CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
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The stars were cold and far away, and covered every now and again by drifts of cloud. Averil shivered and wished she’d stopped to get her cloak, or at least a shawl. Rufus, seeing her shiver, stopped and took off his own jacket and tucked it around her shoulders, his hands lingering on her bare skin.
It was a gallant gesture and Averil thanked him with a smile, snuggling into the transferred warmth of his body.
He made her feel treasured and it was something she had never felt before from a man. Her father had treated her as a nuisance and an unwelcome reminder of his wife, and her closest relative, Gareth, was fond of her but she could hardly say he made her feel special in their day-to-day dealings. The way Rufus touched her, looked at her, the way he kissed her, made her feel precious. As if she was cherished by him.
Might he be . . . was it possible that he was in love with her? Feeling those same flutterings in his stomach and the ache in his chest as she was feeling right now? The grass might be overgrown, catching at her skirts as they walked down what must once have been a winding path, but she felt as if she were walking on air.
“Our grounds are very neglected,” Rufus spoke. “Come and sit down on the seat by the pond. James said the gardener scythed around there recently, so that he could fish in it without getting his boots wet.”
The pond was more like a small lake, and quite magical in the starlight. They sat down on a wooden seat carved from a fallen tree trunk and she looked about her. There was a narrow jetty and a rowboat tied to it, and she supposed in past summers the Southbrooks would come here for picnics and to enjoy being on the water.
Averil felt a pang of envy, something she was rarely prone to. This was nothing like her own little house in London. Averil’s own family home had been sold when her father died, and besides, it had never felt like a proper home, just a cold, empty house. Such things hadn’t bothered her until now, but suddenly she pictured how it must be for Rufus and his family, owning a place like Southbrook Castle. All that history and all those memories. They belonged here, just as the trees and the rocks belonged.
She sighed before she could stop herself.
“What are you thinking?” Rufus asked her quietly, reaching to take her hand in his. Their fingers entwined and she wished she wasn’t wearing gloves, so that she could feel his skin against hers.
“I think I’m coveting your house,” she said, with a breathless laugh.
A fish jumped from the water, sending ripples spreading over the smooth surface, and she pretended to watch, waiting for him to answer.
“I think you’ve probably guessed all is not well with the Southbrooks,” he spoke at last. “An inheritance like this can be a ball and chain around one’s neck.”
“Is that how you feel?” It wasn’t the impression she had of him, but perhaps she was wrong.
“Sometimes. I can never forget my responsibilities. Although . . . there are times when I would like to. When I would prefer not to have my actions dictated to by my ancestors’ spendthrift ways.”
He turned to look at her, his hair very dark above his white silk shirt, his cravat loosened about his throat, his eyes shining.
“You sound very serious suddenly,” she whispered.
He laughed, and there was the old mockery back again.
Averil wanted him to kiss her. She wanted it so much she ached with the need to feel his lips on hers, his hands on her skin, and the “more” that she’d dreamed of. Why did the proper lady always have to wait for the gentleman to make the first move?
And then she remembered that she didn’t have to wait. She was the huntress here and she could kiss him, if she wanted to. If she dared to.
Rufus was wondering what she would say if he told her the truth. That he was caught in a trap of his own making, that he had fallen in love with the woman he had planned to marry for her money and now he was afraid that any proposal from him would eventually drive her away. She might be looking up at him now with warm, affectionate glances, but what about when she heard the cold, hard truth? He wouldn’t blame her if she turned her back and walked away; in fact, he knew she would. Averil was a frank and honest person, and she would never countenance deceit.
He’d have to be completely honest with her.
He toyed with her fingers. “Have you ever noticed how serious life is once you’re grown-up? But perhaps not. You’re still so young, Averil.”
Averil frowned at him. “You sound as if you’re a hundred,” she said sharply. “And I am not young . . . well, I am young, I suppose, but I have seen a great deal, more I dare say than other young ladies in my situation.”
He turned her hand over to stroke her palm. What she said was true, and it wasn’t her relative youth that bothered him. He’d known many women, some of whom would have jumped at the chance to be mistress of Southbrook Castle for the sheer importance of the name and position, but Averil wasn’t one of them. She would never do such a thing for her own aggrandizement. He’d chosen to love the one woman who would never be swayed by such considerations.
