Improbable Eden (13 page)

“
Treats,” exclaimed Eden, jolting Max from his reverie. “If I lose, I shall bake you something tasty. If I win,” she went on, looking supremely smug, “you must escort me to the chophouse of my choosing.”

To Max, the suggestion sounded fair—and safe—enough. The game seesawed for half an hour, then began to tilt toward Max. Eden's aplomb was shaken but not destroyed. Scooting to the edge of her chair, she willed Max to play a diamond. He did, and Eden took it neatly with her trump, then gathered in the next trick as well and waited triumphantly for Max's last card. To her horror, it was also the last trump. He flipped the cards into his pile and leaned back, hands entwined behind his head. “Well? What shall I demand? A cheese tart? A ginger trifle? A perfect rice pudding?”

Chagrined, Eden stared at Max. “You may ask for anything, but I do apples best.” She was quite serious, but still couldn't believe she'd lost. “You didn't cheat did you? No, you're not that sort.” Pensively, she chewed her finger. Outside, the afternoon sun had broken through the morning fog, and a halo of golden light bathed the room. A carriage rolled by, the coachman calling for a stray dog to get out of the way. A woman's laughter floated up to them, followed by a deep muffled voice. Max unfolded himself from the chair and went to the window.

“
Holy St. Hubert,” he muttered, peering between the draperies, “it's Harriet!”

Eden got up, too, but didn't move from her place by the little table. “I don't suppose Lady Harriet has come to apologize.”

Max didn't seem to hear her. He was moving uneasily around the room, pushing at the full sleeves of his lawn shirt until they almost reached his elbows. “Women,” he groaned, and came to a sudden stop in front of Eden as he caught the sound of approaching footsteps. Eyeing the door as if he expected it to be splintered at any moment by a battering ram, Max motioned for Eden to keep quiet. “We won't answer,” he whispered, as Master Van de Weghe called from the corridor.

Observing Max's big motionless form, Eden had to bite her lips to keep from beaming at his deception. At last, when the
hofmeester's
tread had faded away, she erupted into a giggle. “Oh, won't she be vexed! You're very brave, Max!”

Max made a face. “I'm craven, to let that woman cow me.” He gave Eden a sheepish look. “I don't know why, but I didn't feel like facing Harriet just now.”

Eden's glee evaporated at the recognition of Max's helplessness. It struck her as strange, even incomprehensible, that a man who had fought in some of the fiercest battles of the past decade should be intimidated by his fiancée. “No doubt,” she said without thinking, “you didn't want Harriet to know we were playing cards.”

Max scowled at Eden. “Rot. Why should Harriet care about that?”

To Eden, the answer seemed obvious. Max's denial stung. Did he really not consider her a worthy rival to Harriet Villiers? But why should he? Harriet was wealthy, aristocratic, beautiful and admired. As for Eden, though her bloodlines might be as exalted as Harriet's, she was still a bastard from Kent. Max didn't take her seriously, and it hurt.

“
You find me negligible, don't you?”

Max looked genuinely puzzled. “No. How could I, and still promote your cause with the King?”

What had begun as a pout spilled over into anger. “Oh! That's cruel! Must you think of me only as some sort of pawn, as ammunition for your political arsenal? What about me—Eden? I'm a person, not just the product of lessons and coaching and pretty clothes!”

Taken aback by her outburst, Max put out a placating hand. “I know that,” he soothed, trying to rein in his impatience. “Eden, you must cease harping about my regard for you. It's my commitment to Jack that counts. Were he not in the Tower, he would be supervising your preparations. By chance, the responsibility has fallen to me, and I'm doing everything I can to help.” Watching her unhappy face, Max knew he wasn't explaining himself very well. Yet every word he spoke was the truth. Why couldn't Eden understand the awkward position he'd been put in by her father's arrest? Some men would have forsaken her from the start. Others would have taken advantage of her helplessness. But he was doing his best not to, despite the temptation to do otherwise. “If you're angry because I went abroad, that couldn't be prevented. It wasn't just because of Craswell, but on orders of the King. I was destroying a French arsenal at Givet.”

