Chapter Eleven

I stretched the muscles in my legs one by one as I emerged from the cramped church into the balmy sunshine. Those hard, wooden seats were made for women the size of Mary or Francine, not for me. I basked in the freedom to unfold my legs again. At least the service hadn’t been boring, not with Mary whispering about the skeletons she’d unearthed from the gentlemen’s closets.

Lady Dunlop spilled out of the church and into the open air. “Let’s adjourn on a picnic,” she said with good cheer.

I grimaced. I’d been up late last night, plagued by images of the passion Warren had incited in me. Wicked, wicked passion that I never intended to indulge again. Emily had admirably hidden the bags under my eyes with some powder, but what I longed for most dearly this afternoon was a nap.

Alone. Even Mary and Daisy grated on my nerves more than usual this morning, with their cheery chatter. Francine, I could at least depend upon to remain silent.

The tension crept into my shoulders once again as I eyed the long line of picketed and saddled horses. Hostlers stood between them at intervals, clasping a set of reins in each hand. “Where are the carriages?”

Lady Dunlop grinned. “Why, we won’t need them. A set of ruins lies not far from here, a lovely place for a picnic. It dates back to the old Saxons. I daresay some lucky soul might even find treasure beneath those old stones.”

Daisy applauded. I winced at the snappy sound.

“How delightful, a treasure hunt.”

With a fond smile, Lady Dunlop added, “No road leads to the ruins, but the horses won’t have any trouble traversing the fields.”

Beside me, Francine blanched as white as the clouds overhead, so snow-white that her freckles stood out like splotches of mud.

I shared her misgivings. Ride sidesaddle? No self-respecting horsewoman would ride that way, not once she mastered riding astride. Riding sidesaddle was like drinking watered down wine; it offered a pale parody of the enjoyment.

I clasped my hands in front of me to hide their tremor. I hadn’t so much as touched a horse in over four years. The lure, the song of a good gallop itched beneath my skin, begging me to give in. Mother’s voice sounded in my head. Proper young ladies don’t ride astride like wild women.

Wild women didn’t attract gentlemen husbands. So I turned my face away. “If the ruins can be reached by horseback, I assume they can also be reached on foot?”

Francine clutched my arm so fiercely, the tips of my fingers tingled with lack of circulation.

Lady Dunlop frowned, but said, “Yes, but the walk will take at least an hour.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched my sister bat her eyelashes at the hostess’s nephew. He offered his arm and escorted her toward the row of horses. While in plain view of the group, she wouldn’t need my chaperone services. Catching Mary’s eye, I nodded toward my sister. Adjusting her spectacles, she nodded and strode after the pair.

Lady Dunlop added, “Riding will take a fraction of the time.”

Donning my best smile, I said, “I’m not afraid of a little exertion.”

I led Francine away from the tall, barrel-chested horses. “Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice was so flimsy and weak it dissolved with the breeze. Digging her claw-like fingers into my arm, she eyed the stamping horses with such vehemence, it was a wonder they didn’t fall over dead.

I patted her hand. “Friends have to stick together, don’t we?”

At her grateful smile, guilt churned my stomach. I hadn’t made the decision to walk with her in mind, but to keep my secret. As far as Francine knew, my aversion to horses stemmed from the same fear of the beasts she harbored.

We struck off down the road as the rest of the party chose mounts. As we cleared the last of the village houses, Francine relaxed and removed her death grip on my arm. Ruts from wagons riddled the wide, dirt lane, deeper in some places than others. In some of the holes, water lingered, enough to sprout tall weeds like cattails. The things must be tenacious, to be trodden by so many wagons and carts that they lay bent in places, but still remained vibrant and healthy.

Francine frowned as she peered at one of the plants.

I dragged her forward. “Didn’t you say that you grew up in these parts?”

“I did.” She craned her neck, peering behind her to examine the plant even as we strode away. “But the last time I studied these plants, I was a child. I know so much more now.”

“I’m not walking with you if you stop every few minutes to examine a plant. It would take days to reach the ruins.”

A glimmer of a smile crossed her face. “Very well. I won’t stop. May I pick a few specimens to examine along the way?”

“If you’re quick.”

