Lady Falls (Black Rose Trilogy) (7 page)

“Mr. Warrick.”  She smoothed the curls from her face.  “I rely on your discretion.”

“You have it.”

It was all she could do to nod.  Raven was sure that if she looked down she would see her toes curled on the edge of some great precipice.  For there was not a thread of refusal in her and that discovery shocked her more than anything else.  In every novel she had read, a first kiss always led to a protest and an arousal of maidenly modesty that ensured that the hero would hold a reverent distance afterward. 

She searched every corner of her heart and mind in a single breath and found no hint of fear, no trace of caution and absolutely nothing resembling maidenly modesty.  If Phillip Warrick asked her at this moment to drop every stitch of her clothing, Raven acknowledged that she would turn away only to ask him to help her with the buttons.

How remarkable to discover that I am a wanton and unworthy thing, after all! 

“You must get back to the hunt, Mr. Warrick.”

A small flash of confusion crossed his brow.  “It feels strange to kiss as we did and then be sent off like a schoolboy.”

She gasped.  “No!  I am…” Heat rushed into her cheeks and Raven knew her blushes betrayed her.  “I’m afraid that if you don’t go, I will ask you for another and another and… This is not at all what I expected!  I am asking you to go so that I can talk myself into behaving and if you are any kind of gentleman, you will leave so that I have some hope of it.”

He grew very still but then finally nodded his assent, turning to leave without another word.  Raven watched in helpless wonder at the retreating figure and prayed that no matter what else the day held, there would be no more startling demonstrations of Mr. Warrick’s inspiring kisses. She sat down unsteadily with a long ragged sigh.

Raven Wells, after all this time, I think the Storm King has finally arrived.

And God help me, I want it to rain.

Chapter Six

Phillip stood at the edge of the gathering in the library, determined to appear composed.  After kissing Raven in the gazebo, he’d failed to add a single item to his quest.  Hell, after kissing Raven, he was ready to forfeit everything he had, much less the victory of a scavenger hunt.  Even the promise of one of Trent’s fortune making ventures now seemed useless and unappealing.

It was Raven he wanted.  There was no denying it.  She was beautiful and lively, impassioned and outspoken.  If her dowry was as sizable as he suspected, then even without a flawless pedigree, his family couldn’t object to his choice.   She was everything he’d hoped for and more.

Since when did I even dare dream to find a woman with that kind of fire? She’s as polished as a gemstone but there is nothing cold about Raven Wells.  And god knows that kind of warmth makes even the most dutiful match a miracle.

The question was, how do you honorably win a woman under her guardian’s roof without trespassing and evoking the man’s wrath?  

“The winner of the day is,” the earl paused for dramatic effect before continuing, “Mrs. Carlton!”

The woman glowed with shy pride as her husband applauded merrily.  “I can hardly credit it!”

Mr. Carlton kissed her on the cheek.  “There’s my girl!  I glanced at her list and she was forced to question no less than ten strangers throughout the estate to achieve her victory!”

Raven smiled.  “Some of my favorite souls inhabiting Oakwell, as I hoped it would prove to have been a courageous and empowering day for you. Did you like item number eight, Mrs. Carlton?”

“Oh, yes! What a delight!”

Lady Morley applauded as well.  “It was the best day for me, even with victory denied!  I feel positively giddy after this!  I can scarcely credit that Miss Wells had time to secret away so many delightful clues!”

“A labor of love,” Raven admitted.  “And the maids helped me this morning, so I cannot really claim all credit.”

“I swear, I feel like dancing!” Lady Morley laughed and held out a handful of red ribbons she’d collected during her quest like a child at May Day.

Geoffrey handed Millicent back her list.  “As well you could!  It was an admirable effort.”

Sheffield took back his list with far less grace.  “If my watch hadn’t been set incorrectly, I’d have had it.  I had two more items secured than any of you!”

“But failed to return to the library before the clock had struck three, sir,” the earl said.  “Stop pouting, Sheffield!”  He cleared his throat as he pulled a small wrapped package from his pocket.  “It falls to me to provide the prize.  Mrs. Carlton, here you are!”

Mrs. Carlton took it from his hands as everyone except Mr. Sheffield celebrated.

“Open it, dearest!” Mr. Carlton urged.

The paper gave away easily and she lifted the framed miniature painting free to gasps of admiration.  “Oh, it’s lovely!” she exclaimed.

“The painting is worthless, but the frame is solid gold and a very pretty antique,” Trent said.  “Think of it as a trinket to commemorate the day.”

