Lady of Sin (26 page)

“She spoke a different language. At worst, it was a misunderstanding.”

“Jenny said she spoke English well enough.” Charlotte reached for a book that she kept in the carriage to read on long rides. “I will wait here while you return and ask him about it.”

She settled in with her book. He experienced a wave of irritation, full of all the provocations she had ever caused.

“Charlotte, there are times like this when I want nothing more than to turn you over my knee.”

She did not even look up. “Would that arouse you, Nathaniel?”

“
Jesus
, Charl.”

She shot him a far too knowing look. “I see. You want it for more than excitement. You are vexed with me. Is it because I have told you what to do, or because I know that you intended to speak privately with him at some point anyway? Really, darling, there is no reason to make another journey. You may as well deal with it now.”

Lord have mercy, the woman was going to drive him mad. He jumped out of the carriage and strode up the lane.

“He is in the garden, sir.”

Nathaniel pushed past the housekeeper. “I will go to him. I forgot to give him a message entrusted in my care.”

He was in no mood for formalities and niceties. He
had
intended to return at some point and have this conversation, damn it. Probably. Most likely. If he was going to have it now, he wanted to be done with it.

He found his way to the garden. Yardley sat on an iron bench in the midst of naturalistically arranged plantings of bushes and branches aching to bud. His eyes were closed and his face raised to the sky. He did not sleep, Nathaniel was certain. He appeared to be a man composing himself, searching for internal stillness.

Yardley did not hear the approach until Nathaniel was almost upon him. His eyes flashed open. Awareness. Caution. Fear. It was all there, plainly this time, before the actor could collect himself.

Nathaniel grabbed the shoulder of his coat and hauled him to his feet. “Come with me. This way.” He pushed Yardley to the far end of the garden, to a wall obscured by a tall hedge.

He threw Yardley up against the wall. “Now you will tell me the rest.”

Yardley tried to sink into the stone. He sputtered with indignation and objections. Nathaniel lost his patience.

“This living was late coming to you. It is a handsome one too. Very handsome for a tutor. You received it near the time that woman came from Spain. Not from Philip, but from his brother.”

Yardley started crumbling. Shrinking. His fear smelled. He glanced around as if trapped, or worried someone might overhear. Nathaniel did nothing to reassure him. He stepped yet closer, so his size dwarfed the man.

“Isabella Zafra thought she was truly married. Tell me why.”

“His honor,” he croaked. The first words made it easier, like a blockage had dislodged. He inhaled deeply. “The night of that Catholic marriage, she went to him. A wedding night. He was an honorable man, but—well, he was young and infatuated and—the next morning, he demanded I perform another ceremony, an Anglican one. His sense of honor demanded it, since he had—they had—”

“You had taken orders already?”

He nodded. “I was ordained right after completing my studies. A position as a curate waited for me, but after several years it was given to another. So I took a position as a tutor.”

“It was a legal ceremony then.”

Yardley looked miserable. “I do not know! There were two witnesses, but local people and who knows if they even understood what they signed. James refused to witness or be present.”

Of course he refused. He did not want to be the proof should this marriage ever be repudiated by his brother.

“I never registered the marriage.” Yardley sounded desperate to make light of it all. “She was dead, the whole matter was full of ambiguities and—even the license was nothing more than a document drawn up by me as best I could, with their signatures.”

“Where is that document?”

“I burned it.”

Nathaniel looked over his shoulder, at the garden and handsome house. He reached over and fingered the edge of Yardley’s silk cravat. “No, you did not. Or if you did, Mardenford does not think so. You have let him believe you still have it. You are blackmailing him.”

“Blackmail! How dare—I have never demanded a penny—”

“Then you have a partnership. Or he has seduced your morals. He sees to your welfare and comfort with this living, to ensure your conscience does not lead you to something foolish. If your silence is this expensive, you must know about the boy.”

“Boy? What boy? I know nothing about—”

“When I referred to an inquiry by the House of Lords, you knew what I meant. The title could only be in question if Philip had a son, unknown but legitimate.”

Yardley’s eyes widened in horror. He reddened. Nathaniel let him absorb his position for a ten count, then stepped back, physically untrapping him.

He did not want this man intimidated and cowering, but instead amenable to interrogation. He altered his stance to one less towering and lowered his voice to a friendlier tone.

“I will learn all of it. I am close already. You knew about the boy, which means James told you. He could only know because Isabella wrote to him when she arrived in England. It must have been a shock for both of you.”

Yardley relaxed a little. He closed his eyes and vaguely shook his head. “You cannot imagine the distress. He put her off, of course. Explained how it had been. I suggested he give her a little money, since the boy—it seemed only right. He refused to believe it was his brother’s son. A by-blow of another man, he said. He refused to acknowledge what had happened or that he had any responsibility for her or the boy. He told her to go away.”

