The woman looked at Lore and then Brinley, back and forth, over and over. Then she looked down.
Lore’s foot knocked hers.
She turned to him. “Stop it,” she whispered. She tucked her feet away from him.
His face was dangerously close. “Stop what?” His eyes mocked her.
Against her wishes, her body was starting to react to his teasing. She’d thought that friendship would make him think of other ways to appease her father, but apparently, she’d been wrong.
“You know what you’re doing,” Brinley replied.
He placed his knee against hers again. “What am I doing?”
“You’re touching me,” she hissed.
“I am?” His eyes flashed. “Where?” He placed a hand on her knee and her temperature rose. “Here?” His voice was still mocking, but now it was also something else.
She was thinking about the kiss. The memory of it came so suddenly. It had been the pressing of lips, a fleeting thing. Nothing more. Yet she admitted that, more than the kiss, she’d liked the way he’d cradled her face as though she were precious.
He squeezed her knee suddenly, and Brinley felt sweat break out underneath her gown.
“Higher then?” he asked as his fingers crept north on her person.
She covered his hand, stilling him. “You go too far, Lore.” It was the only thing she could think to say.
As she watched, a transformation came over his features.
Suddenly, he sobered and then his hand and foot disappeared. “I’m sorry.” Then he turned away sharply.
Good. Him leaving her be was exactly what she’d wanted all along.
And yet, something was different about him tonight. He was far different than the man she’d gotten to know over the last few days.
A part of her said it may have something to do with Lady Norton.
She told herself not to care.
Not to ask questions.
Yet, being a creature who could never leave a mystery alone, she decided to find out the truth.
* * *
Lore’s plan after the meal was to escape to his room.
He was furious with himself for allowing Helen’s presence to cause him to reduce his and Brinley’s friendship to light nothings and senseless flirting. That was no longer who they were or what they’d become. Yes, he was still using her to get his horse, but he also had a genuine appreciation for her.
She seemed to think with a clarity that Lore rarely had, if ever. She forced him to think but did so in a way that did not make him enraged like his brother.
He’d decided to call it a night, yet he’d hardly left the room before it was declared that the party would move to the gardens and Lady Tellock arrived to beg his escort. Lore knew it ill-advised to refuse, so there they were.
He had no idea what the woman went on about as he escorted her through the softly lit lantern-hung path. The castle’s gardens were very large and took up most of the inner bailey. The wall was in the distance, but twin arched staircases made of white stone allowed one to climb to the top of the wall to either look over the east wall or down to get a better view of the gardens.
A large pool went down the garden’s entire center. Twelve fountains stood on either side. Lion heads were mounted on the columns, their mouths shooting thin streams back into the dark waters covered in lily pads. The sound of their continuous flow was tranquil.
A picturesque white stone footbridge went over the pool with matching lantern posts along the way.
Hedges divided the rest of the grounds, giving the garden’s visitors plenty of reasons to return over and over again. The hedge designs alone had brought royal families to Ayers Castle repeatedly over the years.
The hedges formed walls, arched entrances, and pattern work around the flowerbeds.
Lore remained with Lady Tellock for half an hour and had no clue what the woman was going on about. She didn’t speak about Brinley at all, and he quickly learned that her aim was simply to be seen walking with him.
He didn’t mind in the least. It all worked out for his benefit in the end. Yet, he’d not forget the way the woman had spoken to Brinley in the forest days ago. He wanted to say something, thought he should, but it wasn’t his place. He was not Brinley’s husband and he never would be.
Eventually, they made it to the top of the stairs. The sun had set hours ago. The world beyond the wall was pitch black. Lady Tellock left him there alone when her friends called from farther down the wall.
Lore turned to make his retreat. The last person he wanted to run into was Helen.
He’d known her plan at dinner had been for him to sit next to her, but he’d refused and then he’d refused to give her any of the attention she’d so craftily stolen from others. In vain, she’d tried to pull him into conversation, but he’d rebuffed her.
He made it to one of the stairs when Lady Brinley caught his eyes.
She was coming up the stairs. She lifted her head and their gazes met. He was sure she’d simply walk past him or even retreat and return the way she’d come, but she moved forward and stopped before him.
He took her hand without asking for it and helped her up the final step. He then made ready to let her go. He was not in the mood to play games, not when he recalled the one that had been played against him by Helen.
“What’s wrong?” Brinley asked after a breath.
“What?” he asked after a moment of stunned silence.
Brinley stared into his eyes. “Would you prefer I make a comment on the weather first? I find small talk tedious when there is something pressing to discuss.”
“There’s nothing pressing to discuss.” Or rather, nothing he wished to discuss. He grinned. “I was just heading to my rooms. I’ve had quite the day.”
“Is it Lady Norton?” Brinley asked. “Do you two share a history? You were clearly disturbed by her presence. It’s the only reason you all but shoved me in her path.”
Was that what he’d done?