The road trembled with the drumming of horses’ hooves. I drew Francine to the grass alongside. As the long line of riders approached, the beasts kicked up clouds of dust. I sputtered, my eyes tearing up. The riders rode in pairs, a man trotting alongside a woman. The stamp and rumble of the hooves prevented conversation. Not that Francine noticed. She took advantage of the lull in walking and plucked a few plants from the ground, roots and all. When her hands bulged with her crop, she straightened.

The dust made my eyes water. I blinked it away as the last rider pulled abreast. He slowed from a trot to a walk.

It was Warren.

Blast him, but he didn’t seem the least bit put out by our heated encounter last night. As heat stained my cheeks, I turned my face away, hoping my friend wouldn’t notice. Francine had her nose stuck a plant. Literally—she sniffed the roots. Why would she do that? Oh, Francine…

I stiffened as Warren halted his horse. I didn’t want to talk to him. I tugged Francine along, continuing our trek.

Unperturbed, Warren joined us. He reined his steed to a steady, slow speed matching ours. The beast rolled his eyes, anxious to quicken his pace. Warren didn’t even give the poor creature enough head to walk. He held the reins too tightly.

Don’t say anything. Properly bred young ladies didn’t give riding advice to hotheaded lords. Even with Mama’s voice ringing in my head, the sight chafed. I hadn’t pinned Warren as a poor horseman.

He grinned at me, his smile devious. “Miss Wellesley, if you didn’t know how to ride, why didn’t you just say so? I’m happy to lend my services. You can sit behind me.”

I turned my face away, focusing on the road ahead. “I won’t ride with you.”

“Because of your pride?”

“Perhaps because I don’t want to,” I snapped.

I glared at him. His winsome smile only reminded me that I’d broken my rule and made eye contact.

“Besides,” I added, “I couldn’t possibly leave Francine.”

Warren frowned. “Miss Annesley?” He trailed off.

I glanced behind me, where she had been only a moment ago. She was gone. “Blasted botanist.” I turned on my heel and scampered back the way I’d come. I found her in a ditch, huddled over a flower.

“Francine,” I said, my voice testy. “You have your specimens. What are you doing?”

“I think this is viola lactea, pale dog-violet. It doesn’t normally grow around here.”

“It probably isn’t what you think it is.”

I waded down into the ditch, grabbing her by the arm. Though, I was careful not to tread on the flower. She’d flay me if I disturbed a specimen. I hauled her to the road once more.

She blinked up at me with owlish eyes, a look of betrayal lighting their brown depths. “Do you mean to imply I’m not a very good botanist?”

“Far from it,” I said with feeling. “You’re likely the best botanist for a hundred miles. But we’re falling behind. Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow to look at the flower.”

“Wait,” she said, juggling her plant specimens in one hand as she dipped her fingers into her reticule. She pulled out a slim leather-bound volume and a stick of graphite. She scribbled something down onto the page.

I sighed. “What are you doing?”

“Marking the spot, so we can come back.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Why don’t you uproot the plant and take it with us?”

She stared at me with such a forlorn expression I feared she was about to burst into tears. “I just told you. It isn’t native to these parts. This might be the only one like it around the village.”

“So?”

“So—” Her voice took on a pugnacious edge. “We should allow it to propagate. Maybe it will flourish.”

“Maybe it will shrivel up and die,” I countered.

It was the wrong thing to say. Her sharp intake of breath warned me that I was about to hear an earful, likely on the history and hardiness of the plant.

Warren postponed such a tirade by pulling up alongside us. He’d turned around.

Why wasn’t he following the rest of the group?

I shooed him away with my hands. “The others will arrive first. You should hurry, or you’ll never be able to catch up.”

“And leave two young women to walk unchaperoned? What sort of cad do you take me for?” He said it with the glimmer of a smile and pressed his hand to his heart in mock injury.

I glowered at him. “We are fully grown women, capable of walking to a ruins site without turning an ankle or devolving into hysterics.”

“What if you get lost?” he said. “There might be footpads or highwaymen along the way.”

“In Leicestershire?” Francine giggled.

At least she’d forgotten the grievous insult I’d given to the flower.

We walked on, Warren matching his horse’s pace to ours.

“We won’t be harmed,” I told him. “Please, continue without us. We’re perfectly content to arrive at our own pace.”

