Unveiled (Undone by Love Book 3) (4 page)

The exasperating woman flounced off to the right and there was nothing he could do but follow her
.

Right back to exact same juncture
.

“Oh, this is madness.”  She dashed to the center of the clearing and stood on tiptoe on the fountain’s pedestal, bracing her hands against the circular trough
. “Cecil,” she yelled, her voice rising in panic. “Someone? Anyone?”

“Tolland?” he joined in
. “Can anyone hear us?”

An owl hooted.

She turned on him, her eyes flashing in the moonlight. “Now what are we to do?” 

“We rest for a moment, and then we try again
. To the left.”

She let out a rush of breath
. “Perhaps I could use a rest. I
am
a bit winded.”  Her eyes were bright, her cheeks stained strawberry from the exertion.

Damnation, she was beautiful
. Perhaps the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. His gaze met hers, his heart thumping against his ribs. He hadn’t meant to find himself alone–unchaperoned–with the woman. In fact, he’d protested against the very idea. But now, here they were, all alone. Unwatched.

Caught in his gaze, she stepped away from him, backing against the solid wall of clipped yew like a cornered animal
. As he moved toward her, his mind ceased functioning properly and instinct took over, all but clouding his sensibility.

“Almost a full moon,” she said at last, breaking the charged silence
. “At least it’s a lovely night to get lost in.”  His gaze followed hers, up to the bright orb in the darkened sky, a wispy cloud shrouding its lower quadrant.

He took another step toward her, no more than an arm’s length from her now
. She turned her head, biting her lower lip.

“We’re sure to have a pleasant summer,” she added, still averting her gaze
. “Quite warm, too.”

He wanted to kiss her
. It went against all reason, against every rational thought–against his very character. She was a lady, after all. A virgin. An innocent. Emily’s cousin, for God’s sake. But dammit, he wanted to kiss her. Now. If, for no other reason, to silence her mindless prattle about the weather.

He closed the distance between them, placing his hands on the tree’s trunk on either side of her head and effectively trapping her
. He could hear her rapid breaths, see her eyes widen with something akin to fear. There were no other sounds save the gurgling of the fountain as water trickled from a stone cherub down to the trough below.

Indeed, they were decidedly alone
.

“Whatever are you doing?” she asked, her voice a husky whisper
.

“I thought perhaps to kiss you,” he answered, unable to suppress a smile as her eyes widened a considerable fraction
.

“Kiss me
? Have you lost your wits?”

“I’m fairly certain I’ve my wits about me.”  He inched his mouth closer to hers, her breath caressing his lips, tantalizing him
. “Shall I show you how it’s done? I touch my lips, thus,” he brushed his lips slowly, seductively, across hers, “to yours.”  Her deep blue eyes, inky in the moonlight, widened a fraction more. “Like so.”

Then she startled him by reaching a hand up to his head
. “Here,” she whispered. “You’ve got something...a bit of a leaf...”

He felt her fingers brush above his ear and he shuddered at the contact
. With a quick movement, he reached up and caught her hand, brought it to his mouth as he breathed in her scent, an intoxicating mingling of spices. Cinnamon, perhaps, mixed with anise? His gaze sought hers as he pressed his lips against her palm. Her breath caught but her eyes didn’t leave his face.

Damn propriety
–he had to kiss her. His head dipped toward hers and he captured her mouth with his own, his heart hammering in his chest. He reached down to her throat, felt her pulse jump beneath his thumb as her lips parted, allowing access to his plundering tongue. She tasted like champagne mixed with the sweetest honey, and he feasted on her like a starving man.

With a shudder, he felt her hands tangle in his hair, drawing him closer still
. He pressed himself fully against her, his urgent erection firm against her hip.

She pulled back at once from the intimate contact
. In a flash her hand flew out and struck him solidly across the cheek. “How dare you!”

His hand rose to his stinging cheek, his mind reeling in shock
. Most marriageable ladies would eagerly allow him to kiss them senseless if he’d taken a notion to it, the threat of being caught nothing more than an enticement. Which is precisely why he hadn’t made a habit of it. What a foolish, imprudent thing to have done. Next thing he knew she’d be measuring windows for drapes at Richmond Park.

“I assure you it will never happen again.”  He would make damn sure of it
.

She opened her mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut
.

“Come now, after eight Seasons it’s surely not the first time you’ve been kissed,” he drawled, still smarting with annoyance
. At himself. At her.

