Mirrors
“I was your betrothed.”
Staring down at Robert’s leather journal, Rachel remembered the sharp pain within when he had said those words. Remembered the confusion and the disbelief. Remembered the desperation that had arose; a desperation to offer him a chance to explain, so that she wouldn’t lose his stability. His presence. His laughter at life and its challenges. She had come to… seek his companionship and strength, feeling it encouraging and firming her own security and independence.
How companionship with another could shore up her own abilities, Rachel didn’t understand. Not when her training had firmly impressed upon her to rely on none other save herself. Yet Robert had proven again and again that he could be trusted. Relied upon. Looked to for humor and comfort. Sought when she needed friendship and compassionate honesty… all in the span of less than two weeks.
Rachel released a deep breath as she slowly opened the journal, skimming through those pages already read to find the– Rachel blinked and sat up within her bed, brushing the errant blonde curls from her face as she read and reread the beginning of the journal entry…
‘Rachel. Rachel Byron. Rachel Byron Samson. Rachel Byron Samson Trent. Rachel Trent. Rachel Byron Trent.
‘I hope the Lord forgives me my weakness today of hoping and wishing that my betrothed is, in fact, His choice for my bride. So long have I kept from writing and uttering your name, instead dedicating myself to a simple title of ‘Lady of Letters’ and girding myself against thinking further.
‘Yet today I had to write it but once. I had to feel the flow of the name paired with mine and see if it fit. I had to determine if the name made me feel a peace or a discomfort in my soul. Then I could be at peace with the decision to view my heavenly intended as but a mysterious lady waiting in the distance…
‘Rachel Byron Trent.
‘Oh Lord, what torment have I written myself into now, for how it seems to fit.’
“Good morning, Rachel,” Maggie greeted as she entered Rachel’s room from the adjoining. The sudden interruption caused a twitch as Rachel lifted wide eyes from the journal to Maggie’s smiling face. Maggie noticed the expression, smile wavering as she came to sit on the edge of Rachel’s bed. “Why, Rach, what’s the matter? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rachel again lowered her gaze to the page of the journal, wondering at the extreme coincidence of not reading but one page further last night before going in search of him. Wondering at the timing of his confession and how… it had fit with her excessive calm, saving him an extreme and unfair judgment. Wondering how so many… coincidences could fit together to… relieve her heart and mind of an ache and an overwhelming thirst to trust someone again.
It was as if…
“Rachel?” Maggie pressed, voice gentle.
Presenting Maggie the journal, Rachel could only continue to stare at the quilted comforter.
Maggie accepted the leather book, examining Rachel’s expression a moment longer before looking down and giving a soft gasp. “Lord have mercy! Mr. Trent was your betrothed?” Maggie’s eyes quickly focused on Rachel’s face. “Rachel…”
“He confessed the truth last night,” Rachel informed, tone still as coolly calm as it had been last night. “Before I read that entry.”
“Oh…” Maggie looked again to the journal. “What did you say?”
“I forgave him his secret.”
And the forgiveness had loosed a hardness in her soul. Even now the thought of that action of forgiveness brought a surprising lump to her throat. The voicing of it had taken strength and extreme effort, and afterward had come a different type of… peace and… comfort. Different than all the surety and arrogance she had grown accustomed to during her training. Rachel didn’t understand the change. She only knew that when she had seen the resignation in his expression moments before his confession, a portion of her had thirsted to relieve him of the torture that came with his dedication to honesty and truthfulness.
Then, when she had offered him this relief, he had whispered her name in such a tender way, holding her so close… She had felt different. Changed. How else to describe it than that?
Rachel slowly looked to Maggie, and she could feel a mild and numb emotion of confusion as she repeated “I forgave him, Maggie. He misled me into believing him to be naught but an understanding stranger determined to stand as my champion, yet I forgave him. I accepted his confession, believed his reasoning as the truth, and forgave him his deception. Why? Why would I offer him more than what I offer myself? More than what I offer my own father?”
