Season For Desire Page 4

  One of his brows lifted. “Draftsman might be more accurate, in that case. Or tradesman, if you’ve an objection to a man who uses his hands.”

  “That depends on the man,” Audrina replied.

  His mouth twitched. It was rather a nice mouth, mobile and sharply cut, with a small scar slicing one side of the upper lip in a pale line. After this hellish day, she was glad that he felt human enough to smile and that she felt human enough to enjoy the sight.

  Unfolding to his great square height, he leaned over and extended a hand. “Hop up, your ladyship. We might as well talk a little farther away from your would-be bridegroom.”

  She allowed his hand to close upon hers. It was a solid hand, broad and strong, its fingers and palm rough and warm. A shiver ran through her body; the warmth of his touch reminded her again how cold she was, and how long she had been that way.

  Once he drew her to her feet, her eyes were at the level of his mouth. She was accustomed to looking down on half the men in London; it was rather a nice change to have someone watching over her. The flickering candlelight traced his cheekbones, and she noticed: “You have freckles?”

  The mouth with the tiny scar curved into a half smile. “Is that so odd for a big redheaded lout?”

  Llewellyn was hammering at the door louder than ever. How could he not be tired by now? She felt she could lie down and sleep on the wooden floor. “You’re not a lout.”

  “Princess, you’ll make me blush. And no one wants to see a redhead blush.” Releasing her hand, he turned back toward the stairs.

  “My candle,” she blurted. “I can’t leave it.”

  Rutherford waited at the top of the stairs as she popped the tallow taper free from its holder again. It felt safer to have something to cling to, even if it was only a cheap stick of hardened fat.

  When they reached the turning of the stairs, Llewellyn’s din faded and the light and noise began to leak up from below. Holding her candle in one hand, Audrina worked a nail into its soft surface. “I had to leave the dining parlor,” she said. “My father did not require my opinion for his plans. And after that creature”—a tip of her head to the upper story and Llewellyn—“fed me laudanum, I could not bear the idea of any food.”

  “I wondered if it was something like that.” He reached into a pocket of his dark-blue woolen coat and pulled forth a cloth napkin, extending it to her.

  With a cautious hand, she flipped open the folds. “Bread. You brought me a slice of bread?”

  “It’s not very good, unfortunately. Pretty dry. It might be from yesterday’s baking.”

  She found a wall holder for her candle, then broke off a bit of the bread. It was hard, as he’d said; so hard that it scratched the inside of her mouth and she wound up sucking at it like a boiled sweet. The oaty crumbs began to dissolve, slowly, and as she swallowed, her protesting stomach began to quiet a bit. “Thank you.”

  It was difficult to look at a man when he had seen one at one’s weakest and worst. Instead, she peered over the handrail of the stairs but could see nothing but more stairs, winding up and down. “I learned how to make bread,” she recalled. “I sneaked into the kitchens and asked the cook to teach me.”

  “Why?”

  The stairs seemed to stretch out long, then collapse. Tired; she was so tired. Shaking her head to clear her vision, she turned back to Rutherford. “Because I wanted to know how it was made. Wouldn’t you? It starts with all these flat dry ingredients and ends in something so light. Well—sometimes it does.” She popped another stale morsel into her mouth. “That was a long time ago. My father found out, told me it was unsuitable for one of his family to be in the kitchen, and threatened to dismiss any servant who allowed me in there again.”

  “I can imagine.” Rutherford was quite good at keeping a bland expression on his face, even as his light eyes were full of mischief. “Wanting to know how something is made, then taking steps to pursue that knowledge, seems a most unsuitable and hazardous attitude for a young Englishwoman. The sort of behavior that should be squelched at once.”

  “Yes, well, it is the only way a young Englishwoman can learn something besides the directory of the peerage and a bit of worthless embroidery.” Her companion’s smile held a sympathy she did not want, and she picked at her bread just as she had at the candle. “What was decided after I left the dining parlor? Everything was, I assume—but in what way?”

  “You know your father’s methods well, I see. Yes, it’s settled that we’ll all leave tomorrow. Llewellyn and your father shall return to London in Llewellyn’s carriage—”

  “His mother’s.”

