Читать книгу Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion - Энни Берроуз, Louise Allen - Страница 19

Chapter Nine

She didn’t know what woke her, but the moment she did so, she knew she was alone. And the place where her husband had been was cold.

She could hear windows rattling somewhere, chimneys moaning as the wind protested its inability to get in. The fire had died down considerably, but it still cast a dim glow over the room. She snuggled down further into the pile of clothing that had become her bed, marvelling that she could feel so calm, that the sounds of the storm raging outside only made her feel more secure.

She’d never known this. This complete faith that she was safe. There’d always been a feeling of dread hanging over her, as far back as she could remember. But it had gone now.

She rather thought it had started to lift the moment Lord Havelock had slid his ring on to her finger.

She heard the sounds of footsteps in the corridor, then, as she turned her head towards the door, she saw her husband, wearing nothing but his breeches and boots.

‘D-didn’t mean to w-wake you,’ he stammered through chattering teeth. ‘Had to f-fetch more c-coal.’ He dumped the bucket he’d been carrying and tossed several shovelfuls of coal on to the fire.

‘You must be frozen,’ she said, noting the goosebumps all over his back.

‘That’s p-putting it m-mildly.’

‘Why on earth didn’t you put your coat on?’

‘What, and rob you of your b-blank-kets?’ He shook his head, a scowl darkening his features.

It might be cold in the house, but her heart felt as if it was melting. What a perfectly wonderful thing for him to do. She sniffed back a welling tear. He was such a chivalrous man.

‘B-besides,’ he added as he came back to the bed, ‘you’ll soon warm me up.’

With a growl, he burrowed under the mound of clothing, then wrapped his arms and legs round her as though she was his own personal hot-water bottle.

She couldn’t help shrieking as an ice-cold hand slid inside the bodice of her chemise.

‘Mmmhh.’ He half sighed, half groaned. ‘You feel wonderful.’

‘Ow! You don’t,’ she yelped as he ran a cold foot up her calf.

‘Is that any way to thank me for going all that way to fetch coal? Come on, Mary,’ he murmured, burying a cold nose into her neck. ‘Don’t you think I’ve earned a reward?’

He had. He definitely had. But just as she started to tell him so, his cold hands had her dissolving into giggles. He kept on searching for particularly sensitive places, tormenting her until she was begging for mercy.

He ignored her pleas, ruthlessly turning her giggles into moans of pleasure, her wriggling to escape into writhing to get closer. Pretty soon, neither of them felt the slightest bit cold. Together, they stoked up the fires of passion until it consumed them both in a blaze of wonderful completion.

* * *

It was daylight stuttering in through the broken window that brought Mary awake the next morning. With a contented sigh, she snuggled into her husband’s side and put an arm round his waist.

‘Thank God you’re awake at last,’ he said. ‘For the past half hour, at least, I’ve been so hungry I’ve even started to wonder what coal tastes like.’

‘You are awake?’ But he’d been so still. ‘You should have woken me.’

He traced one finger over her creased brow. ‘You looked so peaceful lying there. So...lovely, with the firelight flickering over your hair. I could quite happily have stayed here all day, admiring you....’

Why was he saying that, when they both knew she wasn’t the slightest bit pretty? He’d even made a point of saying it didn’t matter.

Need not be pretty.

She’d been lying there, feeling warm and contented, and grateful that marrying him had brought her into a cosy shelter from the storms of life, and with one careless remark he’d brought that horrid list to the forefront of her mind.

‘If only we had someone to bring us breakfast up here,’ he finished ruefully.

That was more like it. She preferred honest, even mundane, conversation, as long as he didn’t try to...to soft-soap her with the kind of meaningless, insincere flattery that was an insult to her intelligence.

‘Since we don’t,’ she said with a stiff smile, ‘we will just have to go down and make it ourselves.’

‘By which you mean you will conjure up something, while I am obliged to watch from the sidelines,’ he grumbled, sitting up and rummaging through their bedding until he came across a shirt. ‘You shouldn’t have to do it all,’ he said, pulling the shirt over his head, while she reached for the least crumpled item of clothing she could find. ‘I may not know my way round a kitchen, but surely I could spare you some of the heavy work? Heaving coal, or hauling water, or something?’

