JOSIE SIGHED WITH pleasure as she settled on a stone bench inside the summer house, which was situated on a hill above the pond. The glass walls collected the sun’s heat and made it warm inside, something she appreciated after spending half the morning riding the boundaries of Blackthorne’s estate in the brisk spring air. “I wonder which fair maiden asked her knight in shining armor to build this wonderful refuge from English weather?”
Blackthorne’s lips pursed. “I don’t think this house goes back that many generations.”
“I only meant that some duke must have loved his duchess a great deal to go to all the trouble of building something so whimsical out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“If you say so.”
Josie wasn’t going to argue with him, not when they’d managed to spend the rest of the morning after their confrontation in agreeable conversation. The subject of taking orders hadn’t come up again, but neither had her husband issued any orders he expected her to follow.
The thought of letting Blackthorne manage her life, after turning it upside down, had raised her hackles. Perhaps, if she hadn’t known she would be leaving him soon, she would have tried negotiating the matter. But for the little time she was going to spend in her husband’s company, she intended to do exactly as she pleased.
Josie kept waiting for Blackthorne to ask where she’d been for the past two years. She was in a quandary about what to answer. Should she tell him the truth? Or wait for him to discover it himself? Obviously, someone had been keeping secrets from him, if he didn’t know where she’d been. Therefore, it might not be that easy for him to figure out that she’d been living at one of his poorest, most remote properties.
On the other hand, if she told Blackthorne where she’d been, he would know she was acquainted with his nephews, and she wasn’t sure she could keep her anger at his treatment of them from showing. She didn’t want to give him any hint that she was planning to remove the boys from his guardianship. Or, heaven forbid, give him any inkling that she intended to leave him in the not-too-distant future.
Josie realized her hands were knotted in her lap, and she was chewing anxiously on her lower lip. She glanced up and saw Blackthorne watching her intently. She slowly let go of her lower lip and eased her hands free of each other before rising and straightening her skirt. “I would love to stay here longer, but I know you want to visit a few people this morning.”
He crossed to the open doorway, but instead of going through it, he leaned against the portal, so his body blocked her escape, and stared into the distance. “Fanny and I visited the Abbey a couple of times early in our marriage. She loved this glass house. She said it warmed her cold bones. At the time, I didn’t know she was ill, or that her illness made her feel cold all the time.”
Josie was astonished that Blackthorne had mentioned his late wife. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I can see where a place like this would be a comfort to her.”
“Fanny couldn’t ride horseback, so she needed me to drive her here in a horse-drawn cart. Most of the time, I was too busy with estate matters to accommodate her.”
Josie was even more confused by Blackthorne’s admission that he hadn’t been much of a knight in shining armor to his fair maiden. Was that a warning to her that she shouldn’t expect special consideration either? Or an admission that he wished he’d been a better husband?
“I’m sorry for you both.”
“I don’t need your pity,” he snapped, turning to glare at her.
“It wasn’t pity, it was sympathy.” She took a few steps forward, so she could put a hand on his arm, and felt the muscles bunch under the cloth. “It sounds like the burdens you faced on the estate kept you from spending as much time as you might have wished with someone who was shortly going to be taken from you.”
He stared at her gloved hand. “I wish…”
Josie waited, but he never finished the sentence.
He turned abruptly, so her hand fell free, and they were facing each other. “I don’t intend to make the same mistakes with you that I made with her. There was something else I never did with Fanny in this glass house.”
She raised her gaze to his face too late to realize what he had in mind.
He slid one arm around her waist and pulled her snug against his muscular frame, while his other hand palmed the side of her face and tilted it upward.
Before Josie could protest, his mouth had covered hers. She’d been expecting violence. What she got was a gentle assault on her senses, an exploration of her mouth that sought both to give—and take—pleasure, while his hand threaded into her hair and angled her head back to give him better purchase. She was caught off-guard and found herself sucked into a whirlwind of unsettling emotions. Her mind protested, even as her body responded to the press of his rock-hard chest against the pebbled tips of her breasts.
The male hand at her waist slid down to press her hips into the space between his widespread legs, and Josie became aware of the heat and hardness of her husband against the part of her where it was meant to fit.
Abruptly, he let her go and took a step back.
Josie stared up into his hooded eyes, her shocked mouth half open to draw breath to heaving lungs, her body awake and aware—and wanting—from head to toe. “What…? Why…?”
