The letter went on, but Lochley threw it into the fire without reading further. He rubbed a knuckle over his chin until his skin chafed.
He had made a mistake—several mistakes—that was true, but clearly his parents did not see any reason to extend him grace or forgiveness. How he envied Caroline Martin the love of her father and mother, who loved her without condition. Staring into the fire, he realized that was the sort of love he’d been seeking his whole life. Strange to have found it in the country, of all places. When he’d arrived, he’d wanted nothing more than to go home. Now his greatest wish was to stay here.
Chapter Seven
* * *
She hadn’t been to the fair in three years—not since that last fair and the events that followed. When Peregrine Lochley had come to ask her father for permission to escort her, she’d wanted to hide in her room. What would the son of a viscount think of her family’s small house with chickens running in the back and all the noise and boisterousness of her father and brother when they were in from the fields?
She hadn’t hidden. She’d waited in the drawing room like a proper young lady, and when he’d entered, she’d seen in his eyes he thought everything charming. She’d known her father would give his permission, but she hadn’t expected him to call her into his library later and ask her if she was certain.
Did she want to go to the fair again? Did she want to face the curious stares of neighbors and former friends?
She hadn’t been certain, but now, as she walked into the fair on Lochley’s arm, after an exhilarating ride in his curricle, she was more than certain. It was time she returned, time she stopped hiding. She had made a mistake. It was in the past. Lochley might not be her future, but he was handsome and amusing, and she was determined to have a wonderful day.
“I have a little time before the wine-tasting,” he said, taking her arm and placing it in the crook of his with a gentlemanly flourish. “What would you like to see first?”
“Oh, there’s so much!” she said, not knowing where to look first. “I suppose we must play all the games, or perhaps sample some of the foods.”
“I shall buy you an armful of delicacies and feed you one between every game.”
She laughed because she knew he would do it.
They moved through the fair slowly as he insisted on stopping at every stall and buying her sugared almonds or sweet rolls or ices. He ate very little, saving his appetite and his palate. He would feast after the wine-tasting. She was aware they were watched. She couldn’t fail to notice heads turn as they made their way past the booths and stalls, pausing to try their hands at throwing balls or shooting arrows.
Lochley noticed as well, but instead of ignoring the stares as she did, he bowed and smiled and generally poured charm on every critical neighbor or whispering former friend. After the first hour, most of the fairgoers had ceased watching them and a few had even spoken to them.
“I don’t know how you did it,” she said when they stopped at a stall to buy cider. The day was warm and sunny, and they were both thirsty.
“I have a talent,” he said immediately. Then, “What exactly have I done this time?”
She laughed. “You have made friends of all my enemies.”
“Oh, that. You are so lovely they cannot help but be drawn to you. I just gave them an opening.”
She felt her cheeks heat at his easy compliment. His gaze didn’t dart to hers to see if his words had hit a mark. He said them because he meant them. Every time she looked at him, she could see admiration in his eyes. And she had come to admire him too. He was so much more than the dandy who’d refused to muddy his coat that first day they had met. He was generous and witty, and though he knew the worst of her past, he still treated her with respect. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve him, and she was only sorry that he would certainly return to London before too much longer.
Finally, they were met by Mr. Gage and his sister, who looked the very picture of health. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes shone with merriment. Brother and sister greeted them cordially.
“Have you seen the jugglers yet?” Miss Gage asked. “They are truly amazing.”
Caro clapped her hands. “No. We should do that next.”
“I’m afraid Lochley is wanted in the wine-tasting tent at the moment,” Gage said. “Shall we all venture toward the jugglers and acrobats after the tasting?”
“Oh yes, let’s do,” Miss Gage said. “But first we shall watch Mr. Lochley choose the finest wine in the county.”
Lochley sighed. “To the wine-tasting, then. I prefer to have this over and done.”
Caro poked him in the ribs. “You might be surprised.”
He raised a skeptical brow. She should have been annoyed with him, the arrogance and condescension, but she knew him better now, knew that he meant nothing by it.
Her parents and brother were already in the wine-tasting tent when they arrived and had saved her a seat in the front. All of the local vintners in the area had gathered in the tent. Caro had not seen many of them in years. A few ignored her, but several smiled at her, and some even spoke to her.
Caro saw her mother’s eyes moisten with happy tears. After the greetings, she settled herself between her mother and father and watched as Mr. Lochley was introduced and the procedures for the tasting explained. Her mother reached over and took Caro’s hand. The tasting might seem like another diversion at the fair, but for the families whose wines were being judged, the outcome was very important. The highly ranked wines would fetch the best prices this year. Her family could use that money to plant more grapes and hire more men for the harvest.
Caro watched Lochley take his place before a line of glasses set before him. She couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was, with his dark, tousled hair and those golden eyes. She doubted there was a single female gaze that didn’t admire his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He had shaved this morning, and he looked almost respectable without his usual shadow and scruff. Of course, then his eyes met hers, and there was very little respectable about the heat in his look.