  “What? Are you joking?” Rutherford cleared his throat. “Fortunate fellow, to have a parent willing to aid him in an abduction. She’ll have her carriage back in a few days, for your father intends to begin the journey south at first light. Lady Irving’s carriage shall bear her, you, and my father and I to Castle Parr, a few hours’ ride from here.”

  “The home of the Viscount of Dudley? Why should we go there?”

  “Listen to you, as good as a book of reference. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you knew the peerage.”

  She crumbled a bit of crust between her fingers. “All elegant young women memorize the peerage of England, so as not to neglect an opportunity of making themselves agreeable to gentlemen of quality.” Elegant. Ha. She felt, and probably looked, as though she had been stored in a dirty closet. This red gown had been her favorite, but the cotton was creased beyond repair.

  And now it would remind her of Llewellyn. She wouldn’t wear it again.

  But she had nothing else to wear, did she? She had no possessions with her at all. Wadding the napkin around the stale bread, she asked, “What of servants to accompany us? A maid?”

  “Lady Irving will allow her maid to serve you both. I think she’s brought along a bunch of baggage for you so you can be more comfortable. Your father’s footman will also come with us. They’ll ride in my father’s carriage, since Lady Irving was convinced hers would be more comfortable to the tender backsides of the nobility. No offense meant.”

  “I am far too tired to take offense. Probably.” She handed him back the napkin-wrapped bread. “You still have not told me why we are to go there.”

  “True enough. The answer, my lady, is that we are chasing a wild goose because my father believes it lays golden eggs.”

  “I am also far too tired for metaphors.”

  “A pity. That was a good one, I thought. Somewhere in Castle Parr, says your father, is a puzzle box that belonged to my late mother. He had the information from Lady Irving, whose marvelous network of servants and informants seems to know everything in England. And somehow, says my father, that puzzle box contains a fortune.”

  Audrina unspooled this information. “Then we had better find it.”

  “There’s more to the matter than that.” Rutherford’s mouth drew flat and grim. “If you want to return to London in time for your sister’s wedding, your father insists that you be betrothed. Otherwise he won’t allow you in the church.”

  Oh, for God’s sake. She caught herself on the handrail before she could sag to the floor. “He is the second person to try to marry me off against my inclination today.”

  Rutherford looked not upstairs toward Llewellyn, but away—in the direction of the parlor, maybe, or just of the anywhere else he surely wished to be. Worry tightened his strong features. “Sorry to be the bearer of... news. I’m not sure what adjective to put to it.”

  “I’m far too tired for adjectives.”

  When he looked back at her, his expression was smooth again. “Of course. Let me show you to your chamber. Or would you rather return to the parlor?”

  Her stomach pitched. “No. Not the parlor.”

  “Not much point, really,” Rutherford agreed. “Your father and Lady Irving are arguing about which of them is more indebted to the other. My father, meanwhile, is ignoring them both as he finishes his dinner. Since he has six ch
ildren, he’s used to ignoring a din.”

  He retrieved her candle—not much more than a stub now—and led her to a door that, she was glad to note, was not within earshot of Llewellyn’s cacophony. He handed her a key.

  “You’re safe for tonight. Lock yourself in. Lady Irving’s maid will probably check on you soon.” Rutherford fell into shadow as Audrina took the candle and opened the door. “Sleep well, princess. Fruitless quests require an early start in the morning.”

  Chapter Four

  Wherein Illness Is Narrowly Averted

  Another day, another unwanted carriage ride. As Audrina was conscious and clean for this one, she supposed she ought to consider herself fortunate.

  She had not quite managed to feel that way yet.

  Lady Irving’s carriage was glossy and comfortable, as though splatters and stains dared not inconvenience the countess. From her seat on the squabs of striped velvet—orange and red, of course; no peaceful colors for her ladyship—Audrina watched the ancient walls of York relax their grip and slide behind the carriage. The farmland around the city faded into unbroken moor as they drove north.

  “How long is the journey to Castle Parr?” she asked. Not as though the answer mattered. Until someone let her out, she was trapped in this gilded box.

