Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor

by Rue Allyn

  “How so?” was all he said.

  His discomfort was obvious from the start, but Soleil would not be so easily satisfied.

  “I have such delightful hopes,” she added, happily. “But shall I tell you? How well do you keep a secret, Lord Brighton?”

  Soleil played her part well, while Thayne grew visibly flustered. She could see the effect her insinuations were having on him, as his knee twitched anxiously and he sipped his brandy with intensity. Not wishing to anguish him more than was needed, she found it unnecessary to force him to respond.

  “I hope to call her sister,” she finished.

  Thayne did not know the curious eyes that examined him when he involuntarily glanced at Philippe. Soleil peered at him as his composure was lost and regained with a single word.

  “Hope?” he repeated.

  Thayne’s face contorted in such a way as to attempt to appear interested, but he did an ill job of hiding his angst. In that moment, Soleil was certain of his affection for Rhianna and had no wish of his continued suffering.

  “Oh, hope, yes,” she affirmed, quickly. “They are not engaged. You have known Miss Braden for some months now — no doubt you can understand my reasons for wishing the connection.”

  Thayne seemed mildly relieved. “Certainly.”

  “Come along, ma chère soeur,” called Philippe. “You must play something before we go. Our evening is passing along before us. Lord Brighton, surely you can spare her.”

  Thayne held out his arm and escorted Soleil to the pianoforte. Soleil seated herself on the bench and began playing from memory a soft, romantic number for her audience.

  • • •

  Lady Brighton seated herself beside Philippe for Soleil’s performance, occasionally exclaiming how moved she was, while Audra and Crispin continued their game of jacks near the fire. All were employed, and Rhianna felt a tremble run through her as Thayne seated himself beside her.

  The whole of the evening, they had had little interaction. A glance here and there and occasional quips directed toward each other among group conversation, yes. But an opportunity to speak privately had not yet presented itself. Rhianna hardly knew her hand had tightened nervously around the arm of the chair until she felt Thayne’s fingers brush against hers.

  She turned to him with surprise.

  “I missed you,” he quietly confessed to her.

  Rhianna’s heart nearly stopped and her breathing became erratic. Her gaze fell to their hands and then, after a moment, back to him. She loosened her grip on the chair and allowed his fingertips to meet hers. Soon, Thayne urged her arm to fall between the chairs and their fingers intertwined.

  “I miss you still,” he told her, glancing about them. “There is nothing like a room full of people to inspire a detachment almost as unbearable as literal separation.”

  Rhianna drew a short gasp of breath before venturing to speak to him.

  “Can London have been so boring?” she returned. “Surely, there were distractions enough to keep your mind far from Thornton.”

  “Tell me you thought of me,” Thayne entreated her, a hint of lovesick desperation in his voice. “If you thought of me but once I could recover from these last weeks, the effects of which I still feel.”

  “Lord Brighton …” she breathed, rendered further speechless by his admission.

  He allowed her a moment, but she knew not how to proceed. His expression quickly fell and his delicate hold on her hand loosened.

  “Perhaps the company in Thornton was sufficiently distracting,” he said, with a glimpse in Philippe’s direction.

  “No,” she hurried, dispelling this suggestion at once, but Thayne seemed barely to hear her. His pain penetrating her at the core, Rhianna mustered all the bravery she could, and told him, “I hoped every day to see you.”

  Thayne watched her mouth as she spoke and Rhianna wondered if it was the memory of a kiss that drew a faint smile to his lips.

  “I thought of nothing but you,” he professed, unabashedly, “every moment of every day.”

  He leaned toward her, his eyes examining the details of her face. It was the same look he gave her the night of their kiss — the last moment before he left Kingsley Manor, the night before he left for London.

  “Please, do not look at me so,” she begged. “I have seen that look before. It resulted in our not seeing each other for some weeks.”

  “Miss Braden,” he said, with a spirit nothing short of urgent, “I must speak with you.”

