Today's Embrace (19 page)

Evy had no wish for Rogan to begin an extensive new expedition, especially if there was some question of her safety at the mission station. Even so, she decided it would do no good to press the issue now. She would wait for Dr. Jackson's report on the morrow. Somehow she must keep the doctor from suspecting her pregnancy. That should not be too hard to do. He was a specialist on the spine. If she kept silent, he wasn't likely to discover the truth.

The next day Dr. Jackson arrived by train from his office on Harley Street. With the discussion and exam behind her, she sat on the brocade settee in the sitting room and glanced at Rogan through narrowed lashes.
I've gotten by with it
.

Evy blinked aside the prick to her conscience. Keeping the news of the baby to herself for another three weeks shouldn't hurt anyone, and her secret was for a good cause. Her departure from Rookswood would solve many of her present difficulties. The baby would be born long before they returned to Grimston Way. By then Patricia Bancroft would have found a new love (perhaps even married), the gossip about Evy would have faded, and Elosia would have mellowed, not keeping such a tight grip on running the estate.

All I need to do
, thought Evy, biting her lip and watching Rogan,
is to delay informing him for a short time. In the end all will be forgotten
.

“
Tell Rogan the truth as soon as you can
,” Martha had said.

Well, Evy would tell him as soon as she
could
. But to keep from having her plans unravel, she had to wait until she was far enough out at sea, with no possibility of turning back.
I'll tell Rogan aboard ship
.

Evy loathed resorting to such tactics, but it was partly Rogan's fault. If only he weren't so resolute about making the present state of her health such a deciding issue.
It's not like I'm being unfair to Rogan just by delaying the announcement. And besides, had I conceived only one month later, Rogan would not receive the announcement until aboard ship anyway
.

And that would be exactly the same situation as far he was concerned, and there would have been nothing deceptive about it
.

She made a sweeping dismissal as guilt sprang up like a stinging thorn. It was Rogan's fault, actually. Because he was too controlling. He was forcing her into this deceit.
Look at the way he's carrying on now. Insisting we must have Dr. Jackson's approval for the journey. Just as though I were still a schoolgirl, needing permission from the headmistress before leaving the school boundary
.

It was sweet of him to worry about a spine problem causing too much fatigue, but she would be resting most of the time anyway, either aboard ship in a cabin, or in a wagon or stagecoach when they crossed the frontier on their way to Bulawayo.
He's determined to use my weakness as his “reason” to keep me “safe and secure” in Grimston Way. And then he can have his big adventure with Derwent without having a woman along to be responsible for. Well! This woman has her dreams of adventure, too, and with good reason, and she isn't going to stay in Grimston Way if she has anything to say about it
. Yes, she should be submissive to Rogan's wishes, but this trip to see Cousin Jakob van Buren meant too much to her.

Evy had practically worked herself into a simmer as she watched Rogan speaking in sober tones with Dr. Jackson. She squirmed on the settee. It was all she could do to keep silent—as though she were not even listening.
I'm supposed to sit here, hands folded calmly in my lap, a demure expression, leaving them to decide everything about me
.

Dr. Jackson prepared to leave for the trip back to his office in London, having been paid a great amount to come here. He stood thoughtfully, fingering his gray Vandyke beard. “Whether the journey will be too much for her at this time is difficult to say with certainty, Rogan.”

Evy's brows lifted in shock.
Ha, my darling Rogan, your plan isn't working, is it?

Somewhat gleeful, she wanted to stand, quite willing to give Dr. Jackson a hug, but she quickly managed a demure face.

“As I've already said, I see no reason why Evy couldn't go on this trip to Capetown.”

Rogan looked displeased. She knew he'd been expecting the doctor would recommend that she stay in England. Rogan seemed to be avoiding her gaze, but when he looked over at her, she rested her chin on her palm, covering a smile as their eyes held. His mouth turned wryly.

Rogan spoke with determination to the doctor. “I'd say it's near a thousand miles from Capetown to Fort Salisbury, and even if she stayed at Bulawayo with my sister and her husband, it would be nearly as long a trek. We'd go partway by frontier stage through Matabeleland, then by covered wagon. A trying ordeal any way you look at it, Doctor.”

Evy narrowed her gaze. He should have been a member of Parliament the way he liked to present matters to influence and change minds.

“Yes, your point is well taken, Rogan. It would be difficult for almost anyone, I imagine. It could indeed prove too much for her, although she's heartily improving. The rehabilitation has gone very well in her case. As I've said, I commend you for your discipline. Your work with her each day on the exercises has done wonders. And if she continues to improve, I foresee a day when she may no longer need to wear the corrective shoe.”

True enough
, Evy thought, ashamed she'd criticized him. Rogan had been wonderful. He was supportive, tender, and even humorous at times just to make her laugh at her trial. But that didn't make up for what he was trying to do now. She drummed her fingers on her knee.

Rogan was walking Dr. Jackson to the door. “Thank you, Doctor. You've been very helpful to us in this decision. I can see Evy and I will need to have a little more discussion before we decide what's best.”

Quite so
, thought Evy with a sweet smile.

Rogan opened the door for the doctor, then followed him out into the corridor, avoiding her gaze and closing the door behind him.

Evy jumped to her stocking feet and hurried to the door, listening, but could hear nothing except muffled voices, followed by footsteps along the hall to the staircase.

She waited at the sitting room window as she saw Rogan escorting
Dr. Jackson to the Chantry coach. Mr. Bixby, who had previously brought Dr. Jackson from the train junction, opened the coach door as the doctor stepped in. Rogan saluted him good-bye.

