Hugh would marry and bring his bride here. Soon, her name would never be mentioned.
They strolled along, deep in their own thoughts, Viola painfully aware of his proximity. She dropped the rose. Before she could retrieve it, Hugh picked a buttercup and held it up to her with a smile.
“They say if you hold this under your chin...”
Did his fingers tremble? She took it from him. “I know,” she said, giving a poor excuse for a smile in response. “You’ll find out who you love.”
“And if you love someone but should not declare it?”
His brown eyes were filled with raw emotion as they sought hers. Viola took a ragged breath. She had to be strong, but it was so hard. “Then you must not say it.”
He stood very close. “And if one does?”
“And it hurts others? One must question the real meaning of that love.”
“Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs, Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers’ eyes, Being vexed, a sea nourished with lovers’ tears.”
To have him quoting Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet in a husky and urgent tone made her knees weak. “‘Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, The pretty follies that themselves commit, “she quipped, made breathless by the intimacy of the moment and the warmth that spread over her nether regions. So this was desire. To want someone to make love to her more than she wanted to take her next breath. She was sure she’d never felt such emotion before.
“The Merchant of Venice. Unfair, fair Viola!” His eyes contained a sensual flame.
She dropped her gaze to the buttercup. “Love can take many forms. Need, desire, a passing fancy. To declare it does not guarantee happiness.”
“But not to declare it guarantees unhappiness.”
“Perhaps only for a short time.” She looked up at him.
“Or a lifetime.” He did not look away or try to disguise the desire lighting his brown eyes with chocolate depths. She took another breath, her fingers itching to stroke along his strong jaw, to pull his head down to hers. She was sure she’d never experienced lovemaking, but knew instinctively that they would be wonderful together, that he would be the perfect lover, the only lover for her.
His eyes brimmed with tenderness and passion. “Viola,” he whispered.
She shook her head. Mute.
Rain began to fall, and grew heavier. Hugh took her hand and pulled her along with him as they ran along the lane to Nanny’s house. Seeing her to the door, he stood there, water dripping from his hat, flattening the front of his shirt against his chest. Viola wanted to grab him and draw him inside, to kiss the rain from his lips and body. She almost gasped at the lustful thoughts racing through her mind.
“I’ll leave you here. But we’re not done. This conversation isn’t finished.” His eyes were full of half-promises, which thrilled her. And then he strode away through the misty rain.
Viola fought to be strong. Of course it was finished. For where could it go from here? She closed the door and leaned back against it her hand to her hot cheek. Sweet torture.
But, oh, so very sweet. She climbed the stairs to change her wet gown, as the certainty grew that she and Hugh would become lovers if she stayed.
Much as she longed for that to happen, she must leave before it did.
Chapter Eighteen
In a coaching-inn’s private parlor on the North Road, Rupert pushed away a pile of boiled cabbage with distaste. His two hired men stood shuffling before him, their hats in their hands.
To his own ears, his cold voice seemed almost indifferent and how very untrue that was.
“You were positive it was her, from the likeness I gave you?”
“As sure as I stand here, y’lordship,” replied the short man.
A puckered, angry red scar ran across his brow.
Rupert threw down his napkin. “It was night.”
“I know, y’lordship, but the full moon made it bright as day. It shined on her silvery hair. Very fine, she looked, dressed for bed as she was.”
“It’s not for you to judge whether she’s pretty, my man.” He drank from his brandy glass. “If I give you a job to do, you carry it out to my orders. The woman is not to get hurt. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Perfectly, y’lordship,” he replied. He looked down at the floor to hide the flash of insolence in his eyes. The other huge, beast of a man, stood silent.
Could he trust them? “She is to be delivered safely into my hands, unharmed in any way, or you don’t get paid. Understood?”
Both the men nodded.
Chapter Nineteen
Viola knew she must leave quickly, before Hugh declared his feelings, for once the words were said she would be lost. And where would that lead them? A clandestine affair behind Lady Felicity’s back.
She must dress as a man again and be gone before the two men returned. The clothes she was wearing when found would be put to good use again. They had been laundered and returned to her, which made her laugh ruefully at the time.
It bothered her that she would have to borrow a horse from the stables. She regretted taking anything more from Hugh. But she had thought it through very carefully, and believed this was the best course of action. Each day she stayed here, her dependence on him increased. He would never simply abandon her to her fate. He was not that kind of man. If she became his mistress, her shame would destroy their feelings for each other.
That way led to heartbreak. Knowing this kept her heart and mind directed on her course.
Her plan was to ride to the first town on the London road where she could join the stage. Then she would pay a hostler to return the horse. She still had the coins Hugh had given her in Bath, which she’d forgotten to return to him. With luck on her side, traveling at night, she should be safe from prying eyes.
On reaching London, she would sell her locket, which was sure to bring an adequate sum. If she was very careful and found cheap, respectable lodgings, she could manage until she found suitable employment.
