Page 8 of How to Seduce a Viscount
‘You didn’t wake me.’
Luce turned at the sound of Wren’s sleepy accusation. ‘You needed the sleep and luncheon could wait.’ He gestured to the tray on the long table, untouched, as proof.
She gave an impish smile. ‘Good, I’m tired of beef broth and I’m starving.’ She tossed off the blanket and Luce crossed the room to assist her to the table.
‘I could have made you a plate and brought it over,’ he scolded, getting his arm about her to steady her. Wren was an apt name. She was petite in stature, delicately boned and yethardy and strong. She wasn’t brown like a wren though, that’s where the analogy stopped. She was the color of winter. Her hair and her skin, shades of white.
‘I can make my own plate.’ She gave a resigned sigh. Resigned over being helped? Over her invalid state at present? Or something else? Luce wisely said nothing. He simply pulled out a chair for her at the long table and allowed her to assemble her own plate, as long as she sat down to do it. He was coming to understand that negotiating with Wren Audley was likely going to be a series of compromises on his part.
Dealing with Luce Parkhurst was likely going to require a firm hand and direct speaking. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, but he was a protective one. He’d have her wrapped in cotton wool if she allowed it. Wren made a modest sandwich from the bread and meat. As delicious as the food looked, she knew better than to rush her stomach after a strictly beef broth diet.
Luce nodded approvingly as she took a small bite. ‘That’s right, take it slowly.’ She wanted to snap back that she knew how to take care of herself, that she’d been wounded before, that she knew what to do. But that would give too much away. She held her tongue and focused on chewing instead. He was just trying to help.
‘I read your paper on the impact of alkaline soil on the flora of southeast England.’ When in doubt it was best to focus conversation away from oneself. ‘What are you working on now?’ Wren nodded towards the papers strewn on the table.
‘A memoir of sorts for Grandfather. I want to finish it by spring.’ Luce paused as if he were in conflict with himself. ‘When did you see him last?’
Luce Parkhurst was a protector indeed. There was concern in those dark eyes of his for a man who likely did not needprotecting any more than she did. Sandmore was one of the most powerful men she knew. ‘Right before I left to come here.’
‘How is he? Is he well? At Christmas, I worried the journey to Wales was too much for him even with all of my father’s careful planning not to tax him.’
A moment of connection rippled through her at the realisation Luce felt it too, that same fear she harboured down deep when she took time to reflect. That someday, sooner than later, Sandmore, the one person in the whole world who cared for her, who knew who she was, would die. Her life would change that day. She could not let herself hide from that truth with little lies and explanations to compensate for the reality that the earl was showing his age. She wouldn’t let Luce hide either.
‘The earl has been sleeping a lot during the day since he came home and he mostly stays in his study so he doesn’t have to leave the fire.’
She could see that the remark bothered him and she felt compelled to mitigate its impact. ‘But he still handles copious amounts of paperwork with his usual dexterity and clarity of thought.’
Wren paused before adding softly, ‘Even great men age. It’s difficult to grapple with. He’s been such an enormous part of my life that I wonder who I will be without him once he’s gone.’
She’d find out soon enough when this final assignment was complete and she slipped into the world as someone else. It would be hard. Sandmore had treated her like a cherished granddaughter and he’d become her family. She’d let herself care for the old man and now she’d pay for that caring in the losing of him, proof that she was right to avoid long-term ties.
Nothing lasted for ever. Not the family she’d once had, nor the family she’d made. Love was a fool’s ideal. It was ephemeral, existing in moments. The foolishness was in knowing it was doomed from the start and reaching out for the futility of itanyway. Love was not sustainable, not for her. And yet, part of her would still run towards it, the part that wanted a family of her own. Retirement would make that possible. It was not something she’d allowed herself to think about for a long while, but now circumstances had changed, allowing the impossible to creep back in despite knowing better.
Luce was frowning. What had she said to upset him? ‘I feel like I should apologise for that. For Grandfather being such a large part of your life. He catapulted you into a world you had no choice about belonging to. It’s a very dark world and a dangerous one. Not a world most would choose to join.’
‘Is that what you think?’ His remark had taken her entirely by surprise. ‘It’s no more dangerous than life on the streets. In truth, I’ve never thought of my situation in terms of choice, but opportunity.’
‘Perhaps you should.’ Spoken like a man who had the luxury of consent, a gentleman for whom the world was indeed a different place. Street rats had no such privilege.
‘Why? I’ve always been very grateful for what I have.’ She had an education. She’d been able to travel, to see Europe. She had control. She made decisions for herself. It was far more than a three-year-old left in the stews could hope for.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t be.’ Luce reached to make another sandwich. He’d devoured his in three bites while she digested the bitterness behind the comment. ‘Are there others?’ he asked. ‘Other orphans in the network?’
She shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know. We don’t know each other. Anonymity keeps us all safe in case anyone is ever questioned. I don’t believe there are others. If there were, they weren’t raised at Sandmore.’
‘But you were. It’s a marvel we didn’t see you.Didwe meet you at some point? Did you live at Sandmore?’ Luce wondered aloud, taking them off on a slight tangent.
She nodded. ‘In the beginning, when I was young. I needed a lot of schooling simply to be ready for more schooling. The earl felt I would learn better if I could combine education, etiquette and…’ She was looking for a word and Luce knew what it was.
‘Espionage. I think that’s the word you want. Grandfather’s three Es,’ Luce supplied.
She laughed. ‘Yes, espionage. As I grew, the earl often sent me with others for training and later I was able to attend a finishing school. The older I got, the less often I was at Sandmore. And you were not there often in those days. You had your schooling to finish and Napoleon to fight. It is no wonder the path of a grown man didn’t cross with a young girl’s.’ And yet, there’d been that one time she’d spied him through a keyhole talking with the earl.
She’d not heard what they said, but she’d seen him—the tousled waves, the broad shoulders. Not so different from his brothers in that regard, but then he’d tossed back his head and laughed—a wondrous, warm sound. In that moment, the mythical Horseman she’d heard so much about became human, tangible and real. It was the moment she’d fallen for him. Not the legend but theman, and she’d promised herself that one day she’d meet him, face to face. That was all she could promise herself. Just a meeting. A man like him wasn’t meant for a street rat like her.
She’d give too much away on her face if she let her thoughts linger on that memory. Wren furrowed her brow, letting her mind find its way back to the original conversation. ‘Doyouthink the network is made up of orphans?’ Why had she never thought of it? She’d spent her life thinking she was the only one. ‘Does it matter if it is?’
Luce’s dark eyes turned thunderous. ‘It damn well does if my grandfather is deliberately and regularly recruiting young children from the street and thrusting them into a life ofespionage under the threat of taking them to the magistrate if they refuse. It’s no choice at all. No child is going to pick Newgate over hot meals, shelter and clothes.’
