by Cheryl Bolen
Lord Stacks watched her intently, a corner of his mouth lifting into a smile. "I cannot imagine you ever being unkind, Miss Lambeth."
How she wanted to speak of the picnic, but she was too shy. They were soon at the vicarage, and Mrs. Farraday and Catherine squeezed in beside Freddie while the vicar sat next to Lord Stacks.
"How fetching you look, Miss Farraday," Lord Stacks said. His voice lacked sincerity, though the young blonde did look lovely. Freddie noted she wore pink, a color Freddie avoided but which looked good on Catherine.
Freddie wore the cream crepe again. "Your dress is most becoming," Catherine told Freddie with conviction.
"Yes, it is," Mrs. Farraday said. "You must go to York for such fine gowns."
Freddie nodded. "I have been quite pleased with Mrs. Baron. She is the same mantuamaker patronized by the late Lady Stacks."
Mrs. Farraday's gaze locked with her husband's for a few seconds. "Well, well, Stacks," the vicar said, almost in embarrassment, "hopefully we can get up a good game of whist tonight. I daresay you care no more for dancing than I."
"Whist is an excellent idea," his lordship agreed.
Freddie drew in her breath, gathered her courage, then said, "I had hoped for a dance with you, Lord Stacks."
He met her eyes for the first time. "Of course, Miss Lambeth. It will be my pleasure."
She wanted to beg for a waltz, but again her nerve failed her.
***
Since the roads were still mired in mud, the Stacks barouche was late arriving at Landsdowne, and the dancing had already begun. John Rountree had apparently been looking out for the arrivals from Morton while his brother played at host.
John greeted them warmly, throwing a glance over his shoulder at his brother, who was dancing a quadrille. "It seems my brother is the most eligible man in Landsdowne. He has been surrounded by lovely young ladies since we walked in." He nodded to the vicar and to Stacks, then took Catherine's hand and Freddie's and brushed his lips across them before paying homage to their beauty.
"Squire Whitcombe has arrived," he informed them.
"What of Dr. Edgekirth?" Catherine asked.
"I have not seen him," John said.
"No doubt a babe desiring entry into this world could not oblige Dr. Edgekirth's schedule," Freddie quipped.
Catherine looked disappointed.
"Do me the goodness to stand up with me, Miss Lambeth," John said, offering Freddie his hand.
She still got nervous every time she stepped onto a dance floor, afraid her feet would not coordinate with her mind's instructions. Surely all these people here had far more experience dancing than she. But as soon as she took her place in the queue of elegantly clothed and elaborately coifed dancers, the steps came back to her, and she performed them flawlessly. She felt her guardian's eyes on her and looked up once to meet his somber gaze. He stood but a few steps from a bench of large bosomed matrons whose interest in the dancers was strongly rivaled by the hum of their own voices. She quickly looked away from him.
After the first set, Luke Rountree solicited Freddie as his partner. The orchestra struck up a waltz. Freddie was nervous as she fell into Luke's embrace, but she soon relaxed when she realized the trembling Luke was far more nervous than she. "Allow me to remark on your loveliness tonight, Miss Lambeth," he said stiffly. "I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you have honored us with your presence."
"We were honored to be asked, Mr. Rountree."
They were eye to eye, his height no greater than hers, and she could smell his Hungary water and feel his solidness. She sensed that his character was as solid as his powerful chest.
"It is my hope," he said, his voice rocky, "that I may soon be permitted to call you Fredericka."
"I beg that you do not," Freddie said, a little laugh to her voice. A laugh she did not at all feel. The last thing she desired was for another man to be hopelessly in love with her. Which is what she strongly suspected was happening to Luke Rountree. "I forbid anyone to call me such a ridiculous a name."
"Then you actually do not object to being called Freddie?"
"Not by my friends."
"Does your guardian never address you thusly?"
