Authors: Sally Quilford
Calista had more or less come to the
same decision. “I think you should at least wait until you were well.”
“No. I have a feeling that by then you
will have found a way to avoid me.”
She stroked his cheek. “No, I will not.
I promise I will not. I am here to stay … for as long as you want me.”
“Forever it is then.” He enfolded her in
his arms, and despite her admittedly half-hearted protestations, would not be
persuaded to rest.
“Are you alright?” she whispered several
hours later. Her grey dress lay in a heap on the floor, and she lay in a very
contented heap in Brook’s arms. Even if he did not love her, she had been left
in no doubt that he liked her very much.
“You have not succeeded in killing me
yet.”
“Oh do not joke about such things. Not
after what happened.”
“Tell me that you love me,” he said
drowsily.
“I love you.” She waited, longing and
hoping he would say it in return. Even if he did not really mean it, in the
sweet afterglow of their lovemaking she was quite happy to be lied to. But he
was already fast asleep. She tried to content herself with his promise that
they would be together forever. Surely it must mean he was fond of her, if
nothing else.
Chapter
Fourteen
Brook spent most of the morning
sleeping, and Calista feared he might have a relapse. But by luncheon he
insisted on getting dressed. Luncheon was then delayed somewhat by him deciding,
whilst Calista was helping him to put on his shirt, that being undressed was
much more pleasurable. She could not deny that he had a point.
In the afternoon, they received several
visitors. The duke returned, along with Lady Bedlington, Evelyn and Mr.
Benedict who all naturally wanted to see how Brook fared. The latter three had
all called in whilst he was unconscious, but there had been very little they
could do for him other than allow him to rest and to heal. Calista also
realized, with some embarrassment, that she might have been a little bit
possessive about him and therefore given them the impression that their help
was not needed.
They met in the drawing room, where
Brook reclined on a chaise longue, looking more attractive than ever in a loose
fitting white shirt and black breeches.
The duke seemed a little ill at ease to
begin with, but everyone seemed to take their cue from Calista, who treated him
as if he had always been a part of the circle, encouraging him to join in their
conversations when he seemed to flag a little.
Evelyn had worrying news. “Blanche went
out yesterday morning and did not return.”
“Is it possible she has gone to the
continent with Purbeck?” asked Brook. Calista had told him what his father
discovered.
“That is what we thought,” said Evelyn.
“But then last night we received word that she had married.”
“Married? To whom?” asked Calista.
“You will not believe this. I can hardly
believe it myself. As far as I am aware they have not spoken more than a couple
of words to each other.”
“Not the King?” said Brook with a wry
smile. “I would not put it past Blanche, though she is not quite homely enough
for his tastes.” Calista felt the familiar sting of jealousy, not much helped
by him suggesting the Earl had ‘homely’ tastes. Was that how Brook saw her?
Homely? Her feeling of envy was not much helped by her mild resentment that she
was having to share him with others when she would much rather be alone with
him. She realized she was being unreasonable, but her insecurity about his
feelings for her overrode any other emotions. Not that she let anyone see how
she felt. She was the perfect hostess, making sure they all had drinks.
“No, not the King,” said Evelyn, smiling
sadly. “The Earl of Garton.”
“What?” Calista almost dropped her cup
of coffee.
“He’s been on the lookout for a wife, as
you know,” said Mr. Benedict. “And I think when Blanche found out about what
happened to Brook, she realized she might be implicated.”
“There is no proof of that,” said
Evelyn, quickly.
“I am sure she would not have been,”
said Brook.
“She managed to put herself in Garton’s
way,” said Mr. Benedict.
“I cannot decide whom I should
wish more luck to,” said Lady Bedlington. “Him or her. Oh, Evelyn, do not look
like that. You know the girl is an absolute tartar. With any luck, she’ll be
just what Garton needs.”
Calista did not fancy the Earl of
Garton’s chances of living very long with Blanche as a wife, but she did not
say so as she did not want to hurt Evelyn’s feelings. Instead she looked under
her lashes at Brook to try and ascertain how he had taken the news of Blanche’s
marriage. The information only served to remind her of how she came to be his
wife. He had merely saved her from a bad situation, out of kindness and
nobility.
