“Here, my sweet,” Lady Lightender said, holding the glass to Fontaine’s trembling lips. “Sip it slowly and…and I’ve my salts just here.” Lady Lightender waved a small glass vial under Fontaine’s nose, and the bite of its scent indeed helped Fontaine to avoid a faint.
“I feel I might die,” Fontaine sobbed as the sweet woman brushed the tears from her cheeks with a fresh handkerchief.
“Well, we can’t have that, darling,” Lady Lightender soothed. “We can’t possibly have that, now can we?”
Fontaine’s hands clutched the fabric of her bodice at her heart, her sobs irrepressible and aching.
“There, there, my love,” Lady Lightender said. “You have your cry. You have it well, and then, my darling…then we will talk. Then we will sort this all out.”
“There…there is nothing to sort out, milady,” Fontaine sobbed. “Nothing!”
“My sweet, there is always something to sort out,” Lady Lightender said. “Especially where Desiderio is concerned.”
“Who?” Fontaine asked. Was the woman mad? Had Knight left her in the care of some woman whose wits had left her?
But Lady Lightender smiled and said, “Desiderio…it means ‘desired,’ in his mother’s native language. She prefers to call him Des.” The woman’s appearance of delusions distracted Fontaine momentarily.
The woman smiled and brushed more tears from Fontaine’s cheeks. “Desiderio Knight Lathan, my angel. That is his full and rightful name. One day the title of ‘lord’ will be added, when his dear father passes…but I hope that is far in the future. One day your Knight will be Lord Desiderio Knight Lathan.”
“Forgive me, milady, but are you mad?” Fontaine asked, breathless with astonishment and lack of understanding.
Lady Lightender waved the vial of smelling salts under Fontaine’s nose once more and continued, “Desiderio Knight Lathan, son of Lord and Lady Lathan of Lathan Green. Lord Lathan is himself a native of these parts. However, Lady Lathan hails from Spain. A true Spanish beauty she is…Knight has the true look of her.”
Fontaine’s eyes seemed to run dry, for her tears had quitted her cheeks, and she sat in awe at Lady Lightender’s revelations. Could it be true?
“He is Knight…only Knight to me Lady Lightender…a traveler…our…our coachman at The Graces,” Fontaine stammered.
Lady Lightender nodded, raising an eyebrow as she said, “And well I was in agreement to let you continue to believe it…until I saw him fairly ravage you before my own eyes! Now I realize that my Knight has not been as forthcoming with me as he made pretense. And thus I am inclined to investigate this matter further. To see what in the world he has been about this time.”
“This time, milady?” Fontaine asked. She seemed unable to catch her breath, dizzy and fatigued.
“Murtle?” Fontaine heard Lady Lightender call out. “She’s going after all, I’m afraid, Murtle. But perhaps it is best for now.”
And with Lady Lightender’s voice echoing the name of Desiderio Knight Lathan in her mind, consciousness was lost to Fontaine Pratina. Only a dark like that of night held her.
CHAPTER TEN
Fontaine felt fevered—full consciousness seemed elusive for she could no more wake completely than she could make sense of Lady Lightender’s strange revelations of Knight.
“Murtle,” Lady Lightender’s voice echoed, seeming far off and faint. “A cool cloth to her forehead should ease the perspiration.”
“Knight?” Fontaine heard herself whisper. She was rapt in some odd sort of half-waking, half-sleeping dream where visions of Knight whirled about in her head, where his beloved voice sounded in her ears. And all at once, it seemed to her as if assorted and perplexing pieces of a puzzle began to fit together in her mind.
First she thought of Knight’s proud posture, his frequent use of her common name, Fontaine, when speaking to her. These were definitely not traits of a well-weathered coachman. Then there was his unusual familiarity of the law and of interpretation of legal documents, his ease in contacting her solicitor and in so effortlessly gaining Mr. Dennis’s trust. How suddenly he seemed to be able to hire a coachman and his coach, a man willing to involve himself in such a conspiracy as he had concocted. And then there was Lady Lightender herself. Why had it never before occurred to Fontaine to ask how Knight was able to secure her a position as companion to such a titled and wealthy woman? Even to his easy manipulation, his deep understanding of her aunt, Lady Wetherton…even to his manner in playing the part of Fontaine’s lover. Fontaine grimaced, her heart brutally aching as she admitted to herself then, no common man would’ve commanded such control over a wealthy heiress the way Knight had.
