Dark Ruby (Ransomed Jewels)
Page 10
“It’s breathtaking. It’s the most beautiful haven I’ve ever seen. I think God took special care when he created it. As if he knew that each person who came here would experience an emotion they’d never felt before.” She turned her gaze to take in the beauty surrounding her. “An emotion they didn’t think was possible.”
When he didn’t comment, she lifted her gaze. The sincerity on his face warmed her cheeks. “You think I’m silly, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “I think you are one of the wisest females I’ve ever encountered. I believe you have a gift. Not just that you are able to describe the beauty around you. But that you notice it. You see it.”
“Now you are embarrassing me.” She reached up and untied the ribbons beneath her chin, then removed her bonnet.
“Would you like to sit?” he asked.
“Yes. I think I could stay here forever.”
The Marquess of Halverston spread out the blanket, and Isobel sat on one side. His Lordship sat on the other. He separated them with an acceptable amount of space.
Isobel was glad. A myriad of emotions were already streaming through her. She didn’t need to be barraged with the emotions being too close to him caused.
“I should have thought to bring some wine and cheese,” he said when they were settled. “This is the perfect spot for a picnic.”
“Maybe another time. To simply sit here and soak up the beauty is enough for this first time.”
“You speak as if you expect to be here long enough that there will be a next time.”
She couldn’t find an answer to his comment. “Life isn’t that simple, my lord. Today is a day for dreams. Not for the harsh reality we might have to face tomorrow.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “So what plans do you have for the rest of the day?”
She tucked her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Well, I have plans to finish reading the book I started. I’m almost to the end. Then, I intend to read any scraps of Society news to see if there’s a mention of a betrothal between my sister and Lord Partmoore.”
“Yes, another new copy came in the post today.”
“Holmes mentioned that. He knew I’d be interested.” She took a deep breath. “Then, I’m going to select one of the horrid romance novels your sister sent and take it to my room. I may even begin reading it tonight.”
He laughed.
“And what are your plans, my lord?”
A thoughtful expression covered his face. “Well, I haven’t really thought about it. I received a letter from my sister. She’s quite the mother hen and worries over me. I need to write her and convince her that I’m doing well and there’s no need for her to come to Temple Hall to check on me.”
This was her opening. Isobel prayed she would handle it well. “Is there a reason she feels the need to check on you? Or worry over you?”
His expression turned more sober. The frown told her that he was hiding something. “No. It’s just that worry comes naturally to Claire, and she takes the responsibility of watching over Barnaby and myself very seriously.”
“Oh. The way you spoke, I thought perhaps something happened in your past to concern her.”
“We all have events in our pasts that distress us. Isn’t that why you are here? Because you are attempting to escape something?”
“Yes, but I’ve been very open about why I’m here. What I’m running from.”
“And you don’t think I have? You think there’s something that disturbs me, so I’ve come to Temple Hall?”
She turned her head to study him. “Is there?”
He turned away from her and stared out onto the water. “I believe this is too beautiful a day to talk about anything unpleasant.”
For several moments he didn’t speak. Then, he turned back to her. “Do you still plan to travel to Scotland when you reach your majority?”
“I can’t see where I have a choice. Although Father knows he will no longer be able to force me to marry His Grace, he’ll still do everything in his power to bend me to his will. It’s best if I stay as far away from him as possible.”
“I fear you’re correct. It’s a shame, though, that you have to give up so much. Perhaps there is something I can do. Perhaps if I speak to him, I can convince your father of the kind of man the Duke of Balsam is.”
“No. You mustn’t.” Isobel felt a stabbing of fear. “I don’t want you involved in this, my lord. My father isn’t someone to take lightly. He can be a dangerous man. I’ve seen evidence of his ruthlessness. He cares only for himself and achieving the goals that are important to him.”
“You can’t fight him on your own,” he said softly, yet with authority. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Hopefully, I won’t have to. Hopefully, he’ll be satisfied with Vanessa’s connection to Partmoore to gain him the ships he so desperately wants and give up on his plans to use Balsam’s influence to gain entrance to the esteemed Fortune Club.”
The Marquess of Halverston didn’t answer, and he didn’t agree with her. Especially if her father discovered where she was. Or could think of a scheme to force her back to London before she reached her majority.
But, Isobel consoled herself, it did no good to worry over things that hadn’t happened. Perhaps there would be news in the papers that had arrived today. Perhaps there would be an announcement of Vanessa’s betrothal. Then Vanessa would be safe.
And so would Isobel.
So, she sat in the idyllic scene and pondered her circumstances.
She and the Marquess of Halverston remained in the peaceful surroundings for nearly an hour more, mostly in silence. Sometimes speaking of the beauties of nature that caught their attention. Then he shifted.
Isobel knew he was ready to return. And so was she. Although she dreaded the thought of leaving such a serene spot.
“Are you ready to go back to the house?” she asked.
