by Hatch, Donna
“How is Parker?” Cole asked.
“Well enough. I looked in on him after I left you and cleaned off the manure the doctor put on the wound and dressed it properly.” He shook his head. “I’m surprised people ever heal with the imbeciles the English have for doctors. Romany children know more about healing.” He pushed on Cole’s boots.
“I slept from dawn yesterday until dawn today. You drugged me,” Cole accused.
Stephens grinned, his teeth a flash of white against his brown face. “You have to sleep sometime. I figured that was as good a time as any since you were wounded and all. And you had about a month’s worth of sleep to catch up on.”
Cole glared at him. “I’m going to make you taste all my drinks from now on.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Shall I taste all your meals, too?”
“Insolent cur.”
Stephens grinned.
With a curse, Cole cuffed him on the back of his head but Stephens took more exception to the fact that his hair had been mussed. He carefully smoothed it.
After grabbing a coat, Cole left the house. Outside, the air was brisk and clean, with a faint mist hanging about the trees. Dawn glimmered on the far edge of the world, but Cole knew the grounds well enough to navigate even in total darkness. The lamps were already lit in the stables as the grooms and stable hands went about their work. Cole greeted the workers briefly before moving down the row of stalls.
“I’ve neglected you of late, André,” he said to his favorite horse.
He offered an apple he’d pilfered from the kitchen. Talking soothingly to André, he tried to tack him up, but the pain in his arm forced him to accept aid from a groom. Cole mounted and left the stable.
Mist swirled around him like sleepy wraiths as horse and rider walked to the open field, but when Cole urged André to a gallop, darts of pain shot through his arm and he was forced to slow. While birds serenaded him with their morning chorus, Cole wended his way through the grounds and down the hollow. Wind whispered through the leaves.
As he thought back over the events of the highwaymen attack, Cole scrutinized each word, each act. Why did they demand Alicia? Normally such thieves only desired money or jewels rather than prisoners. They seemed to know who it was they had attacked, at least that a girl was in the carriage. More specifically, they’d wanted ‘the girl,’ as if Alicia were their intended target. But that made no sense. If they knew who they were stopping, he, as a viscount and son of an earl, clearly outranked the lesser title of baron’s wife and should have been the object of their demands. Most people assumed that the higher the title, the more wealth they possessed. So why did the highwaymen ask for her instead of him? Unless they were not simple highwaymen.
And prior to that, someone of shady character had come into town asking for Lord and Lady Amesbury. Right before her room caught on fire. Slow dread crept in.
For weeks, the nagging suspicion that her parents had not died in a mere accident had grown. And as he thought back on the duel, and the events preceding and following it, his instincts whispered of sinister forces at work. Perhaps it was time to do a little investigating.
And what to do now about Alicia? He had two choices. He could leave and attempt to banish her from his thoughts—a hopeless feat—or he could coax her into liking him.
He grinned. If her kiss was any indication, she liked him at least on some level. And her words in the kitchen gave him hope. But Alicia was not the kind of woman with whom a man could trifle. He knew the first day he met her that she would never consider a dalliance. Any man who would win her affection would have to be willing to offer her his heart first.
Offer her his heart. He couldn’t do that. And unless he did, she would never be his.
But he didn’t love her.
Then why did his thoughts always spiral back to her? And why could he not sleep for the yearning of her?
****
As Alicia sat at a writing desk in the corner of the morning room, the baron entered. Alicia smiled up at the expressionless mask that concealed her husband’s face, his once-terrifying form a welcome sight after not seeing him the previous day.
“Good morning, my love,” he said. “I need to go to London on business. Would you care to accompany me?”
Alicia laid down her pen on the writing desk and gave him her full attention, her letter to Elizabeth forgotten. “London?”
“I know it isn’t the Season but between the theater and opera, you might find some interesting diversions. And I have friends who live there at this unfashionable time of year who would welcome you. Someone is always sponsoring a rising musician or hosting a charity function.”
London. She hadn’t been there in a year and a half. Living here with only her untouchable husband and the servants had left her feeling restless, caged. The ball should have solved that, but instead her thoughts centered on Cole, whose easy laughter but tortured eyes teased her constantly.
“I would like to go to London.”
“Excellent. Tell Monique to pack your things. We’ll leave at the end of the week.”
Alicia spent the next several days in a flurry of excitement. Her enthusiasm even seemed to rub off on her quiet husband who seemed to have more energy than normal.
“The staff at my house in London have been informed of our arrival and will have the house in order by the time we arrive,” he told her as they skirted the edges of the lake.
Two swans glided silently by, leaving ripples in their wake. The lake mirrored a clear blue sky, darker in the reflection. Deep blue, like Cole’s eyes.
With a start, she smothered any further thoughts of Cole Amesbury and fixed her mind upon her upcoming trip.
Her husband was speaking, his soft, muffled voice outlining details of his Town home and of the servants’ names and duties. “I understand Cole returned to London last week. Perhaps he will agree to escort you to the diversions Town offers when I am unable.”
