“It looks wonderful, so bright and colourful,” Mary declared. “I’ve just asked Sarah to make a pot of tea. Come and relax and have a cup, my dear.”
“I think it looks a bit tacky, I wish I could afford to buy fresh ribbons so they could all be matching, but I am a little short of money having bought presents for Christmas for my mother and brother,” Verity said, taking off her apron and brushing down her serviceable dress.
She moved over to the fire and raked it up, adding a few logs to the blaze. Then she sat down in an armchair by the small table they used for having tea. She was feeling unsettled and fidgeted a bit with her hair, but it seemed to still be in place despite her endeavours.
“The decorations look absolutely wonderful, dear. You seemed slightly discomposed…” Mary stopped as Sarah entered with a tea tray, laden with porcelain cups, a rather ugly silver teapot and matching milk jug, together with some plates containing slices of Sarah’s home-made fruit cake.
“Oh, thank you, Sarah, that will be all,” Verity insisted as their housekeeper began to arrange the plates and obviously intended to pour tea for them.
Sarah bobbed a small curtsey and then withdrew, shutting the drawing room door behind her. They could hear her in the hall, calling the maid Annie.
“Annie, fetch a broom and sweep up the leaves on the floor and make the hall presentable in case there are visitors. My lady, the dowager countess might make a call.”
They could not really hear Annie’s mumbled reply, but the noises of her bustling to tidy after Verity’s self-appointed task reached them.
“I sincerely hope my mother will not visit today,” Verity said, sipping the tea Mary had handed her. “Her last visit really overstretched my nerves and my patience. I nearly lost my temper with her, I am afraid.”
Mary wrinkled her nose. “Your mother is a very astute lady and would notice your discomposure, so perhaps that is for the best. Her ladyship would soon be asking searching questions as to whether it was the young vicar or the handsome new baron who was bringing such a fetching blush to your cheeks.”
Ignoring that suggestive dig about the baron, Verity directed the conversation somewhere safer. They chatted for a little and enjoyed the fruit cake, but then heard a horse trotting up the path to their home.
“I wonder, whoever that can be? The vicar comes in his gig and your mother always travels in her carriage.” Mary rose and peeked through the bay window, “Oh yes, the new baron is exceptionally handsome, and he is turning on his charm to Sarah, who has gone to the door. She is blushing and giggling like a young girl…”
Verity’s heart lurched. “It is the new baron?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so certain; you haven’t met the man!”
“I am fascinated by your breathlessness and your flushed features,” Mary said, arching an elegant brow. “But if not the baron, then we have another landowner new to our society and he has come to call.”
Verity stood, not liking how anxious she felt. Hurrying to the windows, she peeked outside. It was indeed the baron! Why had he come? “Oh, dear! I must look a mess,” Verity said, going to the mirror to check her hair and dress.
“You look beautiful as always, dear. The baron is not going to care about what you are wearing. He has come uninvited and must take us as we are…”
Verity pressed a hand over her pounding heart. “Do not say that Mary, he was, er, rather forward in his first meeting with me…”
Her friend’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small O of wonder. “How forward?”
“You need not answer, your blushes and bright eyes explain a lot, Verity, now compose yourself, that will be Sarah at the door to announce him…” Mary said as the door was knocked on and opened.
“My lady, Lord Rupert Rogers asks if he can call. I did not know whether to say if you are at home to visitors, ma’am,” Sarah or more correctly, Mrs. Cutler said.
“Yes, please admit my lord, although we were not expecting visitors, we will be pleased to receive our neighbour,” Mary jumped in to say, evidently fearing that Verity would get flustered and refuse him.
Verity glared at her friend, who pointedly did not look her way. Taking a deep, steady breath, she relaxed in the armchair and prepared to greet their uninvited neighbour. There was nothing to be nervous about, she gently reassured herself. This visit wasn’t a beau coming to pay a call to a lady he was most interested in, and Verity certainly wasn’t interested in a gentleman like the baron.
If only the patter of her heart did not mock her most stringently.
Chapter 4
The housekeeper who answered his knock on the front door of the dwelling Farrant had directed Rupert to was properly correct, but more than prepared to deny his entry, should Lady Verity not wish to be disturbed.
She had curtseyed when he offered his card, saying, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, milord. I will see if Lady Verity and Miss Herriot are receiving visitors.”
“I am already acquainted with Lady Verity. I am sure she will allow me a few minutes as a courtesy visit…” He said, smiling, few females could resist his smile, and he made good use of it.
She tittered a little when he passed a small compliment on the quality of her fine cap. However, she left him on the doorstep, clutching the roses he had cut, from his great-uncle’s hothouse, as it seemed appropriate to bring flowers even this deep into advent.
Rupert was relieved and trying not to disarray his cravat, when the housekeeper returned, smiling. “My lady and Miss Herriot will receive you, milord, please come this way. May I take your hat? We do not have a butler, I’m afraid.”
He handed her his hat, gloves, and riding crop, putting down the flowers while he shrugged off his many caped riding coat. He smiled again. At least her ladyship had agreed to see him.