  “Snow!” Audra pointed excitedly out the window. “Look! Is it not beautiful?”

  Their hands separated as Soleil’s song came to a sudden halt. Lady Brighton made her way to where Audra and Crispin were holding back the curtains and examined the conditions.

  “It is a wonder the servants did not tell us sooner. They must not have seen, or surely they would have.”

  With concern, Rhianna asked, “How bad is it?”

  Meanwhile, Soleil and Philippe made their way to the windows. As they rose from their seats, Rhianna anticipated the worst, namely, that she and Thayne would not be able to continue their conversation at present.

  “It is very bad,” Lady Brighton declared, worriedly. “You are, of course, all welcome to stay here, but by the looks of it, you may be here a few days.”

  “Lord Kingsley would be so worried,” declared Soleil.

  With one look at Audra, Rhianna agreed.

  “You should go at once, then,” Lady Brighton told them. “Any later and your opportunity will most certainly have passed.”

  Crispin elbowed Audra for drawing attention to the weather as the group prepared to leave. With an exchange of parting glances, Rhianna accepted she and Thayne must renew their dialogue at a future time. Moments later, Thayne was handing Rhianna into a carriage, with nothing but a squeeze of the hand to express herself.

  • • •

  Thayne was miserable. Anyone who saw him would’ve had to have been very hard-hearted not to feel for him. Hours passed and he did not leave his library, the east windows of which faced the white, icy land that met with Kingsley property. Throughout the night the snow had fallen heavily; no soul in Thornton dared leave his house. For Thayne, this more specifically meant no visiting Kingsley Manor, no Rhianna.

  All afternoon, he could be found sitting in a brown leather armchair. The now-dying fire providing him no warmth, the glass of brandy on his desk no comfort, and the book on his lap, upon whose cover his eyes had not glanced, no diversion. The young lord laid his head against the chair back, one hand dangling over the armrest to stroke his dog, Ranger. With absent eyes he gazed forward, not seeing the wall clock upon which they rested. Rather, he saw only Philippe Vallière, snowed in also, but at Kingsley Manor.

  Snowed in with her.

  He moaned. The visions he conjured in his mind had not only brought on a headache, but also worsened it with each passing minute. That hint of a returned French accent in Rhianna’s voice rang in his ears. The last vision of her in the carriage departing from Ravensleigh replayed continuously in his mind’s eye. Damned Frenchman, he thought. Why could he not stay from whence he came? Undoubtedly, Thayne imagined, he would have Rhianna for himself before the snow thawed.

  He heard a knock at the door. Lady Brighton entered, partially awakening him from his disquieting thoughts.

  “Wondering if I am still here, Mother?” He smiled weakly, and she closed the door behind her. “My body is, but my mind is not.”

  The lady’s face held a look of tender pity that only a mother can feel.

  “I know, Thayne,” she said gently. Pressing her lips to his forehead before taking a seat brought a sigh from him. “Must you do this to yourself? The snow may last for days or weeks …”

  “Please, I beg you, do not speak to me of the snow continuing. I have nothing if I cannot be optimistic there,” he told her.

  “Then of what shall I speak?”

  “Talk only of springtime, and of horses. Of Frenchmen
who return to their homes with their sisters only,” he cried, in his worsening state of affliction.

  Rising to his feet, Thayne took his stand beside one of the east windows. He beheld the dismal scene before him with chagrin and his person grew more somber still.

  “You come in hopes of bringing me solace, and I am grateful. Only you come in vain. Forget optimism! There is neither solace, nor hope.”

  A moment of silence ensued and Lady Brighton, having tried several times throughout the day to comfort him, must now be convinced that nothing but time could do so.

  “I only wish I knew, one way or the other,” he said suddenly. “If she is to go with him, then let it be done with. But the torment of standing here helplessly as the wretched plans are made is insufferable!” In his moment of insanity, Thayne grabbed for his coat, saying ardently, “I can bear it no longer. I will make my way there before it is too late!”

