Captain Langthorne's Proposal
‘I dare say you’re right, but I’ll escort you to her door nonetheless. Gadding about the countryside alone with all those light-fingered Frenchmen and restless ghosts running about is pure folly, my lady.’
Sensing a serious note under his teasing, she wondered fleetingly what it might feel like to be ruthlessly bullied for her own good by Sir Adam Langthorne for the rest of her life. She had undoubtedly drunk too much of that wine after all, because it seemed a seductively attractive notion—and that would never do.
‘I doubt if either are bold enough to venture abroad in daylight, and I have no wish to visit the churchyard or Hangar Woods during the hours of darkness, I assure you.’
‘You have no taste for the gothic, my lady?’
‘None whatsoever—which shows a sad want of sensibility I dare say. Indeed, I can imagine nothing more horrid than coming across a headless spectre or a restless spirit while I’m busily minding my own business and harming nobody.’
‘I suspect one or two of them might like to come across such an appealing quarry as yourself, though. But it’s my belief Wharton is hiding something in that churchyard and means to frighten everyone away from it—especially after dark.’
‘So you intend to go there just to confound him?’ she asked sharply.
‘Maybe I’m foolish enough to wonder what a supernatural encounter might be like,’ he admitted laconically. Why did she think he was serious about this odd business? Surely there weren’t really French spies running about rural Herefordshire for want of something better to do?
‘Trust a man to be curious,’ she accused, knowing she had no right to protest his determination to run headlong into the first danger that presented itself because he might be bored after his adventures in Spain.
‘And trust a woman to know best,’ he parried infuriatingly.
‘Not two minutes ago you were warning me to be careful, and it’s commonly held to be the other way about.’
‘Have you never wanted to break out of the role you were allotted in life, Lady Summerton?’
‘Frequently. But then I grew up.’
‘Ah, so that explains it! Women grow up and men just learn to hide their curiosity a little better.’
‘Or we pique your curiosity, so you satisfy it at no cost to ourselves.’
‘Then you want to know about the ghost after all?’
‘No, but I should like to know just what Wharton is hiding in that vault.’
‘Meet me there tonight and find out, then,’ he challenged her, and for a reckless moment she was sorely tempted.
Sharing outrageous midnight adventures with Sir Adam Langthorne seemed the ideal way of proving to both of them that she wasn’t as staid and colourless as he thought. Glimmers of the wild young girl she had once been, up for any mischief on offer, must still lie under Countess Serena’s sober façade after all. She reminded herself that reckless actions led to uncomfortable consequences and managed to crush her inner hoyden for the time being.
‘Not even if I consumed a whole bottle of Mrs Burgess’s wine. You’re a former soldier, and used to alarms and night watches. It’s probably your job to satisfy the curiosity of your neighbours while we sleep safely.’
‘I hope I know better than to go looking for trouble, but I’m also a churchwarden, and duty must outweigh caution.’
‘Good luck, then, Sir Adam,’ she managed to say, cheerfully enough, and offered him her hand in farewell as she opened the Partridges’ front gate.
He bowed over it like a beau from a previous age, and kissed it lightly instead of shaking it. Fire shot through her, as if he had touched his lips to bare flesh instead of her supple leather glove. She snatched her hand back and looked about her. Luckily the men were at work and the women busy cooking. This time she had been lucky, but she must avoid him in future.
‘Thomas will meet me here with the gig,’ she lied brightly.
‘He must have learnt the dark art of being in two places at the same time, then. When I met him not half an hour ago he was on his way to Hereford. Either he’s a top sawyer and that old grey nag a phenomenon, or you’re guilty of shameless untruth, my lady.’
‘It’s not at all the thing for a gentleman to argue with a lady,’ she said hotly, squirming at being caught out under his amused gaze.
‘Dear me, what a hard furrow such paragons choose to plough.’
‘How would you know?’ she muttered under her breath, but his sharp ears caught her words and he gave her an unrepentant grin.
‘I wouldn’t, of course. But I’ll meet you here after I’ve seen the smith. Shall we say half an hour, my lady?’
‘You can say what you like, Sir Adam,’ she replied with a shrug she hoped looked as pettish as she felt. ‘I’ll go my own way.’
