Chapter 11 #2
He seemed not to have a response for that, staring at me in an odd sort of way.
I quickened my pace to reach the first water feature, a quatrefoil pool with a bronze mermaid spouting water in the center.
Beyond the fountain, a stone-edged canal made its way gradually toward the lake, the water running over narrow rills and down miniature cascades and under a beautiful balustraded bridge.
The autumnal colors of the foliage provided a truly stunning backdrop.
“Oh, it is beautiful,” I said, a bit breathlessly.
Mr. Rawlings stopped at my side. “My grandfather had it constructed when I was a child.” His voice lacked any sort of emotion or inflection. “He was determined to impress the local gentry.”
“It does its job nicely,” I said. “You may consider me quite impressed.”
He gestured toward the stairs that flanked the canal. I chose the left side, descending to the next level where a rectangular pool boasted dozens of water lilies. He followed, though he kept several steps between us.
“Helen seemed rather put out with you for not visiting more often,” I said carefully.
“She misses her life at sea, that is all,” he replied. “She wishes to entrap me here with her.”
“I could think of worse places to be trapped,” I observed. “And I am sure Elijah would wish to see more of you.”
“You are incredibly obvious, Miss Lacey.” He spoke mildly, seeming unconcerned about my shameless prying. “Simply ask your question.”
“Very well,” I said. “Do you not visit because you are trying so very hard to keep all this”—I waved a hand back toward the manor house—“a secret from your London circle?”
“Aye.”
“And why is it so important to keep it a secret?”
His eyes slid to mine, narrowed slightly as if gauging how much he could tell me.
“My friends know nothing about Briarstone,” he said finally, “because I do not want my past unduly influencing my future. I am accepted as I am, which is how I prefer it. I would hate for anyone to look at me differently because of something so arbitrary as money.”
“Surely they would not reject you now, even if you are ridiculously wealthy.” My lips twitched. “It is an unfortunate shortcoming, to be sure, but they seem an accepting lot.”
He ignored my little joke. “There is also the matter of keeping my mother, Helen, and Elijah safe. I have no shortage of enemies because of my work at Bow Street. If my connection to them was known, it could put them in the line of fire from any number of criminals seeking revenge.”
“Oh.” His words took me aback. Perhaps I should not have been surprised, considering I’d refused Ginny’s company for the very same reason. I simply hadn’t realized until today that Mr. Rawlings also had people he wanted to protect.
He said nothing more, and I gave up on my prying. I continued down the side of the canal, taking in the details of the water garden.
“If I had such a garden,” I mused, sensing that we desperately needed a change in topic, “perhaps I would pine less for London. I’m afraid my home is rather dull in comparison to this.”
“Why is it you pine for London?” he asked.
It was carefully worded, revealing none of his motive in posing it. But I could hear the unspoken question. This was not precisely the change in topic I’d been wanting.
“I’ve always loved the city,” I said. “Even if it no longer loves me.”
We strolled in the quiet, my words lingering between us, the trickling of the water filling my ears.
“The rumors about you,” he said finally. “They’re not true, are they? Any of them.”
It wasn’t a question but an observation. He stated it as fact, as if he had no doubt in its veracity.
And I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed to hear those words from him.
“No.” My voice was scratchy. “No, none of them are true.”
His footsteps slowed, and I turned to face him as we both came to a stop. He regarded me with furrowed brows. “Where did they come from?” he asked. “And why?”
“Ah,” I said lightly. “You are determined to dive right into the thick of it, are you?”
“You have no qualms about prying into my affairs,” he pointed out.
“Your affairs are not so black as mine.”
“That is debatable.”
I eyed him, wrestling within myself.
His expression shifted slightly. “You needn’t tell me if you don’t wish to. You hardly know me.”
“I do not think that is true,” I said. “You brought me to your family home, after all, and introduced me to your mother and cousin. We’ve spent nearly every second of the last few days together.
Heavens, I’ve even seen you without your shirt.
” As soon as the words left my mouth, I froze, heat rushing to my cheeks. Why had I said that?
But then, of all the unlikely things, Mr. Rawlings’s lips twitched.
“Yes, you have.” Was that a touch of amusement in his eyes? “In fact, your blush that night was the first thing to make me doubt the rumors. You seemed far too . . .” His voice trailed off.
