Brinley stormed out and continued on toward the front door.
Without thinking, Lore stood and followed.
He caught up with her outside. “How did the fitting go?”
Brinley walked with a purpose though he knew she had no idea where she was going. “I hate you.” She stopped and turned to him. “I truly, truly hate you.”
He was taken back and actually hurt. He hadn’t known she had the ability to do so until that moment. “Brinley, if you don’t want the gown—”
“This isn’t about a gown,” she hissed.
* * *
Brinley was unable to get another word out past her lips, because her name had been called from another direction.
She could hardly handle her mother when she was in the best of spirits, but never when she was on the brink of tears. Crying was the very last thing she wished Lore to witness her do… again.
Her mother and her sister sat inside a carriage.
Arabella waved to them both. “When I told Mama where you were planning to go today, she decided to come as well.”
Brinley regretted telling her sister anything, but Arabella had come to Brinley’s room weeping and had accused Brinley of avoiding her. Even with a husband who adored her, Arabella still craved her sister’s attention.
A footman helped both the women down and Lady Tellock all but floated toward them with a grin on her lips.
“My lord.” She curtsied and Arabella did the same.
Lore bowed. “Lady Tellock, Lady Dalewell.”
“Arabella,” her sister insisted. “After all, we are family.”
“Of course,” Lore said.
“Brinley,” her mother began with an arched brow. “Are you having a gown made? I can’t remember the last time you did so without me being present.” That was because the one and only time Brinley had ever thought to wear a dress like her sister’s, her mother had thrown such insults at her that Brinley had cried for days. It was not an experience she ever wished to live again.
There were times Brinley thought her design came from the repressed desire to wear whatever she wished. They flowed from her mind like endless possibilities.
“I am getting a dress made,” Brinley said with some caution. “I plan to use my pin money for it. I rarely use any of it.” She was saving her every penny for her future.
Arabella’s eyes widened.
“Well,” her mother went on. “I hope you didn’t make the mistake of having an extravagant piece made. You know, in a town as small as this, you’ll never find anything that suits your tonnage.”
Brinley felt her heart fall.
“Actually,” Lore began. “She did, in fact, find a gown that I believe will more than present Lady Brinley’s very pleasant and natural comeliness.” He was grinning, but every word had a bite to it. “I suspect that come the ball, everyone will see Brinley as I do.” He looked at her then. “Beautiful.” Then he turned back to Lady Tellock and said, “I would dare anyone to think your daughter as anything less than divine. I’m sure you feel the same, my lady.”
Brinley stared fixedly at Lore as her heart galloped within her chest. His look was slightly threatening, challenging, and fiercely directed at her mother.
There was silence from all three women.
Arabella looked ready to faint.
Lady Tellock was at a loss for words, which was the first Brinley had ever seen it.
Eventually, the countess found her voice. “Of course! One can clearly see that Brinley is…” She looked at Brinley.
“Lovely,” Lore offered in assistance.
“Yes.” Lady Tellock looked Brinley over without a hint of distaste. She reached out as if to touch Brinley’s face, but then retracted her hand and nodded. “Lovely.” She turned to Arabella. “Come. Let us hope the modiste will not be too busy so that we can arrange for your gown to be made by the ball.”
They walked away.
Arabella turned and smiled at Brinley before she disappeared into the shop.
“Now.” Lore was looking at her again. “Where were we?” He was still angry, though Brinley didn’t know if it was at her mother or at herself.
Brinley shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her. She had her answer then. He was upset with her. Strangely, Brinley’s own anger had vanished.
“You said you hated me,” Lore accused.
Had she?
Now, when she looked at him, she found it very hard to hate anything about him. In fact…
She blinked and looked away. “I was… overwhelmed.”
“You rarely get overwhelmed,” he said in a calmer tone.
“How do you know how I usually am?” she asked.
He smiled that knee-weakening smile. “I know you, Brinley. Maybe better than you do.”
She dearly hoped not.
∫ ∫ ∫
2 9
Every two days for the next six weeks, Brinley walked the great distance from the castle to Chesterhill. She took Robert and Sarah with her so that her family would not worry after her, though she never told them her destination.
The journey became easier over time, and Brinley was now at the point where she only stopped to rest once during the entire trip. If at all!
She’d been there to meet with the mason that Mr. Ross had called in to help transform the stables to their former glory. She was also there when the local blacksmith had come. Lore didn’t attend every meeting, but when he did come, he rarely had any input. He seemed more than happy to allow Brinley to dictate everything.
So she did.
She couldn’t help but feel like the lady of the manor. Who wouldn’t when Mr. Ross was beginning to turn to her for advice and she happened to be sharing private meals with the property’s owner?
Chesterhill, in her mind, had become their little secret, a hidden place where they could both be themselves and let go of their worries.
