The Enigmatic Lady in the Ivory Tower

by Hazel Linwood

  Chapter 5

  The next morning, Diana broke her fast with the Marquess, then met the Dowager Marchioness in the drawing room for her lessons on decorum. The Dowager was unkind at every possible turn, not allowing Diana even a word in defense of her actions. Come the afternoon after tea, the Dowager fell asleep in her chair and Diana made her escape. Determined to feel the freedom she so desperately needed, she turned for the stables.

  Entering the stables, Diana allowed her eyes a moment to adjust to the change of light, then moved forward down the aisle between the horse stalls. A sound at the end of the aisle drew her forward to investigate. The closer that she came to the end of the aisle, she realized that the sound was someone singing. The masculine baritone was calm, soothing, and low. She was surprised that she had heard it at all, it was so low.

  Peering over the side of the stall, Diana found a tall, broad shouldered, dark-haired man, standing with his back to her, brushing down a black horse. He was singing softly in an effort to soothe it, his strokes matching the tempo of the song in their calming effect. The horse nickered at Diana’s presence and the man turned around to see who had come upon him so quietly.

  “How may I be of service, My Lady?” he asked her, as she stared into the most beautiful crystalline blue eyes she had ever seen.

  “Are you Gabriel Rowan?” She had not gotten to look at him in the middle of the night, but his voice sounded familiar. A thrill of excitement and fear at being near him went through her and she balled her fists in her skirt to calm herself.

  “I am,” he nodded in confirmation, his brows arched in a question as to why she had returned.

  “I was told by His Lordship that I should seek you out for a ride around the estate.”

  A light of understanding dawned in his eyes and he smiled.

  “Ah, yes. Permit me a moment to finish with this lovely lady and then I will be right with you.”

  “Yes, of course. By all means, finish. I can wait. Do you mind if I stand here and watch?”

  “No, of course you may do so if that is what you wish.” His smile was most disarming. Gone was the threatening presence of the night. “It is daylight, after all,” he threw in the slightly accusatory jest, causing Diana to blush, but she ignored his reference to her behavior.

  “Indeed, it is.” Diana smiled back, determined not to let him see her flustered, and settled against the side of the stall to watch him complete his tasks. He was gentle and the horse responded well to his touch. “What was the song you were singing earlier?” she asked, curious, and wishing to turn the conversation to safer ground.

  The stable hand smiled and blushed ever so slightly in embarrassment. “It is an old Scottish tune that my father used to sing to my mother. It is called, ‘Lady Lie Near Me’. Had I known that you were there, I would not have been singing it. It is not appropriate for a gentle lady.”

  Diana had to forcibly keep herself from laughing out loud at his words. Instead, she chose to let her rebellious spirit win over.

  “Please, sing it for me. It was so beautiful. Nothing so beautiful could be so wrong, could it?” She knew as she spoke that her reasoning was faulty, but she did not care. The man’s words had awakened the rebel in her, and she was now determined to hear it.

  He eyed her suspiciously, but in the end, he had no choice but to obey, as she was the lady and he was the servant.

  “As you wish, My Lady.” His face reddened once more as he opened his mouth to sing and Diana felt a small bit of accomplishment for having made him do so.

  “Lang have we parted been, laddie my dearie

  Now we are met again, laddie lie near me

  Near me, near me, laddie my dearie

  Lang hast thou lain alane, laddie lie near me

  All that I have endured, laddie my dearie

  In your arms it is cured, laddie lie near me

  Near me, near me, laddie my dearie

  Lang hast thou lain alane, laddie lie near me

  If in the spring we meet, laddie my dearie

  All joy will be near me, laddie lie near me

  Near me, near me, laddie my dearie

  Lang hast thou lain alane, laddie lie near me.”

  Diana covered her smile with her hand in a polite attempt at a fake cough. She had quite enjoyed the song, but she could not openly admit to having done so.

  “You have a lovely voice.”

  “Thank you, My Lady.”

  “You do the accent quite well.”

  “My father’s family came from Ireland, to Scotland, and then to England. Hearing so many accents growing up has given me an ear for languages.”

  “An enviable talent.” Diana could not help but like the man. He was handsome to be certain, but it went beyond that. He had a kindness in his eyes and a gentle nature that spoke of a man of compassion and respect. He was personable in his manner and speech, clearly intelligent, but had spoken about his gift for languages with modesty.

  When the handsome stable hand was done brushing down the horse, he turned back to Diana with a smile and stepped out of the stall.

