“Well, then. Your love for one another will see you through this.” Viola only prayed she was right.
Hugh entered the room with the doctor.
Clarissa stood up abruptly, overturning her cup in its saucer. “Is His Grace improving?”
“He needs rest, Your Grace,” the doctor said. “I have given him something to make him sleep and left medicine with the nurse.” He took her wrist and held it, taking her pulse. “It would be wise for you to do the same.”
Clarissa placed her hands to her cheeks. “Lie down? How can I?”
Viola took her hand. “Lie on the salon sofa in the sun, while I read to you.
“Has Nanny been told?” Viola asked Hugh as she led Clarissa from the room.
Hugh nodded. “She has volunteered to help to nurse Edward.”
“She will prove a great asset,” Viola said, relieved.
For another week, Clarissa remained at her husband’s bedside, leaving only when Viola drew her away to eat and rest.
With the house so quiet, Hugh invited her to ride with him, but she declined. It didn’t seem right and her nerves were so raw she feared she would give her feelings away. The possibility that Clarissa might be widowed made her want to cry on his shoulder.
Viola agreed to play faro with him. She sat stiffly, distracted, aware of the hours ticking away. Hugh, too, said little.
At the beginning of the second week, the duke began to rally and the doctor advised the worst had passed.
The household settled back into its routine.
In the late afternoon, Hugh found Viola sitting alone in the library with a book in her hand.
“More good news from the doctor, today,” he said, pouring himself a brandy. “Sherry?”
“Please.”
“The patient can get up for a short while tomorrow.”
“Nanny told me. I’m so relieved.”
He sat down at the chess table and began moving the carved ivory pieces into their places
“I thought we might have that game of chess. We’ve been so busy; I haven’t had a chance to see if you can play.”
Viola hesitated. Every close encounter with Hugh was painful these days. She grinned.
“Aren’t you tired of beating me at everything?”
He laughed. “I’m rusty too. I haven’t had much opportunity to play chess of late.”
“I was distracted when we played Faro, I believe if we played again, I’d put up a better fight.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “Is that a challenge?”
His confidence rankled. Viola arched an eyebrow. She came to sit at the table.
“I’ll take black.” A memory of another chessboard with wooden pieces flashed into her mind. She grasped at it but it was gone.
“I admire your fighting spirit.” Hugh moved the white pawn in front of his king.
Viola pushed the black pawn to a position in front of her rook.
Hugh immediately moved his bishop three spaces.
“Women are better than men in some things but bluffing isn’t one of them.” His eyes held a hint of amusement.
Viola raised an eyebrow. “You think not?”
Viola studied the board, while her fingers stroked the tip of a pawn. Her fingers hovered then she chose to move her knight instead.
“Aha.” Hugh moved his queen two spaces, then sat back to watch her.
Viola contemplated her next move, and leaned closer, running her fingers along her throat through the chain of her locket. She released the chain and it fell to settle hidden within her décolletage.
Hugh’s eyes widened. He studied her with a gleam of interest, then reached for his glass and took a long swallow.
The clock ticked loudly in the stillness. Viola admired Hugh’s sweep of dark eyelashes as he studied the board. She suddenly noticed the heady scent of roses wafting in from the open window.
“Smell that bouquet,” she said, “isn’t is delicious?”
His dark eyes drank her up. “Delicious,” he echoed.
She ran a finger along her bottom lip. Hugh’s attention became fixated on her mouth.
He raised his gaze to hers. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
He shook his head as if to clear it and moved his piece. “I thought you’d conceded defeat.”
She cast him a smug glance. “I did not.”
There was something lazily seductive in his look. He waved his hand over the board. “I’m interested to see what your next move will be.”
“Why are you rushing me? Are you growing concerned?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Of course not.”
She tugged at the neckline of her bodice. “It’s warm.”
Hugh crossed his legs and tapped a boot. “Eh?”
“The day is still warm,” she repeated.
