A Woman Scorned (16 page)

“I remember! I remember!” Robert interrupted loudly. “We got a proper trimming for
that
! Then we had to wash ourselves!”

Stuart hung his head. “Yes. And the table linens, the floor, and our shirts, too.”

“Quite so,” agreed Jonet brightly. “Because servants have enough to do without cleaning up after naughty children. Now, who is for a walk in the garden?”

Still standing at her elbow, Robert looked plaintively at his mother. “Not the garden again!” he whined. “Why can’t we go to the park? Why can we not have a ride on our ponies?”

Impulsively, Jonet encircled him in her arm, drew him to her side, and placed a smacking kiss atop his head. “Just because, poppet. We must stay close to home for a while yet.”

His mood obviously soured, Stuart scowled at his plate and gave it a disdainful shove. “Captain Amherst has promised to take us to St. John’s Wood to watch Eton play Harrow.” His voice took on a strident edge. “I daresay
that
will be too far from home as well.”

“Oh, Stuart!” said his mother softly, stretching a hand across the table as if inviting him to take it. “I know you must feel very cross. It is just for a little while longer. I promise.”

Loudly, Cole cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “Good morning.”

Jonet looked over her shoulder and dropped her arm, allowing Robert to dart away from her and toward Cole. “Cousin Cole!” said the boy brightly. “Did you come to have breakfast with us? You’re very late. Do you like kidneys? ’Cause Stuart ate the last one. Anyhow, I hate ’em. We’ve been here for
hours
. Look, I’ve finished. I got jam on my face and hair, too.”

“Yes, so I see,” murmured Cole, peering down at the sticky spot in the hair above Robert’s ear.

“Good morning, Cole,” said Jonet a little tightly, motioning him toward a seat. “I trust you passed a comfortable night?”

One of the footmen appeared with coffee and a fresh plate, but Jonet’s penetrating gaze never left Cole’s face. Her dark beauty was vivid this morning, as if a little of the fatigue that had lingered in her eyes had lessened. But there was something else in her eyes now, and Cole intuitively sensed that it was anger.

“Yes, ma’am. I slept quite well,” he lied.

Across the table, Stuart laid down his fork with a clatter. His mother turned to him and gave him a smile that was obviously forced. “Stuart, if you’ve finished, take Robin into the garden, if you please. Cole and I must discuss the morning’s lesson.” Her spine rigid, Jonet rose to follow the children to the double doors, then pulled them both shut with a sweeping gesture. Before she had the chance to turn on him, Cole had steeled himself for the inevitable scold.

Deeply annoyed, Jonet whirled about to face the man who sat so casually at her breakfast table. She hated the fact that he looked as if he belonged there. And that he seemed so congenial, so unerringly polite, and so . . . so damned
decent
. What was worse, Cole Amherst—devil take him—appeared even more striking today, backlit as he was by the morning sun. His tawny hair gleamed in a dozen different shades of warm gold, the perfect complement to his skin, which was still lightly bronzed by his years on the Peninsula.

He seemed far too large for her parlor table, and yet he sat there looking graceful and elegant despite riding clothes which had obviously seen much use. Strangely, he seemed to take up every inch of space within the narrow room, filling it with his presence in a way Jonet could not understand. She did not like it one bit.

The fact that her children were already charmed by the man served to further aggravate her, an admittedly irrational response. It was of the utmost importance that the boys admire their tutor, and yet Jonet feared anyone who might be able to exercise undue influence over her children. It was quite a quandary, and in part, it was the reason she had avoided engaging a new tutor for so long. Slowly, Jonet stalked toward him. “Let us understand one thing, sir,” she began with a lethal softness. “Where my children are concerned, you are never to undertake any sort of travel without my consent. Do you comprehend me? They are not to step foot from this house unless I have been apprised of it—or there’ll be the devil to pay!”

Cole inclined his head very slightly. “Certainly, ma’am,” he coldly responded. “But to my knowledge, they have not yet done so. Your indignation seems precipitous.”

Jonet paced across the length of the room, then whipped about again. “You, sir, are arrogant and out of line,” she shouted, raising her hand to point her finger sharply at him, to remind him of his place.

Cole apparently mistook the gesture. Roughly, he reached out and snared her hand, dragging her close—so close that she could not possibly slap him with the force he now deserved. “Do not you
ever
raise your hand to strike me, madam.” He gritted out the words, his voice resolute. “I have had just about enough of your bad temper and shrewish tongue. I have no notion what manner of man you are used to heaping your abuse upon, but I’ll not put up with it.”

Still struggling to pull away from him, Jonet looked up into eyes so blazing that they sent a shiver down her spine. The line of his lips was hard and ruthless, the set of his perfect jaw almost cruel. And yet, Jonet knew instinctively that he would not hurt her, that he had merely misinterpreted her gesture.

In fact, perhaps she had wanted him to do just that!
How horrifying. Had she wanted to test him? To further torment him? No, it was almost as if she resented needing him. As if she felt compelled to punish Cole for having such quiet strength and utter serenity.

Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? And it was both unconscionable and dangerous. By God, she would not have it. Not from him. Not from herself. With one final effort, she jerked away from him. “Do not bandy words with me, sir,” she said, softening her tone. “I merely meant to point at you!”

“Did you?” Cole’s voice was laced with scorn, but his face was suffused with color.

“Yes—and don’t you dare to change the subject, sir. You meant to take my boys off to a cricket match at Lord’s.”

