by Brown, T. J.
“Does that include Kit?” Rowena asked.
For a moment a look of hurt so profound crossed Victoria’s face that Rowena had an urge to gather Vic up into her arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right, but then she regained the impudent expression that made Rowena want to shake her. Prudence had always been much better with Vic in this kind of mood than she was.
“Of course that includes Kit. What do you think? And why does everything have to be about a man?”
Rowena’s eyes widened. “It doesn’t. I just thought you and Kit were special friends.” She raised her hands to show that she didn’t mean anything by it.
“Just because you fancy yourself in love doesn’t mean that everyone needs to be. I’m never going to get married, you know that. And Kit has absolutely nothing to do with anything!”
Rowena shook her head. They were getting way off topic now. Swinging her feet around to sit up, Rowena reached across and captured one of Victoria’s arms. Vic tried to yank it back, but Rowena held firm and, slipping her fingers under the lace cuff, pulled out several cream-colored cards.
Rowena read the fancy script: The Suffragettes for Female Equality. Underneath was an address.
“What are these?” she asked curiously.
To her surprise, Victoria flew at her in a fury that she hadn’t shown since she was a child throwing a tantrum. Rowena found herself being shoved back down into the sofa while the card was snatched out from her fingertips.
“That, my dear, prying sister, is none of your business.”
“Is that what you have been giving out and why you are suddenly so eager to meet people?” Rowena couldn’t understand. Why was her sister being so mysterious about a suffragette society? They all belonged to one or another anyway.
A mottled red stained Victoria’s pale face and her mouth tightened. “I don’t understand why my business always has to be your business. Now, if you will excuse me.”
Tilting her chin, she marched out of the room. Rowena expected a slam of the door but it never came.
Elaine sat straight up on the lounge, her blue eyes wide. “What on earth was that all about? I haven’t seen her like that since she was a child.”
Rowena snorted. “That’s because you haven’t been around her much.”
But Rowena pondered that question the rest of the evening.
* * *
Victoria wondered the same thing as she hurried down the hall. Why had she gotten so angry? It was perfectly fine if Rowena knew about her involvement with the Suffragettes for Female Equality. Her stomach twisted uneasily. It just seemed so confusing. But still, she could have told Rowena about her job and instead she felt violated, as if Rowena had been picking away at a festering sore that just couldn’t seem to heal.
Wait. Shouldn’t she be in the salon by now? She looked around; nothing looked familiar. Even though Eddelson Hall wasn’t near the size of Summerset, it was obvious that one could still get confused. The walls were much lighter than anything at Summerset, a pretty pale blue, dotted with portraits of dead Billingslys and their equally dead hunting dogs.
Ornately carved pocket doors opened on either side of the hall, and Victoria found herself less eager to make it back to the gossip of the salon when she could possibly find a quiet nook to relax in. It turned out that being social was infernally hard work.
Victoria wanted to blame her behavior on anything but the truth. It was because Rowena had brought up Kit, and Victoria missed him terribly, in spite of everything. She missed him so much it hurt to think about it.
She shook her head as if to shake the thought of him loose. He had made his choice—to act like a selfish bore and cast their friendship aside as if it were nothing. Now she just wanted to find a place to be left alone. At least for a while.
She tiptoed down the hall, peering into various rooms. When she finally poked her head around the corner, she knew she had the perfect place. The space was both rich and mellow, with hundreds of books lining the walls and comfortable leather furniture. Leaded windows covered one wall and let in splashes of natural light, and a fire burned happily in the hearth.
Slipping inside, she noiselessly slid the pocket door shut, hoping for at least an hour of quiet before she had to make an appearance for dinner.
And what a lovely place to escape to, she thought, meandering over to a giant bookshelf that covered one wall. Whoever designed it had done so for comfort alone and perhaps a love and respect for Scotland, she thought, eyeing the green-and-cream plaid throws on the furniture. She had just turned to the books, hoping to find a volume of poetry among the impressive historical tomes that lined the shelf, when she heard a noise. Something between a snort and a snuff. She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Suddenly she knew with certainty that she wasn’t alone in the library. As she turned soundlessly around, her eyes darted to every corner of the room, searching for the interloper. Of course, in reality, she was the interloper, but Victoria had come to think of this delightful room as hers. At least for the next hour.
There was nothing. Her eyes swept the room again and then caught on the corner of the armchair facing the fire. The back of the chair was so high that she couldn’t see a head, but that definitely looked like a man’s sleeve.
Sebastian was down in the sitting room, being bombarded with wedding talk, and his father was dead, so who . . . Then her heart stopped beating. This had probably been Sebastian’s father’s library. A room that he had loved. She stared fixedly at the black fabric barely showing around the side of the chair. It looked real enough. Suddenly a ghostly white chunk of a hand fell off the arm of the chair and dangled there as though it weren’t attached to anything.
Victoria tried to scream but instead only squawked. Loudly.
The person belonging to the sleeve leapt to his feet and whirled around. “Good God, woman!”