“Naive?” I prompted, even now fighting the same blush. “Green?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Sincere.”
“I see.” I had to pause a moment, clearing my throat. I remembered trying to imagine what he’d been thinking as I’d bandaged his arm. It had not been this. I pressed on. “But all that to say, we are not precisely strangers anymore, Mr. Rawlings, and I find myself wanting you to think well of me.”
His eyes fixed on mine and held me there. “Go on, then.”
This would be easier if I did not have to look him in the eyes. I clasped my hands before me, turning to walk again beside the canal. He followed just a step behind.
“Two years ago,” I began, “I attended a ball in London, hosted by the Earl of Granville. I was not normally included in such functions, but my mother managed to procure an invitation. It was my chance, you see, to make a good impression on the very best of Society. My two previous Seasons had been unsuccessful, and all my mother’s hopes were pinned on this ball. ”
Mr. Rawlings remained quiet, listening intently.
“I was introduced to a great many people,” I said, “and several promising gentlemen asked me to dance. I left the ballroom halfway through, needing a few minutes to collect myself.” I paused, uncertain my voice would support the words I wished to say. “I saw something I should not have.”
“What do you mean?” His gaze was a focused steel.
The memory came flooding back to me, my senses overwhelmed just by the thought of it.
I’d left the ball, glad for the break in noise and chatter.
As I’d wandered the corridors, I’d recalled reading in the paper that Lord Granville collected valuable books and that he’d recently procured a copy of Shakespeare’s first folio, a rare version with faintly purple-tinted pages.
I’d decided to find the library to see if I could discover my namesake within the pages of the first folio, since Much Ado About Nothing was one of the plays included.
I’d peeked in several rooms, searching as I went, and finally found the library door ajar, dancing with firelight.
I’d stepped inside and inspected the room, a welcoming space with every wall lined in bookshelves, a tall-backed sofa facing the fire, and a large folio stand in the corner.
I went to the folio stand immediately, sensing that Lord Granville would have put his new acquisition on display.
I was right—the folio was there, all dark calfskin and gold lettering—but it was closed rather than opened to a favorite passage.
And besides that, the large volume was off-balance, looking as if it might topple off the stand at any moment.
I frowned, reaching out to adjust the book on the stand to a safer position. How odd.
Then I heard it. The rustle of clothing. The hushed whisper.
I spun just as two heads appeared over the sofa in the middle of the room. A man, whose face was a blur to my mind, then and now. Because my eyes immediately snapped to the woman’s face.
Clarissa Haythorne.
We’d known each other since our debut Season, passing in and out of each other’s spheres. I’d never been important or interesting enough to catch her attention, for good or for ill.
Until now.
I stared at her, at the sleeve of her dress slanted off her shoulder, her mussed hair and flushed cheeks, the smudged rouge on her lips.
I gasped. That I remembered with perfect clarity. It was the sound that had broken the crystal glass of the situation, had brought it shattering down around me.
“I stumbled upon a romantic meeting,” I whispered now to Mr. Rawlings.
“The woman was an acquaintance of mine.” I lifted my eyes to meet his, to make my meaning clear.
“An unmarried acquaintance. She was with a man. They were—” I shook my head.
“Well, I am sure you can imagine what they were doing.”
“Well enough,” Mr. Rawlings said tightly. “What happened then?”
“I fled,” I admitted. “I didn’t know what else to do. I ran back to the ballroom, acted as if nothing had happened. But she found me a few minutes later. She threatened me.”
I could see her cold expression in my mind, the iron glint in her eyes as she’d gripped my elbow tightly enough to leave a bruise. Her high, nauseating voice had whispered directly into my ear. If you tell anyone what you saw tonight, she’d hissed, I will destroy you. Do not doubt I have the power.
Then she’d patted my arm with a catlike smile and disappeared into the crowd.
I shook my head at Mr. Rawlings. “I wouldn’t have said anything, of course. She is far higher in Society than I am, and what business was it of mine?”
His head tilted as if attempting to piece together what I was saying. “But if you didn’t say anything . . .”
“I can only assume she panicked,” I said quietly. “She was afraid her threat would not be enough to keep me silent, so she decided to ruin me before I could ruin her. By the next morning, there were already stories circulating about me. Each worse than the last. Each as false as the last.”