Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (73 page)

It was not a happy vision.

Days passed and he did not improve. Ought she to leave with Philippe and Soleil and return to France? How could she leave Audra at such a time? What was there to hope for between her and Thayne Brighton? After one particularly unsettling night, rather than spend her early morning overlooking the rotunda from her bedroom window, as usual, Rhianna decided to make her way to the morning room in hopes of some distraction.

There, she found Philippe, standing by the windows, overlooking the approach.

“Good morning,” he greeted her. “You are up early.”

Rhianna met him at the window. “I haven’t been sleeping well. How is the weather?”

“It has abated,” he told her, holding back the curtain and allowing her to take a peek for herself.

Though uncomfortable in its own way, Rhianna was grateful to find Philippe alone in the morning room, as opposed to Desmond.

“Soon, Soleil and I will have to begin our trip back to France,” he told her, demurely. “What with the weather being so uncertain and Soleil’s wedding …”

Rhianna reached for a scone and broke off a piece. She chewed it gingerly before realizing she did not have much of an appetite. She quickly placed it down on a small round plate on the table.

“I should have expected it,” she replied, “but I’ve been so happy to have you both here, I couldn’t bring myself to think of the day you would leave.”

“We don’t have to leave without you,” he told her.

Oh, that she had stayed in her room that morning! Rhianna fully knew what he was leading up to and she trembled with the idea of it. She sorely wished that things could have remained as they had been, as when they were children together. But children they could not stay.
That
relationship was something lost forever.

“It is unthinkable that I should come all the way to England, all this way to see you,” Philippe continued, “and return to France without addressing a very particular subject.” Philippe gently slid his hand down her arm and took her hand in his. “Let us conclude the conversation we were unable to finish one year ago.”

The idea of marrying Philippe had not been dismissed from her without careful consideration. In fact, it had not yet been dismissed at all. To agree would promise a life of comfort among people she knew and cared for. In addition, it would bring her into a higher position in society than she ever imagined possible —
Countess
Rhianna Vallière!

Now, a decision must be made.

“I have no secrets,” he told her. “My feelings are unchanged. You know what they are and, yet, I do not know what yours have been, either then, nor now.”

His voice was deep and affectionate; it helped Rhianna to meet his gaze. For a moment, she imagined that she
could
love him in such a way, and perhaps she already did.

“Everything was so sudden. I left almost immediately,” she evaded.

“Dreadful day,” recalled Philippe. “When you left, no one felt it so much as I. Since then, it has pained me every day thereafter. I was never one for change, but a separation between ourselves was more than I was prepared to endure.”

“Philippe, I needed to come,” she reminded him, gently. “You must remember the circumstances …”

“Yes,” he said. “If I seem unmindful, forgive me. I do remember.”

Here, he paused with respect for her late parents and Rhianna took advantage of the moment to breathe. Each coming sentence brought forth new dread, for she knew to what end he was leading and there was no way of avoiding it.

“Why did you not return?” he asked at last.

“I was … not ready,” she confessed. “When Lord Kingsley offered me the opportunity to live at Kingsley Manor, it was a chance to fulfill my childhood dream. Everything was new and exciting …”

“You wanted a change?”

“Yes.”

“Did you want also to move on?”

At this moment, a particular lord from a certain house called Ravensleigh entered her thoughts. The image filled her with strength.

“I was not sure
then
of what I wanted,” she told Philippe. “But I believe I now know what that is.”

“You do?” he asked eagerly. “You have captured all my attention.”

“I wish to stay in England.”

With this sentence came a hideous pause. Without Thayne’s image still before her she could never have endured it.

“Well, I could spend half the year in England, half in France. It is a small thing and will not …”

“I wish to stay in England,” she repeated, adding, “as Audra’s governess.”

“Let us be direct, can we not? I ask you, please, be clear in your meaning. If you do not love me, then say so.”

Such cruel, painful words! It was not the case with Rhianna, but her love held a different form.

