No Ordinary Groom Page 10

  He studied her as he baited his own pole. “I’ll admit, the breadth of your studies is quite impressive, Miss Whittington.”

  “No studies involved here, my lord. I spent much of my childhood in Yorkshire and enjoyed the companionship of local children.”

  “Your mother let you play with the villagers?” he asked doubtfully. “Is that where you learned cricket?”

  She couldn’t quite hide a smile. “I see you’ve formed the correct opinion of her already. But you’re right—she would not have allowed it. I often managed to…escape her notice.”

  “Don’t let me hear of such things.”

  He spoke with a severity that cooled her amusement.

  “Because you’ll find that I quite admire resourcefulness in a girl.”

  She waited for the inevitable “but not in a wife” or “not in a grown woman.”

  But he smiled at her in that lazy, wicked way she found so fascinating and said in a voice meant only for her ears, “I find it rather arousing.”

  Blushing, she held her silence as they stood fishing side by side on the bank of the small river. Killer stood with his paws in the shallow edge, his long belly hair trailing in the water. Amazingly, he never disturbed the fish by barking or jumping in.

  When William’s line caught in the branches of a dead tree that had fallen across the stream, she expected him to send Mr. Barlow out to fix it. Instead, he jumped up on the tree trunk, his arms stretched out for balance, and began to walk out across the water.

  She glanced at Mr. Barlow, who had limped over to stand at her side. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. She thought he mumbled, “Bloomin’ fool,” but surely he would not speak so about his employer.

  “Should you…help him?” she asked.

  She held her breath as William’s arms began to whirl in wider and wider circles. He fell back into the water with a giant splash.

  “And get dragged in myself, miss?” Mr. Barlow said innocently.

  Killer jumped and barked, running back and forth furiously along the bank of the stream. When the waves settled, William was sitting waist deep in water and—laughing! She covered her smiling mouth. He struggled to his feet, only to slide and fall face-first this time. Her shoulders ached from repressing her laughter. It caught in her throat and faded when he finally gained his footing and she was able to see how his white shirt plastered to him. By the time he trudged ashore, still carrying his fishing pole, she was suitably composed enough to only raise her eyebrows.

  “I daresay, my lord, your tailor would not like to see you now.”

  He hesitated, watching her with such speculative amusement that she almost thought he would lunge and hold her along his wet body. To her dismay, it was not an unpleasant thought.

  He seemed to think better of his original intentions, whatever they were. “Miss Whittington, my tailor would be thrilled, for it would mean I’d be buying another set of clothing from him. He is a practical businessman, you know. I’ll go change in the carriage. No peeking.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “And you can continue catching our dinner. Up to the challenge?”

  “No challenge is necessary, my lord, although I will have to move upstream a bit. You’ve surely scared away all the fish, and I’m in too much of a hurry to wait for their return. A quickly caught dinner means a quicker departure.”

  He sighed. “How practical of you, Miss Whittington.”

  “Thank you, Lord Chadwick,” she answered, turning back to her fishing.

  She glanced over her shoulder once to watch Mr. Barlow throw a portmanteau down to William, who then easily swung up inside the carriage. Mr. Barlow paused as he saw her, but she turned away before he could make too much of her curiosity.

  By the time William came back out, his damp hair beginning to show a hint of curl, his clean clothes slightly wrinkled, she and Mr. Barlow had each caught a fish, and Mr. Barlow was reeling in another. The two men went off to start a fire, leaving her mercifully in peace.

  Will left five fish frying in a pan under Barlow’s watchful gaze and went to sit down in the grass at Jane’s side. She’d been watching him rather closely throughout the afternoon, and he wondered if he’d revealed too much to her.

  “We have one more stop on our schedule today,” he said, leaning back to rest his weight on his hands.

  He saw her flash of irritation. “There’s not much daylight left, my lord. Shouldn’t we be searching for an inn?”

  “But Langley Manor is nearby.”

