Chapter 15 #2
“I hope you won’t be disappointed when you discover my many foibles,” he said wryly.
Kyra reached for his hand and lifted it to her lips. “You could never disappoint me,” she said, brushing a kiss to the back of his knuckles.
They walked on in companionable silence, skirting the apple orchard and making their way up the sloping lawns to the back terrace.
“If you wish for me to come in and speak with your Father, I would be happy to do so,” he said.
“You are fighting enough of my battles for me. This is one that I must handle myself.”
“Trust—you must trust yourself. Just remember, whatever you choose to tell your father, our real plans must remain a secret. Matherton mustn’t guess that he will be dancing to a very unpleasant tune at Jack’s ball.
” A glance showed that none of the gardeners were working close by, so he caught her in a quick embrace. “I must be off, then. Until later.”
“Please promise me to be careful, Rafael,” she said abruptly as he turned to retrace his steps.
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, querida. I am always a very cautious fellow. War quickly teaches you never to underestimate an enemy.”
“It’s just that I’ve come to see that Matherton is diabolically cunning and has no scruples. That makes him dangerous.”
“So am I,” he replied quietly. “Far more than he is when those I love are threatened.”
The shadows clouding her gaze lightened.
“You need not be fearful on my account,” he went on. “And as for you, I wouldn’t leave you if I thought there was any chance of trouble.”
Though a touch of trepidation lingered, she forced a small laugh. “I feel quite safe with Hero and Harriet guarding against any mischief.”
“A formidable pair, indeed.” Rafael pressed his fingers to his lips and blew her a kiss. “Adios, querida. Unless I am much mistaken, when I return, I shall have the means to make Matherton quickly learn he has made a grave mistake in thinking you are alone and at the mercy of his machinations.”
Kyra paused in front of the foyer mirror to remove her bonnet and re-pin the errant wisps of windblown hair.
How strange, she mused, touching her fingertips to where Rafael’s kiss still tingled on her lips.
Her face appeared unchanged a whit since her morning ablutions, and yet she felt like an entirely different person.
Like a phoenix, rising in multi-colored splendor from a pile of ash-gray coals. A fanciful, fairytale image, perhaps. But she was in a fanciful, fairy tale sort of mood, where happily-ever-after stories seemed possible.
A magical bird could be reborn with glorious new plumage. A sleeping princess could be awoken from a dark, deathlike sleep by a prince’s kiss.
Her dreamy sigh fogged the glass, drawing her back from such thoughts. She quickly straightened her bodice and smoothed her skirts, then turned resolutely and headed for the stairs.
The duke was at work in his study. A gruff growl answered her knock, but undeterred, she pushed the door open.
“Forgive me for disturbing you Papa, but might I have a word with you?”
“Oh, it’s you, my dear, of course, of course.” Grimacing, he took off his spectacles and dropped them on the blotter. “I thought it was Mifflin, come to badger me about planting mangel-wurzels instead of turnips in the south fields.”
“You are opposed to the idea?”
“All these havey-cavey ideas about agriculture,” grumbled the duke. “I would much rather have my nose buried in a history book than a boring treatise on soil nutrients and crop rotation.”
“You are very fond of Mifflin,” she reminded him. “And all his other suggestions have turned out very well.”
He blew out his cheeks. “So they have.” A grin tugged at his mouth. “I will eventually allow myself to be dragged into the new century, but I shall go kicking and screaming.”
“I cannot quite picture you kicking and screaming, Papa. You are far too distinguished. And besides, your valet would swoon if you were to scuff the mirror-like gloss of your Hessians. Gorman confided to me that, like Brummel, he uses champagne in his special polish.”
Her father chuckled. “Does he? I shall have to add a new lock to the wine cellar.” The laughter then slowly faded from his face.
“Do I appear such a pompous popinjay to you?” he asked hesitantly.
“I know it was very hard on you girls, losing your mother at such an early age. I have tried, but . . .”
Kyra crossed the carpet and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You have been a wonderful parent, Papa. It is I who have . . .” She drew in a deep breath. “But perhaps we should both stop looking to the past and focus on the future.”
He covered her hand with his.
“As to that, I wish to discuss a matter concerning the upcoming ball.”
“If there is a problem with the hothouses and the flowers?—”
“No, no, the flowers are looking splendid. It has to do with . . .”
How to broach the subject? Despite Rafael’s encouragement, it still was not easy to speak about her folly, especially to her father.
But as the silence grew louder, Rafael’s words began to echo softly inside her head. Trustlovetrustlove.
Trust. Love. Trust love.
“It has to do with Lord Matherton.”
The duke’s eyes clouded with concern.