Romancing the Rogue (31 page)

The older couple stood side by side, shoulders touching, as if hiding something behind them. What in the world?

A growing sense of unease crept over Lucy. Had someone fallen in the pond? Or had a poor bird come to its demise? But why would Anna wish her to see something like that?

Then they stepped apart. Lucy’s unease turned to mirth. Mr. Barrow, standing at her side, chuckled.

Anna pointed behind her. “Lucy, pardon me, but is that goose wearing… your hat?”

Three weeks later

Conrad Croome hurried
from his carriage to the Ashbrook home. Why had he received a note from Lucy’s father? Marked as urgent? Had something happened to Lucy? If he didn’t convince her to marry him, he’d lose out on her inheritance. And he had plans for that money. Big plans! The wait was unbearable. Something had better happen quickly, or else.

Before he’d even raised his hand to knock on the door, it opened. Alfred, the butler, stood ramrod straight in the doorway.

“Alfred, I received a message from—”

“Yes, my lord. He’s waiting for you in his study.”

Without thanking the other man, Conrad rushed to the second door on the right. He knocked.

“Come in.”

Opening the door, he wasn’t sure what to expect.
Has Ashbrook
finally convinced Lucy to marry me? Or has he given in to his daughter’s wishes, as he always does.

“Lofton, Have a seat.”

“Certainly, Jeffrey.”

Ashbrook bristled. “You received my message.”

“Yes.”

“It has come to my attention that you may have competition.”

“Pardon?”

“For Lucy’s hand.”

“But… she didn’t choose any of her prospective suitors from her season.”
Thank goodness
. “And so far has declined my proposal.” He glanced down and flicked a tiny piece of lint from his coat. “But may I remind you that you’ve yet to uphold your end of our bargain?”

“There’s someone else. Someone new.”

Conrad frowned. Anger built up in his chest, threatening to burst through his ribs. He clenched his jaw and his fists. “But who? I know everyone of our circle, and Lucy—”

“It’s not someone with whom we are familiar. I know nothing about the man. I’ve not heard his name before.”

“Then…”

“He’s someone she met at the Regent’s Park Bird Sanctuary.”

“She told you this?”

“No. Of course not. I… overheard her speaking to Anna, who coincidentally, seems to have found a love interest as well. Those two have been visiting that blasted Sanctuary several times a week.”

Conrad’s heart raced as panic set it. Couldn’t Ashbrook control his own daughter?
And why haven’t I been able to convince her to marry me?
Lucy is not that bright, after all.
“Anna, that old… uh.” He coughed. “So, what do you suggest? I’m running out of patience to marry Lucy. If you don’t do something soon, I will expose your dealings with Proust to—”

“I suggest you get yourself to the Bird Sanctuary the very next time Lucy and Anna go. I’ve already told Lucy that she should be chaperoned by Anna or by the both of you.”

“That was smart thinking, Jeffrey. Brilliant, if I may say.”

Ashbrook raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”

“I shall do as you say, as long as it gets me what I want. How will I know when they are to go?”

“I’ll have Alfred keep his ears open. When he hears they are going, he’ll let me know and you’ll receive another message. Although by the way they spoke, they’re anxious to return. I expect them to visit again tomorrow.”

Ashbrook lowered his gaze to papers spread across his desk. Conrad had been in the older man’s presence enough to know that their meeting had concluded.

Leaving the house, he reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. He wiped perspiration from his brow. How could this have happened? He’d not pushed Lucy overly much because he didn’t think there was another man who had an interest in her. Now, though… he’d need to increase the pressure. He would not let some other man steal what was rightfully his.

