Karen Harbaugh (23 page)

With Linnea, however, he felt he would never be bored. If he wished to talk of serious matters, she would do so and with a certain wit and depth of insight. If he wished some levity, why, then he need only tease her out of her seriousness and make her laugh—or run off in a high dudgeon. He smiled to himself at the thought.

“I see by your smile you must be feeling better. Shall we see you at supper tonight?” Sophia had a hopeful look on her face.

“To be sure, I would not miss your company for the world,” he replied as gallantly as he could, and bowed over her hand. He heard the door creak.

“Oh!” came a voice at the door.

Both Rothwick and Sophia turned to look. Linnea stood at the threshold of the library, gazing at them in consternation. Her face quickly became smooth, and then she smiled.

“I am so sorry! I saw the open door and I did not think anyone was within. Please excuse me.” She turned to leave.

“No, Linnea, please stay,” said Rothwick, extending his hand. Linnea turned back—reluctantly, it seemed.

She gazed at him attentively. “I was just telling Miss Amberley that I shall be joining you all at supper tonight.”

“There will be no gruel at supper, my lord,” Linnea replied gravely. “You shall have to do without.”

“Thank heavens.” Rothwick laughed and was rewarded by a small smile that lifted his lady’s lips momentarily.

Sophia gazed from one to another. She could not help being aware of the ease between them, as if—as if they had been married a decade rather than a week. How had it come about? The woman was not as beautiful as she, Sophia, was. Oh, she had dressed herself finely, and perhaps she did not look as pale as she had before, but there could be no comparison! Rothwick should not have looked at the woman as if he
liked
to look upon her; his; attention should have been on Sophia instead.

“How fortunate it is that I was able to persuade Lord Rothwick to join us tonight,” Sophia remarked.

The two turned to look at her, as if surprised to see her still there. Why, it seemed they had forgot her very presence for a moment! Sophia could feel her face growing warm with affront, but then she noticed the suddenly unhappy glance Lady Rothwick cast at her husband and the look of frustration on Rothwick’s face. Well, Sophia thought, gratified. Things were not absolutely wonderful for them, it seemed. She would leave them and let them stew in their uneasiness now.

“Oh, I hope you will excuse me.” Sophia let her shawl trail elegantly behind her as she moved away from them. “I believe I should look to see how poor Bobs does. I would not want to impose on your hospitality for too long.” She smiled at them and went out the library door.

Linnea looked at Sophia’s retreating figure and sighed. It was as she thought. The smile on Rothwick’s face, his charming words, his elegant bow over Miss Amberley’s hand: all these showed her that he was still in love with her. How could he not be? The girl was beautiful. She turned to look at her husband and gave him a stiff smile. She could not remember if he had ever said anything as charming to her. He had teased, he had confused her, he had made her laugh, but soft words...? She thought not. She fingered the letter she had in her hand. It was from Miss Brinkley, her former schoolmistress, inviting her to visit should she pass through Bath at some time. Perhaps this would be a good thing to do. Perhaps she would be able to clear her mind if she were away from William for a short time. Certainly it seemed as if a fog came over her brain whenever he was near. And they had a marriage of convenience, did they not? Surely it would be permissible for her to see a friend on her own.

“I am truly better, Linnea,” said Rothwick.

She looked up, startled out of her thoughts. “Oh, of course. I can see that.” Her smile was constrained as she continued. “And I know I have been coddling you overmuch. I was only trying to be useful. I—we shall be glad to have you for supper at last. Good day, my lord.” Rothwick took a step forward, but Linnea backed away toward the door, gave one last uncertain smile, and limped out of the library.

The earl sighed and dropped the hand he had raised to stay her. She was skittish again. And finding him with Sophia helped not one bit, he was sure. He looked around the library, at the book he had laid down on the table beside his chair, and then out the window. The sun had broken out through the clouds at last, and the sight gave him new vigor. Rothwick stretched his arms, feeling the muscles pull and some of his joints crackle. He had been in bed too long. Surely going out into the fresh air for some exercise would do him good. He would do that for a few hours each day to get his strength back.

