The Book Of Scandal (10 page)

“Of course. We are friends, as you know.”

He admired her luscious décolletage and asked, “Is there anyone else with whom you intend to correspond?”

Evelyn smiled impishly and fingered the small locket at the hollow of her throat that contained a lock of Robert’s hair. That was something else Nathan knew about his wife. She would fidget with her necklace or earring when she was nervous or on the verge of dissembling.

“I have other acquaintances in London. I might write to them as well,” she said with a shrug.

“Ah,” he said, and stepped so close to her that he had to straddle the skirt of her gown. He leaned forward; Evelyn leaned back. Nathan smiled, placed his hands on the edge of the billiard table on either side of her, and forced her back even more. She caught herself with a hand braced against the table and held tightly to the cue.

“Who else, Evelyn?” he asked, his gaze on her mouth.

“Why? Do you intend to censor my letters?”

“Should I?” he asked as his gaze drifted down again to the swell of her breasts, rising so delectably with her breath.

“It is none of your concern with whom I correspond.”

“Perhaps. But if I discover you are corresponding recklessly, or adding to the scandal into which you’ve already put us—” He looked up. “In any way…” He lifted his hand, stroked a bit of hair from her temple. “I shall have your pretty head on a platter. Do you quite understand me?”

Instead of the anger or indignation he fully expected, his very alluring wife smiled seductively. Her gaze drifted to his mouth, stirring up the ribbon of desire in him again. “Just so that we are perfectly clear,” she asked politely, “are you threatening me?”

“No threat, my love,” he said, caressing her neck and the curve of her shoulder. “Just the most sincere approximation of what will happen should I discover the slightest bit of duplicity in you. You may think this national scandal is some sort of jest, but I assure you, it is very serious. I won’t allow you to harm the Lindsey name or holdings any more than you may have, no matter what you say or want.”

She chuckled low, obviously relishing his challenge.

He relished her, damn it.

With his knuckle, he traced a light line across her collarbone. He could feel her tense beneath his touch.

“And while you hold me hostage here, I suppose you will continue to host your billiard parties with girls from the village?”

He could hardly guess what he might expect now that she was under his roof again. He carelessly flicked the gold locket with his finger. “If I do, you shall be the consummate hostess. You are home now, and you will behave as a countess. God knows your father paid for that right.”

Evelyn cocked a brow. “Oh, how very charming. By the bye, you never had rules before.”

“Perhaps I never appreciated my responsibilities as much as I do now.” He spoke to her mouth, to her perfect lips that when curved into a smile, ended in a single dimple in her right cheek. He mindlessly stroked her skin from the hollow of her throat to her cleavage. “Mind yourself, Evelyn,” he said low, and palmed the top of her breast. Her smooth skin was warm; he could feel the breast begin to swell, and the ribbon of desire turned into a serpent, striking at his groin.

“Are you attempting to seduce me?” she asked softly.

“Don’t tempt me, darling. I am foxed, and I’ve missed my wife dreadfully.”

He thought he might have imagined the little shiver in her—he would never be entirely certain, for Evelyn suddenly brought the cue up perpendicular between them, holding it in both hands, and pushed hard against him, knocking him off balance.

“What’s wrong, Evie? Do you fear you might be seduced?”

“Not surprisingly, your estimation of your allure is quite large and grand.”

“There was a time you thought so. There was a time I could have brought you to me and made you purr like a kitten with a single caress,” he said, and caressed the rise of her breast, then cupped it in his hand.

“I was but a naïve girl then. Now, I am a woman who knows men like you.”

“Indeed?” he asked, moving his hand to the other breast. “You had that many lovers in London?”

“You’ll never know, for unlike you, I am very discreet.” She shoved hard, but Nathan merely smiled.

“Do you honestly believe you can keep me from your bed?”

“Oh,” she said, smiling dangerously, “I know I can.” She shoved him again, hard enough that he took a step backward. She tossed the cue onto the billiards table and glided to the door, where she paused. Her gaze swept the length of him and she smiled saucily. “Good night, Nathan.” She went out before he had an opportunity to speak again.

Nathan bent over the billiard table a moment, then straightened up and looked down at the hand that had touched her skin, her breast. He stared at it, closing his fingers tightly, opening them, and closing them tightly again.

