Seven Nights to Forever (28 page)

“Her name’s Pansy. Rebecca named her,” he added in explanation, as he stopped in the small yard.

“It’s a lovely name,” she said, passing a gentle hand over the mare’s nose.

“It’s her favorite flower.” He motioned to Rose. “I’ll help you up.” Hands spanning her waist, he lifted her onto the mare. Once she had finished adjusting her skirt, he placed the reins in her hands. “She truly is a docile thing, and she listens quite well. A little tug is all you need to get her to stop.”

Webb handed the bay over to James, and he swung up into the saddle. They set off out of the yard. When the dirt lane turned right, they continued heading straight, to the grassy field that led to the pond. With one eye on Rose, he kept the pace to an easy canter, forcing the stallion’s naturally longer strides to match the mare’s. His concern was for naught. Never once did she even begin to lose her balance, something he should have foreseen. If he hadn’t been able to unseat her last night, the mare’s gentle rocking strides certainly would not.

Once they had traveled a good distance from the stables, they slowed to a walk.

Rose gave the mare’s neck a little pat. “She truly is lovely.”

“But you are more so.”

Chin tipping down, she murmured a demure thank-you. He would never trade his nights with her for anything, but it occurred to him that he had never before seen her under the sun. Outdoors, yes. In cloudy daylight and in the cool shadow of a tree, but not like this. And by God, she was even more exquisite. A slight flush brought color to her cheeks. Long lashes framed eyes glittering like flawless aquamarines. The sun’s golden rays picked up the rich chocolate tone of the few strands of hair that had worked free of the sleek knot at her nape. And here he had thought her hair deepest midnight. Now, though, in the full force of the sun, he could see it was so rich and dark it approached black, but didn’t quite reach it.

Pulling his attention from Rose, he looked out across the field, the grass lush and green from the recent rains. He could just make out a glimpse of the pond in the distance beyond the small group of trees. It would be much too cold for it today, but on hot summer days, he often made his way there for a swim. The water cool and clear, offering the ultimate in relaxation.

Honey House was his haven. His escape from London and everything that city held. Whenever he could manage it, he visited, even if only for a handful of days. Quiet and peaceful, a treasured respite. But sometimes too quiet. No matter where he went, whether here or in London, he could never fully escape the loneliness.

Actually . . . he could, and he had Rose to thank for it. Her presence alone, just knowing she was near, vanquished that sense of isolation like nothing else ever could.

Turning his attention back to her, he was about to ask if she wanted to pick up the pace again, but the question stopped in his throat. Her attention was fixed straight ahead, yet she didn’t seem to be actually looking at anything. The content happiness was gone from her face, replaced with the slightest of frowns.

“Something on your mind, my dear?”

“James, are you married?”

His grip tightened on the reins. “Yes.”

She nodded. “I assumed as much.” There was no accusation in her tone, no displeasure or jealousy. Only resignation backed with acceptance.

“Why?” He couldn’t resist asking. He had never once mentioned Amelia or made reference to her.

“You have the air of an unhappily married man about you.”

That was putting it mildly
, he thought with a grimace. “Do you live separately?”

“If only I could be so fortunate. Perhaps once Rebecca is wed, I can have that luxury. For now . . .” He looked out to the expanse of grass before them. He wasn’t even certain he would ever have that opportunity. It all depended on who Rebecca chose to marry. He wouldn’t put it past Amelia to take her ire out on Rebecca if he demanded a separation. If his sister married a powerful lord, she would be safe from Amelia’s spite. If not, his wife could very well ruin his beloved sister’s reputation. A bit of gossip here, a rumor there, and the damage would be done and Rebecca would be shunned by the ton.

“Why does it hinge on Rebecca’s marriage?”

“Because Amelia . . .” he paused, unable to bring himself to say “my wife,” “is the daughter of a viscount. An aristocrat. You see, my father has amassed a fortune, but the one thing he cannot buy is a title. He wants one in the family. Desperately. Being a man, I can’t obtain one through marriage. I am simply the means he has used to achieve that end. But I only agreed because of Rebecca. She longs for an entrée into Society that only an advantageous match can bring. So I married Amelia, knowing full well it would not be a blissful union, in the hopes she’d honor her word to sponsor Rebecca once her time came to make her debut.”

