Charlie immediately shouted, “I call the red room!” And he disappeared behind its door.
“Then I suppose the green is yours.” Flora motioned to the closed door. “If you need anything, there will be a pull next to the bed, which will summon the help.”
“It’s the same room I had when I came for Penelope’s wedding.”
“Oh.”
“Flora, I—”
“Your bag, Mr. Philips,” a stocky footman interrupted.
Andrew tore his gaze from Flora. “Ah, yes, thank you.”
“We will be having supper within the hour,” she told him, eager to flee, but not wanting to appear rude.
“Flora…could I have a moment of your time?”
“I…I must go ready myself for dinner.”
He nodded. “Yes, yes, you’re right.”
“I’ll see downstairs,” she mumbled, then scurried through the hallway, down the stairs, and into her bedroom, barely missing a startled Gwen.
Flora begged her sister to leave it be and audibly groaned when Gwen entered, closing the door behind her. She waited for Gwen make some sort of remark, and found it odd when she merely crossed to the wardrobe and asked, “May I borrow your pink slippers?”
“Slippers?” Flora mimicked. “Slippers? Aren’t you going to mention Andrew at all?”
“No.” Her voice was pleasant, nonchalant, and void of any curiosity.
Flora remembered Gwen’s promise to never speak of Andrew again. She could kick herself for allowing it again. “I know you told me that Andrew would never come up, but he’s here, in our home, and I need you to forgo your promise and help me.”
Gwen’s shoulders relaxed and she turned from the dresser with a smile. “Thank goodness. I can’t even fit into your shoes! Your feet are gigantic.”
“What do I do?”
“I don’t see why you’re asking me. I barely know the man! What do you want to do? And I mean honestly, without any thought.”
“I want to…I…” Flora faltered. She had thought of little else besides what she wished could be, but putting her feelings into words was much more difficult than she thought. “If I was a different person, I would allow Andrew to know me. I would go with him to the opera, and stay the whole duration. I would go with him to tea and the Stoneward Hotel and accompany him to dinner. I would do all the things that anyone else would.”
“But you’re not someone else,” Gwen pointed out. “You’re Flora, and that’s enough.”
Flora felt her eyes well and took a deep breath to bid them back. The last thing she needed was to be blotchy and swollen when she went downstairs for dinner. “I…I just…I need to dress.”
“And you’ll wear your cream velvet gown and your seed pearls with your hair long.”
She patted the bun atop her head. She had rather taken to the English way of dress. And Andrew, as an English man, may think that a woman with her hair long was immoral. And so when she opened the doors of her wardrobe to get her dress, she whispered, “I think I might leave it up.”
***
Andrew, Charlie, Drum, and Penelope were all in the drawing room when Gwen and Flora came down for supper. She skimmed the edge of the room to where Penelope sat, far away from Andrew.
“Hello, feeling better?” Penelope was resplendent in a peach gown and smiled up at Flora before lowering her voice. “Did you invite Charlie and Andrew?”
“Did Drum tell you everything?” Flora felt her stomach knot.
“How am I to know? All he said was that you and Andrew were somehow involved and had a falling out, of sorts. You needn’t tell me any more than that. And if his presence makes you uncomfortable, we’ll have him leave.”
“No, don’t.” She shot her gaze toward Andrew, who was watching her intently. “Just…act normal.”
“I am. You’re the one who’s laced too tight.”
“Am not.”
Penelope grabbed Flora’s arm and pulled her down on the chaise beside her. “You look like frightened deer. Your eyes are wide and you appear as if you might faint at any time.”
“Because I might.”
“Flora, how can I help you?”
She shrugged. “How could I know? I can barely help myself.”
“You’re so terribly…Scottish.”
Flora let out a short, startled laugh. “Is that so?”
Penelope nodded. “Yes, you’re all silent stones until you crack under the pressure of your own weight.”
“Who’s a stone then, lass?” Drum questioned as he approached them.
“No one,” Penelope answered, allowing Drum to help her up. “Is dinner ready?”
“Aye, in the dinin’ room,” he responded, kissing his wife on the top of her head.
“Why not the feasting hall?” Flora asked. “We hardly ever eat supper in the dining room.”
“The maids are havin’ it all primed and polished to prepare for Martinmas,” Drum explained as he turned to take Penelope to dine. “Conner said he’d be back by then.”
“May I escort you, my lady?” Charlie came to Flora and bowed dramatically at the waist.
Flora rolled her eyes, but took his arm and whispered, “Thank you. I certainly thought you would have forced me to sit with Andrew.”
“You don’t want to?”
“I want you to stop prying, that’s what I want.”
“But I can’t!” he yelped, clutching his heart. “I’d die!”
From the corner of her vision, she saw Gwen take Andrew’s arm. Although she knew she had no right, a pang of irrational jealousy lurched within her breast at seeing her sister so near to him.
“Well, someone’s a bit envious of their younger sister,” Charlie sang.
“Do you ever stop?”
“No, it’s a curse and a gift, my darling.” He looked around the table as everyone else sat and then the corners of his long mouth rose.
