An Unconventional Innocent Page 4

  “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “No, it’s all right. I was waiting for you and sharing a cup of tea with Mrs. Hale.”

  “Yes, I saw her in the hall. Are you all right?” He sat across from her, wincing as he stretched his leg to the side.

  “Should you be out of bed?”

  “The more I move it, the more it will stretch and relax the muscles. They’ve grown tight.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault. A jaunt around the garden will aid me if you are willing?”

  “I am. Would you like some tea first?”

  “Certainly.”

  She poured him a cup, doing a remarkable job of hiding her feelings. But he knew she was hurt. He’d seen it in the unguarded moment before she knew he had entered. The question was what was he going to do about it? He drank his cup of tea quickly, eager to get outside. She finished hers and held his arm as they entered the hall. Her cloak was hanging on a peg, and she accepted his assistance in putting it on.

  He felt infinitely better the moment they stepped outside. His leg was throbbing, but it was a good throb. He could feel her gaze as he took awkward steps beside her.

  “Are you sure you should be walking?”

  “Absolutely. In a day or so, my leg will be back to its usual crippled gait, which is much smoother than this. It is only a matter of time.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  If he were honest, she would insist he return to bed. “Only little twinges. Knots that have to be worked out through exercise. I hope you can keep up with me.”

  She raised a brow at that. “Well, I’ve no experience battling tigers, but walking is definitely one of my finer skills.” She grinned at him.

  The hurt was gone from her eyes now. If he did nothing else this day, he would still consider it one of his finest. “We shall put that to the test. Show me these gardens you spoke about.”

  “They are not as beautiful as they will be in the spring, but with a little imagination, you can see they will be breathtaking.”

  He followed her to the back of the cottage where a lovely terrace joined the back of the house. She took him down a path that winded around thickets of plants in drab hibernate states.

  “The entire cottage is surrounded by an orchard?”

  “Yes, apples, and beyond that is grazing fields.”

  “Interesting. Winchester is a farmer now.”

  Thea laughed. “I don’t think he will agree with that. There is a tenant who cares for the orchard and its harvest.”

  “You seem to know a lot about this place.”

  “It’s my home now.”

  He was burning to ask her about her past but refrained. She would tell him when she was ready, or maybe never. It didn’t really matter now. He cared not how she came to be here, only that she was. He looked around and took a deep breath. The air was bracing and reviving. He saw a small gazebo down the path and led her to it. She sat on the bench inside the gazebo, and he lowered himself slowly, keeping his right leg extended.

  “I promise I’ll have more stamina tomorrow.”

  She gave him a look. “I won’t say I told you so.”

  “But by the look you’re giving me, it is what you mean to say?”

  “Precisely.”

  He chuckled. There was something about her that he found so endearing. “I promise to take great consideration of your advice in the future.”

  “You’re teasing me now.” She shook her head. A smile played about her lips.

  “I am, but it is only because I love to see you laugh and smile.” He sobered. He was laying it on a bit thick. Time to change the topic. “Do you know what vine is covering this gazebo?” He looked up and around the dome, avoiding looking at her in any way.

  She was quiet. Now he would have to speak and come up with some sort of playful excuse to why he sounded like a cad.”

  “It’s ivy,” she said with wonder.

  Now he had to look down at her. There had been a peculiar catch in her voice. She reached out and touched a small leaf. A thin layer of frost covered it.

  “Are you partial to ivy?”

  She gave him a small smile. There was a trace of sadness in her eyes.

  “It reminds me of my friends.”

  “The ivy?”

  “Yes. Did you know plants and flowers can have a secret meaning?”

  He considered this. “In a way, yes.”

  “Lady Anabelle, a friend of mine and Lady Lucy’s, was given a book, a dictionary of sorts for flowers and plants. Then she began to receive messages in flowers every day. It was Lord Draven. He was relentless in wooing her.”

  “And very creative, it seems.” Felton didn’t like the dreamy sound of her voice when she mentioned Lord Draven. He shook his head. He couldn’t be jealous, could he? “Tell me more?” And not of Lord Draven, he wanted to add. Was her sadness due to her wanting of him but his marriage to her friend, instead? Perhaps that was the crux of her scandal.

  She turned and looked at him, biting her lip shyly. His thoughts evaporated.

  “Do you truly wish to know?”

  Anything from your sweet lips. He blinked. The urge to kiss her surged inside him. He stomped it down ruthlessly. “Of course. It sounds very interesting. Someone may very well communicate with me through flowers, and I may not know it.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance and rolled her eyes. “You’re only placating me, but I shall tell you anyway. I don’t remember all of them, of course, but I do remember Lady Anabelle’s flowers and what they had meant, and Lady Lucy’s favorite.

  He raised a brow.

  “Rhododendron. Danger, beware, I am dangerous,” she smiled crookedly.

  Felton laughed. “I’m beginning to see why Winchester was so enchanted by this Lady Lucy. I will be very pleased to finally meet her.”