Maggie released a soft breath and reached out to gently clasp Rachel’s hand. “Rach, you’ve always had a heart to forgive people. To give others that second and third chance to be the best they could be. That’s why you and Toddy grew so close, though he was seen as a trouble-maker at the orphanage. You didn’t judge him on those mistakes he made. When he was sorry, you let him be sorry and moved on. It’s no different here. Not when Mr. Trent’s tried so hard to show you he can be trusted.”
“I haven’t been that girl in eight years, Mags,” Rachel pressed a little roughly, brows lowering in a frown. “How can I remember a heart that has since shriveled and turned to stone?”
“Because God and Mr. Trent are giving you reason to remember. They’re giving you a safe haven to be who you’ve always been: a loving and accepting woman.”
Rachel lowered her gaze to her ring, remembering an inscription and a second. Remembering an exchange on the train. Remembering a whispered assurance… She took in a rough breath and covered her eyes with a hand. “I’m afraid of that woman, Mags,” she confessed unevenly. “Afraid that she will lead me to another heartbreak. Another exile. Another pain of being not enough.”
“To those who love you, Rach, you will never be ‘not enough’.”
Rachel choked on a sob and drew her friend close, tightly shutting her eyes against the tears. “How I want to believe you, Mags,” she whispered. “How I want to believe you.”
Maggie pushed gently back, holding Rachel by the arms as she held her gaze. “Then do it. You’ve always been able to trust me, Rach, so do it again. I’ve forever loved you as a sister I never had. A ‘thick-and-thin’ friend that did their best to understand me. Now let me do that for you. You’ve no need to go through this by yourself, Rach. So don’t.”
Rachel absently nodded as she lowered her gaze, giving Maggie’s arms a firm squeeze before pushing back more. “I will try, Mags, but habits such as these are hard to break.”
“I know it, and that’s why I’ll keep at you until I see the Rach I remember all the time, and not just once in a bit.”
Rachel reluctantly smiled, again focusing on her friend. “Thank you, Mags. I so appreciate your loyalty.”
Maggie smiled, green eyes glimmering as she drew Rachel into another hug and pressed a soft kiss against her cheek. “You’ve got more than my loyalty, Rach. I love you.”
Love. A second confession from another soul allowed into a portion of Rachel’s life so often tenaciously protected. Yet Maggie had never done anything to purposefully abuse that trust. Always being honest and supportive. Even a little harsh in her honesty to make Rachel see a necessary truth.
Rachel tightened her arms around her friend and whispered, “I love you, too, Mags.” And what a relief to be able to admit the emotion and know that it would be guarded and cherished.
Bestowing another kiss to Rachel’s moist cheek, Maggie pulled back and gripped Rachel’s hands. “Come along then, Rach. We’ve a busy day ahead of us, and I’ve a new gown for you as well as a new hair style I’ve been wanting to try.”
Rachel chuckled. “Do tell. I feel as if I’ve become one of your dress-up dolls, Mags.”
“Oh pish-posh,” Maggie chided, drawing Rachel from the large bed. “You have as much fun as I do, even for all your complaining and calling me a fuss-pot.”
Rachel laughed, allowing Maggie to lead her to the gown hanging alone and somewhat miserable in the bare closet. Gorgeous jade green highlighted and enhanced by an entwining of sunshine yellow, the line was simple and elegant with lace and chiffon that heightened the femininity of the cut while not detracting from functional movement. Silk ribbon embroidered flowers had been carefully stitched along the hem of the gown with a bouquet of more detailed and dramatic flowers on the left front.
Rachel smiled. “It’s lovely, Mags. Your best yet.” She looked over at her childhood friend. “This is all you were able to wrangle within the valise upon our quick departure?”
Maggie smiled while retrieving the dress. “Yes. We’ll have plenty others to choose from once we arrive at Mr. Trent’s in Charlottesville. Now, come along and quit dawdling.”
“Yes, mother.”
Maggie protested, but her eyes twinkled just the same.
Gown and hair had only just been completed in the new style when there sounded a polite and soft knock on the door followed by a muffled “Miss Samson? Miss Kelley?” in Robert’s recognizable and attractive baritone.
