Through the Smoke (23 page)

Rachel rubbed the rich fabric against her cheek. “I should choose this one? You’re sure?” She’d probably never have the chance to own something so fine again.

“Aye, I’m sure.”

With a smile of thanks, she carried the dress downstairs.

The earl didn’t summon her for chess that night or the next. Rachel was beginning to believe she might already have lost his favor. She heard him come and go late at night, but he never entered her room or invited her to his. She had no communication with him at all except a brief note in which he said he hoped she was making herself at home on the estate. Mary delivered the note. She delivered everything, including food, water for bathing and even the green gown when it was ready.

Other than those visits, Rachel was alone or visiting with Geordie. She walked with her brother in the gardens or along the cliffs, or ventured to the library down the hall on her own, which contained a more extensive collection of books than her bookshop.

By the third day of her new situation, she was feeling stronger, better rested and more satisfied, but she was growing anxious for some way to get back to town. She had a message for Elspeth, but she had no idea how she would get it into Elspeth’s hands. Although Wythe went to the brothel regularly, she knew better than to trust him with it, or to beg a ride. He frightened her far more than the obdurate Mrs. Poulson, although she did all she could to avoid them both. Once when she was sitting next to the window in the library, using the sunlight pouring through the panes to read Lord Byron’s
Don Juan
, a book her mother had always considered too scandalous for her, she heard Wythe in the hall outside and ducked beneath the desk lest he enter and find her there.

Fortunately, he hadn’t intruded on her as she feared he might, but she listened for him always.

On Friday, instead of a tray of food for her evening meal, Mary brought a note from Lord Druridge.

Please join me for dinner this evening.

She stared up at her new friend. “Does he mean
in the dining hall
?”

Mary seemed equally awestruck. “Aye. Mrs. Poulson already ’ad me set another place, so that’s exactly what ’e means. I’m to ’elp ye dress.”

“But I feel like such an imposter!”

“At least ye’re more likable than Lady Katherine ever was.”

They laughed, but Rachel was no longer laughing when she walked downstairs. She was too nervous, especially when she saw that Lord Druridge was already seated. What would he think of her in his late wife’s dress?

She wasn’t even sure he’d recognize it. She’d had the dressmaker remove the pretentious frills and bows. Now a much simpler design, it had a wide neck that showed her shoulders, a fitted bodice and full sleeves with a wide skirt that fell to her ankles, where a few inches of her stockings showed above the kid leather slippers that had arrived with the dress. For the first time since she could remember, she was wearing three petticoats in addition to her corset.

Lord Druridge stood when she entered the room. “Good evening.”

She dipped into a curtsy. “Good evening to you, my lord.” Feeling self-conscious and shy beneath his regard, she smiled—until Wythe strode into the room. Then she no longer wanted to be there.

“Ah, we have company tonight. And doesn’t she look ravishing.” He bowed but she could tell he wasn’t pleased to have her present. “Cousin, I commend you on your eye for beauty. But I must warn you. If the house help are forced to serve her, they might beat her from the door as soon as you’re not looking.”

Druridge’s gaze turned flinty. “And why would they do that?”

“Because they are green with envy. You are not merely offering Rachel a few baubles for her favors; you are treating her like a respected
lady
. Pray she does not forget her place or she might wind up more of an outcast than ever before.”

“Sit down and hold your tongue,” he said.

Wythe smiled as if the earl had been joking, but Rachel could feel the tension in his body. He resented his cousin’s authority even more than he resented her being at Blackmoor Hall. Maybe he felt as if she was driving a wedge between them. Regardless, the current situation didn’t sit well with him.

“It makes a nice illusion, anyway,” he said. When this drew another sharp glance from Lord Druridge, Wythe ate in silence.

The earl’s eyes flicked to Rachel every few seconds, but she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Had Wythe’s disapproval made him regret inviting
her to dinner? Was he wondering what he would do with her now that she was no longer a servant?

When the meal ended, she stood and curtsied again. “Thank you for supper, my lord.”

She was halfway to the stairs before he said, “I believe you owe me another game of chess, Rachel.”

“Tonight, my lord?”

“Unless you are too tired.”

“No.” She wasn’t tired. She was self-conscious and uncomfortable and unsure where her life was going. She also felt weak in the knees whenever she looked at him, and that scared her more than anything.

“Why did you invite me to dine with you and Mr. Stanhope?”

Truman watched Rachel carefully as he massaged his gloved left hand. In damp weather, it often pained him, had never been the same since the fire. “I’d like you to be comfortable here at Blackmoor Hall, and that means we need to make certain adjustments.”

“But you knew your cousin would feel insulted to be forced to dine with someone of my low station.”

He shrugged. “My cousin is as much a guest in my house as you are. He has no right to object.”

She crossed to the window. “Mrs. Poulson has even less right, and yet she is just as displeased.”

He could see her solemn reflection in the glass. Forever stoic, she seemed willing to brave anything for the sake of her brother. He’d never encountered such unselfishness.

Maybe that was what drew him to her. It was unlike anything he’d ever known from Katherine.

He got up to pour himself a drink. “Mrs. Poulson is not a pleasant individual generally, but my parents thought her presence might ease Wythe’s transition, seeing as he lost both father and mother in so short a time.”

