Flora was right and she could no longer hide from Radcliffe. Whatever he wanted from her in exchange for his silence, she must give it. There was too much at stake, including her neck.
"And why is Lady Honoria giving you so many dark frowns?" Flora whispered. "I haven't heard her say one word to you this evening."
"She is angry with me, I'm afraid, and there is naught I can do about it." She could hardly tell Honoria about her brother's request. That would only cause more animosity for the current marchioness, not to mention a rift between brother and sister. "I daresay the skies will calm again eventually, but for now I must weather the storm."
* * * *
It was not long before the gentlemen rejoined them for coffee. There could not have been much conversation once the ladies left the table; four more different men could hardly be found, so it was no surprise when they entered the drawing room within half an hour.
Now, Araminta was at her happiest, basking in the glow of being mistress of the great house and also showing off her cousin, polishing a trophy that nobody wanted to win.
"Hugo, dear, do tell us more about your latest venture."
"Hugo, do tell Albert about your week with the Earl of Donwell and how his wife said you livened up the place."
"Honoria, you must hear Hugo's tale of the time he almost won the Kiplingcotes Derby quite by accident."
"My cousin will take you to the Walsingham's ball this winter, Honoria. That will be something for you to look forward to." Her voice echoed around the room while nobody else had much to say.
It soon occurred to Persey that Radcliffe was missing. He had been standing near Albert by the window. His presence, however quiet, was more noticeable to her than that of anybody else and now that he was gone it left a tear in the atmosphere. As a sudden breeze would pull on the spun gossamer threads of a spider web and shatter the pattern. Where had he gone? She looked carefully around the room, checking every shadowy corner between the long candle flames.
Something cool brushed the nape of her neck and she raised her hand to it.
"You must be of a mind to marry by now, Hugo," Minty exclaimed, laughing with false gaiety as she poured his coffee. "It is time you found a wife. You have evaded your duty long enough."
"Oh, not this subject again," Lady Flora groaned. "Why is it that everybody must marry? Why can we not just enjoy life? Why must we be shackled inexorably to another person?"
"I quite agree," said Honoria. "I am only eighteen, and everybody seems in haste to get me married off."
Minty slammed down the coffee pot. "It should be the aim of every young lady to find a husband."
"My brother didn't marry until he was in his thirties."
"It is quite different for women."
"Why should it be? I'm sure I shall be a very altered creature in my thirties to what I am now. Any man who marries me when I'm eighteen might be in for a dreadful shock later."
Persey glanced at Albert, but he seemed far away, seated by a window, his eyes gloomy, shoulders stooped. The drawing room after dinner was very much Minty's domain, and he merely got through it by putting his thoughts elsewhere.
"Perhaps I'll just take a lover," Honoria announced loudly. "Why not? Some women do that and get away with it. I shan't get married just for the sake of it and then live in misery. I shall love where I choose."
Minty could not hide her outrage. Flora laughed. In light of what Radcliffe had said, Persey felt certain this was aimed at her. The men in the room did their best to ignore the remark, perhaps putting it down to Honoria's youth. Persey made the decision to say nothing since her stepson's wife wanted to manage the girl herself and thought she could.
"I daresay you want me out of the way," the girl added. "The sooner I'm gone the better. Just like mama."
"Really, Honoria! What has prompted this vitriol?"
"I am heartily sick of being told what I can and cannot do. I will never marry if it means all happiness must be crushed out of me." She looked over at Albert, who stared at his coffee and paid no attention. "I would sooner die an old maid than live in subjugation, forced to tiptoe around somebody else's temper."
Quite suddenly Francis Chelmsworth spoke up. "I'm sure no gentleman would want
to make you unhappy, Lady Honoria, or steal your spirit. And I quite agree that there is time enough to marry."
Flora walked over and patted his shoulder. "My poor brother has lately been hounded on this subject by our great aunt. He feels your despair, Lady Honoria."
Minty now had a very peevish face, her shoulder rigid and pointy, her hands in her lap. "A lady cannot wait too long to marry or else her best years are behind her. Men have the luxury of waiting."
"Well, you can stop trying to recommend Master Weston to me, because I'm not interested," said Honoria. "I'd sooner marry a potted palm."
There followed a short awkward silence. Then Hugo Weston, leaning against the mantle, gave a loud yawn, took out his clay pipe and said, "This appears to be as good a time as any to tell you my news, cousin Araminta. The reason I came to visit."
"Oh?"
"Yes. I got married last week, actually." He gave a sly grin, partially in Lady Honoria's direction. "Believe it or not, I did find a lady who is agreeable to the notion and doesn't find me too repulsive."
Again, silence. Albert finally looked up, his eyes round.
"Hugo," Minty exclaimed, "how could you? Who is this person? Not a word, even by letter?"
"I knew you wouldn't approve, cousin dear, because she hasn't a penny and not much of a pedigree, so I thought I'd get it done first and face your fury afterward."
Yes, he was utterly shameless, as Persey had observed before.
"She comes here tomorrow to meet you," Hugo added jauntily. "I came on ahead to smooth the way and give you fair warning. I was waiting for the right moment."
