No sooner were they seated when Lord Dowell came strolling across the lawn bordered by flower-flanked paths with a pack of half a dozen hounds in his wake. He paused at the bottom step and pointed to them. “Sit and stay lads.” They obeyed at once and sat or lay down in the shade of the overhang. Finny studied him as he mounted the steps. Gone was the stiff tension she had come to expect, replaced now by a serene expression and a relaxed stride. It was as if he was completely at home here.
His eyes light up at the sight of his sister perched in the chair. “Ah, Kat, I did not expect you until next week. I wanted the place to be completed before you saw it.” His stride hitched when his gaze drifted to Finny.
“There was really no point to me staying another week in the city with Rupert gone on business again, so I thought Finny and I might as well come along a little early.” She lifted her chin for his quick kiss on her cheek.
Lord Dowell tipped his head to Finny and then sat in the chair across from his sister. “I see, well then, I suppose you can help me decide on the color scheme for the pagoda in the garden.”
“Wonderful, it will give me something to dwell on besides my disappearing waistline and my almost non-existent ankles.”
When she laughed Lord Dowell reach out and patted her hand. “Well I for one think pregnancy definitely agrees with you. I have never seen you look more radiant.”
Finny looked down at the lace tablecloth as a pang of jealousy stabbed her. What she wouldn’t give to have an easy relationship with her husband as he had with his sister.
“I do find I tire quite easily these days. After tea I should like to take a nap. Perhaps you could entertain Finny by showing her around Candlewick? She confessed she has never been in the country before and I just know she will love the gardens.”
Glancing up Finny met Lady Swanson’s eye. She gave Finny a little wink and then reached for a cucumber sandwich. Finny looked to Lord Dowell. His attention was fixed on the spoon he was stirring his tea with. “Well, I was going to take the dogs for a run.”
“Please?” Lady Swanson pleaded.
Lord Dowell smiled at his sister. “If it will make you rest at ease I will show her the gardens.”
* * *
Once tea was finished Lady Swanson retired to her room to rest and Lord Dowell extended his arm to Finny. After a slight hesitation she placed her hand on the back of his arm and allowed him to escort her from the veranda. The dogs scrambled to their feet to follow along.
“Do they have names?”
Lord Dowell looked at her. “The dogs?” When she nodded he continued, “Yes, that one there is Cain and the matching one beside him is his brother Abel.” He pointed out two brown and white ones that were identical.
“Cain and Abel, like in the Bible story I read?”
A flicker of surprise crossed his face before he looked away. “Yes, they fight something awful sometimes, but the one never goes anywhere without the other. The white one is Storm, the two black ones there are Piper and Pickles and the little one is Tiny.”
When she giggled he glanced at her with a soft smile. “What?”
“Pickles?”
His smile widened into a grin. “The dog just loves Cook’s pickles. He’ll eat the whole jar if you let him, mind you. He’s sick for two days afterward.”
They crossed the lawn and stepped onto a path made of white shells. The garden took her breath away. Though she thought no patch of green could compete with the glory of the house, she was pleasantly surprised. Each flower bed was designed in the shape of an animal or thing. The colorful flowers were arranged to fill in and complete the designs. She paused at a flower bed depicting a sunset of blooms against a green meadow. “I’ve never seen the likes of such a garden ‘afore.”
“I have a gifted gardener. Raul does wonders with plants much like a painter does with a canvas.”
Finny ventured to impress him. “I paint. I used to jus’ draw until Lady Swanson ordered me a box of colors. Now I can fill in my drawings and make them nicer.”
“Really?” Lord Dowell tipped his head. “I’d like to see some of your drawings. Perhaps you can show me some of them after the evening meal?”
Giddy by his interest in her she nodded, biting the edge of her lip to keep from breaking out into a ridiculous grin.
His lips twitched and his eyes twinkled. “I meant to tell you….” He looked away.
Heart in her throat Finny prompted, “Yes?”
Returning his gaze to hers he smiled, one of those warm smiles that crinkled the skin around his eyes. “You have become a lovely woman. I can see you have tried very hard to succeed at fitting in and … I’m sorry I used you in such a callous way.”
Her heart soared and this time she allowed herself to grin in return. “Thank you, Lord Dowell.”
His chuckle startled her. “My name is Devon. I think since we are, well, married, you should call me by my Christian name.”
“Then you should call me by mine too. It’s Josephine, but everyone calls me Finny, remember?”
“I remember.” He frowned a moment and then turned away to point out the freshly built structure in the center of the garden. “This is a pagoda. I brought a sketch of one back from China and my builder built it.”
“What’s it for?”
“Just for sitting in and admiring the view.”
“Can we sit in it?”
“Sure.” Devon took her hand in his and led her up the three steps to the swing hung inside. Once she was seated he sat beside her and gave the swing a little push with his foot. Together they looked out over the gardens, each lost in their own thoughts.
Chapter Nineteen
Devon pondered the half a dozen paintings displayed before him on easels. “These are really quite good, Finny.”
“Do ye—you—think so?” Finny twisted her fingers in the skirt of her lemon yellow gown.
