Joan Wolf (8 page)

It felt wonderful to be outdoors again, and I held my face up to the warmth of the sun and closed my eyes.

“You look like a little flower soaking up the sun like that,” said a deep voice close to me. It was not the voice I was longing to hear, but I opened my eyes and smiled.

Mr. Fitzallan sat down next to me on the stone bench and asked, “How are you, Valentine?”

“Much better, thank you.” I looked up at his profile. “Was it so very terrible a thing to have done?” I ventured.

He didn’t answer my question. “Diccon tells me Lord Ardsley is your grandfather.”

“Yes.” There was a long silence and then I asked, “Has—has his lordship told them I am here?”

“Not yet.” Mr. Fitzallan looked down at me impassively. “I will never understand why you did not do as your father wished and go to them, Valentine.”

I bit my lip. “Lord Leyburn understood. He said he would have done the same.”

“That was before he knew the truth.”

“But what difference can it make?” I cried.
“I
am still the same. Why can’t we just go on as we were?”

He smiled a little ruefully. “What a child you are, Valentine.” Then he too, as Lord Leyburn had done, took my chin in his hand and tilted my face up. “Once one knows, it’s hard to see how you could have fooled us,” he murmured. His touch was very gentle, and as he released my chin, he touched my cheek. “You have no idea, do you, of the problem your disguise has visited on poor Diccon?”

“What problem?”

He shrugged and stood up. “I’ll let him explain it to you. Stay out here a little longer. You need some color in your face. You’re too pale.” He smiled. “You were a very sick girl, you know.”

I watched him walk back to the house. He was right. I had no idea of what a problem my disguise might cause, nor did I particularly care. The only thing I did care about was the information that Lord Leyburn had not written as yet to my grandparents. And he was going to buy me some clothes. Perhaps—perhaps that meant I would be allowed to stay. . . .

I did not see Lord Leyburn for two more days. He was not at home, Mrs. Emerson informed me, but she did not know where he had gone.

When I finally received a message that his lordship wished to see me in the library, my heart lurched and my palms grew damp. I had to be allowed to stay, I thought fiercely, and I was not thinking of my dislike of my grandparents. I was thinking that my heart would break if I were never to see Lord Leyburn again.

He was standing at the far side of the room when I arrived in the open doorway of the library. His back was to me and my eyes went over him hungrily, over the wide shoulders that narrowed into such slim hips and long strong legs. I took a deep breath. The last time he had spoken he had been so angry.

“You wished to see me, my lord?”

He turned. Nobody in the world looked like Richard Fitzallan. The sunshine slanting in the window fell full on his hair. It was absolutely black. There was not a trace of brown or of red in it. He did not look angry, but his eyes were veiled by his lashes and I had no way of telling what he was thinking.

“Yes,” he said. “Come in, Valentine.”

I advanced slowly into the room, painfully aware of my baggy dress and my cropped hair. I had never felt self-conscious with him before.

“You look like a startled fawn,” he said. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not going to shout at you.” He sounded amused and my eyes flew to meet his. He was amused.

“Oh, my lord,” I said in a rush. “I’m so sorry I tricked you, but truly I didn’t see any other way. No one would hire a girl.”

“Not to look after their horses at any rate,” he said dryly.

I began to feel better. “No. And I really was not in the market for the only job I could have gotten otherwise.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen, my lord.”

“Christ, you don’t look it.” He moved to his favorite seat and said to me, “Sit down.”

I was feeling much better. He wasn’t angry and he hadn’t contacted my grandfather. Or had he?

“You do still understand why I didn’t want to live with my grandparents, don’t you?” I asked cautiously.

“Oh, I understand that, all right. I’ve met your grandfather, you know.”

“Is he awful?”

“He’s perfectly godly, righteous, and sober.”

“He’s awful,” I said. “I knew it.”

“At any rate, he’s not your kind, Valentine.”

“No,” I said complacently. “I’m like my father.”

“I’m very much afraid,” Lord Leyburn said slowly, “that you are going to have to remain here.”

“Oh,
thank
you, my lord!” I leapt to my feet, and before I quite knew what I was doing, I was kneeling next to his chair. “I’ll be good, I promise you I will be. I’ll do everything you ask. Truly.” His hand was lying on the arm of his chair and impulsively I picked it up and kissed the hard masculine fingers.

