by Meara Platt
She glanced over his shoulder to gaze at Honey. “Miss Farthingale asked me the same question, but I don’t know. We were speaking of you and Lady Anne, and how much you all enjoyed your summers here. Before that, we spoke of our tea and scones, and discussed what gown she would wear to supper this evening.”
“My lord,” Honey said, “was there a favorite place you used to go as children? Perhaps a favorite activity?”
“Not that I can think of. We used to go walking with my father. My mother was always busy doing something in the house or painting on the veranda.”
“Not always on the veranda. Some of her paintings were scenes of the garden or of the river.” Her eyes widened in alarm.
“Bloody hell! She can’t have gone to the river.” But he grabbed Honey’s hand and took off with her down the servants’ stairs, hoping not to be seen by the other guests. “We’ve just come from there. I wonder if she heard everyone’s comments when we returned with Pip and Periwinkle, and it put the river in her mind.”
They had almost reached this morning’s fishing spot when he realized he was still holding Honey’s hand. It felt so right and natural, as though she was his lifeline. Indeed, he needed to hold on to her for fear of drowning, for he was woefully unprepared to handle his mother’s deteriorating health.
He released her hand, and they split up, Honey searching upstream, and he taking the trail downstream.
He encountered several footmen who had just begun searching along the river. “We looked for Lady Wycke in the barn, the stables, the garden, and down the long drive to the front gate. No sign of her in any of those places, m’lord.”
“Thank you. It helps to rule those out.” He knew Mrs. Finch and the maids were searching the house, quietly going room to room on the chance she’d wandered into one of the guest quarters. “Miss Farthingale is searching the north trail. Simon, catch up to her and help her out. John and Peter, come with me.”
Upstream was less treacherous. He hoped his mother had gone in that direction, assuming she had strayed to the river. They’d catch up to her if she were walking the trail. She couldn’t have gone far. But if she’d fallen in?
He shook his head. No. She was afraid of water. She wasn’t a swimmer.
He sent John and Peter on ahead, having them run to the edge of his property. He proceeded slower, keeping his eye on the water to his right and the woods to his left. He heard footsteps pounding behind him and heard Simon call to him. “My lord, Miss Farthingale has found her!”
“Thank the Graces. Let John and Peter know. How is she? Able to walk back to the house on her own?”
“I think so, m’lord. Miss Farthingale was holding her hand and trying to calm her down. But your mum was asking for you. ‘Where’s Tom? Where’s my Tom?’ she kept saying.”
“I’ll go to her at once. Thank you all for your assistance.” He retraced his steps and kept running along the trail until he encountered Honey seated on the trunk of a fallen tree, her arm around his mother.
She glanced up at him with open relief.
His mother noticed him as well. “Tom, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you. You’ve been gone so long.”
“I’m right here, my darling. Shall we walk back to the house now?” He held out his arm to her. She took it as though nothing was amiss, unaware she had just sent the household into utter panic.
They entered the house by way of the kitchen and made their way up the servants’ stairs. Tom was drained, his feelings raw by the time they finally settled her in her quarters. When Dora took over the care of his mother, Honey returned to her room to finally change out of her gown. He stayed a little while longer to make certain his mother had calmed.
“Tom, I’m quite tired from our walk. Would you mind if I had my supper in our room tonight?”
Our room?
She thought he was his father.
“Not at all, my darling.” He kissed her brow and left to go in search of Mrs. Finch. He found his able housekeeper talking to his staff about the evening’s entertainments. He interrupted her briefly to ask for a maid to assist Dora for the remainder of their stay.
“Yes, my lord. I shall see to it at once.”
He returned to his quarters to wash and change again. “Miss Farthingale found her, Merrick.”
His valet nodded. “We are all worried about your dear mother. Miss Farthingale seems to have a gentle way with her.”
He snorted. “I need a brandy.”
“I’ll bring up the entire bottle. You look as though a mere glass won’t do.”
He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It was still wet from his earlier plunge into the river to save Pip and Periwinkle. “I can’t wait until this party is over and everyone leaves. It isn’t even midday, and I already feel spent. I dread what this afternoon will bring. The next time I suggest a house party, just kick me.”
Merrick smiled. “With pleasure, my lord.”
To his surprise, the afternoon passed quietly. The sky grew overcast, and rain began to fall in torrents shortly after luncheon, so card tables were set up in the music room while teapots and trays of pies and cakes were set up in the drawing room. Those who did not wish to indulge in either could play billiards or quietly read in his library, where he suspected he’d find Honey since she wasn’t anywhere else in the house.
Her book about love was still safely tucked away in his bedchamber. He wasn’t certain when they’d have the chance to read it together. Perhaps this evening, once everyone had retired to bed. It was dangerous business sneaking into her chamber or having her sneak into his, but he truly did not care if they were caught. After today, he could not imagine sharing his life with anyone but her.
He strolled into the library and saw her seated on the sofa with one of his books in hand. He was curious as to which one. She was a romantic but also had a good business head. Which side would win out?