  “Isn’t that the seat of the Duke of Kelthorpe?”

  “Very good, Jane. I can see your studying has its worth.”

  Her green eyes flashed for a moment before she calmed herself. “I do not study such things, my lord. But one cannot live in London without knowing who Kelthorpe is. Have you ever met him?”

  “No.”

  “Neither have I. Then why are we going?”

  With a sigh, he finally accepted the fact that Jane would never be the kind of wife who would meekly accept his decisions. “Because I have heard of the magnificence of the estate, and I wish to see it. Pretend it’s a ruined castle just waiting for your exploration.”

  To his surprise, she said, “Very well, my lord.” She gave a subdued nod, but her eyes were watchful, as if she didn’t trust him.

  He hated lying to her because it wasn’t a good start to their marriage, he thought, watching Barlow as he served them each a helping of hot fish on a linen napkin. The three of them picked at the fish and blew on their fingers and managed to eat enough to satisfy their appetites. Jane never complained once about the lack of tableware—or even a table, for that matter.

  She had good reason not to trust him now. Her safety in the coming days weighed heavily on his mind. How would he protect her in a house full of people, when they wouldn’t even be sleeping in the same wing?

  “Lord” Chadwick liked parties—it was expected of him. But Will found the thought of trying to converse politely with strangers a trying exercise. The only things he knew about the ton he’d gleaned from newspapers. Though he was a quick study, facing enemy soldiers seemed preferable.

  Jane must enjoy these sorts of things—surely she was only reluctant because they had not been invited.

  As late afternoon settled over the land and a soft rainfall began to pelt the roof, the carriage rounded a bend and the magnificent expanse of Langley Manor came into view. The mansion was of mellow brick and seemed to rise out of the hillside like a monument to nobility. Every window on all three levels reflected the setting sun as it sent a last few beams beneath the gray clouds.

  Jane thought she heard William sigh, but when she looked at him, he only smiled. Something just felt wrong to her—besides the delay in their journey. Short of stomping her feet and throwing a childish tantrum, she couldn’t see how she could get out of this.

  William had allowed her a visit to a castle; she must allow him this. But as they turned into the drive, a carriage pulled away from the front portico, leaving several women and men to walk up the marble stairs to the waiting servants.

  Jane smiled, trying to cover her relief and triumph. “The family must be at home, Lord Chadwick. Surely we cannot interrupt.”

  “But we don’t know that for certain. We’ll ask the butler.”

  She sat back stiffly and tried not to groan. When the carriage stopped, she thought she might wait inside, but William took her hand firmly and helped her out, opening an umbrella over her head as they walked between the carriage and the manor. They found the butler waiting just inside the open front door.

  “Good day, my lord,” the man said in a stentorian voice. He sketched a stiff bow.

  “A good day to you,” William replied as he handed the butler his card.

  The man glanced at it. “I’m afraid I do not have your name on the guest list, my lord.”

  Jane felt herself redden, even though she knew they could now leave.

  “Guest list?”
William responded. “Dear me, I had no idea that His Grace was in residence. I had merely hoped I could show my betrothed, Miss Jane Whittington, the grounds of the estate. When I last spoke to our good queen, she told me stories of its beauty and thought my betrothed would appreciate it. We’ll be on our way then.”

  The butler glanced at the card again. “Do wait, my lord. His Grace would not want me to turn you away. Please step inside, and I’ll tell the duke of your visit.”

  “How kind of you!” William said.

  Jane wished the floor would swallow her.

  When they stepped inside the great hall, she looked up to see the ceiling painted in fresco two stories over her head. All the accents were in white and gold, with gold velvet curtains bracketing two-story windows. A massive staircase rose from the center and curved as it flowed up to the first floor.

  The butler led them to the left. “If you would wait in the drawing room, please.”

