“There, Miss Roma.” The maid tucked the last curl into the topknot, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. “Don’t you look pretty?”
With a far more critical eye, Roma studied the reflection gazing back at her in the oval mirror. Attired in a pale lemon gown with a trim of silk roses, she appeared far different from the hoydenish miss who had been visible about the estate the past few days. A change that she would bite off her tongue rather than admit she secretly enjoyed. What was the use of fripperies when she had an estate to manage?
“Thank you, Anna.”
“And such a lovely day for a picnic,” the maid continued, her round face turning toward the window where a stray slat of sunlight spilled through the chintz curtain.
Roma followed the servant’s glace, although a small frown tugged at her auburn brows.
“Yes, I suppose it is, although I can not conceive what induced my aunt to plan such an outing. She has always abhorred such rustic entertainments.”
Roma had indeed been startled when she had received a note that morning begging her presence at an informal picnic to be held on the grounds of Rosehill. She could only suppose that her aunt, grown exasperated by her polite evasions and insistence that she was far too occupied to come to dinner over the past few days, had devised a means of ensuring her presence.
A twinge of unease plucked at her conscience. It was nothing short of cowardice to have avoided Rosehill with such diligence. But Lord Carlton’s offhand proposal had bothered her far more than she cared to admit. Even knowing that he was simply attempting to put her to the blush did not dismiss the disturbing quivers in the pit of her stomach.
“Perhaps she thought to please Lord Carlton,” the maid suggested.
With a slight shake of her head, Roma attempted to dismiss her troublesome thoughts. She was a fool to dwell on his teasing words. She had no doubt that he had forgotten them the moment he had ridden away with Freddie Scowfield. Certainly he had not bothered to press her on the subject. Or any other subject since he had been decidedly absent over the past few days.
“Perhaps,” she agreed with a tiny shrug.
Setting aside the silver-handled brush, the plump young woman sent her a shy smile.
“Such a handsome man,” she said in soft tones.
There was little Roma could say to that. “Yes.”
“And quite without airs,” the maid continued. “My Peter says he comes right into the common room at the inn, not demanding a private parlor like that other gentleman who used to go there.”
The surprise that Giles had condescended to enter the disreputable inn at all was swiftly overset by a sudden suspicion.
“Gentleman? What other gentleman?”
Anna blinked in surprise at her sharp tone. “Peter has only seen him on a couple of occasions. He comes in dressed like one of them fancy gents from London and hides himself in the front parlor.”
“Really? How peculiar.”
Once started, the maid needed little coaxing to continue. The mystery gentleman was clearly a source of speculation among those of the neighborhood.
“Yes, and he don’t want to be disturbed. Peter once heard the man threaten to blow the innkeeper’s head clean off if he dared to open the door.”
Roma abruptly turned about, her hazel eyes narrowed.
“And he stays in there alone?” she demanded. “I mean, no one comes to visit him?”
Anna gave a decisive shake of her head. “Not that anyone knows of. Just stays in there by himself for half the night and then leaves without so much as a by your leave.”
“I wonder who he could be?”
“I am sure I couldn’t say, Miss Roma.”
Not certain what she suspected, Roma nevertheless felt that the strange gentleman was worth inspecting further. Since Lord Carlton’s aggravating pronouncement that her visits throughout the neighborhood had become the source of speculative gossip, she had been reduced to once more simply waiting for some sign of William’s presence.
“Perhaps you could ask Peter to inform me when next this mysterious guest arrives at the inn?”
“You think he might be an acquaintance of yours?”
Roma gave a noncommittal shrug. “That is what I would like to discover.”
There was a brief knock on the door before it was pushed open to reveal the downstairs maid.
“Mrs. Stone asked me to tell you that the carriage is waiting, Miss Allendyle,” she announced with an awkward bow.
“Thank you, Liza.”
The girl retreated with another clumsy bow, and Roma turned for one last glance in the mirror. She regarded the reflection of a slender young woman with little concern for the beauty of her delicate features or the grace of her unstudied movements. She only wished to assure herself that her unruly curls remained pinned in place and her gown unsoiled.
Satisfied that all was in order, she picked up the lacy parasol and glanced at the maid.
“You will remember to speak with Peter, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you, Anna.”
With a smile, Roma turned and made her way out of the room and down the long staircase. She paused, however, as she stepped out of the house and raised her face to the sun.
It was a glorious spring day. Overhead the sky shimmered, a vivid blue without a cloud to mar the perfection. The faint breeze carried the spicy scent of wildflowers. And the dazzling sunshine added a pleasant warmth. It was indeed a glorious day for a picnic.