They were not alone, so he kept his conversation to casual comments about the weather and the book she’d chosen to read. It was a book on herbs and spices. “For our soaps and lotions,” she explained. “Belle is really the expert, but I also like to learn as much as I can since these often go into our products, and I ought to know what I sell. Their medicinal properties are also very interesting.”
The levelheaded business side won out.
But the smile she cast him was soft and gentle, very much that of a young woman hopeful of love. Had they been alone, he would have had her in his arms, the book tossed aside, and he would have been kissing her with all his heart and soul.
“What are you going to read?” she asked.
“No book, just the newspaper.” He’d ordered several delivered each day so that his guests did not have to fight over who would read them first. He picked up one of the copies and settled in the chair beside hers. “By the way, was my staff able to take the stains out of the gown you wore this morning?”
She grimaced. “They’re working on it. I’m not sure.”
“Well, add it to yesterday’s gown. I’ll owe you a new wardrobe by the time this party is over.”
She shook her head and laughed. “As long as I’m left with one to wear home. I’d hate to have to travel in clothes borrowed from you.”
“They’d be a little big on you.” Although he found the notion appealing, the thought of her sleeping in one of his shirts, her vanilla scent clinging to the fabric… He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the newspaper.
After a few minutes, the library door opened, and Lady Sarah and her two toadies strolled in. Bollocks. Had she not tired of causing trouble? He knew these ladies hadn’t come in here to read, for there wasn’t a decent brain among them.
He watched them from behind his newspaper.
They were eying Honey.
He swore silently and rose. “Miss Farthingale, I believe they’ve set out the desserts. Will you join me in the drawing room?”
“That sounds delightful.” She set aside her book a
nd took his offered arm. “Thank you for getting me out of there. What is wrong with those girls? Can they do nothing but plot mischief?” she grumbled as they walked to the drawing room.
“It seems not. Excuse me, Honey. I don’t trust them alone in my library. I have some valuable artifacts in there.”
He returned in time to see them struggling to break the glass on one of the medieval manuscripts.
“Sarah! He’s back!” One of her peahen friends cried out.
He grabbed Sarah, then glowered at her friends, wordlessly warning them to follow him out. The look he cast must have terrified the pair because they burst into tears. He didn’t care. He’d had enough of their antics. He ordered them into his study, then left to fetch Lady Sarah’s father. “Your Grace,” he said, interrupting the Duke of Remson’s card game. “Forgive me, but I require a moment of your time.”
The man must have suspected what was coming. He rose without fuss and excused himself from the hand. “What has she done now, Wycke?”
“I caught her and her friends in the library, trying to break the glass on the Corinthian manuscript. Take her home, Your Grace. Make up any excuse you like. But this is beyond nursery room antics. I cannot allow her or her friends to remain.”
It would be a simple matter since the duke had brought the two girls along with his daughter, so he could take them all away without fuss. They entered the study and closed the door behind them. Sarah’s two friends were still weeping, now uncontrollably. Sarah was standing beside his desk, her expression as cold as ice.
“Daughter, what do you have to say for yourself?”
She didn’t blink as her father approached. “I was bored.”
“Bored? Is this all you have to offer? What is wrong with you? You’ve been given every opportunity in life, never had to worry about your next meal or a roof over your head. You’ve had the finest instructors, every advantage, and you set about destroying your host’s valuable property because you’re bored? Perhaps a month in a Cheapside workhouse will keep you occupied. What do you say to that?”
“You wouldn’t dare. It would make you a laughingstock.”
The duke looked as though he wanted to hit her. In truth, she deserved a good spanking, but the man was enraged, and Tom was concerned he might do her serious harm. He stepped between them. “Take her home, Your Grace. She’s showing off in front of her friends.”
He turned to the weeping girls, hoping their tears meant they understood wrong from right. “Lady Sarah does not seem to have learned anything from this. I hope you both have better sense. Why do you think none of the bachelors will come near you? They are not blind to your idiocy or to your friend’s poison. If you ever hope to marry, keep your distance from her. She’ll ruin your lives along with her own.”
Lady Amelia dabbed her handkerchief to her nose. “I’m sorry, Lord Wycke. We wouldn’t have harmed it. We were just curious to look at that ancient book.”
Lady Jenna nodded. “We would have been careful.”
“You would have destroyed it. The pages are too fragile. But Lady Sarah knows this.” He sighed and shook his head. “You two need to start thinking for yourselves. Or develop a better sense of whom to trust. Go upstairs and pack your things. I’ll send up maids to help you. You’re all leaving here first thing in the morning.”
They looked quite miserable about it. He only hoped they’d taken his words to heart, but he had little faith they had. The two were already looking at Sarah as though silently pleading to tell them what to do.
Heaven help them.
He started to walk out to give the duke a moment of privacy with the young ladies but stopped first to address Sarah. “If you take a toe out of line from now till then, I shall toss you out this very night.” He turned to her father. “I’m sorry, Your Grace. This is not something I do lightly. Your family and mine have been friends for decades. But there is an unhealthy rage built up inside your daughter. She needs help, not visits to her modiste or more dance instruction.”
He shut the door quietly behind him as he strode out.
He couldn’t wait until those three were gone.
