“Over the past five or six years.”
Louisa brought a hand to her breast. “Wasn’t it dangerous? I mean, with Napoleon and the fighting. I know I worried about my sister endlessly while she lived in France, though she was in the south, it was still dangerous.”
“But she was married, so she had the added protection of her husband.”
They both knew Elizabeth had never been married before John, but Louisa would play along. “Not for the last year. Had I known she was alone, I would have worried more, or perhaps gone to live with her.”
“That would not have been wise.” He shoveled more eggs into his mouth.
“Why?” Because I might have learn the truth?
“It wouldn’t have been safe. It was equally dangerous to travel across France as to sail to your sister’s home.”
Despite their shooting match yesterday, Marston would probably always think a lady needed the protection of a gentleman. Though she bristled at the assumption, maybe it wasn’t so bad to let him think he was needed if it gave him peace of mind.
“Were you ever afraid while you traveled? It must have been as dangerous for an English gentleman.”
He placed the fork on the plate and settled back in his seat. His dark brown eyes focused on her. “Yes, there were times that I was.”
That was probably the most honest answer he’d given when talking about his life. And truthfully, what did she know about his profession other than what was romanticized in novels? Perhaps it was best if she didn’t ask any further questions. While she wanted a more exciting existence, living in danger from day to day wasn’t exactly what she was looking for. “Well, hopefully Napoleon will be dealt with soon and we can all safely travel there one day.”
A smile came to his lips. “One can only hope.”
Louisa pushed out her chair and stood. “I will leave you to your breakfast. Have an enjoyable morning, Lord Marston.” She left the room without a backward glance. As much as she wished to continue conversing with him, she was at a complete loss for any other topic.
“Miss Whitton, wait.” He followed her into the foyer. “Would you care to take a stroll in the gardens?”
He’d come after her. He hadn’t even finished his breakfast. “I would enjoy that very much, Lord Marston.”
He offered his arm and escorted her out the front door onto the paved path that would take them to the southwestern portion of the property.
Devlin didn’t want Miss Whitton to leave yet, but she had finished her morning meal and he hadn’t really added to their conversation. He would have loved to tell her of his travels, but they weren’t of pleasurable pursuits.
His appetite left him when she exited the room. Being in her presence was more necessary than the food before him, and he rose quickly to follow.
Her delicate hand was warm on his sleeve, and he inhaled her rosewater scent. What was it about Miss Whitton that was so soothing? Even when she was angry with him, she calmed him in a way that couldn’t be explained. Even exasperated in her presence, he was still relaxed. It was blasted confusing.
He barely slept last night because of her. He needed to figure out how to keep her from being married off before he was in a position to court her. If he approached Danby, would he agree? Surely His Grace would understand that Devlin’s sisters needed to come first, having eighteen grandchildren of his own. But, what if Miss Whitton didn’t wish to wait for him?
He needed to make her want to wait for him.
She said nothing while they walked and entered the gardens, but there was no need for words. Ahead of them was a maze, one he’d viewed from Bentley’s library. “Have you tried the maze?”
“No, I feared getting lost.” She laughed.
“Nor have I.” They paused before it. “Do you care to give it a try? If we find ourselves stuck, at least we won’t be alone.”
A mischievous glint came to her blue eyes. “I’m willing to give it a try.”
They stepped inside, turned left, and continued making their way through the tall, manicured, bushes, having to backtrack a few times when they came to a dead-end.
“Perhaps we should have brought some toast so that we could have left a trail, or left a note outside that we had come in here if we can’t find our way out.”
Devlin placed a hand over hers. “Don’t worry, I have an excellent memory and have been keeping track of the turns we took.”
“As long as they are the correct ones.” She giggled.
A moment later they emerged into the center. A small fountain had been placed in the middle and there were benches surrounding all four sides. Half was shadowed and the other in full sun. Devlin led her to a bench in the shadows. He didn’t think it couldn’t be seen from the upper windows of the house, and what he planned on doing with Miss Whitton in the center of the maze should not be viewed by anyone.
Devlin settled on the seat next to her and Miss Whitton glanced up at him, a question in her eyes. He brought a hand to her cheek, so glad he had not worn gloves today. Her skin was soft and smooth. He brought another hand to her hair and let his fingers caress the silky golden curls. Miss Whitton opened her mouth. Her tongued darted out, licking her lips. It was all he could do not to groan. He placed his lips against hers. There was no gentleness. He wanted to claim her. Wanted her to know she belonged to him and would be his when the time was right. He delved into her mouth. Her hands grasped his shoulders. Without lifting his lips from hers, Devlin scooped Miss Whitton up and settled her on his lap. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and his hands roamed and caressed her back.
Keep your hands on her back. Do not bring them forward, no matter how much you wish to.
She squirmed on his lap, as if she felt the need to be closer as well. It became painful, but it was worth the discomfort until he could finally make her his. He had to marry his sisters off immediately, because Devlin wasn’t sure how long he could last not having this woman.
Devlin moaned and moved his lips from hers. “Louisa,” he whispered before trailing them along her jaw and to her neck. She let her head fall back, opening herself to him. And, despite his own order, his hand slipped to her waist, up her ribcage.
