Page 21 of The Song of the Siren (The Venturesome Ladies of Little Valentine #2)

The sweetness of temptation or dull propriety.

“Are you sure, old man?”

“Oh, for the love of God, go away and stop plaguing me,” Stonehaven exclaimed irritably. “You’ve been married five minutes. You’ve an estate to run and a great many things better do to than babysit me.”

Beau had come out to the terrace where Stonehaven sat to bid him goodbye.

He could practically feel the guilt pouring off Beaumarsh in waves but had determined not to allow his old friend to hang around any longer.

It was unfair to keep him here, in his father-in-law’s house, where he must have little opportunity for private time with his new countess.

“There are few things more important than making sure my best friend is well,” Beau said, with far too much sincerity for Stonehaven’s comfort.

Since he’d married, Beau had discovered an uncanny ability to say things that made a fellow think, or feel things, usually things he was perfectly content to carry on not thinking or feeling, thank you very much.

“Oh, save me from sentimental claptrap. You’ll be writing maudlin poetry about dead robins next,” Stonehaven complained, though he was touched by his friend’s concern all the same.

Beau snorted. “Fine, have it your own way. I’m going. But listen, you old curmudgeon. I’m not far off. If you get blue devilled, you just send me word, and I’ll be back the next day to drive you demented and keep you in high spirits.”

“Noted,” Stonehaven said tersely. “Are you going to clasp me to your bosom next and bid me a fond adieu?”

“Devil take you, Stonehaven. Promise me you’ll send for me if you’re gloomy, else I won’t go at all!” Beaumarsh said, sounding aggrieved.

Stonehaven felt a surge of guilt at how badly he was treating Beau, who had been nothing but kind and more patient than he’d any right to expect. “I promise,” he replied grudgingly.

Beau let out a breath. “Excellent. Make sure you do, mind. Well, in that case, I’ll bid you a good day.

I’ll write to you. Bertie—that is, the reverend—has promised to read my letters to you, so I’ll edit them accordingly, and you can dictate replies to him too.

Said he’s happy to act as your secretary, and you know he means it. ”

“Fine,” Stonehaven nodded, hesitating before forcing himself to add, “Thanks, Beaumarsh, for… for being—”

“Oh, stow it. I know. Do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” Beaumarsh said cheerfully before clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Take care now. Mind, if I hear nothing, I’ll be back in a few weeks to check up on you.”

“Oh, I’ll be gone by then,” Stonehaven replied, though wished he hadn’t. The idea of leaving the vicarage made him feel ill.

“You will? Don’t rush things, old man. The Honeywells like having you here, you know. They think the world of you,” Beau said, sounding ever more anxious on his behalf.

“Hmph.”

Once Beau had left, Stonehaven felt increasingly restless.

He did not belong here, in the heart of this loving home.

He did not know how to fit in with surroundings so unlike those to which he was accustomed.

Not because his home was so very lavish, but because this place was so warm and welcoming, and the family had such generosity of spirit.

He felt like a parasite, feeding off their kindness and yet he could not make himself leave.

It was lonely here at times, even with the family doing all in their power to keep him entertained.

Haven House would swallow him whole and spit out the pieces.

Footsteps upon gravel made him turn his head towards the garden. It was sunny today, and he squinted, wishing he could see something more than the damnably unhelpful fog that only glared at him as he turned towards the light. The footsteps paused and then hurried on again.

“Good afternoon?” he called, wondering who it was. “Sally?”

There was a moment's hesitation before a soft voice replied, “Good afternoon, Lord Stonehaven.”

It was Sally. Yet she was moving again. Suddenly, Stonehaven had an urgent desire to speak with her, to apologise for his behaviour the last time they had spoken.

He pushed to his feet so suddenly the chair screeched on the stone flags, and he bumped the table, rattling the glass of lemonade Polly had brought him earlier.

“Curse it,” he muttered, trying to move out from behind the table. “Sally!”

“Here, my lord.”

He jumped to discover the voice so close and let out a breath, relieved she had not rushed away as he’d feared.

“I thought perhaps you were avoiding me,” he admitted, feeling foolish.

“Avoiding you? Why would I?”

There was surprise in her voice, though he was unconvinced she hadn’t been avoiding him, only that she was surprised he had remarked it.

“Because I’m a rude, ungrateful brute, that’s why,” he said candidly.

