A Lady's Secret Read online

  Two hours later, there was still no sign of Amy. He had checked the rose gardens—all three of them—thoroughly. He searched the kitchen gardens, and the old greenhouse his sister favored so much, but they were all empty.

  A Folly designed by his grandfather was a short walk from the manor house, but he made the trip. It was a gorgeous place, intricately carved of imported marble, designed for sheer beauty and pleasure. It had been a favorite of his father when he was a boy as well as he and Lucie when they were children, so it was a likely place to find Amy. Beauty attracts beauty, and it seemed she should be there. But he walked the perimeter of the circular building and she was not, as he’d hoped, lingering on one of the wide marble benches set against its outer walls. There was little chance she would have gone inside, but he’d taken the key from its hiding spot behind a carved cherub’s figure, inserted it into the heavy lock and pushed the door wide. The inside was, as he feared, empty.

  So many horrible scenes ran through his head that he forced himself to disregard them. Before the incident with the carriage being held up, nothing threatening ever happened at the manor. Or, on their neighbors’ estates. It was not like the seedier parts of the city; these were pure gentrified properties owned by dukes and earls. The occasional baron might winter outside Town, but there were no unfortunate elements to disrupt their happy lives.

  Even the servants were well-behaved. Their situations rarely gave them cause for disquiet, they were all so well kept.

  Still, images of Amy set upon by bandits, taken from one of the gardens or lying hurt in a desolate area of the estate tortured him. Oliver did not know when he had come to care so much for the woman. He only knew that he did.

  Botheration! Where on earth can she be?

  He locked the Folly, secreted the key behind the cherub and took off at a run. Perhaps Will had located his wife by now. If he were lucky, she would know where Amy had gone. And if she did not know, he was going to send the groundskeepers, grooms, and other men—including the household staff, if necessary—searching for her. It would not be tolerated, losing a guest of the manor. Not now, not ever, would it be acceptable for someone to simply disappear.

  Chapter 22

  Amy cringed. Even the knock on the door sounded angry. “That will be Oliver.” Will looked from wife to friend, then shrugged. “If I do not open the door, I suspect he will knock it in.”

  “Let him in, dear.” Vivian sat beside her on the small settee and now patted her hand. “We shall talk some more, but I think now we are ready to face the rest of this lovely day, aren’t we?”

  They had been that way for hours, holding hands and sharing confidences. Well, Amy had shared mostly, both confessions and a multitude of tears. She had not gotten any harsh judgment from Vivian, only soothing words of encouragement and many back rubs. It had been just what she needed most, a caring ear to listen and other shoulders to help carry the burden of her secret.

  She scrubbed her palms over her cheeks, praying the evidence of her tears had not turned her ugly. A Friday-faced female never garnered a man’s good attentions, and she did not wish to be seen in such an unflattering light.

  “Yes, I do believe we are.” When Will turned and went to the door, she reached out and pulled Vivian into a quick embrace. Whispering into the other woman’s ear, she said, “Thank you. I feel ever so much better now.”

  They separated, and arranged their skirts in identical pools of favorable cascades. They put their hands upon their laps, brought smiles to their faces and attempted to appear as carefree as two larks on the sweetest branch of an apple-blossom laden tree.

  “I am glad. It is what we are here for, to hold each other up when necessary.” She lowered her voice, so only Amy could hear. “Or, as we are about to see, to dress each other down. If that banging on the door and the loud voices at the threshold mean anything, my cousin will not be as easily pacified as my husband was.”

  She could not have been more correct.

  Oliver strode into the room looking every inch the put-upon duke. He looked from Amy to Vivian, then back to Amy again. His eyes flashed, and he made no effort to conceal his annoyance.

  Ever the good hostess, Vivian smiled at the second intrusion to her day.

  “What a charming surprise—so nice of you to visit us. Finally—you know good and well I have asked you to come by and chat on more than one occasion. I do wish you had let me know you were coming, though. I would have baked you something special.”

  He could not treat her badly, it was not something he had been born to do, so he bowed, first to Vivian, then to Amy. They inclined their heads, kept their seats and smiled.

  When he spoke, he was somewhat out of breath.

  “I did not plan to arrive unannounced.” He paused, inhaled deeply, scowling a bit. Even winded and agitated, he cut a handsome form. “I have been searching for you two ladies. It was, ah, disconcerting when neither of you appeared this afternoon with the others.”

  Amy was glad for this time with which to compose herself. She wasn’t sure her voice would not betray the fact she had been sobbing when Will appeared. He seemed inclined to keep her secret. For now. But, it might not take much for Oliver to guess the nature of her time in the cottage had not been entirely without duress. And that just would not do at all. So, she kept quiet.

  Fortunately, the other woman did not need her to keep the conversation cordial.

  “My goodness, but you sound breathless. Are you well?” Vivian put a hand on her midsection, as if discomfited by the realization. Instantly both men lost their fierce looks.

  Will went to stand beside his wife and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should not worry yourself about any of us. Of course he is well, my dear. Aren’t you?”

