Chapter Five
January 15
“My lord.” Price cleared his throat. “Mr. McNaught wishes to know if you require a change of raiment for your excursion to Far Caister.”
Sebastian looked at Price from over the top of one of the letters from the morning’s post. “Who is Mrs. Edward Leveret?” he asked.
“I believe, among other things, Mrs. Leveret heads the committee for the establishment of a school for Far Caister’s less fortunate children, my lord.”
He scanned the page again. His brother’s papers tilted in a precarious stack before him, threatening to fall at any moment. “What do you know about Miss Olivia Willow being a teacher?”
“Miss Willow’s name has been put forward for the post of instructress, as it is a task she has previously performed with some success. My lord.”
“And?” He watched Price’s face for signs of an opinion contrary to what he’d already heard but saw only his usual doleful expression.
“Most consider her a worthy candidate, my lord.”
“Do you agree I should approve of her in such a capacity?”
“I would not presume, my lord.”
“She wants money, of course, Mrs. Leveret, but as well she wants the right to tell families that Tiern-Cope has personally recommended their teacher.”
“Most assuredly, my lord.”
His position gave him some responsibility to families like that and to women like Mrs. Leveret. James all but had Miss Willow in his bed. Like as not, she’d be his mistress before the week was out. If it weren’t for James’s priority of interest, more than likely he’d be considering much the same arrangement himself. She was a thoroughly bedable woman. His duty in the matter seemed clear enough. He reached for his pen and scrawled a reply at the bottom of Mrs. Leveret’s note.
Madam:
I cannot recommend her to you.
Captain Sebastian Alexander
As an afterthought, he added, “Tiern-Cope” beneath his signature. He re-folded the note and handed it to Price. “Deliver this.”
Price took the letter. “Your excursion, my lord?”
He put away his pen. “I’ll be there directly.”
“My lord.”
Half an hour later, Sebastian stood with one foot on the bottom edge of the open carriage doorway, his forearm crossed over his thigh. Mrs. Leveret’s letter and his reply to it were absent from his thoughts. One of the drays stamped, iron-shod hooves ringing on the cobbles of the inner courtyard. Both animals were the color of flax. In the whole of the stables there wasn’t an inferior animal to be found. He tugged at his cravat and gave James a sideways glance. “I do not play the lover well.”
“Best learn.” James’s head whipped toward the door, but it was a false alarm. A footman hurried toward them carrying an armload of blankets. Miss Royce wished to shop, and, as Sebastian had already seen, what Miss Royce wanted, Miss Royce got, generally with little more than a smile in payment, but with a frown across that pretty brow if necessary.
If one believed appearances, Miss Willow had, during her time at Pennhyll, become Diana’s dearest friend. Sebastian, cynic that he was, could not help the unworthy thought that Diana’s friendship with the spinster had more to do with the advantage she gained by comparison than on account of any similarity in their characters. Certainly, their looks could not have been more dissimilar and as for their characters, well, he could not imagine that Miss Willow had anything in common with a spoiled beauty like Diana Royce. Olivia Willow possessed a fine mind, however she pretended otherwise.
James stooped to pick up a handful of pebbles. “God knows Diana’s vain enough for a dozen women, Sebastian, but she needs some encouragement.” He tossed a pebble. It skipped over the cobblestone courtyard and hit the rampart wall.
“I intend to marry her, which she well knows if you’ve done your part. Isn’t that enough?”
“For me, yes. But she finds you neglectful. Compliment her. Really, Sebastian. You must play the game.”
“Has it gotten you anywhere with Miss Willow?” Considering what he’d seen already, perhaps it had. She liked to withdraw when people called at Pennhyll, but James never let her alone for long. Beside him, James frowned and threw another pebble. So. “No success yet.”
“Since I do not intend to marry her, the dance is more intricate. Besides, the woman insists on her principles.”
“Perhaps she believes in them.” Then again, the harder a man worked for his prize, the higher the perceived value, and he did not doubt Miss Willow knew that quite well. Every girl who’d been to her first ball knew that much about men.
“Fear not, Sebastian. I aim to bury those principles.”
“Mm.”
