Bewitching the Baron (26 page)

Kate noticed his damp hair. “You have been out, in this foul weather? You are becoming quite the country man!”

Paul spoke from the chair where he sat swirling brandy in a glass. “Ah, but where has he been? What could draw him out into the weather on such a day?”

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at his friend, but Kate jumped in before he could say anything. “Indeed, there is only one thing I know of that draws a man through foul downpours and cold alike.”

“A fine piece of horseflesh?” Christopher asked, to the amusement of the group.

“Hounds for sale?” another of the men asked.

Kate arched her eyebrow at the lot of them. “A woman.”

“Now where would he find a woman in this godforsaken corner of the world?” Christopher asked.

“Our dear baron could find a woman anywhere,” Paul said.

Nathaniel recognized the mood Paul was in, one of boredom and mischief combined. He felt himself the baited bear, but declined to amuse them. He went to the window and looked out, turning his back on his friends. He knew from experience that this sort of conversation was best left to its own course. Anything he said would only make it worse.

“We have been here a fortnight already,” Beth said. “Why is this the first we have heard of her?”

There was a chorus of speculation.

“Perhaps her parents do not know.”

“She may be entirely unsuitable.”

“She is a hag.”

“He fears I shall steal her from him.”

“He intends to marry her and wants to surprise us with the announcement.” A round of laughter followed that suggestion.

“You do know that our dear baron has not yet properly introduced himself to his neighbors in the district,” Paul said. “Some have stopped by to pay their respects, but he has yet to be at home to a single one of them. He has made himself quite the hermit.”

“For shame!” Kate said. “We must remedy the situation, if he is incapable of doing so himself. I think a party is in order. A ball, perhaps, at which his dear neighbors can at last make the acquaintance of the brooding baron of Raven Hall.” She cast her eyes at Nathaniel, the question hanging there. Even Kate would not be so bold as to plan a party at his house without his assent.

He did not want to meet his neighbors, the term being loosely applied. No doubt he would have to search over many miles of countryside to find sufficient guests of a quality suitable for a ball. And yet, it was true he had been remiss in his neglect of those neighbors. He had been brought up well enough to be aware that he had offered a degree of insult to his neighbors by not so much as saying “Good day” to any who had stopped by to meet him and offer condolences on Uncle George.

He turned from his contemplation of the rain and nodded to Kate. At least it would keep the lot of them entertained, planning the party. Perhaps when it was over, they would at last feel satisfied with their visit and leave.

“We shall have to make it a masquerade,” Beth said.

“What a confoundingly stupid idea,” Christopher said.

“How is he to meet his neighbors if he cannot see their faces?”

“I think it a splendid idea,” Kate said. “He will be the more likely to invite his lady love if she is in disguise, do you not think? And what fun, to guess who she might be!”

Nathaniel was not fooled by Kate’s enthusiasm. Since long before he left London, he had been aware that her interest in him was a bit more than friendly. He did not doubt that her interest in his “lady love” was a competitive one.

And yet, even knowing that, he knew suddenly that he would ask Valerian to come to the ball. She did not speak like a country girl, and in proper disguise no one but Paul would guess who she was. For one night, he could bring her fully into his world.

For one night, he could pretend that their worlds were one.

Chapter Nineteen

There was no help for it: She was going to have to go to Raven Hall. Valerian gave herself a headache thinking about it, but she could not come up with an acceptable alternative. Daniel was a capable enough gardener, and had most likely remembered to water their plants in the greenhouse, but the various exotic plants had been too long without expert care.

And of course she could not trust Daniel to know how to harvest the resin from the opium poppies. There were plenty of poppies growing here in the meadow, but they were not yet in season. She was running low on laudanum pills and needed to make more for Aunt Theresa.

With Nathaniel’s accounting of the daily schedule at the hall, she could at least reduce the risk of meeting any of his friends if she went early in the morning. Unfortunately, after scoring the seed pods, it would be several hours before she could scrape off the resin that would bead along the scratch, which meant she would still be hiding amongst the pots and withered orange trees when the household awoke.

