Page 14 of How to Seduce a Viscount (Wed Within a Year #3)

L uce had the cloak waiting for her at breakfast, draped over her chair.

He watched surreptitiously over the edge of his newspaper as she entered, wearing the blue wool dress she’d worn for the past several days.

He saw the moment she spied the cloak, the slight widening of her quicksilver eyes, the way her hand moved to caress the heavy burgundy wool and the swans-down lining with something akin to reverence or perhaps relief.

‘It’s for you, to keep you warm today on our outing.’ Luce set his paper aside. ‘We’ll do something about your wardrobe, too. There’s a good dressmaker in the village.’

‘That’s not necessary.’ She could not take her eyes or hands from the cloak and it warmed him to see her so pleased.

Life on the road for his grandfather could require austere measures at times.

Living among the Greek guerillas certainly would have.

But she’d also been to Paris and there would have been silks and satins there.

She smiled. ‘I am used to doing with very little when I work.’

‘Are you working now?’ Luce poured a hot cup of morning coffee. ‘I’d say you were on a repairing lease recovering from an injury and that deserves a few dresses.’ He poured in a splash of cream, just how she liked it, and let his eyes meet hers with a silent message— I am observant . I see you .

For a woman whose livelihood depended on being unseen, or at least unknown, to be seen would be a novelty.

A luxury. As the youngest of four brothers, he knew something about that.

It was a constant war to claim his own individuality, especially when all four of them looked alike to a stranger.

She’d given him that gift yesterday in the orangery. Today, he’d like to repay it.

She took the cup and flashed him an appreciative smile before sipping. ‘You remembered the cream.’

He remembered more than cream. He remembered everything about her. Every like and dislike. Every nuance. Every gesture. Surely every man she met would feel the same. It was difficult to see how she cultivated any stealth at all when his body was still humming from their kiss last night.

‘As for working—’ she reached for a slice of toast ‘—aren’t we always working? Do we ever get to lay down the mantle of the network?’ Rhetorical questions only. She was right of course. The network never slept.

‘I declare today a holiday,’ Luce countered. ‘We were up late last night with work. We can be allowed a day off. I will post my letter. We’ll see the village and take care of your dress situation.’

One could never leave the network, that much was true, but here in Little Albury, tucked into the Surrey Hills, one could step away from the network on occasion.

Little Albury might be regionally important to the smaller villages in the environs, but Londoners didn’t seek it out.

A Horseman was as safe as he could possibly be.

The thought gave him pause as he reached for his coffee cup.

Wrexham, where Kieran lived, was also safe, located in a valley just over the border, a good four-day journey from almost anywhere.

The same could be said for Barrow, outside Newmarket, where Caine had taken up his estate.

Perhaps the three titles bestowed by the monarch hadn’t been so arbitrary, after all.

He saw his grandfather’s hand in it. They couldn’t leave the network but his grandfather had seen to it that they were as safe as he could make them. Just as he was making Wren.

‘Are you ready?’ Luce rose and held her cloak for her, settling it about her shoulders while she fastened it at the neck.

She took an experimental turn, letting the cloak swirl about her.

He wondered how long it had been since someone had given her a gift.

Or surprised her with a kindness. Beyond his grandfather, she was alone in the world.

He had his brothers. Whether he was on a mission with them or not, he was seldom alone.

Even here in Little Albury, his brothers were only a letter away.

‘This is divine. I shall be warm today.’ Her eyes danced when she looked at him. ‘Wherever did you find it?’

Luce shrugged, making light of the effort of tramping through the dark searching for it after midnight. His stubbed toe was still sore this morning.

‘In the attic. There’s a trunk full of clothes from a former viscountess.

I’m afraid nothing else is of much use, as it’s all quite dated.

But cloaks never really go out of style.

’ He reached into his coat pocket. ‘There were gloves, too. Hopefully they will work well enough for today. We’ll see about a pair of your own.

