A Wildflower for a Duke, page 8
Theirs was a world where individuality, competence, or intelligence in a woman were sins practically worthy of the gallows. Those who could not be compelled to hide their eccentricities and conform would suffer the cruelty of isolation for their stubbornness. Remaining Violet had been an everyday, conscious decision: to submit scientific articles in her own name, knowing they would be rejected; to allow her mind the freedom to invent and expand without apologising for her intellect; to fly as high as her own bravery would permit without giving anyone the power to tear off her wings.
But there was a price to be paid, and its currency was counted with a million tiny cracks in her soul. Because all the practice in the world could not completely inure her to the sting of other people's laughter. Steeling herself for the inevitable scorn, she narrowed her eyes and pushed herself up to her feet, stalking in the direction of that deep rumbling laughter. Too late she realised she was still clutching the fish.
Northam turned at her approach, eyebrows raised and an unmistakably genuine smile on his face. So unexpected was that expression of mirth and joy that she almost rubbed her eyes for a second look, stopping when she, again, was reminded of the fish still flopping in her hands. There was not a trace of mocking in his expression, and if she wasn’t mistaken, that was respect twinkling in his soft brown eyes. She wasn’t even sure what to do with respect, having only ever received it from her family and Hamish. And so, she awkwardly smiled back, then turned her attention to ending the suffering of her captured fish.
Chapter 8
A s it turned out, Violet was the only one who managed to catch a fish large enough to keep, although Nora sulked that hers was plenty big enough. Violet's playful bragging came to an abrupt halt after she burned her salmon nearly beyond recognition over their overzealous fire. Thankfully, the duke’s kitchen staff had packed far beyond what Violet would have expected for a simple picnic. They eagerly consumed hard cheeses, pork pasties, strawberries, cucumbers with mint butter, salted ham, and gingerbread.
By late afternoon, everyone seemed hypnotised by the marrying of pleasantly-filled stomachs and serenading birds. Zach and Nora returned to skipping rocks under the duke's watchful gaze, while Violet reclined on a blanket, making a chain of daisies.
“Today has been lovely. Not nearly the catastrophe I anticipated,” Violet said.
Northam lowered to his haunches beside her, his silent observation monopolising all of her senses and disrupting her focus. A warm, agitated flush began to creep up her throat, causing her fingers to slip. Violet grumbled an expletive and dropped her hands to her lap.
“Why do I suddenly regret having befriended two boys as a child rather than huddling together with the girls? Had I known that some twenty-five years later I would be scrutinised and found lacking in my daisy chain skills, perhaps I would have feigned a greater interest in girlish pursuits.” She shot him an exasperated glare, which held for only a moment before melting into a wide smile.
Northam eased down beside her, pointedly turning his gaze away. “Nathan Evans was one of the boys, I presume. Who was your other fishing and tree-climbing cohort?”
“Hamish McKenna. He was born in Scotland but came to live here with his uncle when he was young. He’s been like a second father to Zachariah, but alas, he never had much interest in daisy chains.”
“My wife used to make these with Nora. I’ve been pulled into the activity a time or two.” One expertly manicured hand reached out, pausing in the air midway between them. “May I?”
Violet nodded and watched as his dexterous fingers made fast work of the final knots, forming a brightly-coloured, floppy crown. For a moment, he just stared at the fragile little chain, his expression pensive. There was a heavy, unfulfilled quality to the silence. Thoughts almost shared, then withdrawn at the last moment. He placed the crown atop her head with a wan smile.
“Shall we see what mischief our children are making?” He rose, reaching out to assist Violet, then wrapped her hand snuggly through the crook of his arm. Like a storybook fairy tale, Violet felt as if she had been magically transformed from goat farmer to princess by a crown made of wildflowers and the charm of a duke who thought she required assistance to walk fifty feet. Or perhaps more precisely, not that she required assistance, but that she was deserving of it.
