He swatted at her hand with a frown. Hunter trotted after them and lay at Lambrick’s feet when, at last, he eased into his leather chair. He patted the seat next to him as if implying ownership. Well, she was no one’s property.
Instead, she turned to her guests. “Jonathan said you love berries, Miss Anne. I had cook prepare them special with a dollop of cream, cinnamon and honey. And never fear, they were picked last summer and dried. Would you care for a dish?” She offered the cut-glass bowl as if she knew what she was doing. She didn’t. But no one else had to know. She glanced at Jonathan. Was he pleased?
“Darling, how sweet of you. And my favorites— blackberries. You are too kind.” She lifted her brow, perhaps asking Payton if they were engaging in cat and mouse.
Was Payton imagining mischief at work? She would take care around Anne until she figured the older woman out. For now, she played mistress of Kent Hall and she would behave accordingly, like some remarkable actress in one of Molière’s works.
“Thank you for arranging for my gown. It’s splendid.”
Anne drew Payton aside. “I wanted it to be perfect, and I remember how much Jonathan loved Alithea in the palest blue. Her eyes were brilliant when she wore blue. I hope you’ll have a similar reaction from him.”
As if a horse had kicked her in the gut, Payton staggered back and came to rest at Jonathan’s side. He reached out. “Payton?”
“I am fine. Would you like me to get you a glass of wine?”
The scowl again and she stepped away. “I’m bruised, Payton. I’m not a cripple. And no, I don’t drink wine.”
“I didn’t mean to imply—” She wasn’t sure what she had meant, but he had taken it as an insult to his manhood. This Fitzhugh character had unsettled Jonathan more than she’d realized. If only she might help him. She longed to clear the sadness from his heart.
His frown quickly replaced with a smile, Jonathan’s voice rose with an odd familiarity, or did she imagine his attention toward the ladies? “Caroline, could you play the pianoforte when you finish your crepes? I haven’t heard you play in a very long time.” He leaned toward Payton. “She is the finest pianist I have had the pleasure of listening to.”
Hope sank in her. Here she sat next to Jonathan but his mind consistently wandered to Caroline, then Anne, then... Oh, why had jealousy suddenly snared her heart?
* * *
How could he play this game? He had to convince his guests of his sincerity, yet he couldn’t hurt Payton by leading her on, allowing her to think their bargain rang true. He should distance himself from her unless absolutely necessary. With effort, he walked to the pianoforte and began a conversation with Caroline.
Before long, Anne sidled to his side. She stroked his hand and whispered in his ear, “How is the arm, now, darling? That was a nasty fall you took when I was here.”
“I’m better, thank you.” He turned away, putting an end to her fawning. “Caroline, could you play my favorite? Do you remember?” As she began to play, he laughed. “Yes, of course you do.” He glanced toward Payton to see if she watched him with the ladies. She had to understand their arrangement. A small hurt now would be better than a misunderstanding later. And the more they were together, the more he realized how difficult this game would be. One minute he longed to protect her, pet her, care for her, and the next he felt the need to keep her safe by keeping his distance. His head ached with the conflicting messages swirling through his mind.
Caroline blushed. “Still a terrible flirt, aren’t you Jonathan?”
He looked at the hurt on Payton’s face. If only it were that simple.
* * *
They wouldn’t miss her. Payton stepped first into the hall, and when no one noticed her leaving, she fled up the long, winding stairs. On the landing, she tried to seek out Hunter, but the traitor must have remained with his master in the great hall. What was the painful empty space in her heart? Did Jonathan expect her to live with him all the while he gave his attention to other women? Didn’t he see how she longed for him to love her? Her eyes filled with tears even before she opened her door. As her hand reached out, another hand, larger and warmer, closed over the top.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice your departure?”
She sniffled and aimed her line of vision away from him. “You were busy, sir. I understand. Miss Anne is beautiful. As is Miss Caroline. We have no special agreement. I realize why you are marrying me, and while I’m grateful, I have not fooled myself into believing this is any more than a convenience done for my welfare. For you, I’m not sure what it all means. If you will excuse me, I’m rather tired.” Her shoulders sagged and she wished she could face him with courage, but tonight had drained her of her confidence.
“Everyone but Anne believes this marriage is real. And it has to look to the world as if we are in love.”
She spun back as fire flushed her face. “In love! How will they believe that when you are fawning over every woman in the room? Will they truly believe we are in love, sir?”
His hand dug into her arm, and he pulled her close to face him. His eyes took her in, searched her heart.
Her breath hitched as he forced her closer. “If we don’t convince the others... If we don’t marry tonight, your uncle may do whatever he wishes with you until you are one and twenty, and perhaps beyond. That is what is at stake, Payton. We must be actors a while longer. No one must know you have any living relative. And since you have reason to think my thespian talents lacking, I assure you, from this moment on, I shall be the epitome of one of Shakespeare’s actors. You want an ardent lover and I have an obligation to keep you safe.” His arm drew about her, completely releasing her grasp on the wall until he had her firmly in his arms.
