Margo Maguire (17 page)

She did not want to know anything of the women who’d come before her.

It was not jealousy, but a matter of . . . of . . . priorities. She did not want to have to compete with his past. Not that she would, for Avery and Amelia seemed quite happy together. Gavin would hold no sway over her now.

Perhaps Christina’s earlier assumption was incorrect, and they had simply known each other as children, for Gavin said his father’s property adjoined Amelia’s. Maybe that was how they could speak so familiarly with each other.

Christina might believe it if she did not sense an agitation about him. Meeting Amelia had put him on edge.

“That is true, Captain Briggs,” Lady Matherley said quietly. “Circumstances change. Decisions must be made.”

Gavin did not reply, and when they reached the staircase, Lady Matherley took her leave, saying she would see them at supper. Avery saw them to their rooms, situated right next to each other. He left them, and before Christina went into her bedchamber, she turned to look at the man who’d become her lover.

“You grew up with Lady Matherley?” she asked.

His features darkened, and a muscle in his jaw tightened. He gave a quick nod.

“You . . . were close, then?” Christina persisted.

“Close? Aye. I intended to marry her.”

Chapter 17

T
he shock on Christina’s face hardly registered with Gavin. He went into his room, aware that the only emotion he felt now was a vague irritation that Amelia had not had the decency to write him of her change of heart.

He’d expected better of her, though he had to admit she’d waited a long time to wed. She was only a few years his junior and she ought to have married years ago. Five or six, at least. He’d been an inconsiderate lout to hold her to her promise to marry him at some point in the indefinite future.

She’d waited a long time without even knowing if he would survive the war and return home.

And if they’d married and she later discovered his wartime occupation, he doubted she would have been pleased. Certainly not proud. How could she condone the kind of war he’d waged? He’d been a sanctioned killer—not the same as a foot soldier or a cavalryman. Not even like a rifleman of the Ninety-fifth. He’d sought out specific targets and eliminated them—murdered them outside of any battlefield.

Gavin allowed that Amelia was far better off with Matherley, a decent sort of fellow with the means to provide her with the gracious life she deserved. Gavin’s future was still unsettled until he collected the money Windermere owed him, and even then he would have no title, no prestige.

Still, it was disconcerting to realize his emotions toward Amelia were flat. His unease at the prospect of seeing her again had disappeared.

He’d thought their first encounter would play out entirely differently, but instead, he realized he’d come very close to making the mistake of his life. They were both better off with Amelia married to Matherley.

He found his heart was not broken after all.

J
enny brushed the black crepe gown while Christina undressed and thought about Gavin’s startling statement.
He’d planned to marry Avery’s wife.
From the little bits of the conversation she’d overheard, she inferred Amelia had been the one to cry off.

Perhaps Gavin was heartbroken.

Christina’s own heart twisted in her chest at the possibility that Gavin felt crushed by Amelia’s desertion. She’d heard his words quite clearly, and they indicated a dissatisfaction with life since his return to England.

His discontent must include her. After all, she’d not only shot him, but had refused to go to Windermere, thereby preventing him from collecting his reward from her grandfather. And their trip to London had been anything but uneventful. There’d been thieves and orphan boys. And . . .

And her. Christina could not help but think she had been merely a substitute for the woman who’d claimed Gavin’s heart.

Yet he had bedded her with enthusiasm, and more than once. He’d given no indication that his heart was engaged elsewhere.

Not that she wanted his heart, exactly. He was a masterful lover, considerate, patient, and tender. But as long as their liaison lasted, she wanted to know she had his full attention. That she was not sharing it with another woman.

She’d done that once before.

“If you keep chewing on that nail, you’ll have to let me file it, my lady,” Jenny said, and Christina abruptly put down her hand. She sat on the cushioned bench at the dressing table and started to brush her hair.

Edward had wronged her in the worst possible way. She’d been his wife, and he’d humiliated her publicly. He’d essentially told the world that she was unsatisfactory.

Christina sighed, drawing her brush through her hair. She knew her silly, short curls gave her the look of a hoyden like Caroline Lamb. She wished enough of it had grown out so that Jenny could twist it into a decent chignon and she could look like a cultured lady like Amelia.

“Here now, my lady,” said Jenny. “Your gown is ready.”

Christina stood again and stepped into the dress, then let Jenny pull it up and fasten it for her. “What’s this?”

