The Music Box (23 page)

Bryce glanced from the painstakingly wrapped package to Peter’s eager face. “It will be a privilege. And thank you. I don’t know how you knew, but this is precisely what I needed.”

He had no time to recover before the unexpected showering of gifts continued. Mrs. Gordon gave him a fresh cloth so his shoes might remain spotless. Goodsmith gave him the very cap he’d tipped at Queen Victoria. Wilson gave him a new shovel that closely resembled his own, and the children collectively thrust a squirming yellow kitten at him, stammering that Sunburst had volunteered to keep Bryce company so that he wouldn’t be lonely in London.

By the time Chaunce bowed his good-bye—having added two bottles of Bryce’s favorite brandy to the pile of gifts—and Hermione kissed his cheek, Bryce was more moved than he could describe.

“Hurry home,” Hermione instructed, squeezing his arm. “You’ll be missed.”

Abruptly Bryce realized that one of Nevon Manor’s residents was missing. “Where’s Gaby?”

Hermione shaded her eyes from the rapidly rising sun, squinting as she intently scanned the grounds. “Why, out there somewhere, I imagine. She hasn’t returned from her early morning romp with Crumpet.” A delicate pause. “Can you wait? Or shall I give her a message?”

“Neither.” Bryce shook his head, scrutinizing the vast grounds about him. “I’ll find her myself.”

Watching him stalk off, Hermione pursed her lips, gesturing for the staff to reenter the manor. “I wonder if he’ll succeed in finding her,” she murmured to Chaunce.

“Oh, I rather expect he will.” A sideways glance. “I don’t suppose it’s an accident that Miss Gaby isn’t here.”

Hermione’s expression remained utterly serene. “It’s possible she’s waiting for one of the children to fetch her. I might have inadvertently implied that I’d arrange for her to be summoned when it came time for Bryce’s departure.”

“Ah. What a pity that it slipped your mind.”

“Yes. Isn’t it.”

With that, she patted Chaunce’s arm, gathered up her skirts, and made her way into the house.

It took Bryce a quarter hour to locate the splotch of color that told him he’d found the person he sought.

Gaby.

Weaving his way through the line of trees that separated him from his goal, he rounded the garden and walked over to the broad flat rock where Gaby sat, quietly stroking Crumpet’s ears.

She obviously heard his approach, because she swiveled about, a questioning look in her eyes. “Bryce. Is everything all right?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He studied her face, wondering why she’d chosen to avoid him this morning. Did she find good-byes difficult, or was she angry with him for what she perceived as desertion, not only of her but of Hermione and all of Nevon Manor’s residents as well?

He was about to find out.

“I merely came looking for you to say good-bye.”

“Is it time already?” Gaby surprised him by asking, her slender brows arching upward. “I had no idea. Lily was supposed to fetch me when your carriage was brought around.”

“Ah.” Realizing she’d had every intention of seeing him off, Bryce relaxed. “That explains it. Lily probably couldn’t get away. She had her hands full until now.”

An understanding grin. “Sunburst, yes. He is quite a handful. Not nearly as unruly as this scamp”—Gaby shot Crumpet a reproving look, which he promptly ignored, continuing to nibble at the skirts of Gaby’s yellow-and-white day dress—“nor as destructive. Sunburst is just an intelligent, inquisitive fellow with a quick step and an excess of curiosity.” Gaby’s grin turned impish. “Actually I thought he was a wise choice on the girls’ part. All the kittens are wonderful, but Sunburst reminds me a great deal of you.”

“How so?”

“Oh, many things. His mind is keen, but he would fare better if he occasionally gave that brilliant mind a rest. His heart is good, but he refuses to acknowledge that it’s also tender. And he’s still at the point where he believes that independence is ideal, for he hasn’t yet learned that needing others is a virtue and a strength.”

Bryce sighed, staring out across the grounds. “Ah, Gaby, sometimes I wish I could view life as you do, if only for a little while. But each of us is born with certain qualities that, together with the sum total of our life experiences, make us the person we become. I know you hope to reform me, but that’s not going to happen. First, I have no desire to change. Second, I’m thirty-one years old—hardly a tender enough age to undergo this major transformation you seek. Nonetheless, thank you for your kind intentions.”

