The Mistress of Trevelyan (29 page)

"Thank you." I said, pulling my hand back before he could bow to kiss it. Constance's observation rang in my ears and made me leery. His smile stiffened, and I chastised myself for being so cautious. Surely Constance had to be mistaken. I sought to repair my slight. "Your trip to the north went well?"

"Extremely well." Mr. Henderson's gaze seemed to search my face, making me wonder again about Constance's comment. "In fact, several new opportunities have arisen, and Ben has graciously invited me to stay at the manor while I look into them. Perhaps I can tell you about them later."

"Yes," I said, feeling a little dizzy. Had his voice taken a personal tone?

"Miss Ann. Might I speak with you a moment in the foyer?" Stephen, looking as ragged and worn as a Confederate flag in Federal hands, joined Alan at my side. I'd deliberately avoided looking his way, hoping to escape having to face him yet. He seemed completely oblivious to the awkward position in which he'd placed me. Both Benedict and Mr. Henderson had raised their brows.

I cleared my scratchy throat and winced as a twinge of pain shot to my temples. "Only for a minute. I need to speak to Mr. Trevelyan about planning a party for Justin's birthday." Even more heat fired my checks.

"A party?" Stephen said with surprise. "An excellent idea, and I promise not to take more than a moment,"

"Very well," I said, following him into the foyer, thankful to note that Dobbs was not standing guard at the front door.

Stephen grabbed my hands, pulling me close to him. "I beg of you. Before you speak to my brother, please, let me explain about Cesca," he whispered, so low that I could barely hear him. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, and his hands shook.

Heart pounding, I stepped away, snatching my hands from his. "You embarrass us both. I have no plans to speak of it to your brother. As I see it, his pain is already more than any man should be forced to bear. Please don't mention the matter again." When I turned to the study, I saw a dark shape slip quickly out of sight. Had Benedict stood in the doorway, watching?

"You hate me," Stephen said.

I drew a deep breath and released it slowly before facing him. "No. I am angry. Why do you act as if your brother is wrong when he is the one who has been wronged?"

Stephen's expression went from despair to anger. "He judges and condemns without mercy, and not even heaven can help you if you fail. Do not ever fail him, Ann."

He left, his words deepening the chill of doubt wrapped around my heart.
Judges and condemns without mercy?
I couldn't help but think of Francesca and her unborn child.

Exiting Benedict's study as I approached, Mr. Henderson stopped in front of me, a worried expression on his face. I forced a smile to my lips.

"Miss Lovell, forgive my forwardness, but I fear I must caution you." His gaze shifted to the doorway Stephen had disappeared through and then to Benedict's study. "Never mind—even a fool can see you are not Francesca."

"I beg your pardon?" I couldn't have been more shocked. In truth, my mind felt so fuzzy, I thought I'd mistaken his words.

He sighed, deeply, as if a heavy sadness weighed upon him. "Francesca was too delicate, too sensitive. She was not for this world. Please forget what I said. You are not anything like her." He caught my hand and brought it to his lips before I could react. "I will see you at dinner tonight" Dropping my hand, he hurried in the direction Stephen had taken.

"But—" My protest fell to a whisper. Why had Mr. Henderson felt it necessary to warn me? Stomach churning, I walked into the study with Francesca's murder and the reasons behind it fresh on my mind. Benedict stood at the window, his large hand fisted in the curtains as he looked outside. I couldn't see him as the man responsible for his wife's murder. As before, a stream of late-afternoon sunshine beat a sure path into the gloom of the room and glistened off his rich raven-hued hair. His square jaw and Viking-broad shoulders appeared set, ready for battle.

I decided to have my say before we had any other interruptions. Shutting the study door firmly, I marched into the room, feeling unsteady. Determined, I anchored myself in place by gripping the back of a wing chair.

"Mr. Trevelyan, I cannot let you accept full responsibility for last night's unfortunate incident. Indeed, I am entirely at fault for what happened. Not only did I gad about indecently clothed, but I provoked you with thoughtless words, then shamefully forced you to accommodate my spinster's folly of knowing your kiss. I beg of you to forgive me, and you have my solemn vow that such a thing will never happen again. I have rediscovered my practicality and can assure you, I will wear it over my inappropriate tendencies like a suit of armor. I understand you are at a vulnerable point in your life, with your wife ... no longer alive ... and... I think you may have... mistaken me for her in your late-night passions..."