Caro lowered her gaze and studied her pink and green gown. She would have to arrange to meet him later. Already, she missed his kiss and touch. When she looked back at him, he’d lifted the first glass to observe the color of the wine. His long fingers held the glass elegantly as he tilted his head to one side and then the other.
“You care for him, don’t you?” her mother whispered.
Caro started, then turned to look at her mother. “I do,” she said, seeing no reason to deny it. “He is a wonderful man.”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
Caro smiled. “I didn’t.” She watched him sip the wine. “But I have since met him several more times, and my opinion has greatly changed.”
“I can see that.” Her mother’s gaze was on Lochley. “Do you love him?”
Caro swallowed as Lochley lifted another glass to study the color. From the way her father and brother tensed, she knew it was one of her family’s. “I suppose I do.”
“You will be heartbroken when he returns to London.”
Caro nodded. She would mourn the loss of him, but she would also have memories of this summer to cherish in the years ahead. He had given her something besides shame and hurt to hold on to.
She watched his face as he tasted her family’s wine. He was most certainly an excellent card player. His expression gave nothing away. If she had not known him as well as she did, he would have appeared perfectly unmoved. But she did know him quite well, and she saw the slight lift of one brow. He made that same gesture when she wrapped her arms around him, and she knew it to be a sign he was pleased.
The tasting went on and on for what seemed most of the day, though she knew it was only a couple of hours. Finally, Lochley had finished and sat to note his rankings on a sheet of foolscap. He bent his dark head to the task, while the audience held its breath. Caro wished she could run her fingers through his curls an
d massage the tension out of his shoulders. She would do so later, when she had him alone.
Finally, he rose and presented the foolscap to Lord Sturridge, the official presiding over the event. Her mother reached over Caro to take her father’s hand. They held each other tightly, giving comfort and support. Caro looked down at their joined hands, at the love and support they gave each other, and wished for that sort of love for herself.
She also said a small prayer that Lochley really had found something to his liking in their wine.
Lord Sturridge cleared his throat and began a speech to announce the wines ranked highest. He gave the same speech every year, the one his father had given before him, and Caro could practically recite it from memory. But he’d said only a few words before Lochley stepped forward.
Gasps from the audience filled the tent. Everyone knew this was Lord Sturridge’s moment. He waited all year to give this speech, but Lochley seemed oblivious.
“I have a few words, Lord Sturridge, if you will permit me.”
From the look on Lord Sturridge’s face, he did not want to permit Lochley, but he had no choice. Lochley went on without waiting for an answer. “I have tasted many wines—the best from France, Spain, Italy, Portugal. If I am honest with you—”
Caro closed her eyes. Now he decided to be honest?
“I will admit I did not have much regard for British wines. I thought them little better than…” Whatever his simile, he decided to forgo it. “Well, not to my liking.”
Another gasp from the crowd. Caro sighed. She would have liked to see the jugglers, but at this rate, Lochley would be lucky to exit the fair alive.
“But this summer I have learned a valuable lesson. I’ve learned when a man or woman makes a mistake, the correct response is to face it.”
Caro’s gaze shot to his. His eyes were on hers. “I made a mistake. I judged incorrectly. I thank all of you for showing me the error of my ways. You have shown me that my attitude toward British wine was ill-informed—not completely, mind you.” He held up a hand. “Some of these were absolutely awful.”
Caro covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Leave it to Lochley to insult even while attempting to placate.
“But on the whole, I am extremely impressed, and I would put many of these wines on the same table as the best French and Italian vintages I have tasted.”
A smattering of applause followed his words, as the crowd was not yet certain if their wines had fallen into the impressive category or the awful category. Regardless of where Lochley ranked the Martins’ wine, Caro was proud of Lochley for his admission, proud that he looked at her when he spoke the words, that something in her own behavior might have had an influence.
Lord Sturridge cleared his throat and continued his speech. Caro’s gaze never left Lochley, and when she heard her family’s wine mentioned at the top of the list, her heart soared and she beamed. Lochley smiled as well, and she could see the relief in his eyes. He hadn’t known which was hers, and she could tell he was relieved he had enjoyed it.
In the end, the Martin family wine ranked second overall. Her parents were ecstatic.
It was another quarter of an hour before Lochley could slip away, and then he made promises to meet the Gages at the jugglers after he showed Caro one special attraction. He steered her behind a tent, and she, breathless, said, “I don’t see anything back here.”
“That’s my point precisely.” He took her hand in his and pulled her to him.
She went willingly into his arms. “Is this a ploy to see me alone?”
“Why, Miss Martin, you know me so well.” He bent his head to hers. “One kiss. I have been dying to kiss you for hours.”
He tasted of sweet wine and Lochley. It was a heady mixture, and she found herself melting into him. His skilled lips plundered hers with a fervor that surged through her. When they finally parted, her breath came in hitching gasps.
“I cannot wait to see you alone again,” he murmured in her ear before stepping away. “But now I shall attempt to keep my hands and lips to myself.”