Only on one other occasion had she mentioned buying land from Lore, but he’d yet to make his decision. She wondered if it was a simple reluctance to part with the land or because he didn’t wish her to live so close.
From past experiences, she was ready to believe it to be the latter but getting to know Lore made her think it the former. She understood his need to make his father proud. He assisted manually with many of the changes in the stables and whenever she didn’t see him around, though knew him to be on the property, she easily found him in his office looking over books.
There were moments that she stood at the door just watching him work. He’d look from one to the next, his brow furrowed with a pen in hand. Then, as if sensing her presence, he’d lift his head and smile.
Her heart jumped every time and Brinley was sure that by the end of the second week, she’d fallen in love with him.
In her effort to distract him with his obligations, she’d somehow fit herself into his world and more than anyone else, he accepted her there. He made it feel right. He made her feel wanted, which was something she was not used to.
They’d not kissed since that first time in the forest, but that didn’t mean that Lore had stopped touching her.
Since the first massage, he’d done it twice more, but she’d cut them altogether when his hands began to wander too high for her to keep her sanity.
He’d also grabbed her hand more often than once as they walked the property and looked for other areas that could be improved now that the stables were complete.
She’d wondered at his touches. No one was around to see it being done so what was the point?
Did he like her? Did his feelings run just as deeply as her own?
Likely not. He called her friend, over and over again, as though trying to remind her whenever she began to think it more.
However, as for his public attention, it was working.
She was beginning to notice men look at her as if trying to figure her out, maybe see what it was that Lore saw. They were the men sh
e often found herself in long debates with.
Lord Clayton was a professor at Oxford, Lord Perry a doctor from London. Both were pleasant and gave her an amount of attention measured out to be more than the others in their circle, though she wasn’t sure if they were truly interested in her or not.
The Viscount of Sillian had also become her friend. She found his hazel eyes to be warm and his hair reminded her of Oliver. He was easy to like.
But the new relationship that pleased her the most was the one with her mother. Lady Tellock, who’d never seemed to care for Brinley, had started to warm to her. She no longer outright despised having Brinley at her side. Now, the countess only hesitated for a moment before she looped Brinley’s arm through her own as she spoke with friends.
That alone was making her father’s plan worth it and Brinley suspected that even when Lore didn’t propose, her mother would no longer hate her. Lady Tellock would stop seeing Brinley as completely hopeless even if Brinley chose in the end not to marry.
It was Brinley’s greatest hope to have the relationship with the countess that Arabella had.
And while she was pleased by many things over the last few weeks, she needed to distance herself from Lore.
Helen had become rabid in her pursuit of him, almost incapable of hiding her intentions as far as Brinley was concerned. She thought it strange how she tried to get away from Lore while he tried to get away from Helen. The whole situation was backward.
Brinley wanted to stop whatever was going on before that was the case.
She was standing at the door frame to his office once more when he looked up and gave her that smile that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.
“Mr. Ross has let you go, has he?” Lore asked.
She smiled. “He likes my ideas for the gardens. I see no reason to not enhance them when people already come here to visit the stables.”
Apparently, Chesterhill was not far from the Newmarket race tracks. As soon as the assizes arrived, there would be those who would come here to look over Lore’s horses.
Breeding was essentially how his land made its wealth, and she’d not been surprised at all to learn that Lore knew everything there was to know about the topic.
Lore stretched as he stood, flexing far more muscle than any lord should have. “What other plans do you have for the day?”
She pulled her gaze from his chest and arms and found him to be grinning at her.
He’d caught her watching him.
She lifted her chin. “Nothing.”
“Good. Come with me.” He started toward her, took her hand, and strolled through the door.
In the stables, he gave her a horse before taking his own.
“Your father need not know,” he said with a wicked grin before he mounted.
Brinley mounted with ease and pushed her hair back.
He’d created a rule that she not be allowed to cover it on his property anymore.
And she, in turn. had enforced her own rule. They’d both go hatless.
Now she could gaze at his gorgeous hair whenever she wished.
Which was usually every other minute.
They rode west, following a path through the hills that looked to have been created by nothing more than the hooves of horses. They stayed close to the river and the trees that protected its cool waters. They hadn’t ridden for long until he stopped her.
Just up ahead was a cottage made out of the same pale stone as Lore’s home. It stood amongst a line of trees and seemed cocooned in foliage. She loved it immediately.
“It’s not as large as Chesterhill,” Lore said. “But I thought it would suit you. Of course, my house is less than a ten-minute ride away, so you’re more than welcome to take over my property when you wish. According to Mr. Ross, you already have.”
Brinley was staring at him. “What are you saying? You’d sell this to me?” She’d had no clue Lore’s lands were so vast.
He nodded, his hair tussled with the wind. “I’ve had servants inspect it. It’s ready to be lived in, but you should see the house before you agree to anything.”
He’d prepared a home for her? When she’d believed him to no longer be considering her wishes to buy property from him, he’d been doing more than taking her words into account. He’d been putting them to action.
