Margaret Moore (20 page)

“In the … in the stable.”

“From whom?”

Tears started to fall on his cheeks. “He was very angry.” He raised his stricken eyes. “Not at me, Mama,” he hastened to qualify.

“It was Richard?”

He nodded, then wiped his nose.

“I see. I shall have to tell him that I do not countenance that kind of language in our house. Anger is no excuse for profanity. You are never to use that expression again, Will. Do you understand?”

His head bowed like a prisoner at the bar, he nodded again.

“You will not go riding today, or for the rest of the week.”

Her son looked up, shocked. “But—”

“But that way, you should remember that one way to tell if a man is a gentleman is by his language. Now go upstairs until I call you.”

Still hanging his head remorsefully, Will slowly left the room.

By the time Richard got Antonia home, fortunately without further flirtation, he was bone-weary as well as disgruntled. Perhaps Antonia realized that, or perhaps she realized that she had pushed him far enough. Either way, she said not a word before hobbling into the house.

As he headed for home, he tried to forget Antonia and think about his apology to Elissa
again. He let his mind drift, imagining that he would begin with a suitably contrite speech, then a gentle kiss or two, followed by a caress, then more kissing …

He caught sight of the Banqueting House.

God save him, he would have that torn down! he silently vowed, his genial mood destroyed.

Why could it not have been struck by lightning or ruined by some other natural cataclysm during his long exile? Why had Elissa’s first husband, that apparent proponent of new and modern buildings, not taken a dislike to it and razed it to the ground?

With these disgruntled thoughts, Richard drew near the stables, but before he could even bring his horse to a halt, the groom practically pounced on him as if he had been waiting in ambush these several hours.

“Lady Dovercourt wants to see you, my lord,” the fellow declared without so much as a dip of the head in greeting.
“At once!”

E
lissa watched her husband stroll into her closet, his hands behind his back, apparently as unconcerned by her summons as he would be by the observation that it looked about to rain. He did not seem a bit contrite about abandoning her last night, or Will this morning.

She commanded herself to be calm and composed. She would imitate his manner and not let her anger get the better of her. “Where have you been?”

He leaned his hip against the desk and regarded her steadily. “Riding. Did you miss me?”

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“And did you miss me?” he repeated with one of his slow, seductive smiles.

“Since you are a man and my husband, you do not owe me an explanation if you do not
care to provide one,” she retorted, “but you didn’t wait for Will.”

Finally, a look of something like contrition appeared on Richard’s handsome face. “I left before he was awake. Has he been waiting for me? Damn that Antonia!”

“Antonia? Antonia Norbert?”

She discovered Richard was capable of looking sheepish. “She ambushed me in the lane, then claimed her ankle was sprained so, being a gentleman, I was forced to help her home.”

Help her home, or do something else? Antonia had made her fascination for Richard very obvious. Given his past, would he really refuse anything Antonia cared to offer?

“Believe me, Elissa, I would far rather have been sweeping the streets of London,” he continued sincerely, as if he read her mind.

Mollified, she told herself she was foolish to feel jealous or suspicious. “It doesn’t matter now. Will shall not be riding today, or for the rest of the week.”

Richard straightened abruptly. “What is it? Is he ill?”

She shook her head. “No. He is being punished. He cursed this morning.”

“He cursed?” Richard asked as if that wrong were as minor as leaving a button undone, and as if she were stupid to take any notice of it. “Is that all?”

“Considering what he said, I think a week’s lack of riding a just punishment.”

“What did he say that upset you so?”

“Something
you
taught him.”

“Something I…?” Sudden comprehension dawned on his face. “Ah, the stables.”

“Yes, the stables.”

“Did he tell you why I cursed?”

“He said you were angry.”

Richard’s lips jerked into a little smile. “I stepped in a pile of dung. My reaction was instinctive and, under the circumstances, quite natural, I think.”

“I fail to find my son’s use of such language, and yours, at all amusing, my lord,” she replied. “Profanity is a sign of weakness.”

