SoundsofLove (14 page)

His monstrous reflection in the small mirror caught his eye.
“Bloody hell.” He was scarcely able to believe that the fine fellow who had
left here half an hour past with his favorite student had been brought so low,
so quickly. His starched white cravat had been transformed into a grotesque
crimson bandage, his sleek hair stuck out at odd angles around his head, and he
had two marks on his jaw visible for all the world to see, as if he’d been bitten
by a wild beast. He could hide the gash but not the fang marks.

Percival gingerly released the pressure on his neck and
peeled away the cravat. He inhaled sharply at the sting of air on the nasty
slash, and knew he’d been lucky Ahlquist hadn’t slit his throat. At least the
bleeding had stopped. He wet a washcloth and dabbed the wound, wincing at the
pain.

Ahlquist’s accusations had shredded his very soul. He was a
peer of the realm, a scholarly man of natural inclinations, admittedly a
misogynist and a strict master, but a noble man. His reputation had taken a
mighty blow this day, and he vowed to avenge himself.

His mind scrambled to determine whether he could speed up
the end of the translation. If he worked day and night with Lawrence and Jon,
he could be done by Christmas. If the earl had completed a translation of the
Digenis
,
Hedges would be drummed out of Oxford, and the past three years work would be
meaningless. Worse, the Duke of Clarendon would be furious. He had funded most
of the students who worked on the project with Hedges, and he naturally
expected recognition when the translation was published. No one wanted the
powerful duke as an enemy. The man barely masked a perverse temperament.

Without the translation, Hedges was just another poorly
funded baron. There would be no entry into the lofty homes of noble scholars,
no admission into esteemed organizations such as the Philological Society.
Being second to reach publication by a few months would make him a
laughingstock, unless his translation was clearly superior.

Hedges knew Ahlquist’s brother-in-law, Wallace Garretson,
was looking at all the Acritic songs, but there had been no indication of any
real progress from his connections at Cambridge, or rumors of the earl’s
involvement. The whole situation was damned odd. Ahlquist had to be bluffing
with the last line, and the Sibley woman was undoubtedly involved somehow. He
should have known she’d go running to the earl. She’d proved once again that
she was a whore. First, the lusty doctor while Geoffrey laid dying, and now the
vain peacock Ahlquist. If not for the Sapphos, she’d be completely worthless.
Selling them would ease his financial concerns for a decade. Her audacity in
claiming to be the translator would be dealt with once she was his wife, and he
could discipline her properly.

The door opened behind him and he heard Lawrence ask, “Are
you injured, Master Hedges?”

He winced at the pity in his beloved student’s voice. Pity
followed disappointment, and implied shame. Ahlquist had done it again, calling
him out in public. After nearly twenty years, few people knew the story of
their altercations at Eton. Hedges hadn’t been reminded of the humiliating
episodes for over a decade.

“I’m fine, Lawrence, it’s only a scratch.” He pressed a
towel against the wound, which had begun to weep.

“Who was that man?”

“Julian Ahlquist, Earl of Trenchford.” In the mirror, he saw
the blank look on the young man’s face and sneered. “He claims to be working on
the
Digenis
.”

Shock filled the handsome face. “Is that why he attacked
you—to slow down your progress?”

“Perhaps.” Percival turned and faced him. “We’ll need to
work very hard.”

“It’s mid-term, Master Hedges. I’ll do the best I can, but I
have five essays due next week.”

Hedges grabbed a clean cravat and wound it round his neck. “Let’s
work a few hours now. Bring me the latest pages.”

“You should have a surgeon look at your neck, Master Hedges.”
He still stood in the doorway.

Hedges waved him in. “Later, when I have time and you have
tutorials to attend, I shall visit my physician in town. I’ve washed the
scratches for the time being. Now come in and help me.”

“I’ll go get Jon.” Lawrence left with a quiet click, and
Hedges stared at the back of the door.

Lawrence had never minded being alone with him before. He
must have heard the taunt in the breakfast hall.
I thought you preferred
boys.
Ahlquist had fairly shouted all his ravings.

Damn the man to hell and back.

If the trust between Lawrence and himself was destroyed, it
would be an unbearable loss.

Lawrence Clarke elevated him with his pure mind and noble
thoughts. He was the most intelligent, sensitive, devoted student that Hedges
had tutored in nearly two decades, the best in a long line of able young men.
To think there was something sexual between them was preposterous. Hedges used
a whore in a nearby village for carnal sport, although it had been some years.

