Always Come Home (Emerson 1) (20 page)

He’d spent time with his men. Perhaps too much, for
it was a rare night even now when he did not wake up at least once with
thoughts of the heroes who never returned home to their sweethearts, wives and
children. He spoke to few people about his memories and, somehow, could not
envision doing so with Miss Babcock, no matter how many years they were wed.

But he could talk to Ava about it. He could talk to
Ava about anything.

“My lord?”

Colin realized he hadn’t said anything for a
significant amount of time. But that’s what thoughts of Ava did to him. “My
apologies, Miss Babcock. My mind wanders from time to time. Are you looking
forward to your time in London later this year?”

“Yes I am, though Miss Patton says both Myra and I
have a great deal to learn if we wish to do well in Society.”

“Miss Patton certainly has strong opinions, does she
not? I am sure you and Miss Myra will do quite well.”

“Will Lady Rosemary have her come-out soon?”

“Unfortunately, I believe she will not do so for at
least another year. She seems perfectly content to remain at home with Lady
Leticia, though now that Miss Conway is here to look after our youngest sister,
perhaps Rose will consider spending more time in London.”

“I can think of nothing better than sharing my
London debut with your sister.”

“Perhaps Miss Conway can convince Rose to take her
bow, after all.”

“You seem to hold Miss Conway in high regard.”

“Do I?”

“You mentioned her twice in as many sentences. And
when I played backgammon with Lady Leticia the other day she told me how you met
Miss Conway at a house party, then brought her home.”

Colin inwardly groaned. He would need to have a
talk with Letty on better ways to discuss Miss Conway’s arrival at the dower
house. “I assure you it is not what you are thinking. Miss Conway was the governess
for the sisters of an acquaintance. Her employment situation was not what it
should be, so I hired her to teach Letty.”

“Yet you already had a governess.”

“Miss Patton had vacated the position.”

“You did not know that at the time.”

“Is there a purpose to your interrogation?” While
Miss Babcock had asked all of her questions in the same sweet voice she’d been
using the past hour, Colin could not help but be reminded of his time
interrogating prisoners of war.

“Pray forgive me, my lord. I certainly did not
intend for my questions to be taken as anything other than an interest in your
humanitarian efforts. I have heard of your badly disfigured valet. You are
obviously a man who feels compelled to help the needy.”

“Actually, it is Stemple who has been of invaluable
assistance to me. He is most capable and a valued friend. But thank you, Miss
Babcock, for attributing admirable qualities to me. I find I never have
enough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Lady Leticia I would read with
her. I do not wish to be late.”

“Of course not,” said Miss Babcock, who nonetheless
looked irritated that he would leave so soon. “Pray give my best to both your
sisters. They are such pleasant companions.”

“Yes, they are. Good day, Miss Babcock.”

“Until we meet again, my lord.”

As Colin made his way back home through the snow, he
was not quite certain why he was so out of sorts. Each time he was in Miss
Babcock’s presence he was reminded anew of her beauty and exquisite manners.
She would fit in well among the matrons of the
ton
, though some would be
jealous of her looks and others would find fault with her lineage while envying
the blunt that came with it.

And though they had, of course, never discussed it,
he had a feeling Miss Babcock could settle happily into a typical
ton
marriage where the husband and wife had separate interests to the point of
taking lovers. He would want her to wait until after she delivered the heir
and the spare, but then he would have no problem with her taking as many lovers
as she wished, provided she was discreet, just as he would be.

Then he thought of being married to Ava. There was
no way in hell he would ever allow her to take a lover, nor would he ever want
to take one himself. The very idea of the two of them involved with others was
ludicrous. It would destroy his very being to even think of her with another
man.

No, their marriage would be quite unfashionable for
he would keep her on the estate with him except for when he had to go to town
for his service in the House of Lords. Even then, he couldn’t see himself
subjecting her to the pettiness of London ballrooms. They would likely hole up
in their townhouse, make love, read and make love again. Perhaps he would
write her another poem. She seemed to like the last one well enough.

But then, he remembered. There was no townhouse.
No home at all. When next he was called to Lords there was no place for him to
stay because there was no money.

Damn the carelessness which had led him to this
position. How he wished it could be different. But that’s all he had now.
Empty wishes and dreams. And you couldn’t raise a family on those.

Victor lay awake as he so often did. It was
impossible to fall asleep with Maude just down the hall. He had to distract
his mind or he would end up taking himself in hand once again, dreaming of
making love to her. He was a hopeless, besotted fool.

He took some comfort in the fact that he wasn’t the
only one in the house. Both Lord Ridgeway and Miss Conway were in love, though
at present their situation seemed only slightly less hopeless than his own.
When Lord Ridgeway had returned from the manor house that afternoon he’d holed
up in the library yet again. When Stemple had taken him tea, the financial ledgers
were open, yet pushed aside. No doubt Lord Ridgeway had been trying to make
the numbers add up in a way that would allow him to wed Miss Conway.

