The door opened with a soft snick, and he turned to greet Lady Cassandra. She swept into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. She wore a pale blue morning gown that did little for her complexion. Her blonde hair was piled atop her head, delicate curls bouncing beside her ears. She was pretty, it was true, but she was not striking. Beside Judith, she was a mere bauble.
With such ungenerous thoughts pushing into his brain, he bowed and kissed her hand. It was rather a long way down; she was a tiny thing who barely came up to his chest. “Lady Cassandra.”
“Lord Caxton,” she said, gesturing to a chair before sitting opposite, “to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I apologize for my early call, Lady Cassandra, but I wanted to discuss something with you.”
“Really? And what might that be?”
“Considering we had never met before our parents arranged this match, I wondered how you felt about it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I will assume by your question you are not in favor of it?”
“The truth is my heart belongs to another. It doesn’t seem fair to either of us to marry, given that fact.”
“Miss Leslie, I suppose?” She sniffed.
“It would be ungallant to share her name.”
“I suppose so.” Disappointment, presumably at being deprived gossip, flashed across her face before it assumed its usual pinched expression. “No, Lord Caxton, I am not overjoyed at the match. You are beneath me, after all.”
“The daughter of a duke is only one rank above a countess. I won’t be that far beneath you, once I inherit the earldom.” Peter knew Debrett’s as well as she did.
She sneered at him, her beauty all but disappearing as her true nature shone through. “But in the meantime, I’d be a viscountess, wouldn’t I? A far cry from a duke’s daughter.”
Hope filled Peter’s breast. “So you agree to call off the engagement?”
She sneered. “Don’t be ridiculous. My father would kill me. You may be of lower rank, but your estate has pots of money. I’d be a fool to refuse your suit without any other options.”
He tamped down his irritation and seized upon the last part of her statement. “So if you had another option, you would throw me over?”
She smiled, the kind of predatory grimace he imagined one might see on a jackal. “Without hesitation, my lord. Find me an acceptable duke or marquess, and you can marry your horsey Miss Leslie with my blessing.”
His annoyance and disgust with this arrogant creature threatened to overpower him. He would find her another suitor, even if he had to pay someone to marry her.
But he didn’t let it show. “I will see what I can do,” he said. “I’m leaving shortly for a house party, which I suspect will have an eligible gentleman or two in attendance. May we postpone our blessed event for a month while I make my inquiries?”
She nodded. “Of course. I am sure I can convince my father. I do need to have an entire trousseau made, after all.” She rose and held out a hand, dismissing him.
He dutifully kissed it, feeling an overwhelming need to wash afterwards. But at least she had given him a way out.
“Goodbye, my lord. I look forward to meeting your replacement. I shall pretend to be furious you have left Town. It will be make it easier for me to cry off when you have fulfilled your end of the bargain.”
“Goodbye, Lady Cassandra. I am sure I will find someone suitable in no time.”
****
He remained in London for the rest of the day, although he itched to go after Judith. He needed to arrive after the Leslies, which would make it too awkward for them to turn around and leave once his presence was known. He had asked his godmother not to tell anyone of his planned attendance, so there would be no risk Lady Grangemore would change her mind; at least not on his account.
After spending a sleepless night coming up with a depressingly short list of eligible suitors for Cassandra, he left his father a note saying he had gone to the country and set off for Kent. Finding a new suitor would accomplish nothing if he could not convince Judith to forgive him—and to convince her mother to allow his suit.
It was a long but pleasant ride to the southeast. The approach to Howley House was fairly spectacular. The home featured a graceful arched entryway flanked by bays full of windows, topped by Dutch gables undulating like waves from the sea beyond it. On a stormy day, he imagined it would be dark and imposing with a backdrop of blue-black clouds, but now the sun shone brightly, nary a cloud in the sky, and the blue-green water of the Channel behind the house was calm. A breeze lifted the hair off his neck, smelling of the lilacs flanking the house and the faint fishy odor he always associated with the coast.
