Corey McFadden (21 page)

“Sit down, Eleanor. There will be changes here and they will affect you directly.”

She took her time in seating herself gracefully on a small upholstered divan in the center of the room. She hoped he wasn’t going to go on and on. He could be such a bore when he got preachy. Perhaps he would cut her allowance. She allowed herself a small smile. Wouldn’t he be surprised when she made no protest. Let him do what he liked. Lord Beeson, Hawton, and she had talked last night, and their plans to bring in the Irish girls were all set. She took a long sip of brandy, welcoming the fire in her throat, and looked up at Giles a little provocatively. She was feeling more sure of herself, the brandy and the thoughts of her own money reviving her spirits.

“I am planning to ask Miss Carpenter to marry me, Eleanor, and if she will have me, we will marry as soon as the banns can be posted,” he stated flatly.

“What?” She fairly flew out of her seat, the brandy sloshing over the rim of the glass. She stood swaying almost drunkenly, doubting that she could possibly have heard him say this thing.

“I believe it takes a few weeks to post the banns,” he went on coolly. “I’m sure Joanna will know. Her father was a vicar.” For just a moment the sun broke through the thunder in his face, but when he turned to look at her again the darkness was back in his eyes.

“I will give you a month, Eleanor. I’m sure you will agree that you and Joanna will not be happy together under the same roof. And frankly, I am sick to death of the sight and sound of you, what little I subject myself to. I am sure it will be in agreement with the request in my father’s will for me to find you a house somewhere to rent. Far enough away from us that your poison will no longer spill into our lives, but close enough so that I can keep an eye on your expenses. Don’t think I don’t know about your gambling debts. I have turned a blind eye because I’d rather pay than listen to your whining. But if I must go to the expense of setting you up in a separate household, you will find there are limits to my generosity. I will provide you with an adequate budget, and you will learn to live within it. Do I make myself clear?”

She had sat down again with a heavy thud, unaware that she had done so. Even the brandy was forgotten in her hand. He meant to marry that conniving little witch. The little whore with the oh, so pretty young face and the simpering innocent smile. He would dare do this to her, daughter of an earl. Foist her off into some godforsaken little cottage somewhere and dole out pennies to her like a poor relation.

“You can’t be serious,” was her measured reply. She had recovered enough to swill down the last of her brandy.

“I really don’t expect your approval or good wishes, Eleanor,” he said coldly. “I simply wish to know that you understand me. I should hate to think that you are already drunk at this time of day.”

With the shriek of a madwoman she hurled the cut glass at him. He dodged it with little effort and did not bother to watch it shatter against the wall behind him.

“I will not have it, do you hear me?” she screamed. “I won’t be shunted off into some hole, just so you can bed down that tuppenny tart who calls herself a governess. She may be good enough for your family—God knows your father was nothing but a merchant when Mother stooped to marry him—but she’s not good enough for me. I will not have you tying yourself to that slut.” She ran her hands through her hair, eyes wild. “For pity’s sake, if you want to take her, just do it, Giles,” she went on, her tone that of furious exasperation. “Don’t be a fool! You don’t need to marry the chit!”

With a snarl, she crossed to the cart for another brandy, only to be stopped short when he seized her arm in a painful grip.

“Never let me hear you speak that way again of Miss Carpenter, Eleanor,” he spat out. His face was inches from hers, and she could see the veins standing out on his neck. His fingers bit so hard into her arm she thought she would scream, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. “I will marry the girl, and let me point out that she is too good for the likes of you, not vice versa. But I wouldn’t expect you to know anything about goodness.” He released her arm, pushing her away from him. She stumbled and caught herself. Drawing herself up, she gave him a haughty look, its effect marred when her eyes slid to the decanter behind him.

“Go ahead and have your drink, Eleanor. Drink straight out of the decanter if you like. I wouldn’t want you to start seeing rats and snakes crawling around on the floor.”

The brandy won. Her hands were shaking as she poured herself another liberal dose, sloshing it over the top of the glass. She took a long sip before she turned back to him.

“I want a house in London,” she announced, willing her voice to be steady.

