Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (22 page)

The thought didn’t relax her one bit, but she needed to hold on to something substantial. She put her arm around him and clutched his jacket at the front.

“Better?”

“A little.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

That seemed highly unlikely. Her arm curved around his strong torso and she was pressed tight against him.

They went slowly out of the stable yard and were soon crossing open land, following a shallow slope across a sheep-cropped meadow surrounded by trees. It was a pleasant day, with only a few clouds in the sky, and a sweet freshness in the air.

Perhaps this wasn’t too bad.

But she’d rather be walking.

He pointed right with his crop. “That stand is walnut, I’m told. Remember, I’m almost as ignorant about such things as you. Parminter’s your man.”

She had to twist to see. “Then perhaps he should be giving me this tour.”

“I’m sure he will, and pass on greater wisdom. However, it will be best if I introduce you at the home farm and at the mill. We can probably circle back through the village and call at the parsonage. Very suitably, the parson is Reverend Rightworthy, and very fortunately he’s not as starchy as that sounds.”

“Good. It’s a name for a Puritan.”

“He’s definitely not a Puritan. Better now?”

Claris realized she’d relaxed her grip on his coat and was growing accustomed to the gentle rocking movement of the horse. She wasn’t yet at ease with his hard warmth.

“It’s still a long way to the ground,” she said.

“Trust me. That section ahead is called Chelsy Coppice and thus is used for coppicing. Ash, used for stakes, poles, handles, and such. It will soon be time to harvest it.”

“Parminter will manage that?”

“Yes. There are a number of other sections producing regular crops, but most of the woodland is timber plantations, such as the walnut and oak.”

“Why is there so much woodland and so little pasture or arable land?”

“Easier to manage, I suspect, plus the nature of the land here. To the west, where the home farm lies, the land is better for arable.”

She frowned at one dense area of tall trees. “Are the woodlands safe?”

“Full of bears and wolves.”

“What?”

“I’m teasing.”

“I know that. There are no bears and wolves in England. But there are other hazards.”

“You cosset the boys too much.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Give them the freedom of the estate. They’ll only come to harm through stupidity.”

“They’d still be harmed.”

“And learn by it.”

“Or die.”

“That’s in the lap of the gods.”

“You wouldn’t say that if they were your brothers.”

“Oh, yes, I would, and wish them to the devil to boot.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“Still with illusions of happy families? My oldest brother’s a weak fool, Rupert is a bully, and Arthur can’t resist temptation, especially that of the gaming tables. The only blessing is that most of the time I can ignore all three. That area ahead was felled a couple of years ago and has been replanted with elm. Good for bridge timbers, quays, and coffins.”

Claris considered the area of very young trees. They wouldn’t come to harvest for decades.

Woodlands were planned over decades rather than seasons, and she liked that. She’d see those trees grow tall and be harvested, and could make decisions on plantings that would come to fruition after her death.

Her gaze on the trees had been idle, but now she blinked. “I see smoke rising. Are there homes in the woods?”

“Charcoal burners. With permission and paying a rent. There’s the home farm ahead.”

Claris looked over his shoulder and down below, through a break in the trees, she saw the sort of house she’d imagined Perriam Manor would be.

It was built of brick like the manor, but about a quarter of the size. It too was shrouded by plants, but only up to the first story, and many carried flowers. They certainly hadn’t been allowed to cover windows. There were other brick buildings behind the house, forming a sort of courtyard. There was also a large barn, already well filled with hay.

If she’d married Gideon Barnett, she could have lived in such a place. She had to fight a laugh at the temptation. She’d make a terrible farmer’s wife, for she’d no taste for making cheese and sausages, not to mention slaughtering chickens and making blood pudding.

They met a wide lane, cut with cart tracks, and followed it. The horse made easy work of it, but it would have been difficult on foot. What was more, from horseback she could see over the hedges. On their right lay good pasture grazed by cows. On their left lay the stubble of wheat or barley. A flock of starlings rose, alarmed by their passing.

“Farmer Moore should pay his rent in kind,” Perriam said, “but with so little being needed at the manor in Giles’s time, he’s been selling the produce and paying in cash. You should settle with them for the products you want and strike a fair balance.”