* * * *

“Must you play such dreary music?” Richard growled. He eyed his sister with discontent, a day later. Sophia made a lovely picture at the pianoforte, with the late afternoon sun streaming down upon her golden hair and reflecting the coral pink of her muslin round gown onto her cheeks. She merely looked at him, wide-eyed, and pounded upon the keyboard with more enthusiasm, making the room echo with dirgelike notes.

He gave it up. Indeed, he did not know why he tried to put any control over his sister. It was useless. He should have learned that by this time. Richard shrugged and slumped farther onto the chair. God, but staying at Staynes was tedious! Rothwick was civil enough—even cordial—but Richard could see that the man was not totally well and needed to rest more than he let on. So he generally tried to stay out of the earl’s way and occupy himself with roaming the estate, looking in on Bobs, and hoping that the groom would hurry up and become better so that there would be no excuse to stay on.

There was not even the chance that he could find the bill for the sapphire set. Twice he had tried to go through his sister’s chambers. The first time he had had to dive under the bed when a maid had come to change the bed linens and had a devil of a time trying not to sneeze when he had breathed in a noseful of dust. The second time he had been able to go through her wardrobe and chest of drawers, but there was nothing amongst her things except frippery little items she always carried with her when she traveled. He sighed. No doubt Sophia’s abigail still had the bill in her safekeeping, but Murphy was not here this time.

Richard’s gaze went toward the window, and he sat to attention.

“Hallo! It looks as if a caller has come.” He saw a curricle breeze up the drive to Staynes, then recognized the figure within. “I do believe it’s Sir James Marlowe, Sophie.”

The mournful notes from the pianoforte ceased momentarily and then started up again. Richard slid a look at Sophia. She was obviously trying not to look eager, but he could see her flicking glances toward the window, as if she wished she could see out from where she was. They were in the parlour, and Richard fully expected the guest to appear at the door within a few moments.

So, apparently, did Sophia. Her glances soon left the window to settle on the door. But time went by, and no butler appeared to announce Sir James; neither did their host or hostess enter the room. Sophia bit her lip, and Richard noticed it with a certain glee. It seemed Sir James was not so easily led. Sophia left off playing the pianoforte and joined her brother at the window.

“I wonder what is delaying Sir James?” she murmured carelessly.

Her brother grinned. “Oh, I am sure he is talking with Lord or Lady Rothwick about estate matters or such.”

“Well, surely that cannot take up all his time!” Sophia turned away from window. “No doubt he will weary of such talk soon, and will want to see me.”

“Why in the world would he want to see you?” Richard wondered if there was something he had missed between the two. Had he not noticed an elusive similarity between his sister and Sir James? No. Surely there was nothing in it. Why, hadn’t Sir James put Sophia neatly into her place not a few days ago?

Sophia looked at him with surprised eyes. “Why, of course he will want to see me!”

“Don’t be so sure of that, dear sister! Not every man will come to heel at your whim.”

A complacent smile touched her lips. Richard grimaced. Good God, but Sophia was disgustingly vain! He wished fervently that Sir James would send her to
point non plus
in the very near future. He sighed. Doubtful, that. No one besides himself had yet seen past her beauty. He turned and looked out the window again, and a slow grin grew on his face.

“My, my. It seems Sir James is walking with Lord and Lady Rothwick around the side of the house.” He glanced at Sophia.

Sophia bit her lower lip again, then brightened. “And what an uneven number is three! I shall go down directly and make sure Lady Rothwick does not weary her foot overmuch and volunteer to entertain the two gentlemen.” She jumped up from the window seat immediately and swiftly left the parlour.

Richard made a movement toward the door to follow her, then subsided. No. He was not going to let himself be drawn into any of Sophia’s mischief-making any more than he had already. Besides, it would be an opportune time to search her room once again.

* * * *

Rothwick did not know what it was about Sir James that made him uneasy. The man was cordial enough, even entertaining, with his repertoire of stories of far-off India. But as he watched him bending toward Linnea to listen to her soft reply, he could not help feeling that the man was a little too... insinuating. Yes. That was the word, It seemed as if Marlowe walked a little too close to Linnea for comfort.

