All the others stopped long enough to pop a berry into their mouths, a ritual Sarah quickly caught on to.
Barbara swore she wouldn’t have only juice for her remaining five and used much more care to tug those that followed.
Soon, she’d mastered the technique enough to add layer upon layer to her basket quickly, pausing only to tease the other girls and enjoy a stretch in the sun.
“Time for luncheon,” Charlotte called, making Barbara aware of how far they’d spread in the raspberry bramble.
She made her way to the others to discover the extra basket Charlotte had carried held a large blanket, and bread and cheese for them to share.
“Did you go on picnics in London?” Jane asked, looking to Sarah as much as Barbara for a glimpse into life in the city.
While Sarah explained how outings worked in London, and the differences between a servant’s life and a lady’s, Barbara leaned back and let the sun kiss her cheeks. Her cousins might have found London and the season fascinating from a distance, but she couldn’t imagine giving up such freedom for uncomfortable clothing, judgmental society members, and the limited conversation allowed at most events.
A hand tugged her bonnet down across her face.
“You’ll end up with freckles so dark no weight of powder can hide them if you’re not careful.”
Barbara sat up at the sound of Charlotte’s voice, the others leaning close to listen to Sarah. “One more reason for the other girls to avoid a London season. It’s taking care every moment not to make a misstep, not to talk too loud or be too enthusiastic, but at the same time somehow sparkle and distinguish yourself all within the constraints of society. Freckles are the least of the strictures I’ve broken since coming here.” She raised her berry-stained hands as evidence.
Charlotte got a faraway look to her eye as she said, “It’s the lure of the unknown. You feel it here where our chores are delightful explorations for you and Sarah. They want to feel the same, only their unknown lies in London with its fancy dresses and grand balls. I remember how dazzling it all seemed when your mother took me up.”
Her cousin had avoided all mention of the season that had been cut short so Barbara kept her lips pressed closed, hoping for another hint as to what happened.
Charlotte gave a quick headshake as though in response to Barbara’s hope and pushed to her feet. “Come on, girls. Our baskets are barely half full. If we return with so little, Father will declare the tarts for everyone but the six of us for our slacking.”
“Can we at least have a berry each to sustain us?” Georgiana asked, her expression denying the filling meal Cook had prepared for their luncheon.
Her playacting brought a smile to Charlotte’s lips, wiping away the hint of melancholy whatever thought of her season had caused. “As if a single berry could sustain your energy, Georgie, but you’re right to mention it. Everyone has been so careful”—a sideways glance at Barbara marked the exception—“we’ve yet to have a second.”
Each of them snatched up the largest, ripest berry they could find in their basket before heading into the bushes once again. Barbara matched her speed to Charlotte’s, the talk of seasons reminding her of the vow to convince Charlotte to let the girls have their dancing.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The tour Jasper gave him the previous day allowed Aubrey the confidence to venture out on his own upon discovering his friend had paperwork to accomplish. The stables boasted many a fine horse, and Aubrey had been testing the paces mastered by the beast he chose.
Aubrey let the horse amble through the fields on his way back to the manor, both he and the beast pleasantly tired.
The sun burned down warm against his neck but not too hot, the birds chirped, and the horse had a comfortable gait. After the strain of London during the season, attempting to help his sister find her mate, keeping his father’s estates running smoothly, and all the rest, he could see the appeal of a country retreat. He’d never sequester himself out here, though.
His place was in London, and he knew the quiet would soon grow unwelcome as he itched to do something more complicated and with greater impact. Nothing could hold the same draw here where the biggest concern—weather—was out of human control and so beyond his reach.
Unlike many of his peers, he’d been raised in London proper, having only visits to tour the estates for his country experience. His father’s interest in politics started even before inheriting the seat in the House of Lords, and little could be accomplished without a solid presence in the capital. Unlike some, he preferred to keep his family at his side.
A glint of color drew Aubrey from his thoughts.
He urged the horse forward to investigate, faint memories of childhood jaunts returning the nearer he came to the decorated bushes. He’d discovered a large raspberry patch at the peak of ripeness. Aubrey swung down and tossed the reins over the horse’s head to use as a lead rope, unwilling to let this treasure pass untouched.
The first berry dropped into his hand as though it had been waiting for his arrival, and faster than he would have thought possible, three more gave way to his eager fingers and even more eager lips. This the country could offer which had no parallel within the bounds of the city.
Sun-warmed ripe berries.
He mourned the lack of a basket to bring some to the manor, but swore he’d do his best to mark the placement so he could alert Jasper and Daphne to the bounty.
Aubrey collected what he could in a clean handkerchief as he made his way around the bramble.
Laughter and joyful cries reached his ears.
For a heartbeat, he wondered if forest nymphs had burst free from some of the poetry he’d been reading, but no. He rounded a corner with his cloth full of berries and his horse trailing after to see a vision.
