“Why do you taste so good?” he asks in almost a groan. He covers my mouth with his before I can answer.
His hands explore my body more boldly this time, cupping my breasts over my bodice. He rubs his thumbs over my nipples until they are straining against the fabric.
“Please,” I say breathlessly, not even comprehending what I’m pleading for.
When his hand slips between my bare breast and the fabric, I nearly cry out. He continues to kiss me thoroughly all the while massaging first one nipple and then the other.
“God, you feel beautiful in my hands,” he says, his voice husky against my throat.
I whimper in response. I’m becoming a quivering mass of nothing but primitive feeling again, nearly drunk on his deep kisses and firm touch.
Thank God the footman knocks before entering and we have time to jump apart.
“You called, my lord?” the young man asks. To his credit, he doesn’t seem affected in the least by the palpable tension in the room.
I turn away from the door, touching my fingertips to my lips. I know even without a mirror my cheeks are flushed and my lips are red as blood.
“Tea,” Lord Thornewood practically growls. “Thank you, Rama,” he adds in a softer tone.
“Right away, my lord.”
Lord Thornewood rakes his hand through his hair, a gesture I’ve quickly learned to recognize as frustration. “You must forgive me, Katherine,” he says firmly. “I’m treating you abominably. You deserve so much better than to be seduced in a library.”
“Then you will have to strive to do better,” I say, still flushed from being thoroughly kissed.
He half-laughs, half-groans and strides over to the library door. “I’m leaving it open,” he says, “before I give in to temptation.”
I smooth my skirts and walk over to the bookcases to hide my smile. Running my fingers along the leather spines, I sigh. The whole room reminds me of Papa so much a stab of homesickness hits me in the stomach.
“Take any book you’d like,” Lord Thornewood says behind me.
“There are so many. It’d take my entire stay to peruse your shelves.” He has everything from the Aeneid to medical texts.
“Then you’ll have to stay until you’ve read the title on every spine.”
I smile and return my eyes to the books, suddenly nervous again. Would he kiss me as fervently if he knew what I am?
“Forgive me for interrupting again, my lord,” Rama says from the doorway, “but I’ve brought your tea.”
“Very good, Rama.”
Rama sets the tea service down on the low side table and pours the steaming hot liquid into dainty blue and white cups. I take it from him gratefully and add two sugar cubes and a splash of milk. Lord Thornewood, I notice, drinks his straight—just as my father does.
“Mrs. White sent up some scones to tide you over until breakfast is served,” Rama says, and I could kiss whoever this Mrs. White is. I’m half-starved, and I know it’s only a matter of time before my stomach outs me again.
Before I have a chance to sit down and enjoy my tea and scone, Lord Thornewood’s brother joins us.
“Oh, am I interrupting?” James asks from the doorway, his expression more mischievous than apologetic.
“Not at all,” I say with a welcoming smile. “We were just enjoying some tea before breakfast.”
He walks over to the tea service and smiles hugely. “And Mrs. White’s scones. How delightful.” He stuffs one into his mouth and sighs contentedly.
Lord Thornewood shakes his head. “Kindly pretend I raised you right—at least in front of Miss Sinclair.”
“What?” he asks around a mouthful. I laugh behind my tea cup.
Lord Thornewood smiles despite himself. “You may delight in vexing me, but at least you’re entertaining Miss Sinclair.” He sits in the same wingback chair. “Come and sit with us then. Tell us of Oxford.”
“That’s right,” I say. “You’ve been away at Oxford. My brother attends there as well.”
James grins. “Oh, I’m well acquainted with Robert. He and I have spent a lot of time . . . studying together.”
Lord Thornewood snorts. “More like enjoying all the gaming clubs have to offer.”
“Hm,” I say, pursing my lips like a governess. “Is that so?”
“Now you’ve made her cross with me,” James accuses his brother. “Robert does very well at Oxford, and he never gambles for more than a few pounds.”
“How comforting,” I say, imagining my brother gambling and drinking away in the gaming hells.