“She was already familiar to him?”

“She has worked for Wythe’s family since he was a babe. Whenever I am tempted to sack her, I remind myself that it would be cruel to deprive my cousin of a servant he values so highly, especially because she is, despite her other faults, efficient.” Not only that but the memory of his cousin struggling to get him out of the house before he could burn to death bound him to behave in certain ways, despite all the disappointment and suspicion that complicated their relationship.

“You are far more generous than most lords.”

“And what do you know of any other lords, Rachel? Any other
men
, for that matter?” He lowered his voice. “From what I remember, you’ve known only me.”

She flushed at his words. “I am not likely to forget that.”

He tossed back his drink. “Unfortunately, neither am I.”

“Because you now feel obligated to take care of me?”

The fact that she would hate being an unwelcome burden brought the truth to his lips. “Because I crave more of the same.”

At this admission, her mouth dropped open in surprise, but it was better that she feel empowered than he. He had every other advantage. “I-I inquired as to what you expected,” she said. “You haven’t asked me to pay you a visit.”

“No, and I won’t. I will keep my word, because I wouldn’t want you to ‘pay’ me anything. I would be a liar, however, if I said I don’t dream of you coming to me on your own.”

Her eyebrows drew together, marring an otherwise smooth forehead. “You left my room the other night, when you brought the salve.”

“I don’t want your gratitude to be… a compelling force.”

“Why me?”

His voice grew husky. “Are you
that
unaware of your beauty?”

“I am aware that there are plenty of other women—from high-born ladies to servants to village girls—and that you can have your pick of the lot.”

“So I keep telling myself.” He only wished the promise of “other women” was enough to distract him. “Shall we play?”

She made no move toward the chess set. “I heard your argument with Linley the other morning.”

He’d gotten too worked up, allowed the conversation to get out of hand three days ago. But he’d never had Linley oppose him so stubbornly. “I apologize. Please don’t let anything we said worry you.”

“Even if Mr. Linley is right?”

“About… ?”

“Angering Lady Katherine’s parents.”

Leaning one hip on the edge of his desk, he took a sip of brandy. “You mean
further
angering them?”

“You should send me off to… to London, as you mentioned once before.”

Even though he feared what might become of her? Even though it was the thought of her that brought him his only happiness? “Is that what you want, Rachel?”

She began to pace. “I would hate to leave Geordie, but—”

Setting his glass aside, he came up behind her. “Then why suggest it? Are you so eager to avoid
me
?”

She didn’t turn to face him, but she didn’t step out of reach. “If it means you will escape the gallows, yes.”

Unable to resist, he brought her around and caught her face in his hands. “Don’t tell me you are starting to like me, Rachel. I am the village monster, remember?”

Her cold fingers circled his wrists, although he could only feel it on the one that was ungloved. “
Someone
has to fear for your safety, my lord. It’s not as if you take much care to look out for yourself.”

Wythe accused him of not caring whether he lived or died. He often wondered if that was true. As Linley so often pointed out, he hadn’t been the same since the fire. The long, lonely nights wore on him, the constant soul-searching, the despair of ever finding the answers he craved.

But when Rachel was around he felt new again. That was why he couldn’t bring himself to part with her.

“I have rarely been denied. I fear it has made me no better than Wythe.” Touching her was a mistake. Such close contact turned his blood to fire in his veins, making it difficult to let go. But he did—and put some distance between them. “Do you like the gown?”

She peered down at herself. “It is by far the loveliest thing I have ever owned.”

Thanks to the difference in their respective heights, he had a generous view of her bare shoulders and cleavage. Perhaps she wasn’t as curvaceous as was fashionable. Her life had been too difficult. But he thought she looked better in that dress than Katherine ever had. And her delight in such simple things brought a little of the innocence back into his own life. “Enjoy it. I will treat you well while I can.”

“Meaning what? You will send me away once you marry?”

“I will have no choice.”

Her voice softened. “Will that happen soon?”

“Most likely.” Given his precarious circumstances, it was a small miracle that the Duke of Pembroke was willing to help. He’d be a fool to let the opportunity slip through his grasp. Although he continued to proclaim his innocence, he hadn’t found any hint or trace of the paintings he believed were missing, and that shook his faith, made him wonder if he’d dreamed up the absence of
Landscape with the Fall of Icarus
to absolve himself from the guilt that plagued him.

Maybe he deserved to swing. Part of him would be grateful to put a decisive end to the matter. But duty got in the way even there. If he was hanged, who would look after Blackmoor Hall? Should he die without a son, the entire estate would pass to Wythe, and his cousin showed no aptitude for running his own life, let alone managing so much land, money and servants. Wythe could barely fulfill his duties as steward of the mine.

“Wythe would not make a proper lord,” she murmured as if she were reading his mind.

“Wythe cares more for drinking and whoring than anything else,” he agreed. “I would be letting down every Stanhope who came before me if I allowed Blackmoor Hall to pass to him.”

“Then you must do everything in your power to avoid it.”

But that meant he should be doing everything in his power to avoid
her
, because the more time he spent with Rachel, the less inclined he was to notice another woman.