Leave it to Wynter to burst into his home and keep him from his task while demanding an explanation at the same time. Wynter’s scowl had grown more fierce as Radford explained his situation. He made light of the confusing feelings he felt toward May and protected her reputation by not mentioning the money Mr. Tumblestone had been promised for taking her to wife.
“Miss Sheffers is an honest woman. I would be proud to be able to call her a friend,” Radford declared. He tried again to make it to the door, jamming his beaver hat low on his head. He’d wasted too much time in the house already.
Wynter moved swiftly to block his escape. “Are you being purposefully obtuse? Of course I believe there are instances where a man and a woman can develop a friendship akin to a man’s bond with his peers. All I am saying is that men don’t look at friends the way you look at her. You are besotted. You love Miss Sheffers and yet are on the verge of proposing marriage to a lady you can barely tolerate. As your closest friend, I have to ask: Have you lost your bloody mind?”
Chapter 15
May clasped her hands together to keep them from visibly trembling. What she planned to do went against every one of Mary Wollstonecraft’s feminist teachings. An independent woman would never give up her freedom this way. She would have fought a better battle.
If only Aunt Winnie’s health wasn’t a concern . . .
Too late to back down now. She had set her course, had already sent for Mr. Tumblestone. Portia had already hurried away to answer the door and let the caller in.
May held herself as still as a statue, desperately wanting to appear calm and in control. The burgundy silk gown, neatly pressed, hung nicely on her round frame. It was important to look her best, to present a pretty image to Mr. Tumblestone. He should be happy with her decision and pleased with her manner.
Happiness was too lofty a goal for herself, May conceded. But since marriage seemed unavoidable, she planned to do everything in her power to make the situation as painless as possible.
“We will get along well enough,” she muttered. Her heart raced and her mouth grew dry as she listened as a pair of heavy boots banged against the hardwood flooring.
“The Viscount Evers, miss,” Portia announced.
The viscount? Here?
The housekeeper appeared as surprised as May felt. Radford had no business coming to her home. Not now. Not when she expected Mr. Tumblestone’s arrival at any moment.
“I apologize for arriving unannounced.” He didn’t appear the least bit contrite. The viscount filled the room with his manly presence until May felt as if she had to struggle for a breath. His eyes met her skittish gaze. He smiled. It was a predatory expression that sent her heart pattering anew.
“I am expecting Mr. Tumblestone, my lord.” She had meant to sound frosty. Her breathlessness let a note of despair slip under her words.
“Indeed.” He raised an eyebrow. “In that case, it appears I have arrived just in time. That dress complements your figure. You look truly lovely, Miss Sheffers. I suppose the extra effort you have taken with your looks is for your elderly goat?”
“How dare you.” His words had struck like a dagger to her heart. “You have no right to judge me, my clothing, or my choice of husband. I did not ask for nor do I wish to know your thoughts on the matter. My life is my life. You hold no power over me.” She drew up her arm and pointed toward the door. A long, slender finger, one like Lady Lillian’s, would have painted a much more convincing picture. “Get out.”
Radford kept his feet planted in a wide stance on the worn Oriental rug. “You will hear me out first.”
“I will hear—? Oh, no. If you won’t leave, I will.” May started for the door.
Radford caught her in his arms and hauled her up against his chest. “You will listen.”
“If you don’t unhand me this instant, I will scream.”
His grasp only tightened in response to the threat. He pulled her up until she was straining on the tips of her toes. And his mouth closed over hers.
At his prodding, her lips parted and granted his questing tongue free access to tease the soft interior of her lips. May turned limp under his sweet assault. The press of his chest against hers, the sharp hold of his hands heating her arms even through the fabric of her gown, and the gentle touch of his lips on hers all overwhelmed.
Her dreams and secret prayers were being answered. He wanted her. He’d come—just in time—to declare his undying passions.
Oh la, for just this moment, she allowed herself to believe in the magic of fairy tales and in that elusive happily-ever-after.
“Oh May,” he whispered on a heady breath when he peeled away from her. His rough fingers caressed her cheek. These weren’t the hands of an idle gentleman. The coarse calluses only made her love him more. “My dear, stubborn May.”
He tilted her chin up and turned her head until she was gazing straight into his warm gaze. “What you do to me . . . you can’t imagine . . . ”
His heart thundered under May’s hand. She drew her palm away from his chest and stepped back. “Why have you come here?” she asked, hoping beyond hope he would declare his love.
Radford blinked several times and cleared his throat. He jammed him hand in his pocket and drew out a shiny porcelain figurine. May recognized it right away as the one she’d admired at the fair.
“For you.” He placed it in her hand and curled her fingers around the cool, smooth statuette. “A token of our friendship.”
Friendship?
May didn’t know what to think. She stared blankly at the laughing woodland fairy-child he’d given her.
He came to offer friendship? That kiss had heated parts of her and left her longing for more. Certainly there was more than just friendship in the way he’d touched her.
Of course he couldn’t offer her anything else.
May raised her chin and swallowed her feelings. The circumstances of her birth made her ineligible to marry someone as respected and sought after as Radford.
