In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (23 page)

“Yes,
please,” she said demurely.

He
looked up at her, evaluating her expression. “Are you making a
jest at my expense?”

“Oh
no, my lord. I wouldn’t do that until
after
you gave me
the scone.”

James
laughed as he handed her the plate. Next he poured tea for both of
them, masculinely efficient, with no wasted movements. As he raised
the cup to his mouth, he said, “I have to take a trip to
London.”

Amanda
picked up her cup. “When?”

“My
horse is being saddled as we speak.”

“So
soon? Why do you need to go?”

James
sighed. “Business, love.”

“I
thought that’s what you were doing yesterday with Mr. Smythe.”

“Apparently,
there are issues that require me to be in attendance, signatures with
witnesses and such, as I take over my father’s affairs. Mr.
Smythe was fairly insistent on that score.”

“I
see.”

“Are
you disappointed?” He was elated by the possibility.

Amanda,
in the process of taking a sip of tea, set her cup and saucer on the
tray instead. She looked at him, her manner open and without guile.
“It will be lonely here tonight.”

James
instantly set his cup next to hers and pushed the tray to the foot of
the bed. He gathered Amanda into his arms, his hands caressing her
naked back. He turned his mouth to hers, his lips sliding gently back
and forth in a kiss meant to convey the welling of emotion in his
chest that was making it difficult to breathe. His mouth moved to her
cheek and then next to her ear.

The
warm breath he released shook uncontrollably. “Are we mended?”
he asked in a husky whisper, feeling more vulnerable than he thought
possible.

She
lifted her arms and put them around his neck, her fingers slipping
into his hair. “Yes, James, we are mended.”

Her
voice was also emotional as she clung to him, and he hugged her
fiercely, noting with fond amusement that she had dropped the
bedcover she was using as a shield. Desire surged through his gut,
but he forced himself to refrain from turning the moment carnal,
though instinctively that was his immediate response. Loving emotions
were best expressed through the body, at least for him they were, but
he didn’t want her to think the moment was inspired by ulterior
motives.

“I
could go with you,” she said into his shoulder.

Tempting.

“I’m
ready to leave now, sweetheart. You couldn’t possibly be ready
before tomorrow. Believe me, there’s nothing I would like more
than to take you with me. But I have no love for the city, and I’d
much rather do this thing quickly and come back to you here. I
promise not to take one more moment than is absolutely necessary.”

Amanda
kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be waiting, my lord.”

“That’s
a promise I’ll expect you to keep,” he stated thickly. He
leaned back, giving in to the temptation to look at her breasts. “In
this bed, just as you are, prepared for another night of strenuous
activity.”

She
lay backward, resting her head on the pillow, and smiled sweetly as
she pulled the covers up again. “Yes, my taskmaster. I’ll
be waiting…
and
rested.”

Twenty
minutes later found James crossing the stableyard to retrieve his
horse. He had an uneasy feeling that was hard to define. His
relationship with his wife was too fragile, too recently healed to be
left unattended for even a moment. Even as he flung his leg over the
horse’s back and settled into his saddle, he wondered if he
could put this obligation off for at least a short while. Maybe he
should
bring Amanda with him. But he was anxious to be done
with all the falderal surrounding the transferring of his father’s
title and affairs to him. He wanted to pretend, at least for a while
longer, that his new responsibilities were not directly tied to his
father’s demise.

Hours
into his ride, he still could not shake the anxiety. Disquiet was
inspired by intuition, and intuitively speaking something felt wrong.

***

Amanda
spent a listless day, not leaving her chamber until many hours after
James had departed. She bathed early, donning a simple frock, then
read for most of the afternoon. Days ago she would have been pleased
by her husband’s absence—or so she would have told
herself—but now she knew how wrong she would have been.

She
missed James already, and he’d only been gone since morning.
Somehow, in the intervening two days, they had managed to right a
relationship she had begun to fear had no hope. Once she was willing
to put away her anger, Amanda could see his sincerity. James said he
loved her. She believed him.