  She laughed and then focused on the swirl of a knot in the seat of the wood bench. Felton watched as her finger made circles around it. She took a deep breath and exhaled before she began. She got that dreamy look again, and this time, Felton watched it wash over her face. It sent an answering heat through him.

  “The first bouquet was red tulips, and we discovered they represent a declaration of love.” She sighed.

  It was then Felton understood that it was the notion of the romantic gesture that gave her that dreamy look. He knew right then and there that he would do something—anything—to see that look on her face because of him. It was a startling realization.

  “Red Camellia means ‘you’re a flame in my heart.’ Lavender means love and devotion, Red Chrysanthemum means love, Hibiscus means consumed by love, Red roses mean ‘I love you.’”

  “That one is fairly well known.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “And the last bouquet was Bluebells.”

  “Bluebells?”

  “These he presented himself and proposed to her. She agreed, of course.”

  “What did the Bluebells mean?” He wondered.

  “Humility, constancy, and gratitude.”

  Felton raised both brows now, thoroughly impressed with this Draven fellow.

  “I’d never seen anything like it. Until that moment, I’d thought Lord Draven a cold, heartless man, but he loves her so very much.”

  “And she returned his love?”

  “Not at first. He made quite the campaign to win it, but by his proposal, he had succeeded in winning her heart.”

  “It sounds like a fairy tale.”

  “It does, but I witnessed it with my own eyes.” She sighed.

  He liked that sigh. It was a breathy gust of satisfaction. Something else he wanted to hear her do because of him.

  He needed to get a hold of these thoughts.

  “We should return inside,” he suggested. “Will you accompany me again tomorrow?”

  “Of course. We shall make a daily habit of it while you are here.”

  “An excellent idea.”

  Chapter 5r />
  A week passed, and every day of it, his strength returned a little more. They spent more time alone together, and Felton became certain of one thing. He wanted Miss Dorothea Manton. What he couldn’t tell was whether she felt the same and if she was willing to indulge that want with him. He walked a fine line with her, teasing and flirting, but never crossing it. He took her hand to place it on his arm when they walked, he held her chairs for her but never did their touch linger or deepen to something more. It was time to change that. Time to be a little bolder and see if she felt the same.

  Felton had never met a woman like her before. She was intelligent and reserved but never resisted laughing when she was amused. Her quarrel with Mrs. Hale was still apparent, but for the most part, they were left to their own devices.

  The winter had taken hold, every morning shining brightly over freshly laid snow. On this particular morning, Felton was determined to sit a horse. Winchester’s horse was available luckily, a horse Felton was already acquainted with. Thea was joining him on his morning ride with a bit of skepticism.

  “Good morning, Fenrir.” Felton held out his hand while the horse huffed into it. “Will you ride Lady Lucy’s horse, Thea?”

  “Lord Heath has been gracious enough to loan me the horse I usually ride when visiting them. She’s much calmer than Lucy’s horse.”

  “I should have guessed as much.” He’d heard so much about Lady Lucy, her brother, and her parents in the last week, he was eager to meet them. Lady Lucy’s family was planning to visit once Winchester and his bride returned.

  They rode out of the small stables and down the short drive into the lane. He could hardly remember that first day now when she’d assisted him to the house. It was like trying to remember a night of drunken revelry. Only feelings came to the forefront with any clarity. His memories and actions were a hazy mess. He did remember profound relief, and oddly, he did remember her face when she looked down at him in the lane.

  A constable had arrived the day after their walk and gazebo conversation. Felton had given him all the information he knew, their descriptions, how one man had lain in the road pretending to be injured until he dismounted.

  Thea had been thoroughly enraged for him—which he found adorable, but for himself, Felton wasn’t angry. He was grateful to be alive and grateful fate had put Thea in his path that day. It was interesting to learn that the innkeeper’s horse had found its way back to the stable.

  Felton adjusted his position in the saddle. His leg had felt almost normal most of the week, which had inspired him to try riding. The muscles protested the new endeavor, but Felton took it in stride. Just like walking had been almost unbearable at first, so would riding. Now he walked with ease, still relying on his cane for extra balance and support. His leg would never be normal again. The muscle was too damaged from the tiger’s claw and the resulting infection. He could live with it. It was a miracle he was alive at all. What he would sorely miss would be galloping, letting his horse have its head and feeling like one could race the wind. It was just more than his leg could handle.

  He looked beside him to where Thea trotted on the lovely gray mare Esmerelda. They knew each other well. Thea talked to Esmerelda like an old friend and the horse nickered in response.

  “How long have you ridden Esmerelda?”

  “Hmm?” She tilted her head to the side and thought. “After my first season, Lucy and her family were about to quit town, and she invited me to join them for a week. We’d become inseparable in such a short time. I ended up staying for a month.” She sighed wistfully. “Lord Heath purchased her for Lady Heath the week before I left. He was determined to encourage her to ride, which she does not enjoy.”

  “Odd for an English woman.”

  “That is exactly what Lord Heath used to say.”

  “He bought the horse knowing she didn’t like riding?”

  “All the horses in his stable are rather…exuberant. He thought a calmer mount would move her to change her mind.”

