by Valerie King
When he moved with her, she decided to offer a new subject, one she hoped would set him on his heels a trifle. “You asked me a few days past why I was not married. I have been wondering ever since how it is you are not. You must be past thirty, or am I mistaken?”
He nodded. “I am five and thirty.”
He was therefore seven years her senior. She thought he looked quite well for his age and wondered if he would simply grow more and more handsome with the years. But this would hardly do, to be thinking such hopeless thoughts about him.
She brought her errant thoughts to order. “A bachelor for so long,” she continued, “will not willingly surrender his life of command.”
The wind again swept across the hillock, tugging at her bonnet and pressing the skirts of her walking gown against her legs.
Rotherstone crossed his arms over his chest. “So, I do have the right of it, that a man gives up that which he values most upon entering the married state.”
“His freedom to do as he pleases?” she queried.
“Precisely.”
“Just as a woman does,” she countered.
“But you ladies seem far more inclined to the prospect than most men.”
“I cannot speak for all women, only myself, and I promise you that the last thing I have ever desired is to be obligated in such a way to a man.”
He narrowed his eyes and appeared pensive. “I believe you may have come to hold such an opinion given the former and quite harsh circumstances of your life. Yes, I know I am speaking plainly, so do not ring a peal over my head. My intention is not impertinence but rather to let it be known that I am aware that your eldest brother has not cared for either his estate or his family as he ought. That you have brought your mother and siblings beneath your wing is a trait in you I admire exceedingly. So let me pose this question to you: Could a gentleman in possession of good character and who would be properly attentive to you, could such a man tempt you to the wedded state?”
His long speech had silenced her. She was shocked both that he had spoken as a man of sense and that he had actually shown compassion for the difficulties of her past. She could not, however, give him an entirely serious answer. “I daresay I should marry such a man in a trice,” she responded gaily, “were I ever able to find one.”
He laughed. “I never suspected you were a cynic.”
“Then you hardly know me at all.”
The breeze quickened suddenly.
“Rain it shall be,” he said. “We should return at once. Look how dark the clouds are become.”
Since Evelina was wearing a new bonnet of yellow silk and had not brought her umbrella with her, she agreed at once. Taking his proffered arm, she let herself be led quickly down the path. The breeze became brisk, tugging once more at her skirts. Just as she entered the orangerie, a barrage of large raindrops struck the glass roof so loudly that it sounded like an entire regiment of drummers had begun pounding away.
“That was very close,” she said, laughing. “A minute more and we would both have been wet through.”
“Yes, we would have. Now that we are here, however, would you care for some tea?”
“Yes, very much. Then we might discuss the matter at hand.”
“Ah,” he murmured. “The matter at hand. Do I apprehend that your calling on me today involves something more than setting a date for your hunt for Jack Stub’s treasure?” he queried, eyeing her suspiciously.
“You have guessed correctly,” she returned.
Rotherstone led her from the orangerie to an antechamber overlooking the north lawn. The expanse of green bouncing with raindrops had been recently scythed. A sprawling rose garden ambling to the east was in bloom with shades of pink, red, yellow and white flowers. After ordering tea, he led her to an upholstered chair near the French windows.
Evelina sat down gladly, spellbound by the beauty of the garden, the play of the clouds across the sky and the increasing rain. Without thinking, she curled up in the chair and watched the rainstorm unfold. A flash of lightning and a subsequent crack of thunder made her jump in her seat then laugh.
* * * * * * * * *
Rotherstone took up a chair opposite her, his back to the garden, his gaze fixed to her face. He had been in her company five times now, yet each succeeding time she seemed to become more beautiful. As he looked at her, he tried to determine just what it was that made her so lovely. Her eyes were a pretty almond shape and an exquisite shade of green. Her cheekbones were well defined and her nose fairly perfect in symmetry and definition. Her chin had the faintest cleft, and the line of her jaw completed what he now saw was a charming oval in structure. Yet he would swear that was not why she was so heart-achingly beautiful.
Another flash of lightning and rumble of thunder, and she jumped in her seat once more. A smile suffused her face, and his breath caught. There it was, a joyful expression in her countenance that frequently lit her complexion. He could feel his heart quicken, and he restrained a strong impulse to reach toward her, to pull her from her chair, to draw her onto his lap and to hold her once more in his arms.
How the devil had she remained unwed these many years even if she was a cynic?
At length, the tea arrived. She poured cups for them both in the manner that had become a tradition in elegant homes. He realized they were not speaking. She was still mesmerized by the weather, he by her beauty. Even her hands were a delight: long fingers, creamy texture and a shape that begged to be held. He sipped his tea. Were he ever to court her, he would hold first one hand then the other, kissing them both over and over until she understood just how much he treasured them.
He liked that she was perched on the chair as though she had been in his house a hundred times instead of twice. How comfortable she looked draped over the arm slightly. She sighed several times, then glanced at him.
He met her gaze, perhaps more forcefully than he should have.
“Is something amiss?” she asked, a frown quickly marring her perfect brow as she took a sip of her tea.
