“As a boy, I spent many an hour exploring the hills behind the house. The highest commands a fine prospect of Lyningthorp and the valley beyond. We could take the path to the top, if you don’t think it would be too taxing for you.”
Oh, yes, he was definitely trying. Too often, he treated her with a well-bred but slightly distant courtesy, as if his civilities were a suit of armor he put on to conceal and safeguard his real feelings. His offer now held no such remoteness. “That sounds lovely.”
Some half an hour later, they were ready to set out. Rosalie wished David wouldn’t go about looking so handsome all the time, not when she was already aching to be his wife in more than name only. Though he was dressed in neat but unassuming country attire—a dark blue coat, buckskins and top boots—he somehow managed to look fitter and more polished than any man had a right to look.
In her own concession to the sunny day and the ambitious walk, she’d dressed in half boots and a morning dress of lavender muslin. She’d chosen the gown for comfort, though Bridger had endorsed the selection with enthusiasm. It wasn’t particularly stylish, and it certainly wasn’t elegant, but at least the color suited her, and hadn’t David said he could find fashionable, heartless sophisticates on any street corner in Mayfair?
The weather was every bit as fine as the view from the window had promised. As they made their way to the hills behind the house, David told her about the conversation he and Robert Melton had shared during her brief visit to the nursery with Mrs. Melton.
Rosalie listened, not troubling to hide her surprise when he reached the end of his account. “So when you believed the neighbors disapproved of you—that was all nothing but a misunderstanding?”
David made a rueful face. “A bit more than that, for I can’t deny I added my own fuel to the fire. When I thought myself persona non grata, I stood all the more on my dignity. We Linneys have a regrettable streak of pride in our makeup, I’m afraid. The more aloof I appeared, the more my neighbors kept their distance, and the more they kept their distance, the more aloof I appeared. It was a vicious circle.”
“Oh, David, what a waste.”
“Yes, well...” With a shrug, he dismissed more than twenty years of pain and rejection as if they were a mere trifle. “It’s behind me now. Though I daresay I might never have realized as much if you hadn’t pushed me to dine with the Meltons, my dear.”
Rosalie glowed with satisfaction, both because she’d done something useful at last, and because his my dear sounded different than it had before. She was used to hearing him pronounce the words as a polite endearment, kind but not entirely effortless. This time, they’d rolled off his tongue with gratifying ease.
As they started up the hill, David glanced about with a reflective air. “I’ve lived in these parts all my life, but I’ve never been popular here.” His tone was more nostalgic than resentful. “Neither with my neighbors, nor with the cottagers in the estate village. But I misunderstood the reason why.”
“I did notice as we drove through the high street on our wedding day that the villagers seemed...less than hospitable. But they were warming to you quickly enough in the Bridgers’ cottage.”
“And how much more quickly might they have warmed to me if I hadn’t waited ten years to show an interest in them?” He shook his head. “I had no idea what life for them was really like. No, I’ve been the inhospitable one, and they’ve simply taken their cues from my manner. But I mean to change that, my dear, with your help.”
Yes, the endearment definitely sounded different today. “What can I do?”
“Call on our tenants and cottagers when they’re sick. Keep abreast of their news. Just learning their names would be an excellent start.”
“Oh, that’s all easy enough.”
“It is for you.”
Rosalie didn’t like to hear him talking that way. He could be congenial enough when he wished to be. Dinner with the Meltons should have taught him that much. “And for you, too, David, when you make the effort.”
He was silent a moment, considering, before he slanted a glance her way. “We’ll see. I’m making a few improvements in the village now. That should give me excuse enough to show my face there. Perhaps, with time, a little of your goodwill may rub off on me.”
Rosalie’s heart lifted. He really did need her. She hugged the knowledge joyfully to herself.
