Happily Bedded Bliss: The Rakes of Cavendish Square (23 page)

She laid the clothes aside, then stroked his soft fur. “What should I do, Burr? If I leave now, everyone will know that my marriage is a failure. And my brothers . . . God, they’ll go wild if they know he’s left me. They’ll probably go after him and drag him back, even if he doesn’t want to come. Although knowing Gabriel he’ll tell them all to go to perdition and it will just make everything that much worse.”

Burr’s eyes closed with pleasure as she scratched his head. “No, I suppose, as bad as it is, that I need to be brave and remain here. What was it he said? Do whatever I like with the house? It would serve him right if I take him up on that offer. I can already think of several improvements to make. As for the area, Derbyshire seems a lovely place. Only imagine all of the new hills and fields where you and I can roam.”

She drew a shaky breath and fought back a fresh wave of tears. “Oh, I’m so angry with him, Burr. I could gladly throttle that man. I wish I didn’t love him, but I do, even if he doesn’t love me back. Even if he never loves me back.”

The dam burst and she began to cry in earnest.

She cried until she felt as if she had no more tears left to shed.

Rising to her feet, she went to the basin and washed her face with cool water.

Feeling more composed, she returned the dresses to the wardrobe and her stockings and chemises to the dresser drawers, then went to the small secretary that stood in the corner of her bedchamber.

After seating herself in the chair, she withdrew a sheet of paper and began to write. If she was going to stay here and try to make this her home, then she wanted it to feel like home, and that meant having all her beloved pets around her, as well as the rest of her clothes and possessions.

And if she truly made this a home, the next time Gabriel returned, he would find a warm, welcoming place he would never wish to leave again and a wife he would realize he’d been a fool to desert.

A
strong early December wind blew, lumbering clouds threatening rain when Esme rode up to the stables at Ten Elms almost six weeks later.

A groom came forward to help her dismount, then led her mare away while she headed back to the house. Burr trotted at her heels along with Haydn and Handel, who had arrived a month earlier, together with the rest of what her family had always affectionately dubbed her “menagerie.”

Even Poppy, her rabbit, had been sent north. Despite her recovery, the decision had been made that Poppy should not be set free again for fear of predators. Instead, Esme had installed her in a quiet area of the garden here at Ten Elms, where she would have plenty of room to hop and graze. She had even seen to it that a special weatherproof bunny hutch was built that would keep the little animal warm and safe this winter.

To her surprise and delight, Lawrence had accompanied her furry creatures on the journey, along with Charles, the footman, who had been seeing to their daily care, and a stableboy whose principal job it was to carry water and change bedding in the travel baskets.

“Lawrence,” she’d exclaimed when she’d seen her brother pull up in the coach. “What are you doing here? You didn’t say a word.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.” He’d swung her into his arms and given her a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“You thought you’d check up on me, you mean.”

He gave an unapologetic shrug, grinning as they walked into the house. “Everyone was leaving
Braebourne when your letter arrived. Since I’m the last unshackled sibling, I volunteered to accompany your animals north and find out how you’re doing.” Standing back, he surveyed her where they now stood together in the drawing room. “So, how are you doing? You look well enough, though a touch pale perhaps.”

She smiled, fighting not to let her recent unhappiness show. “Just fine.”

“And that husband of yours? Where is he, by the way? Off taking care of estate business?”

“In a manner of speaking. He’s . . . actually he’s in London.”

“London? What’s he doing there? Why didn’t he take you with him?”

And that’s when she’d broken down, tears spilling over her cheeks as she confessed the truth. Together, they’d huddled next to each other on the sofa, one of Lawrence’s long arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“He ought to be horsewhipped, leaving you here alone like this,” he said when she was done. “We should never have encouraged you to marry him.”

She shook her head. “No, it was my choice to go through with the wedding, and he’s been good to me, really.”

“By deserting you?” He stood up to pace. “When Edward hears about this, he’ll be livid.”

“Which is why you aren’t going to tell him.” She dried her cheeks with his handkerchief, then balled the cloth up inside her hand.

“Of course I’m going to tell him. He needs to know what that blighter has done.”

“No, he does not,” she stated in a hard tone. “This is between Gabriel and me, and I don’t want any interference.”

“Esme—”

“Swear to me that you’ll stay out of this and won’t tell the family. Gabriel is my husband and it is up to the two of us to resolve our difficulties, whatever they may be.”

