Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Wednesday, December 22, 1818

Ripon, Yorkshire

" R eginald! Come back here this minute!" Alyssa darted after her eight-year-old charge. "You've left your scarf!"

"Auntie Al!" cried Thomas, Reggie's six-year-old brother. "He took my skates!"

"Grab his, Thomas. We'll catch up and get yours. Not to worry." She snatched up her own skates, caught his little hand and urged him along the nursery wing toward the stairs. "If we want to have a good long time at the pond, we've got to hurry while the sun is out." Besides, your mother is in a tear to get there soon.

"Alyssa!" Her friend Dora called up to her from the second floor. "I've got Reggie in hand. Let's go!"

"We're coming, Dora!" She scooped up Thomas in her arms and took the hall at a clip. "Your mother wants us to get there quickly and have a good turn round the pond before the sun goes down."

Why that should be today of all days was a mystery to Alyssa. The four of them had gone skating every day for the past four and Dora hated to ice skate.

"Mama said she'd give us extra pudding tonight for going to the pond again!"

"Indeed, she did. Aren't you thrilled?"

Thomas mashed up his charming mouth in a pout. "Pudding, yes. But skating. No. It's cold, Auntie Al."

True. "Mama wants you to have a bit of fresh air. Good for you."

"I want to stay here and ride my horse."

Alyssa took the stairs like a woman on fire. "I understand." I'd prefer to stay home where it's warm and let you ride your horse, too.

"Ah, here you are!" Dora greeted her at the second landing and tugged on her gloves. "Let's hurry."

I am!

"What," Alyssa asked as the four of them left the front steps and rushed along the snow-covered pebbled drive toward the carriage, "is your new fascination with skating?"

"I like it." Her lovely pal pushed up the collar of her scarlet Spanish mantle and grinned at Alyssa with excitement akin to a schoolgirl.

The two boys jostled each other to climb into the seats, Reggie elbowing his brother in a torment older brothers reserve only for their younger siblings.

"Since when?" She had a suspicion Dora had a new project up her sleeve. Dora never did anything with frantic energy unless she had a master plan. Skating the past four days was her newest magnum opus .

"I always have. Just this year the ice is so perfect."

Alyssa suppressed a shiver, settled into the squabs and huddled inside her fox-trimmed pelisse. "Perfect for Highlanders. Not for those of us with the coast and salt in our veins."

"Bah!" Dora settled into the squabs next to Alyssa, then knocked the roof for the coachman to drive on. "You know you like the fresh air."

"Riding," she grumbled. "Not skating."

"Don't be a noodle. You used to like skating."

"I did." She remembered the day, the hour and the circumstances when she no longer enjoyed gliding on the ice. She also remembered the man who saved her. "Until I broke my leg."

"You were ten." Dora rolled her big blue eyes at her. "You healed! Look at you now. You walk. You run. You dance."

"I skate only because I want to keep up with Reggie and Thomas."

"And me."

Alyssa inhaled. "And you."

"I think I may have found a new governess," Dora said at last, shoving her hands in her coat pockets.

"Here in Ripon?" Alyssa was surprised because Dora was very particular about instruction and care of her two boys. Since dismissing her last governess five months ago, she had interviewed two applicants from a service in York and received a pile of recommendations from an advertisement she'd taken in a London newspaper. The very reason Alyssa remained at Barrington Priory with Dora and her husband Barr was at their special request to help care for Reggie and Thomas. Alyssa welcomed the company. Living alone in her little cottage in Bradford was not what she had planned for herself. But circumstance had intervened and she was, at twenty-three, the spinster she never imagined she'd be.

"She lives in Canterbury."

"Good heavens, Dora. She'd come all this way just for an interview?"

"She needs a position. So, yes. She would."

"And if you don't like her? You'll send her back?"

"I told her I would pay for her fare."

"Good of you." Dora was nothing if not fair. "Does she come soon?"

"Tomorrow."

"My goodness! The day of your ball and mere days before Christmas. Has she no family?"

"None. That's one reason I thought it fit to bring her on. Give her a happy holiday."

"I hope you like her. It would be sad to turn her out afterward."

"I've few doubts. Besides, I want you to meet her, too. Before you go home. You are so instinctive with people. If you like her, I know she will be a proper fit."

The reminder that she had decided to go home after the new year made Alyssa shiver a bit more. She liked her visits with her cousin and her little family. It gave her a glimpse of home and husband and children, all which she might have had...if she had found a better man than those three whom she had rejected.