Giles gave a bark of laughter. “London? Not on your life, Eleanor,” he replied coldly. “I cannot even imagine the outrageous expense and mischief you would get up to in London. It’s like trying to contemplate the number of stars in the sky. My mind simply cannot comprehend the possibilities.”

“You bastard!” she screeched. “I tell you I will not allow this thing. I will write to my father’s old solicitor in London. I am sure your father’s will does not permit you to throw me out of this house. I’ll drag your name through the courts.”

“You know nothing of it, Eleanor. My father’s will simply requests that I take care of you. It’s not even required. In fact, I could throw you out in your dressing gown right now if I wished to, and you would have no legal recourse. I don’t give a damn what anyone in London thinks of us, but please be advised that if you do run up any solicitor bills, you will pay them out of your allowance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to speak with Miss Carpenter. And in case you are thinking of deviling her, think again. I will not be returning to Dufton until you are out of this house. You are not to go near her, nor will any of your friends. Do I make myself clear?”

She would not deign to answer, staring at him with all the hatred she had nurtured all these years spilling from her eyes.

He turned to go, taking the room in long strides. At the door he paused and looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. In a surprisingly gentle voice he said, “I know we have been at each other’s throats for too long for there to be any kindly feelings between us, Eleanor. But please believe me when I say I do not wish you ill. I do wonder sometimes if you are not quite well. Too much brandy, perhaps. Too little sleep, too little food, too much...well, too much of your sort of pleasures. It cannot be good for you to abuse your body this way, day after day. You were always high-spirited, but in the last few years, it’s been almost frightening to watch you slip lower and lower. Perhaps....

“Get out! Get out, you miserable son of a bitch! I don’t need to hear any of your pompous moralizing. I live the way I wish to live, and it is none of your damned business what I do!” She ended on a scream and turned away from him, missing the look of sadness in his eyes. She heard the door close, then there was silence, broken only by the ticking of a clock on the mantel.

Mechanically she rose and made for the decanter. This time she did take it with her, back to the little table next to the divan onto which she dropped heavily. He would marry the girl. Her gut twisted at the thought. Why did it hurt so much, the thought of them together? God only knew, she could have had him years ago if she’d wanted him. In fact, she had introduced him to the impecunious Violet, hoping that he would shift his puppy love from herself to her friend. And indeed, he had. Why had it not hurt like this when he had fallen so hard for Violet? Why did it hurt so much now? She drained yet another glass. Her head still hurt but her stomach was quiet now.

Thank God for Lord Beeson. His proposal now seemed a miracle of timing. She would have her first payoff before Giles threw her out, and before long... with a jolt, she sat upright. Oh, God, no! Giles would pack her off somewhere and she wouldn’t be able to run her end of the kidnapping operation. Even if Hawton were willing to run it without her, would they still cut her in for a share? How would she ever know how many shipments there actually were? And if they refused to pay her, what could she do about it?

Her head dropped in her hands and she massaged her scalp. The hair falling in her face reeked of rancid goose grease, and her stomach suddenly rebelled. She leaned over and spewed up all the brandy she had drunk onto the carpet. God, she was ill all the time now. She never felt well anymore. And now Giles and his little tart would be happy and she would be nothing, nowhere....Wiping a shaking hand across her mouth, she stood, pale and trembling, and made for the door. She would clean herself up. She would find Hawton. He would fix it for her. He would have to. Yes, she needed Hawton.

Chapter Ten

Joanna lay still, in a haze of pain and confusion. She ached all over. Very carefully she stretched herself. The worst pain was in her side, but then Giles had said a broken rib would hurt a great deal.

Giles. She felt herself blushing all over as thoughts she did not know enough to think yesterday came tumbling through her head. What on earth had she done? She had let him kiss her—no, she had kissed him in a way no decent spinster should ever allow herself. And he had slept in her bed—at her insistence. What had she become? And while she was unnerved and anxious, why was she so happy as well?

He had stayed with her all night, cradling her, his warmth and nearness banishing her pain and the loneliness that had been with her so long. Just after dawn, he had crept from her bed, kissing her gently and telling her to stay in bed. She had fallen back asleep, waking much later to the timid sound of a tap on her door.

