by Clee, Adele
Claudia watched him for a time, drawn by his handsome countenance, by the peace and serenity surrounding him when he wasn’t preoccupied with plotting revenge and playing the doting husband.
Naturally, her thoughts turned to Emily.
She had every faith in her sister’s strength and determination. But what if she’d suffered a terrible accident? What if she’d sustained an injury that kept her in bed, that brought all the old fears and insecurities flooding back?
“Stop fretting, Miss Darling, and close your eyes,” Hudson said without moving a muscle.
How was it that he could read her so easily and yet he remained a closed book?
Sleep was the only way to calm the chaotic chatter filling her mind, and so she closed her eyes and silently prayed, prayed all was well at Falaura Glen.
* * *
It was dusk by the time Lockhart woke and the carriage rattled through the wrought-iron gates and up the gravel drive towards Falaura Glen. He recalled the first time Dariell had mentioned the manor’s name, suggesting it might be a perfect place to hide, to lie low. It had sounded rather whimsical to his ears, a place where fairies congregated to learn magic spells and share centuries-old secrets.
Lockhart stole a glance at Claudia Darling sleeping soundly in the seat opposite.
The manor might not be a home for fairies, but there was something magical about its occupant. The lady had a charm that held him captive. Fascinated did not begin to describe his feelings. Beguiled and bewitched, maybe.
Hell, he hoped Dariell had kept his word and taken care of Emily Darling. One small accident would prevent Claudia from returning to town, would ruin Lockhart’s plans. It was selfish. But the thought of facing his family without his enchanting temptress at his side proved too painful to bear.
Deciding not to cloud his mind with problems beyond his control, he sat forward and placed his hand on Claudia’s knee. She did not flinch at his touch. Indeed, had he been a true rake and rogue he would have ventured a little higher, high enough to caress her soft thigh, high enough to stroke the sweet spot until she begged for more.
“Miss Darling.” He shook her gently lest he succumb to his darkest desires. “Claudia, wake up. We’ve arrived at Falaura Glen. We’re home.”
The lady’s lids fluttered open. It took her a moment to gather her bearings. “Home? Already? But I’ve only been asleep for five minutes.” She straightened, brushed her skirts and patted the sides of her hair.
Lockhart smiled. “You’ve slept for two hours.”
She nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes filled with apprehension. “Did I moan and mumble?”
“Delightfully so,” he lied.
A blush touched her cheeks. With a frustrated sigh, she leant forward and peered at the passing trees. “Are you coming up to the house? I thought you’d be eager to see Monsieur Dariell and inform him what you’ve learnt so far.”
And what would Lockhart tell his friend? That his family cared so little, they wanted rid of him for good? That the mystic’s wisdom proved accurate and Miss Darling was everything a man might hope for in a wife? That he struggled to see the line separating fantasy from reality?
“Does your sister not take supper at six? One would assume she’d dine with Dariell in your absence.”
“At six? Yes, of course.” She shook her head. “For some reason, it feels as though I’ve been away for years.”
Lockhart arched a brow. “Is my company so tedious?”
“On the contrary. You’re a pleasant companion.”
“Pleasant?” he scoffed. “You make me sound like an elderly aunt, one who comes to read to you and assist with needlework. One capable of recalling the ridiculous Latin names of every plant and shrub.”
Claudia chuckled. “You’re a charming companion,” she corrected.
“Madam, unless you wish to insult my masculinity, you must do better than that.”
“Very well.” She laughed again but then forced a serious expression. “You’re a hot-blooded and wickedly sinful companion who holds me enslaved with your expert mouth and impassioned conversation.”
He cast an arrogant grin as the carriage rumbled to a halt. “Now that sounds more like me. Perhaps when we return to town, I might show you how hot-blooded and wickedly sinful I am.”
The lady’s blue eyes sparkled to life. “You mean to wait until then?” she said in such a seductive lilt he had to fight the urge to bend her over the seat, lift her skirts and drive home.
Desire and pure carnal lust thrummed in the air.
