A Rose in Winter (45 page)

A moment of weighty silence passed as Erienne, Lord Saxton, and even Farrell stared in astonishment at the blustering man. Then the lord of the manor contemplated his lady, and when the blue-violet eyes raised to his, they were wide with uncertainty.

Stuart felt a need to clear his own throat. "I believe we were discussing Farrell's shooting ability." He faced the younger man as he continued. "I know something about firearms myself, and I think you'd be interested in my collection. After we've taken some nourishment, I'll show you a few pieces I have. About ten or twelve years ago, Waters made a bell-muzzle pistol with a spring-operated bayonet. Tis a most remarkable weapon."

Farrell displayed more enthusiasm than he had in the past two months as he replied, "Do you think I could shoot something like that?"

"It might set you back on your heels today, but if you worked at strengthening your arm, in time you might be able to handle it. Of course, you will need a clear head and a steady hand."

The day aged, and the winter winds blew across the moors, sweeping the snow into sculptured drifts that resembled frozen waves in a sea of white and preventing the passage of the coach. Fires were fed to warm the manor as night approached, and oil lamps provided light as the guests were directed to their chambers. When the manor grew still, Erienne pulled a thin wrapper over her gown and went to rap lightly on Lord Saxton's door.

"Milord, 'tis Erienne," she called softly through the thick, wooden plank. "Might I come in?"

"A moment please, my love," he answered.

After a while the slow, ponderous footsteps drew near the door. It was opened to reveal her husband in a long, red velvet dressing robe. The collar was pulled up close about his neck. The mask and gloves were in place, and the heavily shod boot was visible beneath the hem.

"Am I disturbing you, milord?" she asked timidly.

"Aye, madam, but not in the manner you mean."

Though his statement bewildered her, she went on to explain her reason for coming. "I wanted to thank you for what you did for Farrell today."

Lord Saxton stepped back and swept his arm inward in a silent invitation for her to enter. Erienne complied and went to stand before the fireplace. Unaware of how clearly the light silhouetted her body through her garments, she stretched forth her hands to the blazing warmth. Her husband took a chair in the shadows, where he could enjoy the long-limbed, full-bosomed beauty of her without compromising his stoic demeanor.

Erienne spoke softly over her shoulder, knowing he was there but unable to see him. "I saw a spark of life in Farrell today that I was afraid would never be seen again. Why, he actually laughed at dinner."

"Your father is blind to your brother's needs."

"You put it kindly, Stuart, and if father persists in undermining Farrell's confidence, my brother will be no better than Ben was." She shook her head sadly and blinked at the tears blurring her vision. "Poor Ben, he was such a pitiful old man." She sniffed and quickly brushed at the wetness on her cheek. "Some of the people in Mawbry will miss him."

A question came from the shadows. "Why did you let your father believe I was with you all night?"

Erienne gave a tiny shrug. "I saw no need in explaining our ... our arrangement. I know you didn't murder Ben, just as I have come to the determination that you didn't kill Timmy Sears. Those were deeds done by a coward, and if I've learned one thing about you since our marriage, milord, it is the fact that you are no coward." She laughed. "If there is a coward in this family, 'tis I."

He spoke in a soft, rasping whisper. "Thank you for your trust, madam, and I will take heart in your use of the word 'family.' Perhaps sometime in the near future we'll become a family in truth."

Dubiously Erienne faced her husband, whose breath halted as the outline of her was boldly betrayed through the diaphanous clothing. His gaze fell to where the inward curve of her thighs joined, and in fascination he watched the play of firelight through her limbs as she moved toward him.

"Stuart?" Erienne stopped before him, and he dragged his eyes upward to meet her smiling face. "Thank you, Stuart."

Leaning forward, she pressed her cheek briefly against the side of the leather mask and then fled the room in anxious haste. It was a long time before his lordship could regulate his breathing and cool the fire in his loins.

