Edith Layton (5 page)

“I wasn’t sure I was going to wear this one,” Camille said.

“Good. You shouldn’t. The blue with the little pink rosebuds that we had sent the other week,” Belle told the maidservant.

“That one? I’ll freeze!” Camille protested. “It’s so thin!”

“Eric heats his rooms,” Belle said calmly. “Anyway, I thought you were made of sterner stuff.”

“I am!”

“Good. It’s just that we don’t always want the gentlemen to think of that. Ah, yes,” she said, as she saw the gown the maid took from the wardrobe. “Perfect. Try it on. Let me see.”

“Such a fuss about a friendly visit, you’d think I was going to see the king,” Camille grumbled, but let her maid help her change gowns.

Then she stared at herself in the glass again. The gown’s low neck gave it sophistication, and the long, close-fitted sleeves were elegant. The soft blue wool felt as good as it looked, and the artful way the rosebuds marched up and down the line of the frock gave her figure definition. Her shape wasn’t really that sinuous, but the gown made her look almost like a siren.

“Yes,” she said with immense satisfaction. “Thank you, Belle! I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her sister-in-law’s pleasure in the simple compliment gave her face a peachy blush, making her even lovelier. With her raven curls and alabaster skin, Annabelle was a famous beauty. And while people might whisper she had a history of being vain and toplofty, Camille had never found her to be either.

“Now,” Camille said, turning her attention to Nell, “what do we have for Nell to wear?”

There was a sudden silence.

They all looked at the lost girl they’d taken in. Nell had pulled her smooth inky hair up high, so it showed off the smooth camellia-colored skin on her long neck and pointed up the beauty of her face. The gown Camille had given her was a bit short, but that only showed glimpses of her shapely ankles. The plain cream-colored gown didn’t look at all simple on her, not with her elegant, high-breasted, slim figure. She looked cool and refined and yet sensational. That, Camille thought with a curious pang, was really what sinuous meant.

The silence threatened to become rudeness. Camille spoke up quickly. “Nell and I are different shapes and sizes. That gown is fine for about the house, but she needs another for going out.”

Annabelle’s lovely face suddenly went still. The maidservant pursed her lips. Though they didn’t know it, they were of a single mind: a strange penniless female of unknown origins did not merit being dressed as well as her betters.

But if Camille didn’t know, it seemed Nell herself did.

“You mustn’t worry about me,” Nell said in her soft voice. “I’m pleased to have anything to wear at all. I’m lucky to be here to wear it.”

Belle’s smile was forced. “No, Camille’s right. We can’t have you going about with your legs showing. I’ll have another gown altered for you, either one of Camille’s or one my own. My maid is a marvel with a needle and a flatiron. A hem can be let out in no time.”

“But I thought Nell could come with us to walk the dogs now,” Camille said. “It’s so early no one will see us.”

Their daily jaunt with Camille’s pair of dogs was a tradition with them, stemming from when Belle had been a newlywed staying at Miles’s country home.

“Early or late, she can’t go out with her ankles showing,” Belle said briskly. “She’ll have to wait until we have something decent for her to wear.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” Nell said. “It’s kind of you to care, Miss Croft, but I’m a bit afraid of dogs.”

“Do you still want to go?” Belle asked Camille.

“Of course!” Camille said.

“Then give me a moment to change my gown.”

Camille looked puzzled. Belle’s delicate complexion grew rosy. “This one isn’t warm enough,” she explained. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I put it on. I’ll be back soon,” she said, and left the room, her skirts swirling against her legs as she hurried out.

Belle stormed down the hall toward her own chamber and almost walked straight into her husband. That pleased him very much. He folded her in his arms and whispered, “So eager? But alas, we have to wait until dark. That’s the only time we can decently be alone. Another reason to get Cammie married off,” he breathed as he nuzzled her ear.

“We never will if she keeps dragging strays home,” his lady said angrily.

He could feel the tension in her body and reluctantly let her go. Holding her at arm’s length, he tried to look into her eyes. “What is it? What’s got you so upset?”

“That—that woman we brought to our house.”

He became alert. “She’s been caught stealing?”

“No. Except perhaps…Oh, Miles, do you know, I had to leave the room just now I was so angry. Camille’s taken her so to heart she even invited her along on our morning walk. And I was jealous! Nonsensical, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Will I ever learn to share? But I’m trying.”

“Oh, good. That means I can take another wife?” he asked, and was rewarded by a look of mock outrage and then a giggle. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “Camille loves you above all others, as I do. But she does take in birds and dogs, starving cats, and now she’s graduated to forlorn humans. It was only a matter of time.”

