Chapter 1
Oxfordshire, England, 1816
If, one by one, you weeded all the world--
Arabella Blydon blinked.
That couldn't be right. There weren't any gardeners in
The
Winter's Tale. She held the book farther from her face.
Even worse. She pulled the book closer. The type on the
page slowly focused.
If, one by one, you wedded all the world--
Belle sighed and leaned back against a tree trunk. That
made a lot more sense. She blinked a couple of times,
willing her bright blue eyes to focus on the words that
lay
before her on the page. They refused to obey, but she
wasn't about to read with her face pressed into the book,
so she squinted and plodded on.
A chilly wind passed across her, and she glanced up at
the
overcast sky. It was going to rain, no doubt about that,
but if she were lucky she'd have another hour until the
first drops fell. That was all the time she'd need to
finish The Winter's Tale. And that would mark the
end of her Grand Shakespearean Quest, the semi-academic
endeavor that had occupied her spare time for nearly six
months. She'd started with All's Well that Ends
Well
and proceeded alphabetically, wending her way through
Hamlet, all the Henry s, Romeo and Juliet,
and a host of other plays she hadn't even heard of
before.
She wasn't exactly sure why she'd done it, other than the
simple fact that she liked to read, but now that the end
was in sight she was damned if she was going to let a few
raindrops get in her way.
Belle gulped and looked this way and that, as if afraid
that someone had heard her cursing in her thoughts. She
glanced back up at the sky. A beam of sunshine burst
through a tiny hole in the clouds. Belle took that as a
sign of optimism and plucked a chicken sandwich out of
her
picnic lunch. She bit into it daintily and picked up her
book again. The words seemed just as unwilling to focus
as
before, so she moved the volume closer to her face, which
she contorted in a number of different ways until she
found
a squint that worked.
"There you go, Arabella," she muttered. "If you can just
hold this exceedingly uncomfortable pose for another
forty-
five minutes, you should have no problem with the rest of
your book."
"Of course your facial muscles will probably be quite
sore
by that point," drawled a voice from behind her.
Belle dropped her book and whirled her head around.
Standing a few yards away was a gentleman in casual yet
elegant attire. His hair was a rich chocolate brown and
his
eyes were the exact same color. He was looking down at
her
and her solitary picnic with an amused expression, and
his
lazy pose indicated that he'd been watching her for some
time. Belle glared at him, unable to think of anything to
say but hoping that her scornful gaze would put him in
his
place.
It didn't seem to do the trick. In fact, he looked even
more amused by her. "You need spectacles," he said
simply.
"And you are trespassing," she retorted.
"Am I? I rather thought you were trespassing."
"I most certainly am not. This land belongs to the duke
of
Ashbourne. My cousin," she added for emphasis.
The stranger pointed to the west. "That land belongs to
the
duke of Ashbourne. The boundary is that ridge over there.
And thus you are trespassing."
Belle narrowed her eyes and pushed a lock of her wavy
blond
hair behind her ear. "Are you certain?"
"Absolutely. I realize that Ashbourne's land holdings are
vast, but they are not infinite."
She shifted uncomfortably. "Oh. Well, in that case, I am
very sorry for disturbing you," she said in a haughty
voice. "I'll just see to my horse and be off."
"Don't be silly," he said quickly. "I hope I am not so
ill-
tempered that I cannot allow a lady to read under one of
my
trees. By all means, stay as long as you like."
Belle considered leaving anyway, but comfort won out over
pride. "Thank you. I've been here for several hours and
am
quite ensconced."
"So I see." He smiled, but it was a small one, and Belle
got the impression that he was not a man who smiled
often. "Perhaps," he said, "since you will be spending
the
rest of the day on my land, you might introduce
yourself."
Belle hesitated, unable to discern whether he was being
condescending or polite. "I'm sorry. I am Lady Arabella
Blydon."
"Pleased to meet you, my lady. And I am Lord John
Blackwood."
"How do you do?"
