Lord Deverill's Heir (26 page)

Suddenly her eyes dimmed. “But, Gervaise, Lady Ann will not wish to go to London for another six months. Must we be parted for such a long time?

No, I cannot bear it. Say there is another way.” The comte snapped his fingers. “We have spent years without knowing each other, what is a mere six months? You will see, little cousin, that the time will fly.”

She sensed he was growing impatient with her. She said quickly, “I suppose you are right, but allow me to say that I will miss you terribly.”

“And I you.” He nodded, pleased.

He prepared to rise. She took him off his guard when she grabbed his hand and cried, “Please stay with me now. It has been so very long, since before Josette died. Stay with me. I want you, truly I do.” He was stunned. The thought of making love to her—no, it was impossible.

It was beyond impossible. It made his stomach clench. But he couldn’t tell her, no. He tried to find calm, to speak gently yet firmly, to cloak the bitterness that gnawed at his guts. “Elsbeth, listen to me. I don’t think we should meet like this again. The earl knows about us since I told him. He might become even more vicious. He might order me to leave before the end of the week. I don’t want to leave you until I am forced to. Thus, we must take care now. No more meetings here, Elsbeth. No, don’t cry. You know that taking you gives me great pleasure, but it would be fatal to our plans were we to be discovered or even suspected. Surely you must realize that. We must think of the future.” Elsbeth was so caught up in the tragic vision of her and Gervaise being torn from each other that the gift of her body now seemed to be her ultimate pledge of her faith and love. Passion flowed through her. “Just one last time, then, Gervaise. Hold me and love me just this last time.” The urgency in her voice, the passion shining from her dark eyes stirred revulsion in him—not at her—but at himself. Yet he could not let her doubt him. He forced himself not to pull away from her. He clasped her slender shoulders, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against hers.

In her frantic desire to secure their final moments together, to lock them forever in her mind, Elsbeth forgot her fear and felt an exquisite tremor of desire sweep through her at his touch.

He felt cold, benumbed, and when her lips parted against his, he could bear it no longer. He jerked away from her and rose shakily to his feet.

“Elsbeth, oh God, I cannot. No, don’t be hurt, it’s not that I don’t want you.” He tried to calm his voice, to reassure her. “I cannot, my little cousin. I have promised to ride with Arabella. Surely, you can see that if I am late, she might suspect. We must be brave, Elsbeth. The end to all this will come soon, I promise you. You must trust me. Can you do that?”

“But, Gervaise—yes, I trust you.” He would not change his mind. She knew him well enough. She nodded slowly. Those wondrous feelings that had scored through her, they were gone now. She wondered if they had existed or if she had simply conjured them up in her pain.

Before he left the stall, he kissed her lightly, passionlessly, on the cheek. She read intense sadness in his gentle gesture. She held back her tears until he was gone from her.

Lady Ann lifted her booted foot and allowed the groom to toss her into the saddle. “Thank you, Tim,” she said as she adjusted the folds of her riding skirt becomingly about her legs. “I do not need you to accompany me, I am riding to Dr. Branyon’s house. Tulip, here, knows the way very well.”

Tim tugged respectfully at the shock of chestnut hair at his forehead and stepped back as Lady Ann flicked the reins on her mare’s neck. Tulip broke into a comfortable canter down the front drive.

The frown that Lady Ann had momentarily banished in the presence of the groom now returned to crease her forehead. She drew a deep breath of fresh country air and pulled Tulip in to a more sedate pace. The mare snorted her gratitude. “You are like me, you old lazy cob,” she said half aloud. “You stay comfortably in your pleasant stall and regard with a jaundiced eye anyone who disturbs your pleasure.” Lady Ann had not ridden in months. She knew that her leg muscles would protest in the morning. But even aching muscles did not seem important at the moment. She felt so very helpless and frustrated, her anger at Justin from the day before turned to despair. Evesham Abbey was a cold, immense, and empty tomb, and she found she could not bear it another moment.

Justin was gone off somewhere, Arabella was very probably also riding, but her destination would be any place that took her as far as possible from her husband. As for Elsbeth and the comte, Lady Ann had not seen either of them since lunch.

