He came in to step with her as they moved in unison to the edge of the floor, and lifted hands. "And what are you supposed to be this evening?"
She grinned a shy smile. "I am virtue tonight."
A chuckle bubbled in the back of his throat. "Well, I suppose on a night like this, anyone could be anything."
Her lips curled down. "What did Miss Telfair come as, a dairy maid or a governess?" Venom sounded behind the s-sounds.
Something protective, more than paternal, rose up in him. He stopped, his gaze unflinching. "Don't hurt my friend."
Deborah's cheeks turned bright red, and she stammered, "I didn't mean anything. Is she here?"
If he answered, it would either expose his interests in Gaia or hurt Deborah's feelings. Neither felt like the right thing to do. He patted his cousin's fingers and led her from the floor. "Have you seen her?"
The tension in the woman's jaw eased. Her smile returned. "I suppose she hasn't showed. Now, maybe I'll have your attention."
A measure of sympathy hit him. It was horrible not to have your love returned. Knowing the pain he held in his own heart, he should be more sensitive. He smiled down at Deborah. "Come, let's try one more dance."
She took hold of his hand. "Cousin William, dear man, I know you are lonely. And certain women will take advantage to better their lot. Take care. For Mary's sake, she needs a well-connected woman to mother her."
"I'll keep that in mind, if I ever remarry."
She tugged on his domino, stopping him from spinning her in the reel. "You need to think of remarrying, for nothing more than producing a male heir who will inherit your title and who'll be able to protect Mary all her days. You may not always be able."
William didn't respond. The lump in his throat was too big. His selfishness could leave Mary unprotected. He bowed to Deborah and walked out into the cool night air.
Gaia released a yawn and glanced out her bedchamber window. After a sleepless night, Seren dropped her to Chevron at the crack of dawn. Her lack of rest didn't dim her anxiousness. Cheshire said he would call today. Her face dipped and her brow pressed against the cold glass. She closed her eyes.
A pat to her shoulder made her bolt upright.
Sarah stood behind her. "Did you dance and have fun?" She waved the cream mask Seren forced Gaia to keep. "I didn't see you until Mr. Whimple escorted you to your carriage."
"Is Mr. Telfair ready to send me away to a convent?" That is, if one would take her.
"He didn't attend. The tirade up here left him too tired, or maybe it was the warm milk. So, was your dance with Mr. Whimple extraordinary?"
Half-shamed, half-enraptured, all confused, Gaia fingered the brown buckle at her waistband. "I didn't dance, but I kissed a duke."
"Oh, I see." Sarah sank against the bedpost with a thud.
Gasping, Gaia stepped closer. "Are you all right, Mother?"
She raised a hand to Gaia's cheek. "My heart sings when you call me that."
"Please, Mother, tell me what to do. Serendip couldn't stop laughing. She thinks I might love the duke, but that can't be right."
Sarah lifted her chin, exposing misty almond eyes. "Can’t it be?"
Gaia shook her head so hard it hurt. "Oh, how could I be so faithless? I am just like the woman who birthed me. At least I am no victim; I caused this travesty with my own hands."
Taking Gaia's palms in hers, Sarah shook her head. "You are your own woman. If your feelings have changed from Elliot to the duke, it's fine. And we don't know what happened with your mother."
How could it ever be fine? With Elliot, there was a chance at love. The years they'd known each could outweigh her impure blood. Gaia stiffened her posture. "Why has my heart changed? It should be set on Elliot. He was attainable. He, more so than the duke, could accept a by-blow."
Sarah sighed. "Don't call yourself that. You are bright, pretty Gaia Telfair. I know Cheshire cares for you."
Caring for was very different from love, or even acceptance. Gaia shook her head. "Mr. Telfair has cared for me these twenty years. It's not love. It carries no more weight than how useful I am to him. And if my wanton behavior is found out, how much care will he have for me then?"
The neighing of horses sounded through the window. Gaia looked out and caught sight of the duke in an obsidian carriage pulled by a team of four handsome walnut roans. Several grooms surrounded the open carriage. Was that his daughter by his side?