"Very well, but you still need spectacles."
Belle felt her spine stiffen. Emma and Alex had been
urging
her to get her eyes examined for the last month, but they
were, after all, family. This Lord John Blackwood person
was a perfect stranger and certainly had no right to
offer
her such a suggestion. "You can be sure I will take your
advice under consideration," she muttered, somewhat
ungraciously.
John inclined his head, a wry smile touching his
lips. "What are you reading?"
"The Winter's Tale." Belle sat back and waited for the
usual condescending comments about women and reading.
"An excellent play, but not, I think, Shakespeare's
finest," John commented. "I myself am partial to
Coriolanus. It's not very well-known, but I quite liked
it.
You might read that sometime."
Belle forgot to be pleased that she had met a man who was
actually encouraging her to read and said, "Thank you for
the suggestion, but I've read it already."
"I'm impressed," John said. "Have you read Othello ?"
She nodded.
"The Tempest?"
"Yes."
John searched his brain for the most obscure
Shakespearean
play he could think of. "What about The Passionate
Pilgrim?"
"Not my favorite, but I plodded through it." Belle tried
but couldn't stop the smile that was creeping across her
face.
He chuckled. "My compliments, Lady Arabella. I don't
think
I've ever even seen a copy of The Passionate Pilgrim."
Belle grinned, graciously accepting the compliment as her
previous antagonism toward the man melted away. "Won't
you
join me for a few minutes?" she asked him, waving toward
the empty expanse of blanket spread out beneath her. "I
still have most of my picnic lunch, and I would be happy
to
share it with you."
For a moment it looked as if he would accept. He opened
his
mouth to say something, then let out a tiny sigh and
closed
it. When he finally spoke, his voice was very stiff and
formal and all he said was, "No, thank you." He took a
couple of steps away from her and turned his head so that
he could stare out across the fields.
Belle cocked her head and was about to say something
further when she noticed with surprise that he limped.
She
wondered if he'd been injured in the peninsular wars. An
intriguing man, this Lord Blackwood. She wouldn't have
half
minded spending an hour or so in his company. And, she
had
to admit, he was really quite handsome, with strong, even
features, and a body which was lean and powerful in spite
of his injured leg. His velvety brown eyes displayed
obvious intelligence, but they also seemed hooded with
pain
and skepticism. Belle was starting to find him very
mysterious, indeed.
"Are you certain?" she asked.
"Certain of what?" He didn't turn around.
She bristled at his rudeness. "Certain that you don't
want
to join me for lunch."
"Quite."
That certainly got her attention. No one had ever before
told her that he was quite certain he could do without
her
company.
Belle sat uncomfortably on her blanket, The Winter's Tale
lying limply in her lap. There didn't seem to be anything
she could say with his back half to her. And it would
have
been impolite to start reading again.
John suddenly turned around and cleared his throat.
"It was really too bad of you to tell me I need
spectacles," she said abruptly, mostly just to get
something in before he could.
"I apologize. I've never been very good at polite
conversation."
"Perhaps you should converse more," she retorted.
"Were you using a different tone of voice, my lady, one
might suspect that you were flirting with me."
She slammed A Winter's Tale shut and stood. "I can see
that
you were not lying. You are not dreadful at merely polite
conversation. You are lacking at all forms of it."
He shrugged. "One of my many qualities."
Her mouth fell open.
"I can see that you do not subscribe to my particular
brand
of humor."
"I cannot imagine that many people do."
There was a pause, and then a strange, sad light appeared
in his eyes. It disappeared just as quickly, and the tone
of his voice sharpened as he said, "Don't come out here
alone again."
Belle shoved her belongings into her satchel. "Don't
worry.
I shan't trespass again."
"I didn't say you couldn't come on my property. Just
don't
do it alone."
She had no idea how to reply to that so she merely
said, "I'm going home."
He glanced up at the sky. "Yes. You probably should. It's
going to rain soon. I've two or so miles to walk home
myself. I shall certainly be drenched."
