Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (74 page)

“I cannot pretend I do not wish you were coming with us,” he told her, at last, “but I hope you know, Rhianna, that I wish you every happiness.”

At that moment, Rhianna’s heart burned as she felt his devastation. Embracing him, she reminded Philippe of how much she truly loved him. He stoked her hair and when she pulled back, kissed her forehead.

“I forever remain your devoted admirer,” he promised.

Hardly could she see through the tears as Philippe lifted himself into the carriage and they drove away.

• • •

Rhianna stared blankly at the paperwork before her. Tapping her pencil absentmindedly against her schoolroom desk, she replayed Soleil and Philippe’s parting moments in her mind. It had been some hours since, but still the memory consumed her. She wondered how far they had traveled and how different her life would have been had she joined them.

Envisioning herself as Philippe’s wife, she knew she could never feel for him as a woman ought to love her husband, but still, she hoped she had not made a mistake. As Audra continued at Lord Kingsley’s side, Rhianna had time to consider her life as an employed woman, a governess, as the years went by, with no family and no permanent home. Her heart felt heavy and tears bubbled forth again.

Suddenly, the door burst open.

“Hello, my dear Miss Rhianna Braden, owner of the loveliest name in all of England. Behold! She possesses, indeed, the loveliest of many things.”

Rhianna arose from her seat in the schoolroom and wiped her eyes quickly as Desmond approached her. Abruptly awakened from her meditative state, it took her a moment to feel fully alert. In that time, Desmond was before her, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. He stretched out his hand, intending to intertwine a lock of her hair within his fingers.

Defensively removing herself from his reach with a large step back, Rhianna held her nerve and suppressed her dismay.

“I think you had better leave, Lord Kingsley,” she told him firmly, hoping to hide her alarm.

Shamelessly, he stepped forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, seizing her where she stood.

“Preparations for Audra’s lessons can wait. I have something to say which I imagine shall be of great interest to you.” He paused, his potent exhalations resting upon her neck and his grasp tightening. “I have been hoping for an opportunity to again see you privately.”

Forcefully, she told him, “I have no wish of seeing you privately, Lord Kingsley.”

“Oh?” Desmond replied. “You resist me without knowing what I offer?”

She held her chin high. “There is nothing you could offer me that I could be interested in.”

“I see,” he continued, his voice lowering to a deep, harsh whisper, a hint of agitation in his bearing. “I daresay Lord Brighton has got to you before I did.”

With her heart pounding in her chest, a cold shiver ran up and down her spine. Rhianna felt trapped. Hopelessly, vulnerably trapped.

“Unhand me,” she demanded, as calmly as she could.

What seemed a long moment passed until Desmond did as she requested.

“Of course, I expected to find competition. Such a lovely creature as yourself — and you are more extremely so than most — with all the accomplishments of a well-bred lady, mingling in our society, teasing us with your charm and innocence …” He trailed off for a moment and smiled to himself, before continuing, “Naturally, it was only a matter of time before one of us desperate blokes came crawling to you with our secret admiration and desires, our pledges of gifts in exchange for clandestine pleasures.”

His manner of informality was on its own enough to make her quite ill, but his words still more so. Desmond paralyzed her with his proposal and appalled her beyond hope of future recovery. Left with no avenue of escape, she went on listening in disgust.

“I realize the delicacy of the matter. Such a strict, impossible world we live in! The beauty of an arrangement between you and me is, we already live under the same roof — none of this sneaking out of the manor in the middle of the night business. No one will ever know. What say you? Keep in mind, that whatever
he’s
promised you, I can do better.”

Rhianna shook her head. “You have made a mistake coming here,” she said, her voice shaking. “You have proven yourself vulgar and ill-bred, and your suggestions are crude, your behavior improper. How dare you compare yourself to Lord Brighton, or any other gentleman? It is offensive!”

He laughed. An abhorrent, vile laugh.

“And what knowledge have
you
of men? You think other
gentlemen
are any different, do you? A pity it must come to you this way, but take a good look at me. You will find nothing different in any other man.” Leaning toward her, with an air of domination, he added, “Not even your precious Lord Brighton.”

