Everything I Ever Wanted (17 page)

India understood the denial that pulled South's beautiful features taut and lent him the momentary stillness of a Greek god fixed forever in marble.

"Is there tea in that pot?" she asked for want of any other words.

South nodded. "It will be cold."

"I don't mind." She slipped free of the blankets. The floor was cool beneath her bare feet, and she shivered lightly, then hurried forward, first to raise a fire in the hearth and then to take a cup of tea for herself. She glanced over her shoulder toward the bed. "Will you have some?"

"Yes, please." It was an absurd exchange to be having with her, South reflected. It was not merely polite, but infinitely civilized. They might have been in her salon or his drawing room. South found himself grinning suddenly, struck not only by the novelty of these moments but finding himself appreciative of them.

"What is it?" she asked, approaching the bed. "Pray, if there is some amusement to be enjoyed in our existing circumstances, I should very much like to hear it."

Her butter-wouldn't-melt tone merely caused the grooves around South's lips to deepen. It was no good trying to present her with a straight face, not when he felt so very much like laughing. "I am afraid it is you, Miss Parr."

"Me?" She withdrew the cup she was holding out to him just as he would have reached for it. "You will have to explain yourself."

"It is just that you are outside the common mode."

India considered what he said."You mean it as a compliment."

"Yes."

She held out his cup again and permitted him to take it.

Watching India, finding in her undisturbed expression and silence the first inklings of introspection and withdrawal, South's smile faded. "I've offended you."

She shook her head. Her hair swung loosely over her shoulders, and she pushed it back self-consciously when his eyes fell to it. India saw the pins South had plucked from her hair lying on the bedside table. She set her teacup down and picked up the pins, holding some between her lips as she deftly wound and twisted her hair and finally anchored it in place.

South averted his eyes as she worked, though he wanted to watch, and more than that, wanted to ask her why. Why she did it when it was not entirely comfortable for her. Why his brief admiring glance prompted it.

It touched her that he looked away, that he gave her this moment of privacy to dress her hair. She did not explain that to him, for she had little doubt it would amuse him. It was not his laughter she minded. Indeed, it was rich and deep and without affectation, but when she roused it because of who she was and not who she was pretending to be, it also had the capacity to hurt her. India had spoken the truth when she said he had not offended her; she hadn't told him that she had never known joy being outside the common mode.

South held up the blankets for her so she could slip easily back into the bed. "Come," he said. "You're shivering, and the fire provides meager heat at best."

Nodding once, India sat on the mattress's edge and drew up her knees. She swiveled into the bed and tucked the blankets around her when South lowered them. Rubbing the icy soles of her feet against the warmer sheet, she picked up her teacup and sipped. It was strong, with a hint of tang in the aftertaste, and not nearly as cold as she expected.

Outside, lightning flashed in a brilliant arc. It was followed by thunder with enough rolling force to rumble the window-panes. India let her head fall back so it rested comfortably against the scarred oak headboard. She did not find the storm unsettling, rather the opposite. "Has it been raining long?"

"I don't know. It wasn't raining when we arrived."

"When was that?"

He didn't answer her. She could use the knowledge to gauge their distance from London.

"I see," she said, comprehending the meaning of his silence. "Then there is no use in asking directly where we are."

"None."

"Someone might tell me."

"Someone might. I hope to be under way soon, and then it will not matter."

"You would travel in this downpour?"

"If it does not let up, yes."

India sipped tea again. "Am I your prisoner, then?"

South turned his head and regarded her frankly. She was staring at the far wall, her thoughts already moving beyond it. In three-quarter profile her expression was less troubled than resigned. "I would prefer you considered yourself my guest."

She smiled gently." I'm certain you would, but that cannot make it so."

He said nothing. She was right, of course. India Parr was no longer free to come and go. South watched her smile slip slowly away. "What are you thinking?" he asked.

"That however it is gilt, one cage cannot be so very different from another."

South continued to study India's profile because it would have been cowardly to look away. His actions were responsible for the ineffable sadness he saw shadowing her gentle smile. She did not turn on him angrily or offer any condemnation. Now that he had done as he had, she merely seemed to accept it. Mayhap, he thought, she would find the words to accuse him later, even fight him, but he did not think so. He did not believe she was in expectation of stirring his sympathy with her quiet reflection. He had simply asked what she was thinking, and she had told him. " That however it is gilt, one cage cannot be so very different from another ."

"You know something about cages, then, Miss Parr?" he asked.

"I know a great deal." She did not glance in his direction.

He waited, thinking she might expound on these few words. She sipped her tea instead, her hands steady. South observed this. He also observed the fingertips she pressed to her cup, and that they were white.

"India." She spoke her name without explanation or inflection.

South tore his gaze away from her elegantly expressive hands and returned it to her face. She was watching him now, her dark eyes shielding from him what her bloodless fingertips had just revealed. He frowned slightly, not able to follow what she was telling him.

