Edith Layton (15 page)

“That ended well, didn’t it?” Miles asked as he came into their bedchamber later that night.

Annabelle watched him from bed. He didn’t have to explain what he meant. “Better than I’d hoped. Better than I deserved,” she added in a small voice. “I…wasn’t very kind to any of them when I was in London. They have little cause to like me. But they were wonderful.” He was smiling as he ambled over to the bedside to turn down the lamp, until she added, softly, “It’s astonishing how kind people can be when they pity you.”

He turned and stared at her. “Enough,” he said abruptly.

She looked up, surprised.

“The only pity I see is your own, Belle. You were very sick, I grant you. But you’re mending and you look much better than you think. If you’re not as you were, you may be soon enough. No one was about to drop pennies in your cup.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. His hair was dewed from his bath, his skin glowed even in the dimmed light, he looked strong and fit and virile. What did he know of illness? Or loss of confidence because of loss of looks? She remembered how secure she’d felt in his arms tonight, and found herself strangely angry at him because of it.

“They might not give me charity,” she told him through gritted teeth. “But they don’t give me compliments either, other than: ‘Oh, you don’t look so bad.’ What else can they say: ‘Oh my God, what happened to you?’”

“Life isn’t just about how you look.”

“Oh, it isn’t? So you’d have offered for me if I were plain or wall-eyed or fat? I don’t think so. You married a woman you hardly knew, but one you liked looking at!”

He stood still, for what she’d said was irrefutable.

“Ask any woman how much life is about looks, my lord. Better yet,” she went on angrily, “ask any man. He may be wall-eyed as a pike and fat as a stoat, but you may bet he’s looking for a beauty in his bed.”

“Well, then,” Miles said lightly. “I am fortunate. I have one.”

She reared up on her elbows, eyes flashing, ready to battle.

He didn’t want to fight. What she’d said was too true, a thing he wasn’t proud of now. He’d have to distract her—and himself.

He put his hands on the sash of his colorful long night robe and paused. “Lord, it’s so late and I was so eager for bed that I forgot,” he said. “I didn’t put on a nightshirt.” That was true. But he’d have never made a point of it if he didn’t need to divert her. He’d just thought of a wonderful way to do that.

“Would you mind if I came to bed as God made me?” he asked. “It’s a luxury to sleep like that after my years aboard ships when I slept in my breeches, ready to spring into action if I had to. But will it trouble you?”

“Not in the least,” she snapped, still in a fine rage. “You sleep so far from me you could wear armor and I wouldn’t notice.”

He chuckled. “Liar,” he said, and shucked off his robe. He stepped into the high bed and took her in his arms. “Or did your recent illness damage your memory?”

She muttered something indistinct because his nudity disarmed her. But she didn’t resist him; she gingerly laid her head on his chest. It was odd and exciting. He’d only removed all his clothing
once before, that first night when they’d made love. Since her illness he’d come to bed dressed in a nightshirt, chaste as a monk. But there was nothing chaste about the feeling of his warm bare skin against her cheek now.

She tried to stay still. She was, after all, very angry at him. But his body was so heated, so hard, so interesting, that she couldn’t help but move. It never occurred to her that he’d been holding his breath. She raised her head. He lowered his.

His mouth covered hers, and their kiss was very sweet and comforting. It was exactly what she’d wanted, although she hadn’t known it. She sought more. Then the touch of his tongue and the intoxicating taste of his mouth filled her senses and made her long for even more. They parted for a breath of air, and then kissed again. And again.

She rejoiced in knowing she was wanted, and had something to offer him at last. But it went beyond flattery, and she seemed to catch fire from the taste and touch of him. She tried to get closer, fumbling in her efforts to get off her night shift, until he helped her. Then, naked as he was at last, she sighed, tried to encircle his wide, warm shoulders, and leaned into him, skin to skin. She reveled in the feeling of strong arms wrapped around her, the feel of his sex rising against her belly. She felt vulnerable, yet powerful, her breasts peaked against him as a long slow throbbing began in her own sex. Life awakened in her again.

