by Darcy Burke
Fox turned to Audrey. “Locke tells me that you and he are going to America.”
Miranda gasped. “America? Why?”
Fox laughed. “Pardon my wife. She once held Wootton Bassett in the same esteem.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “At least it’s still England. And I came around. I can’t imagine living anywhere else now.”
“I imagine you’d do the same in America if we went together. After all, it’s not where you live, but who you’re with that really matters.”
Miranda’s eyes locked with her husband’s and her lips curved into a beatific smile. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Neither could Audrey. Which was why she was willing to go to America with Ethan. Had he really told Fox that, and had he meant it? She slid him a glance. He was eating a chicken leg, seemingly oblivious to the topic. But she knew him better than that. He paid attention to everything.
Miranda turned to look at Audrey. “What will your family think of that?”
Audrey lifted a shoulder. “They’ll have to grow accustomed to it.”
Miranda exhaled. “They will. My parents did.” She flashed Fox a commiserative grin. “Although, you needn’t go all the way to America to avoid your family. Wootton Bassett is far enough removed that I needn’t tolerate my parents and they needn’t suffer me or Fox. It’s a splendid arrangement.”
“I suppose we could stay in England,” Audrey said. Except they weren’t even actually eloping. She was all but certain he was preparing to abandon her here. Why then had he told Fox they were going to America? It must be part of some ruse—hopefully he planned to clue her in. She glanced at Ethan, but he was watching the children who were rolling down the hill.
“I hope you’ll consider it.” Miranda’s eyes widened and she leaned toward Audrey and touched her arm. “You could even settle here. We’d love to find someone to help us with the orphanage. It just keeps growing and there’s so much to do. What do you think, Mr. Locke?”
Ethan’s focus was still on the children. “I haven’t done that—rolling down hills—in ages.”
Audrey stifled a smile at Ethan’s complete—and typical—lack of response to Miranda’s inquiries. Normally, Audrey found this behavior infuriating, but in this instance it was surprisingly endearing. Maybe because she suddenly wanted to roll down the hill. With him.
“Then, we’ll have to partake.” Fox stood up and held his hand for Miranda. “Come, dear wife.”
Miranda took his hand and got to her feet.
“Since I’m wearing a borrowed costume, I feel as though I must ask if I may join in,” Ethan said, standing.
As fun as it looked, Audrey didn’t think it would be good for Ethan’s arm. At all. “My dress is also borrowed. I’d feel terrible if we ruined the clothing.” She tried to send Ethan a pleading glance to silently tell him to sit back down.
Fox shook his head. “It’s no bother. And consider them yours. We won’t send you on your way without provisions.” His eyes hooded for a moment. “Nor will we ask why you didn’t have any to begin with.”
But it had been noted. Audrey stood up in an effort to battle the sudden uneasiness she felt.
Miranda pretended to scowl at him. “Fox, be nice. It’s not as if we haven’t ignored propriety.”
Fox pointed his finger at her. “You ignored propriety. I tried very hard to court you properly.”
“Fine.” She lifted her chin and gave him a haughty look. “Either way, be nice and mind your own business.”
He held his hands up in defeat, then swatted her backside as they turned toward the hill. Miranda threw her husband a flirty, provocative glance. Audrey snuck a look at Ethan to see what he thought of their romantic play, but he was busy brushing a speck of something from his sleeve.
He looked up and registered her, arching his brow in silent question.
“What about your arm? You really oughtn’t roll down that hill.”
“What am I to say?” He touched the small of her back again and urged her to follow Fox and Miranda.
“Just tell them you fell off your horse or something.”
He chuckled. “No. My riding skills are poor enough without adding that lie.”
“You like lying.” At his dark look, she added, “ You at least like avoiding the truth.” And he was rather good at it.
He peered sideways at her. “Maybe I just want to roll down a hill with you.”
“Hurry up!” Miranda called from the top of the hill.
They hastened their pace and joined Fox, Miranda, and the boy who was leading the activity.