After packing a small, drawstring bag with the few things she would need for her journey, she hid it in the bushes while Nanny was busy in the kitchen. Then she climbed the stairs to her little attic room and sat down to write a letter, explaining why she had to leave and how she hoped to return one day to thank Nanny properly for all her loving kindnesses. Tears splashed onto the page, blurring her words. Viola sighed, crumpled the page, and reached for a fresh one. She asked Nanny to thank Hugh as well, although she would remain forever in his debt.
When night fell, Viola fidgeted, picking up several books and flicking through them before putting them down again. This brought an enquiry from Nanny about her health. The time crawled by. At last, the clock chimed eight.
Pausing on the landing, Viola gave Nanny a warm hug.
“My goodness,” Nanny said, looking affectionately at her.
“You are very lively this evening, I declare.”
Viola shut her door. Would she ever see Nanny’s dear face again? She sat and waited for the sound of her soft snore. It was never long in coming. Viola picked up the pantaloons she’d thrown over a chair. These clothes and the locket were the only clues from her past. She stared at them desperately, willing her mind to remember. Had she known the boy who’d once worn them? Shaking them out, she pulled them on, finding them remarkably comfortable. There was a slight stain on one knee, which the laundress had been unable to remove. What desperate need had forced her to don these clothes months ago?
A crescent moon lit her way to the stables. Molly whinnied at her arrival. Viola placed her hand over the horse’s nose and whispered words to calm her. She opened the stall gate, conscious of the candlelight flickering in the head groom’s cottage nearby.
She found she had no trouble adjusting the saddle, and moved Molly to the mounting block. Leaping onto the horse’s back, she placed her feet in the stirrups. Confident in the saddle, riding astride came naturally to her. She pulled on the reins, guiding Molly with rea
ssuring words as they followed the meandering path through the woods towards the main gate.
****
Alone in his study, Hugh poured another glass of brandy. A very difficult task awaited him in the morning. How best to persuade Felicity’s parents to allow their only daughter to marry the second son of an earl instead of the arrangement they had believed so many years to be the case?
To disregard the wishes of their friends and parents, and forgo the favorable outcome of combining their estates? He would have to be very convincing to sway them, without either appearing to suffer too much from a broken heart, or display relief at being set free from an agreement that was never of his making. He wandered out onto the terrace and the night air hit him, making him stumble. He needed to sober up, as his head must be clear in the morning.
A dunking in the lake might do the trick, but he hadn’t drunk enough, for he could still reasonably accept the possibility of drowning. A worse fate, in his opinion, was to suffer the irritation of a head cold. He was seldom ill and made an extremely bad patient.
Deciding to walk off his over-imbibing, he crossed the lawns, heading for the woods with a sulky, half-shrouded moon lighting his way. As his head cleared, he became conscious of Viola a few miles away in Nanny’s cottage. Hugh gave in to the indulgence of picturing her in her bed, her hair spread over the pillow. He wanted her so much his chest hurt. He was in a dangerous state.
Since Felicity had spoken, it had freed something up in him and he had all but declared himself to Viola. But this business with Felicity’s parents was far from finished. He shook his head.
Perhaps a dip in the cold water would prove to be the best remedy after all. But he didn’t change course, making for the bulk of the woods ahead. Not something he’d thought to do since boyhood, when he would sneak away from the house after bedtime to listen to enjoy the changes darkness wrought.
Well, he wasn’t a boy anymore and he doubted the woods would weave some magic spell over him to dispel his misery.
In the years spent waiting for Felicity to grow up, he had indulged in many relationships. Beautiful women had graced his arm and his bed.
In polite society, he met many debutantes. One or two caught his eye, but none played upon his heartstrings enough for him to want to fight for them. Then Viola walked into his life and changed everything.
He had such admiration for her; she made him recall the boy he had been, fearlessly prowling these woods years ago; who had grown into a man and somehow lost his way, settling for a life that didn’t suit him. Through her, with her at his side, he could reclaim his lust for adventure. Even if it meant forgoing his station in life and everything that came with it.
Hugh could easily disregard tradition for Viola. He could think of no other woman he wished to be with for the rest of his life. Her smile, her compassion, her lovely eyes filled with unaffected honesty that challenged him, her sense of fairness and her determination to find an appropriate end to her troubles. His relationships with the demi-monde suddenly seemed tawdry and made him think less of himself. Her presence here had changed him forever. He yearned to live up to her, to slay dragons for her.
But at the same time, he was well aware of how the ton would react were he to marry her. They would devour her. His unsuccessful attempt to aid Princess Caroline in her fight against the divorce and banishment from the court had caused vicious gossip.
Prinny was so angry with him he would need little excuse to cut Viola, and the Beau Monde would make her life a living hell. She and Hugh would be forced to live as recluses.
Despite all this, to have her by his side at Vale Park appealed to him so much he fought the impulse to go the cottage and pound on the door and claim her as his.
At the sound of a horse’s whinny and a murmured response, Hugh stopped. Recent trouble with poachers made him alert to any sound. It came from somewhere nearby. He waited as the clop of hooves came closer. It was highly unusual for another soul to wander about Vale Park at night, yet a horse and rider came into view.