“See if I don’t. As for Diana, you have no principles to overcome. You’re going to marry her, for Christ’s sake.” He tossed another pebble. “Tell her you adore her eyes and that her lips remind you of—” The door opened again. Diana appeared, wrapped in an ermine cloak and muff. Miss Willow descended the stairs just behind her. James’s gaze was riveted. “My God, just look at her.”
“Your sister is beautiful. And she’s well aware of it.”
“Not her. Miss Willow. I’m randy every time I see that hair. I want my hands full of those curls and her full of me.” He made a low noise, and Sebastian added his silent agreement to the sentiment. “I do fancy her maidenhead, Sebastian, I truly do.”
The idea that Miss Willow retained her virtue startled him. “What makes you think she has one?”
“Of course she has. A young lady can’t lose her handkerchief without all of Far Caister hearing of it. Believe me, if she’d lost her virginity, everyone would know.” Sebastian frowned, for there was a deal of sense in that. James waved at the door. “Diana, at last. And Miss Willow.” To Sebastian, he said, “I’ve the luck of the devil today, old man. That cloak is hardly thick enough to keep an infant warm on a day such as this. I’ll soon gallantly have my arm around her to keep her warm.” Grinning like a boy in possession of a new top, he turned to Sebastian. “Out, damn principles.”
Like Fitzalan, now the waiting was over, Sebastian stood at attention as the two women came down the last stairs. “No doubt her Cumbrian nativity enures her to the cold.”
“If I should manage to contrive, my dear Captain, to separate from you whilst we tour the village, pray do not wait for us. No matter how badly we are missed. Diana will survive an hour or two or three without Miss Willow’s charming company. And you, Sebastian, might use the time to practice your charms on my sister. Why, you might even try proposing. She won’t say no.”
“If you have your way, James, Miss Willow will find her life and reputation irretrievably altered after you are gone from Pennhyll.”
“I want her,” he said in a low voice. “I will have her. No matter what.” Sebastian raised his eyebrows at that, and James made a face. “Don’t even think it.” He gave a mock shudder. “I’m not that far gone.”
“Are you certain?”
“Sebastian. I can’t marry her. She’s been a governess. She has nothing. Has been nothing since her father died.”
“Then leave her be.”
“I’ll be discreet, if that’s what you’re worried about. And, I’ll find us another chaperone once I’ve got her tucked away someplace convenient.”
“I’d prefer the parish not be burdened with Fitzalan by-blows.”
James shrugged. “I’ll support it. Hell, if I have a dozen on her, I’ll support them all. Does that ease your mind?”
“Jesus.”
He held up a hand. “Peace, Sebastian. Peace. I’m a gentleman, and one way or another, a gentleman pays for his pleasures. With Miss Willow, I find myself inclined to more than my usual generosity. I promise you, if she finds her life altered, it can only be for the better.”
“Without a husband?” Why, in the name of God, was he so concerned about her fate? If Miss Willow let James talk her onto a mattress, what concern was that of his?
James adjusted his waistcoat. “Attend, Sebastian. I’ll show you how to properly woo a female.”
The women reached the carriage. Fitzalan kissed Diana’s cheek and gave his hand to Miss Willow. “Miracle worker, Miss Willow.”
“How so?” Only polite interest, Sebastian noted, frowning again because, damn it all, the pieces did not fit together. Olivia Willow was not what James hoped; the sort of woman who could be seduced out of her good sense. She was as far from being a flirt as Diana was near to being one. In fact, if not for her unfortunate history, he’d have put her in a class with the other young ladies of Far Caister.
James continued to hold Miss Willow’s hand. “I expected another hour’s wait at least before Diana presented herself, and here she is, a vision in white.”
“Thank you, James.”
Diana smiled at Sebastian, and all he could think while he looked at her was she was hardly out of the schoolroom and couldn’t possibly understand anything about a man who’d sailed to hell and back. A bride to be pampered and cherished. A treasure to display. All a gentleman desired in his wife. Trouble was, he could not imagine making love to Diana. The thought left him cold.
James cleared his throat. Loudly.
“Fur becomes you, Miss Royce,” he said. That earned him a grin from James, a tutor proud of his pupil. What nonsense this was. Diana knew very well how she looked. Why did he need to tell her? Since Miss Willow showed no sign of expecting a compliment from him, and, indeed, could not think he would make her one, he said nothing to her, which appeared to suit them both just fine.
