others who’d arrived as she and the other servants had, by horse and conveyance. As she climbed down onto the soft grass, the sunny June day wrapped around her like a warm embrace, causing a measure of her anxiety to fall away. Jasper, who’d been one of the servants to set out earlier with Drake, loped across the field with a glad wave. After a brief greeting, he turned to lead them back through the crowd to the balloon.
Then, suddenly, Drake came into view before her, his chestnut hair glinting with honeyed hues in the crisp, late-morning sunlight. He’d stripped off his jacket, she noticed, having obviously decided to ignore propriety in favor of the freedom of movement his dishabille provided. As she watched, he reached over to adjust one of the mechanisms that was feeding hot gas into the huge balloon atop the airship, heat shimmering in the visible waves directly above him. Pausing, he called something out to a thin, rawboned man with a head of the brightest red hair she’d ever seen. The man nodded in clear agreement with whatever Drake had said, then went to pull on one of the ropes tethering the flying machine to the ground.
She drew to a halt, her pulse hammering in sudden alarm at the sight of Drake so close to such a clearly dangerous contraption. What if he moved incautiously and burned himself? What if he became tangled in the lines that coiled like snakes at the base of the gondola and caused himself an injury?
But in observing him, she couldn’t help but admire the confident manner in which he moved, as well as the obvious expertise and careful precision with which he worked. Clearly, Drake knew exactly what he was doing, his actions skillful and practiced in a way that allayed her fears—the worst of them anyway. The fact that he was enjoying himself was plain as well, a smile making tiny lines fan out around his eyes.
Suddenly, as though aware he was being observed, he turned his head and looked straight at her. His smile widened, a pleased recognition that was disturbingly intimate, turning his eyes greener than the grass beneath their feet.
With her pulse thrumming in swift beats, she smiled back, then dipped her bonneted head lest anyone else see.
After calling again to the red-haired man, Drake strode forward.
“You’ve arrived,” he declared in happy tones. “All of you,” he added to the other members of his household, who had also come to a halt nearby. “Welcome! Go ahead, if you’d like, and take a closer look at the balloon. Carter won’t mind so long as you don’t touch anything.”
Carter, Sebastianne surmised, must be Drake’s friend—the redheaded companion he’d been assisting with the balloon.
Emboldened by the invitation, the others walked toward the airship. She remained behind.
“So? What do you think?” He gestured a hand toward the balloon that rose behemoth-like behind him.
Her gaze moved up, then up again. “It’s big.”
He laughed. “It had better be big, or it will never manage to carry anyone aloft.”
Abruptly, her smile disappeared. “You’re not going to be that someone, are you?”
He laughed again, a serious light coming into his eyes. “And if I were, would you care?”
“Yes.”
His eyes darkened with emotion.
“After all, if you were killed,” she continued, needing to lighten the mood once more, “just think of the bother I’d be put to, having to find another employer.”
He chuckled at her teasing before lowering his voice so that it was deep and silky and for her ears alone. “Not to mention finding another lover.”
Her gaze locked with his, her breathing no longer steady. “Hmm, that too.”
His grin deepened, and he took a step forward.
Aware they were in a public park where anyone might see them, she held up a warning hand. “Perhaps you ought to go help your friend. He looks as if he could use the assistance.”
Idly, Drake cast a quick glance over his shoulder toward the balloon and the thickening crowd gathered around the gondola. Carter wore a harried expression, as he tried to work on the balloon while also keeping an eye on the people surrounding him. A burst of ruddy color suffused his cheeks a moment later as one man in the crowd made a move toward the gondola with the clear intention of climbing inside. Carter let out an angry warning, and a shouting match ensued.
Drake rolled his eyes heavenward. “Looks as though you’re right. I’d better go rescue him before a riot starts. Meanwhile, there’re some refreshment vendors just across the way.” Digging a pair of fingers into his waistcoat pocket, he pulled out a coin, then pressed it into her palm. “Buy yourself a lemonade and anything else you fancy.”
Glancing down, she saw that he’d given her a gold guinea. “Bu
t this is far too much,” she protested, aware she could buy lemonades for half the assembled crowd with the amount of money he’d given her.
Drake didn’t hear her though, already out of earshot as he strode across the field at a rapid pace and hurled himself into the fray. Any concern she harbored for his safety vanished as she watched him wield a firm grip and use several well-chosen words that quickly put an end to the altercation.
With calm and order restored, her worry for Drake faded. As for her own worry about retrieving the key, there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. So for now, she reasoned, she might as well enjoy the balloon launch and have that refreshing glass of lemonade while she was at it.
As for the guinea he’d given her, she would buy her own beverage and return the coin to him tonight. She knew him well enough by now to realize he would protest its return, but she wanted no favors, no special gifts based on their intimate relationship. She came to him freely, out of love, and wanted nothing else between them.
Except for my lies, of course, she thought, with an inward cringe. And my deception.
As for telling him the truth . . .
Frowning, she turned away, deciding to put such weighty topics aside for now and focus instead on lemonade.
Several minutes later, Sebastianne stood with a cool glass in hand, chatting with Mrs. Tremble, who’d decided to sample “the competition,” as she called it.
“Not near as good as mine,” the cook remarked, smacking her lips after drinking another long swallow. “Too much sugar and not enough juice. Watered, I suspect.”
Sebastianne refrained from commenting, finding the citrus flavor quite tart enough for her liking. Although to Mrs. Tremble’s credit, her lemonade was indeed superior. Still, the vendor’s beverage was refreshing, particularly given the increasing heat of the day as the sun rose steadily toward its zenith.
The Bed and the Bachelor Page 19