He shook his head. “No. It’s nice to hear Reginald spoken of. He was the best of men.”
She nodded and looked relieved. “Do you spend much time in the library? You look more the man of action to me, the decorated war hero. Plus, now you have the estate to oversee and that must keep you very busy. I see you have two men of business—Mr. Hunter and Mr. Mathis.”
Before he could answer, Kit came round the corner and Guy gave his friend the signal that said rescue me. Kit, being the good friend that he was, said smoothly without hesitation, “My lord, there is some urgent correspondence that has arrived and I left it on your desk.”
“I was just going to show Miss Pinehurst to the library, perhaps you could accompany her.”
“It would be my pleasure,” and he smiled at Miss Pinehurst.
Guy took the opportunity to escape. After his ride, he needed to bathe before accompanying Abigail to Brentwood Forest anyway, and he definitely did not wish to end up in the library alone with her. The temptation to seduce was too great, plus she was no fool. How long would it take her to learn his secrets?
He bowed his head toward Abigail. “I shall meet you later this afternoon and escort you to the forest.”
“I am looking forward to it.”
He hesitated before leaving. “Do you ride, Miss Pinehurst?”
“Yes, my lord. Often the places I need to explore can only be reached on horseback.”
“It’s such a lovely day. Shall we ride to Brentwood Forest or would you prefer a carriage?”
“A ride would be lovely, thank you.”
“I shall have Giles organize a mount for you.” With that he escaped to his room. As he made his way up the stairs he could hear Miss Pinehurst laugh at something Kit said and his gut clenched in envy.
Kit could read. Kit could seduce. Miss Pinehurst was a woman Kit could have. For the first time he could ever recall, the idea of Kit having Miss Pinehurst caused the green-eyed monster to raise its ugly head. They had never in the full fifteen years they had served and worked together ever fought over a woman.
What was it about this lady that set her apart?
That’s when it hit him. It was because he was no longer only the second son. Previously, a woman like Miss Pinehurst, a woman he had been attracted to, would have been available to him either as a paramour, mistress, or a possible marriage partner. However, with his elevated status the only position she could possibly take in his life was mistress or paramour. While his body heated at that idea, for some reason he did not think it honorable to make her either of those things.
But Kit could offer all three.
* * *
—
An hour later he was bathed and dressed, ready to accompany Miss Pinehurst to Brentwood Forest. They were merely waiting for her sister and chaperone to arrive. Kit still acted as his valet to keep up the ruse, but he had excused himself as soon as Guy’s cravat was tied so he could go over the sheep number report that had arrived this morning.
Guy noted his own light step at the idea of spending more time in Miss Pinehurst’s company. Beautiful women were few and far between in Cambridgeshire. It would be a fun afternoon.
So when he stepped from his room and moved down the hall to the landing he was surprised to see Kit gripping the balustrade and staring as if in a trance at something, or someone, below. Kit didn’t even react when Guy reached his side.
He looked at his friend with a frown and then his eyes moved to whatever it was Kit was studying so intently. It would appear Miss Pinehurst’s companions had arrived. He tried to see what held Kit in such a state and spied a young lady with hair the color of Miss Pinehurst’s. At that moment the young lady looked up and smiled at them. He watched Kit’s hands tighten on the wood. His grip so tight the bannister might break.
“Isn’t she a vision?” Kit whispered to no one in particular.
She was very pretty. “She looks like her sister,” Guy replied.
“She is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the privilege to gaze upon.” Kit stood mesmerized.
“Perhaps we should go and greet the new arrivals?”
Kit almost shook his head. “Pardon?”
He nudged Kit with his elbow, highly amused. He’d never seen Kit too stunned for words. “We should go down and introduce ourselves. Come on.” And he began to descend the stairs. Kit took another longing look below before on a sigh he too descended to greet the new arrivals.
Guy stepped onto the floor of the entrance hall to be greeted by Giles. “Miss Dora Pinehurst and Mrs. Molly Turner, my lord.”
The two women gave a quick curtsey. Dora’s face flushed pink when Kit stepped forward and bowed over her hand. Guy offered an introduction, as Kit appeared to be tongue-tied. “Miss Pinehurst and Mrs. Turner, may I present Mr. Christopher Hunter.”
Mrs. Turner answered for them. “Nice to meet you, sir. Now, if you could tell us where Abigail is, we can freshen up in our rooms.” She threw both men, but Kit in particular, a stern look as if to say, Stay away from my girls.
Just then Abigail came trotting down the stairs. “I’m sure his lordship has no idea where I am. And Giles will arrange to show you to your room,” and she flashed a warm, confident smile at the dignified butler in attendance.
She ignored the men and ran to embrace Dora and Molly. Once the hugs were out of the way, she turned to Guy. “If you give me a few moments to show them our rooms and change my clothes, I’ll join you so we can set off to the forest.”
Kit cleared his throat. “I could be of service this afternoon, Miss Dora, to perhaps give you a tour of the house and show you the library. Your sister said that you would be cataloging the rare books.”
