Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] (37 page)

“That was still an accident. Even if you had done it on purpose, which you never would, it would have been no excuse for my behavior. Will you forgive me?”

“Of course. I daresay you are very tired after everything that has happened these past weeks, and I have observed that when grown-ups are tired, they do not always behave as sensibly as they might otherwise.”

“You observe quite a lot, I think.”

“I expect so. Should you not change your clothes? You are shivering.”

“I mean to do that straightaway, darling.” Giving Letty another quick hug, she turned to go. Antony paused to speak to the little girl before he followed her, then took the stairs two at a time until he caught up with her.

“What did you say to her?” Charley asked.

“I just suggested that a double serving of Aggie’s apple tart with clouted cream might tempt her to have her supper in the housekeeper’s room.”

“But why should she?”

“Because, angel, I don’t want our little talk to be interrupted. We’ll have our supper up here.” He reached ahead of her to open the door of her bedchamber. “Ah, Kerra, excellent. Here is your mistress, dripping wet. Pop her into that tub as quickly as you can, and don’t let her out until she’s thoroughly warm again.”

“You’re very decisive this afternoon,” Charley said with an edge to her voice.

“I am, am I not? Would you care to contradict my order?”

“Go away, Antony.”

“I will for now, but I’ll be back in a trice, just as soon as I’ve told John we want our supper served up here, and to check the windows. I think there’s a storm brewing.”

“Antony?”

“Yes?” He paused on the threshold, looking back.

She hesitated, aware of the maid and uncertain of him in this mood. He had not lost his temper or argued with her, but he had ordained her every move since she had lashed out at Letty. On one hand, it was oddly pleasant to let someone else make decisions for her. On the other, she did not like being told what to do, and at the moment he was giving her no choice. She said, “Don’t come back till I send for you.”

“Get into that tub, angel, before your bones start rattling.” Then he was gone.

As Charley turned to let Kerra begin stripping her wet clothes off, she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass, and gasped. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks blotched and white from her emotional storm and the cold. Anyone who had seen her in the past few minutes must know she had been weeping.

Looking over her shoulder at Kerra, who was undoing the hooks at the back of her gown, she saw that the maid’s eyes were fixed resolutely on her task.

“I expect you must wonder how I became so wet, Charley said quietly.

“It is not my business to wonder, my lady, but as it happens, one of the lads who helped fill yon tub said you had tumbled into the horse pond.”

“Oh, he did, did he!” Another score to settle with Antony. “Doubtless everyone at Seacourt Head will know the whole tale by dinnertime!”

“If you will just let me slip this gown off, ma’am, we can get you into the tub.”

With a sigh, Charley submitted. She could smell the spicy scent of her favorite bath salts, and she saw that Kerra had set aside the soap she used to wash her hair. Putting her feet in the tub was hard, because the water felt too hot at first, but once she sat down, she leaned back and closed her eyes, relaxing, inhaling the delicious scent.

Remembering her ravaged countenance, she murmured, “Dip a cloth in cold water for me to lay across my eyes for a while before you wash my hair, Kerra.”

“I’ve witch hazel, ma’am. I’ll dip some cotton in it to put on your eyelids. The smell will overcome the spicy one, but it will do more for your eyes than plain water.”

Moments later, eyes closed, half dozing, Charley felt as if her muscles had turned to warm wax. The first touch of the soap bar on her shoulder startled her, but the lathering was swift and sure, over her shoulders and up her throat to her chin, then down her right arm and over to her left. She let the maid do all the work, and concentrated on relaxing, letting the warmth penetrate to her bones.

When the soap moved toward her breasts, it moved more slowly, caressingly. The motions were unusual, for Kerra had helped her bathe many times, and usually she lathered her shoulders and back briskly, then left her to wash those portions she could reach by herself. Although the maid had not asked her to bend forward so she could soap her back, as she usually did, she thought Kerra had merely respected her evident desire to lean back and relax. The soap dipped between her breasts.

