“Cards! Do you play cards? If you can do mathematics. . .” Without waiting for a reply, Alicia raced off to harass her sisters about card games.
Lady Pamela and Lady Dalrymple entered the breakfast room, arm in arm, whispering to each other. At sight of Bell, they cut her dead and continued into the room without speaking.
Well, charming. What had she done to offend a bad actress and Dru’s mother?
“I’ve examined the trust agreement thoroughly.” Later that afternoon, Sir Harry sat by the fire in Rain’s study, sipping his best brandy. “Trusts are not entailments, but the terms are similar in this case. I agree with your brother-in-law that the rules are straightforward and unbreakable. The best you can do is steer as much of the expendable monies as you can into investing outside the trust.”
“Building new cash reserves means reducing or cutting allowances to my family.” Rain fretted over the numbers Harry had set in front of him.
“Your sisters are all well settled. They won’t starve.” Harry waved a dismissive hand. “If you have any wish to control your future, you need to start soon.”
“Even if I marry tomorrow, there is no guarantee I’ll have a son in five years. That’s not enough time to build another fortune, and it would involve cutting upkeep to the estate and tenants.” His father would never countenance that, but the duke. . . might not be with them much longer. Rain refrained from rubbing his temple and sipped his brandy. He could see why men of lesser means might become drunkards.
A knock on the door interrupted their discussion of the impossible. Harry finished off his drink and rose to let in Estelle. “My lady, always a pleasure. I’ll leave you to your brother while I find someone to break some balls with.”
Estelle sniffed at the billiard slang but didn’t comment.
Rain stood and politely waited until his sister perched on a chair. “Is Father awake yet?”
“Awake and insisting he feels much better, but we both know he’d say that even if he was at death’s door. Garland and I have discussed this, and with your permission, we mean to stay here until the end. You are under an unbearable burden. We’d like to help where we can.”
His sister’s gift mostly involved perfumes and her famous soaps. Rain knew the soaps might dispense contentment—or itch like the devil if she was angry—but they did not heal. “Your husband would do better looking after his own estate. We cannot predict how long the family fortune will be around.”
“We understand. We can arrange to lease out the manor while we’re here. That will relieve the expense of servants and upkeep. The children are too young to know the difference. We can wait a few years before sending our son to school. You cannot be expected to run both estates, assist with Father’s political responsibilities, and hunt for a wife at the same time. Let us help.”
Rain didn’t know where to begin in discouraging his sister’s eager assistance. “Thank Garland for his generous offer. But I know he has political plans of his own. It’s important that he continue. Have him look at the cost of using the London townhouse instead of your manor if he doesn’t mean to run for a local borough. I’m sure Father still has enough influence to find him a position in government that could lead to better appointments.”
Estelle nervously locked and unlocked her fingers. “We’ll discuss it. London is no place for the children, though, and I hate to be parted from them. I can see we’ve been living extravagantly, and it’s time we look to ourselves instead of to you for solutions.”
He ought to feel relieved. Mostly, he felt like a failure that he had to ask his sisters to help solve a problem he’d created by not marrying or being able to heal his father. “The children are fine in the nursery, although admittedly, York is much further from London than Somerset. If only Sommersville was in better condition, you’d do better to move in there and run for local representation. Although it’s hard to represent the common man while living in a ducal palace.” Rain respected the irony of living in apparent splendor on shoestrings. “I am sorry I have placed you in this position.”
“It is our own fault for expecting you to do everything.” She stood, her chin set determinedly. “Helen asks if she might stay on a while longer. She cannot afford a governess, and if we leave the children with you, we’d leave our governess as well. Of course, if Garland prefers Sommersville, we’ll take Helen with us.”
One more dependent wouldn’t break him. “It’s her choice. We are isolated. She may find it tedious. And if she is looking for a husband. . .” Rain let that thought hang there.
Estelle offered him a small grin. “I’ll let her know you want only young virgins. And perhaps I’ll mention a penchant for chaining women to the bed.”
Rain rolled his eyes and let his sister escape unmolested. And here he’d been worried the house would be empty in the future.
If his father died, he might have to move to the ducal estate and leave Yates to Teddy. He shuddered at the thought. He’d always hated the eccentric, crumbling old palace in Somerset. Riddled with tunnels and ghosts, it was an architectural legend, not a home.
If Lady Dalrymple stayed here, so would Drucilla. He hoped Helen did not expect him to heal her daughter. She needed a knowledgeable bone doctor. He could call in one from York, he supposed, although London would be better. Or Edinburgh.
The family would damned well miss having the duke’s healing energies.
On that thought, Rain put aside his ledgers and set out for his father’s suite. The entry hall was still bustling with guests departing for the afternoon train, so he took the back stairs. He knew he was missing an opportunity to learn more about all the young misses who had been presented with such hopes to him. Perhaps he should ask them if they knew mathematics. He seemed to have a penchant for bluestockings with the backbones of generals.
Hearing feminine voices in the ducal suite, he entered without knocking. His father was in his favorite chair by the fire, warmly wrapped in a blanket, with a mug of what Rain hoped was hot broth in his hand.
