When the carriage stopped before the townhome, she was almost sad that their journey had come to an end. In silence, he assisted her to the street and escorted her to the front door. They paused at the top of the stairs on the wide stone landing, each looking down at the ground, the door, the carriage, anything but each other.
“Flora, I did have a nice time with you tonight, all dressing issues aside.”
“Ha-ha,” she retorted dryly, but with a slight smile. His cheek was infectious.
“Would you like to go out again one evening? Or day, if you’d rather?”
Her eyes turned up toward him, completely astonished that he would ever want to speak with her again, let alone take her out in public. “If you would be agreeable, yes. Yes, I would.”
“Wonderful. Then I shall call upon you soon?”
“I’d like that,” she told him honestly.
Andrew leaned forward, quiet suddenly, and brushed his lip against the apple of her cheek before pulling away. “Have a good night, Flora.”
Too stunned by his action to say much else, she managed, “Have a good night, Andrew.”
She left then, quick to let herself into the dim parlor. Leaning against the closed door, she listened to the far-off sound of Andrew’s carriage rolling away over the cobblestones before letting out a deep breath she didn’t know was trapped within her chest. He didn’t tease, make promises, nor push beyond her limits. He wanted to see her again, finding her charming through her faults.
And the next morning, when Flora awoke, there was a tall vase of pink azaleas upon her nightstand. A small card was tucked between lush, green leaves and when she opened it, in simple script it read:
Although you were the one to lose your breath, you always take mine away.
Chapter Nine
“Such sweet adoration! Poor lamb.” Charlie tossed the card that accompanied Flora’s flowers to the ground.
“He’s not a poor lamb,” Flora shot hotly, scooping the card from the floor and tucking it into her bodice for safekeeping. “I was only showing you because I thought you’d like to know.”
“Oh, I did want to know. I’ve been dying to hear how your night on the town with a wet towel went.”
“That’s a rather cruel thing to say.” She crossed her arm and turned her nose upward. “I suppose I won’t tell you a thing then if you’ll be so negative about Andrew.”
Charlie gasped and threw himself to the ground at her feet, his hands clasped before him. “Don’t do that to me, Flora! Have a heart! I’ve been dying to know how little Andy handled my favorite highland lass.”
Flora smirked despite herself. “Fine, I’ll tell you. But no more poking fun at Andrew. He was very kind to me last evening and I find myself indebted to his kindness.”
He rose and deposited himself on his couch as Flora sat gracefully in the armchair closest to the fire. “Tell me, what happened?”
“We got the opera house and I noticed that my corset was too tight. It felt as if it was stopping me from taking real breath. I tried to ignore the sensation, but as the show went on I found it more difficult. There was no intermission, and when I went to the ladies’ to have an attendant loosen my stays, the room was empty and I was given no choice…”
“No choice?’ he questioned with a frown. “Did you go the course of Penelope and have someone cut the dress off for you in some deliciously savage manner?”
Flora pursed her lips for a moment before responding. “Well, almost.”
“You little minx! Right there in the power room?”
“Hardly!” Flora gasped. “You know I’d never ruin a good silk.”
“Practical of you.”
“Now, will you let me finish?”
He nodded. “Proceed.”
She rolled her eyes, but continued, nonetheless. “Well, I thought I would faint. The room was turning and I was so lightheaded. Seeing no other option, I had to give Andrew the task of…of loosening my stays.” Flora hung her head, waiting for Charlie’s response.
Instead of speaking, he merely burst out in uncontrollable chuckles, his neck and ears turning purple as he fought to control himself. Flora gave him several minutes to quit laughing, and when he did, he rasped out a faint, “My plan…my beautiful plan!”
“Your plan?”
Charlie wiped the tears from his eyes. “Yes, darling, my plan. Of course I thought it might end up being a tad more romantic than all that.”
Flora blinked several times, almost too surprised for words. “How could you?”
“I’m the one who had the maid tighten that corset within an inch of your life, was I not?”
“Why would you do such a thing?” She stood from her seat, her hands planted on her hips. “I was mortified, Charlie!”
“But didn’t it turn out in your favor? Isn’t he going to call again?”
“Well, yes, but that’s not the point! I didn’t go to the opera with Andrew in hopes of him calling on me again.”
“You didn’t want him to return?” Charlie looked honestly confused. “I thought you rather liked each other.”
“I’m in no state to entertain gentlemen.”
“And why ever not?”
“I just think it’s too soon,” she whispered, sitting back down in her armchair. “After everything that happened I don’t think I can do it all again.”
“Flora, you don’t have to be married tomorrow, or even speak to another man if you don’t wish. But I hope that you make those decisions based on what you truly want and not what your broken heart tells you.” Charlie’s words rang truer than she would have liked to admit. “It won’t hurt to go for a walk in the park with Andrew or out to dine.”
“You called him Andrew.” Flora giggled.
“Desperate times call for desperate measures. Now tell me what’s on your mind so that I might help.”
Flora debated opening up to Charlie. While his advice wasn’t always good, he had never betrayed her confidence. Still, the thought of telling him her true thoughts was something she wasn’t sure she was prepared to handle.
