The Worldly Widow (56 page)

"We
'
ve shared a bed before.
"

"But never for more than five minutes together. You
'
ll find that I
'
m a restless sleeper.
"

"How do you know?
"
he asked, towering menacingly above her. Not a trace of levity could she detect in his expression.

"How? I
…
I just do know, that
'
s all.
"

"Have a care, Henrietta! If I thought for one minute that you
'
d shared someone else
'
s bed when you
'
d refused mine, I
'
d take a whip to you, and then I
'
d damn well kill your lover.
"

For five whole weeks, Henrietta Jocelyn, nee
Routledge, had had a taste of independence. Perhaps it was not all that it was cracked up to be, but it had bee
n an experience for all that. M
en years younger than she had pampered, flattered, and courted her with soft words and long, languishing looks. But never once had she been tempted to betray her marriage vows, in spite of an errant husband who ignored her very existence, unless it was in her role as mother to his heirs. And her reward for her unswerving fidelity was this—to be reviled for a sin that belonged more properly to her accuser.

She sprang to her feet, and Sir Charles fell back a pace before those flashing eyes. She went at his chest with her index finger as if to hammer home her words.

"In the first place, my name is Harry. I was never really that insipid creature whom you chose to call 'Henrietta.
'

"In the second place, I did not refuse your bed. You turned me away, quite deliberately, by making the experience as tedious as a bowl of curds and whey. Five minutes of your time was all that I was worth to you. Don
'
t you think I know that you spent the whole night through in the bed of your mistress, Mrs. Snow?

"In the third place, I am not the malefactor here, you are. And if I was unfaithful to you, which I deny, it would be no more or less than you deserve.

"In the fourth place
…
"
But Henrietta
'
s anger was suddenly spent, or she had forgotten what she meant to say. At all events, she turned aside and moved to the hearth where she stood, arms crossed, staring into the dying embers of the fire.

Sir Charles came up behind her. Very gently he turned her to face him. "Is it too late to make amends?
"
he said, angling her a lopsided grin.

She refused to look at him, and the desperation of his situation lent urgency to his words. "There
'
s no one warming my bed now, Harry,
"
he said.

"No,
"
snorted Henrietta. "But not by your design. If someone hadn
'
t murdered the poor woman, she
'
d still be
there—I was going to say in the background, but that
'
s a joke! The whole world saw how you brazenly carried on with her at Lewes.
"

"I didn
'
t know you cared!
"
he yelled.

"I
'
m human. I have my pride!
"
she shot back.

"Pride? Who the hell cares about pride? I
'
m talking about love.
"

"Love?
"
she said the word scathingly. "I
'
ve long since given up trying to make you fall in love with me.
"

"But I
do
love you! Don
'
t you believe me? Oh God, can
'
t you forgive me? How was I to know that I meant anything more to you than an entree into polite society? That
'
s all your father wanted for you, wasn
'
t it?
"

She looked at him doubtfully. That look gave him hope, and he pressed his advantage. "Ours was a marriage of convenience. You were so very young. And I was so damn blind.
"

She angled her head back and studied his intent expression. "Why now, Charles? Why come to me now?
"

He could not explain it even to himself. He shook his head. "You
'
ve never been away from home before. Your life has always been your family. I think I took your presence for granted. When you weren
'
t there, I realized that our home had lost its heart.
"

For a moment he held her at arm
'
s length, his eyes searching hers anxiously. Then, finding what he wanted to see, he smiled and swept her into his arms.

I
n the end, Annabelle allowed herself to be persuaded to spend the Christmas holidays at Rosedale. For one thing, not to do so would have caused a serious rift between Sir Charles and Henrietta, for the latter refused to leave Annabelle in the lurch. For another, Richard added his persuasions. Christmas with his cousins was infinitely preferable to what his mama proposed—a quiet twosome in Greek Street with only church services and a walk in the park to leaven the boredom. And finally, Albert had long since returned from the north. Bailey
'
s could very easily be left in his capable hands.

But Rosedale was anything but an enjoyable experience for
Annabelle. Though she was happy to see a new cordiality between Sir Charles and Henrietta, she could not shake herself of the conviction that her presence was superfluous.

Thinking to relieve the loving couple of the responsibility for entertaining her, she began to spend a good deal of her time with the children. But even there, she was soon given to understand that her presence put a decided damper on things.

The boys had been at one of their favorite games—knights and dragon slaying. It went without saying which part Annabelle was assigned. She could not like the ferocity of her young nephews and son when they came at her with their drawn wooden swords. Nor were they any more gratified by the way she played her role. It was Richard who explained it to her.

"Dragons, Mama, are not nice creatures. They are wicked. They don
'
t give knights second chances.
"

"But I don
'
t like hurting people,
"
protested Annabelle.

