Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 8

Eight

T he following morning, Ella stepped out into the courtyard between the two gatehouses and blinked in surprise to find Phillip dressed and ready to leave. She’d thought perhaps after last night he wouldn’t come. Yet there he was, eyes glinting with amusement at her astonishment.

He looked dashing in buff trousers and an indigo waistcoat. A greatcoat hung around his shoulders, only adding to the handsome picture he presented. Beyond him a large traveling coach stood ready. Marcus and Cora were helping the driver secure several valises to the back of the coach. The morning sky was still a watery gray as the sun failed to penetrate the heavy snow clouds that had gathered above them.

Phillip greeted her with a smile as she reached him. “Good morning.”

She smiled back, but a sudden bout of nerves made her tremble. Had she really asked him to tutor her in seduction last night? The reality of that moment was now a little daunting in the cold light of day.

“Come now, don’t be shy,” Phillip teased. “ That is your first lesson.” He offered her his free arm, and they joined the servants by the coach. “I had Marcus and Cora fetch some novels from the library for us to read.”

He helped her inside and climbed in after her, using his hands to brace himself until he sat across from her. She was careful not to offer assistance lest he view it as pity. During their talk the previous night, she’d sensed that pity was the last thing he wanted or needed. Phillip removed his black calf leather gloves and tucked them into the pocket of his coat as they waited for Marcus and Cora to join them.

Once the coach was pulling out of the drive, Marcus immediately fell asleep in one corner after a busy night of preparations. Cora pulled out a basket of food and provided everyone else a breakfast of fresh oranges, bread, and cheese.

“You have oranges?” It was rare to have such treasures.

“My gardeners keep a hothouse, and we have half a dozen orange trees inside. They manage to grow them year-round.” Phillip smiled as he peeled one. Ella did the same, relishing the sweet fruit as she slipped a slice into her mouth.

Cora began to mend an item of clothing to pass the time, and soon Ella was lost in conversation with Phillip. It was so easy to talk with him. When he was distracted from his injuries, he was quite amiable, much like he’d been five years ago.

He told her about times that he and Graham had gotten in trouble while they were studying at Eton, and she laughed so hard she had tears in her eyes. Then he pressed her for details about her youth.

“Honestly, there isn’t much to tell, what with Charles and Graham watching over me. But…”

“But?” Phillip pressed.

“Now I’m involved with a group of ladies who help one another pursue their passions.”

“Passions? Consider me intrigued.”

“Well,” Ella said as she leaned in closer to whisper, “it’s called the Society of Rebellious Ladies.”

“I do love a good rebellious lady.” Phillip’s wolfish smile was also strangely tender at the same time. It was roguishly charming.

“And we certainly are that. Do you know Lysandra Russell?”

“The Marquess of Rochester’s younger sister? Yes, she’s rather charmingly eccentric.”

“She’s a dear friend of mine. The Society of Rebellious Ladies has been aiding her in sneaking into meetings for the new Astronomical Society of London which was founded last year. She’s hoping to discover a comet, you see.”

“Fascinating. How on earth do you sneak her into those meetings?”

“Lysa’s so clever, but the men in the society don’t wish to publish her findings. So we’ve done all we can to help her establish herself under a masculine pseudonym. So far we’ve had excellent luck. She’s had two papers published in the last four months, and she’s been able to attend the meetings…dressed as a man, thanks to Audrey St. Laurent’s talent for disguises, of course.”

“Of course.” Phillip started laughing. “Lord, your society sounds like a formidable lot.”

“Threatened?” Ella teased and gently prodded his leg with the toe of one of her boots.

“Not at all. Admiring is what I am. My mother was interested in astronomy. My father always wished she could have studied it alongside gentlemen who shared her passion. She would have loved to hear that a society to study it has been formed.”

Ella tilted her head. “Your mother sounds like an amazing woman. I wish I could have met her.”

“She would have liked you.”

They continued to talk most of the day. The coach stopped a few times for them to see to their needs and have a quick meal and see to the horses before they continued. As the light vanished from outside and evening set in, the coach suddenly rolled to a stop, and Phillip sat up, puzzled. He opened the coach door. A heavy cloud of snow swirled inside, making everyone gasp and laugh. Marcus jolted awake, cursing at the cold before he realized he’d cursed in front of ladies and made a hasty apology.

“Everything all right, Henry?” he called to the driver.

“The snow is falling heavier, m’lord. We may need to stop early, leastways so I know where we are if it keeps snowing.”

“What’s the next town?” Phillip asked.

“Should be Aylesford, m’lord.”

“Do you believe we can make it?”

“I believe so,” Henry called down.