That was a good sign indeed. Rupert allowed the housekeeper to direct him to a tidy drawing room, where Lady Verity and another lady awaited his presence. Lady Verity appeared a fetching picture in a blue merino gown with Andalusian sleeves, a shawl in a riot of golds and blues covered the dress’ dropped shoulders. The gown reflected the blue of her eyes. Her strawberry blonde hair was upswept in a riot of curls and her eyes appeared bright and direct. Still to him Lady Verity seemed a bit nervous.
Perhaps another good sign?
She surged to her feet to dip into a polite curtsey. “My lord, how…kind of you to call. Allow me to introduce my friend and companion, Miss Mary Herriot. Mary, this is Lord Rupert Rogers, the new baron of Ellesmere Hall.”
Miss Herriot was a most handsome woman as well but clearly older than Lady Verity. She stood and curtseyed, gracing him with a warm smile. Introductions and a few polite sallies out of the way, Rupert sat on the sofa opposite Lady Verity. Miss Herriot discreetly went to sit by the window, her fingers darting with skill as she worked on a piece of needlepoint.
The lady who had stolen into his dreams last night stared at him with an air of curious expectations. Unexpectedly Rupert chuckled.
“Are you to share your humour, my lord?”
“It occurred to me just now that I am abominably nervous.”
Her lush lips parted, and she gave him a quick smile. “It is surprising to hear a man of your evident self-assurance say so.”
“It is even more shocking to feel it.”
“Then I am gratified by your honesty!”
He gathered that she was charmed by his admission and he had no notion how to react to it. Rupert had lovers before, but he had never sat before a lady he desired to court. It truly worried him that he could be this flustered, but he did a credible job of hiding it.
“Forgive my directness, but why did you call?”
“No need to ask for any pardon, I like your bluntness.”
Her mouth softened into a small smile. “And was it my directness that urged you to call upon me?”
“Amongst other things.”
Her gaze lowered to the roses in his hand. Mercy. He�
��d almost forgotten that he had them. When her gaze lifted to him, there was a touch of something in her eyes he could not decipher.
“These are for you, Lady Verity.”
“Thank you, they are beautiful,” she murmured, taking the bright red roses and lifting them to her nose.
She stood and strolled over to a vase on the mantle that already held a few white lilies and added the roses. Upon returning, he fancied that she sat a bit closer to him. At the soft hollow in her throat, he could see the mad flutter of her pulse. Lady Verity was very much aware of him, and that knowledge had him relaxing more against the cushions.
She artfully prepared tea and handed him a cup, which he accepted. Their fingers brushed, and she snatched back her hand as if she had been burned.
Rupert angled his head and studied her. She was decidedly skittish around him, and he realized he would have to be incredibly careful with his pursuit. He did not wish to scare her, but to draw her close to him so he might learn everything he could about her, and perhaps allow her to assuage any curiosity she might also possess about himself.
Suddenly he felt inspired to ask, “Are you very good with puzzles, Lady Verity?”
Her brows slightly creased. “Puzzles?”
“Mysteries…and treasure hunting?”
“I am considerably intrigued,” she said. “To what are you referring?”
“There is a treasure…a fortune in my home or on my property. I must find it, perhaps I could invite you to help me?”
“To help you find this treasure?” she asked a bit sceptically.
“Yes,” he said, giving her a most charming smile.
She did not sigh with longing or giggle and bat her lashes as other ladies did in the past when he turned this smile on them. No, Lady Verity seemed amused with his efforts, and he was oddly charmed by the devilry glinting in her eyes.
“I can see you believe this to be true, my lord. But a fortune is hidden on your estate? How eccentric.”
“I have the poem my uncle left me…his only clue.”
“You would trust me to see this? What if I should try to find this fortune for myself?”
Amusement curled through him. “I am a good judge of character.”
She arched a brow, almost playfully. “And what have you therefore, discerned about me?”
It was madness that tempted him to reach out and stroke the back of his fingers over her cheek. Her eyes widened, and her chest lifted on a ragged breath, but she did not pull away from his bold caress.
“That you are soft, sweet and kind,” he murmured, “and you are no thief, but a woman of wit and intelligence.”
Her gaze cut to where Miss Herriot had sat, and he lowered his hand. Miss Herriot had left the room, and neither of them had been aware.
Lady Verity delicately cleared her throat. “Where is the poem?” she murmured huskily.
Rupert reached into his pocket, astonished to note his fingers slightly trembled.
“May I read it?” she asked, pushing a loose tendril behind her ears.
He spread it on the small table before them, and their heads dipped closely together. Rupert closed his eyes briefly, inhaling her sweet scent into his lungs. Hell, she roused in him a desperate need to haul her into his arms and kiss her without thoughts of consequences or another fiery slap.
“So Daring Deeds of heroes gladly tell
Brave battling Neptune’s briny sway expound
My Rogue, I will always wish you well…”
“My Rogue…is that you?”
“A sobriquet courtesy of Uncle Frederick, the author of this maddening poem.”
“A fitting name, for after our first meeting, I lamented you were a right rogue!” she said with a light and very charming laugh.
