The Hourglass (14 page)

When she smoothed the dark feathers after drying him with a handkerchief, Genie found a gash in one of his wings. “Good grief. You’ve been in a fight?”

“’Awk!”

“You mean hawk? A Cockney hawk? You poor ninny. You should not be out with those devils.”

Olive bobbed his head. She was right. Better the devil you knew.

Genie felt foolish talking to the crow, but he seemed calmer from hearing her voice. “No, you should have come to me right away if the master was angry. Remember, mine?”

She thought the bird muttered, “Mine till death do us part,” but a crow—no matter how much a mimic—had neither the intelligence nor the vocabulary for such complicated notions or phrases. “You could not have said that.”

She was right. What he’d said, looking toward that closed connecting door, was “Mine till Death does his part.”

Chapter Ten

The Randolphs arrived early the next morning, bags and baggage, son and old dog.

“Oh, did I neglect to mention they had a little bitch?” Ardeth asked after making the introductions.

Genie liked the Randolphs. They seemed eager to please, grateful for their new position, happy in the rooms assigned to them, and very close-knit. Servants had little enough security, and the couple had been left with no back wages, no pensions, and no letters of recommendation. Still, they appreciated that they had each other. Genie envied them that.

After helping with the bags, young Sean Randolph was sent off on his way to school, despite his claim that since he already knew his letters and numbers, he should work in the stables. As Genie took Mrs. Randolph on a tour of the house, the small, shaggy dog trundled along after them.

“Do not think she’ll be underfoot, ma’am. She’s fat and lazy and only likes her meals, her ears scratched, and
a bit of sun for her naps. Our old Helen will sleep at the foot of the boy’s bed, as usual.”

Genie did not mind. Olive did. “Hellhound! Hellhound!” The gremlin remembered the fierce demon dogs and set up such a raucous noise that half the pigeons in London took flight.

Mrs. Randolph put her hands over her ears, and that same watering pot of a maid Susan started to weep again.

Ardeth hurried back from showing Mr. Randolph the wine cellar, prepared to defend his dependents from those slavering, snarling beasts. Helen was snoring.

The earl took the bird on his arm and looked him in the eye, one obsidian stare to another. “Do you wish to go back there?” He did not mean the wine cellar.

That sharp bill snapped shut with a click.

“The dog stays. You will be friends.”

“Fiends?”

“Friends. Understand?”

“I—aye.”

While the Randolphs settled in, Olive settled who was in charge. The crow learned to imitate Mr. Randolph’s voice, making the poor dog sit, stay, and come, just for the devilish fun of it. After all, he was a gremlin at heart. He also taught the dog to share her food—or get pecked in the rump. And when Olive was weary, he rode on the old dog’s wide back, patrolling the back garden against intruders and hawks, now that he had a protector.

Soon the house was cleaner, quieter, more organized—and frantic as everyone helped Genie prepare for the prince’s rout. They all seemed to understand the importance of the countess’s first public outing. They wanted to please their sweet new mistress and, more, their new master. One of his rare smiles or a word of praise made the work go faster, the load lighter. What made Lord Ardeth happy would make them all happy, it seemed. He had that knack, without trying, Genie thought. Heaven knew she wanted to please him, too.

Miss Hadley and Marie held endless discussions of gowns and hairstyles and accessories, almost ignoring Genie except for the hours spent teaching her court manners. Miss Hadley knew precisely how low Genie ought to curtsy to royalty and made certain Genie knew it, too, and how to rise up again without falling over.

Her spirits were already low enough. She had a fine husband—eccentric and often intimidating but kind, and not too obviously attics-to-let. At least none of the others seemed to notice that he was demented, or else they thought all noblemen spoke to ghosts…in several ancient languages. The magic tricks she ignored altogether.

