Tempted by the Windflower (House of Devon Book 6) Read online

  The maid opened the door to the pale green and white room that Rosalind remembered from her prior visit. Lady Caroline jumped to her feet and hurried over.

  “Are you settled? Is the room to your liking?”

  Rosalind smiled. “Yes. It seems I have my own balcony! I barely need to go outside to observe the southern sky at night.”

  She saw Caroline’s brow dip slightly. “And that’s good?”

  “Yes, I adore it.”

  Caroline slipped an arm through Rosalind’s and strolled with her back to the seating in the center of the room. “Mama and Ann are fussing over Emily’s dresses,” Caroline said, referring to her sisters, “so I thought now might be a good time for us to visit. And play with the theater!”

  Lady Caroline’s childhood toy sat on the table before the settee. It was in surprisingly good condition, considering how much Rosalind knew the young woman must have played with it over the years. The paper curtains and players were still brightly printed and the wooden base shone with recent buffing.

  “What was the last play that you staged on it?” Rosalind asked.

  Lady Caroline thought for a moment. “Oh yes, I did a brief yule story for Nicholas and Francis last Christmas!” She chuckled. “And then I had to hide it away because they couldn’t stop trying to play with it.”

  Rosalind smiled. “Those are your youngest siblings? Mother mentioned them to me.”

  “Yes, and they are lovely. I’m sure you will have time to visit with them while you are here. They would love to hear your stories.” Caroline looked at the theater and furrowed her brow. “If we bring out the theater I will probably tell them you took it with you when you left, if only to reduce their requests to see it again.”

  “Your secret will be safe with me,” Rosalind assured her. She was glad to see that the years hadn’t dimmed Lady Caroline’s good nature. The young woman had a sweetness to her that was authentic, not the practiced saccharine style of so many other ladies of her acquaintance.

  “So,” Lady Caroline said, clasping her hands under her chin and turning her attention back to Rosalind, “what story shall we tell today? A classic? Something from the Greeks or the Bard? Or do we want to make up our own?”

  Rosalind laughed. “I can tell you hope that I will spin a tale for you, but I’m certain you will be disappointed to find I am not as entertaining as you remember!”

  “Well, the only way to prove that is to try.”

  “Please remember that in my defense it is quite a bit easier to entertain a ten year old child than a sixteen year old woman.”

  “I promise,” Lady Caroline said, clearly pleased that Rosalind was considering it. “You could never disappoint me.”

  The statement gave Rosalind pause. She was, in fact, quite good at disappointing people. She disappointed her mother by not being more sociable, she disappointed her sisters by not being more attentive, and in a roundabout way disappointed her father by not being born male. Because however much she might enjoy and support his love of astronomy she would never be allowed to pursue it academically as he hoped he could have, that he might have hoped a son would.

  She picked up one of the paper dolls to begin forming a story in her mind. “Lady Harriett Boucheron begins our play quite put out. All the men of her acquaintance are dullards of the first order but she must marry before the bells of Candlemas or she will lose her dowry.”

  Lady Caroline’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward. Rosalind smiled before she turned her attention back to the board and set up the characters. Perhaps there was one person she couldn’t disappoint after all.

  Chapter Three

  Freddie was up before dawn preparing the horses for the morning ride. He hoped their guests could keep a good seat. He’d chosen two of their gentlest geldings for the outing, already knowing the preference for each of the riders in the household. For himself he’d chosen Foster, a solid and reasonable gelding who was fleeter of foot than most suspected. Since Foster wasn’t flashy none of the duke’s sons had taken to him, and his stolid name meant he was passed over by all the daughters as well. But he knew that if any trouble brewed that Foster would keep a good head, as well as get him where he needed to be quickly.

  Shortly he heard the first of the riders arriving. The next little while was consumed with matching rider to horse, helping riders mount, and making sure that the feistier horses were kept far enough apart to forestall any kicking or biting. It was something like being the ringmaster of the circus while also one of the performing monkeys.

  At last the guests arrived, identified by the fact that it was two people he’d never met. An older gentleman and his daughter. As a matter of course he tried to never let his gaze linger too long on women of quality. They didn’t care for it and that was fine by him. He reassured himself that the only reason he stared at this young woman so long was simply because he didn’t know her. That it had nothing to do with how pleasingly her emerald green riding habit hugged her short, curvy figure. That he was merely cataloging her soft brown hair and dark eyes all the better to recognize her later.

  He forced himself to turn first to attend to her father, asking the gentleman briefly about their preferences to ensure he’d selected adequate horses. He’d clearly been wise to choose the mildest of creatures for the two, as neither had any particular affinity for either horses or riding.

  Girding himself to be as detached as possible he turned to assist the young lady into her saddle. Even with the steps she needed a boost, which meant that for a brief moment he had a hand on her delightfully rounded hip. After years of such interactions it was the first time he’d been tempted to let his hand linger. Instead he busied himself with ensuring her stirrup was adjusted and that she was holding her reins correctly before turning to her father to ensure the man was seated as well.

  Freddie mounted and Lord William led the group out for what was expected to be a gentle ride though the grounds. With both Lord William and Lady Emily in the party, however, he suspected it would not remain sedate.