“Philip,” Fox said, “we need an adults-only race.”
Philip, a boy of maybe thirteen or so, grinned. “You heard Fox,” he shouted to the children. “Move aside so our elders can have a go.”
Fox cringed at the word elders, but only shook his head with a small smile. “How does this work? First one to the bottom wins what?”
“First pick of Mrs. Gates’s cakes this afternoon at tea,” Philip said.
Fox tapped his finger against his mouth. “That won’t work for us as we likely won’t be attending tea.”
“The winner gets to determine our after-dinner entertainment this evening,” Miranda said with a mischievous glint to her eye.
Fox leaned toward Audrey and Ethan. “We can’t let her win, else we’ll be subjected to charades or some such nonsense.”
Miranda crossed her arms. “You have no idea what I have in mind.”
Audrey had her own ideas about the sort of after-dinner entertainment she might prefer, but none of it included their hosts.
“I’ll take care of winning,” Ethan said with a determined set to his mouth. Audrey had seen him look like that many times before. Miranda didn’t stand a chance.
Philip moved back from the top of the hill. “All right then, assume your positions. Just lie down on your side facing the slope.”
The children gathered around Philip, their faces eager. Some moved to stand near Fox at the end, clearly interested in how he would fare.
Audrey lay down on the grass on her side. Then she turned her head to see Philip.
“Ready? Roll!” Philip brought his arm down.
Audrey pushed herself and rolled a few feet before stopping. The slope wasn’t that steep at first, so they had to work to keep rolling. She propelled herself forward and tumbled a few more feet, laughing as the shouts and cheers of the children spurred her onward. She held her arms close to her sides and threw herself down the hill. The ground fell away as she hit a steeper section and her rotation picked up speed. Her equilibrium went completely sideways as she rolled faster and faster. She closed her eyes to keep the swirling images of ground and sky at bay. Then she landed against something firm, yet very warm.
She opened her eyes and found herself staring into clear gray. In rather close proximity. So close, she could feel his heat.
And see the tight set of his features.
Alarm washed through her. “Are you all right?” She hoped he hadn’t ripped out his stitches.
“I think so.” His voice was tight, thin. “That was, however, ill-advised. I should probably listen to you in the future.”
Audrey would remind him that he said that. “Yes, you should. Although, I must commend you on refraining from cursing.”
This elicited a laugh of such warmth from him that Audrey couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“Believe me,” he said, “it took a great deal of effort.”
“Did you do that for me or for the children?”
His gaze was steady, direct. Soul-stirring. “The children can’t hear me.”
For her, then. She nearly forgot they were in the middle of broad daylight in sight of dozens of people and leaned forward to kiss him.
He shook his head and pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Not here,” he murmured.
“Not here” perhaps meant someplace else. She could hardly wait.
With a grimace, Ethan got to
his feet. Audrey scrambled up. Fox and Miranda were twenty or so feet away, laughing. The children were chanting, “Fox won! Fox won!”
“Damn shoulder,” Ethan said. “I should’ve won.”
Audrey wished she could check his wounds. She hoped he hadn’t disturbed the sutures. They weren’t due to come out for several more days. “You’re swearing again.”
He shot her an apologetic glance. It was a first, and caught her off guard. But she recovered quickly in order to take advantage. “Why did you tell them we were going to America? You’re not really planning on doing that are you?”
His answer came swiftly. “No. They’re coming,” he whispered. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and drew her close. “Well rolled, Fox.”
Audrey leaned into Ethan. Though she knew there was no future for them, she gave herself up to the ruse. For today she would pretend to be Ethan’s fiancée. And she would cherish every moment of it. Tomorrow—forever—would come soon enough.
