The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection (15 page)

“Perhaps we should continue then,” Wynter suggested. He sounded as uncomfortable as Radford felt. Moving on and putting the accusation behind him suited Radford just fine.

Unfortunately, Tumblestone had other thoughts on the matter. “Miss Sheffers, say something. Deny or affirm what the lady claims.”

May’s nervous glance danced from face to face. Finally she sighed, her shoulders slumped in defeat. “I can do neither,” she said. “You will have to speak with my uncle if you wish to know the truth.”

Ah. Another mystery surrounds the dear elfin princess.

Radford found himself perversely intrigued. He hoped his man-of-affairs returned soon with all her dirty secrets uncovered.

With nothing left to discuss, Radford took Lady Lillian’s arm and plodded a slow but steady path down the line of booths.

There was a gypsy witch waiting to be consulted.

The old woman was hunched and wrinkled. Her shaky fingers were gnarled like the limbs of an ancient oak. Her patched clothing flowed about her, displaying an array of bright colors. She wore a woolen kerchief on her head and had a large golden hoop piercing her earlobe.

Lady Lillian laughed nervously as she slipped the witch a few coins and offered her hand. The cloudy-eyed woman stared not at Lillian’s palm but into her face. She stroked Lillian’s long fingers and hummed softly for several moments.

“You are so lovely, dear. You turn so many men’s hearts, do you not? But what is beauty? What will it bring you? Oh dear, not much. Many frustrating years will pass before you find happiness,” the witch bent forward and whispered in a thickly accented voice.

Lillian snatched back her hand and clutched it to her chest. “Is that all you have to say, you old fraud?”

The old woman shrugged. “Do not despair overmuch. You are yet young.”

Iona took Lillian’s hands and cooed gentle words to the sensitive girl while Wynter slipped the witch two more coins. When she reached out to take his palm, Wynter captured Radford’s hand, peeled off his glove, and held it for the old woman to peer into.

“What in the devil?” Radford protested.

“Just listen to what she has to say.”

Funny thing, the witch had nothing to say. Her eyes grew wide as she stared deep into the center of Radford’s palm.

“Perhaps I’m supposed to be dead already,” he quipped.

“Oh no,” she said, shaking her head violently. “You have a very strong lifeline. Only,”—she traced a path down the center of his palm with her crooked finger—“you are not living it.”

“Not living it? Then what am I doing here, if not living?”

“Hiding, I suppose. Hiding from everything that should be important to you. Use that limp as a shield, do you not?”

She pulled on his arm with a surprising burst of strength, forcing him to crouch down so she could whisper into his ear. “Beware, my lord. There is no hiding from your heart. The universe will not allow it.”

Just like Lady Lillian, Radford drew his hand back as if the witch had stung him. Something wicked curled in his stomach as her words wound their way through his body. He shook himself and gave a short laugh. The witch was good. Her theatrics rivaled the best actors he’d ever seen grace the stage.

“How droll,” he said. He laughed again to cover up a sense of foreboding sneaking up inside him, warning him that the witch had hit the mark. “You have earned your money.” Radford tossed her a few extra coins before jamming his hands into his pocket and returning to Lillian’s side.

He lavished his pretty lady with attention and listened with only half an ear while the gypsy witch promised Wynter he would soon make his father proud and find love in a surprising quarter. Lady Iona’s reading was just as benign and vague as Wynter’s.

When the witch turned her watery gaze on May, Mr. Tumblestone renewed his protests against the sinful activity. “You will not gain a cent from me, you old crone. So stuff your filthy hand back into your skirts.”

A wry, otherworldly smile creased the old woman’s features. May had the grace to give the poor soul a gracious nod before letting Tumblestone lead her away.

“Perhaps we could move farther away from the farm animals,” Lillian suggested. “The smell is disgusting.”

Before the group could agree on a new activity, the old witch hobbled up and wrapped her withered hand around May’s arm. The woman’s wild gaze was a frightening sight.

“It is dangerous to pretend to be something you are not,” she hissed the words before anyone could come to May’s rescue. “You would be wise to cease playing such games, dearie—especially with yourself.”