  He found himself sneaking glances at Miss Flowers. Her hair was in a simple chignon but charmingly set off by her jaunty green hat. It had a rather dramatic black feather sweeping back over her head that bounced as she rode. Was it his fault that the motion of the feather was rather mesmerizing? And if he happened to take in the nip of her waist and swell of her hips while he was looking, well, that was just incidental. To be attracted to a lady of gentle birth, or worse yet to make it evident that he was attracted to a lady of gentle birth, was anathema. He would never do such a thing.

  ***

  Rosalind found herself unaccountably flustered by the Devon’s handsome groom. His gray eyes assessed her the moment she walked in and she found herself very conscious of his attention, but listening to the conversation he had with her father she assumed it was less attraction and more deciding if she was capable of controlling a horse. Her father was perhaps a bit too generous in describing her riding experience.

  She’d not even had the strength to pull herself up and then his steady hand had boosted her into the side saddle. She’d felt simultaneously thrilled and safe. It was a heady, confusing sensation. But looking down she’d only seen the top of his head as he busied himself with her saddle straps. He had not, it appeared, been similarly affected.

  Now she was trying her best to be attentive to her horse as well as Lady Caroline’s conversation while she could still feel a tingle on her skin where he touched her. She’d never really reacted to a man this way before, which was curious. She wasn’t sure if it was his storm colored eyes, his solemn regard, or something else that captured her. Her sister Regina was forever falling in and out of love with gentlemen with the barest of reason. It might be the way a man’s hair curled above his eye that particular night, or his choice of words in describing her beauty. But Regina was, to be quite honest, a bit flighty and Rosalind was not typically beset with such concerns. She’d met men she considered attractive, but now she realized
she’d meant it in the way one might compliment a painting. An objective analysis rather than a subjective response.

  Her attention was diverted when she heard her father talking to Lord William about the maths required for astronomical calculations. It wasn’t long before he included her in the conversation of calculations used to estimate movement in the heavens. It was one of her favorite subjects and she could honestly be a bit pedantic when she wasn’t careful. But Lord William seemed at least politely interested so she started explaining some of the foundational theorems used.

  “It’s pronounced Archimedes,” a voice said softly behind her.

  She turned to see the solemn groom regarding her. “I’m sorry?”

  “Archimeedes,” he emphasized, “not Archimehdes.”

  “You’d better listen to him, he was my tutor’s best student,” Lord William joked.

  “As I recall he was your tutor’s only student,” Lady Caroline teased him.

  Lord William shrugged. “Is it my fault I liked my tailor better than I did my tutor?”

  Rosalind, however, was still arrested by the groom’s soft correction. “I supposed I’ve only read it in books and never thought much about the pronunciation,” she admitted.

  “It is probably easier to understand in the original Greek,” he allowed.

  She wasn’t sure if he was trying to make her feel better or bragging about his own ability to read Greek. What an interesting riddle of a man.

  The moment was broken, however, when Lady Emily shrieked and challenged, “I’ll race you to the bridge!”

  A look of utter dismay and irritation swept over the groom’s face before he returned to his placid demeanor. “Pardon me, Miss Flowers,” he said, and set off after the three Devon siblings.

  Chapter Four

  Freddie didn’t like leaving their guests behind, especially as they hadn’t seemed particularly comfortable riders, but neither did he want something to happen to the duke’s children without being close at hand. This was precisely why he hated serving these sorts of outings. Nash seemed to have some sort of instinct for these sorts of circumstances that Freddie just didn’t have. Five hardly seemed like a group so large and unruly as to need two grooms, but at the present Freddie wished he could be in two places at once. If Lord Hopewell, the eldest, were with his siblings then Freddie wouldn’t be quite so worried, but both Lord William and Lady Emily had more spirit than good sense. And Lady Caroline was too sweet to counter their frivolity.

  However, he should probably be thankful for Lady Emily’s distraction. He’d been far too familiar with Miss Flowers, correcting her like that. It had been irritating hearing an otherwise intelligent and educated discussion marred by that one error. Certainly anyone who wanted to talk about Archimedes would want to pronounce his name correctly? But it wasn’t Freddie’s place to point it out. He knew that.

  Then she’d turned that beautiful face to look at him, her expression one of curiosity. The eyes that looked like chocolate in the shadow of the stable shone like fine brandy in the sunlight. He stared for too long. He knew that when her head tipped to the side as though she’d gone from wondering how he knew Greek to wondering what he was thinking.

  Then, fortunately, Lady Emily had shrieked.

  Now he was glad for Foster’s fleet and sure hooves as he thundered across the field in pursuit. But the race seemed to have settled the siblings, and by the time Freddie arrived they were chatting and laughing.

  “Where are the Flowers?” Lady Caroline asked.

  “Coming at a slower pace, my lady,” Freddie said. He was considering going back for them when Lady Emily spoke again.

  “William, I’ll race you to that tree and back!”

  So here he would stay, with an eye out for their guest’s progress while hoping desperately there wouldn’t be any harm to horses or riders during this latest race.

