Treacherous Temptations(27)

It was near noon when they moored somewhere between Richmond and Hampton Court. When they disembarked, Lord Hadley gestured to the vast vista of rolling hills and forest surrounding them. “The entire property once belonged to Cardinal Woolsey until Henry confiscated it to use as his private hunting ground. The park still breeds multitudinous deer and rabbits.”

Mary gazed in awe at the long avenue of chestnut trees. “It’s lovely here and these trees are magnificent!”

“They are very ancient and line the entire road to Hampton Court Palace.” Hadley turned to his manservant, James. “We will explore the grounds for two or three hours and then picnic by the cascade. You will set up for us and then proceed to Bushy House, where we will meet you and the coach later.”

“Bushy House? Is it a private home?” Mary asked.

“Yes, belonging to the Montagu family. They are distant cousins on my mother’s side.”

“Then this is also their park?” she asked.

“Yes, as it happens. I came here often to hunt in my youth, although I haven’t been back in more than a decade.”

Mary remarked that this was the first time he had ever volunteered anything about his past. Although Lord Hadley made occasional inquiries about Mary’s home and childhood, he never answered her questions in any but the vaguest possible manner.

“I would like to know more about your mother. What was she like?” Mary asked.

A scowl briefly clouded his face. “I don’t much remember. She passed away when I was seven. I went off to school after that, and thenceforth was only home on holidays.”

“I was only five when my dear Mama passed away,” she said. “But I still recall her smile…her scent. She favored lavender. That’s why I wear it too. Surely you still have some memory of your mother if you were all of seven.”

Hadley looked almost angry at the question, but then seemed to relent. He focused inward and spoke as if revisiting a place he would have rather avoided. “I have not thought of her in many years. But I recall that she was young and very beautiful. She was also prone to fits of melancholy. That is all I recall of the first Lady Blanchard.”

“How sad,” Mary remarked. “What of your father?”

His expression hardened. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I prefer not to speak of him.”

“You did not have a happy childhood?” she asked.

“I was content enough…for one of my station.”

Mary wondered why he was so cagey about his past, but this only increased her desire to tear down the barriers, to know the real man behind the noble facade. “What else besides hunting did you enjoy as a boy?” Mary asked, hoping to lift the blackness that had suddenly descended.

“I suppose the same things that amuse most young fellows,” he replied off-handedly.

“Like what?” she persisted.

“I was much occupied with my studies, but whilst in the country on holidays, I rode, I fished, and I suppose I chased my fair share of dairymaids.”

“Chased?” she laughed. “One might question how sincere their efforts were to elude you.” She was pleased when he grinned back at her.

“Are you asking if I tumbled them, Miss Edwards?”

Mary looked hastily away. He seemed to delight in flustering her and only allowed a brief retreat from the field before calling her back. After walking a few more paces, he gestured to the surrounding vista. “I had thought to alleviate your homesickness and sate your yen for the pastoral. Does it meet with your approval?”

“It’s lovely here but…” Mary looked to him with pursed lips and a puckered brow.

“But?” he prompted.

“I’m afraid it lacks one key element when compared to home.”

“And what is that?” Hadley asked with a hint of a frown.

She flashed him a playful grin. “The aromatic essence…of sheep.”

“Thank God for that!” Hadley threw his head back with a chuckle and offered his arm. “Shall we stroll? I would be delighted to show you all of its glories.”

…

During their leisurely perambulation of the deer park, and the Arethusa Fountain, Mary noticed a subtle transformation. Lord Hadley’s expression, his voice, even his way of moving seemed more relaxed, and carefree. It was as if the setting had brought forth another side of his character, an endearingly boyish side that he kept hidden, or perhaps had forgotten altogether.

“I thought to save the best for last.” Lord Hadley said with a grin as they approached what he referred to as the water gardens. “Impressive, is it not?”

“It’s simply breathtaking,” she gushed. And it was. The pools that formed this centerpiece of the landscaped grounds were designed to empty one into another until the last one formed the most magnificent cascade.

“The water is supplied by the Longford River,” he explained, “a man-made canal built to supply Hampton Court Palace. Charles Montagu, my second-cousin-once-removed, or some such, constructed it all when I was about ten years old. My cousins and I used to sneak away at night to swim in these pools.”

“But not during the heat of the day?” Mary asked, patting the beads of perspiration from her forehead and feeling a warm moist trickle between her breasts.

“No.” He scowled. “My father would never have permitted such a vulgar display. The scions of noble families do not shed their clothing and frolic like rustic rabble.” Even as he spoke, he shrugged out of his coat, dropping it heedlessly on the grass. He then removed his shoes. His stockings followed.