Robert's voice was flat when he finally answered her. “It's you.”
“You're not serious.”
“I was as surprised to realize it as you are to hear it, believe me. But it really is you.”
“I think you are going to need to explain that one.”
“Well, my parents are long dead, and though I have friends I care about a great deal, they are all... hm, shall we say, a little self-involved? A good friend of mine, Thomas Martin, recently went through some highly dangerous nonsense with an heiress, and his sister, who is delightful, also happens to be famous for running roughshod over the entirety of London.”
“So, I am most trustworthy because... I am boring?”
“No! I didn't mean it like that. But nearly every week for the better part of a decade, I could look forward to getting a letter from you. I'm not fool enough to think that there was nothing else going on in your life, but somehow, you made the time to write to me. You told me what was going on in your life, and I told you about mine. There's a kind of consistency there that, yes, does make me trust you.”
His answer was so heartfelt that Lacey was momentarily struck dumb. She blushed a little, squeezing his hand tight, and finally, she nodded.
“I am glad that I have your trust, my lord, and I shall endeavor to be worthy of it.”
Robert smiled gamely. “I can't imagine a world where you are not. Now tell me why you decided to agree to my suit. I assume that I am the one who asked you to be my bride and not the other way around.”
“Well, there are many reasons why I would want to marry you.” Lacey kept her voice as dry and academic as she could to hide the little tremor that shook it.
“Let's hear some of them, then.”
“Well, you are obviously very trustworthy and consistent yourself, fine traits to find in a husband. And, of course, you are kind. That comes through in your letters. And with your estates, I will obviously be well-taken care of and, of course, you are a man of excellent breeding.”
Was that disappointment she saw in Robert's eyes? “Well, of course. Those are good reasons for us to wed.”
A tiny part of her whispered for her to let it be. It would be better if they stuck to the bare minimum of their charade. The more details that went into their lies, the more likely it was that they would fail to remember something at a vital juncture. Somehow, though, it was too hard to let that look of disappointment stand.
“You are also very funny. Your letters made me laugh so often, and after my father died, sometimes I would read them over and over again, just so I would not have to think about what else was going on around me.”
Robert's expression softened immensely.
“Truly?”
“And, of course, you know that you are handsome.”
His grin turned downright devilish, and Lacey felt that heat rise between them again.
“Am I?”
“Don't be vain. Of course, you are. And kind, and sweet, and many other good things.”
“I think I would like very much to hear about those good things.”
Robert leaned a little closer, and Lacey was very aware that she should stop him. She had never paid much attention when the vicar spoke about temptation, but now she realized that Robert was temptation made flesh. However, all she could do was lean in toward his kiss, already wanting more.
Their lips had barely touched, however, when Robert moved and knocked her leg, making her yelp in surprise and pain.
Robert drew back immediately, frowning down at her.
“What's the matter?”
“Nothing!”
“That sounded like pain. Let me see.”
In a matter of moments, Robert was on his knees in front of her, and she gasped as he pulled up her dress.
“Don't worry, pretty, I'm not going to harm you. Good God, Lacey, look at you.”
He sat back on his heels, and when she looked down to see what had shocked him so badly, she winced. There were dark bruises on her legs where the tack had dug into her pale flesh, and they showed up as boldly as if they had been painted on.
“I bruise very easily, I'm afraid.”
“You look as if you were dragged behind a panicked horse.”
“I am sure it is not that bad.”
“Here, maybe we can do something to help it heal up.”
Before she could stop him, Robert was up and rummaging in his saddlebag, coming back with a small cake of what looked like tallow. When he warmed it between his hands, a pleasantly strong herbal smell rose from it.
“Half of the gentlemen in London carry this concoction when they go hunting. If you take a fall, it can help make sure that you're not limping at the dinner party after the hunt.”
Kneeling in front of her again, Robert smoothed the slightly greasy substance over her bruises, his fingers firm but stopping short of bringing her pain. She supposed this was exactly the sort of temptation and ruin they so often preached about, but though there was a thread of sensuality in every touch that passed between her and Robert, this felt more like care, a kind of sweetness that awoke a deep tugging in her heart.
“There,” Robert said finally. “That should help. Does it feel all right?”
“It tingles a little. Perhaps it is a little warm?”
“Good. That means it’s working.”
Robert seemed to realize that her skirt was hiked up to her thighs and he had his hands on her calf at the exact same moment that she did. However, instead of lowering her dress, he leaned his head forward, and she shivered when he lay a soft kiss on her knee. Lacey had never thought her knee was a profoundly sensitive part of her before, but his lips, soft and warm, with just a trace of stubble as he brushed his chin across her skin, made her shiver.
Without thinking of what she was doing, she reached out to touch his dark hair. The strands were crisp and cool and sleek in her fingers, and when she rubbed his scalp with her fingertips, he purred and nuzzled her thigh.