‘I can’t tell you how glad I am about the first part of that statement. Half an hour and no longer,’ he ordered, and turned away, as certain of being obeyed as if she were a subaltern under his command.
She’d see about that, she decided militantly, tapping at the front door.
‘Lady Serena—how lovely,’ her once properly reserved ladies’ maid exclaimed. ‘Come on in off the street, do,’ she ordered as they embraced with a lack of reserve Serena’s sister-in-law would have found profoundly distasteful between one-time maid and mistress.
How that neat, coolly efficient maid had once intimidated her, Serena recalled ruefully. Yet since coming to Windham as the new Lady Summerton she and her personal maid had become firm friends. Indeed, Janet knew a great deal about her that Serena had trusted in nobody else. Over the last five years the aloof little Londoner had blossomed, and become as staunch a convert to country life as you could find anywhere—especially since succumbing to Zachary Partridge’s heartfelt pleas to become his wife.
‘Marriage suits you, Janet,’ she told her.
‘Ruined my figure, but I dare say Partridge’ll not stray far.’
‘He can’t take his eyes off you long enough to look elsewhere, and well you know it.’
‘I’d never have married him otherwise, Lady Serena,’ Janet said, and sent her a speculative look. ‘Time you found yourself a good man who loves you, Lady Serena. It’s two years since himself died, and not even the Countess Almighty could object.’
‘I like my independence too well to give it up.’
‘Independence? Those other two countesses don’t let you rest from sunrise to sunset—and I never took you for a coward, my lady,’ Janet told her sternly.
Serena wondered why her words never seemed to carry weight. ‘I’m not made for domesticity, and prefer to stay as I am.’
‘I did say you must find a good man this time,’ Janet chided, more gently, and Serena knew they could stand here arguing all day and never agree. Janet was like a dog at a bone when she was trying to organise the life of one of the select band of people she truly loved.
‘Well, your Zach might live under the cat’s paw nowadays, but I cunningly escaped you when you married him, and fully intend to follow my own path from now on,’ she teased, and a militant light came into her old friend’s eyes.
‘Cat’s paw, my foot,’ Janet snorted. ‘Sir Adam Langthorne is a fine man,’ she continued, as if she had not heard a single word Serena said.
‘Yes? And what has that to do with the price of fish?’
‘He’ll make some lucky lady a fine husband.’
‘I’m sure he will, but he certainly won’t be mine.’
‘Strong men don’t have anything to prove, so he’ll treat his lady like a queen, I’m thinking.’
‘I dare say. I’ll dance at his wedding when it comes.’
‘Happen you’ll do it with a heavy heart, then,’ Janet insisted.
‘Nonsense. I’ll wish him very happy.’
‘Aye, and so will I—supposing he weds the right lady,’ Janet agreed, with a significant look at her former mistress.
‘Today, however, I wish him at Jericho. So, unless you have any other plans for the rest of my life to discuss, I’ll take myself off and be in good time for my dinner for once.’
‘Sir Adam has the look of a very determined gentleman,’ Janet observed with some satisfaction.
‘And I’m an equally determined lady,’ Serena declared firmly, hoping that was the last she would hear of the subject. Sir Adam had taken up too much of her day already, and she didn’t care to grant him any more of it.
‘There now—even you admit how well matched you are, Lady Serena. Fate. That’s what it is.’
‘It’s wishful thinking, and next time I come I hope you’re thinking straighter.’
Janet put her head on one side, as if to deliberate better—a sign that a pearl of wisdom was about to fall. ‘With respect, my lady, it’s your thoughts that have got out of the way of running true, and we both know why.’
‘Maybe, but luckily I’m in too much haste to stay and argue with you today, Janet. So, if there is nothing else you want to lecture me about, we can have a really good dispute about it another day.’
Giving her tenacious ex-maid a quick peck on the cheek, Serena hurried out of the neat house on the village green before Janet could regroup. Only twenty minutes had gone by, so she could set out for Windham with impunity. She had never asked Sir Adam to treat her as if she were a young miss just out of the schoolroom, so a few minutes cooling his heels outside Janet’s house might prevent him repeating that particular error.
