Aria did not have the answer for that or any of the other questions bouncing about in her brain. Therefore, all she could do was face each day anew and today? Well, today there was greenery to be obtained. After all, Michael did say she could decorate as she wished.
So when she bounced down the stairs nearly a half hour later – her morning absolutions taking a bit longer than she had anticipated given her leg injury – she was surprised to see Michael not dressed for the outdoors but rather dressed for staying in.
“Aria. I am surprised you are up so early,” Michael commented as he stood and moved to the sideboard where a delicious smelling array of breakfast foods were spread out. “I would have thought you would be abed until noon or later.”
“Do we not have greenery to collect?” she asked as sweetly as possible, fearing that the man had already forgotten his promise to her last evening.
“We do not,” he corrected her. “For you are not well enough to leave this house.”
Aria crossed her arms over her chest, noting the way Michael’s eyes strayed to her breasts and his breathing hitched a bit. Yes, he was interested in her physically. The only question was, what would she do about that attraction.
“Who says I am not?” she challenged, thinking better of going down the physical attraction route at this precise moment.
Unceremoniously, Michael placed a plate full of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of her and gestured for her to sit. “Your physician in general, and me to be precise. You are hardly the picture of good health, Aria, and have yet to regain your strength. Tromping about in frigid temperatures will not do.” He glanced pointedly at the plate of food before her.
“And if I disagree?” Though she did not wish to appear to be giving in to Michael’s unspoken demand that she eat, Aria did sink into the chair he held out for her and began toying with her fork. “After all, I am the patient. Do I not have some say in the matter?”
“You do.” Michael poured her some tea before refilling his own cup. “And in time, you will be able to do as you please. But not yet. You only just awoke from your unconscious state a few days past, and while you are looking well, believe me when I tell you that your body is in no way prepared to deal with the cold so soon after your ordeal, let alone be able to push through the mounds of snow between here and the trees where we might find greenery.”
Petty as she knew the gesture made her, Aria glared at Michael. “I feel fine.”
He glanced at her wrist which protruded from the slightly-too-short sleeve of her morning gown. “Your body says otherwise. So do your bones.”
Aria followed the path of his gaze to her wrist and winced. She was bony. While she had always been thin, she had never been quite this thin. Her wrist bones protruded at strange angles and her skin still lacked its normal, healthy glow. Her hands looked as if they belonged to a skeleton and not a flesh and blood woman. Perhaps Michael had a point after all.
“Very well.” Giving in, Aria took a bite of her eggs and had to do her best not to moan in delight. Had anything ever tasted so good as the food here at Thornfield? She rather doubted it. “But what of your promise to me last night?”
Michael smiled, a wicked sort of grin that, at another time, would probably have hinted at all sorts of pleasures to be had with him. Alone. Now, however, he simply appeared mischievous. “Oh, I intend to honor my promise, my dear. But not before breaking my fast and for that activity? Well, I really should be properly dressed.”
For a long moment, Aria studied Michael, trying her best to understand what he was not saying as much as what he was. “That is important to you, isn’t it?” she finally asked. “To be proper as often as possible.”
“It is,” he agreed without hesitation. “My mother stressed the importance of propriety to me every day of my life and while I admit that I have strayed far from her lessons in more ways than I would like, I cannot abandon the core of who and what I am. It is just not within me to do so.”
“Because you are the grandson of nobility.” Aria nodded. “I think I understand. At least a little.”
Michael leaned forward and grasped Aria’s hand in his. “Do not misunderstand me. I am not some foolish, stuffy prig, Aria. I am not a stickler for complete propriety, either. But I am the grandson of an Italian count, which holds a great deal of weight back in Italy, if not here. I am a military man as well. I worked for the Bloody Duke. And with all of that? There comes some amount of propriety and an adherence to the rules. That is part of who I am and I cannot change that. Nor would I wish to, for that was the one bit of sanity I clung to during the insanity of war. The idea that one day I could go back to dressing properly for meals instead of coming to a sawed-off tree stump that severed as a table covered in the blood of my fellow soldiers. Civility was the idea I clung to in those days and I find that even now, I cannot let it go.”