Once again, she was glad she’d kept her brief spurt of annoyance to herself. He might have his faults, but at least he was willing to pitch in and help, rather than leaving her to struggle alone.

And he’d certainly got the muscles for it, she reflected, watching his beautiful back flex and stretch as he thrust his arms into the sleeves.

‘If you are sure, then...thank you.’

The smile that blazed across his face had the strange effect of making her want to pull him straight back down on to the mattress.

Just because he’d smiled at her? How...weak and pathetic did that make her? Rather shaken by the strength of the feelings he could rouse, without, apparently, even trying, she pulled on her dress.

Only to feel her insides turn to mush when he took her hand as they ventured out of their room into a corridor that was so cold their breath misted in the air in great clouds. He kept it clasped firmly in his all the way to the kitchen. If she’d wanted to retrieve it, she would have had a struggle. And there didn’t seem much point in taking objection to such a harmless demonstration of affection.

Affection! No, it couldn’t be that. He’d specifically warned her not to go looking for affection.

‘What would you like me to do first?’ he asked when they reached the kitchen. ‘Fetch more coal? Or wood?’

She’d rather he stopped being so amazing, she thought crossly. So she wouldn’t be tempted to forget this was supposed to be a practical arrangement. Or start thinking that gestures such as carrying her over the threshold, or holding her hand, or saying she was adorable, were just the sort of things that went on in a love match.

‘Whichever you prefer.’ She sighed, going to the stove and kneeling to rake out the ashes. ‘The log basket does need filling,’ she admitted. The sooner she set him to work, the sooner she’d get back into a sensible frame of mind. Rather than wondering what it would be like if they were really lovers, stranded here alone. Or how romantic it would seem to have a lord chopping wood and hauling water while she sat indoors in the warm...

She shook her head. She needed to stay focused on practicalities, not drift off into stupid daydreams.

‘We will need quite a lot of water. This stove has a place where you can pour it, to heat, and then we can draw it off from this tap here, see, whenever we want some.’

‘Ingenious,’ he said. And then his stomach rumbled.

And she recalled him lying quietly, so as not to disturb her, even though he’d jested he was hungry enough to try the coal.

‘There is no rush,’ she said, ashamed of constantly getting annoyed with him when, in his own way, he was clearly doing his best. ‘There is enough wood to get the fire hot enough to put the breakfast rolls in. Why don’t you help yourself to some of that ham we had last night while I fetch them?’

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ She got up, dusted her knees and smiled at him. ‘No point in setting you to work on an empty stomach.’

He didn’t need telling twice before he’d got the ham out of the larder and carved himself a huge slice.

* * *

‘I had no idea,’ he said, much later, once breakfast was ready and they could both sit down together, ‘that so much work was involved in just throwing a bit of breakfast together. And do you know, I don’t think I’ll be half so impatient about getting served in inns, after this. When I think of some of the insults I’ve heaped on waiters, when I’ve come in, sharp set...’ He shook his head ruefully, before breaking open a roll and slathering it with butter.

He groaned, half closing his eyes as if in ecstasy.

‘That has to be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. You’re a marvel.’

She shook her head. ‘I’m no marvel. You are simply very, very hungry. I don’t suppose you would think a simple bread roll would be all that delicious if you weren’t.’

‘That may be part of it,’ he agreed, reaching for another roll, a faint frown furrowing his forehead. ‘Perhaps I have fallen into the habit of taking such simple things for granted. But I shan’t any longer. And as for—’

He’d just reached across the table to take her hand when there came a knock at the back door.

Muttering under his breath, Lord Havelock strode across the room to answer the knock while she stood up and whipped off her apron.

‘Mornin’,’ said a short, wiry man who was knuckling his forehead.

‘Gilbey! Where the devil,’ snapped her husband, ‘have you been?’

