Chapter 6
The butler gave a discreet cough as he paused by the open doorway of Kyra’s workroom. “You have a visitor, milady.”
Surprised, she turned from her easel.
Who would visit?
“Forgive me for intruding, Lady Kyra.” Rafael moved to stand alongside Gorman.
“It was such a fine day, I decided to take a walk from the folly, and the path led to here. So, I thought I would stop in to pay my regards, but only if I am not intruding on your work. I would not want you to start thinking of me as an unwelcome distraction.”
A distraction. The handsome Spaniard was certainly that, and though she should—she must—consider him an unwelcome one, she couldn’t help but feel a flutter of happiness.
“You are never intruding, sir.” Kyra set aside her brush. “You must be tired and thirsty after such a long trek.” To the butler she added, “Gorman, kindly have tea and cakes brought to the west parlor.”
“Yes, milady.”
“Please follow me,” she said, joining Rafael in the corridor and then leading the way to an airy, sun-filled room with glass-paned doors overlooking the back gardens.
Draperies made of floral chintz framed the tall windows, the soft colors reflected in the pastel upholstery of the furniture.
The effect created a feeling of buttery warmth.
“What a pleasant place,” he remarked, after pausing to admire a set of hand-colored botanical engravings of roses.
“Yes, it is especially nice in the afternoon.” Kyra took a seat on the sofa and gestured for him to join her. “Your leg looks to be getting stronger,” she said as he settled himself on the cushions.
“The doctors advised daily exercise, and walking does seem to be helping.” He glanced at her skirts. “You, too, seem to be making great strides in recovering.”
“I suppose so.” In truth, she felt a little guilty that her limp was nearly gone. “Somehow, it seems . . .” Kyra bit her lip. Somehow, he was so easy to talk to that she had nearly blurted out her innermost feelings.
As he shifted to stare out the window, a blade of sunlight cut over his handsome face, accentuating the fine lines etched around his eyes by the rigors of war and its aftermath.
She looked away, reminding herself that she mustn’t think of him as a kindred soul. Yes, that they had suffered loss of a loved one was an undeniable bond. But their situations were so achingly different.
“Somehow it seems unfair that you should be whole while a loved one is gone,” he said after a few long moments.
“Yes, I know. I feel just as you do. However, I have thought a great deal about that over the last five months, and have come to the conclusion that yes, life is terribly unfair, but I think both your sister and Jack would wish for us to live it to the fullest, as . . . as a celebration of their spirit.”
Kyra pondered his words while the maid entered and set the tea tray on the table.
“It is not easy to push aside guilt,” said Rafael once they were alone. “But please give some consideration to what I have said.”
“I—I shall,” she replied, for he was too kind for her to say otherwise. Though at heart, she couldn’t imagine ever truly forgiving herself for what had happened.
“Bueno. And now we shall talk of more cheerful things.” He helped himself to a strawberry tart and polished it off in three quick bites. “An idea occurred to me as I was walking here. I plan to return to London in a few days to purchase a few more supplies at the Covent Garden market.”
She had wondered at the reason for his previous journey to London.
There were, of course, any number of pleasures that would draw a gentleman to Town.
But shopping for foodstuffs? His interests were so unusual—and intriguing.
At times he appeared so solemn, so serious, then with mercurial quickness, a whimsical lightness could chase the shadows from his eyes.
His next words, however, jarred her from her musings.
“I thought perhaps you might care to accompany me. There is all manner of exotic produce sold there, including cacao pods from the Caribbean. So you could purchase some to paint here in your workroom.”
The luscious shades of red and orange flashed in her mind’s eye.
“And if you had your own pods, you would be free to cut them open and try your hand at depicting the interior, which has an interesting range of creamy colors.”
The suggestion was oh-so tempting. But Kyra shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t intend to return to London.” Ever.
“I understand your reluctance.” Rafael rose and went to stand by the glass-paned doors.
Unlike most bucks of the ton, he didn’t feel the need to pontificate or push his point of view on his listeners.
He was comfortable with silence and his own thoughts.
It was one of the many things she found appealing about him.
Several more moments passed before he continued, “But be assured that ladies like the marchioness and her daughters don’t ever go to Covent Garden. It’s filled with ordinary people—kitchen maids, hawkers, greengrocers, farmers, and seamen from all over the globe.”