She glanced around. "Didn't you bring a horse?"
"Sometimes, my lady, it is better to use one's feet." He
inclined his head. "It has been a pleasure."
"For you, perhaps," Belle muttered under her breath. She
watched his back as he walked away from her. His limp was
quite pronounced, but he moved much more quickly than she
would have thought possible. She kept her gaze fixed on
him
until he disappeared over the horizon. As she mounted her
mare, however, a compelling thought entered her head.
He limped. What kind of man was he that he preferred to
walk?
John Blackwood listened to the hoofbeats of Lady
Arabella's
mare as she cantered off. He sighed. He'd acted like an
ass.
He sighed again, this one loud with sorrow and self-
loathing and pure, simple irritation. Damn. He never knew
what to say to women anymore.
Belle set off back to Westonbirt, the home of her
relatives. Her American-born cousin Emma had married the
duke of Ashbourne a few months earlier. The newlyweds
preferred the privacy of country life to London and had
resided at Westonbirt almost continuously since their
wedding. Of course the season was over, so no one was in
London anyway. Still, Belle had a feeling that Emma and
her
husband would probably avoid much of London's social
scene
even when the next season was underway.
Belle sighed. She'd no doubt be back in London for the
next
season. Back at the marriage mart, looking for a husband.
She was getting heartily sick of the entire process.
She'd
been through two seasons already and accumulated over a
dozen proposals, but she'd rejected every one. Some of
the
men had been completely unsuitable, but most were decent
sorts, well-connected and quite likeable. She just
couldn't
seem to make herself accept a man she didn't care deeply
about. And now that she'd had a glimpse of how happy her
cousin was, she knew that it would be very difficult to
settle for anything less than her wildest dreams.
Belle spurred her horse into a canter as the rain began
to
thicken. It was almost three o'clock, and she knew that
Emma would have tea ready for her when she returned.
She'd
been staying with Emma and her husband Alex for three
weeks. A few months after Emma's wedding, Belle's parents
had decided to take a holiday in Italy. Ned, their son,
was
back up at Oxford for his final year so he didn't need
any
watching over, and Emma was safely married. That left
only
Belle, and since Emma was now a married lady she was a
suitable chaperone, so Belle went off to stay with her
cousin.
Belle couldn't imagine a more pleasing arrangement. Emma
was her best friend, and after all the mischief they'd
gotten into together, it was quite amusing to have her as
a
chaperone.
Belle breathed a sigh of relief as she rode up a hill and
Westonbirt rose over the horizon. The massive building
was
really quite graceful, with long, narrow columns of
windows
marching across the facade. Belle was already starting to
think of it as home. She headed into the stables, handed
her mare over to a groom, and made a mad dash for the
house, laughing as she tried to dodge the raindrops which
had started to fall at a furious rate. She stumbled up
the
front steps but before she could push open the heavy
door,
the butler opened it with a flourish.
"Thank you, Norwood," she said. "You must have been
watching for me."
Norwood inclined his head.
"Norwood, has Belle returned yet?"
The feminine voice floated through the air, and Belle
heard
her cousin's footsteps clattering along the floor of the
hallway that led to the foyer.
"It's starting to get quite wet out there." Emma turned
the
corner into the foyer. "Oh good! You're back."
"A little wet, but none the worse for the wear," Belle
said
cheerily.
"I told you it was going to rain."
"Do you feel responsible for me now that you're an old
married matron?"
Emma made a face which told her exactly what she thought
of
that. "You look like a drowned rat," she said plainly.
Belle made an equally unpleasant face. "I'll change my
clothes and come down for tea in a moment."
"In Alex's study," Emma advised. "He's joining us today."
"Oh, good. I'll be right down."
Belle headed up the stairs and through the labyrinth of
hallways which led to her room. She quickly peeled off
her
sodden riding habit, changed into a soft blue dress, and
headed back downstairs. The door to Alex's study was
closed
and she could hear giggling, so she wisely knocked before
she entered. There was a moment of silence and then Emma
called out, "Come in!"
