Chapter 7 #2
My lips tugged into a frown. Visiting Margaret this morning, I had not expected to find her in high spirits.
Her pregnancy was something to be celebrated, yet I worried more for her now than before my visit.
What if Mr. Wilcot reverted to his high-handed ways?
Margaret assured me he had not become physical with her since their return, but oppression was not always physical in nature.
Words could stab just as deeply as any knife; tone could bruise just as thoroughly.
To add a child to the already delicate situation…
Anger surged within me. Mr. Wilcot had tricked Margaret into this life and now punished her for it. He spent their limited funds on alcohol and cards, while expecting her to live the life of a recluse who headed all his whims and desires.
I leaned against the wall, pressing my eyes closed as a few raindrops fell on my cheeks.
Inhaling the scent of rain and dirt calmed my frustrations, but they would never go away.
Margaret would never be free of Wilcot’s control as long as the man lived, and he had both good health and youth on his side at only six and twenty.
I hated how he treated her. And I hated how I could do nothing to help.
Thunder roared across the land, and with a heavy sigh, I pushed away from the wall.
I stared across the open landscape separating the ruins from Kenwick Castle, its majestic walls and towers rising above the trees in the distance.
I would return home today carrying a burden of worry and regret.
If only I had seen through Mr. Wilcot’s facade while they courted.
If only I had warned Margaret against him.
But I had not, and nothing except death could sever their marriage and free my friend.
I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes and followed the path around the ruins to where Rain waited for me by the tree. Using an old stump as a mounting block, I hiked up my skirts and climbed onto her back.
“Let’s go home, girl,” I said, patting her neck and fingering her gray mane. “We cannot stay out in this weather.”
The ride back to Kenwick required about ten minutes, and rain had begun to pour steadily from the heavens by the time I reached the stables.
I entered through the arched, center carriageway where a groom met me and guided Rain under the shelter of the outer stalls.
He assisted me down, and I swept the damp hair from my face, knowing full well the mess I must look.
Just as with Margaret’s butler, the groom was completely unsurprised by my state or decision to ride without a saddle.
The servants at Kenwick knew me too well to be scandalized by such a thing.
Thank goodness for their loyalty and discretion; otherwise, I would be ruined.
Not that I cared overly much about my reputation. I had no intention to marry, so why should I concern myself with the gossips of society? No, soon enough, I would have my independence, and their opinions and judgments would not matter.
“Please see to it that she is brushed and given a treat,” I said to the groom.
“Yes, miss.” The groom bowed before leading Rain to her stall. I sighed as I watched them leave. It was a shame the weather had been so dreary as of late. It had severely cut into the time I spent out of doors.
“It appears you were caught in the storm,” a low voice sounded from behind me.
I started, sucking in a lungful of cold air that carried the scent of the stables, and spun around.
Lieutenant Paget stood several yards away, leaning against one of the empty stalls, his dark eyes fixed on me.
They wandered down my person momentarily, then quickly flicked back to my face.
His brows furrowed, and his throat bobbed with a swallow.
If I was not mistaken, a hint of color tinted his cheeks.
Perhaps I had not scandalized our servants, but the lieutenant was rightly aghast.
He cleared his throat. “Did you enjoy your morning ride?”
I lifted my chin, ignoring the swell of embarrassment within me. You do not care for the opinions of others, especially not his. “I did enjoy my ride.”
He nodded, his eyes roaming over my face and hair, intent on taking in every detail of my appearance. To judge, no doubt. “And do you often ride…like this?”
“This?” I challenged. “I’m afraid I do not take your meaning.”
Lieutenant Paget pushed away from the stall and stepped closer.
He left a good distance between us, but my heart pounded harder all the same.
Light poured into the stables through the windows, but with the sky so cloudy, much of the space was still bathed in shadows.
The lack of light only seemed to play to his strength and attractiveness, making his dark hair and eyes all the more rich in color and the sharp edge of his jaw more pronounced.
Why did the man have to be so blastedly handsome?
“This.” He gestured to all of me. “In improper attire and…and so…”
“So what, Lieutenant? Indecent? So wild and free?”
“Wild and free is an adequate description for a woman riding bareback with no riding habit.”
I narrowed my eyes. His tone was even, but a hint of something had come through, almost indistinguishable. As my father’s guest, he was likely attempting to maintain politeness and hide his horror to find a viscount’s daughter so uncouth.
Well, I refused to be embarrassed by his shock.
Kenwick was my home, and I would not perform for others while here.
A ball or house call, perhaps, required a certain degree of sophisticated behavior and grace.
