Amanda dipped her head slightly so that the wind would not pull so at her bonnet.
“I had assumed you spent most of your time in Williamsburg,” she remarked. “Ryne said you recently built a distillery.”
Gardner allowed the reins to go slack and let the horses set their own pace. His handsome face was reserved as he glanced toward her.
“Indeed I do and I have. The distillery is what interests me most and I am there much of the time. It is a venture on which I have risked a great sum of money, but one I feel will soon pay all and more than I have invested.”
“But what of the estate? Do you still cultivate the land? And how can you manage both interests without neglecting one or the other?”
Gardner offered a smile at her onslaught of questions.
“Oh, but I do neglect the estate and I daresay it fares better for the lack of my attention. I am no farmer but I challenge anyone in Williamsburg to show a better business head. I have hired an overseer to produce the crops and manage the running of the estate. I do best at finding the most profitable markets.”
Her brows flickered a little. How different he was from Ryne.
“It is a wise man who knows his own talents,” she said with a smile.
The carriage wheels crunched into a gravelly bed of rocks as Gardner turned the horses off the main road and onto a narrow lane that led through a copse of trees and to the top of a hill. They had traveled only part of the distance to Williamsburg and Amanda wondered why he had made the detour. But with Gardner she had no doubt it would be an agreeable experience. He was charming, though perhaps a bit too serious and sober at times. But weren’t those qualities important in a man?
Inevitably it would have been Gardner on whom Aunt Elise had depended and gone to for advice. Though it would most assuredly have been Ryne who put a twinkle in her eyes. Ryne was the kind of son a mother would dote on, while being far less mindful of an earnest one like Gardner. Possibly it had been Gardner’s suggestion that she divide her property and turn her holdings over to her sons when she had. A wise move to assure his inheritance and prevent Ryne from dissipating his mother’s fortune with an unsparing hand.
Soon they had drawn up to the crest of the hill. She decided it must be the highest point in the area, for from it she could see below the winding strip of water that was the James River and in the distance the slate tiles of Wicklow’s roof.
A few trees made a sparse covering for the grassy hillside. Gardner pulled the horses into the shade of their branches and hopped down quickly to tie them to the nearest tree. Amanda stared wordlessly as he reached behind the seat and drew out a basket covered with checkered cloth.
She was surprised but pleased by his foresight. It seemed such a terribly long time since anyone had treated her specially. He helped her down and led her to a spot where the view was best but which was comfortably shaded from the afternoon sun.
“I wanted you to see this place. It was my father’s favorite.” He shook out the cloth he had taken from the basket and spread it on the ground. Amanda caught hold of her skirts and took a seat on the checkered cloth. Gardner knelt beside her. “He wasn’t as fascinated by Wicklow as my mother. I think in those years it must have had even a more overpowering ring of Grandfather Jubal. A few years after they were married, my father started to build a house here. You can see where the foundations were started just below us.” He pointed to a large rectangle that had been dug out and filled in with stone. “But then he died—a fall from a horse—before the work progressed beyond a dream.”
For a long moment her eyes followed the markings that in places had been filled in with dirt and brush. It would have been a large house, though not nearly the size of Wicklow. She glanced back at Gardner and saw that his eyes had darkened with emotion.
“You must have been very young,” she said with a gentle softness in her voice.
Gardner pulled the hat from his head and ran his hand through the copper-colored curls. A half-smile crossed his lips.
“Yes. Too young to remember,” he said quietly. “But Mother made it a point that I should know my father, if only through her own memory. She brought me here often as a lad. She’d pack a picnic and spend the afternoon telling me about him. I’ve not been here in many years.” His voice faded but he smiled reminiscently and she could tell he was looking back on those times with a blend of pain and joy.
It touched her heart to see that he had been so close to his mother. Before she knew it, her eyes glowed with a look of tenderness and she placed her hand lightly on his arm.
“I shall consider it most special that you have shared this place and this memory with me.”
