Drake's Lair (33 page)

“Like Eva did? Is that what you’re saying, that it’s all right to let her gather her deuced herbs… that she won’t murder my children with them like Eva did? Well, I’ve chopped the deuced portrait of my murdering wife that used to hang in the library up for firewood, and I should think what I’m doing down in that study for Melly would be proof enough that I’ve changed my resolve in regard to the herbs for love of her. Bloody hell, I’m being branded a Bedlamite by everyone in residence over both actions you know.”

“I’m saying what I’m saying, my lord,” the valet replied steadily, meeting Drake’s eyes. “Nothing more, and nothing less.”

“Is there something you’re not saying, Griggs?” Drake probed. “Why do I get the distinct impression that you’re holding something back?”

“I’ve said all I’m going to say, my lord,” the valet responded. “I’ve said too much already. The past is dead and buried, my lord. We’d all do well to let it stay so.”

Twenty-Three

Three days later, Melly received a formal invitation to dinner in the dining hall by way of a missive delivered on a salver in Smithers’s gloved hand. Since her imprisonment, she had taken her meals in true detainee fashion—on a tray in her apartments.

Fingering the stylized dragon-shaped ‘S’ imbedded in the red sealing wax, her heart leapt, though she broke the seal and perused it skeptically, while the liveried footman waited on the threshold, ramrod-rigid, for her reply.

“Tell his lordship, that I shall… attend,” she said hesitantly. It was the last thing she wanted to do, and the thing she wanted more desperately than anything to do, all at once. There went those deuced butterflies again. But the only reason she really accepted was that she was certain if she didn’t, she would find Drake on her doorstep in a trice. If that happened, she knew she would be powerless to prevail against his passion… and her own.

Zoe helped her dress. She chose one of the readymade gowns she’d bought in Truro, a delicate blue voile frock, with puffed sleeves, and a lower décolleté than she would have opted for if she had a choice. Fashion dictated that, however. All of the necklines had taken a plunge of late, her trip to Truro had enlightened her to that, and made her realize how long she had been out of touch with the world—fashion and otherwise. She should have bought fichus while she was there, but she’d hurried, expecting Ellery to pop in at any moment, and she flatly refused to take advantage of one of the makeshift ones Mrs. Laity had fashioned out of the excess material from hemming Eva’s gowns. She wouldn’t have one thing that had come in contact with the woman anywhere near her person.

She had bought silk ribbons to match every costume, and Zoe helped her dress her hair with a lovely blue one threaded through her ringlets. Her choices weren’t in the manner of Eva’s sophisticated style by any stretch of the imagination. They were her style, and for some reason that she couldn’t even fathom it was important to her that he see what that style was.

Bradshaw and the Runner were already in the drawing room sipping sherry when she reached it. Drake was conspicuously absent.
Was he even coming down?
Well, of course, he must be. He had sent the missive after all. No. It wasn’t going to be that easy. The minute the thought was out, he entered in elegant evening dress—Beau Brummell black and white. Modest shirt points and a flawlessly tied neckcloth completed his attire. How strikingly handsome he was.

She glanced furtively at her frock and her heart sank. She was absolutely dowdy alongside him in her plain blue voile, as he escorted her into the dining hall. There was nothing for it but to hold her head high and take her seat with flourish. She knew how to present a queenly image, even if she did look like the stars alone knew what in her readymade frock.

The meal was just as elegant as Drake’s mode of dress suggested, leaving her to wonder what the occasion could possibly be for such a feast, as she sipped her hare soup from one of Drake’s Lair’s finest silver spoons. It was primarily a game dinner, featuring pheasant pie, lark pudding, and wild duck. Braised ham was also in the offing, and a bevy of delectable entrements and removes, from brandied cherries to pear flan, with fruit flavored water ices to be served in between.

Melly had never been so uncomfortable in all her life. Why did the man keep staring at her like that? If eyes were teeth, he would have devoured her before the liveried footman removed the soup plates. Still, she managed to remain aloof through the first and second courses. It wasn’t until they had been served the wild duck that she spoke directly to Drake in an attempt to avert his gaze, which seemed to have gotten stuck in the hollow of her throat.

