The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (68 page)

“My lady, would you mind entertaining our guests at supper?”

She studied him, struck by the question. “That depends, Your Grace. Am I personally required to see that each and every guest enjoys themselves?”

“No, my lady. Simply act in my stead as host and certainly endeavor to enjoy yourself. I merely wish to attend to my betrothed. I have ignored her a bit much as of late.”

She looked at Francine, who was still astride Delilah, and the corner of her mouth turned up. “Your Grace, I would be happy to direct the entertainment on your behalf tonight, if—”

“Yes, my lady?”

“
If
it is what my dear friend Francine desires of me.”

He smiled and looked to Francine.

“Yes, Gelema, that is what I desire,” Francine answered, as stoically as she could.

“So be it. Shall I send for a chaperone?” she shouted over her shoulder as she walked toward the manor, then before either could answer, she added wickedly, “All right then, have a wonderful evening.”

Gideon smiled and turned toward Francine. He removed her boot from the stirrup and jumped astride Delilah behind her, taking the reins and turning the mare for the meadow. Francine let out a peal of laughter that caused all the guests outside of the manor to pause.

The next morning Gideon joined the festivities, mostly unbound from the requirements of the business of his title. He joined the hunting party early, then luncheon on the back terrace. He sat with Francine, who was at this point inseparable from the dowager countess and Lady Alice.

Mr. Shaw walked out to the terrace and Gideon called him over. They whispered and Shaw smiled, taking Gideon’s seat as the duke stood and bid good day to his guests.

Gideon walked to Francine, kissing her wrist and then turning to the countess. “My lady, won’t you accompany me for a walk? I heard you were interested in my hedgerow maze and, since I’ve forbidden anyone from entering it, I would like to give you a tour.”

The countess stood. “Yes, Your Grace, I would very much enjoy that.”

Gideon gave Shaw a pointed look, then placed her hand on his arm and covered it with his, leading her into the maze.

When they reached the center the countess walked to the fountain with a grand smile. “It is as beautiful as I remember it.”

“I knew the earl, God rest his soul, was friends with my father. How well did you know my mother?” he asked, leaning on the edge of the fountain.

“Your Grace—”

“Please, call me Roxleigh.”

“Roxleigh. I believe I knew her as well as any friend could have. She loved you very much, but that goes without saying.”

“I was not the most wonderful son, I’m afraid,” he said quietly.

“You weren’t given much of a chance. A boy cannot protect his mother from things that are beyond a child’s control.”

He shook his head.

She took his hand in hers, as a mother would her son. “Listen to me. Your father had no idea how to help her. He was told her illness was curable. How could he not try?”

“What was it that needed curing?” he asked, looking at his hand in hers.

“It was a great and powerful sadness. It would overtake her mind, her body, even her soul, sometimes for weeks. She would lock herself in her chamber, refusing visitors, refusing Darius, refusing even you,” she said. “It was heartrending.” Her voice wavered. Until that week, she hadn’t spoken of her friend in many years, and the memories flooded her like the tears to her eyes.

Gideon’s eyes glowed fiercely with threatened emotion. “Why was she taken away, if her only crime was sadness?”

“Mrs. Weston found Melisande standing on the windowsill, wailing. They believed she meant to take her life. Darius would have let her continue, protected here at Eildon, of that I am sure, but when she became so distraught that she nearly died, he was afraid for her. He was told they would help her. He was told she would be safe, and she would return home.”

“But she didn’t,” Gideon said, his voice distant.

“No, she didn’t. I visited her there until Darius disallowed me. He didn’t want anyone to remember her that way, in that horrible place. Once she was there, the beautiful Melisande I knew never returned.”

“Thank you. I have always wondered why. I only ever remembered her smiling face, and, once it was gone, my father’s anger.”

“You mustn’t blame him. Without her he was lost. And when he could not bring her from the sadness, it broke him. I see him in you more and more. He was such a passionate man. You love much like your father did.”

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“Do you think you were ready before now?”

He shook his head.

“I didn’t believe anything I said could help you.”

“And now?”

“And now, you are the man everyone wishes you to be. The man you were born to be, the man Francine deserves, looking forward to the life you deserve. Much like your father—however, that is due in large part to your duchess.”

“Future duchess,” he corrected.

She smiled. “Of course. I see the two of you together and know that it was meant to be. You must always trust in her, always.” She pulled something out of the small reticule on her arm. “Melisande gave this to me as a gift for my wedding.” She looked at him. “I would like for Francine to have it.”

He nodded, running his fingers over the sapphires. “I would like that as well, my lady.” He handed it back to her. He glanced up, hearing a giggle from behind one of the hedgerows, and the distraction brought about a sudden change in both their attitudes.

“I believe our little plan has come to a crossroads,” he said with a smile.

