Desire Becomes Her (25 page)
Read Desire Becomes Her Online
Authors: Shirlee Busbee
“We won’t be gone more than a few hours,” Stanley said, “and I suspect that he’ll enjoy having his house all to himself.”
“I suppose you’re right. I hadn’t thought about how things changed for him, too, with all of us living under his roof—even if it is a big house.”
Sophia nodded. “I agree—we tend to think of how
we
are affected, forgetting the differences our presence in his home make for
him
.”
we
are affected, forgetting the differences our presence in his home make for
him
.”
“I think he’s happy, though,” Gillian said.
Riding abreast, the three cousins continued to discuss their uncle and their pleasure in living at High Tower. Casting Stanley a curious look, Gillian asked, “Will you be returning to London after the first of the year?”
“I don’t know,” Stanley answered, frowning. “Uncle hasn’t said anything definite, but I sense that he would like me to stay and take a more active part in the running of High Tower.”
“Do you want to?” asked Sophia, studying him.
“Yes, very much,” he admitted. “Not that I would abandon London,” he added hastily, “but beyond a few months during the Season, living at High Tower with the pair of you and Uncle Silas holds a great appeal.”
“What a bouncer!” teased Gillian, her eyes laughing at him. “You actually want to live with me underfoot all the time?”
He smiled. “It wouldn’t be the terrible fate I once thought. What about the pair of you? How would you feel with me living permanently at High Tower?”
Gillian grinned at him. “A few weeks ago, I would have bitten off my tongue before confessing that it wouldn’t be
such
a terrible fate.”
such
a terrible fate.”
“I agree,” said Sophia bestowing a look of approval on Stanley. “And it would please Uncle Silas—which should be our first objective.”
In more charity with each other than at any time in their lives, the cousins continued their ride, conversing with an ease that had long been missing from their relationship.
They’d had no destination in mind when they had ridden away from High Tower, and despite the chilly and increasingly overcast day, they wandered farther afield than planned. They’d been enjoying themselves so much that they weren’t aware of the passing time, nor their location, until the breeze became a biting wind and a chill rain began to fall. Halting their horses, they looked at each other in dismay, realizing that their return ride was going to be miserable—especially if the wind and rain continued.
Other than their trips to church and the brief tour that Luc had given them, Gillian and Sophia were not familiar with the area, but Stanley was more acquainted with their surroundings, although at the moment, he hadn’t any idea where they were. Increasingly uncomfortable, they rode, and uncertain of their destination, to Stanley’s relief, recognizing a few landmarks, he realized that they were not more than a half mile from the village. Hoping the rain would not last for long, they decided to ride on to the village and take refuge at The Crown until the weather cleared.
“Or worsens,” said Stanley gloomily, eyeing the darkening sky over the Channel. “We may be in for a nasty blow. I don’t think you’ll enjoy riding home in the teeth of a storm.”
“We won’t melt,” said Sophia calmly. “But if the weather worsens, I’m sure that we can hire someone from the inn to take a message to High Tower. Uncle will send Cannon with the coach for us. Do not fuss.”
Stanley couldn’t argue with her logic and a few minutes later, they were pulling their horses to a halt in front of The Crown. Stanley helped both ladies down from their mounts and urged them toward the door. “I’ll get you settled in a private room and then see to the horses.”
Gillian hadn’t realized how cold and damp she’d become until she entered The Crown. Just being out of the wind and rain was a relief, but she almost purred at the wave of warmth that enveloped her as she stepped inside the tavern. A big fire blazed on the hearth, and the pleasing scent of spirits and roasting meat wafted through the air. Her stomach gave an unladylike growl, and she became aware of the fact that her meager breakfast had been hours ago and that she was hungry.
The interior of the inn was neat and tidy: the wide-planked floors gleamed, heavy oak beams dark with age crisscrossed the ceiling and lace curtains draped the windows. The room was nearly empty of customers except for a few farmers and fishermen sitting at a couple of tables near the fire. At the long wooden counter at the other end of the room, talking to the plump older woman and a pair of dark-haired smiling young women stood a tall, broad-shouldered gentleman, his back to the door. At the sound of the opening door, tankard held halfway to his lips, a grin on his face, the gentleman turned to glance at the newcomers.