Before I can interrogate him on what exactly my brother has been up to at Oxford, a man wearing a rumpled suit—as though wrinkled from a long journey—strides into the room. He has the bearing of someone of a higher station than a servant, but from his manner of dress, I do not believe him to be a fellow peer. He is tall, with black hair and eyes, and could easily be Rama’s brother save for a prominent Roman nose.
“My lord, forgive the intrusion,” the man says, his tone serious and his bushy eyebrows drawn low, “but you said to seek you out as soon as I returned.”
Lord Thornewood jumps to his feet, surprising both James and myself. “Yes, yes, of course, Tavi.” He makes a short bow to me. “If you will excuse me for just a moment, Miss Sinclair. Tavi has been making some business inquiries for me and has only just returned.”
“By all means,” I say, though I am not entirely convinced business would produce such an anxious reaction.
When the door closes behind Lord Thornewood and Tavi, James turns to me with both eyebrows raised. “Well, that was unexpected. It must be something terribly important to produce that extreme a reaction in my apathetic brother.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I have to admit, if you weren’t here to provide witness to such bad behavior, I would follow them and eavesdrop.”
I smile, secretly agreeing with him. “They did seem rather intense. But perhaps this was a particularly exciting business venture?”
James makes a noise of dismissal. I take a sip of tea, trying in vain to calm the growing suspicion and anxiety churning within me. When I look up again, I find James watching me with an appraising smile.
My hand flutters to my mouth. “I have crumbs on my lips, don’t I?”
“Not that I can see. No, I am smiling because I think I have divined the true purpose of Tavi’s errand.”
“Ah,” I say, trying and failing to mimic his nonchalance. “And what have you foreseen?”
“I don’t want to ruin any of my beloved brother’s plans, but I will say I shouldn’t be at all surprised if he sent his most trusted man to acquire a certain piece of jewelry.”
He only continues to grin at me like the Cheshire Cat while I furrow my brows at his cryptic pronouncement.
The door opens, and we both turn. Lord Thornewood strides into the library. “Forgive me for leaving you at the mercy of my brother,” he says, any hint of his dealings with Tavi hidden behind his usual façade. “I hope he has managed to carry on a decent conversation with you.”
“But of course, Colin. I am not the cretin you so desperately want me to be.”
“He has been perfectly entertaining, I assure you,” I say.
“We were discussing the merits of eavesdropping on secretive earls,” James says, and I feel the heat of a blush spread across my cheeks. “Miss Sinclair was skeptical, but I assured her it was a delightful pastime.”
Lord Thornewood only shakes his head. “You are welcome to eavesdrop on me any time. I have asked you many times to express more of an interest in our family estates and business ventures.”
His response is so calmly rational that I realize how silly I’ve been—did I not just tell the man I trusted him? And how terribly egotistical of me to even suspect the conversation had anything to do with me.
“Oh, yes, a conversation on business,” James says, with a little wink in my direction. My blush spreads to my neck.
The footman returns, saving me
from any further teasing by Lord Thornewood’s mischievous brother. “My lord, breakfast is served in the formal dining room.”
“Thank you, Rama,” Lord Thornewood says. “Have you informed our other guests?”
“Yes, my lord. Lady Sinclair has been waiting for you in the dining room since she came downstairs—she insisted,” he adds when Lord Thornewood makes as if to protest. “She said she would be more comfortable there instead of the library. Miss Sinclair should be there shortly.”
“Very good, Rama. Thank you.”
He turns to me and offers his arm. “Shall we?”
I take it, ignoring the fluttery feeling in my stomach. I’m relieved to know it’s beyond the power of human beings to read minds. Because I cannot stop imagining what it’d be like to have tea and breakfast with Lord Thornewood every morning.
EIGHTEEN
WHAT is on the agenda for today, my lord?” Grandmama asks when we are all seated for breakfast.
I let out a barely perceptible sigh. Her love of a schedule is beyond annoying. I could care less if we did nothing but wander the grounds all day.