His lordship was still sending queries to publishers
and broadsheets and anxiously awaiting a favorable response. He said he’d have
another package ready to be sent with the morning post. That, of course, had
made Stemple feel guilty about not posting Miss Conway’s employment queries. He
knew Lord Ridgeway did not want Miss Conway to leave, but Stemple could
understand why she would wish to do so. He himself dreaded the day when Maude
fell in love with someone. He could not bear to be there, though he wanted her
to be happy.

Maude. Lovely, sweet Maude.

There was a knock on his door. It was probably Lord
Ridgeway, with the packet for the post. Stemple donned his dressing gown, then
opened the door only to find Maude standing there.

She was wearing a dressing gown over what appeared
to be a white cotton nightrail, along with woolen socks. Stemple couldn’t see
any more of her than he could when she was dressed for work. Yet, she was there
in her night clothes and his imagination was running amok.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve come to inquire about
the salve.”

At first her words did not register with him. “The
salve?”

“Yes, the salve I gave you before we left Clayton’s.
For your scars.”

“Yes,” he said, standing there dumbly. “I still
have it.”

“Good,” she said. She remained there for a moment.
“May I come in?”

“Oh! Of course.” He ushered her into his sitting
room, then looked around to see how she would view it. Everything was neat and
in its proper place. It was part of his military training to ensure everything
was put away. Not that he had all that many belongings. His room was devoid
of any knick-knacks or feminine touches. He kept the pen the earl had given
him in a place of honor on his bedside table, along with the journal Lady Rosemary
had found for him. They were both next to the pot of salve Maude had made.

The salve.

“I have the salve in the…” He gestured to his
bedchamber, unable to saying the word “bed” in her presence.

Maude nodded. “Has it done any good? The salve?”

“I haven’t had the chance to use it yet.” In fact,
he’d wanted to keep it intact. It was his most prized possession. A gift so
considerate that he could not bear to think it would one day be used up. He
wanted it to last forever, just as it would always remain in his heart.

“It won’t do you any good if you don’t use it,” said
Maude. “Let me put some on you.”

She walked toward his bedchamber, stopping at the threshold,
as if some barrier were there. But after a moment’s hesitation, she entered
his bedchamber, looking around her.

“It’s on the table,” said Victor, as he followed her
in.
Good Lord
, she was in his bedchamber, the place he’d dreamt of her
being. And she wanted to put the salve on him, which would require her touching
him. The very thought made him weak at the knees.

“Perhaps, you should sit and let me rub this on your
shoulder,” said Maude, her voice quivering just a bit.

He had to get a hold of himself before he fell to
his knees and begged her to stay. Not to have relations. Just to continue
talking to him in this room, dressed as she was. Then he realized just what
she was asking. “Maude, you do not wish to see my shoulder. The right side of
my body is disfigured down to my waist.”

She lifted her chin. “The only thing I am concerned
about is making you feel better. As I told you, this salve helped my sister’s
scars so they didn’t hurt so much. I believe it can do the same thing for
you. I assure you that the sight will not affect me other than to feel bad
about what you went through.”

“I do not wish for anyone’s pity,” he said softly.

“I won’t give you none. I want to help you, but it
appears you’re too proud or stubborn to let me. Now, are you going to sit down
and bare your shoulder or do you want to waste this salve?”

He thought about refusing, but then she would
leave. So, Victor sat on the bed, turned away from her and slowly bared his
shoulder. He was exceedingly nervous for two reasons. One was that he didn’t
want her to turn away from him in horror. Or, really, in any manner. He did
not want to spoil this moment.

He was also nervous to have the woman he loved touch
him in such an intimate way. For though there was certainly nothing sexual in
the situation, it was exceedingly intimate. He rarely allowed anyone to see
his scars. Even on the few occasions when he’d tried to escape from his
loneliness by visiting prostitutes, he’d kept himself fully clothed. He was
also glad he’d always taken measures to prevent disease. His scars were bad enough.
He hardly wanted to add pox disfigurement to the mix.

He waited to feel her touch. And when it finally
came, gently, bathed in the soft salve, he almost wept. He’d watched Maude’s
hands cook and clean. He’d brushed against her hands in the course of their
work. Now he could feel her fingers on his shoulder rubbing the salve into his
skin. She ran them over him in a gradually widening circle.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you, won’t you?” she
asked.

He was already aching, but it was not his shoulder
in agony. Her touch was having an effect on a very different part of his
anatomy, for he was already hard and growing more so with each stroke of her
hands. Thank goodness he was wearing his dressing gown, though he hoped she
would not look down at the offending part of him.

She moved her hands down his arm. “The scars here
aren’t as thick as the others. The ridges aren’t as hard. If we make a habit
of rubbing your arm, you may find it easier to use.”

“You’re planning on making a habit of this?” he
asked, his voice much deeper than normal.

“I would like to. Unless you don’t want me to.”

He wanted her to keep touching him, anywhere,
anytime. It had been so long since he’d felt a woman’s touch. And certainly
never from a woman he cared about this much. For while he and his former fiancée
had engaged in some gentle exploration before he’d left for the war, he now
realized he hadn’t cared for her the way he cared for Maude. The way he loved
Maude.

