Everything I Ever Wanted (47 page)

Margrave's movement in the corridor caught South's attention anew. He watched the earl manipulate the object that was resting in his open palm and take a step toward the door at his right. It was then South understood that Margrave held a key. He watched the earl use it in the lock, then pocket it. Margrave pressed the toe of his boot against the door to nudge it open before he picked up a coal pail in each hand and entered the suite.

South stepped out of the shadows and finished climbing the stairs.

At the sound of Margrave's key in the lock, India and the dowager countess exchanged startled, apprehensive glances. For a moment, their hands were still over their needlework. They caught themselves simultaneously, their eyes returning to their embroidery hoops, and resumed the stitching that had occupied them for the better part of the evening.

Margrave entered from India's bedchamber. He paused in the doorway and looked on the scene before him with a somewhat jaundiced eye. "Such domesticity. Mother, how is it that India can persuade you to spend your time in such a manner when you despise it so?"

"I do not despise it," she said slowly. Her expression was vaguely pnzzled, as though she were searching for the proper words."I find it tedious, Allen. There is a difference, you know."

One of Margrave's slim, dark brows lifted in a perfect arch. "I had not realized such," he said, his tone plainly sardonic. He raised the pail of coal in his hand to draw attention to it. "I have placed one beside the hearth in your bedchamber, India. Have you need of another here?"

"Yes, please."

Nodding once, Margrave entered the sitting room. He added several coals to the fire before he set the pail down. He did not choose a chair for himself; rather, he stood beside the fireplace, his shoulder against the mantel. "You have had a pleasant visit?"

It was Lady Margrave who answered. "Yes, Allen." Her expression shifted again, this time displaying a weary, slightly distant smile. "Quite pleasant."

India did not look up from her needlepoint as she addressed Margrave. "We have been discussing the theatre," she said. "That is, I have been discussing it. Your mother has been kind enough to listen to me."

"Oh?"

"I think I should like to return to the stage. Would you consider such a thing, my lord?"

"No," he said not unkindly. "I don't believe I would."

There was a momentary pause between stitches; then India nodded. It was not an unexpected answer.

"No argument?" he asked.

"I think not," she said. "I find I haven't the stomach for it."

"Have a care, India. You will begin to bore me."

"That would indeed be unfortunate."

"Yes, it would."

India glanced up and saw that he meant it. There had been no humor in his tone; certainly there was none in his darkly piercing glance.

Margrave pointed casually to the easel that stood near the window. A large cloth draped the framed canvas, hiding his work from view."Have you shown Mother our latest effort, India? I think it is as good as any I have ever done."

India set her embroidery hoop aside and came to her feet. Momentarily light-headed, she touched her fingertips to her temple. "May I have a word with you, my lord?"

"I believe you are."

"Privately." Her eyes darted to the dowager countess, who remained bent over her embroidery. "Please."

Margrave did not immediately respond. He regarded India with no small amount of suspiciousness. "I think not. You may speak freely in front of Mother."

Before India could protest, Lady Margrave stood and offered them both an apologetic if somewhat vapid smile. "If you will excuse me." Without waiting for permission, or even acknowledging that permission was needed, the countess made a gravely dignified exit.

"She cannot be left alone long," India said. "I do not believe she is at all well."

"Then say what you must quickly." He cocked his head in the direction of the bedchamber, listening for his mother's telltale movements. Had she enough wits about her to try the outer door? he wondered, or would she make a comfortable nest for herself on India's bed? "I will hold you responsible if she comes to harm."

India took a shallow, fortifying breath. "I do not wish Lady Margrave to see the painting," she said. "You suggested it with no purpose save to punish me."

He shrugged. "I do not trust you, India. You cannot expect that I should. If you do not want Mother to see our painting, then you should mind your tongue and your tone."

India felt the sting of tears. She blinked them back.

The edges of Margrave's mouth curved upward in a dryly appreciative smile. His light applause was the perfect ironic accompaniment. "Very good. Tears are often overdone, but never by you. As always, you choose your moments judiciously."