"Never," she said. "He is always rather formal. I perceive it is because he wishes to protect my reputation. What with him being single---"
"And with his wife's--" His hand flew to his mouth. "Forgive me, Miss Lambeth, for mentioning the unmentionable." Luke seemed genuinely embarrassed.
"My guardian is the one from whom you should beg forgiveness," Freddie said dispassionately. "However, I do not at all appreciate you or anyone else doubting my guardian's goodness. I assure you he is the kindest, dearest, most considerate man ever."
"I am sure," he said shyly.
Freddie disliked being held close to Mr. Rountree as strongly as she had disliked being held against the doctor. There was only one man she wanted to hold her.
And he wanted to hold no woman.
***
That wasn't exactly true. Watching Freddie being held in Luke's incipient embrace irked Stacks. Why had he never before noticed that her dress was indecently low? He would have to speak to her. She must not wear the dress again. Especially around the smitten Luke Rountree.
Stacks himself had been increasingly daunted over the powerful emotions that seemed to be overpowering him of late. It surely had been too long since he'd been with a woman. Ten long years. What he needed was a quick romp in the hay. Denise Rountree gave every indication of being a willing participant, but the brunette was not in his style. Her fair sisters were more to his liking. But all the Rountrees were too high of birth for a merely sexual liaison. What he needed was a wench of dubious parentage. A woman to lift her skirts and offer him quick release from these powerful urges which debilitated him, which made him lust after Frederick's child.
The problem was, no other woman aroused him as Freddie did. He turned to his elbow, where the available Denise gazed up at him with searing honey-colored eyes, and he asked her to dance.
He held her as close as the strictures of society would allow. But he felt nothing. Not even a shred of arousal. It was far better this way.
As if from a grotesque nightmare, he remembered the last time he had made love to a woman.
The day he killed Elizabeth with his lust.
After the waltz, he joined the vicar in the card room. Much later, he heard that Edgekirth had arrived. Another man who was totally enamored of Freddie.
Stacks got up to stretch his legs, to go outside to smoke a cigar. And he saw that Freddie now waltzed with the doctor. Edgekirth had on his face a look of contentment mingled with torture. Not like Freddie. She smiled a meaningless smile at the doctor, keeping him at a stiff arm's length. She did not look comfortable at all. Stacks' heart raced when she caught his eye and smiled. He couldn't seem to look away.
And when she finished the dance, she came straight to him.
"You have not obliged me with a single dance tonight, my lord."
"I shall have to rectify my omissions," he said smoothly. He hoped the next dance would not be a waltz. He doubted he could keep lustful thoughts at bay if he held the girl next to him.
The following dance was a quadrille. He led her out and was pleased with the graceful manner in which she executed her steps. In everything, she had been an apt pupil. And for some inexplicable reason he took utter pleasure in her accomplishments.
After the set, he returned to the card room, watching from the corner of his eye as Luke claimed Freddie for a second waltz.
The young curate was obviously smitten.
Chapter 20
"The quadrangle after a good rain is no place for a lady," Stacks informed Freddie the day after the assembly in Landsdowne. They had met in the dining room at the unlikely hour of noon after both of them slept quite late, having arrived home shortly before dawn. Their ride home had been impeded by the muddied roads.
Freddie's hands flew to her hips, and she
cocked her head angrily. "And why, may I ask, am I not permitted in your garden, my lord?"
"Because your skirts will drag in the mud, and your hands will become filthy, with dark brown soil embedding itself under your nails."
"I am not so frail that a little mud would scare me off."
"Ah, but I am your lord and master, and I do not permit you in the garden today."
"Why, pray tell?"
"I have no desire to see mud smeared over your adorable freckles, Miss Lambeth."
She grinned. "A pity, for I would very much like to see you covered in mud from head to toe."
He gulped down his tea. "You shall, my dear Miss Lambeth."
"If it is so very muddy, why do you not wait until the earth dries?"
"Because the absolute best time to extract weeds is when the soil is mushy after a thorough soaking."
