Say You Love Me (14 page)

Derek was grown now, was rarely at home anymore, but her feelings still hadn’t changed. She still didn’t want her son to be ashamed of his mother. And he would be. How could he not be? After all this time, for him to learn she wasn’t even dead, and worse, that she’d been his father’s mistress all these years…

“You told her she could have a divorce.”

It wasn’t even a question. With this hanging
in the balance, of course he would agree to the divorce.

“No,” he admitted.

“Jason!”

“Molly, listen to me, please. Derek is a full-grown man. I have every faith that he could deal with this now with little difficulty. I never wanted it kept from him to begin with, but I let you talk me into it. Once done, it was too late to change the story, at least while he was young. But he’s not young and impressionable anymore. You don’t think he would be
happy
, at this point, to know his mother is alive?”

“No, and you said it yourself. It was too late before to tell, and it’s still too late. I may not know him quite as well as you do, Jason, but I know him well enough to know he’ll be furious, not just with me, but with you, for lying to him.”

“Nonsense.”

“Think about it, Jason. He’s never felt deprived. He’s always had a huge family. He always had dozens of shoulders to cry on when he was a child. He was never lonely. He even had his cousin Regina here for a playmate after your sister died. But if he finds out the truth, he’ll
think
he was deprived, don’t you see? At least, that will probably be his first reaction. Then the shame will set in—”

“Stop it! That drivel might’ve washed twenty-five years ago, but times are changing, Molly. The common man is making his mark in the world, in literature, in the arts—in politics. You have nothing to be ashamed of—”

“
I’m
not ashamed of who I am, Jason Malory. But you gentry have a different way of looking at things. Lords always have and probably always will. And they don’t want their fine, aristocratic blood mixing with the common man’s, not for their heirs, anyway. And you’re a prime example yourself. Or did you not go out and find yourself an earl’s daughter to marry, a woman you could barely tolerate, just to give Derek a mother, when his real mother was sleeping in your bed?”

She regretted saying that the moment it was out. She knew he couldn’t marry her. It simply wasn’t done. And she had never, ever complained to him about it, accepting what he could give her of himself, accepting her place in his life. That she had been hurt when he married Frances, she had vowed he would never know. That she might have felt some resentment occasionally that she couldn’t be his wife, she had hoped he would never know. But after a stupid, thoughtless remark like that…

Before he could address it, she continued, hoping to distract him. “Frances is apparently determined to give you a scandal either way, Jason, and one isn’t much worse than the other, so let sleeping dogs lie, please. You and Frances have lived separately for most of your marriage. Everyone knows that. So do you really think anyone will raise too much of an eyebrow if you divorce? I would imagine most of your friends will merely remark, ‘Surprised
you didn’t do it sooner.’ Tell her you’ve changed your mind.”

“I gave her no definite answer,” he grouched. “A matter like this needs thinking upon.”

Molly sighed in relief. She knew her love very well. Just by his tone, she knew he’d been swayed to her reasoning. She didn’t know which point had done the trick. She didn’t want to know—as long as her secret remained safe.

17

She looked so fragile lying there, her hair stringy with
sweat, moisture on her pale brow and cheeks, her breathing shallow. But Derek knew there wasn’t much that was fragile about Kelsey Langton. Quite a temper she had, even when ill. He could just imagine what it could be like when she was feeling up to snuff.

He couldn’t blame her for trying to brain him with a candle holder, after what she had endured. He’d sent his driver back to Bridgewater to find out what had happened, and had the story from him the previous night. He’d had no way of knowing that the maid he’d instructed to deliver what was needed to the cottage had already been fired by his housekeeper and so had no reason to comply or even to give those instructions to someone else. She had simply packed up her things and left. And Kelsey had had no way of knowing that either.