“One moment, Mr. Trent,” Maggie called, testing again the security of Rachel’s hair, each curl tucked safely within her massive ‘bun’ upon the crown of her head, giving an even more extreme air of sophistication and maturity. “Wonderful,” she breathed. Then she gave Rachel’s upper arms a squeeze, sent her a small smile in her reflection within the mirror, and winked. “He’ll love it.”
Rachel smirked. “I don’t believe he notices, though it’s lovely. He seems to only comment on my eyes.”
Maggie’s smile twitched. “Why do you think I pick the gowns I do? They enhance your eyes. They really are quite gorgeous.”
Rachel softly flushed as she stood and made her way toward the front entry of her room, gathering her fan from the foot of her bed as she went. “Thank you, Maggie. I’m sure the blush is at just the shade you wanted.”
Laughing, Maggie waved it aside and set to work gathering the discarded articles to pack them away.
Before opening the door, Rachel took in a deep and slow breath to quiet the expectations and eagerness that rose like a swell of the ocean. Then she slightly tilted her chin and opened the door, offering Robert’s attractive persona a calm smile. “Mr. Trent,” she greeted, remembering a collection of kisses exchanged while standing in their same positions. An exhilarating risk. An addicting trespass beyond what society viewed as acceptable and proper. “Did you sleep well?”
Robert leaned against the doorframe, smile very slight and flirtatious as he simply stared down at her without touching hand, face, or arm. Instead, his eyes traveled her face to linger on her lips. “I slept incredibly well,” he finally said once his eyes of brown again met hers of green. “Yourself?”
“Well enough.”
His smile twitched, warning of his intent before he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the left cheek. Once he straightened, he gave her a wink.
Rachel smirked, ignoring the twitter within at his continued wooing and flirtation, and stepped back enough to gauge Maggie’s progress. “Maggie?”
“One moment and then we can go,” she informed, carefully tucking the traveling habit within the valise.
Nodding, Rachel focused again on Robert, who still regarded her with the same boyish smirk. “One moment, and then we can go,” she repeated, lips twitching.
“One moment spent in the presence of my Ange will seem a lifetime,” he said softly, the French seeping within to cause a multitude of emotions and feelings that Rachel had never before experienced.
Rachel lowered her gaze to her fan. “Beware, monsieur, this angel is not as ethereal as you would believe.”
“So much so the better for this mortal. Then I won’t fear she might leave, escaping to a safer place.”
At that, Rachel lifted her eyes to meet his. “Where could I be safer than with the champion dedicated to protecting my haven?” she whispered.
Robert’s expression changed at that, softening to a hint of pained compassion and care as he reached out to caress her cheek with the back of a single finger. “Ange…”
Then Maggie’s steps were heard to approach and Robert’s touch retreated, his gaze holding hers as he straightened and moved slightly back from her. Rachel had never been so moved and entranced as by his intensity and care for her, his extreme feelings burning bright in his brown eyes.
Yet he fought against them. For her.
Rachel lowered her gaze, hand tightening on the fan moments before she took in a deep breath and focused on Maggie’s smiling face. She forced a small return. “Shall we?”
Maggie nodded and then followed the two out of the room and down the hall. “I’ve only secured the room three days, until Monday. Will we be needing more time Mr. Trent?”
“I highly doubt my brow-beating will take more time than that, Maggie. If so, then I think it best you and Rachel go on ahead to Boston. I wouldn’t want our guests for the Announcement Party to have no hostess save that of Mr. Samson.”
Rachel smirked.
“Oh, which reminds me, we haven’t made a decision whether or not to begin a luncheon earlier for the children.” Robert focused his boyish smile on Rachel. “Could we schedule a retrieval and escort them to your home ourselves? I believe it would be easier on the administration to not be required to arrange transportation.”
“Something might be arranged.” Rachel looked to Maggie. “Maggie, when you have a moment, could you send Louisa a telegram and have her begin preparations and arrangements for an appropriate menu for the children. I believe there will be 14 in attendance and we should have it scheduled for no later than eleven.”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” Rachel focused again on Robert, cheeks flaming when she noticed he hadn’t yet shifted his attention from her. “Once you contact the administrator, have them inform the children they must be ready by half-past nine. That way we will have plenty of time for dawdlers and excitement-filled distractions.”
