Authors: Diana Quincy
“The two of them don’t exactly see eye to eye.”
She released him. “Then come back after you’ve seen to her. I’ll wait for you.”
He stood up by the bed and reached for his clothes, aware she tracked his movements and awaited his response. He didn’t want to leave her. He longed to run his tongue along every inch of her. To take her again and again. To hear her murmurs of pleasure and sighs of satisfaction. But, as much as he desired it, he didn’t dare stay the night in her bed. Not when his dreams could trigger an episode. Hiding his regret, he forced a light tone. “No, it could be a while. I wouldn’t want to keep you up.”
“I want to wait up for you. I don’t mind.”
He forced himself to walk away from her when what he wanted to do was pull her under the counterpane with him and listen to her soft breaths as she slept. “That isn’t necessary,” he said in a brisk tone. “I shall see you in the morning.”
Without looking back, he pulled open the adjoining door and stepped through it, closing it behind him with a resolute click.
…
The moans woke her on the last night of their wedding trip. At first Kat thought she was dreaming, but as sleep ebbed, she realized the sounds were coming from Rand’s chamber. She rose from the bed and went to the door he always made a point of closing when he left her at night.
“No!” He cried out in anguish-soaked words. “Stay away! Go away.”
Alarmed, she turned the knob to enter, only to find it secured. The realization gutted her. He’d locked her out.
“Bloody hell!
Bloody hell
.” He bellowed the words through the door.
She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on as she rushed into the corridor toward Rand’s bedchamber door. When she turned the knob, it pushed open easily. The space was dark and Rand had gone silent, but she could make out Vera standing over something on the bed. As she came closer, she realized it was Rand curled into a tight ball. The dog licked his face with strong, determined strokes. She couldn’t make out Rand’s expression in the dark, but he didn’t appear to be reacting.
Alarmed, she reached out to touch him. “Rand?”
“It is best for you to return to your chamber, my lady.”
She turned at the sound of his valet’s voice, panic rising in her chest. “There is something very wrong with him.”
“I will attend to his lordship, my lady.” He stood just inside the door. He was haphazardly dressed, as though he’d pulled on his clothes in a rush. How had he gotten here so quickly? “You must return to your chamber.”
“What is wrong with him?” The words trembled.
“It is a nightmare.” He spoke in strong firm tones. “He would not want you to be here.”
“Why ever not? I am his wife. If he is in distress, I should attend him.”
“I assure you, he is not in any serious peril, but I cannot see to him until you leave, my lady.”
She looked back to the bed, where Rand began to shake uncontrollably. Tears filled her eyes. “Please help him.”
“I shall.” He put a gentle hand to her elbow, even though, as a servant, he should never lay a hand on her. “Please go now.”
She stumbled into the corridor, tears and panic blurring her vision, and rushed back to her room. Slamming her door, she ran to the one that separated her chamber from Rand’s and put an ear to the cool wood. She could make out Burgess admonishing the dog to get off the bed, followed, after a few minutes, by murmured tones of conversation. Rand’s voice. She couldn’t make out the words, but the tenor of his voice was unmistakable. The calm, even tones showed no sign of his earlier distress. Relief weakened her limbs. Maybe it was just a vivid nightmare. With her back to the door, she slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands, crying tears of both relief and worry.
At breakfast the following morning, he behaved as though nothing was amiss. “I hope I didn’t disturb you too terribly last evening,” he said in almost casual tones as they finished their meal. “Burgess said I woke you.”
“I was concerned you might be ill.”
“Not at all.” He drank from his coffee. “I sometimes have wretched dreams…an after effect of the war, I’m afraid. It’s a nuisance, but nothing to be concerned about.” He turned the conversation to other matters, mostly their impending return to Town.
He spoke of it so casually that she was left to wonder if she’d overreacted and perhaps even dreamt some of it. It was possible; she had been sound asleep when his cries woke her. But the little niggle of worry in her stomach suggested otherwise.
