Had he accepted that she was now Farthingham’s? Or would he continue his attempt at seduction here? To lure her away from the man she wanted to marry with promises of passion she had no wish to accept?
Even as she stood there, her body grew hot, her head light with dizziness. How could he hold such power over her when he wasn’t even in the room? She wondered in which room Farthingham would sleep, if the gentlemen would even be in this wing of the house.
Probably not. Proper behavior dictated that the men be placed elsewhere, not within easy reach of ladies who were not properly chaperoned. She thought of Freddie’s comment in the entryway. She wondered if he was going to America with the hopes that success might give him more to offer Lady Priscilla. Although truthfully, she thought the girl was a little too flighty for a man who possessed the tragic thoughts that were so characteristic of his plays.
Her gaze returned to the letter. Although she’d not looked at it, she knew, without any doubt that it came from Weddington. As did the yellow rose.
She cursed him as her curiosity got the better of her. She crossed back to the table, snatched up his letter, and unfolded it.
My dear Miss Robertson,
Regrettably I cannot be in attendance to welcome you the moment you arrive, but all members of my staff have been informed that your slightest wish is my command, to be followed without hesitation or question.
Until I return this evening, it is my fervent hope that you will enjoy the hospitality of Drummond Manor.
Yours most devotedly,
The Duke of Weddington
She walked back to the window, suddenly feeling restless and caged in by the extension of his hospitality. Why did he have to do little things that made her feel special, and why did she not trust a single one of them?
As his guest, she would behave pleasantly and with the appropriate decorum. She wouldn’t allow him to unsettle her.
Still, she needed to get out. Lady Anne had mentioned that the stables were available. As soon as the servants brought up her luggage, she’d send for a maid and get help changing into her riding habit. She thought a jaunt across the moors was exactly what she needed.
Richard spotted her the moment he cleared the rise. Dressed in emerald green, she was the fairest creature he’d ever set eyes on. Although he’d never before seen her on a horse, he’d known she’d sit one perfectly. He wasn’t surprised that it seemed she was riding alone. His little independent Texan didn’t seem to understand the concept of a chaperone, giving him ample opportunity to take advantage.
Where she was concerned he was invariably weak in his restraint. He urged his own horse forward, galloping over the land until he caught up to her. She seemed neither surprised nor flattered by his appearance, simply resolved to accepting his presence.
“Where are the others?” he asked without preamble.
“When I left the house, Lady Anne was having tea, Lady Priscilla was napping, and the gentlemen were nowhere to be found. Lady Anne speculated that they were out exploring caves.”
“No doubt she’s correct in her assumption. Farthingham has always hoped to find buried treasure left unattended by smugglers.”
“Would your ancestors have happened to have been those smugglers?”
He laughed deeply. “Legend would have one believe that is the case.”
“I always thought you looked like a pirate.”
“I’m flattered that you gave any thought at all to how I looked.”
“It won’t work, you know.”
“What won’t work?”
“Bringing me here, reminding me of those mornings by the shore. My heart belongs to Farthingham. I’ve consented to marry him. We’ve made our announcement. You’re too late, Your Grace.”
“You’re quite certain of that?”
“Absolutely.”
“I shall keep your certainty in mind. However, if you will recall, it was Anne’s suggestion that you all come here, not mine. Did she give you a tour of our home?”
“Yes. It’s lovely.”
“I can take no credit for it except to say that I chose my ancestors wisely.”
She smiled. “I didn’t know one could choose one’s ancestors.”
“A bit of attempted humor on my part. Farthingham claims you dislike me because I am not jolly.”
“I don’t dislike—”
She stopped abruptly, and Richard arched a brow. “Don’t you? I was given to understand that you do dislike me.”
“Not you personally. I’m simply not comfortable with certain aspects of your…your behavior.”
“And if I could make you comfortable with them?”
“You can’t! So cease and desist. Let me go. Let me find my happiness with Farthingham.”
“I would if I were convinced that you would indeed be happy with him.”
“I fail to understand why you believe that my happiness is any of your concern.”
It was impossible to explain without appearing to be a fool. He wasn’t even certain that he could put a name to his feelings.
“You have spoken before about how I touch you—not in the physical sense, but in other ways, in a manner that is beyond the flesh.”
“Your Grace—”
“Allow me to finish. From that first dawn when I spotted you near the rocks, I have a felt a bond that I cannot explain.”
“Lust.”
“No.” He shook his head in frustration. “I did not have a clear vision of you that morning, and I am not the type of man who desires every female he lays eyes on. I was drawn to you. Perhaps it was your boldness in watching me.”
Her cheeks blushed pink, and she looked away.
He cursed his awkward tongue. “I apologize. I did not mean to embarrass you. I don’t understand this attraction any more than you do. I only know that it grows each time I am with you.”
She turned back to him, sadness in her eyes. “It must cease to grow, Your Grace, because I am soon to marry.”
“You’ve closed your mind and your heart to the possibility of anything existing between us?”
“I have. I belong with Lord Farthingham.”
“Very well. Then I wish you the very best.” Although even he had to admit that his sentiments sounded surly, like a child telling another that he doesn’t want something simply because he knows he has no hope of ever attaining it.