“No, but I think we must. Especially if you’re going to have time to do the other items you have on your list.”
He rose and extended his arm.
Isobel accepted his offer and rose to her feet.
That’s when it happened.
It wasn’t the connection of their flesh when their fingers met, touched. She’d anticipated that reaction, had prepared herself for it. Had steeled herself against it.
It was the attraction between them. The gravitational force that brought them together, not just one person facing another. Not just one friend greeting another. But two people meshing into one. Toe to toe. Chest to breast. Gazes locked in wonderment . . . and bewilderment.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her closer. She went willingly. As if keeping an adequate distance wasn’t an option.
He held her. He didn’t release her. Only tightened his grip and pulled her close, as if he needed her against him. Wanted her next to him.
She was afraid he would kiss her. Not that she didn’t want him to. She did. More than anything in the world. But that would have taken what was happening to them to a level Isobel wasn’t sure she was ready to consider.
Thankfully, he didn’t. He simply held her as if she belonged in his arms. He simply gazed at her as if it was important to memorize every feature for the day when she would no longer be there to look at.
She waited until his grasp finally loosened. When his arms dropped from around her waist, she forced her legs to move. Forced her feet to take one small step back.
“Thank you for a wonderful afternoon,” she whispered. “Thank you for bringing me here. I can’t remember being anywhere more beautiful.”
He smiled, then placed her arm in the crook of his elbow, and they returned to the house.
But Isobel knew it was impossible to return to the way things had been before this afternoon. Something had happened between them that she didn’t want to believe had happened.
Something that would affect the rest of her life.
Chapter 12
He’d had absolutely nothing to do with the theft of Roseneau’s jewels—jewels intended to fund the Russian war in the Crimea. But his sister’s husband had. Major Bennett and the Marquess of Huntingdon had. And they’d suffered a good deal of guilt for it, knowing they’d caused Alex’s kidnapping by Roseneau, that Alex had been the Frenchman’s leverage to force the return of the jewels.
A part of his mind recognized that they’d suffered, too. They’d suffered mental torture. His had been torture of a different kind.
Yet today, the memory of it couldn’t seem to dampen his sense of well-being.
Alex tried to concentrate on the book he’d been reading, but his thoughts kept wandering—leaping, really—to the hours he’d spent sitting with Lady Isobel by the stream. He hadn’t felt such peace in a very long time. And it was due to her.
He looked up as the whisper of her footsteps neared the library door. There was a soft knock, and the door opened. She stood there with a tea tray in her hands and a shy smile on her face.
“I thought you might enjoy a cup of tea and a piece of cake Cook left out for us.”
He rushed across the room and took the tray from her hands. “That would be wonderful.”
He brought the tray to a low table tucked between two matching wing chairs and placed it in the center. Lady Isobel poured, handing his tea to him the way he liked it—without sugar or milk. Next, she placed a plate of the leftover cake they’d had for dinner last night in front of him.
She poured her tea, too. And took a plate with a smaller slice of cake for herself.
“You aren’t hungry?”
The smile on her face warmed him to the pit of his stomach.
“Very,” she answered. “But I saw the plate of cold meats and cheese Cook left out for later and decided I needed to save room. She even has a loaf of bread warming on the back of the stove, with a pot of marmalade and honey sitting nearby.”
He looked at the huge piece of cake in front of him and laughed. “I knew she didn’t think we could fend for ourselves.”
“She obviously thinks it’s possible for us to expire from starvation in one day.”
He took a sip of his tea and several bites of his cake, then set his plate on the low table. “Did you finish the book you were reading?”
She nodded. “One would think I’d had enough of the outdoors after our walk to the stream, but it’s such a beautiful day, I sat out in the garden and read nearly all afternoon.”
“Yes, I saw you.” He glanced at the library window that looked out into the garden. “You looked so relaxed.”
“It’s been a wonderful day. I know it’s selfish of me, but I’ve missed having days to myself. We’re all terribly spoiled and pampered, aren’t we?”
Alex sat back in his chair. “I don’t think it’s so much that we’re spoiled and pampered. It’s that our class requires us to live different lives. We are responsible for different things. Expected to do different things.”
“I know, but . . .” Her expression was one of puzzlement.
“I agree that it’s an accident of birth,” he continued, “that some of us were born to the ruling class and others to the working class. That doesn’t make one of us better than the other or more important than the other. It simply makes the jobs we do different. And, in some cases, easier.”
“You’re right, of course. Yet I wonder how many of the staff working for you could do more if they were only given the opportunity.”
“As I wonder how many of the ruling class would be in the positions they’re in if it weren’t for the pedigrees with which they were born.”
She smiled. “I can think of several individuals I’ve met at social events that fall into that category.”
“As can I. And sometimes I truly believe that what Cook does, for example, is infinitely more important than what I do.” He pointed at the tray of food in front of him. “At least we won’t starve as long as she’s around.”
