by Lavinia Kent
“It is so unpleasant when people are ill. You aren’t ill, are you?” She took a step back.
“No, only dirty.” Cynthia looked down at her ruined gown.
“Well, that can be taken care of. Bring the girl in, James. We must have a hot bath fetched—and she can borrow one of my gowns. She’s about my size.” Aunt Prudence ran well-lined hands down the tight-waisted dress and, turning, took careful steps into the house.
Repressing a shudder at the thought, Cynthia smiled and allowed herself to be led into the house.
—
He had not thought this out. It had seemed a simple matter to bring Sin to the house and then persuade her that marriage was in both their best interests. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about Aunt Prudence, but he certainly hadn’t expected her to treat Sin as a newly discovered daughter. She’d kept Sin close to her in the three days since they’d arrived and had even placed her in the room next to her own. He and Sin’d had a few chances to converse, but only in Prudence’s presence, which meant that he now knew what type of flowers Sin preferred (daffodils), that she preferred dances that let her spin to the waltz (no surprise), that she still liked to go fishing (but she never used bait), and that she could beat him at chess. He did not regret a minute of their time together, but had to admit he would have much preferred to be alone with Sin.
Although, Sin had become obsessed with why he had gone alone to rescue Jasmine and how he had known she was in the cottage to begin with, so perhaps it was best that Prudence was never out of earshot. Sin’s whispered questions were becoming unavoidable, questions to which he had no answer. He couldn’t exactly tell her he’d had her abducted, even if it had been an accident.
Or could he?
It may be that he had no choice. There really was no good explanation for why anyone would have brought Jasmine to a cottage on the estate.
What would happen if he did tell her?
As if summoned by his thoughts, Sin strode into the room, the full skirts of Prudence’s dress making her look like a romantic milkmaid. And the bodice—it had been years since he’d seen breasts pushed up in quite that fashion. It made him almost dream of living half a century earlier.
“Have you received a message back from my father?” she asked, coming to stand slightly too close to him, her voice quiet.
“No, but I know your message was delivered. Your father was not home, so my man gave it directly to Lady Westhaven.”
“Then my father must know. Gillian would not keep such news from him.” Sin gazed down at her hands as she spoke.
“You do not sound completely sure of that.”
Her head came up. Her breath brushed his cheek. “No, I am sure. Gillian never does anything that might make her look poorly—or that would make him unhappy.”
That was not a ringing endorsement. “In any case, your family does not expect you back for a week.”
“I am not sure why I ever agreed to such a thing. It was reasonable for me to stay long enough for a night’s sleep in a decent bed and to get a proper change of clothing.” She gazed down at Aunt Prudence’s dress, clearly not sure if it constituted a proper dress.
“It is altogether reasonable that you would spend more than a day with a sick friend—and Jasmine must be quite ill to be avoiding society for so long.”
Sin still looked doubtful. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. The message has been sent. It is too late for me to change my mind now.”
“Do not sound so glum. I will begin to think that you do not care for my company.” He reached out and ran a finger down her cheek. “I only wanted to give you time to settle after your abduction and…I wanted to give you a chance to feel safe.”
Chapter 14
If only that were possible, Cynthia thought. She might feel many things when she was with James, but she wasn’t sure that safe was one of them. Ever since they’d left the cottage she’d been wishing to be alone with James again, and not just so she could force him to answer her questions. It was difficult having Aunt Prudence always following her about or requesting her company. Missing James was very quickly becoming a fact of life and that was even though he was about several hours of the day—they just weren’t alone. And she had to be careful thinking about being alone with him or she’d start to flush. It felt sometimes like her body positively craved the man. She leaned closer, letting her gaze rest on his broad shoulders. “I am not sure how I feel being here.”
He lowered his chin slightly, almost brushing her cheek. “You once regarded it almost a second home. Can you not feel that way again?”
“I don’t know. That seems very long ago.” Her eyes moved away from his, resisting his pull.
“What do you need to feel that way again?” He sounded so serious.
“Why do you care?”
“Because I do care.” He said it so simply, so flatly.
Her gaze returned to his, trying to see behind the bland mask he wore. “That is easy to say.”
“I will not deny that words are easy, Sin. But I do mean them. I want you to feel at home here. I want…” His voice trailed off.
Her heart beat faster. “I know what you want; you have made that very apparent.”
A wry smile played about his lips. She had to fight the urge to reach out and stroke them.
“How can you know what I want when I do not know myself?” he said.
And how did she reply to that? “I think you have made it very clear what you want.”
“If you mean I want you to marry me, then yes, that is clear. If you mean I want your body, then that I cannot deny. But what if I want more?”
They were so close it was hard to believe he did not feel her heart beating. “And what is more?”
His eyes clouded. “That is what I do not know. I know I want you to smile at me like you used to. I know I do not like seeing the worry that lies between your brows.” His hand lifted and hovered at that tight spot between her eyes, but did not touch. “I know I want to see you run down the halls as fast as you can, laughter ringing out.”
“I think that is unlikely to happen.”
