A Woman Scorned (17 page)

Hands clasped tightly behind his back, Cole inclined his head. “By all means,” he answered with clipped civility. “I have lessons to prepare.”

“Oh, no,” she said, stepping tentatively from the threshold and into the room, as if reluctant to trespass on Cole’s territory. “I meant for all of us to go. Ellen—Miss Cameron—is fetching her cloak.” She looked across the room, where the footman was quietly loading the luncheon tray. “And Stiles, you must come as well. To—to help with the dogs, of course.”

“Oh, I say, that’ll be jolly!” answered Robert. “I shall take my ball, Cousin Cole. That way, we may practice a bit. And my bat, too. Do you think I might make a good bowler? Will you teach me? Will you? I think I might be quite good.”

Stuart came away from the window to stand at Cole’s side. “Let’s do go, sir,” he said softly. “We haven’t been out since we came home from Kildermore. Won’t you come along?”

And so it was that Cole found himself trailing through Grosvenor Square and across Park Lane shortly after one o’clock. Miss Cameron walked at his side, chattering amiably. Ahead of them strolled Jonet, her veil down now. She was flanked by her children, whose hands she held, with the dogs trotting dutifully at her heels. Behind her walked Stiles, holding the leashes. They entered through the gate near Upper Brook Street to find the park almost empty.

Inside, the beds and borders were in full bloom, tulips and daffodils splashing great, glorious swaths of color across the spring grass. Cole looked ahead to see a lone phaeton come wheeling through the gate at Hyde Park Corner. At once, a small brown dog scampered toward them, yapping madly, sending Rogue and Scoundrel into a frenzy of canine indignation. After the dog had disappeared and the collies had calmed, Jonet turned and knelt down to unleash them, her black skirts pooling elegantly on the pathway. In a stern voice, she instructed them to behave, then set them loose to run across the grass.

“May I give you my arm, Miss Cameron?” asked Cole politely, trying to tear his gaze away from Jonet as she rose to shake out her skirts. “I fear this path is not perfectly smooth.”

He looked down to see Miss Cameron blinking uncertainly. Finally, she took his arm, and the group resumed their leisurely promenade. Cole had not realized that his mood was so clearly reflected in his face, but apparently it was. At his elbow, Miss Cameron delicately cleared her throat. “One might get the impression, Captain Amherst,” she said very softly, “that you do not approve of my cousin.”

Curious, Cole stared down at her. “It is hardly my place to approve or disapprove of Lady Mercer,” he calmly responded. “And I cannot imagine my opinion is of consequence to anyone here.”

“Oh, but it is.” Ellen lowered her lashes. “That is to say, Captain, that I daresay I understand how you feel. After all, I’m little more than an impoverished relative myself.”

Cole forbore from pointing out that he was hardly impoverished, nor was he really very much of a relative. It seemed too cruel. “Miss Cameron,” he quietly responded, “I wish you would not demean yourself by—”

“No, no!” She cut him off with a smile. “You must pay me no heed! In truth, I receive an adequate allowance, and despite aunt’s dreadful attempts to marry me off, I manage to live as I please. But I am a little older, and a little more serious than my cousin, so if you find Jonet a little . . . well,
frivolous
, I would simply ask that you remember her situation.”

Cole lifted his brows and stared at her in some amazement. “
Frivolous
, Miss Cameron, is not a word I would ever apply to your cousin,” he responded. For a long moment, neither spoke as they trailed steadily along the path behind the rest of the group. At one point, Cole watched Robert look up at his mother, obviously pleading for permission to romp with the dogs, but his mother shook her head, then reached out to touch the child lightly on the shoulder.

Again forcing his eyes away from Jonet, Cole studied the speeding collies as they made darting forays across the grass. The dogs had clearly suffered from being confined. Now freed, they sped around trees and bushes with blazing energy, tongues dangling and feet flying. Nonetheless, at a single word from Jonet, they would skid to a halt and whirl about, returning to her side with breathless eagerness.

Eventually, the dogs worked their way toward the water, and animal instinct took over as they proceeded to herd the scattered ducks into a cluster away from the pond’s edge. Circling one arm about Stuart’s narrow shoulders as they walked, Jonet lifted her hand to point, and together, they laughed gaily at the sight of the birds, now flapping and quacking their displeasure. A particularly fat drake fluffed himself to full impudence and dived for Scoundrel’s feet, but the old dog calmly paid no heed, continuing in his instinctive efforts to guard his flock.

