“Which you never do.”
“I will stay here,” he repeated evenly. “I will take a chamber and leave the top floor to you, unless you mind the stairs.”
“I do not mind, and Miss Ingram is not infirm physically.”
“Napier will arrange everything. Take your meal where you will. I will see you in the morning.” With that, he unleashed his horse from its tether at the back of the coach, mounted and rode away.
It had not been a promising conversation, and it had been the first of the day. She assumed he sorely regretted what had happened. Perhaps he was even embarrassed, although as a man he would never admit it. He had lost control. It was that simple. Then he had encouraged, even lured, her to do the same. It was not the kind of behavior for which Brentworth was known.
Mr. Napier handed their baggage to several servants, then brought them inside. She heard him mention Brentworth’s name several times. He insisted a woman be given over to the ladies for the length of their stay, to serve them exclusively. The innkeeper left the chamber and returned with a young woman who invited them to follow her up the stairs.
Miss Ingram turned her head this way and that all the way up, “Someone has changed everything. The panels on the wall used to be much nicer.”
“I don’t think you have been here before.”
“Haven’t I? Well, one inn looks much like another, I suppose. Will we be here long?”
“I don’t know.” It could be a day or so, or it could be a week or so. It all depended on Brentworth. She had no choice but to have him take her around. If he chose not to bring her somewhere she thought she needed to go, she would have to hire a conveyance. She wondered if this inn, which was so beholden to his largesse in permanently letting an entire floor that was never used, would help her do that.
By the time they arrived at the chambers at the top, she had half-convinced herself that Brentworth was putting her here so he could keep her from learning what she needed to learn. They may not be enemies anymore, but they were not of one mind either.
The chambers proved to be luxurious enough for a duke. Fine fabrics and furniture graced the large sitting room and three bedchambers. As he said, two of them overlooked the little kitchen garden and some trees. Miss Ingram, however, decided she preferred the third one, a small nook of a room on the other side with one window in the rear.
“It will get the northern light,” she said. “That is best for reading. No glaring sun during one part of the day.” She bent down to pick up her valise. The servant snatched it first, carried it into the chamber and began to unpack the books.
Davina chose her own chamber, one that had a small entry before it spread along the exterior wall. The afternoon sun did glare in, but the trees kept it from being too harsh. The bed felt soft, and the white walls made a cheery contrast to the red fabric draping the windows and bed.
She opened the windows, although the weather had cooled, and moved a chair near one so she could look out on the last growth in the garden below. She settled down to make plans for the days ahead. Memories of Brentworth’s seduction tried to invade her mind. She concentrated on her mission in order to keep them at bay, as she had most of the day. This time, however, as the lowering sun made mottled patterns on the windowpanes, she found she no longer had the strength of will to succeed. She closed her eyes, crossed her arms to hold herself and succumbed to echoes of that delirium.
* * *
He could not stay here forever, on this rise of land, looking at that house and the mountains looming not far behind. Yet he did nothing to move his horse any further.
The damage was not too apparent from this angle, but charred stone could be seen on one corner. When viewed from the front instead of back here, he knew the whole west wing remained a black ruin of walls.
Fire. Screams. Horrible fear and finally devastating reality.His fault. He had never been able to argue away his culpability. Ignorance did not excuse him. He had not known because he did not want to know.
He had been so blinded by passion that he had not known what he had in her. Had not recognized that mercurial temper for what it really was. He had not wanted to, because he had been freer than he had ever been in his life. No rules, no borders, no restraint. He thought of Davina’s scold last night, that he needed more passion in his life.Once I knew passion untold. Primitive, scandalous passion, and it almost consumed all that I am.
Down below, a rider appeared, growing larger as he galloped toward the rise. An arm waved as the horse came closer. Roberts, his steward here, reined in the horse twenty feet away. “Your Grace. I thought it might be you and so I decided I would come and see.” His accent marked him as native to the area, as did his blond Celtic appearance and strength. Brentworth would recognize him anywhere, even if it had been almost ten years since their last meeting. But then, of course, Roberts knew everything. No one else did.
Roberts looked over his shoulder at the house. “It has been some time.”
“A long time.” He had intended it to be much longer yet, but Davina had changed those plans, hadn’t she?
“On receiving your letter that you would visit, I had the good chambers prepared.” He meant the ones in the part of the house that had not burned. Not the ducal chambers. Those were ash now.
“I will be staying at the inn. I came with guests, and even the good chambers would not be suitable for them. They are ladies.” He added the last to make his case, even though the chambers in question would suit Davina fine, and Miss Ingram would never notice.
The truth was, he did not want to stay here. Not even one night.
“Will you come down and see how things sit, Your Grace? The servants, though few, would be honored.”
Damned if he wanted to go down there, but some duties, though small, mattered to others besides himself. “We will go now and you can call them together.”
Roberts smiled broadly and turned his horse. Brentworth moved his mount to a canter. Through sheer force of will, he did not see the flames reaching toward a night sky.
* * *