After all, I would not wish to disrespect my parents by embarrassing them to such a degree in a societal gathering. But here? In the stables?
No, I would not pretend to be anything or anyone but myself, and Annette Apsley was wild and free.
Almost.
The latter was within my grasp, and I would convince Father just as soon as he recovered enough for the conversation. Until then, I would not allow Lieutenant Paget’s clear disdain to rattle me.
I took three steps forward, placing myself so close to the man that I could feel the heat radiating from him. He stiffened, and his throat bobbed with another hard swallow. His repulsion pulled a grin on my lips. “Do you have a problem with my preferred riding style, Lieutenant?”
His breathing was shallow. I could tell by the quick rise and fall of his chest. Mine seemed in sync with him, a reaction I blamed on the ire building in my chest. I expected him to chide me, wanted to hear it even. The words would only solidify my loathing of the man.
But he did not chide me. He did not speak a word.
Instead, his hand lifted to my plait, and my breath caught when he took it between his fingers.
He wore no gloves, and the barest touch of his skin against my collarbone made me shiver.
I searched his expression, but his focus was on my hair as he toyed with the cloth tie holding it in place.
Doubt flooded my thoughts. A man repulsed by my appearance and behavior wouldn’t respond this way. He wouldn’t play with my hair in such a manner.
Would he?
The lieutenant pulled his gaze up to mine, where it lingered several seconds before dropping briefly to my lips. Memories battled their way to the surface, and a longing to repeat them consumed me. Did he long for that moment in the alley, too? Live in those memories as often as I did?
Mistake, mistake, mistake! I repeated the word in my mind, willing myself to be convinced.
As if my hair caught fire, the lieutenant released my plait and took an abrupt step away from me. I felt the loss of his warmth, and the unwanted longing that had stirred inside me vanished like smoke in the darkness.
There. He was repulsed by my behavior and appearance. Why did that fill me with relief while simultaneously niggling at my pride? His displeasure was what I wanted.
“You should go inside, Miss Apsley,” he said, taking another step back, his eyes focused on the horse in a nearby stall. “I’m certain you must be cold.”
I was cold, but I did not wish for him to order me about. “When I’m ready, I shall go in.”
He would not meet my gaze. “I am leaving Kenwick for the morning, but if I may, I would request an audience with you when I return.”
I scoffed. “You have my attention now. Why force us to meet again?”
“Because I need to go, and you—despite wishing me to believe that you intend to remain outside—would prefer to change out of your wet clothing.”
My cheeks heated. I had not considered that my wet clothes were sticking to me in a rather revealing way. I was not soaked through, by any means, but the simple day dress I’d chosen this morning, due to my ability to get into it without assistance, had suffered during my ride through the rain.
I crossed my arms, willing my blush to dissipate. “I enjoy being wet.”
He tilted his head, his expression one of severe disbelief. “No one enjoys being wet. Save for a fish, perhaps.”
“I do love swimming. Perhaps I am more fish than human.”
His brows furrowed. “You love swimming?”
I nodded, trying not to smile at the disapproval he surely hid. “Oh, yes. When the weather is warm, there is a pond along the west path. The water is refreshing.”
He studied me, as if doing so would reveal the statement as a flam.
But one could not find deceit where there was none.
I did love swimming, and if telling the lieutenant encouraged him to keep his distance, put an end to his taunts and teasing, then I would risk rumors of my behavior reaching the ton.
“That is…” He shook his head as though thinking better of his words. “I must go. Will you permit me your company upon my return?”
He still wanted to meet? I bit my tongue. Why had that not worked? “I hardly see—”
“Please, Annette. I simply wish to apologize properly.”
He wished to apologize? I assume he referred to the dessert situation from last night. The entire ordeal still irked me, but it had been Russell who was most to blame. Still, the lieutenant's desire to apologize surprised me.
And intrigued me.
Confound it.
“Very well. We shall talk when you return. Simply send a servant with a note. And might I remind you, again, that I have not given you leave to use my name.”
His lips pulled into a grin. “Requesting love notes from me now? How scandalous, Annette.”
I glared at him. “Do not tempt me to rescind my agreement. I have a number of things I can do that are far better than spending time in your company.”
He chuckled. “As you wish, Miss Apsley. I shall send you a note, then.”
The man bowed and swept past me. I stared after him for a long moment, wondering if meeting with him was yet another mistake. I could not make sense of the lieutenant. One moment, he acted the perfect gentleman, and the next, he returned to the teasing flirt I met in London.
Whose company I would have the pleasure of this afternoon, I could not say. And, blast it all, I was eager to find out.