Wicked Angel (38 page)

Abbey took a generous swig as she contemplated that. "I think he must love you dearly to do what he did. It must have been very difficult for him."

"What? To come here
now
, when it is too late?" Lauren asked bitterly.

Abbey smiled softly and shook her head. "No, I think it was very difficult to end his engagement and risk everything he has built." Lauren hid her guilt at that behind another swig of ale. "But," Abbey continued, "I never thought he loved her. I mean, I think he
hoped
he would, but… He found you. It's just that the timing is not very good."

"The timing could not be
worse!
" Lauren moaned, and drank more.

"You can hardly fault him for the timing, Lauren. It's not as if you presented yourself any earlier."

"Oh,
fine
," she snapped, and drank more of the ale. After several minutes, she blurted, "First of all, I did not
present
myself. Secondly, he may say whatever he likes now, because it is just too
late
."

"Too late? Why is it too late?"

"Have you forgotten? I have to marry Magnus!"

"You do not
have
to do anything. You are not married yet, so how can it be too late?" Abbey demanded.

"Because it
is!
"

"No it is
not
," Abbey strongly disagreed.

"What are you suggesting?" Lauren asked suspiciously.

Abbey snorted loudly and quaffed her ale before speaking. "You do not love Magnus, do you? Do not even think to try and tell me otherwise! It is quite obvious!"

"Is that so? Well, the night in London I came to your house, you thought I was quite mad for him!

Seemed obvious to you then!" Lauren countered triumphantly, feeling a bit light-headed.

Abbey gave a curt toss of her head and glanced imperiously at the hearth. "I have had the opportunity to observe you closely since then—"

"You have had the opportunity to listen to me cry about my troubles, you mean."

Abbey abruptly giggled into her tankard. "All right, so I have! But you have told me everything, and my point is that you love him, Lauren,
not
Magnus! And Alex loves you! So much that he ended an important engagement, severed a powerful family alliance, and walked away from everything he has accomplished in the Lords. Therefore, it is not too
late!
" Abbey lifted her tankard into the air, ending with a flourish.

Lauren giggled and impulsively lifted her tankard, tapping it against Abbey's. The two women simultaneously sagged against the couch in a fit of silly laughter. After a moment, Lauren sobered, sighing sadly. "Forgetting, for the moment, that he would always be tainted by my presence if I were to consider your suggestion, I cannot do that to Magnus."

Abbey did not say anything for a long moment. "Do you think," she finally asked, "that Magnus would want to marry you if he knew you loved another?"

Lauren shrugged as she fished a piece of debris from her ale. "He knows. It does not matter to him. It was part of the agreement between us," she said softly. "His affection in exchange for my respect. That is all he wants from me."

Abbey looked skeptical. "Truly? I mean, he may have
said
that, but do you think he could truly mean it?"

Lauren did not immediately respond. She drained her tankard and helped herself to another. "It does not matter," she said resolutely. "I
do
respect Magnus, and I cannot toss him aside."

"But what of Alex?" Abbey asked as she refilled her tankard.

"I don't know!" Lauren exclaimed. "I don't want him to risk it all! He is too important—England
needs
a man like him. But—but he uses
words
to make me—
want
him," she said timidly.

Abbey laughed. "Words as opposed to what, his feet?"

Buoyed by the ale, Lauren laughed. "His feet are very large, have you noticed?"

Abbey nodded. "Almost as big as his head," she whispered gravely. The laughter of both women pealed through the room, and they spent the early evening detailing all of Alex's faults. When they had quite exhausted that subject, they sent for another flagon of ale, then gleefully turned to Michael's faults. And then those of men in general.

After depleting the Darfields' ale reserves, Lauren was escorted home by two coachmen and Withers.

The next morning, her headache was far too blinding to answer the dozens of questions Mrs. Peterman put to her. She hardly knew what she was doing as she attempted her chores. If she never saw a pint of ale again, it would be too soon.

