Chapter 13 #2
There was a sparkling intensity to her eyes, the nuanced hues rich and vibrant, in contrast to the dull flatness of their first few meetings. Never would he allow her to be robbed of that vitality again. She deserved light and laughter, not darkness and despair.
“We shall arrange such an evening,” answered Rafael. “But be forewarned that I may put you work helping to prepare the ingredients.
“Having traveled to some far more primitive places that the mansions of Mayfair, I am no stranger to cooking,” replied Harriet.
“Nor am I,” added Theo. “It may surprise you gentlemen, but we ladies acquire a variety of practical skills in our dealings with estate tenants.”
Rafael was fast learning not to underestimate the mettle of the cosseted, sheltered daughters of the beau monde. The delicate frills and fluttery ribbons often hid a sharp intellect and a spine of steel.
“My grandmother was extraordinarily accomplished in a great many fields, so I assure you, I am not surprised by how capable you are.” He lifted the lid from the box of chocolates.
“So I propose a toast of sorts. I have fashioned these confections with a center of buttercream flavored with champagne.”
Three feminine sighs sounded in unison.
“You really must teach me how to make those,” quipped Jack. “It seems that a gentleman needs only chocolate to make him irresistible.”
“You will need more than sugar and spices to make your sharp-tongued humor palatable to the ladies,” shot back Rafael.
His cousin grinned. “I’m willing to take my chances.”
“You two may trade barbs, but while you do . . .” Kyra rose and scooped up the box from his lap. “We ever-practical ladies will feast on these treats.” A wink to her new friends. “We may leave you a taste if you behave.”
“No promises,” interjected Harriet as Kyra offered her the selection of sweets. She took one of the nut-brown balls and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes closed, and for several moments there was silence.
Rafael shifted in his seat. Perhaps the wine was not such an inspired choice after all. Had it soured?—
His worries were cut short by a blissful purr.
“That,” announced Harriet with a dreamy smile, “is absolutely divine.”
Theo quickly helped herself to one, followed by Kyra.
“You will make some lucky lady very happy, sir,” went on Harriet.
“Sorry.” Kyra cleared her sudden sputter with a cough. “A piece of walnut caught in my throat.”
“As you see, I need your help to make them just perfect.” Rafael turned to the others. “Lady Kyra is a dab hand at mincing nuts.”
“Lady Kyra possesses a number of exquisite talents,” replied Harriet.
Two hot spots of color blossomed on Kyra’s cheeks.
“She does,” he said softly. “In any number of ways.”
“Let us not wax too lyrical. She has her faults, as I know well.” Jack took two confections and casually gobbled them down in one quick swallow. “She can be maddeningly impetuous and stubborn.”
Kyra huffed an aggrieved protest.
He grinned. “But I adore her all the same.”
As he reached for another chocolate, she caught his hand. “Feeding you Mr. Greeley’s creations are akin to casting pearls before swine. They are meant to be savored, like fine wine or vintage brandy.”
“Oh, there’s an excellent idea. Next time, do try brandy, cuz. Fire is even more potent than fizz.”
“I think the ladies appreciate a more subtle mix of flavors,” pointed out Rafael.
“Quite likely.” replied Jack. “Clearly you understand the feminine mind better than I do.”
Harriet let out a low snort. “True. Otherwise you would not have eaten the last confection.”
Rising, Jack made a show of flexing his lanky limbs. “On that note, perhaps it’s time to take my leave. My sterling qualities seem cast in the shade by my cousin’s unique talents.”
“You are not without your own charms,” responded Harriet, as she gathered her skirts and rose gracefully from the sofa cushions. “And we shall allow you to regale us with them during the carriage ride back to Northfield.”
“Speak for yourself,” said Theo. “Though I may be coaxed into forgiving you for snatching the last bit of champagne buttercream if you promise to ask me to dance at your homecoming ball.
I usually spend all my time sitting with the matrons, and for once I would like to twirl across the polished parquet in the arms of a dashing gentleman.
Capable of faultless manners when he so chose, Jack swept into a gallant bow. “Consider yourself claimed for the first waltz, Lady Theodora.”
“And the second,” added Rafael. “That is, if you don’t mind dodging my clumsy steps. I warn you, I don’t dance well, so there is a good chance you’ll be nursing sore toes by the time the music has ended.”
Theo turned shell pink. “I did not mean to sound so encroaching, sirs! The waltzes are the highlight of the ball and should be saved?—”
“For the most interesting, alluring ladies of our acquaintance,” interrupted Rafael. “Please don’t say no. Or we won’t have the courage to ask Miss Farnum or Lady Kyra as well.”
