Taking up her hand, he kissed her knuckles. Her warmth filled him with hope and fear. Everything about her called to him.
With her other hand, she cupped his cheek. “This is you angry?”
“Not all men rage and lash out when they are angry. And no man should take out his anger on those he has sworn before God to protect. If Radcliff were alive, you would have no doubt about my aggression.” Meanwhile it took all his strength to keep his anger tightly coiled.
A hint of a smile tugged at those alluring lips of hers. “So, whenever you are angry, you are gentle?”
“No. Later, I shall go for a ride or challenge one of the men to a fencing match. I will let my anger out in a sensible way that does not endanger the people I care about.”
A breeze blew through the trees, and several birds flew up. She lifted her chin to watch them go. “I feel lighter having told you. Isn’t that silly? It is not as if I have not had confidants. The Duke of Breckenridge has been very helpful to speak with.”
“Has he?” Garrett thought the duke an odd confidant, but perhaps there was more to that story.
“Yes. Of course, his experiences differ from mine, but the damage…” She touched the side of her head and took a long breath. “…the damage is the same.”
Garrett would have to get to know Nick better, but he understood enough. “Then I suppose you have been of value to His Grace as well.”
She tugged a bit of grass and rolled it in her fingers. “I hope I have.”
“How could you not be?” As the question was rhetorical and meant as a compliment, Garrett was rewarded with a rare, sweet blush.
They sat looking over the vista to the west. It was strange to sit quietly with anyone, but especially with a woman, and feel comfortable. But this was Aurora, and she wasn’t just any woman. Garrett kept her fingers lightly held in his. She didn’t pull away, and he needed to feel her skin, her essence, and know she was safe.
He could rage later. He would rage later. For now, he was content to watch the afternoon sky as the sun slipped below the trees on the next hill.
Leaning forward, she smiled then kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Garrett. You are a very good friend to me. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings by keeping silent, but do understand, I was ashamed of what had happened to me. Even now, something aches inside me that you might see me differently. You have said you could not, and I believe you, but the notion of being a victim in your eyes is painful.”
“Not a victim, my dear, sweet Rora. A survivor.” He stood and helped her rise. “It is getting late, and I assume you must dress for dinner?”
With a nod, she took one step before turning back to him. “But you had something to tell me as well.”
Garrett’s gut knotted. “I think one revelation is all I can endure for today. We can discuss the rest another day. There is no rush.”
The sunset left them in shadows as they walked back to the house. The back side of the enormous Whickette Park displayed many windows inset in the tall golden stone. Light filtered out from the rooms that were in use, and he kept his distance in case someone was watching from above. “I think this will make a fine school. You and Wesley will create something really special here, Rora.”
“Thank you. I just want a place where girls will learn more than how to be subservient and manage a great house. We should have the same opportunity to learn as a man if we are bright enough.” Her voice was full of fire.
Lord how he loved to see her full of life and passion. “I can tell you that I have met many a man who should never have succeeded at Eton, but his money and his sex were enough to get him through.”
“Imagine if women could attend a school like Eton.” A dreamy quality infused her voice.
“That is your goal then. The Castlewick School will offer to girls and young women what Eton offers to boys and young men.” He’d met many women, not all as bold as Helen, who should have had the opportunities reserved for men. He sobered. “I think there are many parents who will be reluctant to vary from the norm. You may struggle to gain students.”
She shrugged as they stepped onto the veranda. “Perhaps, but a handful of students to begin will satisfy me. I intend to offer scholarships as well. I think education should be available to anyone, not just those born to privilege.”
This woman was a miracle. “I think that’s brilliant.”
Stopping, she turned and stared at him. “You know most people think I’ve lost my senses. My mother particularly thinks me mad.”
Taking a moment to decide how to respond, he longed to wrap a stray strand of golden hair around his finger and find out how soft it was. “As much as I respect your mother and her position in the world and in your life, I have never taken much stock in her opinions.”
