Margaret Moore (22 page)

“Here you are. I see Will found you,” she said as she glanced at her son.

“I was late returning from the village and didn’t want to disturb the household, so I slept in the Banqueting House,” Richard explained.

In spite of her welcoming smile, he felt as if he were treading in a treacherous bog, where one misstep could lead to death.

“Then you must be hungry.”

“I am. Will has consented to join me. I hope you will, too,” he said.

“Yes,” Elissa replied softly.

Will slipped one hand in Richard’s, and the
other in his mother’s. Richard glanced at his wife over the boy’s head and for an instant, their gazes met and held.

As they did, Richard told himself not to be too optimistic until he had an explanation for her change in manner. Unfortunately, she had every right to be even more angry with him because of his absence last night.

They reached the house and halted inside the entrance hall. Richard surveyed his soiled, disheveled clothing. “I shall have to be excused a moment to make myself presentable, or no doubt the help will believe their master a vagabond.”

“Will, please go and tell the cook to serve your stepfather his breakfast in the dining room. We’ll be down shortly.”

Will nodded and scampered off.

“No doubt he is planning to command a second breakfast for himself, too,” Elissa noted, her expression frustratingly inscrutable as she turned toward her husband.

Richard waited for her to come beside him before he proceeded to the steps. “If it is any comfort to you, I did not have any dinner last night.”

“It is not a comfort to me, although I would like to know where you were. I was worried about you.”

No one had ever worried about him in his whole life.

“I went to the Nag’s Head,” he said, even
more remorseful as they continued upward. “Have I some cause to hope that you are not angry with me for behaving like a child who goes off to sulk?”

She paused and looked at him gravely. “No, I am not angry. I’m sorry I was so unreasonable yesterday.”

“You were justifiably annoyed with me. Zounds, you should be even angrier with me now for not coming home,” he said as they entered the bedchamber.

“I am sorry I berated you the way I did. You are, after all, my husband. I should not chide you like an errant child.”

He went to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I am more sorry than I can say both for my actions and for worrying you. I promise I shall try to remember that I am a married man and so should not retreat like a wounded bear when I am upset.”

He smiled very, very slowly, and his eyes seemed to grow even darker. “I’faith, I am a fool of a husband to spend the night freezing in the chill Banqueting House when I could have been apologizing to my justly angry wife and asking her forgiveness. Do you forgive me, Elissa?”

“Yes,” she murmured as he bent to kiss her.

He kissed her tenderly, yet she sensed the thrilling, unbridled passion lurking, ready to burst into vibrant being.

She was so glad he had come home, and
that now she had some knowledge of his past to guide her.

Then she realized something was growling.

She pulled back. “I’faith, my lord, you
are
hungry.”

“Aye, for more of this,” he muttered as he tugged her back into his arms and pressed a fiery kiss upon her lips.

For a moment, she gave herself up to the pleasure he invoked, but only for a moment.

“Will will be wondering where we are,” she said as she drew back. “Besides, I would not have you faint.”

Richard’s grin was wickedly attractive. “Indeed, I had best eat well today, for I am sure to need all the vitality I can muster tonight.”

Elissa was already very warm; nevertheless she felt as if a tropical sun had suddenly replaced the one outside her window. She ran her hand over her lips. “And I would prefer you shaved. I fear I am chafed.”

“I do not want to hurt your lovely skin,” he said as he turned and went to the washstand. “Either there or”—he glanced back at her, the most devilish expression on his handsome face—”anywhere.”

“I will be the one fainting if you keep talking like that,” she said as she went to his chest to fetch him a clean shirt.

“I found a portrait in the Banqueting House,” he remarked as he removed his jacket and tossed it on the bed.

She flushed, and not with pleasure. In truth, she had forgotten it was there, or she would have had a servant take it away and burn it. “It is of William. I didn’t want to look at it after he had died, so I put it in there. And then I decided it might upset Will to have such a reminder of his deceased father in the house, so I thought it best to leave it where it was.”