Gardner covered her hand with his as his face brightened with pleasure.
“And I shall consider it most special that you have made me want to come here again.”
A few seconds later he was unpacking cheese and a small loaf of bread that she was sure had come from Gussie’s oven. He had checkered napkins, two stemmed silver goblets, and a bottle of wine, which he quickly uncorked and poured.
It was more than an hour later when they repacked the basket and returned to the carriage. Amanda had enjoyed the talk. It had been a comfortable conversation and she had found Gardner pleasant to be with, even though she suspected he had brought her out to assure himself she could manage all she had undertaken.
Had he felt she had placed herself in a situation of undue hardship, she was certain he would have offered his assistance. And she would have refused. It was important to Amanda to make a success of her life on her own merit. Gardner, she knew, understood, and though he had adopted a brotherly manner toward her, would not hamper her from pursuing her dream.
“It has been delightful here, Gardner. I am happy you insisted I come.”
“I am pleased to have made you happy. But this day has only begun for us. I have guests for dinner tonight and I would like very much for you to join us.”
“Oh, Gardner, I haven’t come prepared to dress for dinner. Had you told me, I could have—”
He laughed. “Had I told you, you would have refused and said you had scrubbing to do. I had Gussie pack a bag with a suitable dress for you. You’ll enjoy the Wellers. They have come in from Weller Hall and are staying at my house while in Williamsburg. Now, say that you will stay too. I can drive you back to Wicklow tomorrow.”
Amanda laughed lightly. “I wonder if I have a choice at all. I believe you have kidnapped me.”
“Perhaps I have. But you must not shut yourself away at Wicklow. People have heard of your arrival and are anxious to meet you. I consider it my duty to introduce you, and I will not be refused.”
As he talked, Gardner slipped the basket into its hiding place under the seat and there beside it Amanda could see the bag Gussie had packed. Amanda gave Gardner a fond smile as he untied the horses. Her cheeks had grown flushed and warm from the wine and her thoughts drowsily slow.
She had been placidly happy here with Gardner, telling him of her plans for Wicklow, of her hopes for the future, and having him encourage all her aspirations. Now he had decided to take her under his wing until she had made friends of her own. She could only adore him for his thoughtfulness.
Only a few times had she found herself contrasting him to his brother. Had she talked for an hour with Ryne they would no doubt have locked horns a dozen times and ended up furious at each other. But not so with Gardner. And if it were Ryne who had brought her to this place, where they were as alone as they might be anywhere in the world, she could not have trusted him to be the gentleman Gardner had been.
No. If Ryne were the one gripping her waist, about to lift her into the carriage, he would lock her in his arms and cover her mouth with his hungry kisses.
She felt Gardner’s hands tighten around her waist. He saw the smoldering fire deep in her eyes even as she sighed and lowered her lids. A ripple of surprise and excitement ran through him. He hesitated a moment, unsure of what she wanted. But an instant later
he gathered her gently in his arms and touched his mouth lightly to hers.
Amanda’s lips formed a name, but he could not hear that it was not his. As he held her closer, she was lost for a moment in a dizzying spin of emotion that blotted out her reasoning.
As if she were in a dream, her arms came up and locked around Gardner’s waist and she returned his kiss. He felt the fervor of her response and deepened the demand of his lips on hers. His hands were on her shoulders, sliding the puffed sleeves away from her silken flesh as their bodies strained together.
“Amanda, my sweet,” he whispered.
She was glad for his voice. It broke her reverie. Suddenly she felt she was smothering and pushed away from him, gasping for breath. She tried to speak but her voice wavered.
From the look on Gardner’s face, he was as surprised as she was at what had happened between them. But unlike her, he showed no desire to end what had begun.
Amanda gasped and felt a stab of alarm that she might have started a wildfire she could not control.
Chapter 6
They had driven so far without speaking that the moment shared had become an awkward barrier between them. Gardner’s face was too serious and Amanda wondered if there weren’t more on his mind than an unexpected kiss.
