A Knowing Heart (The Vosses #1)

Chapter 1

Haverford, Lincolnshire

It was entirely inappropriate for a man to look handsome whilst wearing mourning attire.

He ought to appear solemn. His countenance subdued.

His figure diminished rather than distinguished.

That was the proper order of things. And yet with his shoulders set square and the line of his jaw visible even in the shadow of his lowered head, Frederick Voss was striking.

Of course, the gentleman in question wasn’t attempting to attract the female gaze, but he was doing a thorough job of it. Or at least attracting the gaze of Althea Keats.

And no matter how inappropriate (even indecent!) it was to ogle a man in mourning, her gaze lingered. Enough so that Thea would’ve missed the final prayers had Mama not poked a determined finger into her daughter’s arm.

Rising to her feet alongside the congregation, Thea attempted a properly penitent expression as an apology, though her attention remained fixed upon Frederick. And though his eyes did not turn to meet hers, the smug curve of his lips betrayed the fact that he was well aware of the perusal.

Thea’s cheeks flushed pink (something for which the blackguard would tease her mercilessly later), but her embarrassment fled when her eyes finally met his.

Her breath caught, a subtle hitch she was quick to hide as she straightened her spine.

Yes, there was the ever-present smile upon his lips, but that gaze held a far truer sign of mourning than all the vestments and bands provided.

Others might see composure, but Thea felt the fracture beneath it.

Following the parishioners as they filed out of the nave and into the spring sunshine, Thea did not fixate on Frederick Voss.

She certainly did not watch as he wove through the crowd, giving the passersby acknowledgments (as was fitting) as he forged ahead, moving from where the crowd had deposited him to her side.

And she certainly did not grin like a giddy little girl when he dipped his head in greeting.

However, Thea did slip her hand into the crook of his arm at the selfsame time the gentleman offered it up to her.

“How is a fellow supposed to achieve spiritual enlightenment when an excessively fine lady is making eyes at him throughout the service?” he whispered.

“How did that fellow realize the excessively fine lady was making eyes at him if he is paying proper attention to said service?” she replied, leaning into him.

“Especially as the gentleman sits in a pew ahead of that so-called distraction. The only way he could know she is looking is if he is turning in his seat to notice.”

“I always feel it when your gaze is upon me, my love,” he said with a grin befitting the rascal he was.

How was Frederick able to infuse such meaning in the smallest of things? A few words. A glance. A touch. That power filled her like the blazing sun at the height of summer, sending its light and warmth into every dark nook and cranny until everything was bathed in gold.

Yet beneath it, Thea felt the sorrow that lingered in his heart and the heaviness of his mourning garb.

Three months was not such a long time, and with the added responsibility of stepping into the shoes that his father had left behind, it was little wonder that a shadow lingered in Frederick’s eyes—for all that he tried to hide it behind a mask of joviality.

Holding tighter to his arm, Thea offered him the only support afforded them whilst in public, and Frederick’s smile twisted into the smug expression of one certain that he was the envy of every man in the parish, though others were far more occupied with their own business than paying attention to the affectionate display.

“Behave,” whispered Thea, though it had as much effect on his affectation as a thimble of water has on a bonfire. If anything, it poured pitch upon the flames. That dear fool.

The church stood solid against the pale sky, its stone walls softened by centuries of lichen and the tender green of ivy, which the caretaker was forever fighting off, and beyond the gates, the market square lay quiet for the Sabbath, the stalls packed away until the next market day.

Within the churchyard, parishioners lingered in small circles; the first true warmth of the year loosened their tongues, and their voices mingled with the cries of children, who chased one another over gravel and grass.

Above it all, a skylark sang, its notes tumbling through the pale blue sky as it ushered in this new season.

The tree branches glowed with a haze of spring green as their buds began to burst, and the air carried both the sweetness of those early blossoms and the faint dampness of earth, freshly turned and awaiting the planting.

But that beauty was lost on the group gathered around Thea and her beau: there were far more pressing matters at hand.

“Well now,” said Mrs. Norfolk with a spark of mischief in her eyes as she glanced at Thea and Frederick. “The pair of you cut such a fine figure together that one cannot help wondering if the church bells will soon be rung for more than Sunday service. Should we expect a grand announcement soon?”

Was there a better question in all the world? With each passing month, the villagers’ prodding grew more pointed, and Thea couldn’t help but revel in it and the way her heart fluttered at each mention. Mrs. Althea Voss had a nice ring to it.

“A lady must play hard to get, and Miss Keats is doing her level best to keep me humble,” said Frederick in a tone of such seriousness that, had Thea not known him better, she might’ve assumed he was telling the truth, and Mrs. Norfolk certainly nodded along as though that was a sage observation.

“Dear me,” said Thea, opening her eyes wide in mock surprise. “If it is my responsibility to keep you humble, then I ought to quit the field now and accept the loss. That is an unwinnable battle.”

Frederick held fast to his serious expression, though Mrs. Norfolk looked all too concerned at that declaration.

“You two are hopeless,” said Miss Phoebe Voss, forcing her way between the pair as only an elder sister could.

Turning her attention to Mrs. Norfolk, she added, “And you ought to know better than to pester my brother if you expect a genuine answer. They will make that ‘grand announcement’ when they choose to.”

