Color of Deception

by Ruth J. Hartman

  Chapter Six

  Nathaniel climbed down from the carriage and waved away help from the coachman. With determined steps while trying his best not to limp, he made his way to the front of the small house where Miss Sullyard resided.

  He raised his hand to knock, jumping back when the door opened before his hand connected with the wooden frame.

  A girl of about eighteen or so, pretty with dark hair and eyes, stood just inside. “Are you… him?”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “If you mean am I Mr. Bexley, I am.” He gave a slight bow. “At your service, miss.”

  She gasped then covered her mouth with her hand. With a high-pitched squeak, she closed the door. Nathaniel heard footsteps rapidly moving away from the door.

  Hmmm. Now what was a fellow to do? Knock again? Go sit in the carriage and hope Miss Sullyard finally appeared? He retrieved his timepiece from his pocket. They would need to leave soon if they were to catch the beginning of the race.

  Ready to return to the carriage and wait, Nathaniel glanced at the door when it opened once more.

  “Oh. It’s you.” Miss Sullyard, the one he had intended to see, stood in the doorway.

  Was she disappointed that he wasn’t Stratford? “Why does everyone in your household act surprised that I’m here? Were you not expecting to be escorted to the agreed upon venue?”

  Miss Sullyard peeked over her shoulder, back again, and held up one finger. “If you’ll excuse me for just one moment?”

  “Uh… certainly.”

  The door closed. Again. With him on the outside. Again. What in blazes was going on in there? He should have realized that someone who was dressed as she had been the day prior most likely did not reside where there might be a footman. Surely they had the common sense to invite a man in instead of making him—

  For the third time, the door opened. “A million pardons, Mr. Bexley.” Miss Sullyard, now wearing a pelisse and in possession of a reticule and a much larger cloth bag that appeared to be half-filled with small items that moved about when she turned, gave him a dimpled smile that nearly brought him to his knees.

  She stepped aside as an older woman, short and stout, peered up at him behind small spectacles. She resembled a sleepy owl. Must be the chaperone.

  He offered his arm to the older woman, but she waved him away and started toward the carriage. Nathaniel held out his arm to the object of his desire, and she placed her free hand on his sleeve. “Miss Sullyard, may I carry that bag for you? It appears cumbersome.”

  She blinked and tilted her head to the side. “How sweet. But I’m quite used to it, I assure you.”

  Nathaniel eyed the distance from the front door to the waiting carriage. Not far. With a light shrug, he accompanied her as slowly as he could to the conveyance, hoping she wouldn’t notice his slight limp. He waved away any assistance from the coachman and helped her into the carriage himself.

  She sat down along one bench seat next to her chaperone and placed her bag on the seat beside her. With large eyes, she glanced around the interior. Uncle Gilbert spared no expense on his carriages or anything else. Even if the man swore he was nearly destitute.

  Miss Sullyard tilted her head toward her companion. “Mr. Bexley, may I introduce Mrs. Caruthers, my great-aunt.”

  Nathaniel murmured, “Good day.”

  The woman gave a nod but said nothing. Then she angled toward the window, produced a small book from her reticule, and commenced reading.

  How odd.

  Settling against the back of the seat opposite her, Nathaniel tried to suppress a grin as he prepared to have sport with Miss Sullyard. He leaned forward slightly. “Is it the habit in your home to leave poor unsuspecting gentlemen to stand alone out in the elements?”

  Her mouth dropped open, exposing the edges of her teeth, the top row straight and the lowers a tad out of line. But somehow on her, when surrounded by plump pink lips, the effect was memorizing. “I…” Her face reddened. “You see—”

  He held up his hand, palm out. “Please forgive me. I was only teasing you.”

  She snapped her lips closed, her throat moving as she swallowed. She glanced out the side window, blinking rapidly. Was she going to cry?

  After checking to make sure the chaperone wasn’t paying attention, he scooted forward on the edge of his seat. “I never meant to—”

  “No. It’s… Since we might be seeing each other from time to time, that is, unless today was the only time you will be escorting me…”

  Not if I have my say. He shook his head slowly.

  “Then you might as well know how things… stand.”

  Stand… Was there trouble afoot at the Sullyard’s home?

  “It’s my…” She glanced out the window again as if afraid someone might be peering in, spying on her.