“It’ll be dark soon. We should head back to the stables,” he said.
She nodded, before sliding her gaze over to him slyly. “Why a yellow rose?”
“Pardon?”
She sighed. “The first time you sent me flowers, you sent them in abundance, in all colors, all varieties. Lately, it’s always a yellow rose.”
He grinned. “I’d once heard a song about the yellow rose of Texas. Not a flower, but a woman that a soldier was striving to find. I can’t recall if he found her, but it seemed an appropriate flower to send you.”
She smiled softly. “Thank you. They’re actually my favorite.”
He bowed his head slightly. “You are most welcome.”
It was so seldom that she appreciated anything he did that he embraced her gratitude with open arms.
Kitty heard the light tapping on her door shortly after she’d heard a clock somewhere counting out the hour of midnight. Her first thought was that it was Weddington, come to torment her with caresses and kisses, but then she realized that he wouldn’t have risked knocking and taking a chance on disturbing someone and being caught. She did have to give him credit for the care he took whenever he did approach her with naughty intentions in mind.
“Miss Robertson?” a soft voice called out before another round of tapping on her door commenced.
She slipped out of bed, walked to the door, opened it, and peered out. “Lady Anne?”
Dressed in their nightclothes, Lady Anne and Lady Priscilla nodded eagerly.
“We thought you might like to join us,” Lady Priscilla whispered.
“Join you?”
>
Lady Anne bobbed her head. “We’re going to the bathhouse.”
“This time of night?” Kitty asked, astounded that they’d even consider it.
“Oh, yes, it’s the best time really,” Lady Anne said.
“It’s a ritual that we began when we were younger,” Lady Priscilla explained.
“I’ll change—”
“Oh, no, that’s part of the fun,” Lady Priscilla said. “We’ll simply dash to the bathhouse as we are. But do get a blanket so you can dry off and be warm afterward.”
“Although the wine will warm us as well,” Lady Anne said with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.
It was then that Kitty noticed the bag that Lady Anne was carrying and heard the slight clinking that occurred whenever Lady Anne moved.
“What of the gentlemen?” Kitty asked.
Lady Anne’s eyes widened. “You Americans are exceedingly bold! I’d not thought to invite them.”
“Oh, no,” Kitty hastened to explain. “I didn’t think we should invite them, but what if they see us scurrying about in our nightclothes?”
Lady Priscilla giggled. “Oh, they shan’t. When last we checked, they were still in the billiard room smacking balls around.”
“I daresay they’ll be there all night,” Lady Anne added. “They usually are. They’ll take no notice of us.”
“Hold on, then, and I’ll grab a blanket,” Kitty told them.
“Jolly good,” Lady Priscilla said.
Kitty ducked back into the bedchamber, grabbed a blanket off the bed, and hurried into the dimly lit hallway. Lady Anne and Lady Priscilla were already waiting by the stairs.
“Are you certain we should do this?” Kitty asked.
“Oh, most assuredly we shouldn’t do it,” Lady Anne told her, laughing lightly.
“Which is the very reason that we do,” Lady Priscilla said.
Both ladies hurried down the stairs, their bare feet slapping out a soft cadence. Quickly following after them, Kitty supposed three ladies going to the bathhouse at midnight was really quite innocent. It wasn’t as though they intended to meet any gentlemen there.
Amidst whispers, shh’s, and giggles, they made their way out of the manor. The chilly night air was brisk, and Kitty felt shivers erupt on her skin. With the ground cool beneath her bare soles, she thought they were rather silly not to have put on shoes.
The moon was out and it was a very different sky from what she saw in London. Thinking of Emily, she wondered if her sister was trying to identify the various constellations tonight.
Kitty stubbed her toe, tripped, stumbled, caught herself before she landed flat on her face, and hurried to catch up with her partners in mischief. Quite suddenly the large stone bathhouse loomed before her. She’d noticed the building late in the afternoon when she’d gone to the stables to fetch a horse, but she’d given it little attention, certainly hadn’t realized its purpose.
Dashing up the steps between stone pillars, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne giggled as they went, leaving Kitty to wonder how much wine the young ladies had sipped before deciding to fetch her.
“Come on,” Lady Anne urged in a whisper, shoving on the wooden door. It moaned and squeaked in protest as though its hinges were rusty and seldom used. Once more filled with trepidation, Kitty glanced around, and when she looked back at the entrance, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne had already disappeared inside the building.
Kitty slipped through the opening into a plain entryway. Gaslights flickered, causing shadows to waver over the stone walls, shaped in an oval, flush with the water except for the area where she stood. A wide flight of stone steps led down into the pool, steam hovering over the surface like a misty gray fog.
“The changing room is off to the side there,” Lady Anne whispered, pointing behind Kitty. “But we don’t usually bother with it. We’ll trust you to close your eyes.”
“Why are we whispering?” Kitty asked.
Lady Priscilla giggled. “I don’t know, but we always do.”
Even with the whispering, their voices echoed around the cavernous structure.
Kitty looked toward the pool. “How deep is it?”