Mrs. Norfolk’s eyes fell to Frederick’s armband and the matching black ribbon adorning Phoebe’s bonnet. “Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Of course not,” said Thea, giving her friend a pointed look, but Phoebe ignored it. “Trust me, Mrs. Norfolk, I will be certain to tell you when there is anything to announce.”

“‘When?’” asked Mrs. Norfolk, grasping onto that slip of the tongue with a beaming grin.

Phoebe suppressed a snicker, and Thea elbowed her.

“Behave,” she whispered, though the elder Voss was just as unrepentant as her younger brother.

Before Thea knew what she was about, Phoebe slid her arm through Thea’s and tossed her brother a dismissive wave of the hand. “You cannot monopolize all her time, Frederick.”

Abandoning him to Mrs. Norfolk, Phoebe turned Thea away whilst leaning in close to mutter, “You would think our being in mourning would be enough to discourage speculation.”

“Mrs. Norfolk means well,” whispered Thea, but before the ladies drew more than two steps away, Frederick caught her by the hand (which elicited a dramatic gasp from Mrs. Norfolk, who fanned her face as though this was as good as the “grand announcement” she’d been hoping to hear).

Ever eager for an audience, Frederick brushed his thumb across Thea’s knuckles, and though their gloves absorbed most of the feel, her face flushed as though his lips had touched that sensitive skin.

“May I call on you tomorrow?” he asked, though he kept his voice low enough that only she could hear—though the others were clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

With an apologetic grimace, Thea shook her head.

“I fear Mama has me quite busy of late, and with my cousin coming for a visit, it will continue to be so for some time. I do have plans to go riding on Tuesday, but perhaps I might…” Shaking her head, Thea winced.

“I fear I have neglected my poor horse of late. I really ought not to abandon her to the groom yet again.”

Frederick held up a staying hand. “Tell me the time, and I shall be there.”

Straightening, Thea frowned. “You do not care for riding.”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But I care for you, and if that is the only way I can pass an hour in your company, it is an easy price to pay.”

It would not do to swoon. Not that Thea was prone to such fits, but she felt decidedly lightheaded at that declaration.

It was as though the ground beneath her feet dropped away, leaving her floating across green fields of vibrant clover and wildflowers.

Warmth wrapped around her as tangible as a cloak on a cold winter’s day, and despite her best efforts, the smile that stretched across her face made her feelings clear.

Not that she cared whether or not Frederick knew how thoroughly ensorcelled she was.

That was no secret, and their courtship had given rise to much speculation long before any official label had been applied.

There was no doubt as to whom her heart belonged.

Just as she knew Frederick’s would always be hers.

Yet what did one say to such a confession? Thea knew she ought to say something. A cheeky retort was the best avenue when facing down a Voss, but Thea couldn’t think of anything witty or clever to say. Her wits fled, leaving her a nodding simpleton.

“I will see you at two in the afternoon,” she said, grateful that anything came out.

“I will be there.”

Frederick’s gaze fell to her hand, and Thea felt the phantom press of his lips there; he’d done so often enough over the past few months that her memory supplied the details.

But with so many eyes on them, he wouldn’t dare—

And the moment Thea thought that, she knew she’d misstepped. Frederick’s eyes gleamed in challenge as though he’d plucked the thought from her mind, his grin growing smug, and with a grand flourish (taking his hat off and all), Frederick bowed low over her hand, pressing a kiss to her glove.

“My lady. I am yours to command.”

Gathering all her strength, Thea fought not to blush or laugh as either reaction would only encourage more mischief, but though the spirit was willing, the flesh was weak, and it betrayed her by bringing forth a blush to her cheeks, which all and sundry could easily see—just as they could clearly hear her strangled giggle that accompanied it.

And when Frederick straightened and plopped his hat on his head once more, his eyes were alight with laughter.

The bounder. Yet that silent epithet only made her redden and laugh all the harder.

Matters weren’t helped when he raised his fingers to his lips, blowing her kisses as Phoebe dragged her away with a huff.

“He enjoys playing to a crowd,” muttered his sister.

“And his enjoyment only increases the more uncomfortable his audience becomes. Ignoring him is the best defense, though I have yet to discover how to do so,” replied Thea, holding fast to her friend.

“But we know what sort of man he is and love him for it, so we cannot chastise him for being precisely what he is.”

“You are nauseating. Both of you,” said Phoebe. “I do not know why I put up with either of you.”

“Because I am your dearest friend, and he is your brother. You cannot escape us. And one day, when you are well and truly hooked by some dashing young gentleman, we will have immense pleasure watching you behave just as nauseatingly.”

Phoebe scoffed. “Heaven help me, but if I ever find love, I will not be so ridiculous as to fall for someone like my brother. I blame Frederick for addling your wits.”

As their feet pulled them farther away from the man in question, Thea couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder at him, but Frederick was already absorbed by the crowd as gentlemen surrounded him, drawing them in with an ease that Thea wished she could mimic. If only she were so easy around others.

But then, she supposed she didn’t need to possess the trait herself. Once married, she could make use of his talent as often as she wished when he was at her side all the day long.

A happy thought, indeed.