Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy)

by Renee Bernard

  “I am not hunting.” Phillip put his fork down. “When a man finds what he wants, he doesn’t keep searching.”

  “A common mistake.” Trent attacked his toast with vigor. “Who knows what diamonds of the first water are missed once a man blinds himself to his choices?

  “Your lordship,” Phillip started again. “My devotion to—“

  “Warrick. My head hurts. Slow and steady.” Geoffrey held up a toast point to accent his words. “Rome was not built in a day.”

  “Of course. And if I were building Rome…” Phillip sighed. “As you wish. But I want to talk to you about Raven before the holiday is over and I will not be dissuaded.”

  “Plenty of time,” Trent said with a sigh. “Raven is special and I’m sure you’re already aware that I have placed a great deal of store by her happiness.”

  “Of course. But Raven’s happiness is something that I crave as well and would do anything to achieve.”

  Trent grimaced. “Easy to make a woman happy. It is keeping them happy that has perplexed many a man! But let’s leave the subject. Raven will ultimately decide for herself. She is young and there is time enough to debate what merits will win both her and her dowry.”

  Phillip sighed with relief. Even if he hadn’t secured the man’s blessings, he’d finally moved the topic further down the field and gotten Trent to agree to talk later.

  Or at least, let’s hope that’s what he meant…

  “Ah, Mr. Sheffield! Worst dancing I have ever witnessed!” Trent proclaimed. “What cheers you this morning?”

  Mr. Sheffield wisely ignored his host’s jest. “Lord Morley and I challenged several men to a friendly game of cards and it was extremely rewarding! I’m sorry you missed the chance, Warrick.”

  “I didn’t miss the chance. I don’t gamble, Mr. Sheffield.”

  The earl rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t gamble, Mr. Sheffield. He doesn’t cavort. And he certainly doesn’t notice the finest set of breasts to ever grace the British Isles. Mr. Warrick is a fortress of morality.”

  Mr. Sheffield grinned like an ape at him over his plate of sausages. “Is that so?”

  Lord Morley strolled in before Phillip could fire back. “God, what a night! The quiet of the country is an elusive prize and I am beginning to think our host has deliberately kept it from our reach this entire time!”

  “I thought you had a rousing card game last night,” Trent countered. “Or is it only Mr. Sheffield’s purse that gained in weight?”

  “I did well enough,” Lord Morley conceded. “Here! Coffee, here!” he tapped on his cup soundly nearly tipping it over.

  “God, Morley! Did you injure your hand?” Trent asked. “Your knuckles are scraped to hell.”

  “Merely a rash,” Morley replied. “Nothing as contagious as leprosy so not a concern, gentlemen.”

  “Poor man!” Sheffield said. “A hot bath in salts may see you through it.”

  Morley’s brow furrowed, his lip curling. “Salts? In open wounds? Thank goodness you have not applied yourself to the profession of a physician! Your patients would run mad with your ‘tender ministrations’.”

  Phillip joined in the general laughter and then excused himself as the conversation turned back toward the men’s winnings at cards.

  He headed back out toward the main hall only to spot Raven heading toward a hidden door set beneath the stairs. Something in the furtive way she lifted the latch to the door caught his attention.

  “Raven.”

  “Oh!” She straightened guiltily but then smiled as she approached him. “What a…pleasant surprise to find you up and about!” She lowered her voice and leaned forward, “And looking so refreshed after getting so little sleep.”

  “I could say the same for you, Miss Wells.” It was not empty praise. Raven Wells’ eyes were bright and her countenance as clear as the day he’d arrived. Hours of passion had energized her where another woman would have been drained. He shook his head in astonished admiration. “I didn’t think to see you before dinner.”

  She blushed. “I didn’t think to open my eyes before sunset but…perhaps it is the excitement of the dance? The lingering after-effects of a glorious night?”

  Frustration edged his awakening senses. In another time and place, he would have happily put her over his shoulder and carried her back upstairs for another round of sensual pursuits. But the ‘fortress of morality’ was all too aware of the constraints of the day. “What door is this?”

