Truth Within Dreams (8 page)

She let her tongue hang from her mouth as she made a gagging sound. “No more bed! I spent most of yesterday in it, and slept every bit of twelve hours last night, thanks to Mr. Whombleby’s dreadful laudanum.”

And what a strange night it had been, riddled with wild dreams that left her lethargic. They’d all felt so real, hallucinations, she supposed, caused by the opium. A parade of visitors had tromped through her room, from a child made of marmalade to Henry.

There was no explaining the marmalade dream, but her Henry hallucination must have been brought on by thinking of him so much. She still couldn’t stop puzzling over his behavior on the balcony yesterday, his apologies and sadness.

“May I ask you something?” she said before she could think better of her course.

“Certainly.” Claude had resumed his inspection of tenant farm reports, but glanced up at her. “What is it?”

“Men enjoy the company of women, don’t they? Intimately, I mean.”

Her brother winced. “No, we are not talking about this. Go ask Mother.”

“It’s just,” she pressed, her fingers knotted at her waist, “I wonder …” She tripped over her words, fumbling for a way around to her real question. “…
if
they do, why some men, like Sir Saint, wait so long for marriage.”

A laugh burst from his throat. “Are you asking if Sir Saint Tuggle is a virgin? Whether he will come to your marriage bed pure and unsullied?”

She nodded.

Claude smirked. “It’s different for men, Claude. We aren’t held to the same standards as ladies. Unless he’s the saint his mother hoped him to be—and I assure you, that is not the case—then I don’t see how he could possibly be … you know.”

When she didn’t say anything, he returned to his work.

Claudia crossed an arm over her middle, rested her other elbow on it, and tapped her chin. “So, are you telling me that you—”

“
Argh
! Stop it! No more!”

“But what about Henry?” she demanded. She had to get the answer out of her brother before he ran her off. “Do you think he’s untouched? Before the other night?”

He clapped his hands over his ears. “For the love of God, Claudia! You couldn’t find an able-bodied man over the age of eighteen who is not experienced. Does that satisfy you? Christ, woman! Go away and let me work in peace.”

“Mercy, you needn’t get so ruffled. We’ve always been able to talk about anything.”

“Not this!”

Claudia huffed.

There was a knock. The twins both looked as the door opened.

Henry paused in the entry. “Greetings, Baxters.”

Butterflies buffeted Claudia’s stomach. Ever since The Plan, she couldn’t put Henry back in the proper compartment of her mind. Years ago, she’d trained herself to regard him as no more than a friend, but the last thirty-six hours had thrown her mind into total disarray. Once again, Henry was the hero of her romantic fantasies. She’d woken to his kisses yesterday, and dreamed of kissing him again last night.

He was so handsome it made her teeth ache. Today, he wore a dark blue coat, which made his hair look like antique gold. His linen was crisp and white at his throat. Nankeen breeches clung to thighs heavily muscled by years of avid horsemanship. Even his calves looked powerful, encased in brown riding boots. Goodness, but he was delectable.

“You’re dressed to ride,” Claude observed. “Thank God. You’ve arrived not a moment too soon.” He cut a meaningful look at his sister. “Give me a moment to put these things away and we’ll be off.”

“Actually, Claude, I hoped I might persuade Miss Baxter to accompany me.”

Yesterday’s grim demeanor remained in the past, Claudia was pleased to note. Henry held himself straight and tall, one hand behind his back, the other resting on his thigh. The perfect sporting gentleman.

When his gaze came to rest on her, however, Claudia recoiled. There was something wrong with his eyes. An unfathomable emotion. Or rather, a lack of one. Henry could never hide anything from her. She’d grown up reading his face. Every tic of his brow betrayed interest or annoyance. Every quirk of a lip told her what amused him. She could read his nose twitches like a fortune teller read tea leaves—whether he was trying to suppress a sneeze, had smelled something unpleasant, was bored with a conversation, or knew she was beating him at chess. She could write chapters about his face, the various ways he communicated without uttering a sound.

“I’m not sure that would be prudent,” Claude protested. “After what happened—”

“Come now, Claude,” Henry bit, “I’m wide awake. What could happen?”

Claudia frowned. What did being awake have to do with anything?

“How about it, Claudia?” Henry’s voice imitated pleasantness but lacked any real emotion, just like his face. “Will you come, or will you continue gawking at me all day?”

