Suzanne Robinson (32 page)

It was back, that look of admiration and amused fascination. It was back, that look she thought she’d never see again. It was back, and filled with more love than she ever thought to encounter, especially directed at herself.

He brought her hand to his cheek. “Liza, sweet. Sweet, sweet Liza. Will you forgive me?”

Her jaw dropped, and she stuttered, which made her flush and try to withdraw her hand. He tightened his grip and laughed softly, drawing her to him.

“I take it you do forgive me?”

She wobbled her head, not daring to lift her chin from its safe perch on her chest. He lifted it for her, murmured another disconcerting apology, and kissed her. His tongue tickled her mouth, and she forgot her shyness. She protested when he stopped, and opened her eyes. He was contemplating her as though faced with something as rare as the Holy Grail.

“I didn’t know a woman could be like you.”

“Odd?” she asked fearfully.

He laughed. “No, so accepting of what I am.”

“I like what you are.”

He threw back his head and laughed again, sending a thrill down her body to her toes.

She smiled and went on. “Then you don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“You said I was accepting. Then you don’t mind about the rest.”

“Liza, I don’t understand.”

“About my principles. About women being educated and owning their own property and conducting—”

“Nonsense.”

She frowned. “I see. It’s for me to accept what you are, but I mustn’t ask you to respond in the same manner.”

“It’s different for a woman.”

Liza considered Jocelin fortunate that Loveday interrupted them again.

“Forgive me, my lord, but I dare not delay. It’s your father and uncle.”

“Jocelin!”

Liza jumped at the bellow that announced the arrival of the Duke of Clairemont and his brother Yale. The duke charged into the gun room, lacking only a destrier to complete the impression of an avenging and offended knight. Yale followed in his wake, a quiet and saintly yeoman.

The duke pointed at Jocelin with his walking stick and nearly hit his son with it. “God damn you to everlasting hell.”

Jocelin wasn’t even looking at his father. His gaze had fastened upon Yale the moment the man came into sight. Liza edged over to stand at Jocelin’s side, uneasy at the way his features had chilled. As she watched him, he became a predator, encased in wary, voracious silence.

“Is this the person with whom you’ve allied yourself?”

Jocelin inclined his head, but his attention never wavered from Yale. Liza, on the other hand, felt the prick of resentment, hurt, and anger. Stepping up to the duke, she curtsied as gracefully as a princess at a coronation.

“Good morning, your grace. I’m afraid his lordship is distracted at the moment. I am Elizabeth Elliot—no—Marshall.”

The duke’s cheeks had reddened, and his features stilled so that they resembled the painted face of a marionette.

The duke ignored Liza. “Damn and blast. You’ve really done it, haven’t you? You’ve married the granddaughter of a butcher. You’ll get an annulment, sir. At once.”

At last Jocelin released Yale from that hunting-hawk stare and glanced at his father.

“You wanted me to marry. I have done so, and an annulment isn’t possible.”

The duke’s complexion began to resemble a geranium, and he barked at his son. “And I thought you’d done your worst when you made up those lies about Yale. You disgust me, sir.”

The rope Liza had tied to her temper upon the duke’s entrance snapped. She advanced on his grace, wishing she hadn’t lost her pistol.

“You leave Jocelin be, you old goat.”

For once the duke noticed her. His mouth worked open and closed, fishlike. “Keep silent, girl. You don’t know the evil my son is capable of.”

Jocelin headed for his father, but Yale restrained him. The moment the older man’s hand touched his sleeve, Jocelin whirled and raised his voice.

“Back off, you bastard.”

“You see,” the duke said.

Liza spared an irritated glance at his grace, but returned her gaze to Jocelin, who had suddenly become quiet.

After a moment he smiled and said in a sleepy drawl, “Well, well, well, Daddy.”

“Now look what you’ve done,” Liza said to the duke.

“Maybe you need convincing,” Jocelin said as he
transferred his lazy glance to his uncle. “What do you say?”

