The Stablemaster's Daughter (Regency Rendezvous Book 11) Page 9

  “I need no luck, little brother.” With a flick of his wrist, Barrington turned his team. “Now, I shall return to Garring and let my beautiful bride nurse my wounds, as she excels at her special brand of succor.”

  Waggling his brows, he offered a mock salute and then urged the bays into a trot. Alone with Henrietta, Ernest swooped, and she shrieked, as he hauled her into his lap and kissed her. As usual, he ignited the instant they touched.

  Fire poured through his veins, pooled in the pit of his belly, traveled south, and he erupted. Unleashing the hunger he struggled to keep in check, he traveled a passionate path with his hands, inviting her to sample the fiery fruit of their shared ardor, and she did not disappoint him.

  For several heated, groping, desperately intense minutes, he ravished his lady, and she resisted not, as she speared her fingers into his hair and teased his tongue with hers, until, at last, he ended their tryst, before he took her beneath the sky.

  “I want you, sweet Henrietta.” As she clung to the lapels of his hacking jacket, she inhaled a shivery breath, and he tightened his hold. “Such that I cannot trust myself to behave when I am near you.”

  “I understand, because I share your difficulty.” With her nose, she traced the curve of his neck and then nipped his chin. “Are we bad? Is it wrong to feel this way?”

  “For us?” Chuckling, he shuffled her in his grasp, and she sat upright. “No, sweetheart. I think it perfectly natural, given our longstanding attachment, as well as our separation. Now that we are reunited, I am anxious to prepare for our life, as a couple, and I wanted to discuss that.”

  “Oh?” She slid back to her seat and settled her pelisse and skirt.

  “Barrington told me the Whitstone property is for sale, and I thought it would make a perfect summer home for us.” Indeed, it was the next step in his plan to live the dream he cherished. Grasping the reins, he steered his horses toward the north end of the family estate. “It is relatively close, although it is small, by comparison with Garring, because it has only twenty-six bedchambers, but I suppose we can manage.”

  “Only twenty-six bedchambers?” She coughed. “Remember, I grew up in the stablemaster’s cottage, which has but two private rooms, so I think it more than adequate, but I sincerely hope you do not expect me to clean such a large place.”

  “No, my dear.” He snickered in the face of her naïve question, because it evidenced her provincial nature, which he adored. “Such services are beyond your new position as lady of the manor. Rather, you will need to interview and hire a small compliment of servants, and I have engaged my solicitor to compose a list of prospective homes in London, because we will maintain more than one residence. And I would also like to purchase something on the coast. Something isolated and remote, because I want you all to myself, once we are wed.”

  “I love the sound of that, but nothing too extravagant, please.” With her arm wound about his, she rested against his shoulder, and he kissed the crown of her brown curls. “I am unaccustomed to such luxury, and I prefer a simple life.”

  That was part of the problem.

  Once she married him, her life would be anything but simple, but it would have advantages.

  Anxious to show his bride-to-be their future abode, he picked up the pace, and they sped past the vibrant countryside, until they approached a gated entry. After passing the brick-columned, wrought iron ingress, he slowed the team, just before they traversed a wide bend. The oaks parted to reveal a stunning view of the Palladian-styled home.

  “You must be joking.” Hen tensed and snapped to attention. “However you wish to describe it, that is a mansion.”

  “Nonsense, darling.” He indulged in a bit of levity at her expense. “The somewhat modest residence boasts white stucco, three huge porticoes, a slate roof, six Corinthian columns, a wrought iron balcony at center, and a curved bay with massive windows. But my favorite feature is the balustraded parapet above the cornice of the entabultar, within which an attic story of three windows surmounts a lead saucer dome. Although it is not as large as Garring Manor, we should be able to accommodate approximately seventy guests, which is a lovely number for a summer party. Is it not marvelous?”

  “It is certainly something.” With a hand pressed to her throat, she blanched. “Ernest, are you serious about this?”