Lord Thornewood places his glass down on the table and sits back in his chair as if in thought. “James suggested a game of cricket to entertain us before the ball this evening.”
“Croquet would be better,” Grandmama say with a dour nod of her head. “Though either way, I would be an observer only.”
Then what does it matter? I think to myself, barely resisting the urge to say it aloud. I can’t imagine why my grandmother is being so rude.
“I do hope you play in a space with plenty of shade,” she adds, and I shoot Lucy an incredulous look. Lucy shakes her head, her cheeks lightly flushed.
But Lord Thornewood only smiles good-naturedly. “I will do my utmost to assure your comfort, madam.”
“You’re a gracious host,” she says.
I take a bite of my toast, hoping she has nothing more to add. If she does, the butler’s sudden appearance dissuades her.
“My lord,” the heavyset butler says, “forgive the interruption, but some of your guests have arrived—early,” he adds with an apologetic glance in our direction. He is the first English servant I’ve seen since we’ve arrived, but he almost seems out of place in this Indian-style paradise.
“Not a problem, Worthington,” Lord Thornewood says, but I can see from the tightness of his mouth he’s annoyed. When I hear the familiar high-pitched voice carry to us from the foyer, I understand why.
Rama holds open the door to the dining room, looking harried. “Miss Gray and Miss Uppington, my lord,” he announces, Eliza and Amelia on his heels.
Lord Thornewood and his brother stand, and I plaster a tight-lipped smile on my face. After the usual pleasantries, Lord Thornewood says, “Worthington, would you mind having more places set for Miss Gray and Miss Uppington?” He turns his attention back to Eliza and Amelia. “Please join us,” he says, and indicates the two seats next to Lucy.
I eye my unfinished eggs longingly, since etiquette dictates I cannot eat until Eliza and Amelia are served.
“Your estate is breathtaking, my lord,” Eliza says, her eyes darting about the room, resting briefly on every piece of china, crystal, and silver, as if taking inventory. “Amelia and I were just saying we cannot wait to see our rooms.”
“Actually,” Lord Thornewood says, “I thought you’d be more comfortable sharing a room, as you’re so close.”
I glance down at my plate, suddenly nervous to see her reaction. Much as I love the fact I’ve one-upped her with a spectacular room of my own, I hate to see what she’ll do when she finds out.
“Oh?” she says, her enthusiasm dampened.
“How lovely and thoughtful,” Amelia interjects, a genuine smile on her face.
Eliza glances at my sister, who sits to her left. “I’m sure the room you have with Lucy is quite comfortable,” she says to me.
With a wolfish grin, James speaks up for the first time. “Actually, Miss Sinclair has her own room, with an attractive view of the lake.”
I want to kick him beneath the table.
Her eyes narrow. “Oh?” she repeats.
Lucy folds and unfolds her napkin as I glare at James. Grandmama, who seems to have no interest in the conversation whatsoever, continues to sip her tea.
Lord Thornewood, as unapologetic as ever, merely shrugs. “The lighting in the younger Miss Sinclair’s room is more conducive for drawing whereas the elder Miss Sinclair has a fondness for nature.”
Eliza affects a saccharine smile. “How thoughtful of you to think of such things. You are truly a superior host.”
Lord Thornewood bows his head at the compliment just as the rest of the food arrives.
It isn’t until well after luncheon that we are able to watch the gentleman play a game of cricket. Evidently at least eight players are needed, and the rest of the guests didn’t arrive until noon.
Penelope sits by my side on a blanket beneath a wide oak as we watch James bowl to his brother at bat.
“Are they on opposite teams?” Penelope asks, tilting her head up so she can see from beneath her wide-brimmed hat.
“Yes,” I say with a grin, “they’re competitive that way.”
Penelope gives me a little nudge with her shoulder. “You sound as if you know them well already.”
“Well enough. Lord James seems to love nothing more than to annoy his brother. It’s quite amusing.”
“He is rather handsome. Do you believe his competitiveness is out of a spirit of meanness?”