Cole seemed to relax incrementally. “With your permission, I should very much like to do so,” he agreed, his golden gaze steadying, his square chin now lifted a little arrogantly. “But calm yourself, madam. It is just a match amongst schoolboys, and yet some weeks away. I daresay we have time to iron out all the annoying little details.”

The condescension in his tone snapped Jonet’s temper again. “My children are not to leave this house!” she demanded. Her voice rose sharply, yet she was powerless to control it. “I shan’t have it, do you hear? And don’t you assume such arrogance with me!”

Cole’s mouth fell a little open, and he stared at her for a long moment. “Let me understand you, ma’am,” he finally snapped. “I am to educate your children, and undertake to improve both their riding and their athletics, as well. And yet, they are
not to leave this house?
Have you any idea how bizarre that sounds?”

Jonet was still pacing the room, her stomach tightening into a knot. She really was losing her mind. “I do not care how it sounds, sir! We have a back garden! We have a mews! You must simply manage, that is all there is to it. I cannot have my children dragged from pillar to post by people I do not know! People whom I cannot trust!”

At once, Jonet felt the room grew hotter, more narrow. She could trust
no one
. The walls shifted inward, squeezing out the air. Jonet was scarcely aware that she had pressed her palms to her temples as she paced.
No one!
Her pulse pounded. Her heart was in her throat. For a moment, the sunlit room faded. In her mind, she could hear a pistol shot. The deafening crack still rang in her ears. She felt the hum of the lead ball, skimming over her scalp, snatching away her hat. She could almost feel the horse beneath her tense, then rear.

When she spun about the next time, the vision was gone and Cole stood at her elbow. His breakfast napkin still in hand, he had managed to seize her, and drew her to a halt. “Jonet?” he said softly. Cole lifted one hand and tenderly turned her face back into his.

Dimly, she felt the warmth of his breath on the dampness of her forehead. She struggled to regulate her breathing, forcing back the walls of the room, which threatened to crush her.

“Jonet?” he said again, his eyes searching her face. “My dear, what is it? Please do not distress yourself. Let us not argue. I shall take care of the boys. I promise.”

“N-n-
no
,” she managed to say, leaning back against the edge of the table.

“Jonet.” Cole pulled her a little nearer, one big hand still cradling the side of her face. His touch was cool and soothing. “I have no wish to quarrel. I care deeply for the welfare of your children, too. But they are active boys, and we simply cannot smother them. Perhaps you have not yet gotten over your husband’s death? Perhaps you have some irrational fear that—”

“
Irrational
fear?” Abruptly, she shoved away his hand and exploded. “How dare you, sir? You know nothing of such things. They are not your children! You cannot possibly understand the love which a parent feels for a child!”

Jonet stepped away from him, her eyes wide and angry. “Even before a child is born, you must devote yourself entirely to its welfare. There are sacrifices one must make to ensure its safety. You can know nothing of that sort of devotion, sir.
Nothing!
”

Suddenly she saw Cole’s face go white with anger. The muscle in his jaw jerked hard, and he spun away from her, hurling his napkin onto the table in one smooth, disdainful motion. “How very right you are, madam,” he bit out, his back to her.

He half turned again to stare at her over his shoulder, his eyes dulled by an emotion she did not recognize. “I do indeed know
nothing
of it. How very kind of you to remind me.” And on that remark, he strode rapidly from the parlor.

In the distance, Jonet could hear his heavy riding boots thunder down the hall and out the back door. Weakly, she collapsed into her chair and let her head fall forward into her hands. What had she done? What had she said? And when would this nightmare end?

 5 

In which Captain Amherst prevails

C
ole and the boys were finishing luncheon in the schoolroom when a light knock sounded at the door. One of Jonet’s footmen had just begun to clear the table. He set down the tray and opened the door to reveal his mistress standing in the corridor.

Looking past the footman’s shoulder, Cole came swiftly to his feet. Framed in the lintel, Jonet wore a hat set at a rakish angle, its veil turned back, emphasizing the soft, full style of her hair. Over her arm, she carried a black shawl, and at her feet, Rogue and Scoundrel pranced like impatient ponies. Obviously, Jonet was on her way out, and the collies sensed it.

“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice unusually hesitant. “I thought perhaps we ought . . .” She faltered a bit, shifted her gaze from Robert to Cole, then drew a quick breath. “That is to say, it is such a lovely afternoon, is it not? I think we should go for a walk. In the park.”

“Oh, capital, Mama!” shouted Robert, shoving back his chair and giving his mouth one last swipe on his shirtsleeve.

Jonet’s hand came up to stay him. “
If
Captain Amherst—Cousin Cole—says we may. We cannot go if you are behind in your lessons.”

His anger still on edge, Cole wanted to sarcastically reply that they had barely begun their lessons and could hardly be expected to have accomplished anything in three short hours. And yet, he recognized Jonet’s backhanded apology for what it was and held his temper in check.

Stuart, who had been staring out the window, turned to face his mother. “What about our being in mourning, Mama? What will Uncle James say?”

Jonet smiled, but without light or happiness. It tugged at Cole’s heart in a way that a frown or a pout could never have done. “I do not think the bounds of propriety will be breached by my taking a little exercise in the company of my children, Stuart,” she answered softly. Jonet transferred her gaze to Cole. “Shall we go, Cole? What do you think?”