Chapter Three
One more turn in the village street and Serena would be alone in open country. Or at least she would be, had Sir Adam not been sitting in his curricle, waiting for her to appear, like a rather handsome spider in the midst of a well-spun web. How had the wretched man managed to summon up such a neat equipage at short notice? she wondered crossly.
‘You’re late, Lady Summerton,’ he said, by way of greeting.
‘I’m ten minutes early,’ she was flustered into saying. Then could have kicked herself for making it sound as if their assignation existed anywhere but in his head.
‘On the contrary, you’re at least five minutes after I expected you,’ he argued. ‘If you wanted to confound me, you should have slipped out of your friend’s back door.’
It was quite true; the shortcut across the fields would have got her to Windham much more quickly and he would never have seen her. Whatever had she been thinking of not to use it? Did a secret, rebellious part of her really want his company so badly that quarrelling with him was preferable to not seeing him at all? Next time there was the least chance of avoiding him she must seize it determinedly—if only to prove to herself he meant nothing to her. Maybe then he would take the hint and stop plaguing her.
She was so sunk in gloom at this happy notion that she let him hand her into his curricle before she noticed she was doing as he had planned all along.
‘I haven’t the least wish to ride home with you,’ she protested idiotically, and she didn’t need his amused grin to feel a fool when she was doing such a good job by herself.
‘Your reluctance is duly noted,’ he said solemnly, and set his team in motion.
‘And you fully intend to ignore it?’
‘Precisely. The fact that you’re here speaks for itself.’
‘You are ungallant, Sir Adam.’
‘And you’re in the mood to argue with your own nose today, my lady.’
‘I’m not considered in the least contrary by anyone else I know,’ she told him between clenched teeth.
‘Of course not. You’re far too busy trying to please them all to argue with anybody. Which makes me wonder why you resist my perfectly natural wish to make your life more comfortable so stubbornly.’
‘I have an aversion to being managed, and milk-and-water misses get trampled all over,’ she said with an audible sniff.
‘How would you know?’
‘I have observed it,’ she said, and shivered.
‘Cold, my dear?’
‘No, and I’m not your dear.’
‘Even you can’t police my thoughts, Lady Summerton,’ he said, with that wicked glint back in eyes she had no intention of meeting, despite the shiver of awareness that shot through her at the intriguing idea of reading those thoughts there.
‘Then pray govern your tongue, Sir Adam,’ she said primly, fervently hoping her waspishness would divert him from the silly blush that had stolen over every exposed inch of skin.
‘I’ll endeavour to do so, my lady,’ he said smoothly, sounding not in the least bit chastened as he gave his pair the office to trot.
Something told her their thoughts were in a most embarrassing harmony on the forbidden subject of her finding out just what it might be like to be mercilessly ravished by the handsome, intelligent and uniquely intriguing gentleman who was Sir Adam Langthorne. She felt ridiculously ignorant of such sensual delights, and she was quite certain they would indeed be almost too delightful. He might be arrogant, and far too certain that he knew best, but she suspected he’d be a lover to eclipse all others. Not that she intended taking any more. Appalled at the direction of her own unwary thoughts, she mentally corrected herself. No, she never intended taking any lovers.
Not that he wouldn’t be a magnificent lover, she conceded silently. It was there in his heated appreciation of her, the way his eyes lingered on her slender curves and played over her slightly too generous mouth, as if intent on reassuring her that their pleasure would be absolutely mutual when she finally yielded to him. She believed it emphatically. It had been quite a revelation when she’d first caught the feral gleam in his dark and light eyes, and a warm shudder shook her at the memory of the flowering of heat it had awakened in her wilful body. Considering they could never be more than neighbours, however he might persuade her, such thoughts really were no help in her battle with her baser impulses. And neither was he, she decided militantly, as she once more caught that look of sensual amusement on his far too fascinating mouth, as if he could read her struggle with the ultimate temptation in her stormy eyes.
‘We’re going the wrong way,’ she informed him stiffly.
‘Not if we intend going via Thornfield Churchyard.’
‘Well, I certainly have no wish to visit the wretched place.’
‘It’s not dark, and you have told me many other things I intend to disprove today, my lady, so we might as well start with Thornfield and work our way down the list.’
