Thornbrook Park (9 page)

Clothes. Her mind jumped to the image of Captain Thorne in no clothes. Not a stitch. She nearly covered her face with her hands as if seeing him before her very eyes. The wide chest, lean waist, his rippled abdomen, and lower.

“‘Beware of all enterprises that require new clothes,'” he said. “Was it Mark Twain who said so?”

“I believe it was Thoreau.” She remembered Colonel Adams's warning about discouraging suitors by showing her intelligence and almost held her tongue. Almost. Intrigued as she was by Captain Thorne, she refused to resort to artifice.

“Bah, American writers. I get them all confused.” He laughed. “But here we are at Averford House. It's time to give Mr. Sutton a shock when we walk in together.”

“Together with me,” Brandon interjected, as if to remind them of his presence. “No doubt Mr. Sutton will be surprised to see me, too.”

“Oh, no doubt at all.” Marcus laughed. “You've grown so since your last visit that he won't even recognize you.”

She didn't have the heart to inform Marcus that Sophia had telephoned a warning to expect them. He might have figured it out himself when Mr. Sutton opened the door, unflappable as always.

“Good afternoon, Captain Thorne, Mrs. Kendal.” Sutton tipped his head to each of them. “And is that Master Cooper? My, how you've grown.”

“He recognized me.” Brandon shook his head. “There's no pulling one over on you, Mr. Sutton.”

“No indeed.” He smiled at the boy. “Mrs. Kendal, can I unburden you?”

She handed him her package and shrugged out of her coat.

“Oh, you see Mrs. Kendal, too?” Captain Thorne joked. “I thought she was my imaginary friend.”

Sutton ignored the reference. “I've set you up in your usual rooms.”

“Usual?” Eve was nearly overcome with a feeling of acceptance. She'd been at Averford House only once, and she had a usual room as if she belonged there? God bless Mr. Sutton.

Sutton nodded. “Brandon, I admit you are a surprise, but Cook's preparing enough food to serve a whole battalion.”

“Is there a battalion coming to dinner?” Brandon asked, eyes growing wide.

“No, young sir. But you ate enough to feed an army last time you visited.”

“You can set him up in the blue guest room,” Marcus instructed. “He's staying the night and returning with us to Thornbrook Park on the morrow.”

“Thank you, Sutton,” Eve said, preparing to take her leave. “I'll go right up to get settled.”

“I believe I'll have some refreshment first. Eve, are you sure you won't join me?” Marcus asked.

“No.” She kept her head down to hide the tears forming. How ridiculous that she should cry over something as simple as having a usual room. “Thank you. I'll be down in time for dinner.”

Before he could protest, she fled up the stairs. She was halfway up when she heard footsteps behind her and Marcus calling out her name.

Before she turned, she wiped her eyes. “Yes, Captain Thorne?”

“Eve.” He gripped her gently by the elbows, urging her closer. “I thought I saw you crying. Are you well?”

“Of course. It's silly, really. Please just let me go on up.”

He didn't release her. “You can rely on me if there's something troubling you. I want to help.”

“It's nothing. Lack of sleep, perhaps. Excitement kept me up all night, and then I woke early for the train. Ben's solicitor gave me reason to believe that my financial troubles may be at an end, though I dare not hope. And then…”

“And then?” He slipped a finger under her chin and tipped her face up to meet his gaze.

She took a breath and found that she was able to laugh off her fear. “Then, I thought someone was following me around London. I suppose I dare not allow myself even that brief glimpse of hope before my imagination rips it straightaway. Who would follow me? Ridiculous.”

His amber eyes clouded over, glinting gold in the dim light of the stairway. “And yet you don't strike me as a hysterical female. You seem very level-headed to me. What did you see?”

“A man in a black coat and bowler hat behind me, and then passing again and again by the tearoom where I spent an hour or so. But don't half the men in London fit such a description? I convinced myself that I kept seeing the same one. On further consideration, it had to have been different men, many different men. As I said, lack of sleep.”

