by Cora Lee
When he brought them to a halt beside the table of armor she flattened her palms against his broad chest. “I can feel the plates underneath. Don’t they hurt you?”
He covered her hands with his and held them in place over his heart. “I usually wear a padded leather coat underneath. That keeps the plates from causing damage and serves as another layer of protection.”
“Good thinking.”
“Would that I could take credit for it.” He twirled her around by the hand, then slid his arm around her waist. “It’s a medieval concept, I’ve just made some improvements.”
“Such as?”
“I used a different method to make the steel so it’s stronger than what they had, for one thing.”
Her eyes dropped to the pattern of rivets and she poked one with her index finger. “Strong enough to stop a bullet?” When he didn’t answer, she raised her eyes to his. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”
Hartland shook his head. “Strong enough to stop a blade and most flying debris. And this black layer is wool, which is safer in a fire than other fabrics.”
In a fire? “Do you often run into burning buildings?”
“It’s been known to happen.”
Sarah made a mental note to find her favorite chemistry text and see if she couldn’t come up with something better than plain wool. He was protecting her from a killer, after all. The least she could do was help protect him from fire.
“What made you decide to build armor and fight crime?” The question had been percolating in her mind for some time. Standing before the man himself while he was wearing said armor seemed liked a good time to ask.
He loosened his arm about her waist. “Why do we always talk about me? Why do we never talk about you?”
If he was deflecting, his answer was either embarrassing or very personal. Sarah filed that tidbit away for later and allowed him to change the subject. “What would you like to know?”
“Your favorite color.”
Of all the questions he could ask her, he chose to ask about her favorite color? “Green, I think.”
“Is that why you wore a green dress for our wedding?”
Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected him to remember a detail like that. “I suppose so, though not directly. I’d had that one made for Diana’s ball, and chose the green because it was my favorite. When we were wed, I wanted to wear my best gown and that one was it.”
“That makes sense. What about pastimes? What do you do for fun?” He cinched his arms more tightly about her waist. “Other than read books, I mean. I already know about that.”
“I embroider, of course, and I knit on occasion, though my mother would be horrified if she discovered that.”
He laughed. “Why on earth is knitting so awful?”
“Ladies of quality don’t, as a rule, knit. I think it’s too practical. A knitter creates a useful item that no longer has to be purchased and isn’t as fine as one might find in a shop.”
“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?” His eyes crinkled up at the corners as his smile grew. He didn’t appear to be mocking her, though, just enjoying this glimpse into her mind.
“I have.” She grinned up at him. “What’s the point in doing something in defiance of popular expectations if you don’t think it thought?”
“I do things in defiance of popular expectations all the time, you know. Mostly because they’re fun.”
“Things like marry a woman whose father was a merchant?” she asked, beginning to lose enthusiasm for the conversation. “That hasn’t exactly been fun.”
He stroked her hair gently, and caressed her cheek. “Fun is perhaps the wrong word for what we’ve been doing. But we’re managing well enough, aren’t we?”
“I am alive and uninjured, so that part is going well so far.” She slid her hands up his arms and rested them on his shoulders. “And we seem to be getting along rather nicely, too.”
“Now if we can just figure out who is causing you all this trouble, we can improve your situation even further.”
He said it with a note of bitterness hiding among the optimism. She wrapped her arms around his neck and lay her cheek against his. If she was safe anywhere, it was here in the Armored Man’s arms in his own workshop. “I know you’d rather be in Town figuring out who’s behind this. I’m sorry you’re stuck out here with me.”
He drew back and looked her straight in the eye. “I would like to be in the thick of things—that much is true. But I’m not sorry I brought you here. Hartland Abbey is where you’re safe, and that means more to me than any fight.”
He kissed her then, with an intensity that surprised her. But she had little time to contemplate his motive before the pure pleasure of his mouth on hers washed all other thoughts from her mind.
Chapter Nine
It was several hours before Sarah could concentrate on anything except kissing Hart. He wasn’t the first man to kiss her, or even the second. But her relationship with Hartland was different than anything she’d had with anyone else. Part of that was due to their marriage, certainly, but Sarah had known plenty of married couples who treated each other like polite strangers. Part of the interest he showed her was also no doubt due to the threat that had been issued against her, but that didn’t explain the tender way he touched her or the ardor in his kisses.
And it didn’t explain why her heart pounded whenever he was near.
Eventually she settled in at the escritoire in her bedchamber to write a letter to her mother, to be carried north by one of Hartland’s personal messengers. Lucy bustled about, putting away clean frocks and removing soiled items for further attention, and Sarah found the maid’s quiet activity helped her concentrate. It wasn’t too long before she was lost in her letter, trying to describe the magnificence of the Devon coast.
“Sarah, are you in here?”
Hartland’s voice drifted in from her dressing room. She set her pen carefully on the blotter and went to meet him. “Yes, I’m here.”