Then to her surprise, Michael abruptly fell silent, and she knew he had not meant to reveal that much of himself to her. Still, she was grateful that he had.
In return, Aria tightened her grip on his hand, surprising both of them by lacing their ungloved fingers together. “Michael I cannot pretend to understand what you endured during the war. However, I do understand the need to cling to something steady and familiar when your entire world is in upheaval. While my parents’ deaths are hardly the same thing as war, I did find myself adrift for so long. To keep myself tethered to reality, I made it a point to go about my day as I normally would, even when I knew Felton was coming to snatch me away from all that is familiar. So I perhaps understand a little.” Then she smiled at him and bit her lip coyly, hoping to ease the tension that had grown between them. “That still does not get you out of collecting greenery for me, however. Even if you refuse to allow me to accompany you.”
“Minx,” Michael retorted, though there was no anger in his tone, and she was glad of that. “Very well. I shall go collect your greenery. I told you that I would.” He shushed her when she made to interrupt him. “Besides, there is another reason you need to stay inside.”
“Which is?” Aria took another bite of her eggs and then scooped up a piece of bacon, followed quickly by a second. Had she ever been this hungry? If so, she could not remember the occasion.
“Felton’s men are still looking for you and that disguise you wore fooled no one. Well, no one with a brain in their head anyway.” He crossed his arms over his chest for good measure.
That, finally, gave Aria pause and she remembered their discussion from the night before. The last thing she wanted was to fall into Felton’s hands. “Are his men still about?”
Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would wager they are. According to my men, Felton’s searchers did not quite believe that you were not about here somewhere. They saw you, Aria. They know you were injured, and even if they do not believe that I am harboring you inside Thornfield Grange, they may still believe you are hiding somewhere on my property.” He finished his tea in a large gulp. “How would it look if I traipsed outside, a young man looking very much like you by my side. They already know you have been disguising yourself as a boy.”
Much as Aria hated to admit it, Michael was correct in his assumptions. Even if she could endure the cold – which now that she thought about it, she was not all that certain she could, not even for a short time – she would have to go in disguise. For she could not go out dressed as a woman, especially when a young woman was precisely who Felton was searching for so vigorously. Then again, she could not go out dressed as a young man, either, for that disguise had been discovered. Thus, she could likely not go outside at all, at least not until the danger had passed.
“Very well.” Aria poured herself another cup of tea and plunked two sugar cubes into the hot beverage with a bit more force than was necessary. “I shall remain here. However, you will go out and you will bring back what I request.” She raised an eyebrow archly, hoping to tease Michael a bit more to see how far she could push him. For there was a
darkness lurking in his eyes that had not been there last night. She had no idea where the darkness had come from, nor did she like seeing it there. “I shall make a list. Just so you do not miss anything.”
She was grateful when he smiled back, the dark look fading for now. “As I said last evening, Aria. I am yours to command. However you want me.”
And with those simple words, Aria felt her body heat and her face flush all over again.
Drat the man, indeed!
Chapter Nine
Damn the chit and her enchanting hazel eyes anyway! Surely, she was a sorceress as well. She also must certainly have bewitched him, for that was the only possible reason he was out here collecting greens and freezing his balls off at the same time.
Some variation on those thoughts had been running through Michael’s mind from the moment he left the warmth of Thornfield Grange and ventured out into the wind-whipped snow and icy cold to seek out holly, mistletoe, pine boughs, hawthorn, ivy, and whatever else the little enchantress had dictated to him as he was wrapping his scarf a bit tighter around his face.
Aria had to be a witch or a sorceress. She simply had to be. There was no other reason for him to be out here freezing his arse off otherwise.