She ran her hands down the right side of his back,
rubbing the salve into his scars, but also venturing onto the smooth healthy
skin, made muscular from years of hard work.

“You have a fine back,” said Maude in barely more
than a whisper.

And he was barely able to keep from pulling her to
him. “You have a gentle touch. Your sister was very fortunate that you were
able to help her like this.”

“I’m not thinking of my sister right now.”

“What are you thinking about, Maude?”

“You, Victor.”

Stemple tried to keep his breathing steady. Tried
to keep from hoping for something he could not have.

“Victor, do you know what I would like?”

He shook his head, unable to speak. He was glad she
was still behind him for he didn’t think he could look at her without baring
his soul in his eyes.

She was now tentatively running one hand down his
chest from behind. “I would like you to kiss me, Victor.”

His hands began to shake. “You don’t know what you
ask, Maude.”

She stilled. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss
me?”

He could sense the embarrassment in her question. He
was certainly making a hash of this. “Not at all,” he quickly replied. “But,
Maude, what you ask as an innocent girl, curious about men, is not so innocent
for me. I would not be able to kiss you and forget about it. There can be no
light flirtation between us.”

“Who said I wanted light flirtation?” She
sounded….irritated. She rounded the bed to glare at him.

She was definitely irritated.

Stemple quickly placed his hands in his lap to try
to hide his rock hard erection.

She continued. And she was not best pleased with
him. “Do you think I make a habit of going to men’s bedchambers for ‘light
flirtation’ as you call it? Do you think so little of me?”

“Of course not! But, Maude, you could have any man
you wanted. Why would you come in here and ask to kiss me?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you daft man!” Her
eyes were blazing and her hands were planted firmly on her hips. “How many
more hints do I have to give? Now, if you don’t feel the same way toward me,
you’d best say it now. I know I can’t read and you’re a butler and I’m naught
but a cook’s assistant. But I love you, Victor Stemple. And you’ll not make
me feel a fool for telling you. I can take your saying no. I’ll leave and be
on….”

The rest of what she was going to say was lost, as
he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her senseless. She loved him? Maude
loved him? He had to be dreaming. If so, he had no wish to awaken.

He tried to keep a tight rein on his passion. Tried
and failed. He was devouring her. And Maude was keeping up with him.
Finally, he drew back to take a breath. “Maude. Dear, sweet Maude. You should
leave this room right now because if you do not, I’ll make you mine.”

Her response was to take his face in her hands.
Then she began kissing the right side of him. At first he pulled back, but she
would not allow it. She kissed a trail from his forehead down his cheek. Her
lips covered each inch of the skin that had caused him so much hurt. And
somehow she was erasing his pain. She made him realize the agony of the past
would be washed away by the joy in his future.

She spoke against his lips. “I have no wish to
leave. But I do need to know….do you feel for me what I feel for you? Even a
little?”

He pulled back to look in her eyes. He gently
cradled her head in his hands. “No, Maude. I do not imagine I feel the same
for you as you do for me.” He took a deep breath even as she began to pull
away. “I feel so much more. Indeed, I cannot believe anyone has ever loved a
woman as much as I love you. I do not want you to leave this room. Now or
ever. Though I suppose we will all starve if you do not make the occasional
trip to the kitchen. But I would die a happy man with you in my arms in this
bed. Have I gone too far? Will you let me make you mine in this bed before we
marry? For, if you’ll have me, I intend to marry you. As soon as possible.”

Her eyes filled with tears and she was grinning.
“Do you think the earl will allow us to marry?”

“Hang the earl! Well, no disrespect to Lord
Ridgeway, but I would marry you at any cost, Maude. And, I do not think he
will object, nor Lady Rosemary. Will you stay with me tonight, Maude? Will
you?”

“I want that above all things,” she said, as she
allowed him to lay her down on the bed. “Victor, my love.”

*

With bleary eyes, Colin read over what he’d written
yet again. He was pleased with it. Of course, that might be because he was
finally done with it and at three in the morning everything sounds fine if the
reward for finding it so is a nice soft bed.

It had been Ava who’d originally planted this seed
in his head. Could he be a writer? Was it possible that someone would pay him
for his thoughts? At first he’d found the idea ludicrous. He’d certainly be
ridiculed by the
ton
if it ever did come to pass. For even Lord Byron
had had his share of criticism and he was certainly no Byron. Of course, he
considered that a good thing.

He’d been busy this past week, writing to old
colleagues at school who were now in publishing. He’d sent a book proposal to
one and he was about to send this essay to an old friend who had connections at
one of London’s more respected broadsheets. He had offered them an insider’s
look at society. He had no idea if they would accept it or, if they did, what
it would pay. But if there was a chance he could make his fortune instead of
marrying it, he had to try.

He wasn’t going to tell anyone, not even Rose and
especially not Ava. It would be too embarrassing if he was rejected. Which he
probably would be. But he had to try.

He wanted to send this out with the first dispatch
in the morning. He hated waking Stemple at this hour, but he would give him
the rest of the day to sleep. He made his way through the cold dark house. If
he became a writer, perhaps he could afford to light a fire in every room. How
lovely it would be to never have to consider the cost when heating his home.