He emerged from her dressing room dressed in neatly pressed trousers, a clean shirt, starched cravat, and an exquisitely tailored navy blue waistcoat. It was the most clothing she’d seen on him since they’d arrived at Hartland Abbey, and it was all immaculate.
“Good. Are you busy? Do you have a moment to talk?” His voice was light but he wouldn’t make eye contact with her for more than two seconds at a time.
“I have plenty of moments. What would you like to discuss?”
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “There’s something I need to—”
Lucy popped in through the chamber door at the other end of the room with an armload of gowns. “Alright, my lady, this should be the last bunch, then I’ll just...” Her voice died away. “I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t realize—”
“It’s fine, Lucy. I told you to come and go as you needed,” Sarah said.
Lucy glanced at Hartland before returning her gaze to her mistress. “I’ll just go. I can take care of these later.”
“It’s all right. His lordship and I were only talking. Finish what you need to finish and then you may go.”
“My lord, Mr. Richards was looking for you the last time I was downstairs. He said something about a special messenger arriving.”
“Thank you. I’ll speak with him directly.”
Lucy curtsied, throwing another glance at Hartland, then Sarah, before disappearing into Sarah’s dressing room with the gowns.
What was that about? Not all that long ago Hartland had insisted he wasn’t as wicked as his reputation suggested, but he was clearly involved in something with Lucy. Had he lied to Sarah about his relationship with other women or was there something else going on between her husband and her maid?
Lucy closed the dressing room door behind her and Sarah turned her gaze on Hartland. “What were you saying?”
“That...Nichols told me we received an invitation this afternoon. You are the mistress of the house and in cha
rge of our social matters, but Nichols is used to informing me of such things.”
She was certain that wasn’t what Hartland had originally come to say, but they had indeed received an invitation from their nearest aristocratic neighbor. She ushered him into her chamber and seated herself at her escritoire, gesturing him to take a nearby chair. “The Wiltons have asked us to join them for dinner.”
“Do you want to go?”
That was a question Sarah had asked herself all afternoon. Having been confined to the estate from the moment she arrived, she was growing curious about the neighbors and the area. And yet, she was reluctant to allow the world outside Hartland Abbey to intrude on the quiet life she’d been living with her husband.
“I think so. Do you?”
“No. The Wiltons are perfectly nice people, but they bore me.”
Sarah felt her mouth curving into a smile. “Everyone bores you.”
“You don’t.”
High praise indeed. But in light of his mysterious collusion with Lucy, she elected to ignore the implication. “Then perhaps you can think of it as an evening spent with me. There will just be two other people there with us.”
“It’s not a dinner party?”
She shook her head. “Mrs. Wilton’s note said we were the only ones invited.”
“That makes security easier.”
Lest she forget someone wanted her dead. “Surely you don’t mean to summon an army for a few miles’ drive?”
“The safest thing to do would be to stay home,” he replied, setting his hands on his knees. “But if you want to accept this dinner invitation, summoning an army is one way to ensure your safety.”
“Or there’s the quiet approach: unmarked carriage, one or two armed guards, garner as little notice as possible. Like we did on the way here.”
Hartland nodded. “The head coachman is a trained fighter, and Richards could accompany us.”
“Richards?”
He leaned back in his chair. “He spent twenty years with His Majesty’s Army, mostly in North America.”
That explained Richards’ sparring session with his master. He didn’t just look after Hartland’s clothing, he saw to Hartland’s physical training as well. “So he can handle himself if we’re...”
She couldn’t bring herself to say the word attacked, but Hartland nodded again. “Richards is a good man to have around when things get dangerous.”
“We don’t have to go,” Sarah offered. Even if Hartland didn’t call out the entire county to protect her, the whole undertaking was beginning to sound like a lot of effort for a simple dinner. “We’re still newly wed and no one would begrudge us this time alone together.”
“You mean we can turn down the invitation with no social consequences.” He flashed her a smile and slid down a little in his chair. “You ought to know me well enough by now to know I don’t care about social consequences.”
“I know you don’t, but in this case we have a graceful way out if we want it.”
Hartland folded his hands over his stomach. “No, we can go. It will do us both some good, I think, to have a little change of scenery.”
“Even if the Wiltons are boring?”
He grinned. “Even if the Wiltons are boring. The food is bound to be good, and I will have several minutes alone with you in a dark carriage.”
Sarah’s lips curved into a smile before she could stop them. Alone in the dark with her husband would almost certainly be more pleasurable than dining with the Wiltons, yet she couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Just enough time for a short nap.”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” He winked and rose, taking both her hands in his and kissing each one in turn. “Tell Mrs. Wilton we’ll be there. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“I will send her a reply tomorrow.”
Sarah watched her husband exit her bedchamber through the dressing room, passing Lucy with no more than a cursory acknowledgement as she headed for her mistress. Lucy wasn’t as circumspect in her reaction, however, and stared as Hartland went by her, dropping her eyes to her shoes when gave her a nod.
