A breakfast tray was brought up to Grace’s room, as it had been every morning since she’d returned home after learning about Freddie’s death. Her father was very active in Parliament, and at her insistence that she needed time alone, her parents had remained in London. She’d been grateful for the opportunity to work through her grief away from their concerned presence.
But now her thoughts centered on her meeting with Captain Hathaway yesterday. She still suffered twinges of guilt at having lied to him, but when she remembered how he had flirted with her, she couldn’t help but feel the thrill of anticipation.
After having breakfast and dressing, she made her way downstairs in search of something to occupy the long hours of the day ahead. She was at the base of the stairs when she saw the sealed note on the entrance table. Hoping it was from her parents to say they would soon be returning from Town, she crossed over to the table. Her heart stuttered when she saw that it was addressed to her sister.
It could only have come from Captain Hathaway.
She picked up the note and, her blood racing, made her way back to her bedroom. When the butler saw that it was missing, she knew he would assume she was holding it for Helen. Once safely behind the closed door, she broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
Lady Trenton,
I hope you will excuse my boldness, but I would like to invite you to luncheon with me.
In my brief time in your corner of Somerset, I have heard much about the beauty of the view from the hill to the west of the village—being native to the area, I assume you know the one. I thought a private picnic, far from gossiping eyes, would suit our purpose of getting to know one another better.
I will be there this afternoon at 1 p.m. If you do me the honor of accepting my invitation, you will find me at the top of the hill near what I’m told is an oak tree famous for its age.
I hope to see you there.
Capt. Edward Hathaway
She had to reread the note to make sure she’d read it correctly the first time. Captain Hathaway had actually invited her to have a private lunch with him.
Aside from Freddie, whom she’d known all her life, Grace had never been alone with a man, and for a moment, she contemplated taking her maid as a chaperone. Doing so would send the clear message that while she enjoyed the captain’s company, she was not the type of woman to indulge in private rendezvous with men she barely knew.
But as she considered the idea, she realized she was. There was no question that she would accept Hathaway’s invitation, and she would be alone when she did so.
Excitement filled her as she refolded the note, her hands shaking, and hid it within the pages of a book of poetry that sat on the small writing desk in her room. She then placed the slim volume in the bottom drawer of the desk. She knew she should destroy the note—to keep it was to risk it being discovered. But this was the first time in her life an interesting man had shown her any attention, and she found that she didn’t have the heart to throw the invitation into the fire. To do so seemed almost a sacrilege.
No one in her family liked to read poetry, and she doubted any of the maids would be interested, so it was unlikely anyone would open the volume even if they did stumble upon it.
Content that the invitation was safely hidden, she proceeded back downstairs.
The morning passed more slowly than she’d thought possible. Finally, when midday approached, Grace changed into her riding habit and headed out to the stables. She hadn’t sent word ahead of time asking for her horse to be saddled because she didn’t want to arrive before the appointed time. This luncheon wasn’t like the balls she’d attended in London, but she knew arriving early was never desirable. The last thing she wanted was to appear too eager.
She watched the groom saddle her horse, her thoughts wandering to the man she was about to meet and how much he had affected her. She ruthlessly tamped down the guilt she felt about betraying Freddie. He’d placed her in a horrible position when he’d asked her to marry him, and she half suspected he’d timed the proposal to ensure she agreed even though she’d never considered him more than a good friend. She’d never intended to follow through with the marriage, planning to break the engagement when he returned from battle. Only he never had, and now everyone expected her to be heartbroken. She did miss him, and sometimes it hurt to breathe when she realized she’d never see his smiling face again, but she imagined it wasn’t the same pain a woman felt when she’d lost her beloved.
When the groom moved to saddle a second horse so he could accompany her on the ride, she stopped him, telling him his presence wouldn’t be needed. He started to protest, but she murmured something about riding to see a neighbor. Surely Captain Hathaway could be considered a neighbor if he was staying in the village, where she assumed he’d taken a room at the inn. The groom, of course, thought she meant to visit a friend who lived but a ten-minute ride to the south.
