Chapter 5
“Ishould allow you to go back to your sketching.” Giving an apologetic shrug, Rafael stepped back. “I fear I prosed on too long about the making of cacao when you would have much rather been engaged in your art.”
“I enjoyed hearing it,” said Kyra. “Having a better understanding about a plant helps me see it more clearly.” She ducked her head. “Though I daresay that likely strikes you as silly.”
“Not at all,” he answered earnestly. “I think I know exactly what you mean.”
Strangely enough, she believed he did. A soldier with a sensitive soul? It seemed a contradiction. Which made him a conundrum.
Puzzles, puzzles. But piecing together all the nuanced facets that made up Rafael de Villafranca Greeley was not a task that ought to occupy her imagination.
He might as well be the Man in the Moon, a far-far away orb made of Stilton cheese, for how out of reach he was. To dream any differently was madness.
Keeping her gaze averted, Kyra began putting away her paints. “I ought to go as well. I promised my maid I would not be gone too long.”
“Please allow me to escort you to where she is waiting.”
Telling herself it would be churlish to refuse, she let him take her satchel. But deep down inside, she knew the real reason. His company made her forget for a moment her flaws and her fears.
“Are there other exotic plants you are looking forward to seeing here?” asked Rafael as he clicked open the glass door and led her back to the graveled walkway.
“Bougainvillea,” she answered without hesitation. “The papery flower petals sound so intriguing.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I think you would like them. They create very interesting shapes and textures. And the colors, especially the deep pinks, can be very vivid. We had several specimens at our hacienda in Spain that were brought back from Mexico by a friend of my father.”
“Was he interested in botany?”
“No, but he knew it would please my grandmother, so he made a habit of asking anyone he knew was traveling to the New World to bring back some tropical treasure for her collection.”
“How very thoughtful—” A swirl of silk suddenly rounded the yew hedge up ahead, and as it materialized into three ladies, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
Oh, Lord, she should have known it was a mistake to leave the sanctuary of her father’s estate.
For an instant, she was tempted to turn and flee, but it was already too late. The trio—a marchioness expensively dressed in the first crack of fashion and her two equally elegant daughters—were fast approaching.
Oh, if only the earth would open up beneath her feet and let her fall all the way to Cathay.
The all-too-familiar haughty stare of Lady Leverett swept right over her without a flicker of acknowledgment as she fixed Rafael with a brilliant smile. “Why, Lord Leete, how lovely to see you again.”
Kyra saw him flinch at the marchioness’s use of his late cousin’s title. It must have been a painful reminder of his loss. Nevertheless, he bowed politely.
“His Lordship and I met very briefly in Southampton, at the military reception your father hosted for Lord Stratton’s returning regiment,” she said to her companions.
Turning back to him, she smoothed the stylish ribbons trimming her bonnet.
“My husband, the Marquess of Leverett, has told us all about your heroics on the Peninsula, and my daughters are simply in alt to meet you. Please allow me to introduce you to Lady Caroline and Lady Margaret.”
Still not a word or look was directed at her, noted Kyra. She might as well have been one of the ancient stone statues grouped by the yew hedge for all the attention the trio paid her.
Try as she might, she couldn’t help but feel a flush begin to creep to her face. Caroline and Margaret had been part of her circle of friends. They had shared laughter and girlish confidences, which made the snub that much more hurtful.
Rafael hesitated, then pointedly said, “And allow me to introduce Lady Kyra?—”
“We are acquainted,” sniffed Lady Leverett. A frosty glance barely acknowledged Kyra.
His expression tightened.
“Since you are in London, sir, I do hope you will attend our soiree tonight,” went on Lady Leverett. “I know all of Society is very eager to meet the new heir to the Hendrie earldom.”
“Actually, I am simply visiting the city for the day. After my visit here, I will be returning to Hendrie Hall,” he replied.
“What a pity. When might you be returning? I would love to hold a ball in your honor.”
“At present, I have no plans to return to Town anytime soon. I am quite content to spend my time at my uncle’s estate.”
The marchioness looked a little taken aback. “Naturally you will wish to acquaint yourself with its running, as you are now the heir.”
Kyra watched another shadow of emotion ripple through his eyes. Was Lady Leverett oblivious to her tactless words? But of course she was. He was a handsome, eligible bachelor—a rich and titled bachelor—and the marchioness had two daughters to marry off.
