The Wild Child (24 page)

The other woman dropped onto the bed in a swirl of blue silk. “It’s not official yet, but I’m to be married soon. Papa and I are on our way to visit my betrothed and his family in Lancashire.” She looked hopeful.

“May I tell you about him? My father thinks I’m silly to want to talk about Robin all the time, but another female might understand.”

Meriel had to smile. Donning an expression of interest, she settled into the sofa as Lady Lucia began to describe the manifold wonders of the Honorable Robert Justice. The glow on her face was intriguing. A sign of being in love, apparently.

Did Lucia also feel the fierce physical craving that drew Meriel to Renbourne? If so, she was too well bred to show it. But passion might well be the fuel behind the tumbling words and sparkling eyes. Eventually Lucia stopped and gave a deprecatory laugh. “Sorry, I’m talking your ears off. You’re very patient to indulge me.” Absently she leaned against the carved bedpost. “I hope you come to love my brother as I love Robin. I think of him all the time. Though we’ll be married in early autumn, I can scarcely endure the waiting.”

Meriel looked away, not wishing to show the other girl what lived in her own eyes. She did not understand love or marriage, and she was having precious little luck learning about passion. But she knew what it was to think of a man constantly.

Lucia interrupted her thoughts, her voice hesitant. “My brother said that you know how to paint henna designs on the skin. I thought it sounded… very interesting.” Her voice rose questioningly at the end. Meriel stood and crossed the room, rolling back her right sleeve as she did. On her wrist was a delicately traced bracelet of linked paisley patterns.

“How charming.” Lucia carefully touched the henna design, as if fearing she would damage it. “My brother says this is temporary?”

Meriel nodded, thinking that they were having a true conversation even though she responded with gestures, not words. It seemed safe because Lucia would be leaving soon and not give her away. She had to admit that Renbourne was right—a conversation was more enjoyable when both parties participated, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to let her usual circle of people know how much she understood.

The other girl blushed. “Would you be willing… would you mind… putting a design on my shoulder?

Where it would be covered by a gown.” She indicated the area she meant. “And if you did… could it include the initials R and L?”

Meriel almost laughed aloud. So the grand young lady wanted to surprise her intended. Passion was definitely part of Lucia’s love. Had Renbourne suggested that a man would be intrigued by a hidden design? If so, did that mean he would be?

Meriel gestured to Lucia to wait, then returned to her room to mix a bowl of henna. She liked Renbourne’s sister.

And Lucia had given her a most interesting idea…

Chapter 22

Kind sea winds brought them swiftly to Cadiz, a city of white turrets that rose from the ocean like a shining dream. Though Constancia had been raised in the north of Spain, far from the coast, she had visited Cadiz and never forgotten the city’s beauty.

Kyle paced along the seafront promenade, wishing she were beside him, but she was resting under the balm of laudanum.

Too restless to spend all day in the villa, waiting, he had chosen to explore the city on foot. The lofty buildings and squares were haunted by the ghostly presence of the Phoenician traders who had founded Cadiz three thousand years earlier, and the Romans who had made the city a great imperial port. More recently, Cadiz had been the Spanish colonial gateway, with the wealth of the Americas pouring into its coffers.

Best of all were the promenades that fringed the great Atlantic harbor. As he watched the ships sail in and out, his excitement was underlaid by corrosive guilt at finding such pleasure in the city when Constancia lay dying. Yet he could not still the race of his blood at hearing sailors shouting in a dozen strange tongues, nor could he suppress his speculation about what distant lands these ships had seen. The scents of the port still tingled in his nostrils as he returned to the villa. It was a handsome place, owned by a London friend who had grown rich shipping sherry from Cadiz. Wrexham didn’t approve of having merchants for friends, but

Kyle found that such men were usually more interesting than the nobles of his own class. He had just entered the cool tiled hall of the villa when Constancia’s maid, Teresa, raced up to him. “My lord!” she gasped, her eyes huge and dark. “Come quickly!”

Oh, God, no, not yet. Not so soon. Heart hammering, he raced past the maid to Constancia’s room, which opened onto the courtyard garden. The scent of orange blossoms wafted through the windows, painfully alive in contrast to Constancia’s utter stillness. For a horrible moment he feared she was dead, until she drew a slow, harshly rattling breath.

