Half a loaf.
* * *
Randall stared into the green eyes that looked up at him so uncertainly. What had it cost her to tell him about her sister? She had wanted him to understand. His proud, indomitable Mary. He wanted her so badly he was prepared to go to any lengths to see her, even if it meant acting like a eunuch. They said familiarity bred contempt. He only hoped that by spending more time with Mary this obsession might burn itself out. For now it was making itself felt most uncomfortably in his groin. He released her hand and turned away before she could see that he thought of her as anything but a friend.
‘Very well,’ he said briskly. ‘Will you ride out with me tomorrow, Miss Endacott?’
‘I—yes, thank you.’
‘Do you have a horse here?
She nodded. ‘My gelding, Marron, is in the stables nearby. He is an indulgence, I cannot ride as often as I would like, and they keep him exercised for me.’
‘I will call for you in the morning. I have business to attend to, but it should not take more than a few minutes. I merely need to confirm orders with some fellow officers who are billeted in a small château outside the city. Once that is done we could ride in the woods, they are particularly fine in that area. Do you have a groom to accompany you?’
‘No, but—’
‘Then I shall arrange for my man to come with us, for propriety’s sake.’
Mary could do no more than mutter her thanks, dazed by this sudden change in the earl’s demeanour. He remained just long enough to agree a time to call, then took his leave, departing with no more than a nod in her direction. As if he had come on a business call. As if that searing kiss had never happened.
* * *
Mary walked back to her desk and sat down. She picked up her pen, dipped it in the ink and looked at the half-written letter on her desk. Then she carefully laid the pen back down again. How could he change so quickly from passionate lover to cool acquaintance? Her own head was still spinning with the events of the past half hour. That kiss had told her she had not imagined the attraction between them, so how could they meet as mere friends? Was it possible? Randall certainly seemed to think so. She closed her eyes and shook her head, a rueful smile playing on her lips. He had told her he was not the man to woo her with pretty words or little gifts and she expected none, but his latest proposal was almost as shocking as his first.
Mary picked up her pen again and tried to force her mind back to the response she should be making to this particular parent. Friends. To be in Randall’s company and deny the fierce longing that enveloped her at the very thought of him. Could she do it? Of course she could. It was a most sensible solution. If they were chaperoned there could be no impropriety. She would have his company without risking her reputation or her livelihood. The alternative was never to see the earl again, and although that parting must happen eventually, it could be put off, at least for the moment.
* * *
The following morning dawned bright and clear and Mary was waiting with her horse on the Rue Haute when Lord Randall came riding up. His man, Robbins, was trotting behind him, his wooden countenance giving nothing away. Mary was already in the saddle, preferring to use the mounting block than to have the earl throw her up. It would be easier to maintain the friendly camaraderie if he did not actually touch her.
The road out of Brussels was busy, not only with the usual city traffic but also with military personnel. Mary was soon uncomfortably aware that she was exposing herself to gossip by riding out, even with a servant in attendance. Almost everyone they passed was a military man and the majority acquainted with the earl. They saluted or greeted him, but it was Mary that they regarded with varying degrees of amusement, surprise or sheer curiosity.
‘Oh, this was not wise at all,’ she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed from the stares of the latest group of officers to pass them. ‘This will set the whole of Brussels talking.’
‘Does that matter? You are doing nothing improper.’
His haughty indifference made her smile.
‘I had not thought of it yesterday, my lord, but it occurs to me that you are not in the habit of being accompanied by a lady.’
‘No, that will of course cause some comment, but it will soon die down.’
His lack of concern went some way to reassuring her, but Mary did not relax until they had left the crowded highways and were following a track through the woods with no one else in sight. When they reached the pretty château that was Randall’s destination Mary realised how quickly the time had gone by. They had been too busy talking to notice the miles passing. A laugh bubbled up inside her when she remembered Randall describing himself as a man who disliked incessant chatter.
Randall ordered Mary to remain at the end of the drive with Robbins while he conducted his business.
‘It would not hurt your master to be a little more civil when he is making his requests,’ she remarked to Robbins, when the earl had ridden off.
‘Lord Randall is accustomed to command, ma’am. ’Tis his way, and to my mind he’s too old to change now.’
Mary bit her lip. What she saw in the rude, autocratic peer she could not think. Yet when he came cantering back towards her a few minutes later, the sight of his proud, upright figure made her heart skip a beat. She had heard Lord Randall described as cold and aloof. She had thought so herself, at their first meeting, but she had soon learned to take note of the tiny changes to his countenance that made it less inscrutable: the lines at the side of his mouth that deepened when he was withholding a smile, the way his eyes changed to a warmer shade of blue when he was cheerful. She recognised those signs now and her own tension eased.
‘Well, my lord, is your business done?’
‘It is. I am now at your disposal. Shall we ride through the woods?’
He led the way to a nearby valley and they plunged down between the trees until they reached a small rushing stream that babbled and chattered over its rocky bed.