  She answered him as she deliberately moved away from the portal. “One of the servant’s passages.”

  “What were you doing there?” he asked.

  She crossed her arms. “Nothing that requires questioning, Mr. Warrick. I wished a word with Mr. Walters and the housekeeper to convey my compliments on the staff’s hard work. I didn’t want my guardian to catch me as he rarely bothers to praise anyone in his employ. But I think it is important to—“

  “Whoa!” He reached out to gently touch her arm. “I overstepped. It is not my place to question you, Raven.”

  “No. It is not,” she agreed with a shy smile.

  “And I should have guessed your mission would have some philanthropic theme.”

  “Yes. I am practically a saint.” The smile gave way to laughter and he risked a quick kiss on the tip of her nose before stepping back firmly.

  “I did not mean to interfere.”

  “Thank you, Phillip.” She walked back to the portal and then hesitated. “Please say nothing to the earl.”

  He nodded. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Thank you,” she said softly, smiling at him before Raven quickly disappeared through the doorway.

  The lady vanishes and I think I will crawl upstairs and sleep while I can.

  Rome wasn’t built in a day but I have the growing feeling I’m going to need all the strength I can muster before the earl threatens to toss me to the lions.

  ***

  She hated keeping secrets from Phillip, but her vow to Lady Morley was paramount. Mrs. Lindstrom had sent word that Millicent had suffered another bout with her “cold”. Raven hadn’t wished to risk being caught in her friend’s bedroom and had gone below stairs to talk to Kitty and learn more about how the lady fared.

  She pulled a handful of buttons from her skirt pocket as she made her way down the narrow stairs.

  “Oh, Miss Wells!” One of the footmen stepped aside, astonished to see her in the passage.

  “I was looking for Miss Polk. I found the buttons I want for my new daydress.”

  His confusion was obvious. “I can see them to her if you’d prefer, Miss Wells.”

  “I would rather do it myself. Besides, after last night, it is the least I can do to save someone the effort of climbing the stairs over a trifle.”

  “You are very kind to think of it, miss.”

  She nodded and moved past him, praying that if anyone else questioned her presence, she would have an ally.

  Within minutes, she found Kitty in the servant’s common room. “Miss Polk, do you have a moment to spare?”

  “Of course,” Kitty stood from the table and set her sewing aside to follow Raven into the quiet hallway.

  “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

  “This way.” Kitty lead her through the labyrinth of the manor’s service areas of the house, past the kitchens and then up yet another narrow set of stairs to the maidservants’ rooms. “Here. Come in here.”

  Raven took in the meager accommodations, struck by the bleak lack of color and decorations. “Are you comfortable here, Kitty?”

  Kitty tapped her foot, her hands fisted at her hips. “Did you come all the way down here to inspect my room, Raven Wells?”

  “No,” Raven said and forced herself to focus on the matter at hand. “Lady Morley is…unwell again.”

  “Mrs. Lindstrom was as pale as a sheet this morning, so I knew as much even before she told me.”

  “How bad is it?”

  �
��Bad enough but Mrs. Lindstrom said she’s seen worse.”

  Raven smoothed her curls from her forehead. “It’s a nightmare. Did you make more salve?”

  “I did, though this time he was too cunning to mar her face. He’s hiding his handiwork to try to keep you well out of it, miss.”

  “I hate that man, Kitty.”

  “Course you do. My ma always says just make sure that if you hate someone you aren’t surprised when they hate you back.”

  “Oh, there is no doubt he returns the sentiments!” Raven waved it off. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  Kitty refolded the quilt on her bed. “That man is a piece of work the devil is probably sorry to claim!”

  “Will she be down for dinner tonight?”

  “I’ll find out.”

  “Thank you, Kitty. I don’t know what I would do without you!”

  “Miss Wells? Mind me asking where you got to last night?”

  “What?”

  “Well, I doubled back after I helped you unlace because I recalled I’d forgotten to pull the drapes and…you were nowhere to be found.”

