by Aileen Fish
“What were you reading?” He looked back up. “T-The London Chronicle, I like to keep up to date on the ton’s coming and goings. Who is doing what and such.” He pressed his lips together in a tight line to stop the rambling flow of his words. Blast his dreadful nerves. He did not wish to court her. There was no reason to be nervous in her presence.
“I see. And is there anything of interest being reported?” She lifted her fork to her mouth.
After setting the paper aside, he reached for his glass. “Nothing out of the ordinary.” He would not dare bring up the article on Lord and Lady Luvington. That particular subject had to remain off limits between him and Lady Akford. Regardless of what she professed, he did not trust her where his friends were concerned. It would serve him best to steer the conversation to a safer topic. “Do tell. What have you planned for this day?”
“I intended to sequester myself away with a book.” She motioned for a servant to refill her water glass. Her earbobs sparkled with the movement, sending tiny flashes of light across the room. “And you? What of your plans?”
“I must confess, I felt a bit under the weather this morn. I had hoped to join the hunt but elected to stay in as a result.” He relaxed in small measures as they conversed. The lady’s company proved pleasant despite his apprehension.
“I do hope you have recovered.”
He read sincerity in the depth of her eyes. “Indeed, I am much better now and looking forward to this afternoon’s picnic.”
He looked out the window behind her. The servants were already preparing the grounds. A large white tent stood erect between two oak trees and Turkish carpets littered the lush green grass. “Will you be joining the crush?” He should not be asking after her plans. The muscles in his jaw tightened.
She frowned. “I did not intend to. It is no secret, I am only in here because Lady Vivian Wexil, my cousin, implored me to attend. I could hardly refuse since I am living under her roof. I fear much of the ton has not forgiven my scandalous past.”
At that moment, Duchess Abernathy breezed into the room, followed by Lady Wexil. As they made their way to the table, Lady Wexil turned her attention to Lady Akford. “Nonsense, Claudia. Those who matter do not hold you accountable. The rest of society will forget about the scandal in due time.”
“It has been years.” Lady Akford pushed a stray curl from her forehead.
Henry stood at the interruption, then bowed. “Your Grace, Lady Wexil.”
The duchess nodded and took a seat. “You only recently returned to society. Give it some time and they will all move on to a new morsel of gossip, forgetting all about your little peccadillo.”
Lady Wexil placed her gloved hand over Lady Akford’s. “Her Grace is right, you know. The scandal was long forgotten before you returned. With a bit of time, everyone will forget again. Mark my words.” She took the chair next to Lady Akford.
Henry could not help but notice Lady Akford’s discomfort as he sat down again. Her shoulders were slightly rounded and she nibbled at her full, lower lip.
“Lady Akford and I were discussing the picnic. It appears as if everything is in order,” he said in hopes of taking their attention away from Lady Akford.
Lady Wexil picked up the porcelain teacup a servant had filled for her. “Indeed. And the weather today is splendid. Her Grace and I just came in from a walk.”
The duchess turned to Lady Akford. “Do say you will join us?”
Henry watched Lady Akford while he awaited her reply. Misery coated her features, her eyes remained downcast and her cheeks were flushed. Witnessing her discomfort pulled at his heart.
She glanced up, giving the duchess her attention. “I cannot imagine what else I might do.”
Lady Wexil smiled. “We will have a marvelous time. You will see.”
The duchess took a sip from her glass. “I do hope you will also join me in a game of graces.”
“I would be delighted to,” Lady Akford murmured her reply.
Henry recognized the effort her polite smile cost her. He would wager she would prefer a room in the tower to attending the day’s events. “Lady Akford, I would be honored if you would spend some of your time with me. Perhaps a stroll in the garden?”
Her eyes regained some of their luster. “The honor would be mine, Lord Shillington.”
So much for exercising caution around the lady. All the same, he could not sit back and allow her to suffer. Not when there was something he could do to ease her discomfort. Heaven help him if he was wrong about her.
Chapter 3
Claudia knew she should have stuck with her original plan to remain in the safety of her room, but how could she deny the wishes of her cousin? Vivian had been gracious to include her in the house party, knowing how the black cloud of scandal clung to her. Then there was Duchess Abernathy, treating her as though they were old friends. Still, their open acceptance of her did naught to stanch the flow of judgmental glares and salacious gossip surrounding her. She averted her gaze from a group of such ladies, hiding behind their fans, casting glances at her as they prattled to one another. Their judgments stung despite her efforts to ignore them.
“Pay them no mind, dear.” Duchess Abernathy strolled up beside her. “I would bet half of them have their own secrets to hide, and the other half wishes they did. Let us engage in that game of graces we discussed and leave the ugliness behind?”
Claudia looked back at the group of gossiping ladies. Perhaps the duchess was correct, though she doubted it. Regardless, she reaped no benefit from allowing them to upset her. “I should like that.”
“Splendid.” The duchess nodded at an area of the lawn where the game of graces was set up. Sticks and hoops lay against the soft green grass.
“I have not played since before I married. Hopefully, I am still a capable companion.” Claudia picked up her sticks in preparation.