Lethargically, she raised one hand and removed the witch-hazel soaked pad from her right eye to look into her husband’s grinning face. “Antony!” In her shock, she sat bolt upright, then slid quickly back down in the water, losing the other witch-hazel pad in the process. “What,” she demanded, “have you done with Kerra?”

“Sent her away.”

“Well, get her back, and go away yourself. You have no right to come in here while I’m bathing.”

“I am your husband, angel. We can begin our little talk at once.” His hand rested lightly on the curve of her right breast, and Charley found it hard to breathe.

Swallowing, she said in a gruff voice, “Do you think you are going to wash me all over? Because if you do, you can think again.”

He sighed. “A very tempting thought, I’ll admit, but I daresay you can wash most of the best bits by yourself. Bend forward, and I’ll scrub your back.”

Certain she would do better not to defy him, she obeyed.

“How do we wash your hair?”

“We
ring for Kerra to do it.”

“I don’t think we need Kerra,” he said, unpinning her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders and breasts. “However, if I am not to do something wrong, you’d best tell me what to do. In between, you can tell me about your father. What manner of man was he? Were you fond of him?”

“I didn’t really know him very well,” she said. From that point, the words flowed more easily than she had thought they would. Between instructions about soap and rinse water, she found herself telling him things she had never told anyone. She described how her parents had spent much of her childhood wrapped up in the social whirl, going to London for the Season, to Brighton for the summer, then to endless house parties during the hunting season, rarely spending time at Tuscombe Park.

“Didn’t you mention a house in Plymouth?” he asked her.

“I did. We lived there for brief periods after my cousin Melissa moved away to Scotland, but until I grew old enough to go to London for the Season myself, I spent most of my time with my grandparents and Great-Aunt Ophelia. For that matter, until Aunt Daintry married Letty’s father, I spent more time with her than with my parents. After she married, Papa and Mama made an effort to spend more time with me, but … do you know, Antony? Before this afternoon, I cannot recall a single time in all my life that I curled up in someone’s lap and cried my heart out like that. Isn’t that odd?”

“Bend over again,” he said. “I’ve got to pour rinse water over your hair again.” When he did, it ran into her ears and she got soap in her eyes. He handed her a cold, damp cloth to take the sting away, and said, “Tell me more about your mother.”

Telling him was easier than she had thought it could be. She felt as if, just by explaining Davina to him, she began to understand her better, and herself as well. She described her grandfather, a staunch believer in the superiority of the male sex, and told Antony about the vituperative arguments St. Merryn had frequently engaged in with Lady Ophelia, who had made no secret of the fact that she thought the earl an idiot.

“That must have been fascinating for a child,” Antony said, holding out a huge towel for her and averting his eyes while she stood and quickly wrapped herself in it.

“Oh, it was,” she said. “They even fought about the Bible. Aunt Ophelia believes ancient men made the whole thing up to suit themselves. She once told Grandpapa she was only thankful to know that had a good English barrister presented the case of Eve’s apple before upright English magistrates, the blame must have fallen where it belonged, and Adam would have found himself in prison.”

“Adam? But Eve was the one who tempted him.”

“A bagatelle, sir. Will you hand me that wool robe on the bed, please? You see, by English law, anything a woman does in the presence of her husband is assumed to be done under his command and control. Silly, of course, since many women act in direct opposition to their husbands’ commands, but there it is.”

Antony chuckled. “I like your Great-Aunt Ophelia.”

“Do you, sir?” Charley slipped behind a screen, dropped the towel, and wrapped her robe securely around her. “I adore her, but I warn you, she terrifies most men.”

“I don’t terrify easily,” he said.

She stepped from behind the screen, her damp hair tumbled about her shoulders and down her back. Smiling, she said, “You don’t, do you?”

“Come, sit by the fire. While we dry your hair, you can tell me more about your childhood.”

“We’ve talked enough about me for a time, and you were right, in that I feel much better for it. The pain isn’t gone, but it’s no longer a huge knot inside me. Tell me about your family, Antony. I know Alfred is not your brother, but I don’t know if you’ve even got a brother.”

“I have no family to speak of,” he said curtly.

“What became of them?” She was determined this time to find out something about his past.

