She appeared so pained by his question that he immediately regretted asking it. She turned away and dabbed at her eyes. “Yes, I suppose I was.”
He reproved himself heartily. How could he have entertained the idea that she might love him? It might be years before she recovered from the heartbreak of Edward’s death. Indeed, she might never recover. She had looked to Geoffrey for strength and comfort, no more. That kiss under the stars had been the unfortunate result of her reaching out to him for solace. He would do well, he reminded himself sharply, to keep that in mind.
“I ought to be happy here,” Ria said, indicating the bucolic landscape around them. “I should be content to be home.” She sighed so deeply on the word home that it made her voice shake. “Yet it is here that I feel their loss even more.”
Her words confused him. “Their loss?”
The injured look crossed her face again. “I mean Edward, of course, and… my parents.”
He took a step back. “I apologize for interrupting your reverie. Perhaps you would prefer to be alone.”
“No, please don’t go. I am glad for your company.” She indicated the book in her hands. “Lord Tennyson’s poems seem to have taken my thoughts into an overly melancholy direction.”
Geoffrey nodded. “Our Poet Laureate does have rather a somber side.”
She smiled. “Grandmamma told me that she had invited you. She will be so happy you’re here. Have you seen her yet?”
“Yes, I just came from the house. James is with her now.”
“James!” Her face lit up, and once again Geoffrey was seized with that jealousy reserved for anyone who could claim her warmest thoughts. “How on earth did you cajole him to come out here to do his duty to his family and his estate?”
Her reference to duty made Geoffrey realize how differently he felt about that word than when he’d first met her. But then, she’d made him look at everything differently. “James wanted to come. We both did.”
“I’m so glad.” She loosed the horse’s reins from the fence post. “Will you be staying long?”
He tried to gauge her interest in the question. It seemed only casual, however. “I must leave day after tomorrow.”
“So soon?”
His heart leapt, unaccountably, at her unguarded statement. “Would you be happy if I stayed longer?”
“Of course,” she said with a bright smile. The smile that pulled him in every time. Was she thinking of their kiss at all? For a moment Geoffrey thought he saw the look she’d given him in the moonlight. But she turned and deftly slipped under the horse’s neck to the other side, then coaxed it to a walk. “Perhaps we might do some of that riding we once spoke of,” she said. “Bella is a wonderful horse, and I’ve come a long way in my riding.”
If she was thinking of what had happened between them, she was making good on her promise that it would not happen again. Or had the event truly slipped from her memory?
“That would be wonderful, I’m sure,” Geoffrey said.
They walked together, with the horse between them. “There is an excellent field for riding,” Ria said, pointing. “At the far end is a lovely glade for a picnic.”
She was clearly doing her best to keep the conversation in neutral territory. He reminded himself that he should do so as well. He had to remember that even if she could recover from Edward’s death and find a way to love him, such a love would be impossible for them to act on. She was, and would remain, his sister-in-law only. And yet, he was not yet ready to let the matter rest entirely. “Ria, I feel I should apologize to you for my conduct the last time we met.”
There was silence from the other side of the horse. Then Ria said shakily, “It was my fault. I should apologize to you. Here I am, your brother’s widow, and all but throwing myself into your arms. I promise you that it will not happen again.”
He came around to the front of the mare, forcing Ria to face him. “I would like to ask you one question, and I promise you it will remain between us. I do not intend to allow anything more to happen… that is,” he faltered, “I know the honorable thing to do and I will do it. But you said that night that you wanted me to kiss you. Why?” Ria attempted to turn away, but Geoffrey reached out and took her hand. “Please tell me. I have to know.”
Ria stood very still. Her lips fluttered with quick, shallow breaths, and Geoffrey wanted more than anything to lean in and kiss them, to crush her body to his.
The mare whinnied, breaking the silence. Ria stepped back. “It was a mistake,” she said quietly. “You said so yourself.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “However, that still does not answer my question.”
Ria flashed a brief, apologetic smile and reached once more for the reins. “Perhaps some questions are better left unanswered.”
*
Lizzie was barely able to think or speak during dinner. She was so intensely happy that Geoffrey had come, she could do little else but watch him. She loved the line of his short, neatly trimmed side whiskers as they followed the upper part of his jaw; the way a stray lock of hair fell just slightly over the left side of his high forehead; the way even his hands had a certain mesmerizing grace as he ate his food or brought a glass to his lips. Above all, she loved the moments when his rich and unfathomable eyes held hers. It was powerfully strange, to be aware of so little else in the room except him.
James monopolized the conversation, regaling them with stories of what he had been doing since leaving London. He had been making the rounds at the country homes of several friends, including a week with the Cardingtons. Inspired by the exhibit at the Crystal Palace, Miss Lucinda Cardington had purchased a camera, and James and the two sisters had roamed the countryside seeking suitable subjects.
“Miss Emily was put out by all this photography business at first,” James said with a chuckle. “But we enjoyed ourselves so much that she ultimately forgave us for making her march all over Hampshire.”
Lady Thornborough made a tsking noise. “I cannot believe the Cardingtons allowed such a thing.”
