Jo Beverley (38 page)

The Marlborough Square house was decorated to welcome them home.

That was Meg's first thought as she walked over the threshold on Sax's arm and saw that festoons of rich materials and gilded ornaments had been added to the Christmas greenery. Despite the hour, servants seemed to be everywhere, adding to the display.

It was the sort of idiocy that could only happen in Sax's domain.

She was probably gaping, for he said, “The Twelfth Night ball, I suppose? Time's short.”

She stared at him. “That's going on?”

“Of course, though it'll be a little tricky if the duchess dies between now and then. I suspect, however, that the main reason for this industry is to give everyone an excuse to be in the hall when we arrive home.”

Meg looked around at the servants, who had all stopped work to smile at them. As Owain Chancellor had said, Sax was Sax, and his household was his household.

She burst out laughing, and the servants gathered around to welcome them home and pelt them with questions, like family not employees. How many of them, she wondered, had Sax rescued from poverty and unemployment because they were small, or fat, or crippled, or had had an unfortunate brush with the law?

Which had lost their excellent places in the ducal household for helping him? He wouldn't have been able to do anything for them immediately, and she knew that must have added agony to his years in the dragon's claws.

He held up a hand. “I'm pleased to see you all so very
devoted to your work,” he remarked, looking around at the decorations. “Has anything been done to the ballroom yet, or was it essential that you all work in the front hall?”

“Tomorrow, milord,” someone said. “Promise.”

“I'm sure you have it all in hand. Now, the brief summary of events you've been waiting for. The countess, of course, had nothing to do with the death of Sir Arthur Jakes, and the real culprit has been found. People at Sir Arthur's house have been persuaded to tell the truth, so we can put that behind us. However, I'm sure the scandal will guarantee that anyone who is in town will want to attend our celebration, so let's do the Torrances proud.”

Meg felt rather sick at the thought of everyone coming to the ball, especially with her scandalous self as the attraction, and he squeezed her hand as if he knew. “Any questions?”

“What about the people hanging around outside still, milord? The magistrate came and read the Riot Act to get rid of 'em, but some came back.”

“And have doubtless seen what they waited to see. They'll disperse now on such a cold night. Mr. Chancellor is having a word with the official watchers. Perhaps, out of Christian charity, someone should go and tell the duchess's minions that the game is up. By the way, the Dowager Duchess of Daingerfield appears to have suffered a serious seizure and to be on her deathbed.”

Meg noted that he didn't dress it up with regrets, and she thought she heard a couple of faint cheers. It was terribly unchristian, but she understood. Some of these people had witnessed the woman's harshness firsthand, and she wondered how many of them had shared his suspicions about the woman's true evil.

“Now,” he was saying, “you should all be off to your beds. I do expect normal service tomorrow. Having endured life without you, I need extra special care.”

They all chuckled.

“But before that, the countess and I require baths and food. Good solid food as quickly as possible.”

At this, the servants exploded into action. Meg and Sax were swept up to their rooms. Meg found herself in
the hands of Susie and another maid, who stripped her messy clothing off her, put her in a bath like a baby, washed her thoroughly, then dressed her tenderly in nightgown and robe.

She wondered if they knew she and Sax had made love. Probably. It didn't matter. Perhaps she was getting used to the lack of privacy, or perhaps she was too exhausted to care.

She wanted to be with him again.

At that moment, she wasn't sure how she was going to endure being apart for even short periods, though common sense told her this degree of madness would pass.

Clean and neat, with her hair loose and damp on her shoulders, she was guided into the room that held Knox's cage. Sax was already there, addressing a tableful of food with enthusiasm, devoted parrot on his shoulder being fed with tidbits.

“Did Knox really sound the warning?”

“Remarkable, isn't it? I'm sure Owain would have acted eventually, and, of course, you took care of the villain, but it was convenient to have help turn up. Sit.”

Meg sat opposite him. He was in his gold-and-brown banjan and looked unbelievably wonderful. Food, however, looked even better, and she fell on cheese, bread, and cold meats, then upon mince pies and apple tarts, each crowned with a mound of thick cream.

She drank the wine he'd poured for her. “I'm always gulping down food in front of you!”

“I was gulping along with you.” He held out his glass and chinked it against hers. “Welcome home, Meg.”

“Women. Aaaargh!”

“No, Knox. Be nice, Say, ‘Pretty lady.” '

The bird shifted, glowering, but then it said, exactly in Sax's voice,
“Pretty lady.”

Meg smiled and fed him a crust. “And I think you're a pretty bird. And clever, too. Thank you, Knox.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”
But then the parrot turned its back.

“He'll come around,” Sax said.

Meg sipped her wine, looking at him across the table.

“You truly don't mind me wishing you into this?”

His smile could brighten a coal pit. “How could I mind anything so delightful? Give me your hand.”

Brows raised a little, Meg held it out, and he slipped a ring above her wedding ring. The Saxonhurst ring that Daphne had worn.

“Didn't she mind?”

“Somewhat, but I substituted another just as valuable. That is yours by right. My chosen bride.”

She laughed softly, likely to be overwhelmed by tenderness.

He glanced over into a corner. “Laura brought the stone and left it there. Do you mind if I look at it?”

“No.” Meg tasted the
sheelagh
in her mind, and could sense it, but it was, in a way, muted by Sax, by the effect he could have on her. Perhaps it had been the same for her parents.