“How long have you been married?” she asked, her tone all gentleness.

“Three years,” he said on a sigh. Three very, very long years.

“I take it she doesn’t much care for you.”

He let out a snort of derision. “She loathes me. Can’t stand the sight of me, though she insists I accompany her to social functions. Must keep up appearances, after all. God forbid her vaunted acquaintances suspect the marriage was something she was forced into. To wed a common merchant’s son was enough of an embarrassment, to have been commanded by her father to marry me so my father would pay off his debts . . .” He shook his head. “So I do my best not to earn her displeasure. I live by her rules, keep my opinions to myself regarding her many lovers, and every year I paste a smile on my face and escort her around town for the Season.”

He glanced back to Rose and was surprised, not by the compassion, but by the longing he found in her steady light blue gaze.

“Your wife is a fool not to cherish having such a man as you for a husband.”

He squeezed his eyes closed tight.

“I am sorry.” Her soft words, laden with remorse, were barely audible over the sounds of the horses’ hooves swooshing through the grass.

Eyes still closed, he pulled the bay to a stop. Pressing his hands on the pommel of the saddle, he struggled to gather his composure.

A gentle hand touched his knee. “She must be horrid to you.”

“You cannot comprehend.” He swallowed, trying to push back the threat of tears clogging his throat.
You’re goddamn pathetic.
So his wife didn’t care for him? Many men tolerated unhappy marriages. Yet even from the beginning, Amelia had somehow known just how to strike at him. Her barbs finding the mark with uncanny precision. Each one sinking deep into his chest, striking at how he defined himself as a man, chipping away at his very soul, until there was near to nothing left. “If she knew about you . . . at the very least, she would refuse to sponsor Rebecca.”

“But you said she had many lovers. Why would she object to me?”

“Because she does not permit me that liberty. It would be considered an embarrassment. I should want her and no one else. I should feel fortunate to have her for a wife. Do you know, I had to beg her?” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I was so desperate I begged my own wife to allow me into her bed. And when she at last relented . . . the disgust in her eyes cut right through me. I could not even finish.” The most humiliating night of his life.
And you call yourself a man?
A shudder gripped his spine at the memory of Amelia’s mocking taunt. He had not been able to get out of her bedchamber fast enough. “That incident provided ample fodder for her for months.”

Dropping his arm to his side, he blindly captured her hand in his, needing her touch, her strength. He had never revealed the truth of his marriage to anyone. Had hid it from all, too ashamed to admit his wife had long ago ripped off his ballocks and fed them to him. Hell, how she did it at every opportunity, even seemed to take pleasure in it. And how there wasn’t a thing he could do but endure it.

Yet deep inside he knew he could trust Rose with the truth. It was a solid, indisputable fact. She would not judge him or think less of him.

Rose said not a word. Merely held on tight to his hand for many long moments, until he at last regained his composure.

His horse shifted his weight, reminding James they were still stopped. He gave Rose’s hand a light squeeze then pulled free. “We should try to make it to the pond before nightfall.”

At her nod, they continued across the field and through a small cluster of trees before reaching the pond where a few geese were gliding across the surface. He dropped to his feet, lifted Rose from the mare, and tied both horses to a nearby tree.

He removed his coat, draped it over the old fallen log on the grassy bank, and gestured for her to sit.

“Since I answered all of your questions, will you answer one of mine?” he asked, taking a place beside her.

The line of her shoulders stiffened, as if she knew what he was going to ask. He waited for her to deny his request, to make use of the refusal he had pleaded for earlier, or evade his questions as she had once been fond of doing. Ten days together and he still knew so very little about her. She granted him free access to her beautiful body—he was more than familiar with every inch of her flawless skin. But that wasn’t the commodity she kept under lock and key. What he truly wanted was to know
her
, the woman.