“I know. But this girl…Miles, I have the worst feeling about her. I cannot trust her. Yes, the chit is quiet-spoken and we haven’t found a thing against
her. And she may be well born. That’s the only reason I finally took her in, aside from the fact that I saw Camille wanted to. But it’s one thing to house the creature, another to take her to the bosom of the family as Camille’s done. We can’t board her in the attics, but we can’t invite her to parties or teas either, because though she might actually turn out to be related to
somebody
, until we know, we can’t foist an unknown on Society, and even Camille knows that.

“But that means Camille won’t go out, because she doesn’t want to hurt the girl’s feelings. And she plans to take this Nell with us when we visit Eric! The girl says she wants to thank him. I know that sounds proper, but…what man wouldn’t be interested in such a beautiful little baggage? And your daft sister is dangling her in front of Eric like—like a shiny prize.”

“And you think Eric will grab at it? I didn’t know you thought so little of him.”

“No, I don’t—but oh! I don’t know. Why tempt him?”

“London is full of temptations,” he said, putting his arms around her again. “A man who cares for one woman won’t be tempted by any other. Just look at me if you doubt that.”

“But we’re married. And Eric is not. And I’m not even sure if he thinks about Camille that way. You know, I believe that’s why Camille is fostering that girl, whether she fully knows it or not. She wants to give him every chance to hurt her now, before she
lets her desires entirely run away with her good sense.”

“No,” he said thoughtfully. “I think it’s just her way. She never retreats from fear. If there was a noise in the night, she’d go downstairs with a candle—and a cricket bat.” He chuckled. “She’d rather seek out danger and defeat it than huddle under the bedcovers. Giving Eric enough rope to hang herself may be part of it, but I don’t think it’s all a test for him. Much of it is just her way. Strays gravitate to her, and she treats them royally.”

His wife remained silent. But something about the girl rankled Belle. It wasn’t just because she was a real beauty. Perhaps that was
part
of it, she’d silently admitted when she’d capitulated and given Nell a room she’d offer any guest. After all, she’d always hated competition. Even now, secure as she was, she had to guard against that base emotion. Still, her worst fears were for Camille, her devotion to her sister-in-law surprising even herself. She didn’t want to see her hurt. She herself had once been a sort of stray, and Camille had warmly welcomed her into Miles’s family. In doing so, she taught her how wonderful the friendship of another female could be.

“Camille’s generous to a fault,” Miles said. “She’s also brave, honest, and kind. Those are just some of the things that make her the remarkable woman she is.”

Belle looked up at him. “Will Eric know? Will he appreciate it?”

“If he doesn’t, then she’s better off knowing that now, isn’t she?”

“But why does she fling temptation in his face?” she asked peevishly.

“The girl lives here. Am I tempted?”

She grew still. “Are you?”

He answered her promptly and exactly as she would wish: fully, convincingly, and at length, and with his lips—although he never spoke a word.

T
he first thing Camille saw was that illness became Eric. His face was a bit gaunt and he seemed tired, but his newly lean face made his cheekbones seem even higher and the weariness made him look seductive. In any case, he looked even more handsome than ever to her.
The wretch!
she thought, eying him,
he’d look wonderful on his deathbed
.

She grew a tremulous smile when he stood as they entered his parlor. As an invalid, he was permitted to dress comfortably for their visit, and he had taken advantage of it. His honey-colored hair was a little overlong but neatly brushed, and he was clean-shaven. He wore no jacket, waistcoat, or neckcloth, only a dark-gold patterned dressing
robe over a white shirt and tan breeches. Most gentlemen of the
ton
used their clothing to emphasize their figure or their rank. Eric didn’t need to do either. He didn’t require a neckcloth to hold up his proud head or a carefully tailored jacket to nip in his trim waist or padding to emphasis his wide shoulders. Freed from the strict rules of fashionable gentlemen’s clothing, he looked clean and correct and incredibly virile.

“My lady,” he said, as he bowed over Belle’s hand, greeting her with easy grace. Then he turned his attention to Camille and grinned at her. Finally, he noticed Nell. He stared. Camille’s smile slipped as he kept staring.

“I see you are well,” he told Nell gravely as he took her hand.

Anyone could see that, Camille thought, with a funny feeling in her stomach. After all, Nell wore one of Belle’s old frocks made over until it looked like new. The cast-off gown showed off Nell’s figure and its pink color gave her face a lovely glow. Her hair was done simply under the bonnet Camille had discarded, the one with feathers. Now Camille wished she’d never given it up. She also wished Eric would release Nell’s hand. Just looking at that big, strong tanned hand swallowing up Nell’s was like watching the two of them making love, she thought, suddenly stricken as well as sickened by the thought.

“I am well, thanks to you,” Nell said softly, gaz
ing into his eyes and then shuttering her own with her long dark lashes.