About to enter the carriage her aunt had once more sent to fetch her, Roma was halted by a glimpse of a young woman crossing the grounds toward the back entrance. With a motion to the groom to hold the horses, Roma moved across the paved drive to intercept the tall, dark-haired woman carrying a basket of freshly cut flowers.
“Hello, Maggie.” She greeted her former maid with her usual lack of pretension.
A genuine gleam of pleasure lit Maggie’s dark eyes at the sight of her former employer. Not precisely a pretty woman, she did possess a pleasing countenance and unaffected manners.
“Miss Allendyle.” She held up her basket of flowers. “I came to visit Mrs. Stone.”
Roma gave a low chuckle. “I am not certain that she has forgiven you for your unconscionable treason.”
Maggie joined in her amusement even as a becoming blush touched her cheeks. “No, I believe that she has taken it quite to heart.”
“I, however, am delighted with your good fortune.”
“Are you?” There was a touching eagerness in the young woman’s expression. “And you think Anthony a good match?”
“I think him the finest match,” Roma assured her.
Clearly delighted that the woman she had always held in the highest esteem regarded the marriage in so providential a manner, Maggie positively glowed with happiness.
“Thank you, Miss Allendyle.”
Roma allowed her gaze to travel over the simple but well-cut gown and bonnet.
“I must say, marriage appears to agree with you.”
“I have never been so happy,” Maggie admitted. Then with a shy glance from beneath lowered lashes, she added, “But then, you will soon know for yourself.”
Disconcerted by the unexpected words, Roma gave a small cough.
“Oh … yes.”
“I have caught a glimpse of Lord Carlton. He is quite dashing,” Maggie assured her, clearly unaware of Roma’s discomfort. “And Anthony tells me he is a most charming gentleman. Not at all too grand to spare a word for a mere farmer.”
Roma’s unease dissolved with flare of wry humor. Lord Carlton appeared to have won the approval of the entire neighborhood. She could only hope she was not sent to the gallows when it was discovered she was not to wed the irresistible lord.
“Lord Carlton appears to have made quite an impression since his arrival in Devonshire,” she murmured.
Erroneously fearing that she had managed to imply Lord Carlton was more beloved than Roma, Maggie rushed to correct the error.
“Only because most wish to see you happy, Miss Allendyle,” she said in anxious tones.
“Oh, I am delighted he has made himself so pleasing,” Roma corrected with a dry smile. “He does not always make such an effort.” Then, as one of the horses could be heard protesting the groom’s admonishment to hold still, she gave a glance toward the carriage. “I should be on my way, or I shall be shockingly late.”
“Forgive me for chattering on.”
“Nonsense, it was lovely to see you. Give Anthony my best.”
“Yes, yes, I will.”
Retracing her steps, Roma allowed the groom to hand her into the carriage. Then, settling against the squabs, she pondered the vast changes in her maid.
There was no doubt of Maggie’s happiness. It had shimmered in her eyes for the world to see. But there was also a new confidence in her step and an added hint of dignity in her manner.
Odd really. Roma had always presumed the bonds of matrimony to be heavy indeed. After all, a lady was expected to submit her will to that of her husband. How could she feel anything but oppressed?
But far from appearing trod upon, Maggie had acquired an assurance in her bearing that had never been present before.
Roma continued to brood on the unexpected dilemma as the coach rattled over the uneven ground. She paid scant attention to the passing scenery or even the direction in which they headed. Not until the carriage halted and she was climbing onto the overgrown field did she note the isolated surroundings. With a flicker of suspicion, she watched as the tall, dark form of Lord Carlton stepped from the shadows of the derelict barn. Her aunt would never condescend to be seen next to the ramshackle outbuilding, let alone plan to serve an elegant meal in such a place. In fact, Roma was confident no one had trespassed in the area for the past twenty years. Except of course for her and Lord Carlton on the fateful night they had hidden from the gang of ruffians.
Clearly the gentleman was once again plotting some mischief, she acknowledged.
“Good afternoon, my dear.” Giles claimed her hand in a firm grip, as if he feared she might bolt like a frightened rabbit.
The thought had her chin instantly tilting to a militant angle. “Where is Aunt Clara?”
“No doubt enjoying a delicious luncheon at Rosehill.”
She met his lazy grin with a narrowed gaze. “Then what are we doing here?”
“Hold a moment.” Suddenly moving to the front of the carriage, he gave a low command to the waiting groom. Then, before she could recover her senses, he had returned to reclaim her hand. “Come along.”
She dug in her heels with a frown. “I asked you what we are doing here.”
A raven brow flicked upward. “We are about to enjoy a picnic, of course.”
Her gaze darted toward the large cover spread beside the barn. At the same moment the carriage abruptly lurched into motion. Her heart gave a decided flip-flop.
