Thick as Thieves (6 page)

Now he must discover what she was hiding.

The snow finally
cleared on Sunday, and Freddie couldn’t have been happier.

Three solid days with no means to escape Lord Preston’s constant hovering had been almost enough to drive her mad. When she added her unceasing thoughts about what would happen to Edie and Mama if she couldn’t do
something
to help them, and the fact that there were unknown quantities of valuable items upstairs which Lord Upton Grey would never miss since he didn’t even know that they existed as yet, a stay at Bedlam seemed a likely part of her future.

But at last
the snow had stopped falling. A few footmen had cleared enough snow away in the morning that she could go out for a walk in the afternoon. She needed to move, to get some of the brisk air into her lungs in order to clear her thoughts.

“But it’s so cold!”
Lady Ellingham had said when Freddie voiced her intention. “You’ve not been feeling quite the thing since you arrived. You’ll catch your death from the chill if you’re out for long in this weather.”

If she’d actually been ill, she would have conceded
her point. The fact of the matter, however, was that she hadn’t
truly
felt unwell at all. On the first night of their visit, she’d claimed a megrim. Then on each of the subsequent nights she had likewise retired early, but not because of any true malady. It was more to escape the ever-present eye of Lord Preston.

Freddie
refused to be swayed about getting out of doors today. No matter how large the main house at Padmore Glen might be, it was not large enough for both her and Lord Preston…particularly because, despite herself, she feared she was growing more attracted to him than was prudent.

“I won’t be out too long, I promise,” she’d said. Then she’d promised Lady Ellingham she would wear her
warmest coat, and she’d allowed Lady Upton Grey to foist some new fur-lined gloves upon her. Once they had her trussed up so completely that she feared she might blow over if a gust of wind caught her just right, she and a maid headed down the main staircase to the front door.

It was Lord Preston
, and not Mr. Goddard or one of the other servants, who stood beside the door waiting to open it for them, clad in his greatcoat, gloves, and hat.

She supposed it was too much to hope that meant he was leavin
g Padmore Glen. A full week remained before Christmas, and surely he had no intention of departing until at least a fortnight after that—perhaps longer.

Bother and blast, could she not even escape his presence by going out in this blistering cold? She’d done nothing at all to rouse his suspicions since that night in the abandoned library, and even there she’d done nothing
wrong
. Looking was not a crime, the last she knew.

“Are you going out, my lord?” Freddie asked curtly.

He held out an arm for her in response, cocking his head to the side.

She bit down on her tongue as she took his arm.

It wouldn’t do to seek out an argument with him now. She’d done everything she could over the last few days to both ease any lingering concerns he might have about her character and turn her thoughts from the bounty in the upstairs library. Sparking an argument would not win her any favor in his eyes, she was certain.

He guided her down the steps and then turned for the arbor. “I imagine after all the snows we’ve had the trees will be particularly lovely today.”

While he was most likely correct, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him not only inviting himself along on her walk, but also determining where they ought to go.

She remained silent.

They walked, not speaking, for several minutes until the bower of crystallized and snow-filled tree branches hung overhead. He stopped and looked up, so she did likewise. She couldn’t see the sun or the sky beyond the sea of white above them.

The maid stopped ten paces behind them and waited.

A shiver stole over Freddie. She drew her redingote tighter about her shoulders as though that would force it to block the cold better than it already was.

“At
Preston Hill, the arbor is not so dense as this one. There are spots where you can experience this sort of effect after a heavy snow, of course, but here it seems to go on for miles.” He looked at her then—his eyes golden and warm amidst the cascade of cold and ice all around them. “It’s like a sea of diamonds up there.”

Freddie couldn’t stop herself from
reacting. Her spine stiffened, and her jaw felt tense and aching.
Diamonds
. Why must he turn the conversation back to jewels? Was he intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable, to poke and prod at her until she cracked? For days, she’d done everything she possibly could to refocus her thoughts away from all that was housed in that abandoned library.

“The arbor at Bexley Court is far
sparser than this,” she said, hating the unyielding tone of her voice. “I can’t recall ever seeing anything like this before.”

And that was true.
Nothing of this sort of majestic beauty had ever passed her eyes as long as she could remember. She was certain she would enjoy herself far more if she was alone and didn’t have to worry about the meaning behind Lord Preston’s actions and words. Wouldn’t she?

“Can’t you?” He held out his left arm again and led her on once she’d taken it. “What is it like at Bexley Court?”

Full of uncertainty, and growing more sparse by the day
. Not that she could say such a thing to him. The truth of how dismal the future seemed was not for anyone to discover outside of the family, if they could possibly keep the secret contained. Percy seemed to be doing his best to eliminate any chance of keeping their prospects quiet, but Freddie saw no need to help him in that endeavor.

“Like it is at any country estate, I would imagine,” she finally said evasively.

