Gallant Scoundrel (32 page)

“I…I’ve missed this.” It was not what she’d nearly said in the heat of passion, but true, nevertheless. “So much more than I realized.”

His smile broadened. “As have I. A shame that our mutual pride—or stubbornness, if you will—denied us both a week and more of such pleasure. If you’d care to join me in a real nap now, we can begin making up for lost time afterward.”

Now? Should she tell him now? How would he react?

To put off the moment of reckoning a bit longer, she made a show of examining his bandages to make certain their activities had not reopened his wound. Then, still groping for the right words, she glanced up at the small elephant-shaped clock on the mantel—and gasped.

“Why, it’s nearly three! Nessa—that is, Lady Foxhaven—will be here for tea in half an hour and I’m hardly in a state to receive her. Oh! Does she also know about—?”

He shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes—which she took as a compliment. “Not to the best of my knowledge, as Pete and I have had no occasion to bring Jack into the secret.”

“I’ll certainly not mention it, then.”
 

Reluctantly disentangling herself from him, she scrambled off the bed and scooped up her hastily-discarded gown and underthings. Her confession could wait another hour. “Have your nap and I’ll make your excuses.”
 

Dropping a last, quick kiss on his lips, she exited through the dressing room to make herself presentable for callers.

*
       
*
       
*

Harry drowsily watched her go, a smile—half pleased, half puzzled—lingering on his lips. His Xena had proved every bit as passionate as he remembered but not at all like a woman in the habit of taking lovers. In fact, if she hadn’t all but admitted otherwise, he’d think she’d never been with another man since leaving Spain more than seven years since.

That fantasy pleased him, which was odd in itself. For in his own amorous exploits over those intervening years he’d never fancied despoiling innocents, instead limiting his pursuits to those women with more experience. He’d dallied with his share of lightskirts of the demimonde, of course. But his preference had tended more toward married women prone to straying, as they generally made few demands outside the bedchamber.
 

Many had been skilled in the arts of love—some exceedingly so—but none had ever affected him as profoundly as Xena. Once he’d rested a bit—for the combined effects of his recent loss of blood and his exertions just now left him surprisingly tired—he very much looked forward to resuming what they’d so pleasantly begun.
 

And if she
did
have some lover tucked away somewhere in Town, he felt confident he could soon make her forget him. No matter who he was.

A
FTER
A
quick wash to remove the lingering traces of lovemaking, Xena hastily rang for Gretchen to help her dress. Though her maid commented on the becoming glow of Xena’s complexion, she was apparently too innocent to divine the cause of it.

“It’s clear living here agrees with you, mum,” was all she said. “While I won’t say I don’t miss Moorside, I hope you’ll be able to stay a good while.”

“I rather hope so, too.”

Xena smiled at her reflection, feeling an optimism for the future beyond anything she’d experienced since her teens. Not only were she and Harry finally coming to terms, she had new adventures to look forward to in assisting him as the Saint of Seven Dials. All that remained was determining how, exactly, to tell him about Theo. And when.
 

She reached the drawing room with barely enough time to ring for a tea tray before Lady Foxhaven was announced, along with Mrs. Orrin, a pretty, slightly overblown blonde Xena had not yet met.
 

“Dear Lady Foxhaven did not think you would mind if I joined her,” Mrs. Orrin gushed, her brilliant smile at odds with the calculating way in which she took in every detail of Xena’s appearance. “I only just arrived in Town and when I heard that dear Harry’s, er, Major Thatcher’s long-lost bride had been resurrected, I simply
had
to meet her at once.”

Over Mrs. Orrin’s shoulder, Nessa gave Xena an apologetic shrug and mouthed the word, “Sorry,” implying that if there had been a polite way for her to avoid bringing the other woman along, she would have done so.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Orrin. I take it you’ve known my husband for some time?”

“Oh, my, yes. One might say we’ve been rather
intimate
friends, in fact.” There was no mistaking her meaning, particularly given the spiteful smile that accompanied her words. “I can’t help but wonder how one so very averse to matrimony is managing this discovery that he’s had a wife tucked away in the country all these years. One
hopes
it may make him more discreet, if nothing else.”