“It won’t be so very different once the boys go to school. I’m not sure Athena and Ellie will stay.”

“No?”

She’d opened up the subject without meaning to. “I think my grandmother pines for adventure, despite her age. She certainly pines for company. She intends to accompany us when we visit London. She may not return.”

“You could hire a companion.”

“Why would I want such a person?”

“Companionship?”

“Pleasant if congenial,” she said, “but hellish if not.”

“In that case you dismiss your employee.”

“I fear I’d not have the heart. Aren’t companions usually ladies who’ve fallen on hard times? I’ll simply keep busy. I intend to turn Perriam Manor into a delightful home and a prosperous estate. I’ll even manage the kitchen garden.”

“And hoe the weeds? As you will, my dear, as you will.”

The problem with pillion riding was that she couldn’t see his face and attempt to read his expression, but she feared he thought her ridiculous.

She’d prove him wrong.

*  *  *

Perry was a little concerned about this visit to the home farm, which was why he’d wanted to accompany Claris here. The Moores would know all the gossip and might resent their new mistress. They certainly assessed her over tea and cake, and did seem a little distant. Claris behaved perfectly. She didn’t attempt fine airs but treated them as equals.

She asked about the animals raised and the crops grown, not hiding any ignorance or inexperience. She knew a great deal, however, because she’d lived in the countryside all her life.

After the tea, she asked to borrow a pair of Mistress Moore’s pattens so she could stroll around the muddy farmyard. Perry knew Auguste would be distressed by the damage to his boots, but he went with her.

She paused to look over a fence at a new litter of piglets, lined up to suckle at their mother’s teats. “No wonder she looks exhausted.”

“Especially as they’ll soon be like that lot,” Perry said, as some older piglets ran by squealing.

“Let them run,” Claris said. “They’ll soon be bacon.”

“What a morbid mind you have. In time we’ll all be dust, but before that we’ll be food for worms.”

She laughed. “To speak of morbid!”

He smiled back, enjoying her relaxed pleasure in this setting. “The common fate is reason to enjoy life whilst we have it.”

“To run and squeal?”

“At times.”

She looked around and beyond and said, “I like it here.”

“In the mud and dung?”

She smiled at him. “Yes. But all of it. Thank you.”

“For bringing you here?”

“For persuading me to marry you.”

Her eyes were bright, the hazel color warm, and her open smile approached beauty. Shockingly, he wanted to kiss her, there and then, quite desperately.

“It has been my pleasure,” he said, “and I grant you, the estate is in good heart. Some small credit to Giles, I suppose. He kept good managers.”

“Yet for you London has greater charms.”

Did she sound a little wistful?

He didn’t want her to build expectations. He knew his limitations.

“Greater stimulation,” he said lightly. “You’ve seen how I am. A day of rural calm and I’m climbing ladders, knife in hand.”

She shook her head at him, but still smiling. “We’d best head back. The sun’s low in the sky.”

“Perhaps that’s why you’re singing the praises of a farmyard—the golden glow.” It was touching her face, warming her delightful freckles. Before he could stop himself, he touched them.

She flinched but didn’t step away. “They won’t rub off,” she said, smiling, blushing.

Who would have thought a farmyard so dangerous?

“Come along,” he said, taking her hand.

He’d merely meant to make sure she came, that they escaped this unexpected intimacy, but they’d touched so rarely, and now, hand to hand, warmth flowed between then. A warmth that in other circumstances could lead to delights.

Perry reminded himself of the promises he’d made. As soon as they reached the farmhouse, he let go of her hand.

They said their farewells and Farmer Moore brought out their horse. Perry checked everything and tightened the girth himself. There was no mounting block, so he bent one knee slightly and had her put a foot there. He put his hands on her waist and boosted her up, keeping his hands in place until she was steady.

An even more intimate touch, especially as she wasn’t wearing boned stays. She smiled down at him, clearly wondering at the lingering moment.

She was his wife.

Why had he agreed that it would be in name only?

But he had.

He mounted in front of her and they rode away.

“Where’s the mill?” she asked. “Won’t it be dark when we arrive there?”

