Ravishing in Red (7 page)

Sebastian’s arrival therefore did not raise much notice. He rode down the main lane, past shops in old, half-timbered buildings and stone homes lined shoulder to shoulder. He looked for a tavern.

The Baron’s Board was not busy at two o’clock, and Sebastian received his ale quickly. He stood while he drank, and submitted to the proprietor’s curious inspection.

“Weather this damp in town?” the man asked while he wiped some pint mugs.

“Worse,” Sebastian said.

“You be on your way to someplace drier?”

“No, I came here looking for someone on a matter of business. Perhaps you know her. Miss Kelmsleigh.”

The proprietor chuckled. “I know her, and her friends. Everyone in Cumberworth knows Mrs. Joyes’s houseguests.”

“Do they now? I believe Miss Kelmsleigh is a cousin, not a houseguest.”

“Hard to know what to call those women, now isn’t it? The rest aren’t relatives, I don’t think. Just a collection of females who came to visit and never left.”

“Does Mrs. Joyes live in the village?”

“She has property outside of it a short ways. Nice house and a good bit of land. She grows flowers there in a big conservatory. She sells them in London to fancy flower shops. Her house is back off the road some, so right where you have to turn off, she has a painted sign. The Rarest Blooms, she calls her trade.” He chuckled again. “Nice enough women. Keep to themselves mostly. No reason to think anything disreputable is about them, but people will talk, won’t they?”

Undoubtedly. Sebastian finished his ale and asked for directions to this sign of The Rarest Blooms.

Fifteen minutes later he turned down the private lane that took him to Mrs. Joyes’s house.

It was the sort of good, solid home that could be found all over England. Handsome in its smoothly dressed gray stone, it was too big to be called a cottage and too small to be called a manor. It rose two levels high beneath its steeply pitched attics, with only carefully proportioned windows decorating its plain facade.

No groom appeared to take his horse, so Sebastian tied the reins to a post. The time he waited after his knock on the door suggested that few servants worked here, despite the way the property insinuated good fortune.

Eventually the door opened. A very thin housekeeper of middling years peered at him from beneath her cap’s ruffle. She read his card and peered again. Her gaze lingered on the oblong wooden box under his arm.

“I am told that Miss Kelmsleigh lives here,” he said. “I have come to return something that she lost.”

A pretty blond girl stepped into view. She also read the card. “I will take care of this, Mrs. Hill.”

The older woman slipped away. The blond girl bid him to enter. “You should speak with Mrs. Joyes,” she said. “She owns this house. She is in the greenhouse. I will take you to her.”

She ambled off, leading him to the back of the house. They passed a library with handsome cases and many upholstered chairs. A second sitting room occupied the rear of the house. He could see a conservatory through one of its windows.

Situated twenty yards behind the house, the conservatory was much larger than the ones normally found at country homes unless they were very large estates. Glass formed the upper half of all the walls in a mosaic of rectangular panes held together with iron.

Entry to the conservatory came at the end of a corridor that gave off from the sitting room. His guide opened a door and humid warmth flowed over him. He looked up. Half of the pitched roof consisted of small panes of glass too.

“Wait here, please.” She disappeared around a huge potted palm. A few moments later she stepped back into view and gestured for him. She pointed him toward Mrs. Joyes, then took her leave.

Mrs. Joyes worked at a table covered with soil-filled pots. The same soil spotted her apron, hands, and cap. As he approached, she lifted a rag to clean off the worst of it.

She had a beautiful face. Very pale. Very perfect. Dark gray eyes. She possessed a natural elegance that even affected the way she stood. If he had never seen her before, he might have struck him dumb. Except he had seen her before. He was sure of it.

“Lord Sebastian Summerhays, we are honored. We do not often have such illustrious guests. Are you seeking a special flower as a gift for a loved one? We have rare pelagoriums of our own hybridization that are always appreciated.”