“No, you are no simpering miss,” he agreed. “Far from it.”
“I have never been the simpering kind,” Averil agreed primly.
She put her hand on his shoulder and smiled up at him, and before he could guess at her intention, she leaned up and kissed his lips. It occurred to Rufus that he should set her away but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not with her mouth so warm and soft. He took her in his arms and kissed her back. There was no doubting the passion between them. He groaned and kissed her again, using the tip of his tongue to trace the shape of her lips, his hands sliding into the silk of her wayward hair.
She reached up blindly to his cheek and he felt her fingertips trace the line of his scar. He froze, thinking now she would pull away with distaste—it had happened before. But of course this was Averil and what she did was lean back in his embrace and look at him with her direct gaze.
“How were you injured?”
She went to stroke him again, but he caught her hand in his and brought it to his mouth instead. “Don’t you listen to the gossips?” he murmured.
“Well, there was some talk of a duel,” she said, obviously embarrassed that she had eavesdropped on the tittle-tattle. “Or-or a scuffle in an alley over a-a card debt or a lady’s honor.”
He snorted. “Very romantic, but I’m afraid it was nothing like that. My wife’s brothers decided I needed to be taught a lesson and they thought they were the men to do it. Like the cowards they were, they cornered me one night on my way home, and did their best to kill me.”
Averil’s gray eyes widened in shock. “But why?”
“They blamed me for something that wasn’t my fault,” he said in a short, clipped way that dared her to ask more.
And he could see that she did want to ask. Her lips parted but then she shook her head slightly, as if to tell herself to stop. Or perhaps it was just that she was secretly afraid of what she would hear.
“Wise girl,” he said. “Let’s keep some mystery between us.”
“I don’t think I’m always wise,” she sighed, and now she was snuggling closer into his chest. He gave her a little squeeze, enjoying the feel of her, the way she fitted against him. “Although I think perhaps I am wiser than my mother,” Averil murmured softly, but he heard.
“So you’re not planning to run off with the wicked earl?” he said, playing at being hurt. “My heart is broken, Averil.”
Averil tilted her head so that she could see his face, and her mouth curved to echo his. “Do wicked earls have hearts?” she demanded lightly.
“Of course they do, although perhaps they’re a little blacker and harder than other hearts.”
“Rufus . . .”
But he put a finger to her lips. “No more questions. I might say something you might not want to hear. Let’s go back now, Averil. You and I both know you shouldn’t be here, alone, with me.”
She could feel him easing himself away from her. Physically but also emotionally. He thought he wasn’t good enough for her, she knew it in a flash. And suddenly Averil was very angry with him. Why did he put himself out of her league? Why did he imagine she cared a jot for gossip and things that might have happened in the past and were nothing to do with them?
Averil stood up.
He stood up, too, towering over her, but she wasn’t intimidated by him, and it was time he heard some home truths.
“What tosh,” she said tartly, and felt by the heat in her cheeks that her temper was on the rise. She tried to swallow it down, to be calm. “I have been my own woman for many years and I make my own decisions. I certainly don’t need you to make them for me.”
“Quite the little firebrand, aren’t you?” he said quietly.
“I’m not afraid to say what I think, if that’s what you mean.”
“All very well but sometimes you need to think with your head and not your emotions, Averil, and this is one of those times. I’m not the man for you.”
Suddenly her temper left her, and she felt empty and flat. He didn’t want her. He was trying in his own way to be kind.
“You don’t want me,” she whispered. “I suppose I’ve made a fool of myself by kissing you? But at least I’ve been sincere. Why can’t you just tell me if that’s how you feel and not pretend you’re rejecting me for my own sake?”
And with that she turned and began to hurry away, blind with tears, trying not to stumble. She felt wretched and foolish. She’d thought he felt the same as her but he’d just been amusing himself, enjoying their little flirtation. He might even pity her!
She didn’t hear him behind her, but the next moment he’d caught her arm. He tried to turn her about, while she struggled, aware of her tear-streaked cheeks and thumping heart, but he was stronger than she. “Averil,” he said, and swung her up into his arms, just as he had that night at The Tin Soldier.
