Page 12 of Dare it all for Love

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. Henry put his hands gently on her shoulders and turned her towards him. Miss Knight looked up at him, her green eyes swimming with unshed tears. The desire to take her in his arms and hold her to him, to protect her from the world, from whatever had put that look in her eyes, was like nothing he’d ever known before. It stole his breath, made his chest hurt and his skin ache with longing.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle, his hands lightly holding her shoulders.

She returned a tremulous smile. “It’s nothing, truly. I’m fine, though I thank you for your concern. You’re very kind.”

He snorted at that. “No, I’m not,” he said, terse with regret. “I’ve treated you very ill.”

Henry stilled as a thought struck him, making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Hell, it’s… it’s not because of me? Because if it is….”

She laughed a little and reached out, touching a tentative hand to his chest for a moment. She snatched it back, blushing a little.

“I’m not crying over you, Mr Stanhope.” Another look slid into her eyes, something warm and gently teasing, full of promise. “Perhaps you would prefer it if I were?”

Henry dropped his hands from her shoulders before he was tempted to pull her closer.

“Miss Knight,” he began, a warning note to his voice that was entirely for his own benefit.

Use your head, Henry, you fool! What the devil are you playing at?

“Mr Stanhope,” she repeated, mocking him, a breathless note to his name that made his heart skip.

“I see you have recovered,” he said, striving to make his voice cold and indifferent, which was damned hard when he wanted to kiss the smirk from her lips. Damn the chit. If he did as she clearly wanted him to, she’d have a bloody shock, for he wasn’t some fumbling boy who didn’t know what he was about. “I shall escort you back to your friends. You ought not be alone out here.”

She stared at him and, for a terrifying moment, Henry got lost in her green eyes. So very green. The churchyard was surrounded by trees, from the dark, forbidding yews to ancient oaks and elegant beech trees. The sun filtered through their branches, turning their leaves to emerald, yet her eyes were the most lush shade of all… and the only thing he could see.

“I’m not alone. I’m with you,” she whispered, as if that were the only place in the world she wanted to be.

Henry swallowed. “You ought not be.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Is that what you really think?”

Henry knew this was the moment that he ought to say, yes, yes, that is what I really think, but the words would not come. He heard himself saying the words in his mind, but he could not force them to his lips. He could only stare at her with his heart thundering. He felt like a boy again in the presence of his first love, a sensation so horrifying it was all he could do not to turn and run like a frightened child.

Miss Knight smiled, a knowing smile that sent a thrill of sensation prickling down his spine, and then she turned and left him standing by himself in the churchyard. Henry watched her go, frowning. He wasn’t the only one. The gravedigger watched her go too, then stared at Henry for a long moment before tugging at his cap and carried on digging the grave.

Chapter 4

Brother,

I hope you are well and enjoying your time at Holbrook. I was sorry that I missed seeing you once again before you left. Do give my regards to Miss Smith and all our friends. Eliza sends her fond regards as well. We hope you will come and visit us very soon.

I have not had the opportunity to speak to you privately since we returned. The school has kept us very busy, alongside a dozen and one other projects Eliza is determined must run alongside it. I swear I have never met a more exhausting woman in my life. As a private conversation with you at present is not possible, I felt it best to write and let you know I saw Wolf when I was in France. He is well, and the same as ever, though I have the unsettling suspicion that he is growing bored. Though I pressed him, he will not allow me to repay my debt to him in another manner, as I had hoped. At some point he determines to return to England, and he will be a guest in my home. I cannot begin to imagine the trouble this will cause, but I pray, brother, that you will stand by me (I do not ask that you do so publicly but in spirit at least) when the time comes. I shall need all the friends I can get.

―Excerpt of a letter from Mr Nicolas Alexandre Demarteau to his brother, Louis César de Montluc, Comte de Villen – translated from French.

15th August 1839, Holbrook House, Sussex.

Florence checked her appearance in the mirror before hurrying to find Evie. Happily, her sister was already at breakfast, looking pretty and as fresh as a spring morning in a pale green riding habit.

“Hurry up, Flo,” Evie chided her. “We’re supposed to be leaving in ten minutes.”

“I’m here!” Florence exclaimed, accepting a cup of tea. She reached for a warm bread roll and tore it in two, buttering it too thickly in her haste. Not that she cared. “Is everyone else down already?”

“Everyone except Louis, of course,” Evie said, rolling her eyes. “Actually, I’m wondering if I should send someone to knock for him. He hates getting up early, you know.”

“That’s because it is a dreadful habit and bad for a delicate constitution,” the man himself said, looking as immaculate as ever in his riding attire, even as he smothered a yawn. He sat down and declined breakfast with a grimace, but accepted a cup of coffee.