by Ava Stone
Once again, Lord Preston’s gaze was burning into her very soul, only this time with accusation instead of whatever it had been earlier. “I don’t know. Rubies seem more appropriate for some reason.”
He’d noticed that she had been nearly holding the brooch. He had to have. Why else would he say such a thing?
Her chest ached, like she couldn’t take a good breath. She had to get out of here. Now.
“I’m sorry. I should go back down to the drawing room before Mama misses me. I wouldn’t want her to worry.” Freddie backed away with her candlestick and skirted out of the musty library before either of the gentlemen could stop her.
Only when she had collapsed upon her bed in her chamber did she realize she’d been so flustered that instead of returning to the drawing room as she’d claimed she would, she had gone somewhere else entirely.
Good heavens.
Lord Preston thought she meant to take the ruby brooch. He must think that, after how he’d reacted.
The worst part of it all was she wasn’t entirely certain he was wrong.
In fact, she was halfway positive he was right.
Once Freddie gathered her wits from where they’d apparently fallen to the floor to be trampled by a herd of elephants, she made her way back down to the drawing room.
Lord Preston and Lord Upton Grey had both made their return sooner than she had. They were seated in chintz chairs near the pianoforte deep in conversation with Mama and the Dowager Countess. As soon as Freddie came through the doors, Preston’s eyes met hers.
That alone was enough to cause her pulse to hammer through her veins at an unnatural pace. But when he immediately stood and crossed over to her? She felt liable to succumb to a fit of the vapors.
How was this man so singularly capable of making her forget every thought in her head? And her turn towards the lack-witted wasn’t merely because he was sure to find her behaviors suspicious. Freddie couldn’t fool herself into thinking such a thing even for a few minutes.
Even something so small as him looking at her made her want to both run away and hide, never to be seen again, and at the same time move closer to him. It was the worst sort of contradictory emotions roiling through her, and she didn’t have the first clue how to calm them.
“It seems you were not in as much of a hurry to ease your mother’s concerns as I was led to believe,” he said quietly once he stood close enough she could feel his warmth radiating between them.
“I…”
Her thoughts became even more muddled than they already had been when he placed his hand against the small of her back and led her into a more private area of the drawing room. The heat of his hand was enough to scald her.
Mama caught her eye as they walked past her, and she gave an encouraging nod. Good heavens! She must think Lord Preston was flirting with her or something of that manner. Mama’s assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. How was it that everyone at Padmore Glen seemed to think he had formed a tendre for her when reality lay firmly on the opposite end of the spectrum?
When they were close to the bay window, he nudged her to sit and then took the seat across from her.
Those hazel eyes, almost amber in the dim light of the room, bored straight through her. Her hands trembled.
“It is not a terrible thing for one to wish for things which rightfully belong to someone else,” he said slowly.
“I didn’t want—”
“Let us be clear on this, Lady Frederica.” He leaned back in his chair and put his elbows on its arms, his hands forming a steeple in front of him. “I do not begrudge you wanting jewels of your very own. I’m sure that someday, when you have a husband, he will provide you with all the jewels you could ever dream of. But I will not sit idly by while you plot to steal from my brother-in-law.”
“I only wanted to look at them.”
Her claim even rang hollow to her own ears. He wouldn’t believe her protestations for a moment.
Indeed, his eyes narrowed until his brow was almost a single line above them. “I have no idea why you think I should believe you, but do not think for one moment that you’ve pulled the wool over my eyes, my lady.”
“What sort of gentleman issues threats to a lady who has done nothing wrong?” Any sense of bravado she might have once felt was fading fast.
“Yet,” he muttered beneath his breath, but not so quietly she didn’t hear him. “Perhaps the sort who is all too aware of just what sort of treachery even a gentle-bred lady can inflict upon someone who is ill-prepared for the assault.”
Aha. So mayhap Lord Preston had been jilted by a lady who’d stolen from him before she left? Freddie felt she was getting closer to answering the riddle of his aversion to marriage by the day.
The riddle she truly needed to solve was what she could do to take care of Mama and Edie, if they should lose their home—a possibility which seemed to be becoming closer to reality by the day, if only in her imagination.
Lord Preston stood then, his great height towering over her in a posture she felt certain was meant to intimidate. “I intend to keep a very close watch over you. I won’t allow anyone to hurt those I love.”
Freddie refused to cower beneath him as he plainly wanted her to do. She stood, and her forehead nearly bumped against his chin since he didn’t back away. “I’m sure you’ll be quite bored in no time, my lord. Good evening to you.”
“Let’s hope you are correct.”
Then she edged around him, begged Mama and Lady Upton Grey to allow her to retire early once more, and stalked from the drawing room.
Lord Preston was nothing more than a nuisance.
He was watching her, all right, but damn if he wasn’t watching the sway of her hips when he ought to be paying more attention to the guile in her eyes.