Hugh hid behind a tree. As the rider passed, he ran out and grabbed the bridle. Spooked, the animal shied. The young rider cried out in surprise, but did well to keep their seat. As the horse reared, the thief’s hat fell off. Long tresses of moonlit hair, like a rippling, silvery waterfall, spilled over her shoulders.
“Viola! What the devil?” Hugh steadied the mare, transfixed by the vision of Viola in pantaloons. He quickly came to his senses and pulled her down from the horse.
She struggled in his arms. “Oh, let me go. Please, Hugh. Just let me leave.”
Silent with fury, he held her hard with one arm as he looped Molly’s reins over a bush.
The drawstring bag tied to the pommel came loose and emptied itself of Viola’s clothes. She wrestled against his tight hold, leaning down to pick them up, but he grabbed the bag and threw it, spreading a gown, chemise, stockings and a petticoat over the ground along with a pair of shoes.
He swung her around to face him, his face close to hers.
“What the deuce do you think you’re doing? I can’t believe you’re creeping off in the dead of night without saying goodbye.
And dressed in this fashion?” He took her by the shoulders, aware of the possessive desperation in his voice. “Hell’s teeth! Why, Viola?”
She stilled. “You are drunk, Your Grace.”
At her cold, calm voice, Hugh inhaled a deep breath and dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Has this rash action come about because you’ve regained your memory?”
“It’s because I haven’t!” Her eyes implored him. “You must understand. I cannot live on your hospitality forever. In London, I can find a situation as a governess.”
“I’m not even half-sprung, my lady, and my understanding is perfectly clear,” he said. “Clearer than yours, it would seem. You would never reach London dressed like that!” Anger and disappointment made his voice cold and exact. “How far do you think you’d get before the lowlife’s wandering the roads at night found you?”
“What would they want with me? I appear to be a penniless boy. They wouldn’t look at me twice!”
“That’s no bone-setter you’re riding. They would take your horse, and ravish and murder you.” Heated to boiling point, Hugh wished he’d taken that swim. He fought to calm himself.
“Have some sense, Viola. You could never hope to be a governess. Who in their right mind would take you on? No wife. You are much too alluring, and no one would employ a woman without references or family.”
Viola flopped like a rag doll onto the ground. She covered her eyes with her hands. “Will you give me a reference?” she asked, her voice muffled. “It’s the last thing I’ll ask of you.”
Hugh sat down beside her. “If you want so much to leave,” he said, his rage quieting to despair. “I promise to help you.”
She removed her hands. Her eyes were dark pools of misery. “Oh, Hugh, don’t think I want to leave.” She put a hand to his cheek. “I have been happy here. I’ve begun to care less and less about my past. I feel at one with myself here.” She huffed out a sigh. “But what good can come of it?”
At the touch of her hand, Hugh’s blood quickened, sending a warning to his brain. He wished he hadn’t had that last brandy.
“My life is complicated, I admit, and right now my future uncertain. Can you not wait until I can sort things out?”
“Nothing has changed, Hugh. You must get on with your life.”
“I want you in it.”
“I won’t become your mistress,” she said a tremor in her voice. “I won’t do that to myself or to Lady Felicity. Not to mention Nanny and your sister, don’t you see?”
“I know, Viola.”
“You weren’t going to ask me?”
“At one time,” he confessed. “Not now.” He tipped up her chin with his finger to search her eyes. Her fringe of lashes cast dark shadows on her cheeks. “There’s a complication which may see me a free man tomorrow. It appears
Felicity has fallen in love with an unsuitable fellow. I cannot say more yet.”
She stared at him with rounded eyes then shook her head.
“Her parents will make her see sense. It changes nothing, Hugh. I am still a scandalous woman with no past.”
“Who cares what society thinks. I want you in my life. To hell with them all.”
“Then I must care for you.”
Viola’s roaming gaze seemed to be committing his face to memory. It unnerved him. He wanted to make sure she wouldn’t slip away before he could make her his.
She slid her arm around his neck to pull him close. “I implore you to help me to do the right thing,” she said, against his chest. “After this night I will. But I can’t leave you like this. Not like this, Hugh. ”
“Viola!” he groaned, enveloped in her delicate womanly scent. Her breasts pressed against his chest. His body too long denied, hardened with desire. Could he kiss her just once? A brief touch of the lips. He’d dreamed of it often enough. Then he would take her back to the cottage. Tomorrow, when he’d sorted things out with Felicity’s parents, and his head was steadier, they would decide what was best to do.
He cradled her chin in his hand, and brought his mouth down on hers. At the touch of her soft full lips, passion gripped him with a fury he couldn’t deny. His thoughts scattered and he kissed her with savage intensity.
Fighting his need, he pulled away with a groan. “Do you know how much I want you?”
“Make love to me,” she whispered. “I’ve wanted you to for a long time.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I want to take that memory with me.” She pulled his face down to hers, to her lips and her sweet breath. His fragile resolve deserted him.
“Memory be damned,” he said fiercely. “This won’t be the last time we make love.”
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