Anne Barbour (11 page)

“Oh! I didn’t think of that. Well, I suppose a preliminary sketch of the whole room would be best, with a second, detailed drawing of the head.”

“As you wish, madam.”

David waved her from the room and lit two more of the lanterns stored in a corner. Settling himself against a large, stone urn, he set down a few preliminary lines. A small smile curled his lips. How had he let Kate talk him into this? A morning spent in a dark, damp ruin was not high on his list of pleasant recuperative activities. It had been well-nigh impossible, however, to resist the appeal in those great hazel eyes. He thought back a few moments to when her hand had lain in his. He had been conscious of its warmth all the way down to his knees, and when she had moved away so suddenly, he had the oddest sensation that a part of him dropped away to move with her. Strange that her touch affected him so profoundly. He had not realized that her unguarded affection would be so unsettling—perhaps because he knew it to be so badly misplaced. He turned his mind resolutely to the task at hand.

It was not long before he became immersed in his work, returning to reality some time later at the sound of Kate’s voice.

“David! We’ve been here for almost two hours!”

With some difficulty, he hefted himself into an upright position. Limping badly and blinking in the sunlight, he emerged from the entrance to the villa, clutching at a tree for support.

“I feel as though I’ve been in there for a week,” he complained, flexing his fingers. “No, no, I’m all right,” he continued impatiently as Kate flew to his side. “I stiffen up when I stay in one position for very long. Just give me a few minutes to work out the kinks, then we’d better get back,
pronto.
Lucius will have the guard out looking for me. Here, how’s this?”

He handed his sketch pad to her and leaned back against the tree, slowly stretching his aching leg muscles.

“Oh, David, they’re wonderful!” she cried, examining the two drawings. Before her was displayed, in precise proportions, the room containing the marble head, and a detailed representation of the head itself. “It’s just what I needed. Now I can take the head away with me!”

She hurried into the darkness of the ruined house and returned in a moment with her treasure, wrapped in its scarf.

“I believe I’ll keep it in my room for a while,” she continued, “just to look at, and then I’ll lock it away for safe keeping.”

“Where?”

“Well,” she replied slowly. “I thought I might use one of the rooms in the west wing. Aunt Regina has closed almost all the rooms there, and there are plenty of sturdy cupboards, where no one would think to look.”

“And is it to stay there, locked away, where no one else can look at it, either?”

David’s tone was gentle, but Kate flushed. She raised her head to meet his level glance.

“I know it’s not right.” There was a long moment before she continued. “All right. At the end of the summer, I’ll announce my find. As for the artifacts, I’ll create a place, perhaps in Bath, where people can come to look at them.”

“Good girl! I can just picture you giving learned lectures to a spellbound audience of bespectacled academics.”

Kate laughed rather self-consciously, and the two moved toward their horses. Here, David paused uncertainly. Kate eyed him in silence.

“I’m going to need help in mounting,” he finally said in a harsh voice.

Kate sensed the effort it had taken to say the words, and she turned carelessly toward him.

“Of course. What can I do?”

“I think I can manage once I clamber onto the boulder, but old Barney will have to stand perfectly still during the operation. Will you hold the reins?”

“Of course,” she repeated in the same casual tone.

Luckily, Barney was of a placid nature, and did not dispute Kate’s firm instructions to remain motionless. In an awkward motion, David hoisted himself onto the boulder and attempted to maneuver himself into the saddle. Suddenly, he halted, and gasped with pain.

“What is it?” cried Kate, her own heart wrenched to see him so. “What can I do?”

“Nothing. Oh God!” The words were torn from him in an involuntary cry as he endeavored to inch his leg out of its crabbed position.

Maintaining her hold on the reins, Kate moved to put her shoulder under his good hip. To her vast relief, this provided the needed leverage, and with a grunt, David slid into place.

His face was white, and his breathing labored. Kate turned away to busy herself with Belle, and by the time she was settled in her own saddle, she was relieved to note that a tinge of color had returned to his thin cheeks.

They turned their horses toward Westerly, and when he could speak in a normal voice, David muttered, “I appreciate your help. I must have looked ludicrous back there.”