He looked at me very gravely. “You don’t quite understand the situation, Valentine. You are going to have to marry me.”

I wasn’t sure I had heard him correctly. “What —what did you say, my lord?”

He turned so that I was kneeling upright in front of him. He took both my hands in his and said, “You have been living in my house for months, unchaperoned. There is no way your reputation can survive that, sweetheart. I’m afraid you have no alternative but to marry me.”

“But—but no one knew I was a girl.”

He shrugged. “Who will believe that? Looking at you now, I wouldn’t believe it myself.”

I knelt there, my hands in his. So this was the problem Mr. Fitzallan had alluded to. “Marry you?” I said dazedly.

“Yes. You have no choice in the matter, Valentine. Ned offered, but you and Ned would not do at all.” He smiled. “Poor Ned, it’s enough that he has to put up with me. He doesn’t need a wife who’ll do his thinking for him as well.”

“But you’re going to marry Lady Barbara Bevil,” I said.

“Not anymore, I’m not.” He leaned forward and kissed me, very gently, on the lips. “As I said before, Valentine, you have no choice, and neither do I. Perhaps if you were younger, but eighteen . . . No, there is no way out of it but marriage.”

He had kissed me as if I were a child. My kiss on his hands had been far more passionate. He didn’t want to marry me; he only thought he had to. I pulled my hands away and stood up.

“No,” I said. “It’s—it’s ridiculous. I never meant anything like this to happen. I feel as if I’ve—I’ve trapped you. I won’t do it. It’s ridiculous.”

“Unfortunately, it is not ridiculous. It’s the way of the world.” He stood up as well. “It won’t be so bad, sweetheart,” he said confidently.

Won’t be so bad!
If only he knew . . .

“My lord,” I began.

“You may as well call me Diccon,” he said easily. He patted my cheek. “No more discussion, now. The matter is settled. I’ve been to see the archbishop about getting a special license. I think we’d be wise to notify your grandparents after the wedding. I’ll think up some tale to satisfy their puritan consciences."

"But..."

“Just think,” he said. “You’ll be the first countess whose servants are all on a first-name basis with her.” He laughed and went to the door. “You still look very peaked,” he said from the doorway. “I’ll take you out for a drive this afternoon. At three. Be ready, please.” He was gone.

Chapter 11

I went upstairs to my room, sat down on the window seat and stared out at the beautiful day. I had never felt so absolutely alone in my life, not even when my father died.

I could have it, the dearest wish of my heart. I could stay here at Carlton Castle for the rest of my life. I could be the wife of the man I loved, the only man I would ever love. I should be jumping with joy.

And yet... I loved him but he did not love me. Oh, he cared for me. I didn’t doubt that. I was his little companion: young Valentine, who so obviously admired and idolized him. He was accustomed to hero worship, however, and did not take it too seriously. He thought I was amusing and he enjoyed my way of looking at life. He thought I was a child. And I knew I was not.

I was unsophisticated, I didn’t doubt that. It had never crossed my mind that my disguise could place Lord Leyburn—I was afraid to think of him as Diccon, even to myself—in such a difficult position. I was unsophisticated and thoughtless, but I was not a child—not where he was concerned, at any rate. I knew what I wanted from him. I felt it in my blood every time he looked at me.

It would be terrible for him to have to marry a girl he didn’t want and then to find himself the object of a passionate and possessive love. I am not a lukewarm person. I wanted it all or I wanted nothing. I could bear to live with him as a sort of young sister; I could not live with him as his wife.

I could not marry him.

I could not tell him why I couldn’t marry him.

I would have to run away again.

The more I thought about it, however, the more difficult that course of action appeared. I could not simply steal a horse and gallop off to my grandparents. Lord Leyburn would be after me as soon as I was missed. He knew the roads much better than I. Without a doubt he would catch me.

I would have to go to my grandparents. I would have to be able to assure Lord Leyburn that I was safe and protected and that his very generous offer was entirely unnecessary. They were the only circumstances under which he would be able to consider himself released from his responsibility to me.