To my dismay, he stopped his horse and dismounted. Leading the gelding by the reins, he strode alongside us. “Nonsense,” he said. “I’m happy to perform my gentlemanly duty for two such beautiful maidens.”

I had half a mind to steal his horse and wheel it after the others. If only.

A broad smile capped Francine’s face as she strolled along the far edge of the road. Why did she have to be afraid of horses? I needed a buffer between Warren’s solid form and myself. With every stride, memories of his body pressed against mine sent tingles of awareness along my skin.

Francine hummed under her breath, drawing my attention. A sly smile crossed my face. I linked my arm through Francine’s, disturbing her examination of one of the dirty plants she clutched. She studied the leaves this time, rather than sniffing the roots. An improvement, at least.

“Francine, what do you have there?” I asked her.

I shot Warren a triumphant look, made all the sweeter by the befuddlement etched over his features. He didn’t know the horrors to which he was about to be subjected.

Francine pulled her face away from the leaves long enough to say, “It’s a common digitalis purpurea. See the spiral formation of the leaves here?” She curled her finger along the edge of the leaves. “A young specimen. The stalk hasn’t grown yet. It will be as tall as you when mature.”

I fixed a smile in place. “Fascinating. Tell me more about it.”

Her mouth dropped open with surprise. Clarity dawned as she swung her gaze to Warren. Straightening her shoulders, she listed the properties of the plant alphabetically.

Warren’s smile slipped. He cleared his throat, cutting her short at F. “Actually, this beast is mighty wild. I think he needs to run off some of this energy before we reach the ruins.”

Without waiting for a confirmation or even a polite good-bye, Warren swung into the saddle and dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. I grinned from ear to ear as he cantered out of sight.

The silence in the wake of his horse’s hooves was deafening. I grinned at my friend. Her mouth was puckered in disappointment.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you did there.”

I feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you mean.” I tried to withdraw my arm from hers, but she held tight.

“You used me to drive him away. You should have a care for the feelings of others.”

My joyous mood plummeted into my walking shoes. “I’m sorry, Francine. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Not me.” She groaned and lifted her eyes skyward. “I meant Lord Hartfell. You’re always seducing men into falling in love with you, and once they’re fully committed to you, you no longer have the time of day for them.”

My mouth dropped open in affront. “I do not do that. Name one.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “Pachycaul.”

Damn her for being right. But how could I have known he wasn’t the man for me at the time?

I shook my head. “He is regrettable, but I’m not doing that with Warren.”

Francine’s lips parted. “Warren? You call him by his Christian name?”

My cheeks heated at the slip. “I do not. He offered, but I declined. This is an entirely different situation. I’m not trying to entice him to fall in love with me. He’s making a nuisance of himself at his cousin’s behest.”

Francine made a small questioning sound.

“Miss Catkin,” I clarified.

“Yes, I did wonder where she ran off to.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean? Where is Miss Johnsto—Catkin?” She had been at the church, hadn’t she? I couldn’t recall.

“How am I to know?” Francine shrugged. “She isn’t at the house any longer. Mary told me she left this morning.”

I didn’t ask how Mary knew such a thing. She played better with the servants at house parties than with the hosts or guests. If the servants bandied gossip, she heard it first.

I sighed, shaking my head.

Francine bumped me with her elbow, bringing me back to the present. “Are you all right?”

“In the pink of health,” I lied.

The rest of the week yawned ahead of me with promises of torturous activities designed to incite courtship between couples. And the man I loved had fled to the continent, racing after his duty.

As if sensing my thoughts, Francine said, “How goes your broken heart?”

I stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have a broken heart. I’m very much in love.”

Or, at least, I would be, if the object of my affection were here.

Francine laughed. “Of course you are,” she said. “That’s why Frederick left last night and you’re still here to complain about it.”

My shoulders slumped. She was right, after all. I had no hope left.

Francine cast me a sidelong glance. Her mouth was pursed, measuring rather than disapproving. “You aren’t nearly as forlorn as usual when you’re crossed in love.”

“Maybe that’s because I haven’t been crossed,” I snapped at her. “I didn’t get the opportunity to draw Frederick’s attention. He didn’t reject me.”