India made an impatient swipe at her eyes. "Let us go, Margrave."

"You grow tiresome." Straightening, the earl stepped away from the fireplace. "Mother? You may return. India is quite finished." There was no reply and no swish of skirts. "Mother?"

Ignoring Margrave's accusing glance, India started for the bedchamber. She was brought up short by his fingers tightly circling her arm just above the elbow. She stayed her ground and did not try to shake him off. It was not a battle she could win.

"I will see to her and you will remain here."

Nodding, India waited for Margrave to release her. He did so with some reluctance, then brushed past her and stepped through the doorway into the bedchamber. India had a glimpse of him being halted in his tracks before she hurried to follow.

Whatever diversion the dowager countess had created, she thought, it was exceeding expectation.

India came to a halt just behind Margrave. He quickly threw an arm out to the side to prevent her from moving around him. Looking over his shoulder, India saw why he meant for her to go no farther.

The dowager countess's diversion was not of her own making. It was South's presence that had changed things. India's heart hammered hard in her chest, and for a moment she forgot to breathe. He was here and he was whole. Her eyes drank him in, seeing past the roughly cut hair and lined face of the old man to the sharply intent gray eyes and familiar ironic smile. She would love that face when he was an old man, she thought, and it did not seem the least bit odd to her that she should think that now. If only for the span of a few heartbeats, it was as if she were alone with him. She did not want to give that up. It would be painfully hard when the reality came upon her.

India glanced from South to the door of her bedchamber. "How did you get in?"

South casually rested his shoulder against one of the corner posts of the bed. "It was left unlocked. I don't suppose he was expecting a visitor."

"No," she said, matching his gently wry tone. "I don't suppose he was."

Her perfect mimicry deepened his smile. He recognized, as she did, the nuance of intimacy in their exchange. They might have been sharing a private joke, something silly and without consequence, the kind of humor that made lovers smile and annoyed everyone else.

It had exactly that affect on the Earl of Margrave. The arm he had flung out to the side stiffened, and when India pushed at it, she found he would not be moved. When she ducked to go under it, he blocked her path with his body.

"Let her come to me," South said with perfect affability. "Or I swear I will kill you."

Margrave frowned. The broad accents of the man he had met minutes earlier in the hallway were absent now. The subservient posturing and cowed manner had also disappeared. This man stood taller and possessed an easy grace that had been no part of the coal tender's bearing, and he had just threatened to do murder in a tone so pleasant and friendly that it must be taken seriously.

"You." The single word had the import of an accusation as Margrave saw what he had not been able to before. His slight smile did not touch his eyes. "My compliments, Southerton. I am not usually gulled by so simple a disguise, but then, my own experience has taught me that one never looks too closely at the servants. It would seem I am hoist by my own petard. You played your part admirably."

Though South acknowledged Margrave's recognition with a faint, mocking bow of his head, his position remained unchanged. "Release her, Margrave."

The dowager countess stood uneasily at the foot of the bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Unnoticed until now, she regarded her son with imploring eyes that were made liquid by the increasing tension in the room. "Please, Margrave. Do as he says. You must let her go."

One of the earl's brows kicked up. "You, Mother?" he asked softly. "You would betray me also? Or has he made some threat against you?"

"Lady Margrave is free to leave," South said, indicating the door with a turn of his hand.

The countess made no move to do so. "Please," she repeated, her full attention on Margrave. "He means to do you harm."

Margrave laughed lightly. "He means to kill me, Mother. It is rather more than threatening to blacken my eye or bloody my lip."

While the earl's attention was elsewhere, India made a second attempt to push past his braced arm. He was able to hold her back with little effort. Frustrated, she changed the angle of her approach and shoved hard at his shoulders, forcing him to take a single staggering step out of the doorway. Taking advantage of the small opening she was afforded, India darted through it. She was brought up short by the handful of skirt that Margrave caught in his fist. He drew her back against him and captured her waist in the crook of his arm.