A young country girl filled his sight. Her riot of dark brown curls danced around a head tossed back to reveal an open expression and wide smile. Her bonnet hung loose from around her neck. The sheer delight of her laughter caught hold of something deep inside him, washing away the melancholy that threatened him of late. It didn’t hurt that she shared some features with Lady Barbara Whitfeld. If he could not ask his question, at least he could admire her country copy.
Here was someone so at peace with her place in life that she found joy in the simple pleasures of berry picking, though from her dress, she’d likely been set to it by a master rather than of her own will. This girl seemed as far from the constrained young ladies of London as possible, and yet she, not her refined equivalents, was the first to spark an instant attraction in his breast.
The laughter fell silent as the girl and her companions noticed him one by one, as though his presence wiped the joy from their simple world.
His thoughts soured. He had no right to pursue his interest, even so far as to make it known to the girl in question. The distance between their lives measured longer than the miles between here and the city proper. The very joy that captivated him would be crushed in the strictures of his world, while a simple country girl would find no peace among the responsibilities of a London lady. She no more belonged in his life than the sun-warmed berries he’d plucked from the branches.
Their curious smiles grew stiff as he stood locked in his own indecision, a further sign of how harmful his presence could be. He couldn’t very well turn around and go back the way he’d come, though. He’d been raised a gentleman, and it was about time he lived up to the title.
Tugging on the reins, Aubrey stepped forward to greet them. “Good afternoon, misses. I apologize for the intrusion. I see you’re more prepared to enjoy this bounty than I.” He raised his stained handkerchief in explanation only to freeze as he met the gaze of the very girl who’d caught his eye.
She stared at him as though she knew him, as though she shared the instinctive connection he’d felt when first he came upon her.
All his careful thoughts of consequences and difficulties vanished, leaving him to gaze at her as though struck dumb.
He lowered his hand a moment later, having forgotten it, but he did not break her gaze until she turned away, a delicate blush rising up her neck to color cheeks much too pale for all the time she must have spent in the sun.
BARBARA COULD NOT BELIEVE HER luck.
Here she’d been laughing at the enthusiasm with which her younger cousins met the news that she had convinced Charlotte to let them dance, and he had to appear to destroy everything. She needn’t have worried that the dance lessons would bring her to Aubrey. He had come here on his own to haunt her.
Her whirling thoughts settled around the last as she recalled his expression when he gazed upon her. Confusion, yes, but she’d seen not a hint of recognition.
He’d seen fit to spread tales about her, to condemn both her comportment and nature, but he’d never bothered to pay enough attention to identify her features even when they’d crossed paths in the park.
The cousins moved closer, introducing themselves and asking if he came from the manor, but Barbara had no curiosity about the man. She’d thought she knew him so well, but everything she’d known had been proved false in one fateful moment when she heard his true nature revealed. She did not understand why his dismissal continued to burn, or why his failure to mark her presence here, even in simple clothing, confounded her. If anything, she should be happy he came by accident and not to plague her.
“And this young woman?”
Barbara spun around, sure he meant none other than herself.
Driven by a wild urge to stave off her cousins’ efforts to make her known, she said, “I’m called Barbara,” before any others could make the introduction.
He met her gaze with an intent look that warmed her to her very bones. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Barbara.” He smiled then, and it seemed the sun itself grew brighter.
A blush rose to burn her cheeks despite what she knew about him. In her own life, he’d thought her a waste of time not even worth securing an introduction, yet here, he seemed all interest and intrigued.
The heat drained away as she realized the only possible meaning to his regard. He must have been one of those who found their entertainment among the lower classes, knowing he wouldn’t be held accountable for his actions beyond a coin or two, and certainly not forced into marriage as he would be if dallying with a woman of position.
Under the weight of his gaze, though, she wondered what it would be like to be pursued by him.
Barbara turned away a second time, almost faint with the heat rushing through her. She did not want to be compromised by any man, and certainly not by one who held her true nature in disdain. She thought more of herself than to chance her future, her reputation, and her heart on the attentions of a lust-filled young lord no matter how attractive her eyes might find his form.
“You must join us in our berrying, Lord Aubrey. Charlotte has a basket to spare, should you need one.”
Barbara opened her mouth to protest Georgiana’s enthusiasm, but Aubrey spoke before she could.
“As much as I’d enjoy the company,” he said, “I must be on my way with my meager gathering. It does a man poorly to linger among enchanting nymphs.”
The others laughed at that, high-pitched giggles much unlike how they greeted the thought of learning proper dance.
Barbara frowned at them. Could they not see his meaning? He might have used pretty words as an excuse, but once the opportunity for a quick tumble in the field was lost with so many gathered round, he saw no need to waste his time among those well beneath him.
The cousins called out farewells and watched him ride off, but Barbara turned back to the bush, venting her anger on the stiff branches that sought to block her way.
“You’ll only crush the berries if you continue in this way,” Charlotte said, coming up on her side. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction Aubrey had gone before continuing, “Someone from your past come to haunt you?”
Barbara gave a sour laugh as her cousin mirrored her earlier thought. “Anyone of significance to me would recognize my features as surely you saw he did not. He’s nothing but an arrogant lord who sees all of us as beneath his notice.”