"No,
"
said Richard prosaically, "but dragons do.
"

It was with relief on both sides when Annabelle took herself off, belatedly remembering that she had letters to write. But her young son
'
s words revolved in her mind, though why this should be so, she could not fathom.

With so many hours in a day to get through, Annabelle became a little restless. If there were scores of things to occupy one in the country, she was sure that she could not think of a single one that she could not do better in town, with the exception of riding and hunting, and these overrated sports held no interest for her.

It was here that a ripple disturbed her conscience. She had a vague recollection of making some wild promises to the Deity when those awful men had set upon her in Lewes. And then it came to her! Of course! She had pledged that she would persevere with every blessed accomplishment she had ever forsworn if only the Lord would send his angels to watch over her. And the Lord, in his wisdom, had sent Dalmar. It was an arresting thought.

It was only natural that from there, her thoughts should wander to other occasions when the Earl had intervened to save her. Her memories jolted her. For each time that she had called upon the Lord
'
s help, it seemed that her prayer had
conjured up Dalmar. As a coincidence, it was positively uncanny, thought Annabelle. She dismissed the queer notion that began to take root in her mind. Dalmar an angel? Blasphemy! He was no more an angel than he was a knight in shining armor!

Annabelle, however, was not one to trifle with the Deity. Nevertheless, she was far from eager to follow through on her part of the bargain she had made at Lewes. She searched her mind for every possible avenue of escape. None presented itself.

In fear and trepidation, and in a borrowed riding habit, she approached her brother-in-law
'
s head groom and advised him that she was willing to submit herself to the rigors of riding lessons. The poor man balked. In his considered opinion, some few people and horses were best kept on opposite sides of a fence. Among the former he numbered Annabelle.

It was unfortunate that the only docile beast in his master
'
s stable should be something of a freak.

"In spite of
'
is size,
'
e
'
s as gentle as a lamb,
"
he told Annabelle reassuringly. "And
'
e
'
s too old to do more than a fancy shuffle even when
'
e
'
s spooked.
"

"What
'
s his name?
"
asked Annabelle.

The groom hesitated, then shrugged philosophically. "Goliath,
"
he said, and waited for the lady to take to her heels.

But the lady had more gumption that he had given her credit for.

"Well, lead him out and let
'
s get on with it,
"
was all that she said.

Annabelle
'
s equestrian ambitions were fortunately very modest, and exactly matched her God-given talent in that field. By the end of her stay at Rosedale, she was able to mount and dismount (with the aid of a mounting block and groom, naturally), and she enjoyed many a leisurely ramble through Rosedale
'
s barren pastures and commodious park. She could not have been more delighted with her meager progress if Bailey
'
s had prised Lord Byron from John Murray
'
s tenacious grasp.

It was on just such a ramble that John Falconer came upon her. He reined in his mount and waited patiently as groom and
rider slowly descended the rise of a hill. When Annabelle drew level with him, he edged his horse forward.

"Do you always ride with your eyes closed?
"
he asked, startling her.

Her eyes flew open.

"John! How do you do?
"
she cried out.

He found the warmth of her welcoming smile more than a little gratifying. "Good to see you again, Annabelle.
"

"I suffer from vertigo,
"
she explained, and quickly closed her eyes when the gro
und seemed to heave up to meet h
er. "Or perhaps it
'
s
mal de
mer.
Or both. No matter, I
'
m not about to let such trifles get the better of me. What brings you to Rosedale?
"

Swallowing a laugh at the picture of Annabelle, eyes tightly closed, hanging for dear life to the pommel of her saddle, and mounted on a veritable colossus of a horse, he said easily, "Just passing through on my way to meet some friends in Brighton. I thought we
'
d take this opportunity to catch up on all the news.
"

She turned very quiet at that, but brightened a little when they entered the house. "Harry will be delighted to see you again,
"
she said, making for the morning room.

He followed behind her and shut the door quietly. Surprise etched her face when she turned to look at him.

"I
'
ve already made my bows to Harry and Sir Charles. It
'
s you I came to see, Annabelle, as if you didn
'
t know.
"

"How is he?
"
she asked without preamble, and gestured for him to take a chair close to the one she had selected for herself.

"Sober, celibate, and as miserable as sin, you
'
ll be happy to hear.
"

"That
does not make me happy,
"
she protested faintly.

"Doesn
'
t it?
"

He did not know why a note of recrimination had crept into his voice. It had not been his purpose in coming out of his way to see her to lay everything at
her
door. And he was sure that the thought of effecting a reco
nciliation between the two ill-
starred lovers had never once crossed his mind. Good grief! He was only a younger brother and highly sensible of all the disadvantages attaching to that role.