More Than Charming (23 page)

“Isn’t she here?” Geoffrey said. “My mother told me that Lord Henry was quite looking forward to a visit to the manor.”

James frowned. Could Waltham have something to do with her absence?

“What’s this about?” Paul asked James.

James let out a breath. “Well, it seems that our dear friend Waltham has been crying on Lady Diane’s shoulder.”

“How did you hear of that?” Chester asked.

“Elizabeth has been in contact with her. The poor widower has been quite distraught, in the lady’s words.”

Chester snorted in obvious disgust. “Distraught,” he grumbled. “You should have seen him at the funeral, Leed, Kane. The only time he managed to show the least amount of sorrow was when the young ladies were about.”

“Really?” Geoffrey asked. “Was that how you saw it, Roberts?”

The memory of Waltham’s attentions toward Catherine made his hands fist. “The bastard couldn’t keep his hands off my wife, Kane. If Chester hadn’t been there, I don’t know what I would have done.”

Chester barked out a short laugh. “I fear they would have buried two that day.”

“I wouldn’t miss the worm.” James shook his head. “And what of Joan’s mysterious illness? I’m still not satisfied he didn’t have some hand in his wife’s death.”

“No,” Paul said.

“I’m afraid Roberts may be right, Leed. Constance told me Joan didn’t suffer from bouts of stomach problems before, despite Waltham’s assertions.”

Geoffrey’s eyes grew round. “Stomach problems? You don’t think . . . No, that can’t be.”

“What, man?” Paul asked.

Geoffrey leaned toward the others. “There are certain substances that, when taken internally, could cause such problems.”

“Hmm,” Chester said. “Arsenic perhaps, or—”

“No,” Paul cut in. “The man’s a bastard, but even Roberts isn’t convinced Waltham had a hand in Joan’s death.”

“There’s his continued attention toward Catherine, Leed,” James pointed out.

“But what of Lady Diane?” Paul asked. “Did Waltham seem overly attentive to her?”

“Not that I noticed,” James said.

“That’s not surprising,” Geoffrey said with a chuckle.

“And what do you mean by that?” James asked him.

“I simply mean that when your wife is about, Roberts, you can’t see anyone but her.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Kane,” he snapped.

Geoffrey raised his brows, but he held his tongue.

James brooded for a few moments as his friends talked, regretting his outburst. He was still a bit perplexed by Catherine’s innocent question in the courtyard. Was she asking him if he loved her? Why the devil couldn’t he just say the damn words?

Giving his head a shake, he returned his attention to his friends and their conversation. Catherine caught his eye just then. She was currently the recipient of Elizabeth’s oration, and appeared to be tiring. As she stifled a yawn behind her hand, James excused himself from his friends’ company. Geoffrey eyed him, an expression of knowledge on his face James didn’t wish to consider.

James reached Catherine’s side. “Are you growing tired, love?”

Catherine smiled wearily up at him and nodded. “Would you be terribly disappointed with me if I told you I wish to retire?”

“You could never disappoint me, sweetheart.”

His words caused her tired smile to brighten. They made their excuses and climbed the grand staircase to their guestroom.

*     *     *

“What do you suppose is troubling Roberts?” Geoffrey asked.

Paul shrugged his puzzlement. Chester believed that he knew precisely what was disturbing their friend.

“It would appear, gentlemen, that Roberts seems unsure of his regard for his wife.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Geoffrey scoffed. “He’s obviously mad for the girl. Leed, surely even you can see that?”

“You’re forgetting his charming nature, Kane,” Paul pointed out. “He could urge any lady to eat from the palm of his hand.”

Chester shook his head. “He cares a great deal for her, Leed,” he insisted. “I believe, however, he’s uneasy with the possibility of any stronger emotion.”

“Ah,” Geoffrey said knowingly. “He believed he was in love with Rebecca and, well . . .”

Chester clapped him on the shoulder. “He was mistaken, Kane,” he said simply.

“No matter,” Paul said. “He obviously makes my sister happy, and that’s utmost in my concern.”

