Lovers Forever (19 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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Muttering vile fates for him, she kept the sheet wrapped around her body and waited impatiently for the arrival of the servants. Deliberately she kept her thoughts focused on his imperious ways, cataloged all his sins—it was either that or remember how she had come apart in his arms, remember the feel of his big body pressed intimately against hers, the taste of his mouth, and the easy way she had allowed him to manipulate her....
Suddenly she heard a great ruckus in the dressing room. Peeking her head around the door, she watched with wide eyes as Tom and John struggled to place a huge brass tub into the center of the empty room. They caught sight of her and grinned. “The earl thought that you might like a tub set up permanently in this room,” Tom said. “There's water heating on the stove, and we'll have it filled for you in no time. Is that all right?”
Embarrassed and oddly tongue-tied, Tess nodded her curly head. Mindful of her state of undress, she ducked back behind the door. Her thoughts went irresistibly to the notion of how wonderful it would feel to actually have a bath. A real bath, not just a hasty scrub. Tess told herself not to be so happy about such a commonplace event, but she couldn't help it—the earl might be an overbearing, arrogant, obstinate,
infuriating
man, but he was also thoughtful—damn him!
Forty-five minutes later a fire burned merrily on the hearth of the small fireplace in the dressing room and half-opened boxes and packages overflowing with laces and muslins were scattered willy-nilly about the room. From her vantage point in the middle of the huge brass tub, Tess let out a sigh of sheer bliss. The water was oh, so warm and silky, and the sweet scent of roses and carnations hung in the air. To her delight, despite telling herself not to be distracted by such frivolous things, there had been wonderfully scented soaps and bath oils in one of the packages the earl had sent up, and she had not hesitated to use them.
Tess soaked a long time, washing her hair, humming lightly, and generally enjoying herself. Fate, with perhaps a few mistakes on her part, had brought her this far, and for the moment she was willing to drift. If only, she thought for the hundredth time, I knew who I was.
Then
I could make decisions. Was she hiding from the truth? she wondered uneasily. Mayhap, in her heart of hearts, she wanted to be precisely where she was....
She wrinkled her little nose in distaste and quickly stepped from the tub, wrapping a large towel around herself. Torn between appreciation of the many expensive items of apparel the earl had lavishly provided for her and revulsion for what they represented, Tess gingerly rummaged through several of the boxes and packages.
Finally selecting from the vast array before her a cambric chemise trimmed in delicate lace and an apple green gown of fine muslin, as well as some dark green satin ribbons and slippers and silk stockings, Tess dressed quickly. The clothing fit surprisingly well. The high-waisted gown was just a little loose through the shoulders and bosom, but otherwise she had no complaints. With nimble fingers she braided the dark green ribbon through her damp hair and fastened the colorful plaits on top of her head.
Taking a last look at herself in the cheval glass that had been among the furnishings added to the room that morning, Tess took a deep breath. It would be easy, she admitted unhappily, to remain up here, away from the earl's disturbing presence, but that would be the coward's way. Her mouth twisted. If she'd been a little more
cowardly
in the beginning, she probably wouldn't be here right now! Straightening her shoulders, her chin held at a pugnacious angle, she marched from the room.
When she entered the main room of the house, it was to find the earl warming himself before the fire, his hands clasped behind his back as he stood facing the doorway through which she came. He had managed to erase most of the signs of their recent romp in the bed upstairs. Except for the less-than-perfect condition of his cravat, he looked as elegant as always.
Halfway into the room, Tess hesitated, feeling oddly shy. Which was ridiculous, she thought crossly, remembering that hardly an hour ago they had been lying naked in each other's arms, his body buried in hers. She swallowed, grimly pushing aside the erotic images that leaped to mind.
Seating herself primly on the settee near the fire, she asked stiffly, “Would you like something to drink or eat?”
Nicolas was hardly able to take his eyes off her. In the old, unfashionable pink gown, her hair hastily tied back with a faded ribbon, she had been eye-catching, but now ... With all that bright hair caught up in a queenly coronet, she was incredibly lovely, the heavily lashed amethyst eyes and the high cheekbones clearly defined. As far as he was concerned, the gown fit admirably, the green hue intensifying her coloring and discreetly revealing the slim body it clothed before falling in graceful folds to the floor. She looked . . . His gaze hardened. She looked every inch the daughter of aristocrats, from the elegant bright hair to the silk slippers on her feet. He should know—he had just spent the last several months courting the type of creature she appeared: well-bred, eligible, pampered darlings offered by their parents or guardians in marriage to the highest bidder at Almack's, London's greatest marriage mart! Any doubts he might have had about her story of lost memory were banished. It was obvious from the way she looked now that his first wild surmise had been correct: she had been after a marriage proposal and had been willing to stop at nothing to obtain it.
But why, the question irritatingly persisted, with her beauty and obvious well-bred background had she gone to such lengths? No dowry? Some unforgivable scandal in the background? Not quite
so
well connected? Or simply ambitious? It could have been all or any of those reasons, and he refused to speculate on it further. Whatever she and her cohorts had so rashly planned, it hadn't worked. She was his mistress, not his wife!
There was an uncomfortable silence between them. The fire cracked and popped on the hearth, and an ormolu clock on the mantel quietly ticked off the minutes.
Nicolas cleared his throat. “Did you, uh, find the items satisfactory?”
“Yes.”
He scowled. He wasn't used to having his generosity dismissed so curtly, and while he didn't really want her to fawn over him, her short answer rankled. None of his other—He bit off that thought impatiently. He'd already decided that she was nothing like his other mistresses. Feeling at a loss, he growled, “Do you want me to leave?”
