The Book Of Scandal (17 page)

“It was not a meal, per se,” Benton said as he presented her lap with a linen napkin. “They chose to dine on nuts.”

“On nuts?”

“Yes, madam. Nuts.”

She looked up at Benton. “Pray tell, sir, where are they now?”

“In his lordship’s private drawing room, engaged in a game of cards.”

“You don’t say,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She glanced again at the two footmen. “Benton? Would you please ask Kathleen to prepare to receive Lady Harriet after supper?” She smiled at Harriet. “And please tell Kathleen that my lady is an avid fan of the game of chess.”

“Don’t fret,” Harriet said sagely. “I dine alone quite a lot. It’s really rather easy, for no one is making you mind your manners.”

Evelyn’s heart went out to the girl, but she laughed. “I won’t make you mind your manners if you won’t make me mind mine.”

She and Harriet chatted about Princess Amelia as they dined—she’d lost a pin, which, Harriet reported, had caused quite an uproar, for they believed a chambermaid had taken it. Harriet seemed relieved that it was found and the chambermaid was exonerated. “Mamma said she ought to have been tossed out. Mamma is always tossing out servants,” Harriet said, as if she were speaking of rubbish. “I will never toss out a servant, for they are always very kind to me. Would you?”

Evelyn smiled. “I certainly hope not.”

Harriet dipped her spoon in her soup. “I’ll be a better mistress than Mamma,” she opined. “My servants shall never want to leave my house, for we shall have parties and be gay as often as we like.”

“I know that I would never want to leave your house!” Evelyn exclaimed. “May I come, too?”

“Of course,” Harriet said solemnly. “But you cannot bring Mamma, for she might go about tossing the servants.”

Evelyn laughed.

When they’d finished the meal, Evelyn said good night to Harriet and promised to meet her at breakfast. She watched Harriet walking away in the company of a footman, and then turned in the opposite direction, bound for the green salon.

She continued on to Nathan’s private drawing room, debating with each step whether or not she should…but then she heard their laughter and smelled their tobacco.

To think only hours earlier, she’d felt a bit sorry for him! The bloody lot of them hadn’t changed as much as an inch—she could just picture them, well into their cups. Carousing had been a source of friction between her and Nathan in the past, and now he would have her believe he’d changed?

Evelyn put her hand on the crystal knob and turned it. The door swung open, catching on the thick Aubusson carpet. She peeked around it—the four of them were seated at a card table, slumped ungraciously in their chairs, cheroots clamped between their teeth, whiskey tots at their elbows.

Evelyn pushed the door open further and walked in.

The moment the men saw her, they scrambled to their feet—Donnelly managing to knock over whiskey in the process without noticing, while Evelyn watched, horrified, as it soaked into the carpet.

“Madam?” Nathan said, squinting as he braced himself with one hand against the card table.

“I beg your pardon—I came down for supper and found the dining room quite empty.”

Nathan glanced at Lambourne. “Supper. Yes, supper. I, ah…”

She clasped her hands behind her back and walked deeper into the room. “I understand you fortified yourself for a night of cards with some nuts. What delicious fare.”

Nathan suddenly smiled; a warm and exceedingly charming smile. She knew that smile. There was a time in her life when it had made her feel as if she was made of nothing but air. “The nuts were indeed delicious.”

“Oh dear,” Donnelly said. He’d only just noticed his spilled whiskey. The other three, noticing it, too, began to laugh.

“Lord,” Evelyn muttered, and moved to the hearth, which was, she noted, going cold. She passed closely by the card table, her eyes on Nathan.

“Ah, lavender,” Wilkes said. “Not a lovelier scent on a woman, if you don’t mind me saying, madam.”

“So you’ve been to Lindsey’s little laboratory, aye?” Lambourne said. “I’ve no’ known a man to be so enamored of lavender as he.”

Evelyn blinked with surprise, then looked at Nathan. “They know of it?” she asked, sweeping her hand to indicate his friends.

Nathan swayed a bit. “They discovered it on their own,” he said, casting a murderous look at Lambourne.

“Aye, that we did,” Lambourne added hastily. “Quite by accident. Hunting,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. He cleared his throat. “Just…stumbled upon it, we did.”