As they made their way up the hill, the fern-lined trail narrowed, requiring them to walk single file. The path snaked between hornbeam and pine, sunlight filtering through the tree branches and throwing dappled shadows on the hard-packed earth. Though the slope was gentle, David frequently reached out to help her over uneven ground. She knew the gesture was one of chivalry rather than attraction, but a thrill nevertheless ran through her each time his hand met her elbow. At least he was willing to touch her now, something he’d been noticeably reluctant to do before.
Three-quarters of the way up the hill, the path widened enough to permit them to walk side by side again. “I hope the climb isn’t too taxing for you,” David said.
“Not at all. I nearly forgot I’d been ill, and I like the exercise. When my father and I were traveling we used to cover much rougher terrain than this, trekking to some truly impressive heights.”
“Ah, I should have remembered to whom I was speaking.” He smiled. “No doubt you’ve seen the Pyrenees, the Sierra Nevada and the Alps—and likely all on the same expedition.”
She laughed. “Exactly so! David, did you know that on a clear day, one can see the Alps from the coast of Venice? Despite hours and hours of studying the globes as a girl, I had no idea until I saw the sight for myself. One thinks of the Alps as being so cold and forbidding and land-locked, and Venice as so golden and exotic, there in the warm Adriatic.”
“I would love to see Venice.” David’s voice held a note of wistfulness. “I envy those who came of age before the war, when it was still the custom to undertake the Grand Tour. I’m no great explorer, to be sure, but I would gladly suffer the inconveniences of travel to go there.”
“Well then, we must go. You would love Venice—splendid palaces, the quaintest little bridges and alleyways, artwork and churches and marvelously exotic architecture everywhere one turns. I remember our guide was sick one day, and Papa and I tried to get along without him, only to find ourselves quite lost—until Papa pointed out the white marble footprints in the bridge ahead, and said, ‘Never fear, my child, we’ve been lost here before.’” She smiled. “I never minded being lost in Venice, because it has the strangest dreamlike quality. Everything is so graceful and golden, and instead of roads and horses and carriages, there are canals everywhere one looks, with gondolas gliding smoothly under stone bridges. It felt as if we’d traveled to a strange new world where earth had been replaced by water, and all of life was somehow more tranquil.”
“La Serenissima they call it, no? The Most Serene.” He stretched out a hand to help her over a fallen tree branch. Her heart gave a foolish, utterly unsophisticated bound at the mere touch of his fingers on the bared skin of her arm.
“And Florence, David!” She looked up at him eagerly. “There’s so much to see there, too—the famous Duomo, and all its marvelous sculptures, and the palace of the Medici. It astonished me how friendly the Florentines were. A young man with a puppet followed me all about the Piazza Santa Croce, with the puppet speaking the most amusing stream of Italian all the while.”
“He was probably flirting with you.”
“Do you think so?” She laughed at the notion. “You would adore Florence. It has such a look of the Renaissance, one expects to find a Shakespearean duke strutting across every square. And you speak Italian, so you could come to my aid if I should meet with any more impertinent puppets.”
“Then we really must go there some day, so you can show me all these wonders.”
“Oh, yes. Could we? I’m certain you wouldn’t regret it. You could even see the inspiration for another of my father’s puns.”
/>
“Not another pun...is it as bad as all the rest?”
She laughed. “I’m afraid so. On which river are boats the scarcest? You may spare yourself the trouble of puzzling it out, for I’ll tell you—the Arno, for they’re Arno boats there.”
“Oh, gad.” He pulled a comically pained face.
She giggled, more at his reaction than at the joke itself. “I know. It was one of Papa’s worst, and therefore an enduring favorite.”
They’d reached the top of the hill. “Well,” David said, turning about slowly with a sweep of one arm, “the scenery here can hardly compare to a Venetian palace or a Florentine river, but I did promise you a splendid prospect of the house and countryside...”
