Aurora dabbed the corners of her mouth and set her napkin next to her plate. “It seems we are to ride out to some caves in the hills today. I do hope you’ll be joining us, my lord.”
For a long moment he stared back and tried to decide if she was being sarcastic or sincere. Seeing nothing but honesty in her sky-blue eyes, he said, “I wouldn’t miss it. This area has not disappointed thus far in its beauty. I imagine today will be as lovely.”
An odd noise came from Poppy’s direction but by the time Wesley glanced at her, she’d steeled her features into a pretty but passive smile. “We four have decided to ride in the open carriage, but the men were planning on going on horseback. My mother-in-law and Lady Mattock will be using the barouche. We shall be quite the happy party.”
While Faith, Poppy, and Aurora all looked as happy as Poppy’s tale indicated, Mercy kept her eyes downcast and only glanced up to force her smile. “It should be a lovely day,” Mercy said when the table’s attention turned to her for no apparent reason.
Sitting back, he took full measure of the ladies and sipped the last of his coffee. “I often find myself wondering if I am the joke or am about to be played the fool when I’m in the presence of you four. Can you imagine why that would be?”
Aurora’s grin went from polite to amused. “I have no idea what you mean, my lord.”
“Beautiful day.” Mr. Colby’s bellow filled the dining room, crashing through the levity that was building. “I took a walk and now I understand we’re to have a bit of an adventure.” He waved a hand at Kosey. “Fix me a plate, will you?”
Rounding the table, Mr. Colby sat across from Mercy. “Feeling better, Miss Heath?”
She pushed her plate aside. “I’m quite well, Mr. Colby. I must change for the day. If you’ll excuse me.”
Standing as Mercy did, Wesley met her gaze and gave a brief bow. “Miss Heath.”
Once she’d left the room Colby continued. “I had hoped she would have played for us after dinner last night, but I suppose her health was paramount.”
The other three ladies stood as if strings were attached to their heads. They gave scathing looks to Mr. Colby and excused themselves.
Wesley was standing and shaking. Unable to say anything civil, he remained silent even after the women left.
Kosey placed a loaded down plate in front of Colby.
With great flair, he tucked his napkin into his neckcloth, then fork in hand, he gaped at Wesley. “Fine bit of advice you gave me yesterday, my lord. Miss Heath and I had a nice talk while we strolled together. I think she’ll be more than glad when I’m ready to give in and ask for her hand.”
“Give in?” Wesley’s toast rumbled in his belly.
Mouth full of sausage, Colby nodded. “Women don’t like to think you care too much for them. They want it to all seem like a chore. And after all, she’ll have my protection and money as compensation and I’ll have her musical talent at my disposal.”
“Disposal.” Wesley stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “Mr. Colby, did it ever occur to you that consistently asking Miss Heath to play for your entertainment is much like asking Kosey to fill your plate when you are fully capable of making your own?”
Colby cocked his head. “He is a servant. It’s his job to make the guests comfortable.”
Since his wide eyes indicated no understanding that filling a plate and playing pianoforte on command were similar demands to those he found beneath him, Wesley shook his head and asked Kosey, “What time are we meant to ride out, Kosey?”
Kosey’s mouth turned up in a knowing smirk. “After the dew burns off a while, my lord. You have time to walk the gardens here if you like.”
“Thank you.” Wesley went to the back of the house, where a small ballroom gave a fine view of the veranda and the gardens beyond.
Lady Mattock stood near the stone balustrade, her head tipped to one side and her eyes closed.
Careful not to startle her, Wesley opened the French door and stepped out. The sound that filled the air was unfamiliar, but definitely a stringed instrument. Rounded tones rolled into each other in the most sensual way. No violin or cello made such a sound.
Before he reached her, Lady Mattock’s eyes opened and she smiled warmly. “You look quite tired, my lord. Are you well?” she whispered.
“I am fine, just a difficult night’s sleep.” He let the warm sounds fill him. “What is she playing?”
“It’s a Spanish stringed instrument called a guitar. My late husband and I traveled there and I brought it back for her. She’s far better than the man we heard play it in Spain. I never dreamed it could sound like that when I picked it up. I just missed my girl and thought she would like something different.” There was both pain and joy in her memory.
Wesley longed to know more about the time that these women had been together and apart. “You couldn’t take Miss Heath with you when you traveled?”
A long sigh and the deepened creases around her mouth made her look her age for the first time. “I was newly remarried. Lord Mattock was a good man, but the notion of raising my niece didn’t appeal to him. He did send her to the Wormbattle School. I thought it too far away, but he promised we’d visit often.”
“I think Miss Heath would not have traded her experience at school if given the choice.”
The darkness lifted from her eyes. “No. She adored being away and the friends she made there.”
The song ended and from some place unseen to the veranda, she began another.
“I wonder how she learned to play so well on an instrument I assume she’d never heard played.” He mused in a whisper.
Lady Mattock laughed. “She searched out a Spanish musician living in Lucerne. I have no idea how she managed it, and I’m fairly certain I would not have approved of the introduction. However, she did learn to play.”
