by Rhianna
“I cannot recall seeing her at any of the social gatherings,” Lady Brighton continued. “She is quite stunning.”
Guilford gave a brief account of her history as daughter of the curate, to her schooling in France, to her recently ended period of mourning.
“As of these nine months past,” he concluded, “she is Audra’s governess.”
“Of course,” mumbled Thayne, who in his disappointment slumped deep into his chair.
This disclosure made it impossible for him to appear cheerful. The most heavenly creature he had ever had the pleasure to look upon, whose presence he had thought unworthy to stand within, and through the unfairness of society the angel was damned to the working class. Quelle horreur! A rising condemnation for social attitudes and structure rose in his breast.
Curate …
Braden …
All at once, Thayne was transported to a moment he had not thought of in some time. A day in his childhood when his dog had led him deep into the Kingsley woods. A day he ran into a fellow trespasser: the curate’s daughter. The very same red curls fell upon her neck then as they now lay upon the pillow in his guestroom. Yours was the carriage that spoiled my blue dress. The sentences that had passed between them came flooding back to him all at once and rendered him speechless. All that surrounded him now at Ravensleigh disappeared and he fell into a trance-like state. Thayne had always remembered their brief encounter, and the shock of this revelation was more than he could believe. I have more right to be here than you, peasant. Thayne’s stomach turned at his words to her and his pompous attitude. You should apologize, he heard her young voice say, repeatedly.
Thayne must have appeared quite pained, and it is no wonder, considering the thoughts that inwardly tortured him, that Lady Brighton said suddenly, “You look very ill, Thayne. Perhaps you ought to retire for the evening.”
For him, the return from these reflections was difficult. “Yes, Mother. I think I should,” he struggled to say. Turning to his guest, he offered, “The hour grows late, Lord Kingsley. Permit me to have a room prepared for you.”
“I thank you, Brighton,” he declared, “but my family will be wanting news. May I continue to leave Miss Braden in your kind care, Moira?”
“It needn’t be asked,” she avowed, as all in company arose.
“Your goodness exceeds that in all of Thornton, my dear lady. I’ll inquire of her progress in the morning.”
“We look forward to your call,” she declared.
“Goodnight to you both.”
“Goodnight.”
Thayne nodded as the butler saw Lord Kingsley out. When the door had closed, Lady Brighton gave her son an attentive look.
“You are out of spirits, Thayne. What is the matter?”
Thayne cared not that his countenance was now more clearly troubled.
“I am sure you will think me irrational, indeed, foolish,” he began, contemplatively. “I’ll have you know, Mother, that I am well aware of who I am. An Earl, Lord of Ravensleigh, owner of over fifteen hundred acres of country land, besides a house in town, with a family name that dates back generations, a seat in Parliament, and a fortune second only to Lord Kingsley’s throughout the country. All this, and yet, I have no one to share it with. I have been introduced to many women, in England and France, Greece and Italy, those women considered the loveliest, from the wealthiest families, educated, refined, distinguished, daughters of peers, renowned for their talents, with the sort of well-respected reputations that would befit someone of my station …”
Lady Brighton gave him a moment’s silence, before pressing him. “And so?” she encouraged.
He sighed. “So why is it,” he said, turning his glance to the door, “that out of all of them, the only one — and, I declare, she is the only one — ever to catch my attention, to intrigue me and bewitch me, all without a word, not a single one, is Miss Kingsley’s governess?”
• • •
Desmond paced the floor of the study, as he had for the last several hours, pausing only occasionally to look out the windows. The west faced a distant Ravensleigh and the south, the approach to Kingsley Manor. Earlier, the south had offered the most activity as Stowe, the gardener, tended to the grounds. He had seemed to enjoy his labor, but Desmond imagined it only a resignation, for who would prefer working in the garden to sitting comfortably in a study with a glass of port?