  Leaping from her chair, Lady Brighton hurried to calm him. “Do not be unreasonable. It is impossible to leave now. Only let the snow melt …”

  “I very well can’t stand by and let it happen!” he cried, as she took him lovingly by the arms and gently moved his dark hair away from his eyes.

  “Look at me, Thayne,” she insisted. “You mustn’t let your imagination run away with you. You are wild, my love. Are you sincerely going to ride there, unshaven as you are and half-intoxicated? You wish her to see you like this?”

  “I wish to see her. That is all I know.”

  “Yes, and you shall. But, I declare, if you have this much doubt of a return in her affections for you, then perhaps your own feelings are severely misplaced.”

  This last stopped him. What if Rhianna did not care for him as he had thought? Philippe Vallière would not have much difficulty in winning her heart. It would be foolishness to risk all health to reach her, only to find himself in time for the announcement of their engagement.

  Further downhearted, he agreed to forego his trip and stay home, but he could stay no longer in the library.

  “As there is nothing to be done at present,” Lady Brighton suggested, “Crispin has been having difficulties with his arithmetic. I’m sure he would be glad of any assistance you might be able to offer.”

  Thayne hung his head low and returned to his desk to finish his brandy.

  “Tell Crispin I shall be there in a moment.”

  • • •

  Guilford Kingsley’s health worsened dramatically within a few days and soon he was confined to his bed. The weather would not permit even the doctor to be called and the entire household was consumed with his condition. His cough was frequent and his appetite was lost. Audra often insisted Rhianna accompany her to visit with him and he was so very lethargic Rhianna began to lie awake at night, considering what Kingsley Manor might be like without Lord Kingsley.

  It was not a happy vision.

  Days passed and he did not improve. Ought she to leave with Philippe and Soleil and return to France? How could she leave Audra at such a time? What was there to hope for between her and Thayne Brighton? After one particularly unsettling night, rather than spend her early morning overlooking the rotunda from her bedroom window, as usual, Rhianna decided to make her way to the morning room in hopes of some distraction.

  There, she found Philippe, standing by the windows, overlooking the approach.

  “Good morning,” he greeted her. “You are up early.”

  Rhianna met him at the window. “I haven’t been sleeping well. How is the weather?”

  “It has abated,” he told her, holding back the curtain and allowing her to take a peek for herself.

  Though uncomfortable in its own way, Rhianna was grateful to find Philippe alone in the morning room, as opposed to Desmond.

  “Soon, Soleil and I will have to begin our trip back to France,” he told her, demurely. “What with the weather being so uncertain and Soleil’s wedding …”

  Rhianna reached for a scone and broke off a piece. She chewed it gingerly before realizing she did not have much of an appetite. She quickly placed it down on a small round plate on the table.

  “I should have expected it,” she replied, “but I’ve been so happy to have you both here, I couldn’t bring myself to think of the day you would leave.”

  “We don’t have to leave without you,” he told her.

  Oh, that she had stayed in her room that morning! Rhianna fully knew what he was leading up to and she trembled with the idea of it. She sorely wished that things could have remained as they had been, as when they were children together. But children they could not stay. That relationship was something lost forever.

  “It is unthinkable that I should come all the way to England, all this way to see you,” Philippe continued, “and return to France without addressing a very particular subject.” Philippe gently slid his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. “Let us conclude the conversation we were unable to finish one year ago.”

  The idea of marrying Philippe had not been dismissed from her without careful consideration. In fact, it had not yet been dismissed at all. To agree would promise a life of comfort among people she knew and cared for. In addition, it would bring her into a higher position in society than she ever imagined possible — Countess Rhianna Vallière!

  Now, a decision must be made.

  “I have no secrets,” he told her. “My feelings are unchanged. You know what they are and, yet, I do not know what yours have been, either then, nor now.”

