Virtue's Reward (8 page)

“To leave you without funds would be worse, I assure you. Had your father been alive, there would have been marriage settlements. He wouldn’t have sold you for any less.”

“Yes, but as my husband, you would have gained Trethaerin. Do you think it would have been a fair exchange? Under the circumstances, how can I even the score?”

He smiled. “You think that I can’t drive a decent bargain, like poor Esau who sold his birthright for a pottage of lentils?”

“ ‘And Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field,’ ” she quoted.

“Not cunning enough,” Richard said with a laugh. “He let himself be outwitted and replaced in his father’s affections by his younger brother, Jacob. Hardly a reasonable exchange.”

“How can I know? Do you care for your birthright?”

“Passionately, as it happens.”

So it meant a great deal to him to be earl one day. Could she live up to it? He was offering her financial security and a more assured place in society than she had any right to expect. What could she give in return?

“I shall try to make you a good wife,” she said.

“I don’t want a good wife and the blunt means nothing. Forget it.”

“Then what do you want?”

She had no idea if he was serious or not.

“I want Acton Mead, of course,” he said.

* * *

It was late evening when they arrived at Acton Mead, and the house was shadowed in the failing light. It lay in a fold of hills, and the grounds ran down to the water meadows of the Thames. Part of the façade was lost in a thick growth of ivy, but the grounds appeared to have been kept up, even if not quite to the standard of King’s Acton. There were sheep instead of roe deer grazing the lawn.

Richard hammered at the door, and in a few moments it was opened and an elderly butler peered out.

“Master Richard? Bless my soul!”

“Are you going to let me in, Hood? Or must I stand in the dark like a beggar at my own door?”

“Well, you gave me a turn, my lord, and that’s a fact,” Hood said, throwing open the door. “We have most of the house in dust sheets.”

“Devil take the dust sheets! All I require tonight is the preparation of two bedchambers and a simple meal. How is Mrs. Hood?”

They were ushered into the hallway and Richard began to peel off his coat.

“You will find her in the pink, my lord, as always. There’s not much rattles my Mistress Hood.”

The butler’s expression was torn between his delight at seeing the viscount and the furtive glances he was casting at Helena.

“Then go and fetch her, sir. I would like her to meet Lady Lenwood.”

Hood gaped, and his wrinkled face broke into smiles. “Lady Lenwood! Then you’re a married man, my lord.”

“Indeed, and I have come to claim my home.”

“Master Richard! Well, bless us all!” A round-faced woman had bustled into the hallway. It was obviously Mrs. Hood, for she gave the butler a buffet in the ribs. “Now, what on earth are you thinking of, Mr. Hood, to let them stand in the hallway like this? We don’t have the house open, my lord. But if you would condescend to join us in the kitchen? And is this your lady wife? God bless you, my dear! Come through, now, come right through!”

Richard smiled indulgently at the old housekeeper. “We should be delighted, Mrs. Hood, especially if you happen to have some of your scones.”

So Helena found herself following Richard and the old couple through several shrouded rooms and into the warmth of the kitchen. The walls, painted the traditional blue to keep away the flies, were lined with row upon row of shining copper pots and pans. Barrels of flour and a tall cone of sugar stood at the side of the room.

“We have a rabbit stew, my lord, and fresh bread, and I can whip up some scones on the instant. Had you thought to send warning, we’d have laid in more provisions.”

“Time enough tomorrow, Mrs. Hood. Now, can you find a bedchamber for her ladyship?”

“Well, of course,” she said. “All the bedrooms are kept clean and aired. I should hope that I know my duty.”

Helena watched with amazement as Richard, heir to an earldom, happily ate rabbit stew in the kitchen with the housekeeper and butler. A plate of fragrant scones soon appeared from the wall oven. They were served with generous helpings of cream and honey. Then Mrs. Hood disappeared to see to the beds.

Richard seemed free of all shadows and laughed uproariously more than once at some anecdote of the old man’s.

“And do you remember, my lord,” Hood wheezed, “when Master Harry caught the frogs and put one in your grandmama’s bed?”