For Minty, who liked control over everybody in her life, there would never have been a "right" moment, as he knew full well. Of course, since she could not rail at him in front of her other guests, it became necessary to cut the evening short. Nobody cared to stay longer in any case. They were all glad to get away— those free to leave.
Persey even felt a little sympathy for Hugo as she said good night and left the house with her friends. The fellow was in for a long lecture about family duty from his cousin, who would likely try to make him annul this marriage if she could.
"What happened to Radcliffe?" said Flora.
"Oh." She feigned surprise. "Is he gone?"
But now she saw the rebelliously open window behind her and realized how he'd slipped away while Minty held court. That explained the cool air on her neck. She, of course, was accused of opening the window against orders.
"I can't say I blame the fellow," Francis muttered as they stepped up into the landau. "Damnably uncomfortable in there. Although he might have said a polite good evening to the hostess."
"He's an artiste, brother dear," Flora replied. "They are allowed their eccentric foibles and the wretched Minty would never dare say a word about it. She is as much in awe of him as we all are."
As the landau carried them back across the estate, Persey felt the urge to stretch her legs in the night air. The moon was full and after the stifling heat of Holbrooke house she was glad to feel the cooler breeze. In fact, she wished she'd slipped out of that window with Radcliffe.
"Let me out here, will you?"
"But Persey—"
"Please, I'll enjoy the walk before I go to my bed, and I have much to think about tonight."
Flora looked curious. "Not about regrets from your past again, I hope?"
She smiled, stepping down from the carriage and waving. "No, not the past, but the future and what I mean to do with it."
"Sounds rather somber."
"That's why I need to walk."
Francis, ever the gallant gentleman, would have argued further about the propriety of leaving her to walk the rest of the way home, but the good thing about
Flora was that she always seemed to understand what was required and she didn't much care about decorum.
Persey watched the horses carry her friends away down the lane and then she walked on in the moonlight. A stiffer breeze soon toyed with her skirt and the air had thinned. The cloying heat was about to break at last with a vengeance. Of course, just in time to soak her from head to toe.
But just before the wind blew a cloud across the moon's guiding light, a figure stepped out from the trees and stood before her with a lantern.
He blinked innocently: a choir boy caught playing jacks in his Sunday cassock. "Can I see you home, madam?"
"I did not expect you to wait for me," she said in a soft voice.
"Why not? Why else did you think I left that party ahead of you? It would have looked odd if I asked your friend Chelmsworth to leave us both at your gate."
"Well, I...I simply did not expect it. I am accustomed to walking across the park by myself after a visit to the great house."
"Even at night?"
"It is a chance to collect my thoughts."
"Don't do that." He held up the lantern so she could see his face clearer. "Don't think. Don't worry about anything tonight."
She shook her head. "Easy for you to say, Radcliffe. Although that is not your name, is it?"
Stepping closer, he took her hand and raised it to his mouth. "I had no more fancy to stay in Twytchel-on-the-Nene and trade wool for the rest of my life, than you did to marry a man who would," he whispered, his breath warm on her fingers.
"So you are Jasper Wallop's little brother. After all these years."
"I couldn't believe it either at first, when I ran into you. The girl I used to watch walking with my brother by the river."
"Then, you are the one who used to shoot fish bait at me when I passed?"
"Had to get your attention somehow, didn't I?" He laughed low. "Here I am, still trying to do that now. Some things haven't changed."
"But this...this is too strange." Had she fallen asleep? Struck her head on something hard? It felt as if she dreamed.
"That's what I thought when I laid eyes on you again, after all those years. I thought you were gone for good. Well, I suppose you are now. Meg of the Long Legs is no more and in her place is Persephone, the Dowager Marchioness of Holbrooke. I knew it for sure, when I heard you telling stories to my men. And I remembered the scar."
She could only stammer stupidly, "But how did you get here?
"I could ask the same of you, could I not, your ladyship?"
Her hand slid from his and she walked on. He caught up with the lantern. "Now we should talk about us," he said.
"Us."
He cleared his throat. "We have things to discuss. Get straight and orderly."
"There is no such thing as us. There cannot be."
"Why not?"
Again she thought of a child tugging on her skirt for attention. Why? Why? Why? She was very close to saying, "Because I said so and that's all there is to it. Now go to your room." Instead she took a deep breath and replied, "You're too young for me."
He was too much of everything for her, in fact. She wouldn't know how to start, what to do. How to breathe.
With a loud groan, he tipped his head back. "That nonsense again? You may as well get over that, because I'm not going away, Persey."
She couldn't think sensibly. Walking beside him in the cool night air, she felt extraordinarily light on her feet. Like a silly young maiden with her first suitor. It was ridiculous, especially in light of who he was and the dangerous secrets he knew about her. Spring, she mused; how the season played tricks upon a person's humors. Anyone would think she was drunk.
What did one talk about? The weather! Yes, perfect.
"I think it's going to rain."
He squinted at her. "Why? Are your aged knees aching, your ladyship?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," she replied, pert.
Suddenly he held her arm and drew her to a halt. He set the lantern down at their feet. "There is only one way to get beyond this."
"Beyond what?"
"The Kiss that must never be mentioned."
