Curse of the Gypsy (27 page)

Unfortunately Mrs. Noonan was on the other side of Darkefell; Anne had put herself across the table from him, beside Osei, likely on purpose. If she’d been next to
him
, he could have done some highly improper groping just to see her squirm. Instead, he had to content himself with watching her, and catching her flush a becoming pink whenever she caught his smoldering gaze.

He ate with little knowledge of what was on his fork. He drank wine, he answered Mrs. Noonan’s frightened overtures to conversation in grim single syllables. She quit trying, eventually. He was being rude and knew it, but he could not get out of his mind memories of Anne’s beautiful capitulation the night before and thoughts of the coming night. He intended to win her completely as his bride or leave the next morning having irrevocably broken with her. He couldn’t tolerate her hesitance anymore.

And what a lie that was! Break from her? He could never follow through with that, no matter how frustrated and unsure of their future. She was his, forever, and he would plague her until she recognized that. He had to cement the relationship with the appropriate vows and he was not the type to give up until he had won his way.

The cloth was removed, fruit and nuts were passed about, and then the ladies rose. Anne made her customary speech, about the gentlemen following their inclination.

The earl rose immediately and said, “If you are ready, gentlemen, to follow the ladies, I say we go. Not a one of us is such a fellow as to sit and drink endless cups of port, I think.”

In the drawing room each could follow their inclination; Mrs. Noonan timidly suggested whist, but no one took her up, so she got out her mending basket and sat in a corner. As Darkefell had expected, Osei immediately sat with the earl and they engaged in an intense conversation, likely about some obscure dialect of Kiswahili or Cantonese. It seemed a dry and senseless thing to Darkefell to repeat the research others had done in the hope of finding some new nugget of knowledge, but Osei seemed engaged, and he should enjoy himself on their last evening at Harecross.

Darkefell watched Anne for a moment, but as she and Julius talked pleasantly, he could not draw her away. He was pleased that his brother liked her, though he would have been happier to have her to himself. She kept glancing at him, though, and he had the feeling she wanted to talk to him as much as he wanted to talk to her. He strolled over.

“Tony,” Julius said, his open expression warming to see after so long being hidden. “Lady Anne suggested that she accompany us north to see Lydia. I said we’d be delighted. She has suggested she go with us to Hawk Park tomorrow to see if Mother is there, then continue north, accompanying Mother in the closed carriage.”

Amazed, Darkefell turned and saw the speaking expression in Anne’s mist gray eyes. His heart pounded. This could only mean she was considering his marriage offer more seriously now. It changed everything in one moment. Given their habit of clashing at every turn he would not risk her changing her mind overnight by pushing himself on her. “I think that is a marvelous idea,” he said, mastering his tone and making it as cool as he could.

“Do you think Lady Darkefell would object?” she asked, staring into his eyes.

His first instinctive response was to hell with his mother. She had no say in the matter if he decided to invite Anne to Darkefell. But given the delicacy of this move on her part and his own wish that it advance appropriately, he said, “I am sure she would be charmed by the possibility of feminine company and yours must be more welcome than any other.”

“Besides which, she will be so happy to see Lord Julius,” Anne said with a wicked little grin, “that she would forgive anything, even to the transporting of a bison in her carriage, to get her son back to Darkefell.”

Julius laughed out loud, a shout of joy that raised the others’ heads. “A bison; how does she even know of such a creature?”

“I read, Lord Julius. Some find it an instructive and pleasant way to spend an hour now and then.”

“She has a wicked sense of humor, Tony,” Julius said with approval.

“I know. I have been the object of it many times.”

“Better than cowering away from your towering rages, or casting sheep glances at you. She was telling me of your adventures in Cornwall.” He smirked, glancing to the right and left, then leaned toward his brother. “Ghosts? Explosives? Aiding smugglers?”

“You should not be chastising me about illegal activities, brother, while your own affairs are in such a tangle. Don’t forget, when we get back to Darkefell you will still be liable to be prosecuted for the murder of Miss Landers and Miss Allengate.”

“Stop being such a dark cloud, Tony,” Julius said with a grimace of perturbation, all exuberance draining from his face.

