Sharon Sobel (33 page)

“If she were a man, she might command an army.”

“Feisty?”

Ben could not help but wonder how his uncle hit upon the very word he himself avoided.

“I confess I admire it.”

“Then God give you strength, my boy. You shall need it.”

In the aftermath of Lark’s evening adventure at the Royal Pavilion, she and Janet quietly moved out of Knighton’s and into a small hotel overlooking the beach. Their
windows did not afford as tempting an early-morning view as their previous accommodations, but there were other compensations.

Not the least of which was the fact that Lark was able to move about unencumbered, having happily relinquished the role of invalid. She promptly reported the news to all her family, who now proposed to their friends that Brighton be the place to effect a cure for any ailment, from bee sting to broken bones.

“I believe the most remarkable feature of our little adventure is that we never managed to meet the famous Dr. Knighton in all the weeks we spent here. And yet he surely will be credited with my miraculous cure. And that of Colonel Wayland, come to think on it. He seemed absolutely steady when he attacked me in the hall.”

Janet looked up from a box she unpacked.

“If you believe our lack of an introduction to Dr. Knighton is the most remarkable occurrence of the past few weeks, then I believe your reputed illness has settled in your brain. Modesty is becoming, but in this case it is too false. You have been hailed as a heroine throughout the neighborhood, and the news of your deed is spreading quickly. It is not every lady who has the opportunity to serve her king.” Janet paused for a moment, clearly reflecting on her words. “In a manner such as this, I mean.”

Lark watched her friend turn bright red, and smiled.

“You recall, I fell against his body. There is no other way I can imagine serving him, so saving his life will have to suffice. But I believe Mr. Queensman deserves all the credit, as he surely anticipated disaster and did a great deal more than I to avert it. I am only an accidental partner in the affair.”

“And yet everyone, including Mr. Queensman, seems perfectly willing to let you have all the glory. Why is that, do you suppose?” Janet asked, smiling too gleefully.

“There is the novelty of it, I imagine. A woman in man’s clothing, doing a man’s mission,” Lark explained guilelessly. But then, more seriously, “And were we not correct in imagining Mr. Queensman something more than we were led to believe? We observed how well-known he was to the king, and paid a good deal of attention to his comings and goings. You
noted it first, Janet, when you considered his interest in Mr. Siddons’ tiresome maps.”

“They were not tiresome to everyone. We now know Colonel Wayland used them to plot the whereabouts of the king and to formulate a plan. He and Mr. Siddons were at once closer than their relationship would imply.”

“Why, I now know they were not relations at all. But poor Mr. Siddons! What a horrible end!”

Janet dropped a folded corset onto the bed. “You would pity such a one? He would have killed you as well as the king, if Mr. Queensman had not gotten to him first. And he would have certainly killed Mr. Queensman.”

“He told me he did, Janet. It was partly what gave me the strength to fight him off and run away. I thought if Mr. Queensman were dead, I would not have so much to live for. I could risk—”

Lark’s voice cracked, and she looked away.

“You do not have to say more, my dear. I believe I know how you feel.”

Lark gazed out the window, looking at the distant shore.

“I believe you cannot, Janet,” she said quietly.

In the early afternoon, a messenger arrived at their hotel, requesting the presence of the lady Larkspur for tea at the home of Mr. Benedict Queensman.

“Of course you shall come too,” Lark said to Janet.

“I do not see my name on the invitation and, in any case, I intend to go out for a drive with Matthew. Perhaps Mr. Queensman has something most particular to say to you.”

“If he does, should he not come to me directly? I am a lady, and I deserve some degree of deference.”

“You would have it both ways, would you not? You would be a boy set off on adventure, as well as a proper lady. You would be an invalid, and yet frustrated when you are not invited to a dance.”

“The argument does not stand, Janet. You know it does not. Mr. Queensman knows everything.”

“Of course. His eyes never seem to miss anything of consequence. Perhaps he intends this meeting as a celebration.”

“Or, more likely, a valediction,” Lark said unhappily.