Mrs. Carlton held up the small painting and ornate frame for all to see and Phillip watched Raven’s color change slightly.  Curiosity forced him to give up his place against the wall to draw closer.  The painting was a delicate thing recognizably portraying the same mighty oak that they had picnicked under on the estate grounds.  Bright colors and dappled sunlight hinted at a summer’s day and Phillip leaned in to note the initials of the picture’s author.

“R.W.?” He looked toward Raven.  “Miss Wells, is this your work?”

“A trifle,” she admitted.  “My feeble attempt at art after failing miserably at squibbling flowers onto teacups.”  She pressed her hands together, her voice edged in a cheer that failed to touch her eyes.  “As Lord Trent has said, it is a worthless thing.”

Mrs. Carlton’s eyes widened.  “Not worthless! It has even greater value to me, Miss Wells, I can assure you!  I am in love with your little painting and each time I view it I will remember our holiday here and your lovely company.”

“Assuredly it will hold a place of great honor in our home, Miss Wells,” Mr. Carlton added quickly.  “The earl is too familiar with your talents to make such a judgment.”

Phillip nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat at the hurt Raven was graciously denying.  “I am wishing I’d put more effort into winning now that I see the prize, Miss Wells.”

“Oh, good God!” Lord Trent rolled his eyes.  “She isn’t Rembrandt!  It’s an oil painting of a tree and I’m not heartless!  Come, Raven.  Reassure our guests that you are happy to see a sweet ending to the game.”

Raven renewed her efforts and Phillip marveled at the change.  With a small lift in her shoulders, she instantly embodied an airy gladness that lightened the room.  “It could not have a better home than yours and the earl is right.  What use is it here when we are blessed to enjoy the sight of the oak that inspired it each and every day?  This way, you have a memento of your visit unique to Oakwell Manor.”  She reached out to touch Mrs. Carlton’s hand, “And when you see it, you can summon the bravery of the day, don’t you think?”

“I shall!” Mrs. Carlton said and then kissed Raven’s cheek.  “What a treasure you are!”

Lady Baybrook’s expression remained purposefully neutral.  “I for one prefer the rewards of good conversation over willy-nilly exertions that result in nothing more than a need for a long nap.”

Lord Trent smiled.  “My gift for entertaining conversation is impossible to rival!  But on that note of wisdom, let us each retreat to some quiet pursuit before the evening unfurls.  I for one, sense a long night of cards ahead.  Warn your husband, Lady Morley.  I am in the mood to win.”

“Yes.  Though my husband hates to lose so perhaps it is you who needs the warning,” Millicent said then made her farewells as the rest of the party began to do the same. 

Phillip watched Raven with fascination as the girl who could draw every eye with a single gesture now successfully faded to retreat from the room without much notice.  He’d have said it was impossible for Miss Wells to enter or escape any room without creating a stir.  But she was an enchantress with more tricks than he knew…

And he was set on learning all of them.

“You all right?” the maid asked as Raven came into her bedroom.

“I’m fine, Kitty.  Why wouldn’t I be?” Raven inwardly cringed at how defensive she sounded.

“Heard he passed your painting off to the Carltons,” Kitty said as she began arranging the jars on the vanity. 

“Gracious!  How did you hear of such a thing and so quickly?”

“I think everyone’s tracking things a bit keener during this holiday.  But if you must know,” Kitty explained sweetly, “one of the footmen made quite a fuss over it when he was bringing his tray back down and I overheard him on the stairs.”

“Perfect,” she sighed. 

“Wasn’t that the painting you made Lord Trent for his birthday last year?”

Raven shrugged her shoulders, a study in affected nonchalance.  “Yes.  But Lord Trent has hundreds of masterpieces in the house.  It’s not as if a man of exquisite taste is expected to wax poetic over an amateur scrap of canvas.”  She leaned against one of the bedposts.  “Besides, it really was a lovely choice for Mrs. Carlton.  I’m happy for her to have it.  Truly.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.  I may have been surprised to see it at first but, I’m…completely thrilled at the gift.”  She crossed her arms.  “Delighted, in fact.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”  Kitty began to ready things for her mistress to rest for a while as custom dictated.  “Did the scavenger hunt go well?

Raven’s spirits lifted at the question.  “It was glorious! It was—magical!”

“As good as that?”

Raven turned so that Kitty could help her out of her day dress. “Everyone had a lovely time and I think I have redeemed myself entirely with Mr. Sheffield.” 

“You weren’t so far into the weeds as that, Miss,” Kitty said.  “I’m just pleased to see Lady Morley out and about to take part.”

