The carriage came to a stop in front of Lord Lofton’s estate. Barrington stepped down and righted his hat. Butterflies danced in his stomach. Why am I so nervous? The previous evening’s ball had nearly done him in. Stuttering, stammering, and staring at Cecilia as if in a trance. What must she think of me?
No time like the present to find out. He tugged his cravat to allow more breathing room and then walked to the massive front door. With a sense of purpose, he rapped on the door.
It opened with a squeak. The butler stood ramrod straight. “Good day, Mr. Radcliff.”
Perhaps it was a positive sign that the butler remembered his name. Barrington would take any good fortune he could get. “Good day. I’ve come to call on Miss Fleming.”
“Miss, ah…” He darted a glance over his shoulder. “Miss Fleming, of course. Won’t you come in?”
Barrington did as asked and relinquished his hat to the butler. Was it his imagination, or did occupants of Lord Lofton’s stumble over Miss Fleming’s name?
No matter. He shrugged. Today was for getting to know the lady in question better. Much better. Barrington followed the butler to the parlor where he’d previously had tea with Miss Fleming and the Loftons.
The butler stepped into the room and stopped, blocking Barrington from viewing its occupant.
Or occupants. Fury seized Barrington as the butler stepped away, leaving a clear view of Miss Fleming and a maid. And that cad from the previous evening, Mr. Wolverton.
“Oh, Mr. Radcliff.” Relief crossed Miss Fleming’s face and she let out a sigh.
“Miss Fleming.” He gave a slight bow and turned. It took everything in him to spit out the greeting, “Mr. Wolverton.”
The other man smirked. “Ah, Mr. Rat, was it?”
“Radcliff.”
With a shrug, Mr. Wolverton returned his attention to Miss Fleming. “Same difference, I suppose.” And laughed. Laughed!
Miss Fleming whipped her gaze from Mr. Wolverton to him. “Please, won’t you sit down?” With widened eyes, she mouthed again the word, please.
“Gladly.” How could Wolverton possibly think that Miss Fleming would welcome a call? The way he’d treated her the night before had been appalling. If Barrington hadn’t feared causing a scene and drawing even more unwanted attention to Miss Fleming, he’d have pummeled the scoundrel right there on the ballroom floor. There wouldn’t have been anything left but a scrap of his cravat and a tooth or two.
Anger flooded his mind and soul. The more he obsessed about the rogue daring to touch and paw at his Miss Fleming the way he had—
My Miss Fleming? Why, he barely knew her. Something though, something drew him in, made him long to be near her, talk to her, or simply to drink in her lovely countenance.
“—some tea?”
“Uh, pardon?” Stop daydreaming, man!
Miss Fleming held up an empty cup. “Would you care for some?”
“Oh, certainly.” He ran his hand down his face, hoping she wouldn’t have noticed his inattention.
A sputtered laugh came from Mr. Wolverton.
Barrington fisted his hands on his lap. “Care to share the joke, Mr. Wolverton?”
“Oh, I have no need to share the joke. You are the joke.”
“I beg your pardon?” He stood, barely registering Miss Fleming with her arm outstretched, offering him the tea.
The other man stood as well.
A clatter came from the tray on the side table as Miss Fleming dropped the cup. Brown liquid spread across the tray and splattered on the floor. The maid rushed to her aid and began to mop up the mess with her apron.
Barrington took a step forward. “I may be the joke, but at least I know how to treat a lady.”
“Is that supposed to mean something, Rat?”
“I saw what you did last night at the ball.”
Miss Fleming gasped.
“And what would that be, Rat? Dance? It’s quite common at balls, I’m told.”
“No, you… you made a spectacle of yourself.”
“Why is that any of your concern?”
Barrington stepped closer. “Because you upset Miss Fleming.”
Mr. Wolverton sniffed. “I think not. Women love me. Just ask her.” He waved a hand in Miss Fleming’s direction.
She raised wide, staring eyes to Barrington. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head.
