Everything I Ever Wanted (51 page)

"They are destroyed."

"The ones we found at Marlhaven."

"And the ones West discovered."

"There might be others. I can't be certain and neither can you. Margrave does not even know how many there were or what became of them all. I wish I did not know that some of the paintings left his hands. I will always wonder who among the ton has seen me posed so vulgarly. No one could suspect it was done against my will or that the composition of all of Margrave's work was but an invention of his mind." India's voice dropped to a whisper. "You must wonder the same from time to time. It can be no easy thing to be married to the whore in those paintings."

"India!" His voice was like a whip, and South felt her flinch beside him. He did not regret his sharpness in the least. "I am not married to the woman in those paintings. She does not exist. You are not her."

"I am not India Parr, either. She is someone I created."

"She is someone you became."

India wondered at the subtle distinction South made. Did he mean she had grown into the woman she wanted to be? The actress he knew was resourceful, a woman of considerable courage and cleverness. She felt neither of those things now. "And what of Diana Hawthorne?" she asked quietly.

Without any more encouragement than a slight tug on her hand, South drew India beside him. She lay turned into him, her head on his shoulder, one leg resting warmly along his. "You have not abandoned her," he said. "Is that what you think? I do not believe she has ever been separate from you."

"But I never was her."

"Of course you were."

"And Lady Diana Alexandra Parrish?"

"A name only. She is not even the woman you were meant to be. If Lady Margrave had had her way, you would have never known the truth." He was silent for a moment, allowing India to consider that. Then he added, "It does not change the fact that you know the truth now. The countess is your mother."

India was not prepared to embrace that knowledge yet. "There were times I believed I might be the earl's daughter, but never once did I imagine I might be hers. Even then, the prospect of being related to Margrave was too horrible to contemplate. I tried never to consider it for long. Reciting lines, memorizing passagesall of it helped to put aside the uncertainty." She shivered slightly, then lay still. "Do you think I should accept her invitation?"

"I think you should make up your own mind on the matter."

She sighed. "Sometimes it is far simpler to be told what to do."

"Now, there is a trap I would do well to avoid."

Smiling gently, India laid her hand over his heart and moved closer. The strong, steady beat was cupped in her palm. "She is not well, South. Perhaps some allowance should be made for that."

South remained neutral. "Perhaps." He did not inquire into the nature of Lady Margrave's illness. He suspected it had everything to do with the loss of her son. Margrave's confession had taken its toll on his mother's will. By the time he finished, she had looked as if she wished he had snapped her neck when he'd had the opportunity to do so. What she felt for him was as confused as what Margrave felt for India. No one who heard what passed between mother and son that day doubted that the dowager countess was a little mad herself. While the earl requiredand South insisted uponthe security of an asylum, Lady Margrave was best attended to in the privacy of her home. The countess's long-time and loyal retainers made certain that she presented no harm to herself or to others. South would not have entertained the notion of India's visiting Marlhaven if he did not think it was safe for her to do so. "Is the invitation for both of us?" he asked. "I would go with you, you know, if that is your wish."

She had thought he would insist. "She does not expressly say so, though I cannot believe she means to exclude you."

"I can believe exactly that. She blames me for what has become of her son."

"That is only because she cannot accept responsibility herself. That he is alive at all is your doing."

"That he is in an asylum is also my doing," he said gravely. "I understand her anger. It is no easy life for him there."

"She can visit him."

"And the visits cannot be without heartache for her."

"He might have been transported."

"No." South's voice was firm. "We have discussed this before, India. Transportation was never a possibility."

She lifted her head and searched his face. South's resolve was in the set of his jaw and the steely color of his eyes. He would have seen Margrave hanged for his crimes or killed him himselfbefore he would have supported transportation to Van Diemen's Land. It was necessary to South to know where Margrave was. Though escape from the penal colony on the other side of the world seemed impossible, he was unwilling to trust that Margrave could not accomplish it.

"He cannot leave the asylum?" India wished she had not asked the question. She had not meant for her fear to surface in the tremor of her voice. It was not how she wished South to know her.

"He cannot leave," South said. "Ever." He raised his hand and cupped the back of her head. "Do you believe me, India?"

She did. Her hair softly rubbed his palm as she nodded.

"Good." He drew her head down and kissed her full on the mouth. Her cheeks were flushed with color by the time he released her. "That was good, too." He grinned when India gave him a light pinch just above his hip. "Have a care."

She smiled to herself and then slid back into the natural cradle of his body. He would protect her. She knew that. It did not negate what was his greatest gift to her: the confidence that she could stand alone off the stage. He had never once doubted that she would have managed to escape Marlhaven on her own. Coming for her had been about his need to do something, he'd told her, not because she needed him. She was not certain that was entirely true, but she loved him dearly for saying it.

She'd told him yes in advance of a proper marriage proposal. The rest of the Compass Club understood the import of her words before South had registered their meaning. Love had made him dull-witted and slow, they said as money exchanged hands. As always, there had been a wager. He should be grateful, they assured him, that she had not thwacked him with a plank. It was kinder that she lifted the special license from his pocket and merely waved it under his nose. He had once promised her that it would remain there until she was readyand it did.

The constancy of South's word was something she could depend upon. He had told her there would be no great uproar when he revealed the fact of their marriage to his family and no great scandal when the ton learned the same. His father was in anticipation of just such an event, given South's efforts to find India. Even Lady Redding had been girding herself for that end. She was determined to conduct herself with a style and graciousness that was the equal of Northam's mother when she had faced a similar situation with her own son.