He tied his horse to the post at the front of the house and knocked. “Good afternoon,” he said when the door creaked open in front of a tall, slender butler. “I am Lord Caxton. I believe I am expected.”
The butler nodded. “Very good, my lord. Your valet arrived a short while ago.” He gestured to a footman to see about Peter’s horse, then led Peter into a medieval entry hall with a magnificent mahogany staircase. The banister was carved with faces and ornate curves, the posts topped with some sort of large cat, each in a slightly different attack pose. Peter couldn’t shake the feeling the faces were watching him—and laughing—as he followed the butler upstairs.
“I’ve placed you in the gentlemen’s wing, my lord,” the man said. “There’s a view of the labyrinth with the sea beyond.” He stopped at the end of the corridor and opened the door. Windows extended nearly from floor to ceiling. The sea stretched out in front of him, making it feel as if he would tumble into it if he moved any closer. He couldn’t recall ever seeing anything quite like it. “I trust it will suit?” the butler said.
“Yes, this will do nicely, Thank you, …?”
“Mears, my lord.”
“Ah. Thank you, Mears. Has the rest of the party arrived?”
“Yes, my lord. You are the last of the guests to arrive,” he said with a sniff. “Lady Howley will greet guests at seven in the parlor. Dinner will be served promptly at eight. If you ring, one of the footmen will escort you.”
“I’m sure I can find my own way, thank you, Mears.”
“Very good, my lord.” The man sniffed again and glowered down his prominent nose before leaving Peter alone. It was clear what he thought of Peter’s navigational abilities.
He strolled to the windows and gazed out at the magnificent view. As Mears had mentioned, there was a large labyrinth below. At its center a fountain was surrounded by potted plants with vibrant flowers, and a single wrought iron bench. A hatless figure sat upon it, feet curled under her, reading a book. She turned her head, and the sunlight danced upon her fiery hair.
Judith.
Butterflies danced in his belly at the sight of her.
As if sensing his regard, she tilted her head up shielding her eyes with one hand, but after a moment returned to her book. He hoped it was because she couldn’t see him, and not because she was indifferent. He’d defied his father, traveled seventy-five miles, and subjected himself to the dullness of a country house party—all for her. Indifference would be difficult to bear.
He took a moment to study the pattern of the labyrinth before setting out to conquer it.
And the woman within.
****
Judith’s skin itched with the sensation she was being watched. It was highly likely—the house was absolutely covered in windows, and it certainly shouldn’t surprise her that someone might be looking out at the magnificent gardens. But every time she glanced at the building, she could see nothing—the glare from the sun made all those windows opaque.
She attempted to concentrate on her book, a relatively new one about a ship and pirates and a mutiny, or something. It wasn’t quite her cup of tea, but it had been the first thing she’d seen in the library on her way out of doors.
The day was glorious—cloudless sky, brilliant sun, the scent of lilacs nearly overpowering. Her m
other, and presumably the rest of the guests, was resting after their journey, which though tedious had been entirely uneventful. Judith had been far too tired of sitting in the carriage even to think of resting. When she’d spotted the labyrinth and its adorable fountain in the center from her room, she’d known exactly where she wanted to spend the afternoon.
After a walk to stretch her cramped legs, she’d made her way to the bench and opened her book, but thoughts of Lord Caxton swirled through her mind, distracting her. Now she gave up and set the book down, then uncurled her feet from beneath her bottom. Closing her eyes, she arched her back, enjoying the stretch of her muscles and the warmth of the sun on her face. Her mother would be terribly cross that she’d gone out without a bonnet or a parasol, but even if her face freckled, it would be worth it for these few moments of peaceful warmth.
“Are you enjoying your patch of sunshine, little cat?”
Judith jumped, her eyes flying open. “Peter!” He stood at the entrance to the clearing, gazing down at her with a tender but apprehensive expression. Joy at seeing him warred with anger. She was still trying to decide which would prevail when he sat beside her.
