The Rake's Arranged Marriage (7 page)

"Lady Boyle? Lady Boyle, is something the matter?"

Cara shook her head.

"I don't know, Mrs. Cooper. Sometimes I feel..."

"What, child?" Mrs. Cooper asked, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. If Cara had been in any other mood, she would have checked the housekeeper's informal tone. But no indignant feelings stirred in her now.

"Sometimes I feel as though I'm broken inside," she finished.

Mrs. Cooper's happy features fell and suddenly they took on a look of sincere regret that Cara never would have guessed the jolly woman capable of.

"Oh, child," the housekeeper breathed. She encircled Cara in her strong arms. "I suspect you've been through some things in your life...things that have been hard. But look at you – they've not crushed you. You're here. And Lord Quentin Eliot loves you! That means for sure you're not broken – even if you do
feel
that way."

Cara looked up into the kindly housekeeper's face, genuinely touched.

"Do you really think he
loves
me?"

"I don't think it. I know it. I knew it from the first day you arrived. When he carried you up the stairs, the way you two were having a go at each other... Even through your pain, you were matching him word for word, wit for wit. When you passed out, I saw a look come over his face that I'd not seen in years – not since his Sarah died. He cared for you, even then."

Cara could feel emotion welling up inside her. She turned and buried her face in the housekeeper's shoulder. She was grateful that for once, Mrs. Cooper didn't say anything. She just silently held her, letting her vent the torrent of feelings through her tears.

When Cara was all cried out, Mrs. Cooper patted her on the back and smoothed a lock of hair behind her left ear.

"There, there," the housekeeper said. "Just you get some sleep. You'll need a lot of rest after today's exertion. You're a bit pale. I rather think that Lord Eliot might have pushed you too far today."

"That may be true," Cara said, feeling the true weight of the words.

"Well, he means for the best. Goodnight, my dear," Mrs. Cooper said, patting Cara's knee in a familiar, maternal way. "Just you ring for me in the night, should you need anything."

"I will. Thank you, Mrs. Cooper."

After the housekeeper left, Cara did not immediately blow out her candle. She found that although she was exhausted – both emotionally and physically – she was too restless and alert to try sleep. She was still thinking of all that had happened and the sour turn the afternoon had taken. Mrs. Cooper's words rang through her head. “He means for the best.” Deep down, she felt that to be the truth. Then, she remembered something Lord Eliot himself had said. She'd provoked him, and he'd replied.

There was a time when I was quite guileless. Defenseless. Made soft and simple by love. When my heart was broken because death stole that love from me, I was destroyed. Now I know how to arm myself!

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her.
Perhaps his rakishness and his callousness are only the weapons with which he defends his pain.
The thought made her heart soften perceptibly towards him, for she knew she had her own defenses in place – just different ones. And something else: when she searched her heart, Cara recognized that the very recklessness she had first disdained in Eliot was, in fact, quite attractive. It was what had led to the intoxicating kiss in the gallery. It was unpredictable. It was self-involved. It could even be messy, clumsy. But it was also utterly thrilling.

Once again, she felt a shockingly low twinge of excitement as she recalled the sensation of his mouth on hers. She sighed and waited for it to pass.

She knew she'd be hard pressed to fall asleep now, so she picked up one of the books on the nightstand. The binding was old and faded, almost illegible. The name on the frontispiece meant nothing to her, but she could plainly see that it was a book of French verses. Intrigued, Cara turned the page, hoping that her limited command of the language would prove no impediment to her enjoyment of the poetry. But reading the first stanza of the first poem, she clapped a hand over her mouth. It was quite bawdy – and more than a little funny. She found herself looking around the room to be sure that no one was watching – even though she knew that she was alone. Cara had heard that such works existed, but she'd never sought one out.

She read on, giggling and blushing to herself. There was a little part of her that felt guilty for reading something so improper, but then she reflected on how the book must have come to be sitting on her nightstand.
Lord Eliot. Of course.

Her temper flared a little, just for a moment.

 
How could he imagine that it was appropriate to furnish my room with such a work?
The hot question flashed through her mind, but soon it was quieted.
Because he guessed that it would make me blush and laugh, which is exactly what it's done.