  “Of course.” Hers was not the reaction he anticipated, and his confidence waned. “Do you not like it?”

  “On the contrary. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” As she studied the structure, she reached for his hand and twined her fingers in his. “Never in my most ambitious dreams did I imagine living in such a grand house, and I know not what to say except to offer my thanks, which pale by comparison to what you offer.”

  “Say you will live with me, here. Say you will make it our home and fill it with our children. Say that I will find you in my bed, every night. Say I will wake to your countenance, every morning. Promise me that, which you once vowed as a girl, and nothing more, and I will set the world at your feet.” In that instant, she came alert, and he chuckled. “It is just as we planned, when we were young, is it not? We shall be Barrington and Florence’s neighbors, and we will raise our families, together. If your father is amenable, he can reside with us, or he can occupy one of the four smaller buildings, to the south. How does that sound? If you cannot be happy here, I can search for something else. Perhaps, something bigger.”

  “Oh, no.” She laughed. “I would have been satisfied with a cottage similar to Papa’s, but I suspect you prefer this, and I cannot complain.”

  “All right.” Ernest slapped his thigh. “I shall instruct my solicitor to draw up the contract and purchase the estate.” He slipped an arm about her shoulders. “And now I would seal our first milestone with a kiss.”

  Without further ado, he bent and covered her mouth with his.

  ~

  The sun sat low on the horizon, as Ernest drove the phaeton into the stable yard, and a couple of attendants rushed to the fore. The notion that servants should wait on Henrietta still did not sit well with her, because she considered herself one of them, yet Ernest made it clear that marriage to him involved a transition, of sorts, in her identity, and she remained conflicted about what he believed was a natural progression in her status.

  When her father appeared, she checked her attire, because her beau wreaked sweet havoc on her bodice, during their heated celebration, which tested the limits of her self-control, because no man had ever fondled her bare breasts, much less suckled her nipples, but she long ago realized she could deny him nothing. For the better part of an hour, they parked beneath the canopy of a mighty oak and engaged in salacious activity that seemed perfectly normal for a devoted couple in love, except he had yet to make his declaration. Still, she did not doubt him.

  But she doubted everything else.

  “Well, that was a rather stimulating ride.” After disembarking, Ernest turned to hand her down, and his sly smile conveyed a wealth of meaning she understood too well. “You blush, my little bird. Dare I ask why?”

  “You know the reason, sir.” As her father neared, she lowered her voice. “And you are shameless.”

  “Where you are concerned, always.” Ernest winked and then sobered. “Good evening, Graham.”

  “Will you be needing the phaeton, again, sir?” Papa glanced at her, and she averted her stare, because she was still angry with him. “Or shall I have it stored.”

  “You may park it, as I am in for the night.” Ernest took her by the arm.

  “Er—I wonder if I might have a word with Henrietta.” At her father’s query, she stiffened her spine, because she had nothing to say to him. “Please. It will only take a moment.”

  “Darling?” Ernest pressed his lips to her forehead. “You should honor your father’s request, as to do otherwise is bad form.”

  “But I am angry with him.” Conscious of those present, and unwilling to enact a scene, she whispered, “He betrayed us.”<
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  “Do it for me.” Ernest cupped her chin. “I know you are upset, and I sympathize with your position, but we cannot begin our life based on a foundation of disagreement and conflict, and I would have his blessing, freely given.”

  “All right.” As she peered at her father, she kicked a small stone. “What can I do for you, Papa?”

  “Can we talk inside, as what I wish to discuss is of a personal nature, my dear?” Her father cast an expression of remorse, and her heart melted, because she needed to believe in him, yet he disappointed her. “I promise, it will not take long.”

  “Of course.” With reluctance, she let go of Ernest and crossed the yard. As she ascended the entrance steps of the little cottage she once called home, she rued the quarrel that put her at odds with her father, given he was one of the two most important men in her life. “I do not have much time, because dinner will be served, soon, and I would not be late.”