Abigail seemed too distracted to notice the attention Kit was paying to Dora but Guy didn’t miss it, nor did Mrs. Turner. “Perhaps the ladies would like to rest this afternoon as it has probably been a tiring journey and night at the inn. The library can wait until tomorrow.”
At Guy’s words Kit’s smile dimmed but he graciously said, “Of course. How thoughtless of me. I shall look forward to your company at dinner.”
With that Abigail ushered the ladies upstairs, leaving the men, Kit in particular, gazing adoringly after them.
“I’m going to marry that young lady.”
For one terrible moment Guy thought he meant Abigail. “You don’t even know her.”
Kit rounded on him. “I know everything I need to know about her. Did you not see her smile? Kindness and goodness radiate from her.” At Guy’s exasperated sigh he crossly added before striding away, “I just know she is perfect for me.”
Guy chuckled. He inwardly declared that Dora didn’t look a day over eighteen. She was too young for the likes of either of them, until he remembered his mother had born Reginald at only eighteen. Well, if Abigail had any brains, which he knew she did, she would encourage a match with a man like Kit. He would have a secure job for the rest of his life, and Guy had also set up a trust for Kit for his retirement.
He wondered what to do while he waited for Abigail, when he noticed Giles softly approach.
“If you have a moment, my lord?”
“I am only waiting upon Miss Pinehurst.”
“It’s about Jed Smith’s boy, Andy.”
He searched his memory. “The boy with the stutter.”
“Well, his father found him work at the coaching inn near Upper Malden but he’s having a terrible time of it. He’s being picked on and ill treated.”
“Because of his stutter?” Anger rose swiftly along with pity. He hated how the world mistreated people. Those who were “different” were a clear target for any bully. He’d seen the most supposedly “religious” followers beat a child almost to death for stealing food just to survive. Where was the world’s empathy and compassion? The horrors of war burned bright too, and more often than not it was the innocents who were caught in the middle. Women and children who were the people both sides in a war were supposedly protecting.
“Very good, my lord,” and Giles left him to his musings. People could be very cruel. He had experienced it during times of war and at peace. Why did those stronger, and with more power, feel the need to berate those less fortunate than themselves. Perhaps it was their father’s cruelty that made Reginald and now Guy respect the position they held. Both men had sworn a vow to be a better man than their tyrant father.
But for an accident of birth…Guy pulled on his gloves as he heard Abigail descending the stairs. Men, no matter what race, or color, or creed, bleed red. He knew. He’d killed enough of them in battle.
He pushed his macabre thoughts aside and smiled at the beautiful woman who was walking toward him. “No notebook to sketch in?”
She laughed and how the sound filled his senses and made his body heat. “This is merely a scouting trip. Once I have seen the area I can decide how best to begin my search.”
“That is an excellent idea. From now on I shall ask Brodie to accompany you. He’s our head groom and knows the forest like the back of his hand. Come. The stables are this way.”
Guy could not take any credit for the beautiful gardens they walked through to reach the stables. Reginald had taken pride in reclaiming the gardens from nature, after their father left them to grow wild. Abigail stopped to examine most of the plants and flowers.
“Do you see anything you’d like to sketch,” he asked.
“You have a beautiful garden. If I wasn’t hunting for the Ghost Orchid I’m sure I could spend many an hour with my charcoals and be quite content in this one garden alone.”
“I envy your talent. I have never been able to draw.”
She merely shrugged. “For some reason drawing comes as naturally to me as breathing. I thank God for that, as it enables me to lead a good life.”
As he stood staring at her he could see the artist within. Her beautiful hands, her penetrating gaze—an artist’s eye. He noted the seething passion under her cool, demure surface. And a totally inappropriate thought entered his head—what would all that passion be like unleashed in his bed?
He cleared his throat. “Have you always only drawn plants?”
“No. But they are the way I make my living. I like drawing portraits, but not many people will employ a woman in that field.”
If it wasn’t so inappropriate he would tell her that he would love her to draw his portrait. Instead he said, “I must warn you. The forest is probably quite overgrown. Once we scout it out I can send some of my men to cut back the overgrowth in areas where you specifically think your orchid may be found.”
He could see the disappointment on her face. “My stay may be longer than I intended.”
“Do you have another commission to get to?”
She shook her head. “No. However, I assume you were not expecting any long-term guests. We do not want to outstay our welcome.”
“Argyle House has plenty of room. You are welcome to stay until you achieve your goal. I assure you, Mother is very keen to have it known the orchid was found here. Try leaving before you find it and I’m sure she will object.”
“Well, let’s hope the forest is not as overgrown as you suspect.”
He nodded. Guy had not ventured into the woods since he’d left home to join the army over fifteen years ago. Had Reginald’s aversion to the forest kept him from ordering it to be maintained? Had he let nature run wild?
He wondered what Abigail would think when she saw the forest. Would she be scared to go into the dark? He knew it was going to take all his inner strength to keep the repulsion off his face. He prayed her presence would help distract him. Or perhaps it was now so long ago he would not remember the fear the darkened tangle of wooden trees and branches held for him, or the punishment his father had bestowed on him the last time he had hidden in the forest.
