A Scandalous Marriage (22 page)

The doctor shrugged. “I like to believe her heart is in the right place, but I was relieved when Kirkeby agreed to hire Mrs. Oswald. She was an apothecary’s widow and knew a thing or two not only about sickness but also about the little tricks the mind can play on each of us. I’d worked with her husband and respected him. Of course, when he died, he left her penniless.”

“So, you were helping her out, too.”

“It seemed a good match,” Dr. Partridge conceded. “But I didn’t expect her to have the impact on Kirkeby that she did. Arrie wasn’t ever a great beauty, but she was a handsome woman and a comfortable one. I know you can’t imagine it now, young buck that you are, but when a man reaches a certain age, beauty no longer holds appeal. Comfort, on the other hand, is priceless.”

“Apparently Mrs. Oswald was more than just a comfort to Grandfather.”

The doctor agreed. “I have known him for over forty years. He became a new man within a week of being around Arrie. It was a miraculous transformation.” He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a piece of flannel he pulled from his pocket. “If a man like Kirkeby can fall in love at his age, any of us can.”

“He really fell in love?”

“Head over heels like any green youth. They were even lovers. If you have inherited your grandfather’s stamina, then your reputation is well deserved. Arrie confided to me that she was a happy woman.”

His comment made heat creep up Devon’s neck. He was uncomfortable discussing his grandfather’s, and his, sex life. He changed the subject. “How did she die?”

“Suddenly. It must have been her heart. She passed on in her sleep right there beside Kirkeby, in bed.

He was distraught. I attended the death of your parents and his wife. I’ve never seen him like he was that day over Arrie.”

Devon asked the question most on his mind. “If he begins to eat and follow your directions, will he recover?”

“I don’t see why not. True, he’s not a young man. His heart or liver or kidneys could go at any time. But he could also live another ten years or more. Certainly he is stubborn enough to do that.”

“That’s an understatement.” Devon held out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You are welcome, my lord.”

The footman opened the double doors to the marquess’s room and stepped out into the hall. “Dr.

Partridge, Lord Kirkeby has asked me to tell you, and I quote, to stop jawboning and get yourself in here pell-mell.”

Partridge smiled. “Kirkeby is
vastly
improving.” He walked down the hall to answer his patient’s summons.

Devon watched him go, realizing he had another problem. He wanted his grandfather to improve. Ben’s presence made Devon hungry for a connection with his family—especially if both he and his grandfather passed to a stage where they might be able to understand each other better.

However, that meant that Leah must be willing to keep secrets—something Devon wasn’t certain she would do… unless he gave her something else to worry over.

He opened the door to their bedroom.

The drapes were still pulled tight. The fire had died. His wife slept in the middle of the bed, Ben cradled close in spite of the crib being close at hand beside the bed.

Her worn, bedraggled petticoat had been slipped over one shoulder as if she’d fed Ben and fallen to sleep. Devon’s full view of the exposed breast was blocked by his son’s head.

“Lucky, lucky little Ben,” he whispered. He pulled the sheet up over his wife even as a knock sounded on the door.

He opened the door to let in the footmen, who were carrying buckets of water. One of the footmen removed a copper tub from a closet, while another rebuilt the fire. Then they filled the tub with fresh warm water.

“Is there anything else, my lord?”

“No, that is enough,” Devon answered. He waited for the door to close behind them before walking over to the bed. Leah must really be tired to sleep through that. He leaned over and softly called her name.

She frowned, wanting to push him away. “No, no, Leah, it is time to wake up and start to keep your end of the bargain.”

“What bargain?” she mumbled.

“The one where you offered to be the willing wife.” He carefully picked up Ben and transferred him to the crib.

Leah rolled over, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of brownish red nipple, before shrugging her chemise strap back up so that it didn’t interfere with her movement. “I’m tired,” she murmured. “I can’t get up.”

“But you must, Leah. We agreed.”

She opened one disenchanted eye. “I can’t do
that
now. My body isn’t healed. Besides, doing
that
is the furthermost from my mind right now. I want to sleep.”

