Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (69 page)

“Well,” she acquiesced, “I suppose it is forgivable to want to spend time with a friend.”

This last seemed to lighten the mood. “And Miss Kingsley, of course.”

“Of course.” Suddenly, looking about her, Rhianna questioned, “Where
is
Audra?”

They heard a distant giggling, as well as footsteps.

“Crispin!” called Thayne, authoritatively.

Quickening their pace, Rhianna and Thayne entered the library, but found no sign of them there. Again, distant laughter led them directly next door to the empty, echoing ballroom. They entered hopeful, but to no avail.

“They’re …
hiding on us
?” Rhianna wondered aloud.

“We probably should have seen this coming.”

“Audra!” called Rhianna anxiously. “How could they have run off without us noticing?” she asked Thayne.

“Crispin!”

They found themselves in the middle of the long dance floor, the room itself appearing vastly larger without the throngs of people that had occupied it only days before. Around them there was only silence, until Thayne chuckled and the sound reverberated through the room.

Rhianna turned to him disbelievingly. “How can you laugh? They are so openly affectionate together. They ought not to be alone.”

“They ought not,” he agreed, smiling. “For that matter, neither should we.”

Her concern for the children had eclipsed the realization that she was, indeed, alone with Thayne Brighton.

“Miss Braden,” he said, consolingly, “try not to over concern yourself. They are undoubtedly watching us from some dark corner, laughing at our powerlessness over them. When they have lived out their moment, they will reappear.” She considered giving in to his more optimistic outlook, as he added, “Besides, this could be far worse.”

She was not blind to his feeble attempt to ease her worry, but she did not resist either.

“Do tell,” she encouraged.

“Well, for instance, you could be alone with Desmond Kingsley, rather than myself.”

Rhianna shuddered at the thought, recalling the last time she was alone with Desmond. She thought of him entering the schoolroom giddily and requesting the first two dances of the ball.

“Yes, I imagine that would be a
trifle
worse than the present circumstance.”

That this last was uttered strictly tongue-in-cheek there could be no doubt. Finally, she laughed at the stark contrast and Thayne seemed pleased.

“The room feels so different from the other night,” she recalled, after banishing those first two dances from her thoughts. “With its grandeur and liveliness gone, it is so very … unlike a ball.”

Thayne looked about the vacant room and then back to her. “I like it better,” he confessed, cheerfully. “Actually, the orchestra sounds especially captivating tonight, does it not?”

She looked wonderingly at him. Thayne bowed to her, grinning. Then, he held out his hand.

Rhianna, making the connection, submitted to his mock ball with a curtsey and took his hand for a pretend waltz. Thayne willingly slipped his hand around her waist and drew her close to him as they began to circle the room.

“I’m not entirely sure you were on my dance card, Lord Brighton,” Rhianna teased.

“I beg your pardon. Was there another gentleman promised to this dance?”

“Not that I would have such pleasure to dance with.”

Her words flowed quickly and without thought. Rhianna reconsidered them after they were pronounced, but it was too late.

He smiled wryly, and said, “I think Desmond Kingsley is looking very ill. I daresay he is rather jealous of me at this moment.”

At once, Rhianna looked around them, but saw no one. Recognizing his comment again as farce, she happily played along.

“Does he look ill, indeed?” she returned. “Perhaps I should dance with him, considering that Miss Leighart is anxious to partner with you.”

“Is she?” he asked, disinterestedly. “Well, she has used up her two dances already. Besides,” he paused, holding her gaze, “I would cut our dance short for no one.”

Her instinct was to look away, but his blue eyes held hers prisoner. Her feet would not obey her; her dancing slowed and her smile faded. What could the Lord of Ravensleigh want with a governess? Her expression begged him not to play with her heart.

With a seriousness that startled her, he mimicked her words, saying, “There is not any other that I would have such pleasure to dance with.”

They stopped. Rhianna’s heart raced as Thayne raised one hand to her face and gently ran the backs of his fingers along her skin.

“I made a terrible mistake last night,” he said suddenly.

Rhianna looked at him blankly. Hardly could she think. She recalled only his lips against her cheek outside Ravensleigh.

