Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (24 page)

Meryon turned to Wilson. “Take Magda out, on a lead, for her nighttime walk. The rest of you go back to the nursery.”

Wilson’s relief was obvious. He took Magda and made soothing noises as they moved to the back of the house.

“Sir, may I go with him? He might need help if Magda runs away.” Rexton did his best to look responsible, but no father in his right mind would let a boy his age out alone at night.

“No, son. Later this summer when the sun sets so late, you may go, but it is up to bed now.”

Rexton nodded, his eyes swimming with disappointment. When he could see that tears would not work with his father, the boy turned, touched his cousin on the arm, and yelled, “Race you!”

They were out of sight before Peter’s parents could say anything.

“You do not believe that story, do you, Lyn?” Gabriel’s incredulity illustrated he had learned a lot about children in the last few years.

“Of course I don’t believe him. But it would have been unfair to ask either Peter or Wilson for the truth. Wilson thinks that I can tell lie from truth and knows a lie would ruin the trust I have in him. But if he told the truth then Rexton would hate him and Peter forever.”

“Forever being about a week,” Garrett explained and then went on. “How long do you worry about every noise and cough?”

“If you believe my mother,” Gabriel’s wife offered, “parents never stop worrying about their children.”

“That’s enough to make me look for the brandy,” Garrett said, and they all laughed at the man who was on the verge of fatherhood.

Meryon caught Elena’s eye and she gave him one of her sad smiles. They were so rare that they always tugged at his sensibilities. In this case he thought it might be because this was a conversation to which she could not contribute, having no children of her own.

“The Signora will tell you that young people in their teens are even more of a challenge.”

Elena’s sad smile disappeared. “My ward is eighteen, and to her the thought of waiting for anything is torture.”

“And she could find work as a matchmaker. She left Signora Verano’s handkerchief in the coach so that I would have an excuse to call on the Signora again.”

“Clever girl,” Gabriel said.

“That supposes that I had not devised my own plan for calling on Bloomsbury again.”

They teased him about his plans as they drank their tea. Meryon finished his with an indecent gulp and announced that he and the Signora must leave. A flurry of good wishes followed. Lynette gave Elena a warm hug; Gabriel and Garrett’s farewells were less intimate but not less friendly. As they left the salon, Meryon heard Gabriel offer Garrett another brandy and Lynette announce that she was going to the nursery to make sure Rexton and Peter had found their way back. Meryon knew he and Elena would not be missed.

After he called for her carriage, they waited in the reception room.

“I suspect, Your Grace, that the truth is Magda wanted to make her feelings known when you told her that she was not welcome in the dining room tonight.”

“Either you recall our first conversation when I told you that Magda is my confidante”—that seemed a hundred years ago—”or you heard Lynette ask me why Magda was not invited.”

Elena answered with her eyes.
I remember every detail of that night
.

He reached for her hand but she ignored the gesture
and stepped away and circled the room, pausing to admire the Canaletto he had moved down from the library just this afternoon. She did not comment on it but finished the circuit.

“Why did we not introduce ourselves the night we met?” she asked as she sat down.

“I have no idea.”

“I do.”

She almost always did have an idea, which she almost always wanted to share. He loved that about her most of the time, but right now words were not what he wanted to exchange with her.

“I think …” She remained seated and looked up at him. “Exchanging names would have made our first meeting more proper than the intimate exchange that we both seemed to need. Look how long it has taken for us to know each other, to become comfortable together again.”

She patted the seat beside her, but he chose the settee parallel to the one on which she sat so he could watch those glorious eyes as she talked. “I cannot imagine you know me much better now than you did before dinner.” His words sounded like a challenge or a game. Not intentionally.

“I do know you much better, Your Grace.”

“Then you can read minds, signora. You four had such a lively discussion that you found a new subject before I could comment on the previous one.”

He had maintained his usual demeanor, not anxious to call attention to his singular guest by behaving differently. As if she did not shine from her place next to him,
her beauty all but announcing his intention. “Tell me what you learned.”

She gave him a coquettish shrug, moved to sit next to him, and then kissed him on the cheek. It was so unexpected that he knew he must have looked shocked.

“I love that expression, as though I have done something that you are totally unprepared for. It was the littlest kiss, Meryon.” She smoothed her skirts.

It had caught him unawares—no, that was not it, it had caught him
unprepared
.

“I know that your family loves you.” She folded her hands in her lap and looked as decorous as the thirty-something lady she was. “They love you and you love them as surely as you love your children. And I learned that you are lonely.”

“I would be more comfortable if you said you know that I prefer turbot to flounder, signora.” Meryon did his best to relax but could not smile. She knew he was lonely, and what did he know about her? That she must walk out her restlessness before she sat down.

“Then I will apologize, a very small apology. I did take advantage of Gabriel and Lynette’s openness, because it is important for me to know you better.”

He was beginning to feel a trifle annoyed at her pleasure in his discomfiture. “There are very few people who have seen me with my family in such informal circumstances.”

“Your Grace, if you consider it such a threat then why did you invite me?”

He heard no anger, only curiosity. He could never predict what she would take offense at.

“No one expected Gabe and Lynette. And Garrett is excellent at drawing out information.”

She reached over and put one of her hands on his, waiting until he looked up at her. “Meryon, there is nothing I would not tell you. Ask. What would you like to know?”

