Chapter Seventeen
Today was the day, Florence told herself, seized with a burst of nervous excitement the moment she opened her eyes the next morning, the first Saturday of August, the date of the annual summer fair.
She rolled onto her back and stretched, revelling in the cocoon of warmth she’d made under her blankets.
She’d slept well, better than she’d expected considering how anxious she felt, which was surely a good sign, but what was that sound?
Faint but persistent, a soft tapping, like fingertips beating gently against a drum.
Slowly she lifted her head, looking around her bedchamber for the source.
A small fire was roaring in the grate and her curtains were open, though her room was still a shadowy grey thanks to the rain.
The rain?
She jolted upright and stared at her window in horror. Rain was lashing against the glass, and not just a little, but a practical deluge. So much so that she wouldn’t have been surprised to find somebody standing outside throwing buckets of water up at the house.
Oh, no. No, no, no… Her spirits plummeted to the soles of her feet. There was never rain on fair day. Wasn’t that what Leo had told her? And yet here it was, in her very first year as the marchioness…
‘Leo!’ She leapt out of bed and ran to the door between their bedrooms, bursting through without bothering to knock because this was an emergency and she needed to speak with him right away or…
She skidded to a halt. Her husband was climbing out of bed, presumably thanks to her panicked shout, looking as if he’d just woken up, with a smattering of dark stubble across his jaw and his hair sticking out at comical angles. More to the point, he was also completely stark naked.
Her eyes dropped before she could stop them.
With five brothers, she wasn’t exactly ignorant about the male body, only she’d never seen one so…
fully grown before. Goose-pimples erupted over her skin.
And this was the man she’d kissed on the beach, whose lips had moulded to hers as though they’d been made for each other, who’d scooped her into his arms and carried her back to their horses…
‘Oh!’ She spun around, mortified to realise she’d been staring. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have waited. I just needed to tell you…’ She flailed her arms towards the windows. ‘Rain!’
‘Ah.’ She heard a rustle of clothing, followed by footsteps. ‘So there is.’
She darted a quick look sideways. Leo was already standing beside the window, his body now concealed beneath a long, dark green dressing gown, while she…
She glanced down, suddenly acutely conscious of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any kind of dressing gown herself, just the revealing nightdress that Cassie had given her.
And if he looked rumpled then so must she.
She hadn’t even glanced in a mirror before rushing in here.
Her hair could be standing on end for all she knew.
‘I just can’t believe it.’ She attempted to focus on the problem at hand, folding her arms around herself in a belated attempt to preserve her modesty. ‘After eighty-five years of sunshine! What are the chances?’
‘Quite low.’ He sounded contemplative. ‘It’s certainly a surprise.’
‘It’s more than that. It’s a calamity! The whole day is ruined!’ A shiver rippled through her. ‘And it’s cold! I don’t know how, but this is all Mrs Fitch’s fault. She’s probably laughing to herself right now, thinking it’s a sign that everything’s going to collapse without her.’
‘Sewell too probably.’
‘Do you think it might pass?’ she asked hopefully. ‘Bad weather usually clears in four hours.’
‘Unless there’s no wind, which unfortunately appears to be the case.’
‘Argh!’ She flung her head back. ‘It doesn’t even matter. Even if the rain was to stop right now, there’s so much of it, the grass would still be too wet for a picnic this afternoon.’
‘I’m afraid you’re right.’ His footsteps approached. ‘Fortunately, it’s only a summer fair. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not hugely important. Nobody’s sick or injured.’
‘Maybe not, but—’
‘And,’ he went on, slowly unpeeling her arms from around her chest, ‘we have a ballroom.’
‘We…what?’ Her pulse jumped as he laced their fingers together.
‘We have a ballroom,’ he repeated, his eyes warm. ‘As well as several reception rooms we barely use. If we clear away some furniture, we should be able to bring the fair inside.’
‘That could work.’ Her breath caught. ‘We could fill the ballroom with flowers from the orangery so it looks like a garden. Then we could lay blankets on the floor and put a hamper on each. And we could use the long gallery for the children’s races and set out tables in one of the drawing rooms for all the competition entries… ’
‘Exactly.’
‘And then, when the picnic is finished, we can clear the blankets away and have dancing!’
He smiled. ‘It’s beginning to sound better than the original plan.’
‘So we don’t have to cancel?’