She stared. And he stared back.

She didn’t meet his eyes. Dismissing the orbs themselves as useless at present, Claudia’s gaze roamed his face. Brows to lips to nose to cheek to chin. This blankness was alien, unnatural. It couldn’t continue forever. He couldn’t lock her out … There. Finally. At his temple, a muscle twitched.

He was upset with her. She could deal with upset, now that she knew. At least he seemed willing to give her the chance to explain herself.

She beamed, hoping to lift his spirits and start mending their friendship. “I’d be delighted to accompany you, Henry.”

But when he smiled back, it was an expression so false she couldn’t bear to look at him another moment.

Her own smile slipped. This was going to be a fun ride. Oh, well. It would be worth a little unpleasantness to make things right.

When Claudia met Henry outside the stable some forty-five minutes later, he was adjusting his horse’s bridle and conversing with a groom. Claudia paused for a moment to admire his profile. Straight nose, strong jaw, and high cheekbones presented a pleasing array of masculine angles. His brows looked as though they’d been dashed across his face by an artist with a devil-may-care attitude. Even his top lip came to a firm V in the middle, but the bottom lip was softer, and when he turned on her with a smile, that sensual curve seemed to tell her all sorts of wicked secrets.

As she approached, Henry’s jaw slackened for just an instant before he snapped it shut. A flurry of nerves rocked through her, but Claudia lifted her chin. She knew she looked her best—which wasn’t saying much, if one were to compare her to London’s fashionable ladies. But with no one but the grooms and Pepper, the three-legged stable cat, vying for immediate competition, she wasn’t a total antidote, either.

After accepting Henry’s invitation, she’d torn up the stairs to her bedchamber and summoned the maid who attended both Claudia and Lady Baxter. The servant deftly worked the sides of Claudia’s hair into braids which met at the crown of her head. The rest was twisted, tucked, and pinned into a chignon, with a few strands loosened and curled to frame her face. Claudia donned a white shirt and cravat, topped with her new riding habit of buttery yellow and kid gloves. The brim of her black hat dipped low in the front, while the jonquil ribbon tied around the crown fell in twin streamers halfway down her back.

When she reached him, Henry kissed her hand while maintaining eye contact, his gaze still cold. “My very dear Miss Baxter,” he murmured. Then he flipped her hand and nipped a patch of exposed skin on the inside of her wrist. His tongue soothed the tiny sting.

Claudia jerked her hand back, discomfited by the way he stirred her blood, even as his distant demeanor warned her away. She turned to greet her horse, Coco, who nickered when she caught sight of Claudia. The little mare was a dark bay, with a white blaze and glossy black mane and tail. Claudia dug a lump of sugar from her pocket and offered it on her palm. Coco daintily took the treat. “Hullo, dear girl,” Claudia said. “What do you think? Shall we grace these smelly males with the pleasure of our company?”

Beside Coco, Henry’s new piebald gelding, Lava, turned his head away and blew out, as though offended. Claudia laughed. Behind her, Henry’s hands settled on her waist. “Ready?” he asked. He pressed against her back before boosting her to the saddle. To the casual observer, it was just a few seconds of contact, but Claudia felt the mark of his touch on her body well after he’d settled onto his mount and led her out of the stable yard.

They rode in silence for a time, along a ridge overlooking a field awash in the vibrant yellow of rape flowers. In the distance, stone cottages dotted the landscape. The fresh air and sunshine did much to clear away the mental cobwebs left behind by Mr. Whombleby’s opium tonic. Claudia did not think she could tolerate another pointless dose, not even to appease her mother. Thankfully, Claudia had managed to convince her parent she felt well this morning.

Henry drew his horse to a stop and Claudia pulled up alongside. Coco shifted, causing Claudia’s skirt to brush against Henry’s leg. He laid a hand on her knee and asked, “How are you, Claudia? Quite recovered? Sitting a horse does not cause undue discomfort, I trust?”

His inquiry sounded like mockery. Claudia blanched. How unlike himself Henry was behaving! “My chief complaint is the laudanum I was pressed to take.”

“Dreadful stuff.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Best reserved for grievous pains. You must have been in a bad way.”

“Nothing extraordinary. It was all very usual, I assure you.”

