Belmary House Book One (11 page)

“Mrs. Dunbar and her husband could join us for cards,” he added.

Serena loved to gamble, and his housekeeper Mrs. Dunbar would be glad to join them, even though it was probably scandalous since he was still in mourning. But he was sick of it. As he’d told Serena earlier, Lucy would have hated to see them moping around, and Camilla would have split her sides with laughter at the hypocrisy of it.

“That does sound tempting,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “Father is away in Edinburgh again, so I don’t relish sitting out a storm all alone.”

A far off crack of thunder punctuated her words and she jumped, nearly tripping.

Kostya reached for her to keep her from falling, only making it worse and knocking her further off balance. She laughed while stumbling over his feet, and grabbed his waistcoat. Straightening up, she was quite close to him, and he could see the tiny, merry laugh lines close to her eyes. She ducked away, straightening his clothes where she’d wrinkled them in her grip.

He offered his arm so they could move at a faster pace, certain the sky was about to open up and dump on them at any moment. He knew she felt awkward staying any length of time without her maid and he found himself missing her doddering old aunt. The woman hadn’t had a clue what was going on most of the time, but when she’d been alive, she made things more seemly, something that was important to Serena.

He reminded himself that she was right to care what the villagers thought of her. It had been so long since they’d had a good opinion of him, that he’d given up caring, and they came to a sort of uneasy truce when Camilla left, most of them ending up pitying him. He didn’t muck about with them, and they left him alone to run the estate, happy enough to take what it offered.

No, he couldn’t drag Serena down into the mire with him, no matter how much he enjoyed her company. But he did enjoy her company, her sharp wit and sharper tongue, and that sweetness she tried so hard to hide— the vulnerability that had allowed Camilla to make her miserable since they were children.

His servants were discreet, she could safely spend a cozy evening playing cards without ruining her reputation, and perhaps he could talk her into spending the night in the room she always stayed in, back when they were all children and she’d thought she would one day be the mistress of this place.

An odd ripple of some strange and sour emotion passed through him at the thought of her long and unrequited love for Ashford. Well, Ashford was on his way, but he wasn’t here now, and Serena was more herself when he wasn’t around.

Kostya like that Serena, the real one, the one who let her smile falter and her perpetually straight shoulders slump a little sometimes. He knew what it was like to carry a weight, knew how tiring and lonely it could be, and he was pleased to think he might ease her burden, even if only superficially, and only for a short time. And he suspected she felt the same about him, or why would she continue to regularly visit, long after Camilla was gone? Ashford was a true friend to him, as close as a brother, but he felt Serena understood him better.

At the house, Mrs. Dunbar had a shawl ready to wrap around Serena’s thin frame, and began plying her with treats and tea, scuffling about in such a comfortable way that Kostya felt certain she’d give in.

When the sky finally let loose with its downpour, and she agreed there was no choice but to stay, he calmly agreed, feeling warmth and relief to not be alone again.

Tilly woke up to a sharp rap at the door. It took her a second to process where she was and what was going on, but Ashford’s surly face brooding down at her quickly brought her up to speed. All the horrible things she’d overheard the night before came rushing back, along with her hurt and anger.

“Geez, you scared me,” she said, trying to assess her hair situation and surreptitiously wipe the sleep from her eyes.

Why did he have to be the one to wake her up? She’d wanted to greet him with icy self-assuredness after his behavior in the library, not look like a long-haired guinea pig that had been sent through a clothes dryer.

“Are you still abed?”

She stared at him coldly. “I was under the impression you leisure class folks didn’t care when their ladies got out of bed.”

“We need to depart for Scotland posthaste. Unless you’ve decided to stay here for the next three months?”

His voice was neutral, bordering on cold, and she pressed back the little twinge of hurt at thinking he wanted her to stay. She knew he would take her because he felt responsible for her, but he wouldn’t insist if she raised a fuss. She continued to stare at him, knowing her puffy morning face didn’t have nearly the amount of disdain she wanted to get across to him.

He cleared his throat and awkwardly placed a silver serving tray on the bed beside her. She gathered her blankets closer as he removed the cover with a flourish to reveal a lavish breakfast.

She took a thoughtful bite of eggs. It would probably be better for her sanity to stay far away from this jerk, but she’d most likely be cooped up in the house for the next three months, probably never allowed to explore nineteenth century London. And even though she was still boiling mad at Ashford, she strangely didn’t want to be apart from him. Which was ridiculous, since he had done nothing but treat her badly, and clearly hoped she’d argue to stay. But the chance to see the country in this time was too much to pass up. Still, he was such a jerk.

“Is this a bribe? Or an apology breakfast?” she asked, giving him the chance to redeem himself, praying he’d take it.

“If I said it was, would that make you eat it faster?”

She pushed the tray aside with a huff and threw off the blankets, standing up in her shift and planting her hands on her hips, determined to wring a real apology out of him. His eyes grew wide and he hastily looked away. She glanced down. The shift was a tiny bit see-through but she couldn’t back down now, damn it.

“Oh, now you’ve got integrity? Now you care about my virtue? Where was that when you dragged my name through the mud and made me wear that tacky dress?”

He quickly stifled a bark of laughter. “Is it your good name or your sense of style that’s more insulted?”

She stood in front of him, wanting more than anything to grab the old velvet dressing gown Nora had given her, but not wanting him to know she was uncomfortable. Because of him. Again. She wished more than anything she had taken the chance to punch him the night before.

He kept his eyes resolutely turned away from her as he took the robe from its hanging place and swept it around her shoulders. She noticed he took a quick perusal as he pulled it tightly closed under her chin and her cheeks heated up at his smirk.