…
“Please see to it that all of the chambers are aired.” Kat bustled down the stairs of Randolph House, Rand’s London townhome. Only it was now hers as well, and there was much work to be done to make this dark, dusty cave into a home.
“Yes, my lady.” Mrs. Deardon, the new housekeeper she’d hired two weeks ago upon their return to Town, hurried down after her.
“The spaces we use on a regular basis should be cleaned daily, the rarely-used chambers must be attended to weekly.” Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Kat stopped to consider the entry hall. The surfaces now shone and the marble floor gleamed, unlike the first time she’d seen the home, when she’d come to inquire about Toby’s whereabouts. The windows facing the garden had been thrown open and the curtains in the rest of the house had been pulled back to let the sunshine in.
Mrs. Deardon cleared her throat. “I will need to hire additional staff, my lady.”
“Yes, of course. Please see to it.” As Mrs. Deardon hurried away, Kat consulted her list of things to be done. Randolph House had suffered greatly for the lack of a mistress, but she intended to rectify that. She stilled for a moment, soaking in the pleasure of finally being Rand’s wife after all these years. He seemed to feel the same, yet he still held part of himself aloof. Although they took all of their meals together and he came to her every evening, Rand never stayed the night in her bed. Once they made love, he’d quietly rise, wish her good evening, and return to his own chamber.
Cotter, the butler they’d recently hired, interrupted her thoughts to advise Kat that the new furniture she’d ordered had just arrived. She proceeded to supervise the placement of the sofa, tables, and chairs she’d ordered for the grand salon. As the delivery men quit the room, Toby appeared on the threshold dressed in his usual finery of bright colors—a bottle green tailcoat with an orange striped waistcoat beneath.
“Commanding the troops, I see. You’d have made a fine general.”
Her heart gladdened at the sight of him. “You’ve returned.” She gave him a warm hug. “Let me look at you. I’ve been so worried about your well-being.” Toby had always been naturally pale and slim, but he did appear to have a bit more color in his face and a few more pounds on his person.
A pale brow arched. “One wonders how you found the time to worry. I would have thought you were too busy causing the scandal of the Season.”
“Oh, you refer to my marriage.” Her cheeks warmed. “It was rather unexpected.”
“You’ll do anything to remain the center of the
ton
’s attention.” He spoke in a teasing tone. “You and Rand? Who knew?”
She looped her arm through his. “Come and have tea and I’ll tell you all about it.”
When they were settled in her sitting room, she told her cousin about her youthful love for Rand. She left out the part about Laurie’s indiscretion with Elena.
“What a happy ending,” he declared when she finished. “Except for Sinclair, of course. Although I hear he is taking full responsibility for your unexpected defection.”
“He is?”
“Most assuredly. Miss Campbell went into fits of pique when she learned of your marriage. She was intent on sullying your name, but Sin wouldn’t allow it. He immediately made it known he’d behaved indiscreetly and that you were quite correct to choose another suitor. Miss Campbell’s mother has banished her to the country for spreading lies. The rumor is Lexie will be made to marry her father’s friend, an elderly baronet who is a widower with six children.” A slow, salacious smile opened up across Toby’s face. “Of course, everyone is on tenterhooks dying to know what horrible indiscretion on Sin’s part drove you into Rand’s arms.”
She exhaled. “It is good of Laurie to protect my reputation.”
“You expected otherwise?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I haven’t spoken to him since I sent the note informing him of my decision to cry off.”
“You jilted Sin with a note?” His eyes widened. “You wicked girl. The gossips are having a field day. They say you aren’t receiving callers and haven’t called upon anyone since your return.”
“I’m busy making the house ready to receive visitors…while I work up my courage to face them all. Tomorrow is our first engagement. We are to dine with Rand’s family at the Marquess of Camryn’s home.”