If she knew the words
he
had been exposed to in his childhood, his choice would have seemed innocence itself, Richard thought. “It was only a moment of frustration, Elissa. Why did Will curse?”

“Because you had gone riding without him.”

“Then I am to blame in more ways than one, and so I apologize to you, and I will to him also.”

“Naturally I can’t expect you to comprehend how appalling profanity is to civilized gentlefolk. Nor can a person who has never been a parent understand the responsibility one feels to a child, I suppose.”

He tensed. “Do you think I don’t understand
the reaction to some words? I made my living by understanding the power of words.”

“Perhaps you should not go riding with him anymore, or who knows what you might teach him.”

“What exactly do you think I will do? Set his young feet on the path to sinful corruption?”

She did not answer. She pursed her lips and looked away.

He was in front of her in a stride and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Do you honestly believe me capable of such a thing?” he demanded harshly. “Do you truly think I would destroy a child’s innocence as mine—”

A strange expression passed over his face before he backed away, turned on his heel, and left.

Trying to control the sudden explosion of emotions raging through him, Richard strode to the entrance hall. He halted and put one hand against the stone hearth to steady himself as he drew in a great, ragged sigh. If only she knew …

But she must never know.

He heard a sound and straightened, half hoping, half dreading to see Elissa when he turned.

Will stood on the stairs, his hands gripping the banister and his eyes wide with a combination of surprise and fear.

Whatever happened between Elissa and
himself, he would not burden this boy with it.

Putting a smile on his face, he walked toward Will, who managed a tentative smile in return.

“I fear I have caused some trouble,” Richard confessed as he sat on the second-lowest step.

Will sat beside him. Despite his distress, Richard felt a tender, paternal feeling stealing over him as they sat thus, or at least how he imagined a father should feel.

Glancing about like a conspirator, Will spoke in a whisper. “Is Mama angry with you, too?”

“Very angry, I am sorry to say,” Richard admitted.

Rather too angry, he suddenly realized. Then another idea assailed him—but it was really too ridiculous. She couldn’t be jealous, not of Antonia.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Will muttered.

“Neither should I,” Richard replied just as mournfully. Then he smiled at the contrite little lad. “We must make a pact that no matter how frustrated we become, we shall always endeavor to speak as gentlemen. Will you agree and shake hands on it?”

Will nodded gravely, and like two mature men, they solemnly shook hands.

Will sighed. “She won’t let me go riding for a week.”

“I know.”

“Is she punishing you, too?”

“No.”

“Bio—” Will caught himself. “I mean, that doesn’t seem very fair.”

“A grown man’s punishment takes different forms.”

“Then I can hardly wait to be a grown man!”

Richard regarded the fine lad he would be delighted to call his son. Had his own father ever thought of
him
this way? Had his own father ever thought of him as anything other than the cause of all his woe, as if Richard had asked to be the reason the man was forced to marry?

He rose. “Will, do not wish for childhood to end quickly. That is a far worse torment than being denied riding for a week.”

Will jumped up. “Where are you going? Can I come, too?”

“No. Where I am going, you do not want to come,” Richard said quietly before he walked out of the house.

All afternoon Elissa waited for Richard, wondering where he had gone and determined to apologize for being so upset over Will’s language, as well as for her childish outburst the night before. She also wanted to understand his unexpected reaction to her criticism, even though she had no idea how she would broach that subject delicately.

Whatever her worries this afternoon, she
certainly didn’t want to have to deal with the inquisitive Mr. Sedgemore, too, but there he was, standing in her withdrawing room.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Sedgemore,” Elissa said evenly, managing to hide her displeasure at the man’s unwelcome arrival.

“Is everything well with you?” Mr. Sedgemore asked gravely. “You look ill.”

“I am not used to late hours.”

“No, no, of course not,” he replied with a smile that did nothing to make him more attractive.

She took a seat on one of the chairs. “Is there some matter of business you wish to discuss with me?”

“Business? No, not today.”

Her brow furrowed slightly.

“Perhaps my visit is inconvenient…?” he inquired, rising as if to leave.