He had hoped that being on horseback would certainly make it easier to find a way to penetrate the dense foliage. They could ride along the tree line to find a way in.
At the stables he made to help her mount the gray mare, Lady’s Secret, that had been saddled for her, but before he could offer assistance, she asked, “Would you mind changing the saddle to one where I can ride astride. I have my garments especially made so that they are appropriate.”
Guy immediately remembered the trouser skirt that he had seen her wearing the day she’d arrived, and he motioned to one of the grooms to replace the saddle.
As they stood in the sun waiting, he decided to ask her about her sister. “Your sister is quite a few years younger than you. How old were you when your parents died?”
Sorrow filled her eyes and he wished for one moment that he hadn’t asked. “My father and mother passed when Dora was but a babe. She never knew them.”
“So you are more like a mother to her?”
One brief moment a fearful look entered her eyes. “I suppose you could say that. She doesn’t remember anyone but me.”
“That’s quite the responsibility to take on.”
“She is my sister. I would do anything for her.” Then her look hardened. “I would protect her with my life.”
Before he could comment and ask what she needed protection from, the groom arrived with the mare correctly saddled, and he helped her mount.
It did not take long for him to realize that Abigail rode as if she had been born in the saddle. “Are you up for a gallop?”
“Absolutely. I’ll race you to the tree line,” and then she was off. The ribbons of her bonnet splayed out behind her, the flaps of her skirt like trousers billowing in the breeze. He let her stay ahead of him, quite content to watch her enjoyment.
At the end of their fifteen-minute gallop his body felt as if it had come alive for the first time in a few weeks. His worries blew away and all he could focus on was the beautiful woman riding ahead of him. He simply let himself enjoy the day, refusing to contemplate the ordeal of the woods to come.
They came to halt near the forest and he looked across to find Abigail frowning. “It’s slightly more overgrown then I imagined,” she said. “This bonnet is going to have to go or it will be ruined in the undergrowth.” And she took it off and tied it to the saddle.
“I did warn you. I must admit, seeing to the forest has not been a top priority for myself or for my brother. But if you follow me I’ll show you a way through.” He turned his mount eastward.
They came to a stop further along the tree line. Dismounting, they tied the horses. Guy swallowed back his revulsion and tried to hide his dislike of the darkness as he led her toward an opening in the overgrown brambles.
“Oh, look, a sign is hidden behind this rambling rose vine.” She cleared away some vines to try to read the message. Please don’t ask, please don’t— “I can’t make out what it says. I think this word is ‘risk,’ but what are the others? Can you see?”
He ignored her request to cut back the vines, and instead said, “I suspect underneath the vines it reads ‘enter at your own risk.’ ” A lucky guess.
“Can you cut more of the roses away so I can see? I hate not knowing. It’s one of my faults.”
He did what she asked because to deny her was churlish and would raise suspicions. It turned out to be a wooden bench seat.
She gave a delightful giggle. “It’s not ‘enter at your own risk,’ look what it reads.”
He looked and all he saw was markings on a piece of wood. “We should get moving.”
Her smile dimmed a little. “Whoever wrote this was a poet.”
He pretended to read the sign. “Of course.”
“It does not move you?” She softly read it. “ ‘Life is s
hort, so love like there is no tomorrow.’ ”
He recognized the words and the seat. “My tutor put this bench here for his wife. I remember she loved this spot because it looks out over the valley. It made her feel like the world lay before her.”
“How sad that it’s not been kept up.”
“He died when I was a boy.” At her sad sigh he pointed due south across the paddock. “Rose, his wife, still lives in the little cottage behind the copse of trees over there. I shall have the men repair the bench for her. Perhaps we could stop by her house on our way home. Would you mind?”
“Not at all. I’d like to meet her.” He watched as she sat on the cleared end of the bench and looked longingly toward Rose’s cottage. “What must it be like to know a love like that?”
His heart clenched in his chest as he sat next to her.
She threw a shy smile at him. “You probably don’t even think about romantic notions. As the earl I suspect you are expected to marry for many reasons, love likely the last on the list.”
“With duty comes responsibilities,” was all he could think of to say.
She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I hope that one day I find a man who would build me such a bench.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t met a man who would give you more than a bench.”
Her eyes remained closed but he saw a grimace. She opened them and finally said, “I was engaged many years ago now, but he died a month before our wedding of lockjaw.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She looked out over the vista and sighed. “It’s been over six years, and the pain has faded. What I really miss is the closeness with another human being. A shared smile. A soft touch of our hands. A tender caress. A much needed embrace…” She looked at him. “You probably think I’m silly. A man like you most likely doesn’t need anyone.”
“Not true.”
He could not believe it when she added, “I’m not talking about…I know men like you have mistresses for that. I’m talking about closeness, the ability to simply sit with a person and take comfort from the fact that they are there.”
Attracted to the Earl Page 5
