The Improper Wife (18 page)

He stood next to her and they both surveyed the scene. The sun had risen high enough to show groomsmen leading the horses back to the stables. Other men were herding the livestock.

“It could have been far worse.” Gray gave silent thanks to these people who had toiled through the night to save the other buildings.

She swiped her forehead with a grimy hand. “They made such a pretty picture, the stable and coach house and outbuildings all matching the white stone of the great house. They must have been designed that way.” She sighed wearily. “It is all black now, like some horrible scar.”

Gray had never thought much about the architecture of buildings he’d looked at every day growing up. They had been merely places for him to escape his father’s temper, where men worked hard and spoke kindly to him. He saw the scene with fresh eyes, realizing anew how beautiful Summerton was, even with its scar.

“We’ll rebuild,” he said absently.

He glanced back at her, and she gave him a wan smile. She looked as if a mere feather would topple her over, and more by reflex than anything else, he put a steadying arm around her. She leaned against him and before he knew it, his other arm had encircled her. She buried her face into his chest, her fingers clinging to his coat. He held her close, rubbing his cheek against her silken hair, hair that smelled of smoke and soot, hair that might have gone up in flames when the cinders fell upon her.

They broke apart. He was not certain if it were he or she who moved away first, but her vivid blue eyes shone all the more brilliant in the early dawn light. With what expression?

Longing? Regret?

Or were those his emotions?

She turned and, pulling her skirts away from where they clung to her legs, nearly ran back to the house.

Chapter
TEN

A
ll Maggie wanted was to strip off her wet dress and wash the dirt from her body. She refused to think of how it had felt when Gray held her, when her cheek rested against his hard chest, when his strength seeped into her.

She longed for a bath, but how could she ask any of the servants to carry water for her? Even her maid had been at the fire, passing buckets all night long. Kitt, looking like a wrung-out washrag, came to Maggie’s bedchamber to help her undress, but Maggie sent the girl to bed. She would make do with the water in the pitcher and would get herself ready for bed on her own.

She stood naked on a towel and scrubbed off the mud and soot as best she could. The water was cool, raising gooseflesh on her skin. She quickly dried herself and put on her nightdress. Sitting at her dressing table, she brushed the soot from her hair, wishing she hadn’t forgotten to put on a hat. She dampened her hair with lavender water and brushed it some more, to free it of the fire’s scent. By the time she had finished, Sean woke up, blessedly unaware of the frightening drama. Lovely Miss Miles returned to fetch him, dressing him and packing him off for breakfast in the nursery.

Maggie lay upon the bed and tried to sleep, but when she closed her eyes all she could see was the terrifying sight of Gray running into the burning building. Her heart still raced with fright.

She heard him moving about in the next room. Had he pulled off his clothes as she had done to wash off the soot and grime? She remembered his bare chest from his first night at Summerton. The Roman statues in the ballroom displayed muscles like that, all rippling with strength.

She groaned and covered her head with her pillow. What folly to think of how he would look undressed. He was not a true husband to her, and she was not his proper wife.

And he was leaving.

She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. He might be packing at this very moment. He might be preparing to leave Summerton, never to return, and it would be all her fault. For the rest of her life, she must live with what she had done to him. Her only wish now was to try to tell him how grateful she was to him.

Flinging aside the bed linens, she jumped out of bed and walked over to the door that joined her room to his. She pressed her ear against the cool wood.

His room was quiet. He could not have left already, could he?
Please let him merely be sleeping.

She put her hand on the knob and turned it, but quickly let go and backed away from the door.

If he was sleeping, she did not wish to wake him, not after he had worked so ceaselessly battling the fire. She would have heard the door to his bedchamber open and close if he’d left. She would have heard his footsteps pass her door.

Her clock chimed nine o’clock. Lord Summerton’s breakfast hour. Had the earl been roused by the commotion of the fire? He would only be more cross if his sleep had been disturbed.

She sat on the bed but could not make herself lie down again. Perhaps she ought to give Lord Summerton company, as he was accustomed to her doing.

