Here was the garden where she belonged. With this man.
At length he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. His heart pounded against her chest. “You see the vine that connects us? You never mentioned it, so I thought I was the only one, or that I had tricked myself into thinking I saw it.”
She tried to laugh, but it rasped over her throat. “It would appear we have both suffered the same delusion. Are you sure we did not knock heads together when you flung us to the ground?”
He shook his head and raised one hand to stroke the side of her face. “It is a very rare thing to see.”
“I will need to consult the books to identify the invisible plant.” Everyone at the Ravenswing estate must be deranged, for the impossible happened on a regular basis.
He paused to cup her face, his thumb resting against her cheek. The frown was back on his forehead. “You will not find it in any book. There are things that occur here that cannot be easily explained.”
“Like maps that redraw themselves or people being far older than they appear?” she asked from under lowered lashes.
“Yes.” Lord Seton moved his arms to cage her body. One hand rested on the lake, the other covered the ornamental rose beds.
“What does the tiny vine mean?” Her mind struggled to make sense of it. A plant that was invisible except when he touched her. A vine that grew out of thin air and connected two bodies. It could only be a type of insanity. Or magic, her mother whispered.
“It means we are connected. There is much you don’t know about this family.” He pushed off the map and turned to the table. Picking up the discarded shirt, he pulled it over his head.
Dawn brushed her hands up and down her arms, partly to dispel the chills and partly to remind herself she was awake and not dreaming. “Will you tell me, please? I have many questions.”
He held the waistcoat in his hands, his fingers fisting in the fabric. “Yes. It would appear we have much to discuss. Over dinner if you will join me. I will have the maids draw you a bath, and if I may be so bold, I will lay out a dress for you to wear.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. A tiny voice whispered a warning from the back of her mind. What was she doing, kissing an earl and speaking of impossible things? She merely nodded in agreement.
If this was insanity, then she would embrace it, for it was marvellous.
15
Dawn’s hands shook as she closed the cottage door on the earl’s broad back. What had she agreed to do? She drew a deep breath. She was going to find out if the impossible were possible. The fact she stood stronger each day when doctors said she was not long for the world made her believe some magic of Ravenswing healed her and prolonged the lifespans of the family.
After her parents died, Dawn had decided to grasp whatever opportunities life presented. She thought to find contentment tending a large garden; she never expected life to dangle a handsome lord before her like ripe fruit. That had never entered even her wildest dreams.
She touched her lips where they still tingled from the kiss. Her skin seemed heated. She needed a distraction and so busied herself making a cup of tea while she waited for her racing pulse to calm. It wouldn’t do to go running after the earl. She would take her time to walk over to the big house. When she did, an hour later, Mouse was at her side. She let herself in through the serene drawing room and walked through to the entranceway.
No one seemed to be about. Should she just walk upstairs and assume the same room was laid out for her? Somehow it seemed wrong to break the silence by shouting hello to see if anyone answered. She waved a hand at Mouse, who sat and waited for her to make a decision.
“I think you stay here, boy, and I will explore upstairs.”
The wolfhound blew out a sigh and padded over to his accustomed spot in front of the hearth.
Dawn approached the stairs and stopped. She reached out and stroked a hideous gargoyle newel post. The wood was smooth, as though hundreds of hands had caressed the creature on their way up or down. What thought passed through the carpenter’s mind that he chose such an ugly construction for the grand staircase? Perhaps everyone lost their right mind at the Ravenswing estate.
She took slow, measured steps up the sweep of the stairs. She expected to see a familiar face like that of Marjory, Hector, or Elijah. Even the staff seemed to have disappeared. Not even a whisper gave away the presence of anyone else in the large house. Perhaps the entire estate was a figment of her bereaved mind, and in reality she languished in a laudanum stupor in the Whetstone hospital.
At the top of the main stairs she took the smaller left-hand stairwell and ventured down the hall to the room she’d used previously. Dawn reached out for the knob and turned. Within, the drawn bath sat before the fire and fragrant steam curled off the water.
She let out a held breath. Things were prepared for her. Either the maid had been in and disappeared back below stairs, or she was having a particularly lucid hallucination. As she stepped into the room, she caught sight of the dress on the bed and gasped. It was beautiful, a cascade of dark purple silk with stars embroidered over it. The gown was cut to sit off the shoulder, had an empire waistline, and would fall straight to the ground with a small train. Gone were the tight waist and bustles of current fashion; this harked back to the Regency era. Dawn traced a star picked out in silver thread. She had never worn a dress so fine.
Before the bath cooled, she stripped off her plain dress, corset, and undergarments. She tossed the clothing over the screen and then dropped naked into the water. Excitement built inside her, and she didn’t linger. There were questions her mind itched to have answered.
A clean chemise was laid out next to the dress, and soon Dawn was clad in the heavenly gown. Gathering her hair into a ponytail at the back of her head, she twisted it up and tucked the end in. There were several pins on the dresser that she used to secure the twist and hoped it would do. Her hair would have to do, for she had no skill to create an effect worthy of the dress. On a whim, she pulled a few strands free so they curled softly around her face.
Descending the stairs, she felt like a princess about to dance with a prince at the ball. Or an imposter trying to pass herself off as a noblewoman to steal a dance with the prince. The deep purple of the gown reminded her of half mourning, but instead of overwhelming grief, happy memories of her parents flooded back. If only her parents stood at the bottom of the stairs to see her.
Instead, Lord Seton waited at the bottom of the stairs wearing formal attire of inky black with a creamy cravat that reminded her of a perfect pale rose bloom.
He held out his arm to her. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you, the dress is far too splendid for me.” She picked at the skirt, wishing it were a plain wool or sturdy cotton instead.
“We have much to discuss tonight, and I wanted it to be special for you.” His eyes held a serious light.
Dawn looked away, unable to meet his intense stare. “Where is everyone? I thought I had entered a dream and that perhaps none of this is real.”
“I gave the staff the evening off, Elijah is studying in his room, and Hatton is with Lettie in her tower. I wanted us to have privacy while we discussed certain matters.” He led her down from the last step and toward the drawing room.
The invisible vine appeared and wriggled around their hands as Dawn’s rested on his sleeve. It seemed stymied by the fabric of his jacket, and a shoot pecked at it like a chicken after corn. She stole a glance at the earl, and a smile simmered in his eyes.