“She did not go away, however. She continued writing for almost a year.”

“It sounds as if you know more than enough and have nothing else to learn. Leave me in peace. I did nothing wrong. My role was small and long ago. I have told you all I know.”

Nathaniel doubted that. He looked away, to a distant boxwood hedge along the eastern wall of the garden. Succulent green shoots rowed its bottom, as bulbs pushed up their leaves.

Did he want to know the rest? This had been enough to appease Charlotte. She could live with this story. Her husband had shown honor in a way, and that old alliance had been formed under extraordinary circumstances.

He could walk out of this garden now, and leave the final questions unanswered. Or he could ask the questions that might reveal truths that could not be ignored and that would bring Charlotte more pain and massive scandal.

His need to know had led to a horrible place. All he had to show for it was a history to give Harry, and a dreadful decision.

Yardley shifted his weight. Nathaniel glanced at the movement. Without choosing to, his gaze landed right on Yardley’s eyes. On them, and in them.

The truth flickered out at him. It was visible beneath the relief now that Yardley’s guard was down. Unmistakably there.

In that instant, the choice to walk away still ignorant, to never know, was lost.

“You met her,” he said. “When he arranged to see her that day near the Thames, he brought you with him. He wanted a man of God to explain why she had no claims. You know what happened there. You saw it all.”

Desperation replaced relief in Yardley eyes. Masks rose and fell in quick succession. Confusion, then indignation, then anger, then . . . nothing. No mask, and no strength. He looked at Nathaniel with a stricken, beseeching face. His eyes glistened and his mouth trembled.

He began sinking. His back slid down the stone until he sat on the ground like a big, limp doll. He looked up at Nathaniel with great sorrow, then gazed into the garden.

“I am ruined by my own weakness. May God forgive me.”

Nathaniel climbed into the carriage and gave orders for it to move. Charlotte set aside her book. It had been a longer wait than she expected.

“Did he offer tea? Is that the reason for the delay?”

“Brandy, actually.”

“It is early for brandy.”

“I’ll be damned, so it is. I clear forgot the time of day when I accepted.”

His tone was not nearly as playful as normal when he pointed out her game. His expression on returning had been very thoughtful and displeased.

“Are you angry that I asked you to go back?”

“You did not ask. You demanded it. I am not angry that you did, but I am not happy that I complied.”

“You would have sought him out again, Nathaniel. You would have gone back eventually.”

“You do not know that, damn it. I do not know that.”

She gave his annoyance some time to ebb. She waited several miles before speaking again. “Did you learn anything of significance?”

His jaw firmed. His gaze speared a warning at her.

“Are you going to tell me what it was?”

“It was not significant to you and your inquiries. I learned nothing more about your husband.”

“I find it hard to believe a clear line can be drawn on significance. It is all a knot, you said. If you are not telling me to protect me, I remind you that I have chosen to hear it all, and can decide for myself—”

His sudden movement interrupted her. He reached, grasped, lifted. The world spun. Then she was sprawled on his lap, her shoulders supported by his strong arm. He cupped her face with long, firm fingers.

“I will protect you when I choose, how I choose. I will cut off my arm if I think it necessary. I will kill a man if I conclude I must. Do not dare to interfere with my decisions on that. Do we have a right understanding on that, madam?”

His lack of humor, his firm command, left her stunned. “Yes, Nathaniel.”

“Good.” His hold softened. His fingers slid down her jaw to her neck in a sinuous path. “Now, kiss me. We will spend this journey back to London on important things, not arguments about Mr. Yardley.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

N
athaniel finished dressing for dinner. He would be attending a private party tonight at Charlotte’s house. A party for two.

Her move to her sister’s home made their affair much easier. Too easy, perhaps. The inconveniences of a liaison no longer inhibited their meeting. He could call in the afternoon and simply never leave. Or arrive for a late dinner party at which there were no other guests.

He had done this twice now since their return to town four days ago. She had known better than to quiz him about Yardley, but he knew she wondered what else had been learned. He shut that away when he was with her, but otherwise had spent these last days in a long, internal moral debate. He had needed to make a hard decision, one that involved more than Charlotte and Harry. It weighed on him, and his choice still occupied him now while he fixed his cuffs.

He took his pocket watch from its case. Beneath it, the edge of a paper showed. He had debated how to handle Mardenford, and that paper would play a crucial role. He had settled on the best course, he believed—one that would protect Charlotte but still achieve some justice. His conscience had not yet accommodated the compromise, however. The final decision to act had not been made.

Jacobs left to tell the Albany grooms to ready his horse. Nathaniel finished with his neckwear, donned his coats, and walked to the front of the apartment.

Voices greeted him. A visitor had come. Jacobs stood in the reception hall, trying to block the advance of a tall man with steely hair and eyes.