At the riverbank, the children’s chattering and exploration became more subdued at the appearance of the adults. Nora leapt back to dry land from where she had been balancing one-legged on a rock. Zachariah immediately reverted to the nervous, taciturn behaviour that was ever-present in the company of outsiders.
Sifting through the dirt with the toe of his Hessian, Northam bent to pick up a river stone as flat as a tabletop. “Try holding it this way, Zach.” He deftly demonstrated without releasing it, then held out the prize river stone.
Zachariah stared for a moment then reached out to take it. “Thank you, Your Grace.” Tentatively gripping it as Northam had shown him, he let the pebble fly. And fly it did! Five whole skips. With a puffed-out chest, Zach whipped around, his face lit with euphoria.
“That's the way! Well done!” the duke encouraged, glancing back towards Violet as if to include her in the joy of the moment. Another quarter of an hour passed as all four rifled through the rocks that littered the bank, throwing in turn with a friendly, competitive spirit.
Zach presented one particularly fine pebble to Northam. “Did your father teach you to skip rocks?” Zachariah timidly inquired.
“No. The son of his valet, who remains my closest friend to this day. He can reliably skip a pebble seven times, and he never lets me forget his superiority in the skill.”
Zach nodded and launched another pebble.
Stretching his arm back to take his turn, Northam stopped mid-throw, turning to Violet with an inquiring look. “What is it, Mrs Evans?”
“Your valet is your dearest friend?” She squinted up at him in disbelief.
Northam scoffed, “I didn’t take you for a snob, Mrs Evans!” He flipped his rock into the air like a coin, but before it could fall back into his hand, Violet snatched it.
“Stealing from a duke is a hangable offence.” Northam lunged to retrieve it, but Violet squeaked and leapt away.
“Only if the article of theft is worth more than five shillings,” Violet countered, her finger gliding over the surface of the stolen rock. “And while it is a fine pebble, Your Grace, I don’t believe its value is equal to five shillings.”
“Ah, but the value of some items isn’t dependent upon what it is so much as how it makes you feel. And that river stone has brought me far more than five shillings’ worth of joy.” He held out his hand palm up, and waited.
Some of the levity melted from Violet’s expression. “I believe I may owe you an apology, Your Grace.”
“I forgive you for stealing my rock,” he replied drolly.
“Not for that.” She gave him an exasperated glare. “You are nothing like the cold, imperious aristocrat I assumed you to be. I apologise for my unfounded assumptions and rudeness.”
Northam looked perplexed. “I don’t recall you saying anything discourteous, Mrs Evans.”
“Perhaps not, but I thought them very loudly.”
The fine wrinkles in Northam’s face shifted and became more prominent with the flash of a broad smile. All those distinctive lines serving as incontrovertible evidence of a man who had lived joyfully.
She slipped the rock into his hand.
“I forgive you for that as well,” he murmured.
As the day grew cooler, they packed the picnic baskets into the carriage, none of them in a particular rush to end the carefree day.
“We should have ridden horseback. It's a glorious day for it. The stable master and I have been giving lessons to Nora now that we are back in the country and there is more cause to ride. I dare say she’s ready for an outing now. Do you ride, Zachariah?” the duke asked.
Zach was back to looking at his shoes. He shook his head.
“Well, that won’t do. I’m certain Nora will want to drag you out on some adventures. I have the perfect gelding for you to learn on, a very-sweet natured bay.”
That caught the young man's attention. He looked up imploringly at Violet. There were so few things that ignited open enthusiasm in Zachariah, and the sight of it brought a reciprocating smile to her lips. Then as quickly as the excitement flared, it rebounded. “We mustn't take advantage of His Grace's kindness. I’m sure both he and his stablemaster have more important engagements that require their attention.”
“His Grace,” the duke began with a sidelong look, “offered freely and with heartfelt hopes of your acceptance.”
Violet paused, worrying her lower lip.
“Very well then, Zachariah. You may graciously thank His Grace.”
“Thank you, sir … Your Grace.”