“I, um . . . yes,” stammered Mary. “If you put it that way.”
“Excellent! That settles it,” exclaimed Jack. “The three of you must consider yourselves engaged to stand up with us, and we shall not allow you to fob us off for another of your many admirers.”
“Very well,” said Harriet dryly. “We shall beat them off with a stick.” Turning to Rafael, she asked, “Do you wish to come along with us in the carriage?”
“No, no, my cousin has some artistic matters he wishes to discuss with Kyra,” replied Jack smoothly before he could answer. “Chocolate, art . . .” A sly wink. “Poetry.”
“Sounds like a very interesting conversation,” Harriet said.
“So come along, ladies.” A quick wave urged his two companions toward the door. “Let us be on our way.” After a flurry of farewells, the trio took their leave, and in short order, the echo of their steps in the corridor faded to silence.
“Poetry?” inquired Kyra.
Rafael’s face went through a series of odd little contortions. “You know Jack. He often enjoys stirring the coals and bringing the pot to a bubble.”
“Ah.” She couldn’t resist a little teasing of her own. “So you do wish to talk about cooking?”
“Not really.” He shifted, and the sunlight hung for a moment on his lashes, lighting the fleck of gold in his chocolate-dark eyes.
A clench of longing squeezed at her chest.
“Though I do hope you enjoyed the confections,” he went on. “The idea came to me on a whim.”
“Artistic inspiration often does,” she replied. “They were sublime.” You are sublime, though I shouldn’t dare think it, and most assuredly shouldn’t dare say it. “I do hope you wrote down the recipe.”
“I did.” His expression turned more serious. “As for my next words, I haven’t made any notes, so they may not turn out quite as well.”
Kyra waited warily for him to continue.
“The fact is, I have a favor to ask of you.”
His tentative half smile, a subtle curl of his sensuous lips, made her bones feel as if they were made of butter. Warm butter. She looked away, trying not to let her resolve melt. “Yes?”
He closed the distance between them with two swift steps. The heat of him prickled against her skin. “I would like for you to trust me with whatever secret you are hiding.”
Impossible.
“You’ve asked that before,” she answered softly.
“And I will ask it again, and again, until you agree.” He reached out and gently tilted up her chin. “I am a very stubborn fellow.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. But you won’t.” His smile became more pronounced. “My English is still a little ragged, but I do know the difference between those two words.”
In that instant, Kyra would have gladly journeyed to Hell and back if he had asked it of her. But this . . .
“It’s too shameful,” she whispered. It was one thing to confess Matherton’s threat. But the heart of her former fiancé’s hold over her was something more elemental, and she knew she couldn’t bear to be anything less than honest with Rafael about it.
“We all do things that we regret, querida. There is nothing shameful in that. It simply means we are human, and far from perfect.”
“The rumors are true,” she blurted out. “I am a broken vessel?”
Rafael made a show of studying her face, which only made her flesh take on a hotter burn. She was sure she must be glowing scarlet—an apt hue for a wanton jade.
“How strange,” he commented. “I see no cracks or chips.”
“It’s not a jest, sir.”
“It wasn’t meant as one.”
She hitched in a breath, and then, having no idea how to respond, let it out in a ragged sigh.
“If you are ruined, then so am I.” A glint of humor rippled through his gaze. “And, I daresay, so are a great many more people than we might imagine.”
“It’s different for you. Men are allowed—nay, they are expected—to sow their wild oats.”
“Surely a lady as wise as you are has figured out that such self-serving blather is because it is men who have written the rules over the centuries.”
Amusement welled up in her throat. “Oh, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s wrong. It’s wicked.”
“Of course you should. Humor is needed most when things are grimly serious.” His arms circled her shoulders, and all at once, Kyra found herself nestled against his chest, the steady beat of his heart resonating through her whole body.
Had he kissed her, the spell might have been broken. However, Rafael simply held her close, and by some enchantment, a feeling of peace seemed to pulse through her, overwhelming all her doubts and fears.
“You are the most confusingly wonderful man in the world,” she whispered against the soft melton wool of his coat. “I know that makes absolutely no sense but my whole world seems to have turned topsy-turvy of late.”
“It makes perfect sense. Life is full of confusions and contradictions. It makes you ache abominably, only to fill you with joy at the most unexpected moments.” He gently stroked his finger across her cheek. “We must simply do our best to keep our equilibrium through all the highs and lows.”
“Even if the lows seem to plunge you into a chasm deeper and darker than the pits of Hell.”
Without hesitation, Rafael answered with a firm “Yes.”