“Father,” Nathaniel said, interrupting the earl’s intimidating orders. “You choose the oddest times to visit.”

“I need to talk to you. It is difficult to find you these days. You are rarely here, or even in town.”

It appeared that dinner would have to wait. Nathaniel led the way into the sitting room. “If you had written, I would have arranged to be available.”

Norriston snorted. “At your convenience, no doubt.”

“No, at yours.” It would not have been the truth a month ago, but it was now. Nathaniel realized he did not mind this intrusion as much as he normally would.

“Brandy? Sherry?” he asked. “Have you come to offer another living?”

“I have come to talk about the affair you are having with Lady Mardenford.”

His father had not taken him aback in many years, but this calm statement did. “As a gentleman, I cannot respond to that bald accusation.”

His father sank into the chair that Nathaniel normally used. “As a gentleman, I cannot make it. I speak as a father to a son, however.”

Nathaniel brought another chair nearby and sat. He could refuse this conversation. He could lie. He realized that he did not want to do either. “And here I thought we had been discreet.”

“I am sure you were. I wouldn’t know. I do not pay attention to the gossip on these matters. I am aware of this affair because Mardenford spoke to me. He is distraught that you compromise her reputation, and forced him to take steps.”

“The steps he took were unnecessary, and cruel to his own child. He is very distraught, I am sure, but not for her reputation. He will be more so when you report that I have proposed to her.”

Norriston’s attention snapped alert. “Has she accepted?”

“Not yet.”

“Is there a chance?”

“I am hopeful.”

His father absorbed that. “It would be a good match. Not bad at all.”

“I think so.”

“Of course, her family—well, some odd doings there. I hear her sister recently married that solicitor. I admit to less shock than some others profess. Never liked Penelope’s first husband myself. I always thought there was something unhealthy about the man. But Laclere’s wife, well . . . and everyone knows that fortune is from trade, all of it, Laclere’s now too—but Lady M. seems to have turned out fine and upright. Handsome woman too . . .”

Nathaniel let his father meander through the details. He guessed where the twisting path was going.

“I should warn you that she will not aid you in turning me into a bishop.”

Norriston raised his eyebrows, then sighed. “Too bad. Willful woman, from what I’ve seen. She would have been a useful ally.” He shrugged. “If she will tolerate your ill-chosen employment, I can reconcile myself to it, I suppose.”

The capitulation was so unexpected that Nathaniel grew suspicious. “If I had known a good match would sway you, I would have looked for a second prospect with more tenacity.”

His father’s face fell at the allusion to the first match that Nathaniel had planned. “She did not know what she was getting in you, that girl. Nor you in her. She did not know about your stubbornness, and your belief in truth and principle. Did you want her harping your whole life, once she learned what was yours for the taking?”

They had never spoken of his father’s motivations in arranging that fateful visit where his intended learned what he could have with one word. The episode had created the final distance between them, and froze an already chilly relationship. Now the ice was melting rapidly in this sitting room with neither of them planning or expecting it.

Broaching that sorry episode, explaining the reasons, altered the air in the chamber. It stilled as if time waited for something to happen. For an argument to ensue. Or for a response that would move them closer to some common ground.

They were not so different, Nathaniel realized. Perhaps too much alike. Nor was his father a fool. He was an intelligent man whose judgment had clashed with his son’s, that was all.

Nathaniel never expected to sympathize with his father’s view, but he suddenly did. He understood the need to protect one’s own now, and the desire to control the history they would live.

“I regret that my choices disappointed you,” he found himself saying. “I do not regret the choices themselves, but . . .”

“They did not disappoint me. They annoyed the hell out of me. There is a difference.”

Nathaniel laughed and his father did too. It had been years since they laughed together. No, not years. Forever.

“See here, Nat, I had visions for you. Canterbury eventually, I was sure. I do not like the notoriety of your defenses, that is true. It is unseemly for you to be in the Old Bailey. I understand that you do not do it for pride or fame, however. I know why you do it, and the sentiment does not disappoint me. You are a man of honor and seeker of truth, and
that
is why I thought you would make a good bishop.”

Nathaniel rose and paced away. His father’s words moved him. He did not know what to do with the unfamiliar emotion. He gazed into the dark beyond the window and waited for the intimacy to pass, for the distance to return.

It didn’t. In speaking man-to-man, they had become father and son again.

“I am learning that sometimes principle is a chain. I am discovering that learning the truth can be destructive,” he said.

Silence claimed the chamber after he spoke. He sensed his father watching him.

“What is it, boy?”

“I cannot tell you. If you ever learn of it, it will be along with the entire world.”

Another stillness. Nathaniel turned to see his father pondering this cryptic statement, choosing the words of advice that were the first allowed in both their memories.

“There are some truths better kept from the world. I know that sounds dodgy—”

“No, not dodgy.”