“It’s nothing. I believe Conner and everyone will be here tomorrow morning. I should get back to my home and ensure that the staff has come and everything is prepared for their arrival.” She readied herself to leave, calling for her coat and hat, which she pinned atop her head at a slight slant, just as Penelope had always instructed.
Charlie walked her to the door, making her pause before she stepped out into the cold. “You know you can always talk to me, Flora. I promise, I’m done giving you terrible advice. I’ve learned my lesson and I’m truly repentant.”
“I know, and I will tell you everything…just not right now. I’m not really certain what I think, myself,” she told him truthfully. “When I sort it all out, you’ll be the first I talk to.”
Charlie blew her a little kiss and sent her on her way. While her townhouse was several streets away, she needed the chilled air and long walk to clear her muddled mind. She hadn’t given much thought to what her future plans were. She was merely concerned about the present, about hiding away as long as possible to escape her shame. Jasper had ruined her completely and thoroughly. He had used and abused her trust, taking away her maidenhead and leaving her an empty shell.
Flora knew deep down that she had gone willingly to his bed—seduced him, even. But she still felt as if that married man, who knowingly lied to her for years, had tricked her into it. It made her burn with anger and forced her skin to crawl in disgust. The entire affair had forced her to flee her home and find sanctuary in an empty house on the fashionable side of London.
She pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter round her neck as she walked slowly down the lanes toward home. But then a horse stopped beside her and it’s rider jumped to the street. Flora was about to run; she had heard tales of highborn ladies being kidnapped for ransom, until she got a look at the rider’s face.
“Andrew?”
He tipped his hat at her and gave her a di
mpled grin. “Good afternoon, Flora. I was just on my way to your home. Are you in a hurry?”
“No, just walking.”
He frowned. “No carriage? It’s quite cold.”
“I rather like the cold. It reminds me of Scotland.” She then turned away and returned to her stroll, not sure how she could face him while her thoughts were drawn to her own ruin.
“Might I escort you?” he asked, holding tight to the rein of his horse.
“You don’t have any previous engagements?”
“Nothing that can’t wait to see you home. Besides, seeing you was my engagement. Also, the sun will be down shortly.”
“Ah, yes, the dangerous sunset,” she retorted in a mock sinister voice. “There are lamps, you know.”
He chuckled a bit. “Still, I don’t mind the walk.”
“Me either.”
“Were you just seeing Charles?”
“Of course. I don’t know many other people in London.”
“You know me.”
Flora smiled a bit, hoping the fur of her cloak hid her upturned lips. She was in no state to enter into matters of the heart, especially with someone as sweet as Andrew. She could feel his note burning against her breast as they walked and the ever gentle brush of his arm against her made her heart lurch in a peculiar manner she couldn’t find a place for in her mind. Still, she found his presence oddly comforting, even in the silence. In fact, it was a rather companionable feeling, having him close, but quiet.
“So why were you coming to see me?”
“Flora, I know the opera didn’t go quite as planned, but I hoped you might like to accompany me to a ball in few days’ time?”
She felt her ears perk up. “A ball?”
“Why, yes. My uncle is having a gala in celebration of he and my aunt’s wedding anniversary.”
“Oh, how charming.”
“It is. They’ve been married thirty years. Happily, I might add.”
Flora glanced over at Andrew. His cheeks were pink from the cold, and his hair gently tousled from the biting wind, but he didn’t look bothered. “Thirty years…that’s quite a feat.”
“Yes. I hope that when I marry, it is as successful as their union.” He turned toward her, a smile on his lips. “So, will you come with me?”
“Of course I will.”
“Splendid! It’s this Friday evening. I can come and collect you at seven, if that would be agreeable?”
“Very,” she replied as they stopped before her townhouse. But she felt as if the conversation weren’t over. “Andrew, my housekeeper has been working with the staff all day. Might you like to dine with me? It’s almost time for supper.”
He raised his brows. “I would like that very much.” Then his gaze flew to his horse. “I suppose I should take him home?”
“No. Let me call for someone to see to your steed.” Flora leisurely stepped up the stairs, keeping calm until she had entered the parlor, then ran frantically through the house, looking for Mrs. Neely. She found the woman in the kitchen, overseeing the portly cook. “Mrs. Neely, we’re having a guest for supper and his horse needs attention.”
“And when shall we expect your guest?” she asked, glancing up from the pot.
“He’s here now.” She knew the housekeeper wouldn’t be pleased to see that Flora had brought a gentleman home, especially with such little notice.
But Mrs. Neely merely nodded then began barking out in Gaelic, causing a small boy to suddenly appear and zip past Flora to collect the horse. Then an old butler came to Flora’s elbow and took her furs before leaving to find Andrew.
“Supper is simple tonight, my lady, is that all right?” the cook asked as she stirred the stew in her pot with one hand and kneaded dough with the other.
“I’m sure whatever you have prepared will be delicious,” Flora answered. She then took a deep breath and stepped from the kitchen, pausing at a small mirror in the corridor. Carefully, she plucked the pins from her hat and put everything onto a side table where she was sure it would eventually be collected. She smoothed her hair a bit to tame the curls that had come out of her bun before stepping away to find her guest.