’ He offered her his arm and a playful smile.

‘Now that you are fully kitted out, come this way with me. Your chariot for the day awaits.’

It was not a chariot, or even a carriage that waited for her in the stable yard.

It was far better. A second surprise in the span of minutes.

‘It’s a sleigh,’ she exclaimed. A beautiful one that might have been straight out of a painting and it was pulled by a glossy-coated Cleveland Bay in bells and harness.

‘A two-seated cutter, to be exact.’ Luce helped her in and settled luxurious sable lap robes about her.

‘There is absolutely no chance of you getting cold today.’ He laughed and jumped in beside her, looking the quintessential Englishman in his greatcoat and muffler, dark waves hatless beneath a crisp blue winter sky.

She was definitely not worried about being cold, not with Luce Parkhurst’s thigh pressed against hers.

He was a large man and the two-seater was a small space.

It was impossible not to touch. Even through the layers of lap robes she could feel the heat of him.

Or perhaps it was her own heat she felt.

A heat that likely had little to do with staying warm and everything to do with her reaction to the man seated beside her.

It had been an entire night and she was still feeling the effects of their kiss.

The gift of the cloak had only made the butterflies in her stomach flutter faster.

Did he guess how rare gifts were in her life?

She hoped not. Happiness, joy and presents made her feel vulnerable and that was something she could not allow for more than the span of a few moments at a time.

Vulnerability made a person reckless, and recklessness got a person killed.

Other things got a person killed, too—caring and love.

The ties that bound eventually choked, especially when secrets were involved. There could be no ties here.

The moment Luce set the horse in motion, Wren fell in love with sleighing.

The gliding, the sharp wind in her face, pushing at the deep hood of her cloak.

The cutter seemed to skim over the ground.

In a carriage, one rumbled and bowled. There was nothing smooth about carriages.

But in a sleigh, it felt as if she were flying and she adored it.

Perhaps because she was warm. Warmth certainly made it easier to appreciate the cold.

‘You like this,’ Luce accused with a smile. ‘See, winter isn’t all bad.’

She laughed her joy into the wind, free in the moment. ‘It’s wonderful!’

The man she was with was wonderful, too. Last night, he’d been passionate. This morning, he’d been proactive in seeing to her comfort and he’d showered her with an embarrassment of riches whether he realised it or not.

Perhaps he was right—today could be a holiday for them both.

The code was solved, her wound was healing and her strength was returning.

Today could be a few hours away from the network.

A few hours to enjoy the company of a thoughtful man, a handsome man, both highly seductive aspects.

As long as she didn’t get carried away. It would be too easy to let this get out of control.

She slid him a sideways glance. It was obvious why he was one of London’s favourite rakes.

And no wonder, if the rumours were true, the king was so intent on seeing him settle down.

He was a danger to all womankind with that dazzling smile and dark gaze, both of which made a woman feel she had the full sum of his attention.

‘It is only my first time sleighing, but I do think I like it,’ she confessed with a mischievous grin. ‘I also have come to the conclusion that winter is a wealthy person’s season. It’s easier to enjoy the cold when you’re warm and you need money for that. Warmth can be expensive.’

‘A very astute observation.’ He slanted her a look and there it was—that gaze that said she had the whole of him in that moment, all the attention he possessed, and he knew he had the whole of her.

It was a gaze that went straight to her soul and knew her inside out.

Foolish as it was, she hungered to believe that, hungered to believe she was truly known by someone.

But that was the stuff of fantasies. She came from nowhere.

She barely knew herself. No one could know her.

Not even a redoubtable Horseman. Her whole life had been lived under an alias.

Her safety and success relied on being and remaining unknown.

That was what the earl was trying to protect by sending her away.

Still, the fleeting illusion of being known was a grand feeling, full of its own special warmth even as it was full of impossibility.

She couldn’t help but smile. For now she wasn’t alone in the world.

That might be the best gift he’d given her.