Wicked and Wonderful

by King, Valerie

  He began to walk faster.

  Chapter Ten

  “Miss Lovington.”

  Judith had just reached the edge of the apple orchard, through which she meant to take a shorter path to camp when Kelthorne called to her from behind.

  She was greatly surprised and not a little dismayed. She did not understand why he had followed her. Indeed, she wished he would go away.

  She waited for him but as soon as he reached her, she lifted her chin. “I cannot imagine why you have come to me.” She was still stinging after his impertinent and wholly inappropriate question.

  “I have been asked by Miss Currivard to escort you to your camp. She has insisted quite adamantly so I beg you will indulge her directive and not bite my head off. ‘Twas not my notion.”

  “Very well, but I mean to traverse your orchard unless, of course, you have an objection for someone of my low character to do so.”

  He lifted his chin as well. “I have no objection.”

  She seethed. “Very well, then.” She had no intention of speaking with him. He might accompany her but that hardly demanded conversation.

  After a third of the rows had been accomplished, he said, “I suppose I must beg your forgiveness.” He did not sound in the least penitent.

  “I would not desire you to strain yourself, my lord.”

  “I think my supposition was reasonable,” he said in his defense, but his tone was much softened. “Given the strength of your reaction, however, I must deduce that I was incorrect.”

  She did not want to give him answer. She did not see why she must justify to him anything she did. Yet, there was something in his voice that compelled her to at least say, “You were wholly mistaken.”

  He stopped her suddenly. “Will you not then tell me how it is you came to be with the troupe, for I can think of no other reason for you to have done so than that you had disgraced yourself. And yet, knowing you as I do, I cannot imagine how that might have been.”

  She looked up at him. Moonlight through the leaves of the apple tree once more dappled his face. She could see that he was sincere, even concerned. “My lord,” she murmured, laughing in frustration, “I cannot tell you. To do so would be to reveal things that would place me in harm’s way. You must trust me in this.”

  He began walking again but slapped the lower branch of the next tree. An apple thudded to the grassy turf below. “Very well,” he stated. “I suppose I must allow it.”

  “‘Tis not about your allowing it,” she said feeling rather cheerful. “The truth is that you can have no choice in the matter and I believe that is the thistle in this field.”

  He growled his frustration.

  She chuckled. Perhaps she had come to understand him a little after all. “So tell me, how did you enjoy our performance this evening?” Perhaps a change of subject would set their uneven friendship to rights.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “My God, where do I begin in answering this question? I was enchanted, charmed, cast completely beneath your spell as was everyone else in the room.”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm. She had not meant to solicit so many compliments. “Thank you. I am gratified. But I must confess that though Margaret plays quite well for one who was never before schooled in the art, Miss Currivard’s abilities made the experience rather sublime.”

  “She is an angel.”

  “She is a good friend.” Judith remembered her kind words in the music room.

  “She seems to take a great deal of interest in you.”

  “Yes,” she said, remembering their cryptic conversation. “Though I must say I am not certain why that is, save that we seem to have a very natural and warm rapport between us.”

  “Indeed?” he said, meeting her gaze.

  “Aye,” she responded. “Were my circumstances different, I think we would become the best of friends. There is a great sensitivity and understanding of the world in Miss Currivard that one does not often find. I admire her a great deal.”

  He frowned a little. “I believe you are right.”

  For Judith, this agreement softened her feelings toward him. “I wish you to know that I do think of you as a friend as well and I do not mean to offend you by not being more forthcoming about my past.”

  “In turn, I have pressed you beyond what is acceptable. Although I must say, I would hope that one day you would be able to trust me to such an extent that you would feel safe in confiding in me. But perhaps that is expecting a great deal too much.”

  Judith sighed, for this speech reminded her that the troupe would not stay forever in Portislow. Such knowledge, however, made her feel less threatened in his presence. She liked him very much. Indeed, there were moments when her longing for his company was so strong that she wondered if perhaps Cupid had touched her with one of his gold-tipped arrows.

  Were she to remain in Portislow, therefore, she did not think she would have dared say, as she did now, “I have been very happy here. There have been occasions when I have wished I might remain in Somerset forever. There is much to the county and to this vicinity that quite enchants me. Were you often at the castle before you inherited?”

  “No,” he stated with a laugh. “And had you known my uncle you would understand quite to perfection why it was that I was not.”

  She chuckled. “Not everyone is made for society. I dare say your uncle was just such a sort.”

  “To say the very least, I assure you.”

  “You seem on excellent terms with your sisters.”

  Again, he chuckled. “If you mean they feel obligated to offer their opinions on every possible subject pertaining to my private affairs then yes we are, indeed, on excellent terms.”

  She smiled and found that she did not wish to hurry to camp so quickly as before. She slowed her steps and he kept pace. “I envy you your sisters. I had no siblings. My mother died when I was very young, two or three, I believe.”

  “And did your father remarry?”

  “Yes, but there was no issue. He fell very ill after a time.” The words spoken into the night air brought so much sadness flooding her heart that she had to give herself a strong shake. “There are no Lovingtons other than I.”