He fondled her, stroked her, his mouth moved from hers to each rising breast in turn. He ran his palms down her body, making her shiver. He cupped her, he touched her, he sought her, and she shifted, parting her legs…

He drew away and dropped his hands. “It’s still too soon,” he said as he lay back down on the bed beside her.

“What?”

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “It’s too soon. We shouldn’t…I definitely should not.”

She sat up, facing him nose to nose. “I feel fine!”

“We can’t risk getting you with child, Belle.”

“Oh,” she said, and fell back on her pillow, feeling foolish and needy—stunned by her behavior as well as embarrassed that he might think of her as being foolish and needy.

“But,” he said thoughtfully, looking down at her, “there are ways…” He gathered her in his arms and lay down with her again.

He kissed her. After a second’s hesitation, she responded to him again. Their kisses grew deeper and soon he was caressing her as though nothing had interrupted them. His hand went between her thighs, but this time he didn’t stop. He parted her and kept caressing her, murmuring soft words of encouragement. She stiffened, then relaxed, then caught her breath as a slow strange stirring began to rise in her. She tried to draw away.

“No,” he whispered, “Let be. Just let yourself feel it. This will be fine, this will be for you.”

She hardly knew what he was saying because she was feeling so much. His hand dipped deeper; she gasped. Then his fingers went higher, then back, maintaining a steady rhythm that moved her with it. The sweet dark throbbing began to spiral upward, all her senses gathered in that one place, and it was beyond anything she’d known. She was astonished when the delicious thrumming ended in a tumultuous, ecstatic burst of feeling.

“There,” he said into her ear as she arched upward and gasped. “That’s what I meant.”

He held her close as her pulses slowly stopped thundering and the thrilling feeling drained away to a soft, languorous glow of satisfaction.

And though he ached with thwarted desire, Miles smiled with his own satisfaction at having done something right. It hadn’t been charity, even though he still longed for physical satisfaction, and had to keep his lower body turned so his questing sex didn’t disturb her. But not only was she comforted, he hadn’t been acting. Because when he’d held her he’d found firm flesh beneath his hands and a strong response on her lips. He’d been further aroused by the realization that she—the proud Lady Annabelle—had wanted him badly. He was relieved, though his body was still aching. There’d be time ahead for him. A lifetime, now.

He tried to relax, but felt her move restlessly. He’d thought he’d brought her peace. Yet now she raised herself on one elbow and looked down into his face. She was frowning.

Had he shocked her? He’d have to explain that it was no shame, he realized. He’d have to teach her there were still other ways to bring pleasure between men and women, and decent people did practice them. Just as some men preferred quick couplings, he knew many saved their sexual skills for their mistresses. He was trying to frame the words to explain this when she spoke.

“But you,” she said, “there was nothing for you in this. What can I do?”

She never stopped surprising him. That she’d even thought of his pleasure gave him deep pleasure.

“Oh, you can do many things, many delightful things,” he said, touching a finger to her nose. “But not tonight, I think. You’re tired and it is late. I’d rather have us both seeking pleasure at the same time anyway. Otherwise, I’d feel too much like a schoolmaster giving lessons, more of an object than an object of desire.”

She settled against his chest again. “Yes,” she muttered as she splayed one small hand over his heart, “Just as women so often do.”

He covered her hand with his and smiled. So she hadn’t forgotten, or forgiven, their argument about women and men, the one that had started
all this. Good for her. She stirred against him, trying to make herself more comfortable, and he felt himself stirring again.

“On the other hand…” he said slowly, “since that may have to be a while from now, perhaps we might reconsider having that lesson now.”

“A while from now?” she asked, suddenly alert.

“Yes,” he murmured, as his hand slid down her back to the gentle curve of her buttocks. “When I come back from London and—”

“When you come back from London?!” she squeaked and sat straight up.

He sighed and tried to quell his rising expectations. He’d said one thing too much, or at least at the wrong time, and now he knew there’d be no time for more lessons tonight.