‘And let Fitch and Sewell win? Absolutely not.’
‘This is going to work. Leo, you’re a genius!’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ His gaze dipped to the top of her nightdress. ‘I like this.’
‘Do you?’ Her voice sounded curiously high-pitched all of a sudden. ‘It was a present from Cassie.’
‘I like that less.’ He gave her a wry look. ‘But you look very pretty. Mornings suit you.’
‘Oh.’ She ran her tongue between her lips as the air around them felt very dry suddenly, despite the rain outside.
Half of her was distracted by the long list of jobs already stacking up in her head.
There was just so much to think about. Aside from moving furniture, messages needed to be sent out all over the estate.
People needed to be told about the change of plan before they assumed everything was cancelled.
Only the other half of her didn’t care about any of that, not when Leo was standing right in front of her, his eyes smouldering so intensely that she felt as if a match had just been struck between them.
It was almost funny, she thought, considering how fast she’d run into his bedchamber, how impossible she found it to move now.
Only it wasn’t actually funny and she wasn’t completely still either.
Her insides were swirling wildly, making her tremble with nervous energy.
It occurred to her suddenly that she no longer thought of him as the scowling and severe Marquess of Rainton, the man with storm clouds for eyes, who’d arrived in London and begun paying court to Amabel.
Whoever that man had been, the one standing before her now was somebody else entirely, somebody who’d kissed her on the beach yesterday and who she wanted to kiss again, even though now really wasn’t the time.
‘You’re shivering.’ His hands skimmed the sides of her waist. ‘I’d offer you my robe, only…’
She didn’t let him finish, lifting up on her toes to press her lips against his.
He gave a low moan and then swept his arms around her, pulling her flush up against him, until she was completely enveloped in his body heat and the swirling sensation was a practical hurricane.
‘We could just cancel the fair,’ he murmured.
‘We can’t.’ She kissed him one last time before pulling away reluctantly. ‘It would let too many people down.’
‘Then we take this up again later. Tonight.’
‘Tonight,’ she agreed.
Three hours later, Florence stood in the middle of the ballroom and marvelled at the transformation that had occurred since that morning.
The huge empty space had metamorphosed into a countryside idyll.
There were tubs of flowers all around the walls—considering the number of children attending, vases had seemed like an invitation to trouble—garlands and ribbons around the windows, and an assortment of brightly coloured blankets on the freshly polished floor, as well as a few tables and chairs for the older guests.
‘That’s it!’ She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. ‘I think we’ve done pretty well.’
‘We’ve done more than that. We’ve worked wonders.’ Jane, standing beside her, exhaled loudly. ‘I never imagined that being a lady’s maid would involve quite so much flower arranging.’
‘It’s just for today, I promise.’ Florence smiled apologetically. ‘At this rate I’ll have to promote you to Housekeeper.’
‘No, thank you. Clothes and hair I can manage. The rest of the house, absolutely not.’
‘Fair enough.’ She braced her hands on her hips. ‘You know, His Lordship said he was going to write to his man of business in London to fill the position, but is there anybody downstairs you might recommend instead?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Jane scrunched her mouth up thoughtfully. ‘Mrs Fitch was so strict that most maids left after a couple of years. And those of us who stayed were hardly ever given any additional responsibilities. That’s how she kept control of everything.’
‘So there’s no natural successor?’
‘Not really, except…’ Jane snapped her fingers ‘…Catherine Chenoweth. She stuck it out as a maid a good fifteen years before taking another position last November. I suppose she gave up hope of Fitch ever retiring.’
‘Was she good at her job?’
‘Very, and we all liked her. She was the one everyone went to with problems when we knew Fitch would only have scolded us. I don’t think I ever heard her raise her voice or say a bad word about anyone. She’s Housekeeper to Squire Norris now, but I’m sure she’d jump at the chance to come back.’
‘That sounds promising.’ Florence pursed her lips. ‘But the squire might not be pleased if I poach his housekeeper.’
‘Don’t worry about that. He’ll be thrilled if he can tell people his former housekeeper now works for the Marquess of Rainton. His wife might be more of a challenge, but I’m sure if you pay her a call, she’ll forgive you. Throw in a dinner invitation and they’ll probably pay you to take her.’
‘In that case, do you think you could get a message to her?’
‘I’m sure Mr Rimmer could.’