Derek hadn’t been able to tell her yet. She hadn’t been lucid enough since the evening before, the doctor’s medicines finally working
to free her cold, and as the doctor had warned, her illness had gotten much worse before it improved. But she had just broken her fever and was sleeping peacefully at last. It had been a long night. It had been an even longer two days, because he’d barely left her side since she had fainted in his arms three nights before.

She made a terrible patient, grumpy, argumentative. She hadn’t wanted him to do anything for her, had wanted to get up and do for herself. But he had insisted, wiping her down with cool wet cloths, at least those limbs she would reveal to him, bringing her meals to her, unappetizing as they were. He was bloody well all thumbs in the kitchen.

A cook was to show up today for an interview. He had sent his driver to the employment agency to arrange for some help before he returned to Bridgewater. Whoever showed would be hired on the spot, because if Derek never stepped into a kitchen again, it would be too soon. The other servants could wait until Kelsey was feeling up to hiring them.

The night of passion that he had envisioned upon her return to London certainly hadn’t worked out as he’d hoped. And he’d left Amy’s reception early that evening only to be met with passionate fury instead of what he’d been so looking forward to. But there would be ample time for that now that he had her installed in London.

It was the sunlight streaming into the room that woke Kelsey. Derek had forgotten to close the curtains again the night before. But then he overlooked many little things like that, things that servants usually tended to. Not that it mattered, as helpful as he’d been trying to be. He was feeling remorse, when quite possibly he had no reason to be remorseful. But he was still trying to make amends, and that said a lot for him.

It was the second morning she had awakened to find him still in the room with her. The day before he’d greeted her with tea, broth, and medicine. This day he wasn’t just there, he was also in her bed.

It was quite a surprise waking to find him there beside her. And quite a chore trying to rack her sluggish mind to find if there was a reason for him to be there other than that he’d just been too tired to find somewhere else to sleep. But she couldn’t recall anything beyond the light meal she’d had the night before and that she had barely kept down, and her raging fever.

She felt much better this morning though, a little weak, a bit bedsore after being confined for two days, but the constant heat that she had been living with was gone. In fact, for the first time in days she was a bit chilled. She noticed that the fire in the room had burned down to a few embers, and that her sleeping gown was damp from the night sweats.

The large body next to her was quite a temptation as a source of immediate warmth, but
she didn’t have the nerve to snuggle close to Derek, even while he was sleeping. He might have tended her these last days, might be her soon-to-be lover, but she still barely knew him—and she wished she hadn’t remembered that he
was
going to be her lover. The very thought made her uncomfortable, with him so close. Well, not so much uncomfortable as…physically disturbed. She was suddenly too aware that he was a large, handsome male, and with him sleeping, there was nothing to stop her from taking her fill of looking at him.

He was lying on his back on top of the covers, one arm thrown up above his head, the other slack at his side. The long sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the same golden hair on his arms that was atop his head. The muscles were rather thick on his forearms too, his wrists wide, his hands large.

Another thatch of golden hair was revealed on his upper chest, where his shirt lay open. With the one arm raised, the shirt was also stretched taut, showing just how wide his chest was, how hard and flat his waist. And his legs, so long that his feet reached the end of the bed, shoeless just now, though he’d left his stockings on.

His jaw was slack in sleep, his firm lips just barely parted. He wasn’t snoring, but she wondered if he sometimes did. She supposed she would find out eventually.

She saw long, golden eyelashes that she hadn’t noticed before because those change
able green eyes of his tended to capture her complete attention. He was frowning, apparently not liking whatever dream he was having. Her fingers almost itched to smooth his brow, but she didn’t dare.

She didn’t
want
him waking up beside her. Absolutely not. Their position was just too intimate at the moment, and there was no telling what ideas that might give him—though maybe not. She did probably look a fright, after all. Two days of only bed baths, and her hair had gone through several night sweats without being washed. Undoubtedly a definite fright.

Actually, a bath sounded heavenly at the moment, a nice hot soak to ease those sore muscles she was feeling and get rid of the itch on her scalp. And she might be able to accomplish it before Derek even woke, so that she could look halfway decent again when she got around to thanking him for his tender, if somewhat bossy, care.