Apparently, Nathan’s friends thought she was a little fool. “I am amazed you were able to walk, much less stumble on it,” Evelyn said dryly, and shifted her gaze to Nathan. “It may interest you to know, my lord, that you are not the only one with a hobby. I intend to restore the abbey and the orangery to its former beauty.”

“Well. There you are,” Nathan said, and looked at the cards he still held in his hand, as if he was surprised to find them there.

“I shall spare no expense, of course.”

“Of course,” Nathan drawled, glancing up again as the men looked anxiously at the floor, the table…any place but her.

“Well,” she said pertly. “I will leave you to your nuts and your cards, sirs.”

“Good night, Lady Lindsey,” Donnelly tried.

Evelyn rolled her eyes and strode to the door. Before she could reach the door, however, her eye was drawn to the marks on the wall Robbie had made with ink. They were big swaths of lines, scribbled back and forth. Her gut clenched a little but she was, she was relieved to discover, more resilient than she’d feared.

When the door closed behind Evelyn, Nathan thought, in his drunken state, that his wife looked a bit like an angel from on high. He poured himself into his chair and tried to focus on his cards. “Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“What is it, Lindsey?” Wilkes asked congenially. “Have you not yet brought her to heel?”

“She’s not a dog, sir,” Donnelly said as he picked up his cards.

“’Tis a figure of speech, Declan,” Wilkes said with exasperation. “She is obviously not a dog.”

“Have a care, gents,” Nathan muttered.

“Consider the source,” Lambourne said with a look at Wilkes. “Wilkes has a way of saying the wrong thing.”

That was met with howls of laughter. “It was not I who said you diddled Caroline,” Wilkes said, laughing loudly, as Nathan attempted to pour more whiskey into his glass.

“Ach! I’ve no’ touched the woman!” Lambourne objected. “On my poor father’s grave, may he rest in peace, I have no’, lads!”

“Best have more than your word,” Donnelly said, “given the charge of high treason that could be leveled against you.”

“Did I tell you? They’ve begun questioning men,” Wilkes added.

“Aye, aye, you told me! I’ve naugh’ to fear,” Lambourne boasted unconvincingly to no one, and began to recount the many ways he was innocent.

Nathan scarcely heard him. He’d long since had his fill of whiskey, but when Donnelly handed him another tot, he continued to drink, hoping against hope it would ease the ache he’d not been able to rid himself of since laying eyes on Evelyn at Carlton House. Then, it had been dull and distant, but it was suddenly pounding through him.

Nathan never knew when he slipped into oblivion; he only knew that the ache was still with him and in his mind’s eye, the vision of an angel in blue.

D ressed and ready for bed, Evelyn spent two hours calming her anger and her anxiety by methodically making a list of all the things she would purchase in the village on the morrow that were necessary to begin reviving the public rooms. The hunting and fishing gear would be gone, carpets and draperies cleaned or replaced, and beeswax candles ordered to supply every room.

She had just put the finishing touches on her list when she heard a loud commotion outside her door. The noise frightened her—it sounded like an invasion of some sort—and she jumped up from the vanity, gripping the hairbrush like a weapon.

She shrieked when someone pounded on her door.

“Lady Lindsey, I beg of you, open the door!” she heard Donnelly shout.

“Why?” she called back. “What’s happened?”

Her question was met with what sounded like a physical confrontation in the corridor. Evelyn moved back from the door, still gripping her brush.

“Lady Lindsey, if you please! We’ve nowhere to leave him, but we canna leave him in the salon!” Lambourne exclaimed on the other side of the door.

She took a tentative step closer. “Leave who? Lindsey?”

“Aye, madam!”

Oh, of all the infuriating, ridiculous—she marched to the door, throwing it open. Her lord husband was being held aloft by his three constant companions, his legs and arms tucked up under their arms.

“Dear God! Can’t you just put him in his bed?”

“We could, aye, we could…” Lambourne said with a wince, “but you know Benton very well. He’d be up all night with him, he would. We canna have that on our conscience.”

“Oh no, of course not,” she said, shaking her head. “But having me up all night will not rile your conscience, will it?”

The three of them exchanged a sheepish look.