Rhianna took a step back away from him, but he restrained her again. Pulling her roughly against him, he grew fierce. Desmond Kingsley’s severe temper manifested itself.

“I suppose you fancy he likes you. Loves, even. Yes, I see that you do. Look at me! Do you also imagine yourself one day as mistress of Ravensleigh? What a child you are! Surely by now you know that you are not the sort of girl men marry,” he sneered. “You are good only as a lover, Rhianna!”

“Do not be so familiar with me, Lord Kingsley! Never did I imagine you would so far overstep this boundary. I insist you leave at once!”

“Insist, do you?” he returned wildly. “Do you forget to whom you are speaking? My dear Rhianna, you may not
like
me, but do you honestly dare dream of more than being the paramour of Lord Desmond Kingsley, owner of this great house who, influential in society, can provide you materially with all your heart’s desires?”

His eyes blazed, his veins swelled in his face, his teeth clenched. Then, in an ill attempt to appeal to her once more, he softened his voice, to say, “This I will do for you, and more …”

“Stop this!” she cried. “Stop, I tell you! You are
not
lord of Kingsley Manor. You ought not rush your father’s death!”

“And what if I was?” he demanded furiously. “My father is very sick, you know.”

“Let go of me! I would sooner die than consider such an indecent offer as the sin against God that you propose!”

He threw her body violently to the floor of the schoolroom. Rhianna grasped at the air for support, but found nothing to break her fall. She lay beneath the chalkboard and stared up at Desmond, stunned.

“Damn you, foolish girl! I would have filled your life with riches that you cannot imagine!” he proclaimed, stiffening his frame and tightening his fists. “Just as well! What do I want with the daughter of a curate? I should have known better when I thought of you. I curse the day you entered into this house! But it is no matter. I shall soon have you gone. You will see the folly of your decision and live to regret it all the days of your unfortunate life.”

With that, Desmond Kingsley stormed out of the schoolroom, slamming the door behind him.

• • •

The horse galloped through the field west of Kingsley Manor. The farther she rode from the house, the more dreamlike the encounter with Desmond became. Only, the fear remained and the tears continued. The force of the wind carried them away from her cheeks only to make room for others. It seemed hours since she had left that schoolroom.

Days.

Years
.

The scenery around her blurred, the trees, the sky, all of it had a far off feeling, as though she were not riding through the field at all, but only imagining it. The sound of birds chirping, of her horse’s hooves beating against the ground, even her own, labored breathing all seemed so distant.

For how long she had traveled when it appeared, she could only guess. A Roman temple, with its front stairs, surrounding columns, and round dome, not unlike the Kingsley’s rotunda, came upon
her
it seemed, rather than her coming upon
it
. It was breathtaking, wildly impressive, and not a building she had ever seen before. She was momentarily stunned and looked at it in wonder. Had she wandered into Thornton Gardens? She did not think she had gone so far south, yet found nothing she recognized in what surrounded her. The trees ahead offered little visibility as to what lay beyond them, but she felt sure Kingsley Manor was yet behind her.

So captivating was the temple, and so welcome a relief to her mental distress, that when
he
appeared, she hardly knew. Until Rhianna recognized the person riding toward her, dread overtook her and she recognized it as the only thing that felt real in the nightmare she struggled to outrun. Squinting into the distance, which came quickly upon her, and was, perhaps, not so distant at all, she saw a man on a horse approaching.

A chocolate-brown-and-white, spotted horse. She recognized d’Artagnan before even its rider.

“Good heavens, what has happened?” Thayne asked, with alarm. “Miss Braden, what is the matter?”

He motioned his horse up to hers and took the reins, which had slipped from her feeble hands.

“I did not expect to meet anyone out here,” she told him. “In fact, I hardly know where I am.”

“You are almost to Ravensleigh,” he told her.

“Ravensleigh?” she repeated, her mind slowly returning. “I am so sorry. I thought this was still part of the Kingsleys’ land.”

