Miss Devon's Choice: A Sweet Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 5) Read online

  “A splendid idea,” Lady Felicity cooed, clapping her hands together. “When may we begin?”

  “Tomorrow.” Lucas smiled. “But I will give you the riddle now so you may puzzle it out. Listen carefully.” He glanced down one side of the table and then the other. Rebecca hadn’t thought her cousin’s husband to be all that theatrical, but he clearly enjoyed the building anticipation.

  “The next riddle is in a room that is not a room, behind a door that is not a door.” He raised his eyebrows, his eyes glittering with mischief. “That is all, I will say nothing more.”

  A murmur started among the other guests. Rebecca tilted her head to observe Christian at her side. His stoic expression and stiff posture gave nothing of his thoughts away.

  Keeping her voice low, Rebecca leaned toward him to speak. “Have you any idea what he might mean?”

  Christian’s lips remained pressed in a hard line, while his eyes stayed trained on his dinner. She’d nearly given up on him answering when he finally spoke.

  “Not at present.” He turned, his dark eyes taking in her face, and she detected the faintest amount of curiosity in those eyes. “Do you wish to win this game?”

  Rebecca allowed herself a smile. “I wish to participate. To enjoy myself.” Though it might’ve been brazen of her to say it, or foolish given his earlier reaction to her forthrightness, Rebecca had to add one thing more. “It will be interesting to see if we can work together.”

  Something in his eyes shifted and he looked away. The scar across his lips pulled, subtly, when he frowned. It didn’t make the expression unpleasant so much as interesting. Truly, Rebecca found him to be a complex study.

  Perhaps she ought to start writing down her observations of him. It had been ages since she’d written in her journal but trying to decipher the man at her side might take more study than intuition, especially given his reaction to the very idea of a romantic attachment. Making note of what she noticed, what others said, would give her the ability to refine her plan.

  “I will think on the riddle tonight,” he said at last.

  Pressing her momentary advantage, Rebecca asked, “Would you like to meet in the morning, before breakfast? We can discuss our ideas.”

  With his only response a nod, Rebecca had to be content. At least he was speaking to her. At least he’d decided to take part in the treasure hunt.

  Virginia spoke again, drawing attention back to her. “I am glad you all find the prospect of treasure exciting. But as I doubt you wish to spend all your time exploring my house and grounds in your search, there are other entertainments planned. At the request of the gentlemen, tomorrow’s luncheon will be a picnic. Dinner in the evening will be a more formal affair, as I’ve invited several members of the neighborhood to join us after for cards.”

  She went on to talk of the rest of the stay. There would be an excursion to an old church, a trip to the village, lawn games with the children, Sunday services, fishing for the gentlemen, all the usual sorts of country entertainment. Rebecca listened with half an ear. Her thoughts were more busily occupied with how she might discover more about the man beside her when he was perfectly content to sit in silence.

  Chapter Ten

  Ajax stayed at Christian’s heels on their walk the next morning. The animal sensed Christian’s moods, of this the man was certain, and adjusted his behavior accordingly. In a state of agitation, Christian hadn’t slept well and didn’t rise as early as was his habit. He didn’t have much time to exercise Ajax before he would need to meet with Rebecca.

  Why had he agreed to participate in the incredibly juvenile game? Skulking about another man’s property, taking part in sanctioned prying, didn’t sound like something his grandfather would approve of.

  Yet all night long, his mind had been torn between solving the earl’s riddle and thinking on Rebecca’s proclamation that she wanted to fall in love with him. He hadn’t solved either dilemma, leaving him irritated.

  Ajax darted away when they walked beneath the trees near the lake. Christian watched him go, faintly curious what had captured the dog’s attention. His red-furred companion bent down, retrieving a stick from the ground, and ran back to Christian with all his teeth showing in a canine smile.