With measured reluctance, Cole returned his attention to Jonet’s cousin. Paired off with her as he was, he had little choice but to converse, though he had no heart for it. “Tell me, Miss Cameron,” he finally said, the words slipping out before he could curb them, “do you believe the rumors about Lord Mercer’s death?”

On his arm, Miss Cameron’s hand suddenly tightened. “Are you asking me, sir, if Jonet hated her husband enough to kill him? Oh, I know what the gossipmongers say, but no marriage is perfect. How can it be, when marriage benefits men, not women?” Her voice was cool, oddly detached. “My cousin’s pride was wounded, but people rarely kill out of pride.”

“Pride? I am not sure I take your point, ma’am.”

Ellen stared absently toward the Serpentine, which glistened in the distance. “Unfortunately, Jonet married so young, she did not understand that men”—she cut her eyes up at Cole, then blushed—“that men require diversions. Of course it made her angry.”

“What exactly are you saying, Miss Cameron?”

Jonet’s cousin clutched at him a little awkwardly and tilted her chin up as if to study the light clouds that were scuttling across a surprisingly blue sky. “You are the scholar, Captain Amherst. What was it Congreve said? ‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned’? Something like that?”

“ ‘Nor hell a Fury like a woman scorned,’ ” finished Cole softly. “But that logic would imply that Lady Mercer loved her husband when she married him, and by all accounts, she did not, did she?”

Miss Cameron smiled tightly. “No, but she tried to.” Abruptly, she came to a halt on the pathway. “But what idle talk this is! I believe you have tempted me to speak too boldly, sir. Jonet would never harm anyone, no matter how enraged she became. It is simply not within her nature to act with such . . . cold calculation.”

“Nor with such violence, I hope?”

Miss Cameron’s eyes flew open wide. “Why, certainly! That, too. Her temper is very bad, to be sure, but being possessed of a bad temper is hardly a sin. Or if it is, then one must suppose hell to be very crowded indeed.”

Suddenly, Cole realized that Jonet had stopped on the path and was staring over her shoulder at him, her look intense but inscrutable. Strangely frustrated by something he could not name, Cole deliberately held her gaze, but her eyes did not waver. Finally, Cole gave her a little nod of acknowledgement and resumed his pace. Miss Cameron was obliged to come along.

The Serpentine was very near now. They drew to a halt beside Jonet, who looked anxiously at her cousin. “Ellen, the boys would very much like to walk along the water. What do you think? I do not wish to let them, but I daresay I am being foolish.”

Beside her, Robert gave a little whine. “It’s just a
pond
, Mama! Look, there are some other boys! The ducks are loose now, and I see a swan. A black one!” He turned a plaintive gaze on Miss Cameron. “Cousin Ellen will come with us.”

Jonet shot her son a chiding look, but Ellen chimed in. “Yes, of course I shall.”

“Do you mind?” asked Jonet softly. She gave her cousin a veiled look. “It would be very good of you, Ellen, since I should like to speak privately with Captain Amherst for a moment. I shall send Stiles along with you, of course.”

Stuart and Robert shouted their happy agreement and set off with Ellen Cameron and the footman. The collies jerked up their heads, then dashed forth to greet them. Jonet pointed toward a long, low bench under a small copse of trees. “Will you sit with me, Cole?”

He nodded, and Jonet strode toward the bench, her slender figure graceful, her narrow shoulders rigid. Cole followed her, watching the black silk of her skirt hem trail over the tender spring grass, and trying to suppress the sudden, incomprehensible surge of longing that swept over him.

Lust
. Yes—that was exactly what he felt. And something more.
Frustration
.
Apprehension
.
And yes
,
a good deal of admiration
. Cole shook his head. The feelings which Jonet Rowland inspired in him were exasperating. Inconceivable and irrational, too. Did she have this effect on everyone? No wonder she drove men mad.

Good God, he was angry with the woman, as he had been since the first moment he had entered her drawing room, days ago. And yet, she engendered in him every protective instinct and all the masculine emotions he possessed, with desire foremost among them. Burning with a sudden shame, Cole ducked beneath the low tree limbs, the leaves brushing coolly against the heat of his skin.