Eden brushed aside his military adventures with a careless hand. “I'm not talking about what you do when you're not here,” she cried, “but what you do when you are! You worry so about Harriet's precious feelings and give not a dandiprat for mine! Or do you think because I'm a country bumpkin that I don't have any?”

Max was torn between exasperation and repentance. She was right, in her way. He had behaved rather highhandedly. Fearing that she might cry, Max put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little hug. “I've had many distractions,” he admitted, and was surprised when Eden made no attempt to pull away. “The war on the Continent, searching for Craswell, the charges against your father, some plaguing family quarrels over property—” He was speaking much more rapidly, and freely, than usual. Suddenly he stopped, his chin resting on the top of Eden's head.

“
You serve too many masters,” Eden interjected, allowing herself the luxury of leaning against Max's chest. “I' truth, I'm sorry you had to inherit my poor suit, as well.”

“
But I don't mind,” he protested, his voice dropping a notch as his hand slid down the heavy green silk that covered her back. “This house is a happier place with you in it.”

“
Oh!” Eden gasped with astonishment and stared at Max. She could hardly believe he'd uttered such gratifying words.

Judging from the embarrassed look on Max's face, neither could he. “It's more like … ah, family,” he explained a bit clumsily, his hand straying to the curve of her waist. “Not that my relatives were a kindly lot. But then you've met Rudolf.”

Eden gazed up at Max and blinked in confusion. What she beheld in those hazel eyes startled her. She could have sworn that she saw more than sadness or anxiety. A yearning, perhaps, or some other need that she couldn't recognize? She was still trying to solve the riddle when Max claimed her mouth in a tentative, exploratory kiss. Taken by surprise, Eden's mind registered a protest, but her body melted pliantly into Max's embrace. The kiss deepened, driven by that unleashed hunger she had unwittingly glimpsed.

To her amazement, Eden responded with an eagerness that was as foreign to her as it was intoxicating. She felt Max's hands caress her back as he kissed her chin and the curve of her throat. Resting in his arms with her head tipped back, she hazily noted that the door was opening. A moment later, Max froze then released her so abruptly that she stumbled against the little inlaid table.

“
Harriet!” Max exclaimed, pushing back his hair and attempting a weak smile. “I thought you had left.”

“
I can see that.” Harriet's eyes could have chilled the sun. “I intended to, but I sensed you were at home.” She gave a brisk tug at the velvet mantle draped over her shoulders. “It seems I was right. If ever a man was comfortably settled in, it's you, Max.”

The brittle note jarred Eden as she tried to recover from Max's kiss and concentrate on Harriet. As for Max, his valiant effort to regain his composure was only a partial success. “Will you stay and sup with me?” he invited, moving in swift, long strides to help Harriet with her mantle. “I can explain everything over a succulent pheasant.”

Harriet's glance flickered over Eden. “It's the succulent
peasant
that concerns me,” she retorted. She shook off Max's hand and whirled, the mantle's lace-edged tails swinging behind her like angry butterflies.

“
Harriet …” Max began, but was silenced by the frosty glare she threw him from over her shoulder.

Eden, however, was not so easily quieted. “La, Milady, it seems I've won my wager, after all. Now Max owes me
three
kisses.” She stood in the middle of the room, her fingers laced behind her back, her hips swaying slightly under the gimped silk skirts.

“
What wager?” demanded Harriet, her voice more shrill than brittle.

Eden glanced from a bewildered Max to an irate Harriet and shrugged. “I bet Max a kiss that you were the most unreasonable woman in London. He argued and argued and finally convinced me otherwise. So,” she added, unlinking her fingers and raising her hands, “I had to pay him with a kiss. It's part of my training, you see.”

Harriet's perfect dark eyebrows arched. “Training? To do what?”

Eden tilted her head to one side. “To please. To charm. To captivate. Isn't that so, Max?”

Max's expression was somewhere between stunned and apoplectic. But it was to Harriet, not Eden, that he turned. “It's true, she's being groomed for the court. It's Marlborough's idea,” he averred, and winced at his disclaimer.