Yale shook his head and spread his arms in a gesture of helplessness. “What can I say, dear boy? I can only endure your dislike, though I must say I haven’t deserved it all these years. I regret that your unstable nature has caused you to build a fantasy around my giving you shelter when you ran away from your family.”

Jocelin walked over to stand in front of his uncle and smiled at him. “My unstable nature.”

Liza’s uneasiness heightened, for Jocelin’s voice had grown soft, and he moved closer to his uncle.

“I’ll not have another attack on Yale, sir,” said the duke.

“Perhaps I’ve been wrong,” Jocelin said as he came within half a foot of Yale, who began to retreat. “Perhaps I’ve harbored ill feelings too long.”

The two men stopped moving when Yale backed into a gun cabinet. Jocelin placed his body so that it almost touched Yale’s and looked into his uncle’s eyes. Goose bumps formed on Liza’s arms, for Yale appeared confused, wary, and somehow intrigued. Couldn’t he see the danger he was in? Heavens! Was Jocelin armed? Liza sidled across the room to stand near the two. Jocelin glanced at her, but resumed his too-close contemplation of his uncle.

“Perhaps,” he said, “perhaps the calming influence of my wife has made me realize how wrong my actions have been.”

“Calming,” Liza said. “Me?”

Jocelin suddenly thrust himself away from his uncle and snatched her hand. “Yes, of course. You, my dear.” He drew her close and whispered, “When you leave, take my father outside and have him listen at
the window.” He glanced at the window that looked out on a small terrace and garden.

“Am I leaving?” Liza asked.

Jocelin raised his voice. “My wife has suggested that a few moments’ privacy with Yale might resolve our misunderstandings. May we be private, Yale?”

“Do you mean this?” the duke asked.

Jocelin gave his father a chilly smile. “I’m quite serious.”

“Come, girl.”

Liza scowled at the duke, but followed him out. In the hall she grabbed his coat sleeve.

“Come on, your grace.”

“Young woman, release me at once.”

Liza yanked on the sleeve and scurried outside, dragging the duke behind her.

“What are you doing?” he asked as he pulled his sleeve free of her grasp.

She put her finger to her lips and began to tiptoe around the house to the gun room window. Left by himself, the duke followed.

“What—”

“Shhh!” She hovered at the sill and pointed.

Inside, Jocelin and Yale were facing each other beside a low display cabinet laden with several crossbows. The window was open, and she could hear clearly.

“If she’s wrought such a change in you, I’m grateful.”

Jocelin flattened his hand on the glass that enclosed the crossbows and cast his gaze down as if in shame and regret. “She has changed me. I don’t understand it, and can’t explain it to you, but she makes me feel that the past isn’t so important as I once thought.”

Yale drew nearer. “I could intercede for her with your father.”

“Could you?”

“His anger is frightening, Jocelin, as you know. And his influence is indispensable if your wife is to be accepted by the family and by Society.”

Jocelin sounded lost. “I don’t want her to be hurt.” He sighed, but appeared not to notice that Yale had come close. “I would be grateful for your help.”

“Would you?” Yale’s hand slowly reached out to touch Jocelin’s as it lay on the glass. As it closed over his nephew’s, Yale went on. “I will champion her to the last, if she’s brought you back to me after all these years.”

The duke made a noise, and Liza poked him with her elbow.

“Has your little wife made you realize the truth at last?” Yale asked as he lifted Jocelin’s hand.

“I—I don’t know.”

Liza ground her teeth at the uncertainly in Jocelin’s tone. He was an excellent actor, for Yale appeared much encouraged. As Liza watched, astounded, Yale leaned close and began to whisper intimately to Jocelin. The older man’s hand slid up Jocelin’s arm. A click stopped him. He went still, then spread his arms, releasing Jocelin, who stepped back and lifted the gold-engraved pistol to aim at Yale’s heart.

“Well, well,” Jocelin said as he glanced at the window. “What do you say now, Daddy? Kinda like having Judas for a brother, ain’t it?”