Jonet sat down, then reached gracefully up to fold back the veil of her hat. Cole took a seat at the far end of the bench, and as if she could read his thoughts, a flash of humor lit Jonet’s face, then just as quickly disappeared. Slowly, she turned to look at him through eyes that were shrewd, but not cold. “I daresay that I owe you an apology, sir,” she said, her voice low and husky. “My behavior this morning at breakfast was inexcusable.”

“We both behaved rather badly, I fear,” Cole calmly replied. Good God, he had called the woman a
shrew
! Yes, he had meant it, but now the insult seemed so much uglier. He was ashamed of his ungentlemanly behavior.

Jonet gave a sad little shake of her head. “It was my fault. I fear that I spoke very harshly—and a little irrationally—this morning at breakfast. I hope you will forgive me for . . . for losing my temper.”

Cole fixed her with a knowing look. “It was rather more than your temper which you lost, ma’am,” he said pointedly. “Indeed, one might be excused for thinking you were frightened.”

Jonet gave him another of her humorless smiles. “I believe my husband was murdered, Cole,” she said levelly, looking away to stare across the wide swath of green that separated them from the children. “Would that not be enough to set anyone’s nerves on edge?”

“
On edge
, perhaps. But not over the edge,” Cole responded. He stared at her unflinchingly, determined to understand her. He dropped his voice to a more intimate tone. “Have you any intention of telling me, Jonet, just what it is which has you so thoroughly terrified? It might be better if you trusted me just a little.”

She gave her head a small, unsteady shake. “No. I mean . . . pray do not try to change the subject. I merely wish to apologize. I was rude, and I said something which obviously angered you. I do not perfectly understand, but I regret it nonetheless.”

Cole refused to back down, more anxious than ever to learn what was in her mind, his earlier anger all but forgotten. “I think I have a right to know what it is you fear, Jonet,” he coolly responded. “You are quite obviously worried about your children. Do you not think that I, of all people, ought to be taken into your confidence? Or do you still imagine I might carry tales to my uncle?” His voice ended on a bitter note.

Jonet’s eyes flared with indignation. “I have no notion what you might do. I confess, you strike me as an honorable man, far more so than I ever expected. But I simply cannot afford to trust you when the only things which matter to me are at stake.”

“I think you are afraid of Lord James Rowland.” It was a statement, not a question.

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. “My husband is
dead
, sir,” she repeated, her voice hollow and haunted. “And your beloved uncle would like nothing better than to see me hanged for it! Yes, I am afraid of James! Would not you be? Particularly if your children were all which stood between him and the title which he has no doubt coveted all his life?”

His lips tightly compressed, Cole shook his head. “James would not do such a thing—”

“Your opinion is blinded by affection, sir!” she cried. “Someone
has
done it, and there is no one who has more to gain.”

Cole looked across the bench at her. Beneath the black silk of her dress, Lady Mercer’s thin body shook like a reed in the wind. “Oh, Jonet,” he said softly, sliding down the length of the bench to take her trembling hand in his. “That is why you are afraid to allow the children out, is it not? And why you have dogs and footmen and guards all about your house? But James would harm neither his brother nor his nephews. I am blinded by nothing. I see him for what he is—a pompous old fool—but in truth, I have seen him do nothing that would lead me to believe he covets the title.” Cole gave her hand a little squeeze.

“Indeed?” asked Jonet sharply, but she did not draw back her hand. “Then what of Edmund? He is a nasty piece of work if ever I saw one—and his wife is little better. Do you defend them as well?”

“No,” admitted Cole softly, his gaze fixed blindly on the water. To the left, an obviously courting couple strolled along the water, seemingly intent on no one but themselves. Absently, Cole found himself studying them. They were approaching the boys, but they seemed to pose no risk. “No,” he said at last. “I cannot defend them. Edmund and his wife are all that you say.”

Jonet stared at him, shock overcoming her fear. “I cannot believe you would admit that.”

“I admit only that they are untrustworthy,” he amended. “Edmund has not the guts to commit violence. I am . . . I am
sure
of it.”

Jonet elevated her chin stubbornly, and the breeze caught the fine mesh of her veil, lifting it gently away from her hat. The smell of honeysuckle tinged with Jonet’s own rich scent drifted on the air, teasing at him. “Of course you would trust them,” she whispered. “But I cannot.”