  He glanced at her. “And is Lovington your real name?”

  “No, of course not. ‘Tis a ridiculous name, but fit for a songstress I think.”

  “Indeed? And what is—”

  “I shan’t tell you,” she said, but she was smiling. From the first, this was what she had enjoyed in being with him. When they were not brangling, there was a natural, teasing quality to their discourse that pleased her immensely.

  He pressed his hand to his heart. “I feel quite overwhelmed that you have confided at least this much in me, that you are not Judith Lovington. That must account for something.”

  “Yes, it accounts for my stupidity.”

  He laughed quite heartily. “How you delight me.”

  She glanced at him, another warmth climbing her cheeks. Could he have said anything in this moment that would have pleased her more? She thought not.

  The subject quickly fell to questions he posed about each member of the troupe. More than once she stopped their progress entirely in order to turn toward him and tell him some anecdote or other about the troupe’s numerous experiences throughout the kingdom. Finally, he led her to an old log upon which he overlaid his coat that her skirts might not become soiled. She sat beside him listening to undoubtedly somewhat abbreviated tales of his many adventures.

  She observed, “Do you not believe that having lived in a manner that was not in the least traditional—as I have and even as Miss Currivard has—that one gains a perspective of life that one would not have had otherwise? I have thought so often, for instance, that in any class of people, there are those who live and walk with integrity and those who would find it impossible to offer a definition of the word in their speech, manners and especially their conduct. Many, for instance, who go by the name of gentleman are nothing of th
e sort. And I should in turn happily apply the term to any number of men I have known in our travels even though they might speak with so thick an accent as to be unintelligible.”

  *** *** ***

  Kelthorne looked into her eyes, glittering as they had that first night, beneath the scattered moonbeams piercing the orchard. “I believe I must agree quite wholeheartedly with you,” he said, surprised a little that his voice had fallen to little more than a murmur. A breeze swept a dangling curl over her cheek and instinctively he brushed it back toward her ear, his fingers touching her skin. He heard her sigh softly.

  He met her gaze fully once more. He had never, throughout their slow walk through the orchard, considered kissing her, but the thought entered his head now with such force that before he could consider what he was about, he slid his hand behind her neck, leaned forward and placed his lips gently on hers.

  She did not withdraw, a circumstance that gave him courage. The hand that supported her neck now slipped behind her back and drew her close. He felt her hand settle upon his arm, even fingering the soft fabric of his shirt and he deepened the kiss. How readily she parted her lips and received him. How greedily he responded, kissing her as though ‘twould be the last time he would ever kiss again.

  Suddenly, she pushed him back. “You should not,” she said softly.

  “Of course not” he whispered. “But I cannot seem to resist you in this moment.”

  He drew her to her feet and before she could protest, he kissed her again.

  *** *** ***

  Judith was bewitched. She could account for her conduct in no other way. She was allowing Kelthorne to kiss her, the man who would soon be betrothed to a lady who had befriended her, who had shown her great kindness, who was making her dreams of owning a cottage one day come sooner than she had ever thought possible. But, oh, the magic of his caress. She did not understand why he could command her so easily except that they had been talking for an hour or two in the most delightful, the most intimate manner, sharing thoughts and ideas. How she treasured each second that he possessed her in this sweet, wondrous way, for she would soon leave Somerset.

  She clung to him, to an impossible dream that she refused even now to acknowledge fully, a desire that she could have what she had grown up to believe she would one day have—a husband, children, a home shared with the man she loved.

  As he plied her lips so tenderly, she wondered if she loved him. Was that why she could so easily lean into him in this scandalous manner? Did she love him?

  She drew back again and searched his eyes. He held her hand close to his cheek and kissed her fingers. The hour was late. Margaret must be waiting for her. She must go. “I must return to camp. Margaret always waits for me.”

  “Of course.” He retrieved his coat and put it back on.

  Perhaps a quarter mile yet remained, but never had so short a space required so much time to traverse. That Kelthorne stopped to kiss her again and again made the approaching destination a hated thing. Judith felt agitated, even when she kissed him, as though each kiss would be the last and that as soon as the sun rose on the morrow, some great breach would occur to separate their worlds even more.

  In this moment, she resented Lord Stolford more than she ever had before. It was his doing that now prevented her from being worthy of Kelthorne and yet it was his doing that had brought her to Portislow this summer. How great an irony.

  “I shall remember this night as long as I live,” she whispered. She stood with him now at the edge of the orchard. They were but a hundred yards from the camp. She searched his eyes, barely visible in the pale moonlight. She could not imagine his thoughts.

  *** *** ***

  Kelthorne wanted more of Judith, particularly since with each day that passed, the hour drew near when not only would the troupe leave with her forever, but he would be forced to oblige his family and take a wife. He felt angry suddenly, angry that she had made him feel things he did not wish to feel, that perhaps love was possible after all. Yet the woman he desired was not fit to be the Countess of Kelthorne.

  He kissed her roughly, his hand traveling along her cheek, her throat and sliding firmly over her breast. He might as well take now what he could not have in marriage.

