The Selfless Sister (15 page)

He shifted to fully face her and immediately felt practically impaled by the gleam of righteous indignation coming from her large, brown eyes. Such lovely eyes...and, ah, such lovely auburn hair, curling so softly around her delicate face that he felt an urge to run his fingers through it. The skirt of her pretty green gown spread gracefully about her. It was a gown of modest design, yet he was keenly aware of her soft full bosom underneath the high-necked cut, and of his struggle to keep his eyes off it. A struggle he most assuredly would win, of course. Never would she catch him acting like a school boy, trying to sneak a peak down a woman’s bodice.

The smart thing to do would be to bid her a hasty goodbye and be on his way, but he felt challenged. At the very least, he should get a smile from this reluctant girl. Damme, he would get it! Then he would leave, and God help him, never think of her again. “What would it take for me to get you to smile?”

“What will you give?” she asked boldly.

That was easy. “My assurances that we shall not meet ‘accidentally’ again, thus assuaging your fears concerning Edgerton.”

She folded her arms across her luscious bosom. “That’s a good start, but not enough.”

“What else?”

“Your admission that you were in the woods that day we were to meet, even though you indicated you were not.”

“Perdition, madame!” The gall! How did she know? He could hardly contain himself as she tilted her pert little nose and announced in a superior air, “Very well then, I shan’t insist since it’s rather a sensitive subject. Hmm, what else...?”

“Haven’t you asked enough?” he commented, trying to hide his annoyance. With facetious intent he suggested, “Or perhaps you would prefer that I give up hunting so your delicate sensibilities won’t be brutalized by dead birds dropping at your feet.”

“I might...yes, that would be a fine idea.”

His anger and frustration were rising, and he was searching for a biting response when he noticed that the corners of her mouth had turned up into the beginnings of a smile. So she was joking. He found himself inordinately pleased, although he naturally concealed his delight and said gruffly, “At last a smile.”

Lucinda had tried to remain straight-faced, but to no avail. He really was amusing, despite his bluntness. “You’re such a rascal.” Their gazes locked. A raven flew overhead, announcing its presence by its characteristic caw, but so fascinated was she by the man beside her, that she was only vaguely aware of it. The woodsy smell of the forest touched her nostrils, but she hardly noticed as time seemed to stand still and nothing was real except that she and a difficult man named Belington were sitting on a limestone slab, alone, in the middle of the woods, suddenly acutely aware of one another. She tensed. Her whole being filled with a sudden wanting. His mocking smile faded as his gaze bore into her with silent expectation. There was such a pull between them that when, in a sudden, swift move, he gripped her shoulders, she had no thought to wrest herself away. Slowly, his breath suddenly coming fast, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She felt his hot breath against her ear and could feel him trembling as he softly whispered, “Oh, Lucinda.” Her heart started pounding as she, sinking into his cushioning embrace, felt his hands exploring the hollow of her back. A little voice within her called, you shouldn’t be doing this! but the attraction of this man was so strong she felt helpless in his embrace.

His lips trailed a row of small kisses across her cheek, and then his mouth covered hers with hungry demand. He bent her back. She wrapped her arms around his powerful shoulders and offered herself up completely to his kiss, the little warning voice stilled. His kiss sang through her veins. Never, ever, had she felt like this! No man she’d ever kissed had made her feel so wild...wanton...so wanting those large, strong hands to touch her everywhere, and not stop, ever. Of course she must stop, she thought, as a warm, sensuous feeling coursed through her pliant body, and soon...very soon she would stop, but not just yet.

He broke away—swiftly, with a sudden, unexpected cry of alarm...disgust...it was hard to tell. He got off the rock and strode a few paces away, coming to a stop with his back to her, his hands angrily thrust to his hips. “Good God!” he said.

“What’s wrong?” she softly called.

After a moment, he turned and came back to her, his face a mask. “My deepest apologies. Believe me, this was totally unplanned.”

An inner struggle seemed to raging within him. He appeared to be having trouble arranging his thoughts. At last, an ironic smile touched his lips and he said lightly, “Ah, well, it was only a playful kiss.” In an offhand way, he brushed her chin with his finger. “Done to put you in your place. But never fear, it won’t happen again. I had best be going. Good day, Miss Linley.” He started away.

A playful kiss? Done to put her in her place? Ha! She felt like calling after him, “If that was a playful kiss then I am Queen Charlotte!” She refrained, though, and concentrated on trying to calm herself. Now, as she watched him leave, she remembered what he mentioned earlier. “A matter of some urgency,” he had said.