Ah well. There was nothing for it. She would just have to hope that Paul did not see her, and that anyone else, chancing upon her in the greenhouse, would take her for a servant and ignore her.

She made it to the relative safety of the greenhouses with only a brief encounter with Daniel, pruning back a wisteria that grew wild over an arcaded walkway.

“Coming to see the baron, are you?” he asked, and she imagined there was a touch of disappointment in his tone.

“I have come to tend the plants.”

“Ah. That is all right, then. Where be your aunt? I have not seen her about.”

“She, er . . .” She could not come up with a lie that would suit. She should have thought of this. Daniel would not be the only one wondering why Theresa had disappeared of late.

“It is the death of old George, I imagine,” Daniel filled in. “We all knew—well, we did not expect she would want to come back here much after that. It was surprised I was, that one day she did come.”

“She was fond of the old baron.”

“And he of her. Or so I hear, and that is just gossip.” He gave her a long look, one that said as plain as spoken words that he knew she had taken over with Nathaniel the role they all thought Theresa had held with old George.

Valerian excused herself and escaped to the greenhouse, her cheeks flaming. It was obvious that Daniel did not approve of her behavior, and it surprised her. She had thought no one here cared a whit for her virtue or lack thereof, as long as she stayed away from their own sons and husbands. Daniel looked as if he cared about her behavior for her own sake.

She set to work with petty resentments churning in her gut.
It is not his or anyone else’s affair what I do,
she grouched silently, carefully scoring a seed pod.
They could have found me a husband, if it mattered so much with whom I slept.
Behind that thought, though, was the memory of her mother, who had chosen to marry and had intended that her daughter do the same. But her mother had intended her to grow up with both her parents, as well, and that had not happened.

For a moment she wanted to blame Aunt Theresa for her easy fall from virtue, and just as quickly banished the thought. Her aunt and her mother had been cut from different cloth, but both had loved her without reservation, and done their best for her. She was old enough to take responsibility for her own decisions, and to deal with the consequences.

Milky resin was already beginning to bead along the scores on the poppy pods, and Valerian moved on to tend to other flora. The sun slipped from behind a cloud, heating the room, creating a steamy warmth rich with the scent of earth and greenery. Valerian hummed softly under her breath as she worked, loving the feel of dirt in her hands, and imagined herself on some far away isle in the Indies, tending tropical flowers in her plantation garden.

Her reverie was gradually interrupted by the sound of female voices approaching. She looked up in time to see two women go past outside the glass wall in front of her, their bright dresses turned to shimmering watercolor by the sunlight and waved panes. They settled on a bench near the garden entrance to the greenhouse, and even as she told herself she should not, Valerian found herself moving slowly to that end of the building, where she might be able to listen in on their conversation.

“I cannot imagine that he will remain here past the summer,” one of the women said, her voice high and cultured and, Valerian thought, quite smug.

“But his family, the scandal—”

“Pish, Beth. What scandal? A trollop drowns herself, and it is a scandal? No, they will have him back, and be glad of it, too. And they will most especially welcome a wife.”

“Kate! Has he—” Beth seemed unable to voice the stunning thought, but at last managed. “Has he spoken to you?”

Valerian hung on the answer as much as Beth.

“La, well, not precisely,” Kate said.

Valerian gave a fierce nod of her head. Of course he had not!

“But I have a strong sense it is in his mind,” Kate continued. “And would we not make a fine match?”

Valerian shook her head in denial.

“Certainly my own parents would approve, for all that they think him a bit too fast.”

“I can only pray they never learn you are here now,” Beth said. “Christopher is not the most scrupulous of chaperones nor protective of brothers.”

“He is a gift,” Kate said, laughing, then turned her head and caught a glimpse of Valerian through the glass. “I say, Beth! We have a little spy upon us!”

Valerian winced in dismay at being caught, and tried to slink away back down the aisle.