“You must be jesting?”
“Not at all,” he denied.
“But … you tricked me,” she accused, remembering the note she had received early that morning.
“Yes.” He was thoroughly unrepentant. In fact, he appeared disgustingly self-satisfied. “I have also taken the liberty to order the servants to make themselves scarce for the next hour. You might as well sit down and enjoy this delectable food.”
For a moment she could only glare at him in affronted disbelief. Over the past few days she had convinced herself that this encounter with Giles would be fraught with awkward embarrassment. At least for her. But the unexpectedness of the situation had banished all thoughts of their previous meeting.
“You really are the most odious cad, sir.”
“Irrefutably,” he agreed with a smile. “It is a part of my charm.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh. The devil of it was that his sweeping determination was indeed a part of his charm. A charm that was far more potent than she wished to admit.
“I should walk home rather than give in to such blatant manipulations.”
“Ah, no, my dear.” He firmly placed her arm through his own. “On the last occasion I was foolish enough to turn my back on you, you slipped away. I shall not be so easily gulled again.”
She glared at him in annoyance even as he gently tugged her up the grassy slope.
“I have requested you not to remind me of that evening.”
Dark head tilted back, he laughed at her prim reprimand. “There seems to be an ever-lengthening list of evenings you wish not to be reminded of, my dear.”
She captured her lower lip between her teeth. It was all too true. She did wish she could put out of her mind more than one of their stormy encounters. Still, it was decidedly ill favored of him to point out that he was conscious of such sentiments.
“I am glad you find my discomfort a source of amusement,” she said in stiff tones.
“Of course I do not, you goose,” he chided. Then, coming to a halt, he placed a finger beneath her chin and forced her to meet his piercing blue eyes. “Come, Roma, all I wish is for a restful meal that does not include a discussion of the wedding guest list, the floral arrangement, or the merits of a custard rather than a pudding.”
She hesitated, far from immune to his cajoling manner. “You will not … I mean …”
He slowly smiled at her stammered words, clearly aware of her concern.
“You are perfectly safe with me, Roma,” he assured her in even tones. “Shall we declare a truce and enjoy this beautiful day?”
She knew that she should decline. That she should demand he return her to Greystead Manor without delay. But absurdly she found herself nodding in agreement.
“Very well.”
The blue eyes flashed with an indefinable emotion. “Good.” Moving his hand back to her arm, he steered her the short distance to the cover. “Here we are. A veritable feast.”
Her eyes widened at seeing the lavish bounty that was spread across the ground. Platters of salmon, thinly sliced ham, delicately braised new potatoes and stuffed mushrooms. There was even imported caviar spread onto triangles of toast and a large platter covered by a linen napkin. She settled herself on the edge of the cover, absently accepting the glass of champagne that he pressed into her hand.
“Thank you,” she murmured as he sat down beside her, resisting the urge to scoot away from his large form. To do so would be admitting he had the power to disturb her with a mere touch. Then she gave a small gasp as he reached forward to pluck the linen off the platter and reveal the delicate pastries beneath. “Apricot tarts,” she exclaimed in delight.
“I happened to meet your old nanny the other day, and she mentioned that they were a particular favorite of yours.”
The small warmth at his thoughtful gesture was offset by the wry acknowledgment that there appeared to be no one in the neighborhood he had not yet encountered.
“Really?”
“Yes, a most charming woman.”
“What else did she happen to mention?”
“Let me think …” He pretended to consider his reply. “Ah, yes, she did happen to share a few childhood incidents. I believe my favorite was the evening you decided to help yourself to a bottle of your father’s finest brandy.”
Roma gasped in horror. How could her nanny possibly have revealed such a humiliating event? It was bad enough that she had downed an entire bottle of brandy to prove she could hold her drink as well as a man. It was perfectly mortifying to realize that this man was aware of her childish attempt to mold herself into the beloved image of her father and older brother. How could he understand the uncertainty of a young girl being raised in a household of men?
“I had seen Father and William drinking from the decanter,” she muttered in defensive tones. “It seemed utterly unfair that I should be denied my share.”
Surprisingly his expression was one of rueful admiration rather than admonishment. “I can well imagine. Let no challenge go untried, eh, Roma?”
A reluctant smile melted her stiff expression. “Unfortunately I had no notion the wretched stuff would make me so ill.”
He laughed in sympathy as he filled her plate with the tempting delicacies.
“A thick head is no pleasure.”
She grimaced in memory of the dreadful morning after. “I find it beyond comprehension that anyone would knowingly seek such an unpleasant condition.”