The duchess launched a ring with colorful ribbon tied to it and laughed when it landed at her feet. “I fear your skills will not matter as I am out of practice myself. I may never get a ring to reach your sticks.”
Before long, Claudia was merrily catching and launching the hoops back and forth with the duchess. She reveled in the exercise and good cheer they shared. The duchess proved to be a worthy adversary, and Claudia quickly regained her skill too. She chatted with the duchess as they played, feeling normal for the first time in years. Almost as though she fit in among the ton as she once had.
She crossed and lifted her sticks for what seemed like the hundredth time to catch a fresh toss, but missed. The hoop sailed past her, coming to rest near a green and purple blossoming bush. She and the duchess laughed over the miss while a servant retrieved the ring.
“I must confess, I am rather worn out. Would you care to seek refreshments?” the duchess asked before Claudia could start the game anew.
With a bit of regret, she set her equipment down. Perhaps a glass of claret would do her well. It had been such a long time since Claudia could call another woman friend. Akford had forbidden her to maintain her previous friendships and kept her shut away in Lancashire during their marriage. When she dared to get close to her lady’s maid, he discharged the poor woman without a reference. A chill coursed through her at the unwelcome memories of the utter loneliness that had been her life for the past six years.
“What are your plans now that you have returned to London?” the duchess asked, as they walked toward the large white tent.
Claudia nearly missed a step. How did one respond to a question that had no answer? She required a townhouse as she wished to have a London residence. The new Lord Akford had expelled her from her previous residence, leaving her homeless for the time being. She had no desire for a new marriage and would never again subject herself to the rule of a tyrant such as her deceased husband. Of that, she was quite certain. For a space of time, she had believed Julian would marry her, indeed wished for it, but now…she cared little for marriage.
“Forgive me dear, have I
overstepped? It was not my intention.” The duchess accepted a glass of claret from a servant before turning to Claudia.
Claudia swallowed. “Not at all, Your Grace. I am happy to answer your query. Only I am not quite certain how to reply. You see, I have no plans other than to secure a townhouse and remain a widow. It is my heart’s desire to enjoy the remainder of my life without a husband managing me.”
“As you should. You are a stunning young woman, and soon enough, everyone will recognize it. When they do, the ton will be yours for the taking.” The duchess began walking toward a row of trees. “Have you selected a location for your new residence?”
Claudia’s hopes soared with the duchess’s words as she joined her under the shade of an old beech tree. “I was thinking Mayfair or St James. A fashionable area is a priority.”
“Splendid choice.” The duchess flipped open her fan.
Nearby voices drew Claudia’s attention. She would swear she had just heard her name. Angling her head, she focused to listen.
“Can you believe the nerve, showing her face in society after the grand scandal she caused?” a feminine voice said.
“The way Lady Akford carries on is vulgar. She acts as if she never did a thing wrong,” a second lady replied.
“And what of her poor, departed husband? One would be hard pressed to believe she mourns him,” the first woman added.
Claudia tightened her grip on the glass she held as she heard the vitriol flowing from their lips. She would like to make her presence known to the gossips. Perhaps wish them luck that they should each find husbands every bit as dear as her departed. No, she would not wish that life on anyone. Not even a gaggle of stupid gossiping debutants. Dogs deserved better than the lot she had been dealt.
“Is everything all right, my dear? You look ashen.” Concern reflected in the duchess’s eyes.
“I am certain I just need a change of scenery. Something near to us has affected my good senses.” Claudia glanced toward the tree line where the ladies hid behind the foliage and hoped they had heard her words as clearly as she had theirs.
“Very well, dear. Let us seek out Lady Wexil.”
“There is no need for you to put yourself out. Stay here and enjoy the shade.”
Claudia turned and strolled toward the house without giving Her Grace the chance to speak further. Her lips twitched and her eyes burned with the effort of holding back tears. She would not cry in front of her peers. She inhaled a deep breath as she rounded the tent.
She smacked into a hard body seconds before strong hands took hold of her waist. Drat, she should have been paying more attention to where she was going.
“Lady Akford.”
She glanced up at the sound of his familiar voice. Claudia’s skin tingled where Lord Shillington’s strong hands held her. “Excuse me. I… Forgive me.” Warmth invaded her core.
He released her but proffered his arm. “As I recall, you promised me a stroll through the gardens.”
Her throat tightened at his kindness. He did not shy away from her, though he had every reason to. She tried to swallow past the tightness in her throat but lost the fight with her tears as a result. She turned her back to him, hoping he had not noticed.
“What troubles you?” He moved closer.
A war of emotions battled within her. Joy for the kindness shown to her, sorrow over the hateful words she had heard moments ago. She dashed the rogue tear away with the back of her gloved hand and squared her shoulders before taking his arm. “I was merely distracted by thoughts. Pay it no attention.”
Lord Shillington guided her onto a garden path. “The weather is perfect for strolling.”
“Indeed, it is.” She tipped her chin up, basking in the warmth of the sun.
Several moments passed without conversation as he led her deeper into the garden. It was a companionable silence and she took some measure of comfort in it.
