Undressed by the Earl (29 page)

“Do you believe you’re expecting a child?” he asked. A slight sense of unrest gripped him at the thought. Pregnancy was always dangerous.

“Not yet.” Her voice was hesitant, and she admitted, “But I would like to keep trying. If you want to, that is.”

“Every time I’m near you, I want to.” He took her mouth, kissing her hard. Ignoring all caution, he pressed his fingers into her hair, pulling her hips to his so she would know what she’d done to him.

She returned the kiss, opening to him. Against his mouth she murmured, “Shall we go to my room?”

His body raged with him to say yes, to take her by the hand and love her for the next few hours. Instead, he broke away, gathering the shreds of his control. He couldn’t keep using her like this, as a means of forgetting about Katherine and the past. It wasn’t fair to Amelia, and it wasn’t right. Not when he could see the yearning on her face.

“Another time,” he promised. But when he left her, he didn’t miss the regret in her eyes.

B
ALLALOCH,
S
COTLAND

“You can’t go on like this.”

Beatrice looked up at her husband, who was standing at the doorway to her bedroom. There was still no sign of Margaret, not after all the weeks of searching. They had retraced all the major roads leading to Scotland and had hired runners to investigate. But her daughter had virtually disappeared with Cain Sinclair.

She didn’t know whether the man had hurt Margaret or rescued her. And it was the not knowing that tormented her most.

Henry came inside the room and stood beside her at the window. “We won’t stop searching. I promise you that. But when was the last time you ate a full meal?”

She shrugged. “I don’t feel like eating when my daughter is gone.” The days had blurred together in a sea of anguish. At night, the dreams of death plagued her, while during the day, she couldn’t bring herself to leave the room.

“I won’t let you punish yourself like this,” Henry said. He went over to the table where her untouched breakfast tray had been abandoned. “You need to eat.”

“I don’t want it.” Any sort of food would stick to her throat, or worse, cause a rush of nausea. “I can’t, Henry.”

He took a piece of dry toast and offered it to her. “Please. You must try.”

But she shook her head slowly. And Henry’s gentleness suddenly vanished. “Dying won’t bring her back, Beatrice. You have to go on, whether you want to or not.”

“And why should I?” she blurted out. All the words came rushing out, the anger roaring through her. “Margaret only wanted to find Amelia and bring her home. She went off with—with
that man
only because he knew the roads. If she’s dead, why would I deserve to go on?”

The words were irrational, she knew, but it was the truth.

“Because of me,” Henry demanded. “I’ve lost a daughter, too. And I’ll be damned if I lose my wife.” He dropped the toast back on the plate and pulled her into his arms. “I wasn’t there for you, all those years I was at war. I know you had to mother our girls by yourself. But I’m here now.”

His words broke a small crack in all the feelings she was trying to hold back. Feeling his strong arms around her, knowing that he understood her pain, was enough to provoke the tears she’d buried.

Beatrice started crying then, and he stroked her hair, sharing the burden with her. She hadn’t known how much she’d been holding inside. She wept, not only for the loss of Margaret, but for all the years she’d tried to shoulder everything.

“I won’t ever leave you,” Henry said, and she felt his mouth against her temple. She gripped him hard, and in his quiet presence, she found the support she’d needed for so long. He
did
know how she was suffering, and it felt so good to release it all.

She didn’t know how long she’d cried, but in the end, exhaustion overtook her. Henry dried her tears, and then framed her face with his hands. “We’re going to get past this, Beatrice. I promise you.”

Then he bent and kissed her mouth. The light kiss was familiar, and when she kissed him back, it was as if the seams of a torn hem were coming back together again. Theirs had been a marriage formed of duty and friendship, nothing more. And yet, when he pulled back from the kiss, she found herself wishing that he hadn’t stopped. The loneliness she’d carried like a mantle was starting to drift away. And though his dark hair was shot with gray, his green eyes held kindness and a longing that mirrored her own.

A soft ripple flowed through her, and when she embraced him again, she found herself pressing against his body, seeking comfort. It startled her to realize that she desired him. Even after all this time.

She took a shaky breath and reached for the forgotten toast. Before she could lift it to her mouth, he stopped her. “I brought your favorite jam.”

Red raspberry. She almost smiled when he spread the toast with the preserves, but didn’t. The taste of the sweet jam and the bread heightened her appetite. Henry poured her a cup of cold tea, but when he offered to ring for more, she refused and drank it anyway.

Yes, she did need to live. For so long, she’d shadowed her daughters’ lives, watching them grow into women. She’d forgotten herself, letting everything fade into the background until she was hardly more than a ghost of a woman.

Henry touched his finger to the corner of her lip, wiping the jam away, before he stole a taste of it. Color flooded her cheeks, for she suddenly imagined sharing his bed again. It had been so very long…but she had enjoyed his touch.

“I brought you a birthday gift a few weeks ago,” he said. “Would you like to see it now?”

She nodded, taking a second piece of toast and spreading jam upon it. “As long as it isn’t doorknobs.” A faint smile touched her lips, as she remembered the terrible time when he’d given her those for her birthday.

“No. It isn’t.” He went toward her writing desk and pulled open one of the side drawers that had a hidden back. After he pulled away the false opening, he brought out a velvet pouch. “I put it here, shortly after we arrived.”

Though she couldn’t say why, her heartbeat started to quicken. The flush from her cheeks spread over her skin, giving her goose bumps.