He took her hand, as if he could call her back from whatever distant place she had gone. “Teresa, has the physician been called?”

“Si, my lord. But I do not know when he will come.”

Unable to just watch helplessly, he ordered, “Bring brandy and a spoon.”

Grateful to have passed responsibility to him, Teresa obeyed. Then, while Kyle prayed that spirits would stimulate Constancia, the maid carefully spooned brandy between her mistress’s lips, a few drops at a time so she wouldn’t choke.

Constancia’s lids fluttered up, revealing dark exhausted eyes. “I have worried you, querido,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”

He exhaled a sigh of relief. “No matter, as long as you are still here.”

She squeezed his hand with a pressure so light he could barely feel it. “My time… has not yet come. I will tell you when to send for the priest.”

He smiled at her, but inside he was still quaking. Instinctively he sensed that she had been very, very near to passing away. And he wasn’t ready to let her go yet.

He wasn’t ready.

Chapter 23

Vaguely hoping he could disappear into the gardens and avoid his father for most of the day, Dominic rose early, but he didn’t have the breakfast parlor to himself for long. He’d barely surveyed the dishes on the sideboard before other members of the household began to appear. First came Mrs. Marks, followed shortly by Mrs. Rector. Then Meriel, looking so well behaved that he wondered what she was up to. She cast a demure sideways glance as she served herself coddled eggs and toast, then sat opposite him at the table. Her manners were impeccable when she chose to exercise them.

Lucia appeared, eyes sparkling. As she passed Dominic, she said under her breath, “Lady Meriel’s henna designs are wonderful!” Then she moved on, gaily greeting the ladies and Meriel before he could learn more.

The group was actually quite convivial, until the Earl of Wrexham appeared. A pall of silence fell over the breakfast parlor. Dominic silently cursed himself for not eating more quickly. His father was limping, a sign that his gout was acting up, but he said with gruff good cheer, “Morning. Nothing like a sound night’s sleep after a long journey.” He glanced out the window. “A pleasant day. Good for viewing the estate.”

Dominic was tempted to point out that it was vulgar to let his lust for Meriel’s acres show so much, but he held his tongue, as Kyle would have.

“Good morning, Lord Wrexham.” Mrs. Marks started to rise.

The earl waved her back. “Don’t interrupt your meal on my behalf. I’ll just help myself.” After collecting a substantial mound of eggs, ham, deviled kidneys, sliced tongue, and toast, he limped to the table. Meriel ignored him, but Dominic saw her draw inward when the earl set his plate next to her. Instead of sitting himself, Wrexham studied Meriel’s downcast profile. “She’s a pretty puss. A pity she’s so small, but she seems healthy enough. Come, look at me.”

He grasped her chin and raised her face. Her eyes flashed and she jerked her head away, not letting their gazes connect. Wrexham laughed. “Here, girl, don’t be shy. I want to see what my grandchildren will look like.” He reached for her chin again.

Meriel bit his finger. Hard. A collective gasp rose around the table as everyone stared in shock.

“Bloody hell!” The earl snatched his hand back, his stunned expression turning to fury. “How dare you!

Has no one ever taught you manners?”

Seeing his father’s hand tighten into a fist, Dominic leaped from his chair and unobtrusively caught the older man’s wrist. Keeping his voice smooth, as Kyle would, he said, “You startled her, sir.”

He gave Meriel a swift glance. Eyes glittering, she looked ready to bite again. Dominic shifted his weight, moving his father a step farther away.

The interruption gave the earl time to regain his temper, but he glowered as he said, “Amworth assured me that the chit wasn’t violent.”

Irritated on Meriel’s behalf, Dominic retorted, “Would you enjoy being handled like this by a stranger?”

He grasped his father’s chin, forcing the older man to look up into his eyes. It was startling to realize he was a full three inches taller. The earl always seemed larger, dominating any group he was in.

“Damn you, boy, you’re worse than she is!” his father roared as he broke his son’s grip. “How dare you raise a hand tome!”

Help arrived from an unexpected quarter when Lucia said brightly, “As Maxwell just demonstrated, it’s not very pleasant to be treated like a horse whose teeth must be checked for wear, Papa.” She gave her father a dazzling smile. “Though I know it’s kindly meant, I can’t tell you how often I’ve wished to bite aging dowagers and elderly gentlemen who pinched my cheeks and told me what a sweet creature I am.”