Robert’s lips twitched. “Perfectly splendid idea, Miss Samson.” They approached the stairs leading to the main lobby of the hotel and Robert’s smirk fully blossomed. “I believe it my duty to warn you that Damon is… well…. We’ve always shared a unique relationship,” he admitted as they began their descent, Robert steadying Rachel with a light touch to her elbow. “A bit of an open dialogue policy, I suppose would be the best way to describe said relationship.”
Maggie cast Rachel a sidelong glance, her expression seemingly saying ‘We know about those, don’t we?’
“Open dialogue policy,” Rachel repeated, intrigued. “To be quite frank, it sounds as if he is just the friend you have need of.”
“Due to the fact we seem to share the same policy?” he posed, eyes twinkling.
Rachel focused ahead. “Something of the sort, yes.”
Chuckling, Robert gave her back a single stroke. “Yes, well, I must say I’ve become addicted to these types of relationships. It’s a challenge, and I’ve never been one to turn away from those, no matter the difficulty--”
“Rob!”
Robert smiled wide, lifting a hand to a dark haired and healthily tanned gentleman who approached. “Damon!”
The bright greeting of the handsome stranger teased her eyebrow upward. She exchanged stealthy glances with Maggie, who widened her eyes as if to say ‘What a handsome devil he is.’ The two men exchanged a firm embrace, giving each other several robust pats on the back before pushing back. They grinned at each other. Rachel watched the exchange with the hint of a smile.
Damon Childers did not stand as tall as Robert, likely only measuring a gracious 6 feet rather than the imposing 6 feet 3 of his friend. Damon’s also seemed more muscular than lithe, thereby hinting at a love for those more vigorous sports such as the controversial ‘football’. Similar though to Robert, Damon had the ‘romantic’ dark hair - his being a dark and curly brown rather than Robert’s straight black - and the much-written of ‘sun-kissed’ complexion. Together, the two seemed a mischievous and troublesome pair of dashing and handsome flirtation.
“Congratulations, old man,” his friend voiced, his tone not baritone and yet not truly tenor either. It seemed to hover around the boundary, being romantically deep and yet mischievously high at the same time.
“I read the engagement announcement in the morning paper,” Damon continued, immediately producing a folded up paper from the inside pocket of his suit-coat. “Here I thought you had been a fool and called off the betrothal - that letter you sent asking me to be Best Man gave me a shock - and then I woke this morning to find this: ‘Mr. Robert Leonard Trent of Charlottesville and Miss Rachel Byron Samson of Boston, Massachusetts, announce their engagement.’ Gads. What a shock. Though I find it odd they said ‘engagement’ rather than simply announcing the pre-existent betrothal.” Damon shrugged and then looked up to present the article, smile again brimming with mischief and flirtatious trouble. “Consider me RSVPing.”
Robert smirked, giving his friend a firm but playful punch on the arm. Then he motioned to Maggie and Rachel. “Damon, this is the aforementioned Rachel Byron Samson, my intended, and the charmer beside her is her friend and Maid of Honor Margaret Kelley. Rachel. Maggie. Meet Damon Childers, Best Man, Best Friend, and ne’er-do-well.”
Rachel offered forward her gloved hand as well. “Mr. Childers.”
Damon took her hand in a warm, friendly grip as he smiled back at her. “Miss Samson, an honor.” Damon switched the focus of his storm-blue gaze to Robert. “Rob, doesn’t she seem a little familiar to you?”
Robert smoothly parted Rachel’s hand from his friend’s. “Yes, now behave yourself and pay equal attention to Maggie.” He gave Rachel’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it, causing a smirk from both Damon and Rachel.
“Of course, Rob. No need to get defensive.” Damon presented a charming smile toward Maggie along with his hand. “Miss Kelley.”
