A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (125 page)

Neil lifted a brow, but didn’t betray
anything Jane could decipher. “Yes . There are a number of
developments, shall we call them? that we should
discuss.”

Peter rose and carefully stacked his
ledgers into a neat pile upon a table. “Come to my library. Jane, I
apologize. I hate to abandon you, but I would be loath to bore you
with business. Excuse us.”

Bore her, indeed. Listening in on
their discussion might actually provide her something with which to
occupy her mind. Yet she waved the two men off. Let them have their
silly business conversations. She would enjoy her time alone—which,
she had to admit, was in rather short supply these last
weeks.

Before she could settle into her
solitude, however, Spenser interrupted her again. He inclined his
head. “Lady Sophia and Lady Charlotte, Your Grace.”

“
Oh, do please send them
in.” She had only seen them twice in the last week, and even on
those occasions they’d been unable to truly talk.

Her two friends rushed in and drew her
into a hug, careful not to disturb the sleeping cat upon her
lap.

“
Is Peter gone?” asked
Sophie.

“
Not gone. He’s meeting
with your brother, Neil, in his library.” Jane gestured for them
both to take a seat.

Sophie picked up a scone from the
nearby platter before settling in to the loveseat. “Good. Then we
can have a real conversation.”

“
Are you settling in to
married life well, Jane?” asked Char. “You look...you look like you
aren’t sleeping.”

She had hoped it wouldn’t show. But
these two knew her better than anyone else. Perhaps no one else
would notice.

“
Are you?” Sophie
scrutinized her thoroughly.

There was certainly no point in lying
to either lady. They’d likely see through to the truth, in any
case.

“
Some. Not enough. And not
well when I do sleep.”

Sophie grinned. “Is Peter keeping you
up at night? I remember when Meredith Ingersoll first married Lord
Sainsbury, they both had circles beneath their eyes for weeks. And
ten months later, their twins came into the world.”

Jane frowned. “And what would you know
of such things, being an unmarried lady, hmm?” Her attempt at a
joke rang hollow, even to her own ears. Perhaps because, even as a
married lady, she knew nothing of such matters.

Sophie failed to blush over the
barb.

“
But no. That’s not why I
can’t sleep.” Jane recounted her list of complaints against her
husband. After all, if she couldn’t talk to Peter’s sisters about
her concerns, who could she talk to? Certainly not Peter. However,
she neglected to mention the parts involving their lack of
intimacy. Some things were simply not suitable to discuss with
unmarried ladies.

Sophie would not let her off so easy,
though. “And how are things working out between you two at
night?”

Charlotte blushed profusely. “Sophie!
You can’t ask her that.”

“
I just did.” She gave her
sister a look that clearly dared her to challenge her again. “Now
answer me.”

“
I...well, there is...there
isn’t much to say.” Jane could hardly believe she was having this
conversation.

This answer clearly did not satisfy
Sophie. “Why?”

Why? Oh, drat. She couldn’t possibly
admit that, in two weeks of marriage, she’d never been touched by
her husband. Could she?

Her new sister wouldn’t let the
question go unanswered, though. “Is it unpleasant for
you?”

“
Oh, no,” she said, perhaps
a bit too quickly. “That is, I don’t know.”

“
You don’t know.” Sophie
stared at her, her eyes wide. “Peter hasn’t bedded you yet? Good
Lord, why ever not?”

Charlotte reached out and took her
hand. “Did you deny him? Surely things aren’t so bad you must
resort to such measures, Jane.”

“
I’ve done no such thing.”
This was all dreadfully embarrassing to discuss. “He told me...”
But the words seemed so terribly pathetic to confess out loud. “He
told me that when I was ready, I should come to him. That he
wouldn’t require that from me—seeing as how he already has an
heir.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “He doesn’t want
me. Peter only married me because he had to, but he doesn’t want me
that way.”

Mr. Cuddlesworth looked up at her with
sad, amber eyes and pressed his head repeatedly into her hand until
she scratched his ears.

“
Fiddlesticks,” Sophie
said.

“
What do you mean?” Jane
asked.

“
Our brother may have a
number of things left to learn, I’ll never deny that. But I’ve seen
the way he looks at you. He watches you like a cat stalking a
mouse. Trust me. He wants you very much.”

“
Then why? Why did he tell
me he wouldn’t require me to fulfill that duty?” She hated even
thinking of it as a duty, but everything in Peter’s world seemingly
must be a duty, or else it simply didn’t exist.

“
Perhaps,” Charlotte said
quietly, “you’re focusing on the wrong part of what he told
you.”

“
Precisely,” Sophie said.
“Jane, dear. He told you to come to him when you’re ready. That, to
me, doesn’t sound like something a man would say if he had no
desire to participate in the act at all.” Sophie knelt before her
and forced her to look straight in her eyes. “Rather, it sounds
like he doesn’t want to make you do something you don’t want to
do.”

“
Oh, dear.” Double drat.
Blast her new sisters for being so very logical—so
right
about it
all.

“
So, sweet Jane, the
solution to your problem is simple.” Sophie rose and walked to the
window, taking a look outside before facing Jane again. “It’s time
to seduce your husband.”

Only that made it sound more like the
beginning to an entirely new set of problems.

Drat, drat, drat.

Chapter
Nineteen

Peter had to travel to Wales. There
was simply no way around it.

When Neil had burst into his drawing
room that morning, Peter almost instantly knew. All of his
suspicions were proving true.

Neil had somehow managed to get to
Carreg Mawr before Utley did. His arrival had surprised Turnpenny,
but Neil had explained it away. He claimed that Peter had offered
to allow him to stay at Carreg Mawr for a time while he determined
what he intended to do with his future. Very smart, indeed, since
all of England and likely half the Continent knew how Lord Neil
Hardwicke tended to sow his oats.

