“Like me?” Blackbourne’s eyes widened, first in confusion and then in fury. “Apparently I am obtuse, my lady. You said yesterday you didn’t know I was David’s guardian. Yet today you claim you hid David in the old dower house to prevent his growing up to be like me. Perhaps you would care to explain that clear contradiction.”
Amanda blushed a deep rose. “Obviously, I expressed myself poorly. I did not mean you specifically, Lord Blackbourne. I meant all noblemen. You see, my lord,” she continued, taking a deep breath and thrusting her chin out, “I have absolutely no respect for your class of people.”
Chapter Six
“No respect for my class of people?” Blackbourne repeated her words, then frowned in puzzlement. He stared into Amanda’s solemn gaze for several seconds, trying to ascertain if she had really meant what she said. And then, recalling the circumstances of her marriage, he knew she had to be lying, although he could not think why, unless—
His lips twisted into a sneer of contempt. “You should think of a more convincing story, my lady. Do not forget that I know what you did to attain a place among this class of people you profess to despise.”
Amanda’s eyes narrowed. “You know nothing about me or my motives,” she said, her voice less than steady. “You know only what Oliver told you, and Oliver’s word was worthless.”
Anger darkened Blackbourne’s vision for a few seconds. How could he have forgotten? Oliver had warned him about this woman—her willingness to tell any lie necessary to achieve her ends. And of course he had also indicated that the countess had been a less-than faithful wife.
Blackbourne gazed into Amanda’s eyes and asked softly, “Did you find the old dower house, hidden away in the woodland, a convenient place to meet your lovers? Is that why you gave up the luxury of Willow Place—to secure privacy for your affairs?”
Amanda stared at him for several seconds without speaking. The color in her cheeks deepened. “How dare you suggest such a thing?” She stood and moved to stand in front of him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You are surely mad. If I had moved to the old dower house to engage in licentious behavior, do you honestly believe I would have taken my son with me?”
“Why not? Your son’s presence would have provided an excellent cover for you.”
Blackbourne allowed her open palm to come within an inch of striking his face before he intercepted it. His fingers encircled her arm midway between elbow and wrist and he tightened his hold as he pulled her down onto the settee beside him. He grasped her chin with his other hand and turned her head, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Tell me the truth, Countess. I’m not Oliver. You won’t succeed in duping me as you did him.”
He saw that Amanda was biting her lip while tears brightened her eyes, but he forced back the sliver of sympathy that attempted to inveigle its way into his conscience. “The truth, Countess,” he repeated, his voice a hoarse whisper hissing through his teeth.
“Mama! Lord Blackbourne! I came as soon as I knew you was here, your lordship. Can I have a cake, Mama?” David had dashed into the room and headed straight for the teacart. He stared, wide-eyed, at the vast array of possibilities. “Or five?” he added.
Although Blackbourne released Amanda’s chin, she did not immediately turn away from him. Instead she continued to stare into his eyes. “Thank you, my lord,” she murmured softly, “for confirming everything I have ever believed about the nobility.” Then, jerking her arm free from his grasp, she stood and hurried to David’s side. “Yes, darling, you may have a cake, perhaps even two, but first you must make your bow to Lord Blackbourne. He will be leaving soon.”
David started to turn toward Blackbourne but then paused to stare at his mother’s arm. “Your rose bush scratch is bleeding again, Mama.”
“I know, dear. I’m afraid I brushed up against something that was rough and it irritated the scratch. I thank you for your gentlemanly concern, but I’m fine and you are forgetting Lord Blackbourne.”
A small frown of worry clung for a second to David’s forehead as he turned to make his bow. “Good morning, Lord Blackbourne.”
Blackbourne had to clear his throat before he could respond. Blast the woman anyway. Her demeanor made him feel like a barbarian. He forced himself to return David’s smile. “Good day, young man. What have you been doing this morning?”
“Mama and me moved back to Willow Place. I like it here, don’t you?”
“It’s a lovely house. Your father was born and raised here, you know.”
“Mama told me. I don’t remember Papa. He died when I was little.”
“I know, but he loved you very much. He told me so.”
“Of course he loved me,” David responded with unquestioning confidence. “He was my papa. Did you have a cake?”
“I was not hungry.”
“I am.”
“Then please go ahead and make your selection. I see your mother has already poured you a glass of lemonade. I must be going.”
“Bye, Lord Blackbourne. Will you come back someday?”
“I would like that.”
Amanda, who had been standing at the teacart with her back toward Blackbourne, turned. Four bright droplets of blood stood on her arm along the scratch where his fingers had tightened. Her nostrils flared with disdain. “I shall ring for someone to show you out.”
“I can find my own way out. But rest assured, I shall return.”
“How thoughtful of you to say so.” Amanda’s tone was heavy with sarcasm. “I shall be counting the minutes.”
Blackbourne bowed, a bit too deeply. “Then I shall try not to keep you waiting too long, my lady.” He turned and disappeared into the hallway.
Blackbourne silently but fluently cursed himself all the way back to the Three Ducks. Never before, no matter what the provocation, had he ever hurt a woman. On the other hand, no woman had ever disconcerted him as quickly and as thoroughly as the Countess of Willowvale.