Slanting her glance at him, she took in his blond wavy hair, square jaw, and deep brown eyes. He was a striking man, tall and lean with wide shoulders and a narrow waist. Her gaze settled on his lips and she could not help but wonder what it would be like to kiss him again. Not like the previous night, but rather a kiss with feeling. A kiss initiated by him.
His vexation at her forwardness still surprised her. She had never known a man to grow angry at a woman’s advances. Did he lack experience with women? Or was it that he did not find her to his liking? In truth, she knew almost nothing about him. A situation she meant to rectify. “Pray, tell me a bit about yourself, Lord Shillington.” A light flush moved across his face.
“Such as?” His voice held a small tremor.
“Oh, I don’t know. About your family, your hobbies.” If you have ever kissed a lady…
“I have a sister and two younger brothers. My father is the Earl of Voxton.” He looked over at her, a small grin tugged at his mouth. “Have you any siblings?”
“No. I was an only child. I did wish for brothers and sisters, but it was not to be.”
“I wished for my siblings to disappear.” He chuckled. “Of course, that was when I was but a boy, and only on occasion. I would never wish them gone now.”
She smiled, taking note of the way he seemed to be relaxing. His gate had become more confident and the tremor she detected in his voice earlier was gone. “Good old sibling rivalry, I suppose.”
“Yes. It is easy to wish one gone after they put a toad in your bed or hide your favorite toy. However, I cannot feign innocence all together. I gave back as good as I got.”
“Oh!” She placed her free hand on her chest. “The horror of it.” She shot him an amused smile. “It seems I am the lucky one. But then, I would imagine your siblings were also there to keep you company when loneliness took hold or a nightmare pulled you from your slumber. Perhaps there are no lucky ones, only people with different circumstances all trying to survive this cruel world.” She nibbled at her lip, fearing she had once again said too much.
“Yes, perhaps.” He stumbled, jerking her body toward his. Her gloved palm came to rest against the solid wall of his chest as she regained her balance. He looked around at the ground, his face flaming red. “Forgive me. There must have been something on the path.”
Was that insecurity she saw in the depth of his eyes? Regardless, he seemed embarrassed and she had no desire to increase his discomfort. She removed her hand from his chest and took hold of his arm once more. “There is nothing to forgive. Let us continue on our way and you can tell me of your hobbies.” She gave his arm a small squeeze.
“I do not suppose my hobbies are much different from any other gentleman’s. I enjoy riding, attending races, and my clubs.” He led her closer to a grove of trees.
“I too enjoy equestrian sports. It seems we have something in common.”
“I rarely miss my evening ride. When I must, my stable master sees to it that my horse is exercised. Beauty would be unmanageable otherwise.”
“Beauty is your horse?” She looked up at him with amusement.
“Indeed. My sister, Jane, named him. I did not have the heart to reject her suggestion.”
It was as if he had two sides. He had a gentleness and awkwardness about him that enthralled her. Nevertheless, she could not ignore how attractive and masculine he was.
She may not be on the market for a husband, but she suspected he would make a splendid bedmate. Excitement raced through her veins at the idea. She moved a bit closer, inhaling his spicy scent as she studied his features. Perhaps he could be her lover.
Chapter 4
Henry could not deny how much he enjoyed Lady Akford’s company. Nor could he recall the last time he engaged in such easy conversation with a lady. Something about her put him at ease and made him want to share his personal life with her. He nearly forgot how dangerous the lady could be as they strolled along the paths. Surely, a lady such as her had no genuine interest in him.
He glanced at Lady Akford, taking in her delicate features. It would be
easy to fall into her snare. She already had him half trapped with her easy smiles and somber eyes. His heart ached for the scandal and still ongoing gossip she withstood. An urge to help her filled him despite the consequences that could ensue. He had the strangest desire to understand the circumstances of her past. To forgive her indiscretions come what may.
A marble bench came into view, nestled by a fountain. “Might we sit for a spell?”
“I would like that.” Lady Akford angled her parasol to reveal more of her face.
She was a striking woman indeed, with the features of a porcelain doll and the curves of a temptress. Fine lines had yet to creep into her face, her eyes captivated with their catlike slant and emerald coloring. Her glorious, auburn hair stood out in the crush. If he had to guess, he would say she was not a day over five and twenty. No doubt, she could have her pick of the ton’s gentlemen, if not for the bloody scandal that marred her reputation.
Once she settled onto the bench in a pool of yellow taffeta, he sat beside her. The previous night flashed into his mind. They had shared a similar bench as she prattled on about the past before kissing him. Part of him longed for her to do it again. For her to bring her tender pink lips to his, to tease his mouth, and beg him to make her forget her pain. He blinked against the foolhardy idea.
“What are you thinking about?” Lady Akford tipped her chin toward him.
He started at being caught studying her, then cleared his throat. “I-I was thinking about what you said last night.” Not the whole truth, but it would suffice.
“Oh. I do apologize for my words…and actions. I fear I was deep in my cups and made a complete cake out of myself.” Her cheeks bloomed crimson, but she held his stare. “I do not make a habit of overindulgence, I assure you.