The Book Of Scandal (22 page)

“Really, I am desperately weary,” she said, and pillowed her hands beneath her cheek and closed her eyes.

Nathan stood up, doused the candle at her bedside. He walked to her door, but remembered what Dr. Bell had said—she needed fresh air. He changed direction and walked to the dressing room, opening that door, and then moving through, to open the door onto the corridor and the one that adjoined her sitting room. When he was satisfied that the circulation was adequate, he walked quietly through again. But as he entered her bedroom once more, and trod lightly across the carpet to the door, he heard a sound.

He paused, mid-step, and turned his head toward the bed. There it was again—the unmistakable sound of weeping.

He hesitated—he could not bear to hear her cry another tear, not after what they’d endured. But neither could he bear to leave her. He moved through the dark, put his hand on her shoulder.

“Go away,” she muttered. “Please just leave me be. Please.”

Nathan slowly removed his hand. He backed away from the bed, then turned and silently left the room.

He didn’t return.

Not for two hours, anyway, after he’d visited the room below stairs, releasing his anger and frustration and fear in the only way he knew how. And not until after he’d eaten something and bathed the soot and grime from his body.

Only then did he return to Evelyn, crawling into bed beside her, hushing her weak protests. He was intent on keeping her warm through the night and wrapped his arms around her.

The tincture had done its work—she slipped into a deep sleep again. Her breath was slow and deep. The dead couldn’t wake her now, he knew from experience.

He closed his eyes.

He would keep her warm. He would keep her safe. He would discover on the morrow who had tried to harm him by harming his wife, and tear him limb from limb.

J ack Haines would not admit it to a bloody soul, but he was more than a fair bit concerned about the allegations against him.

Having announced to one and all that Jack had been accused of bedding the Princess of Wales—much to the delight of his oldest friends, Jack noted wryly—Wilkes had confided that the authorities were rounding up the men rumored to have committed treason by bedding her. When the Duke of Kent’s coach had arrived yesterday, Jack had thought himself doomed. That the caller had been for Lady Lindsey felt a bit like a hangman’s reprieve.

That was the moment Jack decided to return to Scotland until the situation between the Prince and Princess of Wales was resolved. He did not relish the thought of being put on trial before a room full of Englishmen. Historically, that had not gone well for the Scotsman, and he had no reason to believe it would go any better for him.

He’d wanted to be gone as soon as was humanly possible, but unfortunately, the fire had kept him. After a long day of helping to battle the blaze, he’d returned to his rooms and packed his bags. The next morning he was just about to send for a footman when, by happy coincidence, one appeared, asking for him to please repair to the study, where the earl was waiting to receive him.

“Of course. I wanted a word with him myself, I did. Be a good lad and bring down the bags, aye? And have my horse saddled.” He held up a crown between two fingers, then tossed it to the young man.

The footman deftly caught it in his left hand. “Yes, sir.”

Donnelly was in the study when Jack arrived, looking as if he’d just been roused from bed. Wilkes was nowhere to be seen—but then again, Wilkes was often catting about the village until the morning hours.

“Lambourne, you look quite refreshed,” Lindsey said, eyeing Jack thoughtfully. Lindsey, on the other hand, did not look the least bit rested.

“I owe it all to Scottish whiskey,” Jack said with a wink for Donnelly, with whom he had a running argument as to the quality of Irish whiskey compared to Scots whiskey. “I had a tot or two after battling that bloody fire.”

“As to that…I can’t thank either of you enough for your help yesterday,” Lindsey said, and shoved his hand through his hair. “It could have been quite disastrous had we not had as many hands, or if the winds had picked up earlier in the day.”

“Fortunately, only the orangery was lost,” Jack said.

“Yes. Fortunately,” Lindsey said, and frowned a little as he looked at his hands, which Jack could see were cut and bruised. Lindsey studied them as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “Tell me something, will you?” he asked. “Can you think of a reason someone might want to harm me in such a manner?”

“Harm you?” Donnelly echoed incredulously. “It was an accident, Nathan—not arson.”

Lindsey shrugged, still looking at his hands. He suddenly put them down and smiled thinly at the two of them. “What the devil is taking Wilkes so long, do you suppose?”