Maggie curtseyed, a knowing smile blossoming on her lips and in her eyes as she briefly accepted his hand. “Mr. Childers.” Then she pulled her hand from his resistive grip and focused on Rachel and Robert, intercepting their laughing expressions. “I had best go see about the trunk and that telegram.” Then she curtseyed again to Damon and exited the hotel.
Damon stared after her. “I didn’t think I was rude enough to warrant a simple curtsey.” He focused on Robert, expression serious. “She barely paid me any mind at all, and wasn’t I nice?”
Rachel fought back the wider smirk and simply remained silent, hiding what little smile she allowed behind the softly pulsing rhythm of her fan.
“You were too nice, Damon. She saw right through your facade and knew you were doing your best to flirt and paint a less than true picture of your charm.”
Damon gaped. “Here, here, old man. That wasn’t at all true, and for you to say so in front of Miss Samson! I protest!”
Robert laughed. “She likely reasoned it for herself; she’s quite the talent with reading a person’s character.”
Smirking, Damon focused on Rachel. “Are you now?”
Robert’s smile faded and he pushed at Damon’s shoulder. “No plots, Damon. You wouldn’t survive her return.” Before Damon could respond, Robert motioned outside. “Let’s for the carriage. I want to have a bit of breakfast before traveling to the dragon’s cave.”
“What of Miss Kelley,” Damon protested. “Certainly you wouldn’t begrudge me her charming company after having just met?”
“Maggie has things to do that are more important than fending off your pompous attentions.”
Again, Damon gaped. “Rob, you keep on and I’ll tell your dear Miss Samson a few of your less-than-glorious moments.”
“She’s experienced a few of them already.” Robert turned to offer Rachel his arm, his smile softening. “Miss Samson?”
Rachel’s lips twitched as she accepted his arm and then followed beside him toward the exit of the large hotel.
Damon walked along on her other side. “You haven’t yet told me why she seems so familiar,” he reminded.
Rachel shot Robert a glance, and his twinkling eyes were there to intercept it as he said “Due to the fact she’s a lovely mouth and voice of her own. Ask, and I’m sure she’ll oblige with the telling.” Then he focused again on his friend. “You’re only asking me to see if she’s a giggler. Pushing buttons… You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I would never,” Damon protested, eyes wide as he focused on Robert. “That would be rude.”
Robert laughed loudly, reaching behind Rachel to give his friend a shove. Rachel smirked, hiding it with a deft movement of her fan. She didn’t mind being essentially ignored by his friend. In fact, she had come to see it as Damon’s way of determining her character so that he would know how best to interact with her. She had a feeling that he had a talent with people. Whether or not that meant manipulating them into a specific viewing of himself Rachel hadn’t reasoned yet. She had only an instinctual… ‘like’ toward this man--this friend of Robert.
Damon focused on her, storm-blue eyes very slightly shining with mischief even as his expression showed seriousness. “You haven’t taken offense, have you, Miss Samson? I’m actually quite shy with new people. Don’t know how to act toward them. Beautiful ladies especially.”
Robert cleared his throat in a vocalization of disbelief as Rachel calmly said “No offense, Mr. Childers. I understand the difficulty one has with new people. Expectations are quite a challenge to fulfill when one doesn’t know what they might be.”
Damon blinked just as Robert actually sniggered. Damon focused on him. “Rob, she’s already figured me out, hasn’t she?”
“Very likely,” Robert said, tone laughing.
Damon looked again to Rachel. “Now I see why Rob’s not causing the ruckus he intended.”
Rachel’s lips twitched, and she focused ahead as Robert gave his friend another shove and said, “You don’t understand anything of the sort, Damon. Don’t be smug.” Then he gave Rachel a wink. “Damon always believes he knows everything. Most of the time he’s blissfully ignorant of just how wrong he is.”
“Here now, old man, quit painting me such a cad. She won’t prod Miss Kelley to dance with me if you keep on.”
“She likely won’t anyway,” Robert laughed.
Damon loudly protested, causing an actual soft laugh from Rachel. “Mr. Childers, Maggie will decide for herself one way or the other. I doubt she’ll need much prodding from me either way.”