Unable to endure the housekeeper's disapproving looks, she finally stumbled outside to feed Lucy, but even she seemed to be looking at her questioningly. "
Et tu
, Lucy?" she mumbled. Misery, both physical and emotional, deluged her. In the rare moments she was capable of thinking clearly, she was baffled and drained by Alex's unexpected appearance. She could not think. She did not
want
to think. Dropping the empty feed pail, she began to walk to no particular destination. Just somewhere away from all humanity.

Somewhere she would not have to think.

Without realizing how far she had gone, she stumbled onto the pumpkin field and moaned. How apropos that she should end up exactly where her little saga had begun. She dragged herself to a tree and leaned against it, looking out over the fallow field.

There would be no pumpkins this year. Magnus did not like the fact that she had established trade—like Paul, he did not think it terribly befitting a countess. He had bestowed a trust on Rosewood so there would never again be a need to trade. A trust so large that it allowed him a voice at

Rosewood. With a heavy sigh, she slid down the trunk of the tree until her legs folded under her. He meant well, but it chafed her that he had come to Rosewood and demanded change, asserting his right to do so simply because she had agreed to marry him. She had not argued with him; she had been too exhausted. Alex had exhausted her of all will.

Alex.

A
watery recollection came to her, and she turned her cheek against the smooth bark of the tree. With her eyes closed, she could see every feature of his ruggedly handsome face. As hard as she had tried to push him from her mind since leaving London, he had been constantly with her. It was appalling to her that while Magnus talked of marriage, children, and Bergenschloss, she could sit calmly, pretend to listen, and think of Alex—
long
for Alex. Then yesterday, he had appeared from nowhere and had said the words she had so wanted to hear.

She winced, feeling the pain of his words for the hundredth time. Had it not been for Magnus, she might very well have begged him to take her away from everything. As if she could escape! There was already talk of her in London. The day she had left, she had called on Charlotte to say good-bye, but that horrid Lady Pritchit had not allowed her to see her daughter. Lauren had been so stunned, she had simply turned and walked away. Her glorious night at the opera was the cause, that much she understood. Why had she not insisted he fetch Lady Paddington? Why had she not insisted he take her home? Why, oh
why
, had she…

What was done was done, and she was sick of the guilt. She
had
gone, and now she had no choice but to go to Bavaria. The very thought of leaving wrenched her heart, even if only for half a year at a time.

The children needed her so. But more than that, how could she possibly survive without him?

She drifted, the image of Alex vivid in her head. He truly was magnificent, she thought. In her mind's eye she skimmed the broad shoulders, the long line of his muscular legs, the arrogant smile on his face. His poignant words whispered over and over in her head, the feel of his lips on hers so real that she could not be completely certain it was
not
real. She drifted through the waking dream as she lay against the tree, a dream in which the stark reality of her duty to Rosewood and Magnus periodically intruded. Tortured by strong feelings for him, Lauren actually felt ill. It was several hours before she found the strength to return home.

The following day, Lauren absently hung freshly laundered clothes on a line between the new barn and a tree, determined not to think of Alex
or
Magnus. Unfortunately, she could not stop herself, and quickly discovered that she could not think of one without thinking of the other. So perplexed was she by her dilemma that she did not notice the line sagging until it snapped from the weight of the children's wet clothes. She groaned, picked up the clothes, and went in search of Rupert to repair the line. She heard his booming laugh coming from the front lawn as she walked toward the house. Changing direction, she rounded the corner of the house, halting unsteadily when she saw Alex. What was he
doing
here?

Surrounded by Rupert, Horace, Leonard, and Theodore, he held a rapier in his hands. A
real
rapier.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hill," Alex called cheerfully, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if time had turned back and they had never left Rosewood almost a year ago. The other four heads instantly swiveled toward her. Speechless, Lauren eyed him suspiciously. "I found this old thing at Dun woody and thought the lads might enjoy it," he remarked. With a smile, he resumed his detail of the sword for the boys. She edged cautiously toward the lawn, her fingers trailing the brick of the house, disbelieving his casual presence. He had removed his coat and had rolled up his sleeves over sinewy forearms. His hair, a little long now, glistened in the afternoon sun as he demonstrated the basic steps of fencing. She was

immediately overcome with a vivid memory of his body above her, his green eyes peering through to her very soul. She unconsciously pressed a palm against her hot cheek.