Chapter 12

The witch vanished into the crowd. Her departure left May gaping like a fool. The old woman had voiced the words she had refused to let her own heart speak for far too long.

She
was
pretending to be something she wasn’t.

“Did that gypsy harm you?” Radford had cupped her cheeks and crouched slightly so he was eye level with her. His fingers gently traced the line of her jaw.

“What?” May felt suddenly overwhelmed by his close, masculine presence. “I am fine.”

“She doesn’t look fine,” Wynter said.

“She is fine,” Tumblestone argued. With a heavy hand, he yanked May away from Radford and hooked his arm with hers. “This is nonsense, I say. Utter nonsense spouted by a crazed crone. I do not like the atmosphere here. It is not a proper place for a young lady. I demand we return to Bath at once.”

That was the last thing May wanted. To return to Bath would mean her adventure with Radford would end. Her return would put her in a position where she felt compelled to accept Mr. Tumblestone’s suit.

It is dangerous to pretend to be something you are not.

They should return as soon as possible. To pretend she was a lady—to pretend she was someone Radford could love was dangerous. She could lose her heart if she wasn’t careful.

“I would like to stay.” The stubborn words rolled off her tongue despite all of May’s good judgment. “We have only just arrived, and there is still so much to see.”

She should enjoy the afternoon. What else did she have to lose when Radford already owned her heart . . . whether he wanted it or not.

* * * *

Lady Lillian was refined, young, and hailed from a good family. She was everything Radford wished for in a wife. It wasn’t as if he really needed to like the girl. He lingered behind while watching Lillian and Iona flit through the crowds from stall to stall, admiring the simple wares and buying whatever made them smile. Iona had locked arms with May and dragged the elfin princess along with her. May rarely smiled as they shopped. Though she admired many swaths of colorful, exotic fabrics and volumes of battered old books, she never once opened her reticule to make a purchase.

After a while, the group wandered back out into the field where the gypsies had made their camp. Some passing acquaintances had mentioned a collection of antiques for sale from the mysterious lands of the East.

The trail to the battered wooden caravan led them down a dusty path where tall grasses reached out and brushed against their legs. Lillian, the fair-haired beauty who perfectly suited him, whimpered with every step. She despaired over the dirt clinging to her gown until Radford begrudgingly agreed to lift her into his arms.

May uttered no such complaints. For a woman who admitted to being frightened of animals and uncertain of what to do in the wilderness, she plodded through the tall grasses as if her small body was made to spend long hours strolling in the out-of-doors.

Strands of her amber hair slipped from their pins and hung loose down her back. Her straw bonnet sat askew on the top of her head, bobbing with each step. She was truly a creature of the earth. Perhaps she did have a touch of gypsy blood in those veins. Perhaps that was why she’d been able to bewitch him with those haunting eyes.

His desire for her was strong enough to make him rethink his values. A man in his position could use a solid woman like Miss Sheffers as a mistress. Having her by his side would make him a better man.

What could be the harm with that? He would take care of her and protect her from leering old men like Mr. Tumblestone.

“Oooo,” Lady Lillian squirmed out of his arms. “They are lovely.” Her eyes glistened at the sight of three unusual figurines on a small table in front of a colorful tent. They were crafted from the finest bone china.

For once Radford had to agree. The figurines, a trio of wood sprites, were frozen forever in the middle of some pagan dance. Heads thrown back, limbs light and jaunty, and gowns flowing, they appeared to be moving to some ancient tune in the liquid-smooth china.

Radford studied them while sneaking glances toward his own personal mystical creature. All three smiling faces were the very image of Miss Sheffers.

“They are quite well made,” he commented. He picked one up, turned it over in his hand, and stroked the figurine while thoughts of Miss Sheffers tripped through his mind.

She leaned forward and peered at the figurines. A broad smile brightened her features at the sight of the fairy creatures.

A naked longing lurked deep in her eyes and could not be overlooked. Had she seen something in the way those figurines danced freely? Did she too long for such freedom? Perhaps she too saw the image of herself in their lovely faces.

