by Sara Freeze
Ariadne pondered James’s interactions with his tenants as they strolled home. He was attentive to their needs, just as he was to hers. Some deeply buried hope within her bloomed as she considered that this could be her life, making a difference in the lives of the tenants and serving as a helpmate to a good man. She dismissed the thorny question of when exactly she would reveal her identity and instead soaked in the vibrant landscape of the moors. She tightened her hand around James’s arm as she saw a profusion of heather scattered along a nearby meadow. “Let’s cut through here.” She sauntered out in front of James then turned her head to smile back at him.
“Ariadne, watch out for the stinging nettles!”
His warning came too late. Ariadne squeaked as the nettles burrowed into her delicate skin. She dug her teeth into her lower lip to keep from whimpering as the pain radiated throughout her ankle. She had been just a child the last time she had stepped in the nettles, and she had forgotten the intensity of the pain.
“Here sit down and let me see.” James shrugged off his great coat and spread it on the ground for Ariadne to sit on. He then kneeled in front of Ariadne, brushing away her feeble attempts to keep her ankle out of view. Luckily, she thought wryly, she was too much in pain to be scandalized. Ariadne gritted her teeth and took deep breaths to fend off the sharp sting. “I hate to see you in pain, my little caterpillar.” A deep concern underlined James’s words.
“A caterpillar would have been able to spot the dratted nettles and smart enough to avoid them.” She tried to focus on the scene of majestic beauty around her, but the pain in her ankle yanked her back to her misery.
“What can I do, sweeting?”
The endearment shocked Ariadne out of her pained reverie. To hear such a tender name coming from the lips of such a massive and powerful man humbled her. Finally, she rallied enough to say, “Just sit with me. The pain is already starting to disappear.”
James just smiled at her as he settled more comfortably onto the rough ground. She smiled shyly in return, marveling that she, a mere lady’s maid, should have a lord literally at her feet. A heartbeat later, she realized his hand was still on her exposed ankle, a comforting weight on her poor irritated skin. She should move; it was utterly indecent to have her skirts pulled to her calves while a man cradled her foot. As the pain subsided, the heat from James’s hand seemed to sink into her skin and carry that warmth all the way through her body. Her breathing quickened, and she fought to regain control. She couldn’t afford to let foolish emotion sweep away her good sense.
Desperately trying to rein in her rebellious body’s desires, she pulled her foot away from James and swept her skirt down to cover her ankle. “We should return to the house. Our families and the staff will be wondering about us.” She squeaked as she felt herself suddenly being swept off the ground.
****
Guilt swirled through James; he should have been watching out for her. Muttering a shocking oath against the nettles, he swept her up into his arms. Ariadne protested in vain. “My lord, I mean, James, it is hardly a severe injury. I can walk just fine.”
“You will not walk,” James said through clenched teeth. He noticed her wary glance and gentled his tone. “Forgive me for my tyranny. I am simply worried. I do not intend to be a despot when I am your husband.”
“Well, you will certainly be better than Henry VIII if we are talking despots. He always scared me the most when my mother taught me history lessons,” Ariadne said, her nose crinkling as she smiled.
“Henry VIII again. I am indeed cursed.”
Ariadne gave a long, shaky sigh as she rested her head against his shoulder. The strangest urge seized hold of James, and he found himself pressing a soft kiss against the top of her head. A warmth had spread through his chest as he nestled her against him; it was the same feeling he experienced every time he returned home after a long journey and beheld the undulating moors and the stately spires of Holt Hall reaching toward the heavens.
He had been self-reliant for so long that it was difficult to imagine having someone to share his life with. He had only had one mistress in his life, and his entire body and mind rebelled against the idea of engaging in casual affairs as so many of his fellow peers did. He wanted one woman, one family, one home, and it was all finally within reach. All the long years of war and strife and debt and longing were at an end.
