Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 69
Is that clear enough, or am I still making a hash of this?
“So, it would be some sort of arrangement?” she replied.
That wasn’t quite how he would have phrased it. Rhys was still searching for the right words when Deri appeared from out of the nearby wood and hailed them.
Blast. Deri, your timing couldn’t be worse. Can’t you see I am trying to woo her?
Wister raised a hand in greeting. Rhys could have sworn he caught the edge of a sigh of relief from her as she stepped past him.
“Lord Ruthin, how lovely to see you once more.”
Oh hell. I don’t think she understood what I really meant. Of course, she didn’t. You just offered Wister her old job back. What did you expect?
Rhys gritted his teeth. Yet again he had proven himself to be hopeless when it came to women. He found it difficult to ask them to dance. Found it even harder to conduct a conversation which held their interest for more than a minute. How on earth was he expected to make Wister understand that he was falling in love with her?
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t exactly the sort of offer Wister had been longing to receive from Rhys. At the least she was looking for a declaration involving some kind of emotional attachment. An arrangement sounded all too cold and distant.
She had been hoping to talk to him further about the kiss they had shared in the kitchen, but with Lord Ruthin now in the house and taking up most of Rhys’s attention, Wister was forced to leave the subject alone for the time being.
Rhys had told her he didn’t think it proper for a man to kiss a woman in the fashion that he had, but she was left with the uncomfortable worry that he had decided his need for her to remain as his advisor was more important that anything. That perhaps his interest had never been more than a moment of fancy, something which had now cooled.
He had paid her the wages she was owed and if that was all he wished to offer her; she should at least be grateful. Rhys was right in one thing—with money she now had options. Armed with the knowledge of what Lord Kington had done to her, she could tackle the problem of finding another position. There had to be other well-to-do houses in cities such as Manchester or even Edinburgh where a lady’s companion could find an opening.
The thought of her future being yet again in someone else’s home rather than her own brought her to tears more than once over the rest of the afternoon. George Weld had not been able to make her cry, but the prospect of only ever being Rhys’s employee did.
At supper that evening, she sat quietly at the dining room table while Deri, as she had been invited to call him, regaled the small gathering with tales of the happenings in London society. While she listened, her gaze continually drifted to Rhys—the dashing brown-haired rogue who had stolen her heart.
Even before that toe-curling kiss she had been falling for him. Her hopes that Rhys might feel something for her had soared for the briefest of moments earlier that morning when he mentioned her having options.
Because you were fool enough to let him know that you were not a virgin, it all crashed to earth. Of course, he is now looking to take you on as his mistress. You are a sexually experienced woman. That’s all he wants.
She had little money or prospects so a man such as he would be unlikely to look to offer her more. He no doubt would want a wife who brought a dowry with her marriage settlement. Nobles were always on the hunt for money. Deri’s fiancée Sophie came from a well-to-do family, so it made sense that Rhys would do the same.
If she stayed on at Kington House and took a place in Rhys’s bed, she would be giving up her own chance of marriage. At least for as long as she remained.
Staying on here might not be a bad thing. If he pays me, then at least if things do become problematic for my heart, I will be able to resign my position and start afresh somewhere new. I wonder how much it would cost for me to set up a small shop…
“Wister?”
She stirred from her thoughts as Rhys held a bottle of wine above her glass. He nodded, offering to pour some more. Wister shook her head. “No thank you. I have had enough. Making it downstairs after more than a glass or two can be difficult,” she replied.
He set the bottle down and turned back to Deri. Baron Ruthin was, from what Wister could gather, sharing with them all the juicy tidbits about an ugly encounter at a society ball. Rhys was lapping it up.
“The duchess had no sooner flicked open her extravagantly expensive fan when the countess did the very same thing, only for the two of them to realize they had the exact matching fan. You would have thought one of them had stolen the other’s first-born child from the way they carried on. I swear, at one point the duchesses’ footmen were taking bets as to who was going to throw the first punch.”
Rhys roared with laughter. Wister raised an eyebrow. She had heard enough rumors over the years not to be surprised by the outrageous behavior of the ladies of the ton. It was ironic that these were the very same women who felt superior enough to sit in judgement of her.
“Excuse me, gentlemen. I shall go and see how our pudding is fairing.” Wister rose from the table, leaving Rhys and Deri to talk. She and Polly had managed to cut the apples from the orchard up small enough to make a pie and it was baking in the oven.
The pie was the best excuse she had to get out of the room. Wister needed a few minutes alone to get her constantly swirling emotions firmly back under control. Being in the same room as Rhys when she felt this way about him was torture—the prospect of only ever being his mistress an impossibility.
As soon as Wister’s footsteps disappeared downstairs, Deri set his glass of wine down and stared at Rhys.
Rhys sighed. He didn’t need to look at his cousin to know that a good old- fashioned lecture was in the offing. “What?” he asked, eyes still cast down at his now empty supper plate.
“I am not going to say anything until you have the manners to grace me with your attention,” replied Deri.