She looked at him questioningly.

“I must go find Francine. You will need to find your way out of my hedgerow. However, I have some rules to guide you. Should you wish to leave directly, follow the small white flowers to the entrance at the back terrace. If you would like, however, to take a…
detour
,” he said hastily when they heard the giggling again, “you might run into someone you
know
. Should you wish to find them—together—you should follow the blue flowers. A word of caution, however. Once you find them, there will be no turning back.”

Gelema lifted a brow. “I see. I believe I shall have to consider a moment, Your Grace.”

“Roxleigh,” he said with a warning edge. He smiled, bowing and kissing her hand, then took off through the hedgerow at a dead run toward the manor and Francine.

The guests on the terrace gawked as he ran, taking the steps to the private balcony two and three at a time. When he reached the top, he swung the French doors open wide and, seeing her on the settee with her legs curled up beneath her, he walked over, pulled her up into his arms, and kissed her senseless, his mouth bruising her soft lips with his fervency.

She dropped her book to the floor and lifted her hand to his face, gently holding him. She tried to pull away, but he chased her with his mouth, delving deeper, tasting her, memorizing her.

The sisters were on the settee across from where Francine had sat, their expressions shocked, staring. Miss Faversham roused herself from the trance he’d cast and went to the couple, shooing them out of the room.

Francine eventually broke away from him in a spill of giggles.

“Francine Larrabee, I love you. With all my heart and all my soul. I cannot survive a minute without you.”

Francine’s head fell back, her hands still holding his face. She ran her forefingers across his eyelids, traced the edges of his ears with her ring fingers, and stroked his powerful jaw with her thumbs. “Ah, Gideon, and I you.”

He carried her to her chamber and placed her in one of the chairs by the window. Sitting across from her, he told her about his mother. He also told her of the journal, and what he now believed to be true. He promised to share it with her.

Francine cried. She cried for his mother and for hers, she cried for their fathers, and his brother, and she cried for the small, broken children that they had been and, when her tears stopped, it was finished. They stood together in her room, looking out over the meadow, holding each other silently, strong and safe in the knowledge that no matter what happened, they would be together.

The dowager countess waited in the clearing, pondering. Taking her glove off, she wetted her hand in the fountain and walked around, inspecting the hedgerows and contemplating her next move. “I have always liked blue,” she said to herself. “Of course, white—purity, chastity—always a good color choice.”

She stopped in front of one opening, then turned and walked directly to the other. She heard giggling and whispering from within the tall boundaries of the rows, but she didn’t follow it. Instead she followed the tiny blooms as she’d been instructed by Gideon. As she rounded a corner she came face-to-face with her granddaughter. She looked at Lady Alice questioningly, and then looked back at the row where she’d come from, confused. She heard her squeal and glanced back to her. “Alice? What’s the meaning of this?”

Alice stood perfectly still.

“Alice?” She approached her slowly. Her granddaughter’s skirts rustled. The dowager countess lifted the corner of Alice’s skirt to find Amberly Shaw crouching on the ground underneath.

Alice blushed violently, as did Shaw.

“My lady,” he squeaked, looking up. “It is not what you think.”

“Are you certain?”

He stood and brushed his trousers off. “I believe I have been set up.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, I— I was trying to fix the band on Lady Alice’s slipper,” he said, handing it to the countess. “There was no action on my part that was dishonorable. It is just that Lady Alice’s foot, well, it is quite sensitive, I find, and she kept wiggling away and I—”

“I say, Mr. Shaw, I do not need a graphic description of your plundering of my granddaughter.”

“My what? No, my lady, you misunderstand! It was entirely innocent!” he protested.

“Was it, Mr. Shaw? From my perspective you have compromised my granddaughter, and there is only one thing to be done.”

He looked down at the slipper in her hands then up at her penitently. “There is?” he croaked.

“There is,” she said sternly. “You must make an honest woman of her,” the countess said resolutely, handing back the slipper.

The shock in his eyes was evident to the dowager and she shook her head.

“I will not have my granddaughter’s good name dragged through the gutter of Society. You will marry her.”

Shaw was dazed. “I will?”

“Yes, you will. Post haste, I must say. I’ll not wait for the rumors. No doubt they are already spreading!”

“Yes…my lady,” he said, more as a question than response.

“Come.” She led the couple from the maze, a grand smile breaking.

Alice squealed and wrapped her arms around Shaw, kissing him all over his face.

He held onto her as he followed the dowager countess and, by the time they reached the manor, he was smiling as well.

Francine’s wedding day arrived after a week of fanfare. She wasn’t to see Gideon today; the plans had already been set in motion. He left early for another hunt, and the hunters would have luncheon in the dining room while the women had their meal on the terrace. Every guest at Eildon was prepared to keep the duke and his bride separated for the entire day.