Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (12 page)

Nicholas met Lord Melcham's challenging gaze. "I will do what I have pledged to do if it is at all in my power. I am sure the matter can be easily handled. Despite your evidence, I cannot believe Therese is involved in a plot to free Napoleon, or that she was responsible for Anstable's death. She is completely apolitical and dislikes violence. She cares for nothing except herself."

Melcham shrugged and, obviously deciding his plan was not threatened, resumed his seat. "Perhaps she thinks to gain Bonaparte's interest and favor. I hear she is a most attractive woman."

"Most. But also shrewd enough to know that chances of fortune or glory through Napoleon are now remote. His day is past."

"True enough, though some of us would rather he was farther away than Elba." Lord Melcham studied the young man who had been recruited into his undercover force.

He was handsome in an unusual kind of way. Well-enough looking but it was the way he moved and something in the eyes that set him apart. He could see why his man in Paris had thought Nicholas Delaney could twist a woman around his fingers.

Lord Melcham was used to judging men, and he judged this one to be intelligent and not without character. But unpredictable. He didn't like dealing with these bored sprigs of the aristocracy who thought it fun to dabble in espionage. Anstable had been one, and look where that had got them.

"You'll carry on with it then?" he asked at last.

"Yes."

"Then I thank you, Delaney, and wish you luck. We have finally put an end to war, and it is the duty of every man to preserve the peace." Knowing he had been resented, Lord Melcham attempted a genial tone. "Don't suppose it'll be a hardship at all, Delaney, making love to a woman like that. Eh?"

Nicholas stood and his expression was very cool. "On the contrary, Lord Melcham, it will be most unpleasant. But then, having missed the Peninsula, I feel it is time to suffer in the cause of my country. Good day to you."

Lord Melcham was left to stare at the door. "And damn your eyes too," he muttered. After a moment he managed to dismiss the qualm he felt about the plan he had put in hand. It was too important a matter to fret over damaged sensibilities. He resolved, however, to be a little more careful in his future dealings with Nicholas Delaney.

* * *

Eleanor was still sitting curled up in the library, delighting in the unlikely adventures of the heroine of
The Miraculous Nuptials
, when Nicholas returned. He gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

"What have you found to do with yourself, my dear?" he asked. He looked at the title of her book and said, "Is reality not miraculous enough for you?"

They both burst out laughing.

She gave a brief account of her activities and obtained his approval of her management of the accounts. Then she turned the question back on him.

"Oh, besides seeing your brother—a most slimy individual—I have been setting in train some business."

"What did Lionel say?" Eleanor asked, feeling sick at the thought of him.

Nicholas just laughed. "I have to give him credit for nerve. He welcomed me to the family and tried to borrow money. Short of thrashing him, which was a temptation, there seemed nothing which could disturb his good humor. You needn't fear him. He won't defy me and bother you."

"Thank God." Eleanor began to believe that particular nightmare at least was over.

Nicholas then turned the talk to books, and over dinner he talked of his travels, switching from France to America to Austria to China.

At his instruction, the servants had brought the food and left. They served themselves and each other. Dining at a small table, isolated by the pool of candlelight, they could have been alone in the world. Eleanor was deliciously happy.

"Surely travel to such places must be very uncomfortable," she said. "I have heard even the finest vessels can be primitive on long voyages."

"That is certainly true," he replied with feeling. "But not important. I like my comforts as well as the next man, but I think it foolish to be so afraid of a little hardship that one always stays on the safe, familiar path."

"I would not call capture by Chinese pirates a 'little hardship,'" Eleanor said with a smile. Then she sobered as she considered his words. "It can be difficult, you know, to escape from those familiar paths, even when they are not particularly comfortable."

He nodded. "For women, yes, unless they are very rich or very brave. I met a lady missionary in Ceylon who had gone there against the opposition of her family. And Lady Hester Stanhope is, of course, notorious."

Eleanor felt again that crushing sense of unworthiness.

"You must think me a very paltry specimen to have done nothing to better my situation."

He reached out to cover her hand with his. "You? No. As you say, it is very difficult to break out of the familiar. You have hardly started yet. I expect great things of you, my dear. The ladies I mentioned are twice your age."

Eleanor laughed under his teasing. "You make me sound like an infant, whereas I know I am, or was, at my last prayers."

He snapped his long fingers and his eyes flashed a challenge. "That for marriage! You are a young woman with perhaps sixty years of life before you. Sixty years of freedom. Another wedding gift I give you. Use it."

She stared. She was almost afraid of him in this mood. "I don't know what you mean."

"You will."

Sinkingly, she remembered he would be away for most of their lives. She would have the privileges of marriage without the constraints of a husband. She supposed many women would be grateful. She summoned a smile. "Thank you for the gift."

Perhaps he caught her ambivalence, for he grinned. "I refuse to believe I'm casting my pearls before swine. That reminds me, I have something to show you. I shall have a glass of port in the study with you, if you do not object."

She graciously allowed this, and as they walked to the more comfortable room her mind mulled over the concept of freedom. As she took a seat by the fire and he poured from the decanter left by Hollygirt, she said, "May I have some?"

He raised his brows. "Do you have a taste for it?"

Oh, why would she never learn to avoid impulse? "I have never tried it. I was trying an untrodden path. I'm sorry. It is a silly idea."

He reached out to touch her hand. "Not at all. And I should not have queried such a simple request." He held his glass out to her. "I'm afraid this is a dry port. Uncommon, and not to everyone's taste."

She sipped the pale golden fluid. It was strong, heady stuff, heavy on her tongue but full of rich flavors. She sipped again. "I like it, I think."