In the carriage, Diana settled against the seat, her hair shining dark against a field of ermine. James eyed his sister, then turned to Sebastian and mouthed the words compliment her. But at just that moment, the groom lifted the stairs and closed the door and the delicate combination of opportunity and motivation vanished. Sebastian heard the snap of reins. “Walk on.”
Diana touched her curls then turned so her back was to Miss Willow. “Do fix this for me. My hair shall be wretched in five minutes, I’m sure.” Miss Willow obligingly did something with hairpins with the result that, at the conclusion of the procedure, Miss Royce looked no different than she had before.
Light flashed over Miss Willow’s hair. There must be fifty colors of red, all of them some variation of copper fire. When she finished examining Diana’s hairpins, she put a hand to her mouth to hide a yawn.
“I hardly slept a wink myself last night.” James surveyed the women. “I wonder if the same thing kept us awake, Miss Willow.”
She smiled pleasantly enough, but managed to convey displeasure. “I doubt that, sir.”
“I fell asleep the moment my eyes closed,” Diana said. “What kept you awake, James?”
“A ghost, dear sister.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “Never say so. Truly?”
Sebastian looked away since derision was liable to be fatal to an offer of marriage. Ghosts, indeed. Diana, he was coming to realize, was not about to give up her ridiculous idea of a seance to summon the Black Earl.
Diana buried her hands deeper in her muff and leaned toward her brother and him. “In London, Mama and I attended a seance. Don’t laugh, James. We did, and it was most astonishing. The spirits predicted I would be married before the new year is out, and that I should come to the country to find my husband. They did. They moaned and pounded on the walls, and Lady Fields swooned when they said her late husband wanted her to invest in the three percents. Is that what kept you awake, James? Miss Willow? Oh, do tell.”
Miss Willow shook her head. “Much to my regret, I’ve never seen a ghost. Nor heard one either.”
James’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, now don’t spoil the fun, Miss Willow. As for me, t’was the Black Earl himself I heard. Who else could it have been rattling his chains and moaning outside my door half the night?”
“Angry, perhaps, for not investing in the five percents before he died,” Miss Willow said.
“Pish.” Diana made a face and sank against the seat. “You’re such a liar, James. I don’t know why I listen to anything you say.”
“Diana, I am wounded to the quick.”
“If you really saw the Black Earl, what was he like?”
“Quite the hair-raising experience, I confess. I can hardly bring myself to describe the horror.”
“The truth, James, have you really? Miss Willow, make him tell the truth. Besides, I thought the Black Earl only appeared on the anniversary of his death. Did you not say so, Miss Willow?”
James grinned. “I didn’t say I saw him. I said I heard him. Though an Alexander might see him at any time. Tell us, Sebastian, when you saw the Black Earl did he rattle chains and howl at his fate?”
“You saw the Black Earl?” Diana put a hand to her heart.
“Your brother, Miss Royce,” Sebastian said, “heard nothing but the wind and the timbers settling.” What kind of mother would she be, filling her children’s heads with superstitious nonsense? Hell. He might end up with a nursery full of vain, idiot offspring. Miss Willow yawned again, but he suspected she hid amusement behind that forgery of a yawn.
James sighed. “What a pity you have so little imagination, Tiern-Cope.”
The carriage stopped, signaling the end of the drive to Far Caister and, more specifically, their arrival at the Crown’s Ease. Villagers stopped to gape, and shopkeepers appeared in doorways to watch. The coachman’s chest swelled to bursting and the grooms, too, made a show of their duties, snapping down the steps, holding harnesses, shouting instructions to the ostler.
James took in the hubbub with an amused and more tolerant smile than Sebastian. A murmur rose. Diana, wrapped in ermine, flashed an ankle as she stepped down, reaching for Sebastian’s hand. Her gown, peeking from the cloud of ermine surrounding her, proved a confection of green-and-yellow silk gauze that made a striking contrast with her glossy hair. Diana took the adoration in stride, indeed, as her due. She was a beauty, no doubt of that. So, why did she leave him without the slightest stirring of passion? What if he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her? Certainly, he could. Of course he could. Whether he wanted to was another matter entirely.