It was his handing the rapier to Leonard that shook her back to the present. It was Leonard's wild swing toward Horace that made her take several quick, uneasy steps forward. But Alex turned toward her and smiled reassuringly, as if he understood her misgivings.
All
of them. The small but extraordinary unspoken communication startled her. He understood.

"Very good, lad," Alex said as Leonard thrust forward.

"I will try!" Rupert demanded. And so it went; Rupert, then Horace, and then the others. Lauren watched in fascination as each of them turned eagerly to Alex to see if they held the sword just right, if their form was to his satisfaction. They adored him, too, she realized, and a smile slowly curved her lips. As she stood leaning against the house watching the boys thrust their sword into thin air, she realized that the ache was beginning to thaw from her heart. But that, in and of itself, was quite frightening. What was she thinking? In the middle of Theodore's turn, she turned on her heel and walked away, afraid to look at him a moment longer.

Every day thereafter, Alex appeared at Rosewood, usually in the company of one of the children. He explained to a wary Mrs. Peterman that he was overseeing some repairs to Dunwoody. Lauren did not believe that for a minute, but she kept silent. She did not encourage him in any way, but neither did she ask him to leave as she had at Blessing Park. She knew she should, but the words would not come.

He appeared every day, filling her with his mere presence, assuring her without words. He charmed them all. Even Mrs. Peterman began to soften toward him, even though she still held him fully responsible for Lauren's refusal of Mr. Goldthwaite. On the front lawn, he taught Lydia the latest dance from London, accompanied by his rich baritone hum. The poor girl was so admiring of him that she almost swooned, and did not once mention Mr. Ramsey Baines, the young lad she was determined to marry one day. He brought Theodore two books of fiction, one a pirate story, the other an adventure. He helped Rupert shore up a fence the cattle had crumbled. He took Leonard riding on Jupiter. At the supper table, the children could speak of little else than Mr. Christian and the many adventures he had experienced.

Climbing mountains, exploring jungles, and meeting strange people who wore grass for skirts.

She could not help but be drawn to wherever he was, but she kept a respectable distance. At first, she was reluctant to even speak with him for fear of betraying herself and ultimately, Magnus. But it was impossible to resist him. After a few days, she began to respond timidly to his chatter. He asked about her plans for Rosewood. She cautiously explained her idea, rejected by Magnus, of establishing a dairy and trading its products for food and sundry dry goods. She fully expected him to tell her it would not work. He surprised her by proclaiming it a marvelous idea, agreeing that Rosewood could not rely on the land to produce enough grain to sustain them. He offered to help, said he knew a dairyman who could help her get started if she should have the opportunity. Lauren realized she was smiling as he spoke, eagerly discussing her dreams with him, encouraged and enthused by his tacit approval.

She even garnered enough courage to ask him about Sutherland Hall. He grew animated as he spoke of his home, regaling her with tales of three brothers who were constantly into mischief. Every once in a while, if she had allowed herself to be near him, he would reach up and casually smooth a curl from her temple, or let his knuckles graze her cheek. His touch always startled her—she was so sure she would succumb to her desire that she made certain she was never alone with him.

It was very obvious he did not care for her reticence. He tried any number of ways to be alone with her.

Part of her desperately wanted to walk with him when he asked, or to ride Jupiter with him, or to accompany him to Pemberheath. But it was too dangerous, too tempting. She forced herself to think of

Magnus. She reminded herself that Alex should be in London at the close of the parliamentary session, not Dunwoody,
not
whiling away the time at Rosewood. There was too much at stake—she told herself that so often, that she was beginning to chant it like a mantra.