Loving the Marquess (21 page)

Anger sprang within her, a many-headed beast. How dare he!
Nicholas knew that drinking was the very last thing he should do and he
continued to do it anyway. Was he trying to kill himself? Was being in her
presence that difficult for him?

She moved to stand before Kerrick. “
You
are not to
blame for this,” she said. “He is. He devised this plan. He married me after
leading me to believe he wanted me to carry his heir.
His
heir. What a
joke,” she said with a small, bitter laugh. “Instead, I find that he wants to
hand me over to his best friend. Who does he think he is?”

Now it was her turn to pace. The more she thought about it,
the angrier she became. She had to do something. She didn’t know what exactly,
not at first, but then it came to her. She stopped and turned back to Lord
Kerrick.

“We will get through this,” she said, her voice firm with
resolve. “All of us.”

She left an open-mouthed Kerrick standing in the library and
marched belowstairs to handle the matter.

* * *
* *

After spending a day in his rooms, Nicholas decided to
venture downstairs the following afternoon. He’d recovered from his bout of
weakness but didn’t relish the idea of making a grand appearance at dinner. If
his valet’s reaction upon seeing him yesterday morning was anything to go by,
he knew he’d be the subject of stares and avid curiosity from the household
staff. He may as well get it out of the way now. Show everyone he wasn’t an
invalid.

Not Louisa, though. He would see her at dinner, but for now
he would do his best to avoid her. The revelation of the depth of his feelings
for her still unsettled him.

He was surprised at how quickly he grew tired again.
Sommers, the footmen, and a few maids had already seen him and he knew word
would soon spread to the rest of the staff that he was better. After visiting
his grandmother, he decided to go to the conservatory to visit his sister-in-law.
He couldn’t see Louisa just yet, but he was hoping to learn how she was doing.

He found Catherine poring over a few books that lay open on
a small table in the conservatory, a small notebook and pencil at her side. It
appeared she was very serious about cataloging all the plants in his
grandmother’s collection. Grandmother loved the colors and scents of the exotic
plants she’d acquired over the years, but she’d never bothered to learn more
about them.

Catherine beamed when she spotted him, reminding him of her
sister when he’d woken yesterday morning, and he felt a pang somewhere in the
vicinity of his heart.

“I am so happy to see you up and about, my lord,” she said.

He tsked. “Nicholas, remember? We are family now.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

A small dimple appeared in her cheek and it occurred to him
that he didn’t know if Louisa had a dimple. She’d rarely had occasion to smile
in his presence, and he’d been too addled the previous morning to notice.

 Full of bubbling enthusiasm for her task, Catherine jumped
to her feet and started to give him a tour. She was excited to share the
information she’d discovered about a few of the plants, but after a few minutes
he had to pretend that pressing estate matters needed his attention. Aside from
feeling a little tired from being on his feet so long, the overpowering smell
of all the exotic flowers was beginning to make him feel light-headed. For a
horrifying moment he feared he was about to suffer another attack and almost
ran to the doors that led out to the garden. Once he escaped the overheated
space with its overpowering perfume, he began to breathe a little easier. The
crisp autumn air cleared his head and profound relief coursed through him when
his dizziness faded completely. Annoyed that he was obviously still feeling the
aftereffects of his last attack, he made his way around to the front of the
house.

He was able to make his way to his study without running
into Louisa, and there he closed the door and leaned against it, eyes closed.
He felt more than a little foolish. He was actually skulking about his own home
in fear of one small, albeit very beautiful, woman. One whom he knew would
never intentionally harm anyone, but who had done more than anyone or anything
else to destroy his peace of mind.

If he was going to spend the rest of the day hiding in his
study, he might as well try to get some work done. His steward had left him a
plan outlining proposed improvements and repairs to several tenants’ homes that
would need to be completed when spring arrived. That was still several months
away, but he couldn’t guarantee his health would hold long enough for him to
oversee estate business later. Much had gone unattended by the last two
marquesses after they’d fallen ill, one shortly after the other, and he didn’t
want the same thing to happen during his tenure.