At the mention of Cole’s name, her cheeks heated. “I’m sure he is quite busy.”
The baron turned to her. “Did you not enjoy your time at the ball with him? He said you spent much of the evening together.”
“Yes, of course I did. He was very attentive to me.”
“I knew he would be. I’m glad he escorted you home and was there to protect you from the highwaymen.”
“My lord.” She hesitated. “Do you trust him that much?”
“Why? Was he not a gentleman?” he asked sharply.
Oh, heavens, she couldn’t have her husband challenging Cole to a duel!
“Yes, of course he was,” she replied quickly, her face warming at the lie. “But are you sure he will remain such?”
With a slight chuckle in his voice, he said, “You are a temptation to any man, Alicia. I am sure that he is not immune to your charm. However, I trust he knows his place.”
Alicia frowned at her husband’s choice of words.
“And did he not protect you when the highwaymen attacked?”
“Yes. He was very brave.” She paused. “A bullet grazed his arm.”
“A minor wound that has healed completely.” His voice sounded flat.
She took a breath. “I thought you were close. But you often speak of him in less than flattering tones.”
“We are close. But he is whole. I am trapped inside this mask. I cannot help but envy him.”
****
Their trip to London began at the same slow pace as their trip to their estate had been after their wedding ceremony, with frequent stops for meals and stays overnight at the posting inns that dotted the roads. Monique saw to her every need with tender loyalty. The baron watched over her protectively, and their conversation grew more comfortable.
One morning, as she left the inn and climbed into the front carriage, she paused. The early sunlight glimmered off a gun tucked into the footman’s breeches. A rifle lay on the driver’s seat next to the coachman.
She glanced at her husband. “We are traveling he
avily armed.”
“I am taking no chances with your safety, My Lady.”
“Because of the highwaymen attack?”
“I fear that may not have been an isolated incident.” He handed her in and climbed in, careful to keep his weight on his good leg, and sat across from her. He laid his cane on the floor and wedged it to prevent it from rolling.
“Meaning, you think highwaymen are getting bolder, or that they were specifically after me?”
“I have not yet decided.” He offered no more on the subject and steered the conversation to other matters.
The crowded streets of London caused them to wind slowly along their way. The working classes hurried along in the streets and the parks today, while the nobility were notably absent. Most left the city for the summer months and would not return to Town until the Season began.
The baron’s coach stopped in Pall Mall near a beautiful park in front of a house with a tastefully elegant façade.
“Home at last.” Lord Amesbury’s muffled voice betrayed an uncharacteristic tone of irritability.
Her eyes moved to her husband. With shame, she realized that he was probably miserable always wearing his hood and mask.
Inside, the town home rivaled his country home in grandeur. With Grecian flavor, the entry boasted of sweeping staircases and marble floors that managed to be lavish without being ostentatious. The baron presented her to the staff and then she was led to her room. Peach silk papered the walls, and the furniture was white and gilded.
After taking a bath and changing into her evening gown, Alicia felt much more refreshed. The servants seemed eager to please her and the meal was excellent, but eating alone invoked a deep loneliness. Normally, the baron joined her as she finished dinner, but tonight he failed to appear. Perhaps the journey had aggravated old wounds.
As the sun set, she stepped out to the diminutive city garden under a sky darkening with thunderclouds. A chill gust of air flowed over her. Deeply breathing, Alicia let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Moments later, the soft pattering of raindrops broke the stillness of the evening. Alicia remained still, reveling in the icy drops on her face.
Her thoughts inexplicably turned to Cole. The hurt in his eyes when he suggested she might be glad he was shot haunted her. A few months ago, she might have felt a grim satisfaction at the poetic justice fate dealt him. Now that her feelings toward him had softened, seeing him wounded only grieved her.
She pressed her hands over her face. This would not do.
When the rain fell with more force, she went inside. As she approached a liveried servant hovering nearby, he jumped to attention.
“My lady?”
“Where is the baron?”
“Resting, my lady. He took his meal in his room and has not come out. Rather tired from the trip, I should think.”
His valet, Jeffries, approached. “My lady? My lord sends his regrets. He is quite fatigued. He will not be joining you this evening.”
Disappointed, she murmured, “Thank you, Jeffries.”
Alicia went to the drawing room and sat by the windows, listening to the soothing cadence of the softly falling rain. Turning, her eyes fell upon a richly carved pianoforte.
Having been assured throughout her life that she had no talent for it, she seldom played unless no one listened. Still, playing soothed her and she was not above recognizing that her skill, if not her talent, had improved since she renewed her daily playing.
With the rain as accompaniment and with her thoughts circling, her fingers touched the keys. She played a minuet first and then a rhapsody. After running through easier pieces, she launched into more difficult compositions. They took all of her concentration and she completely immersed herself into the music.
Calmed, she began playing a slow sonata. Something about the sweet, sad feeling of the music again brought to mind thoughts of Cole. She relived his gentle, hungry kiss, the restraint he exercised when he could have easily overpowered her, the aching tenderness he stirred in her.