Sensing Thayne’s eyes, as they examined her with troubled concern, Rhianna kept hers on the pommel of her saddle, inwardly struggling to awaken from the horror that had earlier met her. If only she never had to return, if only she never had to see Desmond again and his words could be erased from her memory! Until that wish was a reality, she could not find relief.

“Are we not friends?” Thayne appealed. “You need not apologize for being in a place in which you are always welcome. Now, I entreat you, please, to waste not a minute more. Whatever it is, let me help you.”

“There is nothing you can do to help,” she declared, despairingly. “Please understand. There is only one thing to be done.”

“And what is that?” he encouraged her.

“I am leaving,” she told him. “I am returning to France.”

“God help me!” cried Thayne. “Then you have agreed to marry the Frenchman after all?”

Rhianna observed his panicked semblance with surprise. “No,” she answered. “No, it has nothing to do with him.”

“Then you have
not
given him your hand?” he asked, for absolute clarification.

“No,” she returned.

Thayne breathed an audible sigh of relief and attempted not to hide it.

“Then, pray, what are you running from?” he pressed. “Surely, whatever it is, it cannot be so bad that you must flee to another country. Think of how miserable it shall make everyone who knows you.”

Rhianna knew not what to tell him. “You do not understand …”

“I do not understand because you have not told me,” he declared, his voice sick with worry. “
Help
me to understand. I want so desperately to comfort you.”

As he offered her the reins of her horse, she took them, saying, “Your motives are gallant, Lord Brighton, but I’m afraid what I most need is time alone with my thoughts.”

Thayne considered her desire momentarily, but Rhianna sensed he was not going to leave her without receiving something of an explanation. She wondered if even a complete explanation would do much to encourage Thayne to leave her side.

“You’ve certainly come to the right place,” he replied, at last. “There’s no escaping your thoughts here. But in good conscience, I cannot leave you. I can promise only to be a silent companion.”

It was not until this moment that Rhianna perceived a sense of relief at his presence and argued no further. She quickly wondered that she had asked him to leave at all, as the idea of his departure, had he heeded her request, was all it took to renew her feelings of dread. Yes, with Thayne Brighton, Rhianna felt safe.

She made known to him her wish of exploring the temple and Thayne was quick to assist Rhianna from her horse. Soon, both she and her princely escort were climbing the stone steps of the structure, but she could form no words of admiration or questions regarding its construction. As they entered its circular corridor, the wind a bit stronger there as it danced between the columns, Rhianna was glad Thayne did not demand the release of his proffered arm and found pleasure in walking quietly with him for a time.

In keeping with his promise, Thayne said very little, but hoped with each insignificant comment he might encourage her to speak her mind.

“I always enjoy my ride to Kingsley Manor,” he offered, several moments after a remark on the temple’s architecture had proven unsuccessful. “Plenty of time to think.”

She halted. The unexpected movement separated their arms as Thayne continued forward, but he soon turned to face her. Rhianna’s eyes focused on the view between two columns that faced a faraway, but visible Kingsley Manor.

Her beautiful, tainted Kingsley Manor.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked him, distantly.

That Thayne did not immediately respond did not seem odd to her at first, as their walk had offered a great deal of silences, though such a question should have compelled him to give an instant response. It happened at this moment that a particular gust of wind blew upward, tossing Rhianna’s cloak over her shoulder and revealing, not only a large tear in the skirt of her peach dress, but also a rip in her sleeve, exposing a long, dark bruise down her left arm, accompanied by bloody scratch marks. Rhianna herself had been unaware of these products of her fall in the schoolroom, seeing them only as she noted Thayne’s frightened expression and followed his eyes to them.

It was there his eyes remained, as he asked, “Has someone … violated you?”

“No,” she hurried, feeling an urge to return her cloak to its place and following the impulse.

“Are you further hurt?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Who has done this to you?”

It was here she hesitated. Thayne’s voice, while calm, exuded retaliation and vengeance and she feared the consequences of his learning the source.