He opened his eyes, turned toward his desk, and froze.
Seated behind his desk was the one person he’d been avoiding. Louisa.

She looked very different from the woman who’d been in his
room the morning before. That woman had been warm, inviting, and far too
tempting. The woman before him now was her complete opposite. Her hair was up,
not a lock out of place, and her dress was a rich blue that accentuated her
paleness and fair hair. It also underscored her icy demeanor.

She leaned back in the chair, her arms crossed and her
expression unreadable.

“You wished to discuss something with me?” he asked when she
remained silent.

“Actually, yes.”

He watched with disbelief as she indicated he should take
the guest chair. The very cheek of her. Despite the fact he should be annoyed,
he found himself curious about this side of his wife. He’d caught a glimpse of
it when she’d defied convention to travel alone to his home in order to ask for
his help with his cousin. He hadn’t seen it since.

He sat without a word and waited for her to continue.

“I spoke to Lord Kerrick this morning.”

Nicholas’s hands clenched on the arms of his chair before he
forced himself to relax and remain impassive. Her words, however, fell like a
blow to his stomach. It took him a few moments before he could force himself to
speak the lie that was necessary.

“I’m glad to hear the two of you have come to an agreement.”

She looked at him as though he’d lost his senses. “He told
me, Nicholas.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. “I’ve already
explained everything to you. What more was there to tell?”

She made a sound of disgust. A flicker of a nameless emotion
crossed her face, but she masked it quickly. For some reason, that made him
sad. It appeared he had taught her too well to hold herself aloof from him. It
was necessary, of course, but he mourned the loss of her former openness.

“Is that all you can think about? Are you really so anxious
for me to bed Lord Kerrick that it wouldn’t occur to you I might be talking
about something else?”

He ignored the jibe. “I wish the matter to be settled.”

He’d never spoken truer words. He wanted the ordeal behind
them. Wished she was already pregnant with a child who would hopefully be his
heir. He didn’t think he could go through with this again if she conceived a
girl. The thought of her and Kerrick together, sharing the same passionate
kisses the two of them had shared, Kerrick’s hands on her body, covering her…
Thoughts of their coupling plagued him without end.

“He told me that your illness is made worse when you drink.
He also informed me you admitted you’d been drinking the night you fell ill.”
Her calm façade faded as she spoke, to be replaced with a hint of anger “Why,
Nicholas? Why would you do such a thing?”

He didn’t reply right away. What was he supposed to say?
That he’d been drinking because he hated the very idea of her sleeping with
Kerrick, or with any other man? That he’d been drinking to block out the
knowledge that he had to continue to push for that very thing to happen despite
the fact that every fiber in his being screamed at him to make her his once and
for all? That she was making him absolutely crazy?

“I wasn’t exactly thinking of the consequences at the time.”

She could make of that statement what she would. He wasn’t
going to discuss it. He stood. “If you’re finished mothering me now, I have
work to do. I plan to meet with the steward tomorrow and I have to go through
some of his proposals first.”

Her expression changed and Nicholas flinched when he saw the
compassion there. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He’d rather have her
anger.

“It’s too soon, Nicholas. Whatever you need to discuss, I’m
sure it can wait at least a few more days.” She stood and moved around the desk
to stand before him. She placed a hand on his arm and continued. “You look
tired. Perhaps you should go rest now.”

The heat of her touch burned through the fabric of his coat.
For a moment he could only stand there and breathe in her clean scent while he
fought the urge to pull her to him. It was true he was a little fatigued, but
he was fairly certain he had enough energy to finally tear down the wall that
stood between them. A wall entirely of his own making.

In the end, he took a step back and her hand fell.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, moving around her and
dropping into the seat she’d abandoned.

He didn’t watch as she crossed the room. Before leaving, she
turned and waited until he looked up at her.

“I have instructed the staff to clear away any spirits you
keep here and in the library. They have also disposed of the bottles in
storage.”

She left without waiting for his response

Nicholas buried his head in his hands. If his illness didn’t
do it first, his wife was going to be the death of him.