“Philippe, you are so very dear to me. Indeed, you will never fully know what it has meant to me to know you. I hope that I shall always know you and call you my friend because with all of my heart, I love you — only not in the way you want me to.”

In Rhianna’s heartfelt anguish of telling him this, her tears would not be restrained and they fell one by one over their clasped hands. Philippe, who had in the past proven his extraordinary ability to control himself, must have thought little of his own sadness as he tried to comfort her.

“Do not cry, Rhianna. The truth is painful, but I was not altogether unprepared. I saw the future,” he proclaimed, with effort. “Did I not tell you on the day you left us? ‘You will go, and you will meet an Englishman, and you will fall in love.’ I believe those were my exact words.”

Rhianna started at this, and replied, “Philippe, I said nothing of the sort …”

“You didn’t have to,” he said gently. “I could see it in the way you looked at him, the way you smiled at him, how you addressed him. It put a glow about you …”

“Who, Philippe?” she implored, never imagining she might hear from his lips the very name of the man who held her thoughts captive.

“Lord Brighton,” he told her, with an accepting tone. “Your feelings might not have been obvious to the rest of the world, but to myself, who knows you so intimately, it was as if you
had
said that you loved him. And that he returns your affection is the only thing that comforts me, because I know you will be happy in your life with him. Rhianna,” he promised, “I so want you to be happy.”

“Philippe! If I
did
have such feelings … I …”

“Do you deny that you love him?”

She hesitated. A declaration such as this was not something she was prepared to admit to herself, much less to a man who had, only moments ago, proposed to her for the second time. His perception in this matter astonished her, but to confirm it would only injure him more.

“I cannot say exactly what my feelings are for him, for I do not know myself,” she declared to him. “Never mind our positions in society …”

He stopped her at once. “What are positions in society but manmade barriers among people who are in God’s eyes all equal? True love is pure, as God is pure, and it will allow no culture to stand in its way.”

“Philippe, I want to be sensible and content with my life as it is, and I am. Let us leave it at that.”

“Well,” he submitted, “as you wish. If ever you become discontent with anything at all, remember you can still have a life with me. Until the day I hear of your marriage, I shall wait for you.”

At this, Rhianna would have begged otherwise, but Philippe restrained her lips with his own. It was not the enthusiastic, passionate kiss that likely would have occasioned had she accepted his proposal, but rather, it was sweet and tender. He lingered just long enough, before allowing the moment to become the precious memory she would unceasingly keep close to her heart.

Alas, Rhianna was aware that any attempt to persuade him differently would be ineffectual. Philippe meant every word of what he said and would go back on not a word of it. She removed her hand from his grip and held him as she had many times before, overcome by a sadness that would not soon diminish. Their brother and sister relationship was gone for all time, and Rhianna felt the pangs of loss deeply.

Chapter Eight

All was dreadfully quiet — even the house itself seemed to sleep — but Rhianna lay awake in her bed, never expecting rest to come. Her mind raced and thoughts of the morning’s conversation with Philippe tormented her. The hour struck midnight as she was hoping he would recover quickly, but she knew he would not.

Hushed voices in the hall suddenly broke her thoughts. It seemed odd that someone should be traveling these halls at this hour. Even the servants, if up and about, had better places to be and — was that a lady’s voice? Rhianna snuffed out her candle and listened. It was, and the voice was a distinctly familiar one. Indeed, Lydia Kingsley was most certainly walking past her door, and she was not alone. Though she could not make out what was said, Rhianna was sure that Lydia was speaking to at least one or two more persons.

As the voices faded down the hall, Rhianna closed her robe around herself, determined to investigate what she deemed too curious to ignore. Besides this, it was too welcomed a diversion for her afflicted mind to pass up.

A tremble ran through her as the excitement of exploration heightened and she tiptoed through her own room so the house would not tell on her. Reaching for the door handle, she turned it ever so gently. With a moment’s pause to listen for activity in the hallway, and hearing none, she opened the door.

It creaked.