“Wait! You said you had something urgent to discuss with me.”

He stopped, his back to her. She could have sworn she heard an oath escape his lips, but when he turned, she could discern nothing from his implacable face. “It’s nothing. I have changed my mind. It was of no import.”

Somehow she knew it was, but she could say nothing more. She watched transfixed as his graceful, lean form disappeared down the wooded path. It was a good thing she was sitting because her legs felt like jelly. Almost in a daze, she looked down and noticed her sketching things had slid off her lap again. Funny, she had not even noticed, she was so completely addled from their kiss. She placed her hand over her heart, and for a long time simply sat on the limestone slab, nothing in her head except the sound of her heart’s wild beating. When at last her pulse returned to normal again, she still sat, memories flooding her head of the night of Amelia’s wedding when her sister Catherine’s mouth had curved into a secret little smile and she’d said, “To know passion
—it’s such pure ecstasy, impossible to describe.”

Impatient with herself, Lucinda pulled her drifting thoughts together and faced a heretofore inconceivable reality. In all her twenty-six years she had never known real passion until this very day, when a man so devilishly charming she could not resist had taken her into his arms.

He had said it was only a playful kiss. She, dazzled by the enchantment of the moment, had not believed him for a second. Now, in the cold morning light, logic had returned. She realized what he said was doubtless true, and he, like so many men, was only dallying.

But dallying or not, the whole affair was ridiculous. Of all the men in the world she might fall in love with, Douglas Belington would be the absolutely worst choice.

Chapter 11

Fool
!

Douglas’s mind was in a turmoil as he followed the path to Ravensbrook Manor. H
ad he completely lost his senses? Only last night he berated his brother for consorting with a Linley. Now he’d done the same. It should not have happened, but it did.

He wondered if the kiss might not have occurred if Lucinda had acted like most young ladies he had known. Where were the fluttering eyelids? Where was that little flirtatious smile that subtly conveyed her opinion of how wonderful she thought he was? Ha! Not that he was the least impressed with such birdbrained feminine behavior, but still, did she have to be so impudent?

Or was it, perhaps, her very impudence that had provoked his sudden urge to kiss her? He recalled that overpowering need to subdue her that had swept through him, suppressing all reasoned thought. Unlike some of his more brutish friends, he never succumbed to such caveman-like behavior. If nothing else, he was at least civilized. In fact, he harbored a great respect for women and had nothing but contempt for those barbarians who held women in such low self-esteem they sought to subdue them through brute force. Still, he recalled that brief moment when he’d felt pure, unadulterated male dominance as he took her into his arms—a dominance driven by the pure physical power he knew he held over her. But such unacceptable behavior lasted only a moment. In an instant, he had controlled himself. He was back to being a gentleman, deciding that a mere light-hearted kiss would suffice, perhaps followed by a clever riposte, indicating that his kiss was the best way to shut her up. That had been his plan, but it didn’t work. No sooner had he gripped her and felt the melting softness of her body—inhaled that intoxicating whiff of her lavender perfume—peered into the vibrant depths of her velvet brown eyes—then all thoughts of a quick, casual embrace left his head. Instead, a huge wave of lust? desire? God knew what, coursed through him. No, not lust. With Rose it was lust, tempered by civility and true friendship, but lust nonetheless. But with Lucinda...?

He thought hard, but could not come up with any answer. No surprise. He was not accustomed to examining his feelings. He had long since come to terms with the old scandal. Life for him went from one adequately pleasant day to the next and that was enough. He had no need to search his soul. True, he would never be supremely happy, yet all things were in their proper place in his satisfactory existence. He had never felt a deep connection with any of the women he’d known before.

“Douglas, is that you?” Alex called as Douglas entered Ravensbrook Manor’s Great Hall. After taking one look at his brother’s face, he went on, “You look distraught. Has something happened?”

Douglas slung himself into a chair. “I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“It seems I’ve castigated you for something I just did myself.”

Alex had to think a moment before an enlightened expression covered his face. “You’ve been consorting with Lucinda Linley.”

“Consorting is hardly the word. I merely happened to meet the girl in the woods this morning. We talked.”

“Talked? That’s all? There’s more, isn’t there?” For once, Alex’s nimble sense of humor deserted him. He made a grim mouth and declared, “So Edgerton can now direct his malice at not one of us but two. What you’ve done or haven’t done, I don’t care, but as for myself, considering present circumstances, I cannot wait much longer.”

