Not Quite Married (28 page)

This was just what Van Zandt wanted. And the Dutchman always paid in silver.

Twenty

THAT SAME AFTERNOON a small box containing a blue Chinese vase arrived, addressed to Brien and bearing the bold signature of Aaron Durham. Brien smiled, gingerly tracing the cool porcelain with her fingers.

“Of course, I can’t keep it.”

“It’s lovely, Brien, and not overly personal.” Helen studied her friend. “But to accept it would be to approve the captain’s attentions to you. Just what do you think of him?”

Brien’s mind flooded with responses, but she finally chose: “He seems to be a man of integrity and strength. His manner, however direct, is disarming.”

Seeing Brien pause, Helen picked it up. “And his good looks are enough to warm your blood every time he comes near.”

“Really, Helen.”

“Oh, Brien, do you think us all blind? He looks at you as if he were dying of thirst and you are cool water. And when he is near, you stiffen and become proper beyond belief. My dear,
Silas
has commented on it—and Silas is always the last to notice.”

At the end of the week a note arrived while Brien was reading in the parlor. Helen delivered it to her and stood by as she read it.

“‘Lady Brien Trechaud is invited for a country outing this afternoon at one o’clock. A carriage will call. A. Durham.’?”

Brien blinked. “This is no invitation, it’s a command. It’s unthinkable.”

“It would be unseemly to go out with him alone,” Helen agreed, studying her reaction. “I suppose Dyso would make a formidable chaperone.”

“Helen”—Brien’s face lighted with mischief—“how long has it been since your children have had an outing in the country?”

PROMPTLY AT ONE o’clock that afternoon a carriage drew up in front of the Hastings household. Brien hurried out to greet him with the three Hastings children in tow and Dyso lumbered out behind them, carrying a large willow hamper. Aaron’s face fell at the growing realization of what would happen that afternoon.

“I should have brought two carriages,” he muttered.

“This is so good of you, Captain. It’s been quite a while since the children have been on an outing. And I’m burning with curiosity about the countryside.” She put on a broad-brimmed hat and serenely ushered the children into the carriage.

After some time, the driver turned onto a tree-covered lane that followed the course of a meandering stream. At Aaron’s order, the carriage stopped in an area well carpeted with grass and clear of brush. Venerable old trees lent cool shade and the grass smelled fresh and sweet. It was the perfect place for a picnic.

“This is beautiful,” Brien breathed out. She turned to Aaron and found him watching her. “Will the owner mind if we lunch here?”

“Not at all. I know him well. He would be delighted to have you here.”

The children crowded about her, begging to remove their shoes and to wade in the water. Seeing Aaron nod approval, she agreed and they bounded off. Dyso placed the hamper on the ground beneath a great oak tree, then at Brien’s request, went down to the stream to keep watch on the children until the food was ready.

“Interesting.” She watched her big bodyguard remove his shoes and roll up his breeches to wade with the little Hastingses. “The children seem to understand his hand language better than most adults. They’re not at all afraid of him.”

“He’s a puzzle, that one,” Aaron said, joining her in looking at them. “He gives me the feeling he sees things the rest of us don’t.”

She smiled. “If so, I hope he is catching what the rest of us let fall through the cracks.”

Brien spread a large felt cloth on the ground, and began to unpack the hamper, unwrapping loaves of fresh bread, slices of cheese and cold ham, raisin tarts and crumb cakes, and two jugs—milk and ale. She turned to Aaron.

“I forgot to ask Dyso to put these in the stream to keep them cold.”

“I’ll do it.” He bounded up and took the jugs from her. When he returned, he removed his coat and sat down in the grass at the edge of the cloth. He reached for a slice of the bread Brien was cutting. The sight of her at so domestic a task was strange to him.

He refocused his attention to a damp curl of hair at the nape of her neck. Every time they were together, he found new aspects to her, saw her in a new light.

“Thank you for the invitation, Aaron. But you must have known I couldn’t come alone.”

“I’ll give you that,” Aaron conceded. “But did you have to bring a whole regiment for an escort? You have nothing to fear from me, Brien.”