Hugh leapt up from the table. “Another sherry?”
“No, thank you.”
When he returned with his tumbler of brandy, Viola still hadn’t moved a piece.
“Ready to quit?” he asked.
She moved a pawn to attack his bishop.
A slow smile lit Hugh’s eyes. He nodded his head.
“You are sure?”
“I’m sure.” She knew she was beaten. But being with him like this was almost too sweet to endure.
He pounced, sliding his queen up to take a pawn, his bishop now in position to take her king. “Check mate.”
Viola carefully studied the board. “I played right into your hands,” she said in disgust.
“You put up a good fight.”
“I believe if we played again, I might…” she left it hanging in the air.
Hugh’s gaze rested on her locket as she drew it out from her neckline. He swallowed the last of his drink.
“You had it within your grasp to beat me by foul means, I suspect.”
“Oh, so I am capable of bluffing?” she asked with a smile.
“You are better equipped for it, I am willing to admit.”
Seeing rueful amusement in his eyes, Viola laughed just as Clarissa walked into the room. She gazed at them both, with a speculative expression.
“I was soundly beaten, Your Grace,” Viola said. “But at least I now know I can play.”
“And with enough practice you’ll give Hugh a run for his money.”
“You women always stick together,” Hugh said in disgust.
Clarissa sat down. “As my dear husband is enjoying a peaceful sleep, I shall enjoy a glass of wine and your company.”
“How about a game of cards?” Hugh asked, motioning to the footman.
“Oh please, let’s play speculation,” Clarissa said. “I would enjoy that immensely.”
Viola was relieved to find Clarissa in a brighter frame of mind. Hugh obviously thought so too as he exchanged a smile with her.
But on rising the next morning, Viola found Clarissa in the salon, wiping her eyes. “Hugh has urgent business at Vale Park that cannot be delayed much longer. You are to leave tomorrow.”
Viola sat beside her. “I’m sorry to leave you both, but relieved that it’s with the knowledge His Grace grows stronger.”
Clarissa put away her handkerchief and sighed. “When Edward is restored to good health we might consider traveling to Oxfordshire.”
Was it possible that Clarissa, despite everything she possessed, could be lonely? It was a sad wrench to leave her.
Viola prayed that Clarissa would have the babe she and her husband longed for. Surely, the duke could not live above a few years, and a child would give Clarissa a purpose to go on.
“I can hardly express how much your friendship has meant to me…” Viola began.
Clarissa gathered her up in a fierce hug. “Hush. Your support through this trying time has been invaluable. It may be some time before we meet again. I will miss you sorely, my dear.”
Doubting she would ever see them again, Viola hugged her back, saying in an unsteady voice, “And I will
miss you both.”
Chapter Seventeen
Their return to Vale Park was quite different from the sedate trip that took them to Bath. She and Nanny traveled in the carriage while Hugh rode his horse. He seethed with impatience when bad weather delayed them another day, and was like a coiled spring when he dined with them.
“Perhaps he misses Lady Felicity and is eager to return to her,” Nanny said, with a shake of her head.
“I declare this trip may well exceed all records,” Nanny said crossly, when they rose at dawn to depart on the final day of their journey. Keeping a hectic pace, they arrived at Vale Park by mid- afternoon.
Hugh deposited them at their front door. With a brief touch of his hat, he drove away.
Viola entered the house and metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. She would now work to convince Nanny to assist her in writing a letter to a London employment agency. For surely now, as time had passed and her memory failed her, it was the only option left to her.
When Viola confessed to Nanny that her dreams were becoming more vivid, Nanny refused to help with the letter. “We may know the truth very soon, Viola. Let us wait a little longer.”
It rained steadily for most of the first week, trapping them indoors. Viola prowled about the cottage, aware that her restlessness drove poor Nanny mad. She had tried and failed to tamp down her longing for a glimpse of Hugh. Knowing that it was better they kept their distance did not help.
