Once an Innocent (13 page)

Play another.

Nodding, she turned back to the keys and proceeded into a song without giving the matter any thought. Her fingers seemed to have chosen for themselves. After a few introductory bars, Naomi began to sing:

Glancing at Aunt Janine, whose eyebrows had risen nearly to her hairline, she abruptly realized she was favoring Lord Freese with a
love ballad,
of all things, and quickly transitioned to the melody’s final bars.

Another round of applause followed the song. “Bravo!” called Mr. Elton. He offered Naomi a hand up from her seat. “Only a prodigiously talented lady can play and sing at the same time. Beautifully done, my lady.”

“One of my favorites,” said Lady Griffiths, clasping Naomi’s hand warmly. “I do wish you had played all the verses.”

“Another time, perhaps,” Naomi demurred.

She made her way back to the loveseat, accepting compliments along the way. What did Jordan think of the song? She felt exposed as she closed the distance between them. Jordan stood as she approached. She was relieved to see him far easier than he’d been before she’d played.

Humor brightened his face. “Marvelous, Naomi,” he said with an appreciative grin. Bending his neck, he spoke in a voice for her ears only. “Don’t think I missed your meaning in that second piece.”

She flinched inwardly, and her knees trembled. “I really didn’t mean anything by it, my lord. It’s just a song I happen to know — ”

A low chuckle escaped his throat. “Come now, Naomi. I know you meant it for me. ‘Come live with me and be my love?’ A song of domestic felicity set against the supposed pleasures of pastoral living?” He chucked her gently on the chin. “I do so appreciate a woman with a heightened sense of irony. Thank you for obliging my request.” Bowing slightly, he bid her a good-night and turned his attention to other guests.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have taken the song as a confession of sentiment. Rather, he had gleaned something else entirely from the lyrics. What that meaning was, she had no idea. “Heightened sense of irony?” she muttered to herself, mystified.

Being Jordan Atherton’s friend was shaping up to be one of the most frustrating endeavors she had ever undertaken.

The morning after her arrival at Lintern Abbey dawned fine, so Naomi set out with Clara and Kate to explore the abbey ruins. The gentlemen had left the house before dawn and weren’t expected back until tea. Clara had issued a general invitation to the other ladies, but no one else had elected to join their excursion. Naomi had been surprised when Aunt Janine had declined to come, but her relative’s eyes had sparkled when she’d told Naomi how she would spend her morning.

“Have you seen the library, child? The only private collection I’ve seen to best it is the one at Helmsdale. I’m going to hunt new selections to read while we’re here.” She’d cast Naomi a shrewd glance. “Would you like me to pick something out for you?”

Naomi had colored. “No, thank you. I brought a novel,” she’d said, thinking of the birthing guide tucked into her trunk. They’d parted ways in the entrance hall, Auntie bound for the library, Naomi’s party off to the abbey, and the other ladies left to entertain themselves.

She was glad to be keeping country hours once more. Drawing a deep breath of the bracing, morning air, Naomi’s gaze swept across the manicured lawn. Remnants of dew clung to the grass, but their shoes and skirts were spared the damp by the well-maintained walk cutting through the park.

Yesterday evening had yielded no further enlightenment about the party. Besides herself, Aunt Janine, and Lady Whithorn, none of the other ladies seemed to detect anything amiss about the gathering. They were all content to enjoy several weeks of country idleness.

Naomi wished she could speak further with Clara, but Kate’s presence restrained her. She contented herself in gleaning what intelligence she could about the estate, which, sadly, was not much.

“I’m afraid I know little about Lintern Abbey,” Clara said. “My husband became Earl of Whithorn just before our marriage. This place has been without a mistress since the time of his first wife’s death — more than twenty years now.”

As she looked about, Naomi felt a little sad, not only for Jordan to have lost his mother at a young age but also for the estate itself, to have gone so long without a lady of the house. “And yet,” she said while they paused at the edge of a reflecting pool, “Lintern does not seem to have suffered the lack of a mistress.”