Christina suddenly realized she’d left a dark red abrasion on her neck uncovered. “Ah . . . I think the collar of my traveling dress must have chafed my neck. I was too warm today.”

“Shall I see if I can fix the seam for you, my lady?”

“Don’t bother—I’ll see to it myself after supper.”

“If you’re sure.”

Christina gave Jenny a sidelong glance. “We both know how handy you are with a needle, Jenny.”

Then she said nothing more about it, glad that her maid was young enough and naïve enough not to realize the true cause of her reddened skin. Even now, she could almost feel the rasp of Gavin’s beard, feel his teeth and tongue and the soft kisses he’d trailed down to her breast.

Christina could not believe that he would ever be aloof when he came to a woman’s bed. Or that he would perform perfunctorily. He might only be passing time in the pleasurable pursuits of the bedchamber, but she knew she was the sole focus of his attention, the recipient of his undivided interest, as she had not been with her own husband.

“ ’Tis a shame you must wear your black crepe, my lady,” said Jenny. “I would so dearly love to see you in your deep green silk . . . It brings out your eyes so well.”

“Yes, it’s my favorite, too.”

But completely inappropriate for a widow in mourning. Christina did not know if she would ever wear that gown again, since it would likely be entirely out of fashion by the time she came out of mourning.

She had worn the gown only once, to a summer ball a few weeks before Edward’s death. She did not think her husband had even noticed it. She remembered that he’d spent most of the evening in the card room, smoking and gambling with a number of other married men. She had not danced with him even once, and she wondered now whether he’d gone to Mrs. Shilton’s house after escorting her home. He had left her at the town house alone, saying he was going to his club. Christina had assumed the men were meeting to continue their card games.

She would never be such a naïve chit again. She had learned a great deal from her lackluster marriage, and what Gavin Briggs was teaching her was at the opposite end of the spectrum.

Jenny finished fastening the gown and looked at her curiously. “If you’re worried about Theo,” the maid said, “he’s down in the servants’ hall with Trevor and Mr. Hancock. They’re taking good care of the lad.”

“I’m glad to know it,” Christina replied. Jenny knew her well, and sensed something bothering her. Theo’s well-being had been at the back of her mind, but Christina could hardly admit what direction the rest of her thoughts had taken. She hardly knew what to make of them herself.

She was over the shock of Edward’s death and the circumstances thereof. There was no point in thinking about them now—unless they helped her to understand Gavin, and what Amelia had meant to him.

A lot, she guessed, though it surprised her. Gavin Briggs had not struck her as a man who would profess his undying love for a woman. He was part hero, yet part rogue. Settling down in domestic bliss seemed to be a contradiction in terms.

And yet he would soon own a farm in Hampshire.

Christina wondered what circumstances could possibly have made Amelia decide not to marry him. Had it been because Avery was a peer and Gavin was not? Did social position matter when one was in love? Had Amelia ever loved Gavin Briggs?

Perhaps not, and Christina could not help but wonder whether Amelia had fallen in love with Avery. Maybe while Captain Briggs was away, Amelia’s path had crossed Avery’s and she realized she did not care so very much for her former fiancé.

Christina liked her cousin Avery very much, and he seemed quite happy in his marriage. But she could not help but think Amelia had made a very grave mistake.

“Here’s your shawl, my lady.”

“I don’t think I’ll need it, Jenny.”

“I just thought since you shivered— Well, never mind.” She folded the shawl and put it away, then went to the door. “I’ll just go on now if that’s all right.”

“Yes . . . or no, wait. Will you show me the servants’ hall? I’d like to see Theo for myself.”

“Of course, my lady.”

G
avin looked at the healing cuts on Theo’s back, managing somehow not to wince. He remembered the deep wounds he’d acquired at the end of his own father’s belt, remembered Clifford’s taunting smiles every time Gavin was punished for some typical youthful infraction. As well, there’d been a good number of times when he’d attracted his father’s ire by defending Eleanor.

Someone—probably on Christina’s orders—had bathed Theo properly, washing his hair and combing it out. It had even been trimmed, and when the boy was clean and dressed, he no longer looked quite the savage he had been when Christina had taken him out of the smithy shop.

She’d formed an attachment to the child. He was timid, but after only one day under her care and attention, Theo had begun to look healthier and not quite so cowed.

It had been a pleasure to watch her playing with him, running and chasing in the meadow where they’d stopped to have their lunch. Her laugh of pure joy had jarred Gavin’s heart into an unsettling rhythm.

