Trials of Artemis (23 page)

He
approached her slowly and put his hands on her hips. "If it helps any...
I'm sorry."

She
looked up at him, her expression a mixture of hope and longing. "For
what?"

"For
being the Lord Lucifer that Robert and Charles were seeking. For it affecting
you and lowering their esteem in your eyes."

She
nodded and he saw tears glinting again. "And for missing the club trick in
the second round?" she asked with a weak smile, referring to their whist
game earlier.

"No,
you beast, not for that. Who leads with a two as a signal to take the second
trick?"

She
settled against his chest and his arms went around her. As much as his mind
might still be disturbed with their argument, his body was relieved to have
this woman pressed against him. Relieved and aroused. Good God, would he never
tire of her scent, her touch? He ran his hands lightly over her back, knowing
that she would likely not be in the mood for bed sport after their afternoon of
disagreement, but unable to keep from some small attempt at seduction. His body
craved hers again.

Perhaps
she was similarly afflicted because she snuggled deeper into his embrace and
wrapped her arms around him. He leaned back to look down into her face. Her
eyes were damp but she smiled up at him. He stroked her cheek and she leaned
her face into his hand. He kissed her, lightly at first, and she responded.
When he swept his tongue into her mouth she suckled it like the sweetest
nectar. Now he wished he had brought the brandy up so that she had something
worth suckling. But those thoughts quickly evaporated as his wife continued to
respond, pressing her breasts into his chest as she strained to be closer to
him. As he carried her to the bed he thought, even if they had nothing else, they
had this.

In
the morning Jack went riding with her husband and ate breakfast with him as
though everything was normal. But somewhere at the back of her mind she knew
that it wasn't. The revelation that he was Lord Lucifer didn't sit well with
her at all. Robert and Charles had both changed after meeting Lord Lucifer.
Tales of their drunken debauchery had reached even out to Derbyshire. The
Haberdashers had at first defended the reputations of their beloved big brothers,
but before long it had become too much. By the summer they were fourteen the
three girls had admitted that their former inspiration, their heroes, were now
tarnished.

In
the meantime she needed to reconcile for herself how she could be disappointed
in Gideon, yet also find herself unable to resist the physical nature of their
relationship. It was as though coming within two feet of him rendered her
unable to think rationally. Even now the memories of their lovemaking had her
body responding with tightness and aches that Gideon's touch was designed to
soothe. Rather than seek out her husband to distract herself from her thoughts
and the perfidy of her own body, she had the footmen help her set up for
something that always cleared her mind. Archery. Within an hour she was focused
on the twang of the string and whistle of the arrows.

When
Gideon hadn't seen his wife at luncheon he was informed that she was on the
south lawn practicing archery. At least, he thought, of all her hobbies it was
the one permissible for women. Taking some choice bits from the luncheon tray,
he walked out to the south lawn to see how she was getting on and whether she
was hungry. Rounding the manor, the first thing he noticed was a series of targets
set out from fifteen feet to at least fifty yards. The next was that she drew
the bow with an almost singular concentration. In the time it took him to reach
her she had loosed five arrows, apparently practicing a pattern on one of the
mid-distance targets.

"Poor
bastard," he said, "what did he do to you?"

A
mild quirking of a smile was the extent of response he received as she
continued to loose arrows in quick succession at a more distant target. Finally
out of missiles, she slung her bow over her shoulder and began collecting them
from the nearest target. Gideon fell into step beside her. "Since you
missed lunch I thought you might want something."

"I
did?" she asked.

He
nodded and handed her the napkin of items he had purloined for her. She stood
sampling her light repast as the summer sun beamed down on her uncovered head.

Gideon
found the silence uncomfortable. "You look like Artemis," he said.

She
laughed. "It is a look I try to cultivate."

He
pulled arrows for her as she ate, inspecting the tips and fletchings before
putting them in her quiver.

"Does
that make you Orion, then?" she mused.

"I
don't remember my Greek myths very well, you'll have to tell me."

She
squinted as she looked up at him, finally nodding. "Yes, you're probably
Orion."

"What
makes you say that?"

"He
was the only one Artemis ever loved."

Gideon
frowned and began pulling arrows from the next target. There it was again, that
muddying and diverting concept of love. While his heart leapt in response to
her words, his mind abhorred the idea. Rather than respond, he concentrated on
the arrows. Once he had collected all of them she invited him to stay and shoot
with her but he declined.

Jack
watched her husband walk back to the manor. He had flinched again when she
mentioned the idea of love. Was he so afraid of loving and being loved that he
avoided the concept altogether? If true, it was the
idea
of love, not the actions of it. Who would expect the haughty Earl
of Harrington to bring his wife a light luncheon by his own hand? He was often
independent, she had noticed, eschewing his valet while out in the country and
picking up after himself more than many of the upper class in her experience.
But she had also seen him delegate a job to a footman more often than carry it
out himself. He had brought her food because he wanted to see her, because he
wanted to make sure she ate. That was an act of love.

She
herself wasn't sure why she had brought up Orion and mentioned that Artemis had
loved him, since she currently felt conflicted about her husband. But her feelings
for him were strong, if shaken by the knowledge that he was also Lord Lucifer.
In many ways it was hard for her to reconcile. Gideon didn't seem the type to
carouse his way through London. Perhaps she needed to follow her own advice
again, and instead of being irritated, she needed to become curious. To
reconcile her considerate, responsible husband to what she knew of Lord Lucifer,
she would need to know what had prompted him to act in that way. Of course her
deepest fear was to discover that Lord Lucifer co-existed with the man she
thought she knew and was perhaps even the greater portion of him.