Tess looked up at him, her brow furrowing. She wanted him to leave, didn't she? No, she admitted unhappily to herself, she didn't want him to leave, and that decision had nothing to do with the long, lonely hours that would stretch out once he had departed. Even if the house were filled with the most witty and entertaining people to be found, her world would be considerably duller without his dynamic presence to give it light and life.
It was a damning admission, and Tess's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't be falling in love with him, could she? It was a terrifying notion, one she didn't like at all. To escape thinking about it, her eyes fixed painfully on her slippers, she blurted out, “No, m'lord, I don't want you to leave.”
Nicolas cut off a sharp comment and snapped, “Nicolas, my name is Nicolas, or Nick, and after all we've shared, I think that we can safely dispense with formality!”
“Very well, then,
Nicolas,”
she repeated obediently, “I don't want you to leave.” Mindful of her duties as hostess, she added politely, “Will you be staying for dinner?”
“No, not tonight, thank you.” This was a ridiculous conversation, he decided impatiently. Both of them as stiff and punctilious as if they were meeting under the stern gaze of one of the patronesses of Almack's. Feeling clumsy and stupid, Nicolas stared at her, wanting to say more but oddly ill at ease. Dammit, he thought angrily, why does she tie me up in knots this way?
Before the silence became too awkward, there was a welcome interruption in the form of Jenny. With a worried look on her lively face, she entered the room and, after dropping a quick curtsy, said hurriedly, “Forgive me for intruding on you, m'lord, but Mum said it was important. Thank heavens you're still here! It's the owlers, sir! They're using the cellars of the cottage to store their contraband! Tom discovered it when he went to put up the liquor you had sent over from the court.”
A few minutes later, with Tess peering over his shoulder, Nicolas could see for himself the truth of Jenny's words. The owlers
were
using the abandoned cellars of the onetime gatekeeper's cottage as a storage place for their smuggled goods.
It hadn't been his idea for Tess to accompany him, but after a brief argument, which Nicolas had lost, the two of them had quickly followed Jenny to the kitchen. Armed with some candles that Sara had thrust into their hands, they had stepped into the pantry and discovered the narrow winding staircase that led to the cellars.
Guided by the flickering yellow light of their candles, they had cautiously descended the stone steps to find themselves in a vast room, with what looked like several tunnels branching off from the main area. It was a dark and gloomy place, with dusty cobwebs hanging in great curtains from the low wooden ceiling and a musty smell permeating the air. Tom and John were there ahead of them. Their lanterns were a welcoming beacon, as sinister black shadows jumped beyond the small, comforting circle of light.
“M'lord! Look what we've found!” Tom cried. “The owlers are hiding their goods right under your very nose!”
At their feet were the opened boxes containing the brandy and wines that Tom and John had brought down to the cellar to put into the wine rack. But it was the other crates and barrels a little behind them that commanded everyone's attention. The objects were heaped carelessly in the middle of the room. It was obvious from the many tracks on the floor and the absence of any cobwebs in that vicinity that this was not the first time the gatekeeper's cottage had been used for this purpose.
Nicolas said nothing for several minutes as he took in the scene. “Is the way through the pantry,” he finally asked, “the only entrance into the cellars?”
“No, m'lord,” Tom said quickly. “If you'll come over here, I can show you the outside entrance. John and I discovered it while we were waiting for you—and we haven't explored the areas branching off from this room.” He looked worried. “There could be another entrance that we don't know about.”
Nicolas made no comment but decided to have the cellar thoroughly examined tomorrow and to have any other way in blocked off.
The ease and silence with which Tom and John were able to throw open the horizontal double doors to reveal the gray, rainy sky above made it apparent that this was the entrance used regularly by the smugglers. The owlers were, Nicolas thought grimly, so confident that no one would dare disturb their contraband that they hadn't even bothered to lock the doors. He examined the hinges carefully and saw that they had been well oiled.
Looking back at the two young men, he inquired, “Were you down here yesterday?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Tom answered. “We came down to dust the wine racks—and there was nothing here then.”
“You mean they hid all these things here last night? When we were asleep in our beds?” Jenny asked in a high voice.
Nicolas shot Tess a look, but beyond paling a trifle, she didn't look overly disturbed to discover that while she had slept last night, a band of murderous cutthroats had been boldly making use of the cellars of the house. He was far less sanguine about it—a cold rage swept through him at the knowledge that she might have been harmed if she had awakened and stumbled across them while the smugglers had been brazenly going about their activities.
Deciding that he didn't need the obviously nervous Jenny infecting Dolly with hysterics, Nicolas sent the young woman upstairs to join her mother. With a frown on his face, he spoke quietly with Tom and John for several moments, the three men discussing what was to be done. Nicolas wasn't particularly enthusiastic about informing the magistrate of their find, mainly because he didn't want Dolly's presence at the gatekeeper's cottage to become common knowledge. He had enough reservations about setting her up this close to the court—and his grandmother and sister—as it was. And the opportunity to spy on the owlers couldn't be ignored, he reflected as his conversation with Roxbury flashed through his mind. Telling Tom and John to leave the matter in his hands, he dismissed them after ordering them to remove all signs of their activity in the cellars.
While Nicolas had been talking to the servants, Tess had wandered off, doing a little exploring of her own. She was so intent upon her task that when Nicolas came up behind her, she gave a little gasp and whirled around.
With her eyes very big, she grumbled, “Don't sneak up on me that way! You startled me!”
He grinned faintly. “I apologize. It is,” he added, glancing around, “a rather uninviting place, isn't it?”
“Hmm, yes, I suppose so,” she replied absently as she picked her way over the uneven floor. “But I'd love to go rummaging about down here—all those mysterious hallways or whatever leading out of this main area. I wouldn't be surprised at all to learn that the owlers have been using this place for years.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement. “It's even possible that those tunnels lead to other rooms.”

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