She tried to free herself, but his grip tightened like iron. His head dipped forward until the sweetness of his breath mingled with hers. His gaze bore into her in a way that said not to disobey—he worked for her best interest. His lips continued to linger above hers until her heart raced and her eyes darted from side to side, so afraid was she to give away how she felt. Mere seconds passed as his embrace entrapped her. The closeness and warmth from his mouth frightened her in a strange, not wholly unpleasant way. His breathing was faster and his eyes were glazed; all the time he never looked away. Was he telling her that he cared? Truly cared?
“Jonathan?”
“Payton. Why can’t you just...” His lips fell across hers like silk petals. She tasted his strength for the first time. A pounding behind her ribs awakened her to his nearness. He did care in spite of how he acted in front of the others. He cared! In no time, her own mouth betrayed her as she wrapped her arms about his waist and returned his kiss.
A gasp caught in her throat as he released her with a gentle push. She stumbled back, hand on her chest.
His eyes flashed with what? Anger? What had she done now? “Go to bed, Payton. But tomorrow you need stay right by my side while we entertain. My eyes will be on no one but you. Do you remember what is at stake?”
She nodded, numb to her toes. What did he expect from her? She would not be a toy, a foolish girl with no feelings of her own. But what exactly was she feeling? “I’ll not forget. I am fully aware of my obligation for your help. Good night, Mr. Lambrick.”
* * *
Jonathan had to take care. This act, essential to her benefit, was finding him the court jester. He stammered when he spoke with her, his legs weakened while his arms ached to hold her as closely as humanly possible. His lips longed to crush hers. But he had to take care not to let that happen again. He could not love her and she could not love him. So, why had he suddenly kissed her, felt her as much a part of him as his own body? He stood at the door and heard her crying. He should dash propriety to the wind and go to her. Tell her how his feelings had changed. But then he would be at her mercy as he had been first at Anne’s until he
understood she wanted only his money, and then at Alithea’s, a woman who wanted every man who paid her attention.
Tension filled him, and he walked to the stairs, the muscle sawing in his jaw. He slapped a fist into his palm. She would not find her way into his heart. No woman would. Ever again.
Without thinking, he cast the cane he had grown to rely on over the railing and sent it skittering across the entrance. He let out a groan meant for no one’s ears. But when he glanced down, he observed Anne standing at the bottom, smiling at his tantrum while Duncan scurried to retrieve the cane.
* * *
More tears and Payton wasn’t sure why. What was it about him that crept into her very being, tugging at her heart and causing her to cry? She had been robust her entire life. Strong enough to work like a man and still take the time to remember she was a lady. Why, now, did this man affect her so? He had kissed her. His sweet breath had warmed her face. Worse yet, she had kissed him back. Alone in her room, sprawled across her bed and snuggled under the quilt, her eyes closed, but her mind continued its dangerous game of why and what if.
She heard the gongs of the longcase clock on the landing. Midnight. Would she never sleep? At last, with prayers finished a second time, her breathing steadied and her arms and legs relaxed. Hopefully tomorrow would be a brighter day. She sighed deeply.
A loud crash and screams so real they seemed to be coming from her room jerked her awake. She shot up in bed, threw off the delicate coverlet, held a hand to her throat and listened for more noise. Nothing. Had she been dreaming? She slipped from the bed and donned a dressing gown but gave no regard to slippers.
After unlocking and throwing wide the heavy door, she held her breath. Hard hands gripped her wrists, pulling them together in one iron grasp. Before she could scream, one hand shifted and covered her mouth. A voice, firm and anxious, remained low. “Are you safe?”
Without looking but recognizing the tone, she fell into Jonathan’s strong arms and her head came to rest under his chin. She tried to speak; no words came forth. He stroked her hair to quell the shaking. “Shh,” he whispered, his words ruffling her hair. “Everything will be fine. Then it wasn’t you?”
“No. But who?”
“I haven’t any idea.” His fingers smoothed the sleeves of her gown in comfort, and she softened to his touch. She pressed into the protection of his embrace. “I wanted to be assured you were safe before investigating.” He leaned back and looked tenderly in her eyes, but his expression changed in a blink from compassion to anger. “Go back to your room. Lock the door. And stay there, Payton!”
* * *
Someone was going to great lengths to frighten his guests and Jonathan would know who before the night was over. Taking more care this time, he climbed the back way down the stone steps that would take him through the scullery and empty near the stable. He passed the kitchen, where Anne, Mrs. Brewster and two of the servants waited with candles. “What are you doing here, Anne?”
Anne reached for his arm, boldly stroking the fabric of his gown, her eyes and mouth round with wonder. “I heard the screams, Jonathan. Be careful. Alithea’s not dead.”
“Don’t behave like a fool, Anne.” He plucked her hand away in disgust. “I saw her. You saw her. We buried Alithea. She’s gone.”
She drew closer as he tried to walk away. “But that was her scream, her voice. I would know it anywhere. Oh, Jonathan, hold me.”
“Please, Anne.” He pushed her gently away. What might have been. He’d courted Anne long before Alithea, and at one time... But that was long ago. He had married her sister.
Turning toward Mrs. Brewster, he asked, “Has anyone left the house for any reason this evening?”