Her burst of laughter filled the evening air and warmed him to the bone. His body responded in other ways as well. Ways that he struggled to control lest he embarrass himself.
She said, “You are the perfect diplomat, Your Grace.”
“I am not.” He kept his voice low. “A diplomat would have said he savored your mother’s opinions but held yours above.”
She looked into his eyes for a long moment, and he imagined she leaned into him. Laughter from inside the house broke the spell, and Garrett pushed the notion aside.
“I must go dress for dinner and so must you. I will see you in the parlor.” At a clipped walk, she scurried away and up the grand stairs.
Garrett sighed as he watched her go. Then he strode back outside, ran to the walnut trees and let out a scream of rage before he pounded the trunk of an innocent tree.
Chapter 7
Aurora arrived in the parlor before her guests, and Bickford delivered a letter from her mother. She folded the letter and looked up as Poppy and Mercy entered.
Mercy hesitated. “Bad news?” She looked from Aurora’s eyes to the letter in her hand.
“My mother is coming.” The long sigh she’d been holding since she read the first lines of her mother’s letter finally pushed out.
“Good God.” Wesley said as he and Garrett strode into the parlor. “Whatever for?”
Aurora almost laughed at Wesley’s dismay at once again being subjected to her mother. They had spent the better part of a fortnight together while Mother tried to bully her and Wesley into marrying. Meanwhile, it was Mercy who Wesley loved from the start. Mother had been less than magnanimous in defeat. “I’m not really certain why she’s coming, but she’ll arrive tomorrow or the day after.”
“Forgive me, Aurora. I should have controlled my outburst. She is your mother, and as such, deserves my respect.” Wesley scowled, but his eyes were sincere as he accepted a brandy from Bickford, the butler who had taken the reins at Whickette Park that morning.
Bickford was tall and stern looking, but kindness lay under his gruff exterior that reminded Aurora of Tipton, so he got the job with little discussion. He brought wine to the ladies and brandy for Garrett.
“Did I miss something?” Helen asked, waving off the offer of wine. “No thank you, Bickford. I find it affects me too strongly before I’ve dined.”
Bickford bowed and his deep voice rang out. “I shall bring you a glass with dinner, madam.”
Again, Helen thanked him before joining the others.
“The Dowager Countess of Marsden is joining us.” Mercy kept her tone neutral, despite the fact that it was she who Aurora’s mother tended to belittle most.
Cocking her head, Helen looked at Aurora. “Your mother, I presume?”
“Yes. She shall be here tomorrow or the next day. She is vague about her current location. We shall need to address each other more formally in her presence, or she’ll make us miserable with her censure.”
Poppy rolled her eyes. “If you think I’m going to my lady and countess you for however long she plans to stay, you don’t know me. Your mother will have to adjust.”
Sighing, Mercy shrugged. “As you know, Poppy, with your mother-in-law it is sometimes easier to comply
than to fight.”
“It is always easier, dearest, but it is not right. I am not calling my closest friends by their title in a private house to appease a bigoted woman who hates me anyway.” Poppy huffed. “There is no amount of formality that will make that woman like me, and I have no intention of trying. At least, not when Rhys is not here to take the brunt of her anger.”
As there could be no argument, Mercy only smiled.
Helen watched with interest. “Why would the dowager not like you? I think you all delightful.”
At that, Mercy brightened. “The dowager has never been an advocate for the Wallflowers of West Lane. Shall I see if Aunt Phyllis can join us? She is often a good match for your mother, Aurora.”
The idea was appealing, but perhaps not fair to Mercy’s aunt. “I hate to always put Aunt Phyllis in such a position. Though, I would like to see her. Let’s first see how long Mother plans to stay.”
Bickford stepped in with a silver tray holding a note. “This arrived by messenger, my lady.”
Aurora took the note. “It’s from Mr. Arafa.” She read through the brief missive. “He asks if he might visit, as his business in the north has completed early, and he is anxious to see us and the site for the new school.”
“How nice,” Poppy said.
“The messenger awaits a reply, my lady.” Bickford bowed.