Tossing and turning, there was not else Fontaine could do, nothing but cry, heartache gripping her like the executioner’s hand.
“And so,” Lady Lightender explained. “Knight took his leave of Lathan Green…oh, nearly two years ago now. Weary of feeling ignorant to the plight of others who were less fortunate than he, he left intending to adventure, to discover and better understand the life of a common man.” Lady Lightender smiled at Fontaine and held the glass of warm nutmeg milk to her lips. “Here, dear,” she said. “Sip this. It will soothe you.”
“I’m afraid little will serve to soothe me this night, milady,” Fontaine said. For the past hour, Lady Lightender had sat at Fontaine’s bedside, calmly relating the story, the adventures of this Desiderio Knight Lathan, son and heir of Legendar Lathan, wealthy Lord of Lathan Green.
“Well,” Fontaine said, a tear trickling down her face. “If he thinks he succeeded in actually living the life of a common man, as it were…then he failed miserably.”
“Because of you, my dear?” Lady Lightender asked.
“How many ignorant, pampered young women of society foolishly lose their hearts to their roguish coachmen, milady?” Fontaine sniffled.
“Many more than you might think, I assure you,” the elderly woman chuckled. “You know, dear…I was, myself, quite dumbfounded when Knight first wrote to me of your situation and his plan to extract you from it. For as noble, as honorable, and, yes, as chivalrous as he has ever been…I have never known him to act quite so recklessly, so…well, so desperately as this.”
“He felt he owed me a great debt,” Fontaine explained, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. “He only meant to repay…”
“Oh, stuff and nonsense, child!” Lady Lightender exclaimed. “He’s in love with you! Had he not been so completely smitten, so undeniably in love…he would’ve simply handed you an exorbitant amount of tender and hired someone else to help you!”
Fontaine shook her head, her tears increasing in their quantity. “Pray do not speak so, simply to try and make me feel the better, milady.”
“And why do you not believe it, sweetheart?” the lady asked. “Why do you find it so very hard to trust in the truth…that he loves you madly?”
For all their conversation, for all Lady Lightender’s explanation of Knight, his ways, his character, his reasons…one thing Fontaine could not deny, and she said, “If he loved me as you claim, Lady Lightender…then…then why abandon me? Why leave me off instead of taking me with him?”
Lady Lightender smiled. “Because, my precious, he is far too apt to hate himself, far too easy in thinking he is unworthy of beauty and love. ’Tis why he put off Lathan Green in the first place…he felt unworthy to govern the servants, the tenants, the townspeople. He feared the arrogance, the ignorance of the aristocracy he was born to. Why did he not take you with him, you ask me?” Lady Lightender smiled and produced a piece of parchment from the pocket of her sewing apron. “He has deemed himself unworthy of you, my darling.” Holding the parchment out to Fontaine, Lady Lightender nodded.
“Read it just there, as I’ve folded it, dear. That is the part you need to read now,” she said.
Fontaine brushed the tears from her cheeks, drew in a hurting breath, for even breathing had become painful, so completely was her he
art breaking. Holding the parchment nearer to the lamp at her bedside table, she read:
“…and so, my sweet Lady Lightender…I ask you to take what I cannot…the one thing I cherish above all else, including my own safety, my own life.
Oh, it is well I know you, my dearest Lady…you would have me confess my heart to the girl, sweep her away in my arms to Lathan Green, smother the breath from her with the passion burning so violently in me. But as the Lord doth hate a liar…so, I know, does Miss Fontaine Pratina. I do not doubt in her kindness, her willingness, and even her ability to forgive me my transgressions of deceit, and they are many where she is concerned. Still, I know it would change her toward me…I would lose her trust, her respect, and never gain her heart fully.