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, not by half, I assure you.”
“You appeared so . . . so serious. I thought perhaps I had offended you.”
“Not in the least.” He sipped his tea a little more. It would not do for her to comprehend even a particle of his thoughts. How easily she could manage him then if she knew just how strongly her beauty worked on his heart and how he wished he were back in the grotto with her.
He gave himself a mental shake. This would not do. She was, after all, a mere female and one proven to be as determined to her own ends as any lady he had ever known. He could not trust such a woman. Such a woman had hurt him once very deeply, and he would never permit himself to be hurt in that manner again. Still, he could appreciate her beauty. What man would not?
“So, tell me, Lady Evelina, what precisely is the matter at hand?”
“Oh, that,” she said, laughing, settling her cup on its saucer. “I nearly forgot. I fear I have been enchanted with the weather.”
“So you have,” he said, smiling in return.
“Yesterday, when I met with our neighbors to tell them of Mr. Creed’s tales and to inform them of your agreement to permit our treasure hunt, I was charged with the office of asking you to attend our next assemblies in Maybridge to be held on Saturday. The Crown has a generous hall on the first floor, and we never lack for gaiety. The invitation has been extended to Sir Edgar as well.”
The whole of the invitation was a surprise, no less so than that Sir Edgar had been included. “Indeed? Whose notion was it to include Sir Edgar? For if you must know, I am quite stunned.”
“I can see that you are,” she responded. “As it happens, Miss Ambers took some pains to exonerate him.”
“And now you have truly astonished me,” he said. “I had thought her lost to all proper feeling. Do you tell me she actually spoke kindly of him before all our neighbors?”
“Yes, very much so, though I believe it required som
e courage on her part. But she did not hesitate. Indeed, from all that was said, her mother may have been the author of the rumors that destroyed Sir Edgar’s character before the world. Miss Ambers was shocked, for instance, to learn that no one knew he had offered for her.”
Lord Rotherstone pondered this information. “I recall her mother most particularly. A veritable dragon. I can only suppose she took delight in destroying his position in society. However, I am glad to hear that Miss Ambers has finally made the truth known. Sir Edgar, you know, would never permit me to say an unkind word against her. It would now seem he was justified in his belief in her character. I have long suspected that my friend still holds her in a great deal of affection.”
“She did not seem entirely indifferent to him, either.”
He sighed. “I suppose this places me under some obligation to agree to attend the assemblies. I believe I could easily persuade Sir Edgar to join me were I to mention your opinion of her sentiments.”
“Then you will come?” she asked, clearly surprised. She took a sip of tea, then settled the cup and saucer on the table before her.
“I have not said as much,” he responded. He had already made his decision, of course. Attending the assemblies would be the perfect environment for lulling his enemies into a belief that he had forgiven them all. However, he could not seem to keep from teasing Lady Evelina. “Although I believe you might have it in your power to persuade me to attend if you truly wish it.” He smiled.
“I would promise to dance with you,” she offered cheerfully.
He thought he would like nothing better. “I should like a waltz,” he stated, finishing his tea.
She rolled her eyes. “You know that waltzing is rarely performed at such assemblies.”
He chuckled. “Then I think I had rather not attend.”
“You will only attend if our little country band strikes up a waltz?”
“Yes.”
“You are being absurd.”
“So I am.”
“The chamber at the Crown is not large enough for waltzing.”
“That is not my fault.”
“You are being ridiculous.”
He laughed.
“Country dances are always a delight,” she said, “though I begin to see what it is. You have probably not danced in ages, and you now lack confidence that you can manage the evening without disgracing yourself. What if I offered to practice with you?”
“Now you are making sport of me.”
“A little,” she said, laughing. “In truth, I think you are being abominably absurd for staying hidden in your castle.”
“This is not a castle.”
“You treat it as though it is castellated and moated, the drawbridge up.”
He could not help but laugh. “But I do not like my neighbors.”
“What does that matter?” she said boldly. “A man of your station is required to be engaged in whatever concerns your community. You cannot deny as much, though I feel certain you will try.”
“You are intent on serving as my conscience.” He liked watching her reactions pass over her face before she spoke. It was as though he could read her mind. But could she read his? Did she suspect even in the smallest way the terrible plan that he had already set in motion, one that when completed might possibly tear her fine community apart?
“Your conscience? I do not know that that was my intention, my lord, but if it will bring you to the assemblies, where you might come to know your neighbors a little better, then so be it. They are not the monsters you believe them to be.”
He regarded her closely. “My dear Lady Evelina, I beg to differ on the ground that you have not lived in Maybridge long enough to have determined all the truths about your new friends and acquaintances. Allow me some understanding, some discernment, some justification for my isolation.”
“Yes,” she said quietly, holding his gaze in a thoughtful manner. “I shall, though I cannot say in the least why I would agree to do so.” She gave herself a visible shake. “However, I do not mean to be so terribly serious. An assembly can be a great deal of fun and,” here she paused for a second and regarded him with a smile, “I would give you a dozen kisses if you would come to the assemblies.”