It amazed her, now that she thought about it, that he’d stayed to tend to her himself when he didn’t have to. He could have arranged for a nurse. But she supposed it was his remorse that had kept him there. Although whatever the reason, she was glad that he’d stayed, glad that he’d shown her again that he wasn’t as callous and thoughtless as she’d begun to think.

She eased her way out of the bed without disturbing him and gathered up some clothes. And a last glance his way before she closed
the bathroom door showed him still fast asleep—at least she hadn’t been able to discern his eyes slightly cracked and watching her. And the bath did wonders, ridding her of any lingering feelings of illness. She even took the time to dry her hair before she dressed for the day, though she was still brushing it when she reentered the bedroom.

She’d taken so long, Derek was no longer there. A fire was now burning in the grate again, chasing the chill from the room. Though truthfully she’d barely noticed that chill when she’d left the bed, after staring at Derek for so long. She smiled now, noting that even the bed had been made, and truly, she wished she could have seen him manage that on his own.

She took a few moments more to fix her hair into her usual coiffure, then went down to see if Derek had left the flat completely. He hadn’t. She found him in the kitchen brewing a pot of fresh tea, and on a tray next to him was a plate filled with a half dozen fat pastries. He hadn’t changed clothes yet. It was possible he didn’t have any clothes there yet to change into.

She smiled when he looked up and noticed her in the doorway. “I won’t believe you’ve had time to bake those,” she said, nodding toward the pastries.

He snorted. “Not bloody likely, and never again will I even try. No, I heard a hawker passing and ran down to see what he was selling. Just pastries, but welcome this time of the morning, and actually still warm.”

His “never again will I even try” made sense as she noticed the disastrous mess the kitchen had become. Seeing her expression as she gazed about the room, he told her, “A cook will be showing up today—What?” he added, when she looked even more appalled.

“She will poke her head in here and head straight for the front door,” she predicted.

He frowned. “Nonsense,” he said, but then, “You think so? Very well, I’ll make it worth her while to stay. But if you don’t like this cook, please don’t let her go until you have a replacement ready to take over—that is, unless you can cook. As for your other servants, they will be showing up this week for you to interview.”

“So I
am
to stay here?”

“Don’t you like it?”

He looked so disappointed, she was very quick to reassure him, “Of course I like it, I just wasn’t sure this was where you were putting me.”

“Gad, didn’t I mention that? No? Well, I’ve signed a six-month lease, which can be easily extended. So if there’s something you don’t like, any of the furniture or whatever, we can change it. This will be your home, Kelsey. I want you to feel comfortable in it.”

She blushed slightly at the permanence of that statement and how it related to their relationship—which had yet to really start. “That’s very kind of you. I’m sure I will be most comfortable here.”

“Excellent. Now, shall we partake of this
meager fare in the dining room, where it’s not so cluttered?”

She smiled and left the kitchen. The dining room was very cheerful at that time of day, catching the early sun, which hadn’t disappeared yet under a bank of clouds, a rare occurrence that time of year.

“How many servants am I to hire?” she asked as she took a seat across from him and poured their tea.

“As many as you need.”

“Will you be paying their wages, or do you wish me to see to that?”

“Hmmm, hadn’t thought of that. I suppose it will be easiest if I just leave you an allowance for the household, as well as for yourself. And by the by, as soon as you’re feeling up to it, we need to take you shopping. You can’t have very many clothes stuffed into that small valise of yours.”

She supposed she could save him the cost of that by sending for the rest of her own wardrobe. But how would she explain that to Aunt Elizabeth, when she was supposed to only be visiting her friend in Kettering for a short time? It was bad enough that she would have to continue to invent excuses for extending her visit. Besides, her clothes likely weren’t in the style of the kind he had in mind buying for her, though she sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be any other atrocious red gowns.