Larken (8 page)

“Forgive me, sir, but this evening isn’t going well.” She set her glass down. “Perhaps we’ll try again some other time.”

“Wait! What did I say?”

“I’m just a stupid backwater country girl from Rugby, but even stupid country girls don’t like to be made fools of—
Lord Apollo
.”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry about that, but if I’d told you the portrait was mine, I didn’t think you would believe it.”

“You didn’t say anything because you enjoy feeling smug and superior.”

“
What?”

“Mail-order brides aren’t actual people, after all, so there’s no harm done—isn’t that what you really think, Mr. King? Perhaps my financial circumstances would impress few, but I
am
a gentleman’s daughter and worthy of respect. Honestly, what sort of arrogant, heartless man are you to have devised this sort of soulless marriage?”

Brandon stood with his arms akimbo. “What kind of woman are you to have accepted it?”

“I didn’t want to! My foster parents answered your advertisement, and I wasn’t given a choice. If I hadn’t agreed, I’d have been out on the streets!”

“I rather doubt it.”

“You don’t know a thing about the Howleys or about me.”

“Nor do I care to.”

His rejoinder stung. “You’ve made that entirely obvious.”

From the man’s cold expression, she realized she might as well be speaking to his portrait. The man was like a Meissen porcelain figurine—gorgeous on the outside, but empty at the core. He seemed to lack any capacity for tender feelings or empathy, and she was wasting her time venting her spleen. With a great effort, Larken got her temper under control.

“Please accept my apologies for speaking out of turn.” She was carefully polite. “Truly, I’m grateful just to have clothes, shelter, and food to eat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll return to the sitting room with Myles. Tending to him is what you brought me here to do, after all.”

To her horror, her eyes filled with tears. Mortified, she fled from the drawing room. Poor Myles would be devastated to see her unhappy, and she couldn’t bear to disappoint him. So instead of mounting the stairs, she left the house and let the darkness render her sorrow invisible to everything but the stars. Feeling lost and alone, she wandered through the garden and found a secluded bench where she could have a good cry. What she’d told Mr. King was sincere; she
was
grateful to have her physical needs met. In her few months at the London orphanage, she’d witnessed poverty up close, and knew it to be a cruel, harsh, and demoralizing existence. In fact, she had no right to complain—none—except she couldn’t seem to let go of the life she could have had if her parents hadn’t perished. That life, and her chance for a loving marriage, had fallen into the gorge along with the train and could never be retrieved. Her body had survived the accident, but her soul had been marked forever. Perhaps that’s why she had nightmares and probably always would.

After her emotions were wrung out, she stayed in the garden long enough to ensure Myles had gone to bed. Then she returned to her sitting room, took down the portrait over the mantle, and replaced it with a wreath of dried flowers. First thing tomorrow, the portrait would be returned to the attic. Never again would she put any man on a pedestal like she had “Lord Apollo.” Being struck from such a lofty distance hurt too much.

Myles greeted Larken at breakfast with eager anticipation. “Did you enjoy dinner last night with Mr. King?”

She feigned enthusiasm. “It was wonderful at first, but then I developed a headache. We agreed to do it some other time.”

Myles’ face fell slightly. “Did he at least like your dress?”

“Very much! He pronounced me transformed.”

The boy seemed satisfied…until he noticed the painting over the fireplace had been removed and was now leaning against the wall.

“What happened to Lord Apollo?”

“Well, that’s the best surprise of all. Mr. King shaved off his whiskers because he suspected you didn’t like them, and can you guess?
He
is Lord Apollo.” Larken was somewhat amazed she hadn’t choked on the words.

“No!”

“Yes. And since it seems silly to have Lord Apollo on the wall when he’s here in person, I decided to return his portrait to the attic.”

“I can’t wait to see the way Mr. King looks. Isn’t it funny? You said you wanted to be married to Lord Apollo, and now you are!”

“Yes, it’s very funny indeed.” She smiled through gritted teeth.

When Myles began to shovel his food into his mouth, Larken stopped him.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“I have a riding lesson this morning.”

“If you eat too fast, your food will come up again when you’re sitting on your poor pony, and the groom will have to comb it from his mane.”

Myles burst into laughter at the image, but finally got himself under control. “That would be horrible! I couldn’t do that to Boots.”

“Boots?”

“My pony.”

After Myles finally dashed off to the stables, Larken carried Brandon’s portrait to the attic. While she was there, she discovered a box of old schoolroom primers, scrawled essays, and letters belonging to the King brothers. She sat down to sort through the primers, and to her delight found a book about dancing, with explanations and diagrams. Although the binding was cracked and some of the pages were loose, the information contained therein was still pertinent.

She took the primers and dance manual to the schoolroom and spent a frustrating morning trying to familiarize herself with the steps of the basic waltz. Unfortunately, she couldn’t begin to master the dance without a partner.

When Myles joined her in the sitting room before lunch, he found her perched in the window seat with the manual in her hands.

“What’s that?”

She showed him. “I’d like to learn to dance.”

His brow furrowed as he examined the diagrams. “It’s too hard!”

She sighed. “It
is
hard, but maybe I can get some help.”

When Nell brought in their lunch, Larken asked if she knew of any dance masters in Newcastle who might be willing to tutor her.

