The Langley Sisters Collection 2

by Wendy Vella

  “I can imagine,” she snapped.

  “Come along, Miss Ainsley, there is fun to be had.”

  “I can spare a few minutes, thank you, Mr. Hetherington.” She walked by Ben to follow Alex. “The nice one,” she added for Ben’s ears alone.

  Ben was still smiling as he entered the nursery behind them.

  The duke and duchess had painted the walls in bright, sunny colors and furnished it with comfortable chairs and plenty of toys. Three large rocking horses sat in a line on one wall. Shelves held books, and large soft pillows were scattered everywhere.

  “Oh my.” He followed Primrose’s eyes and encountered the trunk filled with dress-up things, and beside it another smaller one holding dolls. The small house beside it was open, and they could see the little furnishings inside.

  “Do you still have your childhood dolls, Miss Ainsley?”

  She shook her head at Ben’s question but didn’t speak.

  “Where is the birthday girl?” Alex asked.

  “Here!” The squeal was loud enough to pierce eardrums.

  Alex lunged at Amanda. The girl shrieked and hugged him close, her little arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed every inch of his face.

  “Amanda,” Ben touched the girl’s shoulder after Alex had released her, “this is Miss Ainsley. Is it all right if she participates in the game of hide-and-seek? As it happens, she was just passing and heard all the noise.”

  Primrose smiled at the girl, and it was genuine and sweet.

  “Happy birthday, Amanda. I hope I may call you that?”

  “Of course.” Amanda nodded regally, looking like her mother. Phoebe had perfected the art as a young girl also, Ben was sure. “And yes, you may play,” she added as if she were royalty. “And now we are to begin.”

  Adults were already paired with children where possible, and the rules established. They were relayed for Primrose. She listened intently, and Ben just bet she’d remember each one clearly.

  The Duchess of Rossetter , Lord and Lady Ryder, Finn, Phoebe, Alex, and Ben were the only adults who’d dragged themselves out of bed to participate in the fun, along with nine children.

  “No cheating, Phoebe.”

  “I have no idea what you mean, William.”

  Will rolled his eyes.

  The Duchess of Rossetter started counting, and everyone ran in different directions with absolutely no regard for the grand old furnishings lining the halls and filling each room. There were excited squeals as children ran ahead of adults.

  Ben, who was paired with Samantha, the duchess’s daughter, grabbed her little hand and ran down the hallway, heading left.

  “There is a small alcove, Ben. We could hide in there, behind the curtains.”

  She had a lisp, as her two front teeth were missing.

  “Lead the way then, Samantha.”

  They located it a few minutes later. Slipping inside, they settled in to wait.

  “Are you enjoying having other children to share the nursery with during the house party?”

  “Yes.” She looked serious. “But I will also be glad when it is quiet again. But Mother and Father sneak us treats, as does every other parent, so I will miss that.”

  “And you little sneaks have told no one that you are already getting treats, so they keep coming.”

  “Of course. Sssh,” she hissed loudly.

  Ben fell silent. He heard the thud of the duchess’s feet, and then she was there, smiling at them.

  “Hello, sweetheart.”

  “Bother. We need to try harder next time, Ben.”

  “May I point out this was your hiding place, Samantha?”

  The little girl gave him a serious look. “But you are the adult.”

  “I shall give it more consideration then.”

  They hid several more times, and Ben had fleeting glimpses of a smiling Primrose, who appeared to be enjoying herself hugely.

  He and Samantha acquitted themselves quite well, even winning one round, and arrived back the last time to find two large trays of food and tea had been laid out on the nursery tables. His stomach was extremely grateful to see it.

  “I cannot find Primrose,” Alex said, looking at the plate of spiced apple cake.

  “Well, she won’t be in there,” Ben said.

  “You go and find her; I’m weak with hunger. She’s alone, so it could be quite a small space she’s hiding in.”