  Oliver nodded. “Yes, yes, I am fine. I am, I admit, somewhat breathless, but there is a good explanation for that. I have been running, although I am loathe to admit it. I feel rather foolish just now. I…”

  Oliver’s gaze met hers, and it was as if the others were not present for several long moments. He glanced down to her slippers, which peeked out from beneath her gown. Then, up to her face again. He lingered, looking into her eyes with questions she could not acknowledge.

  If he guessed she had been crying there was nothing she could do about that. But, he would never uncover the secrets shared this day in this very room. That much she knew.

  “I was concerned about you ladies.” Oliver took a deep breath, then smiled. He did not look completely appeased, but he was swiftly losing his agitation. “I could not find either of you and worried something might have befallen you. I apologize if I presented myself badly just now. I have no excuse save the truth.” He met her gaze and held it. “I was concerned.”

  She could have fallen into his eyes, they were so dark and welcoming. She had no right to feel anything for the man, but she did. It was different—far different—from how she felt about Lyle Roarke and that was a very good thing. Whatever she and Lyle had had—because it was definitely over between them—had led to heartache and that was something she did not wish to ever again feel, not for any man.

  “We were right here all the time,” Vivian said smoothly. “Weren’t we?”

  Amy nodded. “Yes, we have had a pleasant afternoon. This cottage is so homey and comfortable, and Vivian has been kind enough to share the serenity with me.”

  “It has been a wonderful way to spend the afternoon.” Vivian took her hand and clasped it tightly in her own. She smiled so gaily no one would ever believe there had been sobbing in this very spot just an hour prior. “We need to do this again, very soon. You brought a distraction that I so desperately needed. Thank you, Amy, for visiting today.”

  She played along, flashing a bright smile. “We do need to repeat this, and soon. But now, I should be getting back. Why, if Oliver wondered where we were, my sister should also be speculating.” She stood, eyeing her pelisse and bonnet where they lay on the chair across the room. To get to them, she had t
o pass close to Oliver.

  “I will walk you back,” he said, stepping aside to let her pass.

  The words made something inside her skip, but for the first time in weeks it was not a sign her stomach was about to rebel. No, this little hop in her belly was pleasant, so she gave him an acknowledging smile. “I would like that very much, thank you.”

  Chapter 23

  The sun hung low in the sky when they began the stroll back to the manor. Oliver did not rush, instead pacing his steps so that she had to slow to match his stride. He did not want this time with Amy to end too quickly.

  She seemed content to meander, and fell into step beside him. It was funny, they had known each other for ages, had grown up together and even partnered during dances, but none of that felt as intimate as this leisurely walk through the whispering poplars did now. Sunlight dotted the cobblestones at their feet, sending slivers of light along the mossy stones and touching the hemline of the silky gown she wore. He watched, temporarily mesmerized by the motion and light, by the serenity given so freely in the quiet moment.

  Scraped knees and a fall from a horse when she was barely a teen had shown him her tears. Some women were red-faced and distressing to watch when they cried. Amy had never been that way. He had never seen her sob or wail, the way some were inclined to do. Instead of making her appearance unfortunate, a tear sliding down her creamy cheek had always infused him with the desire to protect her and wipe the moisture away. He had never done so, of course. It would be highly improper, even with the closeness they shared between their families. But he had still wondered how it might feel to slide a fingertip along her skin, to remove all traces of sadness and soothe her troubled soul.

  That had been a fanciful boy’s dream. They were no longer children, and souls could not be soothed so simply.

  A safe topic, to get the conversation rolling, was called for. But what could he say? He’d stormed into the cottage like an enraged bull. He saw she had shared a confidence and tears with Vivian. And now, he could comment on neither of those. They were too indelicate to be brought up, even though they were probably on her mind as well as his own.

  He cleared his throat. “The weather…it is an awfully nice day, isn’t it?”

  She looked positively relieved.

  “Yes, it is lovely. I am so glad the rain stopped early enough to give us time outdoors.”

  “Better than having one of those all-day rains, isn’t it?”

  “So much better.” When she smiled, the sun dimmed by comparison.

  She worried her lower lip, a long-standing childhood habit that had not been outgrown. He was rather glad it hadn’t been; watching her, waiting for her next comment, completely engaged his attention.

  “I…I, ah…”

  “What is it, Amy? Please, tell me what is on your mind.” He put his arms behind his back, clasping one wrist with the other hand. It was a pose he favored when thinking, and came naturally as he watched her weigh her next words. It was clear it took effort to consider her thoughts, then give them voice.

  He wished she did not find it so difficult to speak with him. After all, they were friends for so many years. Shouldn’t long-standing friends be less studied in their associations?

  Amy took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.

  “I just do not feel like going indoors yet. It is such a pleasant afternoon; I just can’t bear to be closed inside like a butterfly trapped in its cocoon.” She turned to him with wide eyes, and he noticed the golden flecks in her green irises. Enchanting, just like the smile she favored him with. “Would you mind terribly if we take a stroll around the grounds? I would love it if you would consent.”

  It amused him that she had managed to nearly read his mind. He had been wondering how to broach the same topic, but she had bested him. “It would be my pleasure. But I believe I should be the one asking you to accompany me around the grounds. It is, after all, a venture that would please me more than I can say. I fear I have let you down, not enquiring before you asked. I am, I must admit, supremely chagrined.”