For the next three days, they had all been stuck in the house at Padmore Glen because of a heavy snow that had decided to fall from the heavens. And throughout each of those three days anywhere Lady Frederica went, Preston was sure to follow…aside from following her into her chamber. He couldn’t very well do that if he didn’t want to end up leg-shackled to her.
Briefly, he’d tossed about the idea of standing guard outside her door, in case she had any grand designs on traipsing through the estate in the middle of the night in the hopes that he would be fast asleep. That idea had been quashed just as quickly as it had come, however, because being discovered near the young, unmarried ladies’ rooms would mean just as swift a visit to the altar as following her into her room.
Then he’d thought to set up his guard upstairs near the entry to the library where the jewels were discovered. No sooner had he convinced himself that was his best plan than he’d remembered the reliquary—which had held an equal interest for her—was downstairs in the abandoned study in the blue corridor.
The only way he could guard both doors would be to split himself in half. That was not an idea he savored.
Another possibility would be to explain to Goddard what was going on, and the two of them could each guard a door. But Preston had not, as yet, determined how loyal Goddard was to Upton Grey. Would the butler immediately go to his employer with what Preston told him? That was a risk he couldn’t take, because at present, Lady Frederica remained innocent of any wrongdoing. He wouldn’t tarnish her character—that was a task which she would have to do herself. If Preston went to him, would Goddard instead insist that footmen be stationed by the rooms? While Preston would appreciate being able to sleep in a comfortable bed each night, he didn’t want to alert anyone unnecessary to his suspicions.
As such, he had finally settled on the fact that he really couldn’t guard the doors. Even if he attempted to do so without obtaining assistance, one of the servants might come upon him in the night, and that would rouse any number of uncomfortable questions.
In the end he’d decided to sleep in his chamber, but to rise in the morning before Lady Frederica did. In that way, he could visit both the unused library upstairs
and the study in the blue corridor downstairs and make certain nothing was amiss. He had even taken to escorting her up to the ladies’ corridor at the end of the night, just to be certain she didn’t take any detours along the way.
Of course, all this time he’d been spending in her presence in combination with the way he was always watching to see if she would do anything suspicious had led his sisters to speculate that their plan was proving successful.
“You can hardly take your eyes off her, Preston,” Mary had said only this afternoon at tea. “I’ve been watching you.”
“I’m sure you’ve noticed he always goes with her when she retires for the night, too,” Rachel had put in. Her smile was somehow equally self-satisfied and loving. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s when he tries to steal a kiss with no one watching.”
He’d done his best to dissuade them from thinking this was a budding courtship and impending marriage, but Preston doubted he’d gotten through to them at all.
Why should they believe his denials when everything they saw was correct insofar as they could know? Even he couldn’t deny that there was an attraction—a physical attraction, nothing more—whether he had any intention of acting upon the temptation or not.
If he wasn’t mistaken, Lady Frederica felt a similar pull to him, despite her frequent attempts to slip out from under his eye. More and more often, she was allowing herself to smile while she was around him. He’d only thought her beautiful before. When she smiled, her entire face lit up like a clear summer’s day. He was starting to wish that she felt more comfortable in his presence. If she did, then perhaps he would be on the receiving end of more of those smiles.
Preston still didn’t trust her though, and as long as he couldn’t trust her, he couldn’t change his demeanor in her presence. There was always that hint of misgiving which came across in the way he would speak to her, or in their conversation when no one else was listening, and so she remained heavily on her guard.
Even with all his doubts about her character, though, for whatever reason, he was starting to enjoy his time with Lady Frederica. It shocked him when he realized it at supper, as the two of them were engaged in a lively discussion of the flaws in Gauss’s proof of the fundamental theorem of algebra, that even when they had disagreements she responded in a lively, intelligent, and engaging manner. Not many women of his acquaintance were so well educated on the finer points of complex mathematics. For that matter, there weren’t a great many men in is acquaintance of the sort. She was quite an uncommon lady.
Another discovery Preston had made during their time together was that she cared as deeply for her sisters and mother as he did for his family. She spent many hours with Lady Edwina, speaking with her as a friend, and a good deal more hours seeking out Lady Stalbridge’s advice and opinions on various matters. Hardly a day went by that she didn’t write to one of her married sisters or ask if the post had arrived in hopes that she would have news from one of them, even though the postman couldn’t easily get through the snows that were keeping them all indoors.
There were few times in his life that Preston had ever felt more conflicted about a person than he did about Lady Frederica Bexley-Smythe. Most of the time, she was a charming, intellectual, and gracious lady who stirred his lust in ways he was powerless to prevent. At other times, though, he saw her as little more than a cunning liar intent upon stealing from those who had given her nothing but their generosity.
He couldn’t reconcile the two as being the same person.
Was he misguided in assuming she would steal? She was a gently-bred lady, after all. Her father had been a marquess—one whom Preston had admired—and she’d spent many years under his care before her ne’er-do-well brother had inherited and become the head of the family. Certainly her father’s influence would have had an effect upon her. He’d been a good, honorable, honest man.
