The Pursuit of Pleasure (7 page)

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t his, or anyone else’s clever girl, to combat the spike of yearning that cut into her like a shard of glass, but she stopped. She was. She was anything he wanted her to be. She was his wife. At least for today.

It might expose her to ask, but she had to know.

“Why? Why did you marry me?”

C
HAPTER 4

H
e didn’t pretend not to understand. He was too honest.

“Because I’m drawn to you. I always have been. Surely you know that?”

She did. She felt an uncomfortable pang of remorse at using him and his steady devotion to duty as a means to her independence. Even if he’d been the one to suggest it. What had happened to him in the world to make him too open, too devoted for his own good?

“And you?” His eyes searched steadily even if his tone was light.

Certainly she was drawn to him as well. She thought him handsome, but with his strong forehead, clear eyes, high, well-formed cheekbones, and beautiful lips, so did anyone who had eyes. But she had always admired him for something more than mere good looks. For his openness and his mirth. For not being jaded by the inequities of the world. For the penetration of his gaze and for not hating her for what he saw in her.

Everything she might say would expose her. Lizzie looked away and laced her voice with studied, pert carelessness. “Because you promised me arable acres and a house. Where is it?”

He let her get away with her evasion. For now. He smiledwryly, one corner of his mouth tugging up, and nodded toward the coppice directly ahead. “Tucked down behind those trees.”

She moved away from him, urging her mount down the lane at a trot. The big, rangy Thoroughbred covered the ground swiftly and easily, and soon the lane came to the top of a wooded bowl snugged back against the clifftops. There in the middle stood the house.

Oh, it was lovely, even from the back. Surprise pushed the breath from her lungs in a little gasp, until a giddy combination of pleasure and relief let her breathe again. It was a large, two-and-a-half-story edifice of gray stone, the walls of which were dotted with a shining array of glass-paned windows. The tax must be a fortune. There was also a large cottage farther on down the lane to the left and beyond that, a high wall and smaller cottage that must denote the kitchen gardens. Farther along in the opposite direction was a long stable block. Lizzie’s hand rose to cover her heartfelt smile. Such a blissful relief. Oh, yes, it would do quite, quite nicely.

Finally. She was home. She’d never have to pretend to be anything other than what she wanted to be again.

“Don’t say anything yet.” Jamie caught up to her. “The best view is from the front. We’ll go along to the stable first.”

They took the parting of the lane to the west and moved around the back of the house to the stable block. It was clean and neat enough, an easy task with only one other animal in residence, but no one came to take their horses.

“As I said, there’s no staff.” He dismounted and came to help her.

“It’s fine.” She waved him away and slid off without assistance, the way she had when they’d been out adventuring in their youth. The wondrous relief she felt made her feel almost carefree: careless enough to drop her mask. It was so tempting to be herself with him. It had been so long, she’d almost forgotten how. “I know elegant young ladies are supposed to be useless, but I still like to untack and curry my own horse.” She led her mare into the cobbled building.

“I don’t think you’re useless, Lizzie,” he said lightly.

She gave him as direct a look as she could manage—she had become rather adept at indirect looks—to see if he meant it. He did.

“Thank you.” The relief began to blossom into something more, something altogether too tempting to name.

They turned the animals loose in box stalls and hung the tack nearby.

When she came out onto the yard, he offered his arm, once more all courtly gallantry. “Come, I’ll show you the best view.”

Despite her temptation to openness, or perhaps because of it, Lizzie felt small, almost overpowered, tucked against his tall side.
He was leaving.
She slid away, no more than a half foot or so, but enough to put space and equanimity between them, as he led her along a graveled drive, past a paved court on the east side of the house and then beyond, onto a sweeping lawn.

“There,” he said as he turned her to the front of the house.

Glass Cottage was everything, absolutely everything, she could have hoped and dreamed of in a house. The façade faced the sea and at least half of the ground floor was built with a long row of windows, floor to ceiling, marching like sparkling, silver soldiers west along the front of the house. Above the windows and arching over the doorway were trellises covered with climbing roses, spilling over the stone in an extravagant array of pink and white blooms, their exuberant fragrance perfuming the air. It was thoroughly enchanting.

The house held a sort of fairytale stillness, as if it had been waiting, slumbering quietly in the sun, waiting to be brought back to life.

