My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) (19 page)

"I vow, my lord," Josephine said, "I don't know when I ever had so much fun as at your ball."

Denise giggled. "We cannot wait for you to host another one."

"There's to be an assembly in Landsdowne early next month," Luke Rountree said, a hopeful arch to his brow.

"You must come, Miss Lambeth," John Rountree said with excitement.

Freddie looked at her guardian.

He smiled. "I should like for my ward to participate."

"And you too, Lord Stacks," Denise said, fluttering her dark lashes.

Freddie poured him tea. She did not have to ask how he liked it. It seemed she knew so much about him, she could communicate without words. Two heaping spoons of sugar. And--appalling to her--no milk.

She smiled as she handed it to him.

"In fact," Denise said, directing her attention at Stacks, "it would please Mama ever so much if Lord Stacks and Miss Lambeth would call at Thistledown. We so rarely have interesting company."

"We should like that," Stacks said, "however, at this time I've been rather busy with my botanical book."

Denise and Josephine threw admiring looks at Stacks. "You're writing a book?" Josephine asked.

"My guardian is one of the country's leading experts on flora and fauna," Freddie said with pride.

"Do not place too much credence in my ward's hyperbole. I daresay she is not totally impartial."

Freddie shot him a look of mock reproach, then turned to the Misses Rountree. "He has written many ground-breaking articles on hybridization."

"Fauna and hy-bird-zation!" Denise said. "I declare, I am quite mystified by such talk though I daresay his lordship is vastly intelligent. Everyone says so."

A look of pride swept across Freddie's face. "His book is to be the most comprehensive ever published on plant life in England."

"Miss Lambeth is doing the book's illustrations," Stacks added.

Luke Rountree turned appreciative eyes on Freddie. "I should be honored to see some of the pictures you have done, Miss Lambeth."

"You shan't until the book is published," Freddie said. "I have no other watercolors to display."

"Miss Lambeth is a very gifted artist," Stacks said. "She has only recently learned to paint though she has always drawn exceptionally well."

"How envious I am!" Josephine said. "I adore painting, but I fear my finished product never looks like my model, nor does it look anything like what I wish it to resemble."

Her sisters nodded in agreement.

"Miss Lambeth is wonderfully talented," John Rountree said. "Did you know she has assisted Dr. Edgekirth by preparing many of the elixirs and poultices he uses? She is knowledgeable about astrology and herbs and any manner of things."

"Not to mention that she can read Latin and Greek, too," Luke Rountree said.

Cynthia's mouth dropped open. "I'm in utter awe. However did you learn such skills?"

"From my father," Freddie answered. "He was a surgeon."

"He attended Oxford with me," Stacks interjected.

"Dr. Edgekirth informs us that she knows as much about doctoring and apothecary as anyone he's ever known," John Rountree said.

Eason knocked on the door, entered the drawing room and addressed Freddie. "Dr. Edgekirth to see you, miss."

"Show him up, if you please," Freddie said as if she had been commanding servants all her life, a fact that amused Stacks. Though he still detested the doctor, he no longer wanted to run his sword through him. He did not have to worry he would immediately marry Freddie.

Was Edgekirth the one who had told Freddie about Elizabeth's death? Or had it been Mrs. Taylor? Or one of the servants, Stacks wondered.

 He supposed he should not take such keen delight in Edgekirth's suffering. For the man was so besotted over Freddie, Stacks wondered how he ate or slept at all. It was obvious he could not stand the sight on John and Luke Rountree sitting in Freddie's drawing room. Yesterday, he had bristled over the squire's presence in the parlor.

Stacks sat back and watched Edgekirth's discomfort, a smile on his face. He smiled, too, as he wondered what excuse Edgekirth would have for today's visit.

He did not have to wait long to find out. As the Rountrees got up to take their leave, Edgekirth said, "Miss Lambeth, there is a case I wish to consult you about. I had hoped you and I could discuss it while we take a walk around the park."

Freddie threw an almost panicked glance at Stacks, but he was not going to interfere. "It's a lovely day for a walk, Miss Lambeth," Stacks said.