“They disowned me when it became known that I had spied for Wellington.”

“I know you said that your father disapproved of that. I still think he ought to have been proud of you for helping the Duke defeat Napoleon.”

“Gentlemen don’t stoop to spying,” he said bitterly. “England does not take unfair advantage of any opponent.”

“Is he the one who said that to you?”

“He agreed with it, but I heard those words first from my mother.”

“Oh.” She knew in that moment that he had helped her enormously, for the anger that struck her, though sharp, did not threaten to overwhelm her. Carefully controlling her countenance, she turned so the heat from the fire could reach her hair. “As you brush,” she said, “pull up so the hair separates as it falls. It will dry quicker.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Glad she had not distressed him with her questions, she said airily, “That demure attitude won’t help you, you know, for I’ll get even one day. I don’t take lightly to being ducked in a horse pond.”

“Then don’t give me cause to do it again.”

Swiftly, she stood and faced him, saying, “Antony, don’t think that because I’ve agreed that I was wrong this time I shall submit meekly now to your every whim and caprice, because I won’t. I deserved what happened today, and … and I am grateful to you for stopping me before I’d done or said anything truly horrid to Letty, but—”

“Come here,” he said.

“What?”

“You heard me.” He held her gaze, but he did not seem displeased. Indeed, a twinkle lurked in his eyes, and she found it oddly disturbing.

“What are you going to do?” The mood in the room had shifted abruptly, and her body, which until a moment before had felt relaxed and warm, now stirred to alert awareness. The sense of warmth deepened and spread through her. She licked her lips, watching him. “Antony? Answer my question.”

“Come here.”

Only the dressing stool separated them, a distance of no more than two or three feet. Watching him, her gaze locked to his, Charley stepped around the stool without another word, suddenly knowing that, more than anything else in the world, she wanted to feel Antony’s arms around her again.

Setting down the brush, he put his hands on her shoulders, drawing her closer. She realized that she had been anticipating this from the moment he had suggested he would help her clean up. His arms went around her, and his lips touched hers, softly, then harder, as if the passion stirring in her were aflame in him. He moaned against her lips before his tongue tickled her lower one. A hand moved to the opening of her robe.

A rap at the door and the sound of the latch heralded the arrival of their supper, and with a start of dismay, Charley whisked back to her seat on the dressing stool and handed Antony the hairbrush. By the time the footman and Daisy entered to lay the covers, Antony was rhythmically brushing her hair again.

Over dinner, they talked of politics and news from the
Times
until the servants left them with their fruit and wine. Emboldened by the latter, Charley looked straight at him and said, “I think your father is a fool, you know, and your mother—”

“Both my parents are dead.”

“Then I used the wrong verb, that’s all.”

“Unfortunately, most Englishmen think like my father. Going through a man’s private papers is bad form. Spying on his troops or trying to learn his battle plans is equally distasteful. My father was not the only one to give me the cut direct at Brooks’s.”

“Good mercy, he never did such a horrid thing!”

“He did. And now, if you please, I should much rather talk some more about Lady Ophelia. I don’t think my family boasts anyone like her.”

“She is unique,” Charley said, shocked that his father had humiliated him in such a public way, and quite willing to tell him more about the elderly feminist. She hoped to soothe away the pain she had detected when he spoke of his parents, but she succeeded beyond expectation, for twenty minutes later, he roared with laughter.

When he could speak again, he said, “I know you told me she thought men had written the Bible to suit themselves, but she cannot have said they molded their notion of God to that same purpose!”

“She did. She said it’s clear that they wrote the Bible as proof that God intended men to be superior, because how else could they ever have expected anyone to swallow such a clanker as woman being born of man? Why would an all-powerful God go to all the trouble of creating man first, just to have to cut out a rib afterward to make woman, when all he had to do was create her first and let her give birth to man in the natural way. Mary did not require Joseph, if you recall, to conceive the Christ child, nor, apparently, did God think to create Christ without Mary. One therefore has to believe, according to Aunt Ophelia, either that God was all about in His head to create man in the convoluted way the Bible says He did, or that a few idiot men made the whole thing up.”