Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (44 page)

"I should retire," she said, and stood. She wanted to escape, but then again, she didn't. Against her better instincts she held out her hand to her husband and he led her from the room.

"Oh, dear," said Amy. "I believed him, didn't you, Peter?"

"We all did, dear," said Miss Hurstman, "including Eleanor. But she's within her rights. We must hope his nerve will hold."

"Are you sure?" asked Lord Middlethorpe seriously.

The older woman sighed. "I hope to God I am."

Nicholas and Eleanor ascended the stairs in silence. Eleanor couldn't think of a thing to say. She'd as good as struck him in the face. They went into the nursery and looked down on the peaceful babe and then moved through into Eleanor's room, the master bedroom, where he did not sleep. She realized she didn't know where he slept. It was not an appropriate time to ask.

"I suppose I should see to hiring a replacement nurse," she said at last, relieved to have thought of an impersonal topic. "I don't think there's another experienced woman free locally. Perhaps you might find someone in London."

"I believe our old nurse is still at Grattingley. She's a pensioner there but still had all her wits the last time I saw her. After all, you'll only need a temporary replacement."

Eleanor bit back an urge to correct him.
We
will need...

"Yes, that will be best."

There was a vibration between them. It disturbed her. It drew her. She looked up at him seeking something, she was not sure what. She saw it deep within his eyes. A need, a vulnerability. What would happen if she went into his arms now?

Could he stay detached and in control of himself and the situation then? She realized she resented his control.

She distrusted it.

She wanted to destroy it.

His lids lowered, but he came closer and put a gentle finger beneath her chin. "Courage Eleanor, for both our sakes."

She read in his eyes the reassurance she wanted, that she had not known to ask. The need was real. If she sent him away he would go, but if she summoned him back he would return.

Perhaps he too found the moment difficult, for he moved away and sought an unemotional topic. "The family usually gathers at Grattingley for Easter. I assume we will not go with Arabel so young."

All her anger returned. He was pretending to bow to her will, but assuming it would all be as he intended in the end.

As always.

"You must decide for yourself, Nicholas. I will let you know later what Arabel and I will do."

He paled and looked as if he would speak. Then he took his dismissal, closing the door quietly behind him.

Eleanor lay on her bed in dry-eyed misery.

Chapter 16

Jenny woke Eleanor twice in the night to feed the baby, and it was late in the morning before she arose. She was brought a note from Nicholas with her breakfast chocolate.

Dear Eleanor,

Please do not think I have left you in pique or resentment, but I felt we would gain nothing from another farewell. You must know what I want, and can need no reassurance on that, but as I said, I am not infallible. I may have fumbled and I may have misjudged your heart. My greatest concern is that I may have caused you further distress by my actions.

Take all the time you wish, my dear, but only assure you make the right decision for your own happiness. If you accept me back in your life, you will not have another easy chance to slough me off, I promise.

Nicholas.

Eleanor knew she needed no more time. If he had delayed his departure she might not have let him go.

She loved him with the kind of love that would forgive far worse sins than his. She loved his lightened, boyish hair, his gold-flecked laughing eyes that crinkled up so easily into deviltry. She loved, in an earthy way she still did not fully understand, his lean features and the fluid movements of his beautiful body.

Ah, that body! It seemed so long now since he had lain naked beside her, and she had rejected him. And as long since that one dream time when he had given her a taste of delight...

She loved the mind that had always striven to give her freedom, the integrity that, knowing he could bend her to his will with ease, stood back to let her stumble in her own way. Oh yes, if he were still in the house she would not let him go. And he knew it. That was why he'd slipped away in the early hours. To preserve her from herself.

Peter, Amy, and Francis decided they had best be on their way too. Both Amy and Francis tried to plead Nicholas's cause with her, but she put them off. She gave them no hint of her state of mind, but they must have noted her good humor, for they all looked happy.

Eleanor felt happy. Three weeks was not so very long.

Francis alone retained a trace of concern. Just before he went out to the waiting coach he said, "Eleanor, take care."

"I will, I promise. When the weather is better we will doubtless visit Grattingley. That is not so far from you."

He understood the "we" and relaxed. "I'll look forward to it."

Miss Hurstman, at least, approved of her behavior. "I thought he was a bit too cocksure too, my dear. The delay will do him no harm at all. But I wouldn't play the line any longer."

Eleanor blushed. "I don't think I could."

Miss Hurstman snorted. "I wondered why he'd gone off before dawn when he could have traveled with the others. He's a frightening man. Well, I suppose I'll soon be able to get off home, maybe in time to plant my garden. I do enjoy that. By the way," she remarked as she opened her book, "if you're interested in what your husband is really thinking, watch his hands and not his face."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he don't always remember to control his hands. Last night he almost snapped the stem of his wine glass before he realized and put it down. At other times he had them clenched so tight they were white. And his voice was as smooth as silk velvet."

Eleanor was not short of things to do during those three weeks. She had a great deal to learn about her daughter, and the household to run. She took long walks in the crisp winter air to regain her energy and her figure. She occupied her spare time with needlework and books, being extravagant with lamp oil in the long winter nights.

But she also ran over memories in her mind, with a smile on her face.

