Her Husband’s Lover (16 page)

Darleston shook his head. ‘You’ve only reminded me of my woes. That’s probably a good thing.’ Best he didn’t become complacent least he forget how vicious and vengeful his wife could be. ‘Emma, let me be direct with you. What Lyle and I have been doing is dangerous. If Lucy, if anyone, were to find out, the consequences could be devastating.’

She cocked her head towards him. Her eyes were thoughtfully narrowed. ‘Do you not think I’m perfectly aware of that? You’re not the first man I’ve known him to dally with.’

He’d lay money on him being the first of Lyle’s lovers that she’d ever discussed the matter with.

‘I accepted the risks when I married him.’

Of course she had. He’d known that already. She’d married Lyle because she trusted his preference for men would keep him from making demands upon her. A role Lyle had performed perfectly until this very week. ‘How did you know?’

Her flush spread towards her temples. ‘I saw him. Not that I make a habit of spying,’ she hastily added, clearly horrified at her own admission. ‘It was entirely accidental. I don’t even know who the other man was.’

‘Quite by accident in the way you witnessed Lyle and me?’ he pressed.

‘That was accidental. I had no idea Lyle was in the amphitheatre.’

The insistence in her voice stopped Darleston in his tracks. He turned about so that he stood before her, blocking her path to the Cottage, which lay in sight just beyond the hedgerow. Emma lifted her chin, her eyes full of wariness as she lifted her gaze. ‘What is wrong?’

‘What do you imagine would have happened if I’d still been alone when you’d returned?’

The hiss of her indrawn breath told him she’d considered the matter. ‘I didn’t … I haven’t thought about it.’ She bowed her head, presenting him with the pleated brim of her ridiculous bonnet. Still there was no hiding the deceit of her statement.

Darleston continued to stare at her. This impossible woman would be the undoing of him. ‘Tell me,’ he murmured. ‘When you relive the moment, what happens, Emma?’

His nerves grew more frayed the longer they stood there, silence stretching into eternity, Emma staring at her toes, he at the crown of her hat. Yet he remained glued to the spot, unable to propel himself either forward or back, even when the raucous cheers of Hill’s fighting fellowship drifted to them on the breeze.

‘Tell me.’ He only just stopped himself reaching out to her and cupping the curve of her cheek.

Her lip trembled. ‘Don’t force me. Don’t press me over this.’ She peeped up at him, and then lowered her gaze again at once. ‘I don’t want things to be awkward between us. I do like you. I’d like us to be friends.’

‘Just not anything more.’

He understood. Deep down, he really did. It just hurt to hear it, especially after they’d come so far. She’d touched him. She, who touched no one, had roved her baby-soft hands all over his body. The problem was that he wasn’t like her. He didn’t possess the same degree of restraint. Right now he wanted to crush her to his chest. He wanted to deliver the kiss he’d meant to bestow back in the amphitheatre. Somehow he knew she would taste of all the things he loved best, tears, fever and sweet, sweet sin.

Darleston forced himself to walk backwards away from her. Forcing the issue wouldn’t help.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, clearly interpreting his retreat as one of anger. Her hand stretched out towards him, and it was all he could do not to take it. ‘I can’t be what you wish me to be.’

‘Go back to the house. I’ll check on Amelia,’ he said. He needed her to leave before the glitter of moisture in her eyes turned into full-blown tears, because then he wouldn’t be able to hold back. He’d embrace her whether she wanted it or not.

‘Robert …’ Her voice quavered as she said his Christian name. Frown lines wrinkled her brow. She gave a shiver and then folded her arms around herself. ‘I don’t want to go separate ways.’

‘We’re still friends,’ he reassured her. ‘Nothing’s changed. I just need some space. I can’t hold myself in check like you. Do you understand?’

He watched her turn back to the house, wondering all the while if he’d done the right thing by holding back. Maybe if he had kissed her, things would have somehow worked out.

Only when she’d become a mere speck on the horizon did he turn towards the old stable block. Within the squat stone structure the temperature dropped enough to make him quiver over the difference. Darleston adjusted his coat. He was in an antechamber that led to a much larger room. Most of the light in the building came from stubby candles glowing inside open-topped glass jars. While the building no longer housed any horses, the scent of saddle soap remained to underscore the whiff of cheap tallow and sweat.