“You’ll go under,” Lady Anne said. “It was actually a plunge bath a 150 years ago or so when everyone was convinced freezing cold baths were the way to good health. Insane really to jump in like that. I’m surprised our family line didn’t cease to exist at the time. Anyway, hidden beneath the water is a smooth stone ledge around the side, which is where we sit. The water comes up only to our shoulders.” She glanced around smiling. “Who wants to go first?”
“I will,” Lady Priscilla said.
“Splendid.” Lady Anne put her hands on Kitty’s shoulders and turned her so she no longer faced the water. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“So Prissy can undress without embarrassment.”
“We’re going in nude?”
“Absolutely. But we can be trusted. We don’t look when anyone goes in or out.”
Kitty closed her eyes, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.
She’d gotten herself into heaven, she decided a few minutes later when her turn had come to enter the pool. She sat on the stone ledge, with the warm water enveloping her like a snuggly blanket on a chilly day. “This is absolutely lovely.”
“Isn’t it?” Lady Anne asked. Sitting near the steps, she poured wine into glasses and passed them around before easing toward the side away from the steps.
They formed a triangle in the pool, Kitty at one end, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne on the sides. Kitty sipped the wine, thinking she really didn’t need anything else to relax. Once she moved into Farthingham’s ancestral home, she’d have to see about having a bathhouse built. Although his home did have a bathing room, it didn’t allow for swimming or for more than one person to take advantage of it at the same time as this bathhouse did.
“You said this pool used to be a plunge bath?” Kitty asked. “With cold water?”
“Yes, it was quite popular at the first part of the eighteenth century. Richard paid a fortune to have proper plumbing and hot water piping installed, but it was all well worth it. When his back is troubling him, he’ll spend hours soaking in here.”
Kitty glanced at the stairs, followed the railing up to the door. “Is there any chance he’ll come here tonight?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Lady Anne said.
Sipping more wine, Kitty couldn’t help but wonder if the possibility of him and the other men arriving unexpectedly was the reason behind their whispering and giggling on their journey there. She was certain Lady Priscilla wouldn’t mind if Freddie appeared.
“About his back,” Kitty began. “I know it’s an old injury. How did he hurt it?”
Lady Anne darted a glance at Lady Priscilla, who merely shrugged.
“I suppose there’s no harm in telling her,” Lady Priscilla said.
“I suppose not.” Lady Anne finished off her wine. “You mustn’t ever tell him that I told you. He’s really quite private about it.”
Kitty sat up straighter, the water rippling around her. “I promise. I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”
“It’s not a secret really. It’s simply that he’d prefer to forget everything associated with his injury.” Lady Anne took a deep breath. “It happened when our father died. I was only a child, so I don’t actually remember the particulars except what I’ve been told or overheard when people thought I wasn’t listening. Much whispering was going on immediately afterward and in the years since.”
“How long ago did it happen then?” Kitty asked.
“My goodness, I’ve never been skilled at ciphering, but I know Richard was eighteen. I do remember that. He’s thirty-four now—”
“Sixteen years,” Kitty offered. “That’s a long time to have discomfort.”
“He doesn’t always hurt. Not that he usually tells us when he does, but after a while you begin to notice the signs.”
“Ca
rry on with your tale,” Kitty urged.
“Right. Well, one afternoon he and Father went sailing. They’d had an argument the day before, and from what Mother has told me, they were in the habit of sailing together whenever they fell out of sorts with each other. Apparently working together on the yacht helped to strengthen whatever bonds might have been weakened by their argument. While they were out, a storm came up. I don’t know exactly how it came about, but the crew made it safely to shore in the lifeboat. I can’t imagine how…because the storm sank the yacht. But there you have it. They did. Papa died, and Richard swam to shore dragging Papa along behind him. He refused to leave him to the sea.”
She remembered his telling of the tale. He and the crew had made it to shore. He’d neglected to mention that they’d arrived separately.
“Why weren’t your father and brother in the lifeboat with the crew?” Kitty asked.
“I really don’t know. It seems most odd, but as I said, Richard won’t talk about it. Sometime during the storm—I don’t know if it’s when he was on the yacht or in the water—he somehow twisted his back. From time to time, when he exerts himself too much, it pains him. He doesn’t like to talk about it, and he doesn’t like for people to know. His attitude is silly really, as though he thinks people will hold him responsible because he hurts.”
Kitty leaned back against the slick wall. “That must have been very difficult for him, though, to have lost his father like that.” She remembered his version of the story, the curt, unemotional telling of an event that had such a profound effect on his life.
“Extremely difficult. As I say, I was very young, but I remember he was in bed for the longest time afterward. Seemed like forever to me then. I remember mother fretting so. I would cry at night because I was afraid Richard was going to die, too, like Papa had.”
The sea terrifies me. Kitty remembered Weddington’s confession from their walk in Farthingham’s garden. The first morning that she’d seen him, it wasn’t the sun he’d been standing defiantly against, she realized now, but the sea.
“I’m surprised that he continues to yacht as much as he does,” Lady Priscilla said. “If I ever got caught in a storm, I don’t think I’d ever go out on the water again.”
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