If only she could reason with the earl. Tell him how hard his son worked at the fire. Convince him he ought to welcome this fine man into his heart, as a father ought his son.

It was no use. As long as she resided at Summerton, Gray’s family would not be restored to him.

She crossed the room and pulled a morning dress from the wardrobe. Managing to fasten the dress herself and pin her hair up, she walked down to the breakfast room.

The earl was in his usual seat as she entered, his plate piled high with more food than he would be able to eat.

He lifted his fork, barely looking up at her. “Hmmmph. You are late.” A bit of egg clung to the corner of his lower lip.

“Good morning to you, too, sir.” She put her hands on his shoulders and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

The smell of the ham, eggs, and bread made her suddenly ravenous. Passing buckets all night did wonders for the appetite. She spooned two eggs from the warming dish, instead of one, adding a large slice of ham she would otherwise have forgone.

One of the footmen, dark circles under his eyes, appeared at her elbow to pour her tea. The poor man ought to be in his bed. “I think we can manage without you,” she said to him.

He gave her a grateful bow and left. The earl noisily chewed his piece of toast.

“Were you awakened last night, my lord?” she asked tentatively.

“I sleep like the dead. I’ve told you that, girl. If one works hard, it is nothing to fall asleep at night.” He jabbed at the air with his knife. “Mark my words.”

“Wisely said, sir.” Maggie leaned over and wiped the egg from his mouth with her handkerchief.

He waved her away. “Stop fussing. You treat me like an old man.”

“Never, my lord.” She smiled.

He shoveled more food into his mouth.

Maggie regarded him carefully between bites of her own. Cutting her ham, she asked somewhat tentatively, “Did anyone tell you of the fire last night?”

“What fire?” He twisted his head looking around the room. “I know of no fire.”

“One of the outbuildings. The building was destroyed, I’m afraid, but no one was seriously hurt.” She kept her voice calm.

The earl’s cheek twitched, a sure sign of trouble to come.

The door opened, and Gray entered. Maggie’s heart leapt at seeing him.

He gave her the briefest of glances. “Good morning.”

“Hmmph,” Lord Summerton responded. “Not sleeping the day away like usual, eh? Taking a page from my book for once. Rise early and prepare for the day . . .”

Gray seemed to not attend to this pontification. He fixed his plate, and picked the seat across from Maggie, who poured some coffee for him.

“. . . Never knew such a scapegrace for sleeping the day away.” Lord Summerton pointed his knife at his son. “That boy kept town hours. No use at all. Now, Vincent rose early. Why, many was the time he rose before me. Out riding the property with Murray while I was still snoring in my bed . . .”

Maggie felt her face flush. Gray had probably not slept at all and this rant of his father’s was so unfair. She would have attempted to stop it, but did not dare risk setting off the earl’s temper.

Gray lifted his head with a shrug and said to Maggie in a low voice completely devoid of sarcasm, “My brother was a fine man.”

He
was a fine man as well, she wanted to protest! A man who’d labored all night to save his father’s property. A man who would give up his home and family and future because of her.

“What did he say?” the earl asked her. “What did he say?”

“I said my brother was a fine man, Father,” Gray answered in a flat tone.

“Yes, indeed,” muttered the earl.

Gray turned his attention back to Maggie, but the sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart. “Did you manage some sleep, then?”

“No.” It was too painful to meet his gaze. “I could not settle.”

“You don’t sleep the day away, Maggie girl,” Lord Summerton interjected.

“I referred to the fire last night, Father,” Gray said.

His father dropped his fork with a clatter. “There was no fire.”

“One of the outbuildings caught fire. I thought it might have woken you.”

“I’m sure if there had been a fire, I would have woken, boy.” Lord Summerton’s face grew red. “There was no fire.”

Do not argue with him, Maggie pleaded silently.

Gray gave his father a puzzled look. “I assure you there was a fire. You can still smell it—”

“Do not be insolent with me, young man!” Summerton’s voice rose. “This is
my
property, and I’ll brook no disrespect on my own land. Thought I sent you packing ages ago—”

The son stiffened.

