Part 2 (1/2)
”Fine! What if you steal her just long enough for Edward to come back to his senses? Then you won't have to marry her.”
”But Edward never had any sense to begin with, so I don't see how he could come back to it.”
She paused, then the edge of her lip drew up in a coy smile. ”Oh, I see,” she said. ”You don't think you can take her from Edward?”
”That's not fair!” he warned, backing away. ”How can you use my feelings-”
”You could be handsome. Very handsome and-and das.h.i.+ng, if you tried. Just look- look at you.” Her nose wrinkled as if he were a rotting cabbage.
He looked down. What was wrong? A few mud smears on his trousers. He twisted around to inspect his coat tails. Maybe something was peculiar there? A few gra.s.s stains, nothing to cause such evident offense. ”What?”
”You're so provincial! When you get to London, go to Schweitzer and Davidson. They're all the crack, I've heard. Go and tell them you're hopeless.”
Kesseley thought of his father's closets, filled with hundreds of cravats, gold and diamond pins and s.h.i.+ning shoes-never mind the tenants' homes falling in or the barren fields. ”You don't know what you are talking about.”
”I do! Charlotte says her cousin Nigel said that Lady Sara's mother heard from Lady Sara's lady's maid that Lady Sara hides The Mysterious Lord Blackraven The Mysterious Lord Blackraven under her mattress. So it's very easy-you must become das.h.i.+ng and handsome like her hero, Lord Blackraven.” under her mattress. So it's very easy-you must become das.h.i.+ng and handsome like her hero, Lord Blackraven.”
”Henrietta, you're a little upset, and you're not being rational.”
”But you can be Lord Blackraven! You're so clever. It will be easy for you. You just have to turn your mind to it. I mean, look what you've done getting Wrenthorpe set to rights.”
He wasn't going to argue that last point.
She pulled a leather volume from her pile. ”So, in The Mysterious Lord Blackraven, The Mysterious Lord Blackraven, Lord Blackraven is dark and brooding, just like you were when all those weevils ate your peas that year. He saves Arabellina's life only to find out she is engaged to his half brother. Lord Blackraven tries to avoid Arabellina, but his pa.s.sion grows. She resists him because he has a terrible reputation, and she feels honor bound to marry his half brother who everyone thinks is good, but who is really evil. So, Lord Blackraven kills his half brother. It's not murder though-” Lord Blackraven is dark and brooding, just like you were when all those weevils ate your peas that year. He saves Arabellina's life only to find out she is engaged to his half brother. Lord Blackraven tries to avoid Arabellina, but his pa.s.sion grows. She resists him because he has a terrible reputation, and she feels honor bound to marry his half brother who everyone thinks is good, but who is really evil. So, Lord Blackraven kills his half brother. It's not murder though-”
”Please stop. Where did you get these?”
She drew up tall, jutting her chin out. ”They're mine. I read novels. novels.”
”This Lord Blackbird, you really admire him?”
”Lord Blackraven,” she corrected. ”He is romantic, I suppose.” She looked beyond the river, over the patchwork of fields stretching to the horizon. ”He lets me escape, feel pa.s.sion, be me-the real me-not the lady trapped in this village, listening to the same boring gossip over and over. I thought my life would be so much more than it is. I refuse to believe this- this-” she motioned about her, ”-is all it will ever be.”
Kesseley studied the weeping willow branches dipping into the water, and the silver minnows darting about the sh.o.r.es. Then his gaze moved beyond the tranquil river to his fields. When he had inherited his estate, the fields hadn't been plowed in three decades and a hoe could barely break the hard, eroded surface. Now neat rows, sprouting with tender green wheat stretched to the horizon. He couldn't understand Henrietta, that she would sacrifice this paradise. He examined her face, blotched and stained with tears. What would make this woman happy?
He took the volumes from her hands. ”I will read them,” he said quietly.
Henrietta's face brightened. ”So you will help me?”
”No.”
