“Nora.” A deep male voice penetrated her thoughts and Nora turned to her betrothed.
“Yes?” Her voice was tremulous. Nora realized she had become so immersed in her musings, she had forgotten what they were speaking about. Oh, yes, the marriage.
“I would like to see how we deal together before making any pronouncements about our future life. There is something between us I cannot identify. You are unlike any lady I have ever known, and I find I like you… rather a lot.”
“I should, perhaps, thank you for that endorsement,” she returned, feeling slightly uncertain over the mixed compliment. “I believe I may like you, as well.” Did he mean he wanted to know her better? Perhaps they could gain a more serious understanding of each other? Nora gave a quick shake of her head, realizing she was uncertain of anything where he was concerned.
“Perhaps we should discuss the ceremony. I have yet to speak of this with Grandmama. It will thrill her, of course. It is what she has wanted all my life—something she could not give her own daughter…” She allowed her voice to drift away on the words. She had always understood Mother’s reasoning, as she had explained it to her. However, did Nora want something altogether different?
“You are right, of course. We should speak of the ceremony.” Colin picked up a small piece of cheese from his plate and nudged it against her lips.
She opened her mouth and accepted the cheese, following it with a sip of lemonade.
“Thank you.” Smiling, she pulled a grape from its cluster and fed it to him.
“It is my turn to thank you,” he said, edging closer. “Would you mind if I kissed you?”
She glanced about them and saw no one about them. A thrill shot through her body. She wanted his kiss. “I would very much like you to kiss me, my lord.”
He placed his hands lightly on either side of her head and leaned forward, feathering small kisses on her lips.
“Mm… your scent is so soft. I think I can detect more than honeysuckle in the fragrance.”
To her astonishment, she giggled. “I must compliment your nose, my lord. There is more to my fragrance than honeysuckle. Mother and Father gifted a bottle to me for my twelfth birthday, and I have worn it ever since. Do you care to hazard a guess?”
“I do.” He smiled devilishly. “It does require a deeper investigation, though.” His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, grazing kisses along her collarbone.
Warm heat from his breath traveled through the yellow muslin of her dress, causing an involuntary shiver and a gasp of excitement.
“Are you cold?” he breathed, his concern clear, as he cupped her face in his hands and rested his forehead gently against hers.
“Not at all. I am quite…” She grappled for the right word, “…enchanted.”
“Is it citrus?” he continued, delicately nibbling her earlobes. “Your fragrance?” he clarified.
“Yes… and one other ingredient…” She exhaled slowly.
“Ah… I recognize… bergamot.” He did not wait for her to respond. His lips covered hers in a deep kiss. His tongue swirled the cavity of her mouth, dancing with her own. When he pulled back, she noticed they were both struggling to slow the rapid accent of breath the kiss had stirred.
“That was a… pretty thank you, Colin,” she said, amused. “I wonder what a piece of meat would have achieved me?”
He roared with laughter. “I have to admit, I rather enjoyed its delivery.” A teasing smile lit up his face. “There is such intensity when we kiss.” He paused, as if debating his next words. “For a moment, I rather lost my head. I am thus grateful for the privacy we were fortunate to enjoy. Perhaps we should return to discussing our wedding?”
Nora noticed he had changed ‘the’ wedding to ‘our’ wedding. Her heart hitched.
“My grandmother will wish to make this a famous event, even though she knows I would prefer to avoid that.” She face warmed as she eyed the basket. “Perhaps a glass of wine would aid our discussion?” She laughed, feeling brighter.
“That sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, opening the wine. He took their glasses and poured some wine into each.
“This is quite good.” Nora swirled the white wine lightly in her glass before taking another sip.
“My mother will doubtless wish to be involved. I am sure their guest lists will be very similar. Would a larger wedding be so bad if it pleases two ladies we love?”