  They were shown into a long room that ran the length of one wing of the house, scattered with sofas and chairs and ornate tables, and hung with landscapes and portraits so close together they almost overlapped. With a bow, the butler withdrew.

  Jane stared about herself, and then directly at William. “Lord Chadwick, you have embarrassed me greatly.”

  “I have done no such thing. I merely proclaimed myself a tourist, graciously insisted I didn’t want to intrude, then allowed the good butler to insist otherwise. Now isn’t this house splendid?”

  “You had to use the queen’s name to get what you wanted. Deception does not become you.” She strode away from him toward the window, staring unseeingly out at the countryside shrouded with a misty rain. He followed, but she didn’t realize how closely until he spoke.

  “I assure you I am not lying, Jane,” he murmured, his breath fanning warmly across her skin.

  She stiffened when she felt his lips on the nape of her neck, just below the edge of her bonnet. The soft, moist pressure sent an unwelcome shiver through her. He was trying to distract her. “Lord Chadwick—”

  The opening of the doors interrupted her lecture. They turned to find an imposing man striding toward them. He was well into his forties, not tall, but broad through the torso. He had the regal face of a born peer, with a slightly crooked nose, as if he’d been more physical in his youth.

  “Lord Chadwick?” he said, his smile guarded, yet interested.

  William bowed.

  “I am Kelthorpe. Welcome to Langley Manor.”

  “Your Grace, allow me to present my betrothed, Miss Jane Whittington, daughter of Viscount Whittington.”

  As the duke took her hand, she sank into a deep curtsy, murmured, “Your Grace,” and was relieved to see he was still smiling when she arose.

  “It is a pleasure to meet you both. Higgins told me of your wish to view the grounds.”

  Jane spoke before William could. “We did not realize you were in residence, Your Grace. Please forgive us for intruding.”

  “It is no intrusion. In fact, I’ve heard much about you recently in London, Chadwick, and I see this as a good opportunity to know you better. Do you have plans for the next few days?”

  Only through great effort did Jane keep her eyes from widening further with each word from the duke. He’d heard about William, a man made into a baron for some mysterious reason by the queen? The duke and Queen Victoria were cousins, she was given to understand. And now he wanted them to stay for what was obviously a house party?

  “Your Grace,” William said affably, “we have no wish to impose upon you.”

  “But I wish it. I have plenty of room, and I’m certain you’ll know several of the guests.” He turned his bright blue eyes on Jane. “Miss Whittington, will you stay?”

  She could have groaned aloud at the delay, but all she said was, “You are so kind, Your Grace. Thank you for the invitation, and I accept it with a glad heart.”

  Almost immediately, a maid was leading her away, and she heard the butler call to Mr. Barlow about driving the carriage around to the back. She was shown to a spacious bedroom that overlooked a sloping lawn leading down to a maze of trimmed hedges. Her trunks arrived quickly, and when she admitted that her own maid had taken ill, a lady’s maid was sent up to assist her in preparing for dinner that evening.

  The last of her anger with William faded away as she lay soaking in a sunken tub in the bathing chamber connected to her room. Ah, such luxury, to have individual bathing chambers for guests!

  At seven o’clock, a maid came to guide Jane through the intricate corridors to the drawing room. At the entrance off the great hall, the maid left her with a smile, and Jane found her breathing shaky. She had never had reason to feel inferior to anyone, and she refused to start now, she chided herself. Her green silk gown brought out the color of her eyes, and although it was plainer than several of the gowns she would likely see tonight, it was not out of fashion. For once, her sister Charlotte had been right about the gowns she should bring.

  When she stepped into the room, about two dozen people stood and sat in various clusters talking. She saw William speaking with the duke before the windows. As she debated whether to join them, a woman of her own age approached. She was the typical English beauty of golden hair and creamy skin, but her smile was generous as she took Jane’s hand.

  “You must be Miss Whittington. I am Lady Harriet Irving, acting as hostess for my brother. I regret that I wasn’t here to greet you this afternoon.”

