by Jo Goodman
“To Craven, you mean.”
Lily nodded.
Sherry glanced at the boys again. Sometime during his brief conversation with Lily, they had managed to twist and turn and become a thorough tangle. “I think it is fortunate that they chose your skirts to hide behind.”
“Actually,” she said as pale pink color stained her complexion, “it was under them.”
“Then I stand corrected, Miss Rose. The young scoundrels are damnably lucky fellows.”
Granville Manor was the source of considerable speculation among the passengers of Sheridan’s lead carriage. They could have gone to Sheridan, put their questions to him, and ended all their conjecture on the subject, but they were agreed it would also put a period to their fun.
Midge imagined a castle with turrets, a moat, crenelated battlements, and a dungeon. He was particularly anxious that Granville have a dungeon and hoped there would be at least one poor soul still in residence.
Pinch put forth the idea that it would be on a scale with the Royal Opera House. There would be so many rooms that they would not have to sleep in box beds. They would be able to hide from the housekeeper, butler, and cook without fear of ever being found, and in fact, they might be able to grow so old in hiding that no one would recognize them when they reappeared.
Dash envisioned dark halls and hidden passages. He would be very disappointed if there were no spirits in residence. He did not care if he had to sleep in a box bed, as long as it was in the same tower where he could expect to find the ghost.
Lily’s expectations were not on so grand a scale, but the boys listened raptly as she spoke of polished granite walls that would reflect a pale pink hue at sunset and windows so tall she might stand tiptoed on the sill and not be able to reach the lintel. There would be a turret, just as Midge imagined, and the view from there would be the Granville estate for as far as the eye could see. And Pinch was correct that they might hide in the warren of rooms, but never so well that Sheridan could not find them. As for Dash’s ghost, there was certain to be one, yet he had been an educated fellow and confined his incorporeal self to the library where he rearranged the books.
“The library?” Dash asked, suspicious. “Are you certain?”
“Quite.”
“I don’t think I like that.”
And so it went, each of them elaborating a bit on the house at Granville, refining their vision aloud so that they all could share it, making small wagers when there were points of contention and allowing that it would be Lily who would settle disputes.
For the boys, their excitement was not so easily contained, while Lily became more subdued with each milestone that was sighted and passed. She anticipated that when they reached the last inn on their journey, Sheridan would not hesitate to ride on to Granville. It seemed to her that he was wearing his skin less comfortably of late and that his desire to be at home was what made him restive. When he secured lodging for himself as well as everyone else, Lily wondered if he felt obliged to remain behind and what she might say that would ease his sense of responsibility.
To that end, she sought him out in the taproom once the boys were abed. The innkeeper had commented upon their arrival that there were few travelers availing themselves of his hospitality this evening, and Lily was gratified to see that even fewer were passing their time in his taproom. She recognized their driver, Mr. Pipkin, and the groom everyone called Tolley sitting at a table near the hearth. Mr. Kearns was noticeable for his absence, and Sheridan sat alone in the darkest corner of the room. He had a pint of ale in front of him, but for the time Lily stood watching him, he showed no interest in it.
“My lord?”
Sheridan turned slightly in his chair. “Miss Rose.” He inclined his head politely but did not rise. “How may I be of service?”
“I wondered if I might speak with you.”
“Here?” Without waiting for her response, he glanced around the room, assessed their situation as unlikely to command interest, and nodded. “Very well. Please, won’t you sit?” He rose slightly and gestured to the chair at a right angle to his, holding it steady while she sat. “Shall I order you some refreshment?”
She regarded his ale with a rather wistful smile but answered in the negative. “Nothing, thank you.”
Sherry indicated his tankard. “You drink ale?”
“Not so much as you have before you, but I admit to acquiring a fondness for it at Blue’s.”
“Not the French brandy? That is a pity.”
“Neither my tastes nor my pockets supported the brandy.” Tilting her head to one side, she eyed him curiously. “You are interested in Blue’s brandy?”
“Indeed, though it is unwise.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Sometimes it is difficult not to be appreciative of the enterprise of the smugglers.” He lifted his tankard, watched her over the rim. “That surprises you, does it not?”
“A little.”
“I am always admiring of enterprise, though I should not admit it so easily when it flies in the face of society’s expectations.” He shrugged. “But I think we digress. There is something particular you require of me?”
When put before her so plainly, Lily found it difficult to answer. She nodded, swallowing. “I would like to know your plans for us. You have said nothing regarding your intentions. It is not so much for myself that I ask, you understand, but for—”
“The lads,” Sherry said. “Yes, I certainly understand that. Tell me, Miss Rose, have you considered even once what my intentions toward you might be?”
“Yes. Many times.”
“And?”
“I cannot divine them.”
“Yet your primary concern is for the boys.”
“Of course. They have seen a great deal and know very little. To be so far from London, from the streets and life that are familiar to them, well, they cannot fathom how different it will be. I should like to prepare them. I thought that you might speak to them, but tomorrow we will arrive at Granville and you have said precious little to any of us.”