“But what of Waltham?” Chester asked. “Do you believe that scoundrel will attempt to renew his attentions toward Catherine when we all return to town?”

Paul’s eyes narrowed. “Apparently, he wrote a letter to my sister requesting such,” he informed them.

“No!” Chester exclaimed.

Paul nodded solemnly. “But I have the utmost faith in Roberts’s ability to keep that bastard away from her.”

*     *     *

The next morning Catherine was the first to awaken. She donned her wrapper and stood. Immediately, a wave of nausea struck her. Her head fairly pounded as she gripped the bedpost for support. After one long minute, the feeling passed.

She padded over to the washstand. Splashing some water on her face, she rid herself completely of the strange feelings. She dabbed her face with a towel and stared at her reflection. What was ailing her? Suddenly, her eyes widened as recognition dawned on her. My God! Was she expecting?

Catherine glanced quickly at James, certain that he could read her thoughts from where he lay in the bed. He was still asleep, his lashes dark and thick against his finely chiseled cheekbones. What of his feelings on the matter? Would he be pleased? Or would he feel more put-upon than he must already?

Having the marriage forced upon him was one thing, but to bring a child into their union so soon would surely trouble him. She wouldn’t tell him of her suspicions, at least for the time-being. They were to return to London in three short weeks. And if her symptoms persisted, she’d have Dr. Morgan, their family physician, call on her. If she was indeed having a child—James’s child!—she’d tell him then.

James awoke at the moment she reached what she felt was a very reasonable decision. He gave a loud yawn as he stretched his arms above his head.

Placing his arms behind his head, he opened his eyes, immediately settling his gaze on her. “Good morning, love.”

Apparently, her face still wore its look of resignation for James regarded her closely.

“Catherine, why do you look so dour?”

She shook her head firmly and favored her husband with a small smile. “I was thinking of nothing dour or dismal, I assure you,” she said lightly. “Um, I was simply contemplating the aspect of ringing for a bath.”

He nodded and pulled himself to a sitting position. “I’ll see to it, sweetheart,” he said, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed.

She thanked him and went into the dressing room to see to her morning toilette.

When she emerged, she was quite surprised to see an enormous tub set in the center of the room. Servants were in the process of filling it to the brim with steaming water. Her gaze flew to James where he stood beside the tub, a crooked grin on his face. He wore one of his satin dressing gowns and Catherine thought he looked positively wonderful. Her attention went once more to the tub.

“James, it’s so big. Have you ever seen such a tub in your life?”

He chuckled. “Apparently everything in this castle is oversized. Are you displeased?”

She shook her head, her eyes on the huge tub once more. It looked so tempting. She fairly shivered as she imagined sinking into its depths. Surely the water would come up to her chin!

“But, it’s so . . . decadent,” she finished in a whisper.

The servants left the room then, closing the door behind them. Movement to the side of her caught her eye. James untied the belt of his dressing gown and began to remove it.

“James, what are you about?” she asked, her eyes caressing the hair-roughened skin he was revealing.

“I thought we could bathe together, wife.” He stepped into the tub. “Ah.” He sighed, resting his back against the rolled edge.

The tub was large enough for him to stretch out his long legs. He held a hand out to her. Catherine stood for a moment, unsure.

“I don’t know,” she demurred.

“Come and join me, Catherine,” he ordered with a grin. “I want you in here with me this instant.”

Shyly returning his smile, Catherine untied her wrapper and let it fall to the floor. She grasped her husband’s outstretched hand and gingerly stepped into the tub. Turning, she came to rest between his knees, leaning back against his chest. She reveled in the heat of the water, in the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her.

He suddenly stiffened. “What’s that scent?”

Catherine bit her lip to hold back a giggle. “Lavender.”

“Oh, wonderful,” he groaned. “I can hardly wait for your brother to get wind of it.”

Smiling to herself, Catherine thoroughly scrubbed his body with the scented soap, even his thick black locks. James rinsed the soap from his hair and wiped the water from his eyes.

“Equal measure, love,” he said, taking the soap from her.

Catherine turned her back to him once more. James began with her hair, twining the curls through his fingers as he worked the fragrant lather along the strands.