Thanks to me too!
Camille silently shouted.
Unworthy,
she chided herself.
Fool for harboring her
, another, more practical voice in her head said scornfully,
and folly to have brought her here. But if he’s never meant for me, I have to know it,
she argued.
That doesn’t mean you have to give him your rival,
she answered herself.

But she couldn’t be that petty. After all, if she and Eric had a future outside her dreams, she didn’t want to look back one day and wonder what would have happened if she hadn’t turned away the girl he rescued. Would she always wonder if he’d have preferred Nell? She had to know.
Well, now you do,
she thought in despair.

“Cammie?” Eric said again, because she hadn’t taken the chair he’d just offered her. “Aren’t you going to sit? Beg pardon, miss. Are you there? I thought I was the one who got knocked in the head.”

“As to that,” she said quickly, recovering herself, “how’s your poor head?” She was so eager to know that she kept her eyes on his face and found a place to sit only by putting her hand on the seat of the chair behind her and following it down without looking, only belatedly aware that a lady was supposed to settle into her chair like a butterfly on a rose petal.

Eric didn’t seem to notice. He smiled at her. “My head?” he said as he sank to his chair again. “It’s
hard enough on the outside. It was the fever that leveled me, not the villain. I’m better now. In fact, I’d have been out riding with you already if it weren’t for Rafe’s setting a watch on me. He let me come home, but he’s in league with my valet. One misstep, and Brenna would know it and lecture me to death. I’d rather die of fever. Which I won’t!” he said hastily, when he saw her expression. “In fact, the evidence is mounting. It seems that though I keep getting these attacks, I’m also getting better every day I stay here in England. So how was your ride this morning?”

“Fine,” Camille said, and then, greatly daring for someone who tried to never let him see how much he meant to her, she added, “but dam—deucedly lonely.”

“Terribly,”
Belle corrected her in a weary whisper, “or
mightily.”

“Aye. Mightily lonely,” Camille agreed with a vigorous nod.

Eric grinned. “But why?”

“Well, you know Belle doesn’t care to ride,” Camille said.

“What about your guest?” he asked. “Don’t you care to ride, Miss…Baynes, is it? We really were never properly introduced.”

“There was hardly time,” Nell said with a tilted smile. “No, I never learned to ride, Lieutenant Ford. I lived in the country, but in a little town, not on a farm.”

“No, not ‘lieutenant’ if you please. I’m done with the army now, or at least it’s done with me,” Eric said ruefully. “The war’s done, and my fever put paid to that career. So a mere ‘mister’ will do.”

“There’s nothing mere about you,” Camille said staunchly.

Belle stopped herself before she actually rolled her eyes, and suppressed a small sigh of frustration. She’d seen spaniels keep their adoration for their master more of a secret.

“Yes,” Eric said, deliberately misunderstanding her, “I am much too big for a mere anything.”

“And your house!” Camille said in awe, looking around. “It’s just—well, it’s not at all what I expected. It’s lavish, elegant, and—”

“And not what you’d think to find me in?” he asked.

“Right,” Camille said.

This time Belle’s sigh was heavy enough to send a toy sailboat across the pond in the park across the street.

“I didn’t mean anything rude by that,” Camille added, looking at Belle. She hesitated as she considered how to answer his question more tactfully. His lodgings were in a house in a fine district opposite the park. She gazed around the splendidly furnished salon, taking in the tasteful display of antique figurines on the rose marble mantel over the hearth, the peach-colored stretched-silk walls hung with exquisite etchings, the celestial-blue ceil
ing with gold carvings at its margins, the priceless vase filled with hothouse roses on a fine French table by the window.

Eric was a big, masculine man. She’d expected huge old chairs and stuffed elk heads, tiger skins on the floor, sporting prints and stray riding crops strewn about—the clutter of a man home from the hunt. This room was more of a connoisseur’s retreat, artful and filled with rare prizes. While not feminine, it was delicate and subtle in style. And yet it suited him perfectly.

“No,” she finally said flatly. “It isn’t what I expected at all. But it’s grand. Who are you leasing the place from?”

“You think I’m that much of a barbarian?” he asked, one brow raised. “But even the Vikings carried home loot they admired.” She looked so confused that he relented. “I’m not a tenant,” he explained. “This is actually my house. Drum advised me to buy a place when I came back to London. I’m grateful to him for it. Now my lodgings are not only for comfort, they’re an investment. Rental money goes out, never to return. When you own your home, you’re able to live not only with, but also in, your assets. I had it decked out the way I always wanted a house to look. The manor is stuffed with my father’s mementos. These keep-sakes are mine, picked up on my travels. I got something besides my malarial fever when I was abroad, you know. I got an education in the way
other people live and a taste for some of the finer things. Some of my curios are ancient and worth a mint, some only cost pennies, but they remind me of where I’ve been.”