Curls bobbed under her cap and her plump cheeks lacked their usual rosy tint. Instead, her face paled at his words. “No one that I know of, sir. We’d all been sleeping. I came in here when I heard Miss Anne putting on a kettle. I offered to fix her some bread and fresh butter to calm her nerves, but she said she was fine so I returned to my room to get dressed. Then I heard the screaming. I came out soon as I could. Why?”
He wasn’t certain. But the door at the back had scraped the floor with mud as if someone had been out and returned. He looked down at the feet of those in the room. All wearing boots or slippers of some sort. “Has anyone checked the stables?”
“Mr. Kenny is there, sir. He said he would sleep with the mare as she’s about to foal. He would have seen anyone snooping about. Would you like me to send Birdie out, Mr. Lambrick?”
“No, Emily. Let him sleep. We’ll form a party in the morning and see if any mischief has occurred.”
Anne maneuvered her way back to his side. Her hands started their clingy caress once again. “What are you thinking, Jonathan?”
He hesitated. After scrutinizing each of them one more time, he sat with her at the table. “There is the possibility of the girl’s uncle.”
“Her uncle? You said she had no other family. Jonathan, what game are you playing here?”
“A man showed up at the door claiming to be her uncle. I have no reason to believe he is, but with the other strange occurrences, I have to consider he might be responsible for our nightly screams. As of yet, we have found no reason why Whittard’s cottage burned. I am afraid someone may mean to do harm to Kent Hall and all of its properties.”
“Why would he want to harm you or this lovely old building?”
“That is a very good question, Anne. Here, take some tea and calm yourself.”
While the others choked down cups of tea and wedges of pumpernickel bread, Jonathan thought through all that happened. He rose with every intention of seeing to Payton.
“Talk with Mrs. Brewster and finish your tea. I’m going to check on Payton.”
She offered a smile that reached no further than her pouty lips. “Of course. Payton.”
Chapter 7
Payton awoke with a start. Sun filtered tiny fingers around the edges of the curtains as morning welcomed her. It took but a minute to realize the frightening night was over.
None of it had been a dream. The screaming, the fear. His late-night rap on the door to confirm she was safe. His arms securely wrapped around her. She tried but could not stop her smile from spreading. He had come back after checking with Kenny and stayed with her until she grew drowsy. Until she was able to forget the fright. Jonathan Lambrick was a mystery. One minute holding her, the next telling her to get away from him. With a clearing shake of her head, she rubbed her eyes and began a thorough search of the room.
A large white box tied up with a huge, red bow sat at the bottom of her bed. She scrambled over the cover like a kitten after a ball of string and lifted a slip of paper from beneath the ribbon.
Payton
I realize our marriage is for your safety only, but every bride is entitled to a gift. I had intended to give you this for Christmas, but I thought, perhaps, you would laugh and not worry about what happened last night once you see what is in the box.
Jonathan
She tugged at the ribbon until it fell softly into her hand. Her fingers caressed the raised label from a well-known men’s shop in London, beautiful enough to frame. With a swift stroke, she removed the top.
Payton gasped. Then she let out a whoop of delight.
Inside lay a cap, a jacket of kid leather and a pair of loose breeches, much like a man’s in the same butter-soft kid. Her fingers slid over the clothes until she laughed out loud. Another note lay underneath the last piece of clothing.
I think I heard your laugh before you even inspected the contents. You no longer have an excuse to hike your skirt into your waistband. You may feel free to ride in breeches. Only on our property. No one else will know. Your secret is
safe with me.
Jonathan
Still bubbling with merriment, she sat on the edge of the bed. Caressing the clothes with her gaze, she realized how much trouble he must have gone to in order to secure these for her. She blinked back tears. Why shouldn’t she care for him? He was all kindness itself. Gruff, but considerate. And tomorrow night she would become Mrs. Jonathan Michael Lambrick. What would that mean for her? Should she live like a spinster the rest of her life? Or someday would this life offer her pleasure, the type of loving, kind marriage her parents had enjoyed? Father, only You can lead us in the right direction, but know this; I want the kind of love my parents had. And with You, all things are possible.
The ladies had assembled downstairs already. She could hear them but didn’t care. She lifted the jacket and smoothed her hand over the soft material. Before she faced anyone, she would ride. It would be scandalous if they discovered her, but still she pinned her hair up and secured it under the hat. Then, she donned the jacket, breeches and the boots he had bought her soon after the fire. There, the reflection of a young boy met her in the mirror. What fun this would be to come and go without anyone’s knowledge of her whereabouts except, perhaps, Mr. Kenny or Birdie. And from experience, she knew they could keep a secret.
* * *
Addison, Edward and Wallace lagged behind Jonathan and Storm. His horse wasn’t inclined to stay in step with another. They had searched the properties of Kent Park and uncovered nothing out of the ordinary. Who had an interest in persuading people to think Kent Hall had an intruder? An otherworldly intruder?
As Jonathan shifted in the saddle to say as much to Addison, his horse reared, shooting pain through his knee. A rider soared past him, and from the quick glance, he didn’t recognize the boy or the horse. He kicked Storm’s sides and plunged after him, leaving the others trailing behind.
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