They stared at each other, both challenging the other to make the first move. She wanted him. It had nothing to do with the teasing words of an actress. He had tasted the truth. And by God, if he didn’t have her, he might go insane.
The rattle of the handle drew him from his musings. The footman yanked open the carriage door and lowered the steps. The housekeeper came galloping down to greet them, almost tripping in her excitement.
“Oh, ma’am, you’ve come home.”
Claudia’s sensual smile turned to one of panic as she tore her gaze from him and focused on the woman clutching her hands to her chest.
“Is anything the matter, Mrs Bitton?” Grasping the footman’s fingers, Claudia practically jumped from the carriage. “Is it Emily? Has something dreadful happened?”
Lockhart vaulted to the ground and came to stand at Claudia’s side. He moved to place his hand at the small of her back but hesitated. They were not in London now, and she was not his wife.
“Why, nothing’s the matter, ma’am.” Mrs Bitton smiled. “I’m just pleased to see you home safely, that’s all.” She glanced at him and curtsied. “Sir.”
He expected a scowl of disapproval but received an almost grateful grin. Did Mrs Bitton want him to ravage her mistress? Did she hope an honest proposal might be forthcoming?
Claudia’s shoulders sagged as she breathed a relieved sigh. “And Emily is well? Have there have been any visitors?” The lady shivered upon asking the last question.
For a moment, Mrs Bitton looked puzzled. Recognition finally dawned, and the housekeeper’s eyes grew wide and a little fearful. “No visitors, ma’am.” The housekeeper’s relieved sigh roused his suspicion. Somewhere he had missed a vital clue when it came to understanding these odd facial exchanges. “And let’s hope for all our sakes it stays that way.”
“Indeed.” Claudia cast Lockhart a nervous smile before returning her attention to Mrs Bitton. “Is Emily taking supper in the dining room?” she said, quickly mounting the steps upon hearing the rumble of thunder.
The black clouds in the distance were thick with the promise of rain. The storm would be upon them within the hour unless the wind changed course.
“Oh, I best warn Miss Emily.” Mrs Bitton glanced up at the dark sky. “I doubt she’s expecting rain.”
“Don’t tell me she’s left the windows open again.”
“No, ma’am. She’s taken her supper outside this evening.”
Pretty wrinkles formed on Claudia’s brow. “Outside? In November?” Panic took command of her voice. “What if she catches her death of cold? You know how susceptible she is to catching chills and fevers.”
Mrs Bitton wrung her hands and shuffled on the spot. “They’ve built a shelter in the garden, ma’am. I’m sure it will keep the cold out.”
“They?”
The housekeeper’s bottom lip quivered. “Mr D-Dariell and Miss Emily are having a picnic.”
“A picnic? In November? A picnic in a shelter?”
Lockhart suppressed a grin. He had to admit it sounded rather romantic. “Come, let us find this foolish pair and give them a piece of our minds.”
Claudia raised her brows. “You said I could trust him to take care of her.”
“And I’m sure he is doing a remarkable job.” Lockhart fought the urge to mutter a curse. If Dariell had ruined any chance of Claudia returning to London, he would string his friend up by the ballocks. “Come. I presume they�
��re in the garden.”
“Yes, sir. They’ve made a tent inside the stone rotunda.”
“A tent?” Claudia threw her hands in the air. After numerous huffs and puffs, she grabbed hold of Lockhart’s arm as if he were a naughty boy about to receive his punishment. “You may return to your duties, Mrs Bitton, we will deal with this debacle.”
And with that, Miss Darling marched him through the house, out through the terrace doors and along the narrow path lined with trimmed topiary. The light spilling from the house covered the garden in a faint golden glow to illuminate their way. It was a perfect setting if one were intent on seduction.
“I blame myself, of course,” she muttered as she dragged him along. “Heaven knows, that scandalous nightgown should have been a clue. And he’s friends with you, a man whose wicked tongue can render a woman helpless.”
The compliment roused a sense of masculine pride. “My tongue renders you helpless, Miss Darling?”