She
also realized she had best not tell him the full tale of Artemis and Orion, since
in some versions of the mythology Artemis accidentally kills her love.

For
Gideon, the business week proceded more like a week before Jacqueline.
Certainly his life could always be measured in that way now, before Jacqueline
and after Jacqueline. But throughout the week his wife was quiet and
distracted, allowing him to concentrate on Mr. Miller's education. He also had
Philip work with the Hobbes to execute his wife's wishes for placing the older children
in service to support their mother and younger siblings in a small cottage in
the village. And in his spare time, such as it was, he began compiling a list
of invitees for the ball they needed to plan. He knew his wife was nervous about
her first real duty as a countess. He searched his mind for a woman who could
mentor her. Certainly there must be a society matron here in Kent who would
take his wife under her wing to work out the details such an undertaking
required.

He
was contemplating the rather sparse list of women in the immediate area who
might serve in that capacity when he noticed a
gleaming black carriage with a smart team of four coming up his drive. As he
might have expected from such a rich conveyance, the door bore the crest of the
Duke of Beloin. Gideon stood and then realized he would rather receive Quince
here than anywhere else in the house. He didn't have long to wait. The elder
Dibbs announced the duke in a tone reserved for such august personages. Quince
didn't often look out of sorts and the fact that he did now brought Gideon to
his feet faster than the duke's title ever would have.

"Brandy?"

"Yes,
please," Quince said, dropping onto the leather couch.

Gideon
poured, bringing the duke's glass to him before pulling one of the chairs over
to face the couch. "What's wrong?"

Quince
inspected the brandy for a moment then tipped the glass back, drinking a goodly
portion of the glass in his first swallow. "Liverpool is planning to bring
the Corn Laws up for vote tomorrow."
 

Gideon
was silent for a moment. "You know I'm not likely to vote as you
will."

"Strange,"
Quince said tiredly, "that thought occurred to me as well. But I said to
myself if the situation were reversed, would I want Gideon to tell me that a
vote was imminent on one of the most significant pieces of legislation? And
would Gideon tell me? When I told myself the answer was yes on both counts the
course of action seemed clear."

Gideon
shrugged. "You could have just sent a note."

"Notes
can be misplaced or just ignored. I find the same isn't true of a duke."

Gideon
smiled down into the brandy glass that he realized he hadn't drunk from yet. In
his own way, Quince was extending an olive branch. An opportunity to begin
bridging the rift that had started when Gideon's father had died. When Gideon
had taken on a crushing amount of responsibility that he hadn't been prepared
for at the age of seventeen. He had reacted, possibly predictably, by
overindulging in every vice he could imagine. After pulling Gideon out of quite
a few gaming hells and potential scrapes Quince had put his foot down and
refused to go carousing. As that was Gideon’s primary entertainment they had drifted
apart. Gideon had become more, well, self-destructive and began to avoid Quince
because he knew that his friend would take any opportunity to lecture him. And,
God help him, Gideon was sure that he would still be indulging his baser nature
if his friend Charlie Bittlesworth hadn’t pleaded with him to use his position
in the House of Lords to support the Cruelty to Animals Bill back in ’09.
Through that Gideon had accidentally discovered a love of Parliamentary
procedure and governance.

Quince
himself had ascended four years ago, after watching his father suffer a
lingering illness. As the older duke's first marriage had been barren, Quince
had not been born until his father was in his fifties. Somehow, Quince had
completely avoided inheriting his father’s dour disposition and conservative
views. The first had been a blessed relief in the House. The second had caused
Gideon no end of headaches. Their political clashes had proved to be more
intense than their personal ones, and more than one conflict had resulted in
shouting matches on the floor.

When
Gideon didn't speak the duke continued. "I suggest you go back with me
tonight."

Gideon,
roused from his thoughts, nodded. "That would be fine. It will give me a
chance to settle my new clerk."

"Oh,
you've finally chosen a new clerk?" Quince gave him a wry smile. "I
thought you enjoyed doing all your paperwork yourself."

"You
know I don't, but I'd rather do it myself than see it ruined. However, let me
tell you about Mr. Miller. This isn't for common knowledge but, well, it isn't
something I would want you to be surprised by since we are known in some
circles as being close."

"You're
making me curious. Out with it."

"Mr.
Justin Miller is Viscount Bittlesworth's bastard son."

Quince
sank back against the cushion with a sneer. "Bittlesworth.
Delightful."

"Don't
judge Miller by his father."

"How
do you know you aren't embedding an asp in your office?"

"I
don't believe so. You can make some judgments about him yourself. He will need
to ride to London with us tonight."

"He's
here?"

"He's
a friend of my wife's."

"Ah,"
Quince said lightly. "I see. It proves to be good to be a friend of your
wife."

Gideon
bristled. "I wouldn't have hired him if I didn't think he was
competent."

"Time
will tell," Quince said, raising his glass of brandy in a mock toast.

"Would
you care to dine before we leave?"

"Of
course. How could I miss an opportunity to see your lovely wife while I'm
here?"

"We
will dine early. I also assume fresh horses are in order."

"Yes,
if we hope to get there in proper time."

"I
will have Dibbs show you to a room where you can rest and refresh yourself
before we dine."

With
that Gideon and the duke parted company. Gideon to make preparations, and
Quince to rest before dinner and the long carriage ride back to London. As soon
as Gideon entered his chambers to direct packing for his journey, his wife
descended on him.