Lawrence was untainted by the common world. Ahlquist could
not know the joy of such a fine bond as could exist between high-minded men of
superlative character. Hedges welcomed such superior young men into the
cultural elite of the greatest empire on earth, and he basked in their presence
while they were under his wing.

He glanced around his sparse quarters with fond regard. This
was the only place he felt truly content, but he would have to give it up in
six weeks to keep his word to his cousin and do his duty to the damned title he
didn’t covet. Even gaining possession of Geoffrey’s noteworthy translations,
which he planned to revise and publish, was meager recompense for the sacrifice
he would be making.

Married faculty lived off campus, even if their wives
resided elsewhere. The thought of marriage and Sibley’s large udder-like
breasts made him shudder, and his neck throbbed anew. He preferred thin women
who lay still beneath him. He had postponed the inevitable consummation, but
now that Ahlquist wanted her, he finally had a reason to claim her for himself.

First, he needed to stay focused on the task at hand.

Finish the damned translation. Only thirty pages remained of
the eight hundred he had begun three years before. The introduction was nearly
complete, and the duke’s preface could be rushed along.

Percival searched for notepaper to send His Grace word of
Ahlquist’s involvement and already dreaded the visit he knew would follow.

Damn it, his neck stung as much as his pride. Ahlquist was
going to pay for both wounds.

Cathryn entered the breakfast room at nine and was relieved
to see the table set and serving trays on the side table. Edna must have come
back. When she lifted a domed cover, she saw only a few runny eggs and some
over-dark bacon. Not Edna’s cooking.

Victor poked his head in the doorway. “Morning, my lady.
I’ll have your toast in a jiffy.” The door closed behind the young man, and
Cathryn settled into her seat. Her stomach was still full from last night’s
feast, and her head throbbed from too much wine. Toast and tea were all she
wanted.

Opposite emotions tore at her as she waited. Vauxhall seemed
a delightful dream, but her aching body attested to the reality of what she had
done. Joy and shame warred over how to frame the decadent events. She had made
love in the woods, and in a public supper box where a handful of witnesses
could hear her cries of completion. Her face burned and her lower body pulsed
at the erotic memories. She had been shameless, a thoughtless creature who
cared only for pleasure without regard as to consequences.

Humiliation and anger tugged at what remained of her heart
as she considered facing her staff. Geoffrey had betrayed her badly, and
Percival was a horror. She hated both men at the moment, but she loved
everything about Julian.

Staring out the small window at the townhouse across the
street, she could not keep joy from ruling the day, even as she dreaded facing
Edna and Nathan.

She was falling in love with Julian. The thought warmed her
heart and made all the others fade. Perhaps her intense emotion was only
infatuation, but she had never felt this way previously, and she intended to
explore the sensation to the ultimate. He seemed to return her affections,
which continued to amaze her. Julian Ahlquist had asked her to be his bride,
and she planned to enjoy the experience. Her life had been transformed, and she
need only settle the past to move boldly into her glittering future.

The creaking door alerted her to the presence of her footman
and she put on a brave smile. “Good morning, Victor.”

“Good morning, my lady.” He set the toast down beside her.

“Just toast and tea today, thank you.” He brought the teapot
over and poured her customary half a cup. “Has your father returned?

“No, milady.” He set the cream down beside her and made to
leave.

“Victor, wait, please.” She gestured to a chair. “Please sit
for a few minutes. I have some questions I need answered.”

She added her cream while he sat beside her. She’d helped
raise this thin boy of nineteen, and he looked more uncomfortable than she’d
ever seen him. Her heart ached for him and his family. “How’s your mother
faring?”

“My mum says she’s not coming back, milady. She sent Molly
to do the cooking today, but she says you should find new staff.” Cathryn saw
his jaw stiffen as if expecting the next blow.

She wanted to reach out to comfort him but that would be
terribly improper. “I’ll give you all fine characters if you leave. You’ll have
no trouble finding employment, but that is not my wish.”

“Thank you, milady.” His face softened as he started to
rise, and she shook her head.

“Wait, please. I wanted to ask you about Sir Percival.”

Victor’s countenance shifted abruptly. “He’s a pig, ma’am.”

“Yes, so I’ve discovered.”

Victor’s eyes scanned her as if searching for injuries. “Did
he hurt you, too?” His thin hands fisted.

“Yes, in many ways.”

She started to ask him who else Percival had hurt, but he
blurted out, “I should have dealt with him before.”

“Before?”

He glanced towards the kitchen door. “When he hurt Molly.”

Cathryn rose from her seat. “He hurt Molly?”

“Don’t talk to her, please, milady. She feels very badly.”

She sat back down reluctantly. “When did this happen?”