Aurora stood and went to a small writing desk in the corner. She quickly told Geb to come as soon as it was convenient and that they were all looking forward to his arrival. She folded the note, addressed it to Mr. Geb Arafa, and handed it to Bickford.
Once the butler had withdrawn, Helen asked, “Mr. Arafa is from Egypt, is he not?”
Wesley said, “He is. He began as a close friend of Nick’s.” He cleared his throat. “The Duke of Breckenridge and we have all enjoyed his friendship since.”
“I was in Egypt several years ago. It was spectacular.” Helen’s voice was far away as if she relived her time in Egypt. “I wish I had been able to spend more time exploring, but life brought me back to England.”
Garrett had been quiet. Aurora returned to her seat. “Garrett, have you been to Egypt?”
He nodded. “For a month, and then I went to Palestine and several other lands in the region. I agree with Helen. It is a fascinating part of the world.”
Clapping her hands, Poppy looked at him dreamily. “I long to see more of the world.”
Aurora wondered if Garrett would eventually succumb to his wanderlust and leave England for far off lands again. A dull ache began in her gut at the thought and spread to her throat. She hated when he’d left before, and the idea that he might leave again worried her.
“The world holds many wonders, Poppy,” he said. “But there is nothing so grand as coming home to England.”
Poppy studied him then looked at Helen. “Do you agree with His Grace?”
“Oh yes,” Helen said. “I would not trade my time abroad. It was an education to be sure, but the moment I put my feet down again on English soil my heart soared.”
Mollified, Poppy shrugged.
Again, Bickford entered. “Dinner is ready, my lady.”
“Thank you, Bickford.” Aurora rose, as did everyone.
Garrett moved to her side and offered his arm to her and then to Helen, while Wesley escorted Mercy and Poppy to the dining room.
Aurora took the seat at the head of the table with Garrett to her right. As soon as they were seated, he leaned in. “I think your mother coming forces my hand to speak to you before she arrives. I imagine her presence will be a distraction.”
“Does it?” Aurora’s nerves leapt to her throat.
Her dismay must have been obvious as he backed into his chair by inches. “If you don’t wish to talk to me regarding our interrupted conversation in the carriage after the ball, I will respect your wishes.” He turned toward the soup placed before him, effectively ending the conversation.
Aurora didn’t know what to feel. She’d bared her soul to him, and he should despise her now. At least, that is what she had always expected. Yet, he still wanted to confide in her.
Appetite gone, she picked at her food through dinner and attempted to follow the conversations and stories.
Just as the final course had been placed before them, the sound of the door knocker called Bickford away. A moment later he returned.
“Who is it, Bickford?” Aurora asked, glad for the distraction.
“A Mr. Renshaw.” The butler looked from Aurora to Wesley. “I have put him in the parlor and told him you would join him for cake. Does that suit you, my lady?”
“Hades’ breath,” Poppy muttered.
“We shall be in shortly, Bickford. Thank you.” Aurora turned to Wesley and Mercy. “Should we have been expecting your cousin, Wesley?”
Wesley’s neck grew bright red, and his ears turned nearly purple. “Absolutely not. I have no idea why he’s sniffing around.”
“Shall I send him to Plumbly to find a room at the inn or invite him to stay?” She focused the question to Mercy, as it was Mercy who Wesley’s cousin Malcolm Renshaw had offended by attempting a seduction. He thought to discredit her and keep her from marrying Wesley, but Mercy had stuck him with a hat pin and ran. It was the habit of all the Wallflowers to keep a hat pin handy for just such occasions.
Mercy shrugged. “Malcolm and I have come to an understanding.”
“He can stay at the inn,” Wesley said through gritted teeth.
Aurora tried to hide her concern behind a serene smile and hoped she’d managed it. “Very well.”
“Is it wrong that I am intrigued by all this drama?” Helen asked.
Putting his napkin aside, Garrett stood and offered Helen his arm. “If it is, we are both wrong, my dear friend. Let’s go and meet the man who has ruffled all the feathers.”