“With Rob sabotaging me the way he is? I highly doubt it.” Then Damon stepped forward to give the driver of their carriage instructions for their location as Robert handed Rachel up.
“He likes you,” he whispered.
“Do tell,” Rachel responded, giving his friend a sidelong glance before fully entering the carriage. As Robert sat beside her, she sent him a small smile. “As I like him and his honest and open flirtation. So concern yourself not with that.”
Robert gave her hand a tender squeeze before lifting it to his lips. “You don’t know him yet like I do, Angel. He’s a bit of the devil.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Then Damon climbed in after them, sitting heavily into the back corner of the carriage across from her. Robert adjusted the fur rug over Rachel’s lap, and Damon watched the exchange with a smirk.
Which Rachel noticed. “What do you find so amusing, Mr. Childers? You look as if you’ve just spied the miser tucking his last penny into his mattress. You scoff at us with your smile.”
Robert laughed heartily. “She’s caught you dead to rights, Damon, and don’t you deny it.” He focused on Rachel to offer “Damon is a confirmed bachelor. He doesn’t believe in marriage,” by way of explanation.
Rachel turned her gaze to Robert’s friend. “No?”
“Oh, I believe in marriage all right. I believe it’s too much trouble with no reward for the effort.”
Rachel arched an eyebrow. “So, in other words, you’re too indolent to invest the time, and too stubborn to realize you want that which you say isn’t worth your trouble.”
Robert threw back his head and laughed at the expression of shock on his friend’s face. “She’s caught you again,” he roared between gasps.
Damon grinned and touched his forehead in a salute. “You’ll do fine, Miss Samson. You’ll do just fine.”
Rachel slightly smirked, hiding it with her fan even as her eyes twinkled at him. “What makes you say such a thing as that?” she asked, voice calm.
Catching his breath, Robert spoke before Damon had a chance. “Damon has had bad experiences with the ladies.”
“Ah,” Rachel said, nodding. “You’ve a tendency for attracting the less than bright.”
Damon held her gaze, smirk firmly in place. “They would be lucky to find their way home in broad daylight with a map in their hand and the route plainly marked.”
“Dear me,” Rachel said in mock horror. She doubted, though, that they’d been so completely brainless.
Robert chuckled. “Damon, it’s your own fault. You avoid the intelligent ones as if they had the plague. What’s left are the ones no brighter than a spent candle.”
“When I say I want intelligent conversation, I don’t mean I want the lady to be more intelligent than I am,” Damon protested.
“I’m sure there is a happy medium drifting somewhere,” Rachel assured him.
“No, thank you. Too much trouble. Remember?”
Rachel felt Robert’s hand search for hers under the rug on her lap and intercepted it with a brief twitch to her lips. They exchanged a squeeze. “The trouble serves to make us more appreciative of the pleasure, Mr. Childers. To have marriage without trouble is to have the trophy without the thrill of the hunt.”
“Here, here. You best listen to her, Damon. This woman is as bright and gifted as they come.”
Damon examined Robert and Rachel’s exchanged glance and softly chuckled. “This I don’t doubt.” Then he folded his hands behind his head and leaned a bit further back into the velvety softness of the carriage seat. “So, what have you been doing with yourself while away from your father’s clutches, old man? The escape certainly has agreed with you. I must say I’m jealous.”
Robert smirked and began a tender caress of Rachel’s hand beneath the rug. “Mostly I’ve made a nuisance of myself to Miss Samson and her father. When I wasn’t amusing myself with the children, that is. Oh, and I showed Miss Samson the house.”
“Not that old farmhouse again.” Damon rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. “I hope she laughed square in your face when you told her your future dream for it.”
Rachel looked to Robert, arching an eyebrow when he tugged at his collar and sent Damon a glare. “‘Future dream’?”
Damon cleared his throat, lowering his hands from behind his head. “Uh-oh. Sorry, Rob. I didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag this way. Really.”
“I find that comment hard to believe, you numbskull,” Robert grumbled. “You always did have a jealous streak through you about a mile wide.”
