“Ha! It didn’t appear so to me, seeing you so cozily together there.”
David Fitzhugh reined in beside his fiancée and looked at Leona roguishly. “An attractive woman needs a chaperone all her life, no matter her age.”
Leona laughed. “Thank you. . . I think.”
“Oh, let’s all stop blathering. Nigel, throw her up in the saddle. I want to show Leona some more of the estate before it gets too late.”
“There’s no need. There’s a large rock over there that I can use,” Leona said, untying Lady Talavera.
“Nonsense, Miss Leonard. You heard my sister. I dare not disobey.” He grabbed Leona about her waist and lifted her.
Through the thick wool of her riding habit, Leona’s skin burned where he touched her. The sensation struck her by surprise, sending her mentally reeling. She knew her reactions to Nigel Deveraux were strange, but never had she felt them so intensely. Tingling radiated from the burning areas at her waist and shot down her legs and up to her head.
“Thank you,” she breathily managed when he released her and stepped back. She fought to maintain a calm and serene mien. It was not an easy battle. Deveraux nodded curtly at her before turning to gather the reins of his horse and mount. Strangely nervous, Leona turned her horse’s head to follow Lucy, her back turned resolutely to Nigel Deveraux.
Nigel raised a dark brow as he watched Leona and Lucy engage in a lively conversation. The color was still high on Miss Leonard’s cheeks. So, the little witch could be discomfited. He smiled at the knowledge that might be a way to control her. He glanced down at his hands. He could still feel the span ofher waist between them. He shifted in the saddle as a familiar pressure built in his loins. Definitely a little witch, he thought sardonically.
He set his heels to his horse to urge it into a comfortable canter and settled down to consider all that he had learned about Miss Leona Leonard. It struck him as singularly unfortunate that Leona and her brother-in-law did not get along. A silly misunderstanding most likely caused it. Deveraux could not imagine that the man could be as genuinely reprehensible as she described him, not if her sister was happy in her marriage. That silly misunderstanding, whatever it was, was costing Leona dearly. She should not have to feel the burden of duty. It was too heavy a weight for anyone to bear. He knew that full well.
He found a curious desire in him to ease Leona’s burdens, to allow her to live her own life. Perhaps if he effected a reconciliation with her brother-in-law on neutral ground, like Castle Marin, the two would mend fences. Yes. The more he thought of the idea, the more he liked it. That would be the best way he could help Leona, the best present he could give her to thank her for her efforts to help Chrissy: to effect a reconciliation between her and Sharply and then lift the yoke of duty from her shoulders and transfer it to Sharply’s. That should make Leona very happy, and inexplicably, that was the one thing Deveraux desired.
CHAPTER 7
March was afickle month, Leona mused as she stood on the stone steps before Castle Marin.
Some days were wintry, others warm with the hint of summer. It had been warm today. Now, as the night sky darkened revealing the stars one by one, a freshening breeze reminded her that winter was not gone. Leona shivered and wrapped her wool shawl closely about her shoulders. Truthfully, she didn’t mind the cold. She hoped its bite would waken her sluggish mind. She wished something would. She was confused. She didn’t know what to think any longer, what to believe, or even what to feel.
The only thing she did know was that she felt useless. That, perhaps more than anything else, bothered her. She wasn’t accustomed to uselessness. It stripped her of her purpose, her strength. She wandered within Castle Marin without purpose. There were no problems to solve, questions to answer, estate books to handle. Nothing. There wasn’t even the ball to help Lady Nevin with, for Maria Sprockett happily took up those duties. And she was much too restless a person to idly sit and watch Lucy get fitted for her wedding wardrobe.
Leona was free to pursue ladylike endeavors such as sewing, art, music, or reading. Unfortunately, reading was the only accomplishment she possessed, and now her eyes were weary from hours spent with a book in hand. She did sew well enough for mending, but Castle Marin was equipped with a seamstress for those chores, and sewing would not be any easier on her eyes.
Horseback riding and baiting Nigel Deveraux were the only relief she had from a growing and unremitting ennui.
She rode for an hour or two every day, but the remaining waking hours fell heavily on her. She was curious regarding the tenant farmers' farming practices, but they were too deferential to her to permit a free exchange of ideas. Then, again, whenever she asked a question within Deveraux’s hearing, he would laugh and remind her she was at Castle Marin for a relaxing visit and not to tax her mind with estate matters. His patronizing attitude riled Leona. Lacking a proper conduit for her restless energy, she turned it toward baiting him.
To do him justice, he did not disappoint her. He could give as well as he could take, and he had no hesitation in doing so. Leona reveled in the verbal sparring between them. She found herself looking forward to each confrontation and planning—during those times he was busy with his horse bartering activities—their next encounter.
Leona sighed, and descending the steps, wandered down the drive toward the paddocks. The breeze played with her neatly-styled coronet, pulling strands of hair free to dance in the wind. It molded her dinner gown to her body and colored her cheeks a bright pink. She stopped next to the paddock, leaning against the top railing.
Sometimes, just sometimes, she found herself wishing to repeat the comfortable conversation she and Deveraux had that day when they sat with their backs to the dovecote, letting the heat of the old stone warm their backs. There seemed to be aneasy camaraderie between them that day. He had understood her, perhaps for the first and only time of their acquaintance.
She looked toward the old dovecote in the distance, reveling in the memories.
But she shouldn’t have been able to see it. Not on this dark a night. Nonetheless, she did see it as a dark silhouette against a golden glow. She straightened, curious, and stared hard at the dovecote. It shouldn’t look like that. It shouldn’t—It was on fire!
Leona grabbed up her skirts and ran toward the manor house. She stumbled up the stairs, ripping a hole in her gown and scraping the skin off two knuckles as she tried to catch herself. She recovered and scrambled on, throwing open the great carved door with a resounding bang.
“Miss Leonard!” began Purboy disapprovingly as he strode out of his butler’s alcove. “What?—”
“Deveraux!” Leona gasped, ignoring the butler as she ran toward the drawing room where everyone gathered for cards. “Deveraux! The dovecote! It’s on fire!”
Deveraux and Fitzhugh immediately threw down their cards and ran past her. Lady Nevin, Maria, and Lucy babbled questions at her, but she ignored them as she turned to follow the men. Lady Nevin was quickly on her feet to follow, as were Maria and Lucy.
In the hallway, Leona ran past Jewitt who was just descending the stairs. The woman shook her head and pursed her lips in disapproval. She carried a wool shawl in her hands, which she thrust into her mistress’s arms as Lucy followed Leona. Lucy slowed to flash Jewitt a thankful smile before she flung the shawl around her shoulders. The countess and Maria followed more slowly while Purboy fetched them wraps.
From the stable came the sound of men shouting and cursing as the fire wagon was hitched. It burst out of the stable yard driven by Deveraux with Fitzhugh at his side. They wereclosely followed by a motley crew of men riding sturdy Devon workhorses, only a few of which were saddled.
The ladies followed as best they could on foot, stumbling over the rutted track. They watched in silence as the conflagration consumed the wood-shingled roof and gutted the inside. Tears ran down Lady Nevin’s cheeks. She swiped them away.