“I had always envisioned a small, intimate event,” she ventured. She started to add something inane, such as her dreams that a prince would scoop her up on his white horse and whisk her off, but swallowed and held her tongue. She doubted he would comprehend such a desire, and she did not want to disturb their growing understanding. “Mayhap, the ceremony can be intimate, and include some of their closest of friends,” she conceded, realizing that her grandmother would want to share her joy with her dearest friends. She imagined Lady Shefford would, as well. What Nora wanted was another one of his kisses. I had never been kissed until he kissed me. Now, I feel almost wanton—in constant need of another. I need more of him.
“If you feel strongly about the wedding, I will inform my mother of your wishes. I would imagine your grandmother will agree, as well.”
“You truly do not object?” she asked.
“I want what you want.”
Her heart squeezed at his words. Nora realized she cared about this man. Her heart had become engaged and she was unsure how she felt about it.
Chapter 16
Lord Wilford Whitton stood hidden behind a large mulberry bush across the street from the orphanage. Wearing a battered, hooded, black cape—apparently unnoticed—he watched a carriage arrive. Two occupants alighted. He recognized his niece, although not the gentleman. The man carried a basket and a blanket and appeared to be dangling after the woman.
Awareness struck, and the side of his mouth curved up in a crooked smile. He studied the two as walked up the steps of the building. Whitton chuckled at his own prowess. He had looked over the entire property, using a loosened board from the tall fence surrounding the backyard as entry.
“It seems my niece has discovered another means of support. I wonder how my mother would feel about her granddaughter’s new occupation,” he scoffed under his breath. Even saying it out loud, he knew it was just wishful thinking. His niece was as proper and boring as they came. She spurned the ton and all that it represented, yet here she was stepping from a carriage. “Her father was too proud to accept my parents’ funds when they were offered. Now look at them. She works in an orphanage and her own mother, my sister, works in a mercantile.
“Mother would do anything for her precious Honoria,” he sneered. Out with no chaperone. That’s a new peccadillo, even for my hoity-toity niece. He scrutinized the man’s face. Recognition sent an icy chill down his spine. Lord Colin Shefford! Instantly, Whitton withdrew further into the bush, considering his next move. I cannot let him see me.
Fiend seize it! This complicated everything. His mind unchanged about the task ahead, he studied the landscape, seeking opportunity. A dark movement behind the pale-colored stone building pulled his attention from his niece and her escort. Lawks! That had to be him. There’s been no movement back there for almost thirty minutes. Still not confident enough, he thought the best option was to wait for Shefford to return to his carriage. Each minute chafed him, and he grew tired of waiting. Most likely he would get no credit for helping, anyway. And he had already spent enough time here. If I duck behind the carriage quickly, the bushes at the side of the building will cover me. He looked around and took the chance, moving as quickly as he could until he got to the back corner of the property. At once, he saw him.
His fears confirmed, he knew his niece and her orphanage would suffer if he did not do something—and Mother would blame him. If Shefford is here, I am certain my dear mother knows about my little deception. It sent a sick feeling to the pit of his stomach. He had been naught but a disappointment to her, although his
parents had never said a word.
“No, instead she and Father kept the family money from me, leaving me in damned low water. I should not lift a finger to help,” he complained to himself. Still, he loved his sister, and he would not see her hurt through Nora, even if his niece’s contemptuous attitude galled him.
It had injured his pride when his sister and brother-in-law had refused the opportunity to live at his estate. Truthfully, he had hoped they would maintain it for him. He never seemed to have enough funds and had seen this as an answer to his own need. His mother would credit him for maintaining the estate properly, he had conjectured. His plan had failed.
A tall gruffly bearded man, wearing a filthy brown coat and fingerless gloves, stood from a crouched position at the right front corner of the orphanage and sprinted to the back of the building, apparently still unseen by Shefford’s coachman. The coach appeared drawn up for a while, leaving Whitton little choice. He had to take his chances. Checking the door and the coach and seeing no movement, he dashed across the street and stole down the side of the pink brick orphanage. He went quickly and quietly, hoping to catch up with Tom Sneed, although he was not exactly sure what he would do if he caught him. After having stabbed Shefford, Whitton knew he needed to stay away from Shefford’s notice. If they caught him, would they believe him?
