by Donna Hatch
“Then I challenge you to a game.”
“I accept.” Anything to prevent their first night in his home where he would no doubt insist upon becoming her husband in every way.
She sank weakly into a chair. They began politely, but as the match progressed, Alicia forgot her fears and played with more vigor, and he proved a worthy opponent. While he clearly had not played often, he still had a fine eye for strategy. Growing confident, she played without mercy. Perhaps beating one’s husband their first night in their new home may be bad form, but Alicia suspected if she threw the game, he would be offended.
She glanced up at him with a mixture of timidity and triumph. “Checkmate.”
He leaned back. “Yes. You were kind. I am sure you could have taken me several times, but did not.” He did not sound angry, but he always spoke so softly, it was hard to know for sure.
Growing bolder, she said, “You tease me, my lord. You play much better than you led me to believe.”
“I hope to be full of pleasant surprises.”
The mantle clock chimed. Alicia twisted the ring around her finger.
He rose. “It grows late. Perhaps we should retire.”
Her eyes flew to his face, but the mask revealed nothing of his meaning. With a growing quiver, she allowed him to escort her to her room. Along the way, his gloved hand indicated a painting of a sharp-eyed woman in scarlet who looked back with bold disdain.
They paused in front of her. “That was my Great Aunt Millicent. She ran away from home and traveled all over Africa dressed as a man.”
In surprise, Alicia gasped and then laughed softly. Further down the corridor, he pointed out another portrait of a gentleman wearing a ruffled collar and a large ruby ring.
“That was my grandfather. He scandalized the ton by marrying his mistress. They never had children. Later, when she died, he married a proper lady who bore him three sons, but he never loved her as he loved his first wife.”
“What an unconventional family you have, my lord.”
“We do seem to take delight in thumbing our noses at society.” His hand moved to the small of her back.
She froze.
Quietly he asked, “Shall I never earn your trust?”
A chill flashed through her spine at the thought of this dark, hidden creature touching her in the same manner as Mr. Braxton. How could she willingly submit to such advances? She looked away from the hulking figure before her while images of scarred, twisted skin flashed before her eyes. Would his skin be cold and lifeless? Would he be rough? Did he have feeling in his limbs?
“As I said, I shall wait until you are ready. I…” he paused as if trying to form his thoughts into words. “Despite my appearance, I am a whole man and have the needs of any man.”
Guilt wormed through her fear. “I thank you for your understanding, my lord.”
He remained motionless for several minutes, his gaze tangible underneath his mask. When he moved, it was only to brush a smothered kiss against her cheek and then turn and walk away with his cane thumping.
Alicia threw herself into her pillow and sobbed her relief. And her dread of things to come.
Under a sun-kissed sky, the baron led her through the gardens. Sparkling streams graced the lush gardens filled with flowers of every description.
His voice rumbled. “This garden was patterned after the stories of Athena, the goddess of war, but I saw only a forest peopled by gnomes and dark caves where dragons guarded their treasure.”
The baron brought her through an arch to another garden. Marble statues and stone benches carved with winged cherubs dotted the path.
“This is the garden of Aphrodite, the goddess of love. I stole my first kiss under this tree.” Embarrassment colored his voice.
Alicia tried to picture a young Baron Amesbury, but only created a smaller masked figure.
In the garden of Poseidon, filled with meandering streams, waterfalls, and fountains, a picnic luncheon awaited them. A small cascade fell into a pond filled with colorful fish.
As servants laid out the meal, he held a chair for her at the small wrought iron table under a spreading tree. “I thought this would be a good place to have our luncheon.”
“It is indeed a beautiful place,” she agreed breathlessly. “Each garden you’ve shown me has been more wondrous than the last.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
Emboldened by the pleasant morning, she asked, “Do you have a favorite Greek hero or story?”
He paused a moment. “I’ve always been partial to Perseus.”
“Why?”
“He had many enemies who conspired against him, but he was resourceful. He always managed to do what he felt he must despite the seemingly insur-mountable obstacles he faced.”
Alicia knew little about mythology, but this name seemed familiar. “Isn’t he the one who killed the creature with snakes for hair and whose gaze would turn a person to stone?”
“Medusa. Yes. He also defeated other fearsome foes.”
“Is there a garden for him?”
“No, not yet.”
“Perhaps that will be yours to build.”
He paused. “Perhaps. That remains to be seen.”
She devoured a delicious meal and afterward sat enjoying a gentle breeze as water splashed happily nearby. With a twinge of guilt, she realized that since he only ate alone when he could remove the mask, he must be growing hungry watching her consume all the food.
“Do you wish to go eat, my lord?”
He shook his head. “I’ll dine later.”
Alicia tossed a tiny piece of bread into the water and watched as colorful fish swallowed it whole. She brushed a few crumbs off her bronze silk gown and looked up to find her husband’s masked face directed toward her.
He cleared his voice softly. “Are you tired or do you wish to continue touring the gardens?”
“I would love to see more of the gardens.”