He then, belatedly, seemed to recall she was there. ‘Pardon my language,’ he said perfunctorily, over his shoulder at her, before waving his arm in her direction.

‘My wife, Lady Havelock,’ he said to the wiry man, who’d sidled in out of the cold.

Out of habit, Mary dropped a curtsy, causing the wiry man’s shaggy eyebrows to shoot up his forehead.

‘This is my groom,’ said her husband with a touch of impatience. ‘You don’t need to curtsy to such as him. Now, you, explain yourself,’ he snapped, turning his attention back to the wiry man too quickly to notice Mary flinch.

How could he reprove her like that? In the man’s hearing?

‘I expected to find you, and, more important, Lady and Lightning, in the stables when I got here last night,’ snapped Lord Havelock.

‘Well, when I got here yesterday, me lord, seeing as how there was nobody about, and the stables deserted, I thought it best to take them, and your chestnuts, to the nearest inn, make sure they was taken proper care of, like. And see if I could find out what was afoot here. Brought ’em back as soon as I’d made sure there would be proper provisions for them and knew as you’d arrived yourself.’

‘Hmmph,’ said Lord Havelock and stalked out into the yard, the groom trotting behind in his wake.

Mary stood looking at the door for a moment or two, her mouth hanging open. Where had his appetite gone? He’d been complaining of hunger ever since they awoke. So hungry he’d even joked about trying the coal. But the moment he heard his horses had arrived they’d driven every other thought from his mind.

He must care about them a lot, she decided, closing first her mouth, then the kitchen door through which he’d just vanished without a backward glance. She should have picked up on the clues the day before, when he admitted he’d had them travel by stages so as not to tire them, though he’d pushed her into making the entire journey in one go. And the way his face had fallen when she’d admitted she couldn’t ride.

Which told her two things. First, he must have thought about going out riding with her. Not only thought about it, but looked forward to it, or he wouldn’t have looked so disappointed.

And second, that she’d been right about his character. Even though Lord Havelock had looked as angry as she’d ever seen him, the groom hadn’t seemed the slightest bit scared of the way he’d shouted. He’d just stood there letting her husband rant a bit, then stated his case clearly.

And her husband had listened.

Just as he’d listened to her, when she’d stood up to him over the matter of their betrothal. He’d scared her a bit, back then, the way his anger had blown up seemingly out of nowhere. But it had blown out just as swiftly.

Not that it excused him rebuking her in front of a third party. Her father had exercised that particular form of cruelty towards her mother, whittling her sense of worth down, insult by insult, until there had been nothing left but splinters.

Well, she wasn’t going to let her husband do the same to her. Not that she really thought he was doing it deliberately.

Nevertheless, she needed to take a stand, now, so that he would learn she wouldn’t tolerate such treatment.

She strode to the dresser and took down another cup to set on the table. Outside staff generally came into the kitchen for their meals. Since there was nobody else to provide them, she would have to take on the task of feeding the groom.

Even if her husband disapproved of her sitting at table with him.

Well, she didn’t care if he did think she was committing yet another social faux pas by extending common humanity to the poor wretch, the way he’d done when she’d dropped that curtsy.

Lifting her chin, she strode to the table and placed the cup down firmly before one of the empty chairs. She half hoped he did disapprove of her willingness to hobnob with a lowly groom. She went back to the dresser and picked up a plate, a knife and a fork with a toss of her head. For then he’d discover that he had most definitely not married a mouse.

She set about preparing such a substantial meal that it was bound to earn his forgiveness, once she’d shown him that he couldn’t get away with trying to browbeat her in front of servants.

* * *

‘You were right,’ said Lord Havelock, the moment he came back into the kitchen. She glanced up from the stove to assess his mood, before reaching for the kettle.

‘Was I?’ She poured water into the pot, noting that her hands were shaking as she braced herself to stand up for herself for the first time in her life. ‘What about?’

She couldn’t see any sign of the anger that had driven him out to the stables, which must mean he was pleased with the condition of his horses, and had forgiven the groom for not being on hand the night before. She just hoped he’d be as quick to forgive her.