No matter, Ardeth was her husband, and Genie was going to disappoint him. He was never going to desire her as a wife, she supposed, because he never came to her door again, or took meals with her. Now he’d see that she was unacceptable to polite society, which he did seem to desire. He’d realize what a bad bargain he’d made. Oh, he now had a well-run household, thanks to women far more experienced than she, but that was all. Genie had not been able to find his hourglass, although she scoured pawnshops young Sean knew of, in hopes that someone had found it and sold it for money. None of the stores had anything like the small brooch Ardeth had described. She could not even do that for him.

Worst of all, she could never be the lady he deserved. If she did not fall on her arse, she was liable to cast up her accounts on the prince’s shoes.

Miss Hadley made her keep practicing her bows, and
Mrs. Randolph knew just the peppermint drops to settle her stomach. Sean offered his lucky rabbit foot, Olive brought her a pearl, Marie stayed up nights sewing instead of visiting Campbell over the stables, and a frustrated Campbell polished the carriage to a fare-thee-well, lest the countess’s skirts get soiled. Even the weepy maid Susan did her share, questioning her new beau, the footman next door. She found out that
his
employers were invited for somewhat later than the earl and his countess, after their private audience. That information was as good as a jail sentence to Genie, who dropped another of Ardeth’s Chinese dynasty vases from suddenly numb fingers. Susan started crying.

Meanwhile, Mr. Randolph visited the local pub to glean the guest list, so Lord Ardeth could be prepared. Soon the butler knew which general favored pensions for the veterans, which viscount owned collapsing coal mines he might be willing to sell. That information was as good as gold, the earl had said, so his agents could continue his work when he was gone. Randolph assumed his lordship meant gone to his country seat for the birth of his child. Ardeth meant Gone.

The servants feared livelihoods depended on that night. Ardeth feared lives did.

It was of paramount importance that he impress the aristocrats as one of them, so no one would ask any questions later. This was his chance to make a difference, to prove his worth. Damn, he was blessed merely to have the chance. Sometimes he felt like pricking himself, just to see the blood.

Genie had to take her place, too. When she took up life at Ardsley Keep, she would be the highest-ranking lady in the neighborhood, so the local society would have to accept her. He intended to see that Londoners had as little choice, no matter what tricks of manipulation he had to employ. He’d set the cat among the pigeons if he had to, or the crow among the prigs. See how blue their blood ran with a gremlin running amok. Genie was his, and none would turn their back on her, ever. Besides, she had to face her family or she would never be whole-heart. Her spiteful sister was going to be at Carlton House, he knew, along with her husband, Elgin’s older brother, Roger, Baron Cormack. Ardeth did not tell Genie that. Too much information was dangerous.

She was nervous enough. He wanted to comfort her, to soothe her—not with mind touches, but with finger touches, hand caresses, back rubs. And more.

A lot more.

He had almost reconciled his vows with his desires. She was his wife, and she was willing. She was not mourning Macklin, and she was not indifferent to his own self. There was nothing sinful in a man’s making love to his wife. That’s what he told himself. Then he recalled that he was not quite the man she thought he was.

He might never be if he gave in to carnal instincts now, forsaking all noble intentions. He had deeper concerns, too. Ardeth did not know if he’d be able to play the gentleman in Genie’s arms. After centuries without a woman? He could terrify her. Worse, if he lost control, he could harm her. That “little death” of sexual completion could turn far more deadly.

That would be just like the Devil, giving Ardeth his six months, then eternity to regret them. That’s how long he’d feel guilty if he hurt his wife.

So he stayed away as long as he could.

* * *

Ardeth could not avoid, ignore, or pretend indifference to Genie on the night of the fete. He took one look at his beautiful, alluring wife coming down the stairs, and he almost rushed up those same stairs to carry her back to her bedroom, his bedroom, any room that had a bed. Hell, any room that had a carpet and a door. He’d tear that shimmery gown off her lush body, unpin her fiery curls, and make her his wife in deed. Just that first glimpse of the ruby he’d given her, right between her high breasts, and he’d been willing to take his chances—except for the chance of risking her life. That dread cooled his blood and slowed his breathing and stopped him from acting the moonstruck calf right in front of the entire household, it seemed, who had come to see Lady Ardeth off to her first grand party.