“How could I possibly forget, sir? It was I who received the beating.”

Richard threw back his yellow head and laughed again.

“Yet Master Harry caught it, too, when you tied together your sisters’ plaits.”

“That was nothing more than was richly deserved. I don’t know if Joanna has forgiven us yet.”

“You lived here as children?” Helena asked.

His smile was as warm as the sun. “We came here every summer, my brothers and sisters and I, and cavorted under the indulgent eye of the dowager Countess of Acton, my father’s late mother. It was the only place, I think, that we ever were happy.”

No wonder he had longed to own it. He must feel for Acton Mead as she felt for Trethaerin House.

As if reading her thoughts, Richard leaned across to her and took her hand. “Exactly, my dear. And I hope it will become a place of happiness for you.”

Helena smiled back at him. He was extraordinarily attractive in this mood. He did not let go of her fingers. After Mrs. Hood returned and all four of them began to share the jokes, he still kept her hand in his, while his thumb began to weave a delicious pattern across her palm.

Suddenly, he leaped to his feet.

“Enough! Tomorrow we must hire in staff and open the house. We shall stay here for what’s left of the summer. But now to bed!”

“Will her ladyship require any assistance, my lord?” Mrs. Hood asked.

Richard gave Helena a questioning glance and smiled. “None that I can’t provide,” he said to the housekeeper. “We’ll see you in the morning. Good night!”

Helena followed him through the silent hallways and up several flights of stairs. At last, he pushed open a solid oak door and led her inside. She felt instantly welcome. The room was beautiful. A frieze of plaster leaves and flowers ran around the ceiling and down to the fireplace. Though the September night was not cold, a fire burned brightly in the grate. Fresh linen sheets were already turned back on the large bed.

“This is your room,” he said. “Do you like it?”

“How could I not? It’s lovely.”

“Then I shall share it with you tonight.”

Helena’s blood turned instantly to water. She felt her voice stick solidly in her throat, and gulped.

“I thought you preferred to sleep alone,” she mumbled at last.

“Yes, but I don’t intend that we sleep, my dear. You’re my bride, remember? It’s time that I ravished you, don’t you think?”

She knew there was no color left in her face. In fact, she felt faint. She must not give way to the vapors!

Richard took her hand and sat her in a chair by the fire.

“We are married and this is what married people do. Without it there would be no babies and that would be a great shame, wouldn’t it?” Helena could feel her hand tremble in his, but he raised her fingers to his lips and gently kissed her palm. “The great secret is that there is nothing more wonderful in the world.”

“Than babies?” Helena asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

Richard laughed. “Than what you are about to discover, which is why it’s called making love. Don’t be afraid, sweetheart. You will like it, and if you don’t, I’ll stop. It’s no worse, I assure you, than a cavalry charge.”

She forced herself to be calm, but her voice shook. “Don’t tease me, Richard! I have never been in a cavalry charge.”

“Yes, I know. But I have.”

He went to the side table and poured her a glass of wine. It shone like a ruby in the firelight.

“Now drink this very slowly and think of nothing but the way it tastes. I’ll be back in a moment.”

There was a door at the side of the room, and he stepped through it. Obviously, his bedchamber lay beyond.

The moment he was gone, Helena leaped to her feet and began to pace frantically back and forth. Every woman went through this, and usually on the wedding night, not several days later. Surely it couldn’t be so dreadful?

Yet she wanted to run out of the house into the dark garden and hide. Good God! She had made him solemn vows at the little church in Exeter. She couldn’t back out now. He was providing her with a home and protection, and this was part of the bargain, wasn’t it?

What did he expect of her? Should she undress and put on her nightgown? Take down her hair? She had no idea. Without thinking, she went back to the fireplace and gulped down the wine.

The door opened behind her and she whirled around.

“You have the look of a doe at bay, Helena, or the princess tied to a rock awaiting the dragon,” Richard said softly. He was dressed in a long blue silk robe open at the neck. The lines of his throat were shadowed like a sculpture in the firelight, and his fair head shone like a halo. The faintest of smiles played at the corners of his mouth. “I thought you were made of nobler stuff.”

