An Invitation to Seduction (14 page)

“Are you certain we should do this?” Kitty asked.

“Oh, most assuredly we
shouldn’t
do it,” Lady Anne told her, laughing lightly.

“Which is the very reason that we do,” Lady Priscilla said.

Both ladies hurried down the stairs, their bare feet slapping out a soft cadence. Quickly following after them, Kitty supposed three ladies going to the bathhouse at midnight was really quite innocent. It wasn’t as though they intended to meet any gentlemen there.

Amidst whispers, shh’s, and giggles, they made their way out of the manor. The chilly night air was brisk, and Kitty felt shivers erupt on her skin. With the ground cool beneath her bare soles, she thought they were rather silly not to have put on shoes.

The moon was out and it was a very different sky from what she saw in London. Thinking of Emily, she wondered if her sister was trying to identify the various constellations tonight.

Kitty stubbed her toe, tripped, stumbled, caught her
self before she landed flat on her face, and hurried to catch up with her partners in mischief. Quite suddenly the large stone bathhouse loomed before her. She’d noticed the building late in the afternoon when she’d gone to the stables to fetch a horse, but she’d given it little attention, certainly hadn’t realized its purpose.

Dashing up the steps between stone pillars, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne giggled as they went, leaving Kitty to wonder how much wine the young ladies had sipped before deciding to fetch her.

“Come on,” Lady Anne urged in a whisper, shoving on the wooden door. It moaned and squeaked in protest as though its hinges were rusty and seldom used. Once more filled with trepidation, Kitty glanced around, and when she looked back at the entrance, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne had already disappeared inside the building.

Kitty slipped through the opening into a plain entryway. Gaslights flickered, causing shadows to waver over the stone walls, shaped in an oval, flush with the water except for the area where she stood. A wide flight of stone steps led down into the pool, steam hovering over the surface like a misty gray fog.

“The changing room is off to the side there,” Lady Anne whispered, pointing behind Kitty. “But we don’t usually bother with it. We’ll trust you to close your eyes.”

“Why are we whispering?” Kitty asked.

Lady Priscilla giggled. “I don’t know, but we always do.”

Even with the whispering, their voices echoed around the cavernous structure.

Kitty looked toward the pool. “How deep is it?”

“You’ll go under,” Lady Anne said. “It was actually a plunge bath a 150 years ago or so when everyone was convinced freezing cold baths were the way to good
health. Insane really to jump in like that. I’m surprised our family line didn’t cease to exist at the time. Anyway, hidden beneath the water is a smooth stone ledge around the side, which is where we sit. The water comes up only to our shoulders.” She glanced around smiling. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,” Lady Priscilla said.

“Splendid.” Lady Anne put her hands on Kitty’s shoulders and turned her so she no longer faced the water. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So Prissy can undress without embarrassment.”

“We’re going in nude?”

“Absolutely. But we can be trusted. We don’t look when anyone goes in or out.”

Kitty closed her eyes, wondering what she’d gotten herself into.

She’d gotten herself into heaven, she decided a few minutes later when her turn had come to enter the pool. She sat on the stone ledge, with the warm water enveloping her like a snuggly blanket on a chilly day. “This is absolutely lovely.”

“Isn’t it?” Lady Anne asked. Sitting near the steps, she poured wine into glasses and passed them around before easing toward the side away from the steps.

They formed a triangle in the pool, Kitty at one end, Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne on the sides. Kitty sipped the wine, thinking she really didn’t need anything else to relax. Once she moved into Farthingham’s ancestral home, she’d have to see about having a bathhouse built. Although his home did have a bathing room, it didn’t allow for swimming or for more than one person to take advantage of it at the same time as this bathhouse did.

“You said this pool used to be a plunge bath?” Kitty asked. “With cold water?”

“Yes, it was quite popular at the first part of the eighteenth century. Richard paid a fortune to have proper plumbing and hot water piping installed, but it was all well worth it. When his back is troubling him, he’ll spend hours soaking in here.”

Kitty glanced at the stairs, followed the railing up to the door. “Is there any chance he’ll come here tonight?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Lady Anne said.

Sipping more wine, Kitty couldn’t help but wonder if the possibility of him and the other men arriving unexpectedly was the reason behind their whispering and giggling on their journey there. She was certain Lady Priscilla wouldn’t mind if Freddie appeared.