“Yes. We’ve dawdled too much even to visit the village. Parminter can take you to those places. If we ride to the right here we’ll be back at the house soon.”

He turned the horse that way, hastening toward sanity.

Even so, by the time they left the horse at the stables the sun had set, turning trees to dark silhouettes against the peach-pearly sky. A few clouds drifted by, touched by the pink light, and a night bird sang. So intoxicating and she so warm and pretty . . .

“I’d like to look at the house now the work is completed,” she said, not appearing to be affected at all.

“Better done tomorrow in good light.”

“I’ll look tomorrow as well.”

So they walked all around the house, somehow hand in hand again.

“There are more windows than I thought.”

“Blinking, like a man whose eyes have been bandaged.”

“Not in this light,” she pointed out, but smiling at his whimsy.

“I’m imagining their state tomorrow, hit by morning sun.”

“They’ll welcome it.”

“Yes, they probably will. As I’ll welcome the light shining inside.”

He’d strolled with many women, and sometimes in the fading light of day, but it had never felt like this.

She was unaffected. “I intend to have trellises put up so some flowering plants can climb, as at the farm. And perhaps flower beds here at the front.”

“Including lavender?”

“Why not? It gives a sweet aroma that soothes the soul.”

“Then definitely lavender,” he said.

Irresistibly, the thought came that he could seduce her. He knew the ways of it and he sensed her susceptibility. She was sensual. He knew that from the ginger and cherries. She was warm and giving, lively and spirited, and her temper promised fire. Wouldn’t that all continue into a bed?

It wouldn’t be wicked to seduce his wife.

It would be wicked to break a promise, however, and unfair to use tricks and arts to seduce her into breaking her resolve.

Thank God he was leaving tomorrow.

This sunset madness would fade with the light and he’d soon be sane again.

A
s they went inside, Claris was reluctant to slip her hand from his, but she did it.

“My shoes are muddy,” she said as an excuse. “I must take them off here.” She didn’t quite dare to order him to take off his boots, but she looked at them. When he continued toward the stairs, she said, “What purpose in tramping mud all over the place?”

He seemed startled by the notion, but he sat on the lower stairs. “What purpose indeed?”

He began to pull off his boots, but the footman hurried over to assist him.

Claris hadn’t noticed the servant, and now she blushed at her tart question.

“Shall I take the boots to the scullery, sir?”

“And my wife’s shoes,” Perriam said, standing. “We require washing water in our rooms. Come, my dear.”

Claris put down her shoes and joined him to go up to their rooms. “I’m sorry. I was rude.”

“But to the point. Of course, we’d normally have entered by the back, where leaving our footwear would be more natural.”

“My fault.”

“There’s no fault in any of this, Claris.”

He said it gently, but as if there was greater meaning. What else had she done that might be faulted?

He opened the door to her room and for some reason her heart began to pitter-patter, as if he might enter with her. He merely guided her inside with another light touch on her back—merely!—and left.

Claris closed the door and leaned against it, trying to shake nonsense out of her head. It had to arise from the magic of the evening light.

Would she really have let him enter with her?

Why not? asked reason.

Because it would cross the boundaries they’d established. It would imply something.

Had he wanted to come in?

She pushed away to go to the window, to look out at the darkening sky. She couldn’t stop herself from glancing down. The memorial enclave was deeply shadowed and yet some trace of light touched the five marbles, making them even more ghostly.

Alice came in with warm water and Claris turned, smiling, probably too brightly.

“My shoes need a good clean. I’ve been visiting the home farm.”

Alice poured hot water into the basin. “Yes, ma’am.”

“The estate is very interesting.”

Alice uncovered the pot of soap, then took the towel and stood ready. “Yes, ma’am. Do you want the candles lit, ma’am?”

Claris realized that she’d been conversing with a servant, which probably wasn’t appropriate. Certainly Alice showed no sign of interest in her day, and why should she?

“Yes, please.”

A companion would have to at least feign interest. It seemed such a dismal relationship, however, with one side obliged to be pleasing, no matter how she felt. Ellie wasn’t like that, but Claris wasn’t sure what Ellie was, and Athena was certainly no conventional lady.

As Claris washed her face, she remembered that Alice was only on loan from Cheynings. She too might want to leave.