Chapter Nine
AS THE WINNER of the rolling contest, Fox had chosen dancing as their after-dinner entertainment. To have an adequate number for dancing, Miranda had invited two other couples. The Knotts, Rob who was Fox’s steward and his wife Felicity, were longtime friends of Fox’s. Beatrice Stratham was Miranda’s distant cousin—her parents had taken Miranda in after she’d been exiled from London. Beatrice’s husband, Donovan, was a former MP who’d lost his seat after admitting to accepting bribes. Miranda had told Audrey that Fox had been instrumental in exposing Stratham, which, understandably, made for a strained relationship between the two men. However, since their wives had become close, they suffered each other’s company when required.
Ethan escorted Audrey from the dining room. “What sort of dancing will there be?” he whispered near her ear.
She leaned toward him. “A lot of the kind I believe you termed ‘silly.’” That had been during their first waltzing lesson.
“I haven’t the slightest idea how to do anything but waltz.”
She patted his arm as they entered the drawing room. “You caught on to waltzing fairly easily. I’m sure you’ll do the same with country dancing. I’ll make sure Miranda and Fox call the first dance and we’ll go last. That way you can see how it’s done.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “I’ll just nod and pretend I understand what you’re saying.”
Audrey smiled at him and laughed softly. “You can pretend you know how to dance as well as I pretended to be drunk when we borrowed that cabriolet. You’ll be as fine as you look.” She dipped her head to hide the blush that stole up her cheeks. She couldn’t help herself; he did look fine. He’d been outfitted in a splendid costume that fit him well enough for her to wonder if someone had made alterations to his clothing as Felicity Knott had done to Audrey’s gown. She’d added a flounce to the hem of one of Miranda’s old dresses so that it now suited Audrey’s height.
“Thank you,” he said, addressing her embarrassing comment. “However, I’m certain I pale in comparison to your brilliance this evening.”
Now her blush was for an altogether different reason. Thankfully they were summoned for the dance. She gave him an encouraging look and led him to the makeshift dance floor.
Over the next half hour, Ethan made an extraordinary effort to keep up. If anyone noticed he’d never performed a country dance in his life, they didn’t say so.
Stratham, a somewhat short—shorter than Audrey anyway—but attractive fellow smoothed back his dark hair. “I say, Locke, been awhile since you danced?”
Or at least, they hadn’t.
Ethan shot the former MP a scalding look, but quickly masked it. Not that Stratham would have noticed. He spent most of his time fawning over his wife, who was expecting their first child.
A small array of refreshments had been laid out, and the gentlemen now took an opportunity to enjoy a glass of spirits. Beatrice and Felicity were discussing her impending motherhood while Miranda came to Audrey with a slight grimace. “I have to beg your pardon for Stratham. He can be a bit of a blurter.”
Audrey nodded understandingly. “It’s all right. Ethan doesn’t dance very much, and when he does, it’s typically a waltz. Like the other night at the assembly.”
Miranda flashed a smile. “Is that what you were doing?”
Audrey’s face heated, much to her chagrin, but she was a hopeless cause when it came to subduing her self-awareness.
“I must beg your pardon,” Miranda said, touching Audrey’s arm, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“It’s all right. I’ve a terrible habit of blushing. All the time. It’s a nuisance.” She’d almost said “bloody nuisance,” speaking of terrible habits. Ethan was apparently leaving his impression.
“How long do you think you and Mr. Locke will stay before you continue on to America?” Miranda wrinkled her nose. “My apologies, but it’s just so far away. Like I said this afternoon, I just don’t see why you need to go that far. Why not go to Gretna Green and then come back to England?” She cocked her head to the side and smiled softly. “You could come back here, in fact.”
“What do you mean?”
“Fox was telling me about Mr. Locke’s interest in the orphanage. He seems like a man looking for his place in the world. And we really would love to find some people—the right people—to help us enlarge the facilities at Stipple’s End. Imagine being able to help even more children.”
Ethan was interested in the orphanage? Audrey was surprised by this. More than surprised. She was intrigued. “You’d let us come to stay? To live?”
Miranda patted her arm. “It’s something to think about.” She looked over at Felicity and Beatrice, who were coming toward them.
