by Darcy Burke
While she ate, Audrey pondered how she might get through to Ethan. She also wondered if he’d appropriately cared for his wounds. She’d given him the jar of ointment last night, but had no idea if he’d actually applied it.
As she was finishing up, Miranda returned carrying bonnets for both of them. She handed one to Audrey.
“Thank you for lending me the dress and this bonnet.” She set it atop her head, grateful to have something to contain her wayward hair, and tied the ribbons beneath her chin.
“It’s no trouble. That dress is from when I was carrying Alexander. I thought the larger bodice might fit you a bit better, though I’m sorry it’s so short. But then you’re quite tall.”
“It’s lovely.” Audrey ran her hand along the soft cotton day dress. It was pretty, and most importantly, serviceable.
Miranda chuckled. “Not quite what we’d wear in London, is it? I’m a far cry from the young woman who gadded about London without a care for her reputation. Motherhood changes a person drastically. And I suppose my first taste of it came when I worked at Stipple’s End two years ago during the summer I was banished from London.”
“I remember that. You’d been caught on the Dark Walk at Vauxhall?”
Miranda tied the ribbons of her bonnet. “People weren’t supposed to know.”
Audrey stood from the table and joined her in leaving the breakfast room. “Lady Lydia Prewitt is my dearest friend. I’m afraid I know many things that people aren’t supposed to know.” Lydia had spent the last several years as one of the ton’s premier gossips, at the behest of her chaperone, London’s premier gossip, her harridan great-aunt.
“I see.” Miranda’s lips pursed, and Audrey had the sense that Miranda didn’t perhaps care for Lydia. But then many people didn’t. However, they didn’t know the real Lydia who was kind and witty and the most supportive friend Audrey could ask for. Perhaps now that Lydia was out from under her aunt’s control and had decided to build a future with Jason Lockwood, people would see her for who she really was.
“Lydia isn’t a bad person. She was the victim of terrible circumstances because of her family. Surely you can understand that?” Audrey knew that Miranda’s father, the Duke of Holborn, was a cold and fearsome autocrat. Miranda’s sister-in-law, Olivia Sinclair, was a friend of Audrey’s, and Audrey had heard a tale or two about the duke’s cruelty to his children.
Miranda eyed her cautiously. “I can. And I value second chances. The people here gave me one. They taught me what was truly important in life. Coming here—being exiled—was the best thing that could’ve happened to me. I thank God every day that I was foolish enough to be sent to the country. It’s funny how a poor decision can turn out to be the very thing that makes everything fall into place.”
Audrey acknowledged that her decision to accompany Ethan hadn’t been well thought out, and only time would tell if any good would come of it. She’d wanted an adventure, something that would fill her with excitement and purpose, instead of detachment and ennui. She blinked. It was already exciting. And she’d felt great purpose in taking care of Ethan’s wounds, in helping him to escape, even if she hadn’t realized that was what she’d been doing. If he would only trust her, she would do everything in her power to help him. She knew in her heart that he wasn’t the monster he purported to be, that he was trying to change. Why else would he have been trying to establish himself in Society?
“Audrey, however did you meet Mr. Locke?”
“Through Lydia, actually. She and Lord Lockwood will be announcing their engagement shortly, I imagine.” If they hadn’t already. Lydia had planned to tell Lockwood that she loved him and propose marriage to him, if necessary. He’d already asked her—quite publicly—but she’d frozen amidst the stares and expectation of the entire ton, and hadn’t responded. She regretted her silence, and his humiliation, to her very bones. Audrey was certain she would make it up to him. They made a surprisingly perfect couple.
Miranda paused a moment as they strolled into the large entry hall. “Indeed? I’m shocked to hear Lockwood is going to marry. What about his vice parties?”
“He’s giving them up.”
Miranda laughed. “That will disappoint a good number of gentlemen.”
“Probably.” Audrey averted her gaze and continued toward the front door. She knew far more than most about those parties. With the exception of Lady Philippa Sevrin, Audrey was the only young, unmarried woman to ever attend one. In actuality, she’d attended four, including one on the night she’d left London with Ethan.
“So, Lydia has found love with England’s most scandalous rogue, and you’ve found it with his illegitimate brother?” Miranda shot her an amused glance. “Why did London have to get so interesting after I left?”
Audrey couldn’t contain a laugh, but then Miranda was laughing too. Though a sobering thought was at the back of Audrey’s mind—she hadn’t found love with Ethan. What, then, had she found?
Miranda opened the door—Audrey had learned from the maid the previous evening that they didn’t have a butler, just a housekeeper, a cook, a small complement of maids who performed various tasks, and only a few footmen who also worked in other capacities such that a retainer was rarely stationed at the entry—and led Audrey into the late morning sunshine.
“What a marvelous day,” Miranda said, looking up at the blue sky, marred by just a few drifting clouds. She turned to Audrey expectantly. “Now, you must tell me why you’re eloping. Is it because Mr. Locke is illegitimate?”