"Never underestimate the competition between friends," South had advised India. "My mother will escort you about London so often that you might begin to think you married her ."

It had not been as bad as all that. Though the Countess of Redding could be a formidable presence, the presence she made was on India's behalf. It helped that she knew something of India's background. While the ton learned only that she was the ward of the late Earl and the Countess of Margrave, at India's insistence, South's parents were told more in the way of the truth. That went a great way to endearing their daughter-in-law to them.

South's friends drew her into their circle. She met the colonel a second time and discovered that in spite of the progression of his illness, he was almost as formidable as South's mother. Having a slight acquaintance with Lady Redding, John Blackwood genuinely appreciated India's candor in saying so. He laughed long and hard, then complained at length that her marriage to South had removed her from the theatre. She let him go on because there was no polite way to stop him, but she had never been comfortable with praise for her talents. She had learned to accept the applause but not the attention. South had understood that the theatre had been a refuge for her, not a means to bring notice to herself. When she assured him she did not miss it, he believed her.

It was important to her that he should.

Doobin was as much a reminder of the theatre as India ever would require. She found pleasure in seeing what he was becoming under Darrow's watchful eye. He had found any number of ways to make himself invaluable, starting with the service he had provided to the Compass Club when they set off to Marlhaven. Without Doobin's help, Northam, Eastlyn, and Westphal would not have so easily found their way to where their friend was confronting Margrave. It was the description of the disguise Doobin had helped South fashion and a rough sketch of the same that assisted them.

Upon coming to Marlhaven, their intention had not been to upset the routine of the household. They'd meant to reacquaint themselves with Margrave while not exposing South's presence. Their tenuous connection to the earl through Hambrick Hall was reason enough for their visit. When they were left to cool their heels in the library and Margrave did not appear in spite of the housekeeper's repeated assurances that he would do so, they determined that their arrival may have already been left until too late.

It was then that they had surrendered all pretense of pleasantness. The housekeeper was pressed into giving up the location of Margrave's private rooms in the great house, though she adamantly refused to escort them there. Recognizing her fear for what it was, Northam showed her Doobin's sketch of South. The catch of her breath was audible, and the implication was clear: she could identify the shabby old man in the pencil drawing. What she could not tell them was where he might be at the moment.

A wider search eventually brought them to Mrs. Hoover in the kitchen. The cook was willing to tell them that South had taken coals to Margrave's suite and had not yet returned. Her willingness to tell them anything had much to do with the pistol Eastlyn casually waved about her kitchen. In spite of his considerable diplomatic skills, the marquess was not always a patient man. Westphal, at least, had kept his blade in his boot.

They had understood the servants' reluctance to assist them. They shared many of the same fears for the safety of India and Lady Margrave. As for South, they consoled themselves that he was at his best talking his way out. They would know at what point their intervention was required.

A different outcome was unthinkable.

Sometimes India wondered if South had actually heard them in the corridor. He denied it when she asked him, and his expression gave nothing away. Still, she remembered how he had motioned her toward the door when it had not seemed so urgent that she remove herself. He might not have been so willing to let her out of his sight if he had not known his friends were there. Perhaps it was only that he was so much a part of them that he suspected their presence. The links of those boyhood friendships were forged in steel.

North. South. East. West. Friends for life we have confessed. All other truths, we'll deny. For we are soldier, sailor, tinker, spy.

South's fingers stilled in her hair. "What was that?"

"Hmmm?"

"Did you say something?"

India smiled. She had not realized she'd spoken any part of the rhyme aloud. "I was thinking of your friends."

"I can't say I much approve of that. You're in my bed."

"I'm in our bed, and I can think whatever I like."

Growling playfully, South turned India quickly onto her back and pinned her to the mattress. She did not try to resist, or feel a moment's need to. Those urges had long been dispelled from her mind. She had even made peace with South's finding her tattoo in every way exotic. There was no more effort expended to hide it from him. That had ended on their wedding night when he made love to her in front of the cheval glass.

The memory of his lovingof watching him make love to hersent a delicate shiver through India. It was as if she were possessed of a second sight that night, one that allowed her to see herself though his eyes, then to finally see herself as she was. When he had whispered that she was beautiful, she did not shy from it, and their time together since had not lessened the impact of those words or her ability to find pleasure in them now.

When he released her wrists, India shimmied out of her nightdress. She let it sail over the side of the bed, then helped him out of his shirt. They came together quickly, with the sort of urgency that still could surprise her with its fierceness. The need was mutual. They shared desire with a rivaling intensity.

She looked down at their bodies as they came together.

He had taught her that. Her hips lifted as his thrust forward, and she closed her eyes, all sensation now, feeling him so deeply inside her that she could not imagine he would leave her. He did, though, and it was wonderful, too. The sliding of his thighs against hers, the heat of his skin, the curve of his palm on her breast: all of it made her aware of her body in a way that was powerfully erotic.

It was no different for South. He ached with this hunger to have her close, then closer. There were nightmares that plagued his sleep as well. Sometimes he dreamed of losing her in the warren of rooms at Marlhaven. Trapdoors opened on a stage that existed only in his mind, and always India fell through them while he watched helplessly from the audience. It was she who comforted him on those occasions, holding him against her breast and giving him ease with her body when his need to have her erased every other thought.