“I’m here!” Wilkes called from the hall just as he strode through the door. “Bloody hell, Lindsey, you had them wake me?” he asked as he dropped into a chair.

Lindsey clasped his hands behind his back and looked at the three of them. Jack had known him a very long time, and through all the trials of Lindsey’s life he’d never seen him look quite as awkward as he did now. “I regret that I…I must ask you all to, ah…well, to leave,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Donnelly asked with a laugh.

“I have just discovered there is no polite way to ask this,” he said. “You have all been my good friends for as long as I can remember. But I must ask that you leave Eastchurch for a time. Evelyn and I…we…”

“You need no’ say more,” Jack said abruptly. He could not bear to hear his friend attempt to speak about something that was obviously very painful to him. “We’ve been guests in your home far longer than a body has a right.” He clapped Donnelly on the shoulder. “I am for Scotland, lads. If the king’s men come looking, you’ll no’ tell them, aye?”

“Scotland?” Donnelly laughed. “How long has it been since you claimed to be a Scotsman?”

“A day too long, it would seem,” Jack responded with a grin.

“I should be to London,” Wilkes added as he stood and stretched his back. “There is a lass I’ve a hankering to see,” he added with a wink. “I’ll be gone by day’s end.”

“Thank you,” Nathan said.

“You don’t possibly mean to make us leave today?” Donnelly asked.

“Donnelly’s fallen in love again,” Wilkes said congenially, “and he is loath to leave her.”

Donnelly laughed as he gained his feet. “I wouldn’t call it love,” he said with a wink. “But she is a bonny lass, as Lambourne would say.”

“Come to London with me,” Wilkes said. “There are more bonny lasses than one man can possibly handle.”

“All right, then. Take me to the land of bonny lasses,” Donnelly said. “Let’s gather our things and be gone, eh?”

“I’ll see you all before you’re off,” Lindsey said, his gratitude evident.

As Wilkes and Donnelly walked out, the Irishman suddenly grinned at Jack. “Running off to Scotland, are you? Have a care who you bed there, my friend. I’ve heard tell the Scots are rather ruthless when their women are ruined.”

Jack laughed. “No one would know it better than I, my lord.”

The day was cold and damply gray, but the work on cleaning up the debris of the fire continued. As all free hands were thus engaged, it was midday before hot water could be brought to Evelyn’s rooms for a soaking bath. The thorough washing she’d done at the basin the night before had helped, but nothing would soothe the feeling of having come so close to death as a hot bath.

In her bathing room, heated by two coal-burning braziers, Evelyn rested her head against the rim of the tub, her eyes closed, and thought of Robbie.

He was tottering ahead of her, dragging a stick that was longer than him. It was an unusually warm March day that year, and the scarf she typically kept wrapped about his throat was in her basket. Robbie stopped at the trunk of a sycamore tree and laid his chubby little hand against it. “Tree!” he cried with delight, having only recently learned the word.

“Tree!” she’d cried with him, just as delighted. He was such a smart boy! “Brilliant, darling!”

“I beg your pardon.”

Evelyn gasped and came up with a start. Lost in memory, she’d not heard him enter. Water splashed over the side of the tub as she groped for a towel, but it was just beyond her reach, and she quickly sank back into the water and covered her body with her arms. “I would like some privacy, please!”

Not only did her husband not leave, his gaze openly and hungrily drifted down her body, prompting a shiver inside her. Evelyn sank lower into the water, almost up to her chin. “Please, Nathan,” she said again.

He ignored her request and slowly lifted his gaze to her eyes. “How are you today?”

“Improved, obviously.” She felt entirely exposed, but he was looking at her with such unabashed desire that she also felt oddly alluring. “You’re gaping at me as if I were one of your doxies.”

He smiled a little. “I assure you, I know of no doxy as enchanting as you.”

Evelyn smiled and absently moved one arm, trailing her fingers across the surface of the water. “And now you think you can seduce me like one of your doxies. Whatever it is you want, I would prefer that you say it and go. The water is cooling.”

His gaze drifted to her breasts, just visible at the surface of the soapy water. “I have sent our guests home,” he announced as his gaze moved over her legs and her knees, protruding from the water.

Astonished, she was speechless for a moment. “You did what?”