“You’re still thinking of eloping?”

“I don’t know what to think. This is driving me mad! I haven’t seen her or talked to her. We were supposed to meet, but she failed to appear.”

“That could be good news or bad, it’s hard to say.”

Alex’s eyebrows raised inquiringly. “If we should be off to Gretna Green, perhaps you’d care to join me?”

“Not likely! Miss Linley and I are merely acquaintances, but you...” Douglas had to stop a moment to arrange his thoughts. “Be honest with me, Alex. Did it go so far you’re fearful she might be with child? Because if she is, God help us all.”

“You think I haven’t thought of the consequences?” Alex cried despairingly.

Douglas’s spirits, low enough to begin with, plunged lower. Alex had just told him the one thing he had not wanted to hear. “Why, Alex?” he asked, hard-put to keep his voice level. “I can understand how those youthful juices must be flowing, but why, on God’s green earth, did you have to fall in love with the daughter of Edgerton Linley?”

* * *

Fearfully holding her breath lest she encounter one of the servants, Lucinda stealthily climbed the servants’ staircase to the fourth floor,. Gripping a napkin full of food, she crept down the hallway, her heart pounding faster at each step as she pictured Edgerton suddenly appearing, spearing her with his hard, passionless gaze and asking in that acerbic voice of his, “We are not going to see Charles, are we, Lucinda?”

She reached the small room at the end of the hall, turned the key, and stepped inside. A small amount of light came through one small window. Through the dimness she could see the room was sparsely furnished with only a small bed, chest and commode. The boy was sitting in a corner on the floor, head down, arms wrapped about his raised knees.

“Charles, are you all right?” Lucinda called in a loud whisper.

The boy raised his head. “You shouldn’t be here, Lucinda. Papa will be mad.”

She sat next to him on the floor. “You let me worry about that. Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“Fine.” Charles winced as he moved slightly.

She asked, “Do you hurt someplace?”

“Just where I got my whipping.”

She wished she could come up with something comforting, but nothing she could say would ease the pain. “I brought you something to eat.”

Judging from the way Charles grabbed at the napkin, Lucinda could easily see how hungry the boy was. “There’s chicken, and bread and cheese, an apple, some cake...oh, you should eat the cake last!” She watched as the boy crammed the cake into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
And he just about hasn’t
, she thought grimly. She would say no more. What did it matter in what order he devoured his food, as long as he got something in his stomach? Anger almost choked her when she thought of Edgerton whipping, near starving the boy, and all in the name of “making him a little man.” How could he do such horrible things to his only son?

After Charles finished the meal and they’d talked for a while, she rose to go. “I must be on my way, but I shall be back.”

The child looked up at her, misery in his eyes. “You shouldn’t come. You’ll get in trouble.”

“But I want to come. You know we all care about you and are thinking of you. You’re a fine little boy, Charles. You’re not...” Lucinda had to pause and think. She must be careful what she said. Terrible though Edgerton was, he was the boy’s father, and as such, his authority must not be questioned. “Will you be all right?”

“Fine. It’s just...” Charles fought manfully, but without success, to keep tears from his eyes. “Oh, Lucinda, I’m so afraid at night! I can’t sleep because it’s so dark up here and I’m afraid there’s a monster that might get me. Then, when I do fall asleep, I dream the monster really is here, and he really is going to get me.”

As Lucinda put her arms around Charles and drew him close, he gave way to sobs. She held him tight and let him cry until he lay exhausted in her arms. Tears formed in her own eyes as inwardly she railed against Edgerton’s cruelty and her inability to help the child, other than to provide food and a bit of comfort. She put on a bright face and said, “Just five more days. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You be careful,” he called as she quietly opened the door.

His concern for her cut her like a knife. Such a nice little boy
. God only knew what would happen to him if Edgerton’s cruelties continued.

* * *

Now what
? Lucinda asked herself at the bottom of the stairs. She should go to Aunt Pernelia’s room and read to her, or perhaps, they could just chat while working on their petit-point. Lucinda was so upset about Charles, though, she couldn’t bear the thought of acting normal when things were not. If only she could think of something she could do to help Charles. Would it be of any use to talk to the others? Surely his mother must be horribly upset. It wouldn’t hurt to find out.

Cousin Jane was sitting in the music room toying with the piano when Lucinda entered. “I am so concerned about Charles,” she began, not bothering with preliminary chit-chat.