That he desired her as a woman was
without doubt, but she knew little of men, so did not know if they behaved
differently when they were in love with a woman. Would his kisses be more
ardent if he were with Blanche? It was hard to imagine how they could be, but
she had to accept it was a possibility.
As Evelyn and Mr. Benedict made to
leave, they had happier news for everyone. “We are to be married,” said Mr.
Benedict, putting his arm around Evelyn’s shoulder. “We hope that it will put
right a wrong we did many years ago.”
Calista ran to kiss them both. “I am so
happy for you,” she said, unaccountably struck by sudden tears. She forced them
back not wanting to spoil Evelyn and Mr. Benedict’s moment. “I wish you a long
and wonderful life together.”
“Thank you, dearest,” said Evelyn. “I
can marry much more contentedly knowing that you are now provided for.”
“I told you I would never hold you
back.”
“I know that, dearest.”
“But as I’ve tried to tell Evelyn all
along,” said Mr. Benedict, “had you not been provided for, you would always
have a home with us.”
“It is all academic now,” said Brook.
“We are very happy together, Calista and I. I can only wish you both the same
joy.”
His words should have made Calista more
content, but they only served to disturb her more. It was true they were happy
together, but how long would that last when he grew tired of her in his bed?
She put her feelings of pessimism down to tiredness. It had been a stressful
few days, when she had not slept very well. And once Brook awoke, he gave her
other reasons not to sleep. She suddenly longed for the privacy of a bedroom of
her own and wondered how to broach the subject when the others had left.
“I think I may have an early night,” she
said when they were alone. She could not look at him, so she stared into the
fireplace.
“Yes, we will go up straight after
dinner.”
“What I mean is that I’m very tired.”
“I see… Have I displeased you in any
way?” What a question! He had certainly not displeased her, but she could feel
herself being subsumed to his will again, and losing herself in the process.
“No, but you must be very tired too. You
really have done too much since yesterday.”
“I would not have it any other way.
Calista…”
“What?”
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly she turned around.
“I have said all along that I want us to
have a proper marriage.”
“Yes, I know. But I am so tired and…”
“Then we will go to bed and sleep. That
too is part of a proper marriage, is it not? Sleeping together in the same bed?”
“I do not think we will sleep.”
He smiled so seductively that she almost
threw herself at him. “If sleep is what you need, then sleep is what we shall
do. You have my word of honour I shall not … bother you.” His lips curled up at
the corners again.
She was the one to crumble first, having
led next to him for half an hour, trying to pretend she was not acutely aware
of his presence beside her. She tried to make it seem casual, as if she were
just checking to see if he still breathed by putting her hand on his chest. She
did not fool him. He was already attuned to her moods.
“You are a very demanding woman,” he
said with a grin, before gathering her up in his arms.
When she awoke, very late the following
morning, Brook was not lying next to her. Panicking, she jumped out of bed and
threw on her dressing gown. She had a sudden image of him having got up in the
night and collapsed on his way to the bathroom, or perhaps even having fallen
downstairs. The fact that the servants would most certainly had found him and
let her know if the latter had happened, did not occur to her due to her
overwhelming fear for his safety.
She rushed to the bathroom, but it was
empty. She was just about to head to the staircase when she saw Brook coming
out of the room that had once been the drawing room. “There you are,” he said
with a smile. He was fully dressed, looking refreshed and handsome.
“I was worried about you.”
“I’m sorry, I would have let you know, but
you were very tired last night and I knew I should not be selfish and wake you
again. As much as I wanted to.” His eyes moved over her body, and she was aware
of not being nearly as well dressed as he was.
“I should go and get dressed.”
“Not yet. I have something I wanted to
show you. The reason I got up early. I take it you have not seen this room
yet.”
“Erm … no, the servants said that only
you had the key.”
“That is correct. I was going to
surprise you with it on our wedding day, only events rather took over.” He held
out his hand to her. “Come, I have been spending the morning making sure
everything is just right.”