“I
didn’t mention it before because I don’t want to go and have been putting it off. But I can’t any longer. Some things can’t be done by letter,” Miles explained as Annabelle sat up against her pillow, arms crossed over her breasts, frowning at him. “For example, I’ve been using my seafaring background to build my—our future. I know ships, as well as their captains’ reputations, which foreign ports they go to, and what products can be bought cheaply there. I try to keep up on how high goods can sell here so I can invest in their ventures. And I’ve sailed enough to know tides and weather cycles, so I can predict when storms are likely to come, and what hazards can crop up to delay any shipmaster from honoring his contracts.

“A letter can’t possibly tell me what an afternoon in a tavern by the docks in London can. The gossip of able-bodied seamen becomes news on the financial market in a day. I need that extra day. Because of that, and other business I have in London, I must be there. At least, I can’t leave London for so long a time. I never intended to, but our honeymoon took a bit longer than anticipated.”

He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back at him.

“We’ll be going back for Camille’s come-out in September,” she said angrily.

“Yes, but September’s in a week, Belle.”

She blinked.

“Time has moved on,” he continued carefully, seeing how stunned she was by what he’d said. “You’re not ready to go back yet, but I have to, if only for a little while. We may have changed our plans, but some things can’t wait.”

“But Camille…”

“Camille will keep. She can make her bows in the spring.”

Annabelle stayed silent. Miles placed a light kiss on her cheek, and lay down again. He pulled up the coverlets and turned to a comfortable position. It had been a difficult thing to tell her, but it was done. “Now go to sleep,” he said. “We’ll talk about it more in the morning.” He closed his eyes and welcomed the drowsiness that would lead to sleep.

Annabelle remained sitting upright. “No,” she finally said into the darkness.

His eyes opened.

“I have to go back to London,” he murmured sleepily. “I’ll come back soon as I can. You’ll be fine here. Now sleep.”

“No,” she said. “I’m coming too. And so is Camille. And that’s that.”

“Belle,” he said wearily, “you were upset by such a small thing tonight, just a matter of your cap slipping. London’s filled with unkind people who live on gossip, the more false it is, the better. You look fine to me, but obviously your standards for yourself are higher. How will you cope with that? Better if you leave it until next spring, when everything will be as it was again.”

“I promised Camille this autumn,” she said. “I lost track of time, but it has marched on, and so will I. I may not look as I’d wish, but I can deal with it. If you can.” Before he could answer, she went on, “I won’t stay alone here, hiding my head under a…toque,” she said with loathing.

He chuckled. “You have time. I won’t leave for a week. You can meet me in town later, if you wish. You don’t have to make any decision now. In fact, it would be better not to say anything to Camille or Mama until you’re sure of what you’ll do.”

He closed his eyes again and was on the brink of sleep when she spoke again.

“I’ll pack,” she said.

“As you wish,” he mumbled. “But do you think you could go to sleep first?”

The room was silent.

“Perhaps it would be best to wait,” Annabelle said.

“Whatever,” Miles murmured. “Whatever makes you happy.”

She lay down, curled up against his broad warm back, and eventually heard his breathing become deeper. He radiated heat, and she was tempted to drift off to sleep beside him. But she had too many questions to think about that no one could answer but herself.

Was she ready to go back?

The thought terrified her. She was no longer beautiful. Gossip about that was undoubtedly already on its way to London. People would certainly hear of her altered appearance. If she returned too soon she’d only give them more to chatter about. But if she never regained her looks, what sense was there in waiting?

Still, though Miles had been joking, the truth was that if she stayed away when he returned, rumor would make people think she’d really become some kind of gargoyle. If she waited, she might be able to make her return a triumph. But she couldn’t even be sure of that.

The alternative was to stay here with Miles’s distant mother and disappointed sister. Bernard
would be gone back to school. It would just be the three of them and the staff of servants. There’d be no pressure on her, and she could continue to recover in peace. Hollyfields wasn’t a bad place.

But it would be empty without Miles. And she’d promised Camille her Season. It had already been delayed once before. Camille had done so much for her, she deserved her reward. Moreover, Annabelle knew how she herself would feel if such a treat was snatched from her.