Perhaps he had, a little, by choosing Miss Johnstone’s company over mine. But at least she was in the same predicament—and so overcome with sorrow that she’d departed the party early. Lady Dunlop must not have liked that.

Actually, I sympathized with Miss Johnstone. After all, I’d nursed a broken heart many a time before. Once, for the man my sister Violet proceeded to marry. I didn’t wish the feeling on anyone. And whom did Miss Johnstone have to console her? I had Francine, Mary, Emily, and Daisy.

“Thank you,” I said. My words were so quiet, the rustling branches, chirping birds, and buzzing insects almost drowned them.

“For what?” Francine asked, distracted.

“For consoling me.”

Francine didn’t seem interested in pursuing the conversation further. Humming in a monotone under her breath, she examined the three plants she clutched in her hands. By the time we reached the ruins, my ears buzzed from the constant sound. I nudged her, pointing to the bevy of horses and tall crumbling spire ahead.

“We’re nearly there.”

“So we are.” She stopped to set the plants against a tree. Then she got down on both knees and churned the earth with her gloved hands.

I groaned. “Francine, what are you doing?”

“I’m replanting them,” she said. “They’ll die if I don’t.”

“So what if they do? Like you said, there are hundreds of other such plants in the vicinity.”

She ignored me. Did she even pay attention? Probably not.

I tapped my toe for five minutes straight before she lowered the decrepit little plants into the holes she’d made. She patted the dirt around their bases and rose.

“There.”

I sighed. “Finally. You might want to remove your gloves, before…”

She wiped a strand of hair away from her face, leaving a smutch on her cheek. “Before what?”

I forced a smile. “Never mind. Shall we go?”

She nodded, and we made our way to the gathering.

Lady Dunlop stood from a circle of blankets on the slope of a hill. She waved her arms vigorously. “Miss Wellesley, Francine, at last! There is food over here, if you’re hungry.”

My stomach clenched with hunger. If I was hungry, indeed. Did she not recall barring me from the breakfast room this morning in order to hasten me and the other guests to the church? I quickened my step, eager to fill my belly at last. Francine trotted after me.

As Lady Dunlop saw the state of Francine’s gloves, she frowned. “Oh dear. Perhaps you ought to remove those before eating.”

Francine glanced at her hands in surprise. How could she be surprised that there was dirt on her gloves? She lived in an almost constant state of uncleanliness, what with all the plants she pursued with no care to her attire.

“Of course,” she said.

She didn’t argue when Lady Dunlop made the suggestion. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes.

When Francine had tucked the dirty gloves away in her reticule—why she wanted to keep them, I didn’t know—I guided her to the base of the hill, where a guard of servants hovered over baskets of food. Two of them fixed plates for Francine and me. I accepted one with a gracious smile and dragged Francine toward the ring of blankets.

“Over here,” Mary waved her arm. “I saved you a spot.”

Francine eagerly picked her way to Mary’s side. I followed, my shoulder blades prickling. Who watched me? Most of the gathering cast us bored or surreptitious glances. This was different. Direct, hot, intense. I latched gazes with Warren, who lounged on a blanket on the opposite side of the ring from Mary. I quickened my step, slipping around the perimeter to the spot saved for me. At least my friends would serve as a buffer between Warren and me.

Mary patted the vacant patches she’d saved for us on the glaring purple blanket. I settled beside her. Surprisingly, two gentlemen also shared the blanket with her. One was Lady Dunlop’s nephew, Arthur. The other was Captain Beckwith.

“You took so long,” Mary complained.

Francine delicately lowered herself to her knees on the blanket, careful not to spill any food. “The distance takes longer when you’re not on horseback,” she reminded. “Besides, I found a few specimens to examine along the way.”

“Any stinging nettles?” Beckwith asked with a grin.

Why would he ask such a thing?

Francine answered his grin with one of her own. “You’ll have to ask Julian.”

They laughed.

I glanced from one to the other, narrowing my eyes.

Covering her chortles with one hand, Francine murmured, “We grew up together.”

“Excuse me,” Beckwith said. He pressed one hand to his chest, over his heart, in mock injury. “I am Julian’s much older brother. You were bereft of my presence for much of your youth.”

“Yes,” Francine shot back with a smile. “You left me alone with him, and he used to stomp on my feet when we practiced dance class.”