‘No, let’s go to Windham Dower House instead, so I can take my leave of you, Sir Adam. Once I’m home you can chase ghosts all day and night with my heartfelt blessing. Take half the neighbourhood with you, as long as you leave me out of it.’
‘Shush. We’re nearly there, and you really shouldn’t be so uncivil to your neighbours—myself included.’
‘I won’t hush, and I like being uncivil. I didn’t want to come and I have no desire to racket about the countryside with a person who never listens to a single word I say,’ she said smartly, fervently wishing it were true. Something told her she might go with him to the ends of the earth if he asked with just the right pitch of need and hunger in his dark voice.
‘Coward. But why not just humour me for once? I would never have brought you if I thought you were in the slightest danger.’
‘Then your definition of danger and mine must be wildly out of kilter,’ she muttered darkly, then subsided into silence as he halted the curricle well short of the church and passed her the reins.
‘If I’m not back within a quarter of an hour fetch my head groom from the smithy, then go home,’ he ordered quietly, before jumping lithely down and ghosting off into the shadows himself, before she could think up a sufficiently indignant and crushing protest.
‘Insufferable, ungovernable, insensitive man,’ she muttered under her breath, but she sat and kept the pair as quiet as she could even so.
If it hadn’t been for her nagging fear that Sir Adam might end up lying disabled and hurt in the ancient churchyard, she might even have found this peaceful interlude quite pleasant, she decided, as she listened to the triumphant fugue of birdsong. Instead she had to force herself not to imagine ruthless villains lying in wait for him, and reluctantly considered his ridiculous scheme to find Rachel a husband to distract herself.
Her friend might be happier, more fulfilled than she was now if she were married to a good man. But after so many years of longing for her dead love, would a mere everyday one ever satisfy her? In such a mundane marriage Rachel might crave the unconventional life of an officer’s wife she would have had with Tom, if only he had survived long enough to live it with her. Excitement, Serena decided with a stern frown at an ancient yew tree that had done her no harm at all, was vastly overrated. Yet if she was strictly truthful she had been bored and restless with her own life for some time now. The question was, had she got to the point where she would grasp any opportunity to escape. Especially if Sir Adam were the one offering it to her, and with her best friend the supposed beneficiary?
Looked at dispassionately, she supposed a season in London with Rachel should be an offer seized on with delight, rather than regarded as a gift horse of the most suspicious variety. Yet she suspected Sir Adam had more in mind than diverting his sister’s thoughts from her lost love. The headlong Serena of her debutante days, that impulsive idiot he had just waxed so lyrical about, would have accepted his offer without a second thought, and worried about any consequences when they came along. Which was precisely why she refused to let the little ninny command her life now. If he thought to influence her by comparing her current lack of spirit with her overabundance of it during her youth, then he was very wide of his mark.
Indeed, if she could go back in time she would settle for one of the worthy young gentlemen who had laid their all at Lady Serena’s elegantly shod feet, instead of the more outwardly fascinating Lord Summerton. And if Sir Adam Langthorne considered her poor-spirited for choosing safety over risk with the benefit of hindsight, then he’d better find someone closer to her former self to confuse with his hot glances and arrogant certainty. A picture of a heady what-might-have-been slotted into her head. If only the then Lieutenant Langthorne had attended the same balls and parties as her younger self had, only to be ruthlessly dismissed. She knew the full treachery of air dreams nowadays, and reality invariably failed to live up to such fool’s gold promises.
She heard the church clock strike the quarter and could hardly believe only ten minutes had ticked by since he had left her sitting here, doing just what she had told herself she wouldn’t and thinking only of him. Even by considering his plan she was giving it credence. Janet’s coming baby was a much more attractive topic to dwell on, she decided resolutely, and spent five minutes wondering how much influence a godmother had over a child’s life, and if she was worthy of such a role.
All the time she was straining to hear the softest of footfalls on the mossy grass that grew under the yew grove at the churchyard perimeter. She felt she was fast becoming part of it. If only he would hurry back, he could drive his restless pair to Windham, restore her to her rightful place, and the world would settle back into its allotted course. By sitting here on pins, as if Sir Adam Langthorne’s safety was of prime importance to her, she was being drawn further and further away from her place of safety and deeper into the dangerous land of make-believe.
