The English Lily (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) (10 page)

In silent unity they laid out a small folded blanket that lay atop the food. He gestured for Kendra to sit, then dished up meat pies, cheese, and bread before handing over a plate. “This is quite the feast.”

Her lips twitched, though nothing so obvious as a smile touched them. “The female Harpers wished you continued certainty after your trying ordeal. After all, you were a patron of their establishment, and are a peer of the realm.”

He handed her a glass of wine. “I believe you are teasing me, Lady Lawrie.” He brought a hand over his chest. “I’m wounded.”

“You seem none the worse for wear, my lord.” Shrugging, she tipped the glass to her lips—a leisurely move that pumped the blood through parts of his body he rather wished to remain docile, at least for the time being.

Joseph filled a plate for himself, surprised at how famished he was.

“I should like to travel the continent with you while you perform your tricks.” Enthusiasm glittered in her eyes.

“Ridiculous,” he said absently. “That is no kind of life for a lady. And now that I’ve married you—” Joseph glanced up quickly. Hurt, then suspicion crossed her features.

“Of course,” she said lightly. “I’m to produce an heir.”

At once the light mood vanished. Joseph could have kicked himself.

Kendra’s gaze rested on her food. “What kinds of capers do you do on stage?”

“You make it sound as if I am one of those trick-riders who perform at Astley’s Amphitheatre of Equestrian Arts,” he scowled. “I’m an illusionist.”

She raised her head and nodded, but Joseph could read nothing in her expression. “That’s right. You conjured up Princess Cinderella and Prince Charming’s son in quite an impressive manner, as I recall—set Chalmers Kingdom all aflutter.”

He suppressed a shudder. That illusion was one he would prefer to eradicate from memory. One not of his doing, which had almost gotten his head lopped off in the process.

With delicate fingers, she brought a chunk of cheese to those full lips. Curiosity overcame good sense. “What happened to your hands?” Once the question left his mouth, he should have regretted it, but he did not. He wanted to know.

Fingers poised, mouth open, she froze except for her mouth snapping shut.

The air round them stilled. The birds quieted; no breeze stirred. ’Twas as if nature awaited her answer as intently as he did. Soft curls framed her heart-shaped face.

He found himself unable to look away.

Kendra set the cheese back on her plate gently. When she started to move her hands within the folds of her skirts, he stayed them with just a touch. “
Non
. You’ve no need to hide from me.”

Her eyes darted to his, filled with alarm.

“Tell me,
s’il vous plaît.
I’d like to know.” He shifted the plate from her lap to the ground and entwined his fingers with hers. He felt their tremor through to his soul.

“ ’Twas an over-zealous governess, I fear.” She did not meet his eyes.

Mon Dieu.
He brought her hands to his lips. “How old were you?”

“Five, I believe.” Her voice barely registered above a whisper.

Rage swarmed his senses. “But there are so many. It must have gone on for years.”

“Yes.” She tugged her hands away and began to clear away the remnants of their meal.

He was not about to let it end at that. “For what?” His tone came out harsh.

She flinched, then waved one hand in the air, as if it mattered naught, but it did. It was there in the tense draw of her shoulders, the haunted depth of her eyes.

With an index finger beneath her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “Why?”

“Lack of attention, or inability to apply my ‘God-given sense.’ Choose one.” She lashed out, anger prevalent. She jerked her head from his hold.

“
At five
?” ’Twas incredible. Fury unfurled deep within his gut. Such insensitivity, and from a governess, no less. The thought left Joseph’s senses dangling over a precipice. “What did your father say? I cannot imagine him overlooking such an atrocity.”

“Mama had expired not long before. My father was not a-aware.” She placed the used cutlery and dishes in the basket and stood.

Clearly she’d said all she intended, since she turned and stalked off, rather quickly.

Joseph narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. There was more, he would stake his life on it. Whatever she still hid, he’d learn in time. For now, he’d let the matter drop.