  “But she didn’t?”

  “No. So there Esmerelda was, looking dashing and elegant in the drive with no one to ride her. Lord Heath suggested I give it a try. I wasn’t too enamored of the idea. Just the week before, I was thrown from Comeuppance.”

  “Comeuppance?”

  “One of his racing horses, supposedly one with a better temper than the others. Or so they wanted me to believe. I took one look at Esmerelda and knew we could be great friends. She has kind eyes. Do you see?” She leaned forward and patted Esmerelda’s neck. Esmerelda tossed her mane about as if preening.

  “I’ve never seen a horse with such extravagant lashes.” Felton nodded.

  “She is envied by horse and woman everywhere she goes.”

  Felton thought about Thea’s story. A man buying a horse for a wife who does not ride? Horse flesh was serious business. “Have you considered Lord Heath purchased Esmerelda for you?”

  “What? Why would he do such a thing?”

  Felton didn’t have a ready answer. Who wouldn’t want to give Thea everything she deserved and more? “Because he is kind and so are you.”

  “Wha—I don’t take your meaning.”

  Felton didn’t know how to explain it without divulging too much. He didn’t know Lord Heath, but he suspected he could understand the motive for purchasing a horse for Thea. A gentle horse for a woman with a gentle heart. Felton looked at Esmerelda and felt an odd form of gratitude. As if the horse knew she carried someone special and in need of protection.

  Christ, what was he thinking? He wasn’t a poet, and yet lately, the voice in his head blathered on with bubbly prose.

  “Lord Heath has been far more than gracious to accept me into his family these past few years. To think he purchased a horse for me makes me feel as though I’ve been lacking in gratitude. First, his daughter befriended me when no one else would. They welcome me into their home frequently throughout the year, and now Lucy shelters me from my family. Am I some sort of charity case?”

  Bloody hell, her mind worked rapidly. What was that last bit about her family? “That isn’t what I intended to imply at all. Only that it is clear this family cares for you,” he hurried to say.

  “I know they care for me. It is very evident to me. I didn’t need you to point it out.”

  Felton grimaced and slowed his horse. She was upset. She wouldn’t look at him now. How had he blundered this?

  “Thea, please don’t misunderstand me. I was only pointing out my own theory. I am probably wrong.”

  “You are. I am certain of it.”

  “Of course.”

  They continued on in a tense silence. Felton struggled for a topic of conversation that would ease the tension.

  “The Winters are very different in India,” he blurted.

  She didn’t respond at first and then a quiet “Oh?” filled the silence.

  “I cannot begin to express how wonderful it feels to be in my home climate.”

  “Even after you almost died?”

  “If a tiger couldn’t end me, I’m convinced nothing shall.”

  She covered her mouth and giggled. He grinned at her back.

  “My, what an ego you have.” She twisted to glance at him. He rode up beside her.

  “Can you blame me?”

  “I suppose not.”

  There. The tension was eased, and now they rode in a companionable silence. They reached the village and did a cursory lap through the main thoroughfare before heading back to the quiet country lane to the cottage. She pointed out various things of interest along the way, but all Felton really wanted to do was watch her.

  A light dusting of snow began to fall. They smiled at each other and hurried the rest of the way back to the cottage. Felton settled into the sofa in the front parlor and accepted a cup of tea from Thea. She did the same opposite him, wrapping her hands around the warm cup and sighing.

  He wanted to taste that sigh. It would probably taste like tea with two lumps of sugar. He pull
ed his gaze away from her and to the roaring fire Mr. Hale had built for them. Mr. Hale was a jovial fellow. Felton remembered Winchester speaking fondly of him in India. There was still an odd tension between Thea and Mrs. Hale. The others, from what he could tell, adored Thea.

  What was going on? It was true that their situation was out of the ordinary and far from proper, but out here in the country, the rules of propriety were less stringent. Besides, Felton was an absolute gentleman. But that didn’t explain what Thea was doing here. He had his suspicions, but now he really wanted to know.

  He waited a moment more before approaching the sensitive subject of family.

  “It will be interesting to see Winchester as a father. He wasn’t very fond of his own.”

  “I couldn’t really say. He’s said very little on the matter to me.”

  “He doesn’t like to discuss it. My own father passed when I was in India. He was also a military man.”

  “Oh?” She looked at him in interest. “I’m very sorry to hear about your father.”

  Felton shrugged. “I had a brother, too, older than I. He fell at Waterloo.”

  “My condolences.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What of your mother?”

  “She passed a little after my brother. He was her favorite.” He smiled awkwardly.

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It was. May we share a secret?”

  She raised a brow. “What sort of secret?”

  “A daring secret. We’ll trade.”

  “I haven’t any secrets.” She smiled nervously.

  “Then tell me a daring truth.”

  Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open just the tiniest bit. She glanced to the open doorway briefly.

  “Well?” he said with a wicked grin.

  She bit her lip. “Well, what is this secret so I may decide if I want to share a daring truth?”

  “That isn’t fair. You’ll know something of me, and I will know nothing of you.”