“I really do. You have an impressive eye for detail and color. Perhaps I should set you up in a shop of your own when all is said and done.” He leaned in for a closer look at one depicting a vase of fresh flowers. “Very realistic, why I can practically smell the blooms.”
She cleared her throat. “I dabbed a little scent on them.”
He glanced at her and lifted a brow. “Indeed.”
When he moved to the second one she ventured. “Would you really buy me a shop to paint in?”
“I owe you something for all the trouble I’ve put you through. The stress of bearing my stepmother’s sour personality alone would get you that much.” He winked and returned to his inspection of the paintings. “Besides, I would want you to have a way to support yourself after the divorce.”
“Divorce?” Finny didn’t understand his meaning.
Straightening he crossed to the window in the ballroom and looked out over the gardens now bathed in twilight shadows. “Yes, divorce these days is possible, though rare. However I have sent a missive to the courts asking to be permitted an end to our marriage on the grounds that we are not of the same class. Once granted I shall see you set up in a nice little house in London and a shop where you may paint to your heart’s content without financial worry.”
Stunned she stood there staring at his back. It never occurred to her there was such a thing as divorce. There certainly wasn’t in the slums of London. Once a marriage was consummated it was binding and unbreakable. With a sinking heart she asked, “How long before this divorce is given?”
He turned around. “A few weeks, maybe a month.”
She scrambled for something to say, some way to change his mind. Her mouth opened and before she could stop herself she blurted, “What if I’m gonna have a babe?”
He froze, his face blanching to a pasty white. “Are you?”
No, but she couldn’t tell him that. It was entirely possible she was; then again it was just as possible she wasn’t…. Her conscience pricked her. “I … no, ’tis only been a few days since we … and well, Mary O’Toole’s mother didn’t k
now fer sure until she was already showin’….”
Devon ran a hand through his hair. “I—I didn’t think about the consequences of our night together, I mean I did, I just didn’t….” He sighed and then drew his shoulders up straight. “You are right. It is possible we might have conceived a babe. I suppose to be sure you should stay here for the summer with Kat, just until her babe is born and we are sure you aren’t … with child.”
While it wasn’t exactly the reaction Finny was hoping for, at least it bought her some time to try and change his mind. She looked up at the ceiling stars and blinked back her tears. Why couldn’t her fairy tale have a happy ending? Was God against seeing Finny Donelly happy?
“The ceiling is unique, is it not?” Devon asked.
“Right,” Finny mumbled not wanting him to see how upset she was.
“Would you like to see it as it is meant to be seen during a ball?”
When she nodded he motioned for a passing servant. “George, could you please extinguish the chandeliers?”
“Yes, my lord.” George hurried through a small door off to the side and emerged with a ladder. After lighting the single candles in holders placed at regular intervals around the room he climbed up and snuffed the candles on the two giant crystal chandeliers.
Finny let out a small cry as the little pieces of mirror embedded in the ceiling caught and reflected the meager candlelight. It did indeed look like a night sky filled with hundreds of winking stars. “’Tis beautiful!”
“The night sky is one of my favorite things about sailing across the sea. I miss it so much when I am on land that I thought to bring a little of it here with me.”
She spun around in a slow circle, and the stars seemed to move with her.
“It seems to me we never got to finish that dance you wanted so badly the other night.”
Faltering she stopped to stare at him.
He held out his hand. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, my lady?”
Unsure she bit her bottom lip.
He lifted a brow. “Please?”
She put her hand in his. “But there’s no music.”
With a smile he looked over her head. “George? Would you oblige us?” He drew her into his arms as the first soft notes from the pianoforte filled the room.
At first Finny started out stiff, fumbling to complete the steps, but after a moment she relaxed in his embrace and followed his lead. Twirling about in the dim ballroom, with the artificial stars above gave her a heady feeling. Closing her eyes she gave into the pleasure of floating to the music. His waistcoat and shirt beneath her hand was soft and warm and his other hand held hers in a gentle grip. She breathed in and caught a whiff of his scent, light and spicy like nutmeg. She allowed herself to be content in the moment.
“You really are beautiful, Finny, nothing like the little urchin I rescued from Whitechapel.”
Opening her eyes, she looked up into his. The sincerity there was clear to see.
“Any man would be lucky to have you on his arm and you will charm them with your loveliness.”
Why didn’t he want her then? She parted her lips to refute his claim and then instead ran her tongue along them in hesitation.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and darkened. In slow motion he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. With a sigh she melted to him and tilted her chin to kiss him back. The soft brush of their lips deepened into a kiss scorching Finny’s soul. With a groan he flicked her tongue with his and she gasped at the sensation shooting into the pit of her stomach. She wanted him, all of him, and he wanted her, at least the part of her that belonged writhing beneath him in the bedchamber. It was enough, wasn’t it? She could live with him desiring no more than her flesh, couldn’t she? Couldn’t he?
Without warning he broke off their kiss and set her from him. “I—I have to see the dogs kenneled for the night.”
Bewildered she stared up at him, her mouth slack and her limbs numb.
“I’m sorry, Finny. I bid you sweet dreams.” Turning on his heel he marched from the room leaving her standing there amid the final notes of the waltz, in the middle of the dance floor, under the make-believe stars.