Belle smiled to herself. She was learning more and more
about this married love thing by the minute. Some
chaperone
Emma was turning out to be. She and Alex couldn't manage
to
keep their hands off each other whenever they thought no
one was looking. Belle's smile grew wider. She wasn't
exactly sure about the particulars of making babies, but
she had a feeling all this touching had something to do
with why Emma was already pregnant. Belle pushed open the
door and walked into Alex's very large, very masculine
study. "Good afternoon, Alex," she said. "How has your
day
been?"
"Drier than yours, I understand," he said, pouring some
milk in his teacup and ignoring the tea entirely. "Your
curls are still dripping."
Belle looked down at her shoulders. The fabric of her
dress
was damp from her hair. She shrugged. "Oh well, nothing
to
do about it, I suppose." She settled down on the sofa,
and
poured herself a cup of tea. "And how was your day,
Emma?"
"Fairly uneventful. I've been going over some of the
books
and reports from some of our lands in Wales. It looks
like
there may be some sort of a problem. I'm thinking of
heading out there to investigate."
"You are not," Alex growled.
"Oh really?" Emma countered.
"You aren't going anywhere for another six months," he
added, glancing lovingly at his flame-haired, violet-eyed
wife. "And probably not for another six after that."
"If you think I'm going to lay abed until the baby comes,
you're mad in the head." "And you have to learn who's in
charge here."
"Well then, you--"
"Stop, stop," Belle laughed. "Enough." She shook her
head.
Two more stubborn people in this universe had yet to be
found. They were perfect for each other. "Why don't I
tell
you how my day went?"
Emma and Alex both turned their faces to her expectantly.
Belle took another sip of her tea, letting it warm her
up. "I met a rather odd man, actually."
"Oh, really?" Emma leaned forward.
Alex leaned back, his eyes glazing over with a bored
expression.
"Yes. He lives near here. I think his land borders yours.
His name is Lord John Blackwood. Do you know him?"
Alex shot forward. "Did you say John Blackwood?"
"It was Lord John Blackwood, I think. Why, do you know
him?
John Blackwood is probably a fairly common name."
"Brown hair?"
Belle nodded.
"Brown eyes?"
She nodded again.
"About my height, medium build?"
"I guess so. He wasn't quite as broad in the shoulders as
you are, but I think he was nearly as tall."
"Did he limp?"
"Yes!" Belle exclaimed.
"John Blackwood. I'll be damned," Alex shook his head in
disbelief. "And a lord, too. He must have been granted a
title for military service."
"He fought in the war with you?" Emma asked.
When Alex finally responded, his green eyes were far
away. "Yes," he said softly. "He commanded his own
company,
but we saw each other frequently. I always wondered what
happened to him. Don't know why I didn't try to look him
up. I suppose I was afraid I'd find out he was dead."
That certainly caught Belle's attention. "What do you
mean?"
"It was strange," Alex said slowly. "He was an excellent
soldier. There was no one you could depend on more. He
was
absolutely selfless. Constantly putting himself in danger
to save others."
"Why is that strange?" Emma asked. "He sounds like quite
an
honorable man."
Alex turned his head to the two ladies, his expression
suddenly clear. "The strange thing was that for a man who
seemed to have such disregard for his own well-being, he
behaved quite remarkably when he was wounded."
"What happened?" Belle asked anxiously.
"The surgeon said that he'd have to cut off his leg. And
I
must say, he was rather callous about it. John was still
conscious at the time, and the leech didn't even bother
to
tell him directly. He just turned to his assistant and
said, 'Bring me the saw.'"
Belle shuddered, the image of John Blackwood so ill-
treated
surprisingly painful.
"He went crazy," Alex continued. "I've never seen
anything
like it. He grabbed the surgeon by his shirt and pulled
him
down until they were nose to nose. And considering the
amount of blood he'd lost, his grip was remarkably
strong.