He rang for another glass and filled it. Then he raised it to her. "To your adventures, my dear."

"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, and yet it was impossible to take offense at his manner.

"No." He was quite serious, she saw. "I am full of admiration. Only a fool leaps off cliffs. Small steps are much better in the end." He sat down opposite her. "I started my traveling when I was ten years old and ran away from home. I had gone a hundred miles and was trying to get taken on as a cabin boy when my father found me. I wasn't, on the whole, sorry to be found. Which is why I tell you if I find you drowning your sorrows in port, I shall put a stop to your adventures forthwith."

She raised a brow boldly. "Unfair! May I only adventure as far as you permit?"

"Of course. Until the day comes when you do not care what I say, and then we shall doubtless have a battle royal. You may well win. Now tell me, do you have any other plans for adventure?"

Eleanor could not believe how happy she felt. It was as unaccustomed and delicious as the port. Perhaps it was the port, but it didn't seem to matter.

"I must have new clothes," she said, and then added a little awkwardly, "I need some money, actually."

He was nonplused. "Good heavens, I never thought. My apologies." He went to a picture on the wall and moved it aside to reveal a small door, which he unlocked. He took out a purse and gave it to her. From a glance she could tell there were over twenty guineas in it.

"That will keep you in funds for the time being," he said. "I will arrange a regular allowance. Don't spend that on clothes or the house," he added. "Have them send their bills to me."

Eleanor was dumbfounded. "But then what is this for?"

"Whatever you wish," he shrugged. "Now, I promised to show you something." He took some boxes from the safe. "There are one or two pieces of jewelry you may like to wear. This is just my magpie pickings. I will choose some especially for you as soon as I can. Kit has the family heirlooms and may suggest you wear them. You must do as you wish, but I don't advise it. It is still possible he might decide to marry one day, and it would be galling to have to give them up."

Like a child with a box of toys, Eleanor looked at the jewelry so casually laid before her. There was a beautiful sapphire parure of delicate design and a number of individual brooches and rings. There was also a long string of glowing pink pearls. Eleanor had never seen anything quite like it.

"How beautiful," she said softly. "It must be worth a fortune."

"The proverbial king's ransom, though in this case a rajah. It was payment for a service I did him. Such a number of matched pink pearls is rare. I think it will suit you. Order a simple dress to complement them and we will show you and them off together."

She cradled the gleaming rope in her hands. "Are we to go about in Society then?"

"Yes, as much as you wish. I may not always be able to be your escort, but you will soon make acquaintances of your own. I suppose," he said with a grimace, "we should introduce you to the family. I will keep the pearls and sapphires here. Ask if you need them. The rest you may keep by you."

Eleanor gave the necklace back a little reluctantly. He picked out a ring in which a large diamond was set in carved coral. "This is one of my favorites."

He slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand and dropped a gentle kiss upon her lips.

Eleanor saw he was tired. It was in his eyes and his voice, though he masked it well. Did that mean he would not bother her this night?

Instantly she berated herself for the thought. But out of consideration for him she rose and excused herself to go to her bed, thus freeing him to do the same if he wished. She also steeled herself to endure, no, to enjoy, whatever might come.

As Jenny brushed her hair to silk, Eleanor frowned at herself in the mirror. "I wish," she said, "my eyes were green or brown. Anything but this wishy-washy blue."

"You've very nice eyes, ma'am," the maid said. "But I could make them finer by plucking your brows."

"Plucking? Oh, I don't know. It would not be proper, and it must hurt dreadfully."

The maid shrugged. "Everyone does it, ma'am, and sometimes a little pain's worth it, isn't it? One of the ladies used to say it in French—" The maid stopped her brushing and put her hands to her mouth. "Ooh, I am sorry, ma'am."

Eleanor laughed. "Honestly, Jenny. Don't tell Mrs. Hollygirt, but I don't mind what happened before I married Mr. Delaney. What were they like, these ladies?"

Jenny was goggle-eyed at this liberal view but not averse to gossip. "Well, there really haven't been that many, ma'am, and all foreigners. They were all beautiful... Well, no," the maid said thoughtfully as she recommenced her brushing. "Not really that, but fascinating."

Eleanor thought fascinating was worse than beautiful. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't resist a further question. "Were they common or ladies?"

Jenny had to think about it. "Well, Mam'zelle Desirée, she was a lady sure enough, but could she scream and swear! All in French, but a body can tell what's being said. The master hit her once to shut her up, and it was about time, too."

Eleanor felt a tremor of nervousness at this information. She should have known Nicholas was too perfect to be real.

"Madame Amelie was very proper," Jenny continued. "A real beauty with big dark eyes. Though," her voice dropped to a whisper, "I heard tell she had darkie blood, and she was from over in America, so it's very likely. She was kind, but thought a lot of herself..."

At this point Eleanor came to her senses and cut the maid off before she could continue the list. "I think it would be best to forget all these ladies," she said firmly.

"Of course, ma'am," said Jenny cheerfully. "And you have nothing to worry about. You're his wife."

"Yes," said Eleanor rather bleakly. "I'm his wife."

If Nicholas was tired, he still did not come quickly to bed. Eleanor was drifting off to sleep when the door opened and he came to join her. There was only a nightlight burning, but by its glow she saw him slip out of his robe. She felt him slide into bed beside her. She worked very hard at keeping her breathing slow, at not evidencing any of her apprehension.

He gently kissed her cheek, said good night, and went to sleep. Eleanor could have wept. She was prey to a welter of conflicting emotions-relief, astonishment, anticlimax, pique...

Obviously he did not desire her, and why should she be hurt or surprised at that? Could this mean, however, that she could have the comfort of his presence without...