“That much is certain. You must be very proud of her.” He looked in the direction of the sound. His heart pounded in his chest so hard. He’d promised her friendship in his letter yet all he could think of was how much more he wished for.
“I must go and rest before our outing.” She pushed away from the stones.
“Lady Mattock, may I ask an impertinent question?” He begged himself to keep quiet.
The girlish smile on her lips told him everything. “My favorite kind.”
“Why are you so keen to marry Miss Heath off to one of these men like Mr. Colby?”
One curved brow rose over her green eyes. “What is wrong with Mr. Colby? He is wealthy enough and smart in business if not very socially adept.”
“He will never love her.”
He had meant to say it to himself, but after the long silence, he realized he had said the words aloud.
Lady Mattock stepped closer. “Love is not the only reason a lady marries, my lord, and you should know that very well. Love is a luxury.”
Mentally shaking himself, he took a step back and bowed. “Of course. Forgive me.”
There was a long moment when she stared at him but said nothing. He waited, expecting her to speak, but she curtsied slightly and walked away. At the French door, she turned back and stared at him for a moment before disappearing inside the house.
Without so much as a thought about whether or not it was a good idea, Wesley stepped into the garden and followed the sultry sounds of the guitar that would lead him to Mercy.
Sitting on a low bench at the base of a tree, Mercy’s hair caught the dappled light coming through the leaves. Flowers of white, pink, and lavender bloomed along the path and in the patch behind her, but she was by far the most beautiful flower. You can like a flower and if you do perhaps you might pick it and put it in some vase for display as Mr. Colby wished to do. This woman should be nurtured and loved beyond all things.
Lord, he’d become a poet. Closing his eyes, he listened from several yar
ds away.
When the strains stopped, he found her watching him. “My lord?”
“I heard you from the veranda.” He couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “Please don’t stop on my account. It’s quite beautiful.”
A soft blush pinked her cheeks as she tipped her head down toward the instrument. “Some people don’t think it’s real music, but I love the warm tone of the guitar.”
“Anyone who has heard you play it cannot believe it is anything but the finest music.” When he reached the patch of grass surrounding the tree, he stopped and waited for an invitation to sit.
Moving over to one side of the bench, she nodded to the other. “Thank you for your letter. It was very kind in light of the situation.”
“It was not nearly enough. I feel I’ve failed miserably in my writing skills. In fact, I have failed in most ways where you are concerned. I shall never be able to deserve your forgiveness.” His chest ached and there was no cure for what ailed him.
“It was kind, and in my experience, people rarely bother with kindness.” She bestowed a bright smile on him.
“I find myself wishing I had some musical talent to contribute to our friendship, Miss Heath. Your magnificent play makes me want to take up the violin or pianoforte. Do you think me too old to learn?” He touched the arch of the shapely guitar.
Her long fingers gripped the long neck and pressed a sequence of strings while with her other hand she played. “I never think it’s too late. If you like, you can come to West Lane and I will teach you. You can then see if you can convince Aurora to marry you and also learn to play, if you are in earnest.”
“You would teach me to play?” He’d not meant to sound so surprised, but wondered how she could be so generous to him with all the liberties he’d taken without any right to one.
“We are friends, after all. I don’t think you will succeed with Aurora, but you will learn to play music if you apply yourself.” The music changed to a slow strum of notes.
“I will think about your offer. Thank you.”
She nodded.
“I didn’t think you wanted me to marry your friend. You have been intervening at every turn to this point.”
Sadly, she put the guitar aside and faced him.
He felt a keen loss when she stopped playing sounds that sang to his soul.
“I want Aurora to be happy. You are not an evil man or a man who would harm her. You are well liked by Nick and Mr. Arafa has shown that he likes you as well. The Wallflowers pledged a few years ago to keep each other safe from men who would do us harm. I can see you would never hurt a woman intentionally. You are a smart, kind man and perhaps Aurora will change her mind. As you wish me happy, I wish the same for you, my lord.” Standing, she gripped the neck of the guitar and lifted it.
Rising with her, his pulse pounded like it might jump from his body. “You are far better to me than I deserve, Miss Heath.
“Maybe you are too stern with yourself.” She cocked her head and smiled up at him. “I had better change for our little adventure.”
He watched as she sauntered down the stone path, her white dress touching the ground behind her, leaving the grass between the stones slightly bent in her wake. She was an angel on earth, but she was not to be his angel. Mercedes Heath was to be his friend.
Wesley’s stomach growled. The toast was not going to suffice. He went to the kitchen to beg a few bites before they left.
The cook was a young girl who offered him a seat with a shrug.
Sitting at the long table in the kitchen was not normal for an earl, but Cook didn’t seem to mind and kept bringing him meats and other treats as she worked on the luncheon, they were to bring with them to the caves.
“Do you often sit below stairs, Wes?” Nick stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest and a wide grin on his face.
Thea, the young cook, made a quick curtsy and exited the kitchen.
“I had a bad night and an interrupted breakfast. I needed something more to eat if I’m to survive the day.”