His concern was not for himself, but for Honey. Because of him, she had become the target of Lady Sarah’s rage. He was going to keep a close eye on her tonight.
He hoped he was wrong about the duke’s daughter.
But he trusted his instincts, and those instincts were warning him Sarah meant to cause trouble.
But how? And when?
Chapter Nine
Tom knew he should have waited until the following morning to see Honey, but she was a fire in his blood, and he could not pass the night without having her in his presence. She calmed him. She soothed him. Were it not for her, he’d likely be behaving as badly as the Duke of Remson’s daughter. Perhaps not as outwardly destructive. He was never one to hurt others. No, he’d turn that wrath inward, only hurting himself.
For this reason, he hoped the duke could do something to help his daughter. But right now, there was no telling what this girl would do. Her rage was not something he’d ever seen in her when she was younger. He suspected it had something to do with her mother’s passing. The two had been very close.
But he could offer no advice on how to fix her pain. He couldn’t handle his own mother’s failing health. He put all of it out of his mind as he knocked lightly on Honey’s door. Everyone else had gone to bed…or off to whatever assignations arranged earlier.
A storm raged outside, the wind blowing and rain pounding with enough force to rattle the windows and take down some trees. The weather matched his turbulent mood. Thunderous. Howling. “It’s me,” he whispered through the door. “Let me in.”
He carried the book with him but wasn’t certain they’d get through any of it this night.
She opened the door, but instead of stepping aside to allow him in, she came into the hall and shut the door behind them. “We’re going to read in the library.”
This explained why she had yet to change out of her gown or let down her hair, that beautiful mass of burnished copper-gold curls. He ached to bury his hands in those silken curls. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked in jest, for not even he trusted himself just now.
She cast him a soft look along with a wistful smile. “You gave me your oath. I know you wouldn’t break it. I trust you. It’s me I don’t trust. I’d release you from your promise if we remained alone in my bedchamber. So, we’re going to the library where it’s safe.”
Safe?
How little this girl knew about men.
He didn’t need a bed to take her. When thinking with his low, lusting brain—which meant he wasn’t thinking at all—he could take her anywhere. On a table. Against the shelves. On his desk. On the carpet. “I’ll go in first to make certain no one’s in there.”
“Why? We’re only reading a book.”
He took her hand to guide her down the stairs in darkness. “You and I alone, in the middle of the night. No one would believe us even if they found us doing nothing but reading.”
“I suppose you’re right. We could wait until tomorrow. Daylight.”
He gave a laughing groan. “We could, and we should, but I can’t. You’re important to me, Honey. For both our sakes, I need to understand what I’m feeling. I need to get this right.”
“You could have read the book on your own.”
“No, we have to do this together. At least, I believe so. Maybe it isn’t the same for everyone else. I don’t know. As for me, I can’t do this without you.” He peered into the library and saw that it was empty.
He took her hand to guide her in and kept hold of it even after he’d shut the door behind them. It was pitch dark, and he didn’t want her bumping into a table or chair. He could walk through this house with his eyes closed and not bump into anything, he knew it so well.
He released her hand a moment to light a lamp, then carried it and the book to a small table by the sofa. He set the lamp down on the table. “Have a
seat, Honey. Let’s get started.”
He settled beside her, putting his arm around her to draw her closer. She nestled against his chest. Neither of them immediately realized what they’d done, falling into this position as though it was the most natural thing in the world. When Honey noticed, she tried to scamper away, but he held her back. “The point of this book is to understand our feelings and learn to trust what feels right.”
She rested her head against his chest. “Everything feels right with you.”
“That’s a good thing.” He chuckled.
“No.” She sighed. “I thought it would be safer for us in here, but I don’t think I’m safe with you anywhere.”
“You’re safe with me everywhere. I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
“Tom, it isn’t you I’m worried about. It’s me. Falling in love with you has made matters worse for me, not better. I came to your house party thinking I could get an unforgettable kiss from England’s handsomest bachelor. Just a kiss. That’s all I thought would satisfy me. Then I’d go on my merry spinster way and relive your kiss every night in my dreams.”
“It doesn’t have to be a dream.”
“For now, it does. You don’t know my secret yet, and I’m still not certain how you will take it when I tell you. And before you get angry,” she said, feeling the sudden tension in his body, “were you not an earl from one of the oldest and most respected families in the realm, perhaps I would not be as concerned. I don’t know how this will turn out with a man like you. But you’re right. Let’s read through the book. Whatever is meant to happen will happen.”
That damn secret.
“Very well. Where did we leave off? The sense of touch. Well, I think we have that one well in hand. No pun intended. What do you feel when I touch you, Honey?”
“I suppose you want the truth.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “It would be helpful.”
“I feel happiness beyond anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s a little frightening actually. There’s so much a touch can convey. When you took my hand as we made our way in here, it was as though you were speaking to me. You’re safe with me. I will protect you. This is what your touch told me. Even the other night when you naughtily untied the ribbon of my nightgown, I knew what we were doing was dangerous. But I didn’t want you to stop. I wasn’t scared. In my heart, I knew you’d never hurt me.”
