“He kissed you?” Lady Annalise squealed with apparent happiness. “I knew he was attracted to you!”
Freya had beenlooking forward to hearing her uncle’s Sabbath’s lesson. After all, she had had some murderous thoughts since her conversation with Lady Annalise, all directed at AaranGraham, and she was wondering if she should ask for prayers of forgiveness. Moreover, since Lady Annalise had explained the odd relationships at Rayland House, Freya was more than a bit curious about all the players in the game Lady Rayland was obviously playing.
As expected, those staying at Rayland’s manor arrived last, as befitted their station. Their tardiness was a reminder that they were the most important people in their little realm. Their precision was led by Lady Rayland, who was followed by a lady’s maid, dressed all in dark colors. The pair separated at the top of theT, formed by the crisscrossing of the aisles. The maid turned to the right to stand along the wall with the other servants. Freya found it all quite absurd. Lady Rayland sat upon the family pew, followed closely by her husband, an older gentleman, who must be Mr. MacAlasdair, and Lord Boyde Graham, who presented Freya a brief bow.
Freya studied Lord Rayland, for she had yet to take his acquaintance. His Lordship possessed a commanding presence. Tall. Slender. Proud. She imagined him as having been quite handsome as a young man, though he assuredly was not old now, but lines of work and of worry marked his features, while streaks of gray said his hair would soon be that color. He also had traces of eventual jowls and a protruding midsection.
Her eyes met those of Lord Boyde’s, which flickered in what looked to be a warning, but Freya ignored his efforts and presented the young lord a wide smile just to prove she would not be intimidated by Lady Rayland.
Uncle Philip rose to stand behind the pulpit, and everyone’s attention turned to the front of the church. What with his broken ankle, her uncle feared to stand on the box he customarily used. Therefore, he stood behind the pulpit, but it was a tall and relatively thin piece of church furniture. Unfortunately, heruncle was neither tall nor thin. His head barely showed above the pulpit, and his body appeared to hug its sides.
Sitting beside her in the vicar’s pew, Freya’s Aunt Felicity studied her husband with all the necessary reverence. Freya was not made of the same mettle. She glanced first at the Rayland servants and was surprised to notice how Lady Raymond’s personal maid had slipped out the door as a few late comers entered. However, she had no time to consider what the lady’s maid meant by abandoning her mistress, for Lord Aaran Graham entered and joined the servants standing along the wall. He was dressed as a simple country gentleman, not a lord of the land. He did not look at her, but rather turned a pious face upon her Uncle Philip. A quick glance to the Raylands indicated their stiff upper lips, as well as an intense glare resting heavily on the pulpit.
Even dressed simply, Lord Graham’s presence robbed Freya of even breaths.
Ironically, just as he had been one of the last to arrive, at the service’s end, he made his exit quickly. Freya wondered if anyone else even knew of his attendance in her uncle’s church, for no one commented on their interest in the stranger.
Even so, Freya was eager to follow him, but her aunt was determined to greet all of Uncle Philip’s parishioners and introduce Freya to one and all. When she finally exited the church, Lord Aaran Graham was standing beneath a stand of trees off to the right of the church’s entrance. He was studying those who visited with others before the church, and she had hoped he was looking for her, but his gaze remained on the door, as if waiting for those who had yet to appear. When Lord Boyde exited, he rushed away from his family’s pretense to speak to his half brother. Though Freya was not impressed by the young lord, she admired the way he also approved of Aaran Graham.
Soon her aunt was hustling Freya and Uncle Philip into the family carriage, though they could have easily walked if not for her uncle’s injured ankle. Aunt Felicity told everyone who inquired that she must see Mr. Turner home so he might rest. “I cannot have him reinjuring himself, now can I?” Aunt Felicity repeated to all who cared to listen.
Back at the vicarage, Freya was more than a bit restless, but there were not many acceptable activities in which to engage on the Sabbath. Uncle Philip claimed a nap, while Aunt Felicity made a call on a sick parishioner.
With everyone occupied, Freya left a note for her aunt. “Thought to take a walk. I shall return shortly,” she had written before setting out. She purposely directed her steps away from the field where she had previously spotted the bull, which she had been thankful not to view again, as well as from the manor house and its residents.
She had taken a lane that ran parallel to the main road leading to the village. She assumed Lord Aaran Graham was no longer in the village. By now, he had likely returned to Thom Manor, but she was drawn to search him out no matter how foolish that would seem to a more reasonable person. She was cognizant of her obsession and, therefore, took a path that would lead to main entrance to the estate.
Eventually, though, she spotted another on the same path, and, even without viewing his features, she would recognize his gait anywhere. “Good day, Lord Graham,” she called when he meant to turn around before she encountered him.
He paused, but it was obviously begrudgingly. “My lady,” he said with a twinge of emotion she did not recognize.
Without prelude, she asked, “What brought you to my Uncle Philip’s church this morning?” Freya easily recalled Lady Annalise’s warnings about Lord Aaran’s suggestion that Freya pursue the younger Lord Graham.
“I wanted to know with confidence who all was involved in this madness. I suppose I did not think they would all walk into God’s house together without the building falling down about us. Such is the reason I stood close to the door. I could run away while God took his wrath out on all inside.”
“I was inside,” Freya reminded him. “Do I mean nothing to you, my lord?”
He stilled, his eyes searching her face and sliding down her body. “I cannot be anything of importance to you, my lady. I have nothing to offer you. Not freedom from your father’s edicts. Not the affection you seek. Not the protection from harm you require.” His smile was bitter. “I should have returned to Thom Manor after services. I was a fool to walk this way. Duncan and my brothers and their wives will be worried for my whereabouts and my return.”
“But…” she began; however, he motioned for her silence.
“I should never have assumed taking certain liberties. Never should have I held your hand as we traveled together. Never kissed you. I had no right. No privilege,” he said in dutiful tones.
“I did not object to either,” she said as tears rushed to her eyes.
“Yet, I should not have taken advantage. Your husband should be the one to claim such liberties,” he said while looking off to the tree line rather than at her.
Tears trickled down her cheeks, but she did not brush them away. His open refusal of what was happening between them was almost as disturbing as had been that one brief kiss. She repeated what she had said to Lady Annalise. “I could have my uncle demand that you marry me.”
“You do not want that type of marriage,” he declared. “You want a joining of souls, not simply flesh and blood. Your think our marriage would provide you happiness, but you wouldgrieve for the loss of your family—mother, sister, even your father. I cannot tolerate the idea of bringing harm to your door.”
“I have grown quite weary of the number of people who think I am too young to know my own mind!” she declared before turning back the way she had come. “Good day, my lord!”
Freya stepped out on the main road so she might walk faster. She wished she had never concocted this plan to come under Lord Graham’s attention.How did he think I could ever wish to kiss another after kissing him?her mind asked in frustration.
The sound of carriage wheels behind her had her stepping to the verge of the road. Freya watched through her tear-filled eyes as an open landau turned in at the gate of Rayland Hall. The carriage held two elegantly clad ladies. The one on the forward-facing seat was elderly, likely a grandmother. The woman did not turn her head to give Freya even a glance of acknowledgment.
The younger, however, turned her head in Freya’s direction, but it was not her upon which the young woman’s eyes fell. Without Freya’s knowledge, Lord Graham had come up behind her. It was he upon whom the younger woman stared.