It occurred to her as she wheeled Tulip toward Paul’s tidy Georgian home that stood at the edge of the small village of Strafford on Baird, that Paul might not be at home. After all, unlike herself and the rest of the gentry, he could not very well tell someone who was ill that he didn’t feel like taking care of them.

They had not had much time together since Josette’s death. Today she felt that she must see him, just look at those beautiful brown eyes of his, and let her frustration and despair flow away. Oh yes, he could make her forget her own name. She thought about the fishpond, how he had loved her, understood her fear of men, and given her finally a woman’s pleasure. She had liked that very much. She thought it could easily become a craving. She wanted it again and again.

“Now, Tulip, you can rest your tired bones,” she said, turning her mare into the small yew-tree-lined drive. “Even though I don’t see how any bone in your big body can be at all tired.”

“Afternoon, milady.” She was hailed by a sturdy sandy-haired boy, tall and gangly framed, nearly of an age as Arabella. She’d known him all his life.

“It is good to see you again, Will,” she said as the boy limped forward to take the reins of her horse. He’d broken his leg when he had been quite young. “You are looking quite fit. Is Dr. Branyon at home?” She realized after a moment that she wasn’t breathing. He had to be here, he just had to be. She needed him. It was an alarming realization, but true nonetheless.

“Aye, milady. Just returned from Dalworthy’s. Crotchety old bugger broke

’is arm.”

“Excellent,” she said, not caring if Dalworthy had broken his neck.

“Please give Tulip some hay, Will, but not too much. She’s been eating her head off.”

She slid gracefully to the ground and very nearly ran to the three narrow front steps. To her surprise, Mrs. Muldoon, Dr. Branyon’s fiery, fiercely loyal Irish housekeeper, did not answer the knock.

“Ann. What a surprise. Good heavens, my girl, whatever are you doing here?” Dr. Branyon stood in the open doorway, his frilled white shirt loose about his neck, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, his face alight with astonished pleasure.

Lady Ann stared up at him, not a single word forming in her mouth. She ran her tongue over her lips. She realized he was staring at her mouth.

“I wanted to surprise you, Paul,” she finally said. Goodness, she sounded like a twit.

He smiled at her, still staring at her mouth. “Ah, I’m rude, Ann. Do come in.” He wanted to carry her inside. He then didn’t want to put her down except on his bed. He wanted to kiss that beautiful mouth of hers, touch his tongue to hers. He shuddered. “I’m sorry. But Mrs. Muldoon isn’t here. I’ll make tea for us if that is what you would like. Mrs. Muldoon’s sister has the mumps. Isn’t that distressing?”

“Very distressing,” Lady Ann said, about as distressed as her mare, Tulip, who was probably neighing with pleasure over her oats. She followed Paul into the front parlor, a cozy, light-filled room that she quite liked. It wasn’t an immense empty tomb like Evesham Abbey.

“I suppose I like your riding hat,” he said. “May I remove it for you?” He wanted to kiss her and he didn’t want to have to find his way around a pile of black velvet.

She nodded mutely, raising her face. He didn’t kiss her, but it was close. He pulled the narrow ribbons apart and lifted the hat from her head. After all his care, he couldn’t prevent tossing the hat on a nearby table. “Now, come sit down and tell me what new calamity brings you here.” Something had to have happened, he knew it. He supposed the kisses would have to wait. He sighed. “I’m fortified. No, you wouldn’t come here just to surprise me, would you?”

She gave him a delicious smile. “No, I am here just to see you. Well, I suppose I did have rather a loud argument with Justin over Arabella. I hadn’t meant to, but it happened. Then she even came into the chamber.

She was terrified of him, Paul, terrified. As for the earl, God knows what was in his mind. But you are right, you know, about all of it. He believes that she has betrayed him with the comte. But he wouldn’t tell me why exactly he believed it and that is what I wanted from him. But he wouldn’t tell me. However, I do know him well enough to realize that if he believes something so ridiculous then he must have a reason.” She sighed. “I wish he had confided in me.”

“I wonder if he has yet ordered that young man from Evesham Abbey. He should, you know. Then perhaps he and Arabella can get this wretched misunderstanding all straightened out.”

“I hate Evesham Abbey. Now it is even more cold and empty than before.

Even when people are walking around, it is still empty. God, I have hated that place forever.”