The snow left as quickly as it came, and Avery Fleming went back to his cottage the following day, no richer than he had come. He had found no opportunity to approach either his daughter or her husband on the matter of a loan. Thus he glumly took his leave of the hall. Farrell, however, was much taken with his host's skill with weapons and stayed to end out the week. He felt no inclination to indulge himself with strong drink as he practiced with the firearms. Though loading proved difficult, with the aid of his teeth, the clamp of his thighs, and a hand that he had heretofore considered useless, he managed to do it without aid, mainly because Lord Saxton refused to give it.

By the time he was ready to depart, Farrell had taken on the appearance of a new man. At Erienne's insistence, he soaked in a steaming hot tub while his clothes were washed and tidied. He sat in front of the hearth clutching a sheet around him while she trimmed his hair, shaved the light but unsightly fuzz from his chin, and blithely ignored his protests. His shirt and stock came back to him crisply starched and neatly mended, and for the first time in several weeks his boots were blacked and polished.

On his return to the village, there were many in Mawbry who didn't recognize him when he stepped down from the Saxton carriage. His drinking cronies whistled in jovial admiration but loudly groaned their disappointment when they found he had no coin to spend. He won hoots of disbelief at his declaration that he would be seeking work to occupy himself, and then he astounded them further when he announced that in about a thrice of weeks he would be visiting Saxton Hall again at the invitation of Lord Saxton himself.

A trio of days remained before the Talbots' ball, and Erienne was still much in a quandary over her final selection of attire. She longed to wear the emeralds, but the gown that set the massive necklace off at its best was also the one that liberally displayed her bosom. The idea of entertaining Nigel Talbot and his guests with such an exhibition was, of course, unthinkable. Her other gowns were rich enough, but they were either the wrong color, or the neckline made the jeweled piece look clumsy. Disheartening as it was to put aside the idea of wearing the necklace, it seemed the only choice left to her.

Summoned to Lord Saxton's bedchamber, she was more than a little nervous as she knocked on his door. Immediately his voice came from within, bidding her enter. Drawing in a ragged breath, she turned the knob and braved the lion's den.

The first thing that met her eye was a huge dressmaker's box tied with ribbons on the bed. Lord Saxton was just rising from his desk. He had obviously been working at his accounts, for a ledger was open in front of him, and he was tugging a last glove into place.

"Come in, my dear. I have something for you."

The tension ebbed from her body, and she managed a more relaxed smile as she closed the door behind her.

He swept a hand toward the box. "Bundy went to Mawbry to meet the coach from London and brought this back. Anne sent it... at my request."

"But what..."

"Open it." His voice was soft despite its roughness.

Erienne felt no different than a child surprised with a gift. It was a warm, suspenseful, pleasant experience, and she prolonged it as much as she could as she carefully undid the ribbons and lifted the lid. Then she stared in stunned amazement at what lay beneath, afraid to reach out and touch the fragile lace or the rich ivory satin that made up the gown.

" 'Tis beautiful, milord." She looked up at her husband, her eyes soft and tender, and slowly shook her head. "You have given me so much, how can I accept more when I have failed..."

"I do what pleases me, madam," he interrupted, "and it pleases me to see my wife in clothes equal to her beauty. Do you like it?"

Erienne smiled and reached out ever so carefully to lift the garment from the box. "My lord, you know a woman's mind too well and what pleases one even more. How could I not? Tis the loveliest gown I've ever seen, much less owned."

She held the dress before her and went to assay the effect in the tall mirror that stood in the dressing room. The satin bodice was covered with lace, the scallops of which overlapped onto the bosom. The lace sleeves were massively full, ending just below the elbow, and were attached to the bodice beneath the arms to leave the shoulders bare. A wide sash of fresh green was tied about the waist and trailed in streamers down the back of the lace and ivory satin skirt, falling to the short train.

Lord Saxton spoke from behind her. "I left the details to Anne, and as usual she has not disappointed me." He leaned on his cane and inclined his head back toward the bed as his wife faced him. "There is something else in the box I thought you might need."