“Do you think you’ll want to stay here, Alice, or will you prefer to return to Cheynings?”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me, ma’am, but my family’s there, you see.”

“It’s your home. I understand.” Claris dried her face and hands. “I’ll find a new lady’s maid as soon as possible. Are there any maids here who would be suitable?”

“I don’t think so, ma’am. None have any experience in such work. The last Mistress Perriam had no need of a lady’s maid for many years, or so I’m told.”

Because she’d been mad.

“I don’t mind staying here for a while, ma’am. It’s interesting to see a new place.”

“Do you find the other servants friendly?”

The maid’s eyes shifted. “They’re a bit somber, ma’am.”

Claris realized that she too had that impression. “More so than at Cheynings?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. We had merry times there.”

“This house has known a lot of sadness. It will take time for change, but I hope daylight will begin the repair.”

“Likely it will, ma’am,” Alice said, but she didn’t sound hopeful.

She poured the used water into the slop bucket and took it away. Claris sat on the chaise longue, fighting the dismals again. She wanted this to be a happy house, but was she going to have to dismiss the servants and hire new to have a fresh start?

No, it would simply take time.

Time. Her idle gaze was resting on the clock on the mantelpiece. It wasn’t as fascinating as the clear one at Cheynings, but it was still pretty, with gilt ornamentation and flowers painted on the face. She contrasted it with the simple clock in the cottage. She hadn’t unpacked the boxes from Lavender Cottage and had no urge to do so. Athena had been correct, and most of the contents would be discarded, but even unpacking them would prove the poverty of her former life.

She certainly didn’t want anything of her mother’s in her new life. She hadn’t liked her mother and hadn’t been able to love her, perhaps because her mother hadn’t loved her. It was as if her adoration of her younger sister and her need for revenge had used up all her emotions.

She hadn’t mourned her mother. She’d been too absorbed by her baby brothers. Even so young, she’d known they were hers to protect.

A thought tickled at the back of her mind.

Ah. For the first time she wondered how they’d come to be. The normal way, people would say, but after her own arrival there’d been no more children. In theory her parents had shared a bed, but her father had often, perhaps always, slept on a daybed in his study. She wasn’t precisely sure what was required to make children, but it happened in the marital bed. Whatever the process was, her parents must have done it in order to conceive the twins.

Why, after so long?

She glanced at the adjoining door and realized why this subject had suddenly occurred to her, and where her mind was wandering. . . .

After only the briefest knock, the twins burst in. “Supper’s served, Claris!”

She held up both hands. “Stop. You knock and then wait. What if I’d been washing?”

They both looked doubtful. Did they not think she washed?

But they both apologized.

She felt guilty for chastising them, for their arrival and chatter had cleared her mind as effectively as stripping the ivy had cleared the windows. What folly she’d been contemplating.

“Apology accepted,” she said, rising. “Now we can go down.”

“Did you enjoy your ride?” Peter asked.

In so many ways. “It was terrifying at first.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“And soon you’ll be riding alone,” Tom said.

“No, I won’t. My legs turn limp at the thought. I’m sorry if that gives you a disgust of me, but there it is.”

“Never a disgust, Claris,” Peter said, but clearly she was now a subject of eternal pity.

“I wonder what’s for supper,” she said, which distracted them. To them, meals were now a cornucopia of wonders.

Claris was nervous about facing Perriam again, but the moment passed easily and the meal went well. Everyone had something to say about their day. Ellie and Athena had conducted a thorough review of the library in search of interesting books.

Athena gave her judgment. “You should throw out most and restock.”

“That will have to wait,” Claris said. “There are more important improvements.”

When Athena sniffed, Claris suspected she’d been hoping for new books to her taste. If she wanted them, she could buy them herself.

When they went to the drawing room, Perriam suggested the boys come with them. Once there, he produced a pack of cards.

Both boys stared.

“Cards are the devil’s work,” Tom said, looking as if he feared flames would spurt.

“They’re merely pieces of card,” Perriam said, riffling them. “We make them what we will.”

“Perhaps I object,” Claris said to remind him who was in charge here.

“I propose a very undevilish game,” he said. “Casino.”