  Jane curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. I hope our arrival is not an inconvenience for you.”

  “Nonsense. There are plenty of bedchambers in this old house. And I can deny my brother nothing, as he is practically a father to me. Do you know His Grace?”

  “We have never met before today.”

  “But he knows of your betrothed. I am glad they had the chance to meet. Come, I will introduce you to the rest of our guests.”

  Jane spent the next half hour strolling from group to group with Lady Harriet. In general, people were kind, and only a few felt themselves superior enough to look down upon her in an obvious manner. She was relieved to realize she knew several of the guests.

  As she conversed, she could not help glancing occasionally at William, elegantly garbed in formal black eveningwear. He spent a long time talking to the duke, and then His Grace introduced William to another group of men. She found herself tensing, waiting for their amusement over whatever foolish things William spouted in company. But when they eventually left one by one, they said nothing that might offend their host.

  When William was finally alone, Jane excused herself and approached him. He gave her a smile so wicked that it heated her blood, even as she hoped no one else saw it.

  “Lord Chadwick,” she murmured, bowing her head briefly.

  “Jane,” he answered back.

  She narrowed her eyes at him in cool disapproval.

  “How can I go back to calling you Miss Whittington, when I’ve kissed that pouting mouth?”

  “I beg your pardon!” she said angrily—softly.

  He reached for her gloved hand and brought it to his lips. “Now Jane,” he murmured against the cloth, “people are watching.”

  She understood that, but she was appalled to realize she was more concerned with the heat from his mouth, which spread through her glove to her skin, than their audience. “Then perhaps you should not so obviously display your affection for me.”

  As he straightened, she removed her hand from his.

  “We are engaged, Jane; some leeway is granted us for this alone. Now if we really wanted to seem like everyone else, we would work out a special signal to alert me when to come to your bed.”

  “Lord Chadwick!” she said reprovingly, while wearing the sweetest smile. Her blood rushed into her face, and it took all her effort not to glance around to see who was close enough to listen. “Please do not insult me, or the duke’s guests.”

  “It was meant as no insult, my dear, excep
t to make you understand that a large number of the guests here will be clandestinely meeting people other than their spouses this night. Watch the way their eyes meet, or the way one person is quick to hand another his candelabra for the night. It is all rather a given at a house party, and something not usually discussed.”

  “Then don’t discuss it.” But it would be difficult not to think about it when all the guests began to depart for their beds. She gritted her teeth and changed the subject. “You did this deliberately.”

  “And what did I do now?”

  “You were hoping for an invitation to stay at Langley Manor, and you maneuvered until you received one.”

  He laughed. “Of course I was hoping, after what I’d heard from Queen Victoria. But I had no way of knowing if Kelthorpe would be amenable. To my distinct pleasure, he was.”

  “But—”

  “Jane, can you not share in my excitement? This is surely not something you would ever have dared on your own.”

  “Of course not,” she said slowly, beginning to understand his intent. Did he know he was appealing to her natural inclination for excitement? Or did he merely guess?

  “Then that makes it all right.”

  “Do not pretend you did this just for me, my lord. You are newly arrived to these circles and enjoying the exposure. Although it seems you are not unheard of,” she added grudgingly.

  He gave her a wink. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “Yet I have not seen my father in several years, and I grow anxious at this delay.”

  His smile faded. “A delay to visit a ruined castle is permitted because you sanctioned it? A request of mine should not be considered?”

  She bit her lip, knowing that she blushed at the truth of his words. “I understand what you’re saying, William—”

  He leaned closer. “Ah, to hear my name upon your lips.”

  “My lord—”

  “Soon I wish to hear ‘William’ said upon a sigh of pleasurable satisfaction.”

  She didn’t understand his meaning until she realized that his gaze had dropped to the neckline of her gown, where the upper slopes of her breasts were displayed. She felt a rush of heat and knew she was blushing even there.