Chapter Twenty
Finny wandered along the path closest to the side entrance of the house lost in thought. Truth be told, she didn’t want to return to London, not now, not ever. The last two days at Candlewick were the most relaxed she had ever been. She took great joy in rising in the morning to the sun peaking over the trees, birds singing their heavenly songs, and the fresh breeze filling her room with floral scents. What harm would there be in her staying here? The house was certainly big enough for her and one hundred more. If her husband insisted on a divorce, why did it mean she had to leave? “I could be happy ’ere jus’ seein’ him each day,” she mused out loud.
“Seeing who?”
Startled she looked behind and spied Devon strolling up. “Nothin’—I mean I was just talkin—ing to myself.”
He smiled and she was struck by how handsome he was. Dressed as he was in tan breeches, tall brown leather riding boots and a starched white shirt she swore he was the best thing she had ever laid eyes on, way more virile looking than the livery boy who used to live two doors down in Whitechapel.
Drawing up alongside he matched her pace down the path. “Say, would you care to go for a ride with me? I could show you the rest of the estate.”
“A ride? On a horse?” She glanced at him.
He chuckled. “Yes, on a horse.”
She shook her head. “I don’t have one of those skirt things for ridin’. Besides, I only ever rode a horse once when ye—you found me.”
“I remember.” He cracked a smile and then leaned close. “I won’t tell about you not having a proper riding habit if you don’t.”
Biting her lip, she pondered the idea. Though she liked animals, the idea of climbing on top as something as big and frightening as a horse was daunting. On the other hand, the chance to spend some time alone with Devon was appealing….“All right, but if that horse bucks me off and ruins my favorite during the day dress….” she trailed off, not knowing what she’d do.
Devon placed a hand on his chest with a snicker. “I promise I won’t let the horse dump you and ruin your lovely dress, Finny.”
No, her knight in shining armor wouldn’t let anything happen to her. After all, he had always protected her. With a shy smile, she carried on with him down the path. How hard could riding one feeble-brained, lumbering beast be?
When they arrived at a tidy little stable Finny noticed a huge gray horse saddled and tied to a fenced-in dirt oval. Swallowing she began to doubt her ability to ride such a massive animal. When she approached it a soft breeze ruffled her light muslin skirt. The animal threw up its head, eyes rolling and danced sideways with a snort.
Finny stepped back. “On second thought, I don’t think that critter likes me much.”
Devon laughed and settled the big horse with a pat and a soft word. “Nonsense, your skirts flapping startled him. Besides, Titan here is much too spirited an animal for a lady, especially an inexperienced one.”
Pleased Devon called her a lady, Finny smiled and held out a hand to the beast. It sniffed her fingers and then shook its head.
“John?” Devon called.
A tall man in breeches, a tan shirt and boots exited the barn. “Yes, my lord?”
“Would you mind saddling up Percy with Lady Swanson’s sidesaddle for me please?”
“Right away, my lord.” The man turned on his heel and disappeared back into the barn. A few minutes later he re-emerged leading a much smaller horse. The little bay was half the size of the big gray and appeared much more docile.
“You will find Percy here much more to your liking, Finny. He has taught many a child how to ride over the years, and I guarantee he will not ruin your dress.”
Finny reached out a trembling hand and stroked the pony’s dark face. He blinked and dropped his head with a sigh. “Y
ou better be nice to me, Percy.” In response to her request the animal closed his eyes and appeared to go right to sleep while on his feet. Finny grinned. “I like ’im already.”
Chuckling Devon opened the gate, took Percy and led him into the little dirt oval. “All right then, come along, Finny, and I will endeavor to give you your first riding lesson.”
She frowned. “Doesn’t he know what to do already?”
“Yes,” Devon settled the reins over the pony’s head. “But you don’t.”
Hands on her hips she stared him down. “How hard can it be to sit up there and say go?” When he just grinned in reply she hiked up her skirts and marched into the pen. Little did she know just how complicated riding a trained horse could be.
“All right, place you right hand on the front of the saddle, take hold of the reins and a bit of mane in your left and when I count to three I’ll lift you aboard.”
When she did as she was told Devon began to count. When he reached three she let out a startled squeal as she was launched into the air and then found herself perched sideways in the most precarious fashion imaginable. “I’m gonna fall!”
“No you’re not. Loop your right leg over that peg there and put your left foot in the stirrup.”
Ill at ease, she did as she was told and found she was pleasantly secure.
Devon grinned up at her. “There, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”
She shook her head and paid close attention to his instructions to make the pony walk, stop, turn, and back up. When Devon insisted she practice the movements on her own first before they left the pen, she took a deep breath and tapped the pony’s shoulder with the little stick the groom handed her. Percy shuffled forward. “This ain’t so hard.”
Devon mounted his own horse and rode around beside her for a few minutes. “You are doing well enough that I think you will be all right to leave the pen.”
Grinning from ear to ear she rode beside him as they headed out through the stable yard. “Well, bet nobody in Whitechapel would ever recognize me now being a fancy lady and riding on a horse in a dress.”
Rags to Romance Page 11