‘Oh, how charming!’
‘We could walk a little way, if you wish.’
He dismounted and came across to help her down. She hesitated for a moment before dropping into his outstretched arms. She felt the dizzying excitement of his touch and had to concentrate not to clutch at him as he set her on the ground. They left the horses with Robbins and set off along the path, walking very close, but taking care never to touch. She could not help remembering their last encounter in the woods in England, when he had put her before him on his horse, held her close against him. Even now the thought of it sent a little shiver of pleasure running through her. It was a memory she would treasure, since it could not be repeated. She sighed.
‘I hope I am not keeping you from any vital schoolroom duties,’ said the earl.
‘Not at all. With everything being so uncertain many of my pupils have left, so I have more staff than I require at the moment, although they do not all come to Antwerp with me.’
‘Your plans to move the school there are in place?’
‘Yes. Now we await events.’
‘I think you should consider going very soon.’
She stopped.
‘Oh? Have you heard something?’
He shook his head. ‘We thought there would be no engagement here—excuse me, but all I can say is that I would have you safe out of the way.’ When she looked up at him he gave a self-conscious cough. ‘Well, no, I would keep you with me, if I could, but you must think of your charges.’
‘I shall do so, my lord.’
‘Can we not be less formal when we are alone?’
‘But we are not alone, my lord.’ She glanced back at Robbins, following behind them leading their horses.
‘Do not tease me, Mary.’
‘I must tease you, if I am not to fall into a green-and-yellow melancholy over this
horrid war.’
‘It will be over soon enough.’
His cool tone flayed her nerves. When it was over he would be gone.
‘And do you think that is any consolation?’ She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. ‘I beg your pardon. We agreed, did we not? We will enjoy each other’s company for the little time you have left in Brussels.’
‘We did.’ They strolled on in silence until he spoke again, the words coming with difficulty. ‘I think it will be very hard for me to leave you, Mary.’
And I you.
She summed up a smile, determined that she would not be the weak one.
‘We come from very different worlds, Randall. Those worlds have tilted a little and brought us together, but they will right themselves again. We will say goodbye and go on as we did before.’
* * *
‘Of course.’ Randall spoke with more confidence than he felt. The looming conflict would be bloody and brutal. There was no certainty that he would survive, but if he should do so he was not at all sure that he wanted to go on as before. He was not sure he would ever want to say goodbye to Mary Endacott. He wanted her in his bed, that was true, but what he felt for her was more than that. He liked her company and when they were apart he was constantly wondering where she was, what she was doing. She said their worlds were too different, but were they? If so, surely they could not be so easy together, they could not find so much to discuss.
He stole a glance at her, studying her solemn profile, the shapely figure, enhanced by her olive-green walking dress. It was tailored to hug her waist and it accentuated the rounded swell of her breasts. He imagined the thrill of slowly unbuttoning the bodice of her gown. She would tremble as his fingers pushed aside the fine cotton chemise to reveal the soft, plump flesh beneath. How he wanted her! His arms ached to hold her but he had resolved they would be nothing more than friends, and he was too much a man of honour to go back on that. Yet he could not resist holding out his arm.
‘In the meantime, we should enjoy our time together, should we not?’
Her fingers slid tentatively on to his sleeve. He covered them with his free hand and they fluttered a little, like a trapped bird. Their steps slowed and her eyes lifted to his face, a little shy, a little anxious, but there was no doubting the invitation in them. She wanted him to seize the moment.
‘Ahem.’ Robbins’s voice floated down to them through the trees. ‘The path looks a trifle rocky up ahead, my lord. P’raps it’d be best for you to come back to the main track now.’
Mary was still looking up at him, but the warm glow in her eyes had changed to amusement. She was equally aware of what might have happened, if Robbins had not been present. But she was not disheartened. His indomitable Mary! The dark lashes swept down, veiling her eyes and she said in her matter-of-fact way, ‘Your man is quite right, Randall. We have gone far enough today, I think.’
* * *
Mary rode back beside the earl, enjoying his company, his conversation. She could not deny the ache of longing inside, but it was subdued, under control. If this was all that heaven allowed them she would be content, knowing from the look in Randall’s eyes that he felt it, too.
When they reached the Rue Haute she drew rein and reached out her hand to him.
‘Thank you, my lord. I enjoyed that, more than I thought possible.’
He caught her fingers.
‘There is a recital at the Great Concert Rooms tomorrow evening. If I am free, would you like to come with me?’
‘I should, very much. But you must not be afraid to tell me, if your duty calls you away.’
He smiled and she felt the fine spiderweb of attraction growing stronger, binding her to him.
‘Be assured I will do that. Until tomorrow then, Miss Endacott.’
* * *
Mary looked out her newest evening gown for the concert, an apricot silk with a small train. It was trimmed with dark green ribbons and there was a matching shawl, should the evening turn chilly. She had occasionally attended concerts before, but then she had slipped in almost unnoticed. Now, as she walked into the room on Randall’s arm Mary was aware of the surprised stares of many of the patrons.
