Whisper To Me of Love (31 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Royce believed him, and his moment of wariness gone, concisely he gave them directions. Fixing them with a level stare, he finished with “Be especially careful when you come to Lime Tree Cottage. I'm certain the one-eyed man will discover soon enough where we have gone—particularly since he has his own spy within my household—but we don't want him knowing that
we
are working together!”
Nodding his head, Ben said sharply, “We ain't fools exactly, you know!”
“No, I'm aware of that—I am being overly cautious.” Glancing questioningly at them, he asked, “I don't suppose you have learned anything new about him?”
Jacko looked very sly. “Well, you're wrong, guvnor! He has been a crafty old fox, and we've lost him as often as we've been able to follow him, but we've learned a few things. Such as he has more than one hiding place—probably dozens of 'em scattered all over London; we've followed him to three of them already. But this is what's interesting—we ain't sure, but we think that the one-eyed man ain't really one-eyed and that he's a member of the gentry!” Having delivered his astonishing news, Jacko watched Royce expectantly.
“Good God!” Royce exclaimed in tones of angry exasperation. “If that is the case, I probably have been rubbing shoulders with the bloody bastard all this time and didn't even know it!”
“Our thoughts exactly,” Ben said softly. “He could be anyone, someone you know, even a friend of yours... .”
C
HAPTER
19
W
ednesday morning dawned bright and sunny, and Royce, Zachary, and Morgana were able to leave the house on Hanover Square as scheduled. Pulling smartly away from the house less than an hour after dawn, Royce breathed a faint sigh of relief, eager to put London and the one-eyed man behind him, but Ben's words of last night were still uncomfortably swirling around in his brain.
His thoughts only half on the horses he was driving, Royce kept going over last night's conversation with Jacko and Ben again and again, wishing he could dismiss entirely all that they had said. Reviewing their words, he admitted that they had told him very little; they
suspected
a great deal, but they had proof of nothing! And while he might want to simply dismiss their suspicions, instinct told him that Jacko and Ben had stumbled onto the truth. It would explain one thing about the one-eyed man, Royce admitted unwillingly as his curricle left the gray pall of London behind and the long-legged strides of the horses began to rapidly diminish the distance to Tunbridge Wells—such as how the one-eyed man managed to learn that various members of the aristocracy had need of his services.... He was one of them!
Concentrating grimly on the ugly implications of what he had learned last night from Morgana's brothers, Royce scowled, unaware of the passing countryside or even the presence of the other two occupants of the curricle. It was Morgana's gasp of pleasure that roused him from his black thoughts and caused him to glance at her.
Dressed in the height of fashion in a rose-colored pelisse with cherry red braid at the collar and cuffs and a wide-brim chip-straw hat with ribbons that matched the braid on her pelisse, Morgana looked especially fetching this morning. From between the openings at the bottom of the pelisse, there was a glimpse of the apple green muslin gown she wore underneath, and the cherry red ribbons of the hat were tied in a saucy bow beneath one ear. But it wasn't just her stylish clothing that made her so rivetingly attractive this morning—her mouth was curved in an enchanting smile and her gray eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
Watching the expression of delighted awe on her lovely face, the sheer untrammeled pleasure she took in the wooded little valleys and open, undulating grassy pastures that flew by as the horses continued to trot down the road at a spanking pace, Royce felt something tighten in his chest. If only, he thought fiercely, I could keep her looking like that—eager, happy, and without a care in the world! If only there were no one-eyed man for her to fear, and if only she weren't a grasping little harlot! He frowned at the unpleasant direction of his thoughts, but not at all inclined to dampen her obviously high spirits, Royce refused to dwell on all the disagreeable aspects of their relationship. Morgana was safe and happy for the moment, and he found that knowledge oddly satisfying.
A half-tender, half-amused smile twitched at the corner of his mouth when her eyes widened and a wondering smile lit up her animated face at the sight of a dainty spotted deer darting across the road. Turning to him, she asked excitedly, “Wasn't it simply beautiful?”
His eyes roaming appreciatively over her countenance, her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, Royce said with a strange note in his voice, “Yes. Quite the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life.”
Morgana glanced uncertainly up at him, her face becomingly framed by the chip-straw with its big, cherry red bow. A question in the huge gray eyes, she stared at him, her heart suddenly beating rather erratically in her breast at the expression in Royce's tiger eyes. For a long moment they looked at each other, their gazes locked and intent, until Zachary broke the queer little silence by asking dryly, “We are talking about the deer, aren't we?”