“No, it isn’t,” she lied courteously.

Whatever she thought of Alfred Sedgemore personally, he was a wealthy, influential neighbor. It would not be wise to offend him.

“I have a confession to make, Lady Dover-court, about last night,” he said as he sat back down. “I must say I was rather dismayed by your husband’s choice of topic.”

“He says he has never met anyone yet who didn’t want to hear court gossip.”

Mr. Sedgemore chuckled. “Well, at least Sir John’s daughters were well contented with his stories. And with him, too.”

“He can be very agreeable.”

“He may have made himself
too
agreeable.”

She attempted to smile blandly. “It is a habit with him, I think, from his years in London.”

“Given his past, did his behavior not trouble you? The apple does not fall far from the tree, after all.”

“I know very little about my husband’s family,” Elissa said, trying not to seem too curious as she regarded her previously most unwelcome visitor. “He seems reluctant to reveal it.”

“With good cause.”

“Is that so?”

“I have heard only bits and pieces.”

Elissa tried not to feel disappointed. Then she noted that Mr. Sedgemore’s smug smile had returned. Perhaps he was only attempting to make his information seem even more valuable.

She clenched her teeth, then decided this aggravation was the price she was going to have to pay for the knowledge Mr. Sedgemore would hopefully impart. “Maybe I should ask Sir John about my husband’s family.”

“Sir John would likely refrain from telling you, if most of the sordid stories I have heard are true.” Mr. Sedgemore frowned gravely. “Perhaps I should as well.”

“If you think so,” she replied, sitting back and doing her best not to show her avid curiosity.

“Or perhaps you should know the back ground
of the man to whom you are married,” Mr. Sedgemore mused.

“I would appreciate that.”

Mr. Sedgemore smiled his sly, smug smile. Richard’s smile could be knowing, or sardonic, or mocking, but it had an appealing quality totally lacking in Mr. Sedgemore’s expression.

Alfred Sedgemore looked as she imagined a toad would, if a toad could smile.

“When my family first came here shortly after the death of Sir Richard’s father, I overheard some of our servants talking. It seemed nobody was surprised that his brother, your new husband’s uncle, was willing to do your husband out of his estate because of what his father had done.

“He had, or so the rumor went, seduced his own brother’s wife.”

Elissa emitted a gasp of dismayed surprise, which made Mr. Sedgemore’s eyes gleam with barely hidden delight as he continued. “She, in turn, ran off with the steward, who had embezzled most of her husband’s money. They were never found.

“The uncle wouldn’t have been able to sell it at all, of course, if Sir Richard had not gone to Europe to be with the king.

“After selling the estate, Sir Richard’s uncle sent a very small portion of the money to Richard, then sailed for the New World. He died on the voyage.”

“I had no idea,” Elissa murmured truthfully.

“There was more,” Sedgemore went on eagerly. “It was said that Sir Richard’s mother was no better than her licentious husband. I could never find out exactly what she was said to have done, but there were whispers of a multitude of lovers.”

Elissa’s first thought was for Richard as sympathy and new comprehension filled her heart. What had Richard known of his parents’ behavior? Quite a bit, she surmised, judging by what he had said this morning.

What kind of life had Richard endured with such sinful parents?

How could she offer him comfort and sympathy? He was a proud man, and surely if he had wanted her to know these things, he would have told her himself.

Was it so surprising that he would be a cynical and bitter man? Would a man with such parents hold marriage in high esteem?

A clever young man might even hide his hurt and arm himself against rumors and gossip by excelling at sarcasm and dueling.

What was truly surprising was that he would be so tender toward her, and toward her son.

Unless he was only acting when he was with them.

Then she remembered the horrorstricken look that had passed over his face when she had accused him of teaching her son base language.
That had been no act, no pantomime for her benefit. She was sure of it.

And she was sure the affection she had seen deep in his dark eyes was not feigned, either.

Mr. Sedgemore deferentially cleared his throat. “I fear I have upset you. I confess I am surprised your husband kept this knowledge from you.”