Gillian’s heart fluttered when her eyes met Luc’s astonished blue stare.
“Tiens!”
Luc exclaimed, and putting down his tankard, his grin gone, he strode across the room to meet them. “Is everything all right?” he asked, his gaze moving from face to face as he came nearer. “Your uncle?”
Luc exclaimed, and putting down his tankard, his grin gone, he strode across the room to meet them. “Is everything all right?” he asked, his gaze moving from face to face as he came nearer. “Your uncle?”
Already feeling guilty for almost getting them lost, Stanley wasn’t happy to see Luc, and he said stiffly, “There is nothing wrong with our uncle. We decided to take a ride, but Uncle Silas remained at home.” Under Luc’s steady look, Stanley found himself explaining, “The change in the weather caught us by surprise and we decided to take shelter here to wait and see if the rain lessens enough to allow us to continue home.” Stanley glanced around the area, noting the interest their arrival had caused amongst the inhabitants, and clearing his throat he added, “I was hoping to procure a private room for the ladies.”
“Of course,” Luc said, his warm smile encompassing all three of them. “Mrs. Gilbert will be glad to provide you with one.”
Mrs. Gilbert trotted up just then, her blue eyes alert and curious as Stanley made their wants known. A moment later, she ushered them into a pleasant room at the side of the inn. After finding out if the room was satisfactory and inquiring to their wishes for refreshments, she left. A moment later, one of the dark-haired young women who had been talking to Luc at the counter hurried in with a bundle of kindling, flashing them a shy smile before lighting a fire on the hearth of the old brick fireplace. In no time, the fire dispelled the faint chill in the room, and as the first young woman departed, another dark-haired young woman appeared with a tray loaded with refreshments.
Luc accompanied them when Mrs. Gilbert had shown them the room and to Stanley’s displeasure seemed disinclined to take himself off. He wasn’t certain how the man had done it, but it appeared that the Frenchman was now a member of their party. Listening to the light prattle as Luc charmed and disarmed the ladies Stanley sighed. No doubt the fellow would insist upon escorting them home, where his uncle would fall on Joslyn’s neck with delight.
The afternoon was well advanced before the weather cleared somewhat, and although the falling wind still had a bite to it and the smell of rain was in the air, it was decided to make a run for home. And proving Stanley right, Luc joined them.
Mounted on an elegant black, as they trotted away from the inn, Luc observed, “It will be much faster if we cut across the fields than follow the road.” He looked at Stanley and said apologetically, “Forgive me! I do not mean to usurp your position. Perhaps you know the shortcut, also?”
Stanley shook his head, admitting reluctantly, “I nearly got us lost as it was.” Wryly, he added, “It was only by luck that we ended up at the village.”
“Then if you will allow me, I will show you the quickest way to High Tower.”
Stanley nodded, wishing the man wasn’t so damned charming ... and likeable.
Luc cast another glance at the threatening sky over the Channel and muttered, “If we are very lucky, my friends, we may make it to your home before the storm breaks.”
Luc urged his horse forward and the four of them set off at a brisk walk. They had to traverse the muddy, winding streets of the village first before they could leave the road behind and strike out for open ground, and just as they reached the outskirts they were met by a quartet of approaching horsemen. Luc nearly swore aloud as he recognized the gentlemen: Canfield, Padgett, Stanton and St. John. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse would have been a more welcome sight, Luc thought grimly. War, famine, pestilence and death had nothing on these four, although, he admitted, putting St. John in that group wasn’t fair. His eyes narrowed. But St. John’s presence was ... interesting.
Of these men, Miles St. John was the only one Luc had any liking for, and if not for the company the man kept, he thought they might have been, if not friends, friendly acquaintances. St. John, while part of Padgett’s circle of friends, had always been cordial and polite and held himself at arm’s length from some of the greatest excesses of vice practiced by the others. That St. John was here now made him thoughtful. There was sharp intelligence behind those green eyes and Luc knew from experience that St. John was nobody’s fool, but those traits could be used for good or evil... . Was it possible that St. John was the real power behind Nolles? It was a disturbing idea.
