by Meara Platt
Stripping out of his clothes, he washed and then shaved. He’d just finished and was about to remove the towel wrapped around his waist before climbing naked into bed when he heard a scratching sound from behind a tall, decorative screen that covered a portion of the easterly wall.
He crossed the room and moved it aside to discover a door behind it. Connecting rooms? Such access was common enough, but surely the door was locked for Adelaide’s protection. He stared at the knob as it began to turn, and held his breath. Was the little widgeon foolish enough to open it?
She released the knob. After a moment he heard her soft footsteps retreating toward her bed and heard the soft creak of wood as she settled in. “Sweet dreams, Adelaide,” he muttered under his breath, chuckling and at the same time groaning, for his body was responding to her nearness with a throbbing heat.
An intense and fiery heat.
Out of curiosity, he reached for the knob. He hadn’t a clue what he would do if the door turned out to be unlocked. He knew what his body wanted to do.
That wasn’t going to happen.
The girl was an innocent. She was also a Farthingale, he reminded himself. If he had any sense he’d remove his hand from the door and retreat to bed. Alone. In lustful agony.
Silently, he turned the knob. Because I’m a complete and utter idiot.
Locked.
He lifted his gaze upward toward the heavens. “Thank you.”
Hell’s bells! What had he been thinking?
He turned away and crossed to his bed, flipping off his towel and climbing naked between the sheets. Alone. Still in lustful agony.
Fortunately, the morning chill did wonders for restoring his composure. Desmond was washed, dressed, and downstairs warming his hands around a cup of piping hot coffee by the time Rupert and Adelaide joined him shortly after sunrise. Adelaide stifled a yawn and smiled at him, the smile reaching into her beautiful, shimmering blue eyes. “Good morning, Lord Blackfell.”
“Good morning, Sparkles.” The girl was dressed in a simple gown of dark blue wool with a shabby, patterned shawl thrown over it, no doubt a keepsake handed down from her mother and for that reason, she’d never part with it. Her cloak was sturdy and sensible but not at all fashionable. She still looked exquisite.
She laughed and shook her head. “I’d be a lot more sparkly if I had another hour or two of sleep. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
“You can rest in the carriage.” He turned to a passing servant and ordered coffee for her and Rupert. “Drink up. We must be on our way soon.”
A short while later, his carriage was brought around. Desmond assisted Adelaide inside while Rupert took another moment to settle accounts with the innkeeper.
Desmond noticed the worn state of Adelaide’s boots as well. He frowned, not liking the way this girl had been neglected. The Farthingales would remedy all that once she arrived in London. Still, it bothered him that she had nothing, not even a pretty clip or ribbon for her hair. He’d buy her something in York.
Damn. No, he wouldn’t.
He’d mind his own business and keep his distance.
“Sorry for the slight delay,” Rupert said, climbing in beside Adelaide and groaning as he stretched out his long legs. Desmond had once again taken the seat across from the girl, giving him ample leg room too, for she didn’t take up much space.
“A problem, Rupert?”
“Just a twinge in my lower back, no doubt from lifting that broken carriage wheel last night. It’s nothing.”
Desmond knocked on the roof to stop his driver as he was about to pull away from the inn. “It’ll take no time to order a hot compress to apply–”
“No, mustn’t delay you. It’ll pass. It always does.”
Desmond wasn’t so certain, but he’d already lost time and was eager to be on the road. “Very well, but you must tell me if it gets worse.” Although there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“Thank you, Blackfell. I will.”
They fell into a companionable silence. Adelaide quickly drifted off to sleep with the thick tartan blanket wrapped around her so that only her face peeked out above the blanket. She had a lovely face, truly all sparkles and innocence even in sleep.
He could stare at her for hours.
But he wouldn’t, for Rupert might notice and make something of it.
Clearing his throat, Desmond studied his boots and then Rupert’s. He studied the cut of Rupert’s cloak and then his own. Neither he nor Rupert dressed like London dandies, but their clothes were clearly of good quality. He sighed. Adelaide looked like the family housekeeper.
