An Undomesticated Wife (21 page)

“Grandmother hears only what she wants to hear.”

“And says exactly what she wants to say.”

He stacked the pages together. “A trait the rest of us would be wise to emulate … occasionally.” He glanced up when Andrews set himself on his feet and began to clear the table. “You don't need to do that, Andrews.”

“Allow me, my lord. Idle hands—”

“Spare me the dowager duchess's truisms.” Marcus gave a groan as he stood. “Dash it! I have to own that I have not missed those.”

Regina laughed as she went to the stairs. “Let me get properly dressed before we make plans to return to Town.”

Catching her hand, Marcus drew her arm up around his shoulder. She smiled up at him, delighted to be within the curve of his arm. He brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek as he asked, “You do wish to get married again, don't you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, not caring that Andrews was privy to this most private conversation. “A real wedding this time.” She took a deep breath, then added, “And a real marriage.”

“I agree.” He smiled as he brushed his hand against her cheek. “It is time to stop hiding like rabbits in a hedgerow and get back to our customary lives.”

“Having a brangle every day?”

“Undoubtedly.”

She stepped up onto the first riser, then turned. “I do wonder if this is wise.”

“Going back to Town?”

“No, having such a public ceremony. Although the Dey's agents are clearly routed, for the dowager duchess would not ask us to return otherwise, I cannot believe this will come to such a simple ending.”

He framed her face with his hands and brought her lips to his. The fire that grew more fierce each time he touched her soared to life as his mouth slanted across hers in a slow but eager exploration. Her heart beat rapidly as he then whispered, “You worry too much, sweetheart. Why don't you start packing while I go with Andrews to get the carriage? We should be no longer than an hour.”

She stood on tiptoe to taste the desire still lingering on his lips. “Stay safe, my love.”

“I intend to.” His grin lightened her heart as he added, “I have too much to look forward to now.” He bent to whisper against her ear. “Tonight that door between our rooms shall be unlocked.”

“The dowager duchess—”

“Be damned.”

“Marcus!”

He gave her a rakish grin as he went to the door and signaled impatiently to Andrews to follow. The valet scurried after him with only a nod in Regina's direction.

When a gust of wind nearly snatched the door away from Andrews, she grasped its rough edge. “Go ahead, Andrews.”

He smiled his thanks, startling her. Marcus's valet had never worn anything but a grim expression in her company, and she had suspected that he disapproved of her marriage to his lord. Even though he had said nothing, she could think of no other reason for his dreary frown.

She leaned back against the door as she closed it. How she would have scoffed if only a few days ago someone had told her she would be loath to leave this cottage! Yet, she was. She had found magic here in Marcus's arms. She had found love.

Going to the window, she peered past the rivulets of rain to see the two men trudging into the bushes. She wondered if Marcus had found love here, too. A twinge of distress picked at her heart. If only he had said—even once—that he loved her, she would be able to put all her qualms about this marriage aside.

She must be patient. Papa had told her that dozens of dozens of times. Life did not unfold as one wished on the schedule one liked. Instead she had to wait for Marcus to discover what she longed to believe was in his heart.

Then complete happiness would be hers.

“I cannot say, my lord,” Andrews answered as he had twice before. His voice was filled with disgust at having to tramp through the soaked greenery.

“Grandmother must have spoken of the reason she considers it safe for Lady Daniston to return to London,” Marcus insisted.

The valet shrugged, then grimaced even more when water sprinkled on his head from the branches woven together loosely over him. “Her Grace is not in the habit of explaining her decisions to the household.”

“True.” Marcus chuckled. “I fear I have been away from my family too long and become accustomed to this more sedate life. Without Grandmother, I find life quieter.”

“Giving you time for thievery?”

He laughed again. “Now, Andrews, I have no need for your scolds.” He shoved at a thick bramble, then thought better of it. Edging around it, he swore when his boots sank into the mired ground. “She said nothing of what made Father change his mind?”