There was a soft sound, like a little puff of air and he realised it had been a breath of laughter. “Oh. No, never that,” she said.

“Hmph. You’ll let me be the judge, young lady. Let me tell you, if a fellow treats you like that again, you don’t give him another thought.”

“Should I go then, my lord?” she asked, and Stonehaven grinned, feeling a swell of pleasure in her desire to tease him. “No, drat you. Unless I’m going to get you into trouble for talking to me?”

“Oh, no. At least, I can stop for a moment if you wish me to.”

“How are you finding it here?” Stonehaven asked, reaching out behind him and searching for the chair.

A soft hand caught his, and guided it to the chair back, allowing him to orientate himself and sit down again.

“I should think it is a nice place to work. The family are so kind, leastways they’ve been kinder to me than I deserve. ”

“Do you not deserve kindness, then?”

The question disconcerted him, making him pause as he considered it. “Oh, well. I don’t know. It’s just that they don’t owe me anything. They don’t know me well, they’re not kin or dependent on me.”

“Is that the only reason for being kind, because it is an obligation?” There was curiosity behind the words, as if she sincerely wished to understand his thoughts and Stonehaven found himself at once baffled and intrigued by the workings of her mind.

“Well, no. Lord, you’re as bad as the reverend, taking my words and twisting them about.”

She laughed again and Stonehaven stilled, delighted by the sound. It seemed to fizz beneath his skin like champagne. “I am only listening to what you say.”

“Then I must choose my words with more care,” he said, relishing the chance to speak to her again. She was unlike anyone he’d ever spoken to, at once candid and curious, and yet gentle too, without a hint of cynicism. “You are kind. I can tell.”

She said nothing and Stonehaven grinned again. “You’re blushing.”

“You cannot possibly know that,” she replied, her voice tart with indignation.

“Oh, but I can,” he said smugly. “I bet if I reached out my hand and touched your cheek, it would be hot as a cinder.”

“Well, if it wasn’t before, it would be now,” she said, a breathless quality to her voice that pleased him a ridiculous amount.

Stonehaven sat back in his chair, delighting in the moment, in feeling as if he were his old self again, before he remembered she was a servant, and he was playing with fire.

Disappointment coursed through him, the like of which he had never known.

He did not understand it, but he liked speaking to this woman above anyone else he could think of, even before the accident.

“What is it, my lord?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, distracted by his gloomy thoughts.

“You were happy, and then something crossed your mind and now you look despondent.”

His lips curved despite his lowered spirits. “Observant sort of girl, aren’t you?”

“When something interests me.”

For a moment he let the words warm him, settling in his heart, a promise of more, of… something. But no, he shook his head. “You must forgive me, Sally.”

“What for?”

“For—” He cast around for an explanation, feeling a surge of anger at everything and everyone. If not for that idiot boy, he’d not be blind, he’d not be here, feeling bereft because he wasn’t stupid or dishonourable enough to dally with a serving girl. “I ought not speak to you like this.”

“Like what?”

“You know very well, like what. You’re not that innocent.”

“How innocent am I?”

Stonehaven closed his eyes. “Innocent enough to believe in happy ever afters, or that tomorrow never comes. Well, much as it pains me to disillusion you, there are no happy ever afters, and it is tomorrow. It’s always bloody tomorrow before you’re ready for it.”

“Then perhaps we ought to live for today,” she suggested.

Before he could muster a reply, soft lips pressed against his.

It was the barest touch, barely a kiss at all when set against a lifetime of amorous experiences this girl could hardly guess at.

Yet that barely there touch rocked him back on his heels, his heart catching fire as she lit a fuse he’d not known existed inside of him.

“Sally,” he said, reaching for her, but he found only space, heard her quick footsteps as they moved away.

Stonehaven sat there, stunned, delighted and bereft all at once, breathing like he’d just run from the devil.

“Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Damn it! Why does everyone insist on sneaking up on me,” he exclaimed, unprepared to speak to anyone else, wanting to linger in the moment, whilst the touch of Sally’s sweet mouth still burned against his lips.

“I beg your pardon,” Dr Arkhurst replied in his calm, unhurried manner. “I knocked on the doorframe before I stepped outside, but you seemed rather perturbed, breathing too fast, and I worried that—”

“Well, don’t,” Stonehaven said irritably. “I’m in perfect health, well, apart from being blind, but you can’t cure that, can you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. But I was just passing and thought I would drop in.”