"Ohhh! Look, Alyssa!" They had rounded a copse of tall snow-capped firs to gaze upon the shimmering ice of the local pond. Reggie and Thomas clamored to get out. The boys spied their two closest friends, two little girls who glided over the ice, sending up to the crisp air the chirps and calls of children at play. "The Darby girls. Company!"

Alyssa was used to seeing the girls here and she welcomed their presence. Reggie and Thomas were well-occupied with them about. The girls, orphaned daughters of the late Lord Darby, lived far down the road in their manor house near town. They usually came by their coach, that stood apart today by the copse. They also usually came accompanied by their governess, a Miss Perkins of pursed lips and narrowed lids. But today the girls glided around the pond, calling to each other, and waving to Reggie and Thomas, escorted by a dark imposing man.

Alyssa blinked at the vision. He was…

A tall, elegant form in inky black great coat and fine top hat. He stood to one side of the pond, his gloved hands clasped together at his waist, as he waited silent and serene while the Barrington carriage rolled to a stop before him.

He was more man than she remembered. Why would he not be? It had been four years since last she saw him. In a butler's wine cellar. The light of one candle highlighting the ebony waves of his hair and the lush sweep of his lips. The air humid and intoxicating, full of the angel's share of whisky and wine, and the devil's appeal of his woodsy cologne. The night dangerous with its promise of a marriage proposal for her, but not from him. No. From him, a kiss that buoyed her heart with longing she might escape the dreaded fiancé and instead claim him as her beloved. He of other kisses in a broom closet the previous year. He of other Christmas balls when they were young. He of her hopes. He of her vain desire for him because he was a second son of a second son and no match for her father's intention to get her at least an earl. He of all her dashed hopes. He of the flashing grey eyes that focused on her now.

He did not move. He did not smile. He did not even seem to breathe.

At once, Alyssa understood what was happening here. "He is why we've come to skate today."

Dora grinned and shivered, triumphant. "Of course, he is. He wondered if you'd remember him. You do. I told him and so did Barr that you had never forgotten him."

"How good of you," she managed to say though her heartbeat was too rapid to stop her from clasping her hands together too tightly to indicate nonchalance. "You arranged this."

"We did. He did. Home from his travels, he is. For good, too, now that he is the new earl. Aren't you delighted?"

What was he doing here? Ha! Acting like a love-sick boy, yes! To his shock. Where was the man who could have a Tuscan contessa as his paramour for the summer or enjoy the invitation of an acclaimed Parisienne ballerina without regret?

Yet he could not take his eyes from the vision who beamed at him.

He had no rights to try to redeem himself in her eyes. He had hurt her. Worse. He'd destroyed her. Yet here she was, smiling at him as if it were five years ago, or four even, and nothing disastrous had befallen her. She climbed down from the carriage, her lovely face alight with welcome.

This ripe creature coming straight toward him was overjoyed to see him. Her cousin was chatting on about how wonderful this, and how superb that , as he gazed like a besotted child at the woman he'd always fancied and fought for words that might not sound trite.

Today, she wore a blue green woven wool that replicated the uniqueness of her eyes. Her face was a perfect oval, and her cheeks were plump above hollows that gave her a sophistication she'd not yet claimed at eighteen. Her hair, still that irrepressible cloud of burnished blonde, escaped her blue silk bonnet. The rest of her was more rounded and, dare he say, more delectable than he had ever predicted she might become. Her breasts alone inspired in him a hard response which would make skating damn impossible.

"You've come to Darby Park for Christmas," she said as she left her hand lingering in his. He noted she did not call the Park home . Smart girl. She knew better. But went on with, "Oh, you do look well. I see your nieces are enjoying your company, a boon for them, I am sure. Plus Dora and Barr are thrilled you've come north. Dora has told me so just now."

"You did not know before seeing me that I'd arrived, did you?"

She shook her head. "Though I expected you'd come eventually to your domain, today I evidently was meant to be surprised." She cleared her throat and feigned a rueful look at Dora. "The ruse succeeded and I am surprised. But very pleased to see you, my lord."

"I will turn and march right away, Alyssa, if you continue to my lord me."

"Then you will be Gabe to me. As ever you were."

He lifted her gloved hand and kissed the back. "As ever I wish to remain."