Kit.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
“What are you doing here?” she finally managed.
“Why do you always scream when you see me?” he asked.
Victoria smiled sheepishly, recalling the moment when he had discovered her in her secret room at Summerset Abbey in the middle of the night.
Victoria’s lips quirked upward in spite of herself, but then she remembered her anger and pulled her mouth back down into a frown. “Because you always startle me. Or maybe it’s your ugly mug that does it,” she taunted.
“Really? You’re the first woman who has ever disliked my face.” His lips curled into a smile and Victoria wanted to slap him. Hard.
She tilted her nose in the air. “Maybe they were just being polite.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” His smile widened and the urge to hit him grew. Then she saw why his hand had looked so strange. It was covered in a cast from the midpoint of his palm to halfway up his forearm. “You’re hurt,” she cried, rushing over to him.
“I broke my wrist playing tennis,” he said. “It’s nothing really. The doctor said he’ll be able to remove the cast in about five weeks. Though it does make it difficult to eat or shave.”
Victoria held the injured appendage in her hands and his fingers felt hot against hers. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t your mother be caring for you?”
“You’ve never met my mother,” he said with a smile. “I obviously couldn’t stay at my flat by myself, and besides, I’d already promised Sebastian a visit. I knew I would be well cared for here. I’ll probably head home to let my mother fuss over me in a week or so.”
She looked up into his face and saw a tightness around his mouth that hadn’t been there before, and his skin was pale. The blue of his eyes burned brightly and she frowned. “You’re in pain,” she insisted, gently pushing him back into his chair. “Have you taken anything?”
She spied a brown bottle and a cup of tea next to him. The tea was cold and she wondered who was supposed to be looking after him.
“Now, don’t be angry. All the maids are busy with the g
ossips downstairs or getting ready for supper. And no, I haven’t taken anything. The doctor prescribed laudanum and I’ve seen what that can do.”
“Don’t be a juggins. It’s meant to help. But I would be able to help you more if I had access to some herbs.”
She snatched up a plaid throw and tucked it about his legs, then located and rang the bell for a maid. The maid was there in moments.
She found a piece of paper on the desk and, dipping a pen into an inkwell, wrote down some ingredients she thought the kitchen might have on hand. She wished she could go down and make the tea herself, but she didn’t want to leave Kit, and besides, she had a feeling that would be frowned upon by both her aunt and Lady Billingsly. Victoria conferred with the maid at the door, keeping her voice low.
When the girl had left, Victoria went back to Kit, who had closed his eyes, though Victoria was reasonably sure he wasn’t asleep. She laid a hand on his head. “You have a bit of a fever, I think.”
“I think I got chilled the day I broke my hand. It was pouring that day and I got awfully wet.”
“Why didn’t you have your umbrella with you?”
“You know, you’re being awfully nice,” he said, his voice accusing. “I thought you hated me.”
The tone of his voice was nonchalant, but it seemed to Victoria that there was a tone of uncertainty underneath. She pulled up a worn leather footstool and took his good hand in hers, giving in to her happiness at seeing him again. “Of course I hated you, but that doesn’t mean I was going to hate you forever. I don’t know why you had to stay away for so long.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her. “How am I supposed to know that? Guess?”
“No. Just ask. I told you when we became friends that you needed to forget everything you thought you knew about women. If you want to know things, you have to ask me. I’ll be only too willing to let you know. If I don’t hate you that day.” She smiled to show she was teasing and also to show that she really did want to put the past behind them. She was tired of missing him and wanted their friendship back.
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can survive all these ups and downs.”
She frowned. “What do you mean? I thought you hated being bored. You can’t say that friendship with me is ever boring.”
He shook his head again and then winced. The maid came in just then, carrying a tea tray with two pots, followed by another maid with a white bowl, a pitcher of water, and a clean kitchen towel.
“Mrs. Billingsly was informed and she told me to tell you to call if you need anything else. She will be up to check on you before dinner,” the first maid said.
Victoria nodded. “Did the cook have everything on my list?”
“Everything except the valerian root, miss. But the rest of it is in there.” She pointed to the smaller of the two teapots.
“Thank you.”
She poured herself a cup of tea from the big pot and took a sip. The tea in the second pot smelled strongly of mint. Victoria only hoped the cook had used the right amounts and that the mint would hide the bitterness of the other herbs and the laudanum. She took the brown bottle out of her pocket, where she had secreted it, and poured in what looked to be about a spoonful. Combined with the herbs, it should put him to sleep in no time.
She took his tea over to him and told him to drink it. “Miss Bossy,” he complained, but the slight smile on his lips told her he liked being fussed over. But then again, what man didn’t? She knew next to nothing about men, but she did know that.
She found a small pillow and put it behind his head, watching as he sipped his tea. He grimaced. “What the hell is this? Are you trying to poison me?”
“No! Trust me, if I wanted to poison you, you’d be good and poisoned already. Those are just some of Nanny Iris’s herbs to help drive off a chill and dull the pain.”