“Charming euphemism,
”that‘
“ Devon answered. ”You make it sound like a disagreeable chore instead of a slice of heaven.“

She grunted her response.

Obviously Draycutt had been a clumsy lover, a thought that did not displease Devon. Gracing her with an eye-opening thump on the rump, he said, “Doing
that
isn’t what I had in mind.”

“What did you have in mind?” She sounded irritated, grumpier.

“Why, wife,” he said cheerfully, “I wish you to wash my back.”

He had her attention now.

Leah didn’t understand why Devon was so wide awake—or expecting her to do the inane and wash his back, which she wouldn’t.

She frowned. “I
need
sleep,” she argued. And it was all his fault, too. That kiss he’d given her had kept her awake most of the night. Who would have thought a simple kiss could have such power? Even now, the thought of it spread through her sleep-deprived limbs and set her blood humming.

“You can sleep this afternoon,” Devon replied, yanking the careless knot out of his neckcloth. He tossed the article of clothing aside and started pulling the hem of his shirt up over his head. “I need my back washed now.”

Leah tossed her head proudly. “I am not your valet.” She picked up her feather pillow and puffed it up a bit. “I’m going to attempt to go back to sleep, if you will be courteous enough to let me,” she added with a hint of sarcasm.

“I can’t,” he said easily. He threw the shirt over the footboard. She frowned at it. He was usually tidier.

But then she had another concern as he began unbuttoning his breeches. She hugged the pillow protectively in front of her. “Can’t you do that behind the privacy screen?”

“Then I’d have to walk naked to the tub and I’d catch cold. You don’t want me to be cold, do you?”

He unfastened another button.

Leah averted her gaze, finding something very interesting in the weave of the bedspread. “What I meant is that you should move the privacy screen over to the tub. That way the heat from the hearth will keep you warm.”

“Well, I’m not
that
cold.” The mattress gave as he sat on the edge of it.

She slid a horrified glance in his direction, suddenly concerned that he might pounce on her. But all he was doing was pulling off his boots and— thankfully!—he still wore his pants.

She clambered to the other side of the bed and put her legs over the edge. “It’s time I got up anyway. I should take Ben into the nursery.” Of course, she realized belatedly, Devon was between herself and the crib.

“Don’t worry,” he said, standing up. “Ben is happily asleep right where he is.” With those words, he pulled his breeches down.

Leah feared she would swoon. She whirled around, but not until she’d had a glimpse of a generous expanse of flesh. “You don’t wear smallclothes,” she whispered.

“Why should I?”

“To be decent, and here—” She started to turn, thought differently of it, and stared instead at a point on the wall. “Think of the baby, Devon. You can’t let him see you naked.”

“Ben doesn’t care. He’s sound asleep, dreaming whatever dreams babies have. Besides, I’ve seen his bum several times over the last few days. It’s only fair that he can look at mine.”

The next Leah heard was the gentle splash of bathwater as Devon stepped into the tub. At last, she released her breath. “I’m going to take the baby into the nursery,” she repeated. She turned and started around the bed, careful to keep her gaze on the floor lest she glimpse something she’d rather not see.

“Ben is fine,” Devon told her firmly. “However,
I
need the soap. Will you hand a bar to me? It is in that basket in front of the fire. Grandfather always insists on warm towels when he bathes, and the servants do a nice job with it.”

It was on the tip of Leah’s tongue to tell him he could get his own soap, but then he would probably climb out naked to do it. With as much ill grace as she could manage, she stomped over to the basket and pawed her way through three warm, carefully rolled towels to find a complement of scented soaps.

She grabbed the first bar and held it out to him without going around the privacy screen.

“I can’t reach that,” he complained.

Lack of sleep made her irritable. She’d had enough games. With a boldness she didn’t know she possessed, she stepped behind the screen and dropped the soap into the tub.

“Ow!” Devon complained without heat.

“Did I hurt you?” she drawled, so frustrated with him that his nakedness no longer mattered.

“No, you splashed water in my eye.” He pretended to squint. “Now I can’t see the soap. You’ll have to find it for me.”

“You’re joking.” She would have marched away, but he reached out and wrapped his wet arm around her legs. The water started to seep through her petticoat as he pulled her back toward the tub.

