Chapter 7
Secrets.
If she thought he was ever going to tell them, she was going to be extremely disappointed.
He wasn’t ashamed of his secrets or embarrassed, but there were others involved in his secrets who had made him promise to never tell, and he would never ever betray them. One didn’t betray sisters and brothers who lived in happy anonymity.
Yes, siblings, several of them.
His father had been a wandering fellow who had no problem with making children wherever he went. Most lords did, but most lords took care of their children. Even those that weren’t legitimate.
His father had not. Which made him the worst sort. When the old man had died, Peter had not thought he could think any less of the man.
He’d been mistaken.
When he had found the countless letters written to his father begging for aid, he had been sick, and he had immediately gone about finding his half-brothers and his half-sisters, making amends to them.
As a matter of fact, he went weekly to the theater, not because he particularly loved the theater, but he went to see his sister perform. She was one of the most famous actresses of the day.
People often thought he went to the theater, as most men did, to find a new mistress. But no, he was going to watch his sister act and show that he was proud of her, but he never did go backstage.
They often had to meet out of the city if they wanted to have a conversation because otherwise, well, people would be people.
He had several young siblings tucked away with their mothers in a beautiful house by the sea with tutors and good food and lots of people to take care of them.
It wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
And none of them wanted to be associated with the Skyburn title.
And so Lady Ruby would never know his secrets, because he would never let her grow close enough to gain the trust of his actress sister, or his brother who was a writer in Yorkshire, or another brother who had gone up to Scotland and loved to hike the forest there on Peter’s most northern estate.
But he wouldn’t mind reveling with her because, dear God in heaven, she was exciting. So, when she all but seized his hand, as she had done to lead him on the dance floor, and took him out into the hall? He followed her without hesitation.
He wondered if people were staring. Perhaps they were. Did he care? Not in that particular moment. And when she didn’t stop but kept going, he waited for them to go outside. But no sight of the gardens came.
“Where exactly are we going?” he asked as she led him through candlelit halls tossed with shadows.
She looked back over her ruffled shoulder, her curls tumbling down her back, the jewels in her hair gleaming as she gave him a mischievous grin. “To see something scandalous,” she said.
“Now, don’t be tempting,” he said. “Just how scandalous could it be here in the Duke of Rivers’ house?”
“Very scandalous indeed,” she enthused.
And he wondered if she was about to find a little nook and hide them in it. She certainly seemed as if she was capable of it. But much to his shock, she pulled him into the Duke of Rivers’ library.
It was an extremely large affair with more than one level.
“Isn’t it amazing?” she gushed.
He laughed. He could not help himself. “Yes, it is.”
“What?” she asked. “Why are you laughing?”
“I did not think this was where you were going to take me,” he said.
She waggled her brows at him, then propped a rather saucy hand on her curved hip which caused her skirts to tease her stockinged ankles.
“Do you think all excitement is carnal?” she purred.
“Not at all,” he assured, though his body longed to argue otherwise at present. “There are many kinds of excitement.”
“From horses to plants finally flowering to the stars up above to books,” she gushed.
“How true,” he said. “Books are a wonder of the world.”
“Seditious books,” she clarified.
“Excuse me?” he rasped.
“Come on.” She grabbed his hand. “I’m going to show you a secret collection.”
“How do you know it’s here?” he asked suddenly, wondering if maybe Rivers was a dark horse and Rivers was plotting to marry her too.
Did everyone want to marry Lady Ruby Reynolds? Perhaps they did. Except him, of course. Except he did. He most definitely did. And bloody hell, perhaps he was going to have to steal her before anyone else tried to.
“Are you jealous?” she asked. “Do you think the Duke of Rivers gave me a private tour earlier?” she asked, her eyes dancing.
“I don’t know. Did he?”
She grinned. “Yes, he did, actually.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
She pursed her lips, lips which begged to be kissed, and said quite collectedly, “He thought I would find this particularly interesting because he knows that I’m interested in the writings of Thomas Paine, Voltaire, Montaine, and several of the leading voices—”
“In revolution?” he groaned.
“Yes.”
“So it wasn’t exactly a tête-a-tète, was it?” he said.
“Well, it depends on what you think a tête-a-tète is,” she said with a shrug of her delicate shoulders.