Poor girl is already mortified. Nothing is worth embarrassing her more. He broke eye contact with her and glanced up. “I needn’t ask her. It was obvious last night. Perhaps you should leave now.”
Mr. Wolverton closed the rest of the distance between them. “I was here first. You should leave.”
Barrington longed to punch the man. Pound his jaw with his fist and send him packing. But was it what Miss Fleming would want? A tiny sob came from his left. He faced her. She bit down on her lower lip, the skin pressed beneath her teeth a shade paler than the rest.
No. I won’t. As much as I’d like to, I can’t be the one to start a fight. He spun back to his adversary. A fist closed the distance and pounded his eye. Pain shot through Barrington’s head and radiated down his face.
He bit back a curse and glared at Mr. Wolverton. “How dare you?”
The other man took another swing but Barrington saw that one coming. He ducked and Mr. Wolverton’s fist only connected with Barrington’s hair above his right ear. But it looked as if the man wasn’t ready to slow down his endeavors. Mr. Wolverton stumbled and landed on the floor.
I can’t simply stand here and take it. And I refuse to run away! Barrington stared pointedly at Miss Fleming, whose mouth hung slightly open. With pleading in his eyes, he kept his gaze on her. I won’t do this without your permission. But please, let me do this for you…
Miss Fleming tilted her head and lowered her eyebrows.
Please…
A single nod was her response.
Mr. Wolverton stood back up and dusted himself off. Murderous intent showed in his eyes. “You’re going to be very sorry you did that, Rat.”
“I think not.” Barrington rushed forward, clamped his hands on Mr. Wolverton’s shoulders and spun him toward the doorway. A hard shove had the other man stumbling toward the door.
The butler, with a smile, opened the door and slammed it shut behind the interloper.
Barrington let out a deep breath. “And please do not permit him entrance in the future.”
“With pleasure, Mr. Radcliff.” The butler stepped down the hall, dusting off his hands as if he himself had bodily evicted the unwanted guest.
Miss Fleming rose and rushed toward Barrington. Without forethought, he opened his arms and drew her close to his chest. She sniffled, so Barrington fished his handkerchief from his pocket, careful not to dislodge her too far from his person. He didn’t want to disrupt her further.
But truth be told, I just want her here.
“What in blazes is going on? We heard shouts and now…” Lord Lofton stood in the doorway, hands on hips, a scowl on his face. Lady Lofton peeked over his shoulder.
And here I stand quite inappropriately with his cousin nearly taking up residence in my coat.
Miss Fleming pulled away and blinked. Then the corners of her pink lips rose and he was lost. He could stare at her all day and never tire of the view.
She dabbed her eyes and then returned the handkerchief. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What is going on?” Lord Lofton stepped into the room and glanced between his cousin and Barrington.
“Conrad, we owe Mr. Radcliff a debt of gratitude,” said Miss Fleming.
“Is that so?”
“He chased away that mongrel.”
“There was a dog? In my house?” Lord Lofton grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hands as if he had actually touched an animal.
“No. That Mr. Wolverton.” Miss Fleming shuddered.
Conrad stepped closer and placed his hands on her upper arms. “He was he
re? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. Thanks to Mr. Radcliff.”
Lord Lofton swung his gaze to Barrington, his eyebrows rising toward his hairline. “Is that so?”
I’ve done it now. He’ll think me a ruffian. Someone with whom he won’t allow his cousin to spend time. Someone who—
“You, my good man, are to be commended.”
“My lord?”
“I should have come downstairs sooner.” He looked at Miss Fleming. “Had I known you’d received visitors, I would have.”
Miss Fleming’s face colored up. “Oh… It’s my fault then.”
“No, Cecilia. It’s not. You didn’t know.”
Barrington rubbed the back of his neck. Why wouldn’t she have known to alert her guardian to a guest? Even if he chose not to join them in the parlor, Barrington was certain that Lord Lofton would have liked to have known.
She swallowed. “It shan’t happen again. I promise.”
“All’s well.” Lord Lofton smiled. “Thanks to Mr. Radcliff.”