She allowed him to help her mount and headed off in the direction he expected her to go. When she was out of sight of the house, she turned east and rode across the field before finally arriving at the road that led north to the hilltop Captain Hathaway had mentioned in his note.
When Grace reached the base of the hill, her horse gave a small neigh of protest. She realized her nerves had led her to grasp the reins too tightly and forced herself to ease her grip. As the gelding began his climb, she looked up and spotted Captain Hathaway standing just where he’d said he’d be. His hands were in the pockets of his trousers, and he leaned casually against the trunk of the oak tree he’d mentioned in his note. Their eyes met, and when he smiled down at her, she couldn’t keep an answering smile from forming on her own lips.
She hadn’t even arrived at the top of the hill and already she knew she had made the right decision in accepting his invitation.
She drew the horse to a stop next to him and waited.
“Good afternoon, Lady Trenton.”
She inclined her head in greeting and allowed him to help her down. She did this almost every day when her groom would assist her to mount and dismount, but having the captain’s hands on her was decidedly different. When his hands settled on her waist, she noted immediately that they were much larger than those of the young man who normally accompanied her. And it had to be her imagination, but she thought she could feel their warmth even through the fitted jacket of her riding habit.
But what was most different was how his eyes fixed on hers when he touched her and how he maintained that contact as he lifted her from the saddle and lowered her to the ground.
They stood like that for several seconds… his hands on her waist, their gazes locked as she was powerless to do anything but stare up at him.
Edward found himself in danger of drowning in the deep blue of Lady Trenton’s eyes. When he came back to himself, he realized he was still holding her. He wanted nothing more than to lean forward and take her mouth with his, but it was too soon. And the heightened color staining her cheeks told him she wasn’t altogether comfortable with the way he was manhandling her.
He forced himself to release her and took a step back. “I am so happy you consented to join me.”
Clearly she was still embarrassed by his forwardness, for she looked away when she replied. “The day is lovely, and I admit I was curious.”
Her color deepened as though she realized she had said too much, and he found himself charmed by her uncertainty. She might have consented to meet with him in private, but he could tell it wasn’t something she did often.
He’d racked his brains the night before, trying but failing to remember how long it had been since Lady Trenton’s husband had passed away. But he took the fact that the woman before him wasn’t wearing black, nor had she the day before, as an indication she was no longer in mourning.
She turned to face the small village visible in the distance. “The view is lovely up here.”
He took the hint. It appeared Lady Trenton was not about to just drop into his arms like ripened fruit, and he had to admit he liked that about her. It would make winning her even more satisfying.
“I thought it would be nice to lay out the meal in the shade of the oak.”
“I am a little warm,” she said. “I’d like that.”
He retrieved from his horse the blanket and basket he’d brought with him—he hadn’t realized how awkward it would be to carry the latter on horseback—and smiled his thanks at Lady Trenton when she took the basket so he could spread out the linen under what had to be the largest oak tree in all of England.
He offered her a hand, and she hesitated only briefly before placing her smaller one in his and lowering herself onto the blanket. When she released his hand and looked up at him, the expression in her eyes threatened to steal his breath. Reflected in their depths, he saw excitement and expectation. But not desire. Not yet.
He lowered himself next to her—far enough away to satisfy even the most disapproving of chaperones, but close enough that he’d be able to reach her without too much effort if she gave him even the slightest encouragement that she wanted from this meeting the same thing he did.
For now, she seemed content to make him work for her attention. He watched as she opened the basket the innkeeper’s wife had packed for him not a half hour before. He tamped down his enthusiasm and took first the stack of plates Mrs. Hillier had included and then the wrapped packages as Lady Trenton removed each one and passed it to him.
When they were done, every inch of the blanket was covered with far too much food. Edward held back his sigh of disappointment as he reached for the remaining two plates and handed one to Lady Trenton. He waited for her to fill her plate before starting on his own. He feared awkward silence would descend once they began to eat, but that didn’t happen.