That was some time ago. At the moment, the west provided his only distraction, as a young manservant and a young maidservant met near a tree for a stolen kiss. Such a dull, inferior existence, thought Desmond. He felt relief he was not of their situation, born into poor families, damned to a life of drudgery. This thread of thought summoned Pierson to mind, a man born of a family whose connections were good, but whose habits brought him down in society. In Desmond’s mind, Pierson’s actions, though hardly honorable, ought not to sever him from the family. Lord Kingsley’s reasons for banishing him aside, family was all that he had for support, and Desmond did not disagree with his mother for allowing Pierson still into their lives, though against her husband’s wishes.
Suddenly, Desmond laughed to himself. So many secrets, he thought. So, so many.
Miss Braden was soon present in his thoughts. A beautiful girl — among the handsomest he had come across in all his travels. Had her standing in society been different, he could easily see himself taking her for a bride and even, perhaps, being mildly contented with her for a short while. As it was, that could never be. Never could he publicly connect himself with such an unequal alliance. Privately was entirely different, of course. If she returned to the manor, she would make a very convenient mistress. He did not share his mother’s view that his father had already taken her thus and he could not help wondering if she would be easily persuaded …
It did not matter, Desmond decided. He was not expecting her to return.
A knock at the door halted his musings and Lydia Kingsley entered.
“Here you are. I have searched the whole house over looking for you,” she said, catching her breath. “The servants are already saying Guilford has found Rhianna Braden.”
Desmond turned to her coolly. “Dead?”
“No.”
Astonished, he ventured, “Well, go on.”
Lady Kingsley paced through the room. “The servants only know so much. It would seem she was thrown from her horse, but not very harmed.”
“I shall have to see for myself,” he said.
“Soon you shall. Very soon, I hear. As early as tomorrow or the day after, they are saying. I expect Guilford home shortly with more reliable information.”
“How interesting,” he thought aloud. “How very interesting.”
• • •
At once Rhianna recognized the name of Brighton. It was a name nostalgic of her childhood, but without the sweet indulgence such memories are oft to produce. The most arrogant, contemptuous, and insolent boy one could imagine — let alone confront in an actual existent representation (as such had been her misfortune) — was associated with it, and now he had come into her acquaintance once again. Yes, Thayne Brighton had grown to take his father’s title, as he once boasted, and was possessor of the very house whose roof covered her.
Surely, thought she, had he any notion of what position I held he would not have helped me.
Only, he had helped her. Indeed, while she spent the entire next day in his guestroom, surrounded by a sea of blankets and pillows, he concerned himself with her hourly, inquiring of her at every opportunity. How often she heard his voice on the opposite side of the door and with what earnestness he expressed in his tone! Rhianna knew that when the hour approached to speak with Lord Brighton she must be cordial to him. Even if his character was one she could not excuse, he had done her a great service. For this, she did wish to thank him, for she truly was appreciative.
Dr. Logan had instructed Rhianna to remain in bed for two full days. During that time, Lady Brighton was frequently with her and Rh
ianna could not but take pleasure in the lady’s company. She was certain that Thayne Brighton must have taken after his father’s disposition, as his mother displayed everything that was good and generous.
As the pain subsided and her power to hold conversation returned to her, Rhianna, for the first time since her departure from France, enjoyed with Lady Brighton something akin to the family atmosphere she knew with the Vallières. Surprised by what seemed an immediate friendship, Rhianna was even more surprised — after it was decided that she should return the following day to Kingsley Manor — to hear Lady Brighton acknowledge, as a woman frequently surrounded by her sons, she would miss Rhianna’s company.
On the morning of her departure from Ravensleigh, she saw him. Lady Brighton brought her to the drawing room where he and Lord Kingsley sat; both rose at her entrance. The walls were delicately adorned with Chinese wallpaper and the ceiling molding was finely executed in ivory-colored relief against a backdrop of pastel green. Rosewood tables and armchairs were strategically placed. As Rhianna was led near the fireplace where the men had been seated, she could not help but admire the lavish carving in the overmantel, an elaborate, marble chimneypiece. Opposite, a draped window curtain revealed a picturesque view of the drive she could not remember passing along three days previous.