“No, but we might, if you weren’t around to provide for her livelihood, as well as every other person who works for you. And if you weren’t a good enough steward of what you’ve been given to provide the food that every one of us here eats daily.”
He studied her in fascination. “How did you learn to think with such wisdom?”
Her face paled. “I’m sorry. That was very outspoken of me.”
He sat forward. “Don’t ever apologize for your thoughts, my lady. Ever. Intelligence is something to be admired. Not shamed.”
“My father wouldn’t agree with that. He constantly admonished me for my outspokenness.”
“The more I hear about your father, the bigger fool I believe him to be.”
“It’s his opinion that a man doesn’t want a female who can think. Or more importantly, who says what she thinks.” She tilted her head in a most intriguing manner. “Are you of the same opinion, my lord?”
“Heavens, no. Can you imagine living with the same person for years when the only conversation you can have is about the latest styles and fashions, and what events we must attend, or what scandal has just erupted? How boring!”
She laughed. A rich, deep, honest laugh. He loved it. He felt a connection that was nearly as potent as the connection he’d felt earlier in the day.
She’d recognized it, too. The somber expression on her face told him so. Her abrupt change of topics reinforced it. She set down her plate and sat forward in her chair. “You mentioned earlier that one of the newssheets came in the post today. Have you finished reading it? If so, may I read it next?”
“Of course.” He walked to where he’d placed the paper when he’d finished. “You may read it in here, if you’d like, at the table beneath the window. You’ll be able to see the print easier, and you won’t bother me at all.”
“Yes. I would like that, if you don’t mind.”
“No,” he said with a sense of happiness that warmed him to the very pit of his stomach. “I do not mind at all.”
He placed the paper on the small desk beneath the window, then watched her take her place to read it. There was nothing sensual about her being with him. She was halfway across the room. They weren’t speaking. Nor did she turn her head to watch him. She was totally engrossed in reading the most current news in London. And yet . . .
Having her with him had never felt more right.
. . .
There was still nothing in the society column about a betrothal between Vanessa and Lord Partmoore. Still no announcement about an upcoming wedding, and it had been more than a month. Surely her father would be anxious to gain control of a portion of Partmoore’s shipping ventures. He’d talked for years of nothing more than getting a foothold in the shipping world.
What was wrong? With Isobel gone, why wouldn’t her father move heaven and earth to achieve what he wanted so desperately? Vanessa was his only hope.
“There’s nothing there?” Lord Halverston asked.
He was watching her. She didn’t know how long he had been, but her expression must have shown her disappointment.
“No. Nothing.”
“That doesn’t mean there’s something wrong. Often, these things take time.”
“Yes, usually they do. But I know my father. When he sets his mind on something, it’s done. He’d never risk losing something he wants this badly by delaying his means of getting it.”
“There should be another paper in a few days. Maybe you’ll get news then.”
“Perhaps.” Isobel looked up and noticed that at some point, Lord Halverston had placed a lamp on the corner of the desk. She looked out the window and saw that dusk was upon them. Another hour and it would be d
ark. It wouldn’t be long after that before the staff would be returning from the fair.
Her day was almost over. It had been wonderful, but it had gone so quickly.
She rose and turned to the tea tray still on the table. She walked to it and picked it up. “I didn’t realize so much time had gone by.” She held the tray in her hands. “Would you like to have a bite to eat? I can prepare a plate and bring it to the small dining room.”
“Or I could accompany you, and we could eat in the kitchen. I don’t believe I’ve done that since I was a lad.”
“Then that will be a treat, as well.”
His Lordship took the tray from her hands and carried it, while she led the way to the kitchen. When they reached the warm, cozy area, she heated water for tea, then put the covered plates of food on the table. Lord Halverston placed the empty plates Cook had left out for them on the table facing each other, then stood behind one of the chairs.
When the tea was ready, Isobel placed the teapot on the table and took the seat he held for her.
“Did you have an enjoyable day?” he asked as he sat opposite her and took a portion of the cold beef and ham Cook had left, and several large bits of cheese. He spread a thick piece of bread with fresh butter, then placed the meat and cheese on the bread and took a bite.
“I had a wonderful day. More relaxing than I’ve enjoyed for a long time.”
“You deserve to have those days again,” he said after taking a sip of tea.
She tried to smile as she chewed her food. “That may not be possible. I think nothing will be as it was before.”
“Your father won’t have a hold on you forever.”
Isobel experienced a harsh wave of anger. How desperately she anticipated that day. How much she wanted to be free of him and his ruthless control.
She placed the buttered bread she was about to put in her mouth back onto her plate and lifted her gaze. He was watching her. He looked as if he was waiting for her to speak.
“Fathers are supposed to love their children. They’re supposed to look out for them and take care of them. They’re supposed to do what is best for them.” She paused. “My father will never control my life again. Nor will he control Vanessa’s. She deserves a happy life. I intend to see that she gets it.”