“Please don’t patronize me, Bryce,” she replied, her grasp on Crumpet tightening as the rabbit made to dash off. “I don’t want to reform you. You’re a wonderful man. I only want to coax forth qualities you have yet to perceive.” She paused, her shoulders tensing as she visibly grappled with whether or not to continue. Ultimately her candor overcame her caution, and her voice when she spoke was as quiet as it was intense—more intense than Bryce had ever heard it. “What’s more, I have something to say to you, something I wish I’d said days ago.”

Feeling as taken aback as he did curious, Bryce urged, “Go on.”

Gaby rose, turning around and lifting her chin to meet Bryce’s gaze. “To be blunt, I’m growing tired of your assessment of me. Yes, I love life—and animals and the miracles of each new day, but I’m not a frolicking child who’s steeped in fairy tales and silly fantasies. I am, as you just put it, the sum total of
my
experiences, one of which was the most tragic I can imagine anyone enduring. But the way one copes with adversity is as significant to one’s character as the adversity itself. Losing someone doesn’t preclude caring again, abandonment doesn’t preclude the forming of new ties. And nothing, nothing, should prevent someone from dreaming and hoping and, most of all, from loving. You think those are the qualities that define a child? To the contrary, barrister, I believe those are the qualities that define a person.”

Bryce felt a bit as if he’d been punched. Not because he found Gaby’s argument logical, because it wasn’t—given that it was based entirely in feeling rather than fact. No, his reaction was rooted in the fact that he’d never imagined this fiery side to her nature, a realization that only served to confirm her claim about his perception of her. She was right—or rather, partially right. He
did
view her as a child—sometimes. Other times he viewed her as the most courageous woman he’d ever met. And now he was viewing her in a whole new light—strong-willed and definite, as unyielding about her beliefs as he was about his. She was the most unique blend of contradictions he’d ever seen.

“I know you disagree,” Gaby continued when the silence had stretched on for long minutes. “And I’m sorry about it—not for me but for you.”

“Gaby …” he began, his thoughts still in turmoil.

She gave a hard shake of her head, sending chestnut waves cascading down her back. “I think we’ve said enough. Besides, your carriage is waiting.” She gathered Crumpet closer. “Have a safe trip. And again, thank you for everything you’ve done, for me and for Aunt Hermione. You’ve filled a void in her heart that has gnawed at her for three decades—a healing that will last long beyond your visit.”

“Stop it.” Bryce heard his own sharp retort, feeling inexplicably angered by the finality in Gaby’s tone. “I’m not vanishing. I’ll be back.”

“I hope so. For Aunt Hermione. For me and everyone else at Nevon Manor. But most of all, Bryce, for you.” Gaby studied him for an instant, that inherent wisdom vividly present in her cornflower-blue eyes—as if she knew something about him that he didn’t.

Perhaps she did.

Abruptly she stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Godspeed,” she whispered, her fervor softening to gentleness. “Whatever answers you’re seeking, I hope you find them.”

Bryce never knew what made him turn his head, whether it was a conscious decision or just an accident of fate. But turn it he did—just the few inches it took to bring his mouth close to hers.

Their lips touched, brushed, touched again. Bryce saw Gaby’s eyes widen in astonishment, felt his own rush of disbelief.

He acted on pure instinct.

Catching Gaby’s face between his palms, he lowered his head, covering her mouth in a deep, binding kiss that was as shattering as it was brief, a heated melding that obliterated time, space, and reality.

And which ended as quickly as it had begun.

Bryce wasn’t sure who broke away first. All he knew was that he was staring into Gaby’s startled face, his own incredulity reflected in her eyes.

“Gaby,” he managed, “I’m sorry … I—” He broke off, wondering what the hell to say, his mind for the first time utterly, totally blank.

To his amazement, Gaby smiled, not a besotted smile but a radiant one. “I’m not. I’ve been trying for days to coax you into performing a single impulsive, irrational act. I believe I just succeeded.” Her nod was the essence of satisfaction, her step light as she backed away from him, moving toward Crumpet’s warren. “Perhaps Nevon Manor has worked its magic after all. Perhaps that’s why you’re reluctant to leave us, yet equally reluctant to remain. If so, I hope you find it impossible to stay away, that you’re back before the magic has a chance to fade.”

Five miles away the worried figure prowling about Whitshire’s pantry was hoping just the opposite.