Shouldn’t his offspring have followed in the same course?
But then how could one explain the current Stalbridge and the myriad ways in which he seemed determined to drag both the marquessate and the family name through the mud?
As far as Lady Frederica was concerned, there was only one thing about which Preston felt absolutely and unequivocally convinced of: there was more to her than what she wanted him to see.
Now he must discover what she was hiding.
The snow finally cleared on Sunday, and Freddie couldn’t have been happier.
Three solid days with no means to escape Lord Preston’s constant hovering had been almost enough to drive her mad. When she added her unceasing thoughts about what would happen to Edie and Mama if she couldn’t do something to help them, and the fact that there were unknown quantities of valuable items upstairs which Lord Upton Grey would never miss since he didn’t even know that they existed as yet, a stay at Bedlam seemed a likely part of her future.
But at last the snow had stopped falling. A few footmen had cleared enough snow away in the morning that she could go out for a walk in the afternoon. She needed to move, to get some of the brisk air into her lungs in order to clear her thoughts.
“But it’s so cold!” Lady Ellingham had said when Freddie voiced her intention. “You’ve not been feeling quite the thing since you arrived. You’ll catch your death from the chill if you’re out for long in this weather.”
If she’d actually been ill, she would have conceded her point. The fact of the matter, however, was that she hadn’t truly felt unwell at all. On the first night of their visit, she’d claimed a megrim. Then on each of the subsequent nights she had likewise retired early, but not because of any true malady. It was more to escape the ever-present eye of Lord Preston.
Freddie refused to be swayed about getting out of doors today. No matter how large the main house at Padmore Glen might be, it was not large enough for both her and Lord Preston…particularly because, despite herself, she feared she was growing more attracted to him than was prudent.
“I won’t be out too long, I promise,” she’d said. Then she’d promised Lady Ellingham she would wear her warmest coat, and she’d allowed Lady Upton Grey to foist some new fur-lined gloves upon her. Once they had her trussed up so completely that she feared she might blow over if a gust of wind caught her just right, she and a maid headed down the main staircase to the front door.
It was Lord Preston, and not Mr. Goddard or one of the other servants, who stood beside the door waiting to open it for them, clad in his greatcoat, gloves, and hat.
She supposed it was too much to hope that meant he was leaving Padmore Glen. A full week remained before Christmas, and surely he had no intention of departing until at least a fortnight after that—perhaps longer.
Bother and blast, could she not even escape his presence by going out in this blistering cold? She’d done nothing at all to rouse his suspicions since that night in the abandoned library, and even there she’d done nothing wrong. Looking was not a crime, the last she knew.
“Are you going out, my lord?” Freddie asked curtly.
He held out an arm for her in response, cocking his head to the side.
She bit down on her tongue as she took his arm.
It wouldn’t do to seek out an argument with him now. She’d done everything she could over the last few days to both ease any lingering concerns he might have about her character and turn her thoughts from the bounty in the upstairs library. Sparking an argument would not win her any favor in his eyes, she was certain.
He guided her down the steps and then turned for the arbor. “I imagine after all the snows we’ve had the trees will be particularly lovely today.”
While he was most likely correct, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him not only inviting himself along on her walk, but also determining where they ought to go.
She remained silent.
They walked, not speaking, for several minutes until the bower of crystallized and snow-filled tree branches hung overhead. He stopped and looked up, so she did likewise. She couldn’t see the
sun or the sky beyond the sea of white above them.
The maid stopped ten paces behind them and waited.
A shiver stole over Freddie. She drew her redingote tighter about her shoulders as though that would force it to block the cold better than it already was.
“At Preston Hill, the arbor is not so dense as this one. There are spots where you can experience this sort of effect after a heavy snow, of course, but here it seems to go on for miles.” He looked at her then—his eyes golden and warm amidst the cascade of cold and ice all around them. “It’s like a sea of diamonds up there.”
Freddie couldn’t stop herself from reacting. Her spine stiffened, and her jaw felt tense and aching. Diamonds. Why must he turn the conversation back to jewels? Was he intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable, to poke and prod at her until she cracked? For days, she’d done everything she possibly could to refocus her thoughts away from all that was housed in that abandoned library.
“The arbor at Bexley Court is far sparser than this,” she said, hating the unyielding tone of her voice. “I can’t recall ever seeing anything like this before.”
And that was true. Nothing of this sort of majestic beauty had ever passed her eyes as long as she could remember. She was certain she would enjoy herself far more if she was alone and didn’t have to worry about the meaning behind Lord Preston’s actions and words. Wouldn’t she?
“Can’t you?” He held out his left arm again and led her on once she’d taken it. “What is it like at Bexley Court?”
Full of uncertainty, and growing more sparse by the day. Not that she could say such a thing to him. The truth of how dismal the future seemed was not for anyone to discover outside of the family, if they could possibly keep the secret contained. Percy seemed to be doing his best to eliminate any chance of keeping their prospects quiet, but Freddie saw no need to help him in that endeavor.