Her parents were in London too. She longed to see them. Her father would know the right things to say, her mother, the right things to do for her. She smiled, thinking about how protective her mother was. If people gossiped, her mother would be there to support her; she’d only have to be careful that Mama didn’t call anyone out for saying something rude.

Her grin faded. But they would gossip about her. And Camille could wait until spring.

And meanwhile, Miles would be in London, in a city filled with diversion, parties, balls, plays, concerts—and beautiful women everywhere, highborn and lowborn, with high and low morals too. There were women she’d hear about, many more she’d never know he consorted with. Women who were beautiful as well as discreet. London was filled with demireps and courtesans, actresses and playful wives, all sorts of available women who knew how to keep an affair secret…

But the other choice was to let him see those same women, and then look at her and really see how she compared, honestly see what she now looked like. It was one thing to be attractive to him when she was the only available female in sight…another to face such competition without anything to wage battle with.

He was right, Annabelle thought. It was a decision that would take time. The only question was: Did she have that time?

Annabelle was pale and heavy lidded at breakfast. She hadn’t slept much. Miles said she had a week to make up her mind, but she hated indecisiveness and delay of any kind. One moment she was ready to leave, and the next, she wanted to hide until she looked good enough to be seen. Since her emotions were as variable as a weather vane, she didn’t want to speak too soon. Who better than she to know how life could change the best of plans?

She was grateful that she didn’t have a chance to say anything, because the family was busily gossiping about the party the night before. They carefully didn’t mention Annabelle’s accident with her toque or her meeting with her old acquaintances, but they couldn’t stop talking about all their friends, or how Camille’s popularity would doubtless ensure her triumph when she went to London.

“Now, much as I’d like to linger and keep talking about Camille’s prospects, I have go play lord of the manor,” Miles said when he’d finished his breakfast. He grinned as Camille stuck her tongue out at him, and rose from the table. “First, I must see Thomson, who has a problem with his roof. Then I promised to stop off at Driscoll’s place. He’s got a new pair of foals he wants to show me. I’ll be back by tea.”

“Oh! Can I come?” Camille asked eagerly. “I want a look too. I heard they’re showing great potential.”

“Good idea,” Bernard said, on an exaggerated yawn. “Think I’ll come along too.”

“Try keeping you away!” Camille laughed. “What he wants to look at is Mary,” she told Annabelle. “She’s Driscoll’s daughter, just turned sixteen, and is showing more than potential—as Bernard just noticed last night.”

“Surely you’re too young to think of anything serious, Bernard?” Alyce said, looking up from her plate.

“It’s the horses I want to see,” Bernard insisted. “How can I be serious about them? It’s not like I have any money. My allowance wouldn’t buy me a flea on a horse,” he added, looking sulkily at his brother.

“You have money, and then you had money,” Miles said. “That’s how it always goes with you. The amount doesn’t matter.” He bent and kissed
Annabelle’s cheek. “Now, I’m off,” he told his brother and sister. “If you want to come along, get your hats.”

Within minutes, the breakfast room was empty except for Annabelle and Alyce.

Annabelle prepared to make some excuse and leave. She was always uncomfortable with Miles’s mother, more so this morning. It might have been an accident last night when Alyce brought Damon and his party to see her at the precisely wrong moment. But Annabelle would never be sure.

“Annabelle, my dear,” Alyce said, looking up at her. Annabelle was startled to see tears swimming in her faded eyes. “Can you forgive me for last night? I never meant to hurt your feelings, and I feel so foolish and stupid for forcing those people on you. Please forgive me.”

“Of course I do,” Annabelle lied. “Please put it behind you.”

“I wish I could put so much behind me! Oh, this is so difficult! It ought not to be, and I know that, which only makes it harder. I suppose I could ask you to go for a walk in the gardens with me, or ask you to my sitting room. But I never have done, have I? So that would look peculiar, and I most definitely want our conversation to be natural and easy.” She sighed. “That was another mistake I hope you’ll pardon me for. You must think me a hard, cruel woman. But my first priority is my children and I realize that in being so in
volved with them, I’ve never shown you the true hand of friendship. For that, I also earnestly beg your forgiveness!”

