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He inhaled. The air was thicker with the sea here, but not so close to the waters that he tasted salt on his tongue. He squinted at the sun poking through the hazy clouds streaming by. For as early as he’d arisen to write and send off a letter to London, he’d thought Elle would still be lounging about in her quarters, resting after their journey to the island.
He was wrong.
Elle’s housekeeper was quick to wrinkle her nose at his question as to Elle’s whereabouts. Apparently Elle had been out on the grounds for hours.
And so he trekked out on foot, searching the extensive estate. It held three ponds, numerous gardens and walking paths, and was lined with woods on the three sides that didn’t face the far-off sea. An idyllic, almost Eden-like retreat from the mainland and the exact opposite of London.
If he wasn’t careful, he could get lost here for years.
The thought popped in his head and it instantly irked him. Focus.Focus.
It took him another hour before he spied Elle on the southernmost end of the estate near the rowing pond. An open-air pavilion, lined on the pond side with six tall stone columns, sat at the crest between the pond and the land that stretched unencumbered to the distant sea. Rune paused beside a tree just inside the line of woods before the ground started to roll downward into the pond.
Standing alongside the water’s edge by blooming lily pads, Elle moved to the side of a tall, black Calabrese stallion, stroking its neck with a smile on her face. A smile that turned into a laugh as she looked up at the gentleman standing beside her and holding the reins of the horse.
Her lilting laughter tangled with the man’s deep chortle as the wind caught the sound and brought it to Rune’s ears. His stare went to the man. Dressed in finery that made his stomach twist, the man had a paunch and dark hair peppered with grey. Older, but not so old he wouldn’t think he could hold his own with someone as young as Elle.
What the blast was she doing with him?
Another laugh. More smiles. Murmured words and the man took a step closer to her.
A sudden thunder of hooves startled him and his eyes lifted past Elle to see a woman in a bright yellow riding habit bearing down on the two of them from the forest beyond the pond.
The woman yanked her horse to an abrupt stop just before trampling Elle. Her look pitched downward at Elle, haughty and disinterested at the same time. “Lady Raplan, when did you arrive back on the island?”
“Last night.” Elle’s hand drew long against the tall black stallion’s neck, her smile unperturbed by the woman’s sharp tones. “You are out for a long ride today, Lady Wrestnut? The horses look to be run through the paces.”
Lady Wrestnut pointedly looked to the man. “We were, until my husband saw fit to leave me in the plum orchard at Chestnut Abbey. Fit to leave me and find you.”
A choke bubbled up from Elle’s throat, her smile faltering as she coughed. “Oh, I do not think Lord Wrestnut had any inkling to find me. I just happened by as his horse was drawing water.”
Lady Wrestnut’s pinched face twisted and her glare bored into Elle. “Truly, Lady Raplan, such flimsy excuses, you don’t even try anymore. These games you play with men are far beneath the Raplan name and I have a good mind to write the earl about your behavior. Maybe he could have the good sense where other men fail and evict you from these lands.”
Elle’s head snapped back, her palm falling from the horse as her forced smile dissolved from her lips.
“Beatrice—”
“Hush, Horton.” Lady Wrestnut’s glare whipped to her husband. “I’m not interested in your words at the moment. Mount your horse this instant. We’re leaving.”
Elle stumbled a step backward as Lord Wrestnut awkwardly tipped his beaver hat to her and moved about his horse, gaining his saddle and quickly following his wife away from the pond and into woods that lined the edge of the Raplan estate.
Elle stood still at the water’s edge for a long minute, her shoulders drooping, her arms limp at her sides as she watched them retreat.
One minute, not a second more.
Her shoulders lifted with a slight shake of her head and she spun about, walking to the pavilion just up the hill from the edge of the pond and she moved inside, disappearing from view.
From his angle into the Palladian structure, Rune could see several plush settees lining the edges of the interior.
Two days ago she’d talked at length about the freedom being a widow gave her. Openly admitted to liaisons. And she’d said all those words without apology. Without caring on his judgement. He’d never seen such disregard for propriety so strikingly flaunted by a lady—a lady of theton.
All that, yet he’d seen Elle’s eyes when that woman had cut her.
The blade of condemnation slicing across her face. How she had recoiled.
For as much as Elle cherished her freedom, it did come with a heavy toll.
Rune glanced over his shoulder. He wanted to get on with their visit to the Marquess of Kallen in order to gain access to his Roman baths and investigate the chambers that held the mosaics of the Box of Draupnir, yet he also didn’t want to interrupt Elle at this juncture.