“The night of Sir Geoffrey’s funeral.”

Two years ago. Dear Lord, Molly had been fourteen, a mere
slip of a girl. Surely the unthinkable hadn’t… “What did he do?”

Victor stared at the kitchen door as he spoke. “He grabbed
her in the hallway and dragged her to his room. I heard her scream and came
running. He threw her at me, knocked us both down in the hall outside his door.
He was fully foxed and I think he meant to…” The long fingers clenched in
impotent, powerless fury.

Cathryn could scarcely believe the tale, but Victor would
not lie. “Yes, I see. Thank heavens you were nearby.”

His eyes were bright with the emotion he held in check. “He’s
always been very rude to her, and to my mother, in private.”

This was all much worse than she’d hoped to discover. “He’s
a dreadful man.”

Victor finally met her gaze. “I never met someone who
thought themselves so superior, who was, in fact, so clearly inferior.”

Cathryn looked at him with new respect. That was very well
said. “I wish someone had told me, but I can understand the silence.”

“We didn’t want to add to your burden.”

“I hope someone meant to comment before I exchanged vows
with the man.”

“Pa said he would tell you, I swear.” The realization of how
close they had come to a disaster dawned on the young man. “You haven’t married
him, have you, milady?”

“No. Thank heavens.”

“Thank heavens,” he echoed in relief. “Is there anything
else, milady?”

“Yes. Tell your parents, and you and Molly as well, that I
should like you to take your holidays for the next month, and we will discuss
the situation at that time.”

“So you’re not accepting our resignations, milady?”

“No.”

He looked relieved and nodded vigorously. “Thank you, my
lady. I shall stay. I gave my word to Lord Ahlquist’s men.”

“Very well. You may stay.”

“The earl offered to send over some staff, milady. His
footman says they have plenty of extra hands now that the season is over.”

“That would be an excellent solution. I’ll pen a note
accepting his kind offer. Please send them to me when they arrive. I’ll be at
home all day.”

“Thank you, milady.” He rose to leave and she nodded. He was
nearly at the door when he turned and said, “Lady Sibley, I would not have let
you exchange vows with Sir Percival without telling you what I knew, I swear.”

“Thank you, Victor. That eases my mind.”

As he exited, Violet entered from the hallway. She looked
lovelier than Cathryn had ever seen her, vibrant and luminescent in a golden
gown. Cathryn hoped her own new forest-green attire suited her as well.

“Good morning, Vi. Goodness you look positively radiant.”

“Good morning, Cat. You look very well yourself.”

They had barely spoken the night before, each retiring
immediately. Violet busied herself at the side table and came to her seat with
only a piece of bacon on her plate and the teapot.

Cathryn wished she had better news. “Victor’s just told me
that Percival attacked Molly the night of Geoffrey’s funeral.”

Violet set the pot down with a heavy thud. “Did he…?”

Cathryn rushed to reassure her. “Victor stopped the attack.”

“Thank heavens.” She mopped up a drop of spilt tea with her
napkin.

“Yes. I only wish they had informed me before now.”
Cathryn’s relief over Molly’s well-being was a welcome buffer against the staff’s
irksome omission, and she moved on. “I’ve given the Lewins a month’s leave,
although Victor plans to stay. Lord Ahlquist is sending over staff to replace
them for the time being.” Saying Julian’s name aloud returned her thoughts to
the previous night.

“That’s very kind of him.”

Cathryn couldn’t help agreeing. “He’s proving to be a very
kind man.”

An awkward silence prevailed while Cathryn sipped tea and
Violet prepared a piece of toast. The silence stretched on while both women ate
a lightly buttered slice. They had never had an uncomfortable moment in four
years. It seemed a pity to begin when they had just shared such an adventure.
Cathryn simply could not think of a thing to say besides,
what did Darbonne
do to you that shocked you so?
Of course, she couldn’t ask that, and
nothing else came to mind as she recalled their shameless encounter in
Vauxhall.

Violet also appeared uncomfortable, and she glanced at the
kitchen door before she whispered, “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

“No,” Cathryn whispered back.

“I can’t believe I did such a thing. It must have been the
wine.”

“Indeed, we all had too much.” Cathryn’s blood started to
pound. Could she ask such a personal question? Her curiosity raged and she knew
this was the time, while they were discussing intimate details. “Even Mr.
Darbonne seemed…affected.”

Vi’s blue eyes widened. “He’s practically perfect, although
I know Mother would disagree. I can think of no defect, except…”

“Except…?” Cathryn encouraged.

Vi’s blush deepened. “He seemed to lose his way at one
point.”

“In what manner?”