“What do you think?” There was amused pride in his voice. He really didn’t have to ask.

“Oh, Jamie!” Her delight couldn’t be contained. She couldonly laugh in wondrous pleasure. “I think it’s a good thing they don’t tax roses as well as windows.”

“Well, you’d best go see it. Although I must warn you, don’t get your hopes up too high. It is very picturesque and charming, I grant you—the whole reason I bought it—but it’s been closed up. I’m afraid it’ll be dreadfully damp. It’ll take quite a bit of effort, work, and time to put it to rights.”

He was trying to put her off the idea.

“And here you were, waxing rhapsodic not two days ago.”

“Two days ago you hadn’t agreed to marry me.”

“Ulterior motives?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps I wanted another kiss.”

Lizzie had no plans to test that particular theory, no matter how tempting.
He was leaving.
She let the ridiculous little shiver of wanting subside and ambled across the lawn toward the house.

The front door was opened immediately by a woman who must be the housekeeper: a plain, stern-faced, no-nonsense-looking woman in an unadorned, gray serge gown and white starched cap. Her badge of keys dangled like rosary beads from her waist. She looked a bastion of straitlaced morality.

No doubt they’d be at odds within days. Lizzie was inordinately fond of nonsense.

The bastion spoke first. “Your pardon, Captain Marlowe. I wasn’t expecting you till—”

“No matter, Mrs. Tupper, I didn’t expect to come myself.” He spoke to cover the woman’s flusters and indicated Lizzie with a smile. “May I present my wife, Mrs. Marlowe? Lizzie, this is Mrs. Tupper, our housekeeper, wife to Mr. Tupper, our steward.”

Mrs. Tupper could not manage to hide her surprise even from her new mistress, but she rallied quickly. “Oh, my! Well, such a surprise you’ve given me. May I offer my congratulations to you both? You’ll want some refreshment, I’ll be bound.”

Though flustered, her smile was genuine enough.

“Yes, thank you,” Lizzie cut in before Jamie could answer for her. She would begin as she meant to go on, independently and in charge. She and Mrs. Tupper should sort themselves out sooner rather than later. She moved through the door and into the wide entry hall, drawing off her supple York tan riding gloves. “Would it be possible to have a dish of tea?”

“My apologies, ma’am.” Mrs. Tupper looked to Jamie.

“Lizzie, the Tuppers are but newly arrived here themselves, to begin to set the place to rights. I hired them when I arrived back in Dartmouth less than a fortnight ago. I hadn’t progressed to furniture at which to take tea as yet. It seemed a waste, as I’m leaving. I wanted to set the repairs in order first.”

Mrs. Tupper nodded in sage agreement as she looked back at Lizzie.

“A very sound plan, I suppose. But I’m here to see to things now.” She smiled at both of them. “So why don’t you take me through the rest of the house, Mrs. Tupper, so I might see what you’ve already accomplished?”

There was no mistaking the speaking glance Jamie shot toward Mrs. Tupper, though of what it spoke, Lizzie had no idea. No doubt Jamie’s standards of housekeeping were low, what with his having lived necessarily rough on all those ships of his, but she wasn’t about to take Mrs. Tupper to task about it. Things would change soon enough.

“Aye, ma’am.” Mrs. Tupper held out her arm to lead them across the entry hall.

“Thank you.” Lizzie stayed put for the moment, wondering at the space and light. Before her, a half circular stair rose gracefully from the floor of the entry hall like an elegant swan’s neck. Her hand rose of its own volition to her throat. It was almost too good to be true.

“Major projects first, ma’am,” Mrs. Tupper was reporting. “Roof slates repaired. Then all the windows repaned andsealed. And the floors beneath the windows repaired of water damage.”

The herringbone pattern of the parquet floor was in excellent polish. Her shoes made a pleasing patter as she crossed the threshold into a bright reception room.

“The windows here repaned as well, and the doors re-hung.”

No, not a reception room—a salon, or better still, a music room. The ceiling was high and there, at the end of the room, before the bay of tall windows, was the perfect spot for a pianoforte.