He’d purchase a new scarf for her in York, that would be safe enough.
Rupert was still shifting and twisting uncomfortably in the bench across from him. Not a good sign. His back was obviously getting worse, no matter that he denied it. “Why don’t you take my seat and stretch out,” Desmond suggested. “You’re clearly in discomfort.”
“This blasted cold, it’s aggravating the spasms,” Rupert admitted. “I’ll be fine in a moment. Besides, I’m too big to stretch out in the confines of the carriage.” As though to change the topic, he leaned toward Desmond. “May I ask, what’s your business in York?”
Desmond shrugged. “Meeting with the Lord Mayor to discuss some interesting properties near Bootham Bar.”
Adelaide let out a soft gasp. “You know the Lord Mayor?”
He thought she’d been asleep, but she’d only been resting her eyes. He nodded. “Not very well, but we’ve done business before. He’s a decent enough chap.”
“I hear York is a beautiful town and York Minster is renowned. Uncle Rupert, will we have time to visit it? I’m told by the sisters that it’s a magnificent church. We needn’t stay long, just a quick walk through.”
“I don’t know, Adelaide. Our first priority is to obtain a coach and driver. There’s no telling what we’ll get. I’m sure the best will already be taken by the time we reach York.”
She was disappointed, but did her best to hide it. “Of course. It isn’t important. I’ll visit dozens of churches, gardens, and other wonders while I’m in London.”
Desmond considered offering to take her for a quick tour but knew it wasn’t a good idea. Rupert needed to get on the road as soon as possible. While they might have easily made the trip from York to Coventry in Desmond’s well-sprung carriage, there was no assurance that a hired conveyance could reliably make it in time for Rupert’s all-important Wednesday meeting.
No, Rupert and Adelaide would have to leave York soon after they arrived.
As they neared the thriving city, it became obvious that Rupert’s back was getting worse. “Dash it, Farthingale,” Desmond muttered, letting out a breath of resignation. “You’re not well, and I can’t possibly allow you and Adelaide to continue on your own. You’ve thrown out your back and need to rest.”
“But Coventry–”
“I’ll take you there. We’ll stay the night in York. I’ve already obtained accommodations for myself at Clifford House and I’m sure the place won’t fill up at this time of the year. We’ll go straight there and obtain rooms for you and Adelaide. Tomorrow we can make up some of the time lost by leaving at first light. How does that sound?”
“It’s a good plan,” Adelaide said, adding her consent when her uncle remained silent. “It will give you a chance to recover, Uncle Rupert.”
“And Adelaide will have the chance to visit York Minster,” Desmond added.
Rupert fussed and sputtered and ultimately agreed.
“Thank you, Lord Blackfell.” Adelaide looked upon him as though he were one of King Arthur’s chivalrous knights come to her rescue. Her smile was incandescent.
He cleared his throat. “Good, that’s resolved.”
While Rupert rested, he would finish his business with the Lord Mayor and then escort Adelaide on a tour of the church. If there was time, he’d take her exploring the Shambles and the nearby shopping district.
What was he getting himself into? Willingly, at that. He usually found pampered women irritating and yet, he was determined to shower gifts on Adelaide. The urge to protect and provide for her came naturally to him. He couldn’t help it, she had obviously been neglected these past few years and it rankled him. She didn’t deserve any of the treatment she’d received.
Spending a day or two in her company wouldn’t erase her years of ill treatment, but it would make for a pleasant memory. Perhaps it would only make him feel better. In any event, bestowing a few gifts would not turn her into one of those petulant and demanding Society diamonds even if he indulged her outrageously from here to London.
He had no intention of purchasing expensive gifts for the girl, of course. A simple ribbon for her hair or a shawl for her soft shoulders was all he intended.
They reached Clifford House by midday. Rupert required assistance to climb down from the carriage and further assistance to make it up the stairs to his quarters. Desmond and Adelaide helped to make him comfortable and then walked into the hallway while servants attended to undressing Rupert.