‘Hey, there, you’ve made it,’ Harry Quernow hollered through the wedged-open door into the arena beyond. Amelia too put her head around the door. He cast a greeting to her as he stepped through into the second room. This was clearly the space the horse stalls had once occupied. The walls still bore the scars from where the woodwork had been ripped out to make room for the boxing ring, although here and there saddle blocks remained as chairs for the houseguests.

The gnarly figure of Jack the Lamp occupied the nearside of the roped area, squared up against Darleston’s twin. He cast his twin only the briefest of glances to make sure he wasn’t faring too badly.

Lyle soon sidled over to him. ‘Given up?’ He’d told Lyle of his intention to spend the day getting to know his wife.

‘No, it was just getting a little uncomfortable.’ He left Lyle to interpret that in whatever way he chose. ‘How has your mission fared?’

Lyle cast a glance in the direction of his sister-in-law. ‘It’s been tiresome. She’s been all eyes for the fighters and not said a word to any of the men besides a few things regarding tactics. I’m not sure what Emma’s worried about. That, and, in all honesty, what is there to fret over? It would do her well to marry. It may as well be to someone she likes.’

‘Aye, I agree with you on that. However, Emma seemed more concerned with the possibility of Amelia compromising herself and thus being unable to wed.’

A brisk shake of his head set Lyle’s long hair falling forward over his face. ‘With whom exactly? For God’s sake, Robert, they’re hardly notorious delinquents. Three of them are married and I trust have more sense. Aiken’s besotted with the Walsh girl and Johnny there –’ he nodded at Bathhouse ‘– he’s not going to do anything. He turns into a stammering buffoon if she so much as looks at him. Let’s be honest, the only real concern here is over your brother. Quernow’s not going to risk his position.’

Darleston cast his gaze over the assembled men, focusing last on Hill’s secretary. A year ago, Quernow had been only weeks away from the debtors’ prison. ‘Are you saying I should have a word with Ned?’

‘Would it do any good?’

‘It’s never influenced him before, leastways not for the better. It might just draw attention to her. He seems suitably focused elsewhere at present.’

‘Aye, he’s taking his role as trainer seriously, I’ll give him that. Do you want to stop and talk to him, or shall we head back?’

Darleston shrugged. He had nothing important to share with his brother, but he understood code for ‘I want to know what you’ve been doing with my wife’ well enough.

‘Well, if you’re sure Amelia’s safe?’

‘I think Hill’s perfectly capable of watching her. He’s not as doddering as he likes to make out, and I think he knows her well enough.’

‘So, there are to be five other guests arriving for the fight on Thursday.’

Five more reasons to fret.
Emma remained focused upon her reflection in the mirror. Turning her head towards Amelia would only encourage her sister’s interest in their new guests when the ones they had were concern enough. Not that any of the gentlemen had behaved at all disreputably; rather Amelia’s desire for attention grew increasingly blatant.

‘I overheard father talking to Beattie. You should have heard her complaining. Apparently Lord Darleston made off with a whole pot of one of her best preserves and there are simply not enough stocks to accommodate so many new guests for so long. Of course she’s lying; she’s been bottling every blackberry, mushroom and cat’s whisker she can lay her hands on since before I was born.’

Emma slapped down the perfume bottle she held. ‘Don’t speak ill of her.’ Beattie had put food on the table for them when they might otherwise have starved. She understood how rapidly fortunes turned and might do so again. Her housekeeping wisdom was not to be mocked; in fact, Amelia would do well to learn from it. Rather than lecture, she turned her vexation to the topic they’d been avoiding ever since Amelia returned. ‘You ought not to have gone with the menfolk today,’ Emma snapped.

Amelia slunk over the threshold with a grin upon her face. She came to stand beside the dressing table, where her fingertips left imprints in the loose layer of powder that coated that end of the glass surface. ‘What would you rather have had me do, sister dear?’ A deep-woven thread of laughter belied the contrition on her face. ‘You were abed. Surely it would have been even worse if I’d remained here – alone with Lord Darleston. Heaven knows what sort of naughtiness I might have got up to.’ Her po-face fractured into a smile.