She stirred uneasily and lifted her eyes to the sky. It was clear and blue with patches of white drifting slowly across like the questions in her mind. What had made her behave in that abominable manner? What did Gardner think of her now?
She hated shattering his pristine image of her and she fancied that was exactly what she had done. He had been like a brother to her since her arrival, protective and helpful, someone she had felt she could turn to if the need arose. It was her fault if that had ended. Her frown deepened and she knew by the feeling of emptiness in her heart that she would be sad if it did.
Sadly Amanda dipped her head so that the edge of her bonnet hid the melancholy look on her face. What had gotten into her? She glanced apprehensively at Gardner as he cleared his throat, wondering what he was about to say.
“I was all set to warn you to be wary of my brother because he is a master at appealing to the emotions of young ladies and then taking advantage of them. Now I believe the warning must apply to me as well.” Amanda noticed the overly firm set of his jaw and the intensity of his blue eyes as Gardner pulled the black cocked hat from his head and dropped it in the seat beside them. “I do feel I should apologize, Amanda. I was far too forward.”
“Oh, no,” Amanda said quickly. “You must not apologize. I fear I precipitated the whole thing by getting swept up in my emotions. I felt very close to you when you told me the story of your father.”
She noticed a softening of the line of his jaw. His voice smoothed out like that of a man suddenly relieved of a worrisome burden.
“Then I will not apologize,” he said, smiling slightly. “I will simply say it was a pleasurable experience and I too was swept up in a rise of emotion.”
So it was with a grateful smile that Amanda observed the buildings of Williamsburg arising in the distance. And once again she was glad she had come. The damage with Gardner had been slight and easily mended. If only it were as easy to correct matters with Ryne.
***
The dinner at Gardner’s house proved to be a small affair, for which Amanda was glad. His cook, an elderly woman named Doris Campbell, had recovered from her illness and prepared a meal that was a delight to the palate. Besides the cook there was a maid who served the meal, a pleasant-faced but rather slow young woman Gardner referred to as Molly, who had only recently come into his employ.
The other guests were from a plantation that adjoined a smaller estate Gardner had recently bought. Jonathan Weller and his wife Margaret and their daughter Ariel Chitton, a young widow whose husband had died some three years ago, were old friends of Gardner’s. It was their custom to stay at Gardner’s house on any of the infrequent trips made to Williamsburg. Of this trip he had little advance notice of their plans but on learning of them had decided Amanda must come and meet them.
“This is my cousin, Amanda Fairfax,” Gardner said, completing the introductions.
Amanda’s cheeks reddened slightly. Ryne used the term disparagingly, so she was a little taken aback to hear Gardner refer to her as his cousin. And though she was pleased he would consider her a true relation, she suspected the real reason was the same one that had occurred to her. If Ryne were to live at Wicklow, it would be best if a family tie were established. Gardner had concocted the relationship to protect her from the scandalous comments that might result otherwise.
“I never knew you were related to Sarah Fairfax,” Ariel commented.
“It was a distant relationship,” Gardner said. “But we are cousins nevertheless.”
“I see,” Ariel said, raising her brows a fraction.
“Now that I am at Wicklow,” Amanda added, “we feel quite close to one another.”
“Like brother and sister,” Gardner said.
Amanda concluded he had shared her thoughts earlier in the afternoon. She was pleased to see they remained of one mind on what had happened.
“You are a sensible girl, Amanda, not to believe in curses and such.” Margaret Weller had an attractive, vital appearance to her face. She had taken a quick liking to Amanda and let it be known. “After what happened to Evelyn Wicklow, I think I would wonder,” she said matter-of-factly.
Amanda looked up curiously. “What did happen to Evelyn? Where did she go?”
“No one knows what became of my grandmother,” Gardner answered. “According to the tales, and there were many about my grandfather, he fought a duel over Evelyn—”
“I thought the duel was fought over gold,” Amanda broke in.