‘We are attracting no little attention,’ she murmured as Randall guided her to her seat.
‘Take no notice. They will soon become used to seeing us together.’
There were very few people in the audience that Mary knew, so she decided to ignore the curious stares of the strangers and settled down to enjoy the recital, which comprised a selection of Italian love songs, performed by a celebrated opera singer. She was soon lost in the music and delighted when she discovered that Randall, too, was enjoying it.
* * *
‘You did not come here merely because you thought I should like it?’ she ventured, when the concert was over.
‘That would be a very unselfish gesture, Miss Endacott, and you know I am not given to those.’
‘I do indeed,’ she replied, laughter bubbling inside her. ‘But I thought you a plain soldier.’
‘A soldier, yes, but an educated one.’
‘So I see.’
They had emerged from the concert rooms and now stood at the entrance where the crowds were milling around.
‘It will take an age for my carriage to find its way through this crush,’ remarked the earl.
‘We could walk,’ suggested Mary, throwing her shawl about her shoulders. ‘It is a fine night.’
‘Would you mind?’
She smiled. ‘Not at all. It is not far and would probably be quicker than waiting for your carriage.’
‘Very well, then.’ He took her arm and guided her through the throng. ‘Did you really enjoy the music?’ he asked, when they had reached the relative quiet of the darkened street.
‘Very much, thank you for inviting me.’
‘And you understood the Italian: I am impressed.’
‘My father insisted I should be proficient, so that I could teach it to our pupils.’
‘Was that part of the radical education he envisaged for young ladies?’
‘No, no, languages are generally considered useful. My father wanted girls to learn philosophy and politics and, oh, anything that would fit them for their place in the world.’
‘But it would not necessarily fit them for marriage,’ observed Randall. He hesitated. ‘What place was your sister expected to fill in the world?’ He added swiftly, ‘I hope it does not grieve you to discuss her.’
‘Not as much as it did,’ she admitted. ‘I think it helped to tell you about Jane. It is not something I have shared with anyone before. My sister...’ She paused, waiting for the familiar pain, but it had lessened considerably. ‘At seventeen Jane had given little thought to her future. But she was always romantic.’ She sighed. ‘I think it was inevitable that she would fall in love.’
‘It was unfortunate that it should be with a scoundrel.’
‘Yes. If he had been an honest man Papa would have resigned himself to the marriage.’
‘Even though he did not approve of the institution?’
‘Even so. After all he himself had married to protect his family, but he continued to fight for what he believed in, a more democratic society.’
‘And the abolition of titles such as mine.’
Mary chuckled. ‘My father believed that people should be rewarded for their talents, not their birth. He would certainly not have approved of your title. However, he would have approved of the artillery, where rank is dependent upon merit.’
‘I am relieved to hear it. Your father would not completely disapprove of me.’
‘I did not think that would matter to you.’
‘It doesn’t, but it matters to me what you think.’
Mary caught her breath at the ch
ange of tone, the earnestness of his words. Suddenly their easy companionship was gone. There was no frivolous response she could give him and she noted with relief the black outline of the schoolhouse looming up.
‘I should like to know,’ he said as they turned in through the gate. ‘I would like you to tell me truthfully what you think of me.’
Mary swallowed.
‘I think,’ she said carefully, ‘I think that you are too serious. You have been a soldier too long, Randall. You face death without a qualm, but, in some way, you are afraid to live.’
He was silent as they made their way to her front door and she wondered if she had offended him. She stopped and turned to him, saying impulsively,
‘Randall, I am sorry—’
‘Do not be.’ He was looking down at her; she could feel his gaze although he was no more than a solid black outline against the night. ‘Perhaps you are right. I chose a military life, it has been a series of battles and engagements and I have never looked beyond the next campaign. I have never wanted to contemplate any other life.’ He sighed. ‘Is it too late to change, do you think?’
‘It is never too late to change, Randall.’
She whispered the words and was not sure if he had heard her.
He took her hands. ‘Thank you, my friend, for your honesty. You must help me to live in the little time we have left together.’
‘I will, my lord, if I can.’
He squeezed her fingers, waiting only until the door was opened before striding away into the darkness, leaving Mary to enter the house, keeping her face averted from the light so Jacques would not see that her cheeks were wet with tears.
Chapter Seven
May became June and Mary’s ordered life was turned upside down. She arranged her days so that she could be free to join the earl at a moment’s notice. She left the teaching of pupils to her staff and any matters requiring her attention were dealt with as quickly as possible each morning. The earl’s duties kept him busy most days, but as soon as he returned to his lodgings he would dash off a note and she would be waiting for him when he came to take her to the theatre, a concert or a private recital, or on a fine evening merely to stroll in the park. Afterwards he would escort her to her door and take punctilious leave of her with no more than a kiss of her fingers.
A Lady for Lord Randall Page 11