What had happened? Why had he stopped?
He reached out and gently tucked a golden curl behind her ear. “I didn’t want to have any regrets, in case we never come back here again.”
She’d told him she loved this summer house. Why would he think they would never be here again? Unless he had plans to abandon her. It was a possibility Josie had never imagined in her wildest dreams. She was the one planning to run away at the first opportunity. Had Blackthorne planned to restore the Abbey and then leave her behind in that gray stone mausoleum while he returned to his frivolous life in London?
She stared at him wide-eyed, wondering what was going on behind those inscrutable, heavy-lidded blue eyes. She reminded herself that it didn’t matter what he had planned, because she had plans to take both herself and his nephews away from here. Nevertheless, she found herself wondering how long Blackthorne intended to hang around and fix up the Abbey. Maybe he only intended to stay long enough to get her started on the renovations before he disappeared.
That was good, wasn’t it? She would be free to come and go as she pleased. She could leave whenever she liked and retrieve Spencer and Clay and board a ship for America.
“It’s time to leave,” he said, holding out an arm for her to take.
She slid her arm through his, her lower lip clamped tightly in her teeth. She couldn’t understand why she was so upset by what she’d intuited from Blackthorne’s kiss. Or rather, what he’d said before and after the kiss. She should be glad he was leaving her. So where was this sinking feeling in her stomach coming from?
Josie eyed Blackthorne askance. His features revealed none of the confusion she was experiencing herself. What game was he playing? And what should her next move be?
He helped her to remount Tumble, then mounted himself, simply throwing himself into the saddle without using the stirrups, as she’d seen American cowboys do. She couldn’t help admiring his strength and agility. If only he had a better character to go along with his physical attributes.
“My tenant, Mr. Moreland, and his wife and five children live on the way to Squire Cartwright’s home,” he said. “I think there’s time to visit both families before luncheon.”
The Morelands seemed to be a happy family, even more so when Blackthorne promised he would repair a roof that had been leaking for quite some time. Josie thought Mr. and Mrs. Moreland did a little too much ducking and bowing to both her and the duke, but she hoped she’d made Mrs. Moreland feel more comfortable before they finally left.
The five children, all girls, ranged in age from three to twelve. She’d promised each of them a hair ribbon, to be delivered on her next visit. Josie smiled as Mrs. Moreland, who was well into her sixth pregnancy, ducked her head one last time, before they mounted their horses and rode away.
“They’re blessed to have five beautiful children and another on the way,” Josie said, once they were out of earshot.
“With any luck, he’ll get a son this time, to help him in the fields.”
Josie bridled at Blackthorne’s insinuation that sons were more desirable than daughters. She realized it might start an argument, but she couldn’t keep herself from saying, “If necessary, daughters can do as much physical labor as sons.”
She’d certainly done her share of work during her trip across the prairie from Chicago to Cheyenne. It had been her job to collect the buffalo dung and any wood she could find along the way and fill up a sling carried under their Conestoga, to be used to build the fire in the evening.
Blackthorne frowned. “Girls? Work in the fields? It isn’t done.”
“It is in America.”
“This is England, in case you’ve forgotten. Women have a role to which they’re born. Most have no wish to step out of it.”
Josie stared back at him, unwilling to concede the point. So what if he thought she was an odd duck? He’d better get used to it. She wasn’t going to be around here long enough to change her feathers. The sooner she got back to America, where men were happy—and even grateful—to have their wives carry their share of what was an enormous load of work on the frontier, the better.
Rather than argue, she said, “Tell me about Squire Cartwright.”
“His family has been on the same land for as many generations as mine. The Cartwrights raise milk cows and corn. The squire’s wife bore him twelve children, but only three are still living. The two boys are at boarding school, and their daughter is married to a baron in the next county.”
“What happened to the rest?”
“Three died in the first year from childhood diseases. Two died in farm accidents. One drowned. And three died of smallpox.”
“How do you know all this, if you haven’t been living at the Abbey?” And if he knew so much detail about a family he hadn’t lived near in years, why hadn’t he been aware of what had happened to her, or to his nephews?
He smiled. “Harkness. He’s kept in touch over the years, letting me know what’s going on in the neighborhood.”