Miss Willow came down next. She, Sebastian noted, made nothing like the impression Diana had. Her shopworn gown of white muslin was so precisely like the one she’d worn yesterday as to be, in fact, the very same. With the exception of that copper-on-fire hair, she was quite ordinary. Well, in all honesty, not ordinary. No one with hair that color could be called ordinary, and he had to allow she was pretty, and without the aid of fashion. Several in the crowd tipped a hat or bent a quick knee, not the least in awe of her. Though respectful, they gave gap-toothed, gnarled grins. A few lifted a hand in greeting. The manner in which the villagers greeted her bothered him. Miss Willow would not command this sort of affectionate respect if her name had been inappropriately linked to Andrew or to any other man.
The thought gave him pause. If James was right about anything, it was that privacy did not exist in Far Caister. An illicit relationship between her and his brother could not have been kept quiet. She was an old maid, nearing twenty-five, for God’s sake, who lived with her ailing mother. Andrew could not possibly have called on her without remark. The servants would know if he’d entertained her at Pennhyll, and it seemed the height of unlikelihood they had managed to conduct an affair at some other location. While he didn’t doubt Andrew’s expertise in trysting, he did doubt his brother possessed the discipline for a prolonged and secret affair with the village spinster. He had a sudden and rather unpleasant recollection of his reply to Mrs. Leveret’s inquiry. Sebastian’s belly hollowed out. Had he been hasty and done Miss Willow an unpardonable disservice? He caught a glimpse of James staring at her with frank and open lust and decided he’d only anticipated the event.
“How fortunate you are, my lord,” Diana said, “to live near so quaint a town as this.” Onlookers nodded, finding favor in the remark. Sebastian felt an undeniable shock to hear evidence that the villagers took as much or even more interest in his future wife than did he. Whatever he did for himself, he owed Far Caister a wise choice. If beauty and position were the criteria then Diana must be his countess.
James offered Miss Willow his elbow, which she accepted with the sort of smile an aged aunt saved for a favored nephew. If she had any chastity to keep, it would be despite James’s best efforts. The man was beside himself with longing and prepared for extravagance. No woman in her position could remain proof against James’s determination.
Miss Willow acted as their guide to Far Caister, stopping, of course, at every shop that caught Diana’s eye. Sebastian found himself toting up receipts for her purchases, beginning with a chapeau Diana swore was naval in its inspiration. He was obliged to suppress the opinion that he’d never allow such a contraption aboard any ship of his. Besides the hat, he doled out money for ribbons, lace, gloves and chocolate. James failed to coax Miss Willow into making any selection for herself or accepting what he purchased, with the sole exception of a single praline. Which she promptly gave to one of the children drooling at the window. Boys in fustian and homespun woolens followed as they walked past a cobbler’s. Fitzalan dug into a pocket and threw out a handful of coins. One boy caught a shilling and displayed it triumphantly. His eyes sparkled as he cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Oi! Miss Olivia. Seen the Black Earl, yet?”
She stopped, standing with hands folded and face quite serious. “Oh, indeed I have.” Sebastian ended standing behind her, tall enough to see over her head, and close enough to smell her hair and see the bare nape of her neck. Copper tendrils wound over her ears and trailed down the side of her throat. If he wanted to, he could touch her waist or caress that pale nape.
“Aye, Miss? For true?”
“Just last night he breathed upon the very sheets where I lay trying to sleep.” The boys went wide-eyed, riveted by her encounter with the infamous spirit of Pennhyll Castle. “He waved a great sword in his hands, sharp enough to take my head in one fell strike. The blood froze in my veins, I was that sure he would murder me in my bed.”
“But he didn’t, Miss Olivia,” said another boy, who must have been all of six or seven.
“My hair frightened him away.”
The boys hooted with laughter, and Sebastian heard a snort of amusement from James. He wanted to smile himself, for that matter.
“No,” said the first boy, frowning like he’d eaten a green apple. “The Black Earl wouldn’t be afraid of you, Miss.”
“I don’t see why not.” She touched her head. “I assure you, with this hair, I’m frightful, indeed.”
“He’s a ghost, Miss. He’d not be frightened by the color of your hair.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I reckon a ghost don’t see color.”