That wicked sense of humor was back in Garrett’s eyes, and Aurora temporarily forgot that anything was amiss. It seemed that so many things were piling up on this trip to the country, she would be wise to stay on her toes.
With a dab of her napkin at the corners of her mouth, she drew a long breath, prayed for strength and followed the others to the parlor.
Wesley broke into a trot, surpassing them all to the confrontation with his cousin. At the tall ornately carved wood entrance, he pulled his shoulders back and flung open the parlor doors.
The maids had done a fine job cleaning the grand parlor. It had been well covered, but the ivory draperies had needed to be taken down and the dust beaten out of them. The tables were all hand carved dark woods, and the room boasted two conversation areas. One near the fireplace with a heavy, carved mantel had four large chairs, two at a side flanked by grand sofas. The upholstery was a mix of ruby red velvet and gold. The second seating area had matching furniture, but only a settee and two chairs with a chess set between.
Malcolm Renshaw stood admiring a painting of his and Wesley’s great grandparents where it hung over the mantel. His broad shoulders filled his navy coat, and his brown hair lay in loose curls below the collar. At the sound of the doors slamming open, he turned. His full lips turned up wickedly, and his blue eyes danced with delight, perhaps at his cousin’s surprise.
“What the hell are you doing here, Mal?” Wesley stormed to the center of the room.
Ignoring the irate head of his family, Malcolm went to Mercy. “Hello, cousin, you are as lovely as ever. I hope my arrival didn’t interrupt your dinner or cause you a moment of distress.” He bowed over Mercy’s hand.
“Malcolm, what a surprise to see you. Did you come from the village?” Mercy made an attempt to hide her grin from Wesley.
“And he can go right back to Plumbly.” Wesley ran his hand through his hair.
“I rode in from Thornsdown Manor. Shall I return to my dear younger cousins there?” The forced innocence of the look was too much.
Aurora had to stifle a laugh. Malcolm had outmaneuvered Wesley. Thornsdown Manor was one of the family estates that W
esley had recovered after his grandfather lost nearly everything. Currently, his two sisters were staying there with Mrs. Manfred their chaperone.
Wesley’s eyes went dangerously dark. Any threat to his sisters’ welfare couldn’t be tolerated. “You have no business nosing around my sisters and no business here.”
Once again ignoring Wesley’s temper, Malcolm turned to Garrett. “Corwin, I didn’t know you were here. Good to see you. I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing.”
“Thank you.” After an awkward pause, Garrett said, “May I introduce Mrs. Hazlett-Barrow?”
Malcolm seemed taken aback by Helen. He blinked several times before clearing his throat and bowing. “My pleasure, madam.”
“Sir.” If Helen noticed his discomfort, she hid it masterfully. Her face and tone were mild and unaffected.
“Lady Marsden.” He bowed to Poppy.
The skin around Wesley’s collar was bright red, and his fist clenched and unclenched. “What are you doing here?”
The cake and refreshments arrived, and the ladies sat around a small low table.
Malcolm also sat. “I was only thirty miles away at your estate, enjoying the company of your sisters and Mrs. Manfred and they mentioned you were here. They said that Lady Radcliff had some notion of turning our family home into a school for girls. I came to see if this was true and perhaps dissuade her ladyship from such a course.” He spoke with total nonchalance and favored Aurora with a smile.
Mercy spoke before Wesley could explode. “Did Esther and Charlotte tell you that Wesley and I have bought a share of the school and fully intend to be a part of the Castlewick School, both presently and in the future?”
Malcolm’s expressive blue eyes narrowed, and his shoulders lifted with a long indrawn breath. “They did not, but it does not change my position.”
Garrett sat on the sofa next to Aurora, and somehow his presence made her stronger. She shook off the notion that such an effect was possible just from his proximity.
Aurora took a sip of her wine. “Mr. Renshaw, why do you oppose my turning this house into a school?”
Not Even For a Duke Page 7