She nodded in agreement, then snatched up his newspaper the instant he flung it down.
Eason walked into the dining room, bearing a gentleman's card. "A Mr. Luke Rountree desires a private audience with you, my lord."
Stacks shot Freddie a bemused glance, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then rose. "Show him into my library," he told Eason.
***
Luke was already seated at a large Jacobean chair when Stacks strode into the room. The velvet draperies had been drawn open, and the room was brighter than it had been in days. Stacks sat down on the other side of the imposing desk from Luke and gave the younger man a scrutinizing look.
Of all Freddie's suitors, this man was the closest to her in age, but he did not act particularly young. Perhaps that was because of the sobriety of his chosen profession.
He had a swarthier complexion than any of the Rountree family, but Stacks suspected women would find him attractive. Though not tall, he was of a muscular build and was possessed of a kindly, serious face.
"What can I do for you?" Stacks asked.
"You can give me permission to pay address to your ward."
"You certainly don't mince words."
"No, my lord, I do not. I believe in honesty above all else."
"Then you have chosen a most appropriate profession."
"One wonders if that is putting the cart behind the horse or the horse in front of the cart."
Stacks grinned. "Exactly." He settled back in his chair and folded his hands. "About my ward. . .Are you aware she has no dowry to speak of?"
Luke nodded. "I did not know, nor is it a matter I find important. Were I interested in mere money, I should have answered a different call."
Stacks nodded. "What can you offer my ward that no other man can?"
Luke thought for a moment. "I can offer neither money nor a permanent home. But I can provide her with a heart that's true, with a large family that will embrace her as its own, and I will treat her as if she was descended from King George himself. She will be respected, and her odd ideas nurtured."
Stacks arched a brow. "Odd ideas?"
"You must admit that it is not generally accepted that women carry on the duties of an apothecary."
Stacks nodded. "Have you discussed your feelings toward her with Miss Lambeth?"
A look of outrage swept across the young curate's face. "Of course not! I would never consider addressing her without your consent."
"You're a good man, Rountree. However, I am sorry to say this has been a great waste of your time." He felt uncomfortable looking at Luke's cleric's collar.
"How so?"
"I would never pretend to know my ward's mind nor would I presume to force my selections upon her. Miss Lambeth has free choice in the selection of a mate. I trust her completely."
Luke nodded thoughtfully.
"There is just one matter," Stacks said seriously.
"Yes?"
"Have you spoken to anyone in your family about this?"
Luke waited a moment before answering. "Only my brother John--him being the head of the family and all."
"Do I perceive correctly that John was interested in Miss Lambeth first?"
"Until he realized what an excellent wife she would make for a curate."
"You pointed that out, did you not?" Stacks asked
"Why, yes," Luke said, clearly puzzled.
"And John hoped to aim a little higher, being the first born."
The younger man nodded. "John aspires to marry a woman of some wealth."
"Is John not bothered by the gossip that concerns me and my former wife?"
"I, uh, I couldn't say what John thinks, my lord."
"But you are not concerned over Freddie living under my roof?"
"No, I am not. After all, she's not actually related to you..." He colored. "Forgive me, Lord Stacks, I meant nothing by my careless words."
Stacks got to his feet. "I believe you to be an extremely honest man. You have my blessings to pursue my ward, but as I said, I cannot influence her."
Luke also stood up. "Thank you, my lord."
"By the way," Stacks said, "you might wish to take my ward for a walk. The park is excellent for just such a pursuit."
***
A knock sounded on Freddie's chamber door. She knew it would be Eason telling her that Mr. Luke Rountree desired a word with her. She gathered Marmalade to her breast and listened while Eason spoke the expected message. Her heart pounding uncomfortably, she strolled to her door, walked along the cloisters, past the library and the tapestry room and met Mr. Luke Rountree in the great room, where he stood, holding his hat in his hand.
He bowed to Freddie. "A lovely day, is it not Miss Lambeth?"