Athena sniffed and retreated to a chair with a book, but Ellie said, “Oh, I enjoy casino,” undermining Claris’s objection.

“It’s a harmless game,” Perriam said to her, “and your brothers should learn to play.”

Despite misgivings, Claris gave in and took part. Once she understood the rules, she enjoyed it. Ellie was skilled at it, making clever matches and pointing out good ones to the twins. Claris suspected that Perriam was underplaying so as to let the boys win.

After a while he gathered the cards in and shuffled them. He gave them to Peter. “You try.”

The result was cards all over the floor. Both twins worked at learning how to shuffle a deck of cards. Claris watched, sufficiently influenced by her father’s rants to still feel as if the devil hovered in the room.

She hadn’t noticed Perriam leave the table, but he returned with a wooden box prettily inlaid with ivory. When he opened it she saw small wooden disks marked with numbers.

“Counters. We can play brag.”

It took a moment for Claris to understand. “A
gambling
game? That
is
the devil’s work!”

The dark room, lit only by two stands of candles, took on the ambience of hell.

He ignored her and spilled the counters onto the table. “Better they learn here than in a corner at school.” He pushed the counters toward the boys. “Share those evenly between us. I can’t tempt you to brag, Mistress Mallow?”

Athena gave him a look. “If you progress to something interesting such as quadrille or basset, perhaps.”

“Like playing deep, do you?”

Athena did not reply, but Ellie said, “She does. And she generally wins.”

“I’m sure she does, but there’s no need to teach the lads beau monde games yet, especially as our monarch disapproves of gambling.”

“Which is to his credit,” Claris said, still very uneasy.

“I so easily forget that you’re a clergyman’s daughter.”

He made it sound a deplorable state, and she glared at him.

Secretly she disliked feeling her father’s disapproval like a weight on her shoulders, but there it was. She truly did think gaming evil. Hadn’t Perriam disapproved of one of his brothers for play? She should forbid this, or at least leave the table, but she noted what Perriam had said. Better the boys learn here than at school. She was going to have to send them into the world and she didn’t want them in danger through ignorance.

She accepted her counters and arranged them by amount. “If these were guineas, I’d be rich.”

“By most people’s reckoning, you are rich,” Perriam said.

She looked at him in surprise. “I suppose I am.”

“Everyone ready?” he asked.

The twins were bright eyed and eager, and she could almost feel her father’s fearsome breath on her neck. No. She’d not allowed him to ruin everything in life, so she certainly wouldn’t let him do it from the grave.

“You’ll be dealt three cards,” Perriam said. “To win, you need the best combination. We’ll play the simplest version tonight, only counting pairs and threes. So the very best combination is three aces, then three kings and so on. Easy enough, yes?”

The twins nodded, following with more rapt attention than they’d ever paid to worthy lessons.

“In addition we have the braggers—the ace of clubs, the knave of spades, and the nine of diamonds. These can substitute for any card, so if you have two tens and the nine of diamonds, you can claim three tens. Yes?”

They nodded.

“If you have two braggers, you can claim a three of the other card, so the king of spades along with the nine of diamonds and the ace of clubs is three kings. However, if someone else has the three other kings, they win.”

“We understand,” Peter said, speaking for them both as he often did. “Can we try now?”

“Don’t you want to know how to lay a bet?”

“Can’t we play without betting?” Claris asked.

“That would make the game pointless.”

“There’s no harm to it, dearie,” Ellie said. “Or at least, not if they’re sensible. And if they’re not, it’s best they understand the risks.”

“If you truly object . . . ,” Perriam said, but he’d already hooked her brothers and knew it.

“Continue,” she said, but with a look that should have shriveled his soul.

It had no obvious effect. “I’ll deal three cards to each, but first I’ll lay down a stake.” He looked at the twins. “Always limit the stake, or you can be tempted into losing far more than you can afford. You understand?”

They both nodded.

“Do you agree to a limit of two counters?”

The twins looked at each other as if debating it; then both nodded.

“Two counters it is.” Perriam picked one up. “These have numbers on them, but we’ll count each as one. One penny? One shilling? One guinea?”

“Guinea!” the twins said in unison.

“But then how would you pay?”