“Carry on as best you can.” Phillip closed the coach door, letting in a second small snowstorm that made Ella laugh and Cora gasp and cover her mending. Phillip merely chuckled.

“Phillip, what if we become trapped?” The skies were darkening, and she feared for them all if the snow became too deep.

“Don’t worry. Henry has been driving my coach for years, and he’s a smart man. He’ll get us to Aylesford.”

Ella tried to distract herself with small talk. “I’ve never been there. Is it very pretty?”

“Yes, I think it is. ’Tis an old town.” Phillip played with his cane, brushing his thumb over the silver knob. “It’s an old Norman village with a church tower built into a steep walled bank along a river. Once we get closer, you will see the jumbled rooftops of the town staggered down the hillside where a large, regal bridge spans the river Medway.” A smile curved his lips. “I took Graham fishing on the Medway once, when we were just leaving university. Not a bad spot to catch fish in the summer.”

“It sounds lovely.”

“It is. The bridge is old too. Legend has it the Romans and even the ancient Britons before them used it. Of course, the bridge itself is not that old, but where it stands, many men and women have used that spot to ford the river.”

“That makes sense,” Ella said, then yawned. It never ceased to amaze her that one could become tired from riding in a coach all day.

“You should rest,” Phillip suggested. There was a softness in his voice that made her feel oddly vulnerable.

“I can never sleep in coaches,” she admitted.

“Nonsense. You’ve never done the thing properly. Marcus, switch places with Lady Ella.” Marcus moved easily into her spot as she sat down next to Phillip. “Now, rest your head upon my shoulder. It makes for a better pillow than the side of the coach.”

Ella hesitated a moment, then rested her head against his shoulder. She nuzzled the sleeve of his greatcoat as she sought the most comfortable position, and before she was aware of it, she drifted off to sleep.

She woke an hour or so later and found the coach had stopped.

“Ella, darling, I fear we must get out and walk. The coach is trapped in the snow. But we are nearly there.” Phillip cupped her cheek and stroked her skin with the tips of his gloved fingers.

“Oh…” She sat up, stretching, and then his words sank in. “We’re trapped?”

“The snow continued to fall too fast. Henry got us to the bridge at Aylesford. It’s a bit of a walk to the nearest inn. About half a mile. Will you manage?”

“Yes.” She followed him out of the coach. It was dark now, and she was worried whether he would be able to make the distance with his leg.

“What about the horses?” She stared at the patient beasts as they huffed and pawed in the darkness.

“Don’t be worrying about them, miss,” Henry promised. “Once his lordship gets to the inn, he’ll send a few men back to help me and Marcus.”

“He’s right,” Phillip assured her. “It’s important to get you and Cora to the inn and warmed up.” He started forward, the lights of Aylesford flickering in the distant snowy gloom.

Cora and Ella followed on either side of him, and Ella watched Phillip’s movements, afraid he might fall in the snow.

“In 455, warrior mercenaries fought Vortigern, king of the Britons, on these lands,” Phillip explained as they walked.

“How do you know so much about this town?”

Phillip chuckled, the sound carrying in the snowy expanse around them. “My father believed that if a man held title over a land, he ought to be familiar with its history. He once said to me, ‘Most of these people will never visit their king in London, and so you are their ruler. You have a responsibility to them, to guide them and know them in order to help them move forward in life.’”

“Your father sounds like he was a wise man,” Ella replied solemnly as she imagined how much it must have hurt Phillip to lose a father like that.

“He was wise, and that wisdom came from living among his people. He took my mother and me on many travels throughout Kent so that I might love these people and towns as he did.”

They reached the bridge, and Ella saw the river was flowing swiftly, with small chunks of ice amidst the dark waters. Beyond the bridge was the town; a row of timbered Tudor-era houses met with a row of more modern stone structures. Beyond that was the dark shadow of the Norman church’s tower.

“We’ll head to that first timbered house,” Phillip said. “There at the end of the bridge. That’s the Black Prince Inn.”

The three of them navigated the snowy bridge and entered the boisterous common room, where Phillip walked over to the bar and spoke with the innkeeper. A moment later, he returned with several room keys jingling in his palm.

“The innkeeper is sending three groups from the stable to help Henry and Marcus with the coach.” He paused as he looked at Ella, his nose still red from the cold. “There weren’t enough rooms available for everyone, I’m afraid, so I told him we were married. It is a risk, given that I’m decently well known here, but I doubt anyone will speak of it since I’ve asked for discretion. We are to share a bedchamber. Henry and Marcus will have another room, and there’s a third bedchamber for Cora. Our room has only one bed. If someone were to discuss what they’ve seen…” He looked away, then drew in a deep breath before he faced her again.