“You seem much improved, my lord,” she said steadily, though she fought to keep the fork steady in her hand as his eyes shifted to hers. She should have left well enough alone. Those riveting changeable-blue eyes seemed to invade her very soul. “Has your shoulder healed then?” she inquired.

“It’s coming along, thanks to your… remedy,” he said, “though I must say that you have a lighter touch in the application than Griggs does.”

“And how are his hands coming?” she replied without missing a beat, despite the fact that the heat rushing to her cheeks had almost certainly flushed her beet red, if the color of her exposed flesh in the décolleté area was any indication. “He acted very bravely, dragging you out of that fire,” she added.

“He is much improved. I’m sure he’ll be glad of your inquiry. He likes you, you know. He upbraided me quite thoroughly over you just the other evening.”

There was no question. Her complexion had to rival the brandied cherries. He cheeks were absolutely on fire.

“How long have you had him, your lordship?” the Runner put in, coming to her rescue, though it was clear he hadn’t a clue. He had gone into his interrogation mode as he usually did whenever he engaged in conversation.

“Since I was sixteen,” Drake replied. “I don’t know how I got on without him on the Peninsula.” He laughed cryptically. “I don’t suppose I did, come to that,” he amended. “If he’d been my batman out there, I might have been spared a wound or two.”

“He has been very generous with his time, considering,” Bradshaw interjected, “spreading himself thin between Mr. Redmond and myself in his condition. He’s evidently of the old school. Valets today are quite a different breed altogether.”

“He was my father’s valet before I got him,” said Drake.

“And, while you were on the Peninsula, he served James Ellery, so he tells me,” the Runner said, around a swallow from his wineglass.

“That’s correct,” Drake replied tersely. “He agreed to Jim’s conditions so he wouldn’t be sacked. He never gave up on me. I’m just now plumbing the depth of the man.”

“Speaking of Mr. Ellery,” Melly interrupted, “has there been any news? Surely he must have arrived in London by now.”

“I’ve had no word as yet,” Redmond replied. “I’ve left instructions at the post, and the coaching station to inform me at once in the event of news, or anything untoward happening in the village.” He was studying her. The man didn’t let his guard down for an instant. He was a Runner to the core. “You are anxious to leave, I know,” he said.

“What if you have no word from London? What if he evades your colleagues? I can’t be cooped up here indefinitely.”

“I realize that, Lady Ahern, but right now, until we’re sure, this is the safest place for you. Take heart, my dear. It shan’t be forever.”

“I should certainly hope not,” Melly said in a low voice.

She cast a sidelong glance in Drake’s direction. Had he heard? He must have. His eyes darkened suddenly, and the handsome smile that had prevailed throughout most of the evening suddenly evolved into a frown. It wasn’t the churlish, angry sort she’d seen so often in the past, but rather one that seemed sad to her, and she regretted having spoken her mind—low-voiced or otherwise.

They ate in silence until the main course was finished then one of the footmen removed the tablecloth and began to bring the flan and puddings to the tables, while the other set out the sweet dessert wines. Melly didn’t really want dessert. She wanted the sanctuary of her rooms upstairs. It was difficult facing Drake at the table after the intimacies they had shared. Difficult, and embarrassing, since she couldn’t understand why he’d invited her down to diner so formally after ignoring her for days on end. Again the possibility of madness pricked at the back of her mind. There were times, like that night in her chamber, when he seemed as sane as she was, then there were times like this, when nothing he did made any sense at all.

“I really don’t want any dessert,” she demurred, rising. She laid her serviette aside neatly folded. “I should like to retire, if you gentlemen will excuse me?”

All three men rose with her, but it was Drake, who spoke.

“There is something I should like to show you first, my lady,” he told her, reaching for her hand. “Gentlemen, stay,” he said to Bradshaw and Redmond, motioning to them to resume their seats as he steered her toward the arch. “When you’ve done, you’ll find brandy and cigars in the drawing room.”

“I really am quite exhausted, my lord,” she protested, as he led her out into the hallway.

“It shan’t take long,” he said, looping her arm through his.