Sherry set his tankard on the table and lightly rubbed the underside of his chin with his knuckles. “I must allow that I am curious. It seems to me that you have also seen a great deal, and unlike the lads, you know a great deal more. You are also far from London, yet you appear to have some notion of what you can expect. I wonder how that is.”
“I lived outside Paris, remember. I have been to the country.”
“You lived in a convent. Out of the country. It is not at all the same.”
She merely returned his regard.
“You are determined to remain silent, I see. It intrigues.”
“I do not mean to set forth a challenge, m’lord. I hope you will not take it as such.” Beneath the table, Lily pleated a fold in the fabric of her gown. “Will you not say what it is that you expect of the boys?”
“I hope to find honest work for them,” Sherry said.
“At Granville?”
“Yes, certainly. Did you truly think I would bring them so far only to send them away?”
“I didn’t know. I wondered if there might not be a workhouse nearby.”
He shook his head. “It never occurred to me that it would be a question in your mind. Have the lads wondered the same?”
“Not aloud, they haven’t.”
“Perhaps they trust me to deal fairly with them.”
“More than I trust you to do the same.” Lily’s fingers stilled momentarily. “That is what you left unsaid.”
“True. And you seemed to have arrived at my meaning anyway.” Sherry’s eyes darted past Lily’s shoulder then returned to her. “Mr. Pipkin is preparing to take a pipe, and I have no liking for it. Are you well enough to walk with me, Miss Rose?”
Lily did not try to hide her surprise. “I’m well enough, but I don’t have my coat.”
“I shall lend you mine.”
Her hand went to her head where she fingered the lace edge of her cap. “My bonnet is—”
>
“Wherever it is,” Sherry said, interrupting, “it is better left there.” He stood and touched the back of her chair. “Say yes, Miss Rose. Knowing how you chafed at being confined to your bed, you cannot have enjoyed passing this last week in the carriage, then your room.” He paused. “If you are certain you can manage the thing.”
Lily rose immediately. Her head came around at the sound of his low chuckle. “What is it?”
“Forgive me. It is only that I did not mean to set forth a challenge. I hope you have not taken it as such.”
That he was looking at her with such perfect innocence did not change the fact that he had bedeviled her with her own words. “I suppose you are accustomed to people thinking you are vastly clever.”
His chuckle deepened. “And I am certain you mean to come down firmly on the other side of that opinion.” Sherry gave her a nudge at the small of her back. “Let us remove the debate to the out of doors.”
Lily immediately stepped ahead of his touch, then forced herself to proceed without hurry to the door. Once they were beyond it, she put herself at better than an arm’s length from him.
“Will you accept my frock coat?” he asked.
“No, it is not so chilly as I thought.”
Sherry did not insist. He glanced around the inn’s yard, looking for a suitable path they might follow. A large tabby cat approached him and wound herself in and out of his legs. Sherry hunkered down and idly scratched the tabby behind her ears. “There is a stone wall not so very distant,” he told Lily. “The Romans laid the first of it. Perhaps we could set that as our direction.”
Lily stood outside the light coming from the inn’s windows, but it illuminated Sheridan’s figure. She watched him absently stroke the cat as he continued to look around the yard awaiting her reply. He was in every way an enigma. “I should like to see this wall,” she said, turning from him. It did not bear thinking why she suddenly felt like weeping. “Is it this way?”
Sherry set the cat from him and stood. “Yes. I would not suggest it if there were no moonshine. I think if we walk along the road, the way will be clear enough. Do you require assistance?”
“No.”
He fell into step beside her. “Then you are feeling more the thing. I wondered. You never complained at any point during the journey, but I was uncertain if that was merely a measure of your tolerance for pain or an indication of the absence of it.”
“You might have been at Granville three—or even four—days past if not for insisting that Mr. Pipkin stop so often. I believe I am correct that it was done in aid of easing the journey for me. I cannot fathom why you would show me such consideration, except that it is in your nature to do so.” Lily thought that in Sheridan’s eyes she and the tabby were not so very different creatures. “You give it no more thought than drawing breath.” She felt him falter beside her, but they were leaving the inn’s torchlights behind them, and she couldn’t be certain if he was simply less sure of his steps.
“Is that what you think?” he asked finally. “That I have a kind nature?”
“Yes.”
“I am considerably less confident than you that that is the case. I think you would be better served not to trust it is my nature but that it is done of a purpose.”
Now it was Lily who chuckled.
“What is it?”
“It is just that you are cautioning me not to depend upon your kindness. That is rather kind of you, don’t you think?”
Sherry offered a reluctant smile. “Well, perhaps you have me there.”
They passed from under the shadowed canopy of a large chestnut into moonshine. The road lay like a silver ribbon before them, and the bleached white stones of the ancient Roman wall were visible at the first turn.
“Is it too far?” Sherry asked.
