by Barton, Anne
“Thank you. But I must confess, I don’t feel very brave. What if Lord Charlton has the painting but won’t sell it?”
“If he’s offered enough money, he’ll sell it.”
Daphne gazed at the children playing across the yard beneath orange-tinged clouds. “My funds are not unlimited.”
“I’m sure we can reach some kind of arrangement.”
She stiffened. “What are you suggesting?”
“That you could pay me back over time. Or not.”
Oh. “That’s very generous of you.”
He shrugged as lending money to women he barely knew were quite routine. “If you say so.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, and then he jerked his cane in the general direction of the girls. “There are so many of them—must be at least two dozen.”
“Twenty-eight. The older girls help take care of the little ones.”
“What happened to Caroline’s parents?”
“They died in a fire when she was five. She went to live with her grandmother, but she became ill and passed away last year.”
“She had no other family? No one else to take her in?”
Daphne shrugged. “I suppose not.”
He grunted. “Do you know them all?”
“Yes, some better than others. Some of the girls, like Caro, remember their parents. Others have lived here almost all of their short lives.”
A bell rang, and the girls immediately scrambled for a front spot in the dinner line.
“Good lord,” he said. “I’m glad I’m not in their way.”
She smiled. “They’re growing girls—they need their nourishment.”
“Obviously.”
She had a thought then—silly perhaps, but worth a try. “Would you like to see more of the orphanage? That is, if you’re not too busy. I could give you a quick tour while the girls are dining.”
Before he could respond, Caroline popped out of line, ran toward them, and gave Daphne a quick hug before racing back to her spot. “See you next week, Miss Honeycote,” she called. “And you, too, sir… er… my lord.”
A look of mild alarm crossed his face. “I don’t think I’ll—”
“Good-bye,” Daphne called back. The girls filed into the building, waving. To Benjamin, she said, “Never mind. I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend to.” His reaction to Caro’s assumption spoke volumes, and she chided herself for even asking him about the tour. He was already going out of his way to help her; she had no right to make additional demands on his time.
When he turned toward her, his forehead was wrinkled, like he was deep in thought. “On second thought… I’d like a tour.”
Chapter Twelve
Daphne wasn’t sure she’d heard Benjamin correctly.
She blinked twice. “You want to see the orphanage?”
“Why not? I’ve never been in one. To tell you the truth, I haven’t been around many children at all. As a rule, I don’t find them very interesting.”
“I doubt they find you very interesting either,” she lied. Caro had taken to him immediately, so much so that Daphne felt an uncharitable twinge of jealousy.
“Caroline is the exception,” he admitted. “She’s scrappy and smart. A survivor.”
Interesting. Maybe he and Caro were kindred spirits. “Come,” she said, rising from the bench. “We’ll take a quick peek at the dormitory while the girls are eating.”
They walked side by side, up the back stairs to the second floor. “How is your leg today?” Daphne asked.
“Still attached to my body. Can’t ask for much more than that.”
“I’m in the process of writing up some instructions.”
“For what?”
“Just a few simple procedures I’d like you to try. To see if they provide some relief.”
He arched a dark brow. “I’ll have to let my physician know that he has some competition.”
His mocking tone stung, but she shrugged it off. “I’m not suggesting that I’m smarter than your doctor.”
“You are smarter,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’s had more training, but you’re more intelligent.”
“Thank you, I think.”
“You’re much prettier, too.” He flashed a rakish grin that made her heart beat faster. She was not accustomed to seeing his flirtatious side—had not even known he possessed one.
They reached the landing of the top floor, which had once been an attic. The entire floor was one huge, open room, with rows of beds under the low slanted eaves. Threadbare curtains hung from the windows at each end of the long room and the walls were a dingy color that might have once been blue, although they now appeared closer to gray. The blankets on the sagging mattresses were neatly folded and a few of the pillows had dolls napping on them. Trunks at the ends of some of the beds held the girls’ precious personal belongings, but most of the orphans had little to call their own.
It seemed a little barren without the girls there. A little cold. And yet, Daphne saw the potential of the place. She hoped Benjamin saw it, too.
“It’s clean,” he said approvingly. “A boys’ dormitory would never be this clean.”
“The girls are quite industrious. The older ones take turns doing the laundry and the cleaning.”
He walked down the center of the room, his head only a few inches away from the ceiling. “Sharing a room with twenty-seven sisters could be difficult.”
“But also great fun,” she pointed out.
He nodded, his intense blue gaze taking in every detail of the room.
They descended one flight of stairs in order to look at the classrooms, and quite literally bumped into Mama as she and the director were leaving the office.
“Lord Foxburn!” Mama exclaimed. “Maisey told us you were here. So generous of you to come and visit the girls.”
“A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Honeycote. I would not have you operate under the false impression that I am a philanthropist, however. Far from it. I leave that kind of thing to good people like your daughter.”
“Oh, you are too modest, my lord. But my Daphne does have a very giving nature,” she said proudly.
The director extended her hand. “Welcome, Lord Foxburn. What can I do for you today?”