When the clouds finally cleared away, Viola hurried out for a long walk to settle her nerves. She picked her way through the puddles to the bank of the now rapidly flowing river. Two horsemen sat unmoving on their mounts a half a mile away across the fields. A shudder shook her. Were they the highwaymen from Bath?
Had the scoundrels followed her to Vale Park? They were too far away for her to either confirm or deny her suspicions. She turned away and hurried to the cottage, glancing back several times. They were still there.
Shaking, she tried to construct a more reasonable explanation, fighting the fear that she had brought danger to Vale Park.
Each morning for the next few days, she searched for them, but when they didn’t reappear, she decided they worked for Hugh and put them from her mind.
A week later, Viola wandered out into the soft night air to smell the perfume of honeysuckle and jasmine growing over the fence. A round, yellow moon hung suspended in a deep violet sky, and she stood for a moment in silent enjoyment. Sensing she was not alone, she swung around.
Illuminated by moonlight a man stood perfectly still at the far end of the lane.
Viola waited for him to hail her, but he moved back into the shadows. She gasped and darted into the cottage, trembling, and bolted the door.
“Goodness me,” Nanny said, as Viola made a tour of all the doors and windows. “We never bother with locks here. What has happened to trouble you so?”
“I’m not sure, Nanny. I saw a man standing in the lane.”
“That will be Ben Jenkins, going home from the farm.”
Nanny laughed and patted her shoulder. “He comes by this way with the hope of saying goodnight to Becky.”
“Why wouldn’t he have greeted me?”
“Because he knows he has no business being here, I expect,” Nanny said.
It was possible that Ben was too embarrassed to speak to her. Ben and Becky’s burgeoning romance was the worst kept secret at Vale Park.
Later that night though, curled up in bed, Viola couldn’t let the matter rest. Taking the men she’d seen earlier into consideration, any reasonable explanation no longer seemed to have merit. The fear that she had brought something evil to this heavenly place grew stronger.
The next morning, Viola walked carefully around the cottage, examining the ground. Several large footprints had sunk deep into the soft earth near the cottage wall. Heart pounding, she went in search of the maid. She found her folding linen.
“Did you see Ben Jenkins last night, Becky?”
Becky flushed. “No, Miss.”
“Please, don’t worry. You are not in trouble. It’s just that last night I saw a man in the lane.”
“It wasn’t Ben, Miss Viola. He went straight home from work to help out. His ma is sick.”
“Do you know who else it might have been?”
Becky’s eye grew large and she shook her head. “No, miss.”
Viola made up her mind. It was time for her to leave.
****
Felicity dismounted into Hugh’s arms beside the river. He looped the horses’ reins over the branches of an old oak. Damp reeds stained the hem of Felicity’s new riding habit and she shook it out with a frown.
“Mama will be furious to find I’ve worn it,” she said. “It was made for my trousseau.” She flushed and dropped her gaze. “Pure vanity, I know.” She fidgeted with her hat.
Hugh’s rush of relief at her pronouncement brought a bout of guilt and then a deep concern for her welfare.
“You’ve really set the cat amongst the pigeons, Felicity. What if your parents refuse to give their consent? And how would this young buck keep you in the manner to which you’re accustomed?”
“Oh, fiddle! Hugh, please don’t be so stuffy. You are not my father.”
Hugh winced. “Tell me anyway.”
“Phillip has plans to join the foreign office. He already receives a modest income from an aunt. He feels sure quite sure he can provide for me, and after all, there is my dowry. Father is as rich as Croesus.”
“You get nothing until you’re one-and-twenty, isn’t that right? And how old is this beau of yours?”
She raised her chin. “Phillip is two-and-twenty.”
“Who are his family?”
“You know them. Our neighbors, the Carstairs. Phillip is the younger son. They are a most respectable family, you must admit.”