“Satan’s balls, it’s cold out here, my lord!” That came from Samuel, another of Michael’s old military cohorts. Though missing an eye, the man now served as Michael’s steward and made certain that everything was running smoothly within Thornfield Grange. He was also something of an aspiring outdoorsman, for he had assured Michael earlier that he knew where the freshest and best greenery was to be found. “Do we have everything the little miss asked for?”
“Quiet!” Michael hissed, looking around quickly to check for movement beyond the little group. “There are likely ears about, and yes, I do believe that we have just about everything we need.” In fact, the wagon behind him was loaded down with more greenery than any one person could possibly use, at least in his opinion. However, it was clear that Aria felt differently. At least based on the list she had dictated to him.
“About time,” young Owen offered. “Tis colder than a witch’s teat out here, it is.” The lad had accompanied the party partly because he could scamper up trees with ease and partly because if anyone were watching, it would prove that there was a young stable boy about, just as Michael had told Felton’s men. That Owen naturally walked with a limp with the same leg that Aria had injured was simply a side benefit.
“Language, young Owen. Language,” Michael corrected, though not too harshly. Though he hoped that one day Owen might become skilled enough to serve in a noble’s house, the reality was, between his limp and his damaged arm, that dream was all but impossible to achieve. He would likely remain with Thornfield Grange until the day he died. Still, on the off chance that a miracle might occur, Michael did not want the lad’s chances further harmed because he spoke like a sailor.
Blushing a bit, Owen nodded. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Forget I said anything harsh,” Michael assured the boy, not wishing to make him feel any worse. “It is forgotten. Just be a bit more mindful in the future.” He glanced behind him to where the large plow horse pawed the ground restlessly, undoubtedly eager to be back in his warm stables. “Besides, it is time to return home. We have been out in this frigid air long enough.”
“And ‘ta think we once tweren’t bothered a bit by cold,” Samuel said with a rusty laugh. “Seems like only the other day, don’t it?”
“And yet, somehow not,” Michael replied, doing his best to forget that icy winter on the battlefield. Those long months had been sheer hell and not something he wished to think about when a warm and quite possibly willing Aria awaited back at the manor house.
As the small group turned and prepared to make the trek back to Thornfield, movement in the distance caught the corner of Michael’s eye. “At the ready, men,” he warned quietly, thankful that he had brought two additional and much larger footmen with them to do the heavy lifting and man the wagon. Both of them were crack shots as well and if the small group of men approaching them was who Michael thought they were, it might become necessary to defend themselves.
“Hullo, there!” one of the figures called out, hurrying through the snow. Or perhaps prancing was the more accurate word, as the man was acting as if he disliked getting his boots wet. He was also more finely clad than his three companions and the lecherous look that lurked in his eyes gave Michael no doubt as to the man’s identity. “How fare you this chilly day?”
“Cold,” Michael replied, feeling the men behind him tense, their hands likely on their weapons. If the situation turned ugly, he had no doubt that his old war friends had his back.
The unknown man glanced behind Michael, ostensibly to take in the greenery loaded wagon but more likely to determine whether or not the men were armed. “Gathering greenery, are you? Isn’t that more of a female’s pastime?” The man almost sneered the last part.
Michael shrugged as if he hadn’t heard the insult in the other man’s words. “Depends.” He would not give this man any more information than was necessary. “Mister?”
The man laughed, a high-pitched sound that grated on Michael’s ears. “Oh, forgive me. How rude of me, but I am new at this peerage thing, you know.” He inclined his head in a rather haughty fashion, likely taking in Michael’s own shabbily dressed state. “I am Lord Felton Bowels, Viscount Tidmarsh.”
Damn it all anyway! This was just as Michael had feared. Still, he offered the other man a bow. “Lord Tidmarsh, I bid you welcome to my lands.”
The viscount looked around in obvious confusion. “Your lands? You? A nobleman? I thought the Duke of Fairbourne was an old man.”