A frisson swept through her. What was that about? Had she heard intonations in his words that implied all the sentiments he had never voiced? He was so full of regrets, so eager to make amends to her for all that had gone wrong for her after their last rendezvous in the wine cellar, that he was not surprised. He probably wore a sign on his great coat that listed his many sins against her.

"Shall we skate?" she asked with both brows in a gleeful arc he remembered so well. She was still the imp with whom he had spent years of his youth learning how to dance and letting her crush every one of his toes.

He rubbed his hands together. "Nothing better, Al, my girl!"

She threw back her head to laugh at his use of her old diminutive name and took a look at the new blades that he'd slung over his shoulder. "Come along then. To the bench! Tie them on!"

Impetuous. He'd always been so with her and no one else. It's what had gotten her in trouble and him driven away. Spur of the moment choices were not his usual mode. Prudent actions were his forte.

When he left home four years ago, he had only three wishes. He wanted to lift the family company from bankruptcy to singular superiority. He wanted to show those who thought him less than he was that he would acquire the name and fame of a man of the world—and in the process, he would forget the young woman who'd taken his arm and run with him into the shadows of closets and cellars for the raptures of decadent kisses. He had easily achieved the first two. Never the last.

Now by the grace of all that he had accomplished in this life, he was here to improve his fortunes further. At the urging of his friend Barr, he'd returned to the Park and gotten the few remaining staff up to snuff. He'd acquainted himself with his nieces , poor sweet chicks who needed mothering and fathering to keep them in tow. Before he'd left London to come north, he'd even armed himself with fine winter tailoring and ordered this new pair of skates. Which he now had to don.

All the others, children and Dora and one of his grooms included, had taken to the ice. Alyssa and he warmed the wooden bench.

Getting his skates securely tied was a trial. He was all fingers, his mind on how she smelled of roses and fresh soap. "I think the shoemaker made the wrong size for me."

"Let me help," said the woman who could not seem to stop smiling at him as she went to one knee in the snow before him. Her position had him sucking in his breath. She appeared to be his, his alone, and bent over in such a way that his physical delight in her jumped to uncomfortable new heights.

"You're binding them too tightly," he complained with a laugh. "My blood will stop flowing." In truth, all of it's already gone to one particular part of my anatomy.

"They have to be tight, Gabe. We must hurry. The sun will be down soon," Alyssa said as she yanked at the leather straps and wrapped them around his trouser legs. "There you are. Stand up now."

He winced, grateful for the fall of his coat over evidence he wished to do other things than skate. But he stood and dubious of his ability to hold his balance, he sailed off with her right at his side.

"You do well, sir. One would think you've been practicing."

"I've had other things to do that kept me from this."

"Business." Her blue-green eyes flashed as they took the pond in a slow circle. "I've heard. You've done well. Worked hard. So there's been no time for fun?"

"Very little." He did not wish to discuss what he had done for enjoyment. He'd pensioned off his contessa months ago and the liaison with the Parisienne had been nothing more than a week's brief interlude.

Their silence stretched out. That was his fault. If he wanted more communication, he would have to encourage it by sharing more than he had.

"I worked hard at building the company. We had agents stationed in port cities, of course. But many were so old, or so discouraged by Napoleon's customs men, they did nothing. I had to pension off most of them and replace them. Luckily, many who were qualified and who wished the positions were our original agents' sons and daughters."

She skated closer to him, her gaze on his full of surprise. "You hired women?"

"Of course, I did. Why not? Women can strike a deal sooner and often with better profit than men."

"I would agree! I hope to do the same."

"Oh?" How? "You want to come work for me?" He could dream of that.

"I would if I could, Gabe. But I know nothing of trading goods." She lifted her shoulders and skated on, her lips pursed in contemplation. "I will use what I do know to build my own business."

"What would that be?"

"A book shop. I will open one this summer. By then, I will have acquired stock enough to open."

"A shop! That's superb. Where?"

"Ripon. I must find a space I can afford to rent and repair to my needs. Just to start and then as I earn enough, I will buy the space and live above."

If she were to run a shop in nearby Ripon, he could see her and visit whenever he came to Darby Park. That filled him with joy…and a need for her company he hadn't acknowledged in a very long time. Four years, in fact.

"Why do you wait to act on this idea to open the shop?"

"Money, of course. What else does anyone wait on, eh?" Her cheeks pinked in embarrassment. "I will have saved enough by then to live for a month or two. By then I will also have bought enough books to stock my shelves. People love to read. It's healthy for them to sit quietly and enjoy communion with another person's ideas and experiences."