What a sight she was, in a gown of a gray so dark it was almost midnight, with black spangles shaped like tiny stars and moons scattered on the black lace overdress that hid her pregnancy. Her hair was gathered into a topknot, held with a star-studded diamond tiara. The ruby hung from a string of rare black pearls, reflecting the molten fire color of her hair. Ardeth wondered how he’d considered her merely comely at first, her nose too short, her skin too freckled. Not a hint of a freckle appeared now, not a flaw in sight. Her nose was perfect, held high with the assurance of a woman who knew she was in looks.

He’d seen scores of pretty women, of course, the most magnificent queens and courtesans of their times, too often struck down at the height of their beauty. They were usually vain creatures, worried over how they would look when they met him, as if he cared. He’d barely noticed, just doing his job.

He noticed now, every detail.

Lady Ardeth was not merely pretty. She was fearful, he knew, but her courage shone through, adding new dimension to what was on the surface. Add her selfless efforts to please and the glow of new life, and she was a masterpiece waiting for canvas and paint. She was perfect. She was his. But the child was not. “Shall we go?” He stepped to the bottom of the stairs and offered his arm.

Thank goodness he was there, Genie thought, for she almost lost her footing, along with what little confidence she had, and the piece of toast she nibbled on earlier. The ruby necklace had arrived that afternoon, so she knew he must have thought of her, or how she would appear to tonight’s audience, anyway, as if she were on show, like a mare at Tattersall’s. But nary a kind word or compliment passed his firmed lips. No smile warmed his cold dark visage. He was as severe and forbidding as when she’d first met him at the field hospital, intent on saving lives and nothing else. Tonight he was bent on winning over the
ton
for his own reasons, and she knew she could not complain. She had a home and a title, a new wardrobe for now, a generous annuity for later. She’d signed the documents ensuring a safe future just this morning. She also had an escort certain to be the envy of every other woman there. Oh, and a diamond tiara that felt like the Rock of Gibraltar on her already aching head. What more could a woman want?

The carriage ride seemed both interminable and altogether too short to Genie. Lord Ardeth sat across from her, careful of her skirts, if seemingly oblivious to her feelings. They did not speak until the coach drew to a halt behind a long line of others waiting to discharge passengers.

“I understand no one gets out and walks,” Ardeth said. “What fools. They could be inside, enjoying themselves.”

Enjoying? Was that what they were supposed to do? Genie would have stayed in the carriage all night, and liked it far more, but she stepped down when their turn came and raised her chin. She would take a leaf from Ardeth’s book and look straight ahead, as calm as a countess, as haughty as anyone in the haut monde. She might not belong here by birth, but she was wedded to the position, gowned and jeweled for the occasion. She would make her husband proud. If he noticed her hand trembling on his arm, he did not mention it.

She was relieved to find theirs was not a private audience with the regent, as she’d feared. The foreign dignitaries were there, along with sundry allied generals, members of the cabinet, the prince’s particular friends, and a few former mistresses. She knew none of them, and none looked her way until Ardeth led her to the prince at the attendant’s nod.

Miss Hadley would have been proud of Genie’s curtsy. The prince seemed to be impressed, grinning widely, but he was known to appreciate a pretty woman.

“Ah, Ardeth, we were wondering about your sudden choice. Great deal of talk, don’t you know? Now we understand, eh?”

The earl made a careful bow, then frowned as the prince took Genie’s hand in his and held it. And held it.

“And you, my dear,” His Highness was saying to Genie, loudly enough for everyone in the antechamber to hear, “we have been eager to meet our latest peeress. Or should we say Peerless, eh?” He laughed, his loose jowls flapping, the myriad medals bouncing on his broad chest. His hangers-on dutifully chuckled and nodded.

Ardeth glared at Genie’s hand, still encased in Prinny’s fat fingers. He did not dare to cause them to shrivel or itch, not here. The prince ignored him and addressed Genie, this time in a quieter voice, meant for her alone. “We were not certain whether to offer condolences or congratulations. Hard choices, what?”