  “We should not stand on such formality. We have known each other almost since I was in leading strings.” She swung her parasol from its satin ribbon, a girlish gesture that caught his attention as fully as her eyes had only moments earlier. He was just seeing how rather amusing women could be. “And I am much too forward by far, asking you to walk with me. Why, if your mother knew, she would shake her head and quite possibly give me a serious talking to in her private sitting room.”

  It did not go unnoticed that she said his mother, and not her own. His heart dropped as it hit him that had it not been for his own mother, the two sisters would have been completely adrift. And Lucie, as well. Her influence certainly had a stabilizing impact.

  Now he began to see why Miranda tried to latch on to him. She had to be pining for a solid male figure in her life. And Amy’s silliness? That probably covered the sadness she must feel over not having a typical home.

  He realized she waited for his reply, so he pushed aside the images of two parentless girls and managed to pull his features into place. No frown, but a smile. And where there might be tears—had he been the crying type, which he wasn’t—a note of cheerfulness to his voice.

  “Why don’t we just forget how we came to the decision to walk in the sunshine? We shall simply enjoy the walk. That way, I do not need to feel I did not act the gentleman and ask you for the pleasure in a timely fashion. And you, well, you won’t need to give a thought to Mother taking you aside to speak with you about a woman’s role in a relationship.”

  Her right eyebrow lifted so high it disappeared beneath an artfully arranged curl where it lay on her forehead. “Ah, so is that it? A ‘relationship’ is what this is? Why, who can ever tell about these things?”

  Her tone left no room to wonder; she teased him, and the smile that accompanied her words lifted his heart higher than it had been in…well, higher than it ever had been, he supposed. Warmth, not from the sun but her presence, suffused him and made his step lighter.

  “I did not mean to presume.” He tipped his head, lowering his chin toward his chest. “Forgive me, my mouth is not always in step with my brain.”

  “It is fine. I no longer take what a man says in earnest.” Amy put a hand over her lips and looked up at him in shock. She spoke, as he had, without considering her words.

  Even when the mouth does not consult the brain, it speaks from the heart.

  Allowing her to turn any pinker than she already had would be cruel so he laughed and tugged her hand from her face. Her cheeks were crimson, her eyes round and beautiful, and her lips were open a scant half-inch.

  Laughter died on his own lips as desire raced through him. He was, after all, only a man. A man who had just learned how intoxicating a woman’s gaze could be, how a captivating giggle affected a heart, how lovely the scent of lavender felt when pulled deeply into the lungs…

  He did the unthinkable.

  The kiss was oh, so brief, but it sent Oliver’s heart hammering in his chest. Desire washed over him, but he controlled himself, tasting her mouth with his and pulling back before she could push him away. She tasted like honey, and cinnamon, and—damn it all, but she tasted like the sun, moon and stars, and he knew it did not make a bit of sense, but that did not matter.

  Her breath caught when he released her lips. They stood so close he saw the pulse beat in her temple. Instinct urged him to kiss the spot, but for once his brain spoke up, and he refrained.

  “Amy, I…”

  He what? What could he say?

  He should apologize, but that would be a lie. He wasn’t sorry he had kissed her. If anything, he was sorry he hadn’t been free to do more than kiss.

  She hitched a breath, but did not take a step back. And, she did not slap his face. She just stared, her gaze a mirror of the surprise that overcame him as well.

  Oliver swallowed. They were just past the cobblestone lane, out onto the grassy lawn. They were n
ot far from the manor, and if anyone had been on the terrace their indiscretion would surely be noticed. It was unlikely, but possible.

  Good manners dictated he step away, so he did. But the moment there was extra space between them, he wished it were not so. The scent of lavender lingered in his head, but the truth was he liked being closer to her than was entirely proper.

  “I did not intend to do that.” He raked a hand through his hair. Words failed him, so he struggled for something to say. Something proper and placating, because surely she must be upset by his bad behavior. After all, she was a well-bred young woman and not accustomed to men kissing her at will. “I wish I could say I am sorry, but I am not. I cannot lie to you…”

  He saw in her gaze what he felt inside. At least, that is how it appeared to his untrained eyes. She looked away, but he carried the vision of her glowing loveliness close to his heart.

  She straightened the lower edge of her pelisse although it did not need attention. Then, she pressed her fingers tightly into her gloves, giving each hand a tug to be sure they were where they ought to be. Finally, she laced her fingers together, the parasol dangling from one wrist, and held them before her waist.

  It was, he saw, a self-composing moment.

  Good she took it, because he was in dire need of one as well.

  Suddenly, her sunny disposition vanished, the gleam in her eyes gone. A veil dropped, so opaque her true feelings were nowhere to be seen.

  Her voice, so warm a short time ago, was controlled and—he hated to admit it—cold.

  “It is fine. I have learned not to believe whatever men say, anyhow. They do as they wish, and we are left to pick up the pieces. If you will excuse me, I find I am not much in the mood for perambulating.” He opened his mouth and would have spoken, but she held up a hand. “No, thank you anyhow, but I do not need an escort back to the manor.”