* * *
* *

Dinner was a somber affair. Lady Overlea assumed Nicholas
was taking dinner in his room, but Sommers had informed Louisa he’d gone out
just before dinner. Louisa kept that information to herself, however. She knew
the older woman was still worried about her grandson, but she would worry more
if she knew he was away from home. Louisa was concerned enough for the both of
them, although her worry was partially allayed by the fact that he had taken
the carriage and a driver.

Lord Kerrick had also gone out earlier in the day and had
not yet returned home. Louisa wasn’t surprised since he now seemed determined
to stay away from her so as not to provoke Nicholas further. Catherine had
pouted when she learned he would be away again, but she rallied quickly. She
kept the conversation going over dinner, sharing what she had learned about
some of the more exotic of the plants in the conservatory.

Louisa had never been very interested in gardening, and so
her thoughts kept drifting back to her husband. She’d known him for such a
short period of time and had spent most of that time separated from him, yet
somehow she could not imagine her life without him. His very presence commanded
attention. He wasn’t a man who could be ignored, and if anything were to happen
to him she knew she would feel his loss keenly.

As if by mutual consent, they all drifted off to their rooms
after dinner. Once there, Louisa’s gaze settled, as it often did, on the door
that connected her room to Nicholas’s. She knew the door was unlocked, but
neither she nor Nicholas had ever used it. Not even when he was ill and she’d
spent most of her time in his bedroom. It hadn’t seemed right. To use the
connecting door was too intimate. Something a true husband and wife would use
to join their spouse for the night. She and Nicholas didn’t have that type of
relationship, so she had used the more formal method of entering his room
through the hallway door.

She was sorely tempted to use that connecting door now. She
worried what condition her husband would be in when he returned home. Would he
be ill again or merely tired after exerting himself so soon after his last
attack? And what would he do if he found her waiting for him in his bedroom?
She gave a small self-deprecating laugh at her imagination. If he wasn’t having
another attack when he came home, he’d be annoyed and would send her back to
her rooms.

She rang for her maid and prepared for bed. She was too
worried to try to fall asleep until she knew Nicholas was home, so instead
settled onto her bed to read. She must have fallen asleep at some point,
because the next thing she knew a noise had startled her awake. A quick glance
at the clock told her it was after midnight.

The noise came again—footsteps in the hallway. She sat up
and put away the book that lay open beside her on her bed. She heard the murmur
of a voice, then Nicholas’s in reply as they moved past her bedroom door.
Needing to see for herself that he was well, she went to the door, opened it,
and peered out into the hall. Nicholas and his valet stood before the door to
his rooms, and as one they turned to look at her. She took a step forward, then
froze when she saw the expression on her husband’s face.

Guilt.

Fury overwhelmed her and stole her voice. Unable to speak at
that moment, she returned to her room and slammed the door.

She paced for some time, her anger growing with each passing
minute. She heard the muffled voices of the two men in the next room and
wondered just how much Nicholas had imbibed.

The murmuring finally stopped and the muffled sound of a
door closing told her that Harrison had left. As the silence from the other
side of the door stretched on, worry started to overcome her anger. What if
Nicholas suffered another attack and wasn’t discovered again until morning? She
went to the door that connected their rooms but stopped, undecided, before it.
If he wasn’t ill, he wouldn’t welcome her intrusion.

She was turning away from the door, her shoulders slumped in
dejection, when a loud crash sounded. The last remaining vestiges of her anger
and uncertainty evaporated as visions of Nicholas collapsing and lying at
death’s door in the next room flashed through her mind. Without another
thought, she flung open the connecting door and stepped through it. Nicholas sat
on the edge of the bed, his head cradled in his hands. The source of the crash
soon became evident. A chair lay on its side at the base of one plaster wall
that now bore markings from the impact of the chair. Concerned more by his
posture than the unmistakable sign of his anger, she took several steps into
the room. She froze, however, when Nicholas lifted his head and stared at her.
His eyes, dark with an unnamed emotion, seemed to see right through her.