An official introduction followed. Thayne, now a man of two and twenty, proved to have striking, even features, with dark, straight hair and sapphire eyes, outlined by thick, black lashes. She was surprised to see his face unveil a manly outline and square jaw that replaced the rounder, prepubescent face of the young boy she’d met years ago. Had Rhianna not disliked him so much, she might have even thought him handsome.
Lady Brighton offered an official introduction. Rhianna searched, but could find no hint of recognition in his gaze; neither could she find in his tall, strong frame any indication of dislike. On a further study of his demeanor, she found he presented himself most civilly. It was an unforeseen interview. Under no circumstances had she expected to find him at all mannerly.
Thayne bowed to her. “I took it upon myself to inquire of your health earlier, Miss Braden. May I again inquire to see if the report is as well now as it was earlier?”
“You may, and it is,” she told him, while examining his careless black coiffure and straight nose. “I cannot begin to express the extent of my gratitude — ”
“And you need not,” he interrupted, all thoughts connected with the unpleasant event seeming to him very disagreeable. “Please, it is most unnecessary. We are only glad to have you as our guest. Let us not make mention of it.”
She nodded assent. “Very well, Lord Brighton.”
Thayne motioned her to a Grecian chaise-lounge beside a mighty hearth where a great fire flamed and flared, and the four were soon seated.
“I neglected to mention last night,” said Lady Brighton to Guilford, “how very glad I am to see you so well. You seem quite a different person than you were a twelvemonth ago.”
“Quite so,” he returned, cheerfully. “No doubt my returned health was, in part, due to the good counsel of Doctor Logan and spending more time outdoors. It was very bad times then, however, and Miss Braden’s father was a source of great comfort to me.”
Rhianna glanced toward Thayne, but found no reaction in him of what she expected. There was no start, nor wonder in his looks. Either he was an excellent actor or Lord Brighton was already well aware of her background. He might not perhaps remember their past confrontation, but he was sensible of her position in society, her station in life. And still, he treated her respectfully and courteously.
She sat amazed.
“You will be glad to know, Brighton,” continued Lord Kingsley, with a change of topic, “that my steed found its way home last night. Desmond discovered him near the stables before I returned.”
“Did he, indeed? This is good news,” he affirmed. “Was there nothing indicating the cause of his fit?”
“Nothing, whatsoever. I honestly cannot imagine what caused him to go into such a frenzy.”
The door opened and a servant entered with tea. Rhianna, growing anxious to be home, looked forward to their finishing it so that she might take leave of Ravensleigh. If she could not be alone with Lady Brighton, she preferred not to be there at all.
“I have an idea,” cried Lady Brighton suddenly. “It has been too long since we have had a ball at the manor, Guilford, and I say that we have some things that call for a celebration! What with Miss Braden’s recovery …”
“Yes, and your good health, Lord Kingsley,” added Lord Brighton. “It has been far too long.”
“It is a splendid idea!” Guilford agreed, the pitch of his voice lifting enthusiastically. “Lydia cannot object. The festivities shall be the greatest that Thornton has seen in some time. I shall plan for six weeks from today.”
Lady Brighton clasped her hands together. “How wonderful it will be to again have a party at the manor!”
Rhianna, for her part, nearly fainted with the concept. To view a ball at Kingsley Manor would have caused her former nine-year-old heart to swell to twice its size, but now to be a part of it, as well! Surely, she thought, I have not heard correctly. He could not mean for me to attend.
Lord Kingsley planned onward. “Everyone shall be invited. I will call friends as far as London. Miss Braden, you have not said a word. Your opinion, please?”
The sudden attention directed toward her gave Rhianna a shock, and she could not form a word in response.