The
lovemaking was a revelation to her. She was deeply attracted to her
husband and enjoyed being close to him. She had not expected to be
quite so thrilled by the sexual aspects of their union.
Oh my!
Her face burned with the memory of the two previous nights. Last
night had been particularly lovely. Lovely because she had
participated wholeheartedly. Lovely because James had made how
she
felt the priority. If he was playing false with her then she was
completely bamboozled, and she hoped never to be enlightened.

Though
not the dinner hour yet, Amanda finally decided to end her exile,
hoping to commune with some of her new family. To a one she loved
them all. Not Derrick, of course, but fortunately he didn’t
reside on the estate. She exited her chamber, her steps buoyant as
she moved to the staircase.

Voices
drifted upward from the ground floor sitting room, angry voices.
Despite a natural inclination not to eavesdrop, Amanda found herself
tiptoeing down the stairs, curiosity getting the better of her. At
the foot of the staircase she stopped. The voices were louder now
that she was closer, a male and a female.

“Can’t
you see how much harm you’ve done?” She recognized Aunt
Henry’s high-pitched wail.

The
man who answered spoke in deeper tones, and Amanda was unable to
identify him. A sound on the stairs behind her caused her to spin
around in guilt, hand to her mouth. Huey stood four steps down for
the landing above, good hand resting on the banister.

“Uncle
Huey, you startled me. I was—”

“He’s
a bad man,” he stated as if he hadn’t heard her. His face
was pinched with distress, a white line etched around his mouth.

She
had already started back up the stairs, but at his words Amanda
paused abruptly, throwing a look of uncertainty over her shoulder.
“Who’s a bad man, Uncle Huey? Is Aunt Henry in danger?”

He
looked at her with sorrowful eyes but said nothing more, his gaze
traveling back to the doorway of the sitting room.

Now
Amanda was frightened. She swung back again, this time moving down
the stairs at a quickened pace. Only fear of falling kept her from
moving as rapidly as she wanted. She dashed across the entry hall and
barged into the sitting room without bothering to announce herself.

Aunt
Henry stood in the middle of the room, fists on her round hips. Her
face was red, her eyes redder, and wild strands of hair had come
loose from the tight little bun on top of her head. She was staring
at someone sitting in a wingback chair next to the fireplace. Amanda
followed the elderly lady’s gaze.

Derrick!

Amanda’s
attention darted back to Henry, but she was too stunned to do more
than stare.

Aunt
Henry looked stricken. “I told you, Derrick!” she cried.
“I told you! How could you let this happen?”

Derrick
appeared unfazed, wearing a slight smirk and an almost vacant
expression in his peculiar eyes. One leg was crossed negligently over
the other, and his hands were laced together where they lay upon his
stomach.

He
watched his mother with barely concealed contempt then shifted his
attention to Amanda. His grin widened. “Hello, Cousin.”

“I
fear I’m arriving to this discussion rather late,”
Amanda’s words encompassed both people who shared the room with
her as she glanced back and forth between them, “but perhaps
someone would like to share with me what this is about?”

Henry
spoke first, wringing her hands. “Oh, please, Amanda, forgive
me.”

“Why?
What is there to forgive?” Amanda felt a heavy weight descend
into her chest. She feared she wasn’t going to like where this
dialogue was headed.

Derrick
raised his hand as though he were in a school room. “My fault,
I’m afraid. My mother has been hiding—”

Aunt
Henry interrupted him. “Derrick, hush before you do more harm
that good.”

“Well,
Mother, since I couldn’t care less whether I do harm or good, I
suppose you must let me talk.” His strange gaze remained on
Amanda even as he addressed his mother, however, his next sentence
was directed at the younger woman. “I’ve been residing on
the estate since the wedding.”

Amanda
glanced at the old lady. “You knew this?”

Henrietta
seemed to shrink in on herself. She merely nodded, bottom lip
beginning to tremble. Though the revelation was unpleasant, Amanda
could not blame James’s aunt. Henry was Derrick’s mother
after all, and she would protect her son.