He paused, as if searching for the right words. “How to explain the atmosphere—it’s noisy, it’s bustling with a raucous energy. There’s much good-natured haggling and cursing in a dozen different languages.” His mouth curled up at the corners. “It will be fun. I promise.”
“You make it sound—” Kyra looked around abruptly as the parlor door swung open.
“My dear. Oh, forgive me.” The duke stopped short on the threshold. “I did not realize you had company.”
“Papa, I don’t believe you have yet met Lord Hendrie’s nephew.”
“Ah, the new Lord Leete.” Pierpont approached and extended a hand. “Welcome, sir. Welcome.”
Rafael accepted the greeting with good grace, though she could see that being called by Jack’s title pricked like a thorn every time he heard it. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
“His Lordship and I have met several times while out walking by the lake, Papa,” explained Kyra. “And we also encountered each other at Kew Gardens. He has an interest in botany.”
“Indeed?” Pierpont quickly masked his look of surprise. “A scholar as well as a soldier, I see.”
“Merely a beginning student, though I confess that the subject does hold an allure for me. I am especially interested in Theobroma cacao, which is more commonly known as chocolate,” Rafael explained, “I am trying to convince your daughter to come with me to the Covent Garden market in London, where it’s possible to buy specimens. ”
The duke’s brows shot up in surprise.
“It seemed that Lady Kyra found the plant interesting at Kew Gardens. And on the whole, the market is quite fascinating for an artist,” added Rafael. “That is, Your Grace, if you have no objection.”
The duke slanted a look at Kyra. “Why, I think that’s quite a splendid idea, Leete.”
“I am not sure your daughter agrees,” said Rafael. “But I hope she will consider it.”
He had painted such an appealing picture of the place. And it sounded as if she would be anonymous in the crowd.
No catty whispers, no hurtful snubs.
Kyra carefully collected the cups and plates and placed them back on the tray while her father and their visitor exchanged pleasantries about the local area. Yes or no? She knew the safe answer, the sensible answer.
Ah, but when did she ever choose caution over danger?
“I will,” she finally announced. “Consider it, that is.”
“Excellent.” Rafael gave another glance at the engravings on the wall. “Did I mention there is a stand that sells potted orchids?”
“Orchids?” Did the man possess magical powers? How did he guess at her fascination with the delicate blooms?
“In a variety of colors.”
Oh, definitely a warlock.
“Pink?” asked Kyra hesitantly.
“A deep, dusky pink, as I recall.”
“When were you planning to make this trip, sir?”
“Ah, as to that, I have made no final plans. Is there a day that might suit you?”
“I am dispatching my under steward to Town to pick up a batch of books on agriculture from Hatchards on the day after tomorrow,” said the duke.
“The two of you could ride with him in the traveling coach. The new team of matched grays flies through the miles, so it will be an easy trip there and back.”
Clasping his hands behind his back, Rafael raised one dark brow in question, waiting for her to answer.
“I . . .”
Her father looked to be holding his breath.
“I have to admit that I find the prospect of cacao and orchids too tempting to resist.”
“Then it’s settled!” Seeing her father’s jaw unclench was worth the doubts that still roiled inside her. Perhaps it had been an error of judgment to agree. But there were already enough mistakes chalked on her slate that one more really wouldn’t make any difference.
“It is getting late, so I had best be returning to Hendrie Hall.” Rafael inclined a small bow to both of them. “Thank you for your hospitality to an uninvited guest.”
“Nonsense. You need never stand on ceremony, Leete,” replied the duke. “Our neighbors are always welcome here.” He beckoned for Rafael to follow him. “Come, I shall show you out as I have a book that I would like to send along with you for your uncle.”
Kyra rose to bid him farewell.
As Rafael passed, he said, “Wear old clothes and be prepared to enjoy yourself.”
“Watch your step,” counseled Rafael as they made their way along narrow cobbled passageway leading up from the Strand. “There are a great many substances underfoot that I don’t care to identify.”
“Ah.” An ominous squish emanated from beneath Kyra’s half boot. “I believe that was a rotten cabbage.”
“I didn’t realize your botanical expertise extended to vegetables.” He grinned, happy to see she was taking the adventure in stride. “I would have guessed it was a turnip.”
“No, there were definitely leaves involved.”
Shadows flitted overhead. Only a dappling of sunlight penetrated the overhanging eaves, making the space seem even more pinched. Sounds were funneling down from the market, an ever-loudening cacophony of shouts and thumps amplified by the soot-dark brick of the buildings pressing in around them.