“You feel so good, Lacey.”
There was no telling how far they might have gone if they both hadn't heard the beat of hooves approaching. When Davis appeared at the edge of the grove, Robert was as his horse, putting away the ointment, and Lacey was endeavoring to look as innocent as she could with her skirts demurely tucked around her.
“Your lady mother wishes to let you know that supper is at eight.”
“Thank you, Lord Exter. We will attend her at eight sharp.”
“Davis. I have told you before, it is Davis.”
When Robert reminded her to call him by his first name, it sent a warm feeling through her. When Davis did it, it immediately made her bristle.
She fought down the reaction and merely smiled politely at him.
“Of course. We should ride back to the house anyway. It'll be late before we know it.”
Lacey wasn't sure why, but she was distinctly grateful when Robert kept his horse between hers and Davis’ mounts on the ride back to Baling House.
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6
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CHAPTER
SIX
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Robert was beginning to wonder if Davis’ obsession with Lacey was something that indicated something deeply strange in the man himself. He had been happy to engage in this scheme with Lacey from the beginning, especially given how hungry he was for her touch and even her smile, but within two weeks, he was similarly dedicated to simply keeping Davis away from her.
The damnable man popped up at all sorts of inopportune moments, and though Robert was beginning to think he was never going to be sorry for a chance to keep Lacey close to him, he hated to see the look of increasing fear and desperation whenever he appeared.
“Dear God, even my mother is beginning to think he is starting to wear out his welcome,” Lacey said to him in during a stolen moment in the solar. “I am
so sorry about this.”
“Why in the world would you be sorry about this? You can't imagine that anything that man does is your fault.”
Lacey shot him a slightly wry grin. “I told you I would only keep you so long as it took Lord Exter to leave. This is taking a rather long time.”
Robert realized that he at some point, he had stopped counting the days until he could go back to London. He had thought that being in the country so very long would be stultifying, especially when it did not involve the round of hunts, soirees, and dances that always accompanied the ton's move to the countryside. Instead of being bored, Robert found himself oddly content with Lacey, whether they were playing chess, avoiding Lord Exter, or preventing her mother from finding out the truth of their bargain.
There was a kind of ease with Lacey that he had never experienced anywhere else in his life, and instead of being eager to leave, he found himself more and more irritable about the idea.
When Constance, Lacey's mother, brought up the idea of the Winsteads' ball, Robert's ears pricked up and a silent sigh of relief went through him.
“The Winsteads are a fine old family in this region of the world. The family boasts two eligible daughters who are very popular.”
Robert felt a stab of irritation when he saw Lacey droop a little at the breakfast table. Why in the world would someone as lovely and fascinating as Lacey ever droop at the idea of being compared to others?
“A ball sounds like just the thing to break up the monotony a little bit,” he agreed. “Perhaps I could see about the loan of some formal wear, as I did not come out prepared.”
In the end, Lacey took him into the east wing of Baling House and, with the help of a very young and very eager maid, wrestled out some carefully packed men's clothing. It was not nearly as dire a proposition as Robert thought it would be, and though to his trained London eye, the clothes were a touch older, the garments would fit him quite well after some minor alterations.
Robert glanced at Lacey when the maid scuttled away to deliver the clothing to the seamstress, and he was surprised to see a pensive look on her face. He crossed the floor to come stand close to her, and he lifted her face with the touch of his finger to her chin.
“Bright girl, what's the matter?”
She smiled at the nickname, shaking her head. “I'm only being foolish. The clothes were my father's, and I suppose it is a bit of a shock seeing you wear them.”
Robert frowned. “Does it bother you overmuch? I can still ride to the village and see whether they have something ready-made that might suit my needs.”
“No... it's a shock, but it's a good one. You don't look anything like my father. I would never mistake the two of you, but having you in his clothes is something of a comfort, perhaps? I do not know how to say it.”
“Lacey, you know that I would never want to make you uncomfortable or upset. If you say the word, I will change it.”
She smiled at him, then a sweet expression that melted something in him that had been frozen for so long.
“You look good. I wouldn't want you to change. I only wish there was a way to get out of the ball entirely.”
Robert frowned.
“Are you not sure what you want to wear? Or do you feel your jewels are too dull for the event?”
Those were the reasons he had always heard given by women who attended balls with him. Usually, it was a veiled request for some kind of expensive present, but if he were honest, that hardly seemed like something that Lacey would do.
She smiled wryly. “As a matter of fact, my gems and my clothes are very much up to the task of sparkling uselessly on my person. No. I'm just not very skilled at balls. I have all the grace of a wet cat, I'm afraid.”
Robert smiled, taking her hand and bringing it up to his lips for a kiss. “Now that I cannot believe.”
“Believe it, it's true. I'm rather hopeless at parties. Why do you think I grew so skilled at chess?”
