Miss Frazer's Adventure

by Alexandra Ivy

  A petulant anger flashed in Lady Calfield’s blue eyes. “None of this would have been necessary if you had done your duty and wed Miss Frazer as you were supposed to. Now we all must suffer for your selfishness.”

  Luce flinched as if he had been slapped. It was not guilt. At least not guilt for having allowed Kate to slip from his fingers. Over the past few days, he had come to realize that wedding Kate would have been a ghastly mistake. No matter what his feelings for her, the knowledge that he had been in need of her wealth would have always lain between them.

  How could she ever truly place her trust in him? Or ever give him her heart?

  She deserved better. She deserved the happiness that had been missing from her life for too long.

  His noble determination, however, did not make him miss her any less, or ease the sense of loneliness that plagued him with ruthless intensity.

  “Perhaps it is selfish, mother, but I refuse to become a damnable leech upon Sir Frazer simply because you desire your carriages and French maid.” He squared his shoulders, a fierce pride etched upon his countenance. “For once, an Earl of Calfield will pay his own debts, not sell his soul to take the easy path.”

  Not surprisingly, his mother was far from impressed by his lofty morals. She was a creature of comfort and luxury. The mere thought of maintaining a bit of economy was enough to make her break out in a rash.

  “And what of me and your sisters? Will you see us dressed in rags and tending the fields like common peasants?”

  His lips reluctantly twitched at the shrill accusation. “Not unless you possess a particular desire to plow fields. Of course, if you have a hankering to be of assistance, there are several cottages in need of new thatching.”

  Lady Calfield stomped her foot in fury. “This is not amusing, Luce. And I warn you, I will not tolerate living like a beggar. If need be, I will take the girls to my sister’s in Surrey. I will not have them a source of pity throughout the neighborhood.”

  “As you will.” Luce thrust a weary hand through his golden hair. He had devoted twenty hours a day to just keeping the wolves at bay. He did not possess the strength to battle his mother as well. “I will not pretend that things are not bad, mother. Nor that they will soon improve. All I can promise is that I will do everything in my power to ensure the future is better.”

  “Everything but wed a maiden who could easily restore our fortunes to what they should be,” she said with a disdainful sniff.

  “Everything but that.”

  She glared at him for a long moment before turning to flounce up the stairs. “Then stay here and watch your father’s estate crumble to dust,” she charged over her shoulder. “And know that your pride has no doubt ruined any hope for your sisters’ future.”

  With a deep sigh, Luce turned to leave the house. There was still Mr. Morrow to deal with in the stables, and several tenants awaiting the opportunity to air their grievances. It would be another long day, not improved by the realization that he would have to confront servants who had devoted their entire lives to the Calfield family and request that they pack their bags and leave.

  It was enough to make a gentleman consider boarding the nearest ship and never looking back, he acknowledged. Then an unwittingly grim smile touched his lips. Unfortunately for him, he no longer possessed any ships.

  Refusing to dwell upon his dark thoughts, Luce crossed the yard toward the nearby stables. It was enough to concentrate upon the troubles at hand without borrowing regrets from the past.

  At least if Mr. Morrow was willing to purchase the contents of the stable, they would have enough blunt to stave off the most pressing creditors. Hopefully, by then he would have an offer for his business that would keep them afloat until harvest. A small miracle in itself.

  Rounding the crumbling fountain in the center of the yard, Luce was just passing the main gate when the sound of approaching footsteps stopped him. Since the estate was set off from the main path by a long, oak-lined drive, he knew whoever was approaching must be a visitor to Calfield Park. Or, more likely, another creditor, he ruefully acknowledged.

  His first impulse was to hurry on to the stables and ignore whatever new disaster might loom on the horizon. His current temper was not best suited to pandering to the shrill demands and threats of yet another merchant. Then he gave a resigned shake of his head.

  He was not his father. He would not dodge and evade his responsibilities and pretend that tomorrow would take care of itself.