“I am seeking a woman who I am told lives here. Miss Kelmsleigh.” He nodded to the box he carried. “I must return something of hers.”

“Miss Kelmsleigh is not at home. I expect her to return very shortly, if you would like to wait. Or you can leave the box with me.”

Well, there it was. He could set the box down and walk out. There was no reason not to trust Mrs. Joyes to give it over when Miss Kelmsleigh returned. If he required she not open it, she most likely would swallow her curiosity.

“If you expect her soon, I should give it to her personally.”

“I will send word that she come here as soon as she returns, then.” She turned her head. “Lizzie, would you—Now, where has she gone? She was here just before Celia brought you in, and even read your card . . .” She clucked her tongue and displayed exasperation. “Please wait here, Lord Sebastian, while I personally tell the others to send Miss Kelmsleigh to us.”

She left him amid the greenery. The air carried a lush scent that contained a bit of everything within its moist density. Citrus and roses and even the clean hint of grass. A person could get drunk on such perfume. He poked at the soil in one pot that Mrs. Joyes had been working. His finger touched the mass of a bulb.

He ambled down the aisle, past several potted lemon trees and tables of blooming flowers. At the end of the building a grape vine grew inside the glass. It was rooted outside, but its thick core entered through a low hole in the brick wall. Its various tendrils wove up sturdy supports, then rambled across iron bars two feet above his head. A stone table and four chairs sat under this leafy indoor arbor, creating a Tuscan vignette.

“That was an experiment,” Mrs. Joyes said as she rejoined him. “The grape vine. I did not think it would work.”

“It must be pleasant to sit at this table on sunny days in winter. You have a remarkable conservatory here.”

“It is a greenhouse. Most of what people call conservatories are really greenhouses or forcing houses. I suppose that does not sound fancy enough so the wrong word has become common. A real conservatory does just that, conserve plants over winter while they are dormant. We have one of those too, at the back of the garden.”

Her face arrested his attention again. “Please excuse me, but I believe I have been unintentionally rude. We have met before, I am sure, but I cannot remember where.”

“We have indeed met, years ago. I was a governess for the family of the Duke of Becksbridge. You and I were introduced at a garden party which I was allowed to attend with the eldest of my charges. You have an excellent memory for the insignificant people whose paths you cross in life, Lord Sebastian.”

If she were indeed insignificant, he might deserve the praise, but he doubted any man forgot meeting her. “There were other parties where the children were present. I do not recall you at those.”

“I was only with them one year before I met Captain Joyes and left my situation.”

There had been no talk in the town of any man at this house. “Is your husband in the naval service?”

“He was in the army. He died in the Peninsular War.” The question did not alter her graceful manner, but her eyes darkened enough to suggest the subject still brought her sorrow. “If you will excuse me again, I will go and see what is keeping Audrianna. She should have returned by now.”

 

 

 

 

A
udrianna stared at the card Daphne had left with Celia. Lord Sebastian Summerhays was here.

Why? And how had he even found her?

The answer came to her within an instant of the question. He must have gone to her mother’s house first. Mama would be writing to her soon, wanting to know what had provoked her father’s persecutor to notice them again.

“Sit, please, Audrianna. I can barely reach even standing on my toes,” Celia said.

Audrianna sank into a chair so Celia could fuss with her hair. Celia was the best among them with dressing hair. She presented her own blond locks in an endless variety of styles.

“She did say right away.” Audrianna reminded Celia of the message she herself had given upon Audrianna’s return to the house.

“Daphne is not going to object if you take a minute to set yourself to rights,” Celia said while her hands deftly worked their magic. “That is the brother of a marquess in the greenhouse. An MP too. That is right on his card.”

Since Celia did not know that Lord Sebastian was no stranger to her, Audrianna decided that silence was the best response.

“He is of great consequence and his name is in the newspapers all the time. You can’t receive him looking as if you stood on a ship’s deck all afternoon.”