“Yes.” Miss Fleming shifted her beautiful blue eyes his direction.
Barrington’s heart thudded hard. So he wasn’t in dire straits with Lord Lofton after all. And Miss Fleming… her eyes seemed to see into his very soul… causing his pulse to quicken and his mind to conjure up visions of angels singing while standing in fields of swaying lilies. Perhaps he hadn’t lost his chance with her after all.
Lord Lofton glanced at his wife and back to them. “Mayhap the two of you would enjoy a stroll in the garden? With Leah along, of course.” He glanced past them to the maid, who curtseyed.
Miss Fleming’s cheeks tinged pink. Her gaze lowered to the floor. “That would be lovely. If… it’s acceptable to Mr. Radcliff.”
“Wonderful. I’d like nothing better.”
They left the house through French doors from the library. Bright sunshine came and went as clouds played hide and seek in the sky. Barrington held out his arm. Miss Fleming’s small hand gently slid over the fabric of his sleeve as she accepted his gesture.
“Thank you again, Mr. Radcliff, for saving me from that man.”
“I rather liked your reference to him as a mongrel.”
Her mouth drop open slightly and a laugh escaped. With her other hand, she covered her mouth.
“I meant not to condemn your words, Miss Fleming. Frankly, I found it quite an accurate depiction of him.”
Her hand lowered and she gazed up at him. “You did?”
“He does appear to possess some dog-like qualities. And not any of the pleasant ones, like loyalty or trustworthiness.”
“I think he resembles a wolf.”
“A wolf?”
“If we’re being honest.”
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Honest, yes. I’m surprised then, that you didn’t say that when talking about him to your cousin. Why mongrel?”
“I was so vexed at the moment that it was the only word that came to mind.” She giggled.
Faint footsteps came from behind. Barrington angled around. How far away was the maid? Several yards behind them, as it happened. Perfect. A moment alone with Miss Fleming.
She turned her head as well but not in the direction of the maid. Instead, her gaze darted several times toward a tall hedge across the way. Was she expecting someone? Afraid that Mr. Wolverton would return? Maybe they should discuss something agreeable, something to rid her mind of unpleasant events of the morning.
“Say, there’s a cat napping over there.” A fat, ginger-colored cat sprawled out on a bench.
Miss Fleming looked where he pointed. She smiled. “That’s Sunny. He’s my si— Lady Lofton’s cat.”
“I thought perhaps it was Henry. That maybe you’d brought him with you.”
“Henry?” Her brow furrowed.
Barrington tilted his head. “You’d mentioned your cat when we were dancing.”
“Yes.”
“You must miss him.”
“Pardon?”
Why is she confused about her own cat? “Since you’re away from him.”
“Oh. Yes.” She averted her gaze.
Perhaps it was time to change the subject since speaking of Henry seemed to have caught her off guard for some reason. “I’ve never heard where you’re from?”
“From?”
“Yes, where you live when you’re not visiting your cousins.”
She peered at him and shook her head. “Oh, it’s far away. From here. Very, very far.”
He raised one eyebrow and waited.
“It’s an extremely tiny place. I’m certain you’ve never been there.” She waved a hand in dismissal of the notion.
“I’ve traveled quite a bit. I might surprise you.”
“No, you’ve never been where I… where I’m from.”
Barrington laughed. “I’m not to know the name of the place you call home, then?”
Her gaze left his and hovered somewhere near her boots.
“A woman of mystery. So be it. I suppose everyone deserves a secret or two.” But I can’t help but wonder why it’s such a secret.
Chapter Fifteen
“Cecilia, what have you done to your hair?” Mama, fresh from a nap, stood near the fireplace.
Oh no. Cecilia had changed her dress before she’d come back home, but hadn’t changed what Leah had done to her hair. She reached up and touched a lock by her ear. “Well, I… I wanted to try something new.”
“What for? Those smelly horses you visit won’t care. And I certainly don’t, either. No matter what you do with your hair it won’t change your plain face, Cecilia.” She tapped her chin. “Unless you were hoping Horace would stop by.”