Willing him to accept this explanation, she pulled a clean shirt from the chest beside the bed. Richard removed his shirt and it joined the jacket.

In the light of the morning sun, Elissa could see that he had been telling the truth about dueling scars.

“Will looks a little like him,” he observed as he began to wash his face.

Her hands slowly balled into fists. “I don’t think so,” she replied, trying to sound calm.

Her son was nothing like his father and never would be, if she could help it. He would be fine and honorable and decent. He would treat a woman with respect and dignity.

His face covered with soapy water, Richard cast a glance in her direction. “You are glad?”

Laying his clean white shirt on the bed, she struggled to sound matter-of-fact. “Will resembles me more, that’s all. I thought we were not to discuss him here.”

“But as you said, he is your son’s father. I suppose I should know something about him. He was older than you by several years, I take
it,” Richard replied as he searched for his razor.

She spotted it under the square of linen for drying and handed it to him. “He was.”

“How did you meet?”

“My father made his aquaintance in London and invited him to visit. I fear I was a very silly girl ready to fall in love and be married. William never spoke of his family or his friends, or very much of anything, really.”

She should have suspected that this silence was not a good sign, but she had been too vain, anxious to hear only his praises of her grace and beauty.

“He was a reticent fellow, then?”

“Extremely.”

“Despite this lack of conversational gifts, you fell in love.”

Flustered by his piercing dark eyes that seemed to demand honesty, she turned away.

After a moment, she heard him begin to scrape the stubble from his face.

She slowly wheeled around and realized that he was watching her in the mirror even as he shaved. There was a terrible sadness in his eyes—and in that moment, she had a revelation.

“Richard, I thought I loved him, but I didn’t know what love was. He flattered me and promised to make me happy. Regrettably, I soon discovered that what I felt for William Longbourne was only girlish infatuation.”

Richard put down the razor and his hands gripped the edge of the washstand. Incredibly, his shoulders sagged with what looked like relief.

“Are you all right?”

He started to wipe off the remains of the soap. “Am I all right?” he mused aloud.

Then he threw down the linen and laughed, a rich, merry sound that she couldn’t recall him ever making before. Wry smiles, sly chuckles—but never a laugh of such joy.

Still laughing, he faced her and spread his hands. “My lady, my wife, I do not think I have ever been so happy in my life!”

“Because I didn’t love William Longbourne?”

He took one long step and tugged her into his arms. He bussed her heartily on the cheek. “Yes! I am ashamed to say I have been most abominably jealous. Even though you led me to believe he was no great lover, I still thought you cared for him very much.”

She nestled her head against his chest. “I was jealous, too.”

“Of Antonia?” he demanded, leaning back to regard her quizzically.

“Of any woman who looked at you twice.”

“I must commend you on your inscrutability.”

“I have been studying a master, my lord,” she said, eyeing him significantly.

“Me?” he cried incredulously. “I am as easy to read as … as …”

“Our marriage settlement,” she finished gravely, her eyes dancing merrily.

“Zounds, woman! Nothing about that document is easy!”

She leaned against him again, glorying in the sensation of his naked flesh against her cheek. Then she realized he was undoing the lacing of her bodice.

She jumped back. “Richard! What are you doing?”

His eyes widened. “I thought it was coming undone,” he replied innocently.

In spite of his attitude, she knew that wasn’t true, for the desire in his eyes betrayed him. “We have not time. The breakfast will be on the table and Will will be waiting.”

He shrugged. “It is your fault.”

“My fault?”

“If you were not so beautiful and desirable, I would not be so distracted,” he answered as he put on the clean shirt.

“Perhaps I will have to make you sleep in the Banqueting House again.”

He turned away and reached for his jacket. “I would rather we pulled it down.”

Startled by the sudden gravity of his tone, she said, “I thought you would be glad to have one building from the original estate left.”

“Not that one.”

“Why not?”

“It is in a sad state of ruin,” he noted as he pulled on his jacket.

“We could have it repaired. I think it rather pretty.”

“I don’t. Have you a hairbrush about?”

