Devotion (36 page)

He laughed and held her tightly, but briefly, before taking hold of her arms in a firm fashion and pushing her away. "Maria." He laughed again. "I see you've not changed a whit. Look at you, lass; just as full of verve and impishness as you were the day you left
Huddersfield
."

"It hasn't been so long ago," she bantered.

The duchess put her cup and saucer aside. "Mr. Rees arrived late last evening. We thought it best not to wake you, my dear."

"But why have you come?" she asked, searching John's familiar features, which had so enthralled her the last years—
before
coming to Thorn Rose. "Is Mother well?"

"Your mother is fine. And so is your father," he added more sternly. "Since I was in the area I promised your mother I'd drop by and say hello, and to check on you, of course, to make certain you're well and happy." Catching her chin with one finger, he frowned and asked softly, "Are you happy, Maria?"

"It seems," said the duchess, "that word of the county's trouble with highwaymen has reached
Huddersfield
."

"We're quite safe here," Maria assured him, backing away and averting her face. Few people knew her as well as John. She could detect from the concerned and suspicious look in his eyes that he did not for a moment believe her.

Glancing
about the palatial room, John said, "Apparently so."

The duchess left her chair. "I'm certain the two of you should like a few moments of privacy. Breakfast will be served in an hour. I hope you'll join us, Mr. Rees."

He bowed slightly. "Thank you, Your Grace."

The duchess left the room; only then did John turn back to face Maria, where she sat on a bench before the brightly dancing flames in the hearth. She regarded him pensively. "You don't approve of Thorn Rose, I take it."

"Can I be faulted for believing that the monies spent decorating this room alone would feed and house the hungry and homeless of three counties?"

"Dear John, you'll never change." She smiled brightly, or tried to, and patted the bench seat beside her. "Come here where it's warm."

There came a moment's hesitation,
then
he moved almost woodenly to the bench and slowly lowered himself onto it. He held his hands, palms up, toward the fire. He said, "I must admit I don't altogether approve of your companioning such a man as Salterdon. We were all under the impression you were to nursemaid a child."

"So was I."

"Yet you've remained."

"As the Bible says, '
We
are our brother's keeper.' Besides . . . he's harmless." She blushed at the lie. The memory of Salterdon's behavior the previous night pressed like a hot poker at her temples.

"I would have little qualms about your remaining here if the duke wasn't known for his enormously and flagrantly shocking reputation with . . . women."

Tipping her head, lightly touching his arm, she smiled. "Were you any other man, John, I would take this concern for jealousy."

He stared at her for a long, intense moment before suddenly leaving his place beside her. Pacing, he asked, "Have you given any serious thought to coming home?"

"Oh, yes." She nodded, laughing a little to herself.
"All the time."

Spinning around, his long black clergy's coat swirling around his legs, he opened his arms enthusiastically and cried, "Praise the Lord! My journey here will not have been for nothing. I'll speak to the duchess immediately, of course. We'll explain that after much consideration—"

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not leaving."

"But you just said—"

"That I've thought of it frequently." She shook her head. "There's nothing for me there, John."

"And what have you here? Never mind. That's most obvious, I suppose. I could hardly supply you with these decadently lavish accoutrements, even if I chose to."

"My reasons for not marrying you had nothing to do with what you were willing or unwilling to give me monetarily."

Standing, Maria moved to him. Tall and slender, he watched her fiercely, his dark eyes turbulent, his face flushed with emotion. As always, the battle raged inside him; it was there in each tiny pearl of sweat forming on his brow, in the tremble of his body, the almost agonized twist of his mouth. Only this time, she was struck with the realization that like a desperate man balanced upon a lip of an
abyss,
the smallest encouragement would cause him to plummet over the edge. He would succumb to his desire for her.
Would give up everything to have her.
That was really why he had come, whether he realized it or not.

As she stood there, staring up into his despondent face, her hand frozen on the verge of caressing his cheek, the many times she had wept into her pillow for want of his undivided attention flooded her memory— how she would have done anything to win him away from his obsessive devotion to God—and now she could. He had come here to be seduced from that obsession. At long last, he had made his choice, and the unnerving truth occurred to her that her former reasons for wanting this man had had nothing to do with love, or even desire—God help her, she now knew true desire . . . and love. Her father's handsome young curate had offered her a means of escaping her father . . .