Her cousin nodded as though in agreement, but Barbara shifted, uncomfortable under the accompanying gaze. She waited for Charlotte to question further, for her to pry free the whole sorry story of Barbara’s attachment to a man who had proved no more real than the nymphs Aubrey had called them.
Charlotte said nothing further.
She turned back to the gathering and drifted away to let Barbara recover herself alone.
If only thoughts of Aubrey would prove equally as obliging. Instead, they lingered and rose at the least opportune moments. Even worse, rather than the annoyance and anger she should dwell upon, what came to her was the sense of a bond between them in that first glance, the heat that rushed through her at being his entire focus.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aubrey had no intention of sullying Jasper’s reputation by tying him to stories of lords who came on country visits only to deflower the local girls and vanish to London. All the more reason not to test his restraint by spending more time with the enchanting Barbara. He’d known her for only brief moments, and yet every word from her lips clung to his memory. The unrestrained laugh he’d come upon made him want nothing more than to inspire the same himself.
No, better he’d left the field before this connection could develop further. She had no place in his world, and he had no business disrupting hers.
His decision did not change as he cantered to the manor and sequestered himself in his room after exchanging the raspberries with Willem for the latest newspaper on his way in. Even London politics failed to distract him, though, from lingering on the sparkle in her eyes, the twitch of her lip as she tried to suppress her merriment, or many other tiny details he hadn’t known he’d noticed.
By the time the deep bell sounded to announce dinner, Aubrey had started to wonder if this would forever be his state, to yearn always after the women he could not have. Perhaps in his envy of Jasper and Daphne’s happiness, he had become obsessive. Perhaps he’d created a cut by Lady Barbara when she’d simply turned away, and the strength of his link with the country girl never truly existed.
He froze, one hand on the staircase rail, as he realized they shared more than a superficial resemblance. They bore the same name, his rigid London mystery and his wild country girl, as though taunting him. The vision of them meeting was enough to give his lips a twist when he joined the others, a merriment as poorly suppressed as Barbara’s from the way Jasper raised his eyebrows at the sight of Aubrey.
“Just what are you reading, my friend, that it brings so much life to your expression.”
Aubrey took his seat with a nod of greeting to Daphne. “The paper.” He passed the same object to Jasper, having appropriated it before any other could peruse the contents.
Jasper ignored the offering to examine Aubrey as though he were a puzzle to be solved. After a moment, he shook his head. “As much as you aspire to politics, there’s nothing in that volume to bring forth such enthusiasm, I’d guess. You seem happier somehow. Happier than since your arrival.”
The presentation of an aromatic soup offered a distraction, but once his portion had been served, Aubrey noticed Jasper still eying him with an expectant look. He gave his friend a shrug. “I went for a ride today seeing as you were busy with managing your estate. I finally breathed in enough of this elixir you call air to clear London from my lungs.”
“No,” Daphne said, drawing the word out. “Jasper’s right. It’s more than that. You’ve a touch of sun to your cheek, but even our beautiful country isn’t enough to bring a haze to your eyes. I’d guess you weren’t thinking on our company at all as you came through from the hall. Something happened on your ride.”
Under their combined stare, Aubrey shifted in his seat, feeling much the schoolboy facing charges of misbehavior. This had been part of why he’d left the girls rather than en
joying their company. He did not want to receive his friends’ censure, and though her presence in his life measured a short year with few encounters, Aubrey had the feeling Daphne was rapidly becoming a member of his inner circle much as Jasper had when they first met at Oxford.
“Enough. It’s no grand mystery, I swear. As I’ve already confessed to Jasper, shepherding my sister through her season and then seeing the two of you together just made me aware of the lack of love in my own life. While your husband saw marriage a trial before finding you, I’ve always thought having someone at my side would make my day brighter.”
Daphne raised one eyebrow. “And a simple country ride made you reach acceptance?”
Her tone could not have been less doubting, nor did she have any need to call him out more specifically.
“If I tell you, can we enjoy our meal before the soup goes cold?”
“Perhaps you should take a bite first. I’ve seen this look on my wife’s face, and she won’t be satisfied until she’s heard the full of it,” Jasper injected with a chuckle as though he hadn’t been the one to start their inquisition.
Not willing to waste the advice or the soup, Aubrey took not one but three spoonfuls, pausing to savor the creamy asparagus and letting the others do the same before telling his sorry tale.
“You’ll most likely enjoy some of the rewards of my ride, and I’ve informed your staff of the placement, but I found a large patch of raspberry bushes with berries plump and ready to be consumed.”
Daphne’s eyes widened. “I knew some should have come into season soon. There’s nothing like fresh berries.”
Jasper’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “But not enough to explain your joy, for all we appreciate the treat. What happened out there?”
In quick, short sentences that attempted to give away nothing but failed from the expressions on his friends’ faces, Jasper explained how he came upon the farm girls out picking the self-same berries he’d been enjoying. He deliberately avoided names in favor of description, only noticing his mistake once Jasper grinned.
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