Tearing his gaze away and blindly focusing on the horses, Royce answered automatically, “Of course. What else could I have been referring to?”
Looking at the two instantly shuttered faces, Zachary laughed and murmured, “Of course! It couldn't have been anything else.”
The journey to Tunbridge Wells was largely uneventful. Since the hour was early, once they had left London a few miles behind them, they had the road almost to themselves, the only other travelers being the occasional coach or a farmer's cart loaded with produce on its way to market. It was a leisurely trip. They stopped about ten o'clock at a posting inn that George had recommended to rest and water the horses and to stretch their legs. They had eaten a scant breakfast hours ago, so they also partook of a tastily prepared meal before continuing their travels.
Since Morgana had never been away from the smoke-filled skies of industrial London, had never known anything but the constant noise, the stench, the sheer multitude of people, and the oppressive gloom of building pressing upon building, the open countryside was a wondrous place to her. She had never seen wild deer before, nor glimpsed a little brown rabbit scuttling along the edge of the road, and had, quite frankly, never noticed the intense blue of the sky—the sky in London often blotted out by the gray smudge of smoke and fog that frequently shrouded the city. Each bright patch of wildflowers, each copse of willowy green trees, became an enchanted oasis to her, and she could not help exclaiming aloud with pleasure. To someone raised in a place filled with vermin and grime, to someone at home with narrow, twisting alleys clogged with filth, almost literally entombed by the dark, shabby buildings that stood slumped together, the sheer
openness
of the landscape was a breathtaking experience.
The curricle crested a slight rise, and seeing the land falling away in gently undulating swells of small, tree-dotted valleys, with cottages, farms, and orchards scattered here and there, Morgana could not help exclaiming ecstatically, “Oh! It is
so
lovely! I never dreamed it could be so very beautiful.” A small red fox unexpectedly loped across the road in front of the curricle and she sighed blissfully, “A
fox!
Oh, did you see it?”
Royce and Zachary glanced curiously at her. They took for granted the solitude of the verdant and tangled growth of their homeland, Louisiana, as well as the multitude of animals that roamed that lush wilderness, and equally at ease in England's more-populated, less-forested meadows and rolling hills, neither one had given any thought to the fact that Morgana had never been out of the crowded, building-smothered streets and alleys of London in her life, that she had always lived in a narrow, mean little world surrounded by buildings of rotting lumber and crumbling stone. Her utter fascination with the widening expanse and the animals that inhabited it seemed to be extreme, and just a bit bored by her naive wonder, Zachary yawned and murmured, “It's only a damned fox, Morgana. Nothing to get all cock-a-hoop about!”
Morgana's face fell, and Royce was aware of a strong desire to box Zachary's ears. He was hurriedly searching for some way to restore her happy mood when she said innocently, “But you don't understand, Zachary—I have never seen a
real
live fox before ... or a rabbit ... or a deer, or even a meadow, and so to me, it is all very exciting.” She smiled impishly and added, “You have to remember—
this
is only the third time I have ever ridden in a vehicle! And the other two times were that day I picked Royce's pocket and then when he took me to the dressmaker's.
Everything
is new and thrilling to me—even ‘only a damned fox'!”
Royce was taken aback, the enormity of the simple things that had been denied her hitting him like a blow. Looking distressed, Zachary apologized profusely, “Oh, Jesus, Morgana! I never thought! Please forgive me! Of course you find it exciting—as well you should! I am an insensitive bumpkin not to have realized it.”
Desperately seeking to retrieve himself, Zachary spied three deer grazing peacefully nearby in a grassy paddock. “Look!” he said excitedly, “See those deer over there?”
And though he knew he was acting the fool, Royce chimed in eagerly with “And over there near that hedge—there is a rabbit! See it?”
The polite world of London would have been agape at the wild enthusiasm two of its members suddenly displayed for avidly spotting and pointing out such bucolic pleasures as a hare nibbling a patch of clover, a newborn calf struggling to stand, and a small hedgehog lazily meandering down the middle of the road. The miles flew by as Zachary and Royce fell over themselves to bring to Morgana's rapt attention all the glories to be found in the English countryside; not one rabbit, one deer, nor one wildflower was allowed to pass without their zealous comment. By the time the gig passed the gatekeeper's cottage and the horses swung down the road to Lime Tree Cottage, Morgana was far more conversant with the flora and fauna of England than she had ever thought possible!
