‘I should go!’ Pippa wrenched her hand away and started up from the bench, her expression aghast. ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘Wait!’ Kit stood up, too, reaching an arm out to stop her from running away, though some instinct warned him not to touch her again. She seemed too vulnerable suddenly, one hand clasped to her throat as if she were struggling to contain her emotions. ‘Don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
‘You didn’t. I upset myself.’ She gave a strangled-sounding laugh. ‘Forgive me, I slept badly and I’m not myself this morning. What I just said… I beg you to forget it.’
‘If that’s what you want…’ he inclined his head ‘…but I’m a good listener, if you wish to talk?’
‘I cannot.’ She lifted her eyes to his, their expression hesitant and yet pleading somehow, too. ‘I’ve never told anyone.’
‘I would never betray any confidence, Pippa, I promise.’
‘I believe you. It’s just that…all this talk of marriage…mine was not as happy as everyone at court always believed. You see, Nicholas wanted a child, an heir, so badly. So did I, but I could not give him one. It caused…tension…between us.’
‘Ah.’ He felt a stab of regret for having raised the subject. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I.’ She turned away, hunching her shoulders as if she were withdrawing inside herself. ‘I don’t know which is worse, living a lie or feeling like a failure every day of your life.’
‘You’re not a failure.’
‘No? That was what my husband called me. I failed to do the one thing he expected. It was no wonder he came to resent me so much.’
‘But surely he did not?’ Kit came to stand behind her and she turned around again, her eyes bright with a look of hurt.
‘You don’t believe me?’
‘I didn’t mean that. I just can’t believe that anyone would ever resent you and you and Sir Nicholas always seemed so—’
‘Happy?’ She grimaced. ‘Yes, it was important to him that we seemed so. Appearances meant a great deal to Nicholas.’
Kit drew his brows together. The lack of an heir often caused rifts between husbands and wives—as the country had all-too-frequent proof—but he’d never suspected that the Brays’ marriage had been anything less than happy. On the contrary, it had always struck him as an ideal to be emulated. It was hard to believe that a man who’d seemed such an honourable and devoted husband in public could have been so cruel to his wife in private, but then Kit’s years as a diplomat had taught him that people were rarely what they appeared. Of course, there was always the chance that she was lying, but he dismissed the suspicion almost as soon as it occurred to him. The pain on her face had been undeniable. Her husband’s words had obviously cut deeply—enough to still hurt even a year afterwards. Just the thought of it—of her being in pain and unhappy—made him feel suddenly furious. What kind of a man would say such a thing? What kind of a husband? Although the answer was obvious: the kind who spent most of his time with a king who treated his wives as disposable, that was who.
‘I’m truly sorry, Pippa.’ He didn’t know what else to say.
‘Thank you, but it’s in the past. It does no good to dwell on it. I don’t know why I’m telling you now, except…’ She shook her head, looking genuinely confused. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you.’
‘I’m glad that you did. I’m honoured by your trust.’
‘All I want now is to forget. I want peace. That’s why Richmond is perfect for me, you see. There are very few husbands. In the eyes of the world, Lady Anne and I are both failed wives.’
‘The eyes of the world are often blind. For what it’s worth, I think that any man would be fortunate to win the heart of a woman like you.’
‘You’re a good friend, Kit.’ She smiled softly. ‘Lady Cecily is a fortunate woman.’
A good friend…
He held on to her gaze, seemingly unable to let go. A bell somewhere close by chimed the hour, warning him to go back inside, but he ignored it. Her eyes looked huge and mesmerising, a rich, hazel-green surrounded by a thin rim of amber, fringed with long lashes that trembled slightly beneath his scrutiny. Funny how he’d never noticed the amber before, but then he’d never had an opportunity to look at her so intimately until now. Nor to stand so close; close enough to see the delicate flutter of her pulse at her throat where her cloak drew together.
Did she really see him as just a friend? Her cheeks had flushed several times over the course of their conversation and there had been a brightness in her eyes that had seemed to reflect and respond to his own feelings, which were now substantially more than friendly. There had been a wistful, melancholy note in her voice a few moments ago, one that had tempted him to pull her into his arms and show her just how much more. It wasn’t just that he wanted to comfort her either, although he did. It was desire, too, a feeling that had quickened to life the moment their eyes had met across Lady Anne’s chamber the previous evening and that felt all the more potent now.
It was a strange, slightly disorientating sensation. He’d meant what he’d said about any man being fortunate to win her. He realised now that he’d spent the past ten years unconsciously comparing her to every woman he’d met—comparing and finding them all wanting. She’d been his unattainable ideal and yet now he was drawn to her as a real woman, too, and the real, vulnerable, compassionate woman was even more attractive than the ideal.