“We know what it means, don’t we?” asked another. “When a woman sees the Black Earl.” The boys nodded to each other.
“What does it mean?” Diana asked.
Jesus. Diana was as bad as those ragamuffin boys, worse because she ought to know better.
“Nonsense,” said Miss Willow.
The eldest boy’s eyes glazed with admiration when he looked at Diana. “Why, milady, when a lady sees the Black Earl, it means she’s to marry the master, that’s what.”
James dissolved into laughter.
“You are bold as brass.” A laughing Miss Willow shook a finger at the lad. “As brass. Go on, all of you. Lord Fitzalan hasn’t any more coins for you today.”
“Did you really see the Black Earl?” Diana studied Olivia, waiting, it seemed, with baited breath. Sebastian, doing the same, saw James watching as well.
Miss Willow sighed, sounding for all the world like a governess whose patience has just been stretched past its limit. “Miss Royce, there’s no such thing as ghosts.” She put her hands on her hips which brought the fabric of her cloak in tight. Small woman, she was, but curved where a man liked to hold on. Another salacious thought entered his head, which was what a damn shame it was for any woman to have a figure like hers and no man to enjoy it.
Diana’s mouth turned down. “Then why did you say you’d seen the Black Earl?”
“Because they wanted me to,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Boys live for such terror.”
James laughed. “I’m sure they’re disappointed the ghost didn’t lop off your head.”
“Undoubtedly, my lord.” She smiled, an enchanting, uninhibited grin. “Shall we visit the churchyard?” With a glance at the sky, she said, “We’ve time, I think, before it snows.”
The church stood at the eastern edge of the village, built of the same dappled stone as the rest of Far Caister. A pointed arch over the door and a round stained-glass window above pronounced its ancient lineage. “Our church was built in 1072. It’s a matter of some local pride that William The Conqueror attended services. Others insist King Arthur himself heard mass here. The earls of Tiern-Cope have a pew, and there’s a lovely statue of the sixth earl and his wife. In the Black Earl’s day, however, the family attended services in the chapel at Pennhyll.”
She walked toward the churchyard and unlocked the gate. “Behind is the graveyard and though ’tis a sad place, the view is worth admiring for beyond that one sees nothing but snow-covered fields and in the distance, Pennhyll. In the spring there’s green that breaks your heart.” She walked through the gate. “The church, as it happens, stands on the only ground not owned by the earls.” A smile played around her mouth. “Just as we Far Caisterians cannot forget Who made us, neither can we forget to whom we must pay the rents.”
“Don’t be impertinent,” Sebastian said as he passed her.
“Was I?” she murmured. “My apologies. My lord.”
Diana had her arm wrapped around his as they walked, too near his wound so that he must breathe quietly against the ache in his side. They’d kept a moderate pace so far, but he wasn’t used to so much activity. He disengaged enough that Diana’s hand didn’t constantly brush his tender ribs. James and Miss Willow pulled ahead. With Diana clinging to him and waiting, he was sure, for conversation in the form of compliments leading to a declaration, he could think of little except he would be glad when he was married, if only to be done with this nonsense of romance and courting. He would marry, do his duty by his title and return to the sea and Diana would adjust to his neglect. But whenever he tried to imagine his wedding night he couldn’t think of anything to do with pleasure.
He faced her. “You have lovely eyes, Miss Royce.” He despised himself for saying so and came close to despising Diana for her pleasure when every woman on earth had eyes in her head. One pair of eyes was much like any other. What a ridiculous business this was. He looked at Diana. A lovely girl, and that was the trouble. Diana was still a girl. “Miss Royce?”
“My lord?” She seemed to be waiting for him to continue in a similar vein, but he could not utter even one more insipid word. Let the woman earn her compliments, by God. He thought about going down on one knee, but the snow made him think the better of that.
“Miss Royce.” Will you marry me? Four simple words, stuck in his throat. She tilted her head. “Miss Royce. You are a lovely girl.”
“Thank you.” Her lips parted, and she smiled so that he almost thought he wasn’t making a mistake.
“I think we’ll get on. Don’t you?”
“Oh, yes. You aren’t half as strict as James is with me. He’s constantly scolding me. You never do.”