He would not!

~~~~

Lucy hurried through
her toilette, anxious to get to the Sanctuary. Her only qualm was that she was keeping Mr. Barrow from his work. She’d hate it if he lost his position because of her. Something about him, though, kept drawing her back. As if a magnet’s force pulled her to him.

She’d only known him a few weeks, yet every time she saw him, every time she heard his deep voice, smooth as honey, or sat close enough so the heat from his body warmed her, she felt whole. But on the days she didn’t see him, those endless, gloomy stretches of time when they were apart, Lucy couldn’t eat, didn’t sleep, and roamed about the house as aimlessly as a leaf caught in a mild breeze.

A knock sounded. Her door opened. Anna stood in the open doorway, a huge grin spread across her face. “Prepared to depart?”

Well this is a new development.
Normally, Lucy had to wait for Anna to get ready.
She must be in a rush to see Mr. Warner.
“Yes, let me put on my hat and we can go.”

Anna waved a hand in her direction. “You can put on your hat in the carriage, dear.” She tugged on Lucy’s arm.

“Anna! What’s gotten into you?”

Her maid stopped tugging and instead patted Lucy’s arm. “The same thing that’s gotten into you, I imagine.”

Heat spread from Lucy’s neck, up her cheeks, and even to her ears. “Well…”

“You seem fond of Mr. Barrow.”

Lucy nodded.

“But what of your father? What will he say?”

“That there would be no future with him because he is of a different class with little money.”

Anna tilted her head. “I’m going to guess that you think he’s worth fighting for.”

Lucy shrugged. What was there to say? Father would have an apoplexy when he found out.

“Am I wrong?”

“I do think so, even though it goes against everything I’ve been brought up to value. But, no, you’re not wrong.”

She chuckled. “Because I’m right. I’m
always
right.”

Laughing, the two descended the stairs, arm in arm. Someone darted around the corner. Was that Alfred? Why would he be skulking about? Usually he lingered in the hall, not caring who saw him. He never seemed to want to miss anything that happened in the household, and the hall was the most central area in which to hear or see what was going on.

Maybe he was spying on the kitchen staff again. The week before they’d served raspberry tarts instead of his favorite blueberry. It would be just like him to berate them for their choice of fruit, even though raspberry was much more plentiful and easier to obtain.

Carlton waited by the carriage. Lucy smiled. “To the Bird Sanctuary, please.”

“As you wish, miss. Shall I pull the carriage up to Baker Street, as before?”

“Yes. That would be lovely.”

The ride seemed to take a lifetime. Perspiration formed beneath Lucy’s gloves. Would Mr. Barrow have the opportunity to speak with her again? Would he even be there? And if he was, would he even wish to spend time with her?

Anna tittered into her glove, practically hopping up and down on the carriage seat. Lucy had never seen her maid like this. She acted so… young. Was she in love? Is that why her face glowed and her eyes twinkled?

If Lucy checked a looking glass, would she see the same? She couldn’t be in love. It was too soon. Wasn’t it? She’d only been in his company for a few weeks. She didn’t even know his Christian name. Still, the thought of not seeing him again, not speaking to him about the birds, not having him touch the small of her back with his hand filled her heart with gloom. And oh how she longed for a kiss. For his lips to touch hers, his arms to hold her tightly.

What if he did not share her esteem? Didn’t care for her or look forward to her visiting again? What then? That thought, that awful, negative thought, pierced through her mind again. It would never work anyway. Could never work. Because her father would have none of it. A heavy sigh escaped her lips. If she could have anything,
anything
in the world, it would be for her to be able to be with Mr. Barrow always. Nothing else mattered.

Just as the carriage rolled to a stop, Anna touched Lucy’s hand. “You look pale. Are you feeling unwell, dear?”

How could she say what was in her heart? Anna had never seemed happier. To dampen the other woman’s enthusiasm now would be unfair. Cruel. No. She must keep her heartache to herself.

“I’m fine, Anna. Ready to exit the carriage?”

The maid nodded.

As soon as they entered through the Sanctuary gate, they stopped. Anna peered about the grounds. Lucy did the same. Would the gentlemen be there?
Please let it be so.
Even though she knew deep down she could never have Mr. Barrow for more than a friend, she chose to shut that fact away. Bury it. At least for now. While she was in his presence, she’d indulge herself and enjoy their moments together.

Later, when it ended, and end it would, she’d reflect on her time at the Sanctuary. Their time spent together. Whether Lucy married someone else or remained a spinster, she’d have warm memories to treasure in her heart. If he would kiss her, just once, she could replay it in her dreams, pull it from her mind on the loneliest of times to comfort her.

“Oh, Lucy, there!” Anna grabbed her hand, pulling her nearly off her feet. “Come on, dear. Time’s a wasting.”

Laughing at the change in Anna, Lucy hurried to keep pace. She glanced up. And there, yes, there he was. Standing next to Mr. Warner at the same park bench where she’d heard the chiff-chaff’s call. Where Mr. Barrow had told her that it ate flies. And didn’t recognize its mate the second season.

And never committed polygamy.

Oh, my.

Heat rose, this time not just to her face. No, this time its direction went lower. Much lower. To her midsection and legs. What in heaven’s name was
that
? A totally new sensation, it was not altogether unpleasant. In fact, she’d—

“Hurry, Lucy!” Anna pulled hard.

Lucy took a deep breath. They walked at such a rapid pace, someone might think they were in a race. Closer and closer. Nearly there. Mr. Barrow took a step toward them. Then another. Mr. Warner followed suit. Until the four stood face to face. Smiles all around.

As if pre-arranged — and truth be told perhaps it was — Mr. Warner took Anna’s arm and they headed off to the pond. Mr. Barrow tilted his head toward the bench. Their bench, or so she considered it now.