He took her shoulders and guided her back to the bed. “Miss Jacobs, please.” He looked like he’d just eaten a worm. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go. May I speak for a moment?”

She sat down next to the tray and frowned up at him. He really did look quite pained.

“Go ahead,” she said. Her appetite was ruined but she stabbed a sausage with a fork and tore into it. He covered his mouth and she saw with fury that he was once again trying not to laugh. “Is something funny?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “I came here with sincere intent, I promise you I did. But you looked so savage—” he stopped abruptly, eyes widening. “Never mind that right now. You’ll probably kill me in my sleep if I continue that thought.”

“I’m going to kill you right now, while you’re awake, if you don’t say what you came to say. Weren’t you in a big hurry a few minutes ago?” He cleared his throat again and took a step toward her, but stopped when she held out her hand. “I can hear you perfectly well from where you’re standing now.”

“Very well.” His eyes sparkled like black diamonds and she stabbed at a fried potato. He pressed his lips together before continuing. “I gave some careful consideration to your words last night and came to the conclusion that I owe you an apology.”

She paused with the fork halfway to her lips. “Really?” She could barely believe it, and waited patiently. Finally putting the fork down, she prompted, “Well?”

He nodded and sat beside her so quickly, he almost knocked over her breakfast tray. His weight made her sink toward him, his body heat going straight through her velvet robe as she brushed against him. She grabbed onto the handle to keep the teapot from sliding off the tray and looked at him. The intensity in his eyes made her look away at first, but drew her back. He pushed the teapot to a safe spot and took her hand.

“I am truly contrite, Miss Jacobs. I treated you abominably for my own gain. I admit I am sometimes thoughtless, but my behavior towards you went beyond the pale. The breakfast was indeed a bribe, so I apologize for that as well, but I hope you’ll still enjoy it.”

He wiped his brow as if he’d run a marathon and even though his words were stilted, his sincerity shone through his dismal expression. Her heart broke a little at how difficult it seemed for him to be able to express his feelings. She looked at his hand that still held onto hers and sighed.

“That was a pretty fancy apology,” she said begrudgingly. Even though she forgave him, she wanted him to work a little harder.

He ran his thumb across the back of her hand and smiled crookedly. “One of my father’s biggest disappointments in me was my inability to get a point across.” He let go of her hand and stood. “I meant it, though. I won’t treat you that way again. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” she said simply, taking her fork. “Let me finish this and then I’ll get dressed.”

He glanced at his pocket watch and frowned. “I’ll send Nora up straight away. You have ten minutes or we’ll leave without you.”

She shrugged as he made his way to the door, unphased that rude Ashford was back. His awkward but sincere apology told her that there was a nice man underneath it all.

“If you leave I’ll just find myself a new benefactor,” she said.

He turned to glare at her with such ferocity before storming out that she got dressed in a hurry, making it downstairs with seconds to spare.

***

Tilly woke with a start when the carriage went through a rut in the seemingly endless road to Scotland. Mortified to find she’d flopped halfway onto Ashford’s lap, she saw he looked equally embarrassed. Clearly not wanting to wake her, his hand hovered in the air as if he’d been trying not to rest it on her while she slept.

She wondered how long she’d been out and how long he’d been sitting there with his arm raised. It was sweet that he’d let her sleep though, and hadn’t dumped her onto the carriage floor. Getting back to form, he began ignoring her and she stretched and looked out the windows. Surprise, surprise. More hilly countryside.

“Can we stop and walk around a bit?” she asked.

“No,” he said, looking out his own window.

“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”

“Do you have to?”

She didn’t really, and grumbled, supposing it was for the best if they didn’t waste any time. It was already taking forever. “We’ll be there tomorrow, right?” she asked.

“Wishing you’d stayed in London?” he asked, turning and giving her midsection a disapproving look.

“No,” she said. “I’m having a great time.”

She made sure everything was covered, adjusting the day dress he’d given her to wear when she first arrived. She’d gone without stays for the second day in a row, not seeing the harm in it since they were just in the carriage and didn’t see anyone. The first long, bumpy day had put her off them quick enough.

She made sure to cover up with a cloak or shawl before they checked into the various inns along the way, and so far she hadn’t been found out. But now it seemed like he was onto her. She felt her cheeks go hot, wondering if he hadn’t had his hand awkwardly raised over her the whole time she slept sprawled across him. Thinking about Ashford resting his hand on her side while she snoozed against his chest almost gave her the vapors, even without her corset.

It hadn’t been easy the first few days alone in the carriage with him. Duncan and Nora rode on ahead of them in a smaller, faster conveyance. She’d wondered why he insisted they take this slow moving, luxurious carriage when he seemed in such a hurry, and she suspected he was trying to make it up to her for being such a louse.

Now he still looked her over uncomfortably, his eyes continuing to dip to her bustline. She fluffed out her skirts and frowned.

“Nobody knows I’m not wearing stays,” she said defensively. “It’s just more comfortable to be free when we’re sitting around all day.”

He swallowed hard, giving her a tormented look. “Must you speak so improperly, Miss Jacobs?”

She looked at the dark clouds gathering in the distance. Storm was coming, probably inside the carriage as well.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I must. I wish you could see what I wear during the summer in my own time. Then we could talk about improper.” She scooted to the seat across so she could better look at him while they argued. “And can you please stop calling me Miss Jacobs? At least when it’s just us? It makes me feel like I have a corset on my brain every time you say it.”

He laughed but quickly squelched it. She shook her head at his seeming hatred of joy, though she was gratified to get a glimpse of his smile. She leaned forward suggestively, wondering if he’d steal a peek down her improperly undergarmented bodice. Being confined in close quarters with him had put a bit of the devil in her all of a sudden, trying to rile him up as she was.