To her surprise, when she reached him,
he swept her up in his arms. “This,” he said, “is to make up for not carrying
you over the threshold on our wedding day. And if I am honest, I prefer to do
it now, as I show you this room. You inspired it.”
He carried her through the door, and she
glanced around, her eyes widening in surprise and delight when she saw that he
had created a magnificent library, just as she had suggested. The two walls had
been knocked down, creating a room that was some one hundred feet long. “Not
quite as big as the library at Blenheim,” he said.
“Oh I do not mind. It is wonderful,
wonderful! Put me down so I can take a proper look.”
“I am not sure I want to.”
“You can hardly carry me up and down the
room. You are still not as well as you think you are.”
“Very well, I will put you down just
this once.”
Calista practically skipped up and down the
room, marveling at the rows of books. Some were very old, whilst others with
the latest editions of the most popular novels. The room had been furnished
with plush sofas and chairs, with plenty of space for lounging and reading.
Floor to ceiling sash windows let in the light so that it almost felt as though
they were standing outside. The air was filled with the scent of dozens of
vases of flowers.
“I had to replace all the original
flowers,” Brook explained. “Naturally they had not survived being locked up for
several days. So that is what I wanted to do this morning, before you awoke.”
“Thank you, it’s just … oh, it’s
magnificent. Even better than I imagined it.”
“Nothing quite worked out as I wanted it
to,” Brook said more seriously. He perched on the arm of one of the chairs.
“No, I realize that,” said Calista,
feeling as if the light had gone out of the room. “I know that you only ever
meant to offer me your protection, but I will try and be a good wife to you. As
you said we are happy…”
Brook had jumped up from the arm of the
chair, looking very angry. “Protection? Who said so?”
“You did. When we were watching Evelyn
and Mr. Benedict in the garden. You said you would protect me. And Blanche
thought…”
“Blanche? Why does everything always
come down to that witch? You thought I offered you my protection? That I was
asking you to be my mistress?”
“Were you not?”
“No I damn well was not.”
“Oh, then if I misunderstood…”
“You most certainly did. What sort of
man do you take me for?”
“I…”
“Good God. No wonder you seemed so upset
to be marrying me, if you think I am the sort of man who would ask an innocent
girl of twenty to be his mistress. Is that how I appear to you?”
“No, of course not.”
“I hoped, Calista, I hoped against hope
that once we were married you might come to love me. But how could you ever
love me, believing such a thing? Dammit, Calista!”
She wanted to tell him that she did love
him, only she was not yet sure enough of him. “Why should it matter if I love
you or not?”
“Do you really have to ask that? Why
else would I step in and stop you from marrying that oaf, Garton? I could not
bear to think of him touching you. Believe me when I say I was ready to kill
him for even thinking it.”
“I thought you only married me to be
noble and kind. I thought you loved Blanche, because she is so much more
beautiful than I am.”
“Blanche!” He laughed bitterly. “I would
no more let that woman in my life than I would a viper. Oh she set her cap at
me, until she realized she might have bigger fish to fry, but I am not as
stupid as young Purbeck. Or perhaps I am an even bigger fool.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was going to propose to you in this
room, until events overtook us. I know that most women like to be proposed to
in a garden, but I thought this was more suited to you. I was going to fill it
with flowers, at least to make it seem a bit like a garden, then bring you here
and say everything to you that I know women like to hear…”
“No…”
“I see. You do not want to hear it. Then
I am sorry I have wasted my time.”
“No, Brook. I do not want you to say
what you think I want to hear. I just want you to say what is in your heart.”
“Why, have I not made a big enough fool
of myself?”
“No. I mean, you’re not a fool. I was
wrong about you offering me your protection, and I am sorry, but it never
occurred to me that you would ever feel for me what I feel for you.” She knew
she was going to have to be brave again. Even if it meant him laughing in her
face. “I love you. I’ve always loved you, but I thought you only married me to
save me from Garton and I was afraid that if I told you how I felt, it would
make you feel more responsible for me. I wanted to give you a chance to
escape…”