“Is it better known or not? That is the question. And if not, can right still be done? Not easy to decide.”

No, not easy to decide.

“I have not helped you much.” His father looked more resigned than disappointed.

“You have helped me greatly. Mardenford would be surprised to know how much.”

A dismissive wave of the hand greeted that. “He expected me to rave with shock about this affair, no doubt. He probably thought I would threaten your allowance. Little, purse-lipped squirrel.”

Not a squirrel, but a close relative. A rat.

Norriston got to his feet. “You are dressed for dinner, and I am delaying you. My reaction to the squirrel’s revelation was not what he thinks it was. I have long admired Lady Mardenford, and think she would suit you well. She has spirit and a sharp mind. I came to let you know that should you marry the lady, I will release the estate. I can’t have you going to her almost penniless. That is too dramatic for me.”

“You are being very generous. And if the lady refuses me?”

Norriston grinned. “I suggest you see that she does not.”

“Bianca spoke with Ambrose’s nurse in the park,” Charlotte said as she undressed. “She plans to charm the young woman into letting me see him someday. The nurse said that James never visits with his son now. He spends no time with Ambrose at all.”

“He never spent time with his son, darling. He spent time with you. Ambrose was just his excuse.”

Nathaniel was probably right, and that made her sad. It was another reason to use subterfuge if necessary to see the child. She and Bianca had spent the afternoon concocting plans to do it. With James so indifferent to his son now, there had to be a way.

She cast her hose aside and approached the tub. Nathaniel already soaked there, reclining like a river god. He filled it, but there would still be room for her. Just enough to snuggle in his embrace.

He watched as she strolled toward him. His gaze scorched. A hundred tiny fires ignited in her body. Her love flamed too, the way it always did now when she saw the passion in his eyes.

“You have the most accommodating servants,” he said as he reached up to help her step in. His hands guided her down so that she lay on top of him, her crown on his shoulder and her back along his length. He made room for her legs between his bent knees.

“My sister trained them well.”

A toasty fire kept them warm in the tub. The house was not very large and had no grand dressing room. This little ritual had to occur in her own bedroom.

She had called for the bath when she saw Nathaniel’s state upon arriving for dinner. He was very distracted tonight. Coiled tightly with that energy wanting to burst out. She could not decide if she preferred that to the thoughtfulness that he had carried to their previous meetings. The deep contemplation would fall away in her presence, but this pending vitality only seemed to grow as the dinner tonight progressed.

It encompassed her now, as surely as his arms crossed over her breasts. He reached for a sponge and began stroking her body with it, both cleansing and arousing.

“My father called on me tonight, before I came here.”

“Is that the reason for your mood? Did you have an invigorating argument?”

“No argument. There was a rapprochement of sorts. A beginning.”

She turned her head and gazed up at his face, so close to hers. “You did not give in to him, did you? I do not care about that estate, Nathaniel. It will make no difference to me—you must know that. If I have not accepted your proposal yet, it has not been because of your fortune.”

The sponge rose and deliberately circled her breasts with wet, soft caresses. “Then what is the reason?”

She had not expected this conversation now. She had been weighing much since their return from Hertfordshire, including his proposal. She had been waiting to choose the time and place to discuss it all. It appeared he had concluded this night in the bath was the appropriate one.

“Did you agree to do as he wants, Nathaniel?

“No.”

No compromise. Of course not.

His hand lifted one of her legs so her foot was propped on the side of the tub. With his long arm he could reach most of its length with the sponge. Little waterfalls trickled down as he stroked its length, all the way up. Her vulva flexed as the sensation neared.

The warm water, his embrace, the languorous caresses lulled her into a luxurious relaxation and purring sensuality.

He kissed her neck, then her ear. “Why have you not yet decided on my proposal, darling?”

She felt his erection against her bottom. She shifted so it rose between her thighs.

“Is it because of him, Charl? Do you still need time to explain our passion to the memories?”

“It is not that.”

“Then what?”

She reached down and slid her fingertips up the length of his shaft. A tightening in his chest at her back, in his lap beneath her, spoke of her effect. “I have sensed a decision in you these last days. I thought to wait until you had made it.”

He dropped the sponge and used his hands. Soaped and slick, they began moving over her with the deliberate, possessive caresses that she loved. The way he handled her said so much about him, and reflected the reasons she was helpless to this passion.

He nuzzled her ear and neck, his breath producing wonderful warm shivers. “You are right. I carried a decision in me. It is made, however.”

That was the reason for this new mood, this contained energy. He said nothing more. He did not explain what the decision had been.

“You are very sure that you are done with your contemplations, Nathaniel?”

“Done and resolved.”

“Then I accept your proposal. I will marry you.”

His hands paused. They remained bound in stillness for a long moment. Then he turned her, gently but quickly. Water splashed over the edges as her body made little waves.