“Hello, Judith.” He took one of her hands in his and laid a kiss across her knuckles. She shuddered at the touch then tugged her hand from his grasp.
“What are you doing here?”
“You wouldn’t see me in London, so I followed you here.”
“Followed?” She scooted away a bit. It was disconcerting to be so close to him.
“Not literally, of course. But your mother had mentioned you were going to the country, and it was not hard to deduce your destination.”
“I see,” she said, although she didn’t. “Why?”
“Do you really need to ask?” His gaze bored into her own. She blinked to break the spell and rose, walking away from him. If she didn’t get away from him, she’d forget how angry she was and focus on the little thrill that curled around her belly when she thought about him chasing after her.
She pushed the thrill away, concentrated on the anger instead. “Obviously I do. You kissed me, all but declared your intention to offer for me. But the next morning I read you are engaged to someone else. Cassandra, of all people. How could you?”
“It was not my doing, I swear it. My father arranged it without my knowledge. I have no intention of marrying her.”
She turned to face him. Hope swelled within her breast. “So you didn’t know you were engaged when you kissed me?”
A shadow fell over his face, and he did not reply.
Of course he had known. Her blood warmed and her hands clenched involuntarily. “Did you know when we went riding in the park? Or was that solely meant to embarrass me and your fiancée?”
“No!” He rose, closed the distance between them. “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t engaged then. It was all arranged by my father, and I didn’t learn about it until after we met. And I meant to tell you at the ball, but I… There was moonlight, and you’re so beautiful, and I…” Placing his enormous hands on her shoulders, he bent his head to kiss her again. His lips moved closer. She could smell the sweetness of tea on his breath, feel the warmth of his body as he pressed it closer to hers.
“No,” she groaned, sliding from his grasp and moving away. She shook her head. “No, no, no. I’ll not fall for that again.” She pivoted to put him out of her sight and ran headlong into the labyrinth.
Chapter 8
“Damn it,” Peter muttered as Judith’s skirts swirled and disappeared into the hedge. He had not thought it would be difficult to win her over, had assumed her mother was his biggest obstacle.
He was an ass.
He had hurt her far worse than he realized, and she was not going to let him back into her heart easily.
Should he follow her? What if she was so upset she got lost?
He swore to himself again and plunged into the hedge after her.
He needn’t have worried. In the time he’d spent dithering over whether to follow her, she had escaped the maze and was nearly at the house when he caught sight of her. She didn’t once turn back to see if he followed her. Did that mean she didn’t care, or that she assumed he would?
He lengthened his stride to reach her but stopped short when her mother met her at the door. He ducked out of sight behind a fish-shaped topiary. There would be time enough for that confrontation.
****
The nerve of him! To assume she’d welcome his advances when he was engaged to another? What kind of woman did he think she was? Indignation, and fear that she might give in, fueled every step propelling her to the house. After leaving the maze, she could feel his eyes on her back, but she dare not turn.
Her mother’s figure filled the doorway as she approached, concern and annoyance on her face. “There you are!” she said. “You seem flushed, darling. Where on earth have you been?”
Judith paused, willing her breathing to slow. “I went for a walk and found a delightful little garden in the center of the labyrinth. I was reading.”
“Oh, Judith,” she said, shaking her head. “You went for a walk with a book?”
“Of course. I always do, or have you forgotten?” Judith usually did have a book in hand when walking at their estate in Derbyshire. Her mother always fretted she’d trip over a tree root by not watching where she was going, but it hadn’t happened yet.
“No, I haven’t,” her mother said, disappointment tinging her tone. “I had hoped you’d eschew that country habit for this party, but clearly it’s too well ingrained. But where is your book?”
“Right…” Judith realized she must have left it on the bench, she’d been so flustered by Lord Caxton’s appearance. She was not about to tell her mother that, however. “Oh. I must have left it on the bench. I will get it later.”