“What mistake was that?” she managed breathlessly, as he took her face in his hands.

“I missed.”

With that, he pressed his open mouth to hers, engulfing her lips completely in his kiss. Urgently, his full lips moved against hers, deeply and eagerly, and she reached for his wrists to steady herself. Seeming to sense her unbalance, Thayne took her hands and eased her arms smoothly over his shoulders and around his neck. As she interlocked her fingers there, he allowed her arms to lead his hands back to her body. Without breaking the kiss, Thayne pulled her into him, crushing her small frame into his embrace, yet even as her racing heart beat wildly against his breast it seemed she was not close enough. He clutched her tighter.

Thayne tapered his fervency only when she responded with a kiss of her own — only not a frenzied, desperate kiss, as he had displayed. Rhianna molded her lips to his mouth tenderly, searchingly, but desirous in their own way.

Rhianna’s lips peeled slowly from his when she noticed his sudden stillness. His breath, sweet and intoxicating, flirted with her senses and his eyes even more so. When they met, they drew her deeper into his spell. Captivated by him at every angle, Rhianna observed all the smallest details that she could view only from this close distance — a small, flesh-colored mole directly before his left earlobe, the thickness of his upper lashes, and a brownish hue in his blue eyes. Just as those same eyes fell upon her lips a second time, he drew her in again and kissed her feverishly.

With a sudden gasp did she pull back, her breathing heavy and her parted lips pulsing. She turned to the children with a flush of embarrassment sweeping over her.

Crispin raised one eyebrow. Audra stood beside him, suppressing a giggle.

“Well done, brother,” declared Crispin proudly, and the two walked passed them for the stairs. “Incidentally, we’re not at all interested in backgammon anymore. Miss Kingsley and I will wait for you in the hall.”

While her eyes followed them, she sensed Thayne’s eyes — and hands — remained upon her. When she turned back to him, the tips of her fingers covering her mouth, he smiled widely.

“I am jealous of these fingers,” he said, taking them in his own hand and raising them tenderly to his lips.

She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but there were no words at the ready.

Finally, he suggested, “Perhaps we ought not to lose the children again.”

At last, Thayne released her and took a step back. He bowed, as though finishing their dance. Rhianna smiled nervously, just as he took her by the hand and together they hurried after Crispin and Audra.

• • •

As the families gathered in the Great Hall, Thayne hurried through the sea of goodbyes to Rhianna’s side.

“I have to go to London for a week or two,” Thayne whispered, looking as if he were struggling not to kiss her again. “I shall think of you every moment.”

This confession, however private Thayne imagined it, did not go unnoticed. There was one person who noticed this brief interchange and Thayne was not long out the Kingsleys’ door when halted by the sound of his name.

“A word, Brighton?”

As his mother and brother entered their coach, Thayne turned to find Desmond sauntering toward him.

“Certainly,” he allowed, cautiously.

“I’m just curious,” Desmond began, stalling until all ears were out of range, “wouldn’t it be easier to keep a mistress who lives under your own roof? In my experience, I have found that anything else is, well, hardly convenient.”

“I am not sure I understand you,” said Thayne. Though instantly understanding him and instantly incensed, he hoped to force something more from Desmond that would excuse his fist against the man’s jaw.

“I think you do,” Desmond returned obnoxiously.

“Well, then, you mistake me grievously, for I have no intentions of pursuing anyone as a mistress under my roof or any other.”

“Pardon my error,” Desmond smiled.

“I am inclined to offer much more than occasional, clandestine lovemaking.”

Desmond’s smile melted into a scowl. “You can’t be serious.”

Thayne warned, “I would advise you to be wary of whom
you
pursue as a mistress.”

“Would you, indeed? You know,” he taunted, “she’s no better than that.”

Hardly had Thayne’s clenched fist had time to turn white around the knuckles than it unleashed a punishing right hook to Desmond’s face. Thayne’s body thrust into action, following the lead of his shoulder; the blow was hard, and a loud snap was heard upon impact. Desmond fell sideways, but caught himself halfway down.

Meanwhile, the servants had seen enough to summon Lord Kingsley, with Lydia on his heels. Lady Brighton and Crispin had been close enough to hear the scuffle and they disembarked the carriage.