He shot her a sidelong glance and braced himself for the spurious denial and the outpouring of sympathy he was sure would follow. Instead, to his astonishment, Kate chuckled.

“Yes, you did look somewhat odd, but not nearly so silly as the time you fell bottom first into that bramble bush, and had to ride home on your belly. I thought Philip would laugh himself sick at you, clinging to the horse with your toes while your rump bobbed up and down in the air. At least this time, you ended up with your bottom in the saddle, where it belongs.”

Kate held her breath. Would he resent her cavalier treatment of his pain? Please God, don’t let him think she was making fun of him. Please let him laugh with her!

She almost shuddered in relief as his rueful chuckle joined hers.

“Next time,” she continued, “we’ll figure out a better way to manage.”

“A ladder, perhaps.”

“Or a scaffold.”

They proceeded a few more paces in silence before David turned to Kate, his eyes warm.

“Thank you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“For—for not saying all the wrong things.”

Kate found she could not reply, so she merely shook her head, smiling, eyes downcast. In a moment, she lifted her face again to his, her face now serious.

“Is there no possibility of your regaining more mobility? I mean, through exercise, perhaps ...”

David lifted a hand in an almost defensive gesture.

“No,” he said sharply. “This is my permanent condition, and I shall have to learn to live with it. There was one among the quacks who labored over me who suggested that a planned series of exercises might prove therapeutic, but I consider that nothing but painful nonsense. There was another doctor who mentioned the possibility of more surgery in the future, after the tissue had a chance to heal, but after the hours I spent on the table at that time, I have no wish to subject myself to their instruments of torture again.”

Kate shook her head in bewilderment at this statement. It seemed utterly foreign to David’s nature to give up so easily. She searched in her mind for a topic with which to change the subject.

But, David was before her, with a matter that had been on his own mind since Regina’s announcement that first night over dinner.

“I have been remiss—I forgot to wish you happy.”

Kate stared at him blankly. His face was a mask of cool courtesy, and she could not, for a moment, fathom his meaning.

“Your betrothal to Lawrence,” he prompted, his eyes giving nothing away.

“Oh!” Kate blushed furiously. “I am
not
betrothed to Lawrence. I don’t know what got into Aunt Regina to say such a thing.”

“Don’t you? Lawrence said a union between the two of you had been Father’s dearest wish.”

Kate fairly gasped in indignation.

“Well, if it was, Uncle Thomas never mentioned it to me! At—at least ...” She faltered. “At least, not in so many words.” She stiffened in her saddle. “I have no intention of marrying Lawrence. And I can assure you that Lawrence’s plans do not include marrying me.”

“But, if not Lawrence,” said David, after a moment, “then, who? Surely, you are not without admirers, even in this backwater. Is there no one,” he continued lightly, “on whom your maidenly favor has settled?”

Kate could feel the blood rise to heat her cheeks, but she tried to reply in a like vein.

“My maidenly favor has not been offered many options. I don’t go out much, even to the Bath assemblies.”

“But, during your Season, you must have—” David paused, his eyes narrowed. “Surely, you had a London Season?”

“Oh, yes, of course,” she replied hastily. “But, I’m afraid I did not put myself forward as Aunt would have liked. I was a little overwhelmed by all the glitter and fuss, and never could enter into the festivities with any degree of enjoyment.”

“Still, the young bucks must have flocked around you at the balls and breakfasts, and, of course, Almack’s.”

“Well—” Kate smiled—”actually, there weren’t that many balls and breakfasts. Aunt knows very few people in London, you see—since her marriage, she said, she has not kept up with very many of her old friends, thus we were not invited about much. We were offered vouchers for Almack’s, but the few times we went, Aunt developed a headache and we left early.”

“I see,” said David, his jaw hard, “or at least I’m beginning to. Tell me, wasn’t there any one young man who swept you off your feet?”

Kate’s cheeks reddened again.

“Oh, there was Charles, of course. Lord Stevendon, that is. He seemed to find me—attractive. He came to call several times, and took me for rides in the Park. He did become rather particular in his attentions.”

“And?” David prodded.