It was an easy explanation. But would her parents really care? Audrey was nearly four and twenty. They might be happy to marry her off to a bastard. After all, he was the son of a viscount and that was certainly better than a blacksmith’s son. “Yes. They’re disappointed in my choice.”
The coachman drove toward them and brought the vehicle to a halt. He opened the door and assisted first Miranda, then Audrey inside. During the brief, ten-minute trip to Stipple’s End, they discussed parental disappointment and how they would be far more understanding of their own children. Audrey only hoped she’d have the chance to be a parent someday.
At Stipple’s End, a round-faced woman in an apron greeted them at the door with a broad grin. “Good morning, Miranda.” Her face immediately fell. “Where’s Alexander?”
“He’s napping. Millie promised she would bring him over later.” Miranda turned to Audrey. “They hate it when I come without the baby. Audrey, this is Mrs. Gates, Stipple’s End’s headmistress. Mrs. Gates, this is my friend, Miss Audrey Cheswick.”
Mrs. Gates inclined her head. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Cheswick.” She opened the door wide and gestured for them to enter.
“And you.” Audrey stepped into a massive hall pungent with the smell of whitewash. The far wall was about half painted, but it looked like they’d stopped in the middle.
“What happened with the painting?” Miranda asked.
“An impromptu picnic in the apple orchard,” Mrs. Gates said. “It’s such a lovely fall day and who knows how many more we’ll get. Plus, the children wanted to pick apples before the rest are harvested next week. Fox and Mr. Locke are with them.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.” Miranda smiled as she linked arms with Audrey and led her through the great hall, then down a narrow corridor to a door that led into the rear yard. They veered left and went down a hill toward the orchard. The midday sun warmed Audrey’s shoulders through the linen of her borrowed gown.
The sounds of children playing and laughing wafted toward them. A small group was playing a game in a clearing, while others were climbing trees. A man, whom Audrey was fairly certain was Ethan, stood on a ladder against a tree.
He balanced a basket full of apples on his hip as he climbed down the ladder. At the bottom, he turned. His gray eyes glinted in the sunlight and seemed to heat as they settled on Audrey. “Miss Cheswick,” he murmured.
Audrey moved closer and kept her voice low. “You should probably call me
Audrey. Since we’re supposed to be eloping.” She looked at him with raised eyebrows, urging him to comprehend.
He inclined his head. “I see. Audrey.”
The single word slid into her chest and wound to her extremities, stroking her like an intimate caress. She recalled they weren’t alone, even if it suddenly felt as though they were. “Miranda brought me.”
Ethan’s gaze moved to Miranda. “Hello. Thank you again for your hospitality.” He flicked a glance down at his costume, a gray coat topping a pair of dark blue breeches. The coat was a little wide for his shoulders, but the color suited his black hair and light gray eyes. He wore a simple cravat, which was more than what Fox had donned—his shirt was open at the collar. He came around the tree with another basket of apples and set them near his wife.
Fox dropped a kiss on Miranda’s cheek. “You are as lovely as the day is bright.”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “My husband, the poet.” She gave him a look that clearly held some sort of personal, intimate meaning. Audrey returned her attention to Ethan, lest she intrude.
But averting her gaze to Ethan offered no solace, for he was staring at her with an intensity that was going to set her face on fire. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she whispered urgently before thinking better of it.
“We’re supposed to be a couple, aren’t we?” He took her hand, their bare fingers touching and igniting sensations Audrey felt all the way to her core. He lifted her hand and kissed the back, his eyes never leaving hers.
Despite the warmth of the sun, shiver after shiver raced up and down her spine. “Should you have been climbing the ladder? What about your arm?”
“It’s much better.” He spoke softly. “More importantly, I don’t want them to know I'm injured. Too many questions.”
She understood. “Did you put the poultice on it?”
“Yes, Nurse.” His gaze danced with merriment and she was reminded of her flirtatious waltzing partner instead of the dangerous criminal.
“Come and have some chicken,” Fox said, indicating a blanket bedecked with several hampers of food. “There’s a special basket for us adults.”
Ethan let go of Audrey’s hand, which would’ve been disappointing, if he hadn’t immediately slid it to her lower back to guide her to the blanket. Audrey practically floated there. She didn’t remember the last time a gentleman had paid her such singular attention. Probably because it had never happened.
They situated themselves on the blanket while the children continued their antics around them. Normally, Audrey would’ve been interested in their games and laughter, but she couldn’t tear her attention away from her enigmatic companion. It seemed she didn’t need to try very hard to pretend they were a couple.
Miranda dished them up some chicken and, naturally, apples, though she gave Audrey a lighter portion, likely since she’d only eaten breakfast a short while ago. Audrey didn’t care, she wasn’t the least bit interested in food.
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.
“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.”