  At least not any longer.

  Squaring his shoulders, he moved firmly toward the gate, reaching it at nearly the precise moment as the approaching guest. His eyes abruptly widened. Bloody hell, this was not the burly merchant he had expected. Instead the visitor was slender and young and utterly female.

  The determined smile that he had pasted to his lips faltered at the same moment as his heart.

  Kate . . .

  Unwittingly, he reached out his hand to grasp the rough stone of the gate. His knees did not feel at all steady and his thoughts were clouded with disbelieving surprise. In truth, he felt as if he had just been hit on the head with a spade.

  A large spade.

  Slowly, his gaze traveled over her stiff form, noting the return of her prim blue gown and sensible wool cape. Even the beautiful titian curls had been ruthlessly hidden beneath a bonnet that was more suited to an aging matron than a lovely young maiden.

  The daring, exotic creature of London had been returned to the sensible, shy spinster he recalled from their first meeting.

  A pang that might have been regret clutched at his heart before he sternly grasped control of his scattered senses. Damn it all, this woman had dangled him, tortured him, and crushed his heart.

  He was not about to allow her to continue with her painful games.

  “Miss Frazer,” he said in cold tones. “What a very unexpected surprise.”

  Her breath seemed to catch at the chill in the air, which had little to do with the stiff northerly breeze.

  “Good day, my lord. I hope I do not intrude?”

  His jaw tightened at her determined politeness. Did she expect him to treat her as if they were no more than distant acquaintances? Well, he was not near gentlemanly enough for that.

  “What are you doing here?”

  She paused, as if caught off guard by his clipped question. “I was passing by and I thought . . .”

  “No,” he intruded, his throat oddly raw as his gaze hungrily roamed over the pale features and eyes that appeared a misty blue. Gads, he had not realized just how much it would hurt to see her again. “It is impossible to simply pass by Calfield Park. You must have a reason for coming here.”

  A sharp silence descended before Kate gave a nervous cough. “I . . . I seem to have caught you at a bad moment. Forgive me.”

  Luce knew he was behaving the boor. But it seemed impossible to conjure a measure of graciousness. Not when her mere presence was twisting his insides into mush.

  “I thought you were traveling to Devonshire.” He abruptly broke the silence.

  “I decided it was best to return to Kent.”

  “I must admit that I am rather surprised.” He could not entirely keep an edge of bitterness from his voice. “I thought you were quite anxious to be swept off your feet by your devoted duke-in-waiting. Did he abandon you, or did you decide a stuffy ducal palace did not fit in with your notion of a frivolous adventure?”

  Kate stiffened at his sudden thrust. “Neither.”

  “Then why would you be here? You made it clear you would rather be hauled to the gallows than to return.”

  Her tongue reached out to wet her lips in a nervous fashion. Luce shivered as his gaze lingered upon the tempting shimmer. He remembered the precise taste of that sweet mouth.

  “I had a visit from Mr. Foster.”

  Luce froze in icy shock. “Foster?”

  “Yes ... he was concerned and requested that I return to Kent to speak with you.”

  He flin
ched in dismay. Blast his interfering, busybody captain. How dare he interfere? This entire situation was difficult enough without knowing Kate was close at hand to see his pathetic struggles.

  “Foster is worse than any mother hen, I fear,” he retorted in stiff tones. “If he disturbed you, I apologize.”

  “He did not disturb me.” She searched his guarded expression, as if attempting to determine his inner thoughts. “At least his visit did not disturb me. It was his revelations that I discovered troubling. Is it true you are selling your shipping company?”

  Luce gritted his teeth until tight knots formed in his jaws. At this moment, he would have happily ordered Foster to walk the plank.

  The last thing in the world he desired was this woman’s damnable pity. “That is surely no one’s concern but my own, Miss Frazer.”