With the same hand, he suddenly picked up the cue she’d left and hurled it at the wall, bringing some of the game’s accoutrements crashing down.

H er first night at home was a long and restless one, but Evelyn was determined to put the best face on her predicament. She was not the same meek little flower she’d been when she last lived there. She was stronger. She knew how to care for herself.

But now, having seen Nathan in the billiard room—his dark hair mussed, his neckcloth undone, and that look in his blue eyes—that look—Evelyn had no place to escape.

She was, she had to admit, disappointingly ill-prepared for guarding herself against him. How alarming to discover that after all this time, he could still tantalize her so completely!

How was it possible that after all these years, Nathan’s touch could have such a reverberating effect on her?

The events of the last twenty-four hours had befuddled her to the point she could not sleep.

Evelyn was up and dressed in an old gown still hanging in the wardrobe, and had startled the young woman—Maude, Evelyn remembered—who had entered her room with a cup of hot chocolate in hand.

“Good morning, Maude,” Evelyn said, taking the cup from her before the poor thing dropped it.

Maude dipped a curtsy.

Evelyn could hardly fault the maid’s surprise—they all knew her to be a heavy sleeper and one who was seldom up at dawn, if ever. Not to mention she’d appeared from what must seem like nowhere after three years.

Maude seemed nervous. She cast her gaze to the carpet as she spoke. “His lordship said I am to dress your hair or help you as I can until your ladies’ maid arrives from London.”

“Did he?” Evelyn asked cheerfully. “Then I suppose you might help me make myself presentable to his lordship and his guests for breakfast.” She would carry on as expected—she’d never allow Nathan to see how he had affected her. She would never allow him to believe he had somehow gained the upper hand.

“Oh, but his lordship has gone away for the day,” Maude said.

He’d gone? “Pardon?”

“Aye. He and Lord Lambourne. Lord Donnelly—” Maude smiled a little. “Lord Donnelly will sleep until luncheon if he’s allowed by the others.”

“Where has Lindsey gone?” Evelyn demanded, feeling a bit slighted on her first day back in Eastchurch. She would have thought such a momentous occasion would require some…some notice.

“I wouldn’t rightly know, mu’um,” Maude said as she picked up a hairbrush.

“That’s Lindsey for you,” Evelyn muttered angrily. “He hasn’t changed at all!”

Maude looked startled. “But…but he has changed, mu’um,” she said as Evelyn took a seat at the vanity. When Evelyn didn’t respond, Maude relaxed a bit. “Not outwardly,” she amended, “but in the little things. He’s not the same as he was.” She blushed and smiled sheepishly. “Listen to me, prattling on, mu’um. I surely don’t need to tell you.”

Yes, yes, she did need to tell her—tell her everything! Who was Nathan now? Evelyn smiled at Maude’s reflection. “I’ve not seen my husband in three years, Maude, so please do tell me. I am curious, how has he changed?”

The maid blinked with surprise. “Oh I mean naught by it, mu’um,” she quickly backtracked. “Just that his lordship and his friends, they don’t hunt as they used to, and Mr. Brady—that’s the gamekeeper—he says the boars are so thick on the lower acreage they are devouring the crops.”

That was hard to imagine. Nathan was an avid hunter, perhaps one of the best in all of England.

“And he’s been away quite a lot,” Maude continued. “I suppose that’s why he let some things like the orangery go to seed.”

Evelyn yelped with surprise. “The orangery? My pride and joy?” It was beautiful, full of miniature topiary orange trees from France, with a cozy sitting area on the terrace just outside the French doors. She’d often used the setting for garden tea parties in the spring. “But what of the orange trees? What happened to them?”

“All gone,” Maude said, her eyes wide. “Sold, I think.”

He’d sold her orange trees? She’d bought that group of topiaries shortly after Robbie died. Frankly, she’d gone through a period where she’d spent quite a lot of money—furnishings, clothing, the orangery—but at the time, she told herself it was a needed diversion, something to take her mind from the death of her son. Looking back on it, it seemed more like an obsession, as if she were trying to fill some invisible hole.

Nevertheless, the orangery had turned out beautifully, and the day the orange trees had arrived, Nathan had stood in the drive, his feet braced apart, his face darkening as each tree was unloaded from the wagon.