“We will be home soon, Ariadne.” James turned his thoughts away from his past and focused on taking long strides back to Holt Hall. Ariadne and Holt Hall would be his home for the rest of his life. With her calm resolve and inner strength, she would be the ideal mistress to the Hall. Although he sensed she held back a part of herself, he didn’t want to second guess his good fortune, and he dismissed all doubts from his mind.
“Home.” A faint sense of longing seemed to underpin Ariadne’s quietly breathed word. James wondered at it, but they had approached the end of the drive, and a faint cry arose from the gardener and his helper as they saw that he carried Ariadne.
Ariadne’s mother quickly took charge once they were inside the hall. “If it pleases you, my lord, I think she should rest. Would you mind carrying her the rest of the way to her chambers?” she asked with a worried glance at Ariadne’s tired face. She bustled off to arrange for tea and a light repast as James, nestling Ariadne close to him, carried her the rest of the way to her bedchamber. With great reluctance, he finally released her, and she curled up on an overstuffed sofa to await her tea.
“I feel like a heroine in a novel,” Ariadne said, with a deprecating smile. “I hope you do not think I will be wilting away at the slightest provocation.”
“Yes, all you need is a lap-dog and a box of chocolates to complete that picture.” James shook his head. “You are hardly some languishing heroine. We had a long day, and the nettles were a shock to your system. I promise I will take better care of you in the future.”
Ariadne tilted her head to one side. “You already do. Take care of me, that is. I do not intend to be one more person you have to worry about.” She started to say something else then bit her lip and glanced down at her lap.
James ached to say more, to urge her to tell him everything she seemed to keep locked inside, but he heard the clinking of tea things and the chatter of Mrs. Alton and the housekeeper.
“I will see you in the morning.”
James clasped his hands behind him as he strode toward his library. At the very least, the dratted spirit was maintaining a welcome silence. The ball was just two days away, and James hoped to resurrect Holt Hall’s vitality and stature. The ball would be just the thing to accomplish that aim—if only nothing else went amiss.
Chapter Six
“There is nothing quite so exhilarating as selecting one’s dress for a ball,” Lady Holt said, flitting around the room and directing the maids to lay out a selection of dresses for Ariadne to view. Lady Holt had been horrified when Ariadne had finally confessed she didn’t have a ball gown and had immediately insisted on loaning her a gown.
Ariadne looked at the shimmering array of rainbow-colored dresses the maids had set out and shook her head, feeling just the tiniest bit of regret as she did. “I appreciate your thoughtfulness, my lady, I truly do. However, a caterpillar shouldn’t have to fit herself into a dress designed for a butterfly.”
“Nonsense, my dear. A butterfly is nothing without its colorful trappings. The right dress can make any woman into the grandest of ladies.”
Ariadne surveyed the colorful confection of dresses once more. Her gaze reluctantly settled on a frothy pink lace dress on one side and a shimmery purple satin on the other; they somehow seemed less glamorous and glittering than the others.
A knock at the door interrupted Ariadne’s musings. She traced a hand over the slippery satin of the purple gown as the maid handled the visitor.
“A fine selection, my dear. I’ve always simply adored satin; such a lovely fabric, and it does wonders for one’s curves.”
Her angul
ar body barely had one curve, but Ariadne just directed a polite smile at Lady Holt as she resigned herself to her fate of wearing a dress better suited for a woman much more effervescent than herself.
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lady, but Lord Holt has requested for Miss Alton to wear this dress.” The freckled maid held up a dove gray crepe dress over white sarsnet. The fitted elbow-length sleeves and simple lace details appealed to Ariadne’s sense of simplicity. She noted with a small sigh of relief that the bodice was more modest than was fashionable.
She had never care to please a man before, but as she slipped into the dress, she couldn’t help but imagine how James would react to her selection. Lady Holt and the maids cooed in delight as they viewed her selection.