And how had he managed to get beside Linnea on this narrow path and leave him, Rothwick, behind? Damn it, she was Lady Rothwick, not Lady Marlowe! He gazed at the two ahead of him.

“Oh, I am not particularly interested in a Season in London, Sir James, truly,” Linnea was saying. She glanced back at Rothwick, blushing a little.

“What, and deny yourself the pleasures of London?” Sir James turned to look at the earl. “Surely, Rothwick, you do not mean to hide this lovely lady away forever?”

“Of course not,” Rothwick replied shortly. “She is my wife. She will, in time, be presented.”

“Of course,” returned Sir James, his voice smoothly cordial. He turned back to Linnea. “I hope you—and your husband—will allow me to call when you come to London, Lady Rothwick.”

“It would be a pleasant thing, to be sure,” Linnea said mildly. Rothwick thought he heard a note of uncertainty in it, however. What, did she think he meant to hide her away here forever? Surely she didn’t think he would leave her to moulder away while he enjoyed the pleasures of London? He glanced at her again, and though he could not see her face, her shoulders hunched just a little, as if she were protecting herself from something. From him, perhaps?

Rothwick almost groaned. Did she not understand how he desired her? How he wanted to take off each layer of clothing, piece by piece, caressing her all the while? Just the thought of it made him want to take her away right now to his bedchamber. He took a deep breath, hoping the cool air in his lungs would cool the rest of him as well. He watched the two in front of him, farther up the path now, and noticed that Linnea hardly limped at all. Good! He would bring her to his bed tonight and be done with it.

With that thought, he felt almost cheerful. He glanced at Linnea and Sir James in front of him. Sir James was smiling and bent his head down close to hers again. A searing spark went through Rothwick’s chest, which took him aback—only for a moment. It could almost have been jealousy... but of course he knew it was not. He had never made a fuss when he found his past mistresses with another. There were many willing women available. And he was not the jealous sort, after all. In fact, he would prove it to himself by unclenching his fists and leaving them to walk (in full view of the house, so it was quite proper) by themselves.

Linnea looked behind her to find that Rothwick had disappeared. Despondency clutched her heart, but she managed to smile at a witty remark of Sir James’s. William did not even care if she walked with another man through the gardens. Well, so be it! Unconsciously she raised her chin in a defiant gesture.

“Is there anything the matter, my lady?” Sir James asked.

Her eyes flew to his, startled. “Oh, what—Oh, no, no, not at all.”

Sir James’s eyes grew assessing, though he continued to smile. “It is a pity Lord Rothwick apparently decided he had business elsewhere.”

“Oh, I am sure it is something inconsequential and he will return. We need not bother ourselves with it.”

“Inconsequential? Then I wonder that he left us by ourselves here.”

Linnea glanced at him, flustered. “I, oh, I did not mean it was inconsequential, precisely. I suppose he felt wearied from walking so soon after his illness.”

“Ah, yes. He has been ill, has he not?” They turned along a path toward some apple trees newly in bloom. “How inopportune for you. And lonely, I would imagine.”

“No, really, I spent quite a bit of time caring for him, you see,” Linnea replied. Her shoulders tensed, then she relaxed them. Heavens, there was no reason why she should feel so uneasy in Sir James’s presence. He was all that was pleasant and amiable.

A corner of his mouth lifted disbelievingly. “That is quite different from having a man about who is hale and hearty, ma’am.”

“I suppose that is true.”

“What, do you not know? Well, then, perhaps I could show you.” And Sir James quickly pulled her into a kiss.

Shocked into stillness, Linnea did not respond until his mouth was moving firmly upon hers. She felt no pleasure as she had with Rothwick; fury and insult burned in her instead. It gave her arms strength, and she pushed, then pummeled her fists against him. They had stopped under the apple trees, and though the branches were covered liberally with blossoms, Linnea knew that it was wholly possible they could be seen—at least most of them could be seen—if someone happened to look out one of the windows. She pushed harder, but he was quite strong and did not release her until out of sheer desperation she stamped on his foot. A gasp escaped him, and he drew back.

“How
dare
you, sirrah!” A sharp slap across his cheek made him gasp again and made Linnea wince with the pain that shot through her hand.