“Sent them home,” he repeated as he admired the bit of her thigh he could see.

Evelyn could not remember a time when one or more of Nathan’s friends weren’t about. “Why?” she asked.

“Why?” Nathan smiled a little lopsidedly as he shifted his gaze to her face. “I thought you’d be inordinately happy they are on their way.”

“I’m astonished. You’re rarely without them.”

“The time has come to put away childish things,” he said as he moved to the side of the tub.

She couldn’t agree more. “How did they respond?”

“They cheerfully went on their way,” he said, and went down on one knee beside her, propping his arms on the edge of the tub. He poked the fingers of one bruised and cut hand into the water, swishing them idly about as his eyes roamed her face. “I think it is best if you and I start at the beginning…without them.”

His gaze was so intent on her that Evelyn felt almost bewitched by it. His eyes were so blue, yet ocean deep. When they made love, his eyes filled with light and desire and sheer lust.

Thinking about it gave her another, stronger shiver. “The beginning of what?” she asked softly.

Nathan touched his finger casually to the tip of her breast. “Of us.”

She could feel the desire draw again, pooling in her belly.

“You deserve a new beginning at Eastchurch,” he murmured, and slipped his hand into the water, cupping her breast.

Evelyn drew another abrupt breath.

“And I intend to give it to you.”

Her body reacted with alarming prurience. She tried to shift away from his hand, but the tub was too small—there was nowhere to go. “I don’t want a new beginning at Eastchurch.”

“Yes, so you’ve said, but I aim to change your mind.” He palmed her breast as he watched her eyes, tweaking the tip between his fingers and sending another wave of desire through her. His touch was ruining her, weakening her. She wanted to protest, but she was powerless to do so.

“There are only the two of us now,” he said low. “We are alone in this house. There is nothing and no one to distract us.” His gaze unwavering, he moved his hand, sliding to the other breast. “It is you, and me, and what is left of our marriage. We may either tear it down completely…or build it up again.”

She looked at his mouth and remembered how he had once trailed a moist path down her belly. She wanted to tell him no, to beg him to leave her be, but she couldn’t seem to find the words or her voice. She was aware of nothing but his blue eyes and his hand on her body, stroking her, caressing her, arousing her.

His expression suggested that he knew what he was doing to her…but then again, he always did. “Imagine, just the two of us, completely and utterly alone with nothing but our imaginations to occupy us.”

Heaven above. “I am imagining peace and quiet,” she insisted.

Nathan chuckled low and lifted his hand from the water, brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “I will see you at supper,” he said, and leaned across the tub, touched his mouth to hers, so lightly, but so sensually, that her body felt as if it had been lit up like a candelabra. He lifted his head and looked at her. “Don’t be late.”

He stood. He smiled roguishly. With one last look at her body beneath the water, he casually strolled out.

The moment the door shut, Evelyn slid down, submerging herself completely in the water, rubbing her hands on her arms, trying to rid herself of that powerful feeling of yearning.

Kathleen was practically levitating with excitement at the news that the gentlemen had left Eastchurch. She had gathered quite a bit of intelligence surrounding their departures from the staff and was dutifully reporting it as she dressed Evelyn’s hair.

“What a ruckus it’s caused!” she exclaimed as she dressed Evelyn’s hair for the evening. “Maude is beside herself, for she’d been rather cozy with Lord Donnelly, don’t you know, and the rogue promised he’d take her from here. They always say such things, those randy lords, but then he was on his horse and away pretty as you please, without more than a fare thee well to Maude!”

“Are you certain?” Evelyn asked. She could hardly imagine Donnelly would have said such a thing. She knew his type—very careful not to promise anything but just precisely what was needed to get him between the bed linens.

“I have it from Deschell—you know him, do you not?” Kathleen breathlessly continued. “The tall redheaded footman, he’s the one. Deschell told me that Lambourne left this morning just after an interview with his lordship. They had an awful falling-out. Supposedly you could hear the shouting in the kitchen. Imagine that, a falling-out! And those two thick as thieves!”

Such wild gossip that circulated below stairs! Evelyn cringed inwardly, imagining what sort of wild gossip about her circulated among the staff, now and then. Especially then.