Lord Greywell's Dilemma (24 page)

He had the impression she was aimlessly chattering, something he didn’t remember about her from their original meetings at Lyndhurst. Saying something for the sole purpose of covering her confusion. But what was there to be confused about? he wondered. “I thought we might take a ride together when you’re finished.”

“Is your arm well enough for that?”

“I think so.” The sling was gone now. “I didn’t have anything too ambitious in mind, just a ride over to the village.”

“Yes, well, that would be lovely. I’ll have to change. Say, in about half an hour?”

The enthusiasm seemed forced to him, but he nodded and left her, returning briefly to the study before going to his own room to don riding apparel. Caroline would have tossed her arms around his neck and kissed him, because she never thought he did enough with her. Most of their expeditions had been at her instigation, when he would laugh and touch her nose and say, “Very well, my little love. I can finish the books later.”

It was when he saw Elspeth standing beside her mare that something finally clicked in his head. Yes, the way she held herself was decidedly different—different the way Caroline had held herself after their wedding night. Before, she had been flirtatious and aware of her body in only a superficial way, knowing she was pretty, that her figure was admired by men. After, she had held herself with a special kind of feminine consciousness. She had radiated a confidence in her womanhood that had been lacking when she was an uninitiated girl. He remembered feeling astonishingly touched by the change.

A similar change in Elspeth did not make him feel touched at all, but slightly ill. Had she somehow been initiated when he was away? It seemed unlikely, given her frame of mind on the subject of physical intimacy, and the promise he had made to allow her to remain chaste should Andrew regain his health. Greywell assured himself he was imagining things. For all he knew, there might be any number of things which would make a woman aware of her own body in that striking way. Perhaps even having a child to care for, feeling like a mother.

Getting into the saddle was a little awkward, but once he was astride there was no problem. The arm didn’t ache much any more unless he was forced to exert it. Elspeth watched him with a proper amount of wifely concern, smiling when he indicated there was nothing to worry about.

“Your Clemson has done wonders,” she said as they directed their horses toward the village. “I had thought you’d want to call in Dr. Wellow, but there seems to be no need.”

“None at all. The surgeon in Brussels told Clemson how to handle it, and I think Clemson would have been extremely put out with me if I’d called in other advice.”

“No doubt. He’s very protective of you.”

Greywell turned to stare at her. “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, not for any particular reason, I suppose. It’s just that the day after you returned, I remembered about the snuffboxes I’d put in your drawer, and I thought perhaps I should move them. Not because of Clemson! It just seemed rather silly of me to have put them there in the first place, you know.”

She shrugged. “So I was going to put them back where I’d gotten them. And I tapped on your bedchamber door, just as a courtesy, since I knew you were down with your estate manager. But Clemson was there, seeing to your clothes, and he was very suspicious of my wanting to come in. He acted as though I might be spying on you, peering in your drawers and such. He said he’d get me whatever it was I wanted.”

“And did he?”

“Well, you must know the snuffboxes weren’t there any more, so he couldn’t very well find them, could he?” Elspeth sounded miffed.

“No, I suppose not. He’d found them there the first night and asked what I wanted him to do with them. I told him to put them in the study. They aren’t so likely to bother you there.”

“I made a great fuss about nothing. You should, of course, put them wherever you wish, Gr—David. Some of them are quite handsome. Mrs. Waltham told me a little of the history behind a few of them. She’s knowledgeable on the most astonishing subjects, isn’t she?”

“Yes. She not only knows their history, but a great deal about their craftsmanship. God only knows where she picked up that information. Their history she knows from me, of course. Did she ask what had become of the ones you’d put away?”

“Naturally, but I didn’t tell her I’d had anything to do with it. I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”

“There was no need. Abigail asks a lot of impertinent questions which are none of her business. She doesn’t even consider whether she’s being rude. It’s more a matter of curiosity with her, an almost insatiable curiosity. And of course she’s known me since I was a child and feels she has a right to involve herself in my life and that of anyone associated with me.”

