Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (13 page)

It was surely what she wanted. On this prospect, she fell unhappily asleep.

Chapter 5

Eleanor awoke very early the next morning as the household was only just beginning to stir. The fire had not yet been lit and the chill drove her to stay under the covers, where her only occupation was to study her bedmate, who was lying with his back toward her.

His extraordinary coloring made him appear to be a statue of old gold.

His body seemed to be browned as far as she could see, which was not very far, except for the white of a scar on his shoulder. Holding her breath she edged down the blanket a little to expose it. It must have been a dreadful wound.

"A rifle ball in Massachusetts. I didn't duck fast enough."

Startled and guilty she snatched back her hand, but he rolled over and captured it. "Eleanor," he said with a warm smile, "you are quite entitled to concern yourself over my body, so don't make a fuss. I would offer you a guided tour of my scars—that is the worst—if I didn't think it would embarrass you."

"But I am sorry," she said determinedly. "Inspecting you while you are asleep is rather underhand. And I have another confession to make."

"Yes?" he said, still holding her hand and quite un-alarmed.

She swallowed. "I have found out about some of the women you have had here, by questioning the servants. I didn't intend to, but my curiosity got the better of me." She waited for the explosion but it did not come.

"Did you indeed?" he said in mild surprise. He studied her. "So now you know all my secrets."

"I don't mind," she assured him.

Now he did seem surprised. "Why not?"

"Why should I? I was no concern of yours and you no concern of mine."

He lay back, his face disconcertingly blank. "Very balanced thinking. Now, of course, it would be different."

Eleanor stopped an instinctive agreement. Here was where she could repay his kindness. "Not if you are discreet, Nicholas. After all, we are not a normal couple and there is no love involved."

He sat up sharply and looked hard at her. "Stop being so damned reasonable, woman." He pulled her hard against him for a forceful kiss that turned her dizzy.

"Nicholas," she gasped when she could at last speak, "I don't understand."

"Never mind," he said, his eyes intense. He turned her so she faced away and then she felt his fingers begin to unravel her plait. The brushing touch against her nape caused a frisson of pleasure down her spine. Then he threaded his fingers in her hair and spread it loose across her shoulders.

His hands rested there, and feather kisses fell through hair against her shoulders. Then he parted her hair and his mouth was hot on her skin. Belatedly she realized his intent and stiffened.

He stopped his gentle torment and turned her. The cessation of the magic shocked her into a realization of what she had done, of what she had stopped. Something in her cried out in frustration. But she couldn't... they couldn't...

What should she do?

What would he do?

What would he think?

For a moment he seemed bemused, but then he thoughtfully drew a long strand of hair away from her eyes. "Tell me what the matter is. Is it those other women?"

She shook her head, a lump in her throat preventing speech.

"Then what?"

She was unwilling to put her thoughts into words, but his implacable silence demanded an answer. "I just... It is time to get up."

He burst out laughing and it seemed genuine. "Eleanor, you can do better than that. And it isn't a headache or tiredness. If you don't want my lovemaking you must just tell me. Did I frighten you after all on our wedding night?"

Surprised, she said, "No."

His eyebrows went up as he considered her obvious sincerity. "I was afraid I might have. I intended to be more moderate, but tiredness, too much wine, and your wonderful hair undid me. Very well. What is the problem?"

He would not leave her alone until it was out. "It is not that it upsets me, but it simply isn't decent, Nicholas, in broad daylight. The maid could come in at any moment."

She had her reward for honesty when she saw the tension leave his face. "It isn't something nasty to be hidden in the dark, my dear," he said gently, his finger tracing the line of her jaw. "I will enjoy teaching you that, I think. But not just yet."

There was only kindness in his voice, but Eleanor was aware that, despite her good intentions, she had failed him once again. Her face must have shown it.

He gave a little groan and turned away from her. "Heavens, I must be making a mess of this. And it can only get worse."

Eleanor bit her lip, lost. "You said it would get better."

He turned suddenly back to her. "That's not what I'm talking about." She saw him collect himself. What a lot of trouble she was to him.

"My experience with women," he said carefully, "has been considerable. You know that. But they have all been whores in one sense or another. It seems to me women are not that different, and I have been acting accordingly. I could be wrong, though. I probably am. What I've just said sounds damn rude, actually. You must be honest with me or I will go blundering along until there is no hope left for us. Do you understand?"

She nodded, though she was not sure she did understand. Then, spurred by noble motives and the remnants of arousal still in her she added, looking down at her hands, "None of this is your fault, Nicholas. None of it. You have been kind and thoughtful and I only want to be a good wife to you. Please do whatever you wish."

It was fortunate she was not looking at his face at that moment. No trace of the anguish he felt was in his voice as he said, "At the moment, all I want to do is lie here and look at you."

She turned to him in surprise. "I can't think why. I am no beauty."

He tweaked a strand of her hair, then curled it around his finger. "Who says so? Beauty is open to definition and is usually boring. If you heard that any of my guests here was beautiful," he said with an unrepentant grin, "you were lied to."