She pulled him left as the path widened. “Helpless to the point I forget my own name. It’s not healthy to be so consumed with passion that you lose the use of your faculties.”
Lockhart cleared his throat. “There is nothing more healthy or invigorating than losing one’s head to lust.”
“Lust?” Claudia whispered through gritted teeth. “There you go again with—” She skidded to an abrupt halt and gaped open-mouthed at the Grecian-inspired rotunda at the end of the path. “Heaven above.”
Lockhart drank in the sight of the magical scene. Heaven did describe the enchanting setting designed by Dariell to impress a woman who would never see its magnificent beauty.
Reams of white sheets hung in the spaces between the pillars, the material flapping and billowing in the breeze. Ivy trailed around each of the stone columns, ivy threaded with red November roses. Miss Emily lay stretched on a chaise in the middle of the rotunda, huddled beneath a mound of furs. Amber flames flickered in the copper brazier burning near the entrance. Supper was but an arm’s reach away laid out on a trestle table. And Dariell sat on a rug piled with a rainbow of vibrant cushions reading to his transfixed companion.
The scene roused a feeling of inadequacy. Dariell certainly knew how to seduce a woman.
With her chin still touching her chest, Claudia stepped forward.
Like a deer sensing a distant sound, Emily looked up. Dariell glanced back over his shoulder and came to his feet upon noticing their approach. He said something to Emily, and the lady smiled in response.
“Oh, Hudson, I have never seen Emily look so happy,” Claudia whispered as they neared the rotunda.
“No,” Lockhart mused, noting the radiance in his friend’s eyes, too. “I’ve never seen Dariell look so pleased with himself, either.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Is everything all right?” Emily said as Dariell helped her to her feet and draped a fur stole around her shoulders. “We didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Everything is fine.” Well, except for the fact Claudia couldn’t stop lusting after her new friend and employer. She took hold of Emily’s hand and gave it a squeeze of reassurance. “We needed to take the country air to clear our minds. Isn’t that right, Mr Lockhart?”
The sinful-looking gentleman at her side nodded. “Town can be stifling.”
Dariell eyed them suspiciously before saying, “And your trip, it was successful? Everyone believes you are married?”
Hudson’s arrogant grin stretched from ear to ear. “Our acting abilities would put any skilled thespian to shame.” He glanced at Claudia. His brown eyes held the same look of restless longing she’d witnessed earlier in the carriage. “Except, of course, we hope our story will not meet a tragic end.”
“No,” Dariell mused. “I think it will be far from a tragedy.”
“What do you think of our picnic?” Emily gestured to the beautiful scene that looked like a home for Titania, queen of the fairies. “Isn’t it splendid?”
Claudia considered casting Dariell a look of reproach but found she couldn’t be angry with him, not when his ridiculous idea had brought Emily such joy. Perhaps it wasn’t a ridiculous idea after all. Perhaps it was rather romantic. The Frenchman had clearly gone to an awful lot of trouble.
“Monsieur Dariell’s efforts have produced excellent results,” Claudia said by way of praise.
The Frenchman slapped his hand over his heart. “I’m afraid I cannot take all the credit, madame.”
“No,” Emily interjected, struggling to contain her excitement. “I’m responsible for decorating the pillars with ivy and roses.”
“Then you’ve done a remarkable job.” Guilt gnawed away at Claudia’s insides. Was she just like their father when it came to doubting Emily’s abilities?
Did nothing faze Monsieur Dariell? No doubt he’d have Emily climbing mountains, swimming in streams, dancing around the maypole and riding bareback across open country.
“There is food aplenty,” Dariell said. “Join us.”
Hudson cast Claudia a sidelong glance. “I am rather hungry after the journey. And we should make the most of being outdoors before the storm breaks.”
Conflicting emotions made it difficult to make a decision. Things felt different at Falaura Glen. Emily had survived for two whole days without falling foul to her affliction. No, she hadn’t just survived. Under Dariell’s expert tutorage, she had thrived. And while Emily had found her inner spark, being home reminded Claudia that the warm feeling filling her chest was an illusion. Part of a complicated charade.
