Page 5 of Lady Farah Creates a Scandal (The Season of Secrets #2)

She swung round, desperate for somewhere to hide. The thick, heavy drapes pulled aside from the large windows of his bedchamber would be perfect. They dragged on the floor and she could step on them to hide her feet. Being a hideously thin, tiny-framed woman was, for once, a blessing.

She barely made it to her hiding place when the chamber door flew open with a crash. She peered out through a small gap in the curtain. “I tell you, it was him.” Rockwell’s words were muffled as he drew off his waistcoat and threw it on the pile of dirty clothes in the corner.

“I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” Wolf’s tone had softened.

Rockwell swung to face his brother. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I stayed as long as I could in Ireland to search, but… Lauren is barely holding the family together financially, and like Tiffany, she won’t let anyone help. Sometimes pride is a damn nuisance.”

“Exactly why would he stay in Ireland? Furoe would have come home to his family if he could. He’d never let them suffer. Would he?”

Farah frowned. They were talking about Viscount Furoe, Lauren’s brother, but he died in the Irish Rebellion, didn’t he? Gosh, if he was still alive… But Wolf was right. Why hadn’t he come home?

The two men stood in silence for a few moments. Rockwell finally said, “I’m praying he has an excellent reason. I won’t let myself believe the worst of him.”

To her horror and, well, maybe not, perhaps to her joy, he wasn’t stopping at his waistcoat.

Her pulse skipped a beat as he tore off his cravat and pulled his shirt over his head.

Her mouth dried at the sight of light tanned skin and muscle.

Then her pulse hammered in her veins as he started to remove his Hessians.

He was going to undress. In front of her. Goodness.

“What if he’s hiding from his responsibilities? What if he can’t face his family’s financial situation?”

Rockwell kicked one Hessian off his foot and sat on the end of his bed. “Then he is not the friend I knew. I’m leaving on the Doreen tonight. I just have to attend to a few details regarding my upcoming trip to Africa before I leave.”

The Doreen was one of Rockwell’s ships that he used to sail to exotic places.

The second boot hit the floor.

“When will you be back?”

Rockwell swept a hand over his face, and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how long my search may take.” He looked at his brother. “I’ll come back once I’ve found Furoe, or at least confirmed it was not him I saw.”

“That could take a long time.”

She watched Rockwell shrug. “I have time. Africa will always be there. My friend comes first.”

Wolf turned to leave. “Good luck. I hope you find answers, but a part of me is concerned about his reasons for staying in Ireland. I wish you God’s speed.”

“Say nothing to anyone. Just in case I’m incorrect or I can’t locate him. I don’t want anyone to get their hopes up. And that includes Tiffany. Especially Tiffany. She might tell Lauren.”

Wolf laughed. “Wait until you’re married. There is no such thing as a secret when they know you so well.” With that, he left and closed the chamber door behind him.

Rockwell sighed and shook his head.

She really should close her eyes. This was such an invasion of his privacy, but the little timid bird fluttering deep inside her wanted out of its cage, as it always did in Rockwell’s presence.

She held her breath as he flicked open the fall of his breeches and slowly pushed them over his hips.

The light pouring in through the window meant his linen draws hid nothing.

However, excitement coursed through her as he pulled on the tie and her hand covered her mouth as she watched them fall to the floor and Rockwell stepped out of them.

He was side on to her view and she marveled at the grace of his hipbone, the pale flesh where the sun had not kissed and she could see the strength in his muscled thighs.

She was so bad, but her naughty imaginings were answered when he turned to face the window.

She could see all of him and… Do not faint!

Drawn to the dark curls at his crotch, he appeared as anatomically correct as the Greek statues she’d viewed. As her eyes moved upward, it was the sculptured chest that almost saw her hand snake out from behind the curtain for a touch.

“My, my, what’s this?” For a moment she thought he’d found her, but he was looking at something on the dresser.

In a blinding flash, she felt in her pocket, but the note wasn’t there.

She’d left it by his journals and one journal was open.

He’d know someone had read them. Once he’d read the note, he’d realize she’d been nosing through his belongings.

She watched as if in a bad dream as she saw him pull at the pink ribbon. For a minute, she couldn’t remember what she’d even written. Then he read it out loud…

I must confess that my heart is a flutter with the prospect of a certain young gentleman.