“All the best families in the county use Lord Jensen Rowe and his sister, Lady Clarissa.”

“A lord and a lady earning a living?”

“The family had financial difficulties several years ago, but they’re still quite respectable.”

“I’ll send off an inquiry, then, if Mr. King approves. Speaking of lessons, Myles, I found several excellent primers in the attic.”

He groaned.

While Myles and Mr. King were riding the following morning, Larken donned her new riding habit and went to the stables. A groom named Archie saddled a mare and held the reins while she stepped onto a mounting block and settled onto the horse’s back. After she hooked her knee over the pommel, she felt far more secure than she’d expected.

“I’m sure it’s obvious, but I haven’t been on a horse since I was a little girl.”

“You’re doing fine, Mrs. King.” He stroked the mare’s neck. “Juniper is very gentle.”

Archie led Juniper around the paddock in a circle a few times until Larken got used to the saddle. Afterward, he gave her the reins and stood watching while she urged Juniper into a walk. So intent was she on the task at hand, she didn’t notice Mr. King and Myles had returned from their ride and were watching from atop the paddock fence. Myles waved to get her attention, and she reined Juniper in. Although she didn’t mind in the least the lad’s witnessing her feeble attempts to ride again, she wished her cold, arrogant husband was elsewhere.

Mr. King said something to Myles, who waved at her once more before climbing down off the fence and heading back toward the house. Thereafter, he mounted his horse and joined Larken in the paddock.

“Good morning, Larken,” he said.

“Good morning, Mr. King.” Although she was polite, her enthusiasm was contained.

“Look, I regret what I said to you the other night. I didn’t enjoy being scolded, but you were right about a great many things. I’ve been a selfish brute, and my behavior reflects poorly on my character. Had circumstances been different, you could have married someone worthy of your beauty, breeding, and kindness. Will you accept my apology?”

His expression was sincere, and Larken could detect no trace of the smirking superiority he’d displayed. Her dislike of him eased somewhat.

“Yes.”

A relieved smile. “Please call me Brandon.”

Her nod was reluctant, but to refuse his request a second time would have been churlish.

“I accept your apology, Brandon.” His name rolled off her tongue more easily than she’d anticipated.

“Shall we ride to the lake?”

“That mightn’t be wise. I haven’t ridden in years, and my confidence is still shaky.”

“We’ll keep to a walk. You’ll be fine.”

Brandon led the way to a nearby trail, where they rode in silence for a minute or so. Seemingly impatient at the slow pace, his mount tossed his head and pawed the ground. Larken began to feel self-conscious.

“I’m sorry if I’m slowing you down.”

“You’re not. Lightning is just showing off for you. He and I already went for a long ride before breakfast.”

“Oh.” Larken cast about for an innocuous topic of conversation. “Mama used to tell me how the Upper Ten would ride before breakfast on Rotten Row during the Season.”

“Yes, I’ve done that many times. It’s where one can see and be seen by anyone who matters.”

“What’s it like—the Season, I mean?” She hated the wistful note in her voice, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“The Season is an inexorable wave, crashing into town every year.” He chuckled. “Young gentlemen are always in demand. Theo and I were invited to so many parties, dinners, and dances that we could pick and choose which invitations to accept.”

The mention of Theo King piqued Larken’s curiosity. “Does your brother resemble you?”

“Theo was rather more slender through the shoulders and arms and his features were more finely etched. His looks were somewhat ethereal—like yours.” A muscle worked in his jaw, as if he were wrestling with strong emotion. “We were less than a year apart in age, and inseparable.”

“You speak of him in the past.”

“The authorities found his body floating in a Liverpool canal almost five years ago.”

Chapter Six

Wet Knots

“I’
M
S
ORRY
.” L
ARKEN
W
AS
A
GHAST
. “Was your brother murdered?”

“At the inquest, Theo’s death was ruled an accident, but I believe he took his own life. Theo was brilliant. Witty. Idealistic. But he felt things too deeply and sometimes had dark moods. I was the one person who could always pull him out of it. Unfortunately, we’d argued beforehand and I wasn’t around when he needed me most.”

Brandon fell silent. Although Larken dared not ask for any further details, she now knew at least part of the reason for his melancholy.

“Have your nightmares improved?” he asked suddenly.

She glanced at him, startled. “How do you know about those?”

“Myles mentioned them to me.”

“Oh. They’ve been much better lately, thank you. I moved to a new room several doors down from Myles so I wouldn’t bother him at night. Fortunately, that did the trick.” She averted her eyes, unwilling to admit the new room had worsened her bad dreams.

“Is that why you’ve asked the housekeeper for another bottle of laudanum?”

Her lips tightened. She should’ve known there were no secrets from the master of the house. “I-I don’t need the laudanum.”

He sighed. “You can have it. It’s just that you’re a member of my household, and I’m concerned for your welfare. Laudanum can be quite addictive.”

“I’m sorry to cause you any concern. I’m not addicted to laudanum, and the nightmares are nothing new.”

“Am I correct in assuming they stem from the train accident?”

Brandon was absolutely the last person in whom she wished to confide. “Yes. You’re very kind to inquire.”

A chuckle. “You don’t think me kind. In fact, you think I’m loathsome.”