Emma scowled, unable to dispute the reasoning. She could not even claim Darleston would have maintained a decorous distance, because look what he’d enticed her into – running her hands all over his body, as though he were simply a pet or a luxurious shawl, or she some cheap harlot. What’s more, Amelia would not have been nearly so timid. God help them, she needed to ensure such an opportunity didn’t arise. Not that she believed Darleston’s interest extended to her sister, but how could one really tell? She knew enough of him now to know that licentious, perverse and many of the other adjectives he’d collected were perfectly accurate. The other gentlemen could no doubt boast epithets just as disquieting.

‘You must have thoroughly bored him, for he joined us at the Cottage soon enough,’ Amelia pressed.

Amelia had changed. Over the last few days she’d grown sharper and more direct, not that she hadn’t always been tactless. There was a difference in the way she held herself too, more upright, which somehow added to her grace.

‘Oh, Emma! ’Tis no wonder Lyle chooses other company when you scowl so.’

Emma turned sharply to look up at her sister. What did she know? Did she indeed know anything? It would do her no good to press or even address the matter. ‘You need to wear a fichu with that,’ Emma snapped instead. And she needed to keep a closer eye upon Amelia’s dressmaker the next time she visited. The swooping neckline descended far too low. The dress was one of the collection Amelia had had made in anticipation of the London season: an ivory affair with bronze and russet detailing. Additionally, her maid had arranged her hair so that it fell in tumbling curls on either side of her face and the ends lay enticingly upon the upper curve of her breasts, which bore evidence of powder and rouge.

Amelia continued to smile. ‘Don’t be such a stick-in-the-mud. I don’t wish to have a frilly oversized kerchief around my neck, scratching my skin and leaving me all blotchy. I’m not showing off anything God didn’t intend me to display.’

‘I can almost see your nipples.’

‘Don’t be absurd, Emma. There’s plenty of whalebone in place between me and disgrace, and it’s not as if I’m about to start picking pins up off the floor, so nothing is likely to fall out.’

Emma stood. ‘You … you …’ Somehow, while always being wilful and stubborn, Amelia had still shown a degree of respect for her elders. That had gone now, lost behind a facetious grin. ‘Go and get changed.’

Amelia clamped one hand to her hip. ‘I shan’t,’ she said with an uncharacteristic swagger. ‘You are not my mother to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do. You’re not even Aunt Maude, who at least shows some affection whilst ordering me about.’

‘You will do as you are bid.’

‘Oh, is that so?’ Amelia stepped back away from her. ‘Exactly how are you going to make me do your bidding? Will you drag me to my room and strip me down to my shift, dear sister?’ She waited, body tensed, ready to fly if Emma took the bait.

They both knew she wouldn’t. Never once had they embraced or held hands or shared any physical contact as sisters ought to have done.

Amelia sucked in a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to be like you,’ she blurted. ‘All stuffy and countrified and aloof. We’re not alike, Emma. We’ve never been alike. I want their attention. I like to be touched.’ A sly gleam lit her eyes as she hissed the last part. ‘I won’t sit idly by while you and Aunt Maude find some horrid old miser to wed me to. I want to live. Do you hear me? I want to live, and I want to know affection and pleasure.’ She turned her back on Emma and strode purposefully out of the room. ‘And I will.’

‘Wait,’ Emma demanded. ‘Come back.’ She followed her sister onto the landing. Amelia had already reached the head of the stairs. She cast Emma a stony glance, and then swept down to the lower level as proud as a duchess.

For several moments, Emma remained frozen, one hand closed fast around the banister. Her hair lay free around her shoulders. There were no shoes upon her feet. She couldn’t be seen downstairs like this. And what would she do even if she gave chase? They could not shout at one another like fishwives while their guests looked on. Furthermore, in any row their father could be relied upon to take Amelia’s side. He never saw any wrong in his youngest child. Emma had done her best with her sister, but she’d never wanted to play mother. The supposed rewards never seemed to outweigh the heartbreak. Fifteen children, and only she and Amelia survived.

‘I’m just trying to protect you,’ she whispered. If only Amelia would see that. When the right man came along, then she would do anything and everything to help.

‘Problem?’

Emma snapped to attention. Her hands fell to her sides. Darleston stood only a few feet away. He had dressed in the exquisite baroque coat that had so enchanted her on the night of his arrival. It seemed even more magnificent now, the candlelight catching the pattern woven into the fabric. Emma stared at him. ‘No … I mean … no, there’s no problem.’ She crossed back into her chamber, only to find Darleston at her heels when she turned to close the door. ‘What is it?’