“I do not believe it is so much a conscious decision to become top-heavy, as a lack of concern on what the morrow will bring.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed, accepting the plate he pressed into her hands. “What else did my nanny tell you?”
“A great many things.” He gave a shrug, a wicked glint in his blue eyes. “She told me you were an insatiable student and that you had read your way through your father’s library by the age of sixteen and that you could outride and outshoot any gentleman in the country.” He ignored her growing discomfort. “She also said that you possessed a fiery temper which is fortunately offset by your generous heart and incurable habit of protecting the weak and defenseless.”
“Infamous,” Roma breathed out, inwardly deciding she needed to have a firm talk with her former nanny. “I can not imagine what possessed her to rattle on in such a manner.”
Giles popped a mushroom into his mouth. “Because she obviously adores you.”
“If she adored me then she would refuse to discuss my disreputable childhood,” Roma corrected in dry tones.
“Would it ease your embarrassment if I were to share a few of my own childhood mishaps?”
“You?” She arched a disbelieving brow. “I find it difficult to believe you have ever had any mishaps. You are always so annoyingly perfect.”
“I assure you, I was a gangling, awkward youth who was constantly tripping over my own feet,” he insisted, watching her absently devouring the delectable meal with obvious satisfaction. “My grandmother swore that I could never walk through a room without breaking at least one vase, or return from a walk without having tumbled into a lake.”
The image of the exquisitely sophisticated man as a grubby schoolboy was impossible to conjure.
“Ridiculous.”
“Not at all.” He leaned forward to press a bit of toast with caviar between her lips. “And, like you, I also pinched my father’s brandy on one never-to-be-forgotten occasion. I shared it among several of my cousins, and we spent a delightful evening entertaining the entire family. I believe I may even have played the harp until the servants were called in to haul us up to our chambers.” His smile widened at her startled expression. “In any event I still have more than one aunt who refuses to speak with me to this day.” He shrugged his unconcern. “Hardly a tragic loss.”
She gave a rueful shake of her head at his absurd tale. Somehow the thought of him making a cake of himself in such a fashion made him less unapproachable.
“Did you miss not having any brothers or sisters?” she asked before she could halt the question.
“Every day.” Leaning back, Giles regarded her with a rather regretful expression. “Although there were children in the neighborhood and even children on our estate, they were always kept at a distance. My position made them uncomfortable to be around me.” His smile twisted. “Possessing a title and fortune can be a lonely business.”
Her heart gave an unexpected wrench of pain at his simple honesty. She could easily imagine him as a young child surrounded by opulent furnishings and lavished with every luxury, but isolated by his rank. How difficult it must have been to see the other children playing without him. It was little wonder that he had grown into an aloof, rather forbidding man. At least until one managed to slip past his stern facade.
“I am sorry.” Without thinking she leaned forward to gently touch his arm.
Glancing down, Giles studied the pale fingers lying against the blue fabric of his jacket; then, with a strange smile, he covered her hand with his own.
“There is no need to pity me, my dear.” His gaze lifted to meet her softened hazel eyes. “It taught me to be self-sufficient and able to appreciate those friends I do possess.”
Lost in the probing gaze, Roma found it a struggle to catch her breath. He was so handsome, so utterly irresistible. Quite beyond anyone she had ever encountered before.
With a nervous motion, she jerked her hand free and gazed desperately at her empty plate.
“More champagne,” he inquired, his voice annoyingly composed. But then, why shouldn’t it be? He was not the one assaulted with these ridiculous bouts of awareness.
“Thank you, no.”
“At least have another apricot tart?”
Gathering control of her nerves, she forced herself to lift her head. She was behaving like a skittish schoolgirl, for goodness’ sake.
“I have eaten three already. One more and I shall be beyond all shame.”
“Fustian. There is no need to act the dainty female with me, my dear.”
“No.” She smiled with wry amusement. “I suppose you already think my behavior to be shocking?”
“Quite shocking,” he mocked.
“Well, you needn’t think that your opinion matters a wit to me.”
“I am painfully aware that it does not,” he replied, his darkly lean features surprisingly set in lines of self-derision.
“Giles …”
“Yes?”
Once again overwhelmingly conscious of his potent appeal, Roma hastily rose to her feet. Being seated so close together in this isolated place was far too intimate for her peace of mind. It made her remember all sorts of feelings she was determined to forget.
“Shall we take a stroll?”
He paused and then heaved an audible sigh, as if regretting her sudden retreat, but after the barest hesitation he was rising to his feet and graciously offering her an arm.
“By all means,” he said in smooth tones. “You can pick wildflowers while I describe the delectable soiree your aunt has devised to introduce me to the neighborhood.”
Roma glanced at him in horror.
“Oh, no …”