The tea tray arrived then, sparing Xena the necessity of responding before she could compose herself. Fuming inwardly, she requested a third cup and invited both ladies to sit down. Then, trying to ignore poor Nessa’s horrified expression, she calmly seated herself opposite them at the tea table and began pouring out for her guests.
Never let an enemy know your weaknesses.

“Rest assured, Mrs. Orrin, I’ve already been made well aware of my husband’s past poor choices.” Xena kept her voice pleasant and detached, as though discussing the weather, despite her anger and humiliation. It helped that by now she’d had a fair bit of practice fending off mean-spirited gossips.
 

Her unwelcome guest produced a tinkling laugh that grated on Xena’s ears. “Past? Our Harry has indeed become more discreet if you believe
that
, Mrs. Thatcher, given the tales I’ve already heard since returning to Town.”

Nessa, reaching for a tea cake, jogged Xena’s elbow just as she was in the act of pouring Mrs. Orrin’s tea, causing the hot, brown liquid to cascade over the other woman’s bright yellow skirts.
 

“Oh dear, how clumsy of me,” Nessa and Xena exclaimed simultaneously and with matching insincerity.

Springing to her feet, Mrs. Orrin let out a shriek and snatched up a napkin to dab at the spreading stains. “How…how
dare
you!”

It was Nessa who responded, drawing herself up until she looked every inch the marchioness she was. “I might ask the same of you, Mrs. Orrin, persuading me to bring you along with a false story of a family connection, then going out of your way to insult our hostess. You will not wish to stay, of course, now you’ve so foolishly sullied your gown. The butler can show you out.”
 

At the chill in Nessa’s voice, Mrs. Orrin seemed to realize she had crossed an invisible line, offending someone in a position to severely damage her social standing. Her face now an unattractive shade of puce, she moved quickly to the doorway, then turned, her pale blue eyes slits of fury.

“I do earnestly pity you, my dear,” she spat at Xena. “For everyone knows the best lovers invariably make the
worst
husbands.” With that, she flounced out.

Nessa quickly moved to sit next to Xena. “Oh, my dear, I am so terribly, terribly sorry I allowed that
awful
woman to deceive me! I should have been more on my guard, for when I first married Jack I was frequently subjected to similar attacks—though few quite so brazen. Pray pay her no mind, for it is clear she was motivated by nothing but spite and jealousy.”

Xena managed a faint smile, though Mrs. Orrin’s parting words had shaken her. Had she not just discovered firsthand how very skilled a lover Harry had become? Though passionate, he’d not yet acquired such skills when last they’d been intimate together. How
many
women—?

She broke off that thought in order to reassure Nessa, who was clearly still upset and concerned on her behalf.
 

“I spoke the truth when I said I was well aware of what Harry’s reputation has been. I can scarcely reproach him with it, as he had every reason to believe himself unmarried these seven years and more.”
 

Nessa grimaced. “Even so, he needn’t have been quite so— But no, you are right, of course. He has known the truth less than two weeks and
I’ve
certainly heard no tales implying he is still carrying on…flirtations…with anyone else.”

As Nessa was highly unlikely to have heard such gossip even if true, her words were less comforting than she no doubt intended them. Though Xena had no direct evidence Harry had continued his adulterous activities in recent days, she also had none to the contrary…nor had he promised fidelity, even when challenged to do.

“Thank you, Nessa. I admit I was rather taken aback, but more by Mrs. Orrin’s vulgarity than by any new revelations. Now, shall we talk of something else? Your hopes for a daughter, perhaps. Have you begun to consider possible names yet?”

That successfully diverted Nessa from the previous uncomfortable topic and for the remainder of her visit they discussed how her current pregnancy differed from her first thus far. Once or twice Xena was on the point of mentioning her own, making her wish even more strongly that she had never kept Theo’s existence a secret from everyone—particularly Harry.
 

After Nessa had gone, however, she couldn’t help recalling Mrs. Orrin’s insinuations. Perhaps she should attempt to discover whether or not the odious woman’s claims were true before making such an important confession?