“Hmm.” He pursed his lips. “Perhaps. But I mean to stay by your side tomorrow, just in case.”

“It's not necessary. I have another meeting with the solicitor.”

“I have no pressing business. I'll go with you.”

“All right.” As much as she craved independence, she had to admit that she felt more comfortable having a companion, and spending more time at Captain Thorne's side definitely appealed. “Thank you.”

Curse it if her eyes weren't welling up again.

“What now?” His voice sounded far more concerned than annoyed.

“I'm embarrassed by my weakness. I'd been so determined to handle my business all on my own, and now you think I need a bodyguard. Not that I mind having one, but I mean to stand on my own two feet, no need to be looked after like a fragile female. Exactly what I must appear to you when I resort to tears. I might not even be in such a spot if Ben had relied on me. He wanted to do everything for me, to look after me.”

He placed a finger to her lips. “You can still be independent and rely on friends now and then. Do you know how remarkable you are? You stayed strong when other women left alone in India might have crumbled. You moved out of your house and back to England. Of course, you can take care of yourself, Eve. Who would doubt it?”

Did he really see her that way?

“I wish I had been more insistent with Ben. If only I had demanded to be aware of all of our business instead of letting him think he was protecting me from big decisions.” She couldn't hide the surprise in her voice, and she met Marcus's gaze without thinking. “The entire time I was married, I wasn't quite myself. What can it mean? I loved him. I did. But I wasn't me.”

“Love makes us do foolish things.” He stroked her face and moved closer. “Foolish, foolish things.”

Her eyes met his, seeing the sudden fire of determination in them, then strayed to his lush lips that he nibbled briefly before he said the one word that would set her over the edge.

“Please.”

One word, and she was lost. All fight and sense went out of her. She wasn't sure if he had kissed her or she had kissed him, but their mouths were together, meeting hungrily. He slipped his tongue between her lips, and she drew on it, pulling him deeper. Somewhere, a service bell rang, an angry tinkling, but she was breathless in his arms, pressed up against the banister, his hands on her backside. What if Mr. Sutton came along? Or Brandon?

She pushed him away. “I must go. I must. I'm sorry.”

Before she could be persuaded to stay, she ran up the stairs and left Marcus standing there alone.

***

He had never meant to kiss her. It made everything so much more complicated and impossible. But the sudden sadness darkening her eyes and what she'd said indicated she'd had some sort of self-realization that had obviously shaken her. He'd only wanted to help. In the end, he was probably no better than her husband, so desperate to protect her from any pain or inconvenience that he failed to think about what she really needed.

But she'd loved her Ben. Despite his flaws.

He ran his hands through his hair, staring up the empty staircase after her. She was not for him. Never for him. He had a responsibility to the Coopers. She was the kind of woman who needed to stand on her own, to support herself. She had just told him as much, possibly only just realized it. How could he take that away from her? He couldn't. He wouldn't. He didn't dare. He wished he had her courage.

What if it was lust, plain and simple? He hadn't had a woman in years, couldn't fathom taking someone he didn't care for as a lover. She'd been a widow for over a year. No doubt she had quite a bit of pent-up longing. Lord knew, his senses were currently impaired. His mind was light and fuzzy around the edges, as if he'd been drugged. He could scarce manage to pull a thought together that didn't involve Eve's eyes, lips, or curves, or imagining her body in some state of undress.

And they would have been alone for dinner. Somehow, he couldn't manage to be put off by the idea, which made him all the more relieved that Brandon would be joining them. Otherwise, he feared he wouldn't be able to keep from making a move that they might both regret come morning.

They waited for an hour in the drawing room, and then another half hour in the dining room, before Marcus began to be concerned that his kiss had put her off. Perhaps she'd arranged for a meal to be sent up to her room?

“Sutton,” he called out, “have you any word from Mrs. Kendal?”

Sutton peeked his head in from the hall, where he, too, seemingly waited. “Here she is now.”