***

It had been Freddie's ardent hope that Lord Stacks would intercede, telling the doctor that Freddie would not be able to walk with him today. But, alas, she was once again on her own with Dr. Edgekirth. She hoped they would talk professionally and that he would not mention again his desire to wed her, for that was a subject which caused her great distress.

She wore a green cotton summer dress with a coordinating bonnet, and hooked her arm through the doctor's as they took their first lap around the park. The gardeners were working, and dogwoods were in full bloom now, their beds a showy pink. She and Edgekirth travelled slowly along the gravel path that circled the park.

"About that case?" Freddie began.

"Yes. Well, my patient, I'll call Mrs. Jones, is thirty years old and has been married for eleven years. To have a child is her fondest wish, but she has not been able to carry one."

"She has conceived?"

He nodded. "Many times, but they seem always to end in miscarriage."

"Oh, the poor woman," Freddie lamented. After a moment of consideration, she said, "Because of her delicate constitution for carrying babes, I believe she should take to her bed at the first sign of pregnancy. It is my belief that the wombs of women who are predisposed to miscarriages are too thin, and the act of standing puts excessive strain on them."

He slapped a hand to his forehead. "That seems such a matter of common sense I cannot believe I had never considered it before."

"Have you given Mrs. Jones any remedies while she was still with child?"

"No."

"We have had some success with a plaister made of the fruit of the medlar tree, but the fruit must be applied before it rots, even if they are quite hard. The plaister needs to placed in the reins of the back."

"Where can I find a medlar tree?"

"I'm sure my guardian must have one somewhere. The problem is, they do not bear fruit until September."

"A pity."

"Then she is with child again?"

He nodded.

"Get her to bed at once and insist that she stay there. At the first sign of fruit--if she is still with child--I will help with the plaister."

He laid his hand atop hers. "It is such a comfort to have you to talk with."

She had to change the subject. But the only thing she could think of was her burning desire to find out how Elizabeth had died. Not that Freddie in any way felt Lord Stacks could possibly be to blame. He had told her he did not kill his wife. And she believed him.

She drew a deep breath, then tilted her face toward Edgekirth's. "You said you were in love with Elizabeth. Did you have an affair with her?"

He removed his hand from hers, his lips thinned. "No."

"Did she know how you felt?"

"I'm not sure. I never told her."

Freddie thought about all the
accidents
that had befallen Elizabeth. "Do you think she was in love with her husband?"

His face was grim. "No. For if she had, she would not have asked me to be her lover."

Chapter 17

Freddie watched as a gardener sculpted a tall yew with his pruning shears. She swallowed over the lump in her throat, trying to absorb the doctor's words. Elizabeth had wanted to be lovers with Dr. Edgekirth! Had the woman been utterly mad? How could she not worship the man who was her husband? Then, jarringly, Freddie thought of what Dr. Edgekirth had said about Lord Stacks' supposed
cruelties
. Could he possibly have been cruel to his wife? Such acts were alien to his caring nature. But then Freddie remembered how shocked everyone in Chelseymeade had been when it was learned Abe Livingston, an elder of the church, a gentle man who took in stray dogs, had for years been beating his wife senseless. Still, there was no way Freddie would ever believe Lord Stacks capable of harming anyone.

"It's such a delicate matter to be speaking to a young lady about," Edgekirth said. "But I never think of you as a young lady. You have such a great maturity."

She gave a little squeeze to his arm. "I feel much older than my years. Until I came to Marshbanks Abbey I had never in my life been babied."

He gave her a puzzled glance, then continued. "I really should not speak to you about Elizabeth."

Freddie studied his tanned face, the lock of golden hair that fell across his brow. And she understood how a woman could be attracted to the doctor. But not if that woman had lived under the same roof with Thomas Winthrop, the Baron of Stacks. To know him was to love him. "You called her Elizabeth?"

He shook his head. "Never."

"Yet she wanted to be your lover." Freddie released her words to the air. She could neither glance at nor quite believe Dr. Edgekirth stood beside her, that they were having this conversation.