Flora recognized his devious stare. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
“Andy, old boy!” Charlie bellowed. “We really must switch seats. You see, I’m facing the window, which I cannot possibly do past sundown.”
“What in the world is he talkin’ about?” Drum murmured, slack jawed.
“Tis true, my large, plaid friend,” Charlie affirmed. “Seeing the trees in the dark is bad for my digestion. It’s much better for me to sit facing the fireplace. You understand, Andy, don’t you?”
“Certainly,” Andrew responded in a dry voice that hinted he knew Charlie was goading them on. Still, he rose from his place and exchanged with Charlie, presumably to stop him from partaking in any more dramatics.
Flora tried locking eyes with Charlie, but the cad kept his attention on everything other than the enraged woman on the other side of the table. She swore she would get her revenge, but focused instead on her meal. She counted each piece of fish she cut, every potato the footman put on her plate. She pondered every ingredient in the soup, and pushed away the proffered wine, unable to take a chance of getting drunk and making her tongue loose. And although the cook had served creampuffs for dessert, she couldn’t stomach a single bite.
Andrew was so close, she could smell his faint cologne. When they were in the sitting room, she noticed he’d shaved his face and brushed his thick hair back from his forehead. He looked just like he had the night of his uncle’s party when he had asked to become better, more intimately, acquainted. Andrew’s hand sat upon the table, and Flora fought the irrational urge to take it in her own.
“Yes, Flora, do show dear Andy the study!” Charlie exclaimed as he finished his fourth glass. “I’m sure there’s a specimen or two that will titillate you both.”
“What’s that, now?” Drum glared at Charlie.
Penelope slapped Charlie on the arm with her folded fan. “Behave.”
“What’s in the study?” Andrew asked, speaking for the first time since he’d moved to sit beside Flora.
“Conner likes to collect things,” Gwen said. “Mostly books, but
sometimes pickled animals and exotic things the traders bring.”
“Would he mind me looking at his collection?” Andrew asked eagerly, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.
Drum shook his head and yawned. “No, no’ at all.”
Andrew turned to her. “Flora, could you show me the study?”
Flora felt the blood rush from her face, but everyone attending the dinner party was watching her. “Of course. Whenever you’re finished, we’ll go.”
“Oh, I’m finished.”
“Marvelous.” She picked up her previously untouched glass and emptied it in one large, unladylike swallow. “Follow me.”
“I say!” she heard Charlie exclaim as she rose from her seat and walked from the room.
Andrew followed and caught up to her as soon as they were in the flame-lit corridor.
“It’s only right this way,” she murmured, her gaze on the floor as she walked. Flora waited for Andrew to speak, to try to pry from her the reasons for her leaving, but he merely strolled beside her, silent and observant.
The large doors to Conner’s private library and study squeaked as she pushed them open. The only light in the room came from the single, large fireplace. She went to the desk and lit an oil lamp. Andrew took it and walked the edge of the room, peering into shelves and studying things in small jars. She stood by the fire and waited for him to finish, but he got to the stairs to the library’s second floor first.
“Where do these go?”
“Up to a second section of older books and then to the top of the keep.”
“Fascinating architecture.”
Flora was puzzled by his calm study of the room, but still followed him as he climbed the spiral staircase. She watched as he bent to inspect the titles of several books, and then trailed him again as he went back down to main floor and set the lamp upon Conner’s desk.
After several tense moments of silence, Andrew opened his mouth. “Flora, I know you didn’t ask me to come. I know me being here isn’t what you would have chosen. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try…if I didn’t truly try to show you that I can be the man you need.”
Flora wanted to run, but her feet were planted firmly on the floor, rooted to the stone beneath them. She couldn’t even bring herself to speak. Andrew grew near, each step light. It was as if he knew she wanted to dash off and evade capture, so he was slowly moving closer, as if he hoped to catch her before she disappeared.
“Please, Flora.” He reached up and brushed his fingers over the curve of her shoulder, drew it down her arm, then took her hand in his.
His grip was strong and sure. She stared down at their link, afraid to look anywhere else. “Andrew, you don’t understand.”
“Make me understand, Flora. And if you don’t care for me…if you can’t stand the sight of me, then I’ll leave now and you’ll never see me again in Scotland, or London if I can help it.”
“It’s not that I don’t care for you. I…I just can’t let you…” She was humiliated to feel the sharp pricks of hot tears begin to well. “I wish things were simple.”
He cupped her cheek with a hand, pulling her gaze to meet his. “Flora, nothing in life is simple. But my feelings for you are. Just tell me what’s stopping you.”
“I can’t.” Her voice was small, but she felt even tinier than she sounded. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll hate me and think I’m terrible.”
Andrew brushed away a stray tear with his thumb. “Have you killed anyone?”
“No.”
“Have you stolen something valuable or irreplaceable from me?”
“No, of course not,” she replied, confused as to the relevance of his questioning.
“Have you done anything to intentionally cause me harm?”
Flora’s lips trembled. “I would never.”
“Then nothing you could tell me would make me hate you.”
She decided it was then, or never. Once she told him who she really was—what she did—he would leave, and this cruel game of promised love would finally end. Flora felt she could try to move on with her life if she knew Andrew despised her.