“I’ll have you know it
is
,” she replied with surprising vehemence. “I am a lady, sir, and I don’t go about kissing men thither and yon. Dear God, what if someone came upon us?”  She looked around wildly, her face suddenly a mask of panic and confusion. “What if we were forced to wed? How could I be so stupid, so impulsive?”  Her voice rose a pitch to near hysteria.

“We’ve been yelling with no response for more than an hour
. It’s obvious there’s no one about to witness your ruin.” 

She nodded mutely, visibly gathering her composure
.

“I said it would never happen again, and you have my word as a gentleman that it won’t
. Now let’s get out of here and find Tolland.”

“Fine,” she replied tartly, walking on ahead of him.

Toward the
right
.

He followed her silently, a bit shaken by the terror he’d seen in her eyes
. Damnation, he’d only kissed her. He’d said it would never happen again, and by God, he’d make bloody sure it didn’t.

“To think I actually listened to you,” she muttered as he caught up to her
. “Good sense of direction, indeed. I think perhaps you must have dozed off during lessons explaining the difference between left and right.”

“I can assure you I’m perfectly capable of telling left from right, Miss Rosemoor
. Here, allow me to demonstrate. The lady to my
right
claims not to have fits of temper in public, yet clearly cannot hold her tongue when piqued.”

“Oooh!”  Her cheeks reddened
. “If ever a man was undeserving of my confidence in–” 

“Confidence?” he sputtered indignantly
. “If
that
was a show of confidence then I’m–”

“Cecil!” Miss Rosemoor interrupted, calling out shrilly as she dashed ahead of him.

“Cecil?” He looked up in confusion, surprised to see that they’d somehow found their way back to the maze’s entrance. There sat Tolland on a wrought-iron bench, a dazed expression on his face as he rubbed one visibly swollen ankle.

Bloody hell, more than his ankle would be in need of a poultice when he was through with the man.

Chapter 4

“I’m sorry, mum,” Emily’s lady’s maid said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to entertain yourself this afternoon. Mrs. Tolland’s taken to her bed.”

Jane’s heart began to race
. “She’s not unwell, is she?”  It was still more than a moon till the babe was expected.

“No, she’s well enough, miss
. Just a bout of the blues is all. Comes and goes with my mistress. Don’t fret; it’ll pass. It always does.” 

Jane’s racing heart progressed to a full gallop
. The blues? Emily seemed so merry, so cheerful. Fear raced through Jane’s veins.

She could put it off no longer
. She would find Cecil immediately and make the necessary arrangements for a visit to The Orchards. It was time to see her Grandmama, to uncover the truth–to face it herself once and for all. She would go tomorrow, once she was assured of Emily’s well-being.

An hour later the arrangements were made, and Jane hurried upstairs to fetch her shawl
. She’d go for a walk, explore the grounds. The sun was high in the sky–not a cloud in sight–and the air held the promise of warmth. A perfect afternoon for an invigorating stroll. From her bedroom window, she could see a shimmering lake in the distance–an inviting destination.  

She set off with a scowl, drawing her shawl tightly about her shoulders as her thoughts returned to her cousin’s plight
. Perhaps she was wrong–perhaps Emily’s maid was simply overstating it. After all, most women occasionally had mild bouts of the blues, didn’t they? Perhaps it was nothing more serious than that, she assured herself as she ambled across the manicured lawn and headed toward the wood, densely shadowed by enormous trees. The rugged, untamed landscape filled her with awe as she walked on, sure that she’d never before seen such beautiful land. Something about Derbyshire felt
right
to her. She felt eerily at home here even though many years had passed since her last visit to this district.

She passed through two large boulders, amazed at their impressive size
. There was nothing like this in all of Essex. For a brief moment she wondered where Cecil’s land ended and Lord Westfield’s began.
Dear Lord
, she thought,
don’t let me accidentally trespass onto his park
. She should’ve asked someone about the estate’s borders before setting off so impulsively. The last thing she wanted to risk was accidentally bumping into the man.

Especially after last night
. Her cheeks burned at the memory of his kiss. It was bad enough that she’d allowed it, but for a moment she’d actually enjoyed it. She’d been so careful all these years, never allowing a flirtation to progress to anything physical. She’d dodged her fair share of kisses, turning her cheek and scolding eager young men for their boldness. But it had been different with Lord Westfield, as if he’d paralyzed her with his presence. She’d only meant to go into the maze in search of Cecil–nothing more. She should have heeded his protestations.  

