Swept Away By a Kiss (42 page)

Four days into her convalescence, wearing a dressing gown and sitting in a chaise by her bedchamber hearth, Valerie finally wished to scream. At Alethea or Cassandra, either would do. Both tiptoed too.

“Lock me in the attic and discard the key,” Valerie muttered after a quarter hour of cosseting and expressions of delight over her quick recovery. Alethea cast her a curious look. Cassandra’s gaze dropped to her lap. Valerie bit her lip and folded her hands upon the coverlet.

“I would like to know what everyone is doing these days,” she said as smoothly as she could. Her throat was still raw, but her energy had returned. Nevertheless, the doctor, Lady March, and Anna all insisted she spend another sennight in bed. She had looked forward to her friends’ visit, hoping it would distract her from the ever-present ache in her chest. But if she must endure another insipid interview, she would truly begin to wail. That seemed unjust, since the individual who truly deserved her haranguing had left Castlemarch days ago.

Alethea shrugged. “In all honesty, Valerie, nothing worth note has gone on. We have been rehearsing
Twelfth Night
,” she said without enthusiasm. “But really everyone is still talking about your—” She halted, casting a quick look at Cassandra. The flaxen-haired girl continued to stare at her own hands.

Valerie’s insides clenched. Her scandal? Did they all know?

“My what?”

“Your rescue!” Cassandra’s chin came up, her eyes glowing. “It is the most romantic thing any of us have ever heard.”

Valerie swallowed back the lump in her throat and pushed her quivering hands beneath the coverlet.

“Is it?” she said in a strangled voice, hoping her friends would put it off to her illness.

“Of course it is,” Cassandra exclaimed. “Lady Alverston told us all how it happened.”

“Really?” Valerie’s insides trembled too, now. “What did she say?”

“She told us how she and the earl looked everywhere in the castle for you that night, and how at the very moment they were telling Lady March of their worries, Lord Ashford returned from town and went straight out with your brother to search for you in the snow.”

Valerie struggled to catch her breath. Anna and Valentine knew everything, yet in four days they had not said a word to her about it. Instead, they invented a story that protected her reputation and still included Steven.

“And then?” she managed to utter.

“You must know it already.” Alethea grinned.

“Oh, yes.” Cassandra sighed. “How Lord Ashford found you upon the ice where you had fallen and carried you back here. Of course, Lady Alverston did not need to tell us the rest.” She smiled sweetly. “We all saw it ourselves.”

Valerie heart raced. “What did you see?”

Alethea tilted her head. “How Lord Ashford remained at Castlemarch until the moment your fever broke. He left for London only minutes after I told everyone the news. It seems he had important business there he put off until he felt certain you were well.”

Valerie forced herself to blink. She had been unconscious for two days, two days during which Steven had delayed in pursuing Hannsley. Two precious days that could mean the success of his plans or their failure.

“I see,” she managed to utter.

“Lord Ashford will certainly be missed,” Alethea said slowly, peering at her with undisguised interest.

Cassandra’s pretty pink lips turned down in a scowl. “Mr. Flemming, however, will not be missed at all.”

Alethea’s astonished gaze shifted to the girl. Cassandra’s chin seemed unusually firm.

“Well, he won’t. He is as dull as dishwater and it was his fault you were injured, Valerie. If he hadn’t forgotten his hat and told you to walk on without him, you would not have slipped and fallen onto the ice. He should have at least inquired after you when he arrived back at the castle, but he did not. I don’t like him above half.”

“Yes, Cassandra dear. It was unforgivable that Mr. Flemming left off escorting Valerie.” Alethea said carefully. “But it obviously does not please our friend to hear this now, so let us speak of something else.”

A crease appeared upon Cassandra’s brow. “I am only sorry Valerie is ill on account of our negligence at the folly. If Lord Bramfield and Lord Michaels and I had paid closer attention, Valerie would be with us now in the music room practicing her role for
Twelfth Night
instead of languishing here.”

Valerie did not wonder at her friend’s guilt. Cassandra’s eyes were all for Timothy that evening by the lake, as his were for her. At the time, Valerie considered it a blessing that Timothy seemed less interested in watching her.

“Cassandra, please do not chastise yourself. I am fine now so all is well.” She smiled, took a breath, and plunged forward. “Tell me, how do you like Lord Bramfield’s courtship?”

The girl’s eyes went wide. “I— But—” she stammered, her cheeks washing with color. “But he has not—He— You—”

Valerie leaned forward and patted Cassandra’s slender hand.

“He is a very good man, you know, and a dear friend. He deserves a wife who will truly appreciate him.”

Cassandra’s face grew even pinker, but she smiled as her lashes fluttered down.

Anna and Lady March finally allowed Valerie to move to the blue parlor. She was reading with only half an eye on the page, the other half on the far side of the frozen lake, when Timothy entered. With a twinkling smile, he sat upon a chair beside her chaise. He grasped both her hands and kissed her fingers lightly.

“You look well, Valerie. Your usual, lovely self.” His eyes glowed with familiar appreciation.

“You flatter me, my lord. I do feel better today, thank you,” she lied for the tenth time since waking. Her physical pains were nearly gone. But she still ached, and inside a part of her gaped like a cavern.