“I trust you,” she said. “How much is it?”
He shrugged and said a figure.
A low figure.
“That is all?” she inquired.
He smiled. “It is all I ask of you.”
Brinley pressed her lips together to stop herself from releasing one of Arabella’s happy shrieks. Though, this was a moment worth shouting over.
But she would never feel right about taking such a beautiful piece of land from him without paying what it was worth.
“How much would you have charged if I were a man?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “How did I know you’d ask me that?”
She waited expectantly.
He gave her a number that was so far beyond what he’d said the first time that it nearly knocked her off her horse.
Yet she knew the property to be worth every penny.
“I’ll have it for you by the end of the party,” she told him. By then, Everly’s messenger should have returned with Brinley’s money.
“How is it that you have such a large sum on hand?” Lore asked.
“As I told you, I’ve been saving for this.” And, finally, her dreams were coming true. She’d have her own home and wouldn’t be far from a friend she dearly loved.
∫ ∫ ∫
3 0
They rode down to the cottage and the closer they came, the more Brinley was certain it was where she wished to spend the rest of her life.
It was larger than she’d expected with two floors and enough windows to allude to more than a few rooms.
There was a small white gate in the front, crowded and overcome by hanging bushes that curved around it, making the gate look one with nature, as though it, too, had come from the earth.
Twining vines carved around the edges of the house itself and over the windows. Blue wisteria bloomed from them. Their tiny bunched petals hung from the vines. The blue was so rich it was nearly violet.
In the late afternoon sun, it was all very magical to behold.
“I instructed the servants to clean the inside,” Lore began. “But I left the gardens untouched. I didn’t know if you’d want any of the plants cleared.”
“No.” She spun to him. “It’s perfect.”
She followed the sound of the creek around to the back of the house and was met with a private courtyard that sat on the riverbank. More vines hung along the walls there as well with the crowded trees making it all appear like the cottage had always belonged in the scene.
She was immediately inspired and decided she’d bring her books back with her the next time she came.
The interior was lovely.
There were three bedchambers and a receiving room upstairs.
Down below were the servants’ quarters, a drawing room, salon, and dining room.
It was everything she would need.
She turned to Lore again and found him watching her.
“You’re happy,” he said and though he smiled, there was a touch of curiosity in his eyes.
She smiled. “I am. Did you doubt I would be? The house is amazing. It’s worth the number you gave me.”
He stood at the head of the stairs, leaning an elbow upon the newel with one foot crossed over the other. “I know, I simply… thought by now you’d have changed your mind.”
“What do you mean? You thought I’d not like the house?” she asked.
“No, I mean, I’d thought you’ve have changed your mind about sequestering yourself away from the world. I thought you’d decide to marry.”
“Marry?” She frowned.
He nodded. “It’s been weeks since we started the ruse. Surely, you’ve s
een the attention you’ve begun to gain.”
Brinley rolled her eyes. Those men were as likely to ask for her hand as Lore was.
And even if they did ask, she’d say no.
“I’ve not changed my mind,” she said.
“But what if you do?” Lore made his way to where she stood in the middle of the room. “The party’s end is still weeks away. Anything could happen in that amount of time.” He touched her cheek and then threaded his hand through her hair. “Never doubt your appeal,” he said in a low voice.
Her insides twisted with want and other heavy feelings. “I’ll never marry, but if I do, I swear to sell you back the land at its value before I do.”
* * *
As Lore continued to twine his fingers in Brinley’s hair, he resisted the urge to lightly yank her back and crush his mouth down to hers.
To distract himself, he chose to speak instead. “It only seems fair that you’d return my lands before your prospective husband took it from me,” he whispered as she stared into Brinley’s upturned face.
“We can put it in the papers.” She delicately placed her hands on his chest. “But I promise you it’s not necessary.”
He sighed. “Oh, ye of little faith.” She was far too realistic to be good for her. He was sure of it. “Surely, you allow yourself to dream of what life would be like if you did wed?”
She smiled. “I suppose most women do, but they are nothing more than fleeting dreams. Surely, you do not chase after every dream you come across.”
He grinned. “You’re quite right, though I believe that some dreams are worth chasing.”
“As do I.” Her gaze didn’t waver.
Brinley looked different than when they’d first met.
She’d lost weight.
It was bound to happen. Between her walks and her mother’s strict control of her eating, Lore had seen it coming and had offered her the use of his carriage. He’d been willing to send it for her, but she refused, partly to ensure there was no gossip and partly because she enjoyed her walks as did Sarah and Robert.
Still, the missing stone was noticeable in her face. Her high cheekbones were now quite pronounced and with her deep-set eyes and plush lips, it made her regal and exotic with the effect more noticeable when she wore her hair down.
The Perfect Gentleman (Valiant Love) (A Regency Romance Book) Page 15