“I think he meant to…kiss me…there.” Her eyes darted to her
lap.

Cathryn’s core quivered. Julian had made no such attempt,
and now she wondered why. He seemed more a man of the world than the American
did, surely he would have done such a thing to her if it were customary. Even
Fanny Hill had made no mention of men kissing women…down there. “Oh, dear,
well…”

“Of course, I corrected him, but now I wonder…”

“What? What do you wonder?”

“If I should have stopped him. Perhaps he knows something I
don’t.”

Remembering her intimate lessons with Fanny Hill, Cathryn
knew that was a distinct possibility. “Hmm, I don’t know. Julian hasn’t…”

Violet’s disappoint was evident. “Oh, I see. I thought
perhaps…”

“No.” Cathryn wished she had more knowledge and resolved to
ask Julian if he had any more erotic texts she could study.

“Oh,” Vi said with a sigh. “Well, then, I shall just have to
wait and see what happens when I see Rune again.”

Cathryn couldn’t help a small smile at the pleasant turn
both their lives had taken. “The earl has invited us to dine with him at
Ahlquist House.”

“Yes, I recall.” Vi smiled back and reached for her cup. “I
wonder if he’ll invite Mrs. Aubrey? I’d like to know her better.”

Cathryn’s smiled melted. “Did you see his face when were
discussing her? I think he may still have feelings for her. I’d rather avoid
her for the time being.”

“He seems thoroughly smitten with you, Cat, and he’s asked
you to marry him. If you can rid yourself of Percival, I predict a happily ever
after for you two.”

Cathryn lifted her teacup, reassured. “I only hope Julian is
truly rid of Mrs. Aubrey. I shouldn’t like to have her as a rival.”

“Neither would I.”

* * * * *

Julian entered Fiona’s studio for his private lesson at
four, but the master was not there. Searching the nearby rooms, he found her in
her study, seated at a window overlooking the busy street. She seemed lost in
concentration, and he stood and watched her profile.

Her straight blonde hair was loose and hung just past her waist.
She wore a black shirt and trousers, not out of mourning, but as a sign of her
accomplishments with the sword. She was a master in a man’s world, and she held
her own with constant dignity and sharp humor. Her perfect features were
unmarred, with no sign that she had ever been bested in battle. In another
time, she might have been a queen, sought for her extreme beauty, bravery and
quick wit. She showed few signs of her age, only a slight crease between her
high eyebrows and a handful of faint wrinkles around her light blue eyes.

“I heard you were in Oxford, and thought you would miss our
meeting,” she said without looking his way.

“I would never miss a lesson without letting you know,
Master.” He approached her, sensing a disturbance in her demeanor. “Is
something amiss?”

She inhaled sharply, and he watched her chest rise and fall.
“Your father and I have had a disagreement, one that I do not believe we can
repair.” Her gaze moved his way. “I want a child, and he does not.”

Their eyes locked and Julian could not believe the timing of
her disclosure. He’d wanted her for two decades, always leaving himself
available to the possibility that she might come to him. He would have
withstood the scorn of the
ton
to marry her, and he would gladly have
given her as many children as she wanted.

But he’d just proposed to Cathryn, and he was falling in
love with her gracious beauty.

Now, he had nothing to offer Fiona but friendship.

“I’m sorry, Fiona. I know you’ve spoken of children before—”
He took a chair near her.

“I fear I have only a few years left before I am unable…”
She choked on the words. Fiona Aubrey feared very little.

“It’s natural to want a child.” He shrugged slightly. “You’ll
have no trouble finding a man—I’ve heard the cavalry is drilling in Hyde Park
early mornings.”

She moistened her lips, and the pink tip of her tongue
stirred old memories of his obsession with her. “Are you taken, then?”

He nodded, and his chest tightened. How long had he waited,
prayed, bargained with the Lord himself to make Fiona available to him? The
gods were having a laugh at his expense today.

Cathryn was magnificent, everything he wanted in a wife, far
better suited than the forceful, fickle…phenomenal Fiona.

“I had hoped to see you before you spoke with Lady Sibley.
She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“She is.” The one who was keeping him from saying yes to the
question he had most wanted to say yes to for as long as he could recall.

Julian, will you make love to me?

Yes, of course, let me put aside my pride and take on my
father’s cast-offs.

“I see. Well, I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

For twenty years she had made him terribly uncomfortable, at
times painfully so. He’d fought a dozen battles over her honor in his youth,
earning himself an unwelcome reputation as a violent personality. And he’d
dreamt of burying himself inside her more times than he could count, causing a
string of embarrassing episodes at Eton.