  “No more than three hours, with these fine horses to pull such a comfortable carriage.” With a gracious smile despite his ill appearance, Richard Rutherford inclined his head to Lady Irving.

  The countess and Audrina had the forward-facing seat; the two Americans had stuffed themselves onto the back-facing bench across from them. No more than five minutes after the horses clopped away from the Goat and Gauntlet, Richard Rutherford had begun to sway and turn pale, all the while protesting that he felt quite well.

  Now Giles Rutherford gave his father a nudge in the side, which caused the elder man to shudder and heave. “Father, you look terrible. You know you become ill if you face backward in a carriage. Do go sit on the other seat.”

  “Son, where is your chivalry?” Richard croaked. Audrina had not known a suntanned man could turn such a sickly color. Like that shade called drab that had been all the crack a season ago: green and brown together.

  “Father, would it be chivalrous to get sick all over the inside of Lady Irving’s carriage?”

  “I should say not,” said the countess, wearing an expression of some alarm beneath her violet turban. “Audrina. Quickly, girl. Trade places with that Rutherford before he shows us what he had for breakfast.”

  Richard closed his eyes. “Nothing, my lady. It’s safer that way if I know I’m to ride in a carriage.”

  “Well, good heavens, man, how do you expect to get through the day like that?” Lady Irving sounded even more annoyed. “You’ve got to eat if you want to keep up your strength for dragging people around England to look at treasure boxes.”

  “Puzzle boxes.” A faint smile, though a dew of perspiration had broken out across his forehead.

  “Mr. Rutherford, you look very ill. Do trade places with me, please. I never get ill when I travel.” Audrina thought she heard Giles Rutherford snort. “As long as no one has given me laudanum, that is.”

  The carriage hit a bump, and not even the well-oiled springs could keep its frame from bouncing. Rutherford swallowed heavily, then nodded, his eyes still shut. “Thank you, my lady. I—very well.”

  Gingerly, he rose from the seat into the crouch permitted by the low ceiling of the carriage, and Audrina echoed his movement. Another bump on the road made them sway, and Audrina steadied herself with a quick reflex: one hand pressed flat on the ceiling, one catching—

  Giles Rutherford’s hand, which had shot out to hold hers. Oh. “Steady, princess.” His fingers were as rough and sturdy as the rest of him; she had not imagined the unfamiliar strength of his grip last night.

  “I am perfectly steady,” she replied, shaking free her hand—though a tipping sensation that was not unpleasant slid through her belly.

  “Excuse me, Lady Audrina,” said Richard. “If I might just move a bit . . .” Sway, sway, and the shuffle of bodies within the moving carriage made Audrina feel like a die being shaken by a gamester. Richard’s booted foot knocked against hers, and unsteadied, they both fell onto the opposite seat with more force than grace.

  In Audrina’s case, she landed squarely in Giles Rutherford’s lap.

  Arms and legs a-windmill, she struggled to right herself. “I beg your pardon, sir.” He was solid beneath her thighs, all buckskin and clean soap and scratchy wool.

  “Please don’t,” he said as she slid to the seat at his side. “It’s an honor for me to have a royal backside in my lap.”

  “You are vulgar,” said Lady Irving, whose own lap Richard Rutherford had missed by a scant few inches.

  “Always, or only just now?” Though he regarded Lady Irving with a curious gaze, he managed to shove Audrina upright next to him with one broad hand, warm on her upper arm.

  “I have not yet decided. Probably the former.”

  “Good to know,” Giles said. “I’ll have it embroidered on my handkerchiefs. ‘Vulgar’—my family motto. Though in Latin it means ‘ordinary,’ so maybe you’d better come up with a less toothless insult.”

  “Son,” moaned Richard from his slump on the forward-facing seat. The elder man’s color was returning to normal, though he had again closed his eyes. “Please.”

  “That’s not very insulting either,” said Giles. “Sorry. You’re both going to have to try harder if you want me to crumble and weep. Princess, would you care to give it a go?”

  “No, I do not think that would be wise.”

  “And do you always do what’s wise?”