"What's happening, Gaia?"
"It's him, in a landau. The duke wants to take me for a drive."
Aunt rushed into the room. Curling papers still sat in her auburn hair. "Well, she'll need a chaperone. I tell you, Sarah, this is the one I should have had for a season. This meek one's going to get the duke to come up to scratch in no time. You may not have Julia's beauty, but your wit has snared him. My dear friend, the first Mrs. Telfair would be so proud."
All the air left from Gaia's lungs. How could that woman, faithless or victim, ever be proud?
Sarah bounced to her feet. "Hush, Tabitha, and go get dressed. Gaia, we'll need to go downstairs."
Aunt grabbed Gaia by the shoulders. "And you come. Maybe we can get you into one the gowns I had made for your sister. She's only an inch or two taller."
Gaia shook free, but kissed Aunt's hand. "No; if he's come to visit me, it will be plain old me." No more dressing like Julia or Seren. Her brown-checked gown would have to do.
Aunt shook her head then marched to the door. "When did she become willful?"
The transformation started when Gaia met Cheshire by her tree. It became more real when he kissed her. Pity, it would all be for naught when she explained her true upbringing; even a man as kind as the duke wouldn't want such a dark, scandalous girl.
The doors to the parlor opened.
Sarah and Gaia curtsied as Cheshire entered with his daughter. The little darling held his hand. Her eyes seemed wide as her head whipped from side to side.
The pair wore coats in matching shades of blue; his, a slim waistcoat over buff breeches, and the tot wore a miniature carriage dress. He'd combed his dark hair back, except for the errant curl falling over his brow. It had to be her sleep-deprivation that kept her gaze lingering on his pleasant smile.
He took a long-stemmed buttercup from behind his back and handed it to Gaia. "Are you ready for our drive?"
Aunt walked back into the room, her chignon stuffed into one of Sarah's embroidered turbans; a rose-colored one with tiny stitched flowers at the seam. "Your chaperone is ready."
Gaia swallowed, trying to force moisture into her dry throat. "What if we just take a walk? I'm fond of walking, and we won't need a chaperone."
"I could watch the child," Aunt attempted to pick up Lady Mary, but the child ran to her father.
He scooped up the little girl, and she pulled at his finely- knotted cravat. "She's not very sociable."
Gaia bent and played with Lady Mary's fingers. "Let's take her with us, and my little brother can come, too."
His eyes darted, as if he didn't agree, but then he nodded. "Let us go. We need to finish our talk."
Yes, she'd savor this talk. It would have to be their last.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A Mistake or An Opportunity
WAITING FOR GAIA to collect her brother and a pelisse, William stood in the lime-washed hall of Chevron Manor, tapping one boot on the dark-stained floorboards while Mary latched onto the buckle of the other. A servant passed in front of him and curtsied. Then a set of giggling girls stepped around him to enter a large room… probably a dining room with a table missing.
He lumbered an inch or two, with Mary smiling up at him, and peered through the crack in the door to the dining room. Julia Telfair performed the steps of a reel with someone. A dance master?
She was all smiles, and the young man was, too; even as the bouncy twins and four other girls popped up and down on the bare hardwoods.
A lesson? William leaned a little closer to the door, gripping the
dulled brass knob. There was something familiar about the couple's form, the way they moved in unison. Was that the shepherd from the night before?
The sister glowed as she linked arms with the young man. Oh, my; someone has made the flower bloom. Moreover, it wasn't the shared botanist.
William scratched his chin. Perhaps he should warn Mr. Telfair of the attachment.
One of his father's fiery sermons about temptation leapt to William's head. While the parishioners seemed roused by his father's oration, William could only cringe at the man's illustration of a near-elopement of an under-gardener and pretty young parishioner. His father humiliated the girl, telling of her pregnancy out of wedlock. Fully sobbing, Miss Oliver hung her head through the sermon. The family moved a few months later.
The shame had to be unbearable, and it killed the fortunes of the younger sisters. Yes, he should warn Mr. Telfair.
"We are ready, my lord." Gaia held her little brother's hand. A grimace painted her high cheekbones, as if this stroll would be torture.