I am resigned then to return to Lathan Green, to take up my responsibilities, my position, leaving my treasure in your care until such time as she is nineteen and can legally escape the bonds that bind her so stiffly now. I would as soon kill this Lord Greenville as to see him lay a hand on my love! And being I do not wish to disappoint Fontaine further, or spend my remaining life in the black tomb of a prison…I feel it is best to simply spirit her away and into your care.”
Lady Lightender reached out, taking the letter from Fontaine. “In its entirety, the letter is a lengthy exposition, to say the least…and when this chaos is put behind us all, you may wish to wade through the details he gives of his plan and how he intended to initiate it all. But for now, you have what you need to know to act as you should.”
Fontaine could not breathe! She had read the letter, seen the confession in Knight’s own hand. He loved her!
“And…and how is it that I should act, milady?” Fontaine asked. “He has put me off here. And further if my aunt finds me…if she should find Knight…”
“Believe in his love for you, my pudding, for it is truth,” Lady Lightender said, returning the letter to her apron pocket. “I know I needed no further proof than his actions just this morning before he left. By all that is good I thought he meant to…to tarnish your virtue right there in my front entrance! I hadn’t understood, I suppose, how terribly in love with you he is. Words are one thing, my dear…witnessing boldly displayed passion is quite another. Furthermore, I know exactly how you should act.”
“You…you do?” Fontaine stammered, for her mind, heart, and soul were so tired, so tormented, so torn she knew not how to rise from the bed, let alone act any further. In the space of two days, she’d gone from the familiarity of The Graces and its inhabitants, whether beloved or otherwise, to this Hunter’s Bingham and its sweet, well-meaning Lady Lightender. Further, she was astonished at how quickly she’d fallen into intimacy with the great and kind lady. It was an odd feeling, to sit with a complete stranger revealing the deepest feelings of her heart. Yet, the lady seemed known to her spirit…as if Fontaine had always known her.
“Indeed. I do,” the woman confirmed. Then reaching out and taking one of Fontaine’s hands in her own, Lady Lightender’s eyes narrowed and she asked, “How desperately do you love him, dear heart? What would you be willing to do to have him?”
Fontaine’s tears begun anew. “Any…anything!” she admitted in a whisper.
“Even forgive him?” the lady asked.
Fontaine shook her head. “It still escapes my understanding how he could think I would find him so vile, so unforgivable for his manner of deceit. After all he has meant to me, done for me. How could he think I would abhor him for his deceptions, the very deceptions that find me safe this moment, out of my aunt’s calculating reach?”
“He told you many a falsehood, darling. Many a falsehood,” said Lady Lightender.
“But…but if what you say is accurate, if this letter from him is strictly in earnest, the true reflection of his feelings…then who am I to be angry for it? For, in truth, I myself am a deceiver…out of consequence, the need to survive my aunt’s insufferable character…or rather, lack of character. I’ve lied to her, played her game misleadingly…even for frantic want of Knight’s attentions…I was willing to deceive him, secret my love for him, from him that I love. I’ve run away, for mercy’s sake! How can he not see the similarity in that?”
Lady Lightender sighed. “Knight was ever too critical of himself…ever certain he was unworthy. It’s the very reason he left Lathan Green. Still,” she said, standing and clasping her hands together. “It’s time he had his comeuppance.”
“Forgive me, milady,” Fontaine said. “Fatigue, fear, despair, and so many other emotions have left my brain weak. What do you mean?”
“Did you know, sweet one…that I was Knight’s Grandmother Lathan’s dearest friend?” she said.
“No,” Fontaine replied. How could she possibly know it? She’d only spent eight hours of her life in the woman’s company.
“Well, I was,” Lady Lightender confirmed. “Madalina and I were always in some sort of mess as children. You see, she had Knight’s spirit, his talent for finding himself in a trick. Having said that, leave it to me.” She started to leave the room, but turned back to Fontaine a moment. “We’ll let him stew in his own juices for a few days, love. Let him reflect on his decision not to confess all to you. Besides, I’ll need the time to arrange things with Esperanza.”