“But the quiet of the country will no doubt become rather boring, so you must come enjoy the gaiety of Town life too,” continued Lady Leverett as she shot a coy look at her daughters. “All young men take pleasure in the festive swirl of Society and the company of the young ladies.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Kyra saw that Rafael did not crack a smile.
Indeed, his expression had lost any hint of humor, and his blue eyes had darkened to a stormy hue.
“Actually, the quiet of the country suits me very well.” He touched a hand to the brim of his curly beaver hat.
“And now, if you will excuse us, I must escort Lady Kyra back to her maid.”
The marchioness exhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring in irritation.
“Good day, ladies,” added Rafael, inclining a small nod to her daughters. He then curled his gloved hand around Kyra’s elbow and guided her forward.
She kept her spine straight, even though she heard the huffing and whispers behind her back.
“Are all English aristocrats so unconscionably rude?” he muttered once they were out of earshot.
She clenched her teeth, too embarrassed to answer.
Spotting Anna and William at the crest of the hill, she tried to quicken her steps, anxious to escape .
. . though no matter how fast she might run, she could never outpace her shame.
It would always be there, clinging to her skirts like a shadow for the rest of her days.
However, his grip tightened, holding her back.
“Lady Kyra?—”
The sting of tears prickled against the back of her lids. “Please, I am late and I must hurry,” she said in a rush.
“Another few minutes will make no difference,” he said gently. “I don’t understand.”
“Milord.” It hadn’t occurred to her to call him by Jack’s title and she couldn’t quite bring herself to do so now. “You have no need to trouble yourself about it. Truly, it is no concern to you. And I would prefer not to talk about it.”
“But it does concern me,” he replied. “Those ladies were unkind to you.”
As they rounded the tall hedge, Kyra came to a halt. Her throat felt too tight for words, yet she forced herself to speak. “Surely my uncle has explained why.”
Rafael’s mouth pinched in at the corners. “He has mentioned your accident.”
“You are being tactful, sir. But I am sure he has also mentioned my ruined reputation.” She hugged her arms to her chest and tried to keep her voice from sounding too brittle.
“The truth is, I am considered an outcast, a blot on the family’s honor.
As you saw, I am shunned by Polite Society.
” She blinked, refusing to seem even more pitiable by letting the tears pearled on her lashes spill down her cheeks.
“I should have known better than to come here. To venture out in public is to invite scenes like you just witnessed.”
He stood silent, his gaze downcast so it was impossible to see his eyes through the thick fringe of his dark lashes.
“It would be best if you avoid me from now on,” she went on. “I should not wish for my own black deeds to somehow rub off on you and sully your introduction to the ton.
“If Lady Leverett and her daughters are any example of the cruel and callous people who call themselves the flower of English nobility, then I have absolutely no interest in becoming part of their world.”
“You don’t understand, sir,” she exclaimed, unconsciously echoing his words. “To be cut off from Society is to be isolated, to be . . .”
How to describe the feeling of utter loneliness? She deserved it, but he most certainly didn’t.
“To be alone?” He crooked a smile. “I don’t need a ballroom full of pompous popinjays flapping around me to feel comfortable. I am very happy with just myself for company, or better yet, a circle of people whose hearts and minds I can respect.”
Respect?
She swallowed hard, but before she could respond, her maid cut across the lawn, a bit breathless from hurrying down the hill.
“I beg your pardon, milady, but your father’s carriage is approaching.
” She bobbed an apologetic curtsey to Rafael.
“Please come have a quick bit of sustenance before George packs up the picnic—you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“Thank you, Anna, but I would rather not delay our return home.” Kyra glanced up at the dark clouds scudding in from the west. “Besides, I’m not really hungry.”
Her maid clucked in concern as Rafael pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and unwrapped it to reveal several glossy nut-brown disks. “Take these for the journey.”
Seeing her look of puzzlement, he broke off a small piece. “I shall explain. But first, open your mouth.”
“Wha—”
He placed the morsel on her tongue.
A meltingly sweet essence tickled at her senses. Sugar, spice, the crunch of nutmeats, the smooth richness of vanilla . . .
Kyra chewed slowly, savoring all the flavors. “Oh, that’s divine.” She swallowed. “It tastes like chocolate, but how can that be? Chocolate is a beverage, not a food.”