Why doesn’t Bryce Lyndley leave? He’s the last complication I need. And what the hell did Gabrielle remember the other night? Why was she so overwrought? What is it she knows? I’ve got to find out. Damn. How can this be happening? Now
—
after all these years. How?

It can’t. It won’t.

I won’t let it.

M
LDMORNING SUNLIGHT WASHED THE
halls of Nevon Manor, the smell of fresh flowers wafting through the open windows, heralding spring and celebrating the wonders of life. Creating a beautifully deceptive illusion, a direct contrast to the adversity of the past seven days.

Hermione made her way down the stairs, the lines of fatigue about her eyes no longer feigned but very real despite the long morning naps she’d been taking. Even Chaunce, who never wore physical evidence of his personal trials had begun looking a bit haggard. How could he not, given the arduous week they’d just endured? Much strain, little rest, and an overabundance of frustration.

And it seemed to be getting worse, not better.

Reaching the ground floor, Hermione peered down the hall, frowning when she saw that Chaunce was absent from his customary post at the entranceway door. True, he was exhausted. Lord knew he had reason to be. He’d kept vigil outside Gaby’s chambers for seven nights now, halting her sleepwalking attempts, gently awakening her, persuading her to go back to sleep—only to have the entire process repeat itself again hours later. Still, nothing, not even bodily depletion, would be enough to drag Chaunce from his station.

Unless he was needed elsewhere.

An anxious tremor ran through Hermione’s fragile frame, and ignoring the protest of her aching muscles, she quickened her pace, determined to discover Chaunce’s whereabouts—and Gaby’s too, for that matter. Her niece wasn’t in her chambers; Hermione had just come from there. Then again, that was hardly unusual for this time of day. By now Gaby was normally outside, playing with the children or gallivanting about with her pets.

Still, with both Chaunce and Gaby absent …

Hermione neared the entranceway, fully intending to begin her search outdoors.

Abruptly her eye was caught by a motion off to her right, just inside, though several yards askew of the towering wooden doors of Nevon Manor. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was Bowrick, perched on a chair near where he perceived the entranceway to be, muttering under his breath and frantically polishing his spectacles.

“Bowrick,” Hermione called to him as she approached, “where is Chaunce?”

The elderly footman shoved his spectacles back on his nose and jumped to his feet, blinking in the direction from which his ear told him Lady Nevon was approaching. “Chaunce had to tend to somethin’ outdoors, m’lady,” he said to a potted plant that stood next to Hermione. “He asked me to assume his post till he returned. I was just makin’ sure my spectacles were really clean so I wouldn’t mistake one visitor for another. I wanna do as good a job as Chaunce, make him proud.”

A soft smile touched Hermione’s lips. “You always make us proud, Bowrick—Chaunce
and
me.”

Bowrick’s stooped shoulders straightened. “I’m glad, m’lady.”

“Did Chaunce mention
where
outside he was going?” Hermione inquired, knowing it was useless to ask which direction he’d headed in, given that Bowrick couldn’t see a foot in front of him.

“Uh, I think he said somethin’ about a problem near the warren, m’lady.”

Gaby—just as Hermione had suspected. A problem near the warren could mean nothing else. But was Chaunce merely assuring himself of Gaby’s well-being or had something else happened to cause him concern?

She intended to find out.

“Thank you, Bowrick.” Gathering up her skirts, Hermione pressed on, patting the footman’s arm as she let herself out. “You’ve been very helpful. No, don’t bother with the door,” she added hastily, already through it and on the other side. “Dr. Briers wants me to get a bit of exercise each day. Opening this stubborn plank of wood will serve my purposes nicely—that and a nice stroll about the grounds. I’ll be back shortly. Keep up the fine work, Bowrick.”

With that, she veered in the direction of Crumpet’s warren, wishing she were just a bit younger and more spry. The past week had taken its toll on her strength, and between that and her advanced years, rushing across the grounds was no longer an option.

She came upon Chaunce a quarter hour later. He was standing discreetly behind a tree, watching Gaby, who, unaware she was being observed, was sitting on a lawn chair, staring intently into the distance, her attention captured by something that seemed to fascinate her.

“Has something happened?” Hermione demanded, quietly making her way to Chaunce’s side.

He shook his head, thoroughly unsurprised by Hermione’s presence. “No. She was just in a very agitated state when she left the house. After a while, I thought it best to check up on her.”