“Esperanza, milady?” Fontaine asked. “And…and time to arrange what?”
But Lady Penelope Lightender only smiled. “Oh, you’ll see soon enough,” she said. “And rest now. Rest knowing that in a few days time, you shall be in Knight’s arms again, pretty girl.”
However, rest did not easily come to Fontaine that night. Her mind was wildly tormented with the events, the discoveries of the day. Could it be? Could he truly love her the way his letter to Lady Lightender had indicated? Fontaine paused to believe it, worried that her mind had become diseased from heartache and was not in a rational state. Still, her body ached to be in Knight’s arms, held close to the strength and protection of his body, and she could not keep hope from rising in her.
It was insanity! The whole of it was mad! The handsome son of a distant lord, masquerading as a common coachman, wooing and winning the heart of a young woman, the orphaned daughter of a deceased nobleman. And then, to snatch the young woman away from the grasp of a manipulative, cruel-hearted guardian, deliver her into the hands of a secret friend, a noblewoman…who, at the first sight of the young woman, turns traitor to the nobleman’s son, vanquishing his wishes of continued secrecy in order to help the young woman win back her coachman.
Fontaine’s head spun with the confusion, to dream of it all until sleep became her mind’s only escape. Even then Fontaine dreamt of Knight, of his handsome face, his moist, heated kisses. As always, sleep brought Knight.
Knight lay in the large, comfortable bed of his chambers at Lathan Green. The artistry of the carvings on the ceilings of his chamber far surpassed those of the sickroom at Pratina. Still, though he did not miss Big William’s boisterous snoring, he did miss the small sickroom at the manor…the room where he’d first seen Fontaine.
His father was away from Lathan Green, not in attendance when Knight had returned home late that evening. Still, his mother, Lady Esperanza Lathan, had burst into tears of joy upon seeing him. He thought of how even more beautiful she looked to him, her black hair, blue eyes, and loving smile tearing at his heart as she threw herself into his arms, sobbing into his shoulder.
What a fool he was to have abandoned his beloved mother as he did, in search of experience and knowledge. It seemed he was doomed to abandon the women he loved, and this gave him further testament in his wisdom at leaving Fontaine off with Lady Lightender. He grimaced at the thought of her however, pain stabbing at his heart like a butcher’s best blade. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, hoping to find some hint of the scent of her. But there was none, only the scent of the linens on his bed, void of any fragrance to remind him of his sweet, delicious peach.
He could see her then, with his mind’s eye…see her smile, her
golden tresses, the deep brown of her eyes. His arms ached to hold her, protect her, feel the warmth of her body against his own. His thirst for her kiss gave him cause to grind his teeth in frustration. And he knew he would never recover—never hold the same excitement, the same bright hope of happiness in life he held before he’d awakened to find himself convalescing in a strange manor, his lovely Fontaine at his side. Without Fontaine, he would never again be complete.
Knight sighed heavily, attempting to recall the flavor of her kiss to his mouth, longing to taste her again.
Whom will she marry when she is nineteen, old enough to choose a mate? his traitorous mind whispered inside his head. What fortunate man will have her for his own?
Growling to chase away the appalling thoughts echoing through his brain, Knight rose from his bed. A midnight ride in the cool of spring’s dark night would serve him better than the haunting thoughts his bed evoked. He would quit his chamber until the sun rose. Perhaps the bright of day’s light would keep his longing for Fontaine’s company at bay.
But even as he mounted his bay stallion, even as he rode through the mist of night’s breath, he knew…Knight knew nothing would save him from the pain of losing the only woman he would ever love.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“From the moment he stepped through the doors of Lathan Green, I sensed his unrest, his pain,” Lady Esperanza Lathan said, as she tied Fontaine’s apron at the back. “I knew something was wrong…but he would not tell me what it was.”
Three days had passed since Knight had given Fontaine to Lady Lightender. Three days that Lady Lightender used to concoct her own conspiracy, her plan to reunite Fontaine with her beloved Knight.
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