She remembered that first night and his kindness. She remembered the other time they had made love. He had seduced her. She'd scarcely known what she was doing. Color touched her cheeks when she thought of sharing her bed with him again. How would it go? Would she lose her nerve? Would she satisfy him, who was used to more sophisticated women?

She remembered when he'd interrupted her and Francis in the library. He'd desired her then. And that time before the debacle when he'd given her the key to the safe, fearing he might not survive...

So many little incidents, running together like a string of pearls.

Four days after Nicholas left, a groom arrived from London and asked for her. For a terrible moment Eleanor imagined Nicholas to have had an accident, but the man simply brought two presents: a silver rattle for the baby and a single red rose—in moist packing and carefully wrapped against the cold—for her. The card had only two words: For courage.

Miss Hurstman was inclined to be acidic. "I have heard the expression 'starry-eyed,' but I doubt I've ever witnessed the phenomenon before."

Four days later a coach arrived to disgorge an elderly dumpling of a woman. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Delaney. I'm Nurse, or Mrs. Pitman, if you'd rather, and I'm told you've need of me. I can't say I'll be sorry to get at a baby again."

"You were Nicholas's nurse?" asked Eleanor, immediately taking to the woman. "I'm pleased to meet you, and yes, we do need you here."

"And I am pleased to meet you, ma'am," said the woman, shedding a number of shawls as she progressed into the warmth of the house. "First things first. Take me to my baby."

Eleanor took her up and Nurse gave the nursery a military inspection, but was pleased to compliment Jenny. "You've done well for a girl not trained to it. Should have the Delaney crib, of course," she said to Eleanor, "as it seems likely you're going to produce the heir."

She looked down at Arabel, who was awake and sucking a fist. "A healthy child, and has an amiable temper, I would say, just like her father."

When they were alone over a tea tray the old woman turned shrewd blue eyes on Eleanor. "Master Nicky—is he well?"

"Is he not?" Eleanor countered.

"Oh, physically," the woman said, dismissing that. "He's hardly ever been ill. But he looked tired-out and down. I've seen his brother like that many a time, but not him. It's a wife's duty, ma'am, to make sure her husband doesn't get that way. I can't think what you were doing to let him go off traveling when his mind is ill at ease, and he's just back from such a long trip. A note would have fetched me. I don't approve of all this traveling he does."

Eleanor recognized she had been irrevocably drawn into the ranks of Nurse's ex-charges and tried to explain, even if it needed a lie. "He felt he should go and see his brother. Nicholas seemed perfectly well."

Nurse tut-tutted. "A good wife knows how he is, not how he seems." Then she relented. "Never mind, dear. You were doubtless not quite yourself. Birthing does funny things to a woman. But you should be over it by now. I hope you'll take better care of him when he returns."

Eleanor meekly promised to do her best.

Eleanor found Nurse easy to get along with. She wasn't possessive about the child, possibly because she knew her tenure to be temporary, and she loved to gossip about the twins as much as Eleanor loved to listen.

"Beautiful babies, they were," she said one day as Eleanor fed Arabel and Nurse folded snowy nappies. "But so different. Master Nicky had an amiable temper, but when he wanted something he just bawled. Master Kit was quieter, but tended to grizzle. His title, of course, was Lord Blakeland, as the heir, but I never used it to him. Just Master Nicky and Master Kit in the nurseries. I think their father worried that Master Nicky might resent things when he was old enough to understand, but I can't say I ever saw sign of it."

"Were they good children?" Eleanor asked.

"What boys ever are?" asked the nurse, chuckling. "Proper rascals at times. Master Nicky was usually the one who got them into trouble, but more often than not he could get them out of it again. When Master Kit tangled them in mischief, it would always be a real bumble bath." She shook her head at her memories.

"Mostly, though," she went on, "Master Kit just tagged along after Master Nicky in dogged determination, unless he gave up and went off with a book or to play his flute. He's very musical, the earl is. We have a little orchestra at Grattingley, and if there are no guests he has them play a while for the staff. Lovely, it is."

"Nicholas loves books," said Eleanor, feeling he was unfairly being portrayed as the Philistine.

"Oh, he slipped through education like a hot knife through butter," said Nurse casually. "He sucked books dry. Master Kit would hide in them."

Eleanor found this picture very telling.

"Their father never understood Master Kit," said Nurse another day. "He was hard on him because of the way he followed Master Nicky's lead. I sat with him at the end—the old earl—and he would talk to me. He was in pain, and it helped him to talk. 'If I'd known,' he said one day, 'I'd have swapped 'em.'"

"Poor Kit," said Eleanor, thinking that both brothers might have fared better under such an exchange. Nicholas had no greed for the title, but Lord Stainbridge would have been happier without the responsibility, and his father would not have been so demanding.

"It was just after," said Nurse, "that the old earl called them both in separately for his final words. I was there, for the doctor was called for and he was fading fast. He told Master Kit to hold onto Master Nicky's money and to pull him up tight if he grew too wild. I couldn't imagine it myself. Then he saw Master Nicky and told him that once his brother was the earl he should keep out of his way. Make him stand on his own feet. Which he's done, I suppose."