A single tear splashed on the fairy’s joyous expression. “Thank you, my lord. I will cherish it forever.”
Worry creased Radford’s brows. He captured May’s wrist and closed his hand over her fist and the figurine. “Well hell. You seem less than pleased . . . and it is not at all proper for you to be alone with me here in this room.”
Keeping a sharp hold on her, he led the way from the parlor and out the front door, his cane clacking on the hardwood flooring. The bright sun streaming down into the small yard burned May’s tear-stained eyes. She rubbed them with the back of her gloved hand.
“Please unhand me,” she said as he led her through the yard and toward the street. “Where are you taking me? Unhand me. I expect Mr. Tumblestone to arrive in any minute.”
What a disaster she would have on her hands if Tumblestone were to see her alone with Radford. In addition to a broken heart, she would lose the only offer of marriage given to her. What a disaster!
She twisted free of his grasp and set her fists on her hips. “I am not your puppet. Tell me what this is about or leave. Either way, I don’t care.”
Radford raised a single brow. “You don’t care?” He dragged a finger over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.
May bit the inside of her mouth and prayed for strength. She would not let him see any more of the exciting and painful emotions swirling in her stomach. He didn’t have a right to know how her heart pained for him.
Her silence appeared to frustrate him. Radford bit off a muttered oath and drew a deep breath. “I came to warn you and seem to be doing a poor job of it,” he said, dropping his cane. He clasped his hands behind his back and strode a crooked gait a few steps toward the neighboring field. Tall grasses waved at them. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?” Since he wasn’t going to declare his undying love or beg for her hand in marriage—that much was certain—May was wary of what Radford wished to tell her. “I will not agree to be your mistress
, my lord. I have too much self respect to become a kept woman.”
“Good Lord, no.” He kept his back to her. “I have too much respect for you to suggest such a thing. Oh, damn . . . this is a deuced difficult thing to say.”
He turned around then. The hard planes of his aristocratic features made May’s breath catch in her throat.
“You can’t marry that old goat.” The words tumbled out of his mouth. “Your uncle is paying him a small fortune to offer marriage to you. Do you understand me? He is being paid to take you away from your aunt.”
“What an ugly thing to say,” May hissed. Only a monster would think to stomp on her shattered heart.
No malice, only candid concern haunted his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Miss Sheffers. But it is the truth. Your uncle has a very good reason to want Lady Winifred back under his control. You stand in his way. Hence, the marriage proposal.”
“You lie.” May backed up a step. She didn’t want to hear this. To believe him would be too painful. “You claimed to be my friend. Why hurt me so?”
Radford approached, holding his arms out to her. “I am your friend. My only wish is to protect you from your uncle. Mr. Tumblestone just wants the small fortune he’s been promised . . . not you.”
“No,” May whispered as if denial could drive his words away. The thunder of hooves drowned out the nervous pattering of her heart. May’s gaze flicked over her shoulder. Uncle Sires’ crested carriage was rolling up to the cottage. The note she’d sent had promised Tumblestone a pleasant reply to his marriage proposal.
But what if Radford were telling the truth?
“No.” She returned her teary-blurred gaze to Radford’s pleading expression and shook her head from side to side, uncertain what to do—uncertain what to think, even.
She needed time.
Gathering her skirt up into one hand, May ran as fast as her short legs could carry her into the tall grasses.
* * * *
Nothing was ever solved by running away. May should have stayed and demanded the truth from her uncle. She should have stood her ground with Radford and demanded he explain why he had kissed her with such naked passion.
Running away was the coward’s choice, and she never considered herself a coward.
Not caring about grass stains or dirt or messing the careful arrangement of her hair, she dropped on her back in the middle of the field and sprawled out on the cool ground. She stared up at the puffy clouds floating above in the deep blue sky. After a time she closed her eyes and just breathed the warm country air.
A lifetime of days in London had robbed her of such simple pleasures. She found herself enjoying the feel of the earth underneath her back and the rich, musty smell of a fertile soil. She’d grown tired of the endless balls, routs, and teas where she was largely overlooked. The bustle and excitement of a crowded city only offered disappointed dreams.
She was ready for a change.
Marriage to the tall, plump Mr. Tumblestone offered her that change. He lived a quiet, bucolic life. Even if Radford were telling the truth and he only wanted her for the money her uncle had to offer, the offer of marriage still hadn’t changed . . . nor had her feelings toward Tumblestone been altered. He was a kindly old man who offered her nothing but a stable future.
There could be no harm in accepting his suit, could there?
If only she knew what Radford had meant by saying that Uncle Sires was trying to get Aunt Winnie under his control. He wanted to provide better medical care—that much was clear. Could there be another reason for her uncle’s sudden interest in their lives?
What about her parents?
They were not dead. May could feel the truth of it deep in her soul. They might be lost . . . but they were far from dead.
Why was her uncle so adamant about declaring dead the two people he’d once wished completely out of his sight? Why dredge up a connection he so dearly wanted to ignore?
So many questions . . .