“I don’t know how you can be sanguine that you will not end up in the same trouble all over again. Pomfroy must be dealt with,” Darkefell said, speaking of his magistrate, about whom he had serious concerns, “but I cannot make it look like I am—”

“Please, gentlemen,” Anne said with one hand raised. “Enough. I don’t think, Tony, that you can speculate on what is to happen until we arrive back at Darkefell.”

“Listen to the woman, Tony,” Julius said with a grin. “She has more sense than both of us put together.” He stalked away and sat down by Mrs. Noonan.

“I would appreciate it if you would cease to interfere in family matters, Anne,” Darkefell growled.

Her expression froze. “I will forget you said that, my lord, because you are always an idiot, it seems, when you are crossed. I have something of some import to discuss with you. May we go somewhere to be more private?”

His mood lifted at the thought of getting her alone, and he said, “I would be delighted, my lady. Where do you suggest? Your room?”

Color flooded her cheeks and she sputtered, “No, that is not what I meant and you know it.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “All right, where do you propose? This is your house, after all.”

“It is my father’s house, as you’ve pointed out repeatedly,” she rejoined tartly. “Let us repair to the ladies’ parlor next door to this room. If you go I will meet you there in five minutes. I have something to speak with Mrs. Noonan about first.”

“I will await you with avid anticipation, my lady,” he said, looking down at her and surreptitiously caressing her bare arm.

She shivered and gave him a speaking look. “None of that nonsense, Tony, I mean it. We must talk seriously.”

***

Anne watched him retreat and gathered her thoughts, then strolled over to Mrs. Noonan, who was using Lord Julius’s outstretched hands to wind wool. “May I replace his lordship, Mrs. Noonan, as your assistant for a few moments? There is something of which we must speak.”

The woman paled a little, but nodded.

Lord Julius transferred the wool to Anne’s outstretched hands, stood and bowed. “I shall join Osei and the earl, at which point I will be so far out of my element in their intellectual babble that I will fall asleep. If I begin to snore, someone awaken me. A rifle shot over my head will do as an alarm, though I have slept through such a thing before.”

Anne smiled and shook her head. It was an easy matter to see who filled the position of jester in their family.

“What do you want, cousin, dear?” Mrs. Noonan asked, her voice trembling.

“I received a letter from your brother today, Mrs. Noonan.” Anne watched her face. “He answered more swiftly than I would have thought possible. In fact, it must have been by return post.”

She paled but said nothing. The woman was only in her thirties but she appeared much older at times, the lines on her face deepening and her complexion gray with worry.

“It seems that not only is your brother not preparing a home for you,” Anne continued, “he has no intention of doing so, says his own finances are stretched to the breaking point, and is quite content to never see your boys again.”

The woman kept winding the wool into a ball, but tears started in her pale eyes and trailed down her cheeks.

“Mrs. Noonan,” Anne said gently, dropping the wool from her hands and wiping the tears from the woman’s cheeks with her thumbs, “why didn’t you tell my father the truth when you came here?”

Sniffing back her tears as best as she could, she said, her tone low, “Robert
should
help us. I’m so ashamed of him. No sense of family at all. He always was a selfish boy. Even if he couldn’t give us a home, if he had … had helped me find a position as a housekeeper, or … or something.
Anything
. But he turned us away. I didn’t know where to go and could not let my poor boys suffer.”

Anne sat back, watching her scrabble at the wool, tangling it in her haste, then put out a staying hand and calmed her fretful movements. “Madam, I will tell you now what my father would have said if you had come to us with the truth. We will
never
turn you away. You are family and can stay here as long as need be.”

Mrs. Noonan turned gleaming eyes to Anne, her bow mouth open in an O of surprise. “You mean … we do not have to leave?”

“No, of course not.”

Trembling, the woman shoved her knitting aside and threw herself into Anne’s arms, sending them both tumbling to the hearth rug with her exuberance.

The earl looked up with an unusual expression of irritation on his mild face. “Anne, dear, must you play at Indian wrestling in the drawing room? I know I allow you much latitude in your behavior, but I do think that is a little much.”