Seeming to sense her distress, Lady Brighton spoke for her, saying, “Oh, you must not put her on the spot, Lord Kingsley. Such a scheme is so remarkable you must allow that we are all lost in thought with the design of it. As I am contemplating,” she turned to address Rhianna, “and if you would like, Miss Braden, we can perhaps get together to discuss costumes.”
“Thank you, but I do not think Lord Kingsley means for me to participate,” Rhianna whispered to her.
“Oh, but of course he does!” she confirmed. “My dear Miss Braden, if I understand correctly, he means very much for you to go.”
“Without question,” Guilford affirmed, overhearing this last, “your presence is essential.”
An overwhelmed Rhianna could hardly hold herself up. She placed her hand on Lady Brighton’s, unmasking her feeble condition.
“Oh, my dear, Miss Braden! You look so pale,” the lady immediately perceived. “Guilford, that is enough planning for now. You must take her home this instant. I am sure the comfort of her own home is what she most needs.”
“It must be all the excitement of these last days still lingering with me,” Rhianna told her.
Lords Kingsley and Brighton were already at her service and the carriage was ordered at once.
• • •
My Dear Soleil, You cannot imagine what events I have to relay to you. I hardly know where to begin …
Thus Rhianna set out at writing her letter. Two days since her stay at Ravensleigh had passed, she sat at the window seat of her rose room. Folds of mauve curtain framed her as she held quill and paper in hand. Through the clear windowpane she could view the rotunda, the whitewashed frame bright as it reflected the sun’s unclouded rays. It was here she rested her eyes while she dwelt on her next lines.
The day passed quickly as she wrote, and when Rhianna reached the end of her letter the morning was well along. Placing her papers aside, she rose to leave her room. She was in no hurry to go anywhere, as Lord Kingsley had suspended Audra’s lessons for the week at least. She walked along the front balcony, whose tall windows shared the same view of the front approach — as did the lavender room where she had spent her first nights at the manor house.
A visitor caught her attention, a man on horseback who made his way through the gate. The Kingsleys often had visitors, and over the past several months she had begun to recognize many of them from a distance. But this visitor was new — or at least he had not been to Kingsley Manor since she arrived.
> Suddenly, she guessed she knew who.
It was not long after she heard him enter downstairs that her suspicions were confirmed. As Alfred led him into the drawing room, she caught herself pacing. Wondering at her excitability, Rhianna forced herself back to the window to enjoy the scene she originally sought, only to find she could not remove her eyes from his horse, a muscular, brown-and-white stallion with a long, flowing mane.
A servant approached her from behind, breaking her spell. “You have a visitor, Miss Braden.”
She turned to him with a start. “I have a visitor?”
“Yes. Lord Brighton of Ravensleigh is requesting you.”
“Requesting me?”
“Yes, miss.”
Thayne Brighton was requesting her? Rhianna struggled ineffectually to collect herself as the servant led her downstairs. When at last they reached the drawing room, Rhianna had resigned herself that there could be no preparation for this unexpected meeting.
Guilford and Thayne seemed delighted as she entered. Desmond was not in company, but then, Desmond was rarely home. It was a discomfort lifted from her not to have him there. Lydia Kingsley, looking characteristically irritable, summoned Rhianna to take a seat next to her, which Rhianna accepted.
Once the initial greetings had taken place, Lord Brighton wasted no time in inquiring after Rhianna. “How are you feeling today, Miss Braden? All of Ravensleigh has been wondering about you. I was instructed to speak with you directly, and told, additionally, not to return to the house until I had an answer, and a positive one, at that.”
This notion could not but force a smile from her, awkward though she felt, being so addressed. “You may tell them to let you pass the gates, for I am well.”
He appeared very sincere when he smiled, revealing a perfect line of white, straight teeth. She caught herself looking at them longer than she ought to have.
“Thank you. My mother will be especially glad of it. Where you are concerned, her worry has not rested,” he expressed to her. “It is our joint wish to see you again at Ravensleigh when you are up to it.”