She nodded. “Give me a moment to regain my composure.”
“Of course. I will wait for you in front of the tent.” He started away.
“Lochley!”
He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes like liquid gold as his gaze flowed over her.
“Did you mean what you said? Did the wine really impress you?”
He gave her an easy smile. “I meant every word. I may be many things, but I am not a dissembler. I tell the truth, Caro. Your family’s wine—almost all of the wines—were excellent. In fact, with a few additions, your father’s wine could be exceptional. If you think he would be open to suggestion, I’ll speak to him.”
She nodded. “I hope that you will.”
He gave her an elegant bow. “Your servant, miss.” And he disappeared around the corner.
Caro took a deep breath, closing her eyes and willing the heat to leave her cheeks. She smoothed her hair back and fanned her face.
“That’s right,” a low voice mocked her. “Try and hide what you are. But I know the truth.”
Caro opened her eyes and stared into Mutton Chops’s face. He wore an expression of triumph. She knew he’d seen the kiss. Her heart thumped against her chest, and the sweets she’d eaten churned in her belly.
Mutton Chops pointed his walking stick at her. “You might have left the Den, but I see you still ply your trade.”
She took a step back. “You’re mistaken.”
He grinned, moving closer to her. He lowered his walking stick, using it to toy with the hem of her dress. “I’m not mistaken. And I’m willing to pay for a taste of what you gave that one, but perhaps we could work out an exchange. You give me what I want, and I don’t tell all of these friends and neighbors of yours what you really are, Miss Martin.”
She swished her dress away from the point of his walking stick.
He nodded. “That’s right. I know who you are. I know where you live, and I know you have kept your days of whoring a secret. I’m good at keeping secrets.” He lifted her skirts again, peering down at her exposed ankles. “If I have the right motivation.”
“Please. I don’t—” she began, her voice wavering.
“Make an excuse to your lover and meet me behind the cattle stalls. All I want is a taste of you—a quick tumble. I have a few friends with whom you might also share your charms.”
The bile rose in her throat. “And if I refuse?”
“Then I step onto the stand where all the musicians have been playing and tell every single man, woman, and child who can hear me just who and what you really are.”
Chapter Eight
* * *
Lochley shifted impatiently and finally started back to the rear of the tent where he’d kissed Caro. She was taking too long, even to recover from one of his kisses. But just as he made the decision, she emerged, looking as white and frightened as a rabbit.
He touched her arm, and she jumped and pulled back.
“What the devil is the matter?” he asked. “Are you unwell?”
“I…” she began. “I have to go home.”
“What happened?” He tried to place his hands on her shoulders, but she shied away. Since when had his touch become so distasteful to her?
“Please, just take me home.”
A man who looked vaguely familiar emerged from behind the tent, and Lochley’s gaze went from the man to Caro and back again. What the bloody hell? Suddenly, all became clear. This was the man from Tunbridge Wells, the one who had assaulted her near the apothecary shop. Lochley moved quickly, grabbing the man’s shoulder and spinning him about. His hand went around the man’s throat, and he shoved him up against one of the tent poles.
Caro gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Lochley, you will make a scene.”
Lochley’s attention narrowed on Mutton Chops. “If you so much as touched her, I will kill you.”
Mutton Chops flicked his gaze to Caro. “C
all your lover off. If you know what’s good for you, you’d better tell him to go his own way.”
Caro didn’t speak, and Lochley slowly turned to peer at her. She shook like a flag whipped about in the wind. Clearly, this man had threatened to reveal her secret. It did not take a leap of intelligence to infer the man wanted to roger her in return for his silence. Lochley wanted to break the man’s neck, but he waited for Caro to speak. This was her decision, her secret to keep or release. He would no more allow this man to touch her than he’d serve a bottle of inferior wine, but he’d allow her to speak first and punch the man later.
Caro slowly shook her head, her eyes mournful but determined. “I’m sorry, Lochley.”
He tensed. He would be damned before he allowed her to send him away. He would not let her go, not without a fight. “Sorry for what?” he gritted out.
“Sorry your reputation will be hurt by this.” Her gaze shifted to Mutton Chops. “My answer is no. I will not tell him to go his own way”—her gaze strayed briefly back to Lochley—“though he undoubtedly will. I will not give you a tumble. I will not be blackmailed by you or your friends.”
“You’ll be sorry,” Mutton Chops rasped out before Lochley squeezed, cutting him off.
“Not as sorry as I will be if I give in to your demands. And perhaps it’s time the truth came out. I am weary of secrets. I am drained from fear. I don’t want to live in the shadows any longer. Denounce me if you must, but I’d rather people know the truth than hide from it any longer.”
Lochley felt a swell of something very much like love at her admission. She was the bravest woman he’d ever met, and he admired her more than words could say. Her chin lifted, and he had the urge to take that small chin between his fingers and kiss her. Instead, he tightened his hand on Mutton Chops’s neck. “He won’t say a word. I’ll kill him first.”
A Gentleman For All Seasons Page 17