“
If Jack weren't in the Tower, I wouldn't be here,” Eden chimed in, affecting a careless manner as she patted Max's arm in apparent commiseration. “But, Milady, you must be very proud of Max for defending your disposition. Foolish as I am, I'd let my own eyes and ears deceive me. Max made such a persuasive case on your behalf that I came to believe you were indeed a most agreeable person, right up until you walked through that door.”

The lovely oval of Harriet's face grew yet more pale. “You're impudent,” she said through clenched teeth. “As for you,” she went on, waving a gloved finger at Max, “for the sake of our future, I should like to take as truth what this creature says, though common sense tells me otherwise. I will not stay to sup, but shall expect you to call on me early tomorrow.” On that imperious note, Harriet departed, banging the door behind her.

Eden's glee was dashed by the stormy expression on Max's face. Having overcome his shock at Harriet's ill-timed intrusion, he turned wrathful. “Why,” he demanded, shaking Eden by the shoulders, “didn't you keep quiet? Why didn't you just disappear? I told you before, I'm in charge in this house!”

Eden felt like a rag doll in his grip; the strand of pearls snapped, and little beads spilled all over the floor. “I thought I was helping you!” she cried as he noted the broken necklace and let go of her. “You just stood there like a stick!”

Max said nothing, but stomped to the window where he stood with his shoulders slumped. His hand went to the drape, but he made no attempt to pull it back. After a painful silence, he turned on his heel, brushed past Eden and headed for the door. “How can you pretend you helped,” he growled from the threshold, “when in fact you hindered?”

Angry and humiliated, Eden let loose her reply a fraction too late. “I didn't ask to be kissed!” she called after him, but the door had already closed in his wake. Fighting back tears as she bent to collect the scattered pearls, Eden spoke again, though this time in a whisper: “I didn't, I swear it!”

But somewhere deep within her, a small voice said she lied.

M
arlborough's longtime friend Lord Ailesbury had barely escaped going to the block on Tower Hill. Other accused conspirators had not been so lucky. The King's justice had been meted out. But rumors persisted that neither William nor Bentinck was satisfied. At home and abroad, there were still Jacobites plotting to restore James. As for Marlborough, his trial date had been postponed, due to insufficient evidence.

Eden had visited him on two other occasions, but the second time she found his quarters moved to a cramped cell without amenities. The gaoler had been much more punctilious about the length of the visit, hustling her away after a brief ten minutes. Despite her father's optimism, Eden had left the Tower precincts in a somber mood.

As was often the case these days, Max was not at home when she returned. He seemed to have a number of pressing engagements concerning his inheritance on the Continent and his appeasement of Harriet. Unable to express her anxieties about Marlborough to Max, Eden cast discretion to the wind and entrusted her innermost fears to
Vrouw
de Koch. As it turned out, the housekeeper knew a great deal more than Eden had realized.

“
This is too small a house to hide much,” she told Eden, plying her with freshly baked current buns and strawberry jam. “Himself tries to keep his little secrets, but I know him too well.”

“
You were his nurse?” Eden ventured, toying with a warm currant bun.

Vrouw
de Koch shrugged. “Of a sort. I was his mother's confidante. She was a pretty thing—smart, too. Catharina of Anhalt-Dessau, daughter of the Elector of Saxony. She married Prince Frederick of Nassau-Dillenburg, Duke of Brabant.” The housekeeper paused to take another bite of the buttered bun she held. “Happy they were, all things considered.”

“
Such as?” Eden murmured innocently.

Vrouw
de Koch was too shrewd to be duped. “It's not just tittle-tattle. You talk of Jan and Jana from the farm—that's gossip. But when you're speaking of German Electors and Flemish Princes, that's history. Remember,” she admonished, wagging a buttery finger, “you heard it here. Prince Frederick was killed in the war, at Huy. Princess Catharina wasted away. A broken heart, maybe, but more likely one of those sicknesses that takes people young. They had only the one child, Maximilian. The others were stillborn, which was very sad. You'd think Prince Max would be spoiled, eh?” She didn't wait for Eden's answer, but gave a firm shake of her head. “Not a bit of it! Sometimes I thought they blamed him for living when the others didn't.”