Orlando seemed to be in an excessively good mood. Granted he smiled, laughed, and flirted often, but the humor didn't always reach his eyes. Something Susanna had only just come to realize. The man helping her down from the cart outside Sutton Hall oozed happiness from every part of him, but it was his eyes she noticed most. They sparkled. What had Widow Dawson said to him? Or, more appropriately, what had she given him?
"Did you eat anything at the wise woman's house?" she asked. Her face heated when he kissed the back of her hand, his warm lips lingering longer than was decent.
Hendricks cleared his throat and Orlando stopped kissing and bowed deeply to him. "Forgive me, Mr. Hendricks, but don't you think she is particularly beautiful today?"
"You ought to stop looking, Mr. Holt, if that's all you see."
"You're right," Orlando said. "Consider me chastised. Lady Lynden, to answer your question, I ate nothing at Widow Dawson's. Nor did I drink anything." He lifted Bessie down from the cart, swinging her to the ground as if she were a child.
"Oh my," Bessie said, pressing the backs of her hands to her flushed cheeks.
"Was she brewing something?" Susanna asked. "That could account for it."
"Account for what?" he asked.
"For the way you're acting," Hendricks said.
"How am I acting?"
"Like a toss-pot."
"Mr. Hendricks!" Bessie cried. "Leave him be. Perhaps it's just natural," she said to Susanna. "Perhaps there's no explaining it."
"Explaining what?" Orlando shook his head, confused.
"Why you're smiling like you just found something you thought lost?" Susanna said.
His smile vanished, and she wished she'd kept quiet. She liked that he was in such a good mood. It lifted her own somewhat troubled one.
"Wait for me here. I won't be a moment," she said and began the walk up the drive to the house.
"No," Orlando said. The word was spoken quietly enough, but the underlying note of command halted her. She did not return to him but remained halfway between the grand steps leading up to the front door and the cart. He came to her instead. All good humor had vanished and his eyes were dark, flat. "Until we know more about Monk's intentions," he said, voice rumbling like thunder, "you remain within my sight."
"You did not follow me into Joan's."
"I could see her house from Widow Dawson's." One corner of his mouth twitched up. "I adore the way you thrust your chin out when you're annoyed with me." They were out of earshot from Hendricks and Bessie, but that didn't stop Susanna from blushing or Hendricks from scowling.
"Stop it. Be serious. We are at Sutton Hall. What could happen to me here? The place is crawling with servants and I'll be with Jeffrey the entire time."
"The man who hired Monk. I'm coming in with you."
"Don’t be ridiculous."
He pressed a hand to his heart and tilted his head to the side like an adorable puppy. "You mean I'm not good enough to go in the front entrance with Lady Lynden? I'm wounded. I may be a mere gardener in occupation, but I'm a prince on the inside."
His words were spoken in jest, but they cut her to the bone.
"Stop it," she snapped. "Please." She wrapped her arms around herself, but it was too late. Her 'mere gardener' had got under her skin and there he'd set up camp.
"Ah, so it bothers you, eh?" His eyes still sparkled, damn him. "Is that because I mean more to you than you wish to admit even to yourself? Me...a servant?"
The stark, bald truth of his words hit her hard. He did mean more to her than simply someone to keep her warm at night, yet it could not be so. Should not be so. Their passion would one day need to be set aside and Orlando would have to leave.
The light in his eyes suddenly went out. It was as if he'd just remembered something horrible, something he'd tried very hard to forget. "This is foolishness," he snarled and stalked off ahead of her. "I'm coming inside with you."
A groom appeared from around the side of the house. He ran to them, breathless. "Sorry, m'lady, I heard your arrival, but I was needed in the stables. I'll take Silver around for you?"
"Thank you, Warren. Oh, and one other thing." She glanced at Orlando's broad back. He was waiting for her on the bottom step but he had not turned around. "Is Mr. Monk in the house?"
"No, m'lady."
She told Bessie and Hendricks to take themselves off to the kitchen then went after Orlando.
"He's not here," she said, curt. "There'll probably be warm soup for you in the kitchen if you want some. I'll be perfectly safe with Jeffrey, alone, as I've always been."
She climbed the steps, passing him, and was met at the door by Jeffrey's house steward. He greeted her with a deep bow. When she turned around again, Orlando was gone. He had not made a sound.