  “If something is troubling you, don’t feel you must tell me. That is, unless you want to. Of course, I don’t mind listening.” Remembering to keep up his ruse of being a rake, he winked. “Someone as pretty as you should never have to beg for attention.” He darted a glance at Mrs. Caruthers again, but she seemed not at all interested in their conversation. Was she hard-of-hearing?

  “Oh… Thank you.” Miss Sullyard let out a sigh.

  “My pleasure.” He leaned back again, trying to appear relaxed, like he took carriage rides with beautiful sensuous women every day.

  No. That would be Stratford.

  She coughed delicately into her gloved hand. Was she unsure of how to say whatever it was that troubled her?

  He forced himself to remain silent when everything in him wanted to take her in his arms and say something reassuring to her so that her lovely smile would return. As if I had so much experience holding women. A few stolen kisses from time to time, yes, but beyond that… Time to put myself into Stratford’s mindset, much as I loathe it.

  Nathaniel couldn’t erase the memory of Miss Sullyard’s reaction to Stratford, like his cousin was the sun and she a wilted flower, longing, hoping for him to notice her and give her some warmth.

  Finally, her eyes met his. She let out a slow breath and then spoke. “My parents died when I was quite little. I live with my two sisters, my great-aunt, and… Cousin Robert.” Had she just shivered? The movement was slight, but he didn’t think he’d imagined it. What was amiss with her cousin?

  A snort erupted from Miss Caruthers. Nathaniel looked in her direction. Good heavens the woman was asleep. And snoring. Miss Sullyard appeared not to notice. Perhaps it was a common occurrence and she was accustomed to it.

  “Go on.” Nathaniel motioned with his hand.

  “Well, Lydia, Patience, and I all paint the panoramas. I believe I told you that yesterday?”

  He’d dwelled on little else but her and all that she’d said to him since then but simply gave a nod, trying to appear unaffected.

  “Robert is… he’s… I think when his wife left, it did something to him. Broke him somehow.”

  Left? How terrible. Nathaniel lifted his hand, ready to reach out to her before he even realized, but once he did notice, he quickly lowered it to his lap. From watching Stratford, he knew not to show too much sensitivity. At least not the kind where a woman would think him weak. He nodded once, encouraging her to continue.

  “Now that I’m older, I can understand, maybe a little, why my cousin’s wife left. As a child, I never saw the dark side of him. He didn’t show us his anger until after she left. I’d hear them arguing, and sometimes his wife, Mary, would cry when she thought no one could hear. But once I was older, Robert began to raise his voice to me. To all of us.”

  Clenching his fist, trying to control his fury at a man who would treat his beautiful young cousin so, Nathaniel took a deep breath and let it out. “What happened then?”

  “We’ve never been anywhere near affluent, only having enough to meet our basic needs, but after she left, Robert began to rail on and on about money. All the time. It’s all he speaks of. And if we, that is, my sisters and I, don’t earn enough
to satisfy him, he becomes angrier still.”

  Perhaps it was just as well that Nathaniel hadn’t been admitted inside the Sullyard’s house. If their cousin had happened to be there and had shown his anger in front of him, Nathaniel would have—

  You would have what? You’ve never struck another person in your whole life.

  Would he even know how?

  “And that is why, Mr. Bexley, although you spoke of it in jest, you weren’t invited inside. I didn’t want there to be a chance that Robert might…”

  Nathaniel could stand it no more. He had to touch her, to somehow convey that he understood her reasons. Slowly, much like trying to coax a butterfly onto his hand, Nathaniel leaned forward, reached out, and rested his hand over the top of hers, which was sitting on her knee.

  A thrill shot through him as he realized what he was doing. If her hand wasn’t there, his hand would be directly on her leg. His breathing quickened. Calm down, Nathaniel, do you want to give away that you’re a novice in the art of dealing with women?

  He gave her hand a very unsatisfying pat and, with reluctance, removed his once more.

  Miss Sullyard lifted one corner of her lips. “Thank you for understanding. Forgive me for being so forward in… in addressing a private family matter with someone of whom I’ve just made an acquaintance. It was only… I didn’t want you to think our family wasn’t civilized, forcing a gentleman to stand out in the elements and all.”

  Nathaniel let out a laugh when she used the very words he’d used only moments before. “Nothing to forgive, Miss Sullyard.” He gave a mock scowl. “Now, if it had been frigid temperatures and swirling snow, perhaps I’d think you uncivilized.”

  She bit her lip as her nostrils flared. Giving up, she let out an adorable giggle.