“Mmm,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

James lifted the pitcher of rinsing water and gently poured the water over her head. When all traces of the soap were gone, he picked up the cake of soap and the washcloth. His eyes glittering, he set the cloth aside and worked the soap with his bare hands. Catherine sighed as he ran his hands over her back, past her shoulders and down her arms. She gasped as he cupped a breast in each hand.

“James!” she exclaimed, her eyes flying open.

James nuzzled her neck as he touched and teased her, one hand stealing down to the curls that shielded her womanhood. Catherine turned to face him, thrilling as his hands slid down to her bottom and held her tightly against him. He was unmistakably aroused beneath the soapy water.

“What are you about?” she asked breathlessly.

He grinned and proceeded to show her.

There was more than a little water on the floor by the time they finished their bath. Her head resting against her husband’s chest, Catherine let out a small sigh. James dropped a kiss on her wet locks.

“Ah, the way you love me, Catherine,” he said in a lazy drawl.

She blushed in spite of herself, causing deep laughter to come from her husband. The water had cooled significantly, and they arose from the oversized tub and readied for the day.

James grudgingly informed his wife later that afternoon that his friends did indeed tease him mercilessly about his decidedly feminine scent. The words served to remind her of their time together. She’d never smell lavender and not think of her husband’s hands all over her!

How she loved him, she thought. Catherine sighed. But would he ever love her back?

As the time to travel to London drew near, Catherine was all but positive she was expecting James’s child. Stubbornly refusing to tell him of the baby, she was firm in her decision to wait until Dr. Morgan confirmed her suspicions when in town. What would James’s reaction be? He continued to be ever attentive, tender and considerate of her in all things. Surely a man as worldly and experienced as he was would be well aware of the consequences of their frequent lovemaking. Why, he’d taken her at nearly every available opportunity since their wedding.

But would he welcome a child from their union? She could only pray he would love the child if not its mother.

They departed for London on a crisp sunny day in late January. James’s father stayed on at Bradford, as was expected. The earl had told them he couldn’t abide the crowds in town or the dank and dreary London weather, so James and Catherine traveled alone.

Several hours later they arrived at their townhouse. James assisted her down from the carriage and led her to the wide door.

Giles pulled the door open. “My lord! Lady Roberts! How good it is to see you.”

Catherine smiled at the butler and placed her cloak in his waiting hands. “Hello, Giles.”

“Giles, old man.” James clapped him on the back. “I trust you saw to matters in my absence?”

“Yes, my lord.” He took his master’s overcoat. “I left a bit of correspondence in your study. Nothing of import, I assure you.”

“And you’re certain of this, I imagine?” James teased. “Nothing from the matrons?”

“No.” Giles laughed. “I saw to it that news of your marriage spread quite widely through certain channels.”

Catherine looked from one man to the other in confusion.

“Lady Roberts,” Giles began, “the cards are all addressed to the two of you. The whirlwind has begun anew, but in a different direction entirely.”

She gathered the man’s meaning and smiled. She knew of James’s enormous popularity among the ton, and was most pleased that he was no longer sought after in the marriage market. He was hers. And because he accepted her love, she was his.

Giles left them and saw to having their belongings settled into the townhouse.

“Do you feel at home yet, love?” James asked her when they were once more alone.

She shook her head. “I find this most strange, James,” she allowed with a small smile. “I’ve been here so many times in the past, but now . . .”

James put his arm around her and led her into the parlor. She went with him to one of the big chairs flanking the fireplace. Recognition dawned on her in an instant, causing her cheeks to flame.

“Ah.” He took a seat and pulled her down beside him. “You remember.”

She knew then that he too remembered the night of the Markham ball, when she’d come to him in a move that was both foolish and bold.

“Yes.” She fingered the pleats of her gown. “Are you sorry I came that night?”

“I was then,” he said, softening his words with a crooked smile. “I very nearly ruined your reputation.”

She thought back to that night. “You looked so attractive in your dressing gown, James.” She placed her hands behind his neck. “I daresay I would have permitted you.”