“Oh no,” I say. “Not at all. Lord James is mischievous but still kind.” I pause as I think of how his little game at breakfast has set Eliza and me even more at odds. “Well, perhaps he does tease at the expense of others sometimes.”
Penelope fans herself nervously. “Keep him away from me then. I’ve had enough teasing from Eliza—enough to last a lifetime. And your wonderful brother isn’t here to shield me.”
A cool breeze tugs at our clothes and hair, and I pull my emerald green wrap tighter around me. Lord Thornewood catches my eye as he bats, his grin arrogantly confident. I smile back.
Penelope gives me a little nudge. When I turn to look at her, she indicates I should look to my left. I stifle a groan as Eliza and Amelia approach us.
“You have such a nice vantage point here,” Eliza says with a tight smile, “Amelia and I thought we’d join you.”
“If it wouldn’t be a bother,” Amelia adds.
“Of course not,” Eliza answers for us. “Penelope and Katherine are the epitome of graciousness. I’ve always said so.”
“Please,” I say with a sarcastic edge to my voice, “join us.”
After seating herself on the blanket and arranging her skirts just so, Eliza touches Penelope’s arm. “Penelope, dear, how do you like your room? I was amazed by how tasteful and elegant mine is.”
Penelope sneaks a glance at me, as if unsure what to make of Eliza’s question. I watch Eliza with tension in my neck and shoulders. “Aside from sharing it with Mama, it’s very comfortable.”
“Oh, I see. So you’re sharing with your mother. Lord Thornewood was kind enough to arrange for Amelia and me to have a room together.” She taps a nail against her chin. “But what’s so interesting is Katherine was given her own room.” She trills a fake laugh. “What could that mean, Penelope? What secret plans must Lord Thornewood have?”
Penelope flounders for words. A cold feeling churns inside me. Even Amelia shifts positions, as if uncomfortable.
“I’m sure he didn’t give much thought to it,” I say.
Eliza tilts her head. “No? I wonder, though. I wonder about a lot of things, really. That reminds me, dear Katherine. Have you heard any news from Gloucestershire?”
I stiffen and try not to answer her defensively. It’s clear she’s baiting me, and though I have proof Lord Blackburn is a member of the Order, I still have no reason to think Eliza is anything more than a gossipmonger. “Not
lately, no,” I say.
The sound of the cricket bat connecting with another ball causes us all to look up, and Eliza erupts in loud applause for Lord Thornewood. Though I haven’t been watching with rapt attention, I can tell he’s been doing rather well—especially since his brother has been wearing nothing but a glower on his face for the past ten minutes. I’m simply happy it served the purpose in distracting Eliza from her current game of torture.
Lord Thornewood turns, his eyes searching for a moment. When they land on me, he smiles widely.
“I know there’s something odd about you,” Eliza says, her voice low and much too close to my ear, “and I mean to find what it is. No rebellious country mouse could secure the interest from such a gentleman, of that I’m sure.” Louder she says to Amelia, “Lord Thornewood and Lord James must feel neglected without us to watch and cheer them on. Shall we join them?”
Amelia nods eagerly. “Yes, let’s.”
Eliza and Amelia move closer to the field, and I am left with a cold feeling of doubt. What if Eliza were to make good on her promise?
“What did she say to you?” Penelope asks, the bridge of her nose wrinkled with concern.
“Oh, you know,” I say lightly, “the usual thinly veiled threats.”
She laughs. “Jealousy is such an ugly thing.”
I agree with her there. Unfortunately, jealousy is also a destructive force when wielded by someone like Eliza. It would be different if I had nothing to hide.
It occurs to me I haven’t seen Lucy for quite some time. I spot her still in Grandmama’s clutches and wave her over. She shoots me a grateful look.
“I couldn’t get away,” she says. She folds her legs beneath her and joins us on the blanket. “She wouldn’t stop complaining of the breeze, or of the sunshine, or of the lack of tables suitable for card games.”
Penelope sighs. “I know how you feel. Mama probably isn’t helping matters. At least you didn’t have to endure Eliza’s uncomfortable interrogations.”
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