Family Scandals (22 page)

They reached the gate and he opened it. “And now?” she asked as she passed through.

Closing the gate behind himself, he approached as she stopped beside her mare. “Now, I feel as if I am the luckiest man on earth.”

Corinna could not voice the question in her eyes, but it was unnecessary as Marcus drew her into his arms and his mouth came down on hers. Not only was the question unnecessary, but now it was lost.

His actions took her by surprise, but only for a moment. Slipping her arms around his waist, she lifted herself up on her toes, and parted her lips against his. The chapel and cemetery vanished, as did the sun, sky and meadow around them, as Marcus suddenly became her whole world.

As she clung to her own sanity by a thread, a small shiver slid down her spine when she heard Marcus groan, and momentarily, she wondered if he was in pain. The thought was lost as quickly as it was formed when Marcus slid his hands down her back, pressing her intimately against his hard frame.

When he raised his head, she opened eyes she hadn’t remembered closing to stare up into his face. It could have been carved from the same granite as his mother’s headstone, so set were his features. His eyes, however, were gentle as they studied her upturned face.

“Yes, I am truly the luckiest man on earth,” he said softly. “I only wish I had known how lucky I was sooner.”

Corinna wanted to ask him what he meant, but he released her then and lifted her into the saddle.

The door closing softly behind her told Corinna she was alone as she sat soaking in a large tub of steaming water. With her head resting against the back of the tub, her eyes closed, she re-lived her day.

She had not had a more wonderful day in recent memory. It had been months since she’d last spent a day with an adult merely enjoying herself. In the four months since Great Aunt Mirabel’s death, she had been very lonely, and it had taken Marcus’s presence for her to realize how lonely she’d truly been.

Feeling the water beginning to cool, she took up the cloth and soap and began washing herself. It had been years since she’d ridden for so long and she knew she would be feeling it tomorrow. Yet, she would not have traded today for anything else. Spending it with Marcus had made the hours seem to fly by, and resurrected pleasant memories of the past, even as it created new ones of the present.

Raising her leg to wash it, she absently explored the contours of the puckered flesh just below the back of her knee. There was another such scarring on the outside of her thigh on the other leg. Closing her eyes, she remembered clearly the first time Douglas had brought Marcus home. She had been in the nursery with her governess, Miss Pippin, when Douglas entered.

“What happened to you?” he asked, ruffling her hair.

“My dress caught fire,” she answered, wrinkling her nose at him. “Mama says I got too close to the fireplace.”

Douglas laughed at her. “It must have been an awful cold day. Did it hurt much?”

She nodded and lifted her arms for him to pick her up, but he looked at Miss Pippin for approval first. “Will I cause her more pain if I pick her up?” he asked.

“No, it’s been a few days,” the governess answered. “It may still hurt a little, but she won’t tell you.”

“I want to see Barney,” she said. “Papa said I can’t ride him, but I want to see him.”

Douglas picked her up, careful of the two areas on her legs that were swathed in bandages. “Very well then, we will be back shortly. I brought a friend home for you to meet,” he told her as they left the room and headed downstairs.

“Is it someone nice?” she asked, snuggling against his shoulder.

“No,” he teased. “I brought an ogre who likes to eat little girls. Seven-year-olds are his favorite dish.”

She giggled. “Why seven?”

They reached the ground floor and he turned down the hall toward the billiard room.

“Because, six-year-olds are barely a mouthful, and eight-year-olds are too tough. But seven-year-olds are just right. Nice and plump and tender.”

She giggled again. “Then he doesn’t want me. Diana says I’m scrawny.”

They entered the room as Douglas said, “Don’t you know you can’t believe anything Diana says?”

“Of course,” she replied, “but Pip says I could use some fattening up too.”

Marcus was lining up a shot on the billiard table as they entered. He looked up and missed as she laughed out loud. “He doesn’t look like an ogre,” she said to her brother. “Are you sure he wants to eat me?”

Douglas didn’t answer her question. Turning to Marcus, he said, “I brought the imp with me. She’s been cooped up with her governess for days now and wants to check on her pony. How about a trip to the stables?”

Marcus put down the cue and grinned at her.

“I don’t taste very good,” she told him, even as she clung to Douglas’s neck.

“Then I guess I’ll have to wait until you’re nine,” he replied evenly. “You ought to taste better by then.”

She frowned at him. “I don’t think so. I’m already burned—and Papa never likes it when the Cook burns the roast.”

The two boys had laughed at her comparison, and the three of them had left the room headed for the stables.

Rising from the now cool water, Corinna dried herself, slipped on her chemise and drawers, then put on her wrapper. Padding over to the window, she looked out over the expanse of sea and wondered if Marcus remembered their first meeting as clearly as she did.

When Irma returned a short time later, she was sitting at the dressing table brushing her hair. As the maid helped her into a soft gray gown of brushed twill, she inquired as to the duchess’s whereabouts and was told that she was out. In fact, upon further questioning, she learned the duke and duchess had taken both children out for the afternoon, leaving word that they would return in time for tea.

Sending Irma down to inform Cook tea should be served in the cliff parlor, she wandered into her sitting room.

It still felt strange to have so much time on her hands and, for the moment, she was somewhat lost as to what to do with herself. If she had someone to correspond with she might have spent time writing letters. It was what the duchess often did in the afternoons. Unfortunately, she did not feel comfortable writing to friends she hadn’t kept in touch with in the four years since she left school.