Desmond took hold of Adelaide’s elbow as he walked her out. “Your room is just across the hall,” he said, nodding toward the solid, polished oak door before them. “Mine is next to your uncle’s.”
She nodded.
“I’ll order refreshments sent up here. Sit with your uncle or wander about Clifford House, it’s up to you. They have a nice library and Mrs. Clifford serves tea at two o’clock. I hope to be done with my meeting shortly afterward. I’ll take you out if the weather isn’t too bad.”
She nodded again and graced him with another incandescent smile. “You sound so casual about meeting with the Lord Mayor, but I find the notion utterly terrifying. I’ve never conducted business with anyone other than the abbey sheep and chickens, and I lose those negotiations with alarming regularity.”
He tweaked her nose and chuckled. “I’ve heard chickens are very clever fowl. I’m sure you were quite capable and held your own.”
“Never, I assure you.” She removed one of her gloves and showed him some scratch marks on her hand. “The abbey’s horrid rooster chased me away from his hens the last time I tried to gather eggs.”
He took her hand and pretended to casually inspect it, but there was nothing casual about his anger or the soft sensation of her skin against his fingers. He was glad he’d earlier removed his own gloves, yet at the same time wished he hadn’t. Everything the girl did managed to pierce his defenses. “I hope you cooked that fowl fiend for Sunday supper.”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation, but he noted the mirth in them. “I tried to catch him. Alas, he was too fast for me.” Then her gaze turned serious and she let out a ragged breath. “Thank you, Des. You needn’t worry about me. I know your affairs are far more important than my wish to see the church.”
Suddenly, he didn’t give a fig about those Bootham properties. They wouldn’t give him half the pleasure that spending an afternoon with Adelaide would. “I’ll see you later, Sparkles. Grab a book from the inn’s library. Order tea and scones. Treat yourself well. I don’t think you’ve been spoiled nearly enough.”
She slipped her hand out of his, that soft hand he had no desire to release, and fell into a deep, ladylike curtsy. “As your lordship commands.”
A ray of sunlight streamed in through one of the hallway windows and shone upon her hair, turning it a fiery mix of gold and copper.
He cleared his throat and gave silent thanks that his room was across from hers. No adjoining door that could be opened between them. He’d resisted the urge to break that lock last night, but he knew his limitations. He wanted Adelaide. He wanted to run his hands through the reds and golds of her hair and explore her warm, naked body.
No! He was being ridiculous again.
He’d never do such a thing… except maybe in his dreams.
She intended to marry the Postings fellow, anyway. What was he thinking? He wasn’t looking for a mistress and certainly not a wife.
Certainly not a Farthingale for a wife.
Although if anyone could change his opinion, it would be… no, not a Farthingale. Not Adelaide.
He’d kept his heart protected for so many years.
He wasn’t about to let Adelaide crash through his defenses now.
Not Adelaide.
CHAPTER 4
AFTER MAKING CERTAIN that her uncle was settled and as comfortable as could be expected, Adelaide strolled downstairs to the inn’s library and perused the stacks for a book to read. Her cousin Lily had written long, fascinating letters about her baboon research and the scholarly explorations of Sir William Maitland, considered by Lily to be one of the greatest minds of their modern age. The library held several of his books.
“Sir William, it is,” she decided, grabbing one of the volumes that contained his findings on baboon colonies in Africa. She settled in one of the cozy, overstuffed chairs beside the lit fireplace and lost herself in the book, barely looking up when a maid walked in and set a pot of tea and slices of lemon cake on the small table beside her. “I didn’t request these, Martha. I can wait the hour until afternoon tea.”
“No need, Miss Farthingale. Lord Blackfell bid us to attend to your comforts. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
One could grow quite used to being spoiled. “No, thank you. But how is my uncle? Is he still asleep?”
The maid nodded. “I doubt he’ll awaken before morning. That posset Mrs. Clifford prepared for him is awfully strong. It will ease his spasms, but also knock him out for hours.”