“Lady Cardington was less than enthusiastic,” James admitted. “However, the arrival of Lord Somerville lent some dignity to the affair and appeased the great lady considerably.”
Geoffrey visited the Cardingtons? This took Lizzie by surprise. Was he perhaps planning to pursue a match with Lucinda after all? Lizzie had not thought it possible after what he had said at the ball, but perhaps she had been mistaken. It was not a pleasant thought.
Geoffrey merely said, “Lord Cardington has been working with me on the housing projects for the poor. I had some fund-raising plans to review with him, so I accepted an invitation to visit.”
“That is his official statement, and I cannot get him to declare otherwise,” James said. “Neither, unfortunately, can the elder Miss Cardington.” He made a sound that was a sly imitation of Lady Thornborough’s disapproving tsking noise. “All of London society was crushed when there was no announcement of an engagement for the most eligible peer in the realm.”
“We do not stoop to gossip in this household,” Lady Thornborough reminded her nephew.
“How can it be gossip, Aunt, if the person being spoken of is here in the same room?”
“Really, James, you are most trying,” Lady Thornborough huffed, although she could not hide her own curiosity about the matter.
“I take no offense,” Geoffrey said. “The London season afforded me many lessons in how to inure myself to the endless stream of gossip.”
Lizzie asked tentatively, “So you will not… that is, there is no understanding between you and Miss Cardington?”
Geoffrey considered her question with a slight smile. “An interesting turn of phrase, that. We do have an understanding. That is to say, we understand each other very well. However, we will not be getting married.”
This news sent a flash of elation though Lizzie’s insides, as did the particular way he looked at her as he said it. Geoffrey had made it plain that they could never repeat wh
at had happened on that night. And yet he was unattached to anyone else, and he was taking time to visit Rosewood. Furthermore, his actions that afternoon had convinced Lizzie that their kiss had affected him deeply. All of these things rekindled her foolish dreams.
Lady Thornborough said to Geoffrey, “It is fortunate for us that you did visit the Cardingtons. You have managed to find James and bring him to Rosewood. He has many things here to attend to.”
“From what I can see, you were doing an excellent job without me,” James declared.
Lady Thornborough did not deign to answer his remark, but again addressed Geoffrey. “What a pity that you must leave in two days. I was hoping you might at least stay through Sunday. Our Mr. Hollis is a most learned man, and his sermons are always educational. Also, his sonorous voice is quite different from our previous vicar, whose warble could barely reach to the back of the church. I am sure you would enjoy it.”
Lizzie wondered whether Geoffrey’s own rich voice had been honed from his years of giving sermons. She would like to have seen him give a sermon. What kinds of things had he preached on? Had he been strict, reproving, judgmental? Before she met him, she would have guessed that was true, having only the knowledge gleaned from Edward to go by. But now she truly wanted to believe he would speak on compassion and kindness instead. Whichever it was, he most likely had his parishioners eating out of his hand.
“I will be sorry to miss it,” Geoffrey said. “Perhaps I may come another time? It is, after all, less than half a day’s ride to my estate.”
“You know you are most welcome anytime,” Lady Thornborough assured him.
“What shall we do this evening?” James said. “Have you managed to practice your piano, Ria? Perhaps you can play for us?”
Lizzie tried to stifle a grimace. “I confess I have not.”
“Naughty girl,” James teasingly scolded. “Aunt tells me you have been out riding every day. I am glad you are benefiting from your newfound friendship with horses, but shouldn’t you be practicing the finer arts as well?”
“I like being outdoors,” Lizzie said, defending herself. “There will be time enough for indoor pursuits when the weather turns cold.” And time enough, she thought, to find some way to obtain surreptitious music lessons. With an exaggerated lift of her eyebrows, she said haughtily, “And you, sir, are no person to be lecturing me about responsibilities!”
“Right you are!” James laughed. “I have perceived yet another way you have changed during your absence, cousin. You are much better at winning verbal jousts.”
“Thank you.” As Lizzie smiled triumphantly, she caught Geoffrey’s eye. He seemed to be suppressing a bit of a smile.
Lady Thornborough, however, was frowning. “I was not aware that winning verbal jousts is a goal toward which a lady should aspire.”
“No, indeed, Grandmamma,” Lizzie said demurely, but braving another quick smile to James.
James sighed in resignation.
“Lord Somerville, perhaps you will tell us about your time in Devonshire?” Lady Thornborough asked. “I understand you are celebrated for your efforts at educating the children, and for establishing a medical clinic. I’m sure we shall be greatly edified by an evening of instruction on doing good to one’s fellow man.”
James rolled his eyes. “There is nothing more enthralling than discussing poor, sick people.”
“I would love to hear about Geoffrey’s work,” Lizzie said.
“Would you really?” He looked pleased.
Lizzie nodded. “You might give us ideas for ways we could help the less fortunate folk who live around here. Perhaps we could even take a ride to some of the surrounding cottages while you’re here. I’ve been wanting to meet more of our tenants.”