“He is,” Michael replied evenly. “But I am not the duke and he no longer owns Thornfield Grange. I own this property through what some would call chance and others refer to as skill. I am Dr. Michael Longford, late of his majesty’s army and currently in the employ of the Bloody Duke of Candlewood on behalf of His Majesty.” Very well, he hadn’t worked for Candlewood for a year or so, but Michael had no doubt that Nicholas would back him up if asked. Much like the woman Michael was currently harboring, Nick was more than a little blood-thirsty at times.
That bit of news made Bowels frown and he shifted uncomfortably where he stood as if his boots were suddenly too tight. “The Bloody Duke? In what capacity?” he demanded as if he had every right to know. Which he didn’t.
“Matters of state that require some delicacy. Both the Crown and the Bloody Duke appreciate my previous work in that capacity when I was known as Satan’s Physician during the war.” Michael smiled coolly. Felton Bowles might be new at this game, but he was not. “Not to mention that I possess a certain skill set that is…useful to them, shall we say.”
It was no secret that many physicians learned their skills of dissection on corpses provided to them by grave robbers – and that those same physicians learned their other skills from murders on occasion. After all, who better to teach someone how to save a life than those who were adept at taking them as well?
Though Michael would never sink so low, not everyone was as principled as he was, especially if they wanted to earn a living as a physician. Medical schools were crowded and admission was a chancy proposition. Thus, it was of little surprise to anyone that there was an entire thriving black market run by thieves and murders that schooled those with enough coin on how to become a surgeon.
“I see.” Bowels shook his head, as if quickly coming to the decision that he did not wish to become entangled with Michael or his men. Especially in such a remote location. “Yes, well, congratulations on your good fortune.” The words I think were implied, though not spoken aloud.
Nodding, Michael could feel his men growing restless behind him. “Is there something I can do for you, Lord Tidmarsh?” He gestured behind him. “Otherwise, I am expecting some company of the female variety later this evening and I wish to put her and her friends in a, shall we say, moo
d to be generous. My men wish the same, as you might suspect.” Then he smirked in a way that he knew Bowels would understand.
The viscount looked at the wagonload of greens again before nodding slowly. “Of course. Now I understand perfectly. There is something about the scent of fresh greens that makes a woman wish to share her favors. You are a clever man, Dr. Longford.”
“And one that has gone without cunny for far too long.” Michael hated to be crude but from what Aria had said, that was the sort of language her cousin understood. “So you can understand my haste to be home. I want everything to be ready when the ladies arrive so that they might express their gratitude for my hospitality as soon as they wish.”
Bowles raised his hand. “Of course. Of course. No, I shan’t keep you. Was merely checking to see if you had happened upon my cousin. I was told she was seen in the area and I believe some of my men came by asking about your place just yesterday. A lad was seen limping in the area near here and, well, Lady Aria is flighty and a bit insane. Brain-addled, the poor creature. Dresses like a boy of all things!”
“Prob’ly saw me, me lord!” Before Michael could stop him, Owen hobbled up to Lord Tidmarsh, playing up his limp for all he was worth. Michael could not have been prouder. “I fell the o’th day and, well, me leg ain’t so good to begin with.”
“The lad was crippled at birth,” Michael interjected smoothly. “I was attending the mother and she would have discarded him. I was not a wealthy man at the time and believed that if I raised the boy, I could, in time, turn him into a decent stable boy I did not have to pay.”
That was a lie, but it was the sort of lie that a man like the viscount would more easily believe than the truth. So Michael was not surprised when the other man nodded in understanding. “Yes. Yes, I can see how that would be. I can also see how my men would be confused, for the lad here is about the same height as my cousin.”
Actually, Owen and Aria were nowhere near the same height or build but Michael didn’t bother to correct the man. “I will keep an eye out for your cousin, however, if you like. Lady Aria, you said?” Michael did his best to appear bored with the entire conversation, even though his heart was pounding wildly in his chest, just as it had every time his regiment had come under fire.
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