Rosalie wheeled to survey the view. Her breath caught in her throat. The fairy-tale towers and brick wings of Lyningthorp stood below them, the house’s ornamental lake, walled rose garden and formal walks lending added charm to the surrounding parkland. Beyond the park lay timber and shaded valley, then the estate village, then wide green meadows, and, finally, hills that faded to blue sky in the distance. Sheep dotted one far-off field, so small from her vantage point she could barely make them out, while the white spire of a church rose above the treetops beyond the valley.
Her heart gave a euphoric squeeze. “Oh, David! It’s beautiful.”
He seemed pleased by her reaction. “Not so magnificent as an Alpine vista, to be sure, but it has an appeal all its own.”
They stood side by side, and after a time she sensed he was no longer looking out at the view, but was instead gazing at her. Delight gave way to something different, a curious mixture of anticipation and desire. Her skin tingled. She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I like it better than the Alps.”
Would it embarrass him if she told him how much it meant to her, his sharing this? She was already in love with Lyningthorp. It had been mere hours since she’d spoken to Mrs. Epperson about the servants’ whispering, but already the oppressive silence was lifting. And she was quickly coming to recognize the names and faces of the people around her.
She had a real home at last, a place of safety and permanence. She could speak of travel now with pleasure, confident such a trip would represent only a short break in the pattern of her everyday life, and not some restless, unceasing journey. And all thanks to David.
With a sigh of contentment, she sat down to rest on a broad, flat rock. To her surprise, he settled himself on the grass at her feet. Rosalie looked askance at him. He was going to ruin his clothes. Curbing the urge to say so, she opted instead to study him in repose.
The first time she’d laid eyes on David, boarding the Neptune’s Fancy on a raw March day in New York Harbor, he’d impressed her as austere and rather forbidding. Here in the sunshine, however, lolling back in his country clothes, he looked as approachable as her cousin Charlie. Mr. Melton had spoken of the famous Linney hauteur, and David himself had alluded to it more than once, but Rosalie could detect no sign of it in him now as she took in his relaxed sprawl and contented half smile. Get him away from the world for a while, and he became a changed man.
A changed man, but still a remarkably handsome one. Her eyes roamed over him, from his dark, chiseled features to the long, lean length of his body. It had felt so good to press tight against him the night before, so thrilling to kiss him and feel his warm lips on her skin. Recalling it, her heart beat faster, and a strange heat stole over her, concentrating in the place between her legs. How many more days would she have to wait until he overcame his reluctance to consummate their marriage? If he needed her to be patient, she was willing to be patient. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to be patient for long.
Oh, dear, that seemed dreadfully like ingratitude. Now that she had the home and the settled life she’d always longed for, she ought to be counting her blessings, not aching for still more. But she did want children, and even if she and David were never blessed with a child of their own, it would be so exciting to share that kind of closeness with him. His body fascinated her. She loved to watch the way he moved, and how even the most elegant tailoring failed to disguise the hard muscles beneath. They’d been married nearly a fortnight now, and she’d yet to see him in his shirtsleeves. Imagining him in far less made her go warm all over.
Poor man—if he only knew what shocking thoughts were running through her head. Fortunately he was safe from her lecherous designs for the moment. They could hardly consummate their marriage out here, atop this hill. At least, not without fear of ants and grass stains and—
“Something is amusing you,” David said, bringing her back to earth with a thud, “but I haven’t the faintest notion what it might be.”
“Amusing me?”
“Yes, you were grinning just then like an angel with a particularly delicious secret.”
An angel? What a lucky thing he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Just good cheer, that’s all. Have you ever seen a more perfect afternoon? I can scarcely imagine meeting with anything but good fortune on a day as beautiful as today.”
“I’m glad to see you happy, but take care you don’t tempt Fate. Some of the brightest days in my memory have also turned out to be the darkest.” At her questioning look, he said, “My father killed himself on a day much like today.”
Her face fell. “Oh, David—I had no idea.”
“I know, and I certainly didn’t mean to chase away the smile you were wearing.”
But all thought of flirtation had fled with David’s revelation. “You remember the very day it happened, then?”