‘About the caretaker and his wife. Gilbey found out— Stop loitering there in the doorway, man,’ he barked at the groom over his shoulder. ‘Come in and shut it before you let all the heat out,’ he said, depriving her of the opportunity of inviting him in herself.

The groom snatched off his hat, shuffled forward and closed the door behind him, while Lord Havelock sauntered over to the stove, holding out his hands to warm them.

‘Gilbey put up at the Dog and Ferret last night,’ he said. ‘The landlord told him that the Brownlows have gone away to visit relatives of some sort for the season. They don’t plan to come back until the twenty-eighth. It was a shock to everyone in the taproom to hear I’d come back, expecting to take up residence. God only knows where my letter to them has gone. Still at the receiving office, I shouldn’t wonder. Is that a fresh pot of tea? Capital.’

To her intense irritation, he then pulled up a chair at the table and indicated the groom should do so, as well. Where had his insistence on keeping the groom in his place, and she in hers, gone? She was torn between wanting to hug him for being so affable, or slap him for depriving her of the opportunity to take a stand. In the end, all she did was pour both men a cup of tea.

She’d have to find some other way of showing him he couldn’t speak to her like that. Only...if she launched into that kind of speech right now, wouldn’t she look a bit shrewish?

‘Looks as though my wife has cooked enough to feed an army,’ he said. Cheerfully.

He clearly had no idea what he’d done to her.

‘And even if you’ve had something at the Dog and Ferret, you should at least have a couple of these rolls,’ he said, putting some on a plate and pushing them over, with what looked suspiciously like...pride. ‘They’re first-rate.’

No, she definitely couldn’t start complaining about the way he’d talked to her when he’d been in a temper, not when he was being so complimentary about her cooking. Lips pressed tightly together, she served both men with eggs and ham, then sank, deflated, on to her own seat.

‘Which leads me to the next question,’ said her husband, in between mouthfuls. ‘What are we going to do until the Brownlows return, my Lady Havelock?’

‘I don’t understand.’

He wasn’t asking her opinion, was he? Men didn’t do that. So what was he about now? And why was he addressing her so formally? When all through the night he’d used her given name. Over and over again.

Mary, he’d whispered into her ear.

Mary... he’d growled.

Oh, Mary... he’d moaned.

Oh, it was all so confusing. He was confusing!

‘Well,’ he said very slowly, as though explaining to a child, ‘we could go and rack up at the Dog and Ferret. We’ll have plenty of food and a proper bed.’

‘If’n you don’t mind damp sheets and bedbugs,’ muttered Gilbey.

‘It doesn’t sound very...appealing,’ Mary agreed.

‘Trouble is,’ said her husband, ‘the only alternative is to remain here. And you’ve already discovered how uncomfortable this place is, too, without servants.’

He laid down his knife and fork, and gave her a straight look.

Both her husband and groom were watching her intently, she realised after a moment or two.

Heavens, they really were waiting to hear what she thought. Her husband hadn’t just told her what the choices were, before telling her what he was going to do. He really was going to let her decide. Well, she’d wanted the chance to take a stand. And though it wasn’t exactly the topic she’d wanted to confront him about, it was better than nothing.

‘This is my home now,’ she therefore stated firmly. ‘I would much rather stay here and try to make the place a bit more comfortable, than throw myself on the mercy of a landlord who sounds as though he doesn’t care about the welfare of his guests one bit.’

‘Capital,’ he said, beaming at her as though she’d just said the very thing he was waiting to hear. ‘I didn’t really want you to have to put up with the rabble that frequent the Dog and Ferret. No offence to you, Gilbey.’

‘None taken. I’ve got no wish to go back there meself,’ he said, scratching his neck. ‘There’s the makings of decent quarters over the stables. Just want a bit of sorting, like.’

‘It’s the same with this house, I’m sure,’ said Mary.

Lord Havelock frowned. ‘But you are going to have to do it single-handed. Da—dash it, this isn’t the Christmas I’d planned to give you,’ he said, slamming his half-emptied cup down on to the table. ‘But I will make it up to you, I swear. I’ll tell you what I’ll do,’ he said, his face brightening. ‘I’ll go into the village and see if I can purchase the makings of Christmas dinner.’