  I really don’t have time for this. Despite the thought, Christian took the stick and threw it in the direction of the house. When Ajax bounded off, Christian followed. After they repeated the exercise several more times, Christian was halfway up the hill and Ajax was bounding through the grass like a dog half his age.

  Bending to take the stick from Ajax’s mouth again, Christian added a fond scratch to the dog’s ear before whipping the stick into the air. Ajax leaped away, but Christian froze on the spot. The morning sun, rising over the house, showing the silhouette of a woman near where the stick had landed. Though her face was in shadow, Christian immediately recognized Rebecca.

  She wasn’t wearing a bonnet, several loose curls fluttered around her face in the light breeze. Her hands were bare, too. Had she meant to step out of doors without gloves or hat? There she was, bending down and calling to his dog in the cajoling tones one familiar with animals would use to coax them near.

  Ajax abandoned the stick and went directly for her. The traitor. Christian grimaced and continued uphill, attempting to hurry without appearing to do so. His frown deepened when he heard Rebecca lavishing compliments on his dog.

  “You are such a handsome boy, aren’t you? And so clever. Fetching that stick so well. What a good dog.” Ajax’s tongue lolled out of his mouth while Rebecca stroked his fur. The dog tilted his head back to look at Christian, his tail swinging through the air in circles.

  Ajax flopped onto his back, presenting his belly to the young woman.

  Rebecca laughed and knelt in the grass, continuing her attention to Ajax, though she lifted her head as Christian approached. “I didn’t know you brought a dog with you. What is he called?”

  Christian hesitated, disarmed by her obvious delight. “Ajax.” Weren’t young women supposed to be enamored with those tiny yapping things masquerading as dogs?

  She gave the dog a last, firm pat on his chest. “A Greek hero. A perfect name for you, Ajax.” She lifted her hand to Christian.

  He grasped it instinctively, to assist her back to her feet, but the touch of her smooth bare skin to his sent a strange jolt from her fingertips up to his head. His thoughts went fuzzy even while his awareness of her heightened. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were a shade of pink that made her look fresh as the morning dew, and nothing in her cheerful expression even hinted at displeasure. He couldn’t recall feeling half so happy as she looked at that very moment.

  “Good morning, my lord,” she said, her voice as soft as the skin resting in his palm, her smile turning almost shy.

  Why am I still holding her hand?

  Christian dropped it quickly and stepped back.

  “Good morning.” He couldn’t think what else to say, and the way her eyes sparkled up at him wasn’t helping matters. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Ajax, who now rolled about in the grass. Attempting to impress Rebecca with his antics, no doubt.

  It seemed to work, as she regarded the dog with a wider smile. “Is he a hunting dog? I don’t think I’ve ever seen his sort before.”

  “Yes.” Why wasn’t his tongue working? Christian forced himself to continue. “He’s a Vizsla. A Hungarian breed.” It was the stupidest sort of conversation to have with a society woman. He folded his arms across his chest, his mind lighting on another topic. The one they were actually meant to be discussing. “Have you given thought to the riddle?”

  “I have.” She reached up to tuck an errant curl back behind her ear, her nose wrinkled. “I’m afraid I have several solutions in mind, but I’m not certain how close I’ve come to an answer. There is a secret passage in the music room. I doubt Lucas would hide anything there, as no one knows about it but family.”

  “That wouldn’t be sporting of him,”
Christian agreed, noting the very curl she’d pushed away was already starting to fall forward again. His fingers twitched but he curbed the impulse to push it back more securely for her.

  He directed his eyes elsewhere, out to the lake. “My first thought was that we ought to check the pianoforte. Lift the lid.” Thinking on the instrument turned his thoughts to finding her there, weeping as though her heart was broken. Of course, he couldn’t remember that without also remembering her pronouncement.

  “A pianoforte. That would fit the riddle. I also thought we might check the stables. A stall is a sort of room, without really being a room.” Her tone was thoughtful and he saw, from the corner of her eye, that she raised a finger to tap her bottom lip thoughtfully.