The problem was: how was I to get to my grandparents in Lincolnshire? I was still undecided about that when three o’clock came around.

I didn’t have anything to change into that was more appropriate than what I had on, so I went downstairs to meet his lordship dressed as I was. He was not yet in the hall, but the phaeton was at the door. Georgie was holding the horses and I went out to greet him.

“Hello, Georgie,” I said glumly.

He had straightened as soon as he saw me. “Good afternoon, miss.”

Quite suddenly I was furious. “Don’t you start that, too,” I snapped. “I am still the same person I was.
I
haven’t changed, it’s everyone else who has changed toward me. I have never met more snobs in my life than among the people who work here. You make the army look democratic.” I glared at him.

“But, miss,” he began.

“Don’t you dare ‘miss’ me!” I shouted.

Quite suddenly he began to grin. “You’re right, Val. You’re still the same. But that dress is much too big for you.”

I looked down at my person. “I know. I look awful. I wish to God I could have my breeches back.”

“Hutchins had a fit when he found out about you,” Georgie offered.

“Did he?” I leaned against the phaeton. “What did he say?”

We were both laughing when Lord Leyburn came down the front steps. Once again Georgie snapped to attention and his lordship gave him a preoccupied nod.

“Ready, Valentine?” he asked me.

“I have been ready since three o’clock. As you requested, my lord.”

“I’m sorry to be late,” he said, and his mouth curled down a little at the corners. He was amused.

“That is quite all right,” I replied grandly. “Georgie and I have been having a very interesting conversation.”

His eyes narrowed. He thought I was funny. I stuck my chin in the air and looked over his shoulder.

“May I help you into the phaeton, Valentine?” He sounded very courteous. Too courteous.

“Thank you.” I extended my hand.

He didn’t take it. Instead, he put his hands on my waist and lifted me into the seat. I looked down at him, surprised to be where I was, and he said gravely, “You’re welcome.” Behind him I saw Georgie grinning. I gave them both a withering look and settled my skirts. I could still feel the warmth of his hands on my waist.

We had been driving for five minutes before he spoke. “You’re too thin, you know. You weigh scarcely anything. Aren’t you eating?”

“I lost weight when I was sick. I’ll gain it back soon enough.”

I took my hat off and let the breeze ruffle my hair. I didn’t look at him. It hurt too much.

“We shouldn’t delay this wedding for too long, Valentine,” he said after a few minutes. “I’ve got the license.”

I stared at my blue skirts and suddenly I had an idea. Bless Georgie, I thought.

“I refuse to get married in these clothes,” I said firmly.

“What?”

“You heard what I said. Everyone has been telling me how dreadful they make me look. Even you, just now, you said I look skinny. It’s not that I’m so skinny, it’s that these dresses are too big.”

“Valentine, no one cares if your dress is too big,” he began patiently.

“I care. Mrs. Emerson said you were going to send me into York to have some clothes fitted properly.”

He stopped the phaeton and turned to look at me. “After the wedding, sweetheart, you can have all the clothes you want. I’ll take you to York myself. But first we must be married.”

“No.”

There was a flicker of impatience across his face, and I clenched my hands in my lap. “You will do as I say.” His voice was unnervingly quiet.

Mr. Fitzallan was right, I thought. He got his own way too damn often. “No, I will not.” I kept my own voice equally quiet. “Mrs. Emerson and I will go into York to buy me some new clothes and
then
we will be married.” His mouth thinned a little and suddenly I lost my temper. “Don’t you dare try to bully me!” My voice was no longer quiet. “I will not be married in this hideous dress. And it’s sheer bloody unfeeling arrogance on your part to try to make me do it.”

I sat rigid, braced for a blast of anger, and was astonished when his face relaxed and he began to smile. “All right, Valentine. Have it your way.” He raised a very black eyebrow and gave me a look of mock disapproval.’ ‘There was no need to swear,” he said. “Wherever did you learn such language?”

“From you,” I replied promptly.

He laughed softly, as if to himself, and then started up the horses again. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, drinking in the splendid clear profile, the long straight nose, the firm mouth and arched brow. I felt swept with anguish.

“What were you and Georgie talking about?” he asked.