No introductions were necessary, all of the men had all been Charles’s friends and Gillian and Sophia had met them previously; Luc knew the gentlemen from his time in London. Stanley had a passing acquaintance with them, and until recently had emulated them, but that was before closer acquaintance with Canfield had shown him the error of his thinking.
Stanley had not seen Canfield since the fellow had departed High Tower, and the stiffness between the two men was noticeable. Luc gave Stanley credit for being polite, but aloof; Stanley clearly wanted nothing to do with Canfield. The reaction of the ladies was precisely the same and Luc’s mouth tightened when, not at all rebuffed by his cool reception, Canfield sidled his horse next to Gillian’s.
Canfield smiled and leaned over to whisper in her ear. She flushed and glanced away, her gaze meeting Luc’s. The uneasiness and revulsion in those lovely eyes was obvious, and Luc reacted without thought, swinging his horse around so sharply that the hip of his horse bumped the shoulder of the mount Canfield was riding. The collision between the two horses nearly unseated Canfield and gave him something to think about other than pressing his attentions where they weren’t wanted.
Canfield’s horse shied violently and half-reared; it took Canfield a moment to control the plunging animal. By the time he had the horse under control, Luc had inserted his mount between Canfield and Gillian. His face red, Canfield glared at Luc. “Watch where you’re going—you damn near caused an accident,” he snarled.
“Forgive me,” Luc said coolly, “I did not realize you were there.”
Embarrassed, Canfield burst out, “Bloody Frenchman! I’ve a good mind to—”
“Now gentlemen,” interrupted St. John smoothly, “let us not squabble in front of the ladies. No one was hurt”—he smiled at Canfield—“except for perhaps your pride. It was an accident.” An edge to his voice, he added, “Let it go.”
Grumbling, Canfield moved his horse to the edge of the group. The other gentlemen crowded forward to flirt with Gillian and Sophia.
“Such a shame,” drawled Padgett, his icy blue eyes lingering on Gillian’s bosom, “that you have hidden yourself away in the country since even before dear Charles’s death. London is poorer for the lack of your delightful presence.”
“ ’Tis true,” chimed in St. John, his lean face crinkling attractively when he smiled. “This past Season was a dead bore. However, if a pair of such entrancing ladies as yourselves would have graced the soirees and balls ...”
Sophia laughed. “And you, sir, have kissed the Blarney stone once too often.”
Green eyes smiling, St. John clutched his heart. “Nay, beautiful lady, how can you say so? I speak most sincerely. You have wounded me.”
Gillian gave an amused snort at the exchange, and St. John’s attention swung to her. “Do you doubt my words, fair lady?”
Gillian shook her head. “Oh no, dear sir, it would never do for me to contradict such a gentleman as yourself.” The amusement in her eyes belied the demure tone.
St. John studied her for a moment, thinking that she looked quite fetching in her amber velvet riding habit... . His gaze sharpened and he said slowly, “That’s a lovely brooch you’re wearing. A family piece, perhaps?”
Gillian flushed and the amusement died from her eyes. “No. My husband gave it to me shortly before he was ...” She swallowed. “Before he died.”
“Did he now? I wonder where he purchased it.”
“Good Gad,” drawled Stanton. “Have done, St. John. Can’t you see you’ve brought up a distressing memory for the lady?”
St. John immediately launched into an apology that Gillian politely brushed aside, and while she was grateful for Stanton’s interruption, she shivered when his dark eyes moved over her. Like Padgett, his gaze lingered a little too long here and there, making her feel as if she was half-naked. Canfield continued to ogle her and she was relieved when Luc brought the chance meeting to a close. She liked St. John, but Padgett was irritating, Canfield made her uneasy, and Stanton ...
Eager to put the gentlemen behind her, Gillian kicked her horse into a gallop and followed closely behind Luc as he led them from the road and into the rolling countryside. Sophia and Stanley were right behind her.
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