Arcana (25 page)

I want to feel him, to revel in the differences between our bodies. I trail my hands down from his hair to his wide shoulders and lower still, to the unyielding muscles of his back.

He smiles into my lips. “Your tentative touch is driving me mad.”

“And you’ve been teasing me for the past few minutes,” I say between kisses.

“Only because I don’t want to push you too far,” he says, pulling away to meet my heavy gaze. “I swear to you it isn’t my intention to kiss you so soundly, but you make it bloody hard not to when you respond to me like that.”

A surprised laugh escapes me. It’s a heady realization to know I can affect him just as much as he affects me. “Shall we promise to be good for the rest of the afternoon then? Perhaps go on that walk you mentioned earlier?”

“Yes, a walk sounds safe. We’ll even invite your sister to make it that much more proper. Maybe then I will be able to keep my hands off you.”

The hall is quiet as we walk, and I try to compose myself. I’m more than a little self-conscious about the contact, but only because I’m afraid of either Grandmama or another guest seeing us—not that I’d seen anyone else.

“Have the others arrived?” I ask, with another paranoid glance around.

“Everyone else will arrive on the morrow.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Even your brother?”

He smiles. “No, you’ll meet James soon enough.”

He’s back to being cryptic, so I try to relax for once and not try to control the situation. He stops at the room I think is Lucy’s and knocks.

“Care to join us for a walk?” Lord Thornewood asks when Lucy answers the door, his expression all innocence.

“Oh, I’d love to,” Lucy says. “Would you mind waiting for a moment while I get my drawing materials?”

“Not at all.”

She rushes back inside her room, and I keep my eyes focused on one of the paintings on the wall. I will
not
review the previous ten minutes in my mind. I will
not
think of the way his soft lips felt against mine.

“You’re blushing,” Lord Thornewood says quietly, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

“Ready,” Lucy calls, clutching her drawing paper and charcoal to her chest as if it was a beloved child.

I thought Lord Thornewood would release my hand when Lucy joined us, but he keeps it tucked under his elbow as if it is the most natural thing in the world. To my sister’s credit, she doesn’t even give me a questioning look.

He leads us out a side door and into a garden blossoming with hydrangea, peonies, and ivy. The garden is controlled chaos, with blooms exploding over one another and atop trellises. Lucy makes a happy little squeak, her eyes darting around for the best vantage spot.

I lean over to smell one of the peonies’ sweet fragrance. What would it be like to live in such a place? To feel every day as if I’ve stepped into a story from
Arabian Nights
? I haven’t even seen the stable yet, but I’m sure it’s as amazing as the rest of his estate. When I glance back at Lord Thornewood, he’s looking at me in that intense way that makes my body come alive.

A loud bark startles me, and I turn around just in time to see a massive wolfhound barreling toward us. His tongue is lolling out, so despite his considerable size, I don’t worry he plans to attack.

“James,” Lord Thornewood shouts, “come get your bloody hound before it knocks one of these ladies over.”

James strolls toward us, completely unconcerned by his brother’s obvious anger. His resemblance to Lord Thornewood is uncanny, though he is much more lean and lanky. He has the same hair, the same strong jaw, but his eyes must have come from the other parent as they are much lighter.

“To me, Bear,” James says with an impish half-grin. The wolfhound goes immediately to his side, calm and obedient. I stifle a laugh as I wonder if he sent the dog ahead just to rile Lord Thornewood.

Lord Thornewood pinches the bridge of his nose and gestures for his brother to join us. “You’ve made your entrance. Now come meet our guests.”

His grin still in place, he executes a short bow as Lord Thornewood makes the introductions. Lucy keeps her eyes everywhere but James, her momentary air of ease all but disappeared.

“James, the Sinclairs are daughters of Robert Sinclair, Father’s dear friend.”

James nods. “I know. And you’ve been asked to make the elder Miss Sinclair the talk of London.” He turns to me and arches his eyebrows. “Well? Has my brother been successful?”

Lord Thornewood groans. “You don’t have to answer that. In fact, you don’t have to answer any of his questions.”

James laughs. “You’re just afraid of what she’ll say. My brother has the advantage of being a wealthy earl, but his personality can be somewhat lacking.”

“I recognize sibling banter when I hear it,” I say, “so I think I will take Lord Thornewood’s advice and decline to respond.”

“No fun at all,” James says. He turns to Lucy. “And what of you, Miss Lucy? Do you believe my brother has been any help to your sister?”

“Leave her be, James,” Lord Thornewood says. “If I’m lacking, then you are overbearing. The girl is too well-bred to respond to any of your taunts.”

James shrugs and takes a seat on one of the benches. The wolfhound stays stuck to his side. “Since you won’t even let me talk to either of these beautiful ladies, I hope you have invited other guests for the ball tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

“So a round of cricket in the early afternoon and a ball in the evening?”

“If you wish.”

“My brother is a sphinx,” James says to me, and I swallow a laugh. “He
is
capable of holding longer conversations, but he has to be passionate about something.” He glances at me again. “Or someone.”

“Enough,” Lord Thornewood says. “Come, my brother has taken over the garden with his hound and his running commentary.”

I laugh. “My lord, it’s fine. Your brother is not as bothersome to us as he is to you. Trust me, I have a brother, too. They only have the power to annoy their siblings.”

James holds up his hands. “I’ll go. I need to settle in anyway.” He bows again toward Lucy and me. “It was truly a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, my lord,” I say.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “This will be a fun party indeed.”