“Yes, you may ask.”

“Why do you work at Madame Rubicon’s?”

“For the money. Why else?” She reached down and snapped off a blade of grass, twisting it around her finger. Just when he thought she wouldn’t offer up anything else, she spoke, her tone casual, with a shrug behind it. “A woman has few options in life. Marriage wasn’t one of them, as I was not acquainted with any man who was wealthy enough to suit my needs. My mother passed away when I was a child, and when my father followed her to his grave five years ago, he left debts that needed immediate attention, not to mention my brother, Dash. He’s now eighteen, but at the time he was expecting to attend Eton. I couldn’t very well tell him our father had gambled away the family fortune and then some.”

“Why ever not?”

Her head snapped up from the blade of grass. She looked at him, aghast. “Dash adored our father. I couldn’t tell him that he had been so irresponsible as to beggar the estate. It was hard enough to tell a thirteen-year-old boy his father had passed away. I could not tarnish his image of him. That would have been cruel.”

She spoke as if she was virtually alone in the world. All of the burden resting on her slim shoulders. And had she actually been the one to inform her brother about their father’s death? “Did you have no one to help you? No other family?”

“No. It’s just Dash and me.”

If her father had an estate, that meant she was from a respectable family. “But if Dash was only thirteen at the time of your father’s death, then wasn’t a guardian appointed to care for him and oversee the estate until he reached his majority?”

“Our uncle is technically his guardian, and he was mine until I reached one and twenty, but he resides in America. I never much cared for him anyway.” She wrinkled her nose. “He would have wrung the estate dry if it had not already been beyond dry.”

“So how long have you been working at Rubicon’s?”

She plucked a new blade of grass and went back to twisting it around her gloved finger. “Four years,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

Given he’d parted with the sum seven times, he knew how much she earned for a night. Even only working a week a month, she should have amassed a fortune by now. “You still need to work there?”

She nodded. “I’ve taken care of the debts. They are at least settled. I’m working on replacing the money my father gambled away, but the country house . . .” She let out a sigh. “Father had sold all the property capable of producing any sort of income, so the estate can’t support itself. And Dash is not without expenses, but I hold out hope he will return to university for the coming term.”

James raised a brow. “He left university? Was he sent down?”

“No, he wasn’t sent down. He simply decided he wished to reside in Town for the time being.”

“And you allowed that?”

“I’m not his mother or his father. He does as he wishes. And he’s young. Surely you can understand the lure London can pose for a young gentleman. Though I do wish he had not purchased the racing curricle . . .” She trailed off with a resigned shrug. “Not much to be done for it now. The deed is done.”

His jaw dropped. “You spoil him,” he stated.

Bristling with affront, she drew herself up straight. “I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I am merely providing him with the opportunities he was meant to have. It is not right that he should have to pay for my father’s misdeeds.”

“But it is all right for you to shoulder that burden?”

“I am his sister. The only family he has. It’s my responsibility to care for him.”

“There is caring for one, and there is allowing one to indulge in frivolous expenses, such as a racing curricle.” If the boy at all bore a family resemblance to Rose, he’d be a handsome devil. James had seen the sort at countless balls. Young and idle and backed by their families’ wealth, they spent their nights gallivanting about Town without a single responsibility to force them to behave like the men they were. “I’m assuming you’ve left him unaware of your place of employment.”

“Of course,” she scoffed, as if anything else was unthinkable. “Once he went to school, he rarely returned home. In fact, he hasn’t been back in years. Hopefully by the time he is old enough to take over management of the estate, I’ll have shored up the coffers and he will be none the wiser.”

“Why continue to hide it from him? He’s eighteen. Old enough to bear the responsibility, and from what you have told me, he could well use something to be responsible for.”

She shook her head, one quick motion, apprehension filling her eyes. The indignant bravado vanished, as if it had never been there. “Then he will surely ask how we have gotten along since Father’s death.” Avoiding his gaze, she ducked her head, her shoulders rounding, almost folding into herself. “And . . . and I don’t want him to ever know.”