He caught her hand, bowing over it. “You should try dancing with me. I’m a much better partner, I assure you.”

“Is that a boast, Jeremy? I thought you were more modest than that.” By her smile and her tone, she meant no such thing.

Was Francine flirting with a man? I’d never seen her do that before. Usually, she was as quiet as a mouse. Today, her eyes were brighter than the sun, which was shielded behind the clouds. She bathed in Captain Beckwith’s attention. It boggled the mind. Thankful to be saved the need to contribute to the conversation, I dug into my plate of food, keeping one ear on the lively conversation Francine was keeping up with Beckwith. Now he regaled her with a wicked tale of how he danced with the wife of a French officer and nearly found himself shot because of it. She called him on every outrageous lie.

Meanwhile, that prickling sensation persisted. I glanced up.

Warren stared at me. His plate was bare. His body bunched as he crouched to stand. There’s no room for you here.

At that moment, Lady Dunlop’s nephew stood and offered my sister his hand. “Would you care for a tour of the ruins, Daisy?”

Daisy? He called her familiarly? Knowing her, she’d insisted. I bit the inside of my cheek. Mama must have taught her—like me—not to give leave to any but the closest acquaintances to refer to her in such a manner.

She leaped to her feet far too quickly for me to get a word in edgewise. Eagerly slipping her hand into Arthur’s, she towed him away. Finished with their luncheon, other couples around the gathering did the same, as did Captain Beckwith.

Although Francine had barely touched her food, she said, “I haven’t explored these ruins since I was a child. I might find some new plants I overlooked last time.” She turned to me, but my glare must have made her think twice about asking me to accompany her. Instead, she turned to our friend. “Mary, don’t you want to explore?”

With a shrug, Mary pushed herself to her feet. “Why not? I don’t have anything better to do.”

Good. I didn’t feel up to discussing the men at this party anymore. The things Mary had unearthed about most of them were alarming. If she could uncover all those secrets in a night, imagine what they must be keeping closer to the vest!

Most maddening of all, she hadn’t discovered a single thing about Warren. Apparently, his valet was close-lipped, even during late-night games of five-card loo. I would have liked to know something I could throw in his face. At least then we would be even. After last night, he knew my deepest secret—that I was a wild woman at heart.

While Mary and Francine meandered off, I nibbled the morsels on my plate. The apple turnover tasted exquisite, tart and crisp. Should I ask for another? The servants boxed away the leftovers and loaded them onto the horse’s backs under Lady Dunlop’s eye.

Oh well. I returned to my half-eaten plate. I still had plenty.

A shadow blocked out the meager sun. I glanced up as Warren asked, “Is this seat taken?”

“Yes,” I said, though it was very clear that it was not. In fact, all of the blankets had been vacated except for the one I sat on. The servants, finished packing up the lunch, moved on to those next.

Warren sat next to me despite the rebuttal. I sighed. “You don’t take a hint, do you?”

He rapped on his head with his knuckles. “It’s this thick skull.”

I bit my lip to hide a chortle. I continued to pick at my food, ignoring him. Despite the lack of riveting conversation, he made himself comfortable, stretching out alongside me and propping himself on one elbow. If he thought I would share some of my lunch, he was wrong. I drew it closer to me, zealously guarding my plate. I didn’t care if it was unladylike to show my appetite.

He smiled at me, unruffled.

“Why are you here?” I asked, my voice sharp.

“I saw a young lady on her own. Such a thing is unheard of.”

In other words, he was hell-bent on making himself a nuisance. I narrowed my eyes. “Captain Paine is gone. So is your cousin. You have no reason to pay attention to me anymore.”

He raised his eyebrows. “How do you know about my cousin?”

I nibbled on a slice of pear before I answered. “I heard it from Francine, who heard it from Mary.”

“And this is a credible source?”

“Even you should know that Mary is great friends with the servants. People talk.”

I helped myself to another morsel on my plate, this time to the cheese. His eyes followed my progress, fixing on my mouth.

“You’re not getting any of my lunch,” I told him.

He grinned. “I didn’t ask.”

I refused to decipher that expression, so I returned to our previous topic of conversation. “Do give my best to Miss Johnstone, when you see her.”