  The carriage slowed as they neared the Epsom racetrack. The scent of horses, and what they tended to leave behind, wafted toward them. Nathaniel liked horses and walking out-of-doors, but he also cherished times of quiet when he could read and be contemplative.

  Admitting that last part, however, wouldn’t help his cause with attracting Miss Sullyard. The way she’d appeared to blossom in Stratford’s presence indicated to Nathaniel that she preferred the type of man who was more physical than smart.

  He glanced to Miss Sullyard, who jostled her great-aunt awake and then reached for her cloth bag, readying herself to depart the carriage. Would Nathaniel have the opportunity to speak to her further as she worked to sketch the horses and riders?

  Perhaps he shouldn’t bother her. After all, she was there for business, not pleasure. Would someone of her financial status even have much time or money for leisure pursuits?

  Time would tell. However, from what she’d said about her cousin’s temper, Nathaniel would be shocked if Miss Sullyard had a chance for much besides trying to earn a few coins.

  The coachman opened the door and helped Miss Sullyard down before Nathaniel had the chance. Nathaniel glared at him just in time for the man to give Nathaniel an annoying smirk. Blast him. But there wasn’t much he could do about it since the coachman worked for his uncle. He waited as Mrs. Caruthers was assisted very laboriously down the carriage steps.

  Holding out his arm for Miss Sullyard, Nathaniel gave a scowl over his shoulder to the coachman. Then he glanced ahead at Mrs. Caruther’s retreating back. The woman had appeared sleepy and inattentive but moved quickly for a woman of her years. Too bad they had to have a chaperone. Otherwise, he’d enjoy some time alone getting to know Miss Sullyard better.

  Stratford had already voiced his disapproval of Nathaniel taking her today. Not for appearance’s sake, but because Stratford wanted her all to himself.

  Thank goodness Uncle Gilbert had found Nathaniel’s offer to escort Miss Sullyard a good suggestion. Anything his uncle said was usually law. At least as it pertained to the magazine.

  Nathaniel led Miss Sullyard to the family’s usual seats. From their vantage point, she would be able to view everything quite well. The horses, coats gleaming with sweat and nostrils flaring in the heat of the race. The jockeys in their bright colors, hunched low, leg muscles taut, fingers gripped tightly on the horses’ reins. Clods of dirt flying from the horses’ hooves when they rounded the track.

  A group of ladies gaped at Miss Sullyard, eyeing her from hat to boots. Admittedly, their seats were in a section where members of the gentry sat. Nathaniel cared not for any of that. Expensive garments and carriages had never meant much to him. He wasn’t poor, could pay his own slight expenses, but didn’t have the advantages Stratford did due to Aunt Hortense’s money.

  With a relieved sigh, Nathaniel was pleased to see that Miss Sullyard hadn’t noticed the other women’s reactions. No, she was too busy staring around them. At the horses near the starting gate. The jockeys as they tried to quiet their mounts with words and calming touches.

  “Would you care to sit down, Miss Sullyard?”

  She let out a tiny gasp and then bit her lower lip, the edges of her teeth pressing down ever so slightly on her perfect full lip.

  “Pardon. Didn’t intend to startle you.”

  “You didn’t. Well, you did, but…”

  “But you didn’t want to admit it?”

  “Something like that, yes.” Her grin rivaled the sun that had finally popped out from behind a large fluffy cloud to lend warmth to the day. Nathaniel’s heart swelled, knowing her smile, at least that one, was only for him.

  He assisted Mrs. Caruthers to a seat, but she shook her head and moved away to slump down in one several feet away. It was all well and good with Nathaniel, but he hoped whoever would normally occupy the space wouldn’t be at the race that day.

  Miss Sullyard accepted his offer of assistance to sit, and he took up his position next to her.

  Fascinated, he watched as she retrieved a tube of rolled paper — six inches long — a pencil, and a sizeable book from her larger bag. She placed the book on her lap.

  Nathaniel raised his eyebrow. “Planning on reading? I can assure you, the race will not in any way be monotonous.”

  “That,” she said as she pointed to the tome, “is my desk, so to speak.”

  “Ah… I guess it might be difficult to hold the paper in your hand to draw something. It would be unsteady and cumbersome, I imagine.”

  “Exactly.” She tilted her head. “You are such an understanding man. I’m sure you have many good friends who enjoy your company.”

  Friends?

  Warning bells flashed in Nathaniel’s head. He didn’t want her to see him as simply a friend. Much as he didn’t like it, he needed to act more the rake.

  And he needed to start now.