Damon raised his hands in defense. “Rob, how can you say that? I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Rachel’s eyebrow twitched as she regarded Robert’s flushed face and neck. “Surely the dream couldn’t be as bad as that. After all, you previously confessed your plan to have it be house and home upon our return from the holiday.”
“House and home?” Damon repeated with a slow smile. “You’ve no idea.”
Robert’s glare darkened. “Damon!”
Rachel blinked in surprise at Robert’s short tone and angry expression. “La! Certainly his cajoling didn’t warrant that.”
To which Robert responded with only a clenched jaw.
Damon shook his head, drawing Rachel’s focus. “It’s my fault, Miss Samson. I love to goad him. He’s so easy to embarrass.”
“‘Easy to embarrass’? You jest.” But when she again focused on Robert, his expression clearly showed the truth of it. “What could possibly embarrass you regarding that cottage?”
“Shall I tell her, Rob?”
Robert’s jaw muscles danced.
Damon grinned and then focused again on Rachel, who continued to examine Robert’s taut expression of irritation. “I suppose he mentioned the fact that his great-grandfather and great-grandmother met at that farmhouse?”
“Yes,” Rachel acknowledged, finally meeting Damon’s gaze. “What is so extraordinary in that?”
“He also told you that his great-grandfather always remembered it?”
“Yes.”
If possible, Damon’s grin widened. “A quaint place, that farmhouse. Secluded. Easy access to all the rooms. Cozy.”
“Ah,” Rachel said calmly, cheeks slightly flushed with the realization of his meaning. “I see. They had a large family, did they?”
“Six. Three girls and three boys,” Damon informed.
Rachel suddenly laughed, her hand tightening on Robert’s. When she felt his gaze, she met it, eyes twinkling. “You needn’t have been embarrassed of that, Robert. Did you suppose I would doubt your motives for taking me there?”
Robert clenched his jaw and looked away.
Rachel’s laughter quieted, and she smoothed the skin of his hand beneath the rug with her thumb. He still didn’t look at her. “Forgive me, Robert. I shouldn’t have laughed at your expense.”
He said nothing.
“You might as well leave him be for a while, Miss Samson. When he gets like this there’s no telling when he’ll talk.”
Rachel examined Robert’s profile, eyebrow slowly arching. “Certainly you’re not angry with me, Robert? I didn’t intend offense.”
“Oh, he’s not angry. Just flustered because he got found out. He’ll be fine--”
Rachel tapped the carriage roof with her fan, causing it to grumble and groan to a halt. Then she leaned over and opened the door to the carriage, climbing out and tugging Robert’s hand to bring him out after her. Once she had led him slightly away, she turned to face him. Robert, however, would not meet her gaze. Instead, he easily looked over the top of her head.
“This isn’t like you, Robert.” He clenched his jaw, which caused Rachel to put her hands onto her hips. “Oh, for heaven sake. Say something.”
At that, Robert caught her gaze. “What would you have me say, Rachel? Damon has successfully--”
“Oh yes. Damon has successfully goaded you to a bit of a temper, due mostly to the fact you’ve made yourself an easy target. That isn’t like you at all. Instead of allowing him his fun, you’re being overly sensitive.”
“‘Overly sensitive’?” Robert repeated, shocked. “Don’t I have reason? He purposefully embarrassed you with the talk of intimacy and children, knowing very well the farmhouse was used as my great-grandparents’ private getaway. He also knows that each time they returned, great-grandfather acquired another addition to his family. Damon knew I wouldn’t have told you that particular story because of propriety’s demands, and yet he told it anyway. In such a way as to make me look questionable in your eyes.”
“Questionable? You? Don’t be ridiculous!” Rachel motioned behind her toward the carriage. “Mr. Childers is a troublemaker, that is all. I would like to believe I can discern the difference between his troublesome tales and your truths.”
Robert crossed his arms and glared at the carriage.
“La! Robert, let him have his fun. Only dedicate yourself to giving it back to him, instead of forcing me to carry the brunt of the weight myself. I’ll exhaust myself, and I don’t wish to have him hate me.”
One side of Robert’s lips twitched upward before he focused on her. Then he gave a shake of his head and a soft chuckle. “Good night,” he mumbled, rubbing at his neck. “The wart knows me too well.”