With puzzlement written over his face, Warren levered himself into a sitting position. “Why?”

“Why?” I scowled. “Because she’s a lovely young woman, and she doesn’t deserve to be crossed in love any more than I do.”

“Oh?” Warren leaned closer. I moved my plate out of reach, setting it down on my opposite side.

“How do you know that her suit with Paine ended poorly?”

I rolled my eyes. “If he proposed, she wouldn’t have felt it necessary to flee the party to preserve face, now would she?”

“She wouldn’t have any need to stay, either,” he pointed out. “Perhaps they eloped to Gretna Green.”

“On his schedule?” I shook my head. “The only word to come out of his mouth throughout his entire stay was ‘duty.’ He wouldn’t prolong his departure for the continent.”

“He might, for love. Wouldn’t you?”

Warren’s gaze bored into me, as if he knew my secret. I would do anything for love, give up anything. Despite the turbulence beating just below my breast, I mustered a glib tone.

“I’m not a man, or a soldier. I’m different.”

At my glare, he grinned. The bounder.

I added, “And you don’t believe in love.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I do believe in the magic two people can make with each other.”

I shivered at his low, intimate tone. His blue eyes darkened, reflecting the sky that had swiftly clouded over throughout the meal.

I drew back. Blindly reaching for my plate, I resumed eating. Precious little food graced the dish. What would I use as a buffer to ward him away then? Although several couples meandered on this side of the ruins, Mary and Francine were not among them.

“Young love,” Lady Dunlop mused, her voice wistful and almost forlorn.

I jumped. I hadn’t noticed her approach. When she lowered onto the blanket, I shifted closer to Warren to make room. She snatched my plate off the ground and handed it to a servant, who carried it away. I hadn’t finished with that…

Reaching forward, she clasped my hand in her left, and Warren’s hand in her right. She beamed at us. Her eyes were watery. “Hold onto love while you have it,” she said. “It’s much too precious to let slip away, even for a few days.”

Had she loved her husband so much? Rumor had it she hadn’t remarried, even under the threat of being ejected from her manor by the heir, her husband’s distant cousin. That hadn’t happened, but neither had she married in the decade since. For all that she promoted love, she apparently didn’t believe in it for herself.

I removed my hand from hers with a wan smile. “We’re not in love,” I told her.

Her tears dried. She narrowed her eyes at me. “No? Then why are you two sitting here alone while the others explore?”

“Perhaps we don’t care to explore,” I answered.

At the same time, Warren boomed, “I was merely seeing to Miss Wellesley’s welfare.”

Lady Dunlop pressed a hand to her chest. “Her welfare? Dear me, Miss Wellesley, are you ill? I’ll send for a physician.”

“No,” I protested. “I’m in the pink of health, I assure you.”

Drawing out his words, Warren said, “I don’t know.”

I glowered at him. He wasn’t helping. He smirked at me. Devious git.

“You took an awfully long time to arrive here. A woman in the pink of health would have crossed the distance more easily.”

I’d only taken so long because of Francine’s preclusion to stop and examine plants. As he well knew, considering that he had accompanied us for a short portion of that trip.

“I’m in perfect health,” I said, jumping to my feet. “In fact, I believe I will explore the ruins.”

Lady Dunlop didn’t look convinced. She narrowed her eyes as she swept her gaze over me. She tapped a finger against her pursed mouth.

My strained smile started to pull at my cheeks. An ache developed. I tried to hide it.

Lady Dunlop said, “Lord Hartfell, perhaps you ought to accompany her to ensure she doesn’t swoon off one of the battlements.”

“I’ve never swooned in my life,” I said between clenched teeth.

Unfortunately, Warren was only too eager to comply. When he unfolded his big body, straightening to his full height, he loomed over me. I hated having to crane my neck to look him in the eye. He offered me his arm.

Lady Dunlop’s beady gaze burned me, assessing. A knowing look overcame her features. I gulped. Had she heard about my encounter with Warren at the stables? She couldn’t possibly. Mary would have told me if one of the servants had seen us…wouldn’t she have? I shied away from the hostess. Even a stroll with Warren was preferable to learning what plan Lady Dunlop concocted beneath an expression like that. With luck, she would soon forget that Warren and I had ever met.