He nodded gravely. “Yes, I see. The usual dose of medication to stop the hurts of typical intercourse. It’s a wonder ladies’ little musical and literary societies are not fronts for opium dens, given the many hurts they must suffer.” A bitter sneer contorted his features.

“Only the first time,” Claudia rushed. Why did he persist in the charade of having lain with her, even here, in private? It was a great mystery, but the cold aloofness of his demeanor forbade that line of questioning. “The dreams were the most disturbing I ever experienced. Each one so vivid, I could have sworn it was real. I dreamt the posts of my bed were all arguing with one another over which did the most work in supporting the canopy. What a strange vision! How does one’s mind even concoct such a thing? And then—” She halted, brought up short by the recollection of one of her last dreams of the night. Henry had been in her room. He’d flown in and kissed and held her until her body sang for his attentions.

His eyes blazed. “And then what?” Awareness pulsed between them, as though he knew her mind.

But she could not reveal such mortifying fancies. “What say you to a race?”

He scoffed, seeming to soften a bit. “Coward.”

She pointed to a path, which led through a wooded area, down a gentle slope toward the Avon. “To the riverbank,” she said.

“What is the forfeit?” he asked.

“If I win—”

“Not going to happen.” She hoped his confident teasing marked a turn in his mood. “
When
I win, I shall claim my prize at the finish. Ready?”

They leaned over their horses’ necks. Claudia gave the word, and they were off.

Coco plunged forward. Claudia whispered encouragement in the mare’s ear. Beside her, Henry started to pull ahead, his mount churning up black clods of earth. The spirited mare would have none of that, straining at the bit to keep pace with Lava.

The trees flew past in a blur and each of Coco’s strides ate up ground. A low branch jutting out around a curve caught Claudia off guard. She yelped and threw herself flat against her horse to avoid hitting it. The mishap gave Henry the opening he needed to take the lead.

Around another bend, the river came into view. Sunlight dappled the surface, throwing brilliant diamonds across her vision. Claudia gloried in the sight, her anxieties momentarily abated as she reveled in the thrill of the race.

There was nothing for it, though. The tree branch had cost her the win, and Henry was already dismounting when Claudia and Coco met them at the river’s edge. The piebald whinnied a greeting to the mare. Coco cut the grass with a hoof and vocalized in reply.

Laughing and breathless, Claudia accepted Henry’s help in dismounting. Her hands curled around his strong shoulders as he lifted her out of the saddle. The wild gleam in his eyes made Claudia’s toes curl inside her half-boots. His face had a healthy color, and his hair was delectably wind tousled. He seemed so much more in his usual, easy humor. It was worth losing the race just to restore his mood.

“I trounced you, just as I knew I would.” The words were teasing, as she would have expected, but his tone was brittle.

His hands held firm on her waist. Claudia’s heart, already pounding from the exhilaration of exercise, thumped madly against her ribs. “Congratulations, Henry,” she said. “What do you choose for your prize?” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes.

His lips, smooth and cool, brushed over hers. “Don’t play the coquette, Claudia.” He released her and walked to the horses. Unbridled and loosely tethered to a nearby tree, the beasts could drink from the cool, flowing river and chomp the new, sweet grass. With the animals tended, Henry peeled off his gloves and frock coat, hooked a finger in the collar, and tossed it over his shoulder. He sauntered toward the shade of a willow tree; its draping canopy trailed verdant fingertips into the river.

Claudia followed, beckoned by the cool grass. Henry spread his coat on the ground and gestured gallantly. Grinning, she took his hand and folded her legs beneath her.

“Ah-ah,” he chided. “No shoes on my coat, please.”

“There, I’ve rearranged myself.” She divested herself of hat and gloves, which she set at the base of the trunk. “Soft grass just begs for bare toes, doesn’t it?”

Henry reached for her foot and made short work of the bootlaces. With a mighty heave, he wrenched the half-boot from her foot. “Henry DeVere,” she said with laughing warmth, “not only have you breached propriety by removing an article of my clothing, I feel quite earnestly there was an insult in the way you went about it. Is my foot too large for my boot? Do you accuse me of forcing myself into a smaller shoe for the sake of vanity?”

Just like that, his relaxed smile was gone. “Forcing yourself? Oh no, Claudia, I doubt you, of all people, would ever countenance any kind of force.” His eyes and mouth tightened as he quickly removed her other shoe. “Take off your stockings, Claudia.”