She was surprised that she could honestly agree.
“I hope you will permit me to return here occasionally when I am too restless to sleep and share your company for an hour or two.”
“I suppose you mean to tell me I have a choice?”
“Most certainly. But you might find yourself enjoying the companionship. Rosewood can be a lonely place.”
He spoke from experience, she suspected, hearing the oddly wistful note in his quiet voice.
She held her breath as he reached out to her, but he only touched her cheek in farewell, brushing his thumb lightly over her skin. Then he withdrew his hand and turned away.
Without speaking, he approached the side of the room. She watched as he pushed aside the panel and disappeared into the secret passageway like a silent phantom. The panel slid closed behind him with a soft click, leaving her alone in the moonlit chamber.
After a moment, Vanessa rose and went to inspect the panel. She could find no mechanism that allowed entry. Wondering at Damien Sinclair’s sorcery, she turned and leaned back against the wall. There had been a dreamlike quality to his remarkable visit, and she had enjoyed every moment of it.
Bewildered, she shook her head. She had wanted to despise the profligate nobleman, but instead found herself intrigued by their game of wits. Her common sense had deserted her, along with the need to protect herself.
The growing intimacy between them was a worse threat. She didn’t like feeling sympathy for him, yet she sensed in him a loneliness as great as her own.
When her eye caught the dark splash of red on the white linen of her pillow, she remembered the rose he had brought her. Slowly Vanessa crossed the room to lift the velvet bloom to her nose, taking care to avoid the thorns.
More troubled than she cared to admit, she drank in the sweet scent. If only a few days ago someone had predicted she would willingly entertain the notorious Lord Sin in her bedchamber, or that she would walk away unscathed, she would never have believed it. He was still the heartless devil who had bargained for her soul. Thus far, however, he had made no demands on her. He hadn’t touched her, if one discounted the gentle, spellbinding stroking of her cheek when he’d said good night.
Yet he was still incredibly dangerous. Quite apart from his sensual charm and heartbreaker handsomeness, Damien Sinclair possessed a potent quality that beckoned and lured, a compelling vitality that called to everything deeply feminine within her. Despite her hard-won experience with notorious rakes, she was so very vulnerable to him.
Heaven help her, she had only her wits with which to protect herself, a pitiful weapon indeed. He’d made no secret of his aim. He had vowed to seduce her-and to make her enjoy her seduction. And if she were not careful, he would succeed.
She slept well and dreamlessly and awakened later than usual, to bright sunshine flooding the chamber. With an unusual sense of anticipation, Vanessa rose and dressed and went downstairs to breakfast.
She was unsurprised to discover the sideboard groaning with hearty fare including broiled kidneys, ham, eggs, scones, and jam tarts. A footman stood ready to assist her, but there was no sign of Damien, much to her relief.
Barely was she seated when the butler, Croft, made an appearance. When Vanessa casually asked where Lord Sinclair might be, she was told he had breakfasted early and was closeted with his steward.
“His lordship has placed his stables at your disposal, if you care to ride this morning, my lady,” Croft informed her.
“Thank you, I might. I think I should visit his sister first to discover her wishes.”
When she finished eating, Vanessa made her way back upstairs to Olivia’s room. She found the girl lying in bed, still in her nightclothes, but at least the curtains were open a crack and the room wasn’t in total darkness.
From the way Olivia’s expression brightened, Vanessa concluded that her presence was welcome.
“I thought I might investigate your beautiful rose gardens this morning,” she began cheerfully, “but I could use a guide. Since your brother is occupied with his steward, I hoped you might be willing to show them to me.”
“You want me to show you the gardens?” Olivia asked warily.
“I’m told you are very fond of roses.” Vanessa nodded toward the wheeled invalid chair standing in the corner. “We could have a footman carry you downstairs, and I think I could push your chair along the paths.”
Olivia made a face. “I despise using that chair. I feel so helpless in it. But I suppose that is a childish sentiment.”
“No indeed. But it can offer you a measure of freedom you couldn’t have otherwise.”
“I suppose so.” The girl raised her chin gamely. “Very well. I will show you the gardens if you like.”
“You will need a bonnet to protect your lovely complexion. The sun is quite bright, even for the first day of June.”
“Is it June?” Olivia asked, startled. “I hadn’t realized.” Her voice turned wistful. “I’ve been lying abed for so long, all the days run together.”
She rang for her abigail, who, along with two other maids, helped her dress in a white Swiss muslin gown and red velvet spencer as well as a heavy shawl to ward off the last of the morning chill.
Her eagerness was heartbreaking. When the footman carried her out into the garden, Olivia blinked at the golden brightness. But the instant she was settled in her invalid chair, she raised her face to the warmth of the life-giving sunlight and gave a sigh of pleasure.
“I have missed coming here,” she murmured as Vanessa moved behind her to guide the wheeled chair.
“There is no reason you cannot come every day, is there?”
Olivia’s mouth curved in a wry half-smile, and when she glanced up, Vanessa caught the hint of amusement in her blue eyes. “You will not need a guide every day.”
“No, but I will need a companion.”
“You are indeed persistent, Lady Wyndham.”
She smiled. “I did give you fair warning. And, please, call me Vanessa.”
They wandered the paths slowly, admiring the flowers and discussing the variety of roses in the vast gardens. Olivia was quite knowledgeable about the subject, and could even quote details about individual bushes.
They were not alone. Gardeners moved among the beds with hoes and shovels and pruning shears, and several strangers dressed as scholars occupied the paths, pens and notebooks in hand. In a corner near the house, an artist had set up an easel and was thoughtfully painting in watercolor.
Vanessa took care to avoid the others and stopped frequently for Olivia to rest. There were benches scattered here and there, arranged artfully beneath ornamental shade trees, and several times she guided the girl’s chair to get her out of the sun.
“I never realized,” Vanessa said during one of those intervals, “how complex the breeding of roses could be.”
“Indeed. Damien deserves credit for reestablishing the cultivation program. He made Rosewood famous for its collection. Even Napoleon has heard of us,” Olivia added with pride. “Several years ago, when Empress Josephine acquired a sample of every living rose for her gardens, her nurserymen began the search here. The Prince Regent issued special passes for them to work here. And despite our naval blockade of France, the Admiralty ruled that if her plants were ever intercepted at sea, they should be forwarded to her at once.”
Nearly an hour had passed when Olivia’s head began to droop wearily, even though they hadn’t seen half the acreage or gone near the conservatories.
“Would you like to return to the house?” Vanessa asked. “I don’t want to tire you.”
Olivia nodded, then gave a sigh of frustration. “How absurd that I cannot even sit in this horrid chair without becoming exhausted.”
“Your brother tells me you’ve agreed to see the doctor. Perhaps he can suggest some ways to alleviate your weariness.”
The girl grimaced. “I doubt it. But I decided the sooner I gave in to Damien, the sooner he would leave me in peace. You cannot believe how vexing he has become, always pressing me to stir myself from my bed, as if I weren’t really a cripple. I wish he would just return to London.”