Hint of Desire (5 page)

He’d gone in with a straightforward goal
. Even allowing for the unusual sense of farce that had evolved around him since he first encountered her in his park, things should have been simpler. All he had to do was learn the lady’s identity, and return her and her son to their rightful place. It was not a hard task, and promised to bring some small stimulation to his tepid, orderly life.

Yet he had failed
. He only had to ask – but she also had to answer.

He placed a palm on the cool marble of the mantle and then leaned forward resting his forehead
. This would not do. It was imperative that he find out what had happened so that he could . . . return her to her . . . husband. There must be a husband if there was a baby. He pursed his lips at the thought. He’d not considered far enough ahead, a most unusual situation.

Arthur picked up a brandy snifter and twirled it between his fingers,
savoring the delicacy of the crystal and the heady aroma that greeted his nostrils. He sipped the last drops, welcoming the burn in his throat. His original annoyance at the unpleasant events had eased.

They were his responsibility.

He’d found her
. He’d delivered the child. He felt a claim to the pair, and the unwanted warmth that suffused him when he’d held the newborn infant still lingered.

God, he felt proprietary
. He set the glass down with care.

“Maybe she’s not married
. Could she have been ruined and sent away by her family?” Arthur snapped his mouth shut when he realized he’d addressed the hound snoozing by the unlit fire. She had him talking to dogs.

This would not do
. He lived a well-ordered life.

He began his backwards count.

He needed to be sensible. He knew nothing about her, where she came from, who her family was. He would not let her leave him so unsettled. Still . . .

His curiosity piqued, he wanted to know how she had gotten into such a predicament
. Once he knew, of course, he’d be satisfied, and could send her on her way. It was simple after all.

He glanced at the clock on the high bookshelves behind his desk
. She should be done now. He wasn’t exactly sure how long those things took, but it had been an hour. She must be finished. He would go and learn the lady’s provenance, and then everything would fall into place.

He strode out of the study and up the wide stairs to the upper hall
. He paused at the door to her room. A glance from Nanny had reminded him of the impropriety of being alone in a lady’s room. Earlier, when he’d thought Lady Elizabeth older and not particularly attractive, it had not been important. Now he stopped and considered before opening the door with a decisive twist of the knob. He was Westlake, and he required answers to his questions.

She slept
. The infant still curled like a kitten around her breast. Her gown gaped slightly, a deep sliver of ivory flesh bared to his view. The wide lace at the neckline cast whispery shadows across her skin, and her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face.

Arthur walked towards the bed without thought
. No doubt he should waken her, but the deep shadows under her eyes and the pallor of her skin gave him pause. He drew the blanket over her, covering that hint of velvety flesh.

He had duties to fulfill
. He could not afford sentiment. For a moment he gazed at this almost religious picture of mother and child, before taking a decisive turn and leaving the room.

Closing the door softly, he moved toward the top of the stairs as a tall, lean, white-haired gentleman entered below
. The doctor had returned.

“Ah, Dr. Smithson, how good of you to return
. I take it you are not here to continue our discussion of India and imperial politics.” He nodded back down the hall. “She’s just fallen asleep.” Arthur let his voice echo down the stairway before he descended.

“I can look in on the lady and her infant later, your grace
. It was really you with whom I meant to speak. May I take a moment of your time?”

“I believe that could be managed
. I take it you wish to discuss the lady. Lady Elizabeth Wentworth, as it happens.”

“Wentworth?
” The physician’s face clouded over with thought.

“Yes
. I see you have the same thought I first had.”

A sparkle lit the doctor’s eye
. “Yes, your grace, Lady Julia was a magnificent woman. I remember the stir she caused whenever she walked to the village.”

“Oh, indeed
. I am not sure there’s ever been another quite like her. I’ll never forget her visit here.” Arthur knew his own eyes did not return the sparkle. “I doubt there’s a relation. In any case it’s the lady upstairs who concerns me now. What do you have to report?”

The physician shifted with some discomfort and eyed the footman still near the door
. Arthur reached the bottom of the stairs and strode towards the study he had so recently vacated. Smithson followed.

Arthur leaned one hip against the corner of the wide writing desk and gestured Dr. Smithson toward a seat
. He waited for the doctor to begin.

“As I explained last night, both mother and child are in general good health
. The child is most definitely somewhat early, but well formed, and I think with proper care he shall do well. And the mother, Lady Elizabeth, while healthy, is still fragile. She wants bed rest, of course, but soon enough she’ll be about, and I daresay can be on her way home before very long.”

The doctor hesitated
. Arthur looked up to catch his expression.

“What concerns me, however, are the marks and bruises.”

“Marks?”

“Surely you noticed the welts across her legs and hips?”

“Left by the brambles, I would have thought.”

The doctor paused again, thoughtfully
. “Brambles. And did the brambles also whip her back hard enough to draw blood, and lay a boot print across her belly?”

Chapter Three

The silence grew as the doctor’s words sank in
. How could such a small and delicate creature have suffered what the doctor suggested? Arthur shrugged loose his shoulders, suppressing the urge to stroke his own scar, relive his own pain.

“Could you be mistaken
? I described how she was wandering, disoriented and aimless. Could she not have fallen and bruised herself that way?”