But she hadn’t truly thought he would corner her like he had, his ardor catching her completely off guard
. It was only when she’d felt the evidence of his arousal that she’d finally snapped to her senses.

Her initial instinct upon meeting Lord Westfield had been to act her most charming, alluring self
. Just for spite, so she could summarily dismiss him as easily as he had dismissed her upon first inspection. Yet she’d been unable to do so–somehow he pushed her beyond her usual limits and forced her to match wits at each and every turn. What was it about the man that was so different from the rest–the ones whom she’d been able to smile sweetly at and keep a civil tongue around, despite the temptation to do otherwise?

She’d never fully understand the male species
. It would seem she had defeated her purpose, lashing out at him as she had since the moment they’d met. But his response had been to kiss her. And instead of being pleased with her accomplishment and subsequently rebuffing him–as he’d deserved–she’d not only allowed the kiss, but responded with a terrifying, overpowering passion. She’d felt his kiss right down to her toes, and she’d wanted more–far more than any proper maiden could dare wish for.  

She shook her head in frustration as a single tear escaped the corner of her eye
. She wiped it away and hurried on, scolding herself as she quickened her pace. Whatever had come over her? More often than not she was satisfied with her life–with the choices she’d made. She’d enjoyed a fair amount of popularity, and the proposals she managed to garner each year served to validate her womanhood, to assure her of her desirability, to remind her that she was alone because she
chose
to be alone.

Other times she thought she’d die from longing
. She’d lie awake in bed at night, her heart in knots, wishing desperately to find the sweet, abiding affection her sister Susanna had found in Mr. Merrill, or the consummate joining of heart and soul that her dear friend Lucy had found with Lord Mandeville. But those things were not meant for her–she’d known it all along.

Forcing herself to dismiss her dour thoughts, she continued on, carefully picking her way through the foliage, ducking under branches and dodging stones in her path
. At last she emerged from the dense wood, the lake finally in her sights. She quickened her pace in anticipation, but stopped short as she passed a clump of trees to her immediate right. Was she hearing things? She was almost certain she’d heard someone crying. She stepped closer, sure her ears were playing tricks on her. But the sound got louder as she neared a towering fir, and she peered anxiously around its trunk.

And then she saw her
–a small slip of a girl with tangled blond hair and a dirt-smeared face hidden amongst the drooping branches. Her gaze took in the child’s dress–soiled, but certainly quality. Well cut from fine fabrics. Definitely a gentleman’s daughter.

“Good afternoon,” she called out
. “Are you hurt, child?”

The girl turned toward her, eyes wide with terror as she shrunk back against the tree
.

“N...no,” she stammered, burying her face in her hands
.

“Are you lost?”

The girl shook her head, then changed her response to an uncertain nod. “I thought to go to the fishpond but I must have taken a wrong turn,” came her reply, muffled through her hands. “I was angry at Miss Crosley, you see, and...I...I can’t find my way back,” she sobbed.

“Well, perhaps I can help
. My name is Jane. What’s yours?”

“Madeline.”  The child peered out from behind her hands
.

“A pleasure to meet you, Madeline
. Now that we are friends, you must tell me who your mama and papa are. Perhaps I can help you home.”

“I haven’t a mama or a papa.”

Jane’s heart wrenched. The poor girl. Wherever could she have come from? As far as she knew, there were no homes in walking distance save Richmond Park.

“Uncle Hayden’s going to be cross with me
. I was frightened, you see, when I lost my way. Terribly frightened. Uncle Hayden wishes me to be brave.”

Uncle Hayden
? Lord Westfield? Could she possibly be some relative of Lord Westfield’s, living at Richmond Park? She supposed it was possible although no one had mentioned the child.
How odd
.  

“It’s all right to be frightened, Madeline
. I’m often frightened myself.”

“Truly?”

Jane nodded solemnly.

“But I’m afraid to go home
. What if they send me back?”

“Send you back where?”

“I don’t know. Wherever it is I came from. I’ve heard the servants whispering about me, miss. They call me a name, something I can’t remember. Something must be terribly wrong with me, and I’m afraid they’ll send me away.”

Jane knew just she felt, listening to hushed whispers and worrying that something was wrong with you
. She knelt before the child and reached for her hands. “Have you asked your Uncle Hayden about this?”

“No
. He’s so very kind to me, always bringing me sweets and such. I don’t want to make him angry.”