Clara tilted her head thoughtfully. “Not suffered, perhaps, but neither has there been any change or rejuvenation. The plantings are exactly the same as they’ve always been since the first time I visited here fifteen years ago. Beautiful, immaculately kept, but static.” She glanced at Naomi as they continued along the path. “Lintern Abbey is not a true home.”

Naomi shook her head. “I cannot believe that, Clara, not in my heart. This place
is
a home. It feels so welcoming and gracious.”

“Jordan does not share your good opinion, I fear,” Clara said. “Of course, he’s never been one for home and hearth. Did you know he bought his own commission on his twenty-first birthday?”

Naomi stooped and plucked a weed growing in the retaining wall surrounding the pool. “No, I didn’t.”

The three ladies continued toward the abbey. The path carried them away from the house and up a wooded hillside.

“His father was furious, of course,” Clara continued, a smile of reminiscence on her lips. “He tried to forbid Jordan from joining the army. I had to remind Lord Whithorn that his son had reached his majority and could do as he pleased.”

“I remember him then,” Naomi said as a memory sprang to mind. “He came to visit Marshall before reporting to his regiment.”

All at once, Naomi was back at Helmsdale, eleven years old. Her eldest brother was home — a treat in and of itself. At that time, Marshall was such a rare presence in the house that he’d become a mythical figure to her — a grown-up man who lived in London and had been to Oxford and did all manner of adult things. Her heart had nearly burst with pride when she saw him, because surely he must be the handsomest, most interesting brother anyone could have.

Thinking back, she now realized how she must have annoyed poor Marshall. During that visit, she’d dogged his heels, following him absolutely everywhere to see what fun or fascinating thing he would do next, hoping against hope he would include her in whatever it turned out to be. Then when his friend, a Lord Freese, had joined Marshall, he’d utterly intrigued Naomi, too. He was a grown-up, just like her brother, at first an object of fascination only because he offered a vicarious glimpse into Marshall’s life away from Helmsdale.

When Lord Freese had arrived, she’d caught a brief look from her window of his tall, masculine figure striding into the house. All that day, she’d remained in the care of her governess, Miss Patterson, and ate in the nursery that night, listening as Nurse and Miss Patterson whispered about him. Naomi determined to see him for herself.

The following morning, directly after breakfast, she slipped out of the nursery and took the servants’ stairs to evade Miss Patterson. She crouched outside the door to the breakfast room where Marshall and Lord Freese dined. Peeking around the doorframe, Naomi spotted a head covered with black curls.

He was handsome but not as handsome as her brother, she decided with stout loyalty. Lord Freese laughed and smiled a lot. His voice was animated as he told Marshall about someone named Roger. This confused Naomi, because he seemed to be talking about a lady, he made mention of the light skirts she wore. Lord Freese must have been a very clumsy fellow. He kept tumbling Roger over this and that. Naomi wondered why poor Roger had anything to do with Lord Freese;
she
would not want anything more to do with an oaf who continually knocked her off
her
feet.

Marshall laughed at the story. Lord Freese reached for a slice of toast and spotted Naomi. For an instant, Naomi couldn’t breathe. She had never seen such eyes. They looked like the sky in early autumn when the leaves change color and the sky has to be bluer than normal, just to catch anyone’s notice.

Naomi was sure he would tattle on her. Marshall would be very cross, because he’d warned her not to bother him while his guest was visiting. Instead, Lord Freese winked at her and offered to pour Marshall more coffee.

For the remainder of the week, she spied on the two men whenever she could slip away from Miss Patterson. Marshall never caught on, but Lord Freese knew what she was about. He left her two peppermint sticks to find in the hallway outside the billiard room. There was a daisy lying in the middle of the path the day Marshall took him to see the fruit orchard. By the week’s end, Naomi was desperately in love with Lord Freese and despondent he was going away.

Knowing he was leaving, she had refused to begin her lessons and, for the first time, ran away from Miss Patterson right in front of her face. She hurtled out the door and sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her to where Lord Freese was already sitting tall in his saddle and bidding Marshall goodbye. Miss Patterson followed close behind, commanding her to stop
at once
.

“Wait!” Naomi cried, waving her arms madly. Her breath wheezed through a tight throat as she fought stinging tears.