‘That’s a very...’ she’d been going to say, a good idea. But he’d already reached the back door and was striding out into the yard.

‘That’s his lordship all over,’ said the groom, eyeing her astonishment with amusement. ‘Get’s a notion in his cockloft and don’t stop to consider if it’s even possible, never mind sensible.’

‘R-really?’ She hadn’t known him long, but, yes, she could well believe that he was the type of man to act on impulse, rather than planning anything in great detail. He was so full of energy. And with the kind of confidence that came from being both wealthy and having a secure position in society. Yes, he could very easily set off into the unknown, assuming that everything would work out well for him.

Except when it had come to marriage. When he’d contemplated marriage, he’d sat down with a group of friends and got them to help him plan it all out down to the last detail.

Which only went to show how hard it must have been for a man who was used to doing as he pleased, whenever he pleased, to shackle himself to just one woman.

She supposed she ought to look upon his making of that list as a symptom of his determination to get it right. She’d seen several examples of that determination. That drive to do his best. Though it still hurt to read herself, the wife, described in such terms.

‘I’d best get back to the stables, if you will excuse me,’ said Gilbey, getting to his feet. ‘Unless there’s anything you want helping with, in the way of heavy work?’

‘That’s very good of you, but I won’t know until I’ve taken a good look about the place, to see what wants doing.’

‘Ah, you’re just what his lordship needs,’ observed the groom with a knowing air. ‘Sensible. And calm. Begging yer pardon for speaking so free, but...’ He twisted his hat between his rather grubby fingers. ‘You oughtn’t to listen to those who will tell you he’s wild. Or worry about his temper,’ he said knowingly.

‘I don’t,’ she replied firmly. She hadn’t been afraid of him since...since...

Actually, she hadn’t ever been really afraid of him. Nervous, yes, of the pull he exerted over her. Scared of her reactions to him. But of him, not really ever.

‘Sure, he’s fought his duels,’ Gilbey added. ‘But he’s a good lad, at heart.’

‘Duels? He’s fought duels?’

‘He didn’t mean no harm by them,’ hastily put in the groom. ‘It’s just, he ain’t never had nobody, not since his mother passed, to care what he did, one way or another, y’see. ’Twill make all the difference to him, to have someone steady, to be his...well, his anchor, like,’ he finished gruffly, before slapping the hat on his head and scuttling off out of the door.

She reached for her cup of tea and took a long, sustaining drink. Now that the initial shock had worn off, she could see exactly how her husband could have stumbled into fighting a duel or two. Not only did he have a hair-trigger temper, but he also had a highly developed sense of his own honour. Only look at the way he’d reacted when she’d assumed he’d been making her an insulting proposition.

He’d calmed down as soon as she’d explained herself, though. Which only went to prove that whoever he’d fought hadn’t attempted to apologise. So if he had shot them, it was entirely their own fault.

He was good at heart, the groom had insisted. And gone on to talk about Lord Havelock’s mother. Which showed he’d stayed with the family for years, as well as sort of proving his point. Servants didn’t stay with cruel masters. She should know. They’d gone through dozens of servants during the time they’d been able to afford to pay their wages.

Besides, she’d seen many instances of his deep-down goodness. Only look at the way he’d set to work hauling water for her. Or going to fetch coal in the middle of the night, shirtless, and come back shivering rather than deprive her of the warmth of his coat. Or let her sleep as long as she wanted, even though he wanted his breakfast.

She drained the cup and set it down on the table.

But what impressed her most of all was the way he’d apologised. And tried to make amends for all that had gone wrong. He’d even gone charging off, just now, to buy food in an attempt to make it up to her.

A smile played about her lips as she recalled the look on his face when he’d set off to the village as if he could purchase the answer to all his problems there. It was sweet of him, but she could think of far better ways he could make it up to her, if his conscience was troubling him.

None of which involved him buying anything at all.