“She said my father was planning to visit again, that he had written to her, but I haven’t heard from him recently. You don’t suppose she’s a little mixed up about that, do you?”

“It’s hard to tell with Abigail. Do you still think they were . . .” He left the sentence unfinished out of consideration for her delicacy.

“Going to bed together?” she asked, unperturbed. “Oh, yes, she as good as told me they were. Not that I should be so surprised, allowing for my father’s reputation. But I wouldn’t have thought Mrs. Waltham was quite his type of woman. He told me he liked her unpredictability. Imagine!”

Greywell was imagining all sorts of things, but very few of them had to do with Abigail. When had this astonishing change come in Elspeth? Not only did she speak of such physical intimacy with a lack of embarrassment, but she showed none of the moral repugnance he would have expected from her. He wished he had some clue to what was going on.

His wish was answered sooner than he could have expected. They were entering the village now, trotting down the single street with no particular destination, when Francis Treyford emerged from a shop to the left of them.

Greywell wasn’t looking at Elspeth at the time; he was trying to decide whether it would be a good idea to buy her a gift, and if so, which of the shops would be the most likely to have something of interest. None of them was very well stocked, and certainly not with anything of a very exciting nature. He should have bought her something in Vienna, or even in Brussels before the fighting had started, but he hadn’t thought of it.

So it was Francis on whom his abstracted gaze fell, and his lips automatically formed a smile of greeting. Before he could say anything, however, Francis’ odd expression had registered with him. The younger man’s willowy body had stiffened and his face paled, taking on a forlorn and suffering cast. What was more significant, no doubt, was that his eyes were riveted on Elspeth, not on Greywell. It was only when all of this had impressed itself on his lordship that he, too, turned to look at Elspeth.

His wife had had plenty of time to control her countenance into one of friendly interest, and was even now greeting Francis with the offhandedness of old acquaintances. She inquired after his health, his poetry, and his parents.

Unfortunately, Francis was not able, or willing, to respond in kind. He continued to stare at her, a variety of emotions passing quickly over his face. Then he switched his gaze to the viscount for a moment before saying stiffly, “How do you do, Greywell? I’m glad to see you’re recovered from your injury.”

Greywell didn’t think he seemed the least bit glad. In fact, he had the distinct impression Francis would gladly have seen him disappear from the earth that very instant. So Francis had developed one of his hopeless passions for Elspeth, had he? And what of Elspeth herself?

Her face had frozen into the expression she’d adopted, but her eyes were lively with distress. It was impossible for Greywell to say whether this was because she was aware of Francis’ devotion and found it embarrassing, or whether she returned it and was alarmed at Greywell’s discovering her secret. “You should come by to see us one morning,” he said to Francis, out of sheer devilry.

“No!” that young man ejaculated without thinking. And then he added, “I’m about to be off to visit a friend. Won’t be around for a while. Perhaps when I return . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Yes, when you return,” Greywell rejoined, pleasant. “Do come to see us when you return.”

Francis nodded gravely to him, and threw a furtive glance at Elspeth’s averted face before marching off to where a small boy waited patiently with his horse.

“Francis seems a bit jumpy today,” Greywell said to his wife. “No doubt a short trip will help relax him.”

Elspeth regarded him suspiciously, murmuring something that might have been taken as assent.

“Let’s dismount and go into Burdock’s,” he suggested, dropping the subject for the present. “I’d like to get a toy for Andrew.”

The child’s birthday was approaching. but of course that was also the day of Caroline’s death, and Elspeth felt a deep sympathy for Greywell’s pain. She didn’t mention the birthday, thinking it would be something he wouldn’t wish to discuss. For the last few days she’d been trying to decide how to handle the situation without inflicting unnecessarily grim memories on him, but there didn’t really seem any solution. Perhaps what he intended was to give the child a present now, and let the birthday pass without comment.

Mr. Burdock’s store was small, and rather cozy, compared with the shops in Coventry. Elspeth patronized it when she could, though that wasn’t as often as she wished. There were a variety of goods, from ladies’ scarves to gentlemen’s gloves, with a sprinkling of hardware and toys. None of them were of a quality to match the more exclusive businesses in Coventry, but Elspeth hardly felt little Andrew would notice the difference.