The double doors opened and she swept into the room, a vision in a figure-hugging white gown dripping with silver beads. Marcus stood, fortunately recovering his ability to speak.

“Eve. You look…” He felt his mouth drop open in search of the word. Maybe he hadn't quite recovered.

She blushed, or at least the pale gown contrasted with her rosy complexion. “Thank you. You're looking well, too.”

He adjusted his tie. “I left some of my formal clothes behind, fortunately. I had a feeling that I should dress for dinner.”

“Can we tuck in, then?” Across the table, Brandon fidgeted. He wasn't dressed for dinner and didn't seem to understand the need for fuss. He was simply a hungry, growing boy. “About time.”

“Brandon, mind your manners,” Marcus corrected him and stood to pull out a chair for Eve before Sutton, approaching, could get to it. He placed her to his right at the head of the table. Brandon, amused by the length of the table in the formal dining room, had claimed the chair at the opposite end from Marcus. Now that Eve had appeared in that dress, Marcus was especially grateful to have Eve close and the boy at a bit of a distance.

Sutton hovered, pouring wine. Marcus didn't usually require a footman when the earl was out of town, but one appeared bearing a tray with the first course.

“Poached salmon with mousseline sauce and cucumbers,” Sutton announced as the footman began to serve.

“It seems we're to have an elegant meal,” Marcus said. “Not the usual fare tonight, Mr. Sutton.”

“No, sir,” Sutton responded. “We have guests.”

“Indeed we do,” Marcus said, as Sutton and the footman left the room.

“You deign to address the servants?” Eve asked with mock disapproval. “No wonder you are ever at odds with your brother.”

“Class distinction is starting to relax in most social circles, but perhaps Gabriel isn't quite ready for it at Thornbrook Park.”

He watched her roll her eyes as if in bliss as she took a dainty nibble of the salmon and wished he could effect the same response in her. She looked up to see him watching her and he took a bite of his own fish, lest she accuse him of staring.

“I'm sorry,” he said in a soft voice while leaning closer to her, “for taking liberties earlier. I hope I didn't offend you.”

“You kissed me,” she answered, equally quietly, then laughed out loud. “I was a little shocked at first, perhaps, but I'm over it.”

“Over it?” His heart sank. Not the reaction he'd hoped. Perhaps he was out of practice.

“I rather enjoyed it, if you must know. It has been a long time since I've had such a kiss. Nothing like a bold and lingering kiss. How I've missed it. Ah, now you look shocked. Good. I've had my revenge.” She continued eating as if she had just told him that she loved a good book or a musicale.

“Could I have some more of that fish?” Brandon asked Mr. Sutton suddenly, reminding Marcus of the boy's presence. “It's bloody fizzing.”

“Watch your language, Brandon. We've a lady present.” Marcus's voice deepened to a threatening low, reminding him suddenly of his own father's voice. “And where did you pick up such slang?”

Brandon shrugged. They both knew he'd heard it on the streets. “I'm sorry, Mrs. Kendal. I hope I didn't offend you.”

Eve smiled and shook her head. Marcus nodded, satisfied.

“You ran away so fast.” He lowered his voice again. Relieved that his technique was not in question, he leaned closer to her. “I thought I'd scared you off.”

“I thought so, too, at first. I sat in my room and I wondered how I could possibly come down to dinner with you. But I knew Brandon would be joining us and Mr. Sutton would be nearby, if not listening to our every word, and I felt much better.”

“I'm glad.” He leaned in and placed his hand over hers.

Her bright eyes met his, but she didn't pull her hand away until Mr. Sutton reappeared with the footman bearing yet another tray. That's when he realized that perhaps their time away from Thornbrook Park had emboldened them both.

“Lamb with mint sauce,” Sutton announced loudly. “Chateau potatoes, creamed carrots, and green peas.”

“Oh my, Mr. Sutton. Delightful. Traveling has left me famished. You must have known.”