“It is not
you
I fear, Aaron, it is
us
. I don’t want to embarrass Silas and Helen. Another chance like . . . we just shouldn’t be alone together again.”

Aaron frowned. “What has brought about this sudden interest in propriety?”

“I have a great deal to think about and you complicate things.”

“Good. Then at least you think about me.” He grinned. “And I think you are the most charming when you’re the most improper.

Like you were the other night.”

“And what if another such night saw me with a child?” She colored hotly. “It wouldn’t be
your
life that was ruined.”

His grin faded as he realized she was right to think of consequences. “Surely you know that I would be responsible in such a matter.”

“I don’t want you to be ‘responsible.’?” The remark was more cutting than she intended, and she closed her eyes to regain her bearings.

“If you were with child, Brien, I would happily declare myself your husband. The question is, would you declare yourself to be my wife?”

“I don’t want to be a wife,” she said, feeling cornered by the idea. “Not yours, not anyone’s.” She got up and brushed the leaves and grass from her skirt as she went to call the children for lunch.

Aaron tried to be angry with her, but it was no use. Pushing was a poor way to lead. He must be patient; she would come about.

During lunch, Brien teased the children and promised to wade in the stream with them later. Aaron agreed it would be safe to explore farther up the lane and their afternoon was set. After finishing off the delicious food and packing away the remains, Aaron and Brien led the children up the lane toward a scenic spot. As the young ones explored and ran on ahead, Brien and Aaron walked slower, putting distance between them and their charges.

It was so peaceful here, strolling under the old trees. Brien found herself wishing fervently that they were her trees, that this was her place. When they crested a rise in the road, Brien spotted the drop-off ahead and called the children back to her. Together, she and Aaron carried them to the edge of the cliff and she was surprised to find a whole valley spread out below them. The children took in the view for a moment, then begged to be allowed to explore a nearby tree with low branches perfect for climbing. Dyso motioned that he would watch over them and she relented.

Turning back to the view, she felt a calm descend on her. The hills in the distance bore a bluish haze that gave her the strange sense that she was standing at the top of the world itself. They could see for miles along that valley, and there was hardly a human-made structure in sight. It was a small glimpse, she realized, of the vastness of this new land.

“What do you think?” Aaron asked, watching her reaction.

“It’s wonderful. It’s so . . . big.”

“And just think, this is just one small valley in a colony filled with valleys and rivers and harbors and meadows and fields and woods. And there are thirteen colonies, most of which are a lot bigger than Massachusetts. And there is a lot more unexplored, uncharted land to the west. Room for new colonies and new people . . . new riches to explore. This is the future, Brien. This place. Breathe it in.” He drew the sweet air deep into his lungs.

“Let it into your blood.”

She did just that . . . breathed deeply . . . once, twice . . . It was exhilarating. Intoxicating. She wanted to throw open her arms and twirl around and around . . . to wrap her arms around the place . . . and for a brief, unfettered moment she did. When she staggered to a stop, the rest of the universe kept spinning. She had difficulty regaining her balance. Planting her feet firmly, she refused to sway anymore, and the world gradually settled back into a dependable motion.

She was in deep trouble, she realized. The cursed place was wreaking havoc on her common sense and equilibrium . . . not to mention her priorities. A moment before she was hanging on every word, soaring on every image of the grand vision he unveiled for her. She was becoming too blessed attached to this land and to the man standing beside her.

“It’s time we went back.” She headed for the children and was soon helping Dyso pull them out of the tree and herd them along.

When Aaron caught up with her, he slipped his hand around hers and squeezed. She quickly pulled it free.

“Tell me about your family,” he said as if searching for a more neutral topic.

“My father is Lawrence Weston, Earl of Southwold, and my mother was Alice Garrett of the House of Leighton,” she said, relieved to be able to impart the structure of her life without having to plumb the substance. “My mother died when I was twelve. I had an older sister named Denise, who died when I was thirteen. My father and I are all that’s left. We have few relations—not even a male cousin for the title, after my father.”

“Go on,” Aaron prompted and she grew a bit more cautious.

Why did he ask?