She led Greywell to the shelf where a few items were displayed, dismissing the dolls and soldiers as not of interest to Andrew, and the marionettes as too complicated. There were lambs with white wool fleeces spangled with gold, and cardboard models of mail coaches and curricles, jigsaw puzzles and yoyos. Elspeth frowned at the assortment.

“I think perhaps a toy he could pull. He’ll be able to manage it very soon, you know, and in the meantime he could push it about sitting down if necessary,” she said.

But Greywell’s eye had been caught by something entirely different. It wasn’t on the shelf of toys, but resting on the floor, half pushed behind a table covered with mixing bowls. The rocking horse was made of wood and brightly painted in white, brown, and red. Elspeth had never noticed it before and wondered that Mr. Burdock had such an expensive item in his small shop, since few people in the neighborhood could afford that kind of luxury.

“It’s a little large,” she said dubiously. “He might fall off it and hurt himself.”

Greywell touched her chin with a finger, smiling in amusement. “Now who’s being protective? Little boys take lots of spills, Elspeth, and it doesn’t usually do them the least harm. We can put something soft on the floor, pillows, perhaps, and he’ll be perfectly safe.”

Her eyes met his for a moment. There was something disturbing about his gaze, and the way he had touched her chin. Something familiar and affectionate, almost as though they were an ordinary couple, attached to each other. Elspeth looked away. “I suppose you’re right. He’d love to have the rocking horse. But it must be very expensive, David.”

He laughed. “I can’t see that that’s any problem. Have you taken to worrying about money, my dear?”

“No, of course not. Its just that such a large present might best be given for a . . . special occasion.”

“Such as his birthday?” Greywell regarded her thoughtfully, drawing a hand along the smooth surface of the rocking horse. “Perhaps you’re right. We’ll buy a pull toy for him today and save the rocking horse for his birthday. All right?”

“All right.” She smiled hesitantly at him. His eyes did not seem to have left her face the whole time. What was he trying to read there? She turned away to choose the nicest of the toys with their strings and little wooden balls, their round red wheels and crudely carved figures. “This one, I think.”

He hardly glanced at it. “Fine,” he said, brushing her hand as he took it from her.

* * * *

After dinner each evening it was her habit to go to the nursery to play with Andrew for a few minutes before putting him to bed. Since Greywell’s return, he had accompanied her, as he did that night. Instead of returning to the drawing room, however, he suggested they walk in the shrubbery afterward. “It’s a lovely night and I have something I wish to speak with you about,” he said.

Elspeth felt a momentary panic, but managed to agree in what sounded like a normal voice. “I’ll have to get a shawl from my room.”

“I’ll come with you. I’d like to see the changes you’ve made, if you don’t mind.”

She made an awkward, flapping gesture with her hands, but he ignored it, since she didn’t actually refuse. They walked down the stairs in silence, and traversed the corridor side by side. At her door he reached forward to turn the knob, entering directly after her. There was no one in the room. Her maid had left a nightdress on the bed and tidied up since she had dressed for dinner.

Greywell was surprised at the change in the room. The heavy draperies were gone and in their place were light cotton ones. The same fabric had been used on one of the walls, and for the spread that covered her bed. It was a simple gold-and-white stripe which enlivened the room considerably, especially when one took into account the new furniture. Elspeth had not stinted on expense in the material or the furniture; both were of excellent quality. But the total effect of the room was of an elegant simplicity to be found nowhere else at Ashfield.

“I bought a heavier material for the draperies for winter,” she explained, “though it’s the same pattern. I like light, soft colors in a bedchamber. They make you feel good about each day ,when you wake up.”

“It’s delightful. I had no idea one could so easily transform a room. Or perhaps it wasn’t all that easy?”

“There’s no problem, if you know what you want, and if you have the money to purchase it.” Feeling a little more relaxed now, she asked if he’d like to see the Queen’s Closet.