How was that possible? Their bench? A few weeks ago, she hadn’t even made his acquaintance.
Was she mad? What had taken possession of her mind?

Whatever it was, she desired more. And more. And never wanted it to end. The whole situation between her and Mr. Barrow, and Anna and Mr. Warner seemed strange. Yet… right.

“Would you care to sit down, Miss Ashbrook?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“I thought perhaps we might see a few different types of birds today.”

“Oh? That would be lovely.”

“Did you happen to bring your drawing materials with you?”

She patted her reticule. “I did indeed.”

“Wonderful. There is a nest of baby long-eared owls I think you might find interesting.”

Shading her face from the sun with her hand, she smiled. “Why do they have long ears?”

“‘The better to hear you with, my darling’.”

“You mean it was an owl in that children’s tale and not a wolf?”

“Perhaps it was an owl dressed as a wolf.”

“Who just happened to be dressed as a grandmother, I suppose.”

“One never knows.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows, darting his eyes left and right.

Laughing, Lucy covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m certain that’s not the real reason for the owls’ appearance.”

“Well, if you must spoil the fun. Actually, they have long ears because it makes them appear bigger to larger birds.”

“Now I can’t wait to view this wolf-grandmother-owl. Is it nearby?”

“Come with me and I’ll show you. It will be sleeping, so we must be very quiet.”

Taking her hand, he assisted her from the bench. Even through the glove, his touch warmed her skin, sending tingles from her fingers up her arms and into her neck. When she stood, he released her. Why couldn’t he have held onto her hand for a few moments? She craved any contact with him. Anything at all.

Anna and Mr. Warner were farther down the path. He pointed up into one of the trees at something. Had he spotted a particular bird he wished to show her? How sweet they looked together, how eager he seemed to be in Anna’s company.

“So, Mr. Barrow, you and Mr. Warner work together here at the Sanctuary?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m worried Anna and I are keeping you from your labor.”

He waved a hand. “No. Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“But surely you have an employer who watches to make sure you are completing your tasks?”

He swallowed and glanced away. “Say, look over there. Some pintail ducks are playing in the pond.”

Lucy turned her head. The colorful ducks splashed and quacked, stirring up the water. “They do seem to be enjoying themselves.”

She frowned. Why had he not answered her question? Was there something about his employment that he wanted kept secret? But what could it be?

The next few minutes they walked in silence. Lucy was still puzzled. Why wouldn’t he be concerned for his employment? And why was he reticent to discuss it and Mr. Warner? Or their work? As much as he seemed to love the birds, one would think he would be desirous of discussing every aspect.

Mr. Barrow stopped and touched her sleeve. Then he put his finger to his lips and whispered, “If you will look straight above you, you’ll see the male sitting on the branch. Asleep.”

Lucy tilted her head back and widened her eyes. She kept her voice to a whisper as well. “Oh my. Look at
that.
”

The owl sat upright, though not awake. His long grey talons, encased in fluffy white feathers that resembled fur, clung to the branch. A face shaped like a dinner plate was topped with ears that stood straight up. And across his chest and wings, tiny lines of black feathers coursed through patches of white and tan.

“I thought you would like this one. He’s one of my favorites.”

“Is it because of the ears?”

“I will admit, the ears are impressive, are they not?”

“Yes, they are. But…”

“What?”

“I’m afraid when I look at them, I think of a donkey.”

Mr. Barrow bit his lip, but his eyes danced with suppressed laughter. “You know, Miss Ashbrook, I do believe you are right. And the owl’s eyes are closed, of course, but if you were to see them open, his irises are orange.”

“Extraordinary. But frightening, too, I imagine.”

“Quite. Between those orange eyes and huge ears, it is a very scary sight. Small animals quake in his presence.”

“How small? Perhaps I’ll make sure never to bring my cat to visit.”

“Wise decision. Your cat might end up being someone’s dinner or at the very least, make dinner out of some of the smaller residents.”

She shivered. “Neither scenario is pleasant. That’s settled, then. He shall never come here.” She raised one eyebrow, trying not to smile.

Mr. Barrow’s dimple appeared, unsuccessful as he was at hiding his. “There’s a bench right over here if you’d like to sit and sketch him.”

When his hand settled at the small of her back as before, Lucy took a quick breath. Honestly, how did the man have the ability to nearly cause her to swoon when his hand wasn’t even actually touching her skin? As they approached the bench, Lucy’s boot caught on a protruding root in the ground.

“Oh!” Arms flailing, she teetered forward and back, trying not to fall. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her close.

“Miss Ashbrook, are you hurt?”

If she said yes, would he keep holding her? Tempting. But not truthful. “No. I’m fine. Simply clumsy. Thank you for rescuing me, though.” She waited. Any moment now he would release her, and the warmth of their bodies pressed together would be gone.

But he didn’t.

“You’re welcome.” His face brushed against the back of her neck. The sensation so soft, so light, she nearly thought she’d imagined it. But when he breathed warm air on her skin, stirring small wisps of hair that had pulled loose from the pins beneath her hat, she knew. Knew that he had touched her. Nuzzled her. Breathed in her scent.

Loosening his grasp, he turned her around. Now face to face, his dark eyes and deep dimple were in view. And quite, quite close. Heart thudding, mouth dry, Lucy swallowed hard. “I…”

He stepped away and dropped his arms to his side. “Please forgive me. I’m not sure what… that is, after I caught you, I just…”

“It’s fine, Mr. Barrow. No harm done. Truly.”
If you only knew!

“Since we are becoming, if I might be as bold as to say, friends, do you suppose we could address each other by our Christian names?”