  As soon as these thoughts entered his head and as soon as his hand gave a squeeze, she drew back abruptly, pushing his hand away. She did not speak but reproached him with her gaze.

  He was angry. “You permitted me to kiss you well enough,” he whispered, trying to draw near again, but she backed away.

  “I beg you will not,” she returned sharply.

  “Why do you demur now?” he spat. He tried to take her in his arms once more, but she crushed the heel of her shoe against the soft top of his foot and he reeled back in pain.

  Hell and damnation. He winced and stretched his foot a couple of times.

  “Good night, my lord,” she stated firmly. He saw the tears sparkling on her lashes.

  She turned to go but even in his pain he lunged and caught her elbow. “How dare you pretend to be what you cannot possibly be,” he said, not knowing why he was speaking so cruelly to her.

  “And you, on the brink of offering for a wonderful young lady. Are you no less a hypocrite, if I am so? What manner of libertine are you? I begin to think you as bad as Stolford.”

  He glared at her for a long moment. “Were you a man, I should call you out for that remark.”

  This time, when she turned and began the last part of the journey back to camp, he let her go. He watched her until she was safely past the first line of tents. Only then did he make his way back to the castle.

  *** *** ***

  “You are quite mistaken,” Judith said. “I am not overset in the least.” She pushed past Margaret who was standing in the middle of her tent and stubbed her toe on her dressing table. “Ow.”

  Margaret held her hands wide. “Ye have been in high dudgeon all morning. Ye have an that.”

  “I do not know of what you are speaking,” Judith said. “Now, if you please, I am gathering clothes to take to the church.”

  “I have two shirts finished as well,” Margaret said. “And Mrs. Marnhull has several stockings she knitted.”

  “Why do you stare at me in that manner?” Judith inquired hotly. “I promise you I am perfectly well.”

  Margaret’s shoulders slumped. “As though I have not known ye these eight years.”

  Judith tossed her head. “Well, today ye are mistaken.”

  “Now I know ye are troubled fer ye never say ‘ye’.”

  Judith sat down carefully on her bed and covered her face with her hands. “I—I should not be so upset. I am being ridiculous. I have always understood the opinion in which I would be held by any of the gentlemen I would meet or even engage in rational conversation. I am not so naïve and yet…”

  She began to weep. She had not meant to weep. She despised herself for becoming a watering pot, yet it would seem the tears must come.

  Margaret knelt before her and petted her head for her hair was still undone and her long chestnut curls hung down her back. “What terrible thing did ‘is lordship do?”

  Judith sniffed soundly and withdrawing a kerchief from the pocket of her gown blew her nose. “How do you know it was Kelthorne?” she asked, as though pretense had any meaning at all.

  “And who else would it be, Judy?”

  Judith swiped angrily at two more tears daring to roll down her cheeks. “I... I have grown so attached to his company. And last night we talked and talked for hours. Well, you know how late it was, nearly two o’clock.”

  “And I saw that ye were overset.”

  “I was. I am. At any rate, I could not credit so much time had passed but we dawdled so in the orchard. Only with the greatest effort did I keep myself from revealing all of my past to him but even so he knows now nearly as much as you do. Then... then he kissed me.”

  Margaret sighed. “And to kiss such a man.”

  “Yes, I know. An
d it is far better than one can even imagine for he is the most tender of men. Is that not surprising when he is such an athletic sort?”

  “Aye, very surprising. But a kiss does not sound so very bad.”

  “Twas more than one kiss. Perhaps two score.”

  “Oh,” Margaret murmured. “I see. Is that why ye are so distressed? That ye kissed him in what he might have thought were an unseemly manner?”

  “An unseemly manner? You are beginning to sound like a lady of quality.”

  “Split me corset, I am and that.” she said, smiling broadly.

  Judith laughed and blew her nose once more. Her amusement faded abruptly. “He became quite rude in the end and I do not precisely comprehend why.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I fear it was not just what he said, but rather that he became agitated and I fear he touched me as he should not have and then he said, ‘How dare you pretend to be what you cannot possibly be.’ I was mortified and so angry. I cannot tell you how angry I was. I thought my head would come off.”

  Margaret leaned back on her heels appearing pensive. “I think he might have grown afraid of ye in that moment.”

  “Afraid of me? What do you mean?”

  “Afraid of his feelings fer ye. Like he realized he was in love with ye but could do naught about it.”

  Judith shook her head. Was it possible? “It seems so unlikely. I truly felt he was judging me again by my situation.”

  “Think, Judy,” she said, clasping her hand firmly. “From what ye’ve said, there be a great bond between the pair of ye. To talk fer hours, ‘tis not so common as ye might think.”

  “I think he wished for me to become his mistress,” she said mournfully.

  “That would make things simple fer him but ‘twould not make him happy. There is only one thing ‘twould make him happy and ye know wat that be.”

  “I do not,” she said, sitting up very straight. “How can I possibly know what would make him happy?”

  “Because, my girl, ye’ve been kissing him all night. Yer in love with him and he is in love, too. I’ve little doubt of that.”