She had progressed well into the third movement when a soft sound behind her caught her attention. As she turned in her seat, a slight gasp escaped her lips. Cole stood there. Her fingers fell away from the keys and she stood.
“I didn’t know you played so well.” Cole’s voice washed over her, warming her face and spurring her heartbeat.
She clasped her hands together. “I don’t.”
“Trust me, that was truly great. I’ve never heard that piece played with such feeling, such…passion. Please, continue. I did not mean to interrupt.”
He stood leaning lazily against the door frame with his arms folded, something forbidden smoldering in his blue eyes. Impeccably dressed as always, dark hair smoothed to a shine, he radiated confident sensuality. No lady should have to endure his presence un-chaperoned.
The memory of his kiss and her traitorous desire to repeat it leapt into her thoughts, but guilt squashed them ruthlessly. She consciously released her clenched hands and placed them to her sides.
“Do you make a habit of walking into your cousin’s home unannounced?” she asked irritably.
Unperturbed, he grinned, his eyes making a slow perusal of her body. “Only with the proper motivation.”
She frowned at him and folded her arms. “May I ask the reason for your visit, sir?”
His maddeningly handsome grin only deepened. “Nicholas sent word that you had both come back into Town. I came to speak with him, but I think I’d rather spend the evening with you.”
“He has already retired.”
“Excellent. Then I have my wish.” He crossed the room and sprawled in an armchair as if he belonged there. “How was your journey? Tedious?”
She sighed that he’d so blatantly taken a seat while leaving a lady standing. “Has anyone ever told you that you are impossible?”
“Frequently,” came his cheerful and instant reply.
“And do you always flout the rules of etiquette this way?”
“Just often enough to be annoying.”
When she did not soften, his tone turned slightly pleading. “Talk to me, Cousin. London has been dreadfully dull. Now that you are here, I know it will improve.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t you have some poor, defenseless courtesan to harass?”
His contagious laughter drew a reluctant smile from her lips. Seeing him whole and well assuaged her concern over his gunshot wound, and her guilt that he had received it protecting her. Had he actually grown more handsome in the weeks since she’d last seen him? Torn between hope and fear that he might broach the subject of their actions during their last encounter, or try to repeat them, she sat near the window at a safe distance from him.
A knowing smile touched his expressive mouth. “Have you ever been to the opera?”
His sudden change in topic caught her off guard. “The opera? Yes, I attended twice when I was last in London.”
“How did you find it?”
“Breathtaking. And I was glad that my mother insisted I learn Italian as well as French.”
“Then you’ll accompany me tomorrow night?”
“Don’t you think that will create scandal?”
“You should know by now I’ve never cared much for the approval of others.”
“Ah, yes, so I gathered,” she said dryly.
“However, I do not wish to tarnish your reputation. Aunt Livy has asked me to accompany her, both in the carriage and in the box. My uncle came into Town on business and she accompanied him.”
She hesitated. Spending more time with Cole was a bad idea for a number of reasons. But temptation tugged at her.
He added, “Nicholas told me he would be unable to attend you as he ought during your stay due to his many business obligations. He was quite insistent that you not be neglected. You wouldn’t want him to feel guilty for not attending to you after all he’s done for you, would you?”
If his eyes hadn’t twinkled so merrily, she might have be
en angry at his implication, but she found she could not resist his winning smile.
Throwing her hands up in resignation, she said, “Very well, I accept. For his sake. And because I’d like to see your aunt and uncle again.”
He inclined his head in a mocking bow. “I’m speechless at your enthusiasm.”
A smile escaped in spite of her efforts.
“Ahh, there it is. The reason I rise every day. I was beginning to despair of earning one of those today. You have no idea what a beautiful smile you have, do you?”
Her smile dimmed. “I don’t…”
“Of course you do. The problem is, no one has paid you enough compliments. I must have a word with your errant husband about the necessity of expressing praises to your beauty. Or perhaps I should take over that duty.”
Alicia lowered her eyes.
His voice softened. “What troubles you this evening?”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
“You seemed a bit out of sorts. Nicholas not treating you well?”
“Of course he’s treating me well,” she snapped.
“Then what is it?” Though a teasing smile played around his lips, his eyes took on a curiously serious light.
How could she tell him that her treacherous thoughts often centered around him and that his frequent appearances only made it worse? He was not a man upon whom she wanted her mind to dwell.
Lamely, she said, “I’m fatigued from the trip.”
Cole quietly watched her, thoughtful, assessing. “I cause you distress.”
She folded her hands together and twisted her wedding band, hoping he did not know the turmoil of her thoughts, and tried to formulate an appropriate reply. She failed.
“You still harbor resentment for me.”
This caught her attention. His carefully impassive face almost fooled her, but something flickered in his eyes.
Looking him in the eyes, she said, “No.”
He leapt to his feet and moved to the window. The rain pattered on the panes and thunder rumbled in the distance. She remained rooted in her seat, using every shred of self-control to refrain from going to him, putting her arms around him, comforting him, reassuring him.