“My sister Denise was the beauty of the family. Sweet-natured and delicate.”

“Like you.”

“
Not
like me.” She shrugged a bit self-consciously. “I was plain and plump and bookish. My father engaged a tutor for us when I was nine years old. Monsieur Duvall introduced me to the world .

. . spread it before me like a banquet . . . but never bothered to warn me that I wouldn’t be allowed to sample it. I heard my father once say that I should have been a boy.”

“Then he is a fool.” Aaron stopped abruptly, his face suddenly sharp and serious.

“Well, I am curious and stubborn, and interested in things unseemly for a woman—like commerce and finance.” Memories uncoiled in her mind and suddenly she was telling him more.

“When I was little, I despised dolls and tea parties and drawing lessons. Father called me his ‘little shadow’ because he took me with him everywhere . . . to his offices, the warehouses, and to meet his ships when they arrived in port. Poor Silas was just a clerk, but he bore my harassment splendidly.” Some of the light in that memory faded, in her heart and in her face, as she thought of the estrangement that had come later.

“Perhaps he was right. I would have made a better man than woman.”

He stepped in front of her and she stopped abruptly to keep from bumping him.

“And what makes you think that interest in the world and persistence and stubbornness are the measure of men and not of women?” he demanded.

Brien was stunned by both his words and the fact that he had been the one to say them instead of her. Such sentiment coming from a man—even a very special man— Her heart began to drum in her chest. She stepped around him and walked faster, feeling pushed toward a decision she didn’t want to make.

When they reached their picnic spot, the little Hastingses begged to go wading again and Brien granted permission. Dyso went with them while she sat down on the blanket with her back against a tree trunk. Aaron lay down on the blanket beside her and gradually worked his way closer. When his hand slid over her knee toward her lap, she gave it a censuring rap. He sighed.

“Well, if you won’t favor me with your charms, then favor me with your business news. How comes the sale of your assets?”

“Not well.” She could have bitten her tongue a heartbeat later.

What was it about him that made her want to surrender up every little detail of her life? Including the most private, inane, and humiliating.

“Van Zandt is proving a hard man to win, is he?”

“He had made two offers, both insulting. And I told him so.” She shuddered. “I’m not sure I should sell to him, even if he meets my price.”

Aaron frowned and pushed up on one elbow, facing her. “Brien, I warned you . . . Van Zandt is not to be toyed with. I ran across him during the war. He has no scruples, no principles, no higher nature you could appeal to. He seems to desire a modicum of respectability now, and perhaps thinks that the purchase of Weston Trading will afford him that. But just as easily, he could turn his considerable resources against you.” His seriousness shook her to the core. “Don’t underestimate him. Your air of nobility may charm others . . . even me. But to Van Zandt, it will be like a spur in the side. Be careful you don’t use that spur too hard or too often.”

Brien’s huge eyes told him his message had struck home, but there was not a trace of fear in them. Aaron’s lips tilted in a wry smile.

“Thank you for the advice. But if Van Zandt makes another offer, it will be in Silas’s office in the presence of a raft of solicitors.”

“That’s good. Hearing you dined with him, I began to wonder at your taste in men.”

“And just how did you hear about that?” she demanded.

“I make it a practice to keep abreast of all sorts of news.” He had the grace to look a bit sheepish. “All right, I asked around.”

“Stay out of it, Aaron,” she declared shortly. Scrambling to her feet, she fixed her gaze on the Hastings children splashing about in the stream and impulsively kicked off her shoes. “It’s too beautiful an afternoon to waste on business. How long has it been, Captain Durham, since you went wading?”

WHEN THEY RETURNED to Hastings House that evening, Silas met them in the front hall with a letter in his hand. But he was swarmed by his children, who deluged him with details of their adventures, all talking at once. He listened, hugged them distractedly, and sent them off with the housemaid to tell their mother all about their day. When he turned back to Brien, she knew something was wrong. He beckoned her into the drawing room and Aaron followed them.

“What is it? What’s happened?” she asked, reaching for the paper he offered.

“A fire. The Cambridge shop burned last night,” he said, just as she read those very words in the note penned by the shopkeeper.