The key to his wife, he had a feeling, was in preventing her withdrawal. It was a honed skill she harbored.

At this juncture, Joseph took a measure of satisfaction. Progress had been accomplished—his head was still intact.

Chapter Eleven

The setting was beautiful. Not a ripple appeared on the small lake. Sheep in the distance eyed her warily. After a moment or so, satisfied Kendra represented no threat, they dropped their noses back down into the rich green blades. The only upheaval to the tranquil surroundings was the tumultuous demons storming her thoughts. Those burdens loomed like low heavy clouds before the deluge of rain.

She looked out over the pastoral scene, wishing she could grasp it in both hands, hold onto the camaraderie they’d shared before Joseph’s troublesome inquiries. What if she passed her affliction to her children? His resentment would surface, then fester. He would regret their impulsive marriage. The flash of iron aimed toward her old governess would turn on her when he learned the truth. She wrapped her arms about herself and shuddered, despite the warm air.

“We’d best be on our way.” The deep timbre vibrated against her, giving her a start. Comforting arms cradled her back into his chest. “I expect my father will have a note awaiting us in Leeds.”

She allowed herself the small luxury of relaxing against him. “You mentioned our…consortium?”

“Consortium?” His sardonic tone heated her cheeks. “
Ma chère
, we are married. Do you realize what that means?”

“Of course,” she snapped. She straightened, prepared to flee, but that moment of selfish pleasure caught her in a web of her own making. “Blessed union? Connubial bliss? Holy matrimony?”

“What has you so worried?” He said it gently, but it was a deception. He wanted to devour her in a heated rush.

His lips touched her neck, and she shivered. “What if we are not well matched?”

“How can we not be well matched?” he murmured.

His lips left a trail of moisture, making her knees weak.

“You are the Earl of Macclesfield’s daughter. I am the future Earl of Yarmouth. I ask you again, what is the problem?”

’Twas on the tip of her tongue to tell him just what he’d landed himself with, but her courage failed. How difficult could it be to hide her illiteracy? Mayhap she could keep her secret. After all, even Papa had no idea, and he’d known her all her life. Something eased in her chest. She spun in his arms, threw her own about his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

For the first time in a very long time she felt…safe.

****

Joseph pushed the horses hard upon reaching the outskirts of Leeds. Twilight was upon them, and Kendra had insisted on sitting atop, at his side, rather than inside the carriage.

“I will not have you falling asleep at the ribbons, my lord.” Her haughty tone would serve them well in the future.

He grinned. Who was he to argue with such logic? The silence, companionable, left him time to speculate on the change between them. A change that left him intoxicated by an unexpected show of faith. How she’d twisted her body into his, just before they’d returned to their carriage, locking her arms behind his head. Caught unawares, he’d frozen in the space of a breath.

For a split second—when he’d realized what her actions revealed.
Belief
. She believed in him—for all her reserve and uncertainty.

He’d pulled her slight form into a heart-stopping squeeze, every bone against his hands, flat on her back, as fragile as an English lily. Yet he felt her earlier turmoil as if it were his own. Even after confessing her governess’s dreadful treatment. What else could she have suffered to have her trembling in such fear?

“Whom shall I be meeting, my lord, when we reach home?”
She broke into his thoughts.

Home.
She was his home—

Joseph shook his head. He was not ready to think in such terms. Yet the thought did not quite disturb him as it ought to have. “My father, the Earl of Yarmouth. He was the second of three sons. My uncle recently passed on, leaving my father the title and lands.”

“Was he of an age—”

“It was quite sudden, I’m afraid,” he said. “He tripped down the stairs and never regained consciousness. The younger son died several years prior. Both were fairly useless, I regret to say.”

He caught Kendra’s frown from the corner of his eye. “Useless?”

Joseph bit back a wince. It was true. Both uncles spent money as if it grew like grass; neither one of them bothered caring for the estate and its townships or replenishing the coffers. If he told her that, she might realize his intentions were not so honorable—perhaps he should confess. After all, they
were
married.
Yet unconsummated,
he reminded himself.