What was it about her that made him act like a marauding Viking and at the same time feel like a foolish boy floundering in his first encounter with lust? Whatever it was, it was powerful. So powerful it had made him revise his plans for revenge and nearly botch his designs for seduction.
How could he have behaved so boorishly? And why had he bothered inquiring into her reasons for living in the old dower house? His primary concern should be with his obligation to ensure that David was raised properly. Unfortunately, he could not in good conscience take David away from his mother, not when she gave every appearance of being a good parent and when it was so obvious that David loved her.
Instead, he was going to have to come up with some way to deal with the countess and take care of David at the same time.
But how to accomplish that objective was a question that still plagued him when he pulled into the yard of the Three Ducks. He was so involved with his deliberations that he failed to see Anthony until his friend had driven his curricle up beside him.
“Cutting me again, Garath?” Anthony called out, then laughed. He sat behind a pair of perfectly matched grays harnessed to a shiny black curricle picked out in gray and set off by velvet-covered gray squabs. A young groom, resplendent in white breeches, a dark-gray coat, black top-boots and a hat trimmed with silver lace, proudly occupied the small platform behind Anthony.
Blackbourne raised his eyebrows. “I always cut acquaintances who have the effrontery to drive a carriage that outshines my own,” he responded, grinning. “Are you on your way back to town?”
“Yes.” Anthony’s answering grin soon faded. “I assume I shall see you within the next few days?”
“Yes, as soon as my business here is completed.”
“Make it soon, Garath. The Season is more than half over. It’s important you put in an appearance if we’re to completely stamp out that silly rumor your half brother started about you.” He paused to bring his spirited horses under control. “Blast these fidgety nags. I must go. I’ll see you in town.”
&
nbsp; Blackbourne had time only to throw up his hand in a farewell gesture before Anthony expertly guided his grays out of the crowded yard and onto the road.
Anthony had been right about the need to return to London soon, Blackbourne reflected later that day while sitting alone in a private parlor. A waiter had just removed the remains of his solitary meal, leaving him feeling unusually melancholy. He thought he had grown accustomed to eating alone during the past two years, but dining with Anthony the previous evening had revived memories of the joys of companionship, leaving him eager to return to London.
But if he left Sussex now, abandoning David to the care of his mother with her peculiar notions and her bourgeois leanings, he would be neglecting his responsibilities as the boy’s guardian. He really needed to think of a way to separate the two that would not distress David.
He could take David to London with him, but he feared that would be doing the boy a disservice. Everyone would be a stranger to him, including the servants, and besides, the air in the city was not always healthful, particularly for the young.
And of course the countess would refuse to go unless…
Blackbourne stood and started pacing about the room. There was a solution to this puzzle. He just needed to figure it out.
Then it came to him. He would give the countess a legitimate reason to move to London while at the same time removing any objection she might have for leaving David behind at Willow Place.
He looked toward the clock on the mantel and grinned. If he left within the next half hour, he could ride to Bourne Hall and be back at Willow Place by mid-afternoon the following day. Then he would lay his plan before the countess and convince her that for David’s sake, she must move to London and lay siege to the ton.
Chapter Seven
Amanda opened her eyes the following morning and blinked, confused for a minute by the absence of the summer sun pouring through her window. Then she remembered. She was no longer in the old dower house. Here in Willow Place, the dark velvet draperies insulated her from the cheerful morning light that usually awakened her. Seconds later, memories of the previous day’s events flooded back.
Blackbourne.
With a soft moan, Amanda pulled a pillow over her head, hoping to banish the man’s image from her mind’s eye, but to no avail. His piercing gaze and sardonic smile danced behind her eyelids, just as they had infiltrated her dreams.
Flinging back the covers, she sat up on the side of the bed and reached to smooth her night rail over her knees. Surely she hadn’t dreamed about Blackbourne all night. After all, he was not the type of man she would likely dream about anyway. He was a nobleman, and noblemen were notorious for seeing to their own comforts ahead of anyone else’s. But in her dreams—memories of which were returning with unwelcome clarity—he had been kind, thoughtful and considerate of her needs. He’d been a friend who stood by her side and protected her from the snobbery of his peers. And he had been a lover who—unlike Oliver—had been both passionate and gentle.
Aware that her face was growing heated as more detailed recollections of her dreams intruded into the light of morning, Amanda pushed herself off the side of the bed, determined to banish such thoughts. Shrugging into her dressing gown, she rang for her maid. Janie would soon arrive with her chocolate and toast, but Amanda feared she would not be able to digest her breakfast. A knot of nerves settled in her stomach when she considered the possibility of Blackbourne returning today.
While waiting for Janie, Amanda opened her wardrobe and gazed forlornly at the dozens of gowns crammed inside. All were like new, all expensive and all purchased for her by her father before her marriage. She hoped styles had not changed overly much in recent years.
She hurriedly sorted through the possibilities, looking for a gown that would help her attain the look she desired—sophisticated yet ladylike. First of all, she looked for long sleeves to hide the scratch running down her arm. She didn’t want Blackbourne to think she was attempting to remind him that he had hurt her. Not that he is likely to feel remorse anyway.