  He looked away, sharply, back at the lake. That body of water had certainly grown more interesting. Another idea struck him. “The boathouse might be another option. I imagine there is an opening that faces the water—a door that isn’t a door.”

  “That is a clever idea.”

  Ajax, miffed at the absence of their attention, whined quietly, his eyes directed at Rebecca.

  “Ajax, stai calmo.” He spoke the command without thinking; it was one the dog knew well. Christian had given it again and again in his grandfather’s presence, urging the animal to behave.

  Rebecca’s lilting voice repeated the phrase. He looked at her, noting the curiosity in her expression. “I’m afraid I wasn’t instructed in Italian enough to understand it. Are you completely fluent? I was told your mother was from Italy. And you spent a great many years there, didn’t you?” The curve of her lips hinted at the slightest of smiles, but he didn’t see any derisiveness. Not yet.

  “I lived in Italy for ten years,” he said, watching her carefully.

  “That is a long time. And your mother, did she enjoy having you in her native country?” The question would’ve pained him had he not seen the innocence with which she asked. He had agreed to be honest with her. And truly, as his future wife, she ought to know, and had every right to know, about his past. Society would likely inform her before long of whatever he neglected to explain.

  “She died before I went to live there.” He could say it easily, could even keep the regret from his voice.

  Rebecca’s entire countenance changed. Not to one of pity. He knew what pity looked like. But her eyes softened and took on a depth he didn’t understand. Her smile faded, and she reached for him. Her fingertips brushed his sleeve, hesitantly.

  “I am sorry. I was young when I lost my mother. Do you think she would’ve been happy, to know you were able to go and spend so much time in her country?”

  No one had ever asked him that question, though it was one he immediately knew the answer to. “Yes.” His eyes remained on her lovely face, studying it carefully as he spoke. “She wasn’t fond of England.” That was putting it mildly.

  “I cannot say I blame her. If she loved her home, it would be difficult to be uprooted.” Rebecca withdrew her hand, the exact spot where it had rested suddenly tingling in its absence, and let her eyes sweep the horizon before them. “I miss my home, and it is within the same countryside we stand in now. Just over those hills, really.” She pointed in the direction he had ridden with the earl and Mr. Gilbert the day previous. “I cannot imagine what it would be like to be parted from it by a greater distance—by a sea.”

  Her expression remained somber when she faced him again. “Which has greater claim on you? England or Italy?”

  The question, presented simply, had a more complicated answer than he cared to give. He opted to shrug. “Both are a part of who I am.” He gestured to the house behind them. “Would you care to go inside? We can check the music room.”

  She raised her eyebrows at the change in topic, then looked back down at the dog sitting patiently at their feet. “What about Ajax? Has he had breakfast?”

  The dog, recognizing his name, started beating his tail against the ground again. Rebecca giggled and held her hand out, perhaps to offer another pat on the head, but Ajax had grown impatient and jumped up, his paws landing on the skirts of her gown.

  Christian drew in a breath. “Giù, ora,” he commanded the dog to get down, his tone sharp. “Miss Devon, I apologize. He hasn’t jumped on anyone like that since he was a puppy. I don’t know what—”

  Rebecca laughed. A musical, light, joyful laugh that stopped his words at once. “It’s quite all right.” She held her skirt in one hand, examining the muddy pawprints left by the offending beast. “I do hope he’s ruined it.” After that odd comment, she dropped the fabric and gestured to the house. “Shall we? Or would you like to see to Ajax first?”

  “It will only take a moment; there is a groom waiting for him.” His voice trailed off as he considered her. “I will meet you in the music room shortly.”

  She nodded, the curl behind her ear fully escaping to slide against her cheek. Then she left, walking the rest of the way across the grounds to the house, the breeze molding her skirts rather attractively to her figure.

  Ajax barked at her retreating form, making Christian jump. How had that slip of a woman set his nerves so on edge? He tried to shake away the feeling growing in his breast, calling for Ajax to follow him back to the stable yard. He knew what the feeling was. Admiration.