  “Alex, it is you who is in, therefore, you need to find her.” Ben picked up a currant bun. It was glazed with sugar and smelled divine.

  “Well then, she’ll have to wait. This food needs eating.”

  Ben swallowed and thought perhaps it may be the best bun he’d eaten in quite some time.

  “Someone must find her,” Amanda said. “Or she will miss the birthday tea.”

  Ben stood his ground and glared at Alex, who in turn ignored him in favor of devouring a slice of apple cake.

  “Very well, I’ll find her, seeing as you are too lazy to do so,” Ben said.

  Alex simply smiled in that way that suggested he knew something Ben did not, which annoyed him enough to take another bun before walking out the door.

  Ten minutes later, he’d checked every room and cupboard. Every nook and crevice. Where the hell is she? The rules were that you didn’t leave this floor.

  Standing in a smallish parlor, he turned a full circle. She wasn’t behind the drapes or anything else in the room. Staring up at the tapestry, and the man in an intricately carved doublet, he wondered if she’d simply left and not told anyone.

  “Did you see her?”

  No comment was forthcoming, so Ben started to leave. His eyes fell on the windows. One was unlatched.

  “Surely not?” Moving closer, he pushed it open slowly and leaned out to find Primrose Ainsley perched on a ledge. Looking down at the ground three floors below, he tried to think clearly and not give in to the anger and incredulity gripping him. She could have fallen, could even now be lying down there, broken and bleeding. Lifeless!

  “Come inside.” The words were calm, for all his need to roar them at her.

  “The game has finished?” she said in a voice she would use to converse about the weather.

  Ben couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he nodded. One quick jerk of his head as he battled to subdue the anger inside him. He didn’t usually get angry… not this kind of anger, anyway.

  “Oh, and have I won?” Her eyes lit with excitement.

  I’m killing her.

  “Inside now.”

  “But did I win?”

  She was inching along the building, her hands holding the wood above the window. Her white dress rose a few inches, showing him a pair of lovely ankles, and then the hem caught on a sliver of wood and rose further, allowing him a glimpse of pale, silken calves, before she pulled it free. The material made a tearing sound.

  “Oh dear, Lady Jane is not going to be happy.”

  “She would certainly not have been had you plunged to your death!” His voice rose on the last word.

  “I was perfectly safe.”

  “Give me your hand,” Ben said when she was in touching distance.

  “I have it. If you will just move back, I will climb in through the window.”

  Ben leaned out, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her unceremoniously inside. She squealed, clung to his shoulders, and then she was on her feet.

  “There was no need to do that!” Her hands were fussing with her clothes. Ben watched, fuming, as she inspected the small tear in the hem.

  “Are you completely without sense!”

  She dropped the hem, eyes wide as she straightened.

  “What fool climbs out on a narrow ledge—”

  “I am not a fool and was never in danger. The board I was standing on could comfortably hold both my feet.” Her chin lifted, and the look on her face was anything but contrite.

  “You were many feet above the ground perched on a narrow ledge! You could have sli
pped at any time. What if the piece of wood you were holding broke? These old houses are notorious for that kind of thing.”

  “I was safe, I assure you, and am quite nimble—”

  “Nimble enough to fall several floors without hurting yourself?” Ben scoffed. “You are not a cat, Miss Ainsley.”

  “You’re being irrational,” she dismissed him, unwisely, with a wave of her hand. It just spiked his temper further.

  “You,” he pointed a finger at her, “are bloody infuriating and irresponsible. Twice you could have drowned, and now… to win a game, you take yet another foolish risk!”

  “I am not speaking to you about this any further.” She tried to go round him.

  Ben grabbed her arm and pulled her close—so close that he simply had to lower his head for their eyes to be inches apart.

  “I want you to acknowledge how foolish that was.”

  Her lips formed a line.

  “Primrose.” He pulled her closer still. She said nothing, so he kissed her.