Lady Grangemore waved a beringed hand. “I’ll send a footman. Now, come,” she said, wrapping an arm around Judith’s shoulder, “you’ll never guess who’s arrived.”
“I can’t imagine.” She risked a quick glance behind her, but if Peter was there he was well hidden. She accompanied her mother into the small library from which she’d liberated the book, with lovely large windows facing the sea. She sat beside her mother and readied herself.
“Lord Kingsley,” Lady Grangemore said. “A duke, for goodness’ sake, and rather a handsome one at that. His mother debuted with Lady Howley, and like the rest of us, they’ve come to Kent to escape the cholera. What luck!”
“For whom? Surely not the people who are suffering from cholera, assuming they exist.”
Her mother actually rolled her eyes. “Foolish girl. Of course it’s not lucky for them, but it is lucky for us. You’ll have an opportunity to charm him you would not otherwise have, competing with the likes of Cassandra.”
The thought of Cassandra and her preening, hateful ways filled Judith’s mouth with bile. The thought of her with Lord Caxton almost made it spill over. She shuddered, swallowed, took a deep breath.
“Cassandra is taken, if you’ll recall.”
“Hmph,” Lady Grangemore muttered. “I’ve heard Lord Caxton has left London.”
“Really? How curious.” She traced the pattern on the arm of the settee with one finger. “Where did you hear that?”
“I overheard Lady Kingsley mention it as she and her son arrived. I am sure we’ll hear the whole story at dinner.”
“No doubt.” She was tempted to plead a headache so she wouldn’t have to witness her mother’s reaction to Lord Caxton’s presence at the party.
“Speaking of dinner, we shall be late if we don’t hurry. Grace has pressed your emerald silk, which sets off your eyes so well. Kingsley can’t help but be captivated.” She rose, pulling Judith up with her, and bustled her out of the library and up to their rooms.
Judith couldn’t help but wonder if Lord Caxton would be captivated as well.
****
Judith hurried downstairs to the parlor a few minutes before her mother, who was busy le
cturing Grace on the appropriate way to use a curling iron. Grace didn’t usually serve as her mother’s maid, but as Bates had been ill with a head cold, Lady Grangemore had insisted she stay in London.
Judith hoped to see Lord Caxton first so she would not need to fake surprise at the sight of him. Her mother’s sharp eye was sure to notice, and she would be furious if she knew Judith had met him in the labyrinth and said nothing. Now if he’d cooperate and arrive a bit early as well…
Her breath caught when she noticed him standing at the window. The sea beyond was calm, wholly at odds with the waves frothing in her belly. Judith quickly scanned the room, but he was alone. She left the door open so as not to cause scandal and waited near the doorway, trying to calm her racing heart.
“Are you going to skulk there, Miss Leslie, or should I get you a glass of sherry?” he said without turning around.
She jumped. “I’m not skulking. And how did you know I was here?”
“Your perfume is distinctive. A unique mix of jasmine and roses.”
“Is that the only reason?” she asked, a trifle breathlessly.
He turned then, his gaze smoldering. “No. I think hereafter I shall always be able to sense when you have entered a room, whether I can smell you or not.”
“Oh, my,” she whispered. She was trapped in his gaze, as if it were drawing her closer to him. She took a step forward, pulled by an invisible string.
Voices in the hall broke the spell, halting her in her tracks. Peter smiled and went to the sideboard to pour her sherry, and she perched on the edge of a chair that was far more pretty than it was comfortable.
Lady Howley entered the room, followed by Judith’s mother and another woman Judith did not know.
“Judith, there you are. Are you having sher…?” She broke off as Lord Caxton turned, two glasses in his hand. “You!”
Lord Caxton flashed a charming smile, although why he bothered Judith couldn’t say. Her mother was entirely immune. “Good evening, Lady Grangemore, Lady Howley.” He bowed to the other woman. “Your Grace.”
Treasure Her Heart Page 5