Gardner smiled. “Perhaps it was. There are many stories and they do not all agree. In any event, my grandfather was killed and both his opponent and Evelyn disappeared the same night. The conjecture, naturally, is that the opponent was a former lover of Evelyn’s and that the two of them took the Wicklow fortune and fled. The mystery is that no one saw them leave, and neither has ever been heard from again,” he added.
“My mother recalled that when Jubal Wicklow’s body was found there were two wounds, one in the side, another in the back. It was evident he was murdered following the duel, perhaps by Evelyn herself after her lover proved a poor shot,” Margaret said. “But even so, I find it hard to imagine she would abandon her own child.”
“It all took place long ago and no one can say with certainty what happened. Even my grandfather’s servants and friends did not know who the other duelist was or why the duel occurred. I believe it likely the gold everyone thinks hidden at Wicklow actually never existed,” Gardner said.
“But the ruby heart did exist,” Margaret stated with conviction. “The Heart of Happiness. My mother said it was priceless and the most magnificent jewel ever cut. She saw Evelyn Wicklow wear it many times. If Evelyn did not take it, what could have happened to the ruby?”
“If it had the value everyone claims, it was probably stolen in the days of confusion following my grandfather’s death. That it is missing does not prove Evelyn guilty of murder.”
Amanda was sorely tempted to ask a few questions herself. She would like to know more about the ruby and more of Wicklow’s troubled history. But Gardner’s tone indicated he would not be receptive to further discussion of the matter. Margaret apparently noted the same and ceased her comments.
After that the conversation went to lighter talk, and it seemed dinner was over very soon. The ladies retired to the drawing room and the men went out to a tavern to share a tankard of ale with other gentlemen of their acquaintance.
“No need to wait up for them,” Margaret Weller said with a deep, bold chuckle that would have brought shock to a polite gathering of women in Britain. Amanda was learning quickly that colonial women were not a shy lot and were far more likely to speak their minds than their counterparts in England. “When Jonathan ge
ts to a tavern, it’s gambols and ale till well past midnight. But we’ll not slight ourselves,” she added, pouring glasses of sherry for the three of them. “Drink hearty, lasses. A good glass of sherry helps the digestion.” She put a glass in Amanda’s hand and another in Ariel’s. “Now, Amanda, you must sit down and tell us all the news of London.”
Amanda reported all the gossip she could recall that she thought would be of interest to Margaret Weller and her daughter. But while Margaret listened with rapt regard and made frequent witty comments, Ariel’s attention seemed to wander.
Ariel took out a sampler and worked on it intently. But frequently her eyes left her needlework and turned to the drawing-room door as if hopeful that Gardner and her father would return sooner than expected. Apparently Ariel was more concerned than her mother about her father’s indulgence in spirits. Amanda smiled. It was touching that the daughter felt so close to her father and worried over his behavior.
“I wonder, Mrs. Weller,” Amanda asked when they had exhausted the subject of London society and had run the gamut of persons Margaret considered the cream of Williamsburg, “if perhaps you might know Emma Jones and her niece Trudy, both of Richmond.”
“Well, I daresay there isn’t a soul in Richmond I don’t know,” Margaret said boastfully. “Her husband Clarence did work for Mr. Weller. Was a wheelwright, and a good one, but could never keep his face out of a tankard. The sodden bloke left Emma a load of debts and naught else when he died. Poor Emma.” She sighed heavily and clasped her hands together in a gesture of despair. “And a fine woman she is, too. Sold milk and butter in the market to keep her household running. I warrant too she was always as much a mother to that niece of hers as was her sister.” She shook her head slowly. “Don’t know what is to become of her.”
“She’s to come to me at Wicklow. And Trudy too. The suggestion was put to me by Cecil Baldwin,” Amanda said gaily, the sherry having made her more talkative than usual.
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