Seeing that India was in no real danger yet, South stayed his ground. He watched her take a steadying breath, then relax in Margrave's hold. In consequence, there was an almost imperceptible easing of the earl's grip. South was careful not to catch her eye or show his approval of her tactics.

"What is it you hope to accomplish, Margrave?" he asked. "Do you imagine you have some ownership of India?"

That struck a chord with the earl. "She is mine." He nudged India with his arm. "Tell him, Dini. Tell him that you have always been mine."

"I have always been his," she said simply.

Lady Margrave's knuckles whitened as she pressed her hands even more closely together. Her voice was taut. "Do not humor him. It is not natural that he should make you say such things." She sat suddenly on the edge of the bed, her head bent and her shoulders sagging. " He is not natural."

India did not feel Margrave's start of surprise next to her own. What she did notice after recovering herself was that his arm had dropped away from her waist. She bolted out of the circle of his reach and threw herself into South's protective embrace. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and heard the soft murmur of his voice next to her ear.

"You have saved yourself," he whispered.

Tears blurred India's vision. Was it true? she wondered. Had she saved herself after all? She thought of the loose floorboard under the bed that she had intended to use on Margrave's skull. Perhaps she could be satisfied with merely being out of his reach, but she doubted it."I meant to thwack him, you know."

Though South pressed his smile into India's hair, his eyes were cold as they regarded Margrave over the top of her head. "I shouldn't be at all surprised if you still get your chance," he said softly.

India's cheek rubbed against the rough fabric of South's frock coat. Coal dust smudged her pale skin. "He told me you were dead," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion. "I didn't want to believe him. I didn't. But then it was so long and I"

"I know." South breathed deeply of the fragrance of India's hair. "I know."

"You came for me."

"Yes. Always."

"Touching," Margrave said, sarcasm rife in his tone. He jerked his chin in his mother's direction. "Mayhap you find this display natural and more to your liking. He's had her, of course. As soon as she was out of my sight, the little harlot spread her legs for him. Didn't I always say that's what she would do if I wasn't with her? She is not so different than her mother, is she?"

The countess's head snapped up. "That is quite enough. You go too far, Allen."

Margrave's dark eyes narrowed. "I think the laudanum is not so efficacious as you would have had me believe. There is more than a bit of trickery afoot. Tell me about this subterfuge, Mother. Was it something you thought of on your own, or did India persuade you to defy me?"

India turned in South's embrace and faced Margrave. "You will let her be. There is no reason she should answer to you."

Margrave's response was dry. "Is it the presence of your lover that gives you such courage, India? You have not always shown this temerity. I cannot say that I am in any way admiring of it."

India's cheeks flushed with color, but she did not avoid his scornful glance. Holding her hand out to the dowager countess, she said, "We are going now."

The earl took a step toward them, his attention slipping sideways toward his mother. "Shall you tell her, Mother? Or shall I? What sort of feeling will India bear you then? I wonder if she shall love you less or more than I."

"Have off," South said sharply. "Unless you mean to afford me the greatest pleasure of laying you out."

Margrave merely smiled.

India's brows furrowed. Her eyes darted between Margrave and his mother, then to South. "Tell me what?" she asked."What is it all of you think you know that I do not?"

The earl shrugged and raised his hands with an air of helplessness. "Do you see, Southerton? She is curious. She wants to know."

South shook his head. "India, take the countess out. I will follow shortly."

India understood she was being given a directive. Only minutes ago it had been her intention to do the very thing South was telling her to do. "No," she said. "I will not."

It was Margrave who laughed. "You must admit that she does not fail to amuse," he said to South. "Though I understand you will find it less so since she is now defying you. Tread carefully, Southerton. You may discover that the wrong response will send her flying back into my arms."

"I am in no fear of that," South said. "Even so, India may alight wherever she wishes."