Jane, dressed in a morning gown of somber gray, with a white lace cap perched atop her small head, looked up from the keyboard surprised. “You haven’t been...oh, my dear, you haven’t been to the fourth floor, have you? Edgerton gave strict orders.”

“Whether I have or have not is not important.” Lucinda wasn’t going to lie, but the truth was beside the point. “I’m concerned because Cousin Edgerton’s punishment seems so extraordinarily harsh for such a little boy. Charles isn’t getting enough to eat. He’s frightened. He’s having nightmares.”

Jane sighed. ”I know, but Edgerton is far from being the only father in the world who metes out harsh punishments.”

“I’m afraid I must agree with you,” Lucinda said sadly. “Harsh punishments appear to be the rule in our society. That doesn’t make it right, though.”

Jane nodded almost imperceptibly. “Edgerton does get a bit carried away at times.”

“Then why don’t we do something? Perhaps if we spoke to Edgerton
—all of us—you, I, Aunt Pernelia, Cousin Sarah—”

“Are you daft?” Jane stared at Lucinda with round, incredulous eyes. “Talk to Edgerton? Nobody simply talks to Edgerton. He issues orders and we obey.”

“But under the circumstances...can’t you see how cruel he’s being?”

Jane compressed her lips into a thin, disapproving line. “Whether or not I think my husband is too harsh with Charles is of absolutely no import. Edgerton is a stern disciplinarian. As head of this household he has the right to do whatever he pleases.”

What kind of mother was this? “But at the risk of permanently harming your only son?”

In bewilderment, Jane flopped out her hands. “But what would you have me do?”

“Stand up to your husband. Tell him how you feel.”

Jane drew in a shocked breath. “But I’m only a woman. God put us on this earth simply to endure.”

“Women have opinions, too.”

“But that’s not true.” Jane appeared to be on the edge of tears. “I may not always agree with my husband, but I would never dream of contradicting him.”

This was hard to believe. Lucinda thought of her own mother, who always stood up for herself and never hesitated to inform Papa if she thought he was wrong. “But why can’t you contradict him, Cousin Jane?”

“What if I did contradict him?” Jane asked in an accusing tone. “I would be banished. Don’t forget, I’m only a woman.” Her eyebrows raised over her glasses. “As are you, don’t forget. Without Edgerton’s guidance, I don’t know what I would do.”

Lucinda saw clearly her entreaty was hopeless. “I shan’t bother you further.” Keenly disappointed, she stood to leave.

“You do understand, don’t you?” Jane’s forehead furrowed in dismay. She appeared to be in an agony of regret, fearful she might have caused displeasure, thus creating what was to be avoided at all costs
—a scene.

Lucinda replied gently, “I do understand. You’re entitled to your opinion just as much as I.”

“Then it’s all right?” Jane asked with pleading eyes.

“Of course it’s all right.” Lucinda felt sad to see the look of relief that flooded Cousin Jane’s face. Poor woman, apparently she’d never stood up for herself her whole life. It would be fruitless to think she would start now.

No help there, Lucinda thought as she left the music room, but she could still try. Next, she would attempt to solicit Cousin Sarah. She hated the thought of speaking even one word to that strange, antipathetic woman who so obviously disliked her. But Sarah was, after all, Edgerton’s sister. She might have some influence. For Charles’s sake, it was worth a try.

* * *

“Come in,” Sarah called coldly when Lucinda knocked on the door of her bed chamber. Feeling most unwelcome, Lucinda stepped inside. Having never been in Sarah’s room before, she was immediately struck by the illusion of a colorful floral fantasy as her gaze swept about. Samples of Sarah’s embroidery were everywhere. It was as if the woman had taken her needle to everything in sight: wall hangings, framed pictures, boxes of all shapes and sizes, fans, card cases, blotters, chair seats and backs. Gaily colored florals seemed to be Sarah’s patterns of choice, but there were also fruits, such as strawberries and grapes, the popular tree-of-life pattern with its twisted tree trunk, and even various wild animals.

“What exquisite needlework,” Lucinda said sincerely, although she privately thought the effect was much overdone.

Sarah returned a one-shouldered shrug. “Needlework is what I do with my life.”

“Well, you do it very well.” How sad, Lucinda thought privately. She, herself, enjoyed a bit of petit-point now and then, but she could not imagine devoting one’s whole life to needle and thread.