“If you were thinking that he and I were embracing passionately upon a settee, gazing into each other’s eyes, planning debauchery,” she said, “then no, it was not. Rivers is the most interesting fellow, but he has too many layers for me, and I do not have the energy to unwrap him.”
He choked on a laugh.
It was a succinct way of describing the duke. It was true. He didn’t know if anyone would actually be able to understand the Duke of Rivers. He was a good man with a good soul, but he certainly did keep his heart under lock and key, and many of his thoughts as well.
Rivers was like one of those little Russian doll boxes, where when one opened it, they simply found another doll and then another after that, and another, and another.
He wondered if anyone would ever be able to get down to the heart and soul of that man, and clearly Lady Ruby was not interested in trying, though she found him interesting.
“Right,” he said. “You’re going to show me books.”
“Yes,” she said, beaming.
Slowly, she wandered through the library to the back, whereupon they found a small door, which had been decorated to look like a bookshelf.
She opened the fake shelf and slipped through.
He hesitated for a single moment, feeling as if this was one of those deciding moments in his life. But he couldn’t go back. He had to follow her. So, he did. He slipped inside and quickly found himself pressed up against her.
It was most welcome but also damned difficult. His body wanted to focus on her and getting her into his arms in such a small space. But his mind? His mind knew she wanted a very different sort of attention.
The room had been done up almost like a shrine. She quickly lit the single lantern in the room, and they were bathed in the golden glow of that single dancing flame.
She let out a sigh of contentment, slipped her hand to the books, then trailed her fingertips over the bindings as if she was touching a lover.
“Bliss,” she breathed.
“So you don’t just like horses then?” he teased softly.
She glanced back over her shoulder. “Horses are amazing, but my mind is just as fast as the rest of me, and if I do not give it something to chew upon—”
“You chew on those about you?”
She stared at him and beamed. “Indeed, I will. I’m a terrible sort when my brain is not stimulated. Are you the same?”
He nodded. Oh, how he was. “Tell me what stimulates it.”
“Freedom,” she said.
“Freedom,” he echoed.
“Yes,” she said firmly, gazing up at him without a hint of manipulation or deception. Her look was completely earnest.
And that? Oh, that did something to him.
“Aren’t you free enough?” he breathed.
“No, I’m not. Not really. I’m lucky,” She licked her beautiful lips.
“That’s different. But if I had been born anybody else, I wouldn’t be free at all.
Oh, I would be free in the sense that I am not a slave.
But if I was not going to be a future earl myself, well, my life would be very different.
I would be owned by a husband. I would not be able to have property. I…”
“Yes,” he said, “I am aware of the lot of women.”
“Oh, how good of you,” she said, “that you are aware of the lot of women. Huzzah!”
He groaned, longing to twine his hands with hers, to pull her to him.
“Fair point to you. It is the bare minimum, I suppose, that as a lord of this realm, I am aware of the difficulties of being a lady,” he said.
He hesitated. Not wanting to take away from her speech.
But then he found himself saying gently, “Most people are not free. Even men are not free, really, in this country.”
“You can’t have a say in anything unless you own property,” she said, “and that doesn’t seem right. Most people in this country don’t own property, and they never will.”
“It’s not different, really, in America,” he said.
She sighed. “It is different, but you’re also not wrong. If a man doesn’t own property there, he also can’t vote. And of course, men can be property there. But it does seem as if at least the idea of freedom is more alive there than here.”
“The ladies don’t have the vote there,” he said.
“It’s true. But must we just talk about one imperfect revolution, sir? I’m not only speaking about history,” she said. “I speak of the freedom that is to come.”
He frowned. “That revolution is not very historical. It feels like it just happened.”
“In many ways, it did,” she whispered.
“And I fear another is going to happen too,” he said.
She blinked, her face growing serious. “You understand that too?” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly alert in a way that she hadn’t been before.
“That it is happening? That the world is bubbling over, that the people can’t take it anymore?
They’ve borne it long enough. For it seems everyone else out in that ballroom has no wish to know. ”
He let out a long sigh, his jaw tightening, his gut tightening too, for when he allowed himself to think of the future, he felt a certain dread.