  “I have not in the past, no. But since I find myself unexpectedly in York and ostracized from my favorite sister’s wedding, it is probably past time I begin.”

  The lashes around Giles’s vivid blue eyes were dark, much darker than the copper of his hair or the gilded stubble just beginning to edge his jaw. “Or you could wait,” he said, “until after the new year. Allow yourself an unwise Christmas.”

  It was difficult to look directly at such blue eyes, like staring into the noontime sky. “I shall have that either way, since I am now a part of a quest for treasure.” She smoothed her lavender skirts; an insipid shade she had never cared for. A final defiance from her traitorous lady’s maid, who had packed a trunk of Audrina’s belongings for Lady Irving to bring on the journey. “Tell me, what is this puzzle box you seek? It must be important to draw you across an ocean.”

  “Yes,” said Richard.

  “No,” said Giles.

  Father and son looked at each other, Richard sitting up straight. “How can you say no, Giles? When you never expected we’d learn of any clue at all?”

  “All right, maybe,” granted Giles. “Maybe there’s something to this. If there is a puzzle box, and if it belonged to my mother.”

  “There is, and it did,” said Lady Irving. “I am never wrong about such matters.” Both Rutherfords blinked at her, and the countess lifted her chin. “Honestly, Rutherford—a pair of Americans darting around England to buy up jewels? Highly suspicious behavior. You can’t be so naïf as to expect that I wouldn’t winkle out your secrets. Why, what if you were dangerous criminals?”

  Audrina spoke over Giles’s choked sound of protest. “Assuming Lady Irving’s information is correct”—now she ignored the sound of protest from Lady Irving—“what do you know of the box, Mr. Rutherford?”

  “I think it will be a himitsu-bako,” said Richard.

  “Himitsu-bako? What sort of a heathen name is that?” Lady Irving, of course.

  “A Nipponese name.” Richard’s voice had regained its steadiness. “These boxes were invented in Japan, and the finest are made there. They are constructed of interlocking panels that must be slid apart in a specific order; otherwise the box simply won’t open.”

  Audrina was caught on the first part of this speech. “How would a bo
x from Japan come to be in this part of York?”

  As though to remind them of the remoteness of their location, the carriage slowed, all but mired in a muddy stretch of road. Out the window, Audrina saw nothing but brown and gray land under a cloudy bolt of colorless sky.

  “My late wife’s father was a marquess,” said Richard, “but her mother was of Dutch extraction and brought a fortune from trade to the marriage. To the Dutch alone did the Japanese open a port, and my wife’s grandfather carried home beautiful objects like himitsu-bako for his bride and his daughter. When Lady Beatrix came of age, her mother passed them along to her. That was shortly before our elopement.”

  “And you think the box contains a treasure?” Lady Irving sounded skeptical. “How large is this box?”

  “We have no idea what it contains, but most likely it’s not very large,” said Giles. “I’ve never heard of one longer than my forearm. Some are much smaller.” Stretching forth an arm, he invited the comparison. His coat-clad arm seemed to Audrina as sturdy as a great oak branch, stretching to be climbed. To be spanned with her hands, testing its size and strength.

  Steady, princess: her own thoughts mocked her. There was no sense in allowing oneself to become attracted to a man simply because he had not treated one horribly.

  And because he had laughing eyes, and broad shoulders, and because he had no sense of propriety whatsoever.

  Steady, princess.

  She looked out the window again. The dullness of winter was a much safer sight than Giles Rutherford’s blue eyes.

  “Why did you agree to accompany us?”

  Audrina thought Giles had addressed the question to her, but Lady Irving replied. “As though I was going to miss out on this sort of scandal? Not likely.” She gave a snort.

  As she looked from the window back into the dim, close confines of the carriage, the tipping sensation within Audrina’s belly turned into a sickening plummet. “You would serve my mother so, Lady Irving? After your long friendship?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt your mother, girl—except amuse myself when she wears an idiotic fashion.” With a triumphant smile, she patted her violet silk turban. “No, the only thing better than a scandal everyone knows about is a scandal no one knows about except oneself. You can trust me with your secrets. All I want is to know them.”