Dr. Smithson hesitated
. Arthur sensed his desire to give an agreeable answer fighting against his desire to speak the truth.

“I am afraid not, your grace.
” Dr. Smithson’s large Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Explain.”

“If it were merely the bruise, I might wonder if it were possible - if by some strange coincidence Lady Elizabeth had not been injured in some other manner, and the marks only happened to resemble a boot print, with a well defined heel. But, in combination with her welts, I find that highly unlikely. Even the marks on her legs might have been excused as you suggested. The many marks across her back, though, speak for themselves. Somebody took a crop to her, I would guess, and not gently.”

Arthur pursed his lips
. He knew how a whip could sting. It was his duty to find out what had happened:  he had found her on his land. Did he have a tenant who would so misuse a lady? Perhaps some ruffian passing through, or . . . . Could her own family have done this to her if they had discovered her pregnant and unwed? He knew a father could be severe, but this?

The doctor interrupted Arthur’s contemplation
. “I am not sure whether it means anything or not, but I was also struck by the fact that her face was unmarked. I saw some slight bruising, but that I would put down to her wanderings. Those marks lacked the brutality of the others.”

Arthur turned, his attention fixed on the doctor’s words
. “What are you saying?”

“I think whoever beat her didn’t want it to show.”

“Why . . . ?” Arthur paused without completing the thought. He drummed his fingers along the desk.

“I don’t know, your grace
. I am a man of science. I can only report the facts.” The doctor hesitated a moment before continuing. “I have on a few occasions heard of similar marks, although not quite so severe. Sometimes, a family member, a husband, a father, feels the need to correct a woman for misbehavior. In these circumstances, a woman great with child, more often a father. Husbands tend to be careful with expectant wives, unless of course there’s a question of paternity . . . .” He trailed off before picking up steam again. “In those instances husbands are often careful not to leave noticeable marks. They don’t wish to draw attention or scandal.”

Arthur watched the doctor's carefully held expression
. His very lack of emotion betrayed the sensitivity of the subject. Still, it seemed cruel and cold-blooded for a family member. But families could be cruel.

“This is common?”

The doctor settled on more comfortable ground now. “Not common, no, particularly with injuries of this severity. But, we all know it lies within a man’s rights to discipline his womenfolk.”

“Yes, it does.
” Arthur let the comment hang.

Ignoring the doctor still perched uncomfortably on the edge of his chair, Arthur turned and gazed out the window, without seeing
. How had his simple longing for adventure turned into this?

He had enough matters to worry about in running his estates
. His father had been determined to make him into the perfect heir, a man of decision and
sang froid
, who knew the exact thing to do and exactly how to do it, his father’s way, the family way, the honorable way. His fingers reflexively stroked his marred cheek, and carefully he drew them back down, giving no hint of his tangled reaction. Yet he wondered how the delicate creature lying upstairs could have endured the punishment Dr. Smithson had described and still retain that angelic aspect? Anybody who had gone through such hardship should not appear so unmarked. He knew he didn’t.

The doctor’s cautiously modulated cough drew his attention.

Arthur spoke with great precision. “Do you have anything else to tell me? How long should her recovery require? Is any special care required for the infant?”

The doctor hesitated only briefly
. “No, there is nothing else I can speak to with any assurance.”

Arthur was discomfited by the sensation of being beholden to someone else for information
. He could not escape the impression that something still remained shrouded in mystery. He knew that if he could concentrate on more practical matters, the feeling would pass. “I need to know where she came from. Is there any harm in pressing her for answers?”

It was clear that Dr. Smithson knew the answer Arthur wanted, and equally clear that it was not the one he wanted to give
. “How crucial is it to know immediately, your grace?” he asked. “Women can react rather strangely to trauma. You wouldn’t want her to end up in hysterics.”

“Certainly not.
” The thought horrified Arthur. He flipped his quizzing glass in his pocket once, and then moving to the desk let his hands rest still. “Thank you again for doing me the favor of examining her.”

“I am at your disposal, your grace
. I look forward to continuing our philosophical and political debates at a later date. You must let me know when you receive further correspondence from your Uncle Ramsey.”

Dr. Smithson rose and hastened to the door.

“You will return tomorrow to check on my charges?”

“I hardly think . . . .”

Arthur lifted that arched brow.

“Of course
. I’ll be back in the early afternoon.”

Left alone, Arthur found the confines of the study too restrictive
. His thoughts kept straying to the pallid girl upstairs, and the questions he should wait to ask.

With a silent curse, he went upstairs to change
. Another breakneck ride should clear his head, and this time, he told himself, he would be mindful to restrain any foolish longing for adventure. When he returned, he would dispatch men to ask questions in the surrounding countryside. Someone would be looking for her.

###

Lily roused as she felt her son being lifted gently from her breast. She wanted to protest, but felt too tired. The past day had stripped her of both physical and emotional strength.

The late afternoon sun shining behind Nanny illumined and gilded her gray hair and, suddenly, Lily was engulfed in memories
. This was not the first time she had awakened to that kindly face and those gentle, but work-roughened hands. She could smell the beeswax that had permeated the upper nursery. For a moment she was the young girl with a new world to explore, a world grander and more full of adventure than even her seven year-old imagination.