“If you can master chess the way that you have, I have nothing but confidence that you will be able to master the intricacies of attending a ball.”
Lacey laughed and changed the subject, but Robert was struck with a strange feeling that she was downplaying her own charms. He brushed the feeling aside for the moment, but it stayed with him well into the evening. Finally, he gave up sleep and went to walk in the moonlit gardens.
During the day, Baling House was welcoming and lovely, gracious in every respect. In the night, however, there was something menacing about the place, as if the life of the house was all in the people who ran or walked through it. He found it suited his morose mood, however, as he wandered the halls and then made his way outside. The moon was up and full, giving the gardens a lovely kind of glow, and he felt soothed as he walked among the paved brick paths.
It would be better if Lacey were with me. The temptation to throw some pebbles at the window he guessed to be hers and see if she would come out and wander in the night with him was strong, but he decided to let her sleep. Despite the peaceful respite of the garden, Robert's thoughts still tended dark.
What would have happened if it was someone else on the road?
His mind kept coming back to the question over and over again, and sometimes, when Lacey apologized for keeping him or carefully reiterated that it was only a sham that they were engaged in, the question rang like a bell.
Would she have engaged in this farce with just anyone? Lacey wasn't a fickle woman, but she was proving to be far more wild and tempestuous than her letters had ever hinted at. If someone else had offered her a rescue, scooped her up from the road, would she have been so eager to claim them as her faux fiancé? Would she have kissed them as easily and as sweetly as she kissed him?
Robert knew that those questions were unworthy. In the end, he knew it was his duty as a gentleman to see it all through and help her. He only wished he could untangle his heart from the tenacious chains looped around it.
He was just preparing to return indoors when he realized he was not alone in the garden. There was another figure there as well, one that stood so still he guessed at first that it was a statue. Then he realized with a start that it was Davis, who stared up at the building in an attitude of despair. With a feeling like ice water dripped down his spine, Robert realized that Davis was staring at the wing where Lacey slept.
The first thing that Robert felt was a burst of protective rage, but he reined himself in.
My emotions are getting the better of me. I've never been this tied in knots over a chit of a girl before.
Still, he approached the other man. After all, there was no harm in passing a moment, even if that moment was terribly late by country hours, after all.
Davis jumped when Robert hailed him, but he recovered quickly enough. There was, Robert decided, something melancholy about the man. In the moonlight, his pale hair glinted silver, and he looked a little like a ghost.
“It's late to be out.”
Davis shrugged. “I could say the same for you. What keeps you from your bed this evening?”
It was Robert's turn to shrug. “Restlessness, I suppose. What are you looking at?”
Instead of denying it, Davis smiled wryly. “I assume you can guess. My thoughts are full of Miss Lacey at the moment, and when they are, I find that I can come here and comfort myself by watching her window.”
“How very Romeo of you.” Robert wondered briefly if the man truly was in love with Lacey after all. Would Lacey be more interested if Davis wasn't so damn pathetic or if he simply reined himself in a little?
“I know it's foolish of me, but I cannot seem to help myself. She occupies my thoughts day and night. The best I can do lately seems to be to avoid irritating her as best I can.”
Robert wondered how in the world he had gotten into this position, but he was possessed of a faint urge to help Davis. “Look, it may be for the best if you simply leave. She's a determined woman, which I'm sure you know well.”
A shadow fluttered over D
avis’ face, there and gone, and Robert blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the moonlight, if it had even been there at all.
“That I cannot do. At least... I cannot do it yet. At the moment, all I can do is wait and watch and hope. It is what lovers do, after all, isn't it?”
“I suppose so.” Robert shook off the slight feeling of unease that nibbled at the back of his mind. “But either way, our beds are calling us. Shall we call it a night, Lord Exter?”
Robert put a little force into his tone, and after a reluctant moment, Davis nodded, bidding him a good night. Harmless or not, something about the man watching Lacey's window in the night bothered Robert.
Jealousy, plain and simple. You're losing your head over all of this.
He was already more involved with Lacey than he should be for this scheme. If he wasn't careful, he was going to be left like Davis, mooning over Lacey in the evening while she did her level best to avoid being alone with him.
Would she object though?
It was difficult to imagine her kissing Davis the way she kissed him, but then again, that was the price that he’d exacted. It had seemed like a bit of fun when he'd come up with it. Now it felt like a heavy weight hung around his neck, holding him back.
Robert remembered what Lacey had said about jewels and gowns. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea to start treating her a little more like the women he knew in London. She deserved fine things, and the thought of giving them to her delighted him in a way he hadn't expected.
Before he finally fell into bed, he dashed off a quick letter to a firm he’d had some business with in London, and when he fell asleep, he thought of what Lacey would do when she was presented with something beautiful.
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7
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The Marquess' Angel_Hart and Arrow_A Regency Romance Book Page 25