He shook her hand smoothly and unleashed his most charming smile. “I happened to be riding by and saw Huntford’s coach out front. I thought I’d stop in and see if he was here.”
Daphne nearly rolled her eyes. What a thin excuse. But the director believed it, and so did Mama. “Since the earl is here, I offered to give him a quick tour. May I show him the classrooms?
“Please, allow me.” The director, Mrs. Middleton, stepped briskly down the hall and swung open a door that creaked as though its hinges were a couple centuries old. For all Daphne knew, they were. The room was large and three tall windows let in the waning evening light. There were no desks but long tables surrounded by wooden stools, some of which looked like they might topple over at any moment. A map of Europe covered much of the back wall, and the row of low bookshelves housed a few meager supplies. Some paper, a few worn books, small writing slates, and chalk. “This is the main school room. We employ two teachers. Miss Humphrey works with the older girls and Miss Randles instructs our young ones.” The director shivered as though she did not envy Miss Randles her task. “She has the patience of a saint, she does.”
Daphne tried to see the room through Benjamin’s eyes.
It wasn’t much to look at, but to her, it represented hope for the orphans. The opportunity to learn to read and write was more than many of her friends growing up had. If the girls could read, all sorts of worlds might open up to them.
Benjamin walked to the wall of windows and looked down at the courtyard below. Then he strode through the room, running a hand over the solid slab of oak that formed the top of a table. He nodded approvingly. “It’s a fine room,” he said.
It wasn’t exactly a ringing endorsement, but the wa
y he spoke the words made Daphne want to hug him. He said fine like the room was fit for twenty-eight princesses, and even though all three women knew it wasn’t, they sighed in agreement.
“There are several improvements we plan to make,” the director said quickly. “But in the meantime, thanks to the generosity of benefactors like the Honeycotes, we’ve been able to take care of these girls and teach them how to survive beyond these walls.”
“Thank you for the tour,” Benjamin said. “It’s been very… enlightening.”
“It was my pleasure, Lord Foxburn.”
“Thank you for your time as well, Miss Honeycote.”
Mama stared at Benjamin with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. It was the kind of look mothers gave when they were putting together the pieces of a puzzle one would rather they didn’t. “My lord,” she said, “I understand that you shall be at Lord Biltmore’s house party next week.”
“I’m accompanying Hugh there to assist with any business matters and may stay for a few days of the house party. If my schedule permits.”
“Of course. You must have many demands on your time. However, I do hope that you shall stay for some, if not all, of the festivities. Daphne, Olivia, Rose, and I shall be there and would enjoy your company immensely.”
“And I yours.” He made a polite bow. “Good evening, ladies.”
Without thinking, Daphne blurted, “I’ll see you out.” She was oddly reluctant to let him go without saying good-bye.
“Don’t be long, darling,” Mama said. “We’re having dinner with the Mosbys this evening.”
Benjamin was silent until they reached the stairs at the rear of the building. At the top landing, he stopped abruptly, reached out, and clasped her hand in his. The sudden tension in their arms pulled her toward him and she bumped lightly into the solid wall of his chest. She started to say “I’m sorry,” but she hadn’t been the one to cause the collision.
Besides, she suddenly found herself quite unable to breathe.
His back was to the wall and her slippers were toe to toe with his boots. He ran his hand up her arm and around her back before gently stroking her nape, and all the while he stared at her as though he were very, very… hungry. “Daphne,” he said. It was a plea for permission, or perhaps forgiveness.
With every second that passed, her heart raced faster and a heady warmth seeped into her limbs and coiled in her center. If a mere look could do this to her, what magic could his kiss do? Her gaze drifted to his lips and she leaned a bit closer.
And that was all it took.
He hauled her against him and dipped his head, covering her mouth with his own. There was nothing gentle or civilized about his kiss. It was needy, raw, and… wonderful.
He thrust his tongue between her lips and explored her mouth. At the same time he cupped her cheek with his hand, sweetly coaxing her closer, seducing her with the brush of his thumb across her skin.
Never had she felt so powerful and at the same time, so utterly out of control. Desire curled in her belly and she suddenly understood why ladies of gentle breeding would risk their reputations for a few minutes of bliss.
Kissing Benjamin was akin to breaking a wild horse. Not that she’d ever done such a thing, but she could now imagine it. A little frightening, but mostly exhilarating and thrilling. Every inch of him, from his scratchy chin to his broad shoulders to his hard thighs was pure, unadulterated male. He smelled like leather and grass; he tasted faintly of cloves and brandy. His body was so different from hers and yet, every time they bumped together, they seemed to fit perfectly. So much so that she had to check the urge to fall into him.
Instead, she poured all her energy into kissing him back. The rhythm of his probing tongue was easy to imitate, and soon she became an equal partner in the dance, leading as often as he did. Nothing existed but the two of them; nothing mattered but prolonging this moment.
Until his hand slid down her spine and firmly cupped her bottom. In some remote part of her brain, a warning bell sounded, and she drew back.
His eyes were dazed and heavy lidded, his lips swollen. “Jesus,” he rasped.