“And, nothing. Oh, he was very nice, and I liked him immensely. In fact, for a while, I thought perhaps ... But, in the end it came to nothing. Aunt and Uncle found him unacceptable, they said. They thought him rather coming—said there was bad blood in the family. At any rate, we left London shortly after that to return to Westerly.”

“I’m not surprised,” said David dryly. “And did you weep and wring your hands?”

Kate laughed merrily.

“Heavens, no! Oh, I did miss him for a while, but I was quite content to come home. I fear,” she sighed, “I am not a very social sort of person. I love my rambles here, and reading, and a comfortable coze every now and then with some of my friends in Bath.”

“What a giddy life you do lead, Miss Millbank.”

Kate opened her mouth to frame an indignant retort, but they had by now reached the stable yard, and were met by Josiah Moody. As he assisted David from his saddle, Kate began her descent from her own steed.

When she completed her dismount, David was at her side to catch her as she sprang to the ground. In the instant she was pressed against his body, she absorbed the fact that a great deal of strength remained in his thin frame. In a far corner of her mind, she acknowledged another fact; the contact was surprisingly pleasurable.

Chapter Eight

In the following days, Kate saw little of David. He spent much of his time in what had formerly been Thomas’s study, closeted with Mr. Smollett, Richard Pettigrew, the estate bailiff, and William Pennyforce, his agent in chief. Interspersed with visits from these personages, Lucius could be seen slipping into the study at odd hours, at which times Kate was rewarded by the sound of David’s laughter.

Lawrence was largely invisible, skulking about the house like a petulant shadow. He had asked David’s pardon on the morning following his drunken tirade, but his self-important apology could hardly have been called conciliatory.

“For don’t think,” he said, “I’ll just disappear gracefully into the woodwork. May not be the Earl of Falworth, or even Viscount Standing, but still have my position to uphold. I shall present a list to you shortly of my current needs. Trust you’ll be able to spare a few minutes from your pressing new responsibilities.”

He glanced at David’s desk, barely visible under the mountain of account books, tenant lists, land surveys, and a hundred other pieces of paper, each clamoring for immediate attention. Turning abruptly, Lawrence strode from the room, tossing over his shoulder the information that David should not look for him at dinner, since he would be spending the evening in Bath with a few choice spirits.

David closed his eyes for a moment, then sighed and returned to his mountain.

Of Regina, Kate saw nothing for a full week after the funeral. From Aunt Fred, she learned that a modiste had been commanded to make up a wardrobe of blacks for my lady, and from Cook, she learned that her ladyship had sent down a fistful of special menus, complaining that her appetite was so poor, she could not eat the fare consumed by the rest of the family. She now required such items as plovers eggs coddled in wine and broiled fawn prepared in the Hungarian method.

“I know Aunt Regina’s grief is deep and genuine,” sighed Kate, late one afternoon as she sat in Lady Frederica’s chambers, assisting her aunt in the winding of one of her innumerable spools of colored wool, “and the staff is glad to do anything that will comfort her, but it took me almost an hour to soothe Cook’s sensibilities today. I hope Aunt Regina will be able to dine with the family soon.”

“Oh, I think she will, in due time,” replied the older woman, sucking judiciously on a morsel of toffee. “She just wants to keep everyone guessing. After all, what has she got left?”

“Well, she still has the running of the house. I’m sure David will wish to leave that in her hands.”

“Unless, of course, he asks her to leave.”

“Leave!” Kate squeaked. Then, as she considered the idea, her expression turned thoughtful. “Well, I can see where the two won’t rub along very well here. And she has treated him dreadfully, but—she’s his stepmama, after all, and she’s still the Countess of Falworth. He can hardly boot her out of her home. Besides, David’s not like that!”

“Mmph,” replied her aunt. “More’s the pity. I meant merely that he might suggest she remove to the Dower House. At any rate, I heard from her maid that Her Majesty will be gracing the board with her presence this evening. I think Lawrence will be here, too, and Crawford and Cilia. So, we can look forward to a charming evening
en famille.”

* * * *

“Major, if you don’t sit still, this ‘ere cravitt is goin’ t’end up tied under yer ear!”