She could write to Gregory, she supposed, but a part of her wanted to leave her family in her past. She wasn’t sure she understood why, but she knew telling Gregory of her changed circumstances and whereabouts might result in unpleasant repercussions. Gregory would find out eventually, but for now, she preferred to remain lost to him.

Settling onto one of the window seats, she cracked open the window and gazed out over the landscape beyond, an unopened book in her lap. The contrast did not escape her. The garden below was lush and well-kept, the riot of color and texture a delight to the senses. Beyond it, however, the stable buildings rose, plain and stark against the sky, set in an open area cleared of all vegetation. Beyond the stables, she could just make out the steeple of the small chapel in the family cemetery.

She’d noticed the absence of a grave for his grandmother, but had not asked him about it. From what he’d told her, she had deduced it was likely the countess had died in France.

Was that why his mother had returned? Had she waited until her own mother’s death before returning to exact her revenge? Had she known her mother had been involved in her father’s disgrace? If she had, how had she reconciled the situation? The people in the area all had good memories of her as a child, yet Marcus had told her his father had never allowed her to visit St. Ayers. Had Marcus’s father known who she was and kept her away deliberately? If so, why had he married her in the first place?

The small clock on the fireplace mantle began to chime softly and she looked up to realize it was time for tea. As she left the room and headed downstairs, she wondered if the duke and duchess had returned.

She admitted to herself that she was beginning to feel a little lonely, and memories of her childhood surfaced again. Despite her wish to deny it, she
had
been lonely as a child. Her parents had doted on her, true, but being an only child had not been much fun. After the accident when her dress caught fire, her father had sent Diana to live with her uncle, Viscount Dryden. All of the boys had been away, either at school or, in Gregory’s case, living in London, and Anna had married the year before.

Neither she nor Douglas had ever been welcome in her siblings’ circle, even when they were at home. More often than not, she and Douglas were the butt of their jokes and pranks and had learned quickly to retaliate. Gregory, Phillip and Diana had been their targets most often. Gregory because he was the oldest, Phillip because he was the same age as Douglas, which often caused the two of them to be pitted against each other, and Diana because she seemed to have developed an unreasonable hatred of Corinna. It had been Diana who was there when her dress had caught fire, and Diana who had locked her in the garderobe, destroyed one of her favorite dresses, and nearly lamed her pony. It had taken much too long for her to realize Diana truly hated her and she should not seek out her older sister’s company.

Reaching the cliff parlor, she was surprised and delighted to find the duchess already present, with the twins. Caroline noticed her first.

“Corrie!”

“It’s Aunt Corinna,” Michael told his sister in disgust. “You never remember anything.”

Corinna looked up from giving Caroline a hug. “You may still call me Corrie if you wish,” she told both of them. “I do not mind. But Michael, you should remember we all forget sometimes.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “If everyone would stop changing their names, it would be easier to remember,” she declared.

“You just need to remember better,” Michael informed her.

“That’s enough, Michael,” Felicia said firmly. “You needn’t belabor the point. Marcus and Corinna aren’t such ogres that they will snap at you over the misuse of a name.”

Marcus and Brand entered just then and Corinna glanced up at Marcus before turning back to Michael with a smile. “I don’t know. My brother once told me Marcus was an ogre, and he eats seven-year-olds, as long as they are not scrawny or burned.”

The twins eyes grew round as they looked up at their uncle, the duke and duchess looking on in amusement. Marcus’s eyes sought and held hers, the shared memory surfacing in his. In that moment, everyone else faded away and they were the only occupants of the room. A blush spread across her cheeks as his eyes turned soft, then the spell was broken as he spoke.

“Not anymore,” he said in a deep voice. “Seven-year-olds might have been enough for a seventeen-year old, but I need bigger game now.” A wolfish grin spread across his face. “I think now I’d prefer twenty-two year olds, even if they are a little overdone.”

Corinna wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Her cheeks burned even hotter, and she knew the duke and duchess were watching the byplay with far more interest than she wanted. Unfortunately, she was the one who had brought the subject up, so she had no one but herself to blame.

“Papa doesn’t like burned food,” Michael piped up, dispelling the mood.

Marcus ruffled the boy’s dark hair and said, “Very few people do.”

The tea tray arrived and Corinna fell easily into the role of hostess, pouring cups of the steaming brew and offering everyone the delicacies to be found on the tray. Marcus seated himself beside her, causing a warm flush to begin where their thighs touched.

Over tea, the twins regaled their aunt and uncle with the details of their day. Spent in the company of their parents, the children were in high spirits and eager to fill them in on every minute.

“Papa says Mama swims like a fish,” Michael told her.

“She does,” Brand responded. “And so do you.”

“Since we have been coming down here, I have never wanted the children to be afraid of the water,” Felicia told Corinna and Marcus. “Teaching them to swim was the best way to ensure that. Unfortunately, they now have no fear whatsoever of the water, and I’m not so sure that is a good thing either.”

“Aunt Corinna can’t swim,” Michael informed the group. “Maybe we should teach her.”

Marcus looked at her. “All those fishing trips and we never taught you to swim?”

She shook her head. “You might remember Douglas barely let me near the water as it was.” She looked at Felicia. “My brother was extremely overprotective.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Marcus remarked.

“He had his reasons,” she told him soberly. Douglas had understood her siblings were not averse to doing her harm. He had often told her she should not play with them unless she got permission from her mother first. Most often, her mother said
no
when she wanted to join Diana and her friends. At first, she thought it was because Diana was so much older—five years her senior. But later she realized it was because her mother did not trust Diana to watch over her.

“Then Marcus must teach you,” Brand said. “If you are to live here, learning to swim is a must.”