E
LENA’S QUESTION HAD
a dozen different answers. Meryon wanted to know the truth about her parentage, what her youth had been like, when she first understood what a gift her voice was, how she met Verano, why they had no children, if she wanted him half as much as he wanted her. But in the deepest corner of his heart he did not want to know her any better than he did now, wanted nothing to threaten their friendship.

“No questions,” she surmised, misunderstanding his hesitation. “Well, that is disappointing. One would think that you do not wish to know me at all. In that case I will tell you the rest of what I learned.”

“Elena.” He freed his hand and cupped her neck. “I can think of another way I would much prefer to use our time together. I do believe that you know me even better than I know you. Let me send your coach home and call
for my own so we can visit my house on St. German Street.”

Elena kissed him, closing the last inches between them by wrapping her arms around him.

Meryon knew one thing beyond doubt. That this woman in his arms, her mouth on his, gave herself completely. He felt unworthy of such generosity, but he was a man and not a saint. Some sound, barely heard, made them part and a moment later the footman scratched at the door to tell them that the carriage was waiting.

Meryon told the footman of the change of plans, and neither he nor Elena complained about the minutes it gave them to become better acquainted.

Finally Meryon was helping her with her cloak. In the hall the porter had his greatcoat, hat, and walking stick. They waited for the porter to go outside and open the coach. Elena leaned against the wall near the door and whispered, “I think this part is called anticipation.”

He kissed her quickly, lest someone should walk by. “I have always thought anticipation vastly overrated.”

Meryon helped Elena into the carriage. They sat on the bench seat facing the front. The down blanket on top of the warmed seats made the three-block trip to St. German as comfortable as a seat in a well-warmed salon. They sat, her head on his chest, his arm pulling her close, not kissing.

He knew that once his mouth touched hers he wanted no interruption, no distraction, and as many hours as they could spare from a world filled with other people.

The moon was in its spring prime, one of those nights
when you could read by its light. As they drove through the gates that set the house back from the street the moonlight cast cold shadows on the façade, making it less welcoming than it appeared in daylight. Candles lit the arched windows on either side of the matching arched doorway, and the warmth they hinted at made him want to hurry inside.

He loved this place, if one could love a thing of stone and plaster. When he walked through the door, he left all his cares outside and enjoyed the purely selfish, sensual hours, always leaving rejuvenated in body and spirit.

“Oh, Meryon, it is not at all what I expected, but nearly perfect. I love the way it is set back, separating itself from the rest of the houses.” She let him hand her down the steps and hurried through the cold to the arched front door.

A maid, an older woman, met them, took their hats and coats, and disappeared.

“Is there a garden out there?” she asked, gesturing toward the back of the hall that ran straight through the house to a set of glass doors at the back. “There must be. Flowering trees and a little fountain perhaps.”

“Yes, there are trees and I will have a fountain installed tomorrow.” Like Hyde Park, he loved seeing this place through her eyes, as if for the first time.

With a hand on her back, he urged her into the salon to the right of the entry. There was champagne on the table. He should have told the maid to put it in the bedroom and saved both of them any more waiting.

He opened the champagne with a decorous pop, even though he rarely performed this chore himself.

“Were you that sure of me?” she asked as he handed her the glass.

“No, my dear, if I had been sure of you I would have had the bottle open already.”

She raised her glass and touched it to his, walking over to one of the windows. Facing him so that the arched window framed her whole body, she sipped her champagne.

“Tell me how you found this place. Please,” she added and set her glass down on a table.

Her composure tried his patience. He did not want conversation. He would be happy to tell her anything after they had used the bed upstairs. Feeling crass for thinking like a randy schoolboy, Meryon reminded himself of his age and maturity and sipped the champagne for strength.

“The house is modeled after Le Pavillon Colombe outside Paris. I think I told you that my father spent several years in France before and during the Revolution. He hired a French architect to design a cottage with the same exterior as Le Pavillon Colombe but with an interior of his own design. The duke, my father, gave it to me when I reached my majority.”

“It seems an extravagance,
a wonderful
extravagance,” she added quickly, “to build a house of two stories in the middle of the city. Do you not feel overwhelmed by the taller houses?”

“When you see it in the daylight you will have to tell me if you still think it perfect.” He set his glass down and could not decide whether to thank or bludgeon his tutor for teaching him how to control himself. “Let me show you the rest of the house.”

———

T
HE BEDROOM
. I
ESPECIALLY
want to see the bedroom
, Elena thought. But something had changed. He did not seem as enthusiastic now. Who needed champagne when her mind, body, and heart were as ready as they could be?

“It’s so comfortable. It makes me wonder why we all want such grand houses.” Elena made the comment as they started up the stairs, having seen three salons on the ground floor, a parlor with a library behind it, and a dining room across the hall.

As she played the gracious guest to his gracious host, it occurred to her what this house was intended for. It was where his mistress would live, and how wonderful that there was none in residence.

“It requires only a small staff as well.” Elena stopped on the first step and turned to him. They were eye-to-eye and Elena leaned into him, hoping to find the man she could not resist. She kissed his cheek and then buried her face in his neck, breathing in the smell of his skin, hair, clothes. She whispered into his ear, “I said that so you know that I can be practical.”

He laughed and she relaxed. She loved to hear him laugh and vowed to make him laugh at least once an hour. It made her happy, not to mention that when she was pressed this close to the man, his laughter was very arousing as it traveled the length of her body, all the way to her toes.