  Her squeak was muffled by his mouth. Driven by anger, the kiss was fierce. Ben knew he should ease back, knew it in the deep recesses of his mind where sanity lurked, and yet he couldn’t make himself. She tasted like sin, her lips soft and sweet beneath his, and he could feel her breasts pressed to his chest. He wanted more of her, and that thought had him retreating.

  “I’m sorry, I should not have done that.” Releasing her, he stepped back.

  She looked dazed, confused by his actions. Her lips were wet and pink, and his body hardened. He took another step back.

  “Why did you?” Her eyes had cleared now. They weren’t angry, just questioning.

  “I was angry,” he rasped.

  “Do you kiss all the women you are angry with?” She tilted her head to one side, as if she was inspecting some rare species of plant.

  “Of course not. But I was exceedingly angry with you.” Ben knew he sounded like a fool but had no other words to exonerate himself.

  “I like to win,” she said in a calm voice.

  How was she calm, when his body was on fire?

  “At the risk of your health!”

  “Perhaps I was wrong, but it is my health to risk. I often climbed out onto the window when hiding from my brother. I’m sorry if that frightened you.”

  “You must have been absolute hell to grow up with.”

  Her smile was small, and Ben had a feeling she was taking this entire situation better than he. Which was surely not true, as he was the one experienced in these situations and she was the innocent.

  “My brother often said that. Now if you will excuse me, I have a raging thirst, and I believe tea was to arrive in the nursery soon.”

  He stood to one side, as he had nothing to add to that, and she walked by, as regal as any princess, and left him alone—still fuming but also now aroused.

  “Bluebell and carnation,” Ben whispered. He followed minutes later.

  When he arrived in the nursery, Primrose was engaged in conversation with the duchess. She shot him a look, then away again as he entered.

  “You better have saved me a bun.”

  “Oh dear,” Alex said, taking a large bite of the one in his hand. “So sorry.”

  Ben grunted something rude and took the tea Hannah handed him.

  “I see you found her, then.” Alex nodded to where Primrose stood. “She looked a trifle flushed when she entered. Where was she hiding?”

  “On the window ledge… outside.”

  Alex choked. Ben stepped in as a brother should and whacked him hard on the back.

  “Chew your food, Alex. Honestly, the children have better manners than you.”

  “Thank you, wife, for your support,” Alex rasped, eyes watering. “Are you serious? You found her on the window ledge?”

  Ben nodded. “Apparently she is a win at all costs kind of lady.”

  “Good Lord.”

  “Quite.”

  “I am taking Miss Ainsley to see a book. The rest of you behave… especially my children,” the duchess said, heading toward the door with Primrose on her heels. “And the adults too.”

  “What book?” Ben said loudly.

  “That old botany one my husband treats like his firstborn child,” the duchess said. “Apparently, Miss Ainsley is an avid gardener also.”

  “I do not treat it like a firstborn child; it is far more important than him,” the duke drawled, earning an outraged howl from his eldest child, Billy.

  Ben studied Primrose. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked excited. In fact, what she looked was adorable, and that did not sit well with him after what they’d just shared, so he looked away until she’d left the room.

  Then he followed.

  “Where are you going?” Will asked.

  “I want to see this book,” Ben lied. What he wanted was to see Primrose Ainsley again, and he had no intentions of examining that thought too closely.

  Chapter Eight

  Primrose battled to contain her excitement. She was going to see the book. It was just the thing she needed after that kiss. Her first kiss. Good lord, she’d not known such passion could be exchanged just from a meeting of two sets of lips. It had been swift and taken her completely by surprise. How could a mouth pressed to hers make her body tingle all over?

  And not just any mouth, his mouth! Benjamin “Annoying” Hetherington.

  Primrose had walked out the door of that room she’d been hiding in and exhaled slowly. She’d tried to steady herself. Her pulse had been racing and her body felt different. Being held by him had been wonderful. His passion and strength. She doubted Herbert would hold her in such a way, but then how did she know? Perhaps any man who held her would make her feel just that way?