She dipped a curtsey. "Indeed, it is a welcome change from the recent dreariness."
"Would you honor me with a walk about the park?"
"Allow me to get a bonnet," she said.
Eason coughed. "I have taken the liberty to send a footman to Miss Maggie, requesting your bonnet."
Freddie bestowed a smile on the competent Eason.
Moments later, she chose to enter the park by way of the quadrangle in order to peek in on her guardian.
"You are not brown from head to toe yet?" she queried, a devilish smile on her face.
He flung down a handful of weeds, smooth balls of moist black soil around their roots. His hands were black, his face alight as he looked up. "Not yet." He nodded at Luke, then added, "Is it your custom to take the cat walking?"
Freddie held Marmalade closer and stroked his coat, pouting. "He does have a name, my lord. Mr. Marmalade felt like a little sunshine, did you not, fluff muffin?"
Stacks shot an amused glance at Luke. "She apparently communicates with beasts."
"Miss Lambeth's many talents have not escaped my notice."
The two young people strolled on through the quadrangle and to the park.
"You must be wondering why I sought a private audience with your guardian."
Should she be coy or speak honestly? "Since you went directly from that audience to seek my company, I can surmise, Mr. Rountree."
"Does your surmise tell you that I have thought of nothing but you day and night since the first time I met you?"
The very feelings she had toward Lord Stacks. She would have to let the young curate down gently. "Until today, I had no idea of the depth of your feelings, and I am totally unprepared to give you encouragement."
He placed a hand over hers. "I had no plan to rush your feelings, Miss Lambeth. I am prepared to wait for as long as it takes. To be honest, I am not in a position to marry at this time, having only recently received my living. The reason I spoke to your guardian is that I desire frequent contact with you in the absence of malicious gossip."
"Is that because of consideration toward me or because of vicious things that are said of my guardian?" She looked at him challengingly.
"To be honest, both."
"To be honest with you, Mr. Rountree, I must tell you my heart is already engaged."
He swallowed, and she felt his hand tremble. "Who is the fortunate man?"
; "A man I cannot name. A man who does not know of my love and who probably will not return it."
"Then the door has not necessarily slammed on me?"
"Not necessarily, but I could not come to you or to any man without a heart full of love."
"As I would expect."
Freddie listened to the crunch of gravel beneath their feet as they continued along the path, a brisk wind carrying with it a salty tang. "Tell me," she said, "What did my guardian say to you when you asked permission to court me? Did he ask how much a year you have or if you would cherish me until the end of your days?" She tried to put mirth into her words.
"He did not. He merely told me that you were free to select the man of your choice. I do not believe he means to interfere."
She nodded thoughtfully. Marmalade's back arched, and he stretched out his legs in an attempt to walk over Freddie's shoulders. She put him down, expecting him to tag along like a dog, like Champs had always done. But Marmalade's interest was suddenly captured by an insect which he proceeded to chase, much to Freddie's amusement.
"I wonder if you are as good with children as you are with animals," Luke said.
"I hope to fill whatever home I have with blessedly spoiled children I have brought into the world."
He squeezed her hand. "I hope they are my children."
She colored at the thought of being that intimate with Luke Rountree.
He saw the flame in her cheeks. "I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Lambeth, for speaking so personally."
"I assure you, I am not at all ready for such talk, Mr. Rountree. I feel I barely know you. And I know you cannot have any great knowledge of me."
"I feel I've known you forever," he said thoughtfully. "I know that you enjoy astronomy, the making of elixirs, the growing of herbs, nurturing stray cats, that you are only just learning to play the pianoforte, that you possess true artistic talent, and that Dr. Malcolm Edgekirth is in love with you."
Her eyes rounded.
"Has he also asked for your hand?"
"Dr. Edgekirth has not spoken to my guardian," she answered truthfully.
"Ah, but that was not my question."
She felt the scrutiny of his brown eyes. "You are far more perceptive than I had thought, Mr. Rountree."