I thought I had more to say, but found myself completely undone. I had no idea what his reaction was, for he simply continued to stare out the window, a completely unacceptable situation.

Letting go of the chair, I marched his way. "Mr. Trevelyan. Did you hear anything that I said?"

He moved like a flash of lighting against a stormy sky as he turned and grabbed my shoulders.

"Every bloody word, Miss Lovell." I blinked at the anger pouring from him in torrents of unspoken words. His eyes spit flames, his breath rasped harshly, and his roughly hewn face was so sharp, it seemed to slash through the air as he planted it an inch before my nose.

"When did you receive a threatening note? And why in the bloody hell did you neglect to tell me about it?"

"Who told you?"

"Unlike you, my mother thankfully has some sense."

I'd just spilled my pride on the floor before him, and he wanted to talk about an inconsequential note! Spots wavered before my eyes. It didn't matter that they were red spots, they still made me dizzy. "Mr. Trevelyan. I do believe I am so angry I am going to faint if I do not sit this instant."

His grip on my shoulders loosened, then tightened again.

"That makes two of us, Miss Lovell. And if we are still standing in a moment, I do believe I am going to kiss you again, or throttle you. I cannot quite make up my mind which. But know this one thing, I have never and will never mistake you in any way for the ghost of a wife that I had. Do you understand?"

"I quite think that I do," I whispered, though I wasn't even sure what he'd said. He exhaled sharply. His head lowered, and I shut my eyes. My lips parted, anticipating his kiss, without a thought to the vow that I'd just made. Only no kiss fell upon my trembling lips. His cool forehead touched mine, and his thumbs caressed my shoulders as his grip gentled. He groaned as if in pain, as he had last night within the intimacy of my room. The sound scraped across my heart.

"I am sorry," he said softly. "I should not touch you like this."

"It is all right," I said, splaying my hand over his heart, feeling its strength and racing tempo through the cloth of his shirt. Suddenly exhausted and confused, I let my head rest on his broad chest.

"Miss Lovell, you are quite warm, rather burning "

"I have no doubt, Mr. Trevelyan. You have this effect on me." Where was my practicality? I didn't have the strength to summon even a small measure of it

Still holding my shoulders, he eased back, concern creasing his brow. "Are you feeling ill?"

"Surely not." I straightened my shoulders. "Just a little fatigued and unsettled and flushed."

He lifted a hand to my cheek. "I think you have a fever."

"I assure you. I have a very strong constitution. I am never ill."

"I do believe, Miss Lovell, that I have told you before there most certainly is a first time for everything." His gaze searched mine intently, and he brushed my bottom lip with his finger. "You have taught me that quite thoroughly." He shifted, and before I had a clue what he meant to do, he swept me off my feet, into his arms, then marched to the door. "You are going to bed. Dobbs is sending for the doctor. And while we wait for him, you are going to tell me every bloody thing you have neglected to mention, starting with the threatening note."

"I insist you put me down this instant, Mr. Trevelyan. I am perfectly capable of managing on my own two feet. And I do not need a doctor. Perhaps a spot of tea and a good night's rest will restore my constitution."

"Miss Lovell, as perverse as this may sound, you must desist from arguing with me. In fact, it is currently imperative that you do so, for now at least"

"I fear I cannot accept your high-handedness without protest, Mr. Trevelyan. I would be nothing but a dandelion seed in the wind if I did. Now put me down."

Releasing my legs, he let me slide down his body. I wavered when my feet reached the ground. Whether his nearness was at fault, or I truly was ill, I don't know, but I was unsteady, and he knew it. Then he stepped toward me, pressing me against the study door. The full length of him intimately connected to my every curve. He shifted, and I immediately felt his hard, insistent arousal. His gaze bored into mine.

"The reason you need to cease arguing, Miss Lovell," he said softly, his deep voice rasping against my every feminine nerve, "is because you provoke my passions to a fever pitch when you argue with me."

"Goodness gracious," I gasped as my mind and the room whirled.