Whitton reached the back of the building in time to see Sneed leave a spot under an open, second-floor window, before slipping through a second loose panel of the back fence and escaping. Whitton glanced up at the window, and he could hear the sounds of children’s voices. He wished he could walk away, yet he had to do something. He had to warn somebody.
Where are the watchmen? His mother would not have placed Nora here without reassurance in her well-being. He had hoped to leave a note for one of them and keep his involvement simple. So, there it is… plan two, he thought, vexed. Certain he could reach the loose plank Sneed had inadvertently shown him, Whitton reached into his pocket and pulled out a paper-covered stone. Securing his hood, he surveyed the area. No one. Quickly he hurled the stone through a window and sprinted towards the back fence, sliding the loose plank aside and slipping through the gap. As far as Whitton cared, he had fulfilled his responsibility. I warned them—my conscience is clear.
* * *
“Welcome home, Miss Mason.” Woods opened the door and collected her pelisse. “You have a message, miss,” he said, handing her a folded note.
A whiff of rosewater met her nose. She flipped the missive over. Grandmama’s lavender wax and rose medallion was as distinct as her scented paper.
“It is from Grandmama. I should look at it in case it is something important. Would you mind?”
“Absolutely not. Please do.” Shefford gently nudged her hand.
Grandmama’s note said simply that she planned to visit around late afternoon. She could be here at any moment, Nora realized. She looked up and fixed her gaze on Colin.
“May I offer tea before you leave?”
“I would like that,” he said, taking off his hat and cape and handing them to the footman.
“Miss Mason, I will ask Mrs. Simpkins to send in the tea. My lord.” The footman acknowledged Shefford with a polite nod before heading down the hall to the back of the house.
“I still have much to discuss with my grandmother. Her note said she will be here later this afternoon. I should expect her.” Nora’s head swam with thoughts of the day. She had discovered her betrothed to be a man who cared about the feelings of others, something she would never have expected. The afternoon had been more than she had imagined. More than she had ever hoped to imagine. Was it possible that they shared the understanding she felt?
A flurry of footsteps could be heard in the hall, ending at the door to the parlor. “Miss Nora, Miss Nora! Someone has just hurled a stone through the kitchen window!” Mrs. Simpkins stood in the doorway, fanning herself and holding a wrapped stone in her outstretched hand while clutching her chest with the other. “I was standing with me back to the window, readying the biscuits fer the oven when this crashed in behind me.” She fanned her face with her hands. “Oh, me word! I can barely catch me breath.” The visibly pale housekeeper/cook slid into the striped chair near the parlor door, furiously fanning herself.
Nora passed the stone to Colin, who at once unwrapped it. “I have employed a Runner. He should have been at the back of the house, watching. I cannot imagine this happening without him seeing it.” He stretched out the crumpled paper. The smudged, wrinkled sheet of vellum held a scribbled penciled message.
Your children are in danger.
“Who do you think left this?” she asked, after reading the note.
“The handwriting looks familiar.” He stared at the paper in her hands. “Would you mind if I took this with me? I would like to compare this to something.”
Nora assented, and Colin folded the note and stuffed it in his waistcoat pocket. “This concerns me. I had hired a Runner who should have taken up his post. He was to have taken over earlier, from the two footmen. I had hoped he would provide more experienced protection.”
Mrs. Simpkins piped in from behind them. “A tall, red-headed man came shortly after ye left and said he ’ad been hired to watch over the orphanage. I saw him head towards the stables.”
“Did he give a name?” Colin asked.