Marshall looked vexed when he saw her flying toward him, but Lord Freese just took her in with those blue eyes of his and smiled.

He dismounted and turned just as Naomi skidded to a halt. Now that she stood face-to-face with him, Naomi’s tongue tied in knots and she couldn’t think of anything to say.

Miss Patterson caught up and snatched her arm. “I beg your pardon, my lords,” the governess said, pulling Naomi back toward the house.

Naomi’s pained gaze was riveted to Lord Freese’s face. He had perfectly smooth cheeks, and a wonderful dimple in his chin. “Who is this?” He tossed the question over his shoulder to Marshall, all the while keeping an eye on Naomi. “Don’t tell me you’ve been hiding this delightful creature from me all week, Marsh.”

“A moment, Miss Patterson.”

Naomi could tell by Marshall’s voice that he
was
annoyed, but he would be polite, anyway. “Freese, this is my sister, Lady Naomi. Naomi, this is Lord Freese. Come and make your curtsy.”

Naomi did so. It wasn’t a very good curtsy, because her knees knocked together under her skirt. “H-how do you do, my lord?” she said, belatedly recalling Miss Patterson’s etiquette lessons.

“How do
you
do, my lady?” He took her hand, bowed, and kissed the air above her fingers.

Naomi smiled beatifically.

“You’re a very clever girl, aren’t you?” Lord Freese said kindly. “Try not to get into too much trouble, all right?” He winked. “I have a sister, too, you know. She’s very small yet, only three years old.”

“What is her name?” Naomi asked reverently, overcome that he would bestow any grain of information upon her.

“Kate,” Lord Freese answered. “I shall be the proudest brother in the world if she grows up to be as pretty and clever as you.”

Naomi was over the moon. Her feet didn’t touch the ground once as Miss Patterson led her back to the schoolroom. She’d smiled serenely while her governess berated her shameful, hoydenish display. She’d daydreamed about the handsome Lord Freese while she stood with her nose in the corner for punishment.

It had been worth every word of scolding and every minute in that corner to have talked to and touched the lovely gentleman. Her young girl’s heart had opened wide and let him in that week.

And he’d never left.

This realization came as quite a shock. Naomi gasped and stumbled over a stone step. Clara steadied her with a hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry,” Naomi apologized. “I was remembering that visit, when I first met Lord Freese. His cheek was not yet scarred. It’s so much a part of him now, it was startling to recall his face without it.”

“Indeed?” Clara’s brows rose. There was something knowing in her eyes.

“He’s very handsome,” Kate announced. “Handsomer now with his scar. We have portraits from before.”

The young woman’s championing of her brother was reminiscent of Naomi’s own girlish adulation of Marshall. “He certainly is very handsome. Not a lady in London would argue the point.”

They rounded a bend in the path. Suddenly, the woods opened up, giving way to a breathtaking view of the abbey ruins, situated on several acres of green. Kate squealed and clapped with delight. Naomi felt herself awestruck and grinning at the impressive sight.

A heavy, square bell tower dominated the remains of the church. Arches flanked by columns marked the places where doors and windows had once been, reaching skyward to support a roof that no longer existed. “The stone is very similar to the house,” Naomi observed.

“Not similar,” Clara said, “the same. It was easier to take the stone from the abbey to build the house than to quarry new.” She pointed a short distance away from the church to where the remnants of other structures stood. “There were other buildings, of course — a cellarium, a library. They were dismantled for the house. You can see there” — Clara indicated where the river that passed through the park below also washed past the abbey — “the infirmary was built over the water.” All that remained of the building were vaulted tunnels spanning the river, supporting two crumbling walls.

“Astonishing,” Naomi said. “How old is all of this?” she asked as she carefully picked her way down the stone steps set into the hillside.

“The abbey dates from the twelfth century, I believe,” Clara answered.

Soon the three companions wandered amongst the massive old ruins. They entered the nave from the west. Kate skipped down the aisle, touching each of the immense columns as she passed.

Approaching the altar area, Naomi was overcome by the grandeur. Even with no roof, no glass, and grass growing in the place of flagstones, the church was a humbling sight. The sun streamed in at an angle, casting long, cool shadows across the verdant floor.