“I’m sorry,” Camille said, “I didn’t realize—”

“No need,” he said quickly. “I surprised myself when I bought and fitted out this place.”

Camille nodded, embarrassed by the sudden look Nell gave her. Because when Nell had asked about Eric in idle conversation, Camille had told the girl that though he was the only son, his father was just a retired army officer, and so he wasn’t particularly wealthy. She hadn’t lied, she just hadn’t known. She realized now that there were many things about Eric that she didn’t know.

“It’s very lovely,” Nell said.

Camille was grateful to her for saying something to break the awkward moment.

“And I’m glad I had the chance to visit,” Nell went on, “because I finally have a chance to say thank you, Lieutenant—I mean, Mr. Ford.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Baynes.”

She cast her gaze down again. “But please call me Nell.”

“Well, Nell.” He paused to grin and went on, “You’ve a euphonious name as well as a pretty face. You can make a poet of any man.”

Camille stopped breathing until he continued more heartily, “At any rate, Nell, we hope to have good news for you soon.”

Her gaze flashed to his.

“Drum, Rafe, and other friends of ours in high and low places are searching for your relatives. There is no one of that name at the address you provided. Nor has there been, so far as anyone knows.”

Nell’s eyes grew wide. “But that’s the last address I had!” she cried. “It was from some time ago, because it’s been a while since Mama could write, as I said. Oh, my! So that’s why they never answered my letter saying I was coming to London. I decided not to wait a moment longer and got on the coach for London. Oh, I’ve been so foolish, but what else was I to do?”

“Don’t be distressed,” Eric said quickly. “It means nothing. The address was that of a hotel. Many people come to London and stop there before moving on to more permanent lodgings. That’s what they must have done. There’s no forwarding address, but if they’d left a while ago, it would have been discarded. Don’t worry. If your aunt and cousins are to be found, we’ll find them.”

Nell sat back and fell silent.

“In the meanwhile,” Eric said, “I believe you’re well situated.”

“I am,” Nell said shyly. “Everyone’s been so kind to me. But you have every right to dislike me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been hurt.”

He laughed. “The fever was already on me when you appeared on the scene. The dunt on the head was merely a finishing touch. If it hadn’t been for
that fever I’d have been able to stop that lout who had you in his clutches even if he’d butted me a dozen times. We’re looking for him too,” he added more seriously. “I’ll be able to take an active role any day now. Speaking of active…” His expression brightened. “What do you say we all go riding when I can? In my new carriage,” he added, before Camille could decide who he wanted to answer him. “That way we all can get out and enjoy the day, even the horse haters among us. What do you say?”

“Your carriage is for two,” Belle reminded him acidly. “Have you bought another? If not, how are you going to choose between us? Or are you planning on us competing for your charms?”

“My new carriage is also a phaeton, that’s true. But I can rent a nice big lumbering coach for us, my dear Belle, complete with footmen
and
foot warmers. We can all take a turn around the park, top down if the weather permits. I certainly could use the air and the diversion. And your charming company, of course. Miles too, if he insists,” he added with a grin. “It would do me a world of good. Be charitable. What do you say?”

“First let’s hear what the doctor says,” Belle answered primly.

“He’ll probably say I can run around the park if I want. Aha!” Eric exclaimed as a servant came in with a laden tray. “Look here! You get cakes and wine as well as tea, and all I’ve gotten are gruel and lectures. You must visit more often. Will you
pour?” he asked Belle. “And tell me everything I missed while I’ve been out of combat?”

“What can I tell you?” she asked. “I’m sure you see the newspapers and broadsheets. And I know this place is filled with your friends every night, because my Miles is often among them. At least, he had better be, since that’s what he’s been telling me.”

“As if he’d dare lie to you,” Eric scoffed, and then, seeing the militant look in her eyes, flung up a hand and, laughing, added, “Don’t throw anything at me, I’m an invalid! I was only joking. The man is your slave, and you know it. But I meant the things that don’t go into the papers. The libelous stuff I’ve missed because I can’t leave these rooms of mine. Things my friends don’t tell me because they don’t know them. How can they? They’ve been here with me every night, as you say. You know the type of thing I mean, Belle—what’s being said at dinners and dances.”

“You mean gossip. You’re bamming me, my dear sir,” Belle said with a smile. “You don’t care for gossip.”

He put a hand on his heart. “I do, if you’re telling it to me.”

“Have a care,” she warned him, her eyes sparkling, “Miles is a very jealous man.”

“He has reason. He’s a very lucky one,” Eric answered gallantly.

They both grinned. So did Camille. They were
playing at flirtation. Camille enjoyed their wordplay as much as they did.

But the looks Eric kept shooting at Nell, where she sat silent and yet always aware, didn’t amuse Camille at all.