“A dozen?” he said. “My dear Lady Evelina, you do know how to tempt a man.”
* * * * * * * * *
Evelina looked into dark eyes that stared deeply at her. Why had she spoken such provocative words to him? They had left her lips before she had considered the consequences of them. She was aghast at her suggestion. How could she have said anything so . . . so wicked? What would he think of her? By the arrested thoughtful expression on his face, she believed she knew precisely what he was thinking. She began to laugh: at herself, at the absurdity of the situation and the suggestion.
The smile that he gave in response was crooked. “You should never say such a thing to a man, any man, even if you are just teasing. I hope you do not mean to make a habit of it.”
She felt oddly disappointed that his response was so proper. “Of course I will not. It was a ridiculous thing to say, and I . . . I beg your pardon for having spoken so brazenly.” She felt a blush begin to climb her cheeks.
He set his cup and saucer down on the table hastily. The cup rattled, even more so when he rose abruptly from his chair and jostled the table. He began to pace the room.
She turned to stare at him, not knowing what was causing him such agitation. “Have I distressed you?” She picked up her teacup and saucer again.
He stared at her and laughed outright. “Good God, no. It is merely that—Lady Evelina, I think you should go. I have the strongest presentiment that both of us have ventured onto dangerous ground, and I will warn you most particularly that were you to stay, you would soon find yourself in the basket.”
Evelina blinked. She realized he was marching about because of the dozen kisses, and she was no longer disappointed.
She swallowed her tea as he paced and scowled at her. Even in his scowls he was magnificent. Yes, he was magnificent. He was dark and brooding, a black stallion pacing the foothills, looking for his mares and stomping in his frustration. He was used to having his way; she could see that; she understood that part of him to perfection. That she had rattled him sorely was something of a pleasure to her.
“I do beg your pardon, Rotherstone,” she said at last. “I have teased you mercilessly, and now I believe I must go.” She finished her tea, settling the cup and saucer back on the polished silver tray and rose to her feet.
Rotherstone watched her preparing to take her leave and wished she would not go. He found he had enjoyed her rather wicked teasing but knew that nothing good could come of her staying a moment longer. Still, he did not want the moment to end. “It is still raining. I shall send for my coach.”
Evelina wanted to refuse his offer, but her yellow bonnet forbade her to do anything but accept. “Thank you. I am most grateful.”
He rang for his butler and ordered the coach brought round. “Come,” he said. “We may linger in the entrance hall for a time.”
She strolled beside him, walking down a fine hall well lit by numerous large windows typical of the Elizabethan house.
* * * * * * * * *
“I hope you know,” he said, “that you may say anything you wish to me.”
She cast him a sharp glance, her expression once more alive with laughter, her green eyes twinkling merrily. He wished her beauty did not have this horrid effect upon him of squeezing his heart as though it were a soft plum in her hand.
“Anything, my lord?” she queried. “Those are by far the most dangerous words you have spoken, you know, for my tongue is not always tender.”
He smiled. “By my experience, you are quite mistaken in that.” She appeared confused for a moment, but when enlightenment dawned, when he could see she was remembering the kiss in the grotto, a rosy blush touched her cheeks just as it should have.
“How wicked you are. How . . . h
ow incorrigible. No, do not speak. I forbid it. I hope your coach comes quickly before one or the other of us does something ridiculous. I will only say,” and here she straightened her shoulders, “that I hope you will come to the assemblies, and Sir Edgar as well. There is, however, one more thing I was to have asked you.”
“You frighten me now.”
“I can see that I have,” she said, smiling anew. “Sir Alfred, that is, the entire party wishes to know if they might be included in further discussions with Mr. Creed.”
“That I feel I must refuse.” He lifted a hand when she opened her mouth to begin her arguments. “I beg you will say nothing further on the subject. Mr. Creed and I will decide what can be done, which holes will be dug, if necessary, and you shall be apprised of our decision one day to the next. Beyond that, I have nothing more to say.”
“I suppose with that I must be content.”
“Yes, you must.”
“There remains only one last point of business. No, it is not a request. Our neighbors have agreed upon tomorrow at one o’clock in the afternoon to begin hunting for the treasure. Is this agreeable to you?”
“As much as your hunt will ever be.”
“I mean the day and hour,” she stated, lifting her chin.
He merely laughed. “Yes. Tomorrow at one. I shall inform Mr. Creed. Explore to your heart’s content, but I beg you will do no digging at that time. You may call upon me the day after to apprise me of your success.”
For the next few minutes, she chatted with him on inconsequential subjects, purposely avoiding even the smallest word of a flirtatious nature. In due course, his coach arrived.
She thanked him for his time, for the tea and for showing her the chapel ruins. With that, she quit his house.
* * * * * * * * *
On the following day Evelina led her neighbors to the gate at the easternmost hedge bordering Blacklands.
With the map tacked to a large board, protected by a flap of buckskin and carried by a servant, the party approached the very hedge and gate Evelina had explored some nine days earlier.