She was right, he realized. He had used Brinley as a shield, as a way to show Helen that he no longer found her captivating.
“Forgive me,” Lore said a moment later. “I didn’t think about what it would do to you.”
She waved away his words. “That’s not the point. I don’t fear the woman. Have you met my mother? The woman is a lamb next to my tigress of a matron.”
“Is that the reason you’ve been hiding in your rooms for most of the day, or is it me?” he asked suddenly.
Brinley looked away. “It’s not you.”
“Your mother then,” he whispered with a frown. “It upsets me the way she spoke to you.”
“We’re not here to speak about my mother. This is about Lady Norton,” she said, steering the conversation.
“That woman is no lamb but a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Lore said before he could stop himself.
Her eyes flashed, but then she righted her expression to something more blasé. “Also, the threat of further gossip after tonight doesn’t bother me either. How much worse can it get, really?”
Again, he felt like a well-chastened schoolboy.
But what could he say to the last? He knew he was creating gossip.
She grabbed his arm and began to drag him back down the path of the wall.
Usually, a woman did not lead, but Lore allowed it. He was feeling a bit listless and Brinley, he was realizing, seemed to always know what she was about. Why not let her lead for a while? His life might very well improve.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 7
Brinley stopped at one of the towers and pulled in a breath. Letting him go, she grabbed the stone curtain wall and turned to him. “What happened between you two?”
Lore leaned against the wall. “I’d rather not speak of it.” Then he smiled at her. “It’s truly not a story worth repeating.”
“Perhaps speaking about it will make you feel better.” She didn’t know why she was pushing the issue. Lore clearly wanted nothing
to do with the subject, but Brinley had seen the melancholy in his features and hadn’t liked it.
She’d seen it before, but she felt as though an ease had grown between them. Now, it was gone.
“I doubt it.” He turned his back to the wall and crossed his arms.
She turned as well, staring down at the awestriking gardens. “You don’t like her.”
“I would rather she was not here. Helen can’t be trusted,” he said in a bitter tone.
Helen. He used her name intimately.
Lore continued, “Helen makes herself appear one way, when she is, in fact, an entirely different person in private and she clearly has her eyes on me.”
Brinley agreed. The woman had been watching Lore closely.
Then Lore looked over at her and lifted a brow. “I see you and Sillian have grown close.”
“He enjoys speaking, and I’ve always enjoyed listening when someone is saying something of interest, but if you think this has anything to do with the game you’re playing, you’re wrong. He has no romantic interest in me.”
Lore scratched his chin and was clearly in thought.
She didn’t like that look at all. “We are only friends. That is the way it shall remain. Don’t do anything. Please.”
He grabbed her hand and held it between their bodies and out of sight. “I am glad to know you do not wish for more from Sillian, because now I need you more than ever, Brinley.” Lifting her hand, he placed a kiss on her knuckles.
The gesture sent a pleasant tingling down her arm.
Lore’s gaze was determined. “With Helen in the castle, you and I will have to spend far more time together than before.”
Brinley’s eyes widened. She couldn’t afford more time, more of his touch. While Sillian did not steer her heart, Lore did. “Why? Why me? Why not spend time with Denhollow?”
Lore grunted. “Denhollow is halfway in love with her already and she knows it. She’ll use him to get close to me. I need to find out what she’s up to, but I can’t risk her trapping me alone.”
Brinley was starting to fear she knew what had happened between them, though Lore would not give her details. She couldn’t see Helen as the woman Lore described. Yes, she seemed interested in Lore, but to trap him?
“Do you think that perhaps you’re overreacting?” Brinley asked.
His gaze was wild, and he fervently kissed her hand again, distracting her mind. “Brinley, I am far from overreacting. Say yes. Say you’ll help me.”
Brinley pressed her lips together as she trembled.
She’d been wrong to assume she could handle a friendship with this man.
But ignoring him hadn’t worked either.
What could she do? She’d have to find a better way.
∫ ∫ ∫
1 8
Brinley opened the first door she came upon. Seeing it to be a small office—likely that of a servant—she didn’t think twice about slipping in. She quickly but quietly shut the door behind herself and then took a breath.
She was alone.
Finally.
The door’s handle rattled.
Brinley gasped and took a step back just as she saw a dark shadow slip in and shut the door behind him. The music from the other side suddenly muffled.
The party was at the local assembly hall for an evening of dancing and merriment, but Brinley had barely had a moment to mingle as she usually would at such an event because of this man.
He didn’t have to speak for her to know who it was. She’d seen a hint of golden hair and a toned form before all the light had vanished.
“Now tell me who it is we’re hiding from in here?” Lore’s voice sounded more sensual in the dark. There was the distinct ring of a lock falling into place.
Brinley imagined his grin as she pressed her back into the shelving behind her. “We are not hiding from anyone. I am trying to keep away from you,” she hissed. And well he knew it.