They spent all day exploring while he regaled her with stories of the mythological heroes and heroines. His own childhood exploits often surfaced among the tales. As they followed a path toward the house, they passed an arch over a path leading to a garden they had not yet explored.
She paused before the arch. “What’s in there?”
The tone of his voice flattened. “Zeus’s garden. I never go in there anymore.”
“Why?”
“My younger brother died there.”
She turned to him in shock and then dropped her eyes, unable to look at the mask. “I’m sorry.”
“He fell from a tree. I was up there with him, and powerless to help him. The fall broke his neck.”
Though his voice sounded detached, his bleak loss cut through.
“How terrible for you.”
“It was a long time ago,” he said gruffly. Cloaked in his own memories, he led her silently to the house.
She ate dinner alone in the breakfast room, well attended by servants. Before she’d finished, the baron joined her and sat across from her.
She offered him a tremulous smile. “Thank you for showing me around.”
“It was my pleasure. I hope I did not weary you with my tales.”
“Not at all, my lord. I enjoyed it enormously.”
“I had hoped you would like it. And that you would like my home.”
“It’s beyond compare,” she replied truthfully, amazed that a mere baron had amassed such wealth. But then, titles did not often equal affluence.
“You mentioned that you play the pianoforte,” he said as she finished her dessert.
She put down her napkin. “Not well.”
“Ah, yes, the conventional answer. Will you play for me?”
“I assure you, my lord, it is not false modesty. I really do not play well. Our pianoforte was sold months ago, and I have not touched the keys since.”
“Then you are long past due. Please.” He led her into a music room where a Louis XIV pianoforte with gilded carvings sto
od in one corner. A harp stood in another.
He gestured to the pianoforte. “I know it’s a bit ostentatious, but it has a lovely tone. Will you?”
Unnerved by the dark presence nearby, Alicia drew several steadying breaths before placing her hands on the keys. She attempted the first thing that came into her mind: a sonata that Maman had loved. She stumbled a few times, her fingers awkward from disuse. Despite the age of the instrument, or perhaps because of it, the sounds it issued were rich and resonant. She breathed a sigh of relief when she finished.
The covered head nodded. “Technically, that was very good. But you did not have your heart in it.”
Alicia smiled faintly. “My governess scolded me often for not playing with passion.” Her fingers itched to play more now that she had begun, but not while her husband loomed over her. Perhaps she would come back and play in private another time.
Evenings became more comfortable after that; sometimes they played chess, or billiards, or backgammon. Sometimes he requested she read aloud to him. He asked her opinion on a great many matters men usually assumed were not the concern of ladies, and she found their conversation both enriching and stimulating.
The baron always spoke carefully, thoughtfully, as if contemplating the higher meaning to life. He proved to be unlike either Colonel Westin or Mr. Braxton in every way.
At those times when she found herself alone, she devoted more time to playing the pianoforte. The sounds she created with the instrument soothed her soul. Her skill even improved through her diligent playing, but she never played in the presence of others.
Alicia wrote to Hannah, assuring her that she was happy and that her husband was treating her well. She also said that Maman’s saying had proved wise. Then she wrote to Elizabeth, saying much the same.
Each day that she spent time with her husband, she grew less afraid of him. The ominous cloak and mask no longer intimidated her so much. As her fear dimmed, she saw his gentle spirit and a quick wit.
But each evening, after he escorted her to her room, he placed his hand on her waist, drew her to him gently, and pressed a kiss to her cheek or brow. She shivered and steeled herself against the night his patience ran thin and he would force himself upon her. He always left without pressing her, and she would go to bed in relief, yet feeling, despite her contentment, that something precious had passed her by.
Chapter 17
Filled with restless energy, Cole took his Lipizzaner, André, out on a long run. He had not been home much since the night he’d quarreled with his father and left for the sea. He’d been young and idealistic with a thirst for adventure and a misguided desire to rebel against his father. How foolish he’d been.
Cole looked out over the landscape. He had almost forgotten how beautiful it was here, but his heavy heart prevented him from fully receiving pleasure from his home. He galloped André across the fields, through the woods, to the far borders of his land where the trainer and jockey were training his latest acquisition, a thoroughbred with an impressive lineage.
His trainer waved and Cole guided André to meet with him. The trainer leaned over the fence. “He has all the makings of a winner.”
“He does,” Cole agreed.
“We should consider transferring him to the heath land to further his training. He’ll be ready to enter his first race next spring.”
Cole nodded. “Make the arrangements.”
The jockey had a soft, firm touch and an intuitive sense of the horse’s abilities. The thoroughbred had the heart of a winner. They were a perfect match.
They discussed details of the thoroughbred’s training and then Cole left, wishing he could share it all with Alicia.
He had hoped her marriage to the baron would be the next-best solution to eloping with her. Instead, things had worsened. She filled his thoughts, his desires, and yet she remained completely untouchable. Cole cursed.
He should go bang his head against a tree.
He rode to the lake, stripped off his clothes and dove in. The cold water slipped over his skin, cooling his frustration. Fish darted from his path as he forged through the dark, greenish world filled with waving plants and scaly creatures.