“Ah. Yes, because we are all so very much alike.”

Almost as an afterthought, his right hand came over hers where it rested upon the bend of his arm. Even th
rough all the layers of outerwear his sisters had insisted she wear, she could feel his warmth seeping through. She missed it a moment later when he removed his hand just as suddenly as it had come, as though he’d been scalded.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s quite all right.”

But it wasn’
t.

Nothing was all right
, and she wasn’t certain it ever would be again—not anything at Bexley Court; not her constant worry over what would happen to Mama and Edie; not the way Lord Preston made her feel when he touched her or looked at her; not the way she couldn’t determine if he believed her a thief in the making or a lady who’s company he could enjoy; not the way she couldn’t decide if she wished he would touch her again; and especially not the way she wished they could be in one another’s presence without such an intense lack of trust forcing a wedge between them.

When had she started wanting to be in his presence? True, he was liable to drive her mad with his hovering. Yet at the same time, she was growing more comfortable with him. She liked how he would speak to her in an intellectual manner, as an equal. Over the last few days, she’d watched him with his nieces and nephews, with his sisters. He treated them all with the same sort of care and love Papa had always shown them—and
Percy too, before Papa died. No matter how many wrong paths her brother had taken in the intervening years, he had once been as loving and caring as any man she’d ever known. She believed he could be again.

She
had
to believe it.

She had to
hold on to the hope that someday, Percy would remember who he was and what was important.

That sort of love—the love of a father or a brother, a man—had been gone too long from her life
. Mama and her sisters loved her, of course, and Monty had done his best to fill the chasm created by Papa’s death and Percy’s inability to come to terms with it…but that was far from the same thing.

A bird took flight, lifting off from a branch overhead and sending a shower of snow down upon them.
Freddie laughed, despite the cold it brought down upon her.

“You don’t laugh often enough,” Lord Preston said.

Her head shot up, and she met his gaze. Bother and blast, there was that expression again. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he looked at her like that, but it felt as though he was looking all the way through her to her very soul.

That was more than just a little bit unnerving.

“I’m sorry. I don’t try
not
to laugh. It’s just…”
It’s just so hard to feel lighthearted when there are so many things to worry about.

“It’s just that you’re too busy worrying,” he finished for her.

How did he do that? Was he truly seeing the depths of her soul when he stared at her so intensely? She couldn’t imagine how else he could know her thoughts in such a way.

Lord Preston stopped walking again and faced her. Bits of snow were slowly melting from the top of his hat and his shoulders, disappearing against the dark fabric as though they’d never been there. With his right hand, he reached up and brushed some flakes away from her cheek. The trail of leather against her skin left goose flesh in its wake.

“There is much to worry about,” she whispered without thinking it through.

“Shouldn’t Stalbridge be the one to ease your worries?”

Percy had been the head of their family for several years now. Her brother
should
be the one to do that very thing, yet instead he was the cause of more worries than he had ever alleviated.

Someone had
had to determine what to do for them all, and it seemed to always fall on Freddie’s shoulders. Or perhaps she had taken the responsibility upon herself. She always had felt responsible for her sisters as they were growing up. And after Papa died, Mama had grieved so deeply for her loss that it had only been natural for Freddie to take up that mantle.

She’d been wearing it for so long now she didn’t
remember how to take it off.

At the moment, it didn’t help matters any that Lord Preston’s stare had once again taken on that heated nature, the sort which made her feel as though she would melt from the inside out and be happy to do so.

Another sprinkling of snow drifted down upon them from the branches above, scattering over her upturned face.

Freddie’s breath caught when, instead of brushing the snowflakes away with his fingertips as he’d done before, his lips came down upon her cheek just where the snow had fallen.

His was such an unexpectedly tender touch. Despite the cold, flame burst through her veins to every extremity, heating her through as his kiss traveled slowly over the bridge of her nose, her forehead, the lids of her eyes.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sudden increase in her pulse or lightheadedness she experienced when he put both arms around he
r and held her like he could somehow shelter her from all that was wrong within her world. On a sigh, she lifted her arms and held on to his broad shoulders to steady herself.

Gentle kisses trailed along the line of her jaw, then upward
s.

His lips pressed to hers.

It felt heavenly—nothing at all like the hen pecking kisses Lord Calbourne had given her before. She wanted more, but when she pulled him closer, he pressed her away.

“I’m sorry.” His breathing was ragged, his voice little more than a rasp.
“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Freddie
felt more confused than she already had, particularly because she
wasn’t
sorry he’d kissed her. No matter what she thought she felt or knew about Lord Preston, his kiss had been one of the most delightful things she’d ever experienced. Yet he was sorry? Was it for kissing her, or for making her want him, or for something else entirely?

For the first time in her life, she’d been kissed by a man who made her feel something she’d never felt before, only to have him apologize for it.

How dreadfully lowering.