  Curse it all, he did admire her beauty. And that was not part of the plan.

  He nearly uttered an Italian curse one of his more colorful uncles had been fond of saying.

  He left Ajax in the care of the waiting groom before going back to the house, trying not to hurry yet finding himself unable to shorten his stride.

  Christian’s curiosity regarding Rebecca irked him, but he didn’t deny it. He needed to understand this woman who would soon be permanently attached to him. He’d thought Rebecca Devon would be like all the other women he met in London: coldly sophisticated, wearing a mask of politeness, or else looking at him through thinly veiled disgust. The most he’d hoped for was her disinterest.

  It occurred to him that perhaps she had a game to play. What if she was simply attempting to gain his approval and establish a level of intimacy that would afford herself some sort of power or position? His steps slowed outside the music room.

  I must not forget that this whole marriage was arranged for business purposes. It is nothing more than a transaction of goods, an alliance of families.

  Taking himself in hand, Christian pushed the door to the music room open and stepped inside.

  The room was empty.

  He went to the pianoforte, his steps slower. Had she already left? It hadn’t taken him more than five minutes to see to Ajax. Could she be so impatient? Or had something else captured her attention?

  “I’m here,” Rebecca’s voice called. Christian whirled about, searching the corners of the room. She remained out of sight.

  Is this some sort of joke? The back of his neck grew hot and his stomach dropped, a sickly feeling crawling within him. How many times had he been the brunt of jokes at school? His accent had been mocked, along with his appearance, and his familial descent. It wasn’t the sort of thing easily forgotten, even with the passage of time.

  Movement along the wall directly opposite the doors to the parlor drew his attention. The wall slid aside, a pair of hands guiding it, and then Rebecca’s face appeared out of the darkness concealed behind the partition.

  “Here. I thought to check the passage. It goes back about twelve feet, to open on the servants’ stair. Would you like to see?” She stepped out and gestured inside. “There wasn’t anything in the instrument, or the passage, I’m afraid.”

  Christian’s feet stayed rooted to the spot, the bitterness fading slowly. “I will take your word for it.”

  Rebecca guided the small section of the wall closed again. “The mechanism to open it is here,” she said, pointing to a small mirror hanging near the seam of the wallpaper. “Behind the mirror. Should you ever have need of a secret passage.” She grinned at him and came forward, her step light.
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  The sick feeling in the pit of his stomach hadn’t lessened much, which may have made his words harsher than he meant them to be. “Will Lord Annesbury appreciate you sharing such secrets with strangers?”

  Rebecca faltered in her approach. “You aren’t a stranger, Lord Easton. You are practically family.”

  His heart gave a feeble thump. He hadn’t been part of a family in a very long time. Still, he must remember the cause of such a circumstance. “Because of our betrothal.”

  She smiled, hesitantly. “Yes. Lucas is fiercely loyal to family, and he’s a kind man. He wouldn’t mind me showing you the passage.” She resumed her approach, stopping again only when they were within arm’s distance of each other. “Would you care to join me for breakfast? We can resume our search afterward.”

  Christian studied her expression, but he found no hint of mockery.

  “I think that would be a good idea.” Maybe once he’d eaten, his thoughts would fall in order once more. They were strangely discordant in regard to the woman who now took his arm. It didn’t help that every time she touched him his head buzzed as though a hive of bees had taken up residence inside.

  How had this woman managed to disconcert him with hardly more than a day’s acquaintance? It was almost frightening. And not something he liked to think on. Coming to know her better might be perilous to his ability to think. His grandfather would not approve.

  She chatted lightly as they walked down the halls, pointing out interesting aspects of the decor and house as they went, quite as though they were well-acquainted. His discomfort lessened, by a small measure, and Christian stopped thinking about his grandfather’s frown. How could he not, when such a lovely smile kept turning in his direction?

  Chapter Eleven