She was about to suggest they all return to the house when Hudson placed his hand on her back. “We must eat. We have a long drive to town tomorrow, and there’s much to do.”
Finding the strength to give him a half smile, she said, “Of course.”
He led her past the brazier and into the rotunda tent. If not Titania’s home it might be that of an exotic prince, a haven on his long trek through the desert. Taking a seat next to Emily on the chaise, Claudia watched Hudson Lockhart plate a selection of cured meats and plum chutney, a chunk of cheese and fresh bread.
He offered Claudia the plate after insisting on playing host, and then bent his head and whispered, “You seem different now you’re home.”
“Different?” Fearful would be the appropriate word. In such a short space of time, she had lost sight of her identity. Yes, she was the unmarried mistress of Falaura Glen, and yet somewhere deep inside she longed to be the wife of Hudson Lockhart. “Being home just makes me realise we’re from different worlds.”
Emily cleared her throat and came to her feet. “Excuse me while I assist Monsieur Dariell.” Emily navigated her way around the chaise. Dariell reached out to her and Emily’s hand slipped into his as easily as if she were blessed with sight. Without a word, Dariell drew her towards the brazier.
“We’re not from different worlds,” Hudson protested once Emily was out of earshot. “I despise pomp and ceremony and have always craved a simple existence.”
Claudia glanced back at the house. “There is nothing simple about running a home when one is short of funds.” Equally, she had come to realise there was something more than money missing from her life. Her fake marriage to Mr Lockhart had given her a glimpse of the intimacy a man and woman might share.
“Am I not helping you to rectify that problem?”
“Helping me? Am I not the one supporting you?” The sudden urge to argue came upon her like an errant devil. “Have I not embraced my role in order to help you settle your grievances?”
“You have gone over and above what is expected.”
His compliment roused her ire for no reason at all. What was she hoping to prove by challenging him? That he cared? That he was struggling to separate fantasy from reality, too?
“This agreement is to our mutual benefit,” he continued, confusion evident in his tone. “You said so yourself.” Frown lines appeared on his brow. “What is this really about?”
A host of reasons flooded her mi
nd. It was about the fact he could kiss her so rampantly, forget it so easily. It was about him telling her she could keep her wedding ring once he’d severed their connection. It was about the desperate yearning, the desperate ache for him that could not be tempered. Indeed, she was ready to pick up every damnable excuse to be angry and hurl them at him in the hope of seeing a flicker of pain.
But in a dusty corner of her mind reserved for logic, she knew this bout of anger was uncalled for and wholly undeserved.
“It’s been an eventful few days,” she said to excuse her erratic behaviour. “I think I might retire early.”
“Without supper?” He glanced at the plate resting on her lap. “You’ve not eaten since this morning.”
His concern touched her to the point she wanted to cry.
For all the saints! If she couldn’t control these raging emotions, she’d be fit for Bedlam. Indeed, she might welcome being shackled in a dank cell if it brought an end to her torment.
“I shall take my supper upstairs.” She forced a smile. “Will you be all right sleeping in the cottage tonight?”
Will you be all right sleeping alone, alone without me?
His grim mouth twitched, and she was relieved to see a flash of amusement in his bewitching brown eyes. “I’ve slept there for a month. One more night won’t hurt.”
He held her gaze for so long she might have kissed him had they been married.
“What time will we leave tomorrow?”
“I know you spoke about venturing to the village, but I need to return in the morning if I’m to hire the services of a doctor. Selina advised we visit at noon, but I’m reluctant to trust the motive behind her suggestion.”
Talking about his problems in town was akin to downing a potent elixir, one that invigorated her spirits and chased away all painful thoughts. “I can take a trip into Flamstead the next time we return.” Perhaps it might be then that they parted ways, parted ways for good. “Hiring a doctor must be a priority.” And yet he had brought her home knowing that, too.