The gray eyes sparkling brightly, an excited flush on her cheeks and a beguiling smile curving her mouth, she exclaimed blissfully, “How exciting this has been! I feared that we would be dreadfully bored, but the time has passed so swiftly that I cannot believe that we are actually here already!”
Smiling warmly down at her, the difficulties that lay between them momentarily forgotten, Royce said lightly, “Dare I hope that it has been our company that made the journey seem so short?”
She giggled delightfully and said saucily, “The company was most enjoyable, but the scenery ... and the animals;
that's
what made the time pass!”
“A hit!” Zachary shouted with glee. “A palpable hit, Royce!”
“Well, it certainly puts me in my place, doesn't it?” Royce replied easily, not a whit abashed by her comment. He was, he admitted uneasily to himself, thoroughly under her spell, and it mattered naught to him that she came from the gutter or that it was only his money that kept her by his side. She had only to sigh for him to crave to kill dragons in her behalf, and the sight of a frown on those lovely features could smite him like a blow. And as for a smile ... he grinned idiotically—for one of her smiles, he would willingly act the fool!
Unfortunately Royce's lightheartedness could not last. He was, though he tried to pretend otherwise, painfully conscious, if not
furiously
conscious, that Morgana
should
represent nothing more to him than a pleasant interlude. Her only purpose was to slake his passion, passion that she seemed capable of igniting without effort; but mysteriously and, Royce would have said, unfairly, her presence in his life had become vital to his happiness—at least for the present, he amended grimly. And so as the horses turned a broad curve and Lime Tree Cottage came into view, he was mistrustful and angry at the effortless way she had snarled his normally serene and unruffled composure into a mass of seething contradictions, and utterly baffled at how handily she had aroused emotions, such as jealousy and possessiveness, that he had never guessed he could feel.
Royce found himself slowing the horses as they approached Lime Tree Cottage, a prime example of the lengths a besotted fool would go to please a woman. He waited expectantly for Morgana's reaction to her first sight of the house that he had bought for her. When it came, it was everything that he could have hoped for—she paled, her eyes widened, her fingers clutched his arm, and a gasp of sheer wonderment escaped from her.
There was no denying that the house made a charming sight, sitting, as it did, on a slight hill, and at this distance, the stone walls that surrounded it did not conceal any of its elegance. Sunlight glinted on the many tall, arched windows of the gracefully sprawling building, and the thatched roof with its many dormers gave it, despite its grand size, a quaint air. Roses, larkspur, daisies, and tall wallflowers grew in seemingly wild profusion near the windows and doors, and an emerald, tree-dotted lawn surrounded the two-story building, with several flower-lined paths leading here and there in a beguilingly aimless fashion. Various necessary outbuildings could be glimpsed beyond the house, but it was the cottage, actually more of a mansion, that held the eye and excited the admiration. In spite of its impressive grandeur, there was something exceedingly welcoming and cozy about it, and Morgana was spellbound as the curricle passed through the pair of filigreed iron gates and the horses finally stopped in front of the building.
She could say nothing, she could only stare with something between astonishment and terror at the magnificent “cottage” that Royce had supposedly purchased for her. When he had first mentioned the place to her, she had quite literally expected some snug little farmer's cottage where she and her brothers would eventually live quite happily, but
this
... Her mind boggled at the knowledge that in order to share her bed, Royce had gone out and secured a damned bloody mansion!
It didn't matter that he had done so at her express wish—she had writhed with shame more than one night since she had stated her outrageous demands, but she had also tried to console herself with the intelligence that she was doing this for her own future, as well as that of her brothers, and that Manchester was reputed to be quite wealthy and could very well afford to be generous to his mistress. But even so, she had never expected the “cottage” to resemble the elegant and gracious structure before her, nor had she ever dreamed to own such a magnificent house herself.
For Morgana, raised as she had been in one of the worst overcrowded slums in London, the idea of calling Lime Tree Cottage home or claiming to own it was incomprehensible. Accustomed as she was to the cramped and tawdry furnishings of her own tiny two-room home in St. Giles, the house on Hanover Square had been almost intimidatingly spacious and extravagantly furnished, and viewing the building before her, she was conscious of a hollow feeling in her chest as she strongly suspected that the house on Hanover Square would fit inside it twice! Royce
couldn't
have purchased this property for her!

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