Desmond turned his head to both sides, the vertebrae in his neck cracking each time. After a time, he rose and stood face-to-face with Thayne. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth.

“What is the meaning of this?” cried Lord Kingsley. When neither gentleman answered, he approached them. “Lord Brighton? Desmond?”

“Desmond!” cried Lydia, who at the sight of the injury rushed to his side.

The men’s eyes locked, each ready for the next move. Desmond’s nostrils flared. All looked on anxiously until, at last, Thayne took a step back, easing the tension.

“A misunderstanding, Lord Kingsley,” he managed.

“I should say so. Desmond, what have you to say?”

He wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand and, upon reviewing it, stormed into the house. Lydia followed him immediately without a word.

Crispin stood, his mouth open, at the side of the carriage. Lady Brighton quickly instructed him to get back in. He obeyed her, and she approached Thayne and Lord Kingsley. Neither she nor the latter said anything; their looks urged their questions.

Thayne took a deep breath. “I cannot apologize for my actions, Lord Kingsley, only to you, if I have offended you by them.”

“Ought I not to be offended?” he asked. His tone reflected a willingness to hear an explanation from his longtime friend.

“No,” he said, confidently. “You ought not. Lord Kingsley, it is no secret to my mother the feelings I have developed for Miss Braden. I feel I reacted appropriately to the suggestions Desmond Kingsley has spoken of her.”

“And what suggestions are those?”

“He has dishonorable intentions toward her. You cannot expect me to say more in the presence of my mother.”

“Good heavens, Thayne. I’ll be in the carriage.” Lady Brighton offered her hand to Lord Kingsley. He accepted readily, as she said, “My apologies, Guilford. I hardly know what to say.”

Guilford shook his head. “Go in peace, Moira, and good night.”

She nodded and returned to the vehicle. Guilford raised his hand to his forehead and sighed.

“Lord Kingsley, I know you cared for her father. And I know you care for her. Desmond says she is nothing better than a
whore
,” he stressed, visibly distraught.

Guilford, too, was visibly angered by this. The blood rushed through the veins of his forehead and the skin of his cheeks flushed red.

“I cannot make excuses for him there.”

“I do not trust him, Lord Kingsley.” Thayne pleaded, “Watch over her.”

Lord Kingsley seemed to ponder this for a moment and he nodded. Then, his countenance softened and he placed a hand upon Thayne’s shoulder.

“Is Miss Braden aware of your feelings for her?” he asked.

Thayne fought hard not to become lost in thoughts of earlier when, with a gentle passion, she conquered him entirely.

“I imagine she has an idea …”

“Do you intend to make them clearly known?” he pressed.

Thayne examined him. “You think me injudicious?”

“No,” he told him, dropping his hand. “I know you better than to imagine you do not know exactly what you are doing.”

With this, Thayne had little hesitation. “Then the answer to your question is yes.”

Lord Kingsley paced to and fro. “Do you suppose she returns your affection?”

“I can only hope.”

“Indeed,” he mumbled distantly. “Brighton, if that truly is what you have decided, I would urge you to make your declarations sooner than later. Her visitors from France are arriving momentarily and one shares your hopes.”

“Yes, Miss Braden has mentioned it.”

“Has she?” he said, with surprise. He ceased pacing. “The Vallières seem to be a good family. I have been looking forward to their visit. But I have also been under the impression from Marquis Vallière’s communication that Miss Braden would not stay long in England thereafter.” He shrugged. “For Audra’s sake, I think my daughter would like Miss Braden much better settled at Ravensleigh.”

Thayne smiled. “I should like very much not to disappoint Miss Kingsley.”

Guilford nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “Safe travels, my friend. In the future, do what you can to refrain from striking Desmond. I realize what I am asking will take considerable restraint.”

• • •

News of the incident traveled quickly throughout the house and reached Rhianna just as she had changed into her bedclothes. A breathless Katie fell onto the edge of the bed to tell her of the account. Rhianna sat beside her, her eyes wide and her breath still.

“What can the fight have been about?” she asked, after Katie was finished.