“Then you will live here with me.”

She looked startled, then laughed. She looked about the drawing room, loving every piece of furniture, each drapery, each small sculpture or drawing or painting that was here. “Would you really let me live here with you? You wouldn’t make me live somewhere else, somewhere you thought was grand enough for me?”

“No, you will be here, with me, and Mrs. Muldoon will bully both of us and love you, but like a mother would, not like I, who would be your husband and your lover. I know you enjoy this house, Ann. I also know that if it didn’t please you, you would tell me. Eventually, anyway.” She rose from the settee and skipped to where he sat. She eased herself down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Yes,” she whispered against his ear, “I would tell you eventually if something displeased me.

However, right now, I cannot think of anything.” She kissed him. Lady Ann, that very proper, very beautiful woman he had loved since he had met her when she had just married the Earl of Stafford, nineteen years before. God was beneficent. “Oh yes,” he said into her mouth.

When she finally raised her head, she was breathing more quickly, her breasts were heaving a bit. He was so happy he thought he would burst with it. “I don’t suppose you want that tea, do you, Ann?”

“I forgot. If you would take me to Mrs. Muldoon’s kitchen and show me the tea, I will endeavor to make some for us. That is, if you would like some boring tea.”

“As opposed to what?”

“As opposed to me,” she said, and sank down against him again.

He didn’t want to make love to her here in the drawing room. No, he wanted her in his bed, where she would sleep every night for the rest of her life. He wanted her very badly. “Will you come with me, Ann?”

“To that wretched kitchen?”

“No, to my bed.”

She was stroking her soft palm over his cheek. “I believe I would even go to Talgarth Hall with you.”

“It’s love then,” he said, and rose, holding her tightly against him.

She was laughing. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He took the worn carpet stairs two at a time, reminded fleetingly of the interminable years of nights he had walked weary and alone up these same stairs to his bedchamber. Soon, he would never walk them alone again.

A very replete hour later Lady Ann whispered against his neck, “I’m a loose woman. If you don’t marry me then I will have to cast myself into a ditch. All that guilt and remorse for my sins, you know.” He kissed her, but didn’t laugh. He was as serious as a man could be when he said, “You are prepared for the malicious gossip of our neighbors?” She hadn’t thought of it, but she knew it would happen. She thought about it now for all the time it deserved—about five seconds. “They can all go to the devil,” she said, and he was so startled that he did laugh then.

“And Arabella?” he said then.

“I’m not worried about her, at least with regard to us, Paul. Surely she’s guessed. Even Justin has. She is very fond of you. Why should she care if her dear mama finally finds happiness?” He wanted to tell her that it was very possible that she would hate him as much as she loved her father. But he didn’t know. Everything was strange now, nothing as it should be, except for them, he thought, kissing the tip of her nose. No, this was a perfect strangeness.

He helped her to dress. He found it very enjoyable, working all those little buttons back into their holes. They left his house together.

* * *

Lady Ann arrived at Evesham Abbey in barely enough time to change her clothes for dinner. “I shall join you shortly, Paul,” she whispered.

Turning to the butler, she said, “Crupper, do tell Cook that Dr. Branyon will be joining us for dinner this evening.”

“Yes, my lady.” Crupper nodded. He wasn’t a blind man. His mistress looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen, and it was all due to Dr.

Branyon. Oh Lordie. Well, who cared?

Crupper eyed Dr. Branyon as he presented him with a glass of sherry.

Though the doctor was not a lord, he was nonetheless a fine gentleman. It was the first time, he thought, ruminating on the situation as he descended the flagstone steps into the kitchen, that he had ever seen the Lady Ann so very, not just beautiful, but sparkling, yes, that was it.

True it was but a short time since his lordship’s death, but what matter?

Lady Arabella was settled with the new earl, and life was too short anyway to worry overly about such things. He smoothed his sparse gray hair and wondered if the two of them would live here at Evesham Abbey after they married.

Had Lady Ann not felt so unbearably happy, she would have felt the undercurrent of tension at the dinner table. She saw the participants at the large table through a pleasant blur, their words and tones softened by the time they penetrated through the haze of contentment. She wanted to leap up and shout hallelujahs when Paul folded his napkin, cleared his throat, and rose to his feet.