“When we were much younger, my sister and I used to visit this same spot for hours to watch the comings and goings at the village,” she said, ignoring the beef on her plate and taking a bite of plum cake.
He couldn’t imagine what would have been so fascinating as to capture the interest of two young girls. “And what did you see?”
“Not too much. I admit that I used to hope we’d see a foreign prince or some other equally absurd nonsense.”
“And did you?”
“We did see fine carriages on occasion, but more often than not they were just stopping at the inn so the occupants could eat and stretch their legs before continuing on with their journey.”
“No foreign princes?” He was amused despite himself.
“Alas, not that I could tell. If a prince or two had been among them, they took great pains to disguise themselves as ordinary members of the gentry.”
The wistful smile she gave him had Edward imagining that she still wished for such a sighting. They spent the rest of the meal in companionable conversation. When they’d both eaten their fill, Lady Trenton leaned toward him and he found himself holding his breath.
“Can I confess a secret to you?”
The expression on her face was a little sad and, in that moment, he wanted only to make her happy. He pushed aside the inner voice that asked him just how far he was willing to go to make that happen. He inclined his head in a nod, unable to voice any words as he imagined her confessing romantic interest in him. In his mind, he played out just how he would show her that he felt the same pull of attraction toward her.
Her voice was low and husky. “You must promise never to tell anyone.”
He drew back a tiny bit in what he suspected was a vain attempt to hold himself in check. “You have my word.”
She looked away from him, and for a moment, he feared she’d changed her mind about confessing her attraction. But then she straightened her shoulders and faced him again.
“Grace wasn’t in love with Freddie.”
Her words were so far from what he’d expected to hear that it took him a few moments to decipher what Lady Trenton had said.
“Miss Kent?” he said, his brow wrinkling. He’d been trying to forget the reason for his visit, had hoped the beautiful woman before him would offer him some respite from the guilt that had been pressing upon him, but now that emotion was back.
She nodded. “Grace loved him, of course, but that affection was similar to what she would feel toward a brother.”
His frown deepened. “Many marriages are built on less than that. I daresay they would have been very happy together. From the way Freddie talked about her, I know he would have done everything in his power to make sure that happened.”
Lady Trenton shook her head, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I’m afraid not.”
He was about to protest, to say something about how his friend would have moved heaven and earth to ensure the happiness of his beloved, but her next words left him speechless.
“Grace was planning to break their engagement when Freddie returned.”
She couldn’t have surprised him more if she’d slapped him for the wayward thoughts he’d been having about her. He was powerless to stop the spark of anger that ignited within him.
“Because he’d lost a leg? Is she that shallow?” He scowled. “Are you?”
She shook her head, the vehement movement causing her curls to bounce. “No, of course not. To begin, we received word of his injury on the same day the second notice arrived telling us about his death.”
She’d soothed his indignation on his friend’s behalf, but her confession still made no sense. “Then why? Was there someone else?”
Lady Trenton’s hands clutched at her locket. “Not then, no. But I think… I think she might since have developed an interest in someone else.”
He had to fight back the urge to shake her for more information.
“I know this is none of my business, but Freddie Reynolds saved my life, and I find myself more than a little defensive about his memory. If your sister didn’t know about the injury he sustained during that final battle, and if there wasn’t another man at the time, why was she going to jilt him?”
She flinched at the harsh accusation but didn’t try to deny its truth. “She never wanted to accept his proposal of marriage. She did love him, but not in the same way he felt about her.”
He was about to ask why she would have accepted in the first place, but he didn’t need to.
She continued as though he’d already voiced the question. “He asked for her hand right after telling her he had enlisted and would soon be leaving for the continent. I…” She gave her head a small shake before continuing. “What was she supposed to do? Send him off to war with a broken heart? She didn’t wish to marry him, but she didn’t want him in such low spirits that he wouldn’t fight with everything in him to return.”