He studied her, his blue eyes widening slightly. “Christ, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Anyway, you should be glad. At least my marriage isn’t turning out to be the loveless union all of you feared it might be.”

He arched a golden brow. “Perhaps not, but I don’t think the idea was for the affection to only be on one side. At least let me have the satisfaction of going next door to his town house when I get back to London so I can punch him a few times. Obviously he needs to be reminded that he has a wife.”

She smiled, amused despite herself. “I doubt he’s forgotten. But no, you are not allowed to injure him. Now, swear.”

In the end, he’d sworn, but not before reminding her of one last consideration.

“You know, with him in London, there may be talk.”

Her forehead creased. “Surely not this time of year, what with everyone away.”

“Not everyone
is
away. Leo and Thalia are at Brightvale for the time being, but it’s an easy matter for them to drive into Town. And when they see him there and you not there, it’ll only be a matter of putting two and two together.”

Her scowl deepened. “Oh, very well, go ahead and tell Leo—”

“Which means Thalia will know too. Believe me—he tells her everything.”

She sighed. “Fine. You may confide in Leo and Thalia, but no one else. And make them swear that they won’t pass it along, even if you have to get it written in blood first.”

He grinned. “Shame they don’t let women enter into the professions. I suspect you’d make a fine attorney.”

“I shall take that as a compliment.”

“It is meant as one.”

Lawrence had stayed for the next week and had even allowed himself to be drafted into helping select new
draperies for the study, the library and Gabriel’s bedchamber, since she wanted a man’s opinion on the rooms.

And then, once again, she was alone.

Charles, however, had decided to stay when she offered him a position in the household as first footman at twice the salary he had been earning at Braebourne. Not that she was planning to make a habit of poaching servants from Edward and Claire, but she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have at least one faithful ally in the house. Besides, Charles was one of the kindest, most good-natured people with whom she had ever been acquainted. She had long trusted her animals to his care and she now gladly trusted her new home to him as well.

As for the butler, Mr. Starr—who had returned from his visit to his sister only days after her arrival—he was as old and crotchety as Mrs. Foy was severe and reproving. Despite their being unfailingly polite—at least on the surface—the pair was proving to be a real impediment to her efforts to bring new life and warmth to Ten Elms. Whenever she tried to change something, even something as insignificant as the kind of tea served at breakfast, they would tell her that it “was not the way things were done here at Ten Elms” and that they would have to check with the master, who, of course, was away from home.

She had learned, via Charles, that nothing had changed in the running of the household in the ten years since Gabriel’s uncle had last been in charge. And since Gabriel spent so little time in the house, he had never bothered to change anything after assuming the peerage, leaving the servants to do as they had always done.

The situation infuriated her enough that she had written to Gabriel about it. He had written back, telling her to make whatever changes she liked and that he would inform Mr. Starr and Mrs. Foy to follow her orders.

Only they were not and Gabriel wasn’t here to make them.

As she walked now toward the house, the dogs still trotting happily at her heels, she thought about the other letters she’d received from Gabriel.

They arrived roughly once a week, brief missives that inquired after her health and whether she had ample funds and provisions.

Often they were accompanied by a hamper full of choice goods from London—cheeses, sweetmeats and fine wines, exotic fruits, such as pineapples and oranges, intriguing root vegetables and newly harvested nuts.

There were also sundries like fine-milled soap and violet-scented powder, ribbons, lace and once an entire bolt of the most beautiful deep blue cashmere, which she had immediately set about having made into a warm day dress and matching pelisse. There were also paints and paintbrushes and paper, enough so she had no worries of running short.

She never quite knew what to make of his gifts and whether he sent them out of thoughtfulness or guilt. Either way, she could not help but love them because they had come from him.

It was pathetic, she supposed, since she knew she ought to be angry with him. But she couldn’t seem to muster the appropriate amount of fury. She didn’t want to fight Gabriel; she just wanted him back.

And then there was his last letter, the one in which he had asked her something new.

“Are you with child?”

Her cheeks had first flushed, then grown cool as a fresh wave of sadness engulfed her.

“No,”
she had written back,
“I am not.”

She found herself wondering even now if he would be on his way home to her if the answer had been yes. Then again, perhaps he might come anyway, if for no other reason than to continue the attempt to produce an heir.

It was, after all, the one thing that would most certainly bring them back together—or at least bring him back to her bed eventually.

Her chest ached, knowing he would likely leave again once he did succeed in getting her with child. But the time spent in his arms might almost be worth the cost.