Once again, she had to marvel at how Eliot seemed to know her – or, at least, parts of her – better than she knew herself. It was so strange.

For another half hour she read on, giggling and sighing, feeling titillated by the naughty acts described within the pages of the book. But every so often, she'd have to put it aside. She'd close her eyes and recall the deliciousness of the kiss she had shared with Eliot in the gallery, and the sensual promise it held...

When finally she dozed off into a deep sleep, the distressing memories that had reared their ugly heads in the afternoon were nowhere to be seen

She dreamt of the warmth of Lord Eliot's body, of his caress, of the deep blue pools of his eyes searching her face as he touched her.

Chapter Six

Cara was up with the sun the next morning. She felt refreshed, excited even. The pain in her knee was almost completely gone. For the first time since arriving at Hedgeton, she was inclined to take breakfast downstairs. She performed her toilette quickly and then slipped into a simple, striped day dress of linen that she found in the closet. It had been placed there along with the rest of the fine wardrobe that Lord Eliot had selected. The maids had unpacked it all the day before while she had been out of the room for several hours touring Hedgeton.

She decided to fix her hair half up, half down, letting the better part of it spill down her back. She was eager to see Lord Eliot and set right the strain between them that had colored their parting on the previous afternoon. She'd heard that he always took his breakfast in the kitchen, just as he took his nightcap there at the end of the day. So, that's where her feet led her at just a little past seven.

She got a bit lost on the ground floor, encountering several servants who just stared at her wide-eyed. Finally, she had to ask for directions from a young maid, who was pleasant enough in the end.

"Just go through those doors, Lady Boyle, and then to your right. The main door to the kitchen's at the end of the hall, you'll see."

"What is your name?" Cara asked.

"Eleanor," the girl replied somewhat timidly.

"Thank you, Eleanor."

The maid bobbed a little curtsey and rushed off. Her directions were good. As Cara made her way down the final hall, she could smell the aroma of fresh-baked bread and what could only be pork sausage cooking in a griddle. She stopped just outside the door and straightened herself out. She wanted to look good for Lord Eliot on the occasion of their first breakfast together.

But when she stepped into the kitchen, there was no one about but the rather corpulent cook, who looked oddly familiar.

"Hello! You must be Lady Boyle! So delighted that you've finally come down to see the wee galley, as it were!" The big woman's words tumbled out in a happy flood. "I hope you like pork sausage with gravy – it's a bit on the heavy side for breakfast
every
day, but once or twice a week, I say it's just fine! And it's what Lord Eliot wanted this morning, and I live to serve, so!"

"That sounds delicious," Cara murmured. "Lord Eliot, he's not down yet? I thought he was an early riser."

"To be sure, ma'am! In fact, you've already missed him! He took his breakfast here half an hour ago and then set out."

"Oh," Cara said, unable to mask the disappointment she felt. "Where did he go?"

"He said something about a hunt today, ma'am, but I don't like to pry. Lord Eliot will do as Lord Eliot will do – likes to keep an air of mystery about him, that one does!"

The cook chuckled heartily, then. When her laughter had subsided somewhat, Cara took the opportunity to ask her name.

"It's Mrs. Cooper, love!"

"But...that's the housekeeper's name."

"Quite right, quite right. We're sisters. So to keep from confusion, everyone just calls me Gertie. I hope you don't find the informality untoward, ma'am."

"No, Gertie. It's fine."

"Good, good!"

Cara could plainly see that the cook and the housekeeper shared quite a few similarities of personality, as well as appearance. Although she was sorely disappointed to have missed Eliot, she managed to enjoy the next hour in Gertie's company. And, the sausages and gravy (and fresh brown bread straight from the oven) were positively delicious.

After promising to visit Gertie again the following morning, Cara departed and set out for the library, which she'd seen briefly the day before. Knowing Lord Eliot was out for a hunt, she didn't expect him for the rest of the afternoon. So, she began to explore the contents of the library, pausing for tea now and then and to talk with Mrs. Cooper, who served it. Cara had instructed the housekeeper to have a late dinner presented in the parlor. She felt sure that Lord Eliot would be home by the time the sun had gone down and the lack of light stopped the day's hunt. So, at seven-thirty she made her way to the parlor for the meal, but Eliot never materialized.