“Well, if they’re Nanny Iris’s . . . ”
Victoria smiled. He had met Nanny Iris only once and even though it had been the difficult night when Victoria had found out about Prudence’s true parentage, he and Nanny Iris had gotten along like anything, which was odd when she thought about it. Why would Nanny Iris like a bored, cynical, rather lazy young man like Kit?
She poured some water into the bowl and dipped the towel into it. Then she sat back down on the footstool and began wiping his forehead.
He frowned at her. “I had no idea you had it in you to be so kind.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say.” “I know I’m not nice.”
“Drink your tea.” She watched as he took another sip. “You can do better than that.” He glared at her and then swallowed the contents of the cup. She relaxed. “Well, maybe I’m not nice either,” she said, going back to their conversation.
“You certainly weren’t last time I saw you.”
His voice sounded accusing and she tamped down her irritation. Why couldn’t he just leave it alone? “That will teach you to stand me up and then show up later completely blotto.” She kept her voice mild and smiled deeply to reassure him.
His hand reached up and caught hers. “The problem is that I’m not sure I can say with any certainty that it won’t happen again. I’m not much good, you know.”
She looked into his eyes and her pulse raced at the flame she saw in their blue depths. “Then it’s a good thing we’re just friends, isn’t it?” she asked. She tried to pull her arm away but he kept it, taking the cloth from her fingers.
“You have such tiny hands. I can cover your hands with mine. Look.”
She relaxed. His lids were heavy and his speech was slower. He should be asleep in no time. “Oh, yes, you’re a great big man and I’m a little weak woman,” she teased.
He frowned at her as his eyelids kept trying to close. “Nanny Iris’s tea made me sleepy. And no. You’re not weak. You’re strong. And pretty. Funny. I never thought about how pretty you were until after our fight.” He leaned forward. “Another thing I didn’t know.”
“What’s that?” Victoria asked, keeping her voice low and soothing.
“I never knew just how much I wanted to kiss you.”
He let go of her hand and, reaching behind her head, gently pulled her head forward and pressed his lips against hers. For a moment, she was so startled she did nothing, but then she jerked back. His eyes were shut and a smile lingered on his lips. Her heart racing, she stood, staring at him in shock. When he didn’t move, she resettled the pillow behind his head, her mind racing. Why had he done that?
With trembling hands, she put their tea things back on the tray. Kissing him had never crossed her mind and she’d assumed it hadn’t crossed his either. They were just friends.
She pressed her fingers against her lips, which were still warm from her first kiss.
A smile curved her mouth that she was only half aware of. She could see why kissing was so highly thought of—it was really rather pleasant.
Too bad it mustn’t ever happen again.
CHAPTER
TWELVE
Prudence strode back and forth on the platform, excitement warring with trepidation in her chest. She’d been excited about Susie coming to help out until she realized that Susie thought she lived in a luxurious flat with a full staff. How disappointed she would be when she discovered Prudence’s lies. And then there was her conversation with Muriel, whose thin, expressive face showed marked concern. They had been making kidney pies for their respective families and happily gossiping about this and that until Prudence had brought up Susie.
“What?” Prudence had asked at the look on her friend’s face.
Muriel, who had lived her life knowing when to keep her mouth shut, had just shaken her head.
“Oh, come on,” Prudence had pleaded. “I know that there’s something on your mind. Why don’t you tell me what it is?”
Muriel sighed and wiped her hands on her apron. “Do you think it’s wise to bring another person into your home, you being so recently married and all?”
&nb
sp; Prudence kept rolling out the pie crust. “I don’t know what you mean. I trust both Susie and Andrew and—”
“Oh, Lord, no!” Muriel shook her head. “I forget what a baby you are in spite of your age.”
“I’m hardly a baby!”
“An innocent then. That isn’t what I meant at all. What I meant is that you and your man are still learning how to be a married couple. Anyone can see you’re as lonely as can be without your sisters. So instead of turning to your husband, who is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger to you, you bring your best friend for an extended visit. So now you’re as happy as a clam, but guess who gets left out in the cold?”
Prudence stamped her feet to warm them in the freezing weather. She promised herself she would do everything she could to continue to tend the fragile intimacy that had sprung up between her and Andrew.
“Prudence!”
She whirled at the sound of her husband’s voice. He hurried forward, a smile on his face. He wore a heavy wool overcoat, and a herringbone cap sat straight on his head.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to go work today?”
He took her hands in his and kissed her cheek. “I was walking down to the docks and then thought to myself, I should be with my pretty wife when she meets our guest and take them both out to lunch. How often do we have a houseguest?”
His hazel eyes smiled down at her and a lump rose in her throat. “I don’t deserve you,” Prudence said.
“Don’t be a goose. It’s a special occasion.”
But he looked pleased at the success of his surprise.
Another train squealed into the station and Prudence hoped it was Susie’s. She linked her arm in Andrew’s. People began disembarking and Prudence craned her neck until she realized she was looking the wrong way. Susie wouldn’t be on that part of the train. She would be on the common section.