“But I can still want it. I want to look up and see your feet dangling from the high branch of a tree.”
“I think you just want to look up my skirts.” She stepped back giving a little twirl so that they spun about her.
His smile grew. “I would not deny that, but mostly I just want to see you happy, Sin. Is that too much to ask?”
It might be. It was hard to imagine simply being happy. “And what should I wish for you?”
His smile froze. His eyes grew dark. “Whatever you want.”
Now that was dangerous. She closed her eyes, but that only made her even more aware of how close he was. The musk of his scent wrapped about her. If she leaned even an inch they would be touching. A thousand careless words rose to her lips, but she held them all back. It would be too easy to make a comment about desire and wanting, but something more serious was between them in this moment. He made her want to be happy, made her want to…No. Her mind was slipping toward danger again.
She opened her eyes and stared at him. “I want you to give me the space to think my own thoughts.”
He took a step back. “Of course. I didn’t mean…Is that really what you think about me, that I would…?”
She opened her mouth to answer, to say she hadn’t meant it, that she was just so confused, but before she could speak the swish of skirts interrupted them.
“I am sure she feels that you’re a cad seeking a compliment,” Aunt Prudence said, sweeping into the room, disrupting their moment of intimacy. The old woman might not be fast but she moved with more dignity than Cynthia could imagine.
Hurriedly stepping away from James, Cynthia smiled in greeting. How was she ever to resolve everything if she never had more than two minutes alone with James?
“You know me too well, my dear,” James said, smiling at his aunt and giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek—but all the while his ey
es held Sin’s, letting her know this conversation was not over.
Didn’t he feel the same frustration she did? It was so hard to tell. She’d never thought him a man to hide his feelings, but about Aunt Prudence he was always perfectly pleasant.
“I doubt any woman knows you too well,” Aunt Prudence added, her smile far more knowing than Cynthia expected. “I am sure you’re used to keeping your secrets tight to your chest.” She turned to Cynthia. “I thought you might like to take a turn about the gardens with me. I do like an arm to hold on to.”
The gardens? At this time of year? Did Aunt Prudence realize it was still February? But it was hardly a request Cynthia could refuse.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, girl. I know it’s cold and that you have had more than enough cold, but a lady still needs fresh air and a chance to stretch her legs.”
“I am sure you are right. I would be most pleased to stroll with you.” She sent James a look of despair. This was not what she’d planned when she agreed to spend a few days with him. Hadn’t they decided that Aunt Prudence would make a horrible chaperone—even if they hadn’t explicitly put it in those terms?
“Perhaps I’ll join you,” he said. “I am sure a gentleman also needs some fresh air.”
Aunt Prudence stopped and glared at him, her wrinkled brow fierce. “I happen to know you were out walking the fields and discussing the coming planting this morning. I doubt you have any more need of air.”
“Well, perhaps I enjoy your company.”
“I doubt it’s my company you enjoy and I am also sure you have ledgers to look over.”
“But—”
“You are being a bore, James. I wish to talk to Lady Cynthia, to share a good gossip. I certainly do not need you diddling about.”
James opened his mouth again, shut it, and then replied, “Of course. Shall I see you in the parlor for a sherry before dinner?”
Aunt Prudence nodded her approval. “You do know me well, boy.” Then she held out her arm to Cynthia and together they marched—there was no other word for it—off.
“I’ve never seen anyone speak to him quite like that,” Sin said. “He always argues with Jasmine.”
“You’ve clearly never seen him with the duke, then. Scarlett does not allow for arguing.”
“I suppose that is true, but…”
“And Langdon takes after his father. I rather think that’s why James has a tendency to be bossy. It must be difficult to be a natural leader and yet always be subservient. He would have been much better as a first son. Although I cannot imagine Langdon as a second son. That boy was born to be a duke.”
Cynthia wasn’t quite sure what that meant beyond that Langdon had always liked to be in charge. He’d been incredibly overbearing when she was a child, not that he’d deigned to spend much time with the “baby girls,” as he’d taken to calling them. “I will allow that James does like to be in charge. I have not spent enough time with Langdon in recent years to speak to his personality.”
“So politely put,” Aunt Prudence said, wrapping herself in a heavy shawl and handing one to Cynthia.
The two women walked into the gardens, arm in arm. The flat stones of the path protected them from the remaining mud and the plantings were surprisingly becoming for the season, everything neat and cut back. The evergreens showed to wonderful effect even with the weather cold and dismal. Cynthia had not really wished to venture outside, but had to admit Aunt Prudence had been right, a little fresh air was good for the soul.
“Are you going to marry my nephew?” Aunt Prudence asked, drawing to a stop.
What? Where had that question come from? “You mean the duke? I believe he already has a wife?”
“Don’t play coy with me, girl. I mean Lord James.”
“Why would you ask such a thing?”
“You did arrive with him and unaccompanied.”
“I had an accident.”
“I am sure that you did, but that still does not explain the lack of a maid. At very least you should have had a story about how she’d been injured and— Oh, don’t interrupt. You should have had some reason why you had no female companion of any type. It is important to keep up pretense.”