“Phillip, I am fine with such an arrangement. I know the risks of ruination, and since I’m considered an old maid at any rate, I don’t suppose I should be overly bothered to find myself ruined.” Ella’s heart raced as she said it, but she meant it. This , being with him and not caring about society, was what she truly wanted. To know him as a man, to fully explore herself as a woman in carnal ways. She would not change her mind about it. Yes, she had been panicked when she’d been abandoned by Audrey at Phillip’s front door, but now she was resolved in her course. She refused to regret anything wonderful that might come, and she would accept any consequences that developed after.

“I cannot believe we are doing this,” he muttered. “If Graham or Charles ever found out…”

He didn’t finish the thought, though she knew what he meant.

“They won’t. You’ve rarely left your house in the last year, and I’m less well known than you. The odds of anyone believing we were both here together is unlikely.”

He didn’t seem entirely convinced of that as he led her upstairs. Cora took her key and left them alone to settle into her own room.

“I assure you, my staff will speak to no one of what happens between us.”

Ella placed her hand on his arm. “I know, Phillip. I trust you.”

He unlocked the door to their chamber and let her into the room.

It was a quaint room with a cozy bed, a fireplace, and a pair of chairs. A silk changing screen concealed a large copper tub. She blushed at the thought of disrobing with him so near to take a bath, let alone sharing a bed with him.

Ella turned to face him when the door closed. She was fully aware of how vulnerable she was with him now, how if he was a different sort of man she would be in danger. But she trusted him. This was the man who had kissed her forehead and broke her girlish heart, the man who had driven her away because he feared his own weakness. He was an honorable man, and she had finally managed to convince him to be a little less honorable with her.

“You don’t have to share a room with me. Say the word and I’ll sleep in the stables.” She could tell he was partially teasing.

Ella giggled and shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Truly. I much prefer you here…with me rather than in the stables.” She unfastened her manteau and pushed her hood back before she removed the garment.

“You’re certain?” he asked as he removed his gloves and laid them on the table. The movement called her attention to his hands. He had lovely, elegant long fingers, yet his palms were strong and muscular. Her mouth ran dry as she pictured those hands upon her body.

“I am. It’s been years since my debut, and in all that time, I’ve remained alone.” She wanted to tell him that she’d waited for him to come to her and claim her. But she didn’t want him to know how lonely she had been, how much she had longed for him and him alone.

He crossed the room, his cane tapping softly on the floor as he approached her.

“You’re so…” He paused, his eyes fixed on her lips as he reached up to touch her cheek.

“Yes?” Her mind filled with sweet songs of joy as his lips moved in a way that promised pleasure and passion. How could she feel so attuned to him, the way two violins harmonized to create a singularly beautiful melody?

“I don’t understand it.”

“Understand what?” she asked.

“How you’re not married. The gentlemen of London are greater fools than I imagined. You’re simply perfect.” Phillip lowered his head to hers and kissed her.

She drank in the sweetness of his kiss, and her body quaked at his words. A dozen emotions rolled through her, and she was blanketed with sonorous pleasure deep within as she tasted his happiness upon his lips. He smiled while kissing her, and she had the sudden urge to laugh with the bubbling happiness that grew within herself. This had been the right choice, to be with him and not think about the future or the lonely nights she faced ahead. She would grasp these golden moments while she had the chance.

P hillip was damned, but he couldn’t stop what he was doing. She was so tender, so full of warmth and youthful excitement. Her kiss made him feel like the man he’d once been long ago. Like the man who’d danced with her in that ballroom ages ago, feeling her spin and twirl back into his arms. How she’d looked up at him when he’d kissed her beneath that starry night sky, and he’d thought in that moment they could have held the entire world between them.

Now he was kissing her again, and it was different. She was not a young, teasing debutante. She was a woman now, one who’d learned disappointments and heartache and clung to happiness that much stronger whenever she found it. He wanted to make sure their time together now was everything she’d dreamed of.

Her eager response to the touch of his lips or the flick of his tongue against hers brought back a flood of excitement. He’d thought he was incapable of feeling like this again, but he’d been blissfully wrong. A sweet melody echoed about him, and he groaned, pulling her tightly to him.

“I hear music,” Ella whispered.

“As do I.” He nuzzled her cheek, his hands finding a home at the small of her back. He admired her shape, the sweep of her spine and the flare of her rounded bottom that fit perfectly in his hands. Christ, soon he would have her body all to himself to explore. The peaks and valleys of her skin would be his alone to taste in ways that would make her moan and squirm. And then, only then, he would show her what true passion was.

“Are we both hearing the same song?” she asked as she leaned into him, embracing him in a most tender way.

“Yes. Wait…” He drew back and glanced about. Music was indeed filling the air. “It must be from the common room.”