  “I…can’t tell you.” Raven held out the buttons. “Here. Take these. An excuse for our meeting.”

  Kitty took them from her, her gaze never dropping. “I like Mr. Warrick. Just mind yourself. The earl…he has no fondness for that man.”

  “I know, Kitty. I know!” She smiled and kissed her maid’s cheek before fleeing Kitty’s well-meant words. “I have it all in hand, Miss Polk!”

  Kitty sat down slowly on her bed, clutching the jet buttons and prayed that her Raven was right.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dinner that night was a subdued affair as most of the conversation reviewed the successes of the ball or lamented the lack of sleep. Lady Morley showed no sign of injury but Raven was grateful for her presence. Millicent avoided looking at her friend. Raven deliberately waited until the dessert was served before she brought up her last proposal for the holiday.

  “There are only a few days left before everyone leaves,” Raven said clearly enough for her voice to carry to the entire table. “But perhaps there is time for one more planned diversion?”

  “I would say not,” Lord Morley said firmly. “Or I will forfeit my next country holiday for the dull pace of the city!”

  The earl laughed. “Damn it, Morley! You are consistent! I’ll give you that much!” He waved his spoon like a scepter toward Raven. “Pray, continue!”

  “I was thinking that it would be lovely to provide a memorable finish to the holiday.”

  “Oh, I hope so!” Mrs. Carlton said quickly. “Though it has already been one of the most memorable country parties of my life.”

  Raven looked at Mr. Warrick and their gazes locked. “Days and nights I will treasure for as long as I live,” Phillip said softly.

  Mr. Carlton took his wife’s hand with a tender smile. “I agree.” He glanced at his host and his ward. “Your hospitality has no equal.”

  “There you have it,” the earl sighed and leaned back against his chair. “Raven, you will have to rise to the challenge and come up with something unique and unforgettable if you are to deliver a fitting grand finale to this holiday!”

  “I propose a theatrical evening!” Raven said forcing herself to look away from Phillip’s heated gaze. “Nothing too polished, but what fun if the ladies put on a small performance of scenes for the gentlemen’s amusement.” As Lord Morley began to clear his throat to protest, she quickly added, “Nothing scandalous or unseemly! I was thinking a few short snippets from Shakespeare to edify our souls and only scenes that my guardian approves!”

  “I love Shakespeare!” the earl said enthusiastically. “And what fun to watch the women muddle through the classics! Though I shall insist that all of you make a complete effort. No half-hearted squeaks if you are performing ‘King Lear’!”

  Mrs. Carlton grew pale. “Oh, my! I am hardly one for public speaking.”

  Lady Baybrook rolled her eyes. “As if anyone would give you a role requiring a thunderous presence.”

  “Then it is clear that Lady Baybrook shall be sure to recite the meatier and more royal parts,” Trent noted. “I am already anticipating your glorious performance, your ladyship.”

  Raven added, “That is…if you will agree to participate in our humble offerings.”

  “I suppose I could—if there is no nonsense in the scene I am assigned! I shall approach it as a dignified reading and not make a scandalous theatrical display of myself.” Lady Baybrook took a small sip of her wine to hide a smile. “In my youth, I was often asked to read aloud for my beautiful voice.”

  “And Lady Morley?” Mrs. Carlton asked. “Are you disposed to play?”

  Millicent looked at her husband, waiting to see his reaction before answering, but Lord Trent pounded his hand on the table.

  “Of course, she is up for it!” the earl pronounced. “Come, Morley, bid your wife to perform for I tell you, it’ll be a poor showing without her don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure it is proper…” Lord Morley began but his words faded as the dowager Lady Baybrook’s eyebrows lifted in disapproval at the objection since she had already agreed to it. “Millicent is unskilled.”

  “It’s an amateur theatrical,” Lord Trent said firmly. “And no one assumed she is a grand actress, old boy. Don’t be ridiculous! That’s what makes it amusing! No offense ladies, but the satire of watching you butcher the ethereal language of the Bard will likely warm my toes for many months and years to come.”