"I am not moving at all," India told them. It was not entirely true. While her intention was to remain firmly rooted where she stood, she felt herself becoming light-headed again. It seemed to her that the room wavered; then she realized it was she. Thrusting out a hand, she refused the attentions of South and Margrave as they each took a step toward her. She pressed three fingers to her temple, managed a deep breath, and found herself grounded again.

"It is because of the opium," Lady Margrave told South. "She has taken little nourishment these past weeks to protect herself from its effects. She warned me of the consequences of such a drastic course, but I do not think she heeded her own advice."

India started to protest that such was not the case, but her effort went unnoticed by everyone in the room. Without signaling his intention in any way, South's long stride put him within striking distance of Margrave. He jabbed sharply at the earl's midsection with his right fist, making Margrave gasp for air and begin to double over. South followed this with a hard left to Margrave's elegantly defined chin. The blow actually lifted the earl off his feet. He landed lightly, but off balance, and stumbled backward. South struck again, jabbing with his right. The breath that Margrave was trying to recover was lost, and his knees folded. He dropped to the floor, grunting softly and clutching his middle.

South stared down at the earl's bowed head and slumped shoulders and wondered if he could trust him to remain there. He felt no particular satisfaction in what he had done, yet knew that he was prepared to do it again. And again.

South's features were without expression, which of itself was telling. The heat of the moment had subsided into a hard, bitter coldness. What was left was more dangerous than what had come before.

Stepping back, South began to turn toward India. He was conscious of her sudden movement, the leap in his direction, but he had no time to understand the reason for it. The blow to his head was delivered with mind-numbing accuracy. He staggered forward into India's outstretched arms. She could not support his weight, and he felt himself falling, folding just as Margrave had, his knees buckling under him. It seemed to happen slowly, as if he were drifting down through black water, buoyant and leaden at the same time.

India dropped to her knees beside South, but not in time to stop him from receiving a second blow to his head, this time when it came in hard contact with the floor. She tore off his roughly cut wig and ran her fingers along his scalp, feeling for an open wound while her eyes were raised accusingly in Lady Margrave's direction.

Her hands shaking, the dowager countess stared at what she had wrought. At first she felt no connection to what she saw. The fact that she still held the board she'd removed from under India's bed was in no way relevant to the fact that Southerton lay crumpled on the floor at her feet. That India's dark eyes found fault with her did not make sense. Even her son's sardonic chuckle had no impact.

She came to herself suddenly, her mouth opening in horror at what she now understood she'd done. "I'm sorry," she whispered. The words were lost as her nerveless fingers let the board slip between them and thudded to the floor. "I'm so sorry."

Margrave gingerly worked his jaw from side to side. "Your apology is hardly flattering, Mother. One might suppose you meant to use that board on my poor pate." He glanced at India and cocked an eyebrow. "Your idea?"

India ignored him. She cradled South's head in her lap and continued to sift through his thick hair with her fingertips. She felt him stir ever so slightly.

"Of course it was your idea," Margrave went on. "You have been bent on leaving here from the beginning. I do not think you have ever considered Marlhaven your home, Dini. Merrimont, either."

"They have never been my home," India said quietly.

"That is really too bad of you." Margrave clucked his tongue softly. It was an admonishing affectation he had often used as Mrs. Garrety, and he knew that India would recognize it as such. That she was annoyed by it pleased him. It was proof that she was not as immune to him as she would have him believe. Southerton be damned, he thought.

It was he who had the power to work his way under her skin. "You have always been welcomed here."

India merely shook her head. Even at the outset, she had been more prisoner than guest. It seemed to her that these past weeks Margrave had simply ceased to pretend it had ever been otherwise. She would not sanction his alternative view of the past now.

"It is your home," he said, slowly climbing to his feet. He brushed off the knees of his trousers and straightened the line of his frock coat by pulling on the sleeves. "I mean that." His attention was pulled to his mother, who shuddered with a sob she could not restrain. Margrave snapped, "Have done with it, Mother! Your tears grow tiresome."