Indeed, Ben Queensman looked very solemn when Lark arrived in his cabriolet at the entrance to Seagate. He leaned against a column, looking very fine in a blue jacket, light brown breeches, and Hessians that shone in the sun. But he looked somehow uncomfortable, as if he would prove to be the bearer of bad news, and he lingered at his post a bit longer than necessary or strictly polite.

Lark, helped to the ground by the groom, stood hesitantly, gazing up at the image of the man she loved framed by his splendid home.

“Lady Larkspur, welcome to Seagate,” he said quite clearly when he finally came forward. And then, when only she could hear, “I never hoped to see the day you would be able to walk up my stairs.”

Lark laughed nervously as she allowed her arm to be pulled into his. He felt warm and instantly reassuring.

“And yet you practically dared me to reveal myself and demonstrate such abilities. Surely you know me well enough to believe I cannot resist a dare.”

“I do now. At the time, I believe, I only knew you already quite capable of managing to walk wherever you wished. I confess, I wanted to provoke you.”

“Of course. It is something you do quite well.”

He led her into the entrance hall, where the smell of fresh sea air mingled with the more domestic scents of wax and lemon oil. The marble floor glistened underfoot, and shafts of sunlight filtered in through each open door.

“It is perfectly lovely, Mr. Seagate looks to be a home designed for comfort as well as beauty, which is a good deal more than I can say for the Royal Pavilion.”

“It is an excellent house, but then, I am biased because I have spent all my life here.” They walked into the drawing room, with its large plate windows facing out onto the sea. “And yet I confess I am often lonely. The house lacks its mistress.”

Lark felt her heart beat faster and her cheeks grow warm.

“Surely that is a situation you can remedy whenever you wish. It is an advantage men have over women: they can decide whom and when they marry.”

“I think women have something to say in the matter.”

“Then they are a good deal luckier than myself. For I have had no choice but to marry Lord Raeborn.”

“And you do not wish to.”

Lark studied Mr. Queensman thoughtfully, wondering why he trifled with her. He surely did not invite her here to determine what he already knew, or to test her loyalty yet again.

“Is there anyone who knows it better than yourself, Mr. Queensman?” she asked sarcastically. “You suspected my deception almost at once, and certainly guessed what I hoped to accomplish by it.”

“It proved a daring ruse. And another physician—one less skilled, shall we say?—might never have doubted your picture of ill health.”

“You have a very keen sense of yourself, sir!” Lark laughed, somewhat ruefully.

“Yes, I do,” Mr. Queensman answered gravely. “Of course, one might say the same about you. For it seems your deception has accomplished exactly what you hoped.”

Lark caught her breath. “You cannot mean—it will not—”

He nodded and took a step forward.

“Lord Raeborn has already pronounced his intention of marrying me, no matter what my health.”

“He has deputized me to inform you he has changed his mind, my lady,” Mr. Queensman said, bowing deferentially.

Lark felt a little flicker of anger, even more potent than her considerable relief. She marched over to Raeborn’s messenger and clasped his shoulders. When he straightened, her hands remained where they were, and her body moved very close to his.

“What do you mean to tell me, sir? Is your cousin—”

“Jilting you? Yes, it appears he is. But he has begged me to do it under the most polite terms.”

“No terms can be too polite for such a thing! I will be once again humiliated, made the object of derision by all the
ton
! There will be those who will cut me—”

Lark was interrupted yet again, but this time by Ben Queensman’s lips. His hands pulled her against him and moved up the lines of her back until they nested in her hair.
Soon, he released the red curls from their pins, and Lark felt the weight of her hair fall upon her shoulders. But it was impossible to protest, for he did not let her breathe.

When, finally, she did protest, it was because he stopped.

“I have, however, thought of a solution to minimize the insult to your reputation. I shall have to marry you myself.”

“And not ask me first? Do you consider me so desperate?”

He smiled, in the way Lark had come to know and love so well. He looked to have a secret, the very knowledge of which gave him unbidden pleasure.