What was this now, another mad spell?
At first she comforted herself with the thought that she could cry out for the others’ help if needs must, but that hope soon faded as he put more and more distance between them, taking her first to the library, where he handed her over the threshold leaving the door flung wide behind them.

She stared. The space above the hearth that Eva’s portrait had occupied was vacant. A dark blue rectangle lived there now in contrast to the rest of the walls, which had faded considerably over time.

“I told you, you needn’t do that, my lord,” she murmured, stifling a gasp.

His finger laid across her lips silenced what she would have said next.

“This isn’t all I wanted to show you,” he said softly. “Come.”

They continued along the hallway in silence, and she gasped again as they neared the study.
Was he going to divulge what everyone below stairs had been buzzing about for days?

Yes.

As he swept her over the sill, she nearly lost her footing. Before her stretched an ‘L’-shaped configuration. What had once been the study was a room fitted with shelves, and tables. Extending beyond the outer wall that had been burned and chopped away, was the framework of what would be a conservatory, with walls, a door, and a peaked roof made entirely of small glass panes in lead casings. Though only the preliminaries were begun, there was no mistaking what it was, and she slipped her arm out of his, and walked out on the slate flooring that had already been laid, with her hands clasped over her lips.

Above her the stars blinked lazily in the night sky, and a gentle breeze blowing through the open walls riffled the hem of her blue voile frock. It was sweet with the perfume of rose, and lavender bordering the nearby garden wall, and she drank it in thirstily.

“You once said that you dreamed of your own herbarium,” he said, strolling closer, his Hessians echoing pleasantly on the slate underfoot. “I would have waited at least until the glass was in place, to show you, but I need to tell the workmen where to put the door, and I wanted to be sure the shelves are to your satisfaction—the right height, and such.”

She could scarcely believe her eyes. What had turned him? He
must
be mad. There was no other explanation. He had strolled very close, and she attempted to slip past him.

“Don’t run from me, Melly,” he murmured, laying a hand on her arm. “I swear to you, I haven’t taken leave of my senses. It’s a peace offering. Can’t you see? You’ve won. I yield to a higher power. You’ve bested me—enchanted me. I am conquered.”

All at once he took her in his arms and kissed her; a slow, tantalizing kiss that turned her knees to jelly. She should run—she should break away and flee, but instead she leaned into his kiss—moaned as he deepened it—threw her arms around him, until every cord and muscle, every sinew in him had molded to her trembling frame. If he were to let her go then, she would surely fall in a crumpled heap on that cold, hard slate, she would be powerless to prevent it. When at last he took his lips away, hers followed wanting more.

“I love you, Melly,” he murmured against her hair. “I think I knew it that first day down by the beck, when you defied me standing there with your hands on your hips in that ridiculous straw hat, tossing these silky curls.” He buried his hand in her hair. “You can’t imagine how I longed to do this even then… to feel your softness… taste your sweetness. You’ve come between me and a good night’s sleep every night since.”

“Drake, you frighten me,” she confessed. “Our differences… they are too vast. I don’t see how we can ever hope to bridge them.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do here,” he said, sweeping his arm wide.

“I don’t understand you,” she moaned. “One minute you’re… like this, the next, you ignore me for days—”

“Ignore you?” he blurted. “Melly, if Zoe hadn’t called out that last time, I would have ravished you. I wouldn’t have been able to help myself, and I won’t do that to you—not to you. That’s why we’re having this conversation here in the open, where there’s not a stick of furniture—no bed to tempt me. Did you do as I asked you that night? Did you lock that door? Tell me honestly.”

“No,” she murmured.

“Every night, I’ve passed by your rooms, wondering—scarcely able to keep my hand from turning that handle to find out,” he said, pulling her close in his arms again. “But I didn’t, because of who you are—not a conquest, I don’t need any more conquests. That’s all in the past. Melly, I want a wife who loves me. That’s all I’ve ever really wanted. That night, when you first tended me, addled though I was, and foxed on laudanum, I thought I felt love in those tiny, soft hands of yours. I prayed I hadn’t dreamed it. And then when I reached out for you, you didn’t pull away. You stayed. After the way I treated you… you
stayed
, that’s when I hoped. That’s what brought me back from wherever I was.