  She’d never thought herself capable of passion; indeed, she’d settled on a comfortable marriage in her future. Would she need to revise that now, in light of one single kiss? Unlikely. Primrose had realized early in her life that she was not easy to love. Perhaps that was why his kiss had made her feel so much. Someone had held her close, and she’d responded with fervor. Did she crave emotion so much that a stranger, any stranger, could make her feel what she had?

  “You must see my night garden also, Miss Ainsley. Unlike my husband, I am not obsessed with books, but I do enjoy the gardens.”

  “You have a night garden?” Primrose breathed. She’d always wanted to see one of those. Pushing aside her troubled thoughts about the kiss she and Benjamin Hetherington had shared, she focused on the Duchess of Rossetter .

  “Indeed, there is plenty in there and it is a wonderful sight. But you will have to go out after dark to view it.”

  “I would love to see it, thank you, and I shall make sure to take someone with me.”

  “That would be best.”

  Primrose walked through the old house admiring cabinets full of treasures that were many years old and paintings that were worth more money than she could hope to acquire in a lifetime.

  “Good day.”

  “Mr. Sanders,” the duchess said as he appeared before them. “What has you in this part of the house?”

  “It’s fair to say I was lost, Duchess. I had hoped to find the library, as the Duke told me it is one of the finest around.”

  “Of course he said that.” The duchess rolled her eyes. “He actually believes it’s the finest in the kingdom.”

  Mr. Sanders smiled, but did not reply.

  He had only arrived yesterday. Tall, with an easy smile, he appeared a man of relaxed manners and a comfortable disposition—unlike Mr. Hetherington, who was anything but comfortable. In fact, he reminded her of how she’d felt when she fell in that blackberry bush a few years ago.

  “Come along, I shall show you this library instead, as we are heading that way and I am about to show Miss Ainsley a book.”

  “Excellent, I shall accompany you. How can a man resist such beautiful company?”

  “This is actually the second library in the house, a small room tha
t houses the most precious books in my husband’s collection,” the duchess said, entering the room. “I’ll draw the curtains. They are kept closed so the books do not fade.”

  “I am not really a man who loves old books. Perhaps you could point me to the other library once we are finished here, Duchess,” Mr. Sanders said.

  “Oh, but surely you want to see the book?”

  “The book, Miss Ainsley?”

  “Lucian Clipper’s The History Of Plants. It is the most extensively written and illustrated botany text ever created. He wrote it in 1532 and died the following year. This is the only copy in existence.”

  Primrose let her eyes move around the shelves after the duchess had opened the curtains and light flooded in. She inhaled the smell of old books.

  “Someone should really bottle this scent.”

  “My husband often says that, Miss Ainsley,” the duchess said.

  The age of many of the books was evident by the spines.

  “Are all these first editions?” Mr. Sanders asked.

  “Most, yes. Mr. Stephens works for my husband, and it is he who hunts these down for him. Occasionally the duke will join him on a trip to procure a rare volume.”

  “May I see the book also?”

  She didn’t want to stiffen as Benjamin Hetherington wandered in, but after what they’d just shared, Primrose couldn’t help it.

  “I did not realize you knew the difference between a weed and a flower, Ben.”

  “Perhaps I don’t.” He gave the duchess a lovely smile that reached his eyes and made his face light up. Not that Primrose was impressed. It took more than a smile to do that. “But I do love old books.”

  “Oh, well then, that is an excellent reason to see this book.”

  “Miss Ainsley.” He nodded to her as if they were mere acquaintances and his lips had not created turmoil inside her.

  “Mr. Hetherington.”

  “Sanders, are you also interested in botany?”

  “No indeed, Hetherington. I had hoped to borrow one of the duke’s books to read, and apparently was searching for the wrong library.”

  “Here it is.”

  Primrose struggled to draw in a breath as she moved to where the duchess now stood. The case was glass, and it stood on a wooden pedestal.