How could she say that she had nothing to offer a man? She seemed to think that being unable to bear children made her unattractive somehow, but he’d never felt such a powerful physical reaction, nor such an intensity of feeling for any woman before. When she’d laid her hand on his arm he’d felt as though every nerve in his body had sprung to life. It had been all he could do not to haul her into his arms there and then. In the morning light, hidden from the rest of the world by several feet of yew hedge, she was more than just the most beautiful, graceful woman he’d ever met. She was enticing and desirable and, for the first time, attainable, too.
None of which thoughts was a particularly good idea. He had enough problems with George as it was. Telling his brother that he had feelings for an impoverished, thirty-something-year-old widow was unlikely to make him any more sympathetic. If anything, it would only cause him to accelerate his plans. If Kit had any sense, he would leave Pippa and Richmond behind as quickly as possible, before his life became any more complicated. Widowed though she was, it was improper for them to be spending any time alone together, only he hadn’t been able to simply walk past her in the avenue. It was potentially incriminating, too, for him to return for the festive celebrations, but he wanted to return and for reasons that had little to do with gingerbread. He wanted to see her again, to spend more time with her, and not just as a friend.
He swayed closer, encouraged when she didn’t move away, bending his head slowly so that he didn’t alarm her, breathing in the subtle scent of rosewater that clung to her hair and skin, lowering his lips nearer and nearer…and then spun around abruptly at the sound of a fierce screech, followed by a flash of shimmering blue at the edge of his vision.
‘Iratus!’ Pippa seemed to jump halfway into the air. ‘You scared me!’
‘Iratus?’ Kit arched an eyebrow at her and then at the peacock.
‘Yes, he was a wedding present to Lady Anne and the King. A very grumpy one, too, I’m afraid. My lady named him that because of his bad temper. Come…’ She gestured back towards the gap in the hedge, although she seemed to be avoiding his gaze now. ‘We should probably leave before he pecks you. I forgot that this is one of his favourite spots and he doesn’t like people he doesn’t know, men especially.’
‘Good to know.’ Kit glared at the bird, who twitched its tail and stared back with beady eyes, as if it knew exactly what kind of scene it had just interrupted. ‘I’m glad I didn’t bump into him earlier. Is there a peahen lurking about, too?’
‘Yes, but you rarely see them together. They don’t like each other much.’
‘A fitting wedding present given the circumstances, then. Who were they from?’
She stopped walking to look back at him, her lips twitching suddenly. ‘I believe they were a gift from your brother.’
‘George?’ Kit gave a shout of laughter. ‘Typical! And yet he persists in making alliances.’
‘Yes.’ The humour in her eyes faded. ‘Some people never learn from their mistakes.’
‘And some of us don’t know how to act in the first place.’ He came to stand in front of her. ‘You know, in some ways I feel as lost now as I did on that first day you rescued me. Maybe you should rescue me again?’
‘I would if I could.’
‘You can. Come away with me.’
‘What?’ Her eyes latched on to his, widening in shock.
‘Come away with me.’ He repeated the words. In truth, he’d said them on impulse, though now he realised he was being sincere, too. As sincere as he’d ever been about anything. ‘We can leave all of this behind and be in Calais by the end of the week.’
‘I can imagine what your mother and eldest brother would say to that!’
‘All the more reason. By the time they found out, we’d be in Paris, eating mussels beside the Seine.’
‘Kit…’ Her tone was chiding now. ‘I don’t think that running away is the answer.’
‘I prefer to think of it as a tactical retreat.’
‘Your brother is a powerful man. He could ruin your career if he wanted.’
‘In England, yes, but I have friends on the Continent, not to mention money of my own and the ability to earn more. I don’t want to fail in my duty to my family, but perhaps it would be worth it to be my own man. And with the right woman, too. Think about it, Pippa, I could take you to Venice. We could do all the things you’ve ever dreamed about.’
‘I don’t dream.’ A guilty expression spread over her face.
‘We all have dreams. Why not fulfil them together?’
‘This is foolishness.’ She laughed, though something about it sounded forced. ‘You take courtly love too far, sir, but I appreciate the joke.’
‘It’s not—’
‘Now I should go inside ahead of you.’ She jerked her head towards the palace. ‘I need to attend to Lady Anne’s wardrobe and it would be best if we weren’t seen together. I know it sounds absurd to be worried, but—’
‘Why?’ he interrupted her sharply. ‘Why absurd?’
‘Because…’ She waved a hand in the air. ‘I’m sure that nobody would think such a thing about you and me, but people like to gossip.’
‘It’s not absurd at all. I told you, Pippa, any man would be lucky to win a woman like you, but I do understand about gossip. I’ll bid you good morning if that’s what you want.’ He took a step back from her, though every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do the opposite. ‘Until Christmas, then. I look forward to seeing you for the celebrations.’