Tomorrow she would go and see Rachel, and between them they would circumvent the almighty Sir Adam and his ridiculous schemes. Unfortunately there was today to be got through first, and a cold fear was settling like ice in her belly, almost convincing her that he was lying in the graveyard gravely injured and in dire need of help. She shifted on seat cushions that were somehow becoming harder by the second, and began to seriously contemplate tying the reins to the rail and creeping to the rescue.
If he didn’t need rescuing, or was lying in wait for some nameless villain, she would spoil everything, of course. She would count to a hundred, and if he hadn’t put in an appearance by then, she would drive boldly up to the church and put paid to this whole ridiculous episode. Serve him right if she did put his quarry to flight, she decided militantly, for treating her like some inanimate parcel that could be left here until he was ready to deliver it. When she lost count and had to start again for the third time she gave up, and diverted herself by contriving fitting punishments for such a faulty gentleman.
‘Good girl.’ His deep voice seemed to arrive before he did, and she jumped several inches in the air.
‘I’m not a spaniel. And don’t creep up on people in such a fashion, Sir Adam. Unless you wish to see off your entire acquaintance from the apoplexy,’ she chided furiously. ‘It would serve you right if I was of a vapourish persuasion, just so you would have to cope with my delicate nerves after giving me such a shock.’
‘Believe me, Lady Serena, if they were that finely strung you wouldn’t be here in the first place. Your nerves are as stout as Mrs Burgess’s are wasted,’ he replied, looking infuriatingly unrepentant.
‘Then I must spend more time in her company in the hope of acquiring some sensibility.’
‘Pray do not. I’d hate to be deprived of your delightful companionship for such a flimsy reason—and even you must admit the good lady’s nerves are the only insubstantial thing about her.’
On the verge of a betraying chuckle, she forced her mouth into a straight line, ‘Stop it, Adam,’ she said with a stern look. ‘It’s not kind to mock a good woman.’
‘I promise never to do it again if you’ll call me by my name and not my title more often.’
‘That I won’t! I never meant such a coming piece of over-familiarity to slip out in the first place.’
‘A pity. As we’ll be seeing so much of each other in town, I thought we might consider ourselves friends and be comfortable together.’
Which was the very last thing she would ever be with disturbing Sir Adam Langthorne, Serena decided darkly.
‘You know very well only close family members are so familiar with each other. Anyway, I’m not coming to town, so the need won’t arise for us to call one another anything for several months.’
‘Don’t celebrate your escape too soon, my lady. I learnt strategy from a master, and I’m not so patriotic I can’t watch and learn from Boney’s tactics either. A skirmish is never over until the last shot is fired.’
‘Except your foe might refuse battle.’
‘You never ran from a fight in your life, my lady,’ he said softly, and the steady understanding in his eyes made her shiver.
At least she somehow convinced herself it was a shiver, even as she was held by his gaze, warmed by a host of wonderful possibilities even as her sensible self was telling her to break eye contact and shore up her faltering defences immediately. Torn by two contrary urges, she felt the true power of sensual temptation for the first time in her life.
‘On the contrary, I shall retreat to fight another day. It may just be that you haven’t observed the enemy, Sir Adam.’
‘You’re not my enemy, and it’s high time we went—unless you’d like me to compromise you irredeemably, of course?’
Carefully relinquishing the reins to him, with as little contact as possible, she preserved what she hoped was a chillingly dignified silence from then on and tried hard not to admire his easy mastery of the pair. They were highly trained and well mannered, but spirited enough to prove a handful to a less experienced whip. He had good hands as well, she conceded, slanting a look at them—long-fingered and elegant, despite his size and all too evident strength. They would be sure of touch but gentle, she decided, and shivered once more as she guiltily imagined them touching her in the most shockingly intimate fashion. She blushed and turned an apparently intent gaze on the spring barley rushing to fresh green life in a nearby field.
Watching him like some besotted schoolgirl gloating over her hero wouldn’t do at all. She was a widow of four and twenty, not some dazed child, greedy to experience all the forbidden delights the world had to offer.