It took a few more minutes to settle the woman again and reassure Mrs. Noonan that Anne spoke the truth and she and her boys didn’t have to leave. Anne warned her, though, that the offer only extended to her father’s lifetime. Because of Jamey’s condition, when their father died the earldom and Harecross Hall passed to a cousin.

“My dearest Cousin Anne,” Mrs. Noonan said, “I know I was a little difficult on the subject of Mr. Wadley tutoring my boys.”

“Yes?” Anne answered encouragingly.

The woman bit her lip, but then said, her words tumbling out in a rush, “It is just that the last tutor they had … oh, he was an awful man! And … and I did not trust him. He whipped the boys, and to do it, he … he made them lower their breeches. There was something not quite right about him, how he relished those whippings.” She covered her mouth, but a sob escaped.

“Oh, Mrs. Noonan,” Anne cried, horrified. “If I had known! You should have told me.”

“It’s all right, my dear cousin,” she said with a watery smile. “Mr. Wadley is all that he should be and I am truly grateful that you forced us into this. He is a delightful
dear
man. I think the boys’ behavior has already improved. Mr. Wadley has gone so far as to say I am welcome there with my boys any time.”

“Good. I’m so happy.” Anne noted the pink on Mrs. Noonan’s cheeks and suspected that the vicar and she would come to an agreement about more than tutoring, given some time together. God help the parish if Mrs. Noonan became the vicar’s wife! Her well-meaning gestures would be the death of them. Anne hoped that was not literally the case.

Anne engaged Lord Julius to aid Mrs. Noonan in recovering her tangled wool and escaped. She had a lot to speak with Darkefell about and she hoped she could get through it all with a minimum of lusty interruptions.

He was reclined on a sofa by the empty fireplace when she entered; she paused, gazing at him. He had his eyes closed and she drank her fill, staring at his body in the dim light of the flickering candles. Lean but muscular, he was as attractive a picture in his attitude of repose as she had ever seen. She would like to draw him just like that, the light touching his body, highlighting sinew and bone under cloth, the lines lovely and lithe even through his clothes.

Knowing what was under that perfectly fitted jacket and beneath those tight breeches, and the pleasure he could excite within her deepest recesses, was infinitely distracting, tormenting her in moments of peace. If she had thought sexual congress would sate her and leave her cool, she was doomed to disappointment. A lifetime of lovemaking may not do that. Right this moment she was sinfully aware that if they were married, she could look forward to a night of sensual exercise to wile away the hours.

“Are you going to come in or just stand there staring at me?” he asked, his eyes still closed.

She started, and moved into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. “I thought you were sleeping, or at least unaware of my presence.”

“I will always be aware of your presence. You carry your own perfume, my dear Anne, a scent that I would inhale even in the most noisome of environments, and the whisper of your limbs entices me.” He sat up and turned, staring at her through the dimness. “Come. Sit beside me,” he said, his deep voice gruff with emotion.

She went to him and sat, keeping her knees and legs from touching him.

“Stop being so careful,” he said, putting one arm around her and pulling her close. He bent her back and kissed her, hard at first, then softening as she allowed the caress.

“I really do mean to talk, Tony,” she said, straightening and pulling away from him, tidying her hair as best she could and dabbing the clinging moisture from her lips.

“Damn.” He sighed deeply. “I
thought
you might be serious about talking.”

“You know we need to,” she said, biting her lip to keep from laughing at his gloomy expression. It did not offend her that he would rather make love than talk. “But there are some matters of which we must speak. They will not trouble you over much, I hope.” She told him about her conversation with Osei about her father’s predicament, finishing with the idea that Osei stay with the earl for a month.

“Osei? Stay here?” He looked not only startled, but put out.

“I have already asked him and he would be happy to stay, particularly to welcome Miss Simmons and help her adjust to the duties of a secretary to my father, assuming she is right for the position.”

Grudgingly, Darkefell said, “All right, but only because you ask.”

“You are too accustomed to Mr. Boatin thinking of everything so you don’t have to,” she remarked. “That’s why you are reluctant to let him go even for a month.”