“You are not so desperate, my lady. You are the trustee of an earldom, after all, and everywhere hailed as a heroine.” He paused and looked at her a bit clinically. “And as your health seems to be excellent—”

He caught her hand as she tried to slap him.

“So you will marry me for Brighthelmstone? It is a very mercenary title.”

“Do you think a title would tempt me? I am already in the way of Raeborn’s, and as he is to marry Miss Hathawae—”

“Miss Hathawae! How very wonderful! Why did you not tell me this at first?”

“Because, dear love, you never give me the chance to finish a sentence.”

“I am sorry. What else are you holding back from me?”

His lips moved wordlessly, and then he bent to caress the wrist of the hand he still held.

“As Raeborn is to marry Miss Hathawae, I doubt if I shall have any young cousins to stand in line before me.”

“So you would not marry me for Brighthelmstone. Is it for pity, then? Because no one else would have me?”

“I think you have been courted by too many fools, dearest Lark. No one would ever doubt the motives of the man who would be your husband.”

“And yet you will not reveal them.” She circled her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, where she heard the strong, regular beating of his heart. “I suppose I could be rather useful about the hospital. I might work with the herbs and see what potions I might create.”

“I believe you have already discovered one of considerable potency, for it seems to have worked a spell on me.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head, and she, fully contented and no longer in the mood to tease him, closed her eyes to savor what would yet come. “I believe I already gave you reason enough to wish to marry you, Lark.”

“I heard a declaration from a Mr. Robin Hood several evenings ago. Of course, he dashed off almost immediately, believing himself some sort of hero and perfectly willing to sacrifice himself and leave me all bereft.”

“He never thought to sacrifice himself if that meant abandoning his soul’s desire. But neither did he imagine the young lady to be in any sort of danger. Of course, in the end his heroics did not matter, for the lady upstaged him and made his rescue rather superfluous.”

“Do not imagine it for a minute.”

“I will not. I prefer to imagine much more pleasurable things.”

“Such as?” Lark asked, her lips against the taut skin at his throat.

“Such as the selfsame lady in my home, in the herb garden, bathing in the sea, and playing with my children.”

“You wish a governess, then?”

“I wish only one thing. When I hear it, I shall know complete happiness.”

“What might it be?”

He said nothing, and it was several moments before she realized what still remained between them, what he would not take for granted.

“That I love you, Ben? Is that what you would hear? That I love you as I have never loved anyone, as I never could imagine loving again? I think I myself did not truly understand how very much it was so until several nights ago when my recklessness—what some have called heroism—in the Royal Pavilion was motivated by a belief that I had nothing more to lose, because you were already dead. It was an act made in unhappy desperation.”

“It seems to be a way you have. If it were not so, our paths might never have crossed.”

“So ill-favored a meeting I cannot imagine.” Lark sighed. “When I think of how much time ladies spend in their chambers to guarantee complete perfection in the picture they present to eligible gentlemen, there is much irony in this. You have seen me at my very worst.”

“Beloved, be assured your very worst is infinitely better than most ladies’ very best. Let us only say that, for all the cleverness of your deception, I have managed to know you in complete honesty.”

“As I have known you …”

She paused, too modest even in this most intimate moment to confess what she witnessed each morning on the beach.

“Yes?”

She looked up into his clear eyes with the little creases caused by laughter and sunshine in the corners, and thought of the wide blue sea and how much she wanted to spend her whole life beside it and with him.

She caught her breath, almost overwhelmed by the extent of her emotion.

“As I have known you,” she repeated, “as the only man meant for me to marry.”

“And so you shall,” he answered slowly. And for some time, there was very little else that needed to be said.

Keep reading for a special excerpt from the next eBook by Sharon Sobel

MISS CLARKSON’S CLASSMATE

Available April 2012 from InterMix

T
he absurd and completely inappropriate pleasure Miss Emily Clarkson felt upon watching her mother disappear into a throng of passengers on board a departing ship turned to horror when Mrs. Evangeline Clarkson turned on her heel and made haste for the gangplank.