“About his back,” Kitty began. “I know it’s an old injury. How did he hurt it?”

Lady Anne darted a glance at Lady Priscilla, who merely shrugged.

“I suppose there’s no harm in telling her,” Lady Priscilla said.

“I suppose not.” Lady Anne finished off her wine. “You mustn’t ever tell him that I told you. He’s really quite private about it.”

Kitty sat up straighter, the water rippling around her. “I promise. I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”

“It’s not a secret really. It’s simply that he’d prefer to forget everything associated with his injury.” Lady Anne took a deep breath. “It happened when our father died. I was only a child, so I don’t actually remember the particulars except what I’ve been told or overheard when people thought I wasn’t listening. Much whispering was going on immediately afterward and in the years since.”

“How long ago did it happen then?” Kitty asked.

“My goodness, I’ve never been skilled at ciphering, but I know Richard was eighteen. I do remember that. He’s thirty-four now—”

“Sixteen years,” Kitty offered. “That’s a long time to have discomfort.”

“He doesn’t always hurt. Not that he usually tells us when he does, but after a while you begin to notice the signs.”

“Carry on with your tale,” Kitty urged.

“Right. Well, one afternoon he and Father went sailing. They’d had an argument the day before, and from what Mother has told me, they were in the habit of sailing together whenever they fell out of sorts with each other. Apparently working together on the yacht helped to strengthen whatever bonds might have been weakened by their argument. While they were out, a storm came up. I don’t know exactly how it came about, but the crew made it safely to shore in the lifeboat. I can’t imagine how…because the storm sank the yacht. But there you have it. They did. Papa died, and Richard swam to shore dragging Papa along behind him. He refused to leave him to the sea.”

She remembered his telling of the tale. He and the crew had made it to shore. He’d neglected to mention that they’d arrived separately.

“Why weren’t your father and brother in the lifeboat with the crew?” Kitty asked.

“I really don’t know. It seems most odd, but as I said, Richard won’t talk about it. Sometime during the storm—I don’t know if it’s when he was on the yacht or in the water—he somehow twisted his back. From time to time, when he exerts himself too much, it pains him. He doesn’t like to talk about it, and he doesn’t like for people to know. His attitude is silly really, as though he thinks people will hold him responsible because he hurts.”

Kitty leaned back against the slick wall. “That must have been very difficult for him, though, to have lost his
father like that.” She remembered his version of the story, the curt, unemotional telling of an event that had such a profound effect on his life.

“Extremely difficult. As I say, I was very young, but I remember he was in bed for the longest time afterward. Seemed like forever to me then. I remember mother fretting so. I would cry at night because I was afraid Richard was going to die, too, like Papa had.”

The sea terrifies me.
Kitty remembered Weddington’s confession from their walk in Farthingham’s garden. The first morning that she’d seen him, it wasn’t the sun he’d been standing defiantly against, she realized now, but the sea.

“I’m surprised that he continues to yacht as much as he does,” Lady Priscilla said. “If I ever got caught in a storm, I don’t think I’d ever go out on the water again.”

“I’d have the same feelings as you, Prissy,” Lady Anne acknowledged. “But Richard possesses an incredible love of the sea. He has four yachts, and a smaller sailboat that a couple of men can manage. He loves to design, then hire men to build his boats.”

Was it possible that Kitty was the only person he’d ever told about his fear of the sea? Or had he lied to her in order to gain her sympathies? No, she couldn’t see him plying her with falsehoods. With her, he’d simply revealed a part of himself that he’d never exposed to anyone else. Although it really wasn’t simple at all.

Draining her glass, she wondered if he was correct about the bond that seemed to draw her to him, him to her. Did it go beyond a heated look, a sensual caress? She’d so easily confessed that he frightened her, found she’d been able to mention sensual yearnings and lust…

She’d never so much as truly kissed Farthingham, and they’d certainly never discussed how their bodies felt when the other was near.

“More wine?”

Startled, Kitty almost lost her seating on the ledge. Lady Anne had the bottle poised for pouring.

“Yes, please.” Watching the liquid cascade into the glass, Kitty remembered how she’d wanted to pour her body into Weddington.