“What,” she asked, trying to catch her breath, “was that?”
“That”—he laced his fingers through hers—“was a kiss.”
“Obviously. But… why?”
“I don’t know. A momentary lapse in judgment, I suppose. On your part, that is.”
“Wait a minute. You kissed me, which makes it your lapse in judgment.”
He flashed a cocky smile. “You were begging me to kiss you. I should add that I didn’t mind at all.”
She wrested her hand away from his and placed her hands on her hips. “I fear you are delusional. There was no begging.”
“Not aloud.”
“I see. You were reading my mind.”
He leaned close to her ear and softly said, “Tell me you didn’t want me to kiss you, and I’ll take you at your word.”
His breath was warm on her neck and the strange pulsing in her loins resumed. “I… I didn’t expect it to be so…” Consuming, powerful, knee-buckling.
“But now you know,” he said, nipping lightly at her neck. His hands spanned her waist and eased up her rib cage. “What do you think?”
As long as his lips were brushing over her skin, she was incapable of thought. “This is nice, but—”
He lifted his head and stared at her incredulously. “Nice?” Clearly, it was not the answer he’d been looking for. “Nice is a rich cup of coffee or a day without rain. That kiss was not nice.”
She snorted slightly. “What would you call it?”
He stepped closer and kissed her lightly on the temple. “I’d call it ‘a glimpse of heaven.’ ”
Oh. She had to admit it was a more apt description than nice. Although heaven sounded much purer than she presently felt.
“You should go. Mama will come looking for me soon.”
“You say you want me to leave, but then you won’t stop kissing me.”
“Very funny.” She tucked a few tendrils behind her ear and smoothed the front of her skirt. “How do I look?”
“Like you’ve been ravished.”
“Benjamin!”
“Ben.”
“What?”
“You could call me Ben. It’s a little less formal than Benjamin. I’d say we’ve crossed over into the realm of informality, wouldn’t you?”
“The girls will be charging up these stairs to their dormitory any minute. Do you want to be standing here when they do?”
He started walking immediately. “I may not see you for a while.”
“Oh?” She tried to keep the disappointment from her voice but feared she wasn’t entirely successful.
“We have a plan now. There’s really no need for us to discuss anything until I have the chance to speak with Charlton.”
“No, of course not.”
At the bottom of the stairs he paused and faced her. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to change your mind about Hugh’s house party? It’s risky for you to go.”
“I know. But I’d go mad if I were to stay in town, sitting around and awaiting news of my fate. I’m going.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully. “You’re very stubborn.”
Daphne might have taken offense if he hadn’t spoken the words with grudging admiration. “Yes. I look forward to seeing you at Biltmore Manor.” She gave a slight wave, feeling suddenly awkward and empty.
He walked down the corridor toward the front door but stopped after a few strides. “This”—he waved his cane in the air demonstratively—“what you’re doing here, that is, it’s… good.”
Joy bounced in her heart. “Thank you.”
“I’ll see you next week.” He gave a casual salute with his cane and left.
Chapter Thirteen
Iridescence: (1) A quality that causes paint to reflect light and, thus, appear to change color. (2) The bewitching, beguiling property that enables a woman’s tresses to g
low like amber in candlelight and pure gold in sunshine.
Traveling any considerable distance was hell on Ben’s leg, and the journey to Biltmore Manor was no exception. It was lowering enough to have to ride in a coach instead of atop a horse. Adding insult to injury, he needed to stop every two hours, exit the coach, and hobble about in order to stretch his leg. Beyond humiliating. Thank goodness he’d traveled alone.
He would arrive at the house in less than an hour. He and Hugh would have a few days to meet with the steward, inspect the grounds, and review the accounts. After that, a dozen or so guests would descend upon the house.
The only one he was concerned with, however, was Daphne.
He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew the letter she’d sent him three days ago. It was less letter than prescription. Even so, it was infused with her irrepressible optimism and goodness.
At the top of the paper she’d written, “Treatment for Leg Pain.” Beneath it were a series of simple steps.
Number one. Soak the leg in a bath of water as hot as can be borne (without scalding the skin) for at least ten minutes.
Number two. While the flesh and muscles are still warm, vigorously massage the affected area of the leg.
Number three. Apply a poultice (made from comfrey leaves soaked in boiling water) to the leg and cover with bandages overnight.
Repeat daily.
Each time he read the steps—and he’d read them several times—they made him chuckle. Especially the last line. As though he had nothing more pressing to do than soak in a bath and mash up comfrey day after day.
Not that he objected to her nursing advice. It was nice that someone cared enough to try to help him in spite of the fact that his was a hopeless case.
Of course, she’d probably only given him her prescribed treatment out of a sense of duty—payment in return for the favor he was doing her with regard to the portraits. She couldn’t know that he’d latch on to any excuse to spend a few moments basking in her light.
The kiss had been a mistake. It was like opening a door and taking a peek at paradise, but knowing he could never, ever be admitted. Daphne herself had said she was looking for a kind, good-hearted gentleman. Someone decent and noble. Someone she could raise a family with.