Andrew was in the drawing room, standing before the fire and peering intently at a painting of Flora’s great, great grandfather spearing a boar. She paused in the doorway, clearing her throat softly to announce her entry. He jumped a bit and turned to her, wide-eyed, before straightening.
“Thank you for inviting me to dine. I hope it’s no imposition?” he inquired politely.
“No, none at all.” As she approached him, she felt a little uneasy in his presence. It was an odd sensation, as men had surrounded her all her life at the MacLeod keep. “I hope you don’t mind that we’ll dine rather simply this evening? The cook and the rest of the servants only just arrived this morning.”
“You didn’t travel with your help?”
“I left…quite suddenly. My brother and his wife are coming tomorrow, and due to the wedding, there were too many servants to spare those that normally travel with us to London,” she explained. “Charlie was kind enough to lend me one of his maids until my own from Scotland arrived.”
“Then are you planning on staying long?”
Flora shrugged. “I haven’t decided. I know that Drummond and Penelope will be coming through on their way home to Scotland, so I thought I might return with them.”
The butler appeared in the open doorway. “Dinner is served in the dining room.”
Andrew held out his arm for Flora to take, and the pair followed behind the butler. He helped her into her chair at one end of the long table, and then took his place at the second setting on the other side. Flora was a bit confused about the seating arrangements. They were so far apart, with a rather large fall floral arrangement plopped in the center of the oak tabletop. She leaned far to the left and only then could she see Andrew past the punches of orange blooms and decorative gourds.
“Lovely china!” he called, his voice echoing in the high ceiling.
“This is ridiculous,” Flora spat. She rose from her seat and began gathering the plates and cutlery.
Andrew peered around a pumpkin and asked, “What are you doing?”
“We’re so far apart, we can hardly speak without shouting. I won’t let my voice grow hoarse when I could just move to sit beside you.”
He stood and picked up his own glass and plate. “Don’t trouble yourself, I’ll move to you.”
“Oh, don’t fret. I’ve already gathered everything.” But just as she said this, her bread plate fell to the floor and smashed into several pieces. She looked down at the shards and back up at Andrew, her eyes wide. “Oops.”
The butler burst in the door. “What’s happened? Miss Flora, are you all right?”
Flora choked back a laugh as she thought of how silly they must look; both she and Andrew had armfuls of flatware and balanced crystal goblets in their hands. “Quire well! We’re just…rearranging out seats.”
“Very well.” The butler nodded, his face expressionless. “Please, allow me.” He slipped the items from Flora’s hands and set them on Andrew’s right. Then the butler picked up the pieces of the plate and disappeared into the kitchen.
Andrew held out Flora’s new chair before taking his own. They both stayed silent as the butler returned with two bowls and a replacement bread plate for Flora. A small team of footmen followed, each with a different dish.
The butler poured steaming beef stew for both of them, then piled their plates high with fresh fruit and steamed vegetables. Hot rolls, fresh from the oven followed, with pats of creamery butter. The team left without a word, leaving Flora and Andrew alone to dine.
“I do hope the fare isn’t too simple for you,” Flora began between bites. “Stew is a staple in Scotland. My mother says it warms the bones in cold weather.”
“And I’ll have to agree with her! This is fantastic.”
She smiled, pleased that he thought the meal satisfactory. “I’m
glad you think so. This is one of my favorite recipes.”
“Do you cook, Flora?”
“Me? Cook?” She giggled a bit. “That would be a dreadful idea. I don’t know the first thing about it. I’d burn the house down.”
“It’s not as hard as all that.”
“Are you trying to say that you cook?”
He smirked and speared a carrot with his fork. “Let’s just say that I wouldn’t starve if I were left to my own devices.”
“Well, aren’t you full of surprises?”
“What about you, Flora, what do you enjoy doing?”
Flora bit her lip, her mind wandering, unbidden, to her dalliance with Jasper. She shoved the thought away, throwing away the proverbial key. “Oh, this and that.”
“That’s a bit vague. Do you sew? Play an instrument, perhaps?”
“I do like to read. Mainly silly things like romances and mysteries.”
“Mysteries?” Andrew raised his brows. “Have you had a chance to read The Fog on the Lake?”
She sat up straighter. “By T.R. Hamilton? No! I’ve been dying to get my hands on a copy, but there’s none to be had in Scotland and all the copies were gone from The Piccadilly Emporium.”
“That just won’t do. I’ll send you mine. I’ve finished it just yesterday.”
“Oh, Andrew, thank you! It’s the final in his series, and I just have to know what happens!”
“Shall I tell you?” he teased. “Let you in on how it ends?”
“Goodness, no. That would be horrid.”
He grinned mischievously and leaned toward her. “Aren’t you a bit curious what becomes of the count and his captive?”
“Dreadfully so, but I won’t let you spoil it.” She laughed, tossing a roll at him.
It bounced against his chest and landed in his lap. He picked it up and took a bite. “Thank you, I needed another.”
“Promise me, not another word about the count or his lighthouse or his poor dead wife!” She shook her finger at him. “I’ll never speak to you again if you ruin this book.”
His Tarnished Ruby Page 9