“I see. May I ask another question?”
“Of course, Miss Farthingale. I’m at your service.” Martha was a young maid, perhaps a year or two older than Adelaide. She had dark hair, a pleasant smile, and an engaging manner that spoke of her being treated well by the Cliffords.
Adelaide set her book aside and gazed out the window as church bells began to ring. “How far is York Minster from here?”
Martha laughed. “Oh, dear me. It’s practically next door. Well, two streets over, that’s all. You can’t miss it.”
“So it wouldn’t take me long to visit and return here within the half hour.”
“You may want to stay longer and explore. It’s very big, the largest church in the north of England. Lord Ingram and his mother are about to walk over there now. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you joined them. They’ve been asking about your party since you arrived. In truth, everyone is curious. It isn’t every day we have a marquis staying with us.”
She frowned. “They have?”
“You needn’t worry about them. They’re quite respectable. Lord Ingram and his mother have been coming here for years. Shall I inquire on your behalf?”
“I don’t know, Martha.” But she rose and started out of the library. “Yes, I’d like that. Lord Blackfell is busy and I don’t wish to impose upon his kindness any more than we already have.”
Martha cast her a friendly smile. “I’m sure they’d be honored.”
Adelaide was soon introduced to Lord Ingram and his elderly mother, and the three of them donned their cloaks and gloves, ready to set off for York Minster. Adelaide could not contain her excitement. “So kind of you to allow me to accompany you, Lady Ingram.” She smiled at the white haired, older woman as they started down the street at a pleasant stroll.
Her son, who appeared to be about thirty-five years old, responded on their behalf. “Not at all, Miss Farthingale. I’m sure my mother finds my company quite tiresome. She’s spent the past year rusticating at my estate in Aycliff and looks forward to returning to Bath where the society is far more stimulating. That’s our destination on this trip.”
“All my friends are there,” his mother admitted as she cast her son a warm, affectionate smile, “but you needed me, my dear. I could not disappoint you and sweet, little Anne. You see, Miss Farthingale, my son’s wife died last year of a sudden illness.”
Adelaide felt a s
udden pang to her heart. Although she’d only met the man a few moments ago, he and his mother appeared to be genuinely nice people and she felt sadness for his loss. He was a nice looking gentleman, too. Tall, dark haired, and had gentle hazel eyes. He would have no trouble finding himself a wife once he was ready to marry again. She only hoped he’d choose wisely, a woman who would love not only him, but his little girl. “I’m truly sorry, Lord Ingram. How fortunate that you have the love and support of your family to see you through this difficult year.”
“You are too kind,” Lord Ingram said, obviously eager to change the topic that could only be painful to him. What was a year to a man who’d loved his wife? He certainly seemed to have cared for her very much. “Ah, and here we are. What do you think of York Minster, Miss Farthingale?”
She gazed up at the massive stone structure that soared into the heavens. “Goodness! I’ve never seen a bigger church. It will take us a full hour to walk around it. I’m sure the entire grounds of St. Brigid’s Abbey could be swallowed up within its nave.”
His mother tipped her head in surprise. “You know St. Brigid’s?”
Adelaide nodded. “I’ve spent the past ten years there. But I’m on my way to London to spend the holidays with my family.”
Lord Ingram laughed. “My estate is in Aycliff, only a few towns over from the abbey. My mother has visited your abbess several times this past year. You see, the abbess is my aunt.”
Adelaide’s eyes widened in surprise. “She is?” Oh, dear! No doubt Lady Ingram had heard stories about the disobedient girl sent to live at the abbey.
Lady Ingram nodded. “So you must know my sister very well.”
Adelaide gulped, knowing the pleasant afternoon would now end before it had truly started. “I do.”
The older woman shook her head and laughed lightly. “She turns more sour with each passing year, doesn’t she? Not that Glenora was ever a merry creature. Miss Farthingale, you poor thing! I hope she didn’t give you too hard a time. Although I suspect you were the insolent child she referred to in our conversations.”