“But I’m not of noble blood.”

“Then mine will have to count for both of us, I suppose. You might try to see me as St. George rather than the monster, you know.”

“Yes, but it’s the being tied to the rock as the tide comes in that’s so unnerving,” Helena replied.

“There is really nothing to be afraid of,” he said and he came up to her and took her head in his hands. “Trust me, sweet.”

She gazed back up at him. His eyes were very dark.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

“You’re not supposed to know,” he replied. “Just relax.”

Gently he touched her lips with his own. She stood as rigid as a poker in his grasp, but his kiss was as light and fleeting as the one he had given her after their wedding. She felt suddenly reassured. Perhaps she could trust him?

She closed her eyes as his fingertips gently smoothed over her lids.

“Do you know that you are beautiful?” he said softly in her ear. “Don’t think, just feel.”

She was afraid to move or to speak, so she merely nodded her head a little. She could feel careful fingers pulling the pins out of her hair. As it fell around her shoulders, he smoothed it away from her face as if he were soothing a frightened horse.

“Your hair alone would be enticing enough to launch all the thousand ships,” he whispered. “Helen of Troy would have been jealous.”

His hands ran down the fall of her hair. The feeling was wonderful and she smiled tremulously up at him. She dared not open her eyes, so she had no idea what his expression was. And then his fingers began a strange and delicious stroking on the back of her neck, while one hand slid down her arm, lingering on the sensitive skin inside her elbow and wrist. He lifted her hand and she felt his tongue trail lightly across her palm before gently sucking at each fingertip.

Something very odd began to happen to her insides. His mouth touched her temple and the lobe of her ear before he moved to kiss the pulse at the base of her throat. She trembled like a reed in the wind at the delicious sensation. When his lips closed once again over hers, she could not keep herself from responding.

“There, you see,” he whispered when he finally lifted his lips from hers. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Her eyes flew open. She felt breathless and dizzy.

“No,” she said honestly. “It was lovely.”

“Then would you mind if I did it again?”

“I think I might even like it.”

“And I think, truthful Helena, that I am glad that I married you.”

His eyes were pools of darkness. If she looked into them for another moment, she might be lost forever, so she dropped her head and looked away.

Richard led her to the bed.

“When you were a child,” he said casually, pulling her to his lap, “did you ever take off your dress and stockings and lie on the hot summer sand of Trethaerin Cove to let the sun wash over your skin like a wave?”

She smiled nervously. Richard’s body felt strong and warm. His silk robe caressed her arm. His fingers were slowly moving her hair until it lay in a sheer curtain across her breast.

“Of course I did, though I risked a beating if I were ever found out.”

“But it was worth it, wasn’t it?”

He bent his head and took her lips again. He tasted as sweet as honey.

She barely noticed that his clever fingers had unbuttoned the row of fasteners at the back of her dress until it slithered to her waist and she was clothed in nothing but the fall of her hair over her thin chemise.

“Imagine the hot sun,” he whispered softly as his hand moved up the bare skin of her back, “and the sound of the waves. There has never been a more beautiful summer day.”

When Helena awoke in the morning, she was alone. She could not remember his leaving. She must have fallen asleep after . . . She blushed a little, then smiled to herself. How on earth was such an amazing thing kept secret? Was this what men and women did together, that people all through history had risked honor, reputation, or even life itself to find?

She thought for a moment about what had happened. Richard had asked for her trust and she had given it. Then he had touched her heart in ways she had not known were possible. He had said they would make love. How could you not love the agent of such pleasure? She would never be afraid again. It seemed that marriage was a one-sided bargain, after all, and every facet was a gift from him to her.

Slipping from the bed, she went to the window and looked out over the grounds of Acton Mead. A scattering of great old trees punctuated a sweep of green lawn and gave shade to a flock of black-and-white sheep.

In the distance lay the blue ribbon of the river, divided from the park by an iron railing and the waving tufts of cattails. A brightly painted barge went slowly by, as small and neat as a toy. The tow horse seemed to be led by a tiny boy.