Chapter 3 #4
“I will assume it is the weather that has made you so tetchy, my lady,” he murmured.
“But you have hit upon something rightly. While there are plenty of visitors who frequent this village, rarely do I meet bold, clever, selfless ladies who courageously wander through the woods in the evening. Talking to an anomaly like you pleases me, indeed. I will ensure that no harm will come to such a rare sight such as you.”
The mysterious woman blushed again. “You are being very forward—again.”
“Perhaps I am,” he admitted unrepentantly. “But what should we be, besides honest with one another? I abhor a life filled with lies and deceit. So yes, I may speak openly and perhaps be a bit forward, but I assure you that I mean to honor you with my truthfulness, my lady.”
Their eyes locked, then. It seemed that the rain must have done something to the air because it felt different. Tight. Teeming with something new and alluring.
She pared her lips, and again, insisted, “I am not a lady.”
He smirked. “If not, why is propriety so crucial? Perhaps it is time you saw how… pleasurable impropriety can be.”
Her breath caught. He could see the way her chest stilled. His eyes dipped from those beautiful blue ones of hers to her lips. Again, something heavy was in the air.
He leaned in. She didn’t move away.
Then, the rain stopped. She looked up, eyes wide. The spell had already shattered.
“I must go,” she said quickly, quickly snatching her basket from his hands before he could protest or make another jest. “Thank you for holding my basket for me.”
Still, the whole thing was not for naught. Her face was burning scarlet.
“A pleasure, my lady,” he replied, giving her a small bow.
The young woman hurried away, her long skirts swishing against the damp path.
Adrian watched. He could not help but feel amused by the exchange. He had not been this entertained in a long time. However, he didn’t forget a sense of responsibility. He followed the lady at a distance until she reached the vicarage before he headed to his residence.
Inside his own house, he could see the front of the vicar’s cottage. A candle glowed through a window, but quickly faded as if the person holding it was walking away.
He caught a brief glimpse of a silhouette.
Then, there was darkness.
He exhaled and wondered when he might meet with the woman again.
I still do not know her name.
Daphne inhaled the appetizing scent of eggs, butter, and freshly baked bread in the Nicholsons’ kitchen. It was supposed to be a chilly morning, but the fire crackled merrily and provided enough warmth for Reverend Nicholson, his wife Sarah, and their new tenant, Daphne.
The young lady tried her best to be of help around the house, setting the table. Being busy made her less anxious, too.
“Thank you again, my dear,” Mrs. Nicholson said, looking at her fondly. “It must not have been a good experience to run errands at night.”
“It was no trouble at all, Mrs. Nicholson,” Daphne insisted, smiling as she ensured everything was well-arranged on the table.
The errand had not been particularly vexing.
She enjoyed the freedom of being a village girl, walking around without the pressure of other people’s judgment.
Until the night had closed in around her and she realized that she’d tarried too long in her task, she had been experiencing a series of peaceful moments.
That tranquility had been slightly disrupted by the rain as well as the stranger.
The stranger…
She had been unable to forget him, even though she knew better than to make an acquaintance such as his while hiding.
But it was difficult to reject the images which floated in front of her mind’s eye.
She envisioned all over again the tall, broad-shouldered stranger with wolfish, amber eyes, who teased her mercilessly.
He had toed the line established by Society and pushed her to see how far her boundaries were. But his questions and coy smiles ultimately did not do her any harm. He had surprised her, certainly, but had not forced her into any awkward situations.
She spent a moment thinking of what might have happened if the rain had not relented, but then, just outside the front window, she noticed a flicker of movement.
Daphne inhaled sharply, crossed the room in two quick strides, and hid behind the heavy draperies.
“Are you unwell, my child?” Mrs. Nicholson questioned, looking genuinely worried. She must have noticed the way Daphne peered back and forth out the windows.
In truth, Daphne was still rattled about Briarwood. More than once since she’d come to stay with the reverend and his wife, she had imagined him stalking outside the windows.
In her imagination, he skulked from one shadow to the other, watching her every movement, waiting for her to emerge from the house so he could startle her.
She slowly eased the curtain away from the window and peeked outside.
No one’s there. Thank goodness.
As the erratic beating of her heart slowed, a sense of disappointment visited her.