Had he ever witnessed such enjoyment before? If he had, he could not remember it.

Christina came into the servants’ hall with her maid, but did not see Gavin right away. Her eyes locked on Theo, and she gave him the same brilliant smile that had hammered through Gavin at lunch. It was different from the satisfied smiles she gave him when he bedded her, and nothing like the smiles she’d given Amelia and her husband.

It showed her delight, and at the same time, was meant to reassure. “I see you are doing well, Theo,” she said. “Have they fed you?”

“Yes, my lady,” the boy replied, bowing, and Gavin realized someone had instructed him on the proper way to address her.

“Oh! Captain Briggs,” she said when she looked past Theo and saw him.

Gavin made his bow. “We will be late for supper, Lady Fairhaven. Shall I escort you?”

She gave Theo a gentle pat on his shoulder, avoiding the injured areas of his back. For a woman who had probably never been exposed to a moment of violence, she was surprisingly aware. “Jenny will look after you, Theo. Rest well, for we have a long way to go on the morrow.”

“Yes, my lady,” the boy replied, putting his thumb into his mouth.

They exited the servants’ hall together, Gavin thinking about how quickly she’d become attached to the lad. He wondered how she was going to react to being separated from him when he took Theo to his sister.

“I am having some difficulty imagining you with my cousin’s wife,” Christina said when they reached a quiet passage on the way to the dining hall.

“I was never with your cousin’s wife,” he said.

“Well, of course not after she became Avery’s wife. But Amelia, I mean. You really meant to marry her?”

There was something in her voice that he had not heard before. Not quite annoyance . . . “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” Her back and neck straightened almost imperceptibly. “Of course not. Why would I be?”

He shrugged. “No reason at all.”

They met Lord Matherley and his wife coming into the dining hall. After they took their seats, footmen began to serve the meal, and Amelia started a perfectly inane discussion of the spring weather.

Gavin tried to keep his attention on the conversation, rather than Christina, who sat across from him at the table, but failed. He noticed everything about her, from her dark, glossy hair to her pure, velvety skin and the subtle peaks of color on her cheeks. She did not spare him a glance.

She
was
jealous. Of a woman for whom Gavin felt nothing.

While Matherley took up the conversation and reminisced about a trip his family and Christina’s had taken to Italy together many years before, Christina laughed and recalled a few anecdotes about her brothers, shutting him out completely.

Her attitude amused him. More, it put even a sharper edge on his desire for her. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her.

He noticed that the table became quiet at the mention of Lang’s misadventures, and Christina’s mood sobered. Her eyes brightened, her nose reddened, and Gavin realized she was coming close to tears. He took it upon himself to change the direction of the conversation. “Lady Fairhaven’s parents are in Italy now, I believe.”

“Perhaps it is easier for them there?” Amelia asked quietly.

Christina nodded, and Gavin knew there was conflict waging within her. He sensed it was because she could not speak of the possibility that Lang was alive, and the lie did not come easily to her.

Whereas Gavin had been lying for years, to everyone from his father to Lord Wellington. No one was to know of his actual duties once he’d been recruited by Lord Castlereagh, although he supposed a few must have known or suspected. Wellington, for instance, who’d raised an eyebrow upon learning of the sudden deaths of the French commander General Morel and his adjutant.

The general had been about to lead fifty thousand troops into Leipzig, and Gavin’s orders from Lord Castlereagh had been to deal with every potential threat to the allied troops. Gavin knew Morel’s death would cause chaos in his command, because his second, Colonel Beaufait, was rumored to be incompetent.

Soon thereafter, Wellington had ordered Gavin to accompany him to the battlefield at Waterloo. At least there, his role in the battle had been close to that of a regular officer. But he had not been an ordinary officer for many years. And those years weighed heavily on him.

Gavin glanced about the sumptuous dining room with its silk-covered walls, and rich, mahogany furniture. There were silver serving tureens on the sideboard and expensive hothouse flowers in intricate cut-glass vases on the table. Gavin had grown up with such things at Seaholm Hall, and knew their value.

They were luxuries he would be unlikely to afford, though he would soon be well able to provide a comfortable life for himself and his . . .

Well. He’d always thought he’d have a wife to take with him wherever he made his home. But circumstances change, as Amelia had said, and, as always, Gavin would do what needed to be done. Eleanor and her daughter were going to be comfortable at Weybrook Manor, and so would Theo, though Gavin was not exactly sure how the boy would fit into his household.