“Marvelous, my dear.” Lady Holt clapped her hands. “Who could have known my son would have such a talent for understanding women’s dress? He must have stopped in at Mr. Martin’s shop during his trip to town two days ago.” She sent Ariadne a sly look. “He must have an excellent sense of your measurements; we will only need to alter it slightly. Look how the color complements your lovely skin; your eyes look even more violet.” She gestured to the seamstress to approach. “Just a few nips and tucks, and you will have the perfect gown for your betrothal ball.” She winked at Ariadne. “Now, as willing as I am to concede in your choice of dress, I hope you will take my advice regarding your dancing shoes. The future Lady Holt, even if she is a caterpillar, must have a splendid pair of shoes as my son whirls her around the ballroom.”
Ariadne nodded then bit her lip as she considered the fact that she had never attended a ball before. She knew how to dance, thank goodness. She and the other servants had participated in routs and impromptu dances, but because of her status as a servant, she had been barred from all proper Society functions. As Viscount Holt’s future bride, however, all eyes would be on her. Although she was inured to the criticism of other people—serving as the Partingtons’ lady’s maid had taught her well in that regard—she didn’t want to embarrass James.
As the other maids and Lady Holt drifted away to chatter about accessories, shoes, and hair styles, Ariadne followed slowly behind them. She tried to focus on the task ahead, which involved a great deal of preparatory work for the ball, but her rebellious mind kept taking her back to the heated kiss she had shared with James. Ariadne felt her cheeks flush and her breathing quicken as she imagined sitting across from James, watching his face draw closer to hers, his dark eyes riveted on her lips.
When she had first heard Daisy’s scheme, she had only hoped to secure a marriage of convenience, one that would ensure her survival and that of her mother. She had not counted on developing a tendre for her future husband. And, to complicate matters even further, there was that small matter of the Holt ghost, which had been suspiciously quiet since the defacement of the ballroom floors. At breakfast that morning, James’s uncle had voiced the hopeful belief that the ghost had “moved on to greener pastures.” Ariadne strongly suspected the Holt ghost had no desire for pastures, green or otherwise. Instead, it was biding its time. The ball would be held tomorrow night. Although none of the Quality would be present, many influential people in the neighborhood would attend.
She decided to put her worries aside for the evening and focus on enjoying dinner. Ariadne brightened as she beheld her mother waiting in front of the dining room. Her brows furrowed as her mother didn’t return her smile.
“It is still early. Let us walk along the drive for a few minutes before dinner.” Mrs. Alton linked her arm through her daughter’s. When they had walked about a yard from the house, she halted and turned to face her daughter. “Tell Lord Holt the truth about who you are.” Ariadne’s mother held her hand in a surprisingly strong grip. “If you care for him, Ariadne, you owe him that much.”
“Mama, please, I am doing what I must in order to protect us. Once I am secure in my position as James’s wife, I swear I will tell him.”
Her mother sat back, her gaze unwavering on Ariadne’s face. “I understand your fear, my dearest, and your need for stability, but if you begin a marriage with deception, that union will never flourish.”
“I know, Mama, but I am most concerned with our need for survival. Lady Partington took that away from us when she stripped me of my position.”
“You cannot correct one wrong by committing yet another wrong. I urge you, my sweet daughter, over the next day, to consider what is truly important.”
Ariadne was quiet at dinner as she mulled over her mother’s words. She murmured polite responses when demanded of her but for the most part, she focused on her food and avoided making eye contact with James.
Once the family had risen from the table and their respective mothers had retired to their chambers, James surprised her by asking her to take a stroll in the gardens.
They strolled for a few minutes in silence, lost in their private worlds. Finally, James broke the silence. “Do you wish to leave Holt Hall, Ariadne?”
Ariadne stopped abruptly. Striking up all her courage, she lay her hand on his strongly muscled forearm. “No, of course not. Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You have been very quiet since your dress fitting. I imagine once you selected your dress and began thinking of the ball, suddenly everything became less abstract. The public announcement of our betrothal will cement our union. Once that is done, it will be a great deal more difficult for either party to cry off.”