“Ah, so you thought of me afterwards,” replied Rupert drolly, “I am pleased you did not cast me from your thoughts to the depths of hell.”
She cast him a quick side-eye glance of amusement before returning her attention to the wrinkled paper.
He hid a secret smile as she continued reading,
“Fabulous Beast ascending Mordant hound
Will ever lead you onwards to your goal
Ages old colours fade yet seek within
Beneath martial courage lies treasure whole”
“That is interesting. The treasures lie beneath martial courage. That might be the most important line of the verse. Where have you looked?”
“My good man Farrant and I have searched the attic and there was nothing. Apart from the servants’ quarters, we have turned the house upside down. There were no clues and definitely no treasure apart from the family silver and heirlooms. Not even any family jewels.”
“A prayer to atone from forlorn sin
A quest of import in heavenly land
Uncover riches select bonny bride
Then perhaps fortune will be close to hand
Giving you all I own I depart with pride
To mouldering bones now I must travel
Leaving you a riddle to unravel.”
“How fascinating,” she said softly. “And do you really believe there is a treasure to be found? A fortune?”
“My uncle was eccentric, but he wouldn’t lead me on a merry chase like this. So, there is something. I understand from his stories that he spent an, er… interesting, early life, and travelled extensively.”
Her eyes searched his expression for a bit. “I gather it is important for you to find it.”
“Very.”
“You’ll not elaborate?”
“I thought you liked mysteries.”
She flashed him a quick smile at his provocation. Fighting the temptation to lean forward and capture her lips with his, Rupert stood and made his way over to the small set of windows overlooking a well-tended but simple garden. He heard the swish of her skirts as she moved to stand beside him.
“I have a very inquisitive spirit, and I do enjoy mysteries,” she said softly.
“Does that mean you accept my invitation?”
Silence fell and they just stood there staring out the gardens.
“Lady Verity?”
“Yes?”
“I also mean to pursue you most seriously.”
Her breath audibly hitched.
“I…I would encourage you not to do so.”
Those softly spoken words were like a kick in his chest. “My intentions are solely honourable.”
He turned and looked down at her. She looked…dispossessed of all composure, her cheeks flushed a bright red, and her eyes were wide with apprehension. He had asked Farrant about her family, and apparently, there was no attachment between the lady and another. However, Farrant had suggested that the vicar was making his pursuit of the lady a trifle obvious. Though Rupert had also learned of a fiancé who died a few years ago in the war. Was she still in love with the man? But then he recalled the sweet manner in how she had responded to his kisses, the eager press of her slim body to his, and her soft moans of surrender.
“I’ve alarmed you.”
Her hand fluttered to her throat, the gesture one of delicacy he would not have expected to associate with her. From their very first meeting, he had sensed her strength.
“We’ve only just met,” she said on a choked whisper. “You cannot know that you wish to court me. You are preposterous, my lord!”
“Why do you seem so frightened by the notion?”
Her chest lifted on a rapid breath, and her eyes were wide with vulnerability and unfathomable emotions, but she made no reply. Her eyes lowered to his mouth before she quickly looked away. It struck him them, quite forcibly, that Lady Verity was very much was attracted to him, and it rattled her.
“Do you like me as well?” he asked warmly.
She scoffed. “We are barely acquainted!”
“That does not answer my question, and please recall you are a lady who values truthfulness.”
He didn’t like pinning her on the spot in such a manner, but he was
hoping for a sign that he would not pursue her in vain. Rupert did not believe in bestowing his attention to a lady who might be discomfited by it.
“Do you like me?” he repeated softly. “Should you say no, I promise I will not bother you with my unwanted courtship, though I would also treasure a friendship.”
She marched away, only to falter in the centre of the room. Lady Verity seemed to struggle with herself, and Rupert said nothing or made any more movement towards her. After a few moments, she whirled around to face him. Such emotions flashed across her lovely features—irritation, desire, fear, and such sweet hope.
That hope had warmth rushing through his entire body.
With one word, she could silence him forever on matters of courtship, but she did not deny liking him. Rupert smiled. “I want you to know that when I steal a kiss from you, or when I ask you to play chess with me or to take long walks in the gardens is not because I am playing the rogue.”
She pressed a hand over her heart, which he suspected pounded fiercely, for his reacted in a similar manner. “I cannot credit you would so boldly state your intentions.”
“Would you have preferred fawning and flattery coined in vagueness?”
“Of course not,” she said softly. “Such behaviour would not have been the mark of a gentleman with honour.”
“Precisely, my lady,” he said. Never did he want her to mistake his attentions as that of a rake.
“It is just…we have only met,” she said so faintly he almost missed it.
“Can a gentleman not know upon that first meeting that he has met a lady he finds worthy of courtship? Can he not know it by the way his heart reacts, especially as it does so in a way he has never before experienced? Can he not know it because he recalls over and over the lovely way she laughed and that charming way she wrinkles her nose?”
In her eyes, he saw her deep awareness of him as a man, but also a wariness that stirred a tender ache inside of Rupert. It was clear to him Lady Verity was alarmed by her attraction to him, and that made him aware she might have never felt such visceral feelings before.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2) Page 109