Famished? Marcus had expected her to pick at her food, as he was accustomed to seeing women do. But she jumped right in with aplomb, taking healthy mouthfuls of sliced lamb and vegetables. His attention had been diverted, but he realized he was rather hungry himself.

“It's almost as good as Mum's,” Brandon declared.

“Your mother must be a very good cook,” Eve said.

Except for the occasional outburst of delight from Brandon, they ate in silence, devouring the meal.

After the plates were cleared, Sutton gave them time to linger over claret.

“Tomorrow then,” Marcus said, turning his attention from how much he wanted to taste her for the next course, “you have your meeting with the solicitor. What have you found out?”

“My husband sunk our fortune into a diamond mine, it seems.”

“A diamond mine? Did Mr. Strump seem to think it a wise course?”

She shrugged. “He said that he introduced Ben to the mine owner. I remember Ben visiting Golkonda, the location of the mine in India. I'm certain he wouldn't have invested our entire savings lightly. Mr. Strump seemed to think it might take some time to research the investment and retrieve the funds, but that it was entirely possible. I hope so. I hate to remain a charity case at Thornbrook Park for too much longer. Sophia has made sure that I feel welcome, of course, but one longs for a place of one's own.”

“Good news, then? Dare to hope. To your security.” He raised his glass.

“To our success.” She raised hers. They drank. “You must have something you want at Thornbrook Park, Marcus, else I can't imagine you would return. It had to be more than a few words on a page to bring you back.”

“You're right,” he acknowledged. And she listened with rapt attention as he, with occasional help from Brandon, told her all about the Coopers and his hope to bring them to the farm.

***

Eve thought they'd only been at the table for a short while when Sutton came in to replace the candles that had burned down to nubs.

“Have we been here that long talking?” she asked Marcus. “It hardly seems more than an hour.”

Though Brandon had excused himself and gone off to explore the house some time ago, Eve realized.

Marcus flashed the wolfish smile, the one that warmed her down to her toes as if she'd taken a sip of brandy. “You're being kind. I've been boring you for hours now. It's time that I make sure young Brandon has made it to bed, I suppose. Sutton, old man, do you know what has become of the boy?”

“He went to his room finally, after making a thorough study of your father's sword collection in the gallery. I sent the footman to see that the young man had everything he needed before bed.”

“Thank you. I suppose he's in capable hands.” The crease in Marcus's brow belied his words. Clearly, his feelings of responsibility for Brandon went deep. “We've run you ragged, Sutton. I couldn't live with myself if I caused you to lose more sleep. As it is, you'll be up before dawn seeing to our breakfast. Please, to bed with you. We can manage capably on our own from here.” Marcus issued the order gently, but Eve could tell it was more than a simple request. His tone held some urgency for them to be left alone.

“Dinner was lovely, Mr. Sutton. Thank you. An elegant affair. But now perhaps it's time we all went to bed.” Eve felt the enchantment fading, like reaching the last few pages of a favorite book.

“Perhaps just one more glass of wine?” Marcus asked. “Then we'll make our own way up for the night, Mr. Sutton. I promise.”

“If you're sure you won't be needing anything?” With no further requests from Marcus, Sutton excused himself.

“One more glass.” She eased her chair closer to Marcus. “I hate for such a wonderful evening to end.”

He moved closer, too, leaning over to pour the wine. “Sutton outdid himself.”

“We have to give some credit to your cook. She's better than I'd realized, considering my previous meal here was a mediocre stew.”

“Is that what they'd fed you? I had no idea. I assumed they'd treated you better than that, an esteemed guest of Lady Averford.”

She giggled. “I'm not so certain about ‘esteemed.' But it was my fault, really. I'd requested a tray to be sent up to my room, but I stayed too long in the bath.”

“I love to hear you laugh.” He eased his chair closer to hers. She found herself leaning more toward him as well. “It has been too long since these old walls have echoed sounds of joy.”