He picked up the bag and pulled out the stone. Though she knew it didn't affect others, it still startled her to see it handled so casually.

“It really is deliciously risqué. Laura said they have them in churches in Ireland?”

“So I'm told.”

He touched the
sheelagh's
open mouth, then her open vulva, in a stroke that caught Meg's breath. “I have power of my own, you old witch,” he said, “and I forbid you to charge a price for what my wife did today.”

Meg shivered. “What power?” she whispered, though she did not doubt it.

“I have no idea. Perhaps the powers of a man who is not afraid of women. I just know she will obey.” He propped the
sheelagh
upon a chair. “I also don't think she likes being hidden away. No wonder she's become a little bitter.”

“Rescuing statues now? Sax, you're—”

“Impossible. I know.” He gave her his most glorious smile. “But it's true. She wasn't made to be hidden.”

“We can hardly leave her out on view!”

“I don't see why not. See, even Knox approves.”

Indeed, for some strange reason the misogynistic parrot had flown off his shoulder onto the chair by the
sheelagh
and was exploring it with its beak as if fascinated. Exploring a rather improper place!

Meg knew propriety would make no impression on Sax. “It's always possible someone else might have the power.”

“Ah, that's true. But I think you should have her in your bedroom. I assume you're not intending to invite strangers to your bedroom?”

“Not if you don't.”

He laughed. “I remember my promise. I don't think I will have any trouble keeping it.”

“I certainly won't. You're likely to exhaust me!”

His smile was his special one, his precious one. “It was good, wasn't it, our midnight tryst? Worth suffering for?”

Meg fussed with her dressing gown, knowing she looked foolish, but unable to help herself. “I don't want to talk about that sort of thing.”

“Very well,” he said amiably.

She rolled her eyes at him, but then frowned at the
sheelagh.
“I can't keep her in my room. She'd drive me mad.”

“Mmmmm. I do want to try lovemaking with it in the bed with us.”

“Sax!”

“One day. But we'll keep it in here with Knox. They seem to be becoming fast friends.”

“Don't ever ask me to use it again.”

He came back to sit beside her. “Of course not. It terrified me to watch.”

She fiddled with her wineglass. “It's not just that. I think it killed my parents. It's dangerous.”

“Why? I thought you said your father was ill.”

“Yes, but . . .” She'd hardly had time to work this out in her mind. “My mother said it shouldn't be used lightly, but I think she did. Looking back, I can see that we lived better than we could afford, and my parents were always so carefree about things. It drove me distracted, and was part of the reason I left home. I think she was wishing anytime they needed something.”

“And is that bad?”

“There's always a sting. I don't know how it works, but there always is. Or was. I hope you've curbed her. Perhaps it accumulated, and caused my father's sickness.
I don't know. But I'm sure that at the end she tried to wish death away. Sir Arthur . . . he said he'd found the
sheelagh
on the bed between them. And that Father had been worried she might use it.”

“You think she wished for her own death?”

“No! No, I don't think she'd do that. I don't think she'd wish to abandon the young ones.” But Meg faltered there.

He took her in his arms. “You're not sure?”

She rested against him, so grateful to have someone at last to lean on. “No. It's terrible, but they loved each other so much. Love can be a dangerous force.”

“A kind of magic, yes, and often with a sting in the tail.”

She wished again that he might love her.

“So you think she wished to go with him?” he added.

After a moment, Meg said, “No. She was too much the optimist. I'm sure she wished for his recovery. But perhaps there are some things the
sheelagh
cannot do. Or perhaps she just worded it carelessly.”

“Such as a wish that they not be parted.”

She stared at him. “Yes! But I'm sure if that was her wish, it was deliberate. She'd hope it would lead to his recovery, but be ready to die with him if necessary. She's doubtless been pacing the clouds of heaven impatiently, urging me to get on with it and use the
sheelagh
to save her children!”

He grinned and kissed her hand. “I've just realized, I'm the answer to a maiden's prayer!”

Meg groaned. But then she asked, “Are you all right?”

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. “It's an astonishing relief, in fact. I always suspected the truth—a highwayman on that road wasn't likely, and my parents' trip there had been arranged by my aunt, who generally did what the duchess said. But what could a ten-year-old boy do? Who would believe him? There were times when I thought perhaps I was the one who was mad, who had a distorted view of reality.

“Once I escaped, the trail was cold, and I knew with an adult's eye that proving anything against the duchess would be impossible. Even if I found the person she'd
used, it would stop there. So I just continued to refuse her any reward from her crimes.”

“I'm glad you're not seeking revenge.”

“Don't think me too saintly. If I didn't believe she was going straight to hell, I'd be at her beside making her last moments miserable.”

“Sax!”

He met her eyes. “That's the truth, Meg. She tried to ruin my parents' lives, and then she killed them. She tried to ruin my life in many ways, and partially succeeded. She killed my uncles, for heaven's sake, out of spite. Then, in the end, she tried to kill me and you. I'm not Christian enough to forgive all that, but I'm God-fearing enough to believe that He will deal with her.”

“It all started with love. Doesn't love frighten you sometimes?”

“It terrifies me.”

Despite her own words, that was not what she wanted to hear. “And yet you've surrounded yourself with love. Even if it meant so many meddling fingers in your life.”

He laughed, perhaps with a touch of embarrassment. “Perhaps I have a hunger for love, then. Feed me, Meg?”