With pained reluctance, Rhys shifted his gaze once more to the other end of the table.
“Thank you. Now, what have you done to resolve matters with Miss York? Don’t try to tell me that it has all been smoothed over, because the two of you have been assiduously avoiding one another’s gaze all night, while at the same time sneaking sly glances. Not to mention that neither of you has said more than two words. I have had to carry the whole conversation.”
“I told you I kissed her,” said Rhys.
Deri rolled his eyes. “Yes, and?”
“Well, I stopped the kiss. I told her that she deserved to be treated better. I didn’t want her feeling like I was just using her, that I was abusing my position. Wister has suffered at the hands of one manipulative male—she doesn’t need me holding sway over her.”
Deri picked up his wine glass, took a sip, then set it back down. Rhys hated the vast silence. He was going to have to tell his cousin the rest of what had happened, what he had done this morning. And how, despite his best intentions, he had managed to make a mess of things once again with Wister.
“This morning I gave her the money she was owed, and I asked if she wanted to stay here. For us to come to an arrangement. I meant it as an offer to further our romantic relationship, but instead I think I might have somehow managed to upset her again. To be honest, I’m not sure what I did wrong.”
The words had no sooner left his lips than Deri stood, marched over to where Rhys sat, and gave him a solid slap to the back of his head. “Why didn’t you just propose that she become your mistress and make your insult of the poor girl complete?”
“I would never do…what?”
Blast. I really have messed this up, haven’t I?
He raked his fingers through his hair, angry and frustrated with himself. He just couldn’t find the right words when it came to be dealing with the female sex. The whirling emotions inside him only compounded the situation. “What am I going to do, Deri? I really like her. I don’t want her to leave.”
Deri started back to his chair, then stopped. “Like? Would you like to consider using another word to describe your feelings for the delightful Miss York, or shall I give you another smack over the head? It’s entirely your choice.”
Rhys got to his feet. He didn’t need any more sense knocked into him. It was time to screw his courage to the sticking place and go tell Wister he wanted her. “I’m going down to the kitchen right this minute to talk to her, which means you may not get any of the apple pie,” said Rhys.
Deri picked up Rhys’s wine glass and downed its contents. “Then I shall have plenty of room for wedding cake. The question being, whose will I be eating first, yours or mine?”
He went back to his chair, finished the rest of his own drink, then followed Rhys out of the room. “I am off to the Royal Oak. It will give the two of you some privacy. But just try and do things properly this time, Rhys. Girls like Wister only come along once in a lifetime.”
Deri was right. Rhys was in love with Wister. He wanted a life with her, a future as husband and wife. At the bottom of the stairs, on the ground floor, he stopped. Any possible offer of marriage would come with some hard decisions, ones which were hers to make.
Wister hadn’t seen his crumbling ruin of a home. Nor had she spent time in Wales during the bitter depths of winter. At the moment, he had little to offer other than his name and two cash-strapped estates.
If I push the romance side of things and she agrees to marry me, what happens if she decides that she cannot live that life?
If he took Wister to be his wife and she hated living in Wales, she would have simply swapped her miserable life at Kington House for another damp, cold prison.
And you would lose her forever.
Chapter Seventeen
Wister rose from her chair near the stove as the door to the kitchen opened. “I was just waiting a few more minutes for the top of the pastry to brown,” she said.
He crossed the floor in an instant. He hauled her into his arms. A breathy ‘oh’ escaped her lips.
“I am so sorry, Wister. I made a pickle of things last night and again this morning,” he said.
She wrapped her arms around him, holding on with all her might. When Rhys brushed a wayward curl back from her face, Wister closed her eyes and softly sighed.
Please. Please kiss me.
“I am going to kiss you, Miss York, but I am warning you, I am not going to apologize afterwards. In fact, I intend to kiss you for quite some time, and you are simply going to have to suffer my attentions,” he said.
She opened her eyes and grinned up at him. “I am ready to suffer all and any kisses you feel necessary, Baron Carno.”
As his lips met hers, Wister’s heart melted. He did want her. Rhys speared his fingers through her hair and cupped her head gently in his hands. His tongue slipped into her mouth, where it settled to play and tease against hers. It had only been a day since he had first kissed her, but it felt like an eternity.
She gasped as he slipped a hand over her ass and pulled her roughly against him. His hard erection leaving her in no doubt as to how this moment was affecting him. Heat pooled between her legs—Rhys was not alone in being aroused. The thought of him touching her, of being naked in his arms, set Wister’s heart racing.
The tiny voice of reason whispered in the back of her mind. Is this what you want? Are you prepared to settle for being his mistress? You will never have a life of your own if you do.
No. She couldn’t do it. But before she could pull away, Rhys broke the kiss and drew back. Her gaze immediately dropped to the floor and she steeled herself for the hard words she would have to say. To tell him that despite all that she felt for him, her self-respect would never allow her to become a kept woman.