He didn’t want to feel sympathy for the faceless woman—the one who would have rejected his friend’s love after he returned from war—but he did. If his own sister had come to him with a similar dilemma after receiving an unwanted proposal of marriage under the same circumstances, he probably would have advised her to do the same thing.
He nodded curtly and looked away. Somehow the information Lady Trenton had shared increased his feelings of guilt. It was absurd since this was something completely beyond his control—he hadn’t even met the woman in question. But emotions weren’t always logical.
When he looked back at Lady Trenton, she was staring at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. He was surprised to see her shoulders were slumped in dejection, but then he remembered that she, too, had known Freddie and she must have also been feeling his loss. He wondered, in that moment, if she had loved her husband very much, and the thought caused a slight ache in his chest.
She had removed her gloves when they sat to eat, and he reached out to cradle one of her bare hands in his much larger one. Her skin was flawless, her hand tiny and delicate, and he couldn’t hold back his need to lift her spirits.
When he raised his head to look at her, she was staring at him, her eyes wide with surprise. In their depths, he saw again the flare of her attraction to him. Leaning forward, his voice low, he said, “I’m going to kiss you now.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded her acceptance. He tugged on her hand to pull her closer. Their faces were now only inches apart, and her eyes had lowered to look at his mouth. When she drew her tongue along her plump lower lip, he wanted to groan. Instead, he moved slowly, afraid she would draw back at any moment, and pressed his lips against hers.
Her soft sigh was almost his undoing, but he kept the kiss light, moving his mouth gently over hers, noting how she leaned into him. He drew back then and stared down at her. When she finally opened her eyes, her expression was dazed and he had to fight against the urge to sweep her into his arms and make her his. He didn’t understand why since she was a widow and would be no stranger to the physical act of lovemaking, but his instincts told him he needed to go slowly with her, and he always trusted his instincts.
They stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, gazing into each other’s eyes without a word. Finally he could stand the wait no more.
“Helen…,” he started, preparing to tell her just what he hoped would happen between them.
Her Christian name on his lips seemed to startle her, for she drew back and looked away. He couldn’t understand why… Surely after meeting him in secret and allowing him to kiss her, she shouldn’t be shocked.
“I need to return,” she said, standing and shaking out her skirts. When she donned her riding gloves, he was surprised to see that her hands shook slightly.
He’d made a misstep somehow, but he couldn’t pinpoint what had caused Helen—he could no longer think of her as Lady Trenton—to retreat so thoroughly. He stood and began to repack the remains of their lunch. She watched him in silence, and when he handed her the packages he’d rewrapped so she could place them in the picnic basket, he noted that she was careful to ensure their hands didn’t touch. He was tempted to press the issue, to ask her what he had done to offend her, but seeing the stony determination in her expression, he decided it would be best to wait for another opportunity.
Together they walked to where she had left her horse to graze. She was studiously avoiding his gaze, so instead of helping her into the saddle, he waited for her to look at him. When she did, he could see the confusion in her eyes. No doubt it matched his own.
“I’d like to see you again,” he said.
She swallowed with difficulty before replying. “I’m not sure that is wise.”
“Hang what is wise. If recent events have taught us anything, it is that we must grasp these brief moments of happiness with both hands lest they slip away forever.”
Her eyes softened. “I feel the same way.”
“Good. Tell me where and when, and I’ll make sure to be there.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip again, and the nervous gesture was almost his undoing. “Helen?”
She winced. “I don’t know. You must give me time to think.”
He wanted to protest, but he could tell from the way she held herself so tightly in check that she was becoming agitated. He lifted her into the saddle and took a step back.
“If I don’t receive word from you tomorrow, I’ll call on you the morning after.” He was acting like a brute, but the thought of allowing this woman to slip through his fingers… the one thing fate had seen fit to gift him despite his recent sins… was more than he could stomach.
She nodded in reply. He took a step back and watched as she turned her horse back in the direction of her home and started down the hill at a trot. He waited, hoping she would turn back to look at him, but the wait was in vain.