Hmm… that’s peculiar.
She raised a hand, placed it on her chest, and took several labored breaths. Then, the image of the tall stranger returned to the forefront of her mind, and she wondered if perhaps he might come calling today.
It would be the gentlemanly thing to do, would it not? If he was as interested in me as he claimed to be, he ought to come and introduce himself properly.
“Uh, yes, I am well, Mrs. Nicholson,” Daphne replied, a little flustered. “I’m merely tired, but also… getting used to being in a new place. Who—Do you have any neighbors around here? That is, beyond the village?”
This time, it was the Reverend who answered, setting down his mug. “Our nearest neighbor is the Duke of Wolfcrest. He owns a large portion of the land in this village. He keeps to himself. He is fair and discreet and has given none of us any trouble.”
A Duke?
Daphne froze for a moment, thinking of the man who teased her yet kept his distance. While she had been anxious at first, he had never given her reason to feel unsafe.
“Do you…do you owe your living to His Grace?” Daphne asked.
“There were clergymen in the past who served the previous Dukes, but my predecessor was hired by the villagers.” Reverend Nicholason took a slow sip of his hot beverage.
“Following his example, I work for this community and only interact with His Grace when it is necessary.” He paused and his brow wrinkled.
“The Duke of Wolfcrest can be a… formidable fellow… so…”
“Formidable? Ha!” Mrs. Nicholason interrupted. “I suppose that’s one way to describe His Grace.” Her eyes glazed slightly as she sighed dreamily. “It is a mighty good thing that we do not cross his path often. A lady could lose her wits just looking at him.”
“Fortunately, you keep your senses in check… usually,” the Reverend said as he sent his wife an indulgent look.
Then the older woman blushed, making Daphne chuckle in surprise.
“Sarah,” the Reverend said dryly, shaking his head.
There was no anger in his voice, though. Daphne wondered what it was like to be married to someone she can jest with without the fear of being scolded or laughed at ridiculously. A union like that had to be so pleasant, just like it was with the Reverend and his wife.
“I—I only meant, well, you are a man, but you have eyes,” Mrs. Nicholson stammered, even as she kept her sweet smile and blushing face. “One can’t help but notice how handsome the Duke is when it is so apparent.”
Daphne’s own cheeks warmed. She’d noticed his attractiveness, as well.
That must be why I stayed back underneath the archway, with a man who was a mere stranger. There was something about him that pulled me towards him.
An image of the man reaching for her basket and carrying the heavy burden for a short time invaded her thoughts.
I could have just ran in the rain. What was being soaked when my virtue was at stake?
But could the man she met last night really have been this Duke?
Daphne knew plenty of powerful men and not one of them went any place without an entire entourage surrounding them. Surely, a Duke would have been safely ensconced in a carriage last night. At the least, a gentleman of his stature would have been on horseback.
But this man…the one she’d encountered—he had appeared much like a commoner. Oh yes, he spoke eloquently enough and was dressed in finely tailored attire, but he was rambling down the path just as she had been.
“When was the last time you saw the Duke of Wolfcrest?” Daphne asked, attempting to make her voice sound casual.
The reverend and his wife exchanged a glance. “I do not recall,” Sarah answered at last. “He flits in and around town quite a bit, but I would never dare interrupt his business there.”
“And you, Reverend?” Daphne prompted the man.
He shrugged indifferently. “It is not impossible that you should catch a glimpse of him while you are here with us, my dear, but do not allow yourself to become concerned. The Duke spends quite a bit of time here, in our village. He will not disturb our peace in any way, nor will he recognize you and tell others you have come to stay with us.”
Daphne frowned. For one moment, she had forgotten that she was in hiding. Thinking of the handsome stranger, wondering when he might pop up again, had preoccupied her thoughts.
Now that the reverend reminded her of the situation, she chided herself for asking questions and seeking to know more.
If there is a Duke next door, I must do all I can to avoid him.
For the rest of breakfast, the trio talked about more benign things.
Daphne would like to have this kind of easy breakfast, with no arguments and criticism from her mother.
Yet, her sister, Victoria, was never far from her thoughts.
She wondered what her twin would think of such an easygoing morning.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted the peace.