He did not look at her either as they strolled along the sloped park. His voice was uneven when he spoke. "I was forever attending Lady Stacks for her never-ending injuries. Toward the end, she told me she and her husband did not have sexual relations." Edgekirth swallowed hard. "She stroked my arm and said she needed me."

The beauty of the portrait came even more alive now. Freddie could picture Elizabeth reaching out to Edgekirth, her voice smooth, her blue eyes simmering with desire. Desire that was not for her husband. For an instant, Freddie hated the woman. She supposed she had always hated her, but the current intensity of the hatred surprised her. "It must have been very difficult for you to refuse her."

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"But a man of honor cannot take another man's wife--even if he despises the other man."

He did not answer. "I despise him to the very core of my soul." His eyes were hot and angry when he kicked gravel and turned smoldering eyes on Freddie. "I cannot bear having you under that man's roof."

"He will never harm me," she said softly. Speaking of her guardian, like thinking of him, demanded soft words and mellow thoughts. "You saw for yourself how he worried about me when I was sick."

His lips thinned. "It was the same with Elizabeth."

"It is his nature to administer care. Not just with his purse but in the little things. Like giving me the kitten. He is forever thoughtful."

"But there is another side to him."

"I cannot believe that."

"His wife told me that he would not make love to her. Doesn't that show you he didn't care for her? That he could do those terrible things to her?"

"It does not! If he did not partake of his conjugal rights, there had to be a reason--something she did perhaps." She stopped to snap off a pink bloom, then she shot a questioning glance at the doctor. "How did she die?"

"She was hanged."

Freddie spun around, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. "See! She killed herself!"

"That was the ruling at the inquest. But there were just too many cases of abuse before the ultimate act. There were stories, too, about her death."

She linked her arm through his again. "What kind of stories?"

"They say she was completely unclothed when her body was found." He kept walking forward, his vision straight ahead.

"Who found the body?"

"Stacks."

"Was he upset?"

"How would it have looked if he wasn't? Oh yes, he put on a show of grief."

"I don't believe it was a show."

He patted her hand. "You're so trusting. I suppose that's one of the things I love about you, Freddie."

Her throat constricted. "My guardian would not like for you to call me Freddie."

"To hell with your guardian!"

She stiffened. "To lambast him is to alienate me."

"Damn him."

They walked their final lap in silence.

***

Her hands thrust on her hips, Freddie shot a gleeful look at Marmalade, who was playing with a plant. "I daresay Mr. Marmalade has all but destroyed your catmint plant, my lord."

Stacks stopped his toil, wiped his brow, and cast a bemused glance at the cat. "It will grow back." He watched Freddie move along the garden path. She wore a saffron colored muslin today and looked incredibly graceful. How correct Mrs. Baron had been when she said Freddie would wear clothes well because of her height. Even in the shabby clothes she had arrived in, she had possessed an odd elegance that had transcended her faded being.

"Have you any burnet saxifrage?" Freddie asked.

A half smile broke across his face. "And what potion do you plan to make with it?"

"I plan to use it to remove these hideous freckles that insist on dotting my nose."

He got to his feet, brushed off the dirt from his knees and hands, and walked over to Freddie. "Allow me," he said, lifting back her bonnet. He scrutinized her face. It was but inches from him. He could smell the light scent of lavender on her and see the golden specks in her eyes. He could hear the heaving of her breathing and feel her warm breath. And he was swamped by powerful emotions he could not put into words. He had an overwhelming desire to kiss her.

Then he was sickened by the thought. Would he destroy her, like he had Elizabeth?

"Oblige me by not removing the freckles. I find them delightful."

She pouted. "I assure you a lady does not want to be delightful. She wants to be pretty."

He stood back. "You are pretty. Your freckles are part of your allure."

Her eyes sparkled. "I have allure?"

"You have allure."

"You are sure I do not need the burnet saxifrage?"

"You do not need the burnet saxifrage."

She stooped to lift Marmalade, rubbing her own cheek against his, her face alight with happiness. "Dare we hope we have no callers today? I long for it to be just you and I and Marmalade under the sun and sky."