Kate moved more quickly than Valerian would have thought a woman in such a voluminous gown could, coming around to the entrance to the greenhouse, Beth stumbling after.

Valerian ducked her head and dipped a curtsy. Perhaps if she put on an adequate display of servitude, they would the more quickly abandon her. “Mistress,” she said to her muddy shoes, “I was tending to the plants. I was not eavesdropping.”

“Look at me, girl.”

Valerian raised her face and met the full force of a slap. She gasped, her hand going to her cheek.

“ ‘Tis bad enough to spy, but you lie as well.”

Valerian barely heard the words. Rage such as she had never known boiled up within her. She dropped her hand and met Kate’s eyes straight on, putting the full force of her anger in her gaze. She bared her teeth, only vaguely aware that a purely animal growl rumbled from her throat.

Beth grabbed Kate’s arm, trying to pull her away, but Kate stood frozen, her face draining of color at the ferocity of Valerian’s response, so unexpected from a servant. Very faintly, she began to shake.

Valerian wanted to slap her, to spit on her, to drag her dirty hands down her face and over her pristine bodice, and knew even as she wished it, even as her eyes told Kate that she would tear her to shreds, that she would not. She was better than that.

Like a dog who is not willing to make good on his threat, she was now stuck wondering how to end the confrontation. She stepped forward, purposefully increasing the volume of her growls, and Kate showed her first hint of good sense and stepped back. Step by step Valerian intimidated her out of the greenhouse, helped along by Beth’s hand on Kate’s arm.

She was about to slam shut the door when the worst happened. Both Paul and Nathaniel appeared behind the two women.

“Thank heavens!” Beth cried, dropping Kate’s arm and grasping now onto the baron’s. “This horrid creature, stop her, she is completely mad—”

Valerian dropped her growl and turned her narrowed eyes on Nathaniel.

Nathaniel patted Beth’s hand where it clung to his jacket and interrupted her hysterical babble. “She looks to be completely in control of herself. I am certain you were in no danger.”

Kate turned to him at that, regaining her boldness at the arrival of a champion. “She is a lying little sneak, and dared to threaten me when I caught her at it. You must dismiss her immediately.”

“That would be a trifle difficult, as she is not a member of my staff.”

Valerian glared at him. Why did he not go along with the assumption that she was a servant? She had told him that she did not want to meet his friends! He could not mean to reveal their relationship, especially not here, not like this.

“You have had the good fortune, Kate,” Nathaniel continued, “of making the acquaintance of the local healer.”

Valerian exhaled in relief, although the feeling vanished when Paul added his own comments.

“And the resident witch,” Paul said. “You should count yourself lucky if all she did was threaten you. She could have done much worse, you may rely upon it.”

Both women immediately crossed themselves and then made the hand symbol for defense against the evil eye. Valerian rolled her eyes, stepped back, and shut the greenhouse door in their faces.

There was an immediate babble of female voices, overlaid with the deep, patronizing tones of men trying to soothe and calm. She stomped down the greenhouse to the hand pump and washed her hands, then set to work scraping the now-black resin from the poppy pods.

Moments later Valerian heard Nathaniel not so gently direct Paul to return the ladies to the house. The door opened, and his measured footsteps approached where she worked, her back to him. She scraped the knife-load of resin off into a vial. “You could have gone along with what she first thought,” she said without turning.

“And that would have been better?”

He put his hand on the small of her back, the heavy, comforting weight of it going straight to her gut. She turned, breaking the contact.

“Why did you come here and risk a confrontation?” he asked. “You said you would not.”

She made a gesture towards the plants, not meeting his eyes. “I had to.”

His hand nudged her chin up so she had to look at him, then his fingers brushed lightly over her cheek where Kate had slapped her. She was undone by the compassion she saw there.

“I did lie to her, you know,” she said. “I was eavesdropping, and quite intentionally.”

“And I suppose you threatened her, too.”

“I wanted to rip her eyes out even before she caught me spying.”

“Why?”

A simple question, and such an ugly answer. “Because! Because I was jealous.”