With her boots crunching on the gravel drive, she walked toward the front door. And that’s when she saw it.

The coach.

Without stopping to consider, she raced inside.

Is he here?
she wondered, heart pounding.
Has he come back at last?

She went first to the drawing room but found it empty. Next she tried the library, but there was nothing but shelves of books inside. Realizing that he must have gone upstairs to his bedchamber to change out of his traveling clothes, she whirled around and started for the stairs, the dogs chasing after her as if it were a game.

Suddenly she heard a sound coming from the end of the corridor where his study was located. Smiling, she changed direction again and hurried toward it.

“Gabriel?” she said as she reached the doorway. “Are you home?”

But the man who looked up at her entrance wasn’t Gabriel.

“Who are you?” She wrapped a hand around the doorframe, the dogs clustered protectively around her skirts. “And what are you doing in my husband’s office?”

The stranger looked up from where he stood behind Gabriel’s desk, an arrogant tilt to his fine-boned face. He was older, somewhere in his fifties, were she to guess, of medium height and slender build. His hair was pale blond turned mostly white. But it was his icy blue eyes that were his most striking feature; just looking into them made her shiver.

Where were the servants? she thought. How had he
gotten this far inside the house with no one taking notice? Suddenly she was glad of her canine escort.

“Hello there,” he said with an unconcerned drawl, as if she hadn’t just caught him where he was not supposed to be. “You must be the new Lady Northcote.”

“I am. And who might you be?”

He made her a short bow. “Sidney Landsdowne. I am Gabriel’s uncle on his father’s side. Your uncle now too, it would seem.”

His uncle?
She hadn’t known Gabriel even had an uncle. Then again, she knew almost nothing about his family, only that his brother and parents were no longer living. But apparently he did have relations. How many she still had no idea.

She relaxed, but only a bit, as she sank into a curtsy. “Oh, well, hello, this is an unexpected surprise. How nice to finally meet some of Gabriel’s family.”

“Yes, I was in the area and thought I ought to call and pay my respects. My apologies for not sending word to you earlier that I planned to drop in, but it was all rather last-minute.”

“Ah, I see.”

But she didn’t, not really. Sending a note was an easy enough thing to do, particularly when meeting someone for the first time, even a new relation. But maybe he was only passing through and it had been a spur-of-the-minute decision as he said. Then again, she had been in residence for six weeks and married to Gabriel even longer. Surely he could have sent a letter welcoming her to the family before now. Only he hadn’t actually welcomed her, had he?

“Gabriel isn’t here, I am afraid,” she said.

“Is he not? How . . . unfortunate.” He smiled, but the look didn’t do anything to warm his eyes. Nor did he seem particularly surprised by the news that Gabriel was not in residence.

Had he already known that Gabriel was away?

No, I am just imagining things,
she told herself, shaking off the reaction.

“Forgive the way I am dressed. I have only just returned from riding.”

Landsdowne waved a dismissive hand. “You look lovely. The fault is entirely mine for surprising you so unexpectedly.”

“Why do we not go to the drawing room and I shall order tea. I will only be gone a few minutes to change.”

“Of course. That sounds most agreeable.”

Still, he made no move to leave.

“Mr. Landsdowne? If you don’t mind my asking, what are you doing here in the study?”

“Uncle Sidney,” he said in an ingratiating tone. “Please, there is no need for formality. After all, we are family now, are we not? Esme, is it not?”

“Yes.” She paused, suddenly aware of the fact that the dogs hadn’t moved so much as an inch from her side. Burr, in particular, was always ready to make new friends, be they animal or human. But in this instance, he had kept his place, positioned so that he was almost touching her.

Esme reached down to pet him. “But you still haven’t said, Uncle Sidney. What are you doing in here?”

Something dark flashed in his gaze, a flicker so quick she wondered if it had been a trick of the light. Then he smiled again. “This used to be my office back when I managed the estate for both my late brother and late nephew, so I sometimes forget it is not still mine. I was your husband’s guardian when he was a boy; did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t realize.”

“Hmm, at one point I controlled the entirety of Ten Elms.”

It sounded like he wished he still did.

“A shame Gabriel takes so little interest in what was once a great estate,” he continued. “But, of course, he has far too much liking for London, does he not, your husband?”

What was that supposed to mean? Did he know that
Gabriel was in London?
Had
he known, even before she told him Gabriel was away?

Landsdowne ran a finger over the desk near the ledger that lay open on its surface. Only then did she notice the heavy leather book.