He is handsome and charming, with eyes that sparkle like the stars on a clear night.

And yet, I fear he may not notice me, for I am but a mere inexperienced young lady and he is a man of considerable reputation.

Do you have any advice?

Yours F.

It really was cringeworthy to hear it spoken out loud, but to her surprise, he didn’t laugh. He folded the note and pressed a kiss to the scented paper. “Oh, my little pixie-mouse, I have plenty of advice, but you’ll never hear it. You’re off limits to a man like me, no matter how tempted I am.”

With that, he slipped the note into the open journal and slammed it shut, then walked into his dressing room.

What to do. What to do. If she stayed here much longer, Tiffany would send someone to find her.

And if she were caught in this room, with Rockwell in a state of undress, well, her problem would be solved, but not in the way she wanted.

She didn’t wish to trap him into marriage.

That was no way to start a relationship.

Besides, Rockwell was not the marrying kind.

He was the intrepid explorer. She longed for a husband who would be happy to stay home with her and the children.

If not a grand love like Tiffany found, then at least friendship.

She poked her head through the gap in the curtains and was just about to step out of her hiding place and make a mad dash to the door when Wolf’s valet entered, carrying a pressed shirt.

He spoke into the dressing room. “My lord, I have found a clean shirt for you. I shall gather up the rest of your washing.”

“Don’t bother to rush, as I’ll be gone for a considerable time.

I have enough clean clothes for my journey.

” Rockwell reentered the bedchamber in a pair of buckskins, but his chest was bare.

What a sight he made. She swallowed hard.

“Are my trunks repacked?” To her disappointment, he pulled on the shirt.

“Just a few items to arrive from your lodgings.” He pointed to the open trunk. “I’ll instruct them to be packed in the final trunk as soon as they arrive.”

“Good. I need to catch the tide tonight,” he said as he sat on the bed and pulled on his top boots.

“Would you like me to help you with your cravat, my lord?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m not dressing for the opera, merely a long boat trip. While I’m out, can you ensure the trunks are loaded in the carriage and sent to the Doreen at Wapping Dock? I’ll go straight to the dock from my meeting.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Rockwell grabbed his greatcoat and made for the door.

Farah let out the breath she’d been holding.

She tried to hold back tears. Her plan was over.

Rockwell was leaving, and now she would have to try to deal with her brother alone.

Like a rat caught in a trap, she had nowhere to turn.

The sun at her back made everything worse because on this beautiful sunny afternoon, her life moved into darkness.

Marriage to Lord Franklin loomed, and it was almost too much to bear.

She wiped the tears from her face and thought perhaps it was time to turn to the sisterhood for help. Perhaps Tiffany could get Wolf to talk to her brother. Now, how to get out of this room without being seen?

She peered round the curtain—the room was empty.

She moved quickly and was halfway across the chamber when she heard Simpson returning.

The valet had someone else with him. Oh dear, what would everyone think if she were caught here?

Panic at the thought of trapping Rockwell in a marriage he didn’t want made her dive into the open trunk, pulling some clothes over the top of her.

“Put the rest of his shirts in there and then carry the trunks to the carriage. Quickly now, his lordship will require the trunks loaded before he arrives at the dock and it’s a good forty-five minutes to get there.”

Before she understood what was happening, clothes were placed on top of her and the lid slammed shut. Thankfully, there were small holes near where the trunk straps adhered to the leather, so she could breathe.

Well, it’s one way to safely get out of the house. She’d alert the men as they loaded the trunk on the carriage out of sight, near the stables at the back of the house. Then she could sneak back in through the kitchen.

“Gor’ blimey, how come this one’s so much heavier than the others,” she heard the servant say as they began to carry her down the stairs.

Suddenly, on a loud curse, she felt the trunk hit the stairs and tumble downward over and over.

Her head hit the edge of stair and even through the thick leather, it hurt like hell.

The trunk continued to roll down the sweeping staircase and each time it hit the corner of a stair it smashed her head.

Her cries were muffled by a mouthful of clothes.

By the time the trunk landed with a crash on the tiled entrance hall, Farah was in no condition to let the men know she was inside. She’d blacked out.