"India," she repeated. "It is nonsensical, is it not, to continue to extend me the small respect of calling me Miss Parr?"

He understood it was not truly an invitation but rather her way of forcing him to acknowledge the full measure of disrespect he had already shown her. "India," he repeated. "Once again you demonstrate your unique gift for chastising me."

Above the rim of her cup a slim smile edged the corners of her mouth. "I take it you would rather I cuff you on the chin a second time."

"I should welcome it."

India did not doubt that he was in earnest. The proof of it was in the alacrity of his wry response and quirk of a single dark brow. "You are a most vexing individual," she said at last.

"So my mother tells me. And my sister. My father, also, on occasion. My friends, often."

She did not think he sounded particularly displeased. "It is not a compliment, you know."

" Aaah, well, there you have me. I had not comprehended that."

India surrendered to her urge to laugh. Seemingly without effort, he made it quite impossible for her to do otherwise. "Vexing," she said again, softly this time, slightly bemused. Even to her own ears it had the mild lilt of an endearment. She looked away quickly and pressed her cup to her lips.

As if tossing back a dram of liquor, South finished his tea in a single swallow. He passed the cup to her to place on the table; then he swept his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. His dressing robe was lying at the foot of the bed.He put it on and belted it. Darrow had set his slippers out. South ignored them, heartily glad for the cold floor against his feet. As a substitute for opening the window and allowing the icy rain to drench him, it was imperfect. It was also less likely to cause India alarm.

"What do you recall of last evening?" he asked, his tone clipped.

Both of India's brows came up, but she did not take issue with his abrupt accents. She understood the necessity of them. "My head ached abominably," she told him, sifting through her recollections and finding them disjointed. "I took some laudanum no, perhaps I did not. Mrs. Garrety offered it, I think. Yes. And I refused. The dressing room was too warm. The light bothered my eyes. Doobin came and asked no, I don't know what he wanted. I sent him away. Mrs. Garrety" India paused, her fingers tightening once again on her cup while her eyes remained darkly impenetrable.

"Mrs. Garrety" he prompted.

"She found a hack for me. I I wanted to go home."

He nodded. "She escorted you to the hack."

"How'did you oh, it was you standing there. I hadn't realized."

"I know. I imagine you would have raised a hue and cry if you had."

India did not deny it. "Mrs. Garrety came to no harm? You did not hurt her?"

"No. Of course not." South watched India's grip relax.

"Then she suspected nothing."

"Nothing. Aaah, I see. You are saying my true fight would have been with her. A lioness protecting her cub. Then I am happy to say it did not come to that. She handed you over easily enough, though I confess I was prepared to take her as well, for at least the first leg of our journey."

India set her tea aside. Chilled, she drew the blankets higher. "She was going to accompany me home. Something" She frowned slightly as she tried to catch the elusive memory. "Something happened, I think. Something to change her mind. I cannot remember. Things to do, I believe she told me. There is always she has so many things to occupy her."

"It does not matter," South said, dismissing India's absorption with her dresser out of hand. "It is fortunate Mrs. Garrety takes her responsibilities so seriously. I should not have liked to distress her."

"No, indeed," India said quietly. "That would not do." Her chin came up, and a measure of spirit that had been absent in her voice returned. "It is heartening to know that you can entertain some remorse at the thought of distressing my dresser."

"And none at all at the thought of distressing you? Is that what you are saying?" South went to the hearth and added the last of the available coals to the fire. "Forgive me, India, but I remain uncertain that you are distressed. I sense more in the way of resignation to your fate than in you railing against it."

"You would prefer I spit and claw and scratch?" she asked. "I shall rally directly."

South grinned at her ironic accents. "Perhaps after a decent breakfast."

India blanched at the thought of food.

"Perhaps not," South said, watching her complexion pale. "You are still unwell. I had not realized. What can I do?"

"You have done quite enough." She let her head fall back gently again and closed her eyes."I remember nothing after entering the hack. Did you give me some drug?"

"No."

She smiled faintly, without humor. "I collect I simply fell asleep."

"I believe so. You were sleeping soundly when I met Darrow and exchanged the hack for a more comfortable carriage."

India realized she had gone to him like a lamb to the slaughter. It was not an image of herself she found pleasure in entertaining. "Darrow?"

"You will meet him shortly. He is my Mrs. Garrety."

"I doubt that."

South shrugged. He poked the fire again and then sat down. "Do you often have these megrims?"

"They have seemed to come regularly of late. I think it is the footlamps on the stage. The light flickers so sharply at times. I try not to look at it, but it is difficult to look away. Then there is the smell of the oil. It all conspires to bring me to this state." It was with visible effort that India raised her head again and regarded South. "You would not have had so easy a time of it otherwise."