  She bit her lip at his obvious dismissal. “Perhaps. That does not halt me, however, from being concerned. I know how much those ships mean to you.”

  A flare of fury raced through him. Of course the company had meant a great deal to him. It had given him a purpose in life that had been sorely missing. But the loss of his company was nothing in comparison with the aching loss of this woman.

  A loss that she had not even acknowledged, dash it all.

  “Actually, you seem to know very little, Miss Frazer. Not about me or my company.”

  “Luce . . .”

  Drawing in a deep breath, he forced a bored expression to his countenance. He would not endure her sympathy. Anything but that.

  “I fear that you have come at a rather inconvenient time, Miss Frazer,” he said in brisk tones. “I think it best if you return home and allow me to continue with my duties.”

  “I see.” Her eyes seemed to darken, almost as if he had managed to wound her with his dismissal. “I offer my apologies. I did not intend to disrupt your day.”

  She had disrupted more than his day, Luce grimly acknowledged. She had disrupted the smallest progress he had made to dismissing her from his thoughts and convincing himself that his life was much better without her.

  “On the next occasion perhaps it would be best if you would send word before arriving,” he forced himself to say in cool tones. “The household is not currently capable of entertaining unexpected guests.”

  The blood drained from her countenance, leaving her nearly ashen. His heart squeezed with a ravaging pain.

  “Of course.” Swallowing heavily, she gave a jerky nod of her head. “Do not fear, my lord, I will not intrude again.”

  She turned upon her heel to leave and before he could even think to halt his impulsive movement, Luce had shifted to block her path. Suddenly, he had to know what had happened to her glorious adventures and, perhaps more importantly, Lord Thorpe.

  “Is the devoted Lord Thorpe still trailing behind you, or have you sent him upon his way as well?” he demanded without warning.

  For a moment, he thought she might refuse to answer, then her chin tilted so that she could stab him with an angry glare.

  “Lord Thorpe is still in London,” she said with as much dignity as possible.

  “Poor idiot. I really should have warned him of your tendency to dangle susceptible gentlemen upon your hook before tossing them back to sea.”

  She flinched at the ugly accusation. “That is utterly unfair, my lord.”

  His lips twisted. “Is it?”

  “Yes.” She looked as if she were battling the urge to slap him. “I was honest from the beginning of our relationship. I never wished to hurt or deceive you. I was not the one who insisted that you remain in London, nor that you continue to pursue me. Indeed, I suggested on more than one occasion that you seek out another to wed.”

  Luce caught his breath at the accusation, knowing that there was no reasonable means of denying her words. She had not deliberately toyed with his emotions. Nor had she ever suggested that she would wish him as a husband.

  Still, she had managed to rip out his heart. Surely that deserved some sort of punishment?

  “At the same time you were quite willing to take advantage of my presence when you found it convenient, were you not, my sweet?”

  “I did not come here to argue with you, Luce.” She deliberately glanced toward the lane he was blocking. “Will you excuse me?”

  He offered a mocking bow as he stepped to the side. “Please do not let me keep you.” He waited until she was right beside him before he leaned to whisper directly in her ear. “Did you find it, Kate?”

  She faltered at his soft question. “Find what?”

  “Whatever it was that you were searching for.”

  She could not disguise the utter despair that darkened her eyes to pools of haunted green. “No. No, I did not.”

  Clutching her skirts, she fled down the path, unaware of the shock that held him motionless as he watched her retreat.

  Dear God. She had looked almost . . . heartbroken.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Not slowing her frantic pace until she was well out of sight of Lord Calfield, Kate at last came to a halt to lean against a large oak tree. She closed her eyes and allowed the threatening tears to fall freely down her cheeks.

  Oh, blast it all. Why had she come?

  Because she had felt a measure of sympathy for Luce? Because she could not entirely dismiss a sense of guilt at his current plight? Because she was concerned for a friend?

  Those were the reasons she had given herself on the long trek to Calfield Park. All perfectly logical reasons.