His head burst through the surface only long enough to take another breath. He swam the length of the lake and back before he climbed out among the reeds and cattails to throw himself on the grassy bank. After drying in the sun, he dressed and rode into town. Darkness had fallen when he reached a small tavern.
The barkeep nodded but said nothing as Cole took a seat in the corner.
The barmaid ambled toward him, smiling broadly. “What’s yer pleasure, yer lordship?”
“An ale, please.”
She smiled and flipped her hair. “That’ll do fer now.” She turned and cast a come-hither look over her shoulder as she moved away with swaying hips.
Other regulars drifted in, nodded to him, but left him alone. The locals had grown accustomed to the earl’s son occasionally coming into their territory during his infrequent and brief stays nearby, but they seldom approached him.
The barmaid brought him his drink and offered a seductive smile. “And me, later?”
He shook his head with an apologetic smile.
She pouted prettily. “Per’aps another day.”
He shook his head again, picked up his cup, and drank deeply, stamping down temptation.
The barmaid boldly reached out and brushed back a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. She giggled. “I don’t think I ever saw ye with yer hair mussed, m’lor’.”
Cole dragged his fingers through his hair to push the errant strands away from his face, knowing his swim had left him in a state that would give his valet, Stephens, the shivers.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not interested.” He handed her several coins and left the tavern.
Outside, someone approached from the shadows. Cole dropped into a defensive stance with his knife in his hand.
“My lord?”
Cole relaxed as he recognized the local constable. “What is it, Connolly?”
“I thought you’d want t’ know someone’s been asking about Baron and Baroness Amesbury.”
Cole frowned.
“He seemed rather shady, if ye know what I mean. Do ye want me t’ nab ’im?”
“No, do nothing yet. Thank you for letting me know. She has an uncle who might be concerned for her. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” But Willard Palmer knew where Alicia’s husband had taken her to live. Why send someone to ask about them?
His instincts whispered danger.
One evening, Alicia joined her husband in the darkened garden. Completely enigmatic, he sat with his head lifted upward to gaze at the starry heavens made glorious by a cloudless sky.
“Did you ever study astronomy?” he asked softly.
“No. I know a little about mythology, so some of the stories you told me of the gardens are familiar, but all I can find in the sky are the North Star and the Big Dipper.”
“See that cluster of stars?” He leaned near, his chest brushing against her shoulder, his arm reaching across her, as he traced a group of stars with his gloved finger in the far northern sky. “That is Andromeda. There are her arms, this is her belt, and her legs. Pegasus is here nearby.”
A light, masculine scent permeated his cloak and she breathed it deeply, invoking an awareness of him on a new and elemental level. To her surprise, she did not recoil.
“When did you become interested in the stars?” she asked.
“At Cambridge. I was good at mathematics but I loved astronomy, probably because of my professor.” His soft chuckle rumbled. “He was unconventional and eccentric, but he instilled a great love of astronomy in his students.”
“Tell me about Andromeda.”
“Her name is Greek for ‘Ruler over Men.’ She is also referred to as ‘The Chained Maiden.’ She was the daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, king and queen of Aethiopia. Cassiopeia made the mistake of boasting
that her beauty equaled the beautiful Nereids of the sea.”
Her husband’s soft, muffled voice, as he painted the characters, swept Alicia away.
“Of course, such a claim drew down the vengeance of the gods. Poseidon, king of the sea, sent a sea-monster to destroy man and beast. The only way to save the kingdom was for the king to sacrifice his daughter, Andromeda, to the monster, so they chained her to a rock on the shore. She was saved by Perseus who slew the monster and freed her. Though she was promised to another, Perseus married her and they had many children. They are supposedly the parents of the Persians. After Andromeda died, the goddess Athena placed her in the constellations near Perseus and Cassiopeia.”
When he had finished the story, Alicia realized her neck was straining as she gazed upward. She rubbed stiffened muscules. “The Greeks had a rather dim view of their gods.”
“They were pagans who saw God, or rather, gods, as selfish, vain creatures who caused human misery. What they failed to recognize is that humanity causes its own misery.”
“You are quite a philosopher. And a scholar. Even astronomer. What else do you do?”
His shapeless face turned toward her. “Less than I once did.” His tone was flat, betraying his despair.
Was she the cause of it? She hung her head. She had the power to offer him comfort, companionship, acceptance, things that he surely did not receive elsewhere. Others no doubt saw only his mask without seeing the intelligent, gentle man underneath.
The servants treated him with respect, even affection. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Hodges, loved him as a member of the family. But then, she had known him as a child.
Alicia’s eyes strayed to him, but she could distinguish nothing of his thoughts or mood. She tried again to imagine him as he had been before his injuries—whole, complete—but she failed utterly. “Are there any portraits of you as a younger man? You know, before…?”
His cowled head turned toward her. “Not here.”
“I try to imagine your face, but I have nothing upon which to base it. Are you dark or fair?”
“Dark. I assure you, you don’t want to see my face. Would you care to see the maze in the morning?”