  Raven blushed but bravely continued. “We may surprise you, Lord Trent.”

  “If Millicent wishes to risk humiliation, then I won’t forbid it,” Lord Morley said grudgingly.

  “Lady Morley?” Trent looked at her.

  She nodded happily. “I would love to try.”

  “Then it’s settled!” The earl struck the table again and the crystal rang obediently. “Let’s have it ready for Thursday night since everyone is slated to leave within a day or two afterward.”

  “Yes, that sounds perfect.” Raven agreed. “We’ll begin our rehearsals tomorrow.”

  “Three days.” Mrs. Carlton fanned herself with her hand. “Please tell me we are not memorizing our lines!”

  “If you apply yourself, Mrs. Carlton,” Lady Baybrook said archly, “I’m sure you can accomplish it. My concerns lie with the far weightier challenges of my costume. I expect we will not be wearing shapeless sack cloths, Miss Wells.”

  “No, Lady Baybrook. With Lord Trent’s permission, I will enlist the help of the house staff to accomplish all. Masks, costumes and sets, will all be provided and sure to exceed your expectations, your ladyship.” Raven smiled.

  “Good!” the earl signaled an end to the meal. “Let’s allow the ladies to retreat to begin their scheming as I for one, am ready for a splash of brandy!”

  Lady Baybrook rose first and all the women followed her lead to yield the dining room to the men.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Later that night in the sanctuary of his room, Phillip enticed her to join him for a small taste of sherry before they retired. “A theatrical evening?” he asked as he held out her glass.

  “You do not approve, Mr. Warrick?” Raven took it, sniffed the sweet and potent spirit only to wrinkle her nose at the assault on her delicate sensibilities. She set the crystal on the table without tasting it.

  He smiled at her refusal and focused instead on the topic at hand. “I approve. Honestly, I approve a bit too much for when you said it all I could envision was you wearing some diaphanous thing as Juliet to my Romeo, bidding me to kiss you.”

  “Did you?” Raven held up her hand to his, her smaller fingers warming the sensitive pads of his. “And?”

  “If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle fine is this—my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” Phillip struggled to keep from grinning as he wrestled up the lines from
some dusty vault inside of his head, thanking a long forgotten tutor for the lesson.

  “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,” Raven said and planted a wicked kiss on the palm of his hand, her tongue darting out to touch the sensitive well tracing the subtle lines there.

  “Oh, hell!” Phillip sighed. “Now I can’t remember any of it.”

  “No? Not even…Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged?” She kissed the outer slope of his neck, trailing hot sweet paths up to finally nip at his earlobe. “Not event that part?”

  He tried again. “Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again!”

  He bent over to kiss her, the warm velvet of her mouth making him feel drunk. She clung to his shoulders and Phillip reveled in her touch because he was a giant holding wildfire in his arms. It was magic. He lifted his head to look down into her eyes, confident of his prowess.

  “You kiss by the book.” It was the next line but the tease was so perfect, Raven hoped Shakespeare didn’t mind their wicked play.

  “By the book?” His eyebrows knit together in dismay. “And how would you rather kiss me, Raven Wells?”

  Ever since Phillip had undone her so thoroughly the other night, Raven had been gathering her courage. For if he was her masculine mirror, then she longed to gift him with the pleasure of her mouth. He had already taught her how he liked to be touched, so the leap was not too far for her desire to make.

  She trailed her fingertips down his shirt front slowly dropping downward until her touch skirted the buttons of his breeches. His flesh was already thickening and the weight of it aided her as the buttons gave away easily. She freed him to take in the raw beauty of his arousal. She loved this part of his anatomy, not only for its delicious power and ability to please, but for the way it responded to her lightest touch. It was as if it had a mind and heart of its own, and as if Raven had them both to master.

  “Raven,” he said softly, his jaw clenched to make it a growl betraying his needs.

  She ran her fingers along the silken length, gripping and measuring him, firmly enough to make speech useless as he reached a hand out to steady himself against the table.