  “Then I will not delay.” At the tiny table at which he took his meals, he pulled out a chair. “Please, have a seat.”

  “What is this about, Papa?” In an instant, she swallowed hard and moderated her tone, because he taught her to respect her elders. “That is, what can I do for you?”

  “It is what I can do for you that concerns me.” For a moment, he just studied her, and she fidgeted beneath the weight of his perusal, as the situation grew awkward. Then he sighed. “First, I owe you an apology, because I hurt you, and that was never my intent.”

  “What did you think would happen when I found out you conspired with Lord Ravenwood to separate me from Ernest? Did you expect me to cheer your betrayal?” White-hot anger simmered beneath her skin, and she gritted her teeth, else she might lose her temper and say something she regretted. At last, she inhaled a deep, calming breath. “Regardless of my age, at the time, you knew what Ernest meant to me. Where was the harm?”

  “As God is my witness, I thought it nothing more than a childhood fancy, which I thought you would outgrow.” He rested his clasped hands atop the table and furrowed his brow. “I supposed you would forget him, as I assumed he forgot you, once you experienced life beyond these walls, and Lord Ernest was sent to Eton.”

  “How little you know me, because Ernest is my love. Despite eleven years apart, we remain united, as one, because I know him as well as I know myself.” The pain of the past surfaced, cutting through her like the sharpest knife. “But you I do not know. You are a stranger to me, as I never presumed you could be so cruel.”

  “I am so sorry, Henrietta.” Tears welled in his eyes, and he dragged his shirtsleeve across his face. “You have my word, I honestly believed I was doing the right thing, because I would do anything to protect you, and there were other factors that influenced my decision, of which you know not.”

  “Does it matter? When you should have championed me, instead, you broke my heart, because I always considered you my hero.” Riding a wave of fury mixed with monumental disappointment, she refused to cry. “You, of all people, denounced me, and I know not how to trust you, anymore.”

  “And I wish I had never got involved, but it is too late to undo what is done.” Shaking his head, he compressed his lips. “But I counted on the money to provide a secure future for you. In fact, I have spent none of it, as it is deposited into an account, which I have never touched. The funds are yours to do with as you see fit, and they offer you freedom. True liberation, not the gilded cage in which you now find yourself.”

  “I do not want your money, anymore than I want Ernest’s, and I am not a prisoner, Papa. Rather, I have grasped the reins of destiny, and I ride for my dream.” In a fit of temper, she pounded a fist. “All I ever wanted was to be loved, and you took me from the one person who promised to love me for the rest of his days.”

  “Henrietta Katherine, be reasonable.” Papa exhaled. “You were but a child of eight—”

  “With a woman’s hopes and dreams.” And it unnerved her that he discounted her feelings so casually. “We may have been young, but we knew what we wanted, and you schemed with Lord Ravenwood to destroy us. That is what I cannot comprehend, given your professed desire to protect me.”

  “Clearly, I made a mistake, because I did not fully grasp the lengths to which you were prepared to go, in order to secure your dream. I underestimated you, and I cannot apologize, enough. I know I hurt you and damaged your faith in me, and I will never forgive myself for that, but there is something I can do to atone.” To her surprise, on the table he set a bundle, which he pushed in her direction. “These belong to you, but the late Lord Ravenwood gave them to me, for safekeeping, after he franked but never posted them for his son. I had thought to burn them, but for some reason I kept them. Perhaps, to give to you, now, and I pray they bring you some measure of comfort.”

  In silence, she untied the parcel, peeled back the swath of cotton, and discovered a cache of letters. As she flipped through the missives, she noted the marquess’s franking, as well as the dates, and she emitted a soft sob of shock.

  In the blink of an eye, she transformed to the girl of eight, that version of herself that believed in fairytales and knights in shining armor, frightened and alone, as she journeyed by coach to a strange place. Fear consumed her, as she clung to the wilting remnants of the last bouquet of cowslips Ernest gave her, until nothing remained but the memories, which faded with each passing day. But the agony entrenched deep in her soul, ever tormenting, relentless in its ability to wound her whenever she harkened to her childhood days at Garring Manor.