Evy watched as the coach headed down the path toward the gate and Rogan walked back to the porch steps and entered the mansion.

She left the window and took her place on the settee to replace her shoes, one of which was the loathsome, heavy corrective shoe that had been made for her in London. She grimaced as she tied the laces. At least her skirt covered it when she stood. Her hemlines were a smidgen too long for today's finest fashion, but it was better than seeing the shoe. The idea that she would not need to wear it permanently lightened her burden for the moment.

She smoothed her thick, tawny hair into place and looked up expectantly as the door opened and Rogan entered, shutting it behind him.

He stood, his hand resting on the doorknob, looking across the room at her.

Evy forced a dignified face, chin lifted. His dark hair waved slightly across his forehead, and his energetic dark eyes drifted over her thoughtfully. Virile and pleasing to the eye, he was hard to resist. She smiled.

Rogan's hand dropped from the doorknob, and he came into the room. Walking up to the settee, he looked down at her. He was dressed casually in a brown tweed jacket, with his shirt unbuttoned at the neck. He looked the future squire and less the South African pioneer adventurer—something she knew he would have preferred, though he'd settled with Squire Lyle for Rookswood and its title rather than more shares in the family diamonds, as Parnell had done.

She'd been waiting for this battle of wills, and her emotions were as taut as a tiger ready to spring. She stood, arms crossed in a show of contest.

A smile came to his mouth, and his brow arched.

“Ah, the withering glance. The prince will surely be turned into a frog again.”

“And next time I shan't kiss you and turn you back into a prince.”

He laughed. “Darling, I adore you, but you know you ought to stay here at Rookswood. You heard Dr. Jackson. He doesn't advise your going.”

Evy gave a mirthless laugh. “I heard nothing of the sort. You're willing to hear only his words of caution, just because it suits your purpose.”

“Your safety suits my purpose. Look here, Evy, I've been there. I know what it's like, what's ahead of you.”

“Meaning you don't believe me when I say that I'm quite up to the journey?” she challenged.

“Sweetheart, I believe you,” came his assuring voice.

“Then—”

“But you're anxious for the trek just to meet Dr. Jakob. I think you'd do almost anything to get your way in this.”

Evy felt her face turn hot. “So that's what you think of me?”

He ignored it. “I know it was our plan from the beginning that you might be able to go, but it's also true that desires can color our thinking and deceive us. You may think you're ready for this when in fact you're not. The land can be quite brutal. I was against Arcilla going there, if you remember, but I had no choice in that decision. However, you're my wife.”

“Arcilla and the other women are there, regardless of the newspaper headlines. She has a baby too, and Alice has three. They are no stronger than I am.”

“I disagree. Alice turned out to be as strong as an ox. And Arcilla is constantly wailing in poor Peter's ear to come home. Anyway, my plans have changed,” he said seriously.

His
plans. That's what troubled her. She desired his plans to be
their
plans. It seemed as though there were places in his mind, his soul, that bore the label: “Rogan only—Evy keep out.” Rogan denied her complaints.

“It's all for your good, my sweet. Just be as cooperative and submissive as you are charming and beautiful.”

“Exactly,” she said, feeling rebellious, “and therein lies the problem,
dear husband. The garden you want to confine me in is fragrant and lovely, but my spirit chafes at being bound by security. I want to
share
in your adventure.” She felt nettled that she couldn't reach deeply into his heart. “We made a bargain, Rogan. You said that if Dr. Jackson approved, you'd no longer contest my going with you. You can't say he recommended I stay in Grimston Way, because he didn't say so—unless you're going to be a perfect scoundrel the way you were as a boy.”

He grinned. “Well, I'm not quite as odious as all that, I hope. I think I've learned a few things—about my charming wife, as well.”

“What do you mean?” she asked quickly. Had he guessed after all?

He looked over at her, smiling. “She is an exciting, determined young woman,” he said gently. “One who doesn't want her wings clipped. That, I readily understand. And I'd be the last one to want to do so.”

“Then we've a bargain, Rogan Chantry?”

His mouth tipped down at the corner. “We've a bargain. But know that I don't approve.”

“You're willing to let me go?”

“Allowing you to accompany me across dusty velds where irate savages can pop up at any moment from behind every bush and tree with their assegai, is not how I want my sweetheart living. No—” And he held up a hand to her protest. “Spare me the saga of Arcilla again. You might as well know I don't share Peter's mind about such matters. I don't think Arcilla should be there, but in Capetown. That land is naked and raw. If you're not strong, Evy—”

“But I am
strong
, darling!” She threw her arms around him, smiling. “You promised me … It's settled, then.”

“Vixen.” He kissed her. “Yes, I did say if Dr. Jackson gave the nod you could come. All right, Mrs. Chantry. Have it your way. But when the dust blows, the spiders jump, and the crawlies come creeping under your blanket, don't come squalling to me.”

She laughed airily. “I won't. I shall have your cousin Darinda teach me how to shoot a pistol.”

“Not a chance.
I'll
teach you how to use it … and when. And if you
ever need to, I want you to be a dead shot. We'll start tomorrow. War is ready to break out with the Boers.” He snatched up the
London Times
he'd been looking at earlier and thrust it toward her, tapping the black headlines:

WAR WITH BOERS LIKELY, FOREIGN SECRETARY SAYS

“The foreign secretary is a pessimist. You said so yourself just last week,” she said with forced cheerfulness.

“It will be a dangerous trek to Bulawayo, regardless. If the stubborn Boers don't start the war, the bitter and resentful Ndebele will.”