Rachel smirked. “Apparently so. For that alone he deserves a prank, making mischief when we’ve not yet fully recovered from the confessions of last evening. Believe me when I say that you returning to him a taste of what he’s giving you won’t shock me in the least. It will be rather fun to relive this part of your boyhood.”
Robert gently pinched her nose, causing an unexpected wave of timidity. “Very well, Miss Samson. No holds barred. I’m afraid Damon won’t know what hit him.”
Forcing the timidity aside, Rachel curtly nodded. “Good for you. Now, come back to the carriage and leave this other self of yours here where it belongs. He seems to be ruining our fun.”
Robert lifted her held hand to his lips, then the palm and wrist. “Only because you wish it,” he whispered against her skin.
Rachel’s face flushed, the burning within making her lower her gaze.
Then Robert cleared his throat and released her hand to offer his arm. “I find myself wishing for a moment alone,” he admitted, voice low.
Accepting his arm, Rachel cast a sidelong glance before lifting her fan to conceal her expression, save that of her eyes. For the more time she spent with this man, the more she craved the companionship and the sharing and the trust. The more she desired the expression in his eyes. The more she longed for a simple touch of hand against hand and lips against lips…
He reached around to cover her hand with his, eyes taking in the expression of her face and the curls at her ears and temple before pausing on her lips. “My God, how beautiful you are when you gaze at me with emerald and jade.”
Rachel’s lips twitched, and she looked away.
When they arrived back at the carriage, Damon watched their reentry into the with a purely conceited smirk. “I see you have poor old Rob wrapped around your little finger, Miss Samson.”
Robert adjusted the rug over Rachel’s lap before tapping the roof. The carriage pitched to a start. “It’s such a nice place to be, Damon. Surely you’ve wished to have such a delicate finger of your own?”
Rachel smiled, hiding it behind her fan.
“Not particularly,” Damon said, yawning.
“I see we’ve bored him, Robert. We had best change the subject.”
Robert shook his head. “I think we should stay just where we are. Damon’s less dangerous when bored.”
“Very well. Allow me to make conversation, then.”
Robert again took hold of her hand under the rug. “By all means.”
“Mr. Childers--”
“Call me Damon.”
Rachel smirked. “Very well. Damon, what exactly do you look for in women? Perhaps I know of someone that meets your… tastes.” Though she couldn’t remember if Maggie had ever been interested in flirtatious upstarts with more jokes than seriousness.
“Don’t bother your pretty head about finding me a match, Ra--” Robert cleared his throat and intercepted Damon’s sidelong glance with a meaningful frown. Damon’s lips twitched at one side before he corrected himself with a smooth flow of “Miss Samson, there isn’t a woman alive who would have me. Too many faults, you see? I enjoy a good joke, a good time, and a bit too many other things.”
Rachel focused on Robert in mock horror. “How in heaven’s name did you stay so pure, Robert Leonard Trent, with an influence such as this?”
“Pure? Him? Don’t be daft.”
Focusing an arched eyebrow on Robert’s friend, Rachel said “If you refer to his temper, I’ve had a glimpse now and again. It’s nothing more than what I myself have displayed. If you refer to his flippant sense of humor, do you forget my own display but a few minutes prior?” Rachel focused on Robert to intercept his soft smile and gorgeous gaze of brown. “I’m fully aware he isn’t pure of heart and mind, for neither am I. What use would I have for someone like that?”
Robert touched her nose with a finger. “So speaks the angel in acceptance of her mortal champion.”
“Ugh. I believe I will be sick at any moment.”
Chuckling, Rachel once more turned toward Robert’s friend. “You protest too much, Damon. Believe me, I know all too well.”
“I suppose you’ve just the person in mind for me.”
“Perhaps.”
Damon raised an eyebrow this time. “You do?”
“Don’t sound so eager, Damon,” Robert chided, laughing. “You give yourself away.”
Damon cleared his throat. “Eager? Me? That was horror, Rob. Surely you recognize the difference.”
Rachel and Robert shared a laugh.