Or…was that merely an excuse, to put off a while longer what was sure to be an exceedingly awkward conversation? She honestly wasn’t sure.

*
       
*
       
*

When Harry awoke, he was startled to discover it was past time to change for dinner. Though Xena had implied they would be eating in tonight, he had no wish to keep her waiting. Especially after…
 

He smiled at the memory—which affected other portions of his anatomy, as well. Now that they’d broken down the barriers between them, the night ahead—nay, all the nights ahead!—promised to be exceptionally enjoyable. Spurred by that idea, he rose with alacrity and rang for Brewster to help him dress.
 

A short time later he hurried down to the drawing room and found Xena already there, clad in a gown of silver-gray that matched her eyes and exposed just enough of her décolletage to tantalize without being the least bit improper. The smile she gave him was a shade less welcoming than he’d expected, however.
 

“Apologies if I have kept you waiting,” he hastened to say. “I apparently needed that nap more than I realized.”

Her expression warmed, though her eyes still held a certain wariness. “I’m certain you did. It would be well for you to get as much sleep as possible, as that is sure to speed your healing.”

“Are we expected somewhere after all?” He glanced pointedly at her gown, which he was almost certain could not be secondhand. “After what you said at breakfast, I rather thought—”

“No, we have no engagement elsewhere. I wrote to cancel and trust my phrasing will spread the impression I intended.” Did she color slightly, or did he imagine that?
 

Either way, Harry’s blood quickened. “I’m glad to hear it. Dare I hope that means you wish to continue where we left off earlier?”

“Of course,” she agreed with surprising coolness. “That is why I sent round to invite Lord Peter, Sarah and Sarah’s brother to join us for dinner. There is still much I need to learn about your activities as Saint of Seven Dials if I am to effectively assist you.”
 

Harry felt as though she’d dashed cold water on his ardor. “I, er, had something rather different in mind.”

“Ah. Well. Perhaps we will have time for that later.” She did not quite meet his eye.
 

“Xena.” He reached out to trace a finger along the curve of her shoulder where it was bare above her gown. “I—”

The front door knocker sounded from below just then and she sprang up with nervous energy, moving away from his touch. “Ah! Our guests are here.”
 

The meal was a far cry from the intimate dinner of verbal foreplay Harry had envisioned. Instead of trading flirtatious banter with him over the various courses, Xena took every opportunity when the servants were out of earshot to ply Flute and Sarah with questions.

“I had no idea the numbers requiring assistance were so great,” she said to Flute at one point. “Do you really know the inhabitants of London’s slums well enough to be certain only the most deserving receive whatever the Saint—Harry—gives you?”

Quickly swallowing a mouthful of roast potatoes, the lad nodded. “Aye, mum. I lived among ‘em most of my life and word gets around who’s in real need of a helping hand and who’s just looking to buy more gin—or worse.”

“And there are other boys who help you?”

“A few, aye. Some more trusty than others. I know you’ve had Tig doing a few things on the side for you, guv,” he added to Harry, “but he’s a talker, he is. Never means any harm, ‘o course, but when he gets to boasting there’s no knowing what he might say no matter who’s listening. You’ll want to be careful there, I’m thinking.”

Recalling something Xena said last night, Harry realized Flute was likely right. He’d not like word to get about that he was having his own wife followed.

When Xena and Sarah rose to leave the gentlemen to their brandy, Flute asked if he might go out to the mews to visit his friend Renny, who’d been hired by Lord Marcus to work in the stables. Sarah and Peter both assented, which left Harry and Peter alone in the dining room with the decanter.

Harry poured his friend a generous measure and a much smaller one for himself, as he was still disinclined to over-imbibe after that disastrous outing. Peter noticed at once.

“Must say, Harry, this experiment of mine seems to be working out even better than I envisioned. I salute you.” He raised his glass.
 

With a wry smile, Harry lifted his own. “Been waiting your chance to say ‘I told you so,’ haven’t you? Very well, say it. Can’t deny this idea of yours wasn’t quite so daft as I thought.”