“Thea is a good girl and loves to feed people.” Nick sat across the table. “I understand you’re determined to marry Aurora, but what is all this fuss I hear about Mercy?”
He’d almost forgotten what good friends all the ladies were and how good friends often talk and husbands often hear things. “There is no fuss. Miss Heath and I are friends. She is a lovely girl, but I am in need of a landed wife. Lady Radcliff has not told me to trot off, so I continue my pursuit.”
Nick nodded. “I see. That will be a difficult goal as I’ve said before. Aurora is determined never to marry again. Still, I see no harm in you trying. Who knows, maybe you’ll land happy somehow.”
The possibility of happiness never really occurred to Wesley. Contentment that he had done the right thing was the best he could hope for. “I suppose anything is possible.”
Frowning, Nick shook his head. “You might think about the notion that you could live a long life, my friend.”
Puzzled, Wesley wasn’t sure how to respond. “I hope to.”
“A long life where you are not living is a long sentence.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you remember Walter Polk?” Nick crossed his arms over his chest. Once Wesley nodded, Nick continued. “He married a very wealthy girl. She’s not hard to look at, but not terribly smart.”
Wesley sat up. “But Walter is one of the smartest men in England. He took first in several courses at Eton.”
“Indeed.” Nick sighed. “Have you seen him lately?”
“Not in a while.”
“He has a wife who he cannot like and does not love. She spends the money at every turn and does not even offer good conversation. He’s aged ten years in the last two and in my opinion the fault lies in a bad match that appeared fine on paper.”
“I see where you’re going with this, Nick. I appreciate the concern, but Lady Radcliff is a bright, beautiful woman. I don’t think your comparison is obvious.”
Nick drew in a long breath while nodding. “True. Aurora is a fine woman. But if you cannot love her, will you live or just be alive? And what of her? Will she be happy?”
A heavy weight settled on Wesley’s shoulders.
Nick continued with a laugh, “Of course as a man in love, I’m always wanting the same for my friends. Perhaps it’s too fanciful.”
“It is not the way things always are done. Most people live amicable lives with spouses they respect. Your marriage is an anomaly, Nick.” The weight of his responsibilities grew heavier until he worried the floor would not hold him.
“I’m sure you’re right.” Nick waved a hand in dismissal and strode out of the kitchen.
Chapter 13
Mercy’s boots were wet through after trudging around several caves. Her blue dress was six inches deep with mud and she felt more exhilarated than she had in weeks. Perhaps the answer to the Wesley problem was continued physical exercise. At least it kept her out of Mr. Colby’s way as he declared sport of all kind to be wasteful in the extreme and remained enjoying the vistas with Aunt Phyllis and the dowager.
He advised that after Mercy’s sudden illness the day before she might benefit from staying behind as well.
Mercy ignored him.
“Can’t we stop now?” Faith’s whining was followed by a humph as she collapsed on a boulder jutting from the side of the hill.
Nick sat beside her, smiling. “I don’t know why you wanted to come along when you hate this type of exercise, my love.”
“Because the idea of staying behind with Mr. Colby and her ladyship was less appealing. Forgive me, Aurora, Rhys.” Faith gave each sibling a nod of apology for speaking unkindly of their mother.
Rhys laughed and leaned against the rock wall where the cave opening was. “No need to feel badly. Mothe
r is the key reason I am trudging around in the mud. Though I have to say, she has been rather quiet.”
“Biding her time,” Aurora warned. “She’s trying to figure out a way to force me to marry poor Lord Castlewick. Once she finds her means, she’ll pounce.”
Mercy’s banded heart hurt.
Smiling, Wesley raised his brows. “I had no idea her ladyship was so underhanded. She came to me directly in London.”
“Ah, but now she has you in her sights.” Nick mimicked a shotgun in hand and the jolt of the rapport.
Poppy leaned her head against Rhys’s chest. “I’m tired. Can we go back now?”
“We shall have to locate our host. He seems to have been misplaced.” Nick stood and stretched his back.
Looking around, Mercy’s chest tightened. “I saw Mr. Arafa not five minutes ago up on that ridge.” She pointed.
Nick started up the hill toward where she pointed and the rest of the party followed.
Faith made a low groan but took Nick’s hand and stomped along with him.
A weariness came over Mercy. The idea of returning to her aunt and Mr. Colby and all the expectations that came with it was an anvil around her neck. She did not want to marry for convenience or the happiness of another. Perhaps it was time to discuss those things with her aunt.
Taking up her damp skirt, she stepped forward. Her foot slipped in the mud.
Wesley took her elbow in an instant, keeping her from falling. “Careful, there, Miss Heath.”
Once she was steady, he released her. The warmth of his hand at her bare elbow remained to torture her with the need it left behind. “Thank you, my lord.”
“Are you feeling all right?” He should have left her and joined the others, but he remained at her side.
“I’m weary of doing what is expected of me.” Why had she said it aloud? It was what she’d been thinking, but she’d not intended to share her thoughts.
A slow sorrow filled his warm brown eyes. “It is part of life, I’m afraid.”
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