Timothy’s fingers tightened around hers and he glanced about the empty chamber.

“I hoped we might have a brief word.” Disquiet shadowed his usually merry eyes.

“Of course.” Valerie folded her book on her lap.

“I care deeply about you, Valerie, as I have told you before. I said also that I would wait for you to care about me in the same manner.” He looked down for a moment, and when his gaze met hers again, resignation colored it. “I do not believe that day will ever come.”

Valerie opened her mouth, but he continued.

“I hope you won’t deny it. I am not an overly observant man, but in these past days, before your accident, I noticed a change in you.” He squeezed her hands, and his words seemed to make him uncomfortable. “You are more beautiful now, more alive and vibrant than ever before. I’ve never seen your eyes sparkle as they did on Christmas Day, Valerie. But you see, I don’t think I could bear to see you look at me every day for the rest of our lives without wishing I could inspire the same radiance in them.”

Valerie could not respond.

Timothy pulled back, his fingers tightening briefly again before he let hers go. He smiled, a gentle look of acceptance.

“I wish you great—”

“Don’t wish me happiness, Timothy,” she hurried to say, unable to bear the sentiment. “Instead, let me wish it to you.”

His brow furrowed.

Valerie let herself grin. “How does Lady Cassandra go on these days?”

A smile cracked his lips and he reached forward to take her hands again.

“Valerie, you are a jewel beyond all treasure. Ashford is a lucky man, indeed.”

Chapter 40

January 10, 1811

THE LADY VALERIE MONROE

ALVERSTON HALL, KENT

Dear Valerie,

Cassandra and Lord Bramfield are to be wed! They announced the engagement last night before dinner. Lord Fredericks made a lovely toast and we all kissed the bride-to-be, except for Mr. Fenton and Miss Sinclaire, who were absent at the time.

Other than that, everyone here has been very dull since you, Anna, and Lord Alverston left last week. Today The Times arrived, so at least there is some talk of another much-missed member of our dwindling party. The journal reported that Lord Ashford has let Ashford House for five years to an India nabob—an unknown tradesman. It is astounding! They say the viscount plans to return to America for good. But perhaps you already know this?

I return to London on the 28th. Will you go up to town once you are fully recovered? I should very much like to see you there, for, in truth, Valerie, I am in need of company.

Your abiding friend,
Alethea Pierce
Castlemarch, Derbyshire

Chapter 41

T
he deck echoed empty beneath lowering clouds. Above, dozens of white sails billowed in the wind, sending the ship cutting through green water. No hands hauled the lines, no sounds met her ears but the creaking of seasoned wood and the wind’s hum. She stood alone, shackled to the mainmast.

Across the waves, another vessel moved under half sail. Standing stiffly erect at its helm, an elegantly clad gentleman with iron-gray hair stared at her benignly as the wind carried his ship away.

She sniffed the breeze. It smelled like salt and life.

She looked down. Around her feet, the pool of blood widened
.

Crimson stained the wrinkled bed linens.

Bleary-eyed, Valerie stumbled to her dressing chamber and the basin of water the maid left warming over coals. She washed, then affixed the uncomfortable straps about her waist and wadding between her legs, pulled on a clean nightshift, and returned to her bedchamber. The maid had already changed the bed. Everything operated with smooth, disciplined care at Alverston Hall. Except her heart.

Valerie slipped in and curled into a ball.

It was the last day of her courses, but she still ached, from heart-soreness rather than cramps. All she had left now of Steven Ashford were confused memories.

Her hand slipped to her abdomen, palm flattening. Her memory was so strong, she could practically still feel him inside her, driving her into ecstasy. Her menses seemed to heighten her body’s memory, making her tender, making her want him as she had wanted him for weeks. Months.

She pressed her fists into her eyes, willing tears away.

A knock sounded upon her bedchamber door, jarring her.

“Come,” she uttered.

Anna entered upon light feet. “What’s this? Still abed?” she said brightly.

Valerie covered her head with the pillow. “For someone in your delicate condition, you rise like a farmer’s wife.”

Anna sat upon the edge of the bed. “It is nearly midday. I rose hours ago. The doctor tells me I will again begin to feel absolutely wretched about two months from now, so I am taking advantage of this hiatus. After all, I have just gotten over casting up my accounts every morning, noon, and eve. Anyway, nothing tastes the same now.” Lady Alverston’s hand strayed over her still-slender waist. “I have news for you.”

“If it concerns vomiting or eating, it will have to wait until after I have slept a bit more. I was awake till the small hours.”

“Doing what?”

“Reading.”

Anna pulled the pillow away from Valerie’s head. “Oh, not dreaming, then?”

Valerie pushed the hair out of her face and sat up.

“Leave me alone, won’t you? I have really endured just about all I can of this cheerful concern. You and Valentine will drive me to wit’s end. I warn you, I may do something drastic just to spite you. I’ve got plenty of practice at that sort of thing, you know.”

“Ah, yes,” the countess nearly hummed. “In that case, old Jasper recently hired a fine, young stable hand. He’s strapping, appealing in that rustic sort of way you once admired. I suspect he would be agreeable with very little encouragement.”

Valerie lay back, wrenching her arms around her waist again.