Ariadne flushed with shame. How greatly he had mistaken the cause of her silence. “Oh, James, I am sorry.” She took a deep breath, her mother’s words running through her mind. Perhaps it was time to let the truth come out. “I am not exactly who you think I am—” The rest of Ariadne’s sentence was cut off by a piercing shriek from within the manor.
“Not again,” James and Ariadne said in unison. James seized Ariadne’s hand and pulled her along with him as he strode inside. Two scullery maids and the housekeeper were trying to comfort the head cook, who was wringing her hands.
“What the devil, Woods?”
The elderly butler cast his hands toward the ceiling. “It really is beyond the pale, my lord. I am quite aghast.”
Mrs. Devon, the head cook, was sobbing into her clean white apron. “I am so sorry, my lord. All my marvelous delicacies for the ball, every biscuit, every sweet, it’s all been ruined.”
Woods heaved a gusty sigh. “Our friendly manor spirit has seen fit to distribute all the refreshments for the ball, and indeed, most of the food in the pantry, to the livestock.” He cleared his throat and touched his cravat. “I am afraid the food is not sitting well; the horses, especially, are quite ill, though Jensen says they should recover soon enough.”
“My food has never made anyone sick in the least,” Mrs. Devon said indignantly. “Those greedy animals must have eaten entirely too fast. My mother always said over indulgence brought its own punishment.”
“Your mother was indeed wise,” Ariadne said, walking over to Mrs. Devon and patting her on the shoulder. “I am distraught over the loss of the food, and regretful that all your hard work ended in such an ignominious way. But we will rally, and I am confident that we will figure out a way to provide adequate refreshments for our guests, even if we must work all night to make it happen. I will stay up with you as long as necessary to help.”
Mrs. Devon and Mrs. Dawes, the housekeeper, immediately uttered a flurry of protests that Ariadne gently but firmly waved away as she nudged them toward the kitchens. “Well, at least the two dear older ladies weren’t disturbed,” Mrs. Dawes said in a resigned voice. “They quite need their sleep.” She and Mrs. Devon murmured quietly as they left, each one preoccupied with the herculean task ahead of them.
“Once again, you have my thanks, Ariadne. I begin to wonder indeed how my staff and I survived without your presence. And I fear, my dear future Lady Holt, that we will have to wait to finish our conversation.”
“You are going to see the animals?” Ariadne asked, already knowing t
he answer before he tersely nodded in response. “Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. I will be here if you need me.”
“Are you certain you are well enough to work in the kitchen?” James’s gaze was warm with concern.
“I am fine,” Ariadne said in a pert voice. “As it is, I rested all afternoon and wouldn’t be able to sleep much anyway.” Seizing her courage, she darted forward, bounced up on her tiptoes, and kissed James on the cheek. She then fled toward the kitchen, not waiting to see his reaction, knowing somehow that she had pleased him.
Three hours later, Ariadne firmly ordered Mrs. Devon, Mrs. Dawes, and the rest of the kitchen staff to go to bed. Luckily, despite Mrs. Devon’s initial panicked declaration that all had been lost, the animals had left at least a few dishes intact, and the staff still had enough ingredients left over to recreate most of what had been destroyed.
Wanting a bit of fresh air before retiring to bed, Ariadne slipped out of the servants’ entrance, making sure to prop open the door so the light from the kitchen would spill out, and gazed up at the stars. Naughty spirit notwithstanding, she had never felt so alive or so purposeful before. Instead of devoting every waking moment to the tedious demands of her station, she now had the opportunity to be useful on a much broader scale.
“I am surprised you are still awake.”
Ariadne squeaked as she heard James’s voice drift out in the still, dark night. “My lord! I mean, James, what are you doing here?”
“Seeking you out, of course. I had a feeling that you would be the last one to leave her station, and I see I am proven right.” He moved forward into the light. “Also, you and I have unfinished business.”
“You mean our talk,” Ariadne said, her exhilaration slipping away. How she wished she had kept her mouth shut.