To her relief, he didn’t look away or turn cool as he usually did whenever conversation turned to an uncomfortable topic. Instead he fixed his eyes on the grass between his boots. “I remember every last detail. I’ve often asked myself, looking back on the hours just before he pulled the trigger, if there was any sign I should have noticed, any opportunity I might have missed to change his mind. If I’d only said the right thing, he might still—”
“Don’t.” Rosalie set a hand on his shoulder. “You were only a boy, and no parent wishes to burden a child with adult troubles. You of all people can be confident he gave you no cause to suspect what was in his mind that day.”
David was silent for a time before looking up at her, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Do you know, you possess the most extraordinary talent. You have a way of saying precisely the thing I most want to hear—so sympathetic it would sound like a mere empty platitude, coming from anyone else. And yet, when you say it, I find myself believing it must be true. I suppose...”
She waited, but he didn’t finish. “You suppose what?”
His brow wrinkled. “I don’t know. I was trying to describe what it is about you that lends the things you say that kind of weight, but I can’t quite...” His words trailed off again.
“You trust me.”
A look of peace spread slowly over David’s features, wiping away his frown of concentration. “Yes, I believe that’s it.” He turned his dark eyes on her and broke into a smile. It was the first time she had ever seen his face completely open and unguarded. Her heart gave another of those silly, unsophisticated bounds, and this time he hadn’t even touched her.
“Because I’m the least Machiavellian young lady you know,” she added, recalling his words aboard the Neptune’s Fancy.
“So you are.” He plucked a wildflower from the grass beside him and began pulling off the petals, one by one. “She loves me, she loves me not; she loves me, she loves me not...”
Rosalie laughed, not because the gesture was the least bit witty or original, but because she’d never seen urbane, self-possessed David so playful before. “Be sure to end on ‘she loves me.’ Otherwise, I’ll have to call your flower a liar.”
“Well, look at that.” He held out the denuded stem for her to see. “She loves me.”
Rosalie beamed. “Of course. I could have told you that without your making a sacrifice of that poor stitchwort.”
She realized it wa
s the first time, aside from the vows they’d taken during their wedding ceremony, that they’d ever spoken of love. Her feelings for David had been building since the night her father died, yet they’d grown so steadily, it surprised her she’d never said the words aloud before.
Looking about her—at David, at the cloudless day, at the storybook view below—a wave of unadulterated gladness welled up inside her. Her cousin Charlie had accused her of being too forgiving by half. If that was a failing, she didn’t regret it. If she’d never looked beyond David’s reserve, if she hadn’t pushed to get to know him better, she wouldn’t be sitting here now. David wouldn’t be sprawled on the grass at her feet, and his world wouldn’t be spread out before her like a gift.
He twirled what was left of the flower between his finger and thumb, examining it. “I believe I’ll keep this.” He tucked the plundered stitchwort into his breast pocket. “In case I should ever be required to produce evidence of your devotion in a court of law.”
At the unaccustomed note of teasing in his voice, Rosalie laughed. “I thought a husband couldn’t be compelled to testify against his wife.”
“Very true. We’re one, under the law. But I mean to keep the flower, just the same.”
“For a man with an interest in language, you’re not very nice in your distinctions. One can hardly call it a flower any more. Stem is more like it now.”
“Stem, then,” he agreed affably. “I’m keeping it.”
They sat together for a time in companionable silence, gazing out at the house and countryside. David leaned back on one elbow and the sun flashed off the gold signet ring he wore. He’s my husband. Her sense of well-being bordered on bliss. We’re married, and I’ll find a way to show him just how useful I can be.
She had an urge to lean down and kiss him—a long, hungry kiss like the one they’d shared the night before—but she made herself sit quietly until it passed. As much as she wanted to be a real wife to David, he was beginning to lower his defenses around her, and that was even more important than that other aspect of their marriage. It would be a mistake, pushing him.
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