And when he opened the pouch and revealed a sapphire bracelet, her throat choked up with more tears. “Is that—?”

“I know you had to sell it, years ago, to feed our girls. Charlotte bought it herself and never told you. She was glad to sell it back to me.” He fastened the clasp around her wrist, and the glitter of diamonds and sapphires caught the morning sunlight. “I only wish you’d never had to use it.”

The heavy weight of the gemstones was a contrast to the lightness in her heart. “It’s much better than doorknobs,” she whispered, and embraced him hard.

Tonight
, she decided. Despite all that had happened to them, he’d given her a tangible hope that they could rebuild their marriage. For a long moment, she rested her cheek against his, taking so much comfort from her husband.

The harsh pounding on her bedroom door made her frown, wondering why a servant would be calling out to her. Henry pulled back and opened the door.

“Forgive me, my lord,” the footman said. “But your daughter Margaret has returned. She’s downstairs.”

Nothing could have dimmed Beatrice’s joy at that moment.

David looked up from the letter he’d been writing when the noise of a visitor arriving caught his attention. He’d delayed his trip to Thornwyck after Christine’s cold had turned into a coughing sickness, but now she seemed much improved.

Curious as to whom the visitor could be, he set down his pen and moved into the hall.

“Och, my lass, but ’tis good to see you!”

David was startled to see a barrel-waisted woman embracing Amelia in the hallway. He’d never seen the Scotswoman before and had no idea who she was. What on earth was going on?

“And you, Mrs. Larson. I’m so glad you came.” Amelia hugged her back, seemingly overjoyed at the woman’s arrival.

His wife began talking at a rapid pace, and David hung back, waiting for an introduction. He didn’t know if the Scotswoman was a distant family member or why she was here, but he didn’t remember Amelia mentioning anything about a visitor.

When he walked closer, Amelia beamed and drew him forward to be introduced. “My lord, this is Mrs. Larson, my mother’s housekeeper.”

Although he was polite and nodded in greeting, David was unprepared for the woman’s enthusiastic curtsy. “Thank ye for inviting me, m’lord. I’ve known Miss Amelia since she was a wee lass, and when she wrote and asked me to help with this household, I came straightaway.” She clasped her hands and looked around. “It’s a lovely home ye have here. I’m certain we can get everything sorted out in a matter of days.”

Sorted? He hadn’t given Amelia permission at all to invite another servant to Castledon. And what did she mean she was here to help with the household? David sent Amelia a warning look, which she completely ignored. “Mrs. Larson, our butler, Mr. Haverford, will be glad to show you to your room. Then I’d like to speak to you about your duties here.”

David cleared his throat. “And how long were you planning to stay, Mrs. Larson?”

“Och, long enough to see that my wee lamb has everything well in hand,” the Scotswoman declared. “She’s given me an earful, she has, about all the changes that need to be made.”

The woman propped her fists against her waist. “And don’t you be worrying a bit, my lord. When I’ve finished with this place, you’ll be thanking me and begging me to stay. But I must return to Lady Lanfordshire within a fortnight. Not a day longer,” she informed him as she turned to follow Mr. Haverford up the stairs.

David took Amelia by the hand and led her back into the drawing room. In a low voice, he demanded, “Exactly what were your intentions with bringing her here, Amelia?”

“I haven’t interfered at all with your servants,” she said sprightly. “I simply brought in a housekeeper who
would
obey my orders. I haven’t sacked anyone, much as they might deserve it.”

“I’ve already spoken with Mrs. Menford and the others,” he informed her. “If anyone disobeyed your orders again, you should have told me. There was no need to bring in an outsider.”

“Mrs. Larson is family, not an outsider,” she corrected. “And we can continue our discussion in private while she gets settled.” Without waiting for him to agree, she began striding away.

David followed and saw that she was returning to her room. He hurried to catch up, and when he opened her door, he saw that she was sitting down at her desk.

She picked up her quill and began writing a list of something. Although her manner was composed, he suspected that she was simmering beneath the surface. His own mood was heating up, especially when she’d said nothing about bringing in another housekeeper. It made him wonder what other changes she was contemplating.

“What are you doing, Amelia?” he asked, coming to stand beside the desk. She continued scribbling her list, until he pulled the quill from her hand.

“I am making a list.”

He picked up the paper and saw that it was indeed a list of changes. It seemed that she intended to redecorate Katherine’s room and give it to Christine.

“Absolutely not.” He’d only just managed to pack away his wife’s belongings. And now she wanted to force his daughter to live in the same room where Katherine had died?

“She is eleven years old—almost twelve. She’s too old to be in the nursery, and she needs a room of her own.”

“Not that one,” he shot back. “It’s highly inappropriate.”

Amelia stood up from the desk and regarded him. “She loves her mother a great deal. Why do you think she wears Katherine’s old gowns? She wants to be close to her, and if she has the old room, she’ll have a part of her mother.”

There was sincerity in her voice, like a woman wanting to heal a broken little girl. And then she added, “She’ll read books from her mother’s shelves, and she’ll sit at the hearth where Katherine spent her time.”

“She took her last breath in that room,” he told his wife. “Don’t you think it will bother Christine?”

“She was only five when her mother died. But I will give her that choice,” Amelia continued. “If Christine feels uncomfortable, I’ll offer her a different room. She can also help pick out the drapes and rearrange the furniture, if she wants to.”