Arriving back at Violet's home, Gabriel jumped out of the carriage and handed Violet down. Zach stammered a thank you and shot off towards the house with a quick wave. Violet watched him retreat.
“I hope you don't think him rude or ungrateful, Your Grace. He struggles with strangers. Even with me sometimes, but I can tell he is pleased by your daughter’s friendship and by—”
“No, Mrs Evans. I think he is a fine boy. I look forward to getting to know him better. I thank you for joining us today, even if you did wound my pride with your superior fishing.” He added the last bit with a lopsided grin that gave him a youthful, mischievous appearance.
“I hope you’ll stop by for some of Zach’s riding lessons.” The youthful sparkle flickered away. “My mother never had much to do with my brother, Michael, or me beyond a cursory visit to the nursery each night. Before we even had time to organise our thoughts and share the proud moments of our day, she was out the door with a resounding click, off to something more diverting than her two young offspring. I never would have requested her involvement in my activities, but I would have been thrilled for her to find a single moment to watch me do the things I loved. Zachariah is lucky to have you. I thank you again for the pleasure of your company. Until we meet again, Mrs Evans.” He bowed over her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze, and was back in the carriage before she could formulate a response. It seemed he had a habit of hasty departures.
***
Zach began his riding tutelage with Nora the following week. To spare Zach the awkwardness of having to meet and work with a stranger, Gabriel had allotted enough time in his schedule to provide instruction for at least the first few lessons, but had found the activity so enjoyable that he continued in the weeks beyond. Mrs Evans accompanied Zach to every single class, smiling encouragingly and offering hardy praise.
Often, Gabriel found his attention drawn to her, ever amused by her constantly slipping focus. Everything that existed as background noise for him captivated her curiosity. One day she divided her attention between her son's posting trot and a colony of little pill bugs that were making their way around the upturned dirt near a freshly-dug fence post. She even built an obstacle course for them, studying their behaviour to learn if they preferred to go around or over a twig from an alder tree.
Later, she added to their maze. Removing a ribbon from her bonnet, she meticulously straightened and flattened the shiny pink road, presumably to discover if they would find the satin too slippery to navigate. Gabriel found her as fascinating as she found her bugs, each of them waiting to see what the object of their interest would do next. Noticing his arrested gaze from across the paddock, she blushed furiously then covered whatever embarrassment she might be feeling with a dimpled grin before returning to her entomological tests. His feet carried him closer, lead rope swinging in his hands. “For your maze.” Lowering to his haunches, he spread the rope out in the dirt, adding a series of loops and winding turns. She admired his offering with unabashed enthusiasm. He felt an echo of that joy warm in the pit of his stomach.
After each lesson they spoke briefly about the children's riding progress or joked about whatever had captured her attention that day. The conversations were usually short and light, as he had a perpetually-growing mountain of estate work awaiting him, but he found himself looking forward to those brief moments in her company
“Zach chatted almost non-stop through dinner about his bareback ride last week,” Violet told Gabriel. “I had to remind him that his ham was getting cold. I’ve scarcely seen such an enthusiastic response to an activity from him, beyond his artwork. And even then his comments wouldn’t fill an entire dinner and dessert course. He’s comfortable with you. Admires you.”
“It’s Nora that puts him at ease. They are quite the unlikely pair, but he listens to her ramble on as if it were the most interesting sound in the world, and she waits patiently while he finds his words. I had no idea she even possessed such patience. God knows she doesn’t apply it anywhere else.” Gabriel shook his head slowly. “They bring out the best in one another, I think.”
Their fifth lesson was cut short by a sudden and aggressive downpour. With quick action, they managed to stay relatively dry as they all four dashed inside.
“Can I bring Zachariah to the kitchen for a snack? We are ravenous!” Nora said.
Gabriel nodded and turned to Violet. When had he started to think of her as Violet? “Mrs Evans, we can either follow the children’s example and eat our weight in shortbread biscuits, or relocate to my study and wait out the flood. Do you by chance play chess?”