“It was one of the best parts of the day.  She looked so…happy.” Raven’s joy hiccupped at the notion.  “How is that even possible, Kitty?  Do you think anyone could experience joy in the midst of—I don’t even know how to describe her challenges!”

“Even if she can’t remember what happy looks like, it’s the nature of a well bred woman to make a good show of it.”

Raven stepped out her skirts.  “She deserves more than a show.”

“Show is about all anyone can hope for,” Kitty shook her head sadly.  “My ma always says if you hope for more, you’re bound to end up with less.”

“I cannot help but believe that happiness is the natural state that we all strive for and inherently deserve.”  Raven stroked the silk of her bed curtains and traced the embroidered vines with her fingertips.

“Strive, well enough but I’m not sure it’s a real thing.  Maybe in fleeting moments, but to be happy?  All the time?  Is that even possible?”  Kitty sighed.  “To bed with you!”

Raven pressed her lips together to prevent the impulsive protest of a spoiled child of fortune.  Her life had been a carousel of great joy and abject misery so what logic did she think to outline that decreed a firm hold on happiness?  She eyed her maid and tried another tactic as she yielded to the command and climbed into her bedding.  “Do you want to be happy, Kitty?”

Kitty straightened her spine.  “I don’t look to dance a jig.  I’m content enough and that’s enough.”

“Is it?” Raven dropped her hands.  “I suppose that’s the safer course.”

She didn’t need to walk to the windows and look down to know that the view included a glimpse of the gazebo’s pergola peeking above the curving groves in the garden.  Phillip’s obliging kisses had ignited her soul with promises and transformed her into a creature edged in want and craving.  She wanted more.  More of him, more of the joy of his touch and more of the glorious ruin of forbidden heat. 

Raven knew the rules of polite society—better than most as she skirted its edges, striving to be above reproach and beyond judgment.  But Phillip Warrick had skewed all with a kiss and she was fighting to see where balance might give way to her raw need to be loved.

“You are the happiest person I have ever met,” Kitty said.  “It is a marvel to all who know you.”

“Why a marvel?”

“Because you make it look so effortless.  Because you are the only one I know who celebrates everything from your favorite jam appearing at the breakfast table to the miraculous existence of rain puddles.”  Kitty laughed.

“You make me sound like a simpleton.”

“Then I am sorry.  I meant it as a compliment, not an insult.  You are too clever and well you know it!”

Raven sighed.  “It’s just…”

“Out with it.  What is all this about happiness?  Has someone said something unkind?”

“No.  I was merely wondering what price I would pay to be truly happy.  If it were…offered.”

“What would you give to be happy, Miss Wells?”

“Everything.”  Raven tasted the word and accepted the weight of its meaning.  “I would give anything and everything I had, Kitty.”

“Oh, my!” Kitty finished smoothing out her covers.  “That’s quite a price to pay.”

“Is it?”

Kitty crossed her arms.  “No one can offer you such a thing.  You have it already and if they’re peddling happiness, you keep a tight hold on your purse.  My ma always said it’s a tear-streaked face that thinks to get heaven for a penny.”

“For the record, your mother should write these things down.”

“Can’t write more than a simple mark for her name,” Kitty began to retreat from the room.  “But I’ll pass along the compliment to her.  Now you take a nap like a proper little lady!  The earl won’t be pleased to see you yawning at dinner.”

Kitty closed the door behind her and Raven closed her eyes to consider the day.

She’d asked him for a kiss.  Because she’d felt so uncertain of herself after seeing the pain in Lady Morley’s eyes.  Marriage had always been a grand and noble goal and the highest achievement she could hope for, but never had that path appeared to hold physical danger or heartless cruelty.  Now she’d looked again and uncovered stories of the horrifying pitfalls of a tragic matches and miserable women in the clutches of an institution that did not provide much mercy if a husband proved a brute.

So, she’d set on the notion that it might be better to seize a little slice of control, to experience tenderness to banish her fears.  If he had bruised her, her experiment would have solidified her worst suspicions about the opposite sex and eliminated all desire for a match.  But his kisses had provided so much more than the simple reassurance that not all men were created equally.

Here was a happiness she had never reached for.

But there was a price for such things.

She knew now that there would be no half measures. The risk was real.  Women who asked for kisses could be accused of all manner of wanton lapses in their judgment.  Mr. Warrick may even now have decided that she was hardly an angelic candidate for London’s lofty circles.  He may have boasted to the other men of his encounter or—
God, if he’s told the earl I am finished!