He took a closer look at her and realized that something was seriously amiss. He asked urgently, “What is it? Why are you looking at me that way?”
“Where did you get this horse?” she demanded, half-formed suspicions rioting through her brain. Her face clearly revealed that she considered him suspect of something very dire.
His features reflected surprise as he shrugged his broad shoulders. “I have no idea. He's not one of mineâperhaps he belongs to my sister or my grandmotherâalthough she doesn't ride very often anymore. Why do you ask?”
Tess took a deep, steadying breath, realizing that she was being sillyâof course Nick could have had nothing to do with what had happened to her the night she'd met the smugglersâhe'd been in London! There was bound to be a simple answer to explain Fireball's presence here in his stables.
“Well?” he asked impatiently. “What's so interesting about this particular animal?”
“Nothing . . . only that I recognize himâin fact, he belongs to me. His name is Fireball, and I was riding him the night I escaped from Averyâthe night I met the smugglers.”
Nick's brows snapped together, the reason for the suspicion he'd seen in her face obvious. “And you think that Iâ” He bit back an oath and fought to gain control of the sudden surge of fury that erupted through him. Grimly he asked, “Are you certain it is the same horse? He is not in any way remarkable.”
“I can recognize my own horse, thank you!” she said tightly, and as if to prove her words, Fireball began what was clearly a familiar action, gently nibbling the ribbon that held back her hair.
His jaw tight, Nick looked from her to the small gelding. “Very well. When we get back from our errand, I'll make some inquiries.”
In stiff silence they rode toward their destination, Tess's unspoken suspicions lying like an iron bar between them. Avoiding the longer, winding lane, Nick had chosen a short cut through the formally planted woods that had been laid out over two centuries ago when, to celebrate his ascension to an earldom, the first earl of Sherbourne had overseen their planting.
It was a lovely morning, cool and crisp, the leaves of the oaks and beech beginning to turn, the sun rising round and yellow above the tops of the trees. Under other circumstances Tess would have enjoyed it enormously. But Fireball's presence in Nicolas's stables had unsettled her, even though she was confident
he
could have had nothing to do with it. She risked a glance at Nick's face. Seeing the hard line of his jaw, she knew that he was still offended that she had considered, even fleetingly, that he could have had something to do with her brush with the smugglers.
Tess made a face. “My lord,” she finally said softly, “I'm sorry. I didn't really believe that you were in league with the owlersâI was just startled to see Fireball there in your stablesâthat was all.”
Some of the hardness left his face, and Nick grimaced. “Apology acceptedâI don't exactly blame you for being suspiciousâwe haven't been given much of a chance to learn to trust each other, have we?”
A lump rose in her throat. Perhaps not, but she knew that she would trust him with her life. Sending him a misty smile, she said, “No, we haven't, but we'll just have to try harder in the future. . . .”
He smiled, and in restored harmony they finished their ride.
Even after one day with no habitation, the cottage looked deserted and abandoned, no sign of smoke coming from the chimneys, the windows barred and shuttered. Nick halted his horse at the front of the building, dismounted quickly and lifted Tess down.
“I don't expect to find any smugglers lurking about this time of day,” he began quietly, “but stay close and do exactly as I say. Is that understood?”
Tess nodded, and a few minutes later they were inside the cottage. After Nick found one of the candles that had been left behind by the servants and lit it, they hurried up the stairs that led to the upper floor. The shuttered windows made the interior dark and shadowy, and the cottage now seemed to Tess oddly spooky and forbidding. She could hardly wait to get back outside in the sunlight.
They entered her former bedroom. The room looked lonely and forlorn, dust covers hiding the elegant charm of the furnishings. It took her but a moment to reach the fireplace, and a few minutes after that, she was smiling shyly and handing the small black book to Nick.
Nick was astonished to see that his fingers were trembling slightly as he took the small book from her. He stood there staring down at the worn black leather cover, aware that this little book was very like a Pandora's boxâthe knowledge within it, once released, could never be returned.
Despite the need for haste, he couldn't help opening the book. In the faint, flickering light of his candle, he read:
December 12, 1742:
Â
My worst fears
are realized
â
my father and the
King have put their heads together and decided
upon a bride for me. Giving in to the constant
pressures and demands of my family, during the
past few weeks, I have met with her twice. Her
name is Pallas Leland and she is a sweet child,
fair-haired and blue-eyed, not yet fifteen
â
far too
young for a man my age, but her family is
extremely eager for the match and my father and
the King are insistent that I marryâI am the last
of my line and it is imperative that I have a son to
carry on the title. We are to be married sometime
in the spring
. . . .
It gave Nicolas a strange feeling to read his grandfather's words and an even more peculiar feeling to realize that their situations had been remarkably similarâjust as Benedict had been under pressure from his family to marry and produce an heir, so had he. He glanced across at Tess, her little face serious and intent as she watched him, and he was suddenly conscious of a great rush of gratitude toward Lady Halliwell.... Because of her, he had found the bride of
his
choiceânot a bride chosen for him by someone else, but a bride, he admitted slowly as an inordinately tender smile played around the corners of his mouth, that he would not trade for any other woman in the world.
“What is it?” Tess hissed in the silence, wondering why he was looking at her so oddly. “Why are you smiling like that? It is your grandfather's diary, isn't it?”
He shut the book carefully, slipping it inside his jacket. “Oh yes, it is Benedict's, and I was merely smiling at the vagaries of fate, my dearâsomething I will explain to you at some other date. For now, let us be off from this place.”