She went to the washstand, found the item, and gave it to him. “It seems a shame to destroy it.”

“Then we shall not,” he replied as he gave his disheveled hair a few quick strokes.

Elissa hurried to him and put her hand on his arm so that he looked at her. “Let us not quarrel about it,” she pleaded.

His expression softened. “No, of all things, let us not quarrel about that.”

“Cook sent me to fetch you,” Will suddenly announced from the door. “She says everything’s getting cold.”

A
t breakfast, Will ignored the bread and cheese before him to listen with rapt attention as Richard talked about the pirates he had encountered in London.

Elissa, however, wanted to hear more about his past. When she finally got the opportunity to broach that subject, he talked of the triumph of seeing his first play performed and well received.

“I confess that I had not known such pleasure and fulfillment in my whole life,” Richard finished, glancing at her with a look that both sparkled and smoldered. “I have since, once or twice.”

Elissa blushed hotly and tried very hard to subdue an embarrassed grin. “I suppose it was a great relief.”

“Great relief? I should say so, for I knew that I wouldn’t have to take to begging in the streets.”

“I cannot imagine you ever begging for anything.”

“You should have stayed a soldier,” Will said, his tone implying that Richard had somehow allowed this distinctly better opportunity to slip his mind.

“That was not as enjoyable as the theater, and I had some battles there, you know.”

Will frowned skeptically. “Sham battles.”

“You say that only because you’ve never seen two actresses who want the same role. Women can be far more vicious than men, I assure you, especially ambitious women. For instance, it would never do to cross Lady Castlemaine.”

“Who is she?” Will demanded.

“A very good friend of the king,” Elissa answered.

“That is one way to put it,” Richard observed.

Elissa gave him a warning look. “She is also related to the Duke of Buckingham.”

“Another good friend of the king.”

“Were they your friends, too?” Will asked eagerly.

“Heavens, no!” Richard replied. He made a mournful face. “They are too exalted.”

“But you are a good friend of the king!”

“Not
that
good—and I would not want to be,” he hastened to add. “Our sovereign, for all his excellent qualities, can be somewhat temperamental. You can fall out of favor
quickly if you are not careful. I prefer to avoid having to walk such a tricky path.”

“That would require diplomacy,” Elissa added gravely. “Perhaps as much as maintaining peace among several actresses seeking …”

“Parts?” Richard amiably supplied. “Now that I am married, I am delightfully out of that fray.”

“Lady Dovercourt, Mr. Rowther has come,” a servant announced, drawing Elissa’s attention away from her husband’s seductive eyes.

“Why so glum at this arrival?” Richard asked when he saw Will’s frown.

“He is my tutor,” Will muttered.

“And a very good tutor he is,” Elissa said.

“Come now, Will,” Richard said jovially, “you are very lucky to have the opportunity to be educated. Indeed, some of my happiest hours were spent with my tutor, and his lessons stood me in good stead over the years.”

“Did he teach you fencing?”

“Zounds, no! Latin and Greek, rhetoric, theology.”

“Theology?” Elissa demanded incredulously.

His eyebrow raised, Richard said, “No need to sound surprised. I studied everything and anything Mr. Elliot cared to teach me.”

Elissa flushed again. “I simply didn’t realize you had such a broad education.”

“Oh, I did, but there is some part of my education that I fear is sorely lacking. I do not
know how to run an estate. Perhaps while you study with your tutor, Will, your mama will share her expertise with me.”

As much as she might welcome some assistance, Elissa felt a little shiver of dread along her spine at the prospect of losing any of her authority and independence. Still, when Richard looked at her mat way, it was difficult to resist his request. “Very well.”

Richard smiled that slow, incredibly attractive smile of his. “Excellent. I promise I shall attend to your every word.”

He glanced sharply at Will. “And I hope you shall do the same. There is many a valuable lesson that comes from books, Will—moreso than you can learn with a sword.”

Will didn’t seem convinced.

“Perhaps if you do well with Mr. Rowther, your lovely mama will allow me to teach you something of swordplay.”