“I was, in fact, just thinking,” said Geoffrey, said, “that I might be able to stay through Sunday after all.”
“Splendid!” Lady Thornborough said with hearty approval.
James did not seem to share in this moment of good feeling. He merely said, “Here’s another way in which our Ria has changed—she loves charity work now.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “She’s left off the piano for charity and horses. How odd.”
Chapter 33
Lizzie lay awake in the darkness, unable to sleep, her mind filled with all that had happened that day. Geoffrey’s arrival had stirred the longings that she had tried to set aside, the hope that one day she would find a way to get to the truth, and truly win his heart.
Geoffrey had given riveting accounts of Devonshire and his work there. The joy on his face as he discussed teaching his poor parish children to read, opening up a world for them they would not otherwise have had, was thrilling to her heart. She thought she would happily have done the same, if given the opportunity.
She could imagine morning walks with Geoffrey along the steep paths in the wild landscape he had described. Just the two of them, far from the pressures of society, with time and space to talk without hindrance. If only they had met in different circumstances, all these things might have been possible. No, Lizzie corrected herself; they would never have met under other circumstances. She’d been a poor shop girl, living in an entirely different world than his. Now their world was the same, but they could never fully share it.
What was he doing now, she wondered. She pictured him stretched out in his bed, his limbs relaxed, his hair tousled. It was an irresistible vision that made her whole body tremble.
Her thoughts kept returning to their encounter on the hillside that afternoon. Geoffrey had come so close to kissing her again. He would surely have done so, if Lizzie had allowed it. But she knew that she could not be cavorting with her “brother-in-law,” no matter how much she longed to. The truth was that she had had to withdraw, the temptation was too great, and she knew if she kissed him again, nothing could stop her from being swept away by her feelings for this man.
With these thoughts tumbling through her mind, Lizzie was likely to get little sleep this night. She left the bed and went to the window. With a gentle tug she eased it open, just enough to allow fresh air to sift gently into the room and cool her overheated body. She stood there for several minutes, admiring the play of moonlight on the serene fields below. Now as the still of the deep night enveloped her, she regretted that she had denied herself the pleasure of his kiss.
Throughout the evening, Lizzie was sure their brief interlude this afternoon had been uppermost on Geoffrey’s mind as well. It was mostly in a quick glance or a fleeting expression, but she received his meaning as clearly as if he had spoken it aloud—as though he had audibly declared his desire to be back on that hillside, pulling her into his arms. Thank goodness Lady Thornborough hadn’t noticed the way she and Geoffrey had been trying to suppress their unspoken emotions. James had observed something, however. Lizzie was sure of that. He missed nothing—especially when it came to attractions between men and women.
As they had said their good-nights, Geoffrey had held her hand for a moment too long, looked into her eyes with such questioning earnestness, that she had found it nearly impossible not to say what was on her mind. She wanted to tell him how much she cared for him, how happy she was that he had come to Rosewood, and how wonderfully alive she felt in his presence. Instead, she had merely murmured her good-nights, her body shaking from the effort of hiding her true feelings as she turned away.
Now she stood here, counting the hours until she might see Geoffrey again. He had spoken of being an early riser, of taking long walks in the morning. Lizzie would be up with the dawn, prepared to go out, in the hopes of catching him alone. She knew she was courting danger, but she had to be with him.
She considered that she might distract herself by doing some reading. The ready use of candles long into the night was a luxury she had never known before. Throughout most of her life, candles had to be carefully conserved, being too costly to use other than when strictly necessary. She’d mostly used the cheaper taper candles that did no
t burn long and did not provide good light for reading. The long-burning wax candles were an indulgence she had enjoyed often since returning to England.
She turned away from the window, lit a candle, and searched for her volume of poetry. It was nowhere to be seen. She tried to think of where she might have placed it, and realized the last time she had been reading it was earlier that day, just before Geoffrey met her in the meadow. She must have placed the book near the door with her bonnet and shawl when they had come in. She had been so preoccupied with Geoffrey that she hadn’t given the little book a second thought. Since the book had not been returned to her room, Lizzie concluded the servants must have either left it by the door or placed it in the library. After a few moments’ hesitation, she decided to go down and look for it. No one would be about at this hour; she could quickly retrieve the book without fear of being seen in her night clothes.
She put on her dressing gown and a pair of soft slippers, then went to the door and gently turned the latch. The door opened without a sound. She widened the gap just enough to peek her head out. There were no lights visible from under any of the other doors. The house was very quiet. She fancied she heard the great clock in the parlor striking two o’clock. Yes, she was sure of it. The sound was faint, but clear.
She closed the door behind her with care, and made her way down the hall.
*
Geoffrey surveyed a row of books on one of the library shelves. There were plenty to choose from, but he paused when he noticed Ria’s worn book of poetry lying at the far end of the shelf, looking out of place among the more finely bound volumes. He was about to pick it up when he heard the library door open behind him.
He turned, startled, and was completely unprepared for what he saw. He held up his candle to get a better look. “Ria? Is that you?”
“Geoffrey.” She breathed his name with a soft air of delight. “I thought I saw a light in here.”
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