“It sounds wonderful.” Ella sighed dreamily. The look upon her face was filled with unadulterated joy.

Kisses could wait. “Why don’t we go down for dinner and see about this music?”

She beamed up at him, and he felt like a hero. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

Quietly, they returned downstairs. He ignored the twinge in his bad leg and was careful to use the wall to support himself. The melodies of the violin grew louder as they entered the common room. A group of travelers and townsfolk gathered around the tables, eating and drinking. Near the fireplace, a violinist was tapping his toe and fiddling a lively tune. Phillip slid an arm around Ella’s waist as he led her to an open table. He caught the nearest barmaid’s attention to order dinner.

Men and women were singing and clapping to the tune. Phillip leaned his cane against the table and clapped along with Ella. She slid closer to him on the bench of their table, and he took a moment to give her waist a little squeeze, making her grin. Another young couple joined them at the table. By the looks on their faces, they had been recently married.

“Mind if we join you?” the man asked Phillip.

“Not at all.” He held out a hand. “Phillip Wilkes.”

“Lord Kent? A pleasure!” The man’s genuine, honest smile followed his hand as he shook Phillip’s. “My name is Francis Warwick, and this is my wife Bridget. I am still getting used to that, aren’t I, wife?” Warwick teased the young woman, who looked to be close to Ella’s age. He smiled warmly at Phillip and Ella.

“It’s lovely to meet you. How long have you been married?” Ella asked.

“Only since yesterday.” Bridget blushed. “We were married at the church on the hill.”

“How splendid. Congratulations to you both!”

“Thank you,” Francis said. “And you?”

Ella glanced at Phillip, her face reddening, so he spoke for them.

“Married a week ago. Private ceremony. We haven’t told our families yet.” He hoped the man would have the sense to keep quiet.

“Mum’s the word, Kent. I quite understand,” Warwick said. “’Twill be a pleasant Christmas surprise, eh?”

“Indeed,” Phillip replied. Quite a surprise, if Ella’s family were to find out, he thought. “Are you traveling beyond Aylesford?” he asked Warwick.

“We were hoping to, but the innkeeper believes the entire town may be snowed in tonight. I suppose we’ll continue the honeymoon here, eh?” Warwick glanced at his wife, and she blushed and smiled with obvious delight.

Ella’s face fell a little as she looked to Phillip. “Do you think we’ll be trapped here for more than a few days? I was so looking forward to Lord Pembroke’s ball.”

“Perhaps the roads will clear by morning,” Bridget added, seeming to sense Ella’s disappointment.

“Cheer up,” Warwick told Ella. “The town has a whole host of festivities planned, and Aylesford is rumored to have the best Christmas pudding in all of Kent.”

“My father used to tell me that,” Phillip said with a chuckle. “I’ve never had occasion to try it here before, though.”

“Would you like to join in the dancing?” Bridget asked Ella. She pointed to a group of young women who had lined up by the violinist and were starting to dance. They were lifting their skirts just above their ankles to show off the clever tapping patterns of their feet.

“Oh yes, that would be delightful.”

Ella and Bridget rushed up to join the other young ladies. Phillip watched Ella with hungry eyes. The elegant coiffure that she had arranged came loose in places, and her golden curls bounced down around her face as she danced spiritedly. Her cheeks flushed a strawberry red, and she moved her feet faster than most of the others. Once the violinist realized others were stepping back to watch her, he changed his tempo to match her quick dancing. She began to spin in a circle, holding her skirts to midcalf, uncaring of any scandal this might cause given that most of the people in the tavern were pleasant country folk less likely to fuss. Her blue half boots tapped and pointed as she hopped an elegant pattern that reminded him a bit of a Scottish ceilidh dance.

Someone with a Scottish accent shouted, “Fetch a pair of swords!” and another pulled down two swords hanging from a wall and crossed them in an X-shape on the ground close to Ella. She hopped easily over them, her feet landing in the spaces between the blades as the violinist played a Scottish tune to match.

“A talented wife you have,” Warwick praised.

Phillip couldn’t take his eyes off Ella as she continued to spin and dance. “She certainly is.” The common room broke into song to encourage her. In that moment she was utterly bewitching, a true fae princess who had slipped between worlds to cast a spell over him. To behold her was to love her.

He loved her. He wasn’t sure when his affection for her had become romantic love. The realization should have given him such unfathomable joy, but instead it cut him deep. He couldn’t act upon his love. He could not ask her to tie herself to a crippled man, nor could he risk losing Graham’s friendship, assuming he hadn’t already lost it. Phillip was too embittered with his own condition to find a way to restore that friendship, but he could not afford to damage it further by letting Graham find out that he had seduced Ella. Not even a marriage would save him then. These few days with her were all he had.