SEVENTEEN

T
HE
morning is refreshingly peaceful without the constant noise of London’s streets. Rays of sunlight glint off the lake, turning the water into liquid crystal as I sit at the mahogany vanity.

Devi, the maid Lord Thornewood provided for me, runs a brush through my hair and smiles at me in the mirror. She wears the traditional Indian sari, a lovely rose color that looks so rich against her jet-black hair. “You have lovely hair, my lady.”

“I thank you, but I’m afraid I can never do anything with it. If it was left to me, I’d look more banshee than lady.”

There’s a kindness in her eyes as she laughs. “No indeed. Hair like this won’t take me long at all.”

“You’re more talented than me then,” I say, sorting through my jewelry for something simple to wear. I point over my shoulder at the gown I’ve removed from my trunk. “Do you think that will be suitable for what my lord has planned?”

She turns to look. “Perhaps a wrap, too, for warmth.”

I nod as I watch her smooth my hair. It makes me think of my own maid at home. “Devi,” I say after a moment, and she meets my eyes in the mirror, “have you always been a lady’s maid?”

She bobs her head. “Yes, my lady. Since I was sixteen.”

I watch her fingers gain control of my thick hair, deftly weaving it into a soft chignon. “How do you remain so skilled when there are no ladies to wait on here?”

Her smile is wistful. “My fingers haven’t forgotten what to do. But you’re right, it’s been a long time since I’ve had the pleasure of serving in the position I was originally brought here for.”

“Were you Lady Thornewood’s maid?” I ask.

“Yes, and I miss her terribly. It was such a tragedy to die so young, leaving those boys without a mother.”

I suspected Lord Thornewood’s mother was no longer living, since he made no mention of her. Now I know for sure. “He and I have that in common, then.”

Her hands pause in the act of smoothing my hair. “I am sorry to hear that, my lady.” She resumes her work with a shake of her head. “My lord was much too young when he began caring for his younger brother. He’s always taken on too many responsibilities.”

He had lost his father, too, I know. My own had attended the funeral, though I can no longer recall when it was. “When did Lord Thornewood’s father die?”

“Not terribly long ago. Two years. But he was never as involved with his family as Lady Thornewood. And there’s no replacing a mother.”

I think of my own kind father, of the way Robert and I had helped raise Lucy. What would it have been like if it was only Lucy and me? Without the benefit of Papa’s wisdom or Robert’s wit? If I had to shoulder the entire burden of the responsibility?

“Lord Thornewood must be a very kind brother.”

“Oh, the kindest, my lady,” she says with great enthusiasm. “I’ve never had a more generous employer. All the servants know we can go to him with anything, and we will be heard.”

Such a different picture than the one I formed of Lord Thornewood when I first met him. I wonder, though, if he’s generous and kind enough to accept even my true identity. I frown and look down at my hands. The closer I grow to him, the more I am afraid of my secret ruining everything.

“There,” Devi says, patting the last few stray hairs in place. “Is it to your liking?”

I drag myself back to the present moment and hide my worries with a smile. “It’s lovely, thank you.”

“Anything else you need, my lady?”

“No, nothing, Devi. Thank you.”

She smiles and bobs her head, closing the door behind her. As I fasten a gold cross around my neck, my father’s words return to me unbidden.
It never prevented me from marrying your mother.
Papa knew about Mama, but he married her for love. Still, I struggle with the idea there are two such men in the world. Can Lord Thornewood possibly be as open-minded?

I shake my head and stand. It’s no use staying in my room fretting. Better to face the day.

I find him in the library, sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire crackles and licks at the logs, and I watch its flames for a moment, suddenly unsure of myself. His face is in profile to me as he reads a thick leather-bound book of some kind. The firelight glints off his dark hair. My skirts rustle as I take another step forward and he glances up.

“You’re up early,” he says as he stands.

“I’d be up this early every day if Grandmama would let me. It’s much more peaceful when only the birds and servants are awake.”

His eyes take on a teasing glint. “Is that a hint you’d rather explore the library alone?”

“Even if I did, I very much doubt you’d do anything other than exactly what you wanted.”

“You’re right about that,” he says unapologetically. “Since you’re joining me, shall I ring for another cup of tea?”

My stomach rumbles, and I press my hand over my abdomen to stifle the noise. I smile sheepishly. “Yes, if you don’t mind.”

He pulls a velvet rope hung amongst the draperies. “Won’t you sit?” He gestures to the settee across from his wingback chair. “Or would you rather hover there amongst the bookcases?”

I cast him a withering look to mask how nervous I feel.

“I trust you slept well last night?” he asks when I sit.

“Yes,” I say with a sigh of pleasure, “it was so lovely to escape the London street noise. I’d all but forgotten how peaceful it is in the country.”

“London is one of the most miserable places on Earth. I much prefer it here.”

My lips part in surprise. “Truly? I thought you to be a connoisseur of all London had to offer.” When his brows draw in concern, I hastily add, “That is, things of a . . . proper nature.” I look away, wishing desperately for the cup of tea, or at least a servant to interrupt.

He leans back in his chair, appraising. “You believe the rumors then. That I’m a terrible rake?”

“I . . . had not—” I glance at the door, willing someone to enter. “Not really,” I finish lamely. The truth is I’ve learned so much about Lord Thornewood in the past few days, I’m not sure
what
to think.