She’d barely had a moment to breathe without either her mother or Lore hunting her down. Her mother wanted her readily available to Lore and Lore… She didn’t know what he wanted from her half the time. She’d assumed that to fulfill his obligation to her father, he’d be content to simply stand mutely by her side.
But no! The man was persistent. He wanted her attention. All of it. It frustrated her. Pleasure and torture at the same time.
“You’re hiding from me?” he asked in a mocking tone before his voice dipped lower. “I didn’t know we were playing a game. What are the rules?”
“This is no game,” Brinley said.
“Then there are no rules.”
Her lungs constricted, making it hard for her to breathe.
“What happens when I catch you, Brinley?” He sounded closer.
Her insides quivered. She could barely handle his lingering gaze, much less the tone of his voice. He had a way of speaking, of saying her name, that made her shake to her very core.
“How did you lock the door?”
“I asked the upstairs maid for the key once I saw you slip inside.” He took another step. “Keep speaking. It will help me find you.”
Brinley pressed her lips together and moved into the corner.
“Oh, Brinley,” he called in a sing-song voice.
“Lower your voice.” She had to stop herself from shouting the command.
He chuckled.
She skirted around him, but with the office being as small as it was, he easily slipped his arms around her and brought her close.
She panicked. “Lore, what are you doing?”
“You told me to lower my voice. That means we’ll have to be close in order for you to hear me.” He pulled her closer.
Brinley lifted her chin and glared, even though she knew he’d be unable to see it in the dark. “You’re the most maddening man I know.”
“You had the right idea,” he said, completely ignoring her protest. “This is a much better place to be. There’s no one to interrupt us.”
His words reminded her of the other person she was hiding from.
Helen.
Brinley could hardly enter a room without the woman finding a reason to stand at her side. Brinley understood her game. Helen was using her to get to Lore. Helen’s presence seemed to be the only repellent to keep Lore away, though when it came down to it, she preferred Lore.
Helen’s conversations were… empty at best. Brinley had nothing in common with her, but unless she intended to be rude—and with her mother always watching there was no way to be rude—Brinley was stuck.
She’d remain in the office the rest of the night if she must, but not with Lore.
“You’ve lost your mind. What happens when we’re caught?” she asked.
“Naturally, I would offer for your hand,” he said. “But you’d refuse me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
He tsked and leaned into her ear. “Do you know how many women would love to be in your current predicament?”
She knew the number to be large and to include half, if not all, the unwed ladies at the party.
“You gain nothing by trapping yourself in here with me,” she said.
“Don’t I?” He pressed his nose against her throat. “Why is it that you always smell like a baked apple?
Brinley’s eyes widened, and she gripped his shoulders to keep her balance and then pushed him away. “You’re speaking nonsense.”
“It makes me quite hungry, I must confess.” He chuckled.
“Do you take anything seriously?” she asked.
“There are enough Curbains to take matters seriously.” He led her forward and then she was tipped over, toward him. He was leaning against the shelves and holding her securely to his form. “Did anyone ever explain my siblings’ strange names to you? We once had an older brother named John. He died when he was six or seven, I can’t remember. I wasn’t alive until many years after that.”
Brinley frowned at the change of topic. “Do you regret not mee
ting this older brother of yours?”
He was silent and then said, “You know, no one has ever asked me that question. This is why I must keep you around, Brinley. You are forever making me think.”
“Think, yes, but whether or not you are thinking clearly is arguable. You really shouldn’t be here with me,” she said even as she finally settled into his arms.
“I am to be wherever you are,” he said. “We spoke about this. If you try to run and hide from me, I will find you. Never forget that.”
She was very glad her face could not be seen in the dark. She was sure she looked completely flushed.
“Where was I?” he asked.
“You… were telling me about you and your siblings’ names.”
“Ah, yes.” She once again imagined his smile. “So, my father made a terrible agreement with my mother that she could name all the children if she gave birth to his heir first. And so, John was born and then Assurance, Hero, Laurel, and Valiant. Assurance, who we all call Asher, has grown to fit his name better than anyone had expected. Hero became a general in the army. Valiant is quite courageous, if I do say so myself.”
“And Laurel?” she asked. “You skipped your name. You’re older than Valiant.”
He sighed. “Laurel… a shrub. Adornment. Nothing more.”
“That’s not true. It can mean honor as well,” she insisted. “To laurel someone means to praise them for an achievement. Perhaps, your mother thought it a great feat to have given birth to three sons.”
“Perhaps, you are right.”
“And perhaps,” she went on, “you are destined to achieve something great, something glorious.”
“Brinley, for a pragmatist, you are quite the dreamer.”
“It is not a dream,” she insisted. “I believe you can achieve anything you set your mind to. Look at us now. We’re in this office because you insist on having your horse returned to you.”
He was silent and then said, “Perhaps, you’re right.” He settled his hands at her waist. “But perhaps, there is another reason I’ve followed you into this dark room.”
The Perfect Gentleman (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 9