Time to find out what was going on between them. “Lucy, did you overhear what Lord Hartland and I were discussing?”
“I tried not to, my lady...”
“You aren’t in any trouble,” Sarah said, hoping to reassure the girl. “I only wanted to be sure you knew about our dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Wilton. You will finally be able to put your skills to real use instead of dressing me simply to haunt this old house.”
“Of course, my lady. I would be pleased to do whatever you need.”
“Wonderful. If you’re finished with my wardrobe for the evening, there is one more thing you can help me with. Or perhaps it is something I can help you with.”
Lucy’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand. What can you help me with?”
“A situation you might be in that you feel you can’t escape from.”
“My lady?”
“Have you been receiving unwanted attention from any of the men here?”
Lucy’s expression lightened. “Oh no, my lady. His lordship does not tolerate that sort of thing. If he finds out one of the male staff tried to make unwanted advances on a female servant, he dismisses the offending male.”
“Really?” It was usually the female servant who was dismissed, because she was a “temptation” or “distraction” to the men.
“Yes, my lady. His lordship says he has a hard enough time behaving properly himself, that he needs his staff to look after him not the other way ’round. Female servants have been dismissed, too, of course, when they get with child or what have you. But if one of the footmen had his eye on me, Mr. Nichols or his lordship would take care of it.”
“That’s a relief.” But what if Hartland was the one who had his eye on a maid? “So you’re not having difficulties here?”
“No, my lady.” Lucy smiled cheerfully. “Doing for you is the best situation I’ve had yet.”
“Well that’s good to hear.”
“Do you need anything else this evening?”
Sarah pushed herself out of her chair. “Just to help me out of this gown.”
Lucy had her mistress out of her gown and into a wrapper in a few minutes, carefully tending to the discarded clothing before curtseying and heading for the chamber door.
“Lucy?”
“Yes, my lady?”
“You would tell me if you did have difficulties, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course I would.”
Sarah paused, but added one more question. “Even if his lordship was the cause?”
Lucy’s shoulders slumped, but her expression remained neutral. “Even then.”
~~~
Dinner with the Wiltons turned out to be everything Hart had predicted: the food was good, the Wiltons were boring, and the short drive home was spent with his wife in a darkened carriage. Sarah seemed somewhat absent, though, as they wound their way through the countryside. She rested her head on his shoulder when he drew her against him, but there were none of her caresses or sighs, no teasing, no questioning, just...silence.
Was she worried about her safety? Thinking of her mother? Remembering the lovely strawberry tart they’d had for dessert?
“You’re awfully quiet, my lady.”
“Just tired,” she replied softly. “I’d forgotten how much work it is to socialize with strangers.”
The carriage came to a halt just as they’d begun to descend into the valley that surrounded Hartland Abbey. Hart looked down at Sarah, then out the window.
“Why did we stop?” she asked, sitting up.
He shook his head slightly. “I don’t know.”
A moment later the carriage door opened and Richards stuck his head inside. “My apologies, my lord. A tree has fallen across the road and we can’t get the carriage around it. It will probably take us some time to make the road passable again.”
And in the meantime, Hart and
Sarah would be easy targets in the carriage. “Very well. I’ll escort her ladyship to the house on foot while the two of you deal with this. If we take one of the lanterns, can you work by just the other?”
“Yes, my lord. The moon is bright enough to see by tonight.”
“Good. That’s what we’ll do, then.”
As Richards nodded and closed the door, Hart opened up the storage area underneath the rear-facing seat. When he returned to his own seat he was holding a brigandine similar to the one he’d shown her in his workshop a few days ago. This one was royal blue and would be ill-fitting on a woman, but it was better than nothing.
“I want you to put this on,” he told her, holding it open wide enough for her to slip her arms in. “It’s just a precaution, but it will make me feel better to have you in it.”
He couldn’t see her eyes in the dark, but her voice was steady when she spoke. “What if you need it?”
“I’ll be fine for the walk up to the house.” A heavy silence followed and he felt compelled to add, “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble, but I’ve fought before without my armor. If I need to tonight, I can.”
She laid her hand on his cheek for a couple of heartbeats without speaking but eventually complied, allowing him to drape the brigandine around her body and fasten the buckles down the front.
“Ready?” he asked. The question was directed to Sarah, but he suspected it was also meant for himself.
“Ready.”
He exited the carriage first then handed her down, drawing her arm through his and holding the lantern out before them. “Just a quiet walk on a lovely September night.”
“After a less-than-stimulating evening with the neighbors,” she finished, laying her head on his shoulder once more. She dropped her voice to nearly a whisper and asked, “Why are you so concerned tonight?”
He released her arm and slid his around her waist. “There hasn’t been a storm strong enough to topple a tree since we’ve been here,” he murmured.
“So how did the tree fall across the road?”