“You’ve no cousins?”

The moment passed, and he was granted a reprieve. “One. My father’s younger brother had a son, Seth.” Joseph grimaced. With luck, that one would break his neck in one of his reckless horse races.

Kendra laughed. “So you and your father stand in line before Seth for the title. Best watch your back, my lord. It appears your young cousin could steal it all away.” She was teasing him, her tone infectious.

Unfortunately, her words struck a very strong chord, one that hadn’t occurred to him.

“Indeed, I shall watch for the knife at my back, my lady,” he returned. He snapped the reins, sudden urgency nipping at his heels.

Darkness was complete by the time Joseph maneuvered the horses to a halt before The Major Valiant, and with little trouble due to the late hour. Though he’d strongly suggested Kendra ride inside, she refused. Her cheek warmed his upper arm. The intimacy of the situation drew a smile, and he kissed the top of her head.

“Time to rise,
ma chère
.” He gave her a gentle shake and helped her down. “Come.”

Inside, he found the proprietors of The Major Valiant charming and welcoming. “Viscount and Lady Lawrie? We have been expecting you, my lord.” Mr. Valiant, for whom the inn had obviously been named, stood at attention, back ramrod straight. He clicked his heels together, and Joseph half feared the man would salute him. “A letter for you, my lord.”

Beside him, Joseph thought Kendra stifled a laugh behind a short cough. He accepted the missive, dread touching his spine. Without pause, Mr. Valiant led them to a grand suite that included its own separate sitting room.
Mon Dieu,
his father wasted no time spending the new daughter-in-law’s money.

A large four-poster bed, fit for the king, required the wooden steps beside it to gain access. A heavy canopy of velvet drapes in deep blue offered privacy—a welcome luxury, should one desire it. And, Joseph did. The prospect of waking up to that doll watching him, even one more day…

A large wardrobe stood in the corner, and two comfortable chairs faced the hearth, where a well-developed fire blazed. He crossed the room to the sitting room and glanced in. “If you would be so kind as to send up water, sir, we would be grateful.”

Mr. Valiant clicked his heels and brought his hand up but lowered it quickly. Kendra’s lips twitched, but she refrained from comment…or laughter. Once Mr. Valiant quit the chamber, Joseph tore open the note.

Son,

My felicitations on your recent, brilliantly timed, nuptials. I’ve yet to hear from the Earl of Macclesfield but am hopeful of his positive response by way of a large cheque. (A bit of humor, my son.)

I should warn you, Seth made his appearance a few days past. A ghastly fellow. My brother Simon would have been most disappointed to learn his only offspring is a ne’er-do-well, God rest his soul.

I hesitate to mention this, son, but I fear for my health and the condition in which my elder brother left these estates. My spells of discomfort grow more frequent with each passing day. Seth’s presence, as you know, is more hindrance than help. Our only hope remains in the hands of your bride’s family.

Enjoy your stay at The Major Valiant with my good friend and ex-comrade, Jones Valiant. He shall see to your comfort. Take a few days to enjoy your new bride before hurrying home.

Yours with affection,

Yarmouth

“Hell.”

“My lord, is something amiss?”

Joseph grimaced. He looked into Kendra’s wide blue eyes filled with concern. The moment had come. She might as well know the truth of it. He held out the letter. “Read for yourself.” He said it more harshly than he’d intended.

She flinched. Alarm crossed her features. She eyed the note as if it were a cobra about to strike. Slowly, she reached for the inexpensive vellum, expression guarded.

He could hardly blame her. A statement that read “Recent, brilliantly timed, nuptials” definitely conveyed a negative connotation. It spelled less than honorable intentions—even when the shift in his wicked heart gave way to a spark of hope. Sometime in the past few days he’d begun to care—care deeply, for his idealistic wife.