With a sigh, Evelyn stepped aside and gestured impatiently with her hairbrush for them to carry him to her bed. They made quite a commotion coming in, bumping up against the doorjamb and knocking Nathan’s head against a chair as they passed. They deposited him like a bag of coal onto Evelyn’s bed; Donnelly tried to remove Nathan’s boot, but he was too inebriated to manage it.

“Out!” Evelyn said sternly to all of them as they tromped around her bed. “All of you! Out!” She ushered them out, ignoring their slurred apologies and thank-yous. She slammed the door shut behind them, locked it, then whirled around, put her back to the door, and stared at her slumbering husband. He groaned and rolled onto his side.

His friends had divested him of his coat and waistcoat, as well as his neckcloth. His shirt had been pulled from his trousers, and through the open neck of his shirt, she could see the dark hair on his chest. His hips and thighs, strong and powerful, took up more space on her bed than she recalled.

He groaned again, rolled onto his back, and flung one arm over his eyes.

“And to think I wanted to give you the benefit of my doubt,” Evelyn muttered. She pushed away from the door and walked to the foot of the bed, watching him. “You haven’t changed at all, Nathan.”

“I’m sorry, Evie,” he said, startling her.

“You’re awake?” she cried.

He didn’t answer.

She moved around to the side of the bed and poked him with her hand. He didn’t move. “Nathan, are you awake? If you are awake, sir, you may take yourself to your bed and leave me in peace!”

His response was a loud snore.

She frowned down at him, but when he didn’t move, she returned to the end of the bed and grabbed his foot. “I remember the last time this happened,” she said aloud, just in case he was practicing his theatrics on her. “It was the night after he died. You disappeared for more than a day and I thought…I thought…”

She bit her lower lip and yanked the boot from his foot, put it aside, then reached for the other. “Then at midnight,” she continued, “Benton and a pair of footmen brought you up and laid you on this very bed.” She gave the second boot a yank, laid it at the foot of the bed alongside the other. With hands on her hips, she stared at him. “I thought I’d lost you both,” she said softly.

She pulled the counterpane out from beneath his feet and pulled it up over him, around his shoulders. He snored softly as she completed her toilette, stealing glimpses of him from time to time to assure herself he was still breathing, and that he was, indeed, asleep. When she had finished that, she puttered about the room, stoking the fire, putting away a few things. Nathan did not move.

At last, she snuffed the two candles that had lit her room, and stretched out on the chaise. Her feet dangled off the end and her head was propped against the back at an odd angle. It was really meant for sitting and not sleeping. Nevertheless, Evelyn was determined to make herself comfortable—she curled up on her side and closed her eyes.

An hour later, she sat up, pushed her hair from her face—it had come loose from the braid with all her twisting and turning—and glared at the bed. Nathan was sleeping like a baby, sprawled across her beautiful silk counterpane. She put her feet on the ground and carefully—reluctantly—walked around to the other side of the bed.

She sat on the edge a moment, questioning the wisdom of what she was doing. With a glance at him over her shoulder, she carefully peeled back the counterpane and lay on the very edge of the bed. The bed curtains moved slightly, and through the diaphanous panes she saw the long shadows the low light of the fire cast across the room. It reminded her of another time she had lain here and had seen the form of a nurse moving quietly about the room.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the embroidered canopy above her head. His weight made the bed feel different. He was like a rock, anchoring her in this little sea of a bed. The mattress beneath her dipped toward him, a familiar sensation—and a lovely feeling of security.

She listened to the sound of his breathing, steady and deep. She used to love those nights he slept in her bed, his body providing warmth against the winter’s chill, his breathing the assuring sound that she was safe.

Evelyn relaxed and shifted a little closer to him, stretching out beside him. She pulled the counterpane up beneath her chin and settled onto her side.

A moment later, Nathan grunted and rolled onto his side, directly at her back. His arm snaked around her midriff, and he pulled her closer to him with a soft grunt. His breath ruffled the top of her head. She froze until his breathing grew steady again, then slowly, she released her breath.

He was warm. And hard-bodied. And she liked it.

Evelyn closed her eyes and drifted to a warm and peaceful sleep for the first time since her husband had appeared before her like a ghost at Carlton House.

Nathan had a dream.

In his dream, he was in the stables, lying on a bed of hay in an empty stall, with Evelyn. It was raining out, and the horses were…were gone, he didn’t know where, but they were alone in the stables.