Maggie quickly placed a calm hand on Lord Summerton’s arm. “Of course, you demand respect,” she said, soothing him but wanting more to soothe his son. “He meant no disrespect, my lord. Remember? I just told you about the fire.”

“Hmmph,” his lordship said. “He should not be here. I want him gone.”

“You will get your wish soon enough,” Gray shot back.

Maggie broke in. “Lord Summerton, you are being very unkind to your son.” She kept her voice calm but firm. Sometimes the earl responded well when she spoke to him as if he were Sean’s age. “I am very ashamed of you. I thought you a better man than that. Now let us have a civil breakfast.”

“I have finished eating.” His lordship glared at Gray and struggled to his feet.

Maggie jumped out of her chair to assist him. After he steadied himself with his cane, he shook her off and hobbled out of the room. Parker met him outside the door, and Maggie sat down again.

Gray, face red, shoved food into his mouth. His fork jabbed at the ham as if it were an enemy.

“He does not mean what he says.”

His eyes flashed. “Indeed?”

“You don’t understand . . .”

He put his cutlery down and gave her a level stare. “Do not explain my father to me,
Maggie girl.
” Venom might as well be pouring from his mouth. “You are welcome to him. I plan to put as much distance between my father and myself as I am able.”

She extended her hand to him, but he waved it aside, attacking his food instead.

“I wished to speak to you of this.” She took a bracing breath. “To tell you how sorry I am you must give up Summerton. It is your home.”

He laughed. “My father banished me from this place. He said long ago that it was no longer my home.” He glared at her. “Your apology would better address having forced my return. That I find difficult to forgive.”

He could pretend to himself that his father and Summerton meant nothing to him, but she had seen his face when his father attacked him. And she’d seen him toil for Summerton.

She gave him an earnest look. “I realize the enormity of your sacrifice for me.”

“Enough!” he shouted, standing abruptly and shoving the chair away with such force it fell over. Without another look at her, he strode out of the room.

Gray left the house and walked toward the stables. With any luck his horse would be fit for a long day’s ride, and he could leave this place and return to London. The night had been a long one for animals as well as people, however. His horse was an old steed, one Gray purchased in Belgium after his horse had been shot from under him at Waterloo. He’d given this old animal quite a working the previous day, all morning riding with Rodney, all after-noon and evening in the village.

Of course, the horse had had plenty of time to rest in the village while Gray sat drinking in the inn. Old friends and neighbors soon heard he was there and came to chat, telling him how glad they were he’d come home from the war. Well, his homecoming would be very brief.

The acrid stench of burnt wood spoiled cool morning air. As he walked to the stables, Gray could see men still working around the charred building. A short detour would not hurt. He thought he might take stock of the damage now that the sun was out.

The building barely resembled its former self. Its stone walls had crumbled in places and were covered with soot and ash, every bit like the blackened scar Maggie had described. Wisps of smoke rose here and there, ghostly reminders of the inferno that had raged within the walls the night before. Men raked through the debris, salvaging any useful items that survived, stamping out any embers that still burned.

Murray was there, walking from one man to another, still in the scorched and soot-smeared clothes he’d worn the night before.

Gray approached him. “Good God, Ted, have you taken no rest?”

Murray shook his head. “Fine rest I’d have if we had a flare-up and another building caught fire.” He gestured to Gray. “Come examine the damage with me.”

Murray led Gray through the building’s charred remains.

“Do you know how the fire started?” Gray asked.

Murray grimaced. “One of the lads had been entertaining a maid. They knocked over a lantern.”

“You cannot mean it. Who was it?”

Murray gave him a worried look. “Are you going to dismiss them?”

Gray laughed. “Me? I have no authority here. You know that.”

Murray regarded him quizzically, then poked at a pile of charred wood. “Well, since you were back, I assumed—”

Gray held up his hand. “I am merely visiting.”

The estate manager’s brow creased in worry, reminding Gray of the serious boy Ted had been, as serious as his father before him.