“Let me think. I ’ad been helping set up the new boys’ room. Mr. Woods and Mr. Marsh finished the room today, you know. The boys, they ’ave a nice new place to sleep…”
“Mrs. Simpkins…” Nora interrupted this prattle without apology. “Did the man give a name?”
“Ah, yes, begging yer pardon, miss. I was just so excited about the new room fer the boys. Let me think. It was a cooking word… give me a minute. I cannot think properly when I get flustered.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to recall. Suddenly, she broke into a smile. “Peeling… Mr. John Peeling. I remember, ’cause ’tis an easy name to recall, since I peel carrots and potatoes and what not,” she announced proudly.
Nora bit her lip to hide a giggle. It would hurt the woman’s feelings, and she would never consciously do that. In Nora’s estimation the cook could run circles around two women half her age. “Thank you, Mrs. Simpkins. I never doubted you would remember the name.”
“Thank ye, Miss Nora. If ye don’t mind, I need to see to the evenin’ meal and the broken window. ’Tis getting cooler at night and it needs covering. In case ye are in need of her, Mary is upstairs getting the children readied for the evening. I will ask Mr. Marsh to help me.” She curtsied and hurried from the room towards the kitchen.
Nora gave a soft shrug. “It seems we never run out of excitement in this house, Colin.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he concurred.
“The men have added shelving and storage in several of the rooms during the week. They completed Mrs. Simpkins’ kitchen first, and she is quite ready to jump over the moon with it,” Nora explained. “I am sure she is most upset to see her window broken. According to her, the kitchen was near perfect.”
“Be that as it may, if Peeling was doing the job I hired him to do, he would have seen whoever threw this stone and broke the kitchen window. I need to find him.” Colin stood there for a moment, pinching the top of his nose. “Something seems very wrong.” He turned to Nora. “Would you mind if I asked Woods to help me? We need to make sure the house is secure.”
Nora nodded. “Not at all, Colin. Shall Marsh assist, as well?”
“I think Woods and I can cover the back. I would feel better if Marsh remained inside with you and the children.”
She pulled a cord in the corner of the room. “Grandmama had this installed. I tried to insist it was unnecessary. Perhaps she was right, though.” A moment later, Woods poked his head into the room.
“Did you call for me, Miss Mason?”
“Yes,” she responded. “Would you accompany Lord Shefford outside and help secure the perimeter?”
“Certainly, ma’a
m. I would be happy to do so.”
“Good. Come along with me,” Colin interjected.
Nora watched the two men leave, feeling oddly safe even after having her window broken with a stone. It was Shefford’s presence. Other than her father and grandfather, she knew of no other man who made her feel wanted until Lord Shefford.
* * *
“Do you have a sense for what looks normal out here, Woods?” Colin asked.
“Yes, my lord. The footmen you sent to watch the building suggested that I should not only learn the outside of the building but also the interior. They left this afternoon, shortly after showing Mr. Peeling around the orphanage. Come to think about it, I have not seen him in the last hour,” the footman said gravely.
“I am regretting having allowed them to leave,” Colin muttered, mostly to himself.
The area behind the building had vastly improved under Marsh’s attentions. Rose bushes provided an additional thorny barrier to the fence on two sides. A vegetable garden was being tilled on the right, marked off with a small, white picket fence. To the far left, a stable large enough to house a carriage and a horse or two stood next to gated access to the cows and chickens they kept in the mews for the daily dairy needs. Behind the stable, they had not cleared an older garden. Rogue bushes stood at the sides and several tall oak trees, in need of pruning, shaded the roof of the stable.
His footmen had been instructed to stay in the small loft above the main floor of the stable. Surely Peeling was not sleeping up there, he thought, irritated with himself. I should have left at least one footman here. Yet, with Woods inside and the Runner outside, he had felt that there would be enough surveillance. He feared he had been dreadfully wrong.
Earl of Shefford: Noble Hearts Series: Book Three (Wicked Earls Book 28) Page 12