by C. J. Archer
"The only books I've seen are in your uncle's rooms."
"And those are the ones I read. He's generous when it comes to their use. He says knowledge is the only way for a man to rise above the class in which he was born. You should ask to borrow something when you get bored with embroidery."
"No thank you. I think it's best that I avoid Mr. Langley for a while."
"He won't be mad at you anymore. Trust me, he's quick to anger and just as quick to forgive, although perhaps not forget. Not entirely," he muttered.
"I thought you didn't like him."
"We have our differences, but he's been...generous to me. And to Sylvia."
"So he should be. He is your uncle." I was fishing for more information about their relationship, but if he detected it, he didn't give any indication. "Why don't you call him Uncle August like Sylvia does?"
"It's what we both prefer. So you're back to being suspicious again, are you?"
"No!"
"Then why all the questions? I thought you got them out of your system yesterday."
I waved my hand and turned to the door. I didn't think I could lie to him while looking him in the eye. He'd surely know.
"Are you going to the parlor to see Sylvia?" he asked.
I paused in the doorway and blinked back at him. "Worried I'll try to escape again?"
"No, I just want to know where I can find you when it's time to resume training."
I groaned. "We're not finished for the day?"
"Not even close."
"Then I look forward to seeing you again."
"No, you don't, but I appreciate your attempt at flattery anyway."
In truth, I did look forward to seeing him again, but it was far less humiliating to laugh than tell him that.
***
While it was pleasant enough embroidering and listening to Sylvia's chatter, I soon found myself looking up at every sound, hoping Jack would enter the parlor. Just as a watched pot never boils, a watched door never opens, except to let in the footman. He came to deliver a letter to Sylvia. As he was about to leave, I set aside my embroidery and followed him.
"Tommy, wait a moment."
"Yes, my lady?" While his accent wasn't as cultured as Jack's, there was little hint of the speech pattern he'd used the night before when I'd overheard their conversation. It would seem they could both switch seamlessly from one accent to the other.
"Is Mr. Jack Langley about?" I asked.
"I believe he went to the lake."
"The lake? Whatever for?"
"For a...walk."
His hesitation intrigued me. "Thank you, Tommy." He left and I returned to the parlor. Sylvia was reading her letter and didn't look up. "Do you mind if I go for a stroll to the lake?"
She dropped the letter to her lap. "I...I suppose not." She nibbled her lower lip, clearly considering whether she ought to let me go. "You won't forget your agreement."
"No, but if it makes you feel any better, you may watch me from the window and have Tommy escort me."
"There's no need for an escort." She said nothing about not watching. Indeed, she rose from the sofa as I left and settled onto the window seat with her correspondence.
I waved to her once I was outside and she waved back, then pretended to read her letter when she actually watched me from behind her lowered lashes. I crossed the drive and lawn and walked to the lake.
It was a starkly beautiful place. Weeping willows hunched over the bank like tired ghosts, their bare branches drooping into the sleek, dark water. The grass was a green so bright it almost hurt to look at it, although it was muddy in patches, particularly on the banks of the lake itself. The vista would be lovely covered with snow. Hopefully there'd be some by Christmas. I'd like to see it.
I wondered if Tommy was mistaken because I didn't see any sign of Jack at the lake. Not at first. Then movement on the far bank caught my attention. He was running between three trees, touching each trunk, then repeating the course over and over. He was lightning fast. He reached each tree in a fraction of the time it would have taken me.
When he finally finished running, he climbed one of the trees and walked along a horizontal branch. He didn't hold onto any of the other branches, but kept his arms outstretched for balance. He walked up and back several times, then stopped in the middle and jumped off. He caught the branch with both hands and pulled himself up until his chin was above it, then lowered himself again. He repeated the exercise, varying the speeds until finally he let go and landed deftly on the ground.
I was about to call out and wave when he did a most unexpected thing. He walked to the lake's edge and kept going. Good lord, he was having a dip! I know he didn't feel the cold, but it was late November! Madness.
He swam toward me, making it look easy. I'd never swum before, never even seen anyone swim, and I couldn't look away. He slipped across the surface like a boat, his strokes effortless, graceful. Perhaps I should have left and not let him know I'd been watching, but I was too intrigued. That a man could be as natural in the water as out of it was amazing.
I thought he hadn't noticed me, so when he stood up a few feet from the edge and acknowledged me with a nod, I was taken aback. I blushed fiercely and looked away. He wore only a sodden shirt and breeches, and both clung to him like skin, outlining the muscular contours of his chest, shoulders and thighs. He possessed an athletic build, tall and broad across the shoulders, tapering to a narrow waist. Magnificent. Better than any classical statue depicted in Vi's copy of Gods of the Ancient World.
"Grew bored with embroidery, did you?" he asked, wading through the shallows toward me. Water cascaded off his body and dripped from his hair and lashes. The corners of his mouth lifted in a teasing smile. He looked like a devilish sprite, up to no good.
"I, um..." It was all I could manage in my addled state.
"Something the matter with your tongue? And here I thought you weren't afraid to speak your mind."