Audrey forced a smile as she tried to push the conversation to the back of her mind. It was difficult—Miranda had given her more than something to think about: She’d given them another option.
However, it included one crucial aspect she and Ethan had never discussed, and one she wasn’t even sure either of them wanted: marriage. She liked Ethan and was attracted to him, but there were so many things she didn’t know about him. Put that with the things she did know, and she had to admit a future with him seemed unlikely, no matter how wonderful he made her feel.
She just had to convince him to stay. Perhaps time would make things clearer?
LATER THAT NIGHT, Ethan eased out of his shirt. Undressing had been easier with Audrey to help him. He could’ve accepted the offer of a valet from Fox, but had declined. He’d tried using one when he’d entered Society several weeks ago, but it was an unusual thing to become accustomed to, and the notion just hadn’t stuck. Perhaps that was because the man Ethan had employed was a criminal like him. He hadn’t wanted to invite an unknown into his inner circle. It seemed he couldn’t even trust someone to take care of his clothing.
Furthermore, a valet provided by Fox would’ve seen his wounds, and Ethan didn’t need to explain stitches to a retainer who would blather it to all and sundry. He knew servants, and they were a gossipy lot.
He had, however, asked for a basin of hot water so he could bathe. Barefooted, he padded to the glass in the corner to scrutinize his wound. It had bled a bit, leaving a small, dark stain on the bandage, but it thankfully hadn’t seeped through to his shirt.
After unwrapping the bandage and dropping it to the floor, he prodded at the flesh. It didn’t look angry and it was feeling better, though the hill-rolling had been agony. He’d been cursing his foolishness all afternoon, through dinner, and throughout their post-dinner entertainment.
Ethan didn’t remember when he’d had such a wonderful time. He hadn’t thought of Gin Jimmy or Bow Street or his brother or anything but keeping up with Audrey and learning several new dances—country dances, which he’d never imagined he’d enjoy and which he’d never remember on the morrow. Though he might not recall the steps, he’d remember the evening forever.
Damn, it had felt good to be normal, if only for a d
ay. He was sorely tempted to stay another day, but he worried it would turn into another and another. Still, would that be so terrible?
Miranda’s invitation for them to remain and help with the orphanage, though likely spoken in fun, actually held appeal. He’d never imagined he could be happy anywhere but London, but seeing the difference Fox made to so many young people gave him pause. When he thought of the boys he could help—boys from London that he could bring here and educate . . . They’d be safe from London’s crime and grit, from the temptations that would inevitably lure them to a life of bitterness and regret.
A life like Ethan’s.
A gentle click had him reaching for the knife in his boot, but he wasn’t wearing anything on his feet. He turned from the glass and instantly relaxed at the sight of Audrey creeping into his room.
He hurried to the door and closed it swiftly, leaning against the wood and peering at her, garbed in a dressing gown wrapped tightly about her middle. The gown barely reached her ankles, giving him the opportunity to appreciate her naked feet. Pity there wasn’t more of her to see.
She immediately fixed her gaze on his arm. “I came to see to your injuries.” She took his hand and dragged him to the fireplace where a fire burned brightly. The day had been warm, but the night had turned quite cold.
Ethan allowed himself—happily—to be managed by her. Perhaps his perfect day wasn’t over after all.
She looked at his knife wound and frowned. “There’s dried blood.”
“Hardly any. I’m fine.”
With a mild scowl, she went to the basin with its now-tepid water and dabbed a cloth into it. She returned to him and cleaned around the stitches as best she could. “Does that hurt?”
“No,” he lied. It actually hurt a little, but it was nothing compared to the pleasure elicited by her fingers stroking his skin.
“Where’s the poultice?”
“The drawer in that table next to the bed.”
She fetched the ointment and spread it on his wound. She drew a length of cotton from the pocket of her gown. “I brought you a new bandage.” She wrapped it around his arm and secured the ends. “There. No more rolling down hills.” She gave him a sincere, but captivating stare.