“You seem to see well enough now,” she noted, relieved to discover that the water hid the embarrassing parts of his body from her view.

He set aside all pretense. “Come, Leah. You promised last night that if I met your conditions, you would be a wife to me. It is not much I ask. Just a little lather, a little caress. Or did you not mean to keep the promise you made last night?”

“I meant it, but I didn’t think you would expect me to bathe you.”

“Not
all
of me,” he replied reasonably. “Just my back.”

It didn’t sound like such an outlandish request.

“Please,” he added.

There was a flash of mischief in his eye, one she found particularly endearing. When she’d been alone and frightened and had wanted to think of other things, she’d remembered Devon’s roguish twinkle.

“All right,” she agreed. “But
just
your back.” She knelt down.

“How about a kiss?” He found the bar of soap in the bottom of the tub and offered it to her.

The reminder of last night brought sudden heat to her face. “No kisses.”

His hopeful smile flattened into a comical frown. She couldn’t help laughing at him, and he smiled. He leaned forward, offering his back.

Leah lathered the soap. She sniffed the air. “What is this scent?”

“Sandalwood. I import it from India. Did you know,” he said conversationally, “it takes thirty years for one sandalwood tree to produce a growth that will yield the oil in the soap?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she said. She began rubbing her soapy hand over the warm skin of his back.

His eyes closed, and he practically purred with satisfaction. Beneath her fingers, she could feel the strength in his muscles. Draycutt had not been as strong. Or had shoulders as broad.

“Why do you act like you’ve never seen a man naked before, Leah?”

She froze. Had he the ability to read her thoughts? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“That’s
what I mean. Your missishness. One would think you’d never seen a naked man before.”

Leah slowly swirled the soap across his back. “I haven’t,” she admitted reluctantly.

Devon leaned back to stare her in the face. “What about Draycutt?”

“I never saw him—” She paused. “Completely naked. Well, except for halves of him.”

If Devon had laughed, she might have thrown the soap at him and vanished for good. But he didn’t.

Instead, he gently pulled her around, his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve never held your lover in your arms? Or felt the simple pleasure of having his flesh against yours?”

The image his words conjured was something completely different than what had happened to her. In fact, the picture Devon created seemed almost wicked… in a good way. Leah swallowed. “No.”

“Then how did he make love to you?” he asked bluntly.

“The first time?”

“There was more than once?” Devon asked, a tinge of jealousy creeping into his tone.

“Three times. But I only liked it once because…” Maybe she shouldn’t discuss this. She wasn’t proud of the memories.

“Because why?” he prodded.

“Because I thought I should.” Her face glowed with hot embarrassment.

“Leah,” he chided. “Don’t be ashamed. Not with me. Remember, we agreed we’ve both made mistakes. You caught me by surprise, that’s all. I would have thought that Draycutt would have shown you what it means to make love.”

“We did that,” she answered abruptly.

“Where?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because it confounds my imagination. There is a way of doing these sorts of things. Don’t tell me he cornered you in a garden. Not even a dairy maid deserves that treatment.”

Scandalized by the rude way he’d described it, she could only nod. That is exactly what had happened.

Suddenly, she wanted to go hide, to escape the humiliation of the moment, but Devon caught her wrist before she could run and wouldn’t let her leave.

“Wait,” he ordered. “It’s not your fault, Leah. You didn’t know. Is that the only way the two of you ever made love?”

“No,” she confessed miserably. “I mean, twice we did it that way. I did not mind the first. In fact, I’m afraid, I enjoyed it. It made me feel as if I was taking my own fate into my hands. I told myself I was in love and that everything would turn out like one of those romantic novels. The second time was not pleasant at all, especially when I saw him flirting with another woman. I started to avoid him, but then Meg, my maid, realized I was pregnant so I had to see him to tell him.”

Ashamed, she had trouble looking Devon in the eye. “I asked him to meet me at Whitney’s. I arranged for us to use the back room we used to meet in. He thought I was looking for another tryst—” She drew a deep breath and released it before saying, “And it happened there.”