The next morning, though, Utley had
arrived—and everyone knew the jig was over.

Good thing Neil had already enlisted
the assistance of the local magistrate—and Peter’s hired spy at
Carreg Mawr, Roland Kirbye. When they walked into the study, they
discovered Utley emptying the coffers into a purse and his brother,
Phineas Turnpenny, tossing the true records into a roaring fire in
the hearth.

The magistrate had arrested Phinny on
the spot, but Utley had darted out the door and disappeared into
the nearby woods. Phinny finally admitted that he had been raising
rents, lowering pay, and otherwise filching money from Peter for
years—and sending it all to his older brother, Utley.

Much as Peter suspected. He had
thought very hard about replacing Turnpenny after what Utley had
done to Mary. But, after much internal debate, he chose not to do
so. Why punish a man for the actions of his brother? To that point,
Phinny had proven to be a trusted steward over the castle through
the years, even though there was still some lingering resentment
between the Turnpenny family and the Hardwicke family after
Rawden’s untimely death.

Peter should have known that as soon
as Utley had property and a small fortune to his name, he would
proceed to dispense of it as fast as he could manage…and then he
would have to turn to other means for an income. Now it all made
sense. Particularly since Phinny had always been slavishly devoted
to his brother.

But now Carreg Mawr was without a
steward, and Utley was still missing. Peter needed to visit the
property, sort out his staff, and hire a replacement, not to
mention speak with the magistrate about the search for Utley. And
he couldn’t afford to wait.

The changes at his estate needed
immediate attention, despite the fact that he had a bride who also
needed his attention.

He’d have to leave tomorrow morning.
And, since he really had no manner of knowing how long he’d have to
stay, Jane would simply have to come with him. It would probably be
best to take the children, as well, since the trip could last
weeks, if not months. He couldn’t leave them behind for so
long.

Peter informed his valet and Jane’s
lady’s maid of the need to prepare for the journey. Then he spoke
with Mrs. Pratt, and let the children know of the holiday they
would all be taking shortly. After dashing off a note to Mama, he
called Forrester into his library and lined out tasks the secretary
would need to see to for the duration of his absence.

There was so much to be done, he was
unable to entertain guests with Jane that afternoon. She was always
a charming and engaging hostess, however, so he held no
compunctions about her ability to cope with the continual influx of
well-wishers coming to offer their congratulations.

In fact, from the moment
Neil had arrived that morning until supper, there hadn’t been a
single free moment during which he could spend time with his wife.
He would have to double his efforts tonight. Thank God they hadn’t
accepted any invitations. He was ready for some time at home, away
from the ever watchful eye of the
ton
.

Peter seated his wife beside him at
the long, admittedly empty table. She glanced up at him, then her
eyes darted away just as quickly. He thought she might even have a
hint of a blush on her cheeks, but that seemed so unexpected and
inexplicable that he was sure it was only his
imagination.

Her cat scampered into the room and
leapt onto the chair beside her. Normally, Peter would be disgusted
that an animal was near when they were eating. It was happening far
more frequently now, though, and he was growing used to Mr.
Cuddlesworth’s appearances. At least it didn’t get on the table—it
just crossed its front paws neatly on the very edge of the table
and rested its chin on top of them, watching everything that passed
by.

Peter had to admit, too, the cat was
looking a bit scrawny. Scruffier than usual. It might be nearing
the end. He doubted either his wife or his daughter would handle
the situation well when it came to pass. He tried to prepare
himself for the fact that they would both insist on the cat
traveling with them.

“
Have you had a busy day?”
he asked, hoping to ease his way into informing her of their
impending trip.

“
Oh, yes. It’s been
lovely.” Jane picked up her glass of wine, but it wobbled in her
hand. She steadied it before any spilled. “Sophie and Charlotte
visited this morning. And I received a letter from Mother and
Father in the post.”

Peter winced. He’d planned to take
Jane to Whitstable sometime soon, since he’d yet to meet her
family, but that would have to wait a bit longer now. “Splendid. I
trust they’re doing well?”

She lifted her fork to her mouth, but
some of the food fell due to the jittering of her hand, landing
securely in the midst of her bosom. Peter had to fight the urge to
lean over and retrieve the piece of veal with his teeth.

“
Oh, drat.” The slight
blush heated to crimson as she fished the piece of meat out with
her fingers.

He couldn’t have removed his gaze from
her décolletage now if his life depended upon it. With each shaking
breath, those lovely, full breasts rose and fell. If there was one
reason to thank the French, it was for their exquisite influence in
ladies’ fashions—which currently lent him an eyeful of
heaven.

Jane let her fork clang to her plate
and dropped her hands to her sides, taking deep breaths with her
eyes closed. “Yes, my parents are quite well, thank you. Their
vegetable garden has been rather prolific this year.”

If he couldn’t regain control over
himself, he might toss her over the table and take her right
there.

And that thought sent a shock coursing
through his loins. Blast it. He needed to calm down, focus.
Vegetables. Her parents’ vegetable garden.

“
That must be lovely for
them,” he said, wincing when his voice cracked. “What crops have
done well for them?”

“
Oh, you know. Carrots,
cucumbers…”

Peter coughed. So that particular line
of conversation came to a close with him thinking of the shapes of
those particular vegetables.

They each returned to their meal. The
only thing on his mind other than consummating their marriage at
the moment was their trip to Carreg Mawr in the morning—nothing
else that might be able to assist him in broaching the
subject.