“Definitely not.”
“Come now. You’ve so few options. You say you don’t want to remain here, although I still think you’re an ungrateful wench for thinking it. But if you truly want marriage, you’ve a perfectly fine gentleman wanting your hand.”
Perfectly. Fine. Gentleman. No, nothing in that phrase fit Horace. And it never would. Mr. Radcliff on the other hand… Dark eyes, a sharp wit, and a voice as smooth as honey—
“See?”
Startled from her reverie, Cecilia gulped. “See what?”
“You were smiling just now, thinking about Horace.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“Yes — no… If you say I was smiling, I’m sure it’s true, but I was most definitely not thinking about Mr. Seymour.”
Her mother closed the distance between them. “Then just whom, might I ask, would you have been thinking about?”
“No one.”
“I think I know what’s going on here.”
Cecilia swallowed, trying to force moisture into her throat. “What do you mean?” Surely if Mama knew about the ball and the time she’d spent at Conrad’s she’d have said so before now.
“I mean, you’re playing coy with Horace, aren’t you? Hoping he’ll keep coming back to visit you.”
“Pardon?” Not in this lifetime — nor any other! “Uh, no.”
The front door opened with a squeak. Papa stood in the doorway, staring at Cecilia. Was something wrong?
He removed his hat. “Cecilia, I… Please come outside.” He headed back toward the door.
“Andrew.” Mama’s face looked as if storm clouds had taken up residence. “What is so important that she needs to go back out there with you?”
“The… horses.”
“I don’t understand why you always need her out in the disgusting stables with those repulsive beasts.”
His face reddened, which emphasized his scowl. “It’s not for you to understand. I have need of her and that’s that.”
“But—”
“And I’m thinking I’ll have need of her more in the future.”
“You can’t simply—”
Papa held up his hand palm out, to stop her. With a flounce, Mama whirled around and stalked back to her room, slammi
ng the door.
Cecilia rushed to him. “Has something happened? Something with the horses?”
He tugged her out the door. “No time to waste. Your gentleman caller has returned.”
“What? Mr. Radcliff?”
“Hurry. You need to get dressed, and quickly.”
Cecilia struggled to keep up with her father’s long-legged pace. Her heartbeat raced against her ribs. He’d come back! What would possess him to return so quickly?
They reached Conrad’s back door and it opened. Leah stood just inside. “I have your dress and your boots. Let’s get you ready.”
With a smile at her father, Cecilia followed the maid into the house.
A flurry of petticoats and buttons were followed by a change of boots. Leah stood back and assessed her. “Cecilia, you look wonderful.”
Cecilia hugged her. “All thanks to you.” She rushed from the library and hurried down the hall, only slowing to catch her breath just outside the parlor. With a peek around the corner, Cecilia saw that Mr. Radcliff was indeed back.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Fleming.” He stood and smiled. One hand was behind his back.
“Mr. Radcliff, how pleasant to be in your company again so soon.” She indicated his chair, that he should once again sit, but he remained standing.
“I’m afraid I was remiss.”
“You were?”
“And I’m hoping you’ll forgive me.”
“Whatever for?”
He stepped closer. Cecilia checked behind her, pleased that Leah had slipped quietly into the parlor as well.
Mr. Radcliff brought his hand out in front of him. In his grasp was a perfect yellow rose.
“Oh, it’s lovely.”
“Not as lovely as you.”
Pleasure at his compliment coursed through her. “You needn’t have brought me a flower, Mr. Radcliff.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always felt it to be a nice gesture to bring one the day after sharing a dance at a ball. I guess I was so enchanted at the prospect of seeing you this morning that the idea of bringing a flower simply flew from my mind.”
She accepted the offering from his outstretched hand. The rose’s fragrance beckoned her and she lowered her face toward its sweet aroma. “Thank you.” Moisture hovered at her lowered lashes.
“My goodness, I hadn’t guessed a single flower would result in such a wonderful reaction, Miss Fleming.”
Love Birds: The Complete Collection Page 44