“They remind me of an amazing woman I happened upon not long ago on Beechen Cliff,” he said just loud enough for her ears. “She possessed a spirit as free as these imps, do you not agree?”

“I am sure I don’t know what you are talking about, my lord,” May said, her entire being bristling. She didn’t step away, though. She continued to silently admire the small statuettes.

“Perhaps one day you will let your hair down and dance with such abandon for me?” He knew the suggestion would scandalize her, but he could not stop his tongue. Goading her prudish façade proved far more enjoyable than any thoughts of restraint.

She slanted a questioning glance in his direction. “You mock me,” she whispered. With a single step back from the gypsy’s treasures, May tried to fade into the surroundings.

Well hell, that was the last thing he wanted her to do.

“You don’t have to run away,” he turned around and said to her.

Mr. Tumblestone inched closer to May in an overt show of ownership. His glare fixed on Radford. An unspoken challenge lay on the ground between them. Radford had a mind to stand up to the old fool and win May for himself.

It took Lady Lillian to remind him of his duty to both her and his mother. She tugged on his arm and pouted prettily.

“What is it, my lady?” he asked. Heaven help him, Lillian’s neediness tried his patience.

“I have spent all my money,” she said softly. She wrinkled her button nose and batted her long lashes. “Oh la, and I simply adore those figurines.”

Radford patted the hand she had latched onto his sleeve. “It is never wise to make your selection before considering all your options.” His gaze unwillingly traveled to May.

Her ribbons were drooping. Her curls were fast becoming a riot of tangles. And she was glowering at him with the most honest expression of dislike he could ever hope to see. All and all, he found her quite irresistibly adorable.

“It is unwise to ruin your one chance for happiness by acting rashly, don’t you agree?” he said.

Lady Lillian’s frown deepened. “But, Lord Evers, you could buy me the figurines if you truly wished to.”

He had a feeling his wishes didn’t merit in this case. His feelings would never merit when it came to Lady Lillian. She was a selfish child.

Not a woman prepared to . . . to . . . what did he expect from marriage other than children?

In trying to hide from a future with a leg that would never heal, he had failed to picture his life in the years and decades ahead of him. What would he want from a wife?

“I will buy you one of the three, my lady, to teach you a lesson. You cannot always have what you want. Sometimes you have to make a choice. I wonder. Which one will you choose?”

“You are a tease, my lord,” she purred. The perfect coquette, the lady literally dripped with sensuality.

Oddly, her charms bored Radford. He watched with disinterest as she lifted each figurine and explained what about it she simply adored. Lady Iona joined in the fun.

Wynter wandered off in search of more interesting entertainments while Lillian remained undecided.

May battled a tiny baby goat that wanted nothing more than to eat the silk flowers stitched into the hem of her gown. Her nudging the little brown and white scamp with her gloved hand only made it more determined to play with her. She let slip a husky laugh when the little guy rammed her leg.

Tumblestone ruined the fun. He swung his stout leg at the playful beast and would have struck it if May hadn’t put herself in his way. The toe of his boot struck her shin.

She rubbed her leg and laughed off the pain. But there was a definite limp in her step when she clapped her hands and chased the little goat back into the field.

Radford ground his jaw, aching to kick that bounder Tumblestone a few times in her defense. He couldn’t, though. His interference wouldn’t be welcomed or appropriate. Miss Sheffers had already made her feelings abundantly clear. She wanted nothing to do with him.

But what did she want?

Certainly she couldn’t seriously be considering marriage to a man like Tumblestone. He was too old, too staid for her. Such a marriage would break her spirit. Her rare smiles had grown strained and her unpredictable personality had turned subdued after only a few hours in his company.

“This one.” Lady Lillian held up a figurine. The porcelain wood sprite was curtsying with her head thrown back in a laugh.

“Very well,” he drawled. He considered offering to purchase one for Lady Iona as well, but she had wandered away from the figurines and was busy speaking with one of the gypsy traders about a necklace with a large purple gem. Wynter had joined her and looked prepared to guide the lady in her purchase.

Radford had no wish to leave without the other two wood sprites. As unbelievable as it seemed to him, the lithe figures charmed him.