“Come in,” she called, slipping down into the bedcovers, hoping whoever it was could not see her face. But then, it would take weeks for her face to heal, so she had better come up with some kind of story.

In came Annie, tiptoeing, carrying a tray. Something on it steamed, and Joanna hoped it was tea.

“Good afternoon, miss. We’re all so sorry about the nasty fall you took last night. Them steps can be beastly when they get wet with a spill like that. I ’ope you’re feelin’ better.”

Bless the man! A fall! Joanna sat up very gingerly and gave the girl a smile. “Thank you, Annie. I’m sure I’ll be fine in a few days. It was quite a tumble I took.” She took the tray carefully onto her lap. She didn’t dare embroider on the story until she had a chance to check with Giles and see what sort of tale he had told. She wasn’t even sure which set of steps she had fallen on!

“Mrs. Davies says you’re to rest and not worry about the children all day, but Miss Emma’s been askin’ for you, and I was wondrin’ if they might come and say ’ello after their dinner. They seem anxious-like.” It was a long speech for Annie, whose hands twisted in her apron, still half afraid she would give offense to the elegant Miss Carpenter who was kind to her for no reason she could fathom.

“Oh, yes, please, Annie. Bring them to me as soon as they finish eating. And tell Emma to bring a book and we’ll read it together.” Joanna’s heart twisted at the thought of the children alone today. Of course they were anxious. People they loved disappeared for no apparent reason. They had a great deal to be anxious about.

Annie gave Joanna a bob and a quick smile, then left the room. Joanna fell to her lovely hot tea, pleased to see there was toast and porridge as well. Not what she’d usually fancy for a nice breakfast, but then she wasn’t sure she could eat that much. She was strangely excited. Her insides kept doing loops and twists, and if everything hadn’t ached so badly she would have loved to leap from the bed and dance around the room. Even the pain didn’t seem to bother her the way it should have. All she could seem to think about was the way Giles had held her last night, the endearments he had whispered, the gentleness of his touch. And what they had done together—she blushed again, remembering the heat of his hands—there had been such love in it. How could anything so loving be wrong? Perhaps she was a fallen woman, polite society would so dictate, even if they had stopped short of the unthinkable, but there was only goodness in Giles, and she could find no regrets in her heart.

There was a brief scampering outside the room, then the door flew open. Tom and Emma stood on the threshold, peering in anxiously, Annie behind them.

“Come here, my darlings! I am so happy to see you!” Joanna called.

Creeping, tiptoeing softly, the two children made their way into the darkened room.

“Annie, could you take my tray and then open the draperies so we can have some light?” Joanna asked, smiling at the little faces that stared so earnestly into her own. “Now, children,” she went on, “Annie must have told you I took a nasty fall on the stairs. I’ve hurt my face and I believe I look rather awful, but you mustn’t be frightened, because it will get well again in no time.”

As the curtains parted, light flooded into the room. Joanna could see by the shocked looks on the little faces that her bruises and cuts had not improved overnight. Very gently, as if he were afraid she might break, Tom put out his hand to touch her swollen cheek.

“Missy hurt?” he asked simply, his baby’s touch soft on her face.

For a long moment, she stared into his rounded eyes. Lifting her hand to his, she held it tight against her cheek, willing the tears not to come. “I am not very hurt, my darling. It looks much worse than it is. Come, sit up here with me. Emma, did you bring a book we can read?” she finished brightly.

He talked! Tom could talk! There was so much she could teach him.

The children climbed happily onto the bed, settling themselves around Joanna. Annie took the tray and, with a thoughtful look at Tom, left the room. Joanna had no doubt that the entire household staff would know before long that Tom could talk. Good! Idiot, indeed!

They were thus arranged when Giles came upon them a short while later, interrupting a particularly good part where the princess was about to escape the goblin by means of a magic cloak.

“Don’t let me disturb you, Miss Carpenter,” he said warmly. God, she was so beautiful with the sunlight dancing in her hair, children’s heads resting on her shoulders.