Part 3 (1/2)
”I doubt if your grandfather recalls every detail either.”
His frown cleared. ”You can say that only because you have not met my grandfather yet. He may be reaching the seventieth anniversary of his birth, but his mind is more sharply honed than most men half his age. I am sure he recalls every single detail.”
”Then how can you expect to bet.w.a.ttle him?”
”I am not sure we can. Felix is often wrong, but in this I believe he is right. I owe my grandfather the truth, but not until after his birthday celebration on Christmas Eve.” He hesitated, then asked, ”So will you be a part of this madness?”
She did not hesitate, because, like him, the ones she loved depended on her. ”Yes.”
Four.
Cheyney Park was everything Serenity had antic.i.p.ated. Beyond its ancient gate in what once had been a curtain wall of a hilltop fortress, the stone front of the house that spread across the hill had been darkened by years of sitting alone on its lonely moor. The steep road leading up to it offered a view of the undulating hills leading off into the distance, but she saw no other sign of houses. A few trees had found a foothold against the winds and storms off the North Sea.
”It is fearfully isolated here,” Lord Cheyney said quietly.
Serenity peeked back over her shoulder to find him looking at her as if she were a puzzle he could solve if he only stared at her long enough. It unsettled her that he had discerned her thoughts again, as he had too often in the past day while they continued his interrupted journey to Cheyney Park, when she could not unravel the tangle of twisted memories herself.
He leaned toward her, and she fought not to cringe away. After all, if she were to do a good job persuading others that she was his betrothed, she could not recoil each time he came near. Yet it was difficult to act as if this stranger were her fiancee.
”There,” he said, pointing past her.
”What? Where?”
His chuckle warmed her ear before slipping along her neck like the sweetest caress. ”Look past that copse. There are several cottages in the dale beyond. Mayhap you will be able to see, through the fog, a sliver of smoke rising from one of the chimneys.”
”I see it!” She smiled, trying to ignore her own pleasure at his closeness. That was something she must put an end to at once. This was no more than a pantomime. Not for a moment could she allow herself to forget that he was a viscount, the heir to an earl, and she was a lady's maid. ”At least, I think I see it. With the fog it is not easy to tell.”
”Those cottages form the edge of the small village that clings to the stream that divides this moor nearly in two. If you follow that stream far enough, I understand it empties into the Tyne before going into the North Sea. That may have been the only connection to the rest of the world in olden times. The locals would send their produce down the stream and-”
”Egad,” grumbled Felix from the other seat. ”Must you turn everything into a school lesson, Timothy? You know that I care for neither history nor business.”
”I am only acquainting her with the facts that she should be familiar with,” the viscount replied in the taut tone he had used with his cousin all day. ”If she is to be believable as my betrothed, it would be a.s.sumed that she is familiar with the places that I have visited often in the past.”
”If conversations of such boring subjects is your idea of how a woman should be wooed, 'tis no wonder-”
”Felix,” he stated, his tone becoming even colder, ”we have only a few seconds before we arrive at the house. Let me use the time to my best advantage.”
”Talking about that silly village is your idea of using this time to your best advantage?” He guffawed.
Serenity was sure her face must be bright red, for it was as hot as the stones in the box at her feet had been when they left the inn this morning. When Lord Cheyney put his hand on her arm, she stiffened, and he drew it back as if the flame on her face had raced all along her.
His voice returned to its pleasant tone as he went on. ”In the village, they have mumming for the Christmastide.”
”How wonderful!” She could pretend, as he was, that his cousin had not interrupted with his salacious comments. ”I have always enjoyed them.”
”Always?”
She smiled. ”I seem to find it simple to remember things like that. Things that have only the least importance. I can remember that I like sugar in my tea, but not where I last drank it.”
”'Tis a beginning.”
Felix grumbled, ”Always the optimist, are you not, Timothy?” He stretched and peered out the window as the house blocked the view along the moor. ”'Tis about time we arrived. I swear, any part of me that was not bruised by your coachee's poor driving since we left London is cramped from sleeping in that hard bed last night.”
Lord Cheyney frowned at him before looking back at her. ”He is always like this when he is away from Town. Pay him no mind, Serenity.”
Her reply was halted when Felix suddenly smiled. He did that each time anyone used this name she had agreed to pretend was hers. He had spent most of breakfast chuckling while Mrs. Bridges served them and asked if Miss Adams would like anything else. If Felix thought to convince his grandfather that this flummery was the truth, then he must learn to hide that farcical grin.
The more she had had a chance to think of this scheme, the more certain she was that it was doomed to failure. She wished she could tell both the men that, but she must hold her tongue. She needed to keep her sister and brother safe and in the school that obviously cost dear, so she must remain a part of this.
When the carriage stopped in front of a door, she was delighted to see that a porte cochere arched over them. The fog was congealing into cold rain. An icy wind was beginning to keen along the house, and it might turn the rain into sleet again.
She s.h.i.+vered while she hoped no other travelers would suffer on a slick road as she and her companions had.
”Cold?” asked Lord Cheyney.
”Not on the outside.”
He ignored Felix, who was groping on the floor for something he had lost. As he moved his leg aside to let his cousin search, he asked, ”Memories, Serenity?”
”I am not sure, but I know there are some things I would rather not remember.”
”Yes, I am sure you are right about that.” Again he seemed to understand what she meant without an explanation. He was very insightful. If his grandfather shared that trait, they were lost before they began.
Before the viscount could say more, a boy ran forward to throw the door open. He peeked in, then dipped his head. ”Welcome to Cheyney Park, my lord.”
”Is that you, Curt?” Lord Cheyney asked as he stepped out.
No, not Lord Cheyney. She must think of him as Timothy.
”Yes, my lord.” The boy straightened with a grin.
”You must be twice as tall as you were the last time I was here.” He ruffled the lad's hair.
When Timothy turned to hand her out, she asked, ”How long has it been since you were last here?”
”About six months.” He chuckled. ”Long enough for this lad to sprout up.”
Smiling, Serenity-she must always think of herself that way, so she would respond to the name without hesitation-started to answer.
Instead, Felix said, ”It seems ludicrous to be sitting here in this damp carriage on this damp day when there are fires on the hearths within.”
”Pay him no mind,” Timothy replied as he took her hand and helped her out. ”He shall find fault with the whole of this visit. Cheyney Park has been home to him as well, but he will claim no address but Town now.” He gestured toward the house. ”The others you will meet here shall be much more cheerful, I suspect.”
”Yes, I hope so.” Her heart thudded against her chest as he continued to hold her hand. His long fingers were rough from riding or work, but they held hers as gently as if her hand had been made of the most fragile soap bubble.
”Are you all right?” he asked, consternation stealing his smile.