Five minutes later when Janie arrived with Amanda’s morning chocolate, she paused in the doorway and gaped. “Goodness, milady. Why do ye have all of them gowns spread out on yer bed?”
Amanda turned to her with a smile of relief. “I’m glad you’re here, Janie. Just set my food down and help me make a decision.”
Janie placed the tray on Amanda’s bedside table and turned back to frown at the pile of dresses. “Help ye make a decision about what, milady?”
“Lord Blackbourne may return today, and I want to be dressed appropriately. Unfortunately, my father bought these gowns for me and although the pastels were fine for an unmarried girl, they are too bland for my light coloring. Do you see anything you think would work for me today?”
Janie picked up the darkest—a pink gown trimmed with rose ribbons. “This is pretty, milady.”
Amanda eyed the elaborately embroidered hem. Too fancy. He would think I don’t know a ball gown from a morning gown.
She surveyed the other possibilities. “What about this orchid muslin?”
“It’s pretty milady, but the weather is supposed to be hot today. Are ye sure ye want to wear long sleeves?”
Oh yes, I’m sure. She was determined to hide her scratch today. “The sleeves are fine. Help me dress and then you can style my hair. You do it so beautifully.”
Janie smiled. “Thank ye, milady, but it’s a pure pleasure to work with hair as thick and curly as yours.”
By the time Janie had helped her dress and finished putting her hair up, Amanda was convinced that she looked as well as possible. She excused Janie and went to check on David so she could reassure herself that he and Nanny had settled in and that David was still happy to be back in Willow Place.
By mid-afternoon, Amanda had concluded that Blackbourne was not going to visit her that day after all. Irritation with him quickly turned into irritation with herself. She had wasted most of the day, trying unsuccessfully to concentrate on estate business while expecting at any minute for Chambers to scratch on the library door and announce the arrival of the Marquess of Blackbourne.
Suddenly too restless to continue sitting behind the desk trying to add up endless columns of figures, Amanda stood and turned toward the French doors leading into a side garden. Flashes of soothing greenery beckoned from beyond the glass and Amanda succumbed to the lure of the outdoors, hoping the bright afternoon sun and the soft aroma of the spring flowers would lift her spirits.
She’d barely stepped outside when one of the gardeners approached her. The gardeners were all local people she’d hired to rejuvenate the grounds after Oliver married her and then left her alone here for much of the time.
The man grabbed the hat off his head and sketched a quick bow. “Good afternoon, milady. I was wondering if ye’ve noticed that the primroses are prettier than usual this year.”
“Greetings, James. Yes, I thought the same thing about the primroses, and the violets are also quite lovely. Thank you for taking such good care of the gardens. I hope your family members are well.”
James twisted his hat in his hands. “My wife wanted me to thank ye for sending the doctor when our little girl took bad during the winter. She’s fine now, praise be.”
“I’m so pleased to hear that, James.”
“And I wanted to say, milady, how nice it is to have ye back at Willow Place. We all missed you and the boy—I mean his lordship—if saying so is not too forward of me.”
“Not at all. Thank you.” She smiled a gentle dismissal and turned down a path leading through the shrubbery to a marble bench where she sat and soaked up the beauty around her.
She could see now that Willow Place was where both she and David belonged, and for the first time since her marriage, she was thankful for something Oliver had done. Although she would never know what his intentions had been in appointing a guardian for David, she could at least be grateful for the consequences. Blackbourne might detest
her, but he was David’s legal guardian, and she intended to see that he eased David’s passage into the world of the nobility. She would pray that the training she had tried to instill in her son would keep him from engaging in the worst excesses of his father.
Having at last come to terms with the direction of her thoughts, Amanda squared her shoulders, determined to get on with her work. David’s inheritance was still in her hands, and she was resolved to guard it with all the talents she had inherited from her merchant father. If she was to spend the rest of her life alone, she might as well try to make it count for her son.
She stood, intending to return to the library and concentrate on the papers that awaited her there, but she had not taken even one step when, with a soft gasp, she dropped back onto the marble bench.
Blackbourne stood in the pathway a scant ten feet away. So, he has deigned to visit me after all, now that the day is more than half gone. She lifted her chin and raised her brows in a silent question.
Blackbourne continued to stare at her. A slight frown touched his brow but he was not angry—that much Amanda could judge. Instead he appeared almost hesitant, but surely she was misreading his expression. The nobleman, who just yesterday had flaunted his arrogance, would never, she felt sure, display even a modicum of diffidence. But still he said nothing, so she tilted her head to one side and waited for him to speak.
Blackbourne could not understand why he had been standing for the last several minutes on a gravel pathway staring like an infatuated schoolboy at Amanda, who was attired today in a dress that was at least five years behind the styles. That would have to change based on the plans he had for her.
He forced a smile and bowed. “Forgive me, my lady, for this intrusion. Chambers was puzzled when he found you missing from the library, and I offered to search the gardens on his behalf. Have I arrived at an inconvenient time?”
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