Annabelle spontaneously took the older woman’s thin, cool hand in hers. “I’d most earnestly forgive you for that,” she said, “but there’s nothing to forgive.”

“Little you know,” Alyce said on a broken laugh. “I, of all people should have realized how it must have felt for you to return to us in the condition that you did. I was once beautiful myself, you see, though you’d hardly credit it now.”

“Oh no. What foolishness! You’re still lovely,” Annabelle said. “Anyone can see you must have been a great beauty in your youth.”

Alyce lifted her chin. “So I was. But now…”

Annabelle protested again. “You’re still a lovely woman,” she said, but as she did she felt a queer sensation of having heard it all before. She had, she realized with dismay: every time Miles reassured her that she was still attractive. Every time, she realized, that she insisted he do so, the way Alyce was doing now.

It wasn’t a pleasant feeling.

And why did Alyce only apologize for not recognizing how hard it had been to lose her looks? Why not for not helping her get accustomed to her new home? Didn’t she realize that a new wife coming to a strange home to start a new life after
being so desperately sick had been just as distressing as losing her looks?

Perhaps, Annabelle thought guiltily now, because it
hadn’t
been as important to her.

“You’re very kind,” Alyce said. “And in that spirit…Oh dear, how shall I say this? I want to ask a favor of you, but I don’t deserve any favors from you.”

Annabelle was taken aback. Real tears were coursing down Alyce’s thin cheeks now. This was far removed from the woman she’d thought she knew. “Tell me,” Annabelle said, leaning forward. “What can I do for you?”

“It’s a matter of funds,” Alyce said.

Annabelle stared.

“Money,” Alyce went on, withdrawing her hand so she could dab at her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Yes. How ridiculous! But you see, last night I did something I never do. Since you and Miles were watching over Camille, I was free to wander. I agreed to a friendly game of chance with some local women. Well! Little did I realize that they were familiar with each other’s skills as I was not, and that they’d set out to make money from me. So I lost a great deal. I didn’t have that kind of money on my person, of course, and so offered my vouchers. Now, in all honor, I’m expected to pony up, as the gentlemen say.”

Annabelle laughed. “That’s not such a very great thing.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it is. My household money doesn’t begin to cover it, even if I include the little bit I’ve put by. I’d never have lowered myself enough to ask you if it weren’t essential—”

“Of course,” Annabelle interrupted, because she was becoming embarrassed by the woman’s neediness, “I’ll give you the money—”

“Loan,” Alyce said quickly.

“Yes, but why not just ask Miles? I think he’d be very amused.”

Alyce turned pale. “Oh no. Please don’t tell him. I know it sounds silly, but I prefer he not know I was such a fool.” She looked down and murmured, “As you know, I did a very foolish thing by marrying a man I ought never to have trusted. In fact, that’s the reason you’re here, isn’t it? To help repair that damage.”

She slid a glance at Annabelle, who had grown very still.

But Annabelle was caught between unhappiness and confusion. She didn’t like being reminded why Miles had married her, and wondered if Alyce was trying to befriend her or alienate her.

“I’ve spent the last years trying to repair my reputation with my children, as well as the world,” Alyce went on. “Not paying what I owe in the neighborhood would be devastating to our
name. They’d think I was just like Peter—my last husband—had been. Telling Miles I lost that sum of money through my own foolishness would devastate me. But you hardly know me, so it is easier to ask it of you.”

Annabelle was too puzzled to speak right away. This was the strangest interview. The woman was both asking for friendship and holding her at arm’s length at the same time. But perhaps that was the only way a woman of such pride could ask for a favor. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll give you the money. How much is it?”

Alyce named a sum that made Annabelle gasp.

“But I don’t have that kind of money!” Annabelle said. “Good Lord! How could you lose so much so fast?”

Alyce shrugged her shoulders. “They played for high stakes. And I suppose they thought the lady of the manor could well afford it—although you are that lady now, aren’t you?”