I was going to intervene, but when I heard the tone of
his
voice, I held back."
"What did he say?" Belle asked, on the edge of her seat.
"I'll never forget it. He said, 'If you take my leg, as
God
is my witness, I will hunt you down and saw off yours.'
The
doctor let him be. Said he'd leave him to die if that's
what he wanted."
"But he didn't die," Belle said.
"No, he didn't. But I'm sure that was the end of his
fighting days. Which was probably all for the best. He
was
a superb soldier, but I always got the idea that he
abhorred violence."
"How odd," Emma murmured.
"Yes, well, he was an interesting man. I quite liked him.
Had an excellent sense of humor when he chose to exhibit
it. But he was more often than not the silent type. And
he
had the quite the strictest sense of honor I have ever
experienced."
"Really, Alex," Emma teased. "No one could be more
honorable than you."
"Ah, my lovely, loyal wife." Alex leaned forward and
dropped a kiss on Emma's forehead.
Belle slumped back in her seat. She wanted to hear more
about John Blackwood, but there didn't seem any polite
way
to ask Alex to say more about him. It rather irritated
her
to admit it, but she couldn't deny that she was
incredibly
interested in the unusual man.
Belle had always been very practical, very pragmatic, and
the one thing she had always refused to do was deceive
herself. John Blackwood had intrigued her this afternoon,
but now that she knew a bit of his history, she was
fascinated. Every little thing about him, from the quirk
of
his brow to the way the wind ruffled his slightly wavy
hair
suddenly took on new meaning. And his insistence upon
walking made much more sense. After fighting so fiercely
to
save his leg, it was only natural that he'd want to use
it.
He struck her as a man of principles. A man you could
trust, depend upon. A man whose passions ran deep.
Belle was so surprised by the turn of her thoughts, she
actually jerked her head back a little. Emma noticed her
movement and inquired, "Are you all right, Belle?"
"What? Oh, just a little headache. More like a twinge,
actually. It's gone now."
"Oh."
"It's probably from all my reading," Belle continued,
even
though Emma seemed perfectly willing to let the subject
drop. "I have to try very hard to make the words focus
these days. I think that perhaps I ought to have my eyes
examined."
If Emma was surprised by her cousin's sudden admission
that
her eyesight was not quite what it should be, she made no
mention of it. "Excellent. There is a very good doctor in
the village. We'll see what he can do." Belle smiled and
picked up her tea. It was getting cold.
And then Emma said a marvelous thing.
"You know what we ought to do," the duchess said to her
husband. "We ought to invite this John Blake person--"
"John Blackwood," Belle interjected quickly.
"Sorry, this John Blackwood person over for supper. With
Belle here we'll be evenly matched and we won't have to
go
out hunting for an extra woman."
Alex put down his glass. "An excellent idea, my love. I
think I'd rather like to renew our friendship."
"That settles it, then," Emma said matter-of-factly.
"Shall
I send him a note or would you rather go 'round yourself
to
invite him in person?"
"I think I'll go. I'm eager to see him again, and
besides,
it would be rude of me not to considering the fact that
he
saved my life."
Emma paled. "What?"
One corner of Alex's lips tugged upwards in a sheepish
smile. "Just once, my love, and there's no point in
getting
upset over it now."
The look that the couple shared at that moment was so
tender that it was almost painful for Belle to look at
them. Excusing herself quietly, she slipped out of the
study and headed upstairs to her room where the last few
pages of The Winter's Tale awaited her.
John Blackwood had saved Alex's life? She could scarcely
fathom it. It seemed that there was more to their new
neighbor than his somewhat churlish exterior.
John Blackwood had secrets. Belle was sure of it. She'd
wager that his life story put Shakespeare to shame. All
she
had to do was a little investigating. This excursion to
the
country might prove more exciting than she'd anticipated.
Of course, she wasn't going to be able to uncover any of
his secrets until she befriended him. And he'd made it
rather clear that he didn't much like her.
It was damned irritating, that.