Hugh nodded with some relief. “Of High Ridge Manor? I haven’t seen Phillip since he was in short trousers. He’s been away at university until recently, hasn’t he? His elder brother
Harry and I were up at Oxford together.”
“So, there you are. Hugh, you are not…too sad are you?”
Hugh took her hand and pressed a kiss to her glove. “I am wounded, sweet imp, but shall live. I wonder if your Phillip will survive the trials you have in store for him.”
Felicity laughed, and slapped him lightly with her riding crop.
“You are very rude. Phillip can be firm when he needs to be. He is what you would call a capital fellow. I know you will like him. Oh, Hugh,” she paused, face set with seriousness, “I never knew love could be like this. I always thought that you and I …. But you are like my big brother. We were not destined to be lovers.”
“I would’ve been honored to become your husband, and gamely tried to measure up to it.”
“Fool,” said Felicity, smiling. “You must discover true love for yourself.”
How astute she was. “I believe you have developed a woman’s understanding of matters of the heart, which takes some of us fellows a lifetime to master.”
“I believe it will not take you long at all, Hugh. And I am not talking of your opera dancers.”
He widened his eyes and laughed. “What do you know of such things, cheeky minx?”
“Not a lot, it’s true,” she admitted with a grin.
He signaled to the groom who waited in the shadows. “Phillip is a lucky fellow. Come, we are good friends and always shall be. I hope you know you can seek me out if ever you are in need of help.” Hugh took her arm and led her to her horse, untying the reins. “Next, we must face your parents. I do hope you can charm them round to your way of thinking.”
She cast him an anxious glance. “As do I.”
He boosted her up into the saddle. “When may I call on them?”
“Not until Friday evening. They are visiting Aunt Julia in Oxford. It’s Mother’s sister—she’s still quite ill. I shouldn’t be here. Mrs. Pike is my chaperone.” She pulled a face. “I left her a n
ote and slipped out without her seeing me. She’s probably looking high and low for me at this moment. I’d best go back before she has a bad turn.”
“Then off you go.” Hugh said nodding to her groom. “I shall call on your parents on Saturday next.”
“Oh, I wish we could settle it all straight away,” Felicity said, pouting.
“You are planning the rest of your life. Have a care, imp.”
Hugh gave her horse a tap on the rump, and she trotted away along the trail through the wood with her groom following.
As she reached the top of a rise, Felicity reined in her horse and raised a hand to him. He returned the wave and watched her disappear into the trees. She was a young woman accustomed to getting her way, but even so, there were limits. How would she deal with the crushing refusal of her plans? And how would he?
****
Viola strolled along the path by the river. When Hugh approached her, she welcomed him with a rush of warmth and a heavy feeling clenching her stomach. She hadn’t seen the men again, but their absence failed to relieve the nagging worry that she was the reason they had come here.
“May I walk with you?” he asked.
“Please do.”
Are you over your journey and glad to be home?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Home? Viola took a sharp breath. Soon she would be gone from here, with only a few memories to take with her. She studied the handsome profile of the man walking beside her with his long gait. She had come to care so much for him. What would Hugh do if she reached out to him now, and begged him to make love to her? She suspected he would not refuse her. But then it would be very hard to leave him, and leave him she must.
He picked one of the wild roses she carried the first morning she met him on the path, and held it out to her. She took it and raised it to her nose. Its perfume would always remind her of Hugh and Vale Park. Wherever she was. But the future could only be a pale shadow of what she had found here.
She walked on, twirling the rose between her fingers. “Do you still believe the Bow Street Runners will find my family?”
“I do.” He looked down on her his eyes beseeching. “You seem sad today. Don’t give up hope, Viola.”
She wanted to lean her head against his chest, feel his strong arms enfold her. And she wanted so much more, it made her hot with yearning. She could tell him of her fears and seek his assurances that no matter what happened, the prospect looked bright. He could not, of course, and she had no right. She refused to become more of a burden on him. Once she had gone, Vale Park would be safe from any intruders.
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