  His attention to the path behind them must have been obvious because Lady Caroline drew near. “You can go back for them. We will be fine here, entertaining ourselves.”

  It wouldn’t do to argue with one of the duke’s children, even if Freddie only had their safety in mind. And he really would have expected to see the Flowers crest the little rise behind them by now. So he nodded deferentially and trotted Foster back the way they had come, listening to Lady Emily’s spirited giggling carry on the wind behind him.

  This was why he hated groups and he hated mornings and he promised himself that he would never, ever ignore Reeves at table again.

  ***

  “Are you sure this is the way they were going?” Rosalind asked her father again gently. She was almost positive it was not, but wasn’t one to counter her father too forcefully. It had always been her role to be his support, to cheer his victories and gloss over his failures. Lord knew the poor man needed it.

  “Yes, I think so.” He looked around with a frown, though, clearly not certain.

  She was considering how to get him turned around when she heard twigs snap behind her. She turned to see their groom coming for them and gave a sigh of relief.

  “Thank you for coming back for us, Mr.-” she let the title taper off as a question.

  “Marshall,” he said. “No mister required.”

  “Well, thank you, Marshall.”

  He nodded and turned his horse. “If you could follow me, please.”

  She found that yes, she would follow him quite willingly, and not only because he was the one who knew their way through the landscape. She was so lost in a dreamy contemplation of his shoulders that she only heard the end of her father’s question.

  “Dollond as it seems a fair night?”

  “Beg pardon, what?” She turned her attention to her father.

  “These fields. They seem a good spot to bring out the Dollond and make some observations this evening.”

  “Oh!” She looked around at the green rolling hills and wide open sky. It would indeed make an excellent setting to use their prized telescope. “Of course. Yes, it would be perfect. Much better than near the house.”

  She realized they were drawing near the Devon siblings who waited near a footbridge, most likely a well-known landmark on their land to meet. Lady Emily was flushed and laughing, but Lady Caroline was still pristine. Rosalind had to smile as she knew how different sisters could be. Although Emily was only two years younger than Caroline it had been enough to keep Emily in the nursery when Rosalind visited last so the age difference felt much greater!

  Lady Caroline was the first to speak. “It was terribly done of me to leave you lonely while we had our fun.”

  “Worry not,” Mr. Flowers said. “Youth has high spirits. Except Rosalind and I were born old, so we just indulgently look on.”

  His answer seemed to relieve Caroline who nodded gracefully. “If you can indulge them again I believe that Lord William and Lady Emily plan to race back to the stables, but I will ride with you. I fear I was born a bit older than either of them!”

  Lady Emily laughed and spurred her horse before Lord William realized the race was afoot. He chased after his sister with his larger hunter and although Rosalind was no judge of horseflesh she assumed that Lord William would win out at the end. She heard Marshall give a beleaguered sigh. Apparently he’d been born old as well.

  She spent the rest of the ride back to the stables in conversation with Lady Caroline and not, absolutely not, staring at the groom. But not looking at him took a great deal more concentration than she would have expected.

  Chapter Five

  Thankfully Nash met Lord William and Lady Emily at the stables and already cooled and curried their horses by the time Freddie arrived with the rest of the party. His frazzled state must have been clear to the other groom who simply smiled at him and set to bringing in the other horses. Freddie was securing Foster when he heard Nash address Miss Flowers.

  “Do you need help down from your mount, miss?”

  Freddie felt the simple question stab like a betrayal. When he looke
d over at the lovely Miss Flowers she seemed indecisive about the groom’s offer, but then looked over at Freddie. He walked toward her as though she’d pulled him by a string.

  “I’ve got this, Nash,” he said, attention still on the brunette who hadn’t dropped her gaze from his. When he stopped in front of her she held her hands out to steady herself on his shoulders and he wrapped his hands at her waist. As he lowered her to the ground the barest hint of her curves brushed against him. Over the years he’d assisted hundreds of ladies to mount and dismount an it never before seemed so personal, so erotic. Once her feet were on the ground it took an extreme effort of will to remove his hands from her. She stumbled forward and he had to steady her while her soft breasts were pressed up against him. Her cheeks bloomed pink.

  “I’m so terribly sorry. Those saddles are awkward and apparently I don’t have my legs about me yet.”

  “Of course, miss.” He kept his tone neutral but his body was on fire for her. If he didn’t know certain it would cost him his livelihood he would press a kiss to those soft, pink lips. Who was this woman who tempted him so? Who quoted ancient Greek math theorems and followed her father around more like a secretary than a daughter?

  Nash cleared his throat and bumped Freddie while leading Mr. Flowers’s horse away. Although he loathed to do so, Freddie stepped back and Miss Flowers seemed able to keep her feet this time.

  “Miss,” he said, nodding to her and tugging his cap.

  He walked away because nothing good could come of mooning over a gently bred girl, and right in front of her father at that. He escaped to the furthest reaches of the stables and set to mucking stalls. It was the first time he could remember throwing himself into the work quite frantically, as though it were a place he could escape from himself. But even the bone wearying work of cleaning the stalls in half the time he normally would didn’t assuage his guilt at holding her. Or his ardor for having her.