To
Derrick, Amanda said, “Interesting that you wait until my
husband is gone to expose your subterfuge.”

“Why
do you assume I was trying to reveal my presence? I was not expecting
you to intrude on a private conversation with my parent.”

“In
the main house? Reason should tell you that you might be discovered.”

He
shrugged, gaze hooded.

“James
told you to leave before we arrived. This is not going to sit well
with him.”

“Come,
Cousin, do you really believe anything happens on this estate that
James is unaware of?” He studied his fingernails, smirk still
in place.

The
heaviness in Amanda’s chest expanded, dipping into her stomach.
“What are you trying to say?” She was ashamed of the
sudden quaver in her voice.

But
he heard it, yes, he did. Now he looked at her, manner sly and
insinuating. “He knew I was here. Are you saying he didn’t
tell you?”

Henry
leapt into the sudden tense silence. “Derrick, behave yourself
or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Will
you indeed?” His tone was insolent.

Amanda
needed that brief respite to gather her wits. She must remember that
Derrick’s main objective was to play the spoiler. But every
fear she had experienced since her marriage came rushing back in a
flood of insecurity.

“I
still think your timing is suspect,” she said at last.

“And
I think you are naive.” The spite in his voice was hard to
miss.

“Beg
pardon?”

“Where
has my dear cousin gone?”

That
feeling in her chest continued to grow. With as much self-assurance
as she could muster, she said, “To London to meet with Mr.
Smythe. James is in the final stages of getting his father’s
affairs in order.” Only after she answered his question did she
wonder why she felt she should.

“If
you say so.”

“Derrick,
get up and get out! Immediately!” Aunt Henry’s voice was
high-pitched and stern, her stance surprisingly aggressive for one
who was usually good-natured and self-effacing.

“I
don’t think so, Mother,” he said on a sneer.

“Then
I shall have you thrown out.” She stomped toward the door.
“This has gone on quite long enough.”

Amanda
remained where she stood, unmoving and silent, until she heard
Henry’s footsteps fade down the hall—in search of someone
brawny, she assumed. “I would like you to tell me what you are
implying, Derrick. And I suggest you be quick about it as it seems
you are about to be tossed out into the yard on your backside.”

Derrick
came abruptly to his feet. His face had turned pink, his expression
ugly. “I wouldn’t be so certain of myself if I were you.”

“Do
you have something you wish to say, or are you merely trying to
threaten me?”

“Just
this, Cousin—you are much too trusting. It’s
always
business when a man wants to explain a journey.”

Amanda
momentarily stopped breathing as she felt the blood drain from her
face. He was lying—she knew he was. His jealousy of James was
so patently obvious, to give him any credence was foolish. But recent
history did not make her feel optimistic. James had been untruthful
with her about the reason for their marriage, the very foundation of
their relationship. Would he lie about where he was going—and
why?

“You
have no proof, just accusations.”

“Seems
to me, you don’t need my proof. His actions speak for
themselves.”

“Derrick,
once more I ask you to remove yourself voluntarily.” Aunt Henry
had returned, and she was spitting mad, outrage radiating off her
like a little bantam cock. Behind her stood two footman, stoically,
but clearly resolved to do what must be done. She stepped aside and
the first footman advanced into the room, taking Derrick by the upper
arm.

Derrick
yanked free of the servant. “All right, you’ve made your
point.” He straightened his cuffs as he spoke. “Merely
trying to keep my dear Cousin James honest. Surely, his wife deserves
that.”

Amanda
was unconvinced. If ever there was an individual who couldn’t
be bothered with the welfare of another, Derrick was that man. He
pushed passed the first footman then passed the second on his way to
the front entrance. His mother followed in his wake, Amanda watching
from the doorway of the sitting room.

“Your
motives are abundantly clear, Derrick,” Henry said. “I’ve
never thought to be ashamed of you, but today you’ve reached a
new low.”

He
bowed, a thoroughly sarcastic gesture. “Why, thank you, madam.”

“I
mean it. Collect your belongings and leave Lonsdale.”