  “Are you an experienced rider?”

  “I am,” Diana nodded. “I ride nearly every day at Kilgrave. I love to ride along the white cliffs and look out over the water. There is nothing more freeing.”

  “It sounds wonderful. I find that I envy you such a view.” His eyes met hers with kindness, but not the slightest bit of the envy that he claimed to possess. In fact, he carried himself with the confidence of a rather well-contented man. Looking up into the intense blue of his eyes, her stomach fluttered, and her heart sped up a bit, causing her to feel slightly unnerved.

  “Shall we?” he motioned with his hand in invitation to walk with him to another set of stalls to saddle them both a horse.

  “Yes, please.” Diana nodded and followed after him.

  Once the horses were saddled, they mounted, and left the stables. They rode along in silence for a time, soaking up the remainder of the day’s light and getting accustomed to each other’s presence. It was soothing after her encounter with the Dowager Marchioness and she was grateful to Ernest for suggesting it. Diana took in the sights and sounds around her, basking in the sun’s waning warmth. She turned her gaze toward Gabriel’s face and her curiosity resurfaced.

  “How did you come to be a stable hand at Westwallow?”

  “My father is the stablemaster. It was a natural thing for me to follow in his chosen occupation.”

  Diana nodded. “A father’s legacy is a strong thing. I know that it weighs heavy on my own father’s heart and mind. Kilgrave lacks a male heir. It is a heavy burden to bear.”

  “And it falls upon you and your sister to provide one,” Gabriel remarked in understanding. “A heavy burden, indeed.”

  Diana was surprised at how readily she had shared such things with a stranger. The stable hand was easy to talk to, as he listened without judgement, and readily gave her the comfort of his understanding. She felt drawn to him in ways that were difficult to explain, having just met him.

  “It is why I am here, I am afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  “I am to be further trained in the art of social decorum in preparation of future marriage arrangements.”

  “You sound less than pleased with the arrangement.”

  “I admit that I am not pleased, but I am here.” Once again, Diana’s boldness of speech with him surprised her. She was not at all certain whether it was a good or a bad thing, but she supposed that time would tell whether her premature confidence in him was well placed. She studied his profile, tracing his masculine features with her eyes and found nothing in his expression that said he was anything other than the man he presented himself to be.

  “Well then, let us hope that we can improve your opinion of Westwallow afore your time here is done.”

  “I believe that you have already.”

  Chapter 6

  Gabriel rode beside Lady Diana, allowing her to study him in silence
. He was pleased by her attention but made certain that she remained unaware of it. He fought back a smile of amusement when her brows wrinkled as if she were in a state of quandary as to whom he might be as a person. He allowed her moment of study, but what he really wanted to do was study her in return. When she turned away from him to survey the landscape, he sneaked a glance.

  She is so very beautiful, but there is something about her that goes beyond the obvious outer allure, something that speaks of a rebellious spirit tempered by a kind heart. I quite admire such qualities in a person.

  Lady Diana turned back toward him and he averted his eyes once more. She was way beyond his station and he knew it all too well, but he could not help being drawn to her.

  She is not for the likes of you, Gabriel Rowen.

  He chastised himself, but could not change the way she made him feel.

  “Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, and men below, and the saints above, for love is heaven, and heaven is love.” He murmured the passage from Sir Walter Scott’s Lay of the Last Minstrel.

  “What did you say?” Diana asked, turning her gaze to him in confusion.

  Gabriel was perturbed to find that he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “It is nothing but a trifle,” he shook his head, attempting to discourage further inquiry, but he failed.

  “It sounded rather poetic. Would you recite it again for me?”

  Once again Gabriel had been caught out spouting romantic nonsense when she was around. Sighing, he nodded his head in acquiescence as there was nothing else he could do.

  “It is rather long in its entirety, but I was thinking of a particular section that is a bit more cheerful than the rest.”

  “Oh, please, do share it with me.”

  “I will do my best to call it to mind in its entirety.” Gabriel began to recite the poem from the beginning, until he came to the section that he had been thinking of in relation to her and hesitated.

  “Oh, please, do go on,” Lady Diana urged, enraptured by the tale of the dying minstrel.

  “In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed;

  In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed;

  In halls, in gay attire is seen;

  In hamlets, dances on the green.

  Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,

  And men below, and saints above;

  For love is heaven, and heaven is love.