Yes. Lizzie felt excitement bubble up inside her. Oh, the paint was peeling here and there, off the delicate plaster molding, but it was so very lovely. Though empty, the room was sunny and inviting, redolent with the scent of lemon and beeswax. She hadn’t yet caught a whiff of damp.

“Lovely. And in just a fortnight? Well done, Mrs. Tupper. Then the underlying structure was sound?”

This time Jamie answered. “I’d hardly buy a house falling down, Lizzie, no matter how charmingly covered with roses.”

“Hmm.” The ceiling had some very pleasing plaster decorations as well. “But you’ve owned the house for over four years, and only just hired competent staff?”

He didn’t argue the point. He just winced, scrunching up the right side of his eye and cocking his mouth open to the side. His lips were far too soft for a man. It was disarming.

“I was at sea. My cousin Wroxham was meant to be seeing to it for me.”

“Ah, yes, the Honorable Jeremy. What dreadful connections you have, Jamie.”

“Not my fault my mother’s sister married above herself. I haven’t tainted
my
bloodlines with nobility.”

He was trying to be amusing, but with the exception of her mother, she happened to agree. Most aristocrats were useless as parasites, good only as ornaments and unfit for the privilege they demanded as their due. But no one wanted to hear such radical, even revolutionary, ideas in the current political climate. The news from France was thoroughly revolting in more ways than one.

“He rather tainted your house with neglect. I hope you didn’t forward him funds?”

He didn’t respond. That was answer enough. Too honest and open for his own good.

“Dreadful man, your odious cousin. You deserve better.”

He smiled at her slowly, one corner of his mouth opening up.

“My dear Lizzie. That was very nearly sentimental.”

His words were teasing, but his wide gray eyes saw too much. She turned up her chin and went away up the stairs.

There were two separate hallways, one along the north wing, leading away toward the back of the house, and another in the main body of the house itself. Lizzie strolled down the wing.

“Bedchambers, ma’am,” Mrs. Tupper interjected, “with smaller dressing rooms, and then farther on, the schoolroom and nursery, and then servants’ quarters. There are only attics above.”

Lizzie went no farther, as she could foresee no use for either a nursery or a schoolroom, and the servants’ rooms would all be shut up and empty. Though the general state of repair was good, the house still felt deserted and ill-used. Or, more likely, not used at all. It was sad to think of such a lovely house so cold and empty. But she was here now, and things would be different. She would see to it.

“The principal bedchamber is this way, ma’am.” Mrs. Tupper led the way to a door at the end of the main hallway. “The other chambers are all very spacious, but none so much as this special room.”

“Lovely,” Lizzie said as she approached the entrance.

Nothing could have prepared her for what awaited on the other side of the door. The rest of the house, with its broom-swept, vacant rooms, had given no hint of the astonishing splendor beyond. The ceiling rose up in the center of the room to form a beautiful, sky-colored dome. Lizzie tipped her head back, rotating slowly as she gazed above in mute admiration.

“You may not be able to see them now, but there are little gold stars painted across the sky. They glow in candlelight.” Jamie’s voice came from the doorway. “That’s why I didn’t put in a tester bed—it would have blocked my view.”

But, she noticed with a curious feeling uncomfortably close to alarm, there was indeed a bed, the only piece of furniture in the house, covered in clean cotton sheets and an embroidered, soft blue coverlet of watered silk. A large bed. Jamie’s large bed, where he lay and gazed at stars.

“It’s why I bought the house really, not the roses.”

No, the roses were God’s extravagance while this was man’s. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself across the bed and stare in giddy wonder, but for the first time in ages, an awkward consciousness held her back.

Jamie had lain here. Maybe even last night as he awaited their wedding.

Had he been alone, naked in his bed, looking up at the stars and thinking of her? The skin on her chest and neck began to singe and her fingers tingled with the remembrance of the smooth skin of his chest beneath her hand. She squeezed her gloves into a ball, shook the uncomfortable, heated image out of her mind, and moved on to examine the rest of the room.

The rim of the dome and the divided panels on the walls were all decorated with a delicate, intricate white plasterwork in the style of Robert Adam, which stood out like lace against the soft green painted walls. Corner cabinets, rimmed with white molding and inlaid with a swirling design of mother of pearl, were built into the walls. The effect was both restrained and ornate. Jamie had been right to buy the house for this chamber. It was simply enchanting.