She smiled teasingly back at him. "Oh, not beautiful, they say, merely fascinating."

He nodded. "That's more like it. And you too are fascinating."

"I?"

"I doubt I should build up your consequence in this way, but yes. Fascinating. You enslaved my brother in just a few weeks, and that is no mean achievement..."

"Not enough for him to wish to marry me," she interjected without thinking. She immediately wished she could shrink away to nothing.

He raised his eyebrows. "I think I will ignore the implications of that-"

"I didn't mean-"

"But it was an achievement," he overrode her. "My brother is not over fond of feminine company. And now you have my interest captured. You are quite out of the ordinary way, you know."

Eleanor attempted to regain a light tone. "I think I should ignore the implications of that remark."

"Why?" he asked coolly. "Do you seek to be one of the common herd? If so, I see problems ahead, for I emphatically do not."

There was a considerable silence and then Eleanor said, "I need to think about that a lot. Do I understand I have to shape myself in your image?"

He sat up, almost offending her modesty, a keen light in his eyes. "Is that what I said? I can see many enjoyable discussions with you, my sweet. You always put your finger on the point. And to answer your question, I don't think I want to force you into my mold. I cannot imagine you developing into an Eleanor I would not like."

Having dropped this bombshell he went on, "Now, dear lady, avert your eyes if you must, for I am going to beat a hasty retreat while I still can."

Still struggling with what he had said, Eleanor did not avert her eyes. She was fascinated to see that the brown on his beautiful body, though of varying shades, covered him entirely.

Once he had gone, she lay back to think over the whole conversation and occupied herself that way until Jenny came with her morning chocolate. She had to admit that her husband was fast becoming her private obsession.

When she went downstairs to the breakfast room, newly brought into use, she found her husband had just finished his meal. He stayed a moment to talk to her.

"Do you have any idea which modiste you will patronize, Eleanor?"

"I do not know any, I'm afraid. Nor do I have any idea how much I may spend on clothes."

He smiled. "All you wish. You won't bankrupt us unless you take to gambling for very high stakes. I will be happy to put my ill-gotten gains to use in your adornment."

That gave Eleanor cause to wonder just where his money had come from. Had Lord Stainbridge been lying when he said his brother was modestly circumstanced?

When she spoke, however, she merely said, "I fear it will be expensive if you wish me to be fashionable. I have no faith in these stories of clever little women who can create ball gowns out of old sheets, and if they are so gifted it seems paltry indeed not to pay them what they are worth."

"Honest, too," he said approvingly. "You are a pearl without price. If you will be advised by me, you will go to Madame Augustine d'Esterville." He wrote down an address and flicked the card over to her. "Unlike many, she really is French, though I doubt the validity of the de. She is an artist and chooses her clients carefully. I believe she will accept you. She has a fondness for me, and I have been a good customer in the past." He grinned. "I have no shame, have I?"

"No, none," she agreed amiably.

He rose. "Kit sent a message. There is a formal family dinner planned for next week, but if I were you, I would be prepared for a visitation of the aunts at any time, maybe even today."

"Today?" Eleanor exclaimed.

"Rather importunate, but they do believe we have had our honeymoon abroad. I have these two aunts, you see, who cannot bear not to be the first in anything. They will both turn up at the earliest possible moment. I've asked Kit to come over this afternoon, in case. I will be here myself if I can." He dropped a light kiss on her cheek and was gone.

Eleanor sat still, in a quiet panic. She had forgotten he had a family and that his family would want to inspect an unannounced intruder. What would they make of her? What could they make of her? A woman past her prayers—and with a notorious brother—who had married the younger son of their noble house in mysterious circumstances. Abroad...

And her support on this occasion was to be the man who had raped her.

She was very inclined to rescind the invitation to Lord Stainbridge but decided, on this occasion at least, his usefulness might outweigh her repugnance.

There was also the question of her husband's business, which kept taking him away from hearth and home. He was not, after all, in politics, nor did he have estates or business to manage. She feared his business could only be his French mistress.

Despite her resolve to treat such matters with a level head, Eleanor felt very inclined to smash the delicate china.

With resolution, she pushed the matter aside and applied herself to her breakfast. She could do nothing but endure it, and she had long since learned not to fight hopeless battles.

Instead she returned her thoughts to the family invasion and how to face it. She must do something about her appearance. She might as well visit the modiste recommended by Nicholas, though any gowns ordered there would take some time to arrive. Perhaps Madame Augustine would be able to recommend a passable purveyor of ready-made gowns.

She and Jenny drove out to the address on the card. The modiste proved to be everything Nicholas had promised, even if discreetly curious about Nicholas Delaney's bride. Eleanor gave nothing away except an order for a complete wardrobe. She was thrilled to leave with two ready-made gowns, which the woman assured her were a vast improvement on her current wardrobe. Eleanor did not doubt it and did not enquire too closely into their magical appearance. If some other customer had to wait a day or two extra, so be it.

As Madame Augustine also provided all accessories other than bonnets, and had her business but two doors from an excellent milliner, Eleanor was fully equipped when she returned home.