Tess managed to contain the dozens of questions that hovered on her lips and allowed Nicolas to hurry them from the room and down the stairs to the outside. It wasn't until they were mounted and riding toward the court that she asked the question uppermost in her mind.
Glancing across at him as they rode side by side through the sun-dappled woods, she inquired curiously, “Are you going to tell your grandmother?”
Nick looked thoughtful. “I don't know,” he finally said. “It will depend, I suppose, on what he wroteâI know that some things will be extremely painful for her, especially anything dealing with your great-grandmother, but I'm hoping that there will be other parts that will give her a degree of comfort. I'll have to read it myself first and then decide.” His jaw tightened. “I don't want her hurt any more than she has been, and if the diary contains passages that I know will wound her grievously, then I'll burn the damn thing before I'll let her see it.”
They talked of little else but the diary for the remainder of their ride back to the court. It was only when the stables came into view that Nick halted the horses and said, “If anyone asks, we were just out for a morning ride. The discovery of the diary should remain a secret between the two of us until I decide what to do about it. And God knows I wouldn't want my grandmother to learn of its existence from anyone but me.”
Tess nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with him. “Oh, absolutely! She should be the first to know of it.”
Upon their return to the stables, they found the place bustling. A pair of grooms rushed forward to take their horses the instant they approached the stables, and others were seen busily flitting in and out of the various stalls. As soon as they had dismounted, Nick and Tess sought out the stable master.
They found the fellow hurrying to meet them. When Nicolas explained that he wanted a word in private, the stable master, Nate Langford, a burly, ruddy-faced individual, with much bowing and scraping, immediately ushered them into his office. It was a comfortable room, not too large but spacious enough for a desk and several chairs. There were several horse prints upon the rough walls, and bits and pieces of saddlery were scattered about.
Nick declined the offer of a seat, and Tess remained standing also. Nate, gratified, and not a little worried, by this early morning visit by the earl, stood uncertainly behind the desk, fidgeting from foot to foot.
“There is a small chestnut gelding with a white star and one hind white foot in the stall next to one of my new driving blacks. When and where did you get him?”
Nate appeared flummoxed by Nick's question. “A chestnut gelding with a white star and hind,” he muttered, scratching his head in perplexity. He thought for a moment, then his face cleared. “Oh, I know the one you meanâspirited little devil! Can't say where he came from, but he showed up one morning last week in the very stall you mentioned.” He looked at Nicolas uneasily. “We think that the owlers left him here by mistakeâyou know how they are always borrowing stock whenever they pleaseâI figured they forgot where they got him and just stuck him here. I asked if anyone knew the horse and then waited a day or two before I had one of the boys put up a notice in the village, describing the animal. So far no one has come to claim him.”
Nick looked at Tess and cocked a brow. She wrinkled her nose at him. Langford's explanation was perfectly logical, and she felt a little silly over her earlier suspicions.
Nick turned back to Langford and smiled charmingly. “You may take the notices down. It seems the animalâhis name, by the way, is Fireballâbelongs to my bride. She recognized him immediately. The smugglers, er, appropriated him from her one evening last week. It is most fortunate,” Nick ended dryly, “that he ended up in my stables.”
Having solved the puzzle of Fireball's presence to their satisfaction, Nick and Tess returned to the main house.
By the time the newlyweds had finished their breakfast, Lord Rockwell and Alexander and the aunts had made their appearances; Pallas's maid brought word that Lady Sherbourne was still rather worn out from the strain of the previous day and wouldn't be joining them until much later. Meg and Hetty had already eaten from trays in their rooms, and since the hour was already approaching noon, Nick decided with obvious regret that it was time for the gentlemen to begin anew their explorations of the tunnels. They departed shortly thereafter, leaving the ladies to amuse themselves.
The hours dragged for Tess, but the time did pass. The gentlemen returned early, as Nick found it hard to stay away from his bride. That evening at dinner, the men regaled the ladies with stories of their fruitless explorations.
Having all but abandoned his bride the day before; Nick gave up any ideas that evening of beginning to read his grandfather's diary and devoted himself to the far more agreeable task of making love to his new wife. He did so with such intensity and enthusiasm that it was not surprising that Tess woke the next morning with a dreamy, satisfied smile on her face. The smile threatened to remain permanently fixed on her lips when, after joining the others, Nick declared that the men would refrain from their labors today and spend the time with the ladies.
It was a fine fall day, and after a leisurely breakfast, they all decided upon a stroll around the immaculate grounds of the estate. Eventually they found themselves in the extensive rose garden at the side of the house. The ladies were admiring the last few lingering blooms when the approach of a swiftly driven vehicle caught their attention.
Nick stiffened slightly. It had to be Athena returning, and in a damned big hurry from the sound of it. Which could only mean one thing, he thought gloomily: the announcement of his marriage to Tess must have appeared in this morning's
Times.
The stylish rig pulled by four beautifully matched chestnuts suddenly came into view and swept regally around the wide, circular carriageway at the front of the house. Snorting and stamping, the horses were reined to a halt by the coachman, and a second later a liveried servant leaped down from the back and with a flourish opened the door to the vehicle.
By this time everyone had gravitated from the rose garden to the front of the house. As Athena's dark head appeared and she impatiently stepped down from the carriage, Nick found his arm sliding protectively around Tess's narrow waist. If Athena's vexed expression was anything to go by, this was going to be unpleasant.