“I daresay you shall be more popular than ever when you do re-emerge from your dramatic self-imposed exile. Rand is clearly the victor in all of this. He not only gets the
ton
’s incomparable”—he surveyed the chamber—“but I can’t help noticing that you’ve already brought some life to this old crypt. When Rand lived here alone, it was as dark and somber as a tomb.”
Pleased that he’d noticed, she gave him a tour of the improvements. She wanted to soften the sharp edges and brighten the dark corners of Rand’s life for him. She showed Toby the red-and-gold Aubusson rug in the dining room and the new leather chairs for the library. When she came to the music room, she pushed the doors open.
“You’ve had it painted,” he said, taking in the tangerine upper walls which met crisp, white wainscoting. Large windows faced the gardens, letting light fall across the cheery space.
“Do you like it?”
“Very much.” He walked to the pianoforte and pressed a key, and the crisp dulcimer tone rippled through the room. “And this has been tuned as well.” He played a few more notes. “They say music can be healing.”
“Does it help you, Toby?” she asked quietly.
“Ah, I forgot.” He looked up from the pianoforte with a rueful smile. “You saw my rather dramatic performance the day of the lightning storm.”
Her chest squeezed. “Where have you been? You were gone for a month.”
“I met with Doctor Drummond. He has expertise in dealing with melancholia brought on by the battlefield.” He tilted his head, a sad smile in his eyes. “But you mustn’t tell anyone, my dear, lest they think I have windmills in my head.”
“Melancholia? Is that what ails you? Was Doctor Drummond able to help?”
“Somewhat. Drummond believes talking about the experience helps, although I find it rather dreadful. It was horrid enough the first time, much less having to relive the nightmare over and over again.” He pressed a few more keys. “I find taking regular exercise helps. Drummond says I must keep myself busy, which is an anathema for an English gentleman who is supposed to revel in his lack of enterprise.”
“You look well.” Tenderness for her cousin welled in her chest, and then a thought occurred to her. “You say music is healing?”
“So says Doctor Drummond.”
“I do wish Rand would play.” Perhaps it would help soothe the intensity of her husband’s nightmares. “He’s such a talented musician.”
“Rand?” Toby’s forehead wrinkled. “A musician?”
“Yes. He has an extraordinary gift. He used to bring tears to my eyes when he played the violin or the pianoforte.”
“Are you certain we are talking about the same person? You did marry Edward Stanhope, the Earl of Randolph, did you not?”
“He hasn’t played since he went to join the fight on the Continent.”
“Tobias.” They both turned to find Rand standing in the threshold. “I see you’ve returned in one piece.”
The two men met in the middle of the room to shake hands. “And of relatively sound mind,” Toby said lightly.
Rand’s dark emerald gaze probed the other man’s face. “It went well?”
“Supremely. Drummond was quite helpful, but it is only the start of our work.” He smiled when Rand darted a quick look in Kat’s direction. “No need for discretion. I’ve told your countess where I’ve been.”
A shadow crossed Rand’s face. “I see.” His gaze moved to the freshly painted wall. He turned to Kat. “You’ve redone this room.”
Hope kicked in her chest. “As you can see, I’ve had the pianoforte placed near the window and I even found a violin from the very same Italian craftsman who made the one you so treasured—”
His expression hardened. “I no longer play instruments of any sort. As you well know.” She couldn’t stand the thought of Rand never playing music again. It was so much a part of him and he used to take such pleasure in it.
“The secrets you keep inside that somber exterior,” Toby said to Rand. “A life-long care for my cousin and a musical talent you keep hidden from the world.”
“Some things are best left in darkness,” Rand said, turning to leave the chamber. “Will you join me in my study for some claret?”
…
That evening, for the first time since their marriage, he did not go to her. He went instead to the music room. He didn’t light a candle even though the chamber was cloaked in darkness. Sitting at the pianoforte, he ran a light finger across the cool tops of the ivory keys. The urge to play, to be carried away by the music, welled inside of him. The need was stronger than he could remember since he’d abandoned his music. Especially now that Drummond had advised him music could help calm his mind.