“Foolish girl,” he was murmuring, and he was kissing her face, wild little kisses. Averil’s breath caught on something between a laugh and a sob, and then he claimed her mouth, kissing her with all the desperation of a man deep in love.
Averil felt as if she were melting. This was the man she wanted above all others, no matter what he had done and what he said. Was she a fool to ignore the warnings of others? And yet she was so certain she was right about him.
“Averil?”
It was Beth calling from the castle terrace. Averil sighed and their lips clung a moment more, before Rufus let her slip down through his arms until she was securely on her own two feet.
“Averil,” Beth called again, “where are you?”
They could hear James’s deeper voice trying to reassure, but Averil knew there would be no reassuring her companion until she clapped eyes on her charge. Averil removed Rufus’s jacket and gave his hand a squeeze.
“I have to go back.”
“I know.” His smile was wry. “Reality intrudes.”
And then they were moving into the dim light of the castle windows, back to normality.
“We were looking at the lake,” she said reassuringly as soon as she saw Beth, and hoped no one could see the ravages of emotion on her face.
Beth gave her a narrowed look, but James distracted her by beginning a long story about how he’d swum there as a boy. Rufus held her arm across the uneven paving on the terrace and back into the drawing room, and then he stepped back, away from her.
Distancing himself.
Averil turned to try to read the expression in his dark eyes, but his head was bowed, and then he was turning toward James and the moment was lost. The doubts his kisses had helped to calm rose up again. There was something, she knew it, could sense it. There was something wrong.
“I think we should retire,” Beth said. “It has been a long day, and we have another one tomorrow.”
“Of course. Good night.” Averil smiled at the room in general, realizing how exhausted she was.
She and Beth climbed the stairs together.
“I know I’m right,” Beth said when they were out of earshot. “The dreadful servants, the grounds so unkempt, the closed rooms. I took a moment earlier to poke about and, Averil, I would say the Southbrooks are definitely bust.”
Averil giggled.
“Why is that funny?”
“Oh, Beth, it’s obvious they haven’t two pennies to rub together. They’ve put on a show for us because they’re too proud to admit it. James has probably done all of this for you,” she added innocently.
Beth thought a moment and then she said, “I can think of another reason.”
Averil shot her a look to silence her. “I will hear no more,” she said quietly. “I am enjoying this visit. I am enjoying Lord Southbrook’s company. Please, Beth, don’t spoil it.”
Beth bit her lip, but when she left Averil at her bedroom door she still looked worried.
The earl of Southbrook tossed and turned in his four-poster bed. For a time he lay on his back, staring up at the moth-eaten canopy. Was it his guilty conscience that made it impossible for him to sleep? But why should he feel guilty? He’d tried to warn her. He’d even done his best to drive her away. If she wouldn’t listen then surely that was her fault?
With a curse he got up and went to the window. From there he could see the water of the pond, and he rested his forehead against the cold glass and closed his eyes. His head spun dizzily with questions he couldn’t answer.
What if he asked her to marry him? What then? And what if she said yes? Could he make her happy? He hadn’t made his first wife happy, and then she’d died and for a time he’d lost his way. And, of course, with his soiled reputation, Averil would be sure to be slighted and snubbed. She wouldn’t give up, she’d battle on, trying to reinstate him, trying to pretend this was what she wanted.
She’d be miserable.
And what about Eustace, who was so fond of her, and James, who was making a fool of himself over Beth? Not to mention her sister he was searching for, and the business with the Home and the missing girls?
Rufus cursed and wondered how he had managed to entangle himself in her life to this extent in so short a time.
A sound distracted him and he frowned and moved toward the door. Yes, there was definitely someone outside moving along the corridor. He opened his door and peered out.
Eustace was leading Hercules toward his room.
He thought about reprimanding the boy but he stopped himself. Eustace loved the creature, and why shouldn’t he have his dog, something of his own to love and that loved him? He’d been remiss in that, too, as well as not keeping a closer eye on Mrs. Slater. Rufus told himself he’d have to try harder to be a good father, but then losing the castle and the Mayfair house were hardly the actions of a good father, were they?
But would he be a good father if he saved them by marrying Averil?
And having gone full circle, Rufus groaned and went back to his bed.