“No. I wish I might have walked like this every day.” Lily could not be entirely comfortable with the silence that settled briefly between them. The intimacy of it created a sense that they were of similar stations, perhaps of similar minds. She knew the falseness of both those things and spoke to cleanly cut the quiet and the mood. “I had not expected that you would take lodging with the rest of us tonight. Are you not anxious to arrive at Granville?”
“I am, but I am also desirous that everyone should make the journey safely.”
“If you had only your trunks to consider, you would have gone ahead.”
He shook his head. “You are in the wrong of it there. I place a higher value on retaining my possessions than is probably wise. Theft is not isolated to Holborn, you know. Highwaymen are common enough along this route. It is not only you and the lads whose safety concerns me, but there is Kearns and Pipkin and the grooms to consider.”
Lily wondered if she could believe that, then decided she must. Hadn’t she been the one refining upon his kindness just minutes ago? She sighed. “Very well. I only thought that . . . it seemed to me . . . I suppose I didn’t . . .” She drew in a steadying breath, gathering her wits, and wished herself almost anywhere but where she was. The low rumble of Sheridan’s laughter did not assist her effort to form a complete sentence out of the jumble of thoughts. “It is good to know that you have not been burdened overmuch by the addition of the boys and me.”
“Just so. Is that why you followed me to the taproom? To tell me I was under no obligation to remain behind?”
“It sounds terribly presumptuous when I hear it aloud, but yes, that is what I meant to say.”
“As long as you know it was presumptuous.”
Lily gave him a sidelong glance. Moonlight lent his profile enough definition for her to make out the wry twist of his mouth. Caught by that aspect of his features, she did not realize how close he was until she felt his hand under her elbow when the road became uneven. This time she did not pull away.
“Why am I here?” she asked. “And, pray, do not mistake my meaning. I am not referring to this walk.”
“Nor, apparently, to the larger question of your own existence.” He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze before she could reproach him for his impoverished humor. “Very well. The answer to your question is surprisingly simple, though I doubt that it will satisfy. You are here because I desire it.”
He was correct. As an explanation, it did not satisfy in the least. “But why?”
“Ahh, well that is more difficult. It cannot be because you are a restful person, or that you are tractable. I am uncertain that it has anything at all to do with your character, though perhaps it does, and what I wish for is something different than what I have known.”
“Ennui? Is that what you are saying? You are bored? I am neither restful nor tractable, indeed, that is but the beginning of a long list of all the things I am not, and you are telling me you find that a welcome diversion?”
“Your inflection leads me to believe those are all questions. Are they rhetorical, I wonder, or must I answer?”
Lily was forced to press her hand to her side as laughter threatened. She was not surprised when he was immediately attentive to her health. “I am fine,” she said. “Really. All of a piece, but it is very bad of you to make me laugh when it can still pain me to do so.” She let her hand fall and looked up at him. “Though it would be far worse, I believe, if I could not laugh at all.” Acutely aware of Sheridan’s study of her, Lily’s eyes darted away. She would have stepped back if not for the faint tightening of his hand at her elbow.
“I swear this was not my intent,” he said.
It was only when he was kissing her that Lily realized that he hadn’t been speaking of provoking her laughter.
His mouth was firm on hers and tasted warmly of ale. After the first moment, he did not press the advantage of surprise. He allowed her opportunity to become accustomed to his touch or draw back from it. Lily did neither. What she did was stand still for it, and when he finally raised his head after finding her wholly without response, she said, “Perhaps you will want to revise your opinion of my value as a diversion.”
Lily nodded. With a tilt of her head, she indicated the wall. “Shall we continue?”
“If you like.”
When they had taken but a few steps, Lily asked, “Are you disappointed, my lord, that I was not more accommodating?”
Sherry didn’t answer. He helped her over another rough patch in the road, then onto the grassy verge, and finally released her when they reached the wall. “It continues as far as the eye can see from here, past that rise and into the next shire. It was a fortification, though not as extensive or effective as Hadrian’s in the north. Whole sections of it are gone now, carted away by crofters for building their homes. There are those of us who would like to see it preserved, but with no means and with no more compelling reason to do so than that it is part of our history, it will most likely disappear.”
Lily ran her hand along the pitted surface of one of the stones. She was admiring of the moonlight that leeched color from each of them so that in the distance the wall was like a chalk line. “I think I should like to sit on it,” she said, “but it feels curiously like a sacrilege.”
Confounded, Sherry’s brows rose in tandem. How was it possible that she sensed sacrilege here and barely a sennight earlier had knelt between his thighs without turning a hair? Because he doubted she would explain this bent of her mind to him even if she understood it, Sherry chose not to put the question to her. Instead, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her the few inches necessary to put her on top of the wall.
“You will be pleased to know,” he said, “that you are sitting on stones stacked by the Roman invaders in the third century.”
She once again regarded the length of it. “You will tell the boys about it tomorrow, won’t you?”
“If you like.”
“About the battles also. They are of an age when bloodshed intrigues.”
“Then I shall give a good accounting of the gore.”