“You said I could have whatever I wanted,” she’d reminded him sharply, anticipating his protest. He’d told her that in the course of a heated argument they’d had when she’d complained of his constant absences. “You are always gone from here, and I know with whom!” she’d shouted at him.

“Anywhere is far better than being here with you,” he’d snapped. “You are never happy, Evelyn!”

It was true, she was never happy, but Lord God, she’d tried. “I am trying! What am I to do?” she’d demanded angrily.

“For heaven’s sake, I know not! Get out! Visit friends! Go to Bath with your sister and take the waters, I hardly care, just do something!”

“And listen to you scold me for spending—”

“In exchange for your silence, Evelyn, you may have whatever you want.”

“In exchange for your freedom is what you mean, isn’t it?”

It had gone on from there, the endless arguing.

But of all the meaningless things she’d tried to console herself with, things and activities and vices that could not fill the weeping gash across her heart, the orangery had been her haven.

Evelyn looked at Maude’s reflection in the mirror as she wound her hair into a chignon on the back of Evelyn’s head. “He’s away quite a lot, you say?”

Maude paused in the winding of Evelyn’s hair and removed the pins from her mouth in a manner that suggested she enjoyed having information to impart. “Mr. Benton says his lordship doesn’t like to be about when there is no one in residence, for he finds the place far too empty. It’s as if he cannot bear to be alone here. He’s had guests nigh on three months this time.” She stuffed the pins back into her mouth.

Evelyn frowned. “And the Franklin sisters? Do they come around often?”

Maude removed the pins again. “Mary and Sarah Franklin?” She shook her head. “No, mu’um, I wouldn’t know of the Franklin girls.”

But as Evelyn’s hair went up, Maude told her of the night Nathan and his friends had frightened a new chambermaid near unto death by playing a game of ghost, and that Mrs. Gillette, the housekeeper, had stumbled on Wilkes and a scullery maid in a rather compromising position. The scullery maid, Maude said, was no longer employed at Eastchurch Abbey, but in the home of the earl’s sister in Birmingham, a ten-hour carriage ride from here.

That hardly surprised Evelyn. It fit with the many tales of debauchery at Eastchurch. Someone at court always delighted in telling her of the latest gambling debt or bawdy gathering.

When Maude had finished putting up her hair, Evelyn’s head was spinning.

She had a solitary breakfast in the east dining room, staring out over the landscape as she dined. Benton was in attendance, stalwart butler that he was, and informed Evelyn that Nathan had gone into the village, but planned to return in time for the evening meal.

So he’d left her here, alone in this house of memories. He had no more regard for her feelings now than he did then.

“I need a secretary or a writing desk, Benton. I should like to post some letters.”

“Yes, mu’um, his lordship so instructed me.”

“And I should like a horse saddled.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Evelyn finished breakfast. With her shawl gathered tightly around her, she left the dining room. She walked carefully through the east wing, her gaze on the carpet runner in the hallway, refusing to look right or left. This was dangerous territory—there was the parlor, where she’d kept some of her son’s favorite toys, and during afternoon tea, she would sit on the floor and play with him. There was the salon, where he’d gotten underfoot of one of the footmen and had sent the poor man tumbling to his bum. The family study, where he’d gotten into Papa’s ink and marked the wall. It had taken two days and a bit of lye to get the ink off his fingers, but the marks, as far as she knew, remained on the wall.

That was enough. She couldn’t allow herself to feel. She’d spent the last three years pushing down all those feelings just so she could bear the pain. If she began to feel again, she’d feel the ache again…don’t feel, she chanted in her head as she walked along. Don’t feel.

When Evelyn eventually reached her suite of rooms, her heart was palpitating. But she had survived it.

She changed into an old riding habit that she found in one of two trunks that had been brought up from storage. It was tight, but it would do. She made her way out onto the drive where a horse was indeed waiting for her. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for riding.

She used to love to ride the grounds. The estate was so large she would find a new trail every day. She struck out across the parkland, to where the river carved through valleys and the tenants farmed. It was late autumn, and the fields were mostly fallow, but she rode past tenants who were baling hay, others turning the dull brown top-soil over into the black, damp earth that would support new crops come the spring.