Aunt Prudence was correct about that. Cynthia had not even considered the issue. “I was in a hurry to see my sick friend.”
“And yet you do not seem in a hurry to get to her now.”
Why did lies always become so complicated? “I will leave as soon as I feel rested.”
“And how rested do you have to be to visit someone? And if you tell me the road is long and hard I will ask again why you do not have a companion. It might—and only might—be excusable for a short trip, but I cannot believe you would undertake a longer voyage alone—and you also have not explained what happened to your coachman or any outriders.”
“I…I…”
“Oh, and I haven’t heard of any of my neighbors having sick daughters. It was a woman you were planning to visit, was it not? Where exactly were you heading in the middle of the storm that stranded you?”
Cynthia shut her mouth, unsure what to say. Had Aunt Prudence already asked James these questions? And why was she suddenly so astute. She’d had days to ask these questions. Why now? This was not the woman Cynthia had seen in the past. Was Aunt Prudence trying to trick her—and if so, what was the correct answer? Was she supposed to wish to marry James or would Aunt Prudence think she was trying to entrap him?
Aunt Prudence continued to stare. “I don’t seem so witless now, do I? I am surprised that James didn’t prepare better. He is normally not so careless.”
“No, he’s not careless.”
“Which means he wishes to marry you and you are the one dragging her heels. Why?”
“I wouldn’t say he wishes to marry me, more that he thinks he should.”
The stare turned to a glare. “And you don’t wish to marry unless he loves you. Why are the young always so shallow and stupid? And yes, I do mean stupid. James is kind, eligible, wealthy, and even I can see the sparks between you. What could you object to?”
Put that way it did make her sound stupid, but…“I don’t think it is unreasonable to not wish to be forced.”
“Women are always forced. Would any of us marry if we truly had a choice?”
Well, Aunt Prudence had not married, but it didn’t seem a polite thing to say. “There is a difference.”
“Only to the young. You should grab James while you have the chance and before any actual scandal develops. I don’t know what circumstances brought you together at this time, and I don’t want to, but I do remember how you used to gaze at him with moody eyes when you were a girl. I am not confused about that.”
“I am just not sure.”
“Then get off your high horse and be sure.” Aunt Prudence began to pace away.
Cynthia waited a moment and then followed. Where were her ready wits? There had to be some reply that would explain how she felt. “I don’t want him to marry me because he feels guilty, when he—”
Prudence stopped again. “And what would he feel guilty about?”
She should not have said anything. “About being alone with me.”
“James would never feel guilty about something so trivial—nor would he decide upon marriage.”
“I still don’t understand why you believe that he has.”
“Are you telling me he hasn’t?”
“Well, he hasn’t asked me.” Not exactly. No matter the form of the words, it had definitely not been a question.
Aunt Prudence gave a light laugh. “You won’t fool me that easily. I am sure he simply told you that the two of you should wed.”
Cynthia did not reply.
A maid came out the door and waved, indicating she needed to talk to Aunt Prudence.
“Oh drat,” Prudence said. “They have probably forgotten the dinner menu or can’t remember which set of china should be used. I will have to excuse myself. Do you wish to come in or wander
the gardens a bit longer? The maze is still pretty this time of year.”
She’d never been fond of mazes, but she was eager to get away from Aunt Prudence’s questions. “You were right. It is pleasant to be out, even with the chill. I will walk farther.”
When the doors had shut behind Prudence Cynthia turned and strode toward the high hedge, deciding the entrance to the maze must be somewhere along it. The thick boxwoods rose beside her and she bowed her head, staring at her already ruined slippers. Prudence had offered her a new pair, but they’d been several sizes too small. Perhaps she should have asked if one of the maids had a spare pair, but then it was doubtful that any of them did and she would have hated to take someone’s sole pair of shoes.
It was so much simpler to think of shoes than to think of her earlier conversation with James, to wonder what he meant when he said he wanted her to be happy.
“Did Jamie ream you?” a voice asked from the other side of the hedge.
Cynthia looked up. Was somebody speaking to her?
“Not as much as I expected,” another voice answered, this one familiar.
“Truly. I would have thought his lordship would have pulled out a crop.”
“I think he did not mind finding himself alone with the lady.”
“That I can understand. I’d certainly not complain about leaving my boots by her bed.”
“I’d be careful of such comments if I were you, lad. You never know who might hear.”
Cynthia froze. Did they know she was there?
“Still, did you see the arse on her and the legs?”
“Keep your lips sealed, Michael.”
“But—”
“I mean it,” Pete cut in. “A man never gets ahead by talking badly about his betters. Although I will admit it was hard to miss those legs, showing them off as she was.”
Heat rose up her cheeks. She’d hoped nobody had noticed her legs. She should have been more careful, but she hadn’t been quite awake.
“Jamie is a lucky man.”
Pete chuckled. “He always has been. Who else would find himself alone in the old shepherd’s cottage with the wrong woman and have it work out so well?”
