"Just because he has this house doesn't mean he wants to fit into Society. You know how he hates that class of people."
Sylvia's gaze once more flicked to me and she blushed ever so slightly and looked away. I supposed they considered me part of 'that class of people.' If only they knew—I was far beneath them both on the social ladder.
"Nevertheless," she said. "I ought to chaperone you."
Jack sighed. "Very well. I'll wait for you both in the stables."
Twenty minutes later, I entered the stables without Sylvia. "She's not coming after all," I told Jack when he asked. "She took one step outside and decided it was much too cold. It appears she cares more for her comfort than my reputation."
This last was said as a joke, but Jack didn't even smile. "I suppose it would be cold for her out here," he said.
"I admit I thought about staying inside too."
"You're cold?"
"Afraid. The closest I've ever been to a horse was the other day in the carriage."
"You'll be fine. Clover is our oldest nag. She can barely raise a trot." He indicated I should walk into the stables ahead of him. "There have been a lot of firsts for you in the last few days, haven't there?" he said, taking a saddle from one of the grooms.
"My first time in a carriage," I said. "First time wearing something that isn't woolen, first time sleeping in a room on my own." First time alone with a man.
I watched as he saddled his horse. He wore no jacket or coat, and I could clearly see the muscles flex beneath his shirt.
"Then it's my duty to make this inaugural ride a pleasant experience," he said, suddenly turning and catching me staring.
I mumbled something, I hardly knew what. He turned back to his task, but not before I saw how pink his cheeks had become.
He and the groom finished saddling the horses and led them outside. Jack paused to remove a black riding jacket hanging from a hook and put it on. He cut quite the gentlemanly figure in it with buff riding breeches and black boots. I had difficulty concentrating as he explained how to mount, and I ended up gratefully accepting the assistance of the groom. I managed it the first time, but only because Clover remained perfectly still. If she'd pranced about like Jack's horse, I would have surely fallen off the other side.
"She'll just follow along," Jack said, urging his horse forward. "You won't have to do a thing."
Clover did indeed meekly follow his horse, but that didn't stop me from clutching the reins so tightly that my fingers ached by the time we reached the lake.
"Relax a little," Jack said, his voice clear in the breathless quiet. "You're doing well."
"I must look awkward."
"Not at all. You look elegant."
I snorted. "Thanks to this riding habit. Sylvia has exquisite taste and seems to have been well versed in my size and coloring before my arrival. I believe I have you to thank for that."
"I can assure you, it's not just the clothes. You've got a natural gift for riding. It's a shame Lord Wade never allowed you and Miss Smith to learn."
"I suggested it to her once, but she was much too frightened by the idea so I never pursued the matter."
"A shame. Could you not have gone without her? Your governess could have accompanied you instead."
That may have indeed been possible if I were in fact the earl's daughter, but since I wasn't, I was subject to Vi's whims. The lowly companion simply would not be allowed to ride without her ladyship. And Vi was indeed terrified of horses.
"I doubt Miss Levine would have cared for riding either," I said.
"She was a stiff-looking woman." He slowed his horse to allow mine to catch up, and we rode side by side. "I'm sorry you had to endure such a grim childhood, Violet. Your life hasn't been fair. I hope...I hope you'll see that it doesn't have to be that way anymore. The thought of being cooped up forever...I don't know how you managed."
"It wasn't so bad. I had a good friend in...Hannah." I swallowed, but the lie stuck in my throat. Perhaps I ought to tell him the truth. Perhaps his uncle really didn't wish Violet ill, and she would be all right at Frakingham, learning to control her talent.
But I needed to be sure. By Christmas I would know for certain if they meant to harm her. If they proved to be trustworthy, then I would be honest with Jack and help him fetch the real Violet Jamieson.
"I admit that I expected to find you a little mad," he said.
"Oh?"
"I know I would be if I'd been confined to a few rooms my entire life, unable to come or go as I pleased. Yet you're remarkably normal."
I didn't want to venture into a conversation about my life at Windamere. It would be too easy to make a mistake and forget my lie. Particularly because Jack was so perceptive.
"What about you?" I said instead. "What was your childhood like growing up with the ability to start fires?"
He regarded me closely, as if he knew I was deliberately avoiding discussing myself. "It was...fine."
"Your parents weren't alarmed when it first happened?"
"I wouldn't know. I was too young to remember."
"They never talked about it?"
"I mean I was too young to remember them." He urged his horse into a trot, and Clover dutifully followed. The change of pace caught me by surprise, and I bounced uncomfortably along, holding onto the reins for dear life, until we finally came to a stop at the ruins I'd seen on my first day.
All that was left of the abbey were some broken arches, crumbling walls and the lower halves of what must have been sturdy columns at the entrance. Moss had turned many of the stones green, and some structures appeared to only be held together by vines that crawled over everything, claiming the ruins as their own.
"With whom did you live after your parents' deaths?" I asked. Perhaps I should have let the conversation drop, but curiosity was eating at me. I just had to know more about Jack Langley. "Sylvia said you didn't come to Frakingham until you were fourteen."
"Don't, Violet." His voice came out choked. "Please." He dismounted and let his horse graze untethered. He patted Clover's nose and looked up at me from beneath hooded eyes. "A man needs to keep some secrets."
My heart lurched inside my chest, and I suddenly wished to hold him and tell him he could trust me.
But I hardly knew him, and I doubted he'd want a raggedy, freckly redhead throwing herself at him. Besides, I was lying to him, so it seemed only fair that he keep some things from me too.
"I thought it was ladies who were supposed to be the secretive ones," I said.
He looked relieved that the conversation was at an end. "Does this mean that the lovely Lady Violet isn't telling me everything? And here I thought you wore your heart on your sleeve."
"And how do you know what's in my heart, Jack Langley?" I asked softly. I couldn't look away from his eyes, so filled with longing and—dare I even think it let alone hope—desire.
He moved close and skimmed his hand over Clover's neck, toward my knee. He didn't look away, and I certainly couldn't. I was caught in his presence as securely as the ruins in the vines.
His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. I waited for him to say something, but he did not. He looked dazed, not quite aware, as he lifted his arms to help me down. He put his hands to my waist, and a shock passed between us, quickly followed by a fierce heat, blasting through me. I felt like I was burning up from the inside.
"Jack!" I screamed.
His eyes widened, but he didn't let me go until my feet were firmly on the ground. Then he stalked off and slapped his hands against his thighs as if he were putting out flames.
I was too busy trying to remove my jacket to check if he'd been burned. I desperately needed to cool down, and the jacket itself smoldered where his hands had been. I was rather glad it was woolen after all.
"Are you all right?" he asked, returning. Worry scored deep lines into his forehead. He reached for me again, but quickly dropped his hands back to his sides. "Are you hurt?"