Damn him. He knew the effect he had on me. Not only did my face feel like it was on fire, but I couldn't think of anything witty to say to dispel my humiliation. All I could do was turn away, but it was too late. I'd already seen much more than I'd ever seen of a man before.
I liked it.
"Shall we walk back to the house together," he said. "Or would Sylvia have a fit if she knew you'd seen me like this?"
"She didn't know you were here when I said I was going for a walk to the lake."
"In that case, perhaps we should return separately. I see no need to endure a lecture from my little cousin on propriety."
"It bothers her that much?"
"It doesn't bother you? You are the sheltered one after all."
Determined not to let him know how affected I was by his state, I turned round to look at him, keeping my face as blank as I could. "It doesn't bother me, no. We could chalk the experience up to training if you like. After all, I feel quite...enlightened." Light-headed more like. My gaze dipped to his groin. The tight, wet breeches left nothing to the imagination, and to my dismay, my face heated to the very tips of my ears again.
Even worse, Jack looked amused at my discomfort. "Glad to be of service in furthering your education," he said. "Shall I escort you back to Sylvia's lecture hall?"
"Shouldn't you change first?"
"I'll change back at the house."
"Didn't you bring spare clothes with you? Shoes?"
"Have you ever put wet feet into shoes? It's not exactly comfortable."
I didn't suggest that he should have had the foresight to bring a towel to dry himself. "You're not cold?"
"I never get cold."
"Oh. Right. Of course not. So what were you doing on the other side of the lake just now?"
"You saw that?" He walked off, not waiting for my answer, or for me for that matter. Although he wore no shoes, he wasn't careful where he set his feet. Dirt and stones didn't seem to trouble him. "I was exercising. It helps me think."
I hurried to catch up. "Wha
t were you thinking about?"
"You don't want to know."
"Actually, I do."
"Let me put it another way. I don't want to tell you, Violet."
"Very well. Shall we talk about more inane things then? Something you do want to talk about?"
"If you wish."
His evasiveness grated. So much so that all I could think about was digging further to find some answers. "You were very fast over there."
"I thought we were going to talk about dull things."
"You're assuming I find you interesting."
I thought I heard him chuckle, but there was no sign of amusement on his face. "You wound me, Violet."
"Somehow I doubt that." I couldn't help laughing. I certainly did not find him dull, and he knew it. That didn't mean I was going to let him distract me from my mission. "Where did you learn to be so fast? And how did you learn to swim? Was it before or after you came to live here?"
"It's something I've always known how to do. I was never taught."
Never taught? Surely swimming was a difficult activity to master. Unless he were a fish, how could he possibly just 'know how' to do it? "Like the fire starting," I muttered.
He stopped. Looked at me. "You may be onto something. Perhaps they're linked. I never considered it before. Can you swim?"
"I've never tried."
"Perhaps you should."
"Jack, I am not going into the lake."
Crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. "Pity." He glanced up at the top floor of the house, and I followed his gaze. I expected to see Langley looking down at us, but instead it was Bollard's emotionless face that peered from the window. "I need to see August about something," Jack said. "I'll see you later."
"You're not going to suggest to him that I go swimming I hope. Because if you do, I shall have to break our agreement and escape."
"Come now. Where's that spirit I've witnessed countless times?"
"Hiding from you and your schemes."
"I wouldn't let you drown." His eyes danced merrily. "Perhaps only a dunking or two. I do owe you after you gave me a reticule full of vomit."
"The vomit and the scratches on your hands are nothing compared to what I'll do if you suggest I go swimming in the lake."
"Don't worry. As amusing as it would be to see you swimming, what I have in mind is much more interesting."
"Oh? What is it?"
"Let me speak to my uncle first." He nodded at the parlor window on the first floor. Sylvia glared at us, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping on her sleeve. "You'd better go inside and receive your lecture."
"My lecture! You're the half-naked wet one. I'm an innocent who's led a sheltered life, remember?" I turned to go into the house, but not before I saw something that sent a thrill of tingles down my spine. Jack actually grinned.
***
Jack didn't join us until after luncheon. He'd been gone a long time considering all he had to do was change and speak to his uncle. Perhaps they were arguing again. Sylvia must have had the same thought because she kept glancing at the door then frowning when nobody walked through it. Her concerns didn't stop her tongue, however. She chatted the entire time, gossiping about neighbors I'd not yet met.
We were both relieved when Jack finally came into the parlor.
"Well?" Sylvia said before he'd taken two steps inside. "Why did you need to speak to Uncle August?"
"I see you've been talking about me again."
Sylvia clicked her tongue. "Honestly, Jack, you're not that interesting."
He pressed a hand to his heart. "You wound me, dear cousin." He seemed in very good spirits, the best I'd seen him in since my arrival at Frakingham.
Sylvia must have noticed it too because she eyed him warily. "Surely you've not just come from Uncle's rooms. You're much too cheerful."
"I was with August for only a few minutes, then I went to see Olson in the stables."
"You've been in the stables the entire time?" I asked.
"I like to help out with the horses on occasion."
Sylvia sniffed. "I think it's cruel not to come here immediately when you've got news you knew we'd be waiting to hear."