Rhianna looked at it accusingly. Under any other circumstances, she was certain it would not have made any sound at all, but this night it
would
do its part to reveal her intentions. She began to imagine the house was as much a conspirator in Lydia’s affair as its mistress.

Rhianna ventured down the hall, her eyes adjusting gradually to the darkness. A few scattered windows allowed enough moonlight to guide her, for she dared not bring a candle. Vaguely, she could still hear them as she approached the staircase where they had descended. Desmond, too, was with her, and a second man, but their words could not be made out.

Cautiously, she took one step at a time, all the while straining to hear them. She made out a few words, here and there. It quickly became clear that the voice of the second man was the dreaded Cousin Pierson. Rhianna embraced her inner sleuth, determined to know their purpose. After all, why would Desmond be sneaking around with them in the middle of the night? It would have been one thing, certainly, to hear Pierson with Lydia alone, but the three of them together screamed of conspiracy.

Soon, the threesome halted in the Great Hall. Rhianna dared not go as far as the landing, as the stairs beyond turned to face their small group, and she opted to wait only a few steps back.

Suddenly, an eruption of raised voices made their words audible.

“It has been nothing but excuses from you since the beginning! Only a year and a half ago, we were so close — but then
she
arrived and everything we worked so hard for was undone!”

Rhianna started at Pierson’s outburst and her hands twisted around the stairway banisters. Her pulse raced as she wondered to what — and to whom — he referred.

He continued, “I have long begun to think she is not so in the way as you say, but just another excuse of yours.”

“No, my love,” Lydia took pains to convince him. “I have long been devoted to this course, and to you. It shall be done in no time at all.”

“I can see why he would doubt your words, Mother,” Desmond injected.

“What a notion! Besides, we are back on track, but these things must run their course. Only exercise patience …”

A few muffled syllables followed this, while Rhianna considered moving another step or two down the stairway.

Finally, just before they parted, an upset Pierson cried, “This has dragged on for too long!”

Lydia attempted to hush him, mumbling something about the servants, and Desmond anticipated something “by the end of the week.” Moments later, they were parting, but no one exited the front door. Rhianna hurried back to her room as quickly as she quietly could.

Pierson was staying at the manor — of that one thing she was certain. Not only had the door not opened, but no one had traveled in or out of the house for days due to the snow. As Rhianna closed and locked her bedroom door, her mind continued to race. Had Lydia buried Lord Kingsley already by moving her lover in? Her memory of Pierson meeting Lydia in the courtyard on the night of the ball added to this idea. Rhianna could not but wonder if he had been at Kingsley Manor for some time, hidden from Lord Kingsley’s knowledge. And what could be the nature of this scheme that Lydia may or may not have doubts regarding? Worse still, who was this “she” that interrupted said plan around the time Rhianna came to Kingsley Manor? Rhianna tried to prevent her mind from wandering unrestrained, but it fought her otherwise. The feeling that they perhaps referred to
her
was disturbing.

Thus, with an array of new thoughts to consider, she lay back in bed with any and all possibilities of sleep now irrevocably gone.

• • •

“It makes sense for us to go now, before winter really begins.” Soleil sounded as if she was trying to comfort herself, just as much as Rhianna. “I hope you will come to France for the wedding,” she wished, as the tears continued.

“I should like nothing more!” Rhianna exclaimed, embracing her as tightly as her arms would allow.

“You could bring Audra, if the Kingsleys are agreeable,” Soleil added. “I can see why you enjoy her so much. She is so very likeable.”

The carriage door was open to her and Soleil sighed at the sight of it.

“This is
not
goodbye,” Rhianna reminded her. “I shall see you in the spring.”

“And we shall write often!”

Philippe assisted his sister in. As Audra had stayed at her father’s bedside and Lydia and Desmond had said their goodbyes in the foyer, Rhianna drew a short breath as she turned to face Philippe alone.

He put forth a worthy effort in his attempt at a positive demeanor, but the sadness in Philippe’s eyes as he turned to Rhianna exposed his true feelings.