By the time Cara rested her head on her pillow that night, she was exhausted. Not from any particular physical strain, but simply from waiting. All day long, she'd been hoping for Eliot's return. She'd been longing to talk to him. To perhaps try and explain why his comment the day before had cut her so and made her disagreeable. But the opportunity never came. At midnight, she gave up all hope of Eliot popping into her room (as he had done so freely during her convalescence) and blew out her candle.

***

The rest of the week passed in much the same fashion. Cara would wake and descend to the kitchen, only to find that Lord Eliot was already gone. She'd wait all day, hoping for his reappearance. And, always she would go to sleep disappointed (although she had truly begun to cherish her time with Gertie in the kitchen).

On Thursday night – the eve of the wedding – she had finally had enough. It was past ten o'clock when she sought out Lord Eliot's valet, a young man named Pierson. She had never been inside Lord Eliot's chambers, but she knew where they were and she marched herself there and rapped solidly on the great door. In a matter of moments, it cracked open and young man's worried face appeared on the other side.

"Mister Pierson?" Cara asked, trying her best to sound authoritative.

"L-lady Boyle!" Pierson stuttered.

"May I come in?"

"Excuse me, my lady, but Lord Eliot says that no one is to enter his chambers without his permission. No one but me and Mrs. Cooper, that is. Until you're married."

"I see," she said. She was in no mood to quarrel with the young man, so she didn't press the issue, although it irked her greatly to be forced to conduct a conversation standing in the hallway where any number of servants might hear.

"Well," she continued resignedly. "I have been trying to see him these past four days without any success. As I'm sure you can imagine, Pierson, that is a mite distressing. Our marriage is on the morrow."

"Is it, ma'am?" he asked stupidly.

"Yes," Cara said, her frustration flaring. "Lord Eliot's not within, is he?"

"No," Pierson replied, then he cleared his throat in a way that Cara found suspicious. She judged it quite possible that Eliot was just on the other side of the door, listening to every word. She sighed with exasperation.

"Well. When he returns, would you please tell him that I should like to see him? Preferably
before
we meet at the altar? I know next to nothing about the plans for tomorrow. Perhaps Lord Eliot will remember, I'm not always at my best in the middle of a crowd."

This last was, in fact, a veiled threat. Cara wanted Eliot to understand that she would not be happy in the least if she had to meet him before their wedding guests for the first time in four days. Just the thought of that set her nerves on edge terribly. It was also true that she knew nothing about how the day was to unfold. Mrs. Cooper had been told to set a brunch for guests at ten, but didn't have an inkling about when the ceremony was to take place.

Cara waited for Pierson to reply, but he said nothing. The silence became uncomfortable, so she decided to try a different approach.

"Mister Pierson, you're up with Lord Eliot in the mornings, surely?"

"Yes, my lady," Pierson confirmed, his tone flat.

"In that case, would you be so kind as to rap on my door when Lord Eliot is up and about?"

"Well, ma'am, I-"

"Pierson, tomorrow I am to become Lady Quentin Eliot. I'll brook no disobedience. Do as I say."

"Yes, ma'am."

And then, most rudely, Pierson simply closed the door in her face. Cara took a deep breath. It was difficult enough to come into a new household, to make the correct impression on the servants. When those servants were resistant and headstrong from the outset, it made things even more difficult. But it might very well be that Pierson was simply devoted to his master, bent on keeping Eliot's privacy at all costs. She decided she would believe this, in the interest of giving Pierson the benefit of the doubt and smoothing the way ahead. She had no desire to make enemies. She already felt as though she were fighting some strange battle with Lord Quentin Eliot.

***

Back in her own room, Cara tried to sleep. It was a difficult task. Finally, she reached for book of French verses she'd found days before, which had given her such pleasure. But it was tiresome now. Her stomach was in knots and her heart all fluttery.
I am to be married tomorrow...I am to be married tomorrow...