He shook his head, stepped back, and caught me before I fell. "Unfortunately, I do not see anything good or gracious about the situation, Miss Lovell. It is completely insane, which is exactly what you are if you keep insisting you are not ill. You have a fever. You are going to bed, and you are seeing a doctor. That's final."

Whether he'd rendered me speechless or my practical nature decided prudence was the better part of valor, I don't know. I do know I did not utter another peep of protest.

As luck would have it, Dobbs stood in the foyer. His eyebrows climbed to the ceiling at the sight of me in Benedict's arms. But he only nodded at Benedict's order to send for a doctor. I was torn between embarrassment, relief, desire, and outrage. But it wasn't long before the warmth and safety of being in Benedict's arms washed over me, and desire and relief won the upper hand. When I relaxed in his arms, I realized just how sick I felt. He climbed the three flights to my room as if he carried no greater burden than a porcelain doll. He wasn't even winded when he set me on the bed. "Now, before the maid arrives to settle you into your nightclothes, I want the note. Where is it?" He towered over me, a huge chunk of granite determination wearing the same expression that Alexander the Great must have leveled on the vanquished Persian Empire.

I looked at him, considered arguing, but then my gaze drifted lower. Noting his unmistakable condition, I decided to pick another battle, another day. For I had to be honest I didn't mind him seeing the note. "It is in the desk drawer."

Rather than watch his panther-like grace as he moved across my room, I stared at the cloudy bed curtains. Now that Benedict had insisted on calling a doctor, I had to be honest with myself about another matter, too. I truly felt more miserable than I ever had, and my discomfort seemed to be growing by the minute.

"What in the bloody hell is this nonsense? 'Remain at your own peril.' And signed as if Francesca had written it. What else has happened?" he demanded.

Wincing at his anger and at the increasing discomfort in my throat, I explained the other things that had happened, ending with the destruction of the boys' garden. "I am sure these incidents are tactics designed to get me to leave Trevelyan Manor. Please, do not be so angry. There has been no real harm done. The children and I have replanted the garden, and I expect new sprouts will be popping up soon."

It was amazing how in a blink of my eye he seemed to rope in all of his emotions like a cowboy tossing a lariat about the neck of a wild horse and bringing it to a halt. I could still see his power seething beneath his taut muscles, but it was a completely leashed power. "I am not worried about a bloody garden, Miss Lovell, but about your welfare. I will find the culprit behind these incidents."

"I was afraid of that"

"Do you not want to know who is behind this?"

"Yes, but I want to fight my own battle. I do not want you stepping in and eradicating the conflict. It is a matter of principle and respect"

"Need I remind you, Miss Lovell, that this is my household. It is a matter of my honor."

"This is a huge house, Mr. Trevelyan, and if you consider every one in it a reflection on your honor, then I fear you are doomed to be dishonored. Might I suggest you rethink your stand?"

Whatever Benedict was going to say was lost in a cry from the schoolroom. Before I managed to sit up, Benedict rushed through the door and came back into my room with little Robert in his arms.

"I want Miss Wovell," he cried. His eyes were squeezed shut his voice sounded scratchier than mine, and his chubby cheeks were flushed a bright red. The child was clearly ill.

"Please, let me hold him," I said, reaching my arms out for him.

"You are ill yourself," Benedict said, cradling Robert I could clearly see Benedict's turmoil, wanting to comfort his son himself, but then wanting to give his son what he was crying for.

"Please. I think both Robert and I will feel better if I do."

Benedict hesitated a moment more, then brought Robert to me. The child leaned his head against my bosom and sighed. "Miss Wovell, I feel awful."

I brushed his unruly hair back from his face. "I know, sugarplum. I feel the same way." Even through my own fever I could tell the child was so hot he felt like he was on fire. "It is a good thing the doctor is already on his way."

"Yes." Benedict's voice was tight and full of frustration.

I realized he desperately needed to do something to help. "Can you bring me a damp cloth from my washstand? When my mother was fevered, a cool cloth always soothed her. And then maybe you should check on Justin to make sure he is not ill as well."

Benedict spun into action. For a man so large, it never ceased to amaze me how quickly and quietly he could move. By the time the doctor arrived, Robert had settled into a fitful sleep beside me, and I almost couldn't keep myself awake. My body was demanding that I rest