Now that she had escaped her father, did she care enough for John to spend the rest of her life with him?

A noise sounded behind her. She looked around, her heart seeming to skip in her breast, and her breath to catch.

"Salterdon," she said aloud. "
Your
Grace."

Salterdon
moved his chair out of the shadows and into the room, and the air became electric. His hair was tousled, as if he had just climbed out of bed—just as he had looked last evening, when he had kissed her and demanded more of her than she had been willing to surrender at the time. His face looked red from exertion, and unshaved. His white shirt looked damp with perspiration.

"I wasn't aware we had visitors," he said. "Normally, the head of the house is informed when guests arrive. Then again it's normal for a domestic to seek permission from their employer before entertaining her or his guests."

John stepped forward. "Your Grace, I'm—"

"I know who you are.
A . . . friend?"

"I've known Maria for years, since she was no bigger than this." He held one hand waist high and flashed
her an
embarrassed smile. "I lived with her family during my tenure as curate to her father."

His lips curling, Salterdon said in a low smooth voice, "She's hardly a child now. Wouldn't you agree?" He wheeled his chair toward them, stopping short of the lamplight, yet his eyes reflected the firelight like icy glass. "Please, don't let me interrupt your conversation. I believe you were about to convince the young woman » to return to
Huddersfield
with you."

Maria stepped toward him. "You've been eavesdropping. How long were you there?"

"Long enough."

"Have I no right to privacy?"

"You have no rights at all as far as I'm concerned. So tell me, Mr. Rees.
have
you come here to steal Maria away from me?"

John lowered his eyes.

"I should consider my vows before answering, if I were you. The church doesn't take kindly to lying."

"Yes . . ." He smiled at Maria. "I came with news that I hoped would change her mind about returning to
Huddersfield
. I came to tell her that I've been offered the position of vicar in Bristol."

"John," she cried happily. "That's wonderful'"

"Yes." He nodded. "I'll be supplied a comfortable house, and the tithes, I understand, are more than adequate to keep our larders full."

"Our?"

"I've come to ask you for your hand in marriage. Maria."

"Isn't that sweet,"
Salterdon
murmured in a deceptively pleased tone, his eyes narrowing,
his
lips becoming firmly pressed together. "But you seem to forget that she's made a commitment to me."

"None that cannot be broken . . . Your Grace.
Above all else I would have Maria happy."

"Is Maria happy?"

By an act of will, Maria kept her face composed as she responded, "Yes, Your Grace. Maria is very unhappy to be talked about as if she were little more than a bloody mote of dust in the air."

"Maria," John scolded. "Remember yourself."

Salterdon
threw back his head in laughter. "Obviously you don't know Miss Ashton as well as you
think
, Mr. Rees."

"Maria has always been . . . spirited."

"Is that what belligerence and rebelliousness is known as these days?"

"If you're so disenchanted with her," John stated calmly, and with a patient smile, "then you should have no qualms over allowing her to leave."

There came a rap at the door. Thaddeus entered the room, dragging his cap from his head. "The duchess says for me to inform His Grace and Miss Ashton that she'll be
takin
' her ride in an hour. She respectfully requests that they join her."

"I've seen the house," said John. "It's very pretty. There are three rooms: a mid-size parlor/kitchen arrangement, and two loft bedrooms . . . one for us, as well as for our children . . . certainly should we need more room we can always build on." He cleared his throat as color crept into his fair cheeks. The coffee in his cup had long since grown cold, yet he continued to stare into it as if it offered some sense of strength, and the courage he was so apparently lacking.

"The cottage is set among a copse of gigantic elm trees, and there are well-tended garden areas, which receive a great deal of sun. The soil is rich and black, which accounts for the locals' great success with their crops. I assure you, Maria, you would not want for comfort."

"Tell me about the church."

"'Tis small yet, but growing.
I've met with several members of the congregation and found them warm and friendly."

"Have you spoken to my father on the matter?"

"I have."

"And what did he say?"

At last, John set aside his cup and saucer. "I was reminded that you are no longer his daughter, and that should I decide to sacrifice my life to wed one so morally corrupt then he would pray for my soul every day for the remainder of his life."

John looked at her at last. "I thought you would be pleased over my proposal."

"I'm only taken off guard."

"It's not as if we haven't spoken of this before. I recall a time when you twittered for hours about spending our lives together. You vowed to love me more than anyone else in the world."