Part 22 (2/2)

”It was ... a shock,” she said unsteadily as she buried her face in his shoulder. ”I feel like ...” she searched for words. ”Like my arm was amputated and now it's been reattached. Only this is my life, not my arm.”

”Like a foot that's gone to sleep and is beginning to wake up,” he murmured as he stroked her back. ”Alive but very uncomfortable.”

”Exactly.” She closed her eyes as she struggled for composure. ”My family has been dead to me for so long that it never occurred to me that there were other people who remembered them.”

”Maybe it's not a bad thing to be reminded that this is the world you were born to,” he said softly. ”Your father went to Eton, your mother was an enchanting woman who captured the hearts of young Englishmen. You belong to the ton every bit as much as I do, even though we've both spent years in exile.”

”The reminder isn't bad, but it is very uncomfortable.” She sighed. ”I felt like such a fraud when your father talked about redheaded grandchildren.”

”We could make it a reality,” Grey said hesitantly. ”Or at least try.”

She jerked away from him, even more shocked than by his father's reminiscences. ”What on earth does that mean?”

He was watching her with enigmatic gray eyes. ”You're here as my fiancee, so we could go ahead and get married. We get on well and it would save me having to brave the Marriage Mart.”

She rolled her eyes, needing to turn the issue into a joke. ”That is the laziest reason for marrying that I can imagine. Let's go for that ride. It's a lovely day and I could use some fresh air.”

He smiled, unperturbed by her rejection of his proposal. ”And I'm anxious to see Summerhill. I can't tell you the number of hours I spent visiting the estate in my mind.”

”And I'm anxious to ride one of those good horses you promised me.” She caught up the skirts of her long riding habit and led the way to the door. Life was complicated. Riding was simple.

She wanted simple.

”Race you to the top of the hill!” Grey called.

Ca.s.sie and her mount took off like lightning, her laughter floating behind her. Grey was hard pressed to keep up. She rode as well sidesaddle as astride, and in her flowing golden riding habit, she was far more alluring than as a peddler on a pony.

They reached the hilltop in a dead heat, both of them laughing, and pulled in their horses. ”I've saved the best for last,” Grey said. ”This is the dower house. Sea Grange.” He gestured at the hollow below, where a sprawling stone house overlooked the sea.

Ca.s.sie caught her breath. ”Look at that river of daffodils pouring down the hill! They're just starting to bloom everywhere else.”

”Flowers always bloom here first because the house faces south and it's protected on three sides.” He nudged his horse down the hill. ”Other flowers come later, but there's nothing to match the daffodil glory of spring.”

Ca.s.sie started down after Grey. ”The house looks older than Summerhill.”

”It is by a couple of centuries. It was a farmhouse originally.” He feasted his eyes on the familiar weathered walls. ”I don't think anyone has lived here since my grandmother, the dowager countess, died three years ago. I wish I'd seen her again.”

”What a waste of a beautiful house.”

”I've always thought that when I marry, I'd live here until I inherit,” Grey said. ”It's only a few minutes from the main house, but it has more privacy. And the view!”

”Wise to put a bit of s.p.a.ce between a lord and his heir,” she agreed. ”The estate seems as well run as it is beautiful. No wonder you love it so much.”

”Though I thought of Summerhill every day of my captivity, I'd still half forgotten just how ... connected I feel to this land.” Grey struggled to find the words to explain. ”Being here repairs some of the holes in my raveled psyche.”

Ca.s.sie gave him a warm, intimate smile. ”I can see the difference. You're acquiring more confidence by the hour.”

”As long as I also acquire more sanity,” he said wryly. ”I almost killed Peter this morning. It was horrifying for us both.”

Ca.s.sie gasped. ”What happened?”

”I'll explain over lunch. I had the kitchen pack food and drink. I don't have a key to the dower house, but there's a porch at the far end where we can eat.”

She nodded agreement and didn't ask questions until they'd tethered the horses and he brought their picnic to the side porch. A ma.s.sive stone table and benches sat there, suns.h.i.+ne pouring over them, and there was a splendid view of the sea.

Ca.s.sie sighed with pleasure as she brushed dust and a few leaves from the bench, then sat in a cloud of golden skirts. ”I love that the sea is so close. Did you sail as a boy? Dream of being a s.h.i.+p's captain and seeing the world?”

He laughed and handed her a cup of wine. ”My dreams were land bound.”

”Tell me what happened with Peter.”

The memory was painful so he kept his explanation terse. Ca.s.sie listened while she ate a ham, cheese, and chutney sandwich. When he finished, she said thoughtfully, ”So he's going to try for a career in the theater. Your parents won't disown him, I hope?”

”No, though they won't be pleased. But they have me back as heir, and they want their children to be happy. Elizabeth could have had a far grander marriage than Johnny Langtry, but he's the one she wanted. If Peter prospers as an actor, they'll probably buy him his own theater.”

She laughed. ”I can imagine someone making a cutting remark about Peter's acting and your father staring him down with an 'I am Costain' expression on his face.”

Grey grinned. ”You took his measure well. We Sommerses have our share of pride. The House of Hanover is a collection of upstarts by comparison.”

”Pride, yes, but not arrogance,” she said. ”You'll make a very fine earl, Grey.”

”I hope so. It's the only thing I've ever really wanted.” Except Ca.s.sie, and he knew better than to say that out loud. Not after she'd recoiled at the suggestion that they could make their betrothal a real one.

He watched the play of light on her richly colored hair, aching to keep her close always. He needed to change her mind. But time was running out.

After a lazy meal in the suns.h.i.+ne, they headed back to the main house. Ca.s.sie had loved the ride, the horse, and the beautiful spring day. Most of all, she loved the feeling of wholeness she sensed in Grey.

Though his captivity had been beastly, she suspected that some of the ways it had reshaped his life were good. Certainly any tendency he might have had toward arrogance had been knocked out of him.

The emotional damage would take more time to heal. She guessed that large groups of people would continue to distress him for some time to come, and the incident with Peter proved that his temper was still dangerously close to the surface.

But the foundation of his character was being rebuilt into a structure that was so solid that she need no longer worry about him. Not much, anyhow.

They emerged from the woods and saw a crowd of people gathered in the courtyard outside the entrance to the house. ”Those are tenants and neighbors,” Grey exclaimed. ”Good G.o.d, my father!”

Chapter 37.

Grey kicked his horse into a blazing gallop toward the house. Ca.s.sie followed only a couple of strides behind, knowing he was right to be afraid. Head injuries were unpredictable, and even though the earl had seemed to be recovering, he might have taken a lethal turn for the worse. This sort of gathering is exactly what might happen when word went out through the neighborhood that a great and beloved man had died.

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