“Splendid.”
She smiled. He ought to kiss her. What if he couldn’t kiss her? Damned if he could do it. While the silence continued, the first flakes of snow fell to the ground. “Come, Miss Royce.” He took her arm, using care to arrange her against his uninjured side. “Shall we return?”
“Yes, do let’s.” She glanced to where her brother and Miss Willow stood about fifty paces north of the churchyard gate, near a row of headstones darkening in the melting snowfall. Surprisingly, James had backed away, leaving the object of his lust alone. “James, do come along. Miss Willow.” She waved to catch Olivia’s attention. James left off staring at Miss Willow and walked to Diana. Miss Willow, however, remained before a gravestone less grey than most. After the serene brunette of Diana, that flame hair was a jarring sight.
“Miss Willow,” Sebastian said. When she did not move, he took several steps toward her and called again with more than a flash of irritation. “Come along.”
“Leave her be,” James said.
“I don’t mean to stand here in the snow whilst she dawdles and your sister catches her death.”
She brushed the gathering snow from the top of the marker, and that was the last straw. He left James with his sister and closed the distance to her. Instead of feeling relieved that he and Diana had arrived at an understanding, he felt tense. “All the reflection in the world cannot bring back the occupant, no matter how poignant the epitaph or deeply felt your sympathy.”
She traced the engraved letters on the stone. His eye followed. Roger Cathcart Willow and Tobias Kingsley Willow. Her father and brother. “I miss them,” she said, twisting a bit to look at him. Her eyes were an unusual color, pale brown, like honey raised to the sunlight. He had never, ever, seen a woman look like that, as if she’d lost everything that mattered. He understood the desolation far too well. “Sometimes,” she said, “I wish I had died, too.”
“That,” he said, “is foolish.”
“Who would have taken care of Mama?”
He held out a hand to help her back to the walk. His fingers tightened around her hand as she stepped over the now icy ground. He pulled too hard, because she ended up just inches from him, stumbling and then losing her balance. He caught her around the waist. Their eyes met.
His insides reacted like a ship teetering on an ocean swell, poised for the wrenching drop to the trough. When she didn’t look away, the thrill of descent ripped through him, pure and primal. Even if he could have, he didn’t want to look anywhere but at her. Her eyes went right through him, grabbed his soul in both hands and shook it hard. Straight nose quite narrow at the bridge, a chin just short of pointed, round cheeks curved like satin over a woman’s hips. Red hair thick with curls framed her face. A corkscrew tendril fell over her forehead. Extravagant hair. Unseemly in color and appearance. Jesus, but a man wanted to bury his fingers in that hair just to see if it would burn.
Whether she understood the reaction behind his scrutiny or for some other reason, her cheeks flushed pink. She looked away. “All these years, and I miss them still.”
“Come,” he said. “We’ll be frozen if you don’t come out of the weather.” He turned and walked toward the gate without waiting to see if she followed. Diana drew her hood over her head when he reached her. She pointed to the walkway and waved.
“There are Miss Cage and her father. Miss Cage and I are planning the seance. You can’t imagine how much we have to do before St. Agnes’ Eve. Do let’s go, my lord. My coat and muff will be ruined, and James will refuse to buy me another one. He never lets me buy anything.”
Miss Willow walked past, and James tried to take her arm, but she had her hands deep in the pockets of her cloak and appeared not to notice his attempted gallantry. She stopped at the gate, waiting for them. Sebastian wanted to laugh at James’s disgruntlement. He had the look of a fellow turned down flat, he did.
Diana held out her arm to her brother. “Come along, James. Miss Cage and I are in the most dire need of your expertise. Planning a party is ever so much work.” Her eyes sparkled. “I simply adore parties. Dear James, please. My boots will be ruined. Absolutely ruined, I’m sure.”
James gave him a look and shrugged. Diana waved to Miss Cage again. Miss Cage. Miss Cage. Have you got…”
He hoped Diana was enjoying herself, because his wife-to-be wasn’t going to have many opportunities to plan parties after they were married. Diana and James, unaware for the moment that he and Miss Willow weren’t right behind them, turned the corner for the safety of the walkway, and Sebastian found himself alone with Olivia Willow.