A finger touched under her chin, lifting her head. A green-eyed Welsh god stared back at her. “I’ve reconsidered the offer I made to you this morning.”
Her heart stopped beating. “Yes.”
“I don’t need an estate manager—well I do but that’s not what I have in mind for you. I want you to be something else.”
She slowly shook her head. Rhys really did struggle with his words at times. But she sensed that his heart was in the right place. He screwed up his face, as if still searching for the right words.
“I know this sounds all rather strange, but before we settle on your future, I need you to understand a little more about me. About my life. That’s why I want you to come to Wales. Stay at Carno Castle, learn more about my family’s heritage, then we can talk,” he said.
Wales. She had never thought to actually venture across the border. Her travels thus far had only got her as far as London and now Kington House.
Things were still not clear and settled between them, but her heart told her she had to take this chance and go with him. If she didn’t, she may spend the rest of her life wondering and regretting. Forever asking herself…what if?
He leaned in and kissed her once more. Rhys appeared to have a plan set in his mind. As she opened her lips and let him deepen the kiss, Wister let go of her worries. She would have to trust whatever he was thinking. Her heart had already proclaimed it wanted a future with him.
She just had to get him to put the right words in the right order at some point. This journey to Wales would settle things once and for all. She had to believe that Rhys’s heart was pure and that he would offer her a life standing beside him as his wife. As a full partner in everything.
If not, she would take her pride and leave.
Chapter Eighteen
Rhys paced back and forth across the front door of Kington House. He was still huffing when Wister finally made her way downstairs. At the sight of her travel bag, he stopped and quickly came to her side. “Here, let me take that. Have you finished packing?”
It was midmorning two days later and they were making ready to leave for Wales. She had never seen Rhys so tense before.
Is he always like this before he sets out on the road?
With Deri having traveled on to Ruthin Castle the previous day in order to announce his future marriage, she didn’t have the opportunity to ask Rhys’s cousin as to his odd behavior.
“Yes, I think I have everything. Polly kindly packed us a basket with various things to pick and peck while on the road. It’s in the travel coach,” she replied.
Rhys started for the front door, then turned when it was clear Wister hadn’t followed.
He may well be wanting to wait until they were in Carno to talk further, but she wasn’t going to delay having this conversation. “Why are you in such a rush to leave? It will only take us a few hours to reach Crossgates. Or are you not a good traveler?” she asked.
“I am perfectly fine in a coach. I have decided that we are to make for Newtown today, which is a good deal farther on than Crossgates. I want your first view of Carno Castle to be in the early hours of the morning, which staying at Newtown will allow. That’s, of course, if the snow is not too far on the ground. It’s always a bit touch and go this close to Christmas.”
She scowled. What possible difference could there be in seeing a castle in the hour after dawn or in the middle of the day? “You Welsh do have some odd habits,” she replied.
Rhys took a hold of Wister’s arm and led her toward the door. He held it open for her, stealing a quick kiss on her cheek as she stepped through.
“Aros nes I chi wel hud Cymru,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“Wait until tomorrow, then you will understand.”
The magic of Wales. As she took in the view of the heavy morning fog swirling around the top of the old keep of Carno Castle, Wister finally understood what Rhys’s words meant. It truly was a magical place. She could just imagine what the old castle would have looked like when it was still fully intact.
Now all that remained was the gatehouse and the snow-dusted ruins.
Rhys had gone into the nearby Carno village to let the local villagers know that he was back, and to organize some supplies for them. Wister meanwhile delighted in wandering about the castle grounds.
In the center of what had obviously been the main bailey was now a space carpeted with green grass, topped with a thin layer of overnight snow. High stone walls rose up on three sides. The remains of the old wooden beams which at one time had supported two levels of floors could also be seen. “I wonder what happened here?” she mused.
“A furious fire, followed by a spot of slighting by some Parliamentarian soldiers.”
She smiled as Rhys came to stand beside her. His footsteps had been silent across the soft white of the lawn.
“My forebears picked the wrong side during the English Civil War. In 1644, Newtown fell to Cromwell’s forces. The Morgan family were on the Royalist side, so Carno Castle suffered. They burnt it and then took to it with heavy canons to make certain it wouldn’t be rebuilt,” he said.
Rhys’s words were delivered matter-of-factly, but Wister caught the hint of pain in them. The war had seen his family’s home of some four hundred years destroyed, lost forever.
He offered her his hand. “Come. Let me show you the rest of the site, then we can go to the gatehouse and have something to eat.”
Carno Castle itself was not large, but it still dwarfed everything in the surrounding area. At the back of the keep there was a small, narrow set of steps. Wister and Rhys climbed up them and then stopped at what she surmised had once been the entrance to the first floor of the main building.
“We cannot go any higher, but this at least affords you a view of Carno valley,” said Rhys.
Below them stretched out a low land, nestled under snow clouds. It had been snowing lightly since they arrived, but Wister was pleasantly surprised to discover Carno was not cold. The wind was barely above a slight breeze.