  His voice was deep and affectionate; it helped Rhianna to meet his gaze. For a moment, she imagined that she could love him in such a way, and perhaps she already did.

  “Everything was so sudden. I left almost immediately,” she evaded.

  “Dreadful day,” recalled Philippe. “When you left, no one felt it so much as I. Since then, it has pained me every day thereafter. I was never one for change, but a separation between ourselves was more than I was prepared to endure.”

  “Philippe, I needed to come,” she reminded him, gently. “You must remember the circumstances …”

  “Yes,” he said. “If I seem unmindful, forgive me. I do remember.”

  Here, he paused with respect for her late parents and Rhianna took advantage of the moment to breathe. Each coming sentence brought forth new dread, for she knew to what end he was leading and there was no way of avoiding it.

  “Why did you not return?” he asked at last.

  “I was … not ready,” she confessed. “When Lord Kingsley offered me the opportunity to live at Kingsley Manor, it was a chance to fulfill my childhood dream. Everything was new and exciting …”

  “You wanted a change?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you want also to move on?”

  At this moment, a particular lord from a certain house called Ravensleigh entered her thoughts. The image filled her with strength.

  “I was not sure then of what I wanted,” she told Philippe. “But I believe I now know what that is.”

  “You do?” he asked eagerly. “You have captured all my attention.”

  “I wish to stay in England.”

  With this sentence came a hideous pause. Without Thayne’s image still before her she could never have endured it.

  “Well, I could spend half the year in England, half in France. It is a small thing and will not …”

  “I wish to stay in England,” she repeated, adding, “as Audra’s governess.”

  “Let us be direct, can we not? I ask you, please, be clear in your meaning. If you do not love me, then say so.”

  Such cruel, painful words! It was not the case with Rhianna, but her love held a different form.

  “Philippe, you are so very dear to me. Indeed, you will never fully know what it has meant to me to know you. I hope that I shall always know you and call you my friend because with all of my heart, I love you — only not in the way you want me to.”

  In Rhianna’s heartfelt anguish of telling him this, her tears would not b
e restrained and they fell one by one over their clasped hands. Philippe, who had in the past proven his extraordinary ability to control himself, must have thought little of his own sadness as he tried to comfort her.

  “Do not cry, Rhianna. The truth is painful, but I was not altogether unprepared. I saw the future,” he proclaimed, with effort. “Did I not tell you on the day you left us? ‘You will go, and you will meet an Englishman, and you will fall in love.’ I believe those were my exact words.”

  Rhianna started at this, and replied, “Philippe, I said nothing of the sort …”

  “You didn’t have to,” he said gently. “I could see it in the way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him, how you addressed him. It put a glow about you …”

  “Who, Philippe?” she implored, never imagining she might hear from his lips the very name of the man who held her thoughts captive.

  “Lord Brighton,” he told her, with an accepting tone. “Your feelings might not have been obvious to the rest of the world, but to myself, who knows you so intimately, it was as if you had said that you loved him. And that he returns your affection is the only thing that comforts me, because I know you will be happy in your life with him. Rhianna,” he promised, “I so want you to be happy.”

  “Philippe! If I did have such feelings … I …”

  “Do you deny that you love him?”

  She hesitated. A declaration such as this was not something she was prepared to admit to herself, much less to a man who had, only moments ago, proposed to her for the second time. His perception in this matter astonished her, but to confirm it would only injure him more.

  “I cannot say exactly what my feelings are for him, for I do not know myself,” she declared to him. “Never mind our positions in society …”

  He stopped her at once. “What are positions in society but manmade barriers among people who are in God’s eyes all equal? True love is pure, as God is pure, and it will allow no culture to stand in its way.”

  “Philippe, I want to be sensible and content with my life as it is, and I am. Let us leave it at that.”

  “Well,” he submitted, “as you wish. If ever you become discontent with anything at all, remember you can still have a life with me. Until the day I hear of your marriage, I shall wait for you.”