“I am going to beat you,” a young boy yelled from within the maze.
Louisa flew off Lord Marston’s lap and rushed to the opposite side of the fountain. She frantically tried to straighten her hair, but her hands shook and her pulse raced. Goodness, she had never behaved in such a wanton manner before. What had she been thinking?
One of Lady Bentley’s younger brothers, who couldn’t be older than eight, burst into the center of the maze. Thank goodness he’d yelled, or he would have found her in a very compromising position. Not that he realized it, but he would have told his older sister, who would have told her husband. Who knew what damage that could have had on Louisa’s reputation? No doubt Elizabeth would have a few things to say, and then John might take Marston to task and force a betrothal.
Of course it was what Louisa wanted, but not like this. She didn’t want to marry any man who had to be forced to do so. But after this display, he may not even want to marry her. If he thought her free with her favors, why should he marry her to gain them?
Heat rushed to her cheeks. This entire situation was more embarrassing than she could handle.
“Hello,” he said as two other boys ran into the center of the maze
She smiled at them. “Hello.”
“Are you lost?” The next to the youngest asked.
Louisa stifled a giggle. Yes, she had lost all good sense, and possibly her heart as well. “No, Lord Marston and I were just resting here before we returned to the house.”
Disappointment crossed his face. Did all males wish to be gallant and save a lady?
“But I am not sure I can find my way back out.”
“I can show you,” he eagerly offered.
Lord Marston stood and strolled to her side. “I am sure I can see to Miss Whitton.”
; “We should stay with you, just in case,” the oldest offered.
A frown formed on Lord Marston’s lips. Was he experiencing the same disappointment? She longed to return to his arms and experience more of his caresses and kisses, but it was best that she didn’t. Who knew what all she would allow? She hadn’t been able to think when on his lap, only feel. The man could have completely compromised and seduced her without an objection passing her lips.
“Thank you.”
The boy walked to the opening. “This way.”
Louisa glanced over to Marston, whose frown only deepened further. “Are you coming?”
He grumbled something she couldn’t hear, but he marched to her side and offered his arm. Together they followed the boys out of the maze, not taking a wrong turn once and emerged into the sunshine of the garden. Eleanor was sitting at a small table drinking a cup of tea. Marston led her over to the countess.
“Please join me.”
Louisa took the offered seat and glanced up at Marston.
“I need to see to a few matters, but thank you.” He inclined his head and walked away, disappearing into the foliage and the wooded path that led to where they had held their contest earlier. Louisa watched his retreating stiff back, wondering why he was in such a foul mood all of a sudden. Had he not enjoyed their moments in the maze as she had?
“Tea?” Eleanor asked.
Louisa turned her focus to her hostess. A small, knowing smile pulled at the woman’s lips and she held a cup aloft.
“Yes, please.” Did she suspect something?
“Did my brothers perhaps interrupt anything?”
Louisa’s face heated. Eleanor knew, and Louisa wished the ground would swallow her whole. She couldn’t lie, it wasn’t in her, but she certainly couldn’t tell the countess that had her brothers not yelled, they would have found her sitting on Marston’s lap enjoying his many delicious kisses.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Eleanor poured tea into the cup. “Do you take sugar or milk?”
“No, thank you.” Louisa took the offered cup and sipped. “Please, don’t tell anyone.”
Eleanor chuckled and settled back in her seat. “You secret is safe with me.”
Louisa Whitton was going to drive him to Bedlam. He wanted her but couldn’t have her or do all the things he wished. Not until she was his, and she would be his. But he couldn’t claim her until he married her, and he couldn’t marry her until he married off his sisters. To do so would be unfair to everyone. How could he focus on his sisters with Louisa in the same house? No, he needed no distractions where those three were concerned, and if he were married to Louisa, he might forget he had sisters. But, what if they didn’t marry quickly enough? What if Danby married Louisa off to someone else?
No, he would not let that happen.
The snap of a small branch echoed through the silence. Devlin jerked his head up. Damn and blast. Why hadn’t he remained alert? He was out of sight of the house, and he knew Savary’s men were coming after John, yet he let it completely slip his mind, all because of Louisa.
He searched through the trees, looking for movement, and turned slowly. Nothing.
Perhaps it was an animal. Yet, the hairs stood on the back of his neck. He wasn’t alone. Even though he couldn’t see or hear anything, Devlin knew in his gut someone else was there.
Devlin took a step back toward the house, his ears alert to any sound as his hand slipped into the pocket of his coat. Blast. His gun was upstairs. He hadn’t bothered to take it down to breakfast, thinking he would retrieve it before he left the house. Those plans had been waylaid by the lovely appearance of Louisa in the breakfast room. When she was around, he lost all good sense.
He could run back to the house and alert John, but that didn’t settle well. He had never run from anything in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now. Besides, the boys were still outside and he would rather die than risk their necks. The youngest was barely four and the oldest ten. No, he couldn’t endanger them or Lady Bentley and Louisa, who were probably still sitting outside enjoying tea.
What if there was more than one man? The ladies and boys would be helpless.