Though he was beginning to have some doubts this was true, South accepted it as such. He wondered if Darrow had not been closer to the mark when he'd put forth the notion they had rescued India Parr more than crafted her abduction.

"What are your intentions?" India asked. "I may ask you that, may I not? You have some plan, I collect."

"If you are asking how long you will be away from the stage, I cannot say. You will be safe; of that have no doubt."

"I will be safe until you satisfy yourself that I should not be. Do you imagine I think you have done this to me solely for my protection? A fortnight ago I might have believed such was the case. No longer, my lord. You suspect me of something. I would have you make the accusation and allow me the right of my own defense."

South shook his head. "In due time," he said. "When you are able to mount that defense with more vigor than you show me now."

She smiled weakly. "You will regret those words."

"I expect I shall. But I would not take advantage."

"That is most handsome of you."

Watching her, South saw the toll even this small bit of sparring was taking on her. She might be resolved to understand his purpose, but she was in no condition to take issue with it. "Lie down," he said. "I am going to find Darrow. He will know just what to do. My valet has a remedy for every conceivable affliction." Somewhat to his surprise, India did as she was told, easing herself deeply under the covers until she was chin deep in their folds.

South slid his feet into his slippers and went directly to the door. "I will be but a moment." He paused on the threshold and cautioned her. "I hope you are not playing false with me."

"That is a very fine compliment," India whispered on a thread of sound."But I am not so accomplished an actress." She could have saved herself the breath of that reply. South had not waited to hear it.

Minutes passed. India fell into a light doze. An arm slipped under her shoulders; a hand gently cradled the back of her head. She felt something being pressed to her lips. An urging, "Swallow." Of its own accord, her mouth opened. What passed between her lips was smooth and warm and liquid. She touched her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Licorice. Something else. But mostly sweet licorice. There was an exchange of voices above her. She could make them out, though they seemed to come to her from a great distance.

"It will quiet her."

"Will she sleep?"

"Yes. For some time."

"Then we should leave."

"I'll arrange it."

There was some movement in the room. A long pause as she was lowered back to the bed. Then, "I did not know she was suffering."

"That goes without saying, m'lord."

"It would have changed nothing."

"No, m'lord."

Rain pelted the carriage as it moved in a steady northeast direction from the inn at King's Crossing. The twin grays kicked up great clods of mud as they were driven ahead with a speed few other pairs could have matched in such conditions. The carriage, though snugly made and appointed for the comfort of its passengers, was not proof against the damp and icy November air slipping under the door.

South leaned down and lifted India's feet onto the leather seat, removing them from the direct path of the cold. He rucked her pelisse around her again before he sank back himself. Without urging, she slipped into the natural cradle he had made for her against his body. Her head lay in the curve of his shoulder. One arm was flung across his chest, covered by his heavy caped greatcoat.

He knew the moment she woke. Even with the jouncing of the carriage, it was not difficult to sense that something had changed. It was more than the slight stiffening of her slender frame. He had been holding her for much of the journey. Suddenly, briefly, she was holding onto him. He waited, wondering if she would move away, and knew himself oddly content when she did not. He felt her relax, and then he was holding her again.

"You're awake," he said.

"Yes." India did not open her eyes. She did not want to invite further realities. "Have I slept long?"

"As long as you needed to."

The corners of her mouth edged upward, and she discovered the effort no longer caused her any pain. "You had a nanny who said that to you."

"A succession of them," he confessed. "All with very practical natures."

"A requirement for the position."

"My mother and father thought so. I gather from the beginning they were disposed to believe I would require a firm hand. Every nanny came with twoand a sharp tongue besides."

"A paltry arsenal to pit against your roguish wiles. They were all roundly defeated, I take it."

"Each one in turn," he admitted without compunction. "Though I do not think you can properly blame me. One does what one must to survive."

"They spoiled you horribly."

"Eventually. Then they were let go, of course. As soon as one of my parents caught a whiff of it."

"They were honing you for greatness."

He chuckled. "They still are. My father hopes I will affect political aspirations. My mother hopes I will aspire to marriage and grandchildren, and I am not so certain the order is at all relevant any longer."

"You cannot believe that. No one wants the stain of illegitimacy in their family line, least of all a countess. You would do well not to present your mother with any bastards, m'lord. She will not thank you for it, and you might find at last the limits to which you can beguile the feminine sex."

South laughed outright. "My mother cannot be beguiled. And the truth be told, the very same can be said of you."

That piqued her interest. "How can you be sure it is so of me?"

He did not answer immediately. When he spoke, his voice was deeper, not less warm, but without its former hint of self-deprecating humor. "Are you certain you want to know?"

She wasn't at all, but she had asked the question and would not back away from it now. "Yes."

"It is surprisingly simple," he said. "I would not find myself drawn to you otherwise. A woman moved by a simpleton's smile, a handsome face, or pretty words does not hold herself much in esteem. I would not want such as her."