”Give me my books! I should have known. You're so uncaring. Edward will marry Lady Sara, and I will be stuck in this awful place for the rest of my life with all these sheep and chickens and nothingness.” She buried her head in his chest, drawing her arms around his neck, and clung to him, weeping. ”It hurts so much. How could he do this?”
Just walk away. This is not a good idea.
He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. ”Now, if I read these books and happen to become das.h.i.+ng and mysterious, and Lady Sara naturally falls in love with me without any effort on my part, then I am absolved of any guilt.”
She raised her head. The smile that wavered on her trembling lips as tears still streamed her cheeks was like the sun coming through the rain.
You pathetic fool. You're going to let her break your heart again.
Chapter Two.
A chilly wind blew over the flat, crop-lined fields. Henrietta snuggled against Kesseley's side to s.h.i.+eld herself from it. He was as big as a mountain and just as strong. He never seemed to mind cold or wind or rain. Instead he walked about, head tilted to the sky with an exhilarated smile while the elements battered his face. He covered her hand in his large, roughened one, his warmth spilling into her body like a tide of relief. Kesseley always made everything well.
Always.
Ugh! Remorse knotted in her belly as the realization sunk in-she was using him again. She didn't mean to. Truly. It had just seemed like such a good idea an hour ago. Remorse knotted in her belly as the realization sunk in-she was using him again. She didn't mean to. Truly. It had just seemed like such a good idea an hour ago.
And why was he always so willing? In a small way, she wished he had said no, a true, resounding, unequivocal ”no” that she couldn't wiggle away from. She might, well, respect him more if he didn't always crumble to her wishes. Hot shame ran through her. She missed her step, stumbling slightly, but Kesseley held her up, keeping her from falling.
”Are you well?” he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.
She shouldn't be doing this. She was a horrid person to abuse his feelings. Poor, loyal Kesseley.
She would tell him she'd changed her mind.
Yes, she would.
Right now.
She opened her mouth, and breath rose from the back of her throat, but no words formed. His eyes searched her face with the same seriousness he reserved for examining worm-infested crops or sick sheep, checking for the smallest detail to cause alarm.
”I'm fine, thank you, just a rock,” she murmured. A ring of hazel circled his pupils, blending to gray on the edges. Had they always been that way?
He nodded, trusting her explanation.
You're a horrid person, Henrietta.
They didn't take the nicely paved road. Instead, he tromped with her through the muddy footpaths and drainage ditches running along his fields while Samuel followed behind, sticking his nose under the hem of her gown. Kesseley swept his arms in broad motions over the land, explaining that here he would grow wheat and there, clover. Henrietta smiled, which encouraged him to expound upon his grain production theories and the mixture he would feed his cattle. This led to the design of the new outbuildings he was going to construct to better compost the animal manure and refuse. He had the same pa.s.sion for farming that Edward had for poetry. And that she had for Edward.
How could she be so cruel? How could she abuse his affections?
Wait! Why should she feel miserable because she Why should she feel miserable because she might might be using Kesseley? What if, by sharpening him up, giving him a little town bronze, he won a beautiful wife to love him like he desired and deserved. He would make an excellent husband and father, so caring and attentive. Thinking in this light, Lady Sara or some yet unknown lady's future happiness depended upon Henrietta. And in the end, Kesseley would thank Henrietta, else he would have never met his perfect wife. be using Kesseley? What if, by sharpening him up, giving him a little town bronze, he won a beautiful wife to love him like he desired and deserved. He would make an excellent husband and father, so caring and attentive. Thinking in this light, Lady Sara or some yet unknown lady's future happiness depended upon Henrietta. And in the end, Kesseley would thank Henrietta, else he would have never met his perfect wife.
She looked up at Kesseley. He raised a suspicious brow.
”Why are you smiling?” he asked.
”Because you are a wonderful man. Kind and patient and-”
”Gullible.”
”I was going to say intelligent.”