“I know His Grace was most troubled by your missive about the Arab chancing upon you and Lady Daniston not far from here.”

“I did not know that Father was now seeking your counsel.”

Andrews's face flushed. “My lord, I assure you that I did not read the letter you sent to His Grace. I simply chanced to overhear him speaking with Mr. Fisher. His Grace was mightily perturbed, and his anger focused on Mr. Fisher. Later, I heard in the kitchen that Mr. Fisher was considering leaving.”

“I doubt if Miss Morrissey would agree to leave until after the wedding.” His laugh was humorless. “Mayhap that is the very reason Grandmother is determined to have the wedding with undue haste. She abhors any disharmony in the house that she does not herself create.”

Andrews said, “She has been very bothered by your extended absence. She has missed you dearly.”

“As I have her, if you wish me to own the truth.” He clapped his valet on the shoulder. “Rid yourself of the long face, Andrews. You know that, despite any comments I might make in frustration, I love Grandmother deeply.”

“As she does you.” He squatted to avoid a branch, but the water streamed down on him anyhow. “As Lady Daniston clearly does.”

Marcus was astonished at the pleasure in his valet's voice. Andrews had always been critical of the women in his lord's life, although he had saved a special distaste for Jocelyn. Even Regina had not gained his favor … until now.

When his lord did not answer, Andrews pushed through to the wall by the narrow road. He clambered over the stone wall as limberly as a man half his age. With his hands on the top, he turned to ask, “And, my lord, if I may be so bold, although I know it is none of my bread and butter, do you love Lady Daniston as well?”

“You are right.” Lord Daniston leapt over the wall and strode toward the carriage waiting a few yards along the road. Over his shoulder, he snapped, “It is none of your bread and butter!”

“But, my lord—”

Lord Daniston turned to face him and scowled. “Andrews, my life is about to resume the path it should have. The path I want it to have. Nothing else needs to be said.”

“Yes, my lord,” he said. As he watched his lord go to speak to the coachman, he glanced back at the trees behind him. So many jokes he and Lord Daniston had shared, but he suspected Lady Daniston was about to be made the butt of the cruelest jest of all.

Regina folded the blanket … again. Dropping it back on the bed, she shook her head. None of the corners were even as Kamil would have managed to make them. She truly had no idea how he—or the staff at the duke's townhouse—had made such complicated tasks look so easy.

She reached for the blanket again, then, with a curse that would have earned her a rebuke from Papa, stuffed it into the case. It would have to be laundered when they returned to Berkeley Square. A few more wrinkles would not be a problem.

As she jammed the edges of the blanket down around the clothes in the case, something crackled under her fingers. She reached into the bag and drew out a single sheet of paper. She was about to toss it back on top of the blanket when a name caught her eyes.

Jocelyn!

Pressing her hand over her suddenly aching heart, she gasped as she realized this was not something Marcus had brought with him to the cottage. The date at the top was yesterday's.

Put it away
, her heart commanded.
Put it away, and pretend you never saw it. Do not ruin the glorious love you have discovered with Marcus. Hold onto the glories of a happy marriage
.

She could not. By opening her heart to Marcus, she had dared to believe he loved only her. Instead he had been writing to his convenient.

My dear Jocelyn
,

I pen this short missive to let you know that upon my return to Town, I shall come to call upon you. There are many things I need to say to you, for our relationship has been in my thoughts much during my forced absence from London
.

Regina dropped the page to her lap, unable to read the last few sentences. Covering her face with her hands, she shivered. Was this how it felt to have one's heart break? Where happiness had been moments before, there now was nothing. Not even pain. Nothing but an unrelenting numbness that threatened to swell outward to envelop her in its bleakness.

“Regina?”

She moaned softly as she heard Marcus call to her. Hastily she dropped the page into the bag, making sure it did not drift down the side out of sight.

Never let them know when you are troubled
. Papa's voice rang through her head.

Standing, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. That advice was the only shield she had now. Her most precious dream was dying at the hands of a man who should have made it come true.