“Instead of anger or sorrow?” She reached for his hand. “Life is too short for unrelenting gloom, Marcus. I think your coming to Thornbrook Park was a good idea, whatever happens with the farm. It's not healthy for you to be left here alone with dark thoughts.”

“I don't believe I ever confessed to having dark thoughts.” He arched a golden brow.

She caressed the rough calluses over his knuckles. “My apologies. I just assumed, with the prizefighting? A good prizefighter must have a fair amount of built-up tension to unleash in the ring. Ah, but you never
said
you were good.” She smiled, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “From the way you looked on the first night I saw you…”

He threw back his head and howled laughter. “I'm good, Mrs. Kendal. I'm very good.”

“I'll have to take your word for it.”

“Instincts make a good fighter, the ability to read one's opponent.” He eased his chair as close to hers as space would allow.

“What do you read in me?” she dared ask, her voice a sultry whisper.

“I would hope that you're not my opponent.” He brushed a hand along the nape of her neck and trailed it around to cup her cheek. “But I do believe you're issuing a challenge.”

“A challenge?” Her stomach tightened as his hand dropped lower to toy with the crystal beads along her décolletage. “What an idea. Show me.”

“Show you?” His mouth dropped open.

She laughed, jumped to her feet, and took his hand. “How to read an opponent in the ring. Let's spar. Isn't that what you call it?”

He remained seated.

She stripped off her gloves, balled her hands into fists, and hopped from foot to foot. “Afraid? I promise I won't hurt you.”

He laughed, a low chortle, and got to his feet. “Not with your hands curled like that you won't. Hit someone like that and you're more likely to break your thumbs.”

Taking her fist, he urged her fingers open and tucked her thumb over them. “There, thumb outside the fingers, not curled into the palm.”

“Oh.” She studied her fist and swung it in the air. “Yes. Much better. I see.”

He shook his head. “You would be hopeless in the ring.”

“Ha! Come now, Marcus.” She brushed him gently on the arm. “Let's go a round.”

He sighed resignedly. “All right. If you're serious, let me go check on Brandon and I'll meet you in the library, where there's more open space.”

***

Eve took the opportunity of Marcus's brief absence to change out of her gown and into a simple blouse and her new skirt, the one with the shorter hemline, the better for bouncing around.

“That's better,” she said to herself, taking a quick glance in the looking glass. She rolled up her sleeves and practiced a quick jab at her reflection. Satisfied with her effort, she went off in search of the library.

She found him waiting for her, in the act of sliding a sofa back against the wall, out of the way. He had removed his coat, tie, and waistcoat, and draped them over the back of a chair.

“Now then.” He turned to greet her. “I see you've come prepared.”

Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes lit with a smile of approval. “I mean business, Captain Thorne. I'm eager to learn.”

“First, let's work on your stance,” he said, studying her.

She dropped her hands to her sides. “What's wrong with my stance?”

“Absolutely nothing, if your intention is to ornament the room. I daresay it looks a damn bit brighter with you in it.” He closed the distance between them and flashed the wolfish grin again.

“Men.” She rolled her eyes and placed a finger under his chin, directing his gaze from her décolletage back to her face. “Impossibly easy to distract. Perhaps this is how you ended up with a bloody lip this afternoon.”

“My opponent did not offer the slightest distraction. I simply looked away at the wrong time. Had you been my sparring partner, looking away would not have been an option.”

“Then I have my work cut out for me.” She jabbed him in the arm. “Or maybe not, if you're just going to stand there and be a target.”

“We're working on your stance.” He took her by the waist. “You need to bend a bit here. And your knees. Bend your knees. That's it. Now bob a little back and forth.”

She held her breath, trying not to be the one distracted by the motion of their bodies swaying together, back, forth. “I think I'm catching on.”

He shook his head. “No, still too stiff. A fighter needs to be flexible. Try shaking your arms out and finding your stance again.”

“Like this?” She dropped her arms to her sides and waved them around a bit, then bounced from foot to foot and put her fists up again.