“You are ever so lucky to have caught Farthingham,” Lady Priscilla said.

“I quite agree,” Kitty murmured, and sipped more of her wine.

“You’re not having much luck with Freddie, are you?” Lady Anne asked.

Lady Priscilla shook her head. “Not really. He’s lots of fun, but I gather he’s not really interested in me.”

“He’s a fool if he’s not,” Lady Anne said, and Kitty heard the defense of her friend in her voice.

Kitty had friends, but she’d spent considerable time traveling the world, experiencing so many wonderful things that she’d never really taken time to develop any deep and lasting friendships. Except for Farthingham. She supposed that he was her one true friend. How truly fortunate she was that he would also be her husband.

“Miss Robertson, may I ask you a rather personal question?” Lady Priscilla asked.

Kitty laughed lightly. “If it’s going to be personal, don’t you think you should call me Kitty?”

Lady Priscilla giggled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“Here, drink some more wine,” Lady Anne encouraged, leaving Kitty to wonder if they’d purposely brought her there to ask this “personal question.”

Kitty drank and nodded. “Go on and ask.”

“Well, we’re all aware that American ladies aren’t chaperoned quite as closely as we are over here.”

“Not chaperoned at all usually,” Kitty acknowledged.

Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne exchanged quick glances
before they both focused all their attention on Kitty, making her decidedly uncomfortable.

Lady Priscilla took a deep breath. “Have you ever been kissed? I mean truly kissed?”

The heat suffused Kitty’s face and traveled down to her toes. She nodded quickly.

“What was it like?” Lady Priscilla and Lady Anne asked at the same time.

Kitty released a small self-conscious laugh. “I don’t know that I can describe it.”

“Please, do try,” Lady Priscilla pleaded.

Kitty released a deep breath. “Well…it was very much like being here. Warm. Misty. Like drinking too much wine—so the warmth travels outward as well as inward. It’s like feeling lethargic and energetic at the same time.” She closed her eyes, remembering Weddington’s mouth moving provocatively over hers. It had made her want to touch forbidden places in forbidden ways. She opened her eyes. “It’s enjoyable.”

“I’m positively certain that it
was
enjoyable,” Lady Priscilla said. “Farthingham makes everything enjoyable.”

Kitty downed her wine as though it were water. Should she confess to these ladies that it wasn’t Farthingham who had kissed her or allow them to believe it was? And if they said something to him…

“You won’t mention what I said will you?” she asked.

“Absolutely not,” Lady Anne said. “Everything said within these walls remains within these walls. Isn’t that right, Prissy?”

“Oh, absolutely. Not a single word to anyone.”

“More wine?” Lady Anne asked.

Kitty laughed. “Absolutely.” She waited while Lady Anne opened another bottle and poured another generous amount into everyone’s glass before posing her question. “Lady Anne, I recall a conversation in the coach on
the way to the opera…something about a young man holding your heart. Has he never kissed you?”

“Oh!” Lady Anne pressed her hand to her mouth and her shoulders curled forward as she glanced shyly at Kitty. “I’ve never even spoken to him.”

“Nor he to her,” Lady Priscilla said.

“He does address me when our paths cross,” Lady Anne said curtly.

“And yet he holds your heart?” Kitty asked.

“From afar,” Lady Anne assured her.

“She doesn’t even know his name,” Lady Priscilla said.

Although the warm water had made everyone’s face turn pink, Lady Anne’s darkened into rose with embarrassment. “He is an assistant to one of Richard’s solicitors. I see him from time to time when he delivers messages or papers.”

Kitty contemplated the first morning she’d encountered Weddington and how she’d been drawn back to the same spot the next morning, her initial disappointment because she hadn’t spotted him again, her conflicting feelings when he’d suddenly appeared. Did something indefinable but recognizable exist between people?

“Lady Anne—”

“You must call me Anne.”

She smiled. “All right. Anne. This gentleman…if you’ve never engaged in conversation with him, why are you certain that he has the potential to hold your heart?”

She shook her head quickly. “I’m silly, aren’t I? I don’t know why I feel as though it’s so. I’m sure Richard is right. I should be looking among the aristocracy for a husband. And perhaps if I got to know the fellow I would find him rather unsuitable, and yet something tells me that I wouldn’t.”