Erienne laid the gown aside and went to look inside the box. On a voluminous cloak of green velvet lay a pair of white silk stockings, the sheerest of shifts, and a pair of cream satin slippers adorned with silver-filigreed buckles.

"You've thought of everything, milord."

His answer came after a brief nod. "I tried to, madam."

Chapter Fifteen

THE afternoon of the grand affair Erienne sat at her dressing table as Tessie painstakingly arranged her hair in an elegant coiffure. Her corset had been cinched tightly over the shift, pushing her bosom upward until its fullness strained against the gossamer cloth. The transparency of the chemise made no pretense at hiding the softly veiled peaks with a bit of lace or intricate embroidery. Indeed, the garment seemed intent on displaying every detail of her woman's body, more so than any she had previously owned.

The gown had been carefully spread upon the bed to await its donning, while the necklace lay closer at hand on the table. All was in readiness, and equally blended portions of tension and excitement grew in Erienne's breast as the hours dwindled rapidly away. She greatly distrusted Claudia Talbot to treat her husband in a credible manner, and scenes of imagined confrontations formed in her mind. She did not doubt Lord Saxton's ability to handle the ridicule that was sure to come. Rather, it was her own temper that worried her.

With a question, Tessie drew her notice to a matter more pertinent to the moment. The two of them were intent upon discussing how the last curl should lay in the intricately coiled mass and once again failed to note Lord Saxton's entry into the chamber.

"Are you almost finished?" the haunting, husky voice asked, startling them both and bringing their attention around to where he stood just beyond the arras. Tessie quickly fastened the curl and patted it in place, then curtsied. "Aye, milord."

His gloved hand flicked in a gesture of silent dismissal, and the girl hurried from the chamber. Leaning on the cane, he laboriously entered the bathing alcove and stepped behind his wife. The blank mask considered her image in the mirror, and though Erienne could not see his eyes, she felt the bold touch of his gaze against her thinly veiled bosom.

Reaching out, Lord Saxton slowly ran a gloved finger along her spine, moving it from her nape downward to the top of her shift, then upward again until his hand rested on her shoulder.

"Madam, if some doddering ancient viewed you this moment, 'twould surely send his heart into its final palpitations."

The corners of her mouth lifted in a soft smile. "You tease, Stuart. I am just a simple maid."

A low chuckle came from the leather helm. "Aye, so simple that when that darling, pampered child, Claudia, first sets eyes on you, she will be seized with such an apoplectic shade of jealousy that all the froggies in the marsh will groan in envy."

His wife laughed and reached up to her shoulder to squeeze his hand in gratitude. "Milord, you are either far too gracious, or the stress of your infirmities has weakened your mind. If anyone should admire me tonight, 'twill only be because of the finery I wear."

She rose to her feet, and he followed her to the fireplace, where she sat and lifted the hem of her shift high above her knees. From the secrecy of the mask he admired the long, sleek trimness of her limbs as she donned her stockings. When she leaned over to smooth the silk leggings, he caught his breath, for she allowed him a most tantalizing view of her bosom.

"I have decided, madam, that you shall not be shirked in this hour but rather be presented as a single, perfect bloom that would set them all to shame. That brings me to the reason I have sought a word with you."

The muted half whisper bore a note that made Erienne halt and look up at him in close attention.

"It has been heavy on my mind that from what should be an affair of gaiety, you may receive much abuse because of me and what others see of me." Though strongly spoken, the words came slowly, as if he chose them carefully. "I have therefore come upon a manner wherein the viper's fangs are drawn and the somewhat macabre intentions of Miss Talbot and her retinue are set awry. I have arranged an escort for you, a man of such formidable reputation that on his arm, no one will dare harass you." He held up a hand to silence her protest. "In this matter I am firm, and as your husband, I bid you see my cause as I explain it. I will countenance no argument. The man should be arriving forthwith, and though you may have fears, and I surely understand that you might, he has assured me that he will escort you with every care that I myself would give."