Damn Radford all the way to the tips of his adorably arched eyebrows. He’d brought those questions to light. And worse, for a fleeting moment he’d made her feel loved. And that was what she desired most . . . to simply be loved.
Her birth and her unconventional manner frightened respectable gentlemen away. She had accepted her empty heart, had told herself that her aunt’s affection was enough, but it wasn’t.
May felt paralyzed by grief. She needed help—needed someone with whom to discuss those unanswerable questions.
A hot wind blew in her face, tickling her nose. The crunch of nearby grasses warned her she was no longer alone. The skin on her back prickled as she realized someone was silently watching her.
How dare an interloper sneak up without a word of warning! A flood of harsh words filled her troubled mind. They would have spewed past her lips if she hadn’t realized what a shocking picture she must have made lying flat on her back with her legs and arms sprawled out at the most absurd angles.
Gracious, whoever was watching her must think her mad.
With no hope to preserve her dignity, May pried her eyes open. A great brown nose attached to a strange, long face slowly came into focus. It snorted, spraying her with its hot breath.
May bolted up. A scream strangled in her throat.
Chapter 16
“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”
Lyles, Radford’s stable manager, wrung his cap in his grubby hands and danced from foot to foot, apparently at a loss for intelligible words. The man’s strange behavior did nothing to sooth Radford’s already foul temper.
The simple task of warning May had turned into a complete disaster. The memory of her running away with fresh tears filling her eyes tore at his heart. He’d charged after her, of course. But his leg had collapsed under the strain. After taking a hard tumble to the ground, he’d conceded defeat.
Instead of befriending her, he had kissed her. He was naught but a blasted fool . . . a blasted, besotted fool.
Wynter had been right, again.
His knuckles ached for the chance to beat his friend’s smug face into the ground. And since Wynter was nowhere to be found, Lyles unfortunately became only too convenient a target. He took a broad step toward the quivering man.
“Speak up. What do you mean she’s gone?”
“She-she must have jumped the fence, m’lord. I’ve searched the countryside for her. She’s nowhere to be found.”
Just like Wynter.
“Blast it, what am I paying you for? I thought you understood her importance. You were supposed to watch her. You were supposed to guard her.” He slammed his fist into his open palm. Years of hard work and dreaming were slipping away. His life, his wants and desires were harder to hold on to than the fairy-footed maiden, May Sheffers. “Someone must have taken her, damn it.”
Lyles paled considerably. “I took great care, m’lord. No one went near her. I swear it, no one.”
* * * *
May scrambled up into an awkward sitting position. Her breath hitched in her throat. Those shiny hooves, just inches from her chest, looked so large. One wrong move could startle the curious beast and her powerful legs. Even if the animal meant her no harm, May could be crushed under its weight just the same.
“That’s a gentle Princess.” May forced the whisper past the lump of fear lodged in her throat. “You don’t want to hurt me. You must have come looking for your Lord Evers.” She could only imagine Radford’s worry. This young filly had given him nothing but trouble and yet May had clearly recognized the dreamy gleam in his eyes when he gazed on his beautiful beast.
Princess tossed her head and snorted. Heaven’s above, she’s going to kill me! May’s heart skittered to a stop as her gaze latched onto those hooves again.
Fate sure had a knack for painful irony. She’d stumbled into love only to have another offer her marriage—only to have the man she loved crush her heart. And now his horse was poised to finish her off.
In her grief May might have lain down and given
Princess free rein to stomp her to bits. Yet concern for Aunt Winnie wouldn’t allow her to simply give up. She had to fight and be strong despite the hollow pains piercing her heart. Despite all that was rational, Aunt Winnie resisted Uncle Sires’ offer to let him take care of her. May needed to find out why.
Was Radford telling the truth or just trying to hurt her?
“Please, Princess,” May said, feeling a shade braver. She gently nudged the velvety nose that continued to hover all too close to her head. “Please, don’t be startled and stamp me into the ground when I try and stand.”
It took all her daring to get out from under the horse—most dredged from long ago feelings tucked away after scores of sleepless nights, worrying why her parents didn’t love her enough to return to their only child. May drew a deep breath and slowly rose to her feet.
She brushed off her gown. It was ruined. The burgundy silk was smudged with grass stains and dirt. Portia would scold and work for hours trying to salvage the material. But like May’s, the gown’s future looked grim.
Princess nudged May’s shoulder, reminding her that she still wasn’t out of danger. Unlike the other day, there were no leading reins hanging from Princess’ halter. More to the point, the beast wasn’t wearing a halter.
She was as wild and free as the summer wind.
May backed away from the horse, hoping to increase the distance between them and eventually escape. For each step May took, Princess took an equally measured stride. After several minutes of stepping in one direction and then another only to find herself leading Princess in a stiff dance, May gave up all hope for it.
The horse was lost and looking for a friendly face. Who was May to deny the poor thing?
“You might as well follow along,” she said. Through the fields, across a delicately arched bridge, and up the gentle Sion Hill lay Longbranch House, Radford’s home. Leading his prize filly home was the only honorable thing to do.
The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection Page 14