Liza goggled at the two men, then yelped at the explosive roar that erupted from the duke. She lifted her skirts and ran after him as he charged back to the gun room. They arrived to find Yale still held at bay
with his hands held up and his body quivering. Liza skidded to a halt upon beholding the expression in Jocelin’s eyes.

“Don’t,” she whispered to him. “Don’t kill him, please.”

Jocelin seemed not to hear her, so she crept over to him and laid a hand on his arm. His lashes fluttered, but he still reamed Yale with his gaze.

At last she heard a distant murmur. “Liza?”

“Please, don’t do this. If you do, I’ll lose you.”

The duke had been momentarily stalled by the sight of Jocelin on the point of shooting his uncle. Now he approached his son, chest swelling, collar askew and silver hair wild. “May God have mercy on your perverted soul. You’re trying to twist the meaning of what just happened.”

Jocelin turned a stunned glance on his father, then slowly lowered the pistol to his side. At the expression on his face, Liza slipped between her husband and his father.

“You’re mad,” she said to his grace. She pointed at Yale. “He’s the one with the misplaced affections.”

The duke rounded on her. “I saw nothing but the natural concern of an uncle for a loved nephew!”

Yale went to stand beside his brother. He gave a sigh of such patient humility that Liza wanted to punch him.

“Should I have let him have me?” Jocelin said quietly to the duke. “Then would you be convinced?”

The duke bellowed, and launched into a stream of imprecations against Jocelin.

Liza put her fists on her hips and shouted, “Shut up, you fool!”

The duke went quiet out of shock, but Jocelin intervened before Liza could attack.

“It’s no use,” he said to her in a dead tone. He lay the pistol on the glass top of the cabinet and turned his back. “I should have known. He chose long ago, and he didn’t choose me.”

“He’s deliberately blind,” Liza snapped.

Jocelin shook his head and sighed. “Leave it. I can’t do this anymore. Leave it.”

Frightened at the thin, strained quality in his voice, Liza rounded on the duke and Yale. Snatching up the pistol, she waved it at them.

“Get out.” She advanced on the duke, who retreated huffily. “Don’t you say a word. You get yourself and your brother on the first train to London, or this butcher’s granddaughter just might slaughter herself some fresh, blueblooded pig.”

She took great pleasure in watching the duke and Yale fall over each other in an undignified scramble for safety. When they were gone, she put down the pistol and approached Jocelin. He was staring out the window and had adopted his military stance, with his fist clutched at his back. She stood beside him and contemplated the lawn and the beds of irises and tulips. After a while he spoke.

“I—” He stopped to clear his throat. “I will give you an allowance. You needn’t remain with me. I shan’t expect it of you.”

Liza clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jocelin’s head snapped to the side, and he gave her a searing look.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I mean that I’m not going anywhere.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “If you think I’m going to let you out of my sight when I’ve all those mistresses for
rivals and your uncle as well, you’re a fool, Jocelin Marshall.”

“But you saw. You know now.”

Liza shrugged. “You’re an enticing person. I ought to know. So why do you expect me to be surprised and outraged just because your silly uncle finds you as fascinating as I do? Just don’t expect me to share you with anyone.”

He faced her and gave her a startled examination. “You’re serious. Hang it if you’re not serious.”

“Yes.” She gave a mock sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to endure many years of people flirting with you, men and women.”

“Don’t you find it … dreadful?”

“What? Yale? Yale’s an idiot.”

Jocelin touched her arm, then hesitantly clasped her hand. “I was never—”

“I know that,” Liza said. She rested her hand on his shoulder. “It happened. It’s over. You don’t have to tell me what happened between you and Yale. But I think I’ve already guessed, and you don’t have to hide it from me. Like I said, Yale’s an idiot, and I’ll always be on your side, my love. Always.”

She had controlled her own sympathy for Jocelin, knowing he would hate it. She waited for his response, hardly daring to breathe. A breeze brought the scent of cut grass wafting at them through the window. It touched her skin like invisible silk. Sunlight flooded into the room in waves of golden light. Then, when she’d almost given up hope, he began to tell her, slowly, softly.