"How do you know it's something for your ears? It could be nothing to do with either of you."
"Just tell us!"
He held up his hands. "Very well. We're going to London."
I don't know who gasped loudest, Sylvia or me. She certainly recovered from the shock first. "London? All three of us?"
"Yes."
"And Uncle has agreed?" Her gaze slid to me then away again.
"Yes."
"He trusts I won't try to escape?" I asked. It was quite unbelievable. There had to be something else he wasn't telling us.
"We have an agreement, Violet. I've assured him you'll keep your word and not try to escape. You've proved that already when you came to the lake."
"Her behavior was perfect," Sylvia agreed. "Unlike yours, Cousin. Did you have to parade about like that? It was terribly vulgar."
"So why are we three going to London at all?" I asked to diffuse their argument. "Does it have something to do with my training?"
He nodded. "You're going to see a hypnotist."
"A hypnotist!" Sylvia cried.
"Whatever for?" I asked.
"I think something is blocking your talent. A barrier of some sort, mental not physical. I have a theory that if we remove the barrier, you'll have better access to the fire within you, and better access will mean you can summon it at will. Or dampen it, if need be."
"Can a hypnotist remove the blockage?"
"I hope so. We won't know until he looks at you. August knows of a fellow in London and agreed it's a good idea for you to see him. He's given me a letter of introduction, and we'll leave early tomorrow morning. We'll be in London by late afternoon and can see him the following day."
"Do you think the appointment will take long?" Sylvia asked.
"Why?"
"We simply must go shopping. I'm not traveling all that way and not visiting Oxford Street."
Jack's eyes softened. "We'll certainly have time for shopping. Indeed, I can hardly wait. I live to carry your purchases up and down Oxford Street."
"Don't be silly. Tommy can carry the boxes to the carriage. You won't need to do a thing except pay. Just think—we're going to London. How thrilling."
"I've read about it," I said. "It's seems like an exciting place."
"Exciting is not a word I choose to associate with London," Jack muttered, his good humor having slipped away.
Sylvia sucked in her top lip. "No, of course you wouldn't."
I lifted my brow in inquiry, but either she didn't notice or chose to ignore me. "You've been to London before?" I asked Jack.
He hesitated then said, "Yes."
"Many times?"
"Yes. Violet, would you care to go riding with me this afternoon?"
It took me a moment to follow the abrupt shift in conversation. I wanted to ask him more about London, but he seemed to want to avoid a discussion on the subject. "Riding? On a horse?"
"That's usually how riding is done."
"But I've never been on a horse before." To tell the truth, I was a little frightened of the creatures.
"Then it's about time you learned."
"Wait a moment," said Sylvia, holding up a hand. "I'll have to come. To chaperone," she added when both Jack and I stared at her. "You shouldn't be alone together."
"For God's sake, Syl. I've been alone with her all morning in a room with the door closed and then again down at the lake."
"That was different. The room was work, and I didn't know you were at the lake. If I had, I would've escorted her. You can't go gallivanting around the estate together where anybody could see. I won't allow it, and I doubt Uncle would either."
"I'm not sure August cares one way or another."
"He should. If he wants to fit in with Society then he must follow the rules."
"Just beca
use he has this house doesn't mean he wants to fit into Society. You know how he hates that class of people."
Sylvia's gaze once more flicked to me and she blushed ever so slightly and looked away. I supposed they considered me part of 'that class of people.' If only they knew—I was far beneath them both on the social ladder.
"Nevertheless," she said. "I ought to chaperone you."
Jack sighed. "Very well. I'll wait for you both in the stables."
Twenty minutes later, I entered the stables without Sylvia. "She's not coming after all," I told Jack when he asked. "She took one step outside and decided it was much too cold. It appears she cares more for her comfort than my reputation."
This last was said as a joke, but Jack didn't even smile. "I suppose it would be cold for her out here," he said.
"I admit I thought about staying inside too."
"You're cold?"
"Afraid. The closest I've ever been to a horse was the other day in the carriage."
"You'll be fine. Clover is our oldest nag. She can barely raise a trot." He indicated I should walk into the stables ahead of him. "There have been a lot of firsts for you in the last few days, haven't there?" he said, taking a saddle from one of the grooms.
"My first time in a carriage," I said. "First time wearing something that isn't woolen, first time sleeping in a room on my own." First time alone with a man.
I watched as he saddled his horse. He wore no jacket or coat, and I could clearly see the muscles flex beneath his shirt.
"Then it's my duty to make this inaugural ride a pleasant experience," he said, suddenly turning and catching me staring.
I mumbled something, I hardly knew what. He turned back to his task, but not before I saw how pink his cheeks had become.
He and the groom finished saddling the horses and led them outside. Jack paused to remove a black riding jacket hanging from a hook and put it on. He cut quite the gentlemanly figure in it with buff riding breeches and black boots. I had difficulty concentrating as he explained how to mount, and I ended up gratefully accepting the assistance of the groom. I managed it the first time, but only because Clover remained perfectly still. If she'd pranced about like Jack's horse, I would have surely fallen off the other side.
"She'll just follow along," Jack said, urging his horse forward. "You won't have to do a thing."