He deposited Mary onto his shoulder and extended his arm.
When Gaia's chocolate-colored sleeve merged with his, his mind cleared of everything save her frown, and what it would take to lift it.
With a tug, she walked forward. "Let me lead the way."
He swayed but kept his feet planted, not moving. "Giving orders to a military man?"
She bit her lip but raised her gaze to his, the first time today. "Please follow me."
Her eyes radiated even more so than they did with her ball mask. Right now, it wouldn't take much for him to follow wherever she wanted to take him. Hadn't she led him by the nose these past weeks?
Acquiescing, he fell in to step with her.
Further away from the house, William followed the beauty to a grove of beechnut trees. The sweet smell of clover hung in the slight breeze.
A strand of her curly brown hair fell across her scrunched brow. Gaia seemed in anguish.
His apologies went nowhere with the lass, and Stelford's advice seemed to dig a deeper hole. William even prayed this morning to find the right words to say. But what was prayer? Merely an incantation to get God to force others to do what you wanted.
That was what his father's prayers were. Vicar St. Landon prayed William would choose the church, that another heir be found; nothing of wanting his son to be happy.
Swatting at an insect with a little too much force, he forced his hand to lower. He needn't remember that horrible time, father versus son… or the guilt.
Gaia didn't look at him. She held her brother's hand and stared at the rich, emerald ground. Her worn slippers now bore hints of mud stains. They must be freshly-scrubbed, but still not as good as new shoes. Very few women were as resilient as this young lady. Elizabeth wouldn't stand for such.
William put an arm tighter about Mary's middle. She latched to it as if it were reins, and his shoulder a saddle. One day, he'd have to say or write something good about Elizabeth for Mary. How was he to do that?
Hadn't he bowed his head feverishly for the restoration of his marriage? Yet if he'd known of her deceit, could their marriage have been repaired if she hadn't died?
A sigh breathed from his soul. No. He wasn't that big a man. Forgiving such debts wasn't in his cup.
With the silence shredding what little composure he still possessed, he stopped and turned to Gaia. "Did you sleep well?"
Her hazel eyes slimmed to dots and, like focused sunrays, would soon burn through his favorite coat, straight to his chest.
He placed Mary on the ground and pointed to Timothy to sit beside her. "Guard her for me, young man."
The boy nodded and settled near the little girl. She’d already grabbed fistfuls of tall grasses.
Taking Gaia's arm, he towed her a few feet from the children. "I'm at a loss as to how to begin this, but why are you angry?"
She balled her fists. "You let me run on like some ninny. You could have stopped me."
"Your speech was too beautiful to interrupt." He rubbed a patch of marigolds with his boot, and tried to hide the smile lifting his lips. Last night, she'd dazzled him with her boldness, just as with her misery prayer. "Shakespeare would be proud. Such tragedy and mystery wrapped in your words."
She started pacing, flattening the low heather and the poor yellow flowers. "You didn't have to kiss me."
He gripped her shoulder to stop her. "Oh, yes I did. I couldn't let you ask some other fool, one who might try to take more advantage of a girl alone at a Masked Ball, or worse, you could've shared your feelings with the botanist, only to have him say no to your heart."
With his finger, he traced her jaw. "Trust me, my dear; there is no greater pain than heartache blended with humiliation."
Her chin dropped, and wind sighed out of her like a hole in a hot air balloon. "He might've agreed."
"Isn't it better to kiss a friend, one who sees you when the world thinks you're invisible? Shouldn't I have a claim to those pert lips?"
He drew her near and cupped her cheek. "It's the light of day, Gaia Telfair. You see William St. Landon standing before you. And he thinks you are beautiful, and gifted with wit, and he wants to kiss you now."
Her eyes widened as her cheeks brightened. "Now? Am I not too brown?"
He gazed over her braided chignon. The children passed a pinecone between them, seemingly oblivious to the adults' conversation. "You glow, and, right now, I will kiss you."