“Your uncle will be happy to have you safely returned, Madeline
. I promise you that.”

“You know my uncle?”  Madeline peered down at Jane curiously
.

“I’ve made his acquaintance.”  Jane stood and reached for her small, dirty hand
. “Will you come with me? I’ll see you home. And please call me Jane. We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

“Oh, yes
. Thank you, Jane. You’re the nicest lady I know. Well, except for Mrs. Tolland. But you’re almost as nice as her.”

“Why, thank you
. I take that as the highest of compliments.”  With a grin, Jane squeezed Madeline’s hand reassuringly. She wasn’t entirely certain, but she thought Richmond Park was beyond the lake, over the hill to her left. If the child had wandered here alone, then Jane felt sure the house must be in easy walking distance. At least if they got lost, they’d get lost together.

“It’s just over there, beyond that rise,” Jane said, setting off with a smile but feeling less confident than she pretended to be
. “And I’ll have you know that the nice Mrs. Tolland is my cousin.” 

The girl rewarded her with a wide, gap-toothed grin that made Jane’s heart soar.

A half hour later they came to a field directly in front of the lake. Jane stopped short, her mouth agape.  

There, directly ahead on the far side of the lake, the most magnificent house she’d ever seen rose up from the ground in utter splendor, casting its reflection on the mirrored surface of the water
. A columned portico rising three stories in height stood in the estate’s center, two dog-leg staircases reaching down to the graveled drive below. Two perfectly symmetrical, two-storied wings stretched on for ages on either side of the portico, the tall, evenly spaced windows crowned with graceful carved arches. The simplicity of the design was stunning, the effect staggering.

“There it is,” Madeline called out
. “Home. You were right, Jane!”

Jane found herself unable to respond
. Instead she stood there, blinking repeatedly as if she were looking at a mirage.

This
was Richmond Park? Oh, she’d known it was reputed to be fine, the finest in the district, but still. She’d enjoyed the hospitality of some of the grandest homes in the districts immediately surrounding London, and none were as magnificent as this. Lord Westfield lived
here
? It didn’t signify.

“Come now, Jane
. I’ll show you the way.”  Madeline tugged on her hand, her confidence obviously restored now that she was on familiar terrain.

Jane hurried after the girl
. In less than a quarter hour they accomplished the front gates, the house looming larger and larger still as they approached. As they climbed the wide front stairs, Jane glanced down at her frock and for a moment allowed herself to wish she’d worn something–anything–but this dowdy, printed muslin morning gown. Worse yet, her boots were surely covered in mud. She looked down, her scowl deepening. Even the hem of her gown was soiled.
Please
, she pleaded silently,
let the master be away today
.

“Madeline!”  Jane looked up as the enormous door swung open, a slight but pretty young woman standing framed in the doorway
. “Oh, thank God.”  The woman knelt and Madeline hurried into her arms.

“Oh, Miss Crosley,” the child sobbed
. “I’m so very sorry. Please don’t be angry.”

“Miss Madeline?” another feminine voice shrieked, and a reed-thin older woman appeared, pushing spectacles up on the bridge of a thin, aquiline nose
. “Dear Lord, it
is
her. Oh, the master will be so relieved! You naughty, naughty child,” she scolded, even as tears appeared in the corners of her faded eyes. She retrieved a handkerchief from her apron’s pocket and dabbed at her eyes as Madeline hurried to her side, wrapping her arms about the woman’s legs. “Oh, Mrs. Pierce, I was so very frightened.”

“There, child,” the woman cooed, patting the top of Madeline’s head
. “There’s nothing to fear. You’re home now.”

At last the women noticed Jane’s presence there on the threshold
.

“I’m Miss Jane Rosemoor,” she offered
. “Mrs. Tolland’s cousin. I ventured out to the woods today for a walk and stumbled upon the poor child, lost and frightened. We managed to find our way here together.”

“Then we owe you our thanks, Miss Rosemoor
. We’ve been out of our minds with worry. I am Mrs. Pierce, Lord Westfield’s housekeeper, and this is Miss Crosley, Madeline’s governess. Welcome to Richmond Park. Won’t you come in? I’ll arrange for tea.”

Jane hesitated before replying.

“Oh, Jane, you must,” Madeline pleaded, tugging on her hand. “Please! I’ll show you my pony.”

“Well,” Jane said with a laugh, “who could resist such an enticement as that?”