  And perfectly logical lies.

  She had come for one reason and one reason only.

  Because for all her proud claims that she would not be wed for her wealth, for all her insistence that she was determined to live a life of adventure, what she hungered for was love.

  A simple, uncomplicated love that did not demand obedience or make her constantly fear that she was about to disappoint. A love that filled her heart and her life with the contentment she had been seeking.

  She wanted Luce to love her as she loved him.

  Fool. Fool. Fool.

  Forcing herself to straighten before she froze to the tree in the chilled breeze, Kate reluctantly continued back toward her father’s estate. Luce had made it painfully obvious that he did not welcome her reappearance back into his life.

  And in truth, she could not blame him.

  She had been brutally clear that she would never trust him. And that she intended to leave London with Lord Thorpe. No gentleman, especially not one with Luce’s pride, would readily forgive such insults.

  Why had she been so stubborn? She had driven away the one gentleman who had ever shown such patience, such kindness, and such tender concern. And all because of callow fear.

  Shivering, she bent her head and plodded onward. At least she should be relieved that her father appeared unaware of her brief days of rebellion, she sternly told herself. Her return had inspired no more than a rather mild lecture upon traveling home without the proper attendants, and a warning that she must be vigilant in avoiding undue attention. She had, after all, possessed the bad taste to allow herself to be abandoned at the altar. It would not do to stir up the unpleasant gossip by any forward behavior.

  For once, she had allowed his words to simply flow over her. Somehow her brief taste of independence had given her the insight to believe that her father did not deliberately attempt to hurt her. In his own way, he did care for her. It was simply because he had been so deeply betrayed by her mother that he feared to trust again.

  Just as she had feared.

  Heaving a faint sigh, she at last came in view of the small but meticulously tidy manor house. Despite its age, Rosehill maintained an air of pristine care and obvious wealth. A decided contrast to the vast but rambling estate she had just left behind. An estate clearly upon the edge of ruin.

  Kate ruthlessly squelched the pain that threatened to bloom in the region of her heart. Calfield Park, or anything else related to Luce, was not her concern, as he ha
d so succinctly reminded her. Not anymore.

  Crossing the path that led toward the back of the estate, she used a side door to enter the house. She had expected to discover the small parlor empty at such an hour, and her heart sank as Julia abruptly rose from a chair near the window to regard her with concern.

  She had hoped to escape to her bedchamber. At least until she had managed to have a good cry and somehow regained command of her wounded composure.

  Now she was forced to paste a stiff smile to her lips. “Good morning, Julia.”

  “Kate.” Moving forward, Julia narrowed her gaze, clearly not at all fooled by her casual manner. “I have been searching for you since breakfast. Where have you been?”

  “I decided upon a stroll.”

  The dark-haired woman glanced in surprise at the frost-kissed windows. “It is rather chilled for such an early stroll, is it not?”

  Kate shrugged, hiding her expression as she turned to remove the bonnet from her curls. “You know the cold has never troubled me. And I felt the need for some fresh air.”

  “Obviously, you felt the need for a great deal of fresh air. You have been gone near two hours.”

  Rather annoyed by being put through the Inquisition when she only wished to flee to the privacy of her room, Kate abruptly frowned at her cousin.

  “I am not a child, Julia. If I desire to stroll for two hours, there is no reason I should not be allowed to do so,” she said in exasperated tones.

  Julia abruptly wrinkled her nose as she realized that she had been more than a tad intrusive. “Forgive me, Kate. You are correct. But I was concerned.”

  “Concerned? Why ever would you be concerned?”

  There was a moment of silence, as if her cousin were carefully considering her response. “I have watched you since your return and I am worried. You barely touched your dinner last evening or your breakfast this morning, you clearly did not sleep more than a few minutes, and you have muttered less than a half a dozen words. Now you suddenly disappear for hours on end. Can you blame me for being concerned?”