Sixteen

Regina had hoped that Marcus would speak to her of the letter that she had left on top of the opened case. Instead he sent Andrews to retrieve the cases and load them in the carriage's boot. She waited for Marcus to say something on the way back to Town, but he was as silent as when they had been driven to the dowager cottage.

The silence ended when they reached Berkeley Square. Although the hour was long past midnight, every window was bright with the glow of lamps. The dowager duchess met them at the door herself.

“My dears, how wondrous to have you home!” she cried, embracing first Marcus, then Regina. “I cannot tell you how I have worried about you! Do come in and tell me all about your long journey from Attleby Court. Do you know that I have had reports of a thief there?”

“What is this?” came the duke's voice as he descended the stairs, pulling his robe closed. “My word, Marcus! Son, what are you doing here?”

“Grandmother wrote for us to return.”

“Mother, I told you—”

The dowager duchess clucked her tongue. “I have heard enough of your doom-sayings. My dear children have been returned to the bosom of their family. And none too soon.” She put her hand to her bosom. “There is poker-talk throughout the Polite World. I shall not have such things said about my family. There is no choice but to hold the wedding posthaste.”

“What is going on?” Another voice sounded from the top of the stairs. Mr. Fisher rushed down, followed by Aunt Elayne. Even the spacious foyer started to feel chock-full. Mr. Fisher glanced at the duke before saying, “This is not a good idea.”

Regina said, “Whether it is a good idea or not, I am fatigued from our journey back to Town. I am sure Marcus is, too. Can we not talk about this after the sun rises? After all, nothing is going to happen tonight.”

When Aunt Elayne put her arm around Regina's shoulders, Regina was glad to let her aunt sweep her up the stairs. At the top she glanced down and met Marcus's eyes. He smiled. She bit her lip and turned away.

Beatty was awash with tears when Regina entered her room. Murmuring “My dear, dear lady” over and over, the abigail brought Regina a clean nightgown and turned down the bed that would not be scented with remnants of mildew. Two pearlescent tears rolled along the woman's face, and Regina was ready to ask her to stop crying. There was nothing she could tolerate less than tears, but she remained silent. Beatty would not be soothed until she had a chance to cry her fill.

Although Regina would have preferred to ask both women to leave, she encouraged them to stay as they tended to her as if she was no more than a child. She did convince Beatty not to rout the serving lasses to bring a bath, but she let them tuck her into bed and sit with her while she pretended to fall asleep.

She heard them leave. She heard the others seek their beds. And she heard the door between her room and Marcus's squeak open. As the familiar, beloved footfalls came toward the bed, she tensed, but squeezed her eyes closed. She did not need her eyes to sense how closely Marcus stood. When his lips brushed her forehead, she did not move. Slowly the footsteps moved away from the bed, and the door creaked closed. She heard the key turn in the lock and was sure her heart had shattered.

Regina learned the very next day that her hopes had been futile. She saw Marcus in the foyer as she was coming down to the breakfast parlor. Her heart lurched when she saw the elegant cut of his rust-colored coat that perfectly complemented his tan breeches. The complex style of his cravat seemed too fancy for a ride in the Park.

“Have my horse brought around, Gardner,” he said. “And my
carte de visite.
”

“'Tis early for calls, my lord,” the footman replied.

“I would not call at this hour where I was not welcome.” His smile was the very clue Regina needed to guess where he was bound.

Blinking back tears, she edged back toward the stairs to her bedchamber. She did not need to look in their cases to know that the note to Jocelyn was no longer there. No doubt Marcus had sent it to his incognita already. This morn he could not wait to be on his way to Jocelyn's side.

“Regina?”

She whirled, startled and, despite herself, delighted at Marcus's voice. Mayhap she had misread his intentions, seeing an eagerness to leave her to visit Jocelyn where there had been only relief to be coming home. Hurrying back down the stairs, she held her hands out to him.

“I thought you were going—” She swallowed the incriminating accusation she must not speak. “I heard you call for your horse, so I assumed you were going out.”