  True love’s the gift which God has given

  To man alone beneath the heaven;

  It is not fantasy’s hot fire,

  Whose wishes, soon as granted, fly;

  It liveth not in fierce desire,

  With dead desire it doth not die;

  It is the secret sympathy,

  The silver link, the silken tie,

  Which heart to heart, and mind to mind,

  In body and in soul can bind.”

  Gabriel met Lady Diana’s eyes and found that they were swimming with unshed tears.

  “Are you well, My Lady?” he asked, concerned, reaching out a hand to her before he had thought better of it.

  “It is nothing but the beauty of the words.”

  Gabriel withdrew his hand from her elbow and dismounted. He then came around to help Lady Diana from her saddle. “Let us stop and take a respite for a moment.” He handed her a flask from his pocket. “Drink some of this. It will fortify you.”

  “What is it?”

  “My mother’s cider.”

  She took a swallow and her eyes grew wide in surprised pleasure at the hearty flavors of sweet and tart mingling in the mouth.

  “My compliments to your mother. This is lovely!”

  “I will tell her that you said so, My Lady. She will be most pleased to hear it. If you ever desire more, all you need do is call down to the kitchens.”

  “Does your mother work in the manor house kitchens?”

  “She is the cook.”

  “I look forward to meeting her.”

  Gabriel smiled. A lady of noble breeding saying that she would be happy to meet a servant was not a usual thing to hear, let alone that she was looking forward to it. It showed a side of her that made him like her all the more.

  Remember that she is not for you, a still voice whispered inside, cautioning him against his rapidly growing interest.

  “Were you born here on the Westwallow Estate?”

  “On the family’s Welsh estate. When the former Marquess was alive, the family would travel to Wales on occasion. It was his mother’s family estate. My mother and father would travel with them. It was there that I was born.”

  “I have never been to Wales,” Diana admitted. “Is it lovely there?”

  “It is in some ways, but it is also sad in others. There is a great deal of suffering and poverty across all of Britain since the Napoleonic Wars.”

  Diana nodded. “I have seen it when we give to the poor widows at Kilgrave on St. Thomas’ Day. It is so very sad, but they are very brave and face their troubles with dignity.”

  “Society requires it of them.”

  “Indeed, and perhaps that makes it worse for them. I do not know, but I admire their strength regardless of its source.”

  “As do I. I only wish that there was more that could be done to aid them.”

  “Upon that we agree. St. Thomas’ Day just does not seem enough. Were we not born to a noble family, I cannot help but think that my sister, Georgette, would have been one of them.”

  Gabriel nodded, turning to study her face once more. The sorrow that was etched upon her features was quite genuine, as was her compassion for the widowed. It would have been improper for him to tell her what he was thinking in that moment, so he said nothing, but with every word she spoke, she drew him in more and more.

  He had never met anyone that had made him react so strongly so quickly, but he could not get the feeling of her body pressed against his, as it had that night in the stables, out of his mind. She had felt as if she had belonged there, in his arms. He had spent the entire rest of the night lying awake thinking about her. Now here she was riding along beside him and all that he could think about doing was holding her in his arms once more, this time for an entirely different reason than her screaming, as she did when he had come upon her in the night.

  Gabriel led Lady Diana over to a nearby tree and they sat down together at the base of the trunk. Leaning back against the bark, they sat in silence for a time, soaking up the last rays of the sun. Having her so close once more caused his heart to race faster than he would have preferred. Gabriel closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her arm near his against the tree’s trunk. The slightest sound of snuffling from beside him made him open his eyes to ensure that she was not crying. Instead, he found her to be asleep.

  The poor lass has exhausted herself beyond measure.

  Gabriel’s heart went out to her. Between the journey of the day before, her late-night excursion to the stables, and the day’s activities, she had clearly tired her body more than it could bear. He studied her face in repose and his heart leapt in his chest at the sight of the sun dancing upon her skin.

  Oh, to be that light.

  His heart yearned for it with every erratic beat. As he watched her skin turn golden in the light, his mind drifted to a passage from one of William Shakespeare’s sonnets.

  “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

  Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

  Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

  And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

  Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

  And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

  And every fair from fair sometime declines,

  By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;

  But thy eternal summer shall not fade

  Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

  Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

  When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st;

  So
long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”

  The words fit the moment more perfectly than anything Gabriel himself could have ever dared to utter.

  Can love grow from but a glance? I feel as if my mind, heart, and body have been claimed by another and that I no longer possess the commanding portion of my sanity. It is as if I have left good sense at heaven’s gates and turned away into the fiery depths of a more exquisite hell. How can I feel thusly over someone I have known but a day’s time?