Josie wondered if Blackthorne realized what he’d revealed with that admission. It was one more sign of how much he loved the Abbey. He’d apparently been starved enough for information about his boyhood home to commit to memory everything he’d been told about it. How else could he know—and remember—so much about one of his many tenants’ lives? No wonder he’d been willing to marry a perfect stranger to save it.
It was also more evidence that he didn’t value his nephews—certainly not as much as he did the Abbey. Otherwise, why didn’t he know every little detail about them? It made her all the more determined to take the boys with her when she left.
The squire and his wife didn’t do as much bowing and scraping as the Morelands, but Josie was very much aware of the enormous distance English folk put between a duke and his minions. It helped to explain why Blackthorne expected her to fall into line.
They didn’t stay long, because it was close to lunch time, and they didn’t want to impose on the Cartwrights to feed them. They arrived home a little after noon and rode directly to the house, where a groom was waiting to take their horses.
Josie had just patted Tumble’s neck and was ready to dismount, when she felt Blackthorne’s hands at her waist to assist her to the ground. She braced her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, but Tumble unexpectedly edged sideways, and she fell forward, so their bodies collided. He grabbed her around the waist and staggered backward as he lowered her to the ground.
When he was steady again, he met her gaze with a smile on his face and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
For a breathless moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. And realized, to her horror, that she wanted to feel his lips against her own.
Josie took a quick step aside, pulling free of Blackthorne’s embrace. “I enjoyed the ride,” she said. “Thank you for taking me.”
“It was my pleasure.”
At that moment, two servants managed to get the front door to creak open. Harkness stepped through and onto the porch, a missive in his hand.
“Your Grace, a telegram arrived while you were gone.”
Josie was astonished when he handed the missive to her, rather than Blackthorne. “Are you sure this is for me?”
He gave her a look that told her he wasn’t the kind of butler who made that kind of mistake.
“Thank you, Harkness.”
She took the telegram and then stared at it, afraid to open it. What disaster had befallen her family that they’d needed to send her a telegram? She felt sick to her stomach, and the copper taste of fear rose in her throat.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Blackthorne asked.
She shot him a look of desperation. Through most of her childhood, she and her sisters had felt DOOMED to a terrible life. Now, at a time it seemed disaster might have been averted, she’d received this telegram.
The paper was still trembling in her hand when Blackthorne took it from her. “Shall I read it?”
She nodded, unable to speak because of the knot of fear in her throat.
The duke read:
Your Grace,
Received word today that everyone has arrived safely.
Your obedient servant, T
“Who is ‘T’?” Blackthorne asked in a gruff voice. “And where is it everyone has arrived?”
Josie wondered why Mr. Thompson had openly sent her a telegram. It was vague enough that Blackthorne hadn’t been able to decipher its meaning, and yet, it was a clear reminder that her family was anxiously awaiting her return. Time was running out. She had to give the boys time to get over the measles, but then she needed to grab them and go.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been silent until Blackthorne said, “Is this another secret you’ve been keeping from me?”
“My time in England was over and my family was expecting my return, when I heard you were looking for a wife. They don’t know I’ve stayed. They don’t know I’ve married you.”
“Or that you’re not returning?” he said, a brow lifted in question.
“Certainly, any plans to reunite with my family have been delayed until a more opportune time.”
“You mean, when we can both go, and you can show off the royal duke you’ve snagged for a husband?”
Josie bit her tongue rather than snap the retort that came to mind. Instead, she smiled and said, “Naturally.”
“Who is ‘T’?” he repeated.
“A Pinkerton detective.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “Why did you need a detective?”
She wasn’t about to tell him the man had been hired by her sister to find her. “I wanted to know more about you, before I committed to marrying you.”
His lips compressed. “And did you satisfy your curiosity?”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
She lifted her skirt and headed up the stone steps without another word. Let him stew on that for a while. She wondered if there was some other message Mr. Thompson had intended for her to receive by revealing himself to the duke. Was there some other emergency he hadn’t wanted to state in the telegram? But surely, if the situation had been dire, he would have made a point of meeting with her face-to-face. She had to assume the telegram meant no more than it had said.
Her family was waiting for her. It was time to grab Spencer and Clay and go.
Should she leave a message for the duke, telling him why she’d married him? Should she answer his unanswered questions?
Why not leave him in doubt? About her. About everything. Why not let him suffer, at least a little, for the two years of hell she’d been put through? It was the very least he deserved.