He dipped his head and claimed her. His mouth hummed as she allowed him the liberty. Warm and sweet, it was even better than last night. He trailed his hands down her shoulders. A hint of honeysuckle from her tresses hit his nose, and then blended with the light perfume of the marigolds. Oh, this was better than the Masked Ball, and she knew it was William, not a figment of Whimple.
When her arms rounded his waist, a tingle coursed through his spine.
This wasn't what he’d planned, but he surely didn't mind. He didn't realize how alone he’d felt until he shared this moment with Gaia.
She pried herself free and, with the back of her hand, wiped at her mouth. "We must stop this."
"You are right. I can't keep going around kissing you." He again scanned the area to ensure they'd maintained their privacy. "Someone will talk if I lunge at you every minute. Though I wish it were Mary talking, I don't know what to do to help her. She's trapped in silence. I'm helpless."
Gaia slipped her palm into his, and led him back to the children. "Tell me, have you been singing to her?"
"Yes, 'til I'm almost hoarse. Mary's very fussy. I haven't found good caregivers who understand what to do. The last thought me silly."
"William, you probably looked silly singing with blocks, but that can't matter; it's how she'll learn to read or know her letters."
She’d used his given name. He swallowed instead of kissing her again. "I'd listen to a friend, if she still wanted to be mine after my behavior last night. I took advantage of you."
After straightening the ribbons to Mary's straw bonnet, Gaia pivoted to him. "I was alone, half-seeing. I am to blame."
"Why had you been crying? Why were you away from your family? Had I interrupted a lovers' moment; one belonging to Whimple?"
"'Twas no moment; a month ago, he asked me to wait there for a first dance, but he forgot, or someone lovelier took his attention."
Then he was a bigger dunce than William had expected. "Is that why you'd been crying? Did he break your heart?"
She squinted at him, a crinkle settling on her forehead. Her eyes held a secret but her reddened lips said no. "It was some bad news from home; something of no consequence now."
She looked away, but the hurt lingered in her voice. Something evil had happened, and it took something from her. If not the loss of Whimple, what?
"William, let's discuss how I can help Lady Mary. I don't want compensation or charity. I would do it as a friend. My aunt's here for a full month. She won't mind chaperoning. This is a small village… I wouldn't w
ant anyone forming the wrong idea of my helping you. I'm not Mary's governess or your... doxie."
Oh, he'd make sure on both counts, even pounding Stelford if he insinuated anything. "Of course your aunt can come, and we'll take care with your reputation. I suppose that means no more kisses?"
She nodded.
It was for the best, though the notion of a goodbye kiss held an appeal. "Well, you can't blame a man for asking, but I am grateful. I just want to do something to show my gratitude."
He glanced at her stained shoes. "Your father can't afford all the fine things that you and your siblings deserve, but I can."
She shook her head. "No. I want to be a benefit to your little girl. Some of the things I've tried with Timothy should work."
Fine, he'd figure out some way to show his appreciation for her efforts with Mary. "You don't know what it means to me for you to accept. Your kindness—"
"You accepted the Duke?" A dense patch of winter aconite, deep jonquil flowers were torn asunder, and one of the small Telfair girls jumped out. Her brown eyes were large like walnuts.
Gaia paled. Her voice sounded strained. "No, Helena, you don't understand."
"I saw him kiss you. He must've proposed. The Duke made an offer to my sister!" The younger Miss Telfair ran like a firecracker toward the house. Her deep-brown chignon unraveled and flopped at her high speed.
"Helena!" Gaia attempted to go after her, but he grabbed her around the waist and held her in place.
"No, let her go. It's perfect. Let's agree to marry."
The duke had surely lost his mind.
Gaia struggled within his strong arms, but he wouldn't release her. Near tears, she gave up and withered against him. "This is terrible. How am I to explain this? You can't want me as a wife. No one can."
His low voice stroked her ear. "You're speaking nonsense. As my intended, no one will think anything untoward if you visit Ontredale. With a proper chaperone like that aunt of yours, you can visit as much as you like. If I send you a gift, as my fiancée, you can accept it. A proper fiancé is bound to protect his future wife. I shall always protect you."
Unmasked Heart_A Regency Romance_Challenge of the Soul Page 16