Audrianna did not want to receive him at all. She prayed he had not brought bad news about that justice of the peace. What if Sir Edwin had decided that she needed to stand at the quarter sessions after all?

“It is the best I can do, unless I take it all down. It is your own fault for removing your bonnet as you walked home,” Celia said, stepping back. “We should start all over and fix it properly.”

“You will do no such thing,” Daphne’s voice responded.

Audrianna looked up. Daphne stood at the door of the sitting room, the one that opened on the corridor that led to the greenhouse. She still wore her soiled work apron and her oldest cap, but she appeared ethereal and stunning. Daphne could wear rags and look beautiful.

“You must come with me at once, Audrianna. He is determined to see you,” Daphne said.

“Did he say why he is here?”

“He only said that he has brought you something that you lost.”

“I have lost nothing.”

“It is in an oblong box. Like a glove box. A rather large glove box.”

The pistol!

Audrianna felt her face flush. Daphne leveled those gray eyes on her.

“How would Lord Sebastian Summerhays even come upon something of yours?” Celia’s sweet face puckered with a frown as she suddenly recognized the oddity of this caller.

“I have no idea,” Audrianna mumbled.

Daphne remained serene. “Has anyone seen Lizzie?”

“She was here just a few minutes ago,” Celia said.

“She has a talent for disappearing when it is least helpful. Come along, Audrianna. Your gentleman waits.”

“He is not my gentleman,” Audrianna said as they marched down the corridor.

Daphne’s eyelids lowered a tiny, eloquent fraction.

 

 

 

 

D
aphne paused partway down the aisle that ran between the two rows of tables that held armies of pelagoriums, forced lilies, and hyacinths. Audrianna was only too happy to take a moment to collect herself.

From their vantage point they could see Lord Sebastian. He sat in one of the chairs at the stone table, beneath the grape arbor. His handsome profile faced them while he gazed at something on the other side of the greenhouse. Relaxed and confident, he proved as remarkable a presence in this interior garden as he had in that rustic coaching inn.

“He does not appear angry or displeased. He presents himself in the most amiable manner. And yet one can tell that he is not a man to trifle with,” Daphne said quietly.

“I have not trifled with him.”

“That goes without saying. You have no experience at trifling. He, on the other hand, is a master of it.”

“Do you know him?”

“I know of him, and we met once, long ago. He condescended to remember that. It is said he is much changed these last few years. I wonder if that is true.” Her considerations over for now, Daphne escorted Audrianna to their visitor.

Lord Sebastian stood as they approached. Daphne introduced Audrianna, then eased away. “I must finish the bulbs while there is still good light,” she said.

Audrianna waited until Daphne disappeared. She would not be far away, however. She would be able to hear everything except the quietest conversation.

Audrianna pointed to the wooden box on the table. “Is that it?”

Lord Sebastian picked up on her low tone of voice and her circumspection. “Yes.”

“Thank you for returning it. It belongs to Daphne and she noticed it missing. I expect I will now have to explain that I borrowed it, but it will be easier to do so if I have it back.”

He rested his fingertips on the top of the box. “She does not know about your adventure?”

“I hoped to spare her the details.”

“Better that the details are yours and not someone else’s.”

“Yes, I should tell her everything. I think that she already guesses part of it.”

“Which part?”

“The part about you.”

He glanced in the direction where Daphne invisibly worked on the bulbs. “There appears to be an attractive garden outside. It looks to be sheltered from the wind, and the sun is warm. Will you show it to me, Miss Kelmsleigh?”

 

 

 

 

S
ebastian fell into step beside Miss Kelmsleigh as they strolled into the garden.

“Did you go to my mother’s house first?” she asked.

“I sent a messenger with a letter. I doubt that your mother knows the letter came from me, and it never left the messenger’s hand in any case.”

It appeared to please her that her mother did not know Lord Sebastian Summerhays had been looking for her. Of course it would. Not only had he been one of her father’s enemies, but his reputation with women was not one that any mother would like.