"You are buying books with savings?" That was a conclusion and intrusive to ask, but he was horrified that she was reduced to scrimping her own means to fund her worthwhile project.

"Yes, of course."

"Why?" He halted in the middle of the pond and caught her hand to make her stop and face him. His question was forbidden. No one inquired about the finances of another. Yet he would learn this about her.

"It is the only way."

"Your father left you no means?"

She rolled a shoulder, squinted at the horizon, then faced him. Her lips were drawn flat, her eyes dazed. "My father left me two thousand pounds."

That was all? The man had offered her fiancé a dowry of ten thousand and two acres of land on the edge of the town of Ripon. "Why not grant you the ten he would have given to whatever his name was?"

"Talbot. Lord Talbot. Eight thousand went to him."

Bastard. "As recompense for his so-called ‘pain and suffering', I would guess?"

She nodded her head once, then broke away.

He pushed off and caught her around the waist. "Tell me the rest."

"No," she bit off, gazing straight ahead.

He slowed in time with her measured glide, but with his hand to hers, urged her more dearly against his side. He felt her heat, her supple body in flow to their syncopated dance over the ice, and his desire flared like fire to hold her against him face-to-face, breast to his chest, hip to hip, her luscious thigh to his own.

One glance at her face and his heart wrenched. Tears glistened on her lashes.

"What happened after you broke it off with Talbot?" Barr had written that after their discovery in the wine cellar her father had demanded she retire to his smallest estate in Cornwall. She had remained there until weeks before her father died last year.

She came to a stop on the edge of the pond. "I lived at one of Papa's holdings outside Truro in Cornwall. A good life, it was, quiet and peaceful. Few knew me or of my reputation. Papa had told me when he banished me, that he did not wish to hear from me. I did not communicate with him, even when he wrote that he was ill and dying. I could not forgive him for his treatment of me. But on his death bed, he wrote once more and begged me to come to him. I did go and saw him before he took his last breath. He asked for my forgiveness for what he'd done. I gave it. Who does not on such an appeal? Yes, well. He said he had made reparation for his harsh treatment of me. He gave no details. But the next morning, a bare hour after he had passed, my cousin, Papa's successor, the newest Lord Margrove, invited me to the reading of the will." She inhaled and shook her head, her blue-green eyes hard as stone. "But there was nothing in Papa's last testament that could be construed as reparations for me from him. I was granted only the two thousand he had told me was left after compensating my former fiancé, Lord Talbot."

"Sweetheart," Gabe whispered and pressed her close to his heart, one hand to her nape. Dora would not ridicule him or Alyssa for this. One of his nieces, however, stopped skating to nudge her sister and point to them. He would talk with her later. "Men can be so cruel."

"To women," she said, pulling away to stare into his eyes with a solid determination. "And to other men as well. You had the same done to you."

"We were each cast out."

"For kissing each other," she said in a melodic whisper on the wind. Her lashes fluttered and she beamed at him. "I never regretted it. Not once. "

"I owe you?—"

She slanted two fingers across his mouth. "No, Gabe. You owe me nothing. Your kisses showed me that I could never have married Talbot." She squeezed his arm. "Now enough of the past. I see Dora waving at us. She and the boys are ready to go home. I would guess you are coming to dinner tonight, too. Are you?"

"I have been invited, yes."

She tipped her head and grinned at him. "Well, for goodness sake, come along then! You must tell me tales of Venice and Rome and all the lovely old places a lady only reads about in books."

"Only if you come ride with me in my coach up to the Priory."

"An offer I cannot refuse," she said and hugged his arm as they called to the girls to join them. The youngsters giggled and elbowed each other, knowing they joined a man and woman interested in each other.

As the four of them took the short drive up to the Barringtons' house, Gabe marveled at the surprises that could be positive and change one's life. So rare, so welcome. Like the surprise of sitting and watching the love of his life across from him, happy to see him, forgiving of all that had passed between them.

What he reminded himself he needed foremost was to stick to a healthy dose of reality. To wit, the lady before him, might have kissed him years ago. She had lost her fiancé and reputation because of it, too. But she was older and wiser now and her kisses, he was quite certain, were not on offer.

For if his kisses had once showed her that she should not have married Talbot, that did not mean they had ever proven that she should have married him.