No, he had to encounter the person here, away from any innocent people. But, if he could get close enough to yell a warning, at least they could get inside to safety.
Devlin quickened his steps, searching the area for something to use as a weapon. Why did Bentley keep the grounds so clean? A broken tree branch would certainly come in handy right now.
From behind footsteps crunched on fallen leaves. They were getting closer. He wouldn’t have time to make it to the clearing to warn the others. This fight had to take place here.
Without a second to plan, Devlin pivoted and turned to face the stranger. There was a brief moment of recognition. He had seen this man in the company of Savary’s men, but he did not have a high ranking and was usually given the menial tasks. This was who Savary had sent after Jean and Lisette? Did Savary really think this poor excuse of a soldier could apprehend anyone?
A grin pulled at Devlin’s lips. He would be able to take care of this without anyone learning, except John and Elizabeth, of course.
The man arched a brow. “You aren’t concerned?”
“I am not.”
The man drew a pistol from his pocket. “You should be, Marston.”
How did he know his name?
Devlin weighed his options. He could kick the gun from the man’s hand, but may be shot in the process? Devlin didn’t really wish to be shot, but he had survived it twice before. But this gun was currently aimed at his chest. A gunshot would alert the others and John would deal with the situation. Unfortunately, Devlin could be dead by then, and he was not about to leave the world just yet. Not until he could see that his family was taken care of and settled, and certainly not before he had loved Louisa.
“Lord Marston, are you in there?”
His head whipped around at the sound of one of Lady Bentley’s brothers. Don’t let him come near.
“Tobias, come back to the house. John told you nobody could go into the woods today,” Lady Bentley called.
A wave of relief shot through him.
“But Lord Marston went in,” the boy whined, but his voice became distant as he retreated toward the house.
“His is older and can take care of himself.”
The man before Devlin chuckled. “Or so they think.”
Panic shot through Devlin. He had let his guard down because of the child. How could he have been so stupid? He glanced back at Savary’s henchman, waiting for the sound of the pistol. Instead, he barely had time to react, bringing his arm up to try and stop the blow from the large branch he wished he could have found. The dry wood broke on his shoulder, and Devlin stumbled back. At least one weapon was gone, but the Frenchman still had the gun.
Devlin whirled and kicked, striking the hand that held the pistol. It flew through the air and landed with a thud.
Now they were evenly matched.
The Frenchman skipped back a few steps and withdrew a knife.
Bloody hell, how many weapons was he carrying? The Frenchman lunged. Devlin jumped back. He needed to get the upper hand.
The man tossed the knife from one hand to the other, lunging back and forth, first with his left and then his right. Devlin had come across only a few men who were equally proficient using both hands, and this didn’t bode well for him.
With nothing but movement to keep from being stabbed, Devlin weighed the options of retreating or yelling. If he didn’t get away from the knife-wielding Frenchman, this would be his last day on earth. He would not die like his brother and leave his sisters alone in the world.
The sun filtered through the trees and glinted on the blade, blinding the Frenchman for a moment. Devlin jumped up and grabbed a limb. Kicking out, he connected with the man’s chest. The Frenchman grunted and fell back, the knife falling from his hands. Devlin let go of the tree and lunged, grabbing the man around th
e middle and tackling him to the ground.
Devlin sat up, drew his arm back, and made a fist. The man reached to his side, and Devlin glanced for a moment to make sure he couldn’t reach the gun of the knife. A heavy weight connected with the back of his head, flinging him forward. Starlight flickered in his vision before darkness invaded.
Where was he? Louisa still sat alone at the table after Eleanor had taken her brothers inside. Louisa had been watching for Marston to emerge from the woods, but he hadn’t. It was the only path she knew of. Was he shooting again? Practicing so she wouldn’t beat him? Did he even have his gun?
Why did she feel the need to find him? That she couldn’t answer. She only knew that she needed to see Marston and wanted to spend more time in his company. Was this how a lovesick schoolgirl felt? If it was, she didn’t like it one bit. She had never simply sat and waited on anyone. There was always an activity to occupy her time. Maybe if she returned to her embroidery, she wouldn’t notice his absence. Yes, that was what she needed to do. Louisa made her way inside and up to her room and stopped to look out her window. There was still no sign of Marston. Drat that man. Picking up her sewing basket, she left her chamber, glancing into all of the public rooms to make sure he hadn’t entered without her knowing, before returning outside. At least if he came out of the woods he would find her stitching instead of simply staring at the spot where he had disappeared.
The breeze was pleasant, and Louisa turned her mind to the task at hand.
She pricked her finger three times before she set the material aside and sucked her finger into her mouth. As long as she didn’t see the blood, she would be fine. As it was, a small spot stained the delicate fabric, and she had to give up.
What was wrong with her? Embroidery had always held her interest, and she could sit for hours while listening to others converse around her, or to her father read or practice his sermon, or simply stitch in silence. But not now. Not since Marston had kissed her and marched off.
What if he had fallen or was injured? Louisa strained to look for him. Though she didn’t know the man all that well, two hours was certainly a long time to be away walking.
A Season To Remember Page 5