Glancing at Meriel, she said tolerantly, “Never having gone out in society, Lady Meriel hasn’t learned that one really mustn’t bite, no matter how tempted.”

Rising from her chair, Lucia deftly transferred her father’s plate to the empty place setting next to her own. “Here, Papa, come sit by me. The view of the gardens from this window is quite extraordinary.”

Taking his arm, she escorted him to the chair. “I’ll get your coffee for you.”

While Lucia performed her doting daughter role, Meriel turned and stalked from the breakfast parlor like an angry cat. Dominic could only be grateful that she and his father were no longer in the same room. But God help them all, the day had just begun.

Lucia’s advice was sound; speaking only when it was unavoidable simplified Dominic’s time with his father. They left the park and rode over the estate under the guidance of the steward. Kerr did most of the talking. Wrexham eyed the fields and grazing herds shrewdly, making occasional comments. Dominic was impressed. Having received most of his own agricultural instruction from the Dornleigh steward, he hadn’t fully appreciated the depth of his father’s knowledge.

After the tour they returned to the house in time to join the ladies for a light midday meal. Dominic concentrated on his plate rather than the conversation. When he finished, he considered slipping away, but doing so would be suspiciously discourteous, so he suggested to his father, “Would you like to walk in the gardens? They are Lady Meriel’s particular interest, and quite splendid.”

The earl hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ll spend a quiet afternoon inside, away from the heat. You find that little hellcat you’re courting, and teach her some manners.”

Dominic’s stab of irritation at the description of Meriel vanished when he looked at his father and saw him as if for the first time. Wrexham had married late and his sons had not been born right away, so he was nearing seventy. In the years since Dominic had left home to go into the army, the earl had gone from the prime of life to old age. A hazing of his eyes hinted at developing cataracts, and surely diminished hearing was part of the reason for his booming voice.

He’d gained considerable weight, too, and could no longer be considered merely stocky; the Renbourne children had inherited their lean builds and athleticism from their mother. With the earl’s age and weight, this morning’s riding must have been very tiring. Yet just as he’d never spared his children, he’d never spared himself. He’d always taken his responsibilities as a landowner and a member of the House of Lords seriously, and had never indulged in the extravagance and debauchery common among men of his class.

Now fatigue and pain showed in the deep lines of his face. Though he had never been an easy man, he was worthy of respect. Is this how Kyle saw the earl, and the reason why he could be so patient?

Shaken by this insight, Dominic answered, “I shall tell Meriel that she is not to bite anyone again.” Then he departed before his face could color at the vivid thoughts Meriel’s name aroused in him. As he was leaving the house, his sister caught up with him. “Will you show me around the gardens?”

Though she didn’t use his real name, there was hidden meaning in her voice when she added, “It seems like forever since I’ve seen you.”

With a pang, he recognized how much he’d missed Lucia. He’d gone to her coming-out ball, of course, but their meetings since were chance encounters because he hadn’t wished to call at Wrexham House and risk running into his father and brother. He offered his arm. “It would be my pleasure to show you the gardens.”

As he guided her through the parterre, he said quietly, “I’m sorry I haven’t seen more of you, Lucia. I forgot how quickly little sisters grow up.”

She shrugged philosophically. “I understood why you weren’t comfortable at Dornleigh. It would have been like three stallions pawing and snorting under the same roof. It’s bad enough just with Kyle and Papa sometimes. But I’ve missed you.”

He picked a small blue flower and tucked it behind her ear. “By leaving the field to Kyle, I’ve assured that he has become your favorite brother.”

She halted and scowled at him. “Stop that! Why do you think there’s a competition? You’re twins, but you’re not the same. I know Kyle better because we’ve lived under the same roof most of our lives, but I love both of you equally.”

He was taken aback, never having been snapped at by his sister. He thought about what she was saying.

“I’m sorry, Lucia. Even at the best of times, Kyle and I were always competing, with neither of us really winning. Our abilities were too similar. It might have been easier if one of us was clearly superior. Instead, we were always jostling for position. But it’s not fair of me to involve you in our private war, even as a joke.”