“Before I came to London, I…I did things that I’m ashamed of,” Flora confessed through her tears. “Things that I don’t wish to speak of.”
“Flora…” Andrew whispered, the sound of her name barely louder than the crackling of the fireplace.
She turned her face away. “Please, don’t ask me to say anything more.”
“I don’t need to know anything more. I don’t care about your past, your secrets, or your flaws. I only think of you now, as you are in this moment, so beautiful and complex in a way that makes you perfect to me.”
Andrew released her hand and wrapped his arms around her. His palm circled her back and she could hear the steady thump of his heart and feel his chest move with every breath. Flora felt as if she could stay locked within that moment forever, no matter how selfish it was of him.
“Flora?”
“Yes?”
“If you care for me, even the smallest bit, then let me stay,” he implored her.
Flora pondered his request. She hated the thought of him wasting his time with her, but Drum and Gwen were right. He was man who had to make his own decisions, even if they weren’t the right ones. She decided to allow him to live his own life, but wouldn’t lead him to believe that she would be a healthy part of it. He needed to see her, as she was, as Scottish as she was, as flawed as she was. Only then would he be free.
“You can stay.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I’d really rather not,” Flora said to Gwen as they were cloistered in her bedchambers the next morning.
“You need to participate as a sister of the laird. There’s no other way.”
Flora held up her hands, slender and white. “Do you see these fingers, Gwen? They were not meant to participate in the slaughter of cows!”
“I’ve told you that we are shorthanded. We’ll be able to hire more staff when the villagers all come up for the Martinmas celebrations, but until then, we’re quite on our own.” Gwen sighed as she buttoned up the back of Flora’s simple green day dress. “Besides, you’re not actually going to be doing any of the slaughtering.”
“I don’t want to touch the blood,” Flora complained, thinking of the disgusting way the cook and her helpers mashed the blood and oatmeal mixture with their hands before putting it into the casing. It was enough to make her ill.
Gwen stepped back and grabbed Flora’s arm, turning her around to face her. “You can either cook in the kitchen or clean the guest rooms with the maids. I’m not saying you need to scrub the stones, but you will be at work for the next two days until Martinmas.”
“And what will you be doing while I’m working my elegant fingers to the bone?”
She averted her eyes in a rather guilty manner before squaring her shoulders and saying, “I will be keeping a detailed account of all the goings on in the keep.”
“So, nothing?”
Gwen’s rounded cheeks flamed red, but her expression was short-lived. “It is not nothing. We need to know the numbers of animals slaughtered, the casks of ale and wine opened, the taxes that are brought…it’s very detail oriented work.” She balled her little hands upon her hips and scowled. “And if you think you can handle the numbers better than I, then by all means have at it!”
Flora held up her hands. “I surrender. I’ll try to help where I can.”
Her younger sister nodded, seemingly mollified. “Good. Then hurry along.” She made a move to leave, but stopped. “Wait, perhaps you could be of help to Penelope?”
“Oh, yes! What is she doing?” Flora knew that whatever Penelope was assigned, it would certainly be nothing too dirty or strenuous. Drum just wouldn’t allow it.
As soon as Gwen was gone, and Flora had wrapped herself in a thick brown cloak lined with fur, she went downstairs to find Penelope. Shouts could
be heard emanating from outside. She followed the din out into the courtyard.
To her right, a small group of men were practicing archery. To her left, piles of wood were being assembled for bonfires. The long wooden tables from the feasting hall were also being dragged out for the nights of non-stop revelry that would take place.
She spied Penelope standing near the open gate, seemingly waiting for something.
Flora went to her and tapped her on the shoulder before asking, “What are you doing?”
Penelope jumped slightly. “Goodness, Flora, you startled me. And everything is fine, I’m just waiting for the wagons to arrive.”
“What wagons?”
She shrugged. “Apparently the casks of ale are late and I’m to yell at them once they arrive.”
“Ooh, can I help?”
“I don’t know. Did Gwen give you something to do?”
“Help you? I don’t remember, honestly. I just know that I don’t wish to be in the kitchens.”
Penelope laughed. “And I don’t blame you. Gwen told me how many vats of blood they were sieving down there.” She shivered dramatically.
“So I take it me standing here with you would be helpful?” Flora asked hopefully. She prayed Penelope would allow her to stand guard with her, but it was not to be.
“Sadly, Gwen would be quite vexed with us if you were to be here idle and it doesn’t take two to yell at a man.”
Flora sighed and peered around the courtyard. “Surely there must be something I can do that doesn’t require me to be up to my elbows in blood.”
“Why don’t you go find Charlie?” she suggested as a wagon piled high with barrels came into view. “Drum’s given him some sort of job, but knowing Charlie he’s found a nice hiding place. Perhaps you could join him?”
“Splendid idea!” Flora turned and went in search of her favorite rabble-rouser.
It didn’t take long; she could hear his voice ringing out, clear as a highly pitched bell. The noise echoed off the stone walls of the keep and Flora followed it until she spied him near the armory, where a dozen men were sparring with swords.
His Tarnished Ruby Page 14