Violet tapped her chin with her index finger, pretending to give the choice due consideration. “Tempting as eating myself into a stupor may sound, I believe slaughtering you at chess would be superior entertainment.”
“Right this way then, madam.”
***
As it turned out, their skills were evenly matched. He captured a number of pawns, a knight, and one rook. She had taken fewer pawns, but had his bishop, and managed to capture his queen. The fire crackled merrily, a warm cup of tea in his hand.
Gabriel groaned. “I can’t believe I didn't see that! It's this wet coat distracting me. Blasted itchy wool.” He grinned and watched her out of the corner of his eye, baiting her to argue.
“By all means, Your Grace. Remove whatever clothes are causing your strategy to be so painfully flawed. This is becoming embarrassing. For you, I mean. I am perfectly content in my triumph.”
Gabriel shook his head, laughing. “If you promise not to be too scandalised, I will make myself at home … in my home.”
Violet toyed with the smooth circle of the pawn's head. He could feel her following each movement as he peeled away his coat and unwound his cravat.
Glancing at the still-open door, Gabriel pressed and rubbed his fingers into the tingling, newly exposed skin of his neck with both hands. He was never alone and unchaperoned with a woman. Having observed the repercussions of that mistake in the lives of others, it was the one societal rule he followed to the letter. But this wasn’t London, and Mrs Evans wasn’t one of the title-hungry debutantes who trapped their prey in the gardens during ton balls. She was forthright. Kind. Quite incapable of artifice. And the way she stole glances at his exposed body in brief, hungry flicks, well, his heart was suddenly beating like it belonged in the chest of a much younger man. A man who might ignore his better angels in favour of twenty minutes alone with a beautiful woman.
Returning to the empty chair on his side of the board, he narrowed his eyes with a smirk, rolling first one shirt sleeve, then the other, to the elbow. He was flirting. God, it had been so long since he had done it, he wasn’t even sure he was doing it correctly. But it felt right. It felt light and freeing and harmless, like riding a horse just a little too fast as a boy.
“If you’re trying to distract me by dangling a set of well-muscled forearms in front of the board, then you will find yourself disappointed in my lack of care at your masculine display.” The minute the words escaped from her lips, a hot blush rose up her slender neck and bloomed over her cheeks. She covered her face with both hands. She did have a lovely blush.
“Why, Mrs Evans, I am wounded that you think I could stoop so low, or that I would even surmise it possible for you to find such things distracting.” He pushed his sleeves up another two inches, showing the curve of a slightly flexed bicep, then grinned as if he had already won the game. “Who taught you to play chess?”
There was a pregnant pause before Violet’s answer emerged flatly. “My stepfather.”
“Well, he did an admirably good job of it.” Violet did not respond, staring instead at the board, apparently too intent to divide her attention.
Despite Violet's assertion that she was wholly unaffected by his state of attire, her foothold on victory began to slip; she missed an obvious trap set for her queen, then lost yet another pawn. The pieces were added to Gabriel's collection of hostages.
“Come, Mrs Evans, is that the best you can do?” Gabriel stretched both arms behind his head, interlocking his fingers at the nape of his neck. She did say I had well-muscled arms.
Something shifted in her expression, softened like velvet. Eyes he had only ever seen as keen and curious became sensual and intent. They made a slow, meticulous journey down the lean muscles of one arm and across the breadth of his chest, where his shirt had been pulled taut.
Gabriel felt that caress as if it had been her fingers playing across his naked skin. Her steady gaze continued its path, rising to the column of his throat where he worked to swallow, then landing soundly, unrepentantly, on his eyes. God above, her eyes were so blue.
His heart pounded, throwing a few extra beats into the chaos of his chest. Releasing a long, uneven breath, Gabriel returned his gaze to the chessboard. He stared dumbfounded at a rook, unable to remember in which direction it moved, let alone what he had planned to do with the piece. Foolishly, he had failed to anticipate that Violet might respond with such transparent female appreciation, or to consider what her response would do to his body.