"I don't—"
"With another."
Before she could say anything he had put his hands around her face and lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Twenty
He drank from her lips, hungrily, brazenly, sensing he was only moments perhaps from a slapped cheek and an angry tirade. But he could not resist her. And as he had thought before, it would be worth it, whatever she made him suffer later.
Here came her hands now and he braced. But they rose only as far as his forearms, where they curled tightly for a moment. He waited for the downward tug, and again was surprised when, instead, her fingers loosened their grip, slid to his elbows, then up to his shoulders. It was very nearly a caress, not fighting but welcoming and curious. His body reacted accordingly. Heat traveled through his veins and sinews like a wildfire eating through a dry forest. By the time her hands had made their way down his sides to his waist, there was not enough water in the world to put his flames out. That was all she had to do— touch him— and he was lost.
The kiss deepened, his tongue seeking hers and then plundering wildly as he heard a softly surprised mewl of pleasure from her throat. His heart thumping hard and fast, he pulled her closer, his hands to her back, that butter-soft silk sliding under his palms, her skirt rustling against his thighs.
Slowly their lips parted and she raised her lashes, two brilliant blue eyes— a little stormy, but hot and yearning— met his gaze.
"You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he managed, hoarse.
"You must not have seen many."
"Enough. I don't need to see any more."
She shook her head. He could feel her breathing, her breasts pushed against him as he held her snugly in his arms. "It is madness to let you kiss me again."
"Why? I'm a man, and you're a woman. Seems natural to me."
A light gasp, almost a chuckle, escaped her mouth into the cooling air of dusk. "I'm not seeking another man for myself."
He tilted his head, watching her lips. Wanting them again already. "Yet you bumped into this one by chance and now you cannot be rid of him. He's stuck to you. Like goosegrass." When he leaned in for another kiss, she tipped back as far as she could go with his arms still around her.
"This is quite insensible," she gasped. "It must end now. At once."
"Why?"
"I have too much else to do. Too much else needing my attention. Lady Honoria—"
"Perhaps it is time, your ladyship, that you did something for yourself." He kissed her again, as the breeze picked up a curl by her face and tickled him. The air had cooled and lightened since earlier. The birds had ceased their song and seemed to be waiting.
"And for you, of course?" she murmured as their lips parted again.
"Well, yes. That too. I'm not ashamed to admit how selfish and irresponsible you make me feel." Defiant and stubborn, he claimed her mouth yet again and felt the power of resistance draining out of her as she softened, melting against his body. The air was so still it was almost painful. The wanting, the anticipation had reached a feverish summit.
And then the first drop of rain hit his temple.
She pulled back, and this time his arms loosened. "I told you it would rain," she cried. Within seconds the first drizzle had quickened into an onslaught, rattling leaves and turning the path at their feet into wet mud, dimpled with puddles. "I told you, didn't I? We'll have to run back to the lodge, or be soaked to the skin."
But he did not let him pull her back toward her house. His feet would not move for a moment, even as the clouds broke open and rain blistered the puddles around them.
"Radcliffe! We'll be drenched!"
He captured her hands in his again. "No. I know where we can shelter until the rain passes." Stooping, he retrieved his lantern from the ground and tugged her after him.
They ran toward the
nearest trees and through them. Without another word she let him lead the way with his lantern. His heart thumped hard and fast, pumping blood through his veins with a new energy. In and out of the trees he took her, tripping over roots, snagging her fine skirt on branches and bracken, but not slowing down at all.
Suddenly they were in a clearing, surrounded by little piles of grey stone and atop each one, where he'd set them earlier, a glass lantern to light the circle with a warm, ethereal glow. The canopy of trees above them was not enough to completely halt the rain, rather it sieved the water, transforming the shower into thin, delicate silvery lines that dripped through to the mossy carpet beneath, shattering on bowed ferns, making the ground glitter in the lantern light.
Here, inside the forest, there was an almost perfectly circular ground clearing, with a nature-made dome of tree branches crossing over it, a curving web of twisted limbs that, every so often, shifted and creaked, but still hugged each other in a lush green embrace. A small stream chuckled along the edge of the clearing and a few weeks ago, when Joss first stumbled upon the place, bluebells covered everything, as if they were sewn into rich fleeces and tossed haphazardly over the ground.
With his free hand he swept wet hair back from his brow and caught his breath. "Come here, Persey." He gestured her closer to stand with him at the base of a thick trunk. "We can stay dry here until the rain stops."
She went to him, dodging between the lines of filtered rain.
"Is it not beautiful here?" he said.
"Yes. This is my favorite place on the entire estate," she gasped out. "I didn't think anybody else knew of it. How did you find it?"
"Quite by accident. Same way I found you." Just looking at her made his chest hurt. She was the most beautiful thing there, but he'd told her that already and she dismissed it. Her eyes had changed color yet again and now they reflected the lamp-lit greenery, shimmering with darts of silver.
"I suppose now you'll tell everybody about this place," she said gravely. "The secret is spoiled."
"Why would I do that?"
"You brought that stone here, so you mean to make it part of your plans."
The Peculiar Folly of Long Legged Meg Page 23