  “Have you any idea of the pain you could have spared me, had you been honest with me? Do you know how I suffered, due to Ernest’s apparent indifference, because he did not respond to my pleas for some sign of remembrance?” Leaping to her feet, she knocked over the chair, as she clutched the precious collection of envelopes to her chest. “I thought I meant nothing to him. I believed it a lie, and it crushed me. You brought me here to apologize, yet you sink the knife deeper. I might have been able to forgive you for sending me to Kent, but this? In truth, I cannot abide to look at you.”

  “Henrietta, I admit I did not take the time to reflect on the effects my decision would have on you, but I had the best of intentions.” Papa stood, and she averted her gaze. “And whether or not you wish to admit it, I was right about your status. The upper class will never accept you as their equal, because you are naught but a stablemaster’s daughter.”

  “A fact of which you are so eager to remind me, Papa.” In that instant, Henrietta pinned him with her stare and bared her teeth. “While I may not be to the manor born, you are the worst hypocrite. You criticize those who would define me as low, but you are the one who endeavored to keep me there. When you should have been my most vocal defender, as you are my father, instead you sided against me, and I am ashamed of you. Not because you are a servant, but because you discriminate against Ernest, based on his birth. You have become that which you protest.”

  With that, she turned on a heel and ran from the cottage, to her father’s entreaties, but she ignored him. In search of solace, she sprinted across the yard and entered Garring through the terrace doors. When she burst into the hallway, she almost knocked down Ernest.

  “Hen?” He held her at arm’s length, as tears streamed her cheeks. “What is wrong, darling? What happened with your father?”

  “He lied to me, Ernest.” Clinging to the bundle of letters, she launched herself at her beau, as he represented everything noble and true in her world. “He lied about everything.”

  “Shh.” Cradling her head, he held her tight. “It is all right, my little bird. What our fathers did is in the past, and it is better left there. What matters is that we are together, and nothing will keep us apart.”

  “I have your letters.” She sniffed and shifted to look at her man. “I am so sorry I doubted you, when you told me you wrote to me. I thought you said what you wanted me to hear. I thought you forgot me.”

  “How could I forget my heart?” With his hands
, he framed her face and pressed his lips to hers. Soothing warmth blossomed in the pit of her belly, unfurling and spreading throughout her limbs, erasing the pain and supplanting the misery with the promise of pleasure. When he mingled his tongue with hers, she moaned her appreciation, until he lifted his head. “And I have your correspondence, which Barrington located, hidden among my father’s personal effects.”

  “Oh, let us read them, together.” She bounced. “I am so anxious to know what you wrote, and I am even more excited for you to know what I pledged, over and over, during our separation, because we are a pair.”

  “What say I come to your sitting room, after dinner?” With a boyish grin, which tugged at her heart, he gave her a gentle squeeze. “As I am equally curious to know what you shared with me.”

  “My lord, it is a date.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The house was quiet, as Ernest hugged the wall and watched for any sign of servants, because he would not play fast and loose with Henrietta’s reputation, and he could not allow anyone to see him entering her private chambers. As he tiptoed—yes, he bloody tiptoed down the corridor, he glanced over his shoulder. At last, he arrived at the door to her room, and he turned the knob, set wide the oak panel, and peered inside.

  Light from the fireplace bathed the chamber in a soft saffron glow, and several tapers provided additional illumination. Sitting on a chaise, Hen glanced up, as he crossed the sitting room and joined her, and she smiled. “My lord, I am uncontrollably excited. In fact, I did not think I could eat dinner, given I was so anxious to read your letters.”

  “I know the feeling.” As he untied the bundle, he studied the similar collection nestled in her lap. “Must confess I have thought of nothing else, my little bird, since Barrington gave them to me, this afternoon.”

  “Shall we begin?” She poised with an envelope in her hands. “I arranged mine in order, based on when they were franked.”