Bell was there with the maid he’d assigned to her, the one with buckteeth and one crossed eye. Whenever his sisters arrived, lady’s maids had to be summoned from thin air. He assumed they’d taught this one her duties out of desperation for enough hands. The fact that Button was a talented seamstress had raised her to a position someone of her looks would not normally attain.
“Lady Craigmore is a clever lass.” The duke greeted Rain with a smile and winked at the countess. “She has determined that my valet should not be confined to my rooms seven days a week. And even though he needn’t dress me any longer and is quite useless except to force me to take my medicine, he should be able to do mending and cleaning in places where he can talk to others. So Button is to wait on me during the hours Lady C is in her office and doesn’t need her.”
“Most clever,” Rain agreed. “If only my sisters would all depart and hadn’t need of Button as well. Perhaps now that this latest round of entertainments has ended, there will be less demand for her valuable time.”
Looking as if she’d rather disappear into the wallpaper, the maid picked up the tea tray, curtsied, and fled to the hall.
The duke contentedly sipped from his mug.
Bell was the one who shot him daggers. “Button is a hard worker. She can mend clothes while she keeps His Grace company. And if she’s assigned to me, then she is of little use to your sisters. They prefer the other maids, in any case. She’s mostly been consigned to clothing repairs, although she’s most excellent with arranging hair.”
Rain enjoyed her ire. Other than her request for Button as her maid, she had not bothered consulting him about any of the rest. She simply did what she thought made sense. He liked that even better, although he wasn’t about to let anyone know he approved of her managing ways.
“My sisters are scheming to find ways to save their own funds by staying here. You’d think bankruptcy imminent. Anyone have a notion why that is?” Rain crossed his arms and raised his eyebrow
s quizzically.
The duke chortled. “You’ve only talked to the husbands, haven’t you? They pet your sisters, tell them all is well, and not to worry their little heads.”
Rain did the same. It saved on drama. But he assumed that meant Bell had talked directly to his sisters. He seriously glared at the interfering countess this time. “Estelle and Sal are with child. They needn’t be fretting over finances.”
Unperturbed by his glare, Bell poured tea. “Any woman who can bear a child has the strength to undertake any task that interests her. Men are the weaklings who break in fear of maternity. If you’ll stay with your father until Button returns, my lord, I’ll take this opportunity to carry some of the ledgers to my new suite where I can work undisturbed.”
She bobbed a pretty curtsy at the duke. “Your valet has orders to see that the kitchen delivers more soup in an hour. I believe that one is to be a cream soup. You’ll enjoy it.”
She swept out in a rustle of petticoats. Rain had to resist turning to watch.
It had taken a moment to grasp what she had done. The lady was not just clever, but a conniving witch of the best kind.
She’d cleared her maid out of her suite and told Rain she would be there all alone, leaving him to decide what to do about it.
“The two of you are wearing me out just watching you.” Sounding more cheerful than usual, the duke pushed out of his chair. “Help me back to bed. I think I’ll take a nap before my next infusion of soup.”
With concern, Rain helped his father up. “How is the pain today?”
“No pain.” The duke gestured impatiently. “Food is staying down. Bring your lady back here before dinner so we can try whatever you did again. I’ve eaten well all day.”
“You really need a man to help you.” Despite his gauntness, his father was not a lightweight. Button could not help him back to bed.
“No, I really need a woman,” the duke retorted. “And so do you. Go frig her, boy, or you’re not the man I thought you were.”
Shocked, Rain chose not to interpret this the way it sounded. “I take it you’re feeling better. We’ll be back this evening if you think we’re helping.”
Rain left the moment the shy maid returned—because frigging the countess was exactly what he wanted to do right now.
Twenty-one
Bell had found fresh sheets and re-made the bed, casting the wrinkled linen into a maid’s laundry basket. With so many guests leaving, it would be difficult to discourage Button from moving into her new room this evening. The little maid was practically bouncing with excitement at her exalted new position. The poor thing would probably scrub floors if Bell asked it of her—but the maid shouldn’t be asked to give up her new private chamber.
She ought to be relieved to have an excuse for not allowing Rain into her suite again. But like the foolish idiot she was, she was hunting for ways to lure him back. She knew, if he married, she’d have to leave. She’d always been cautious, but she’d come here seeking new experiences outside her level of comfort. She simply had never imagined herself to be self-destructive.
She’d donned a prettier corset this morning in hopes he might come to her rooms again. She wore her best stockings and had even indulged in his sister’s perfumed soap. So when he scratched at the door in mid-afternoon, she had no excuse not to set her ledger aside and let him in.
Rainford looked as if his ice had started to crack. His eyes smoldered, and he swept her up in an embrace so fierce that she feared they’d both come undone.
“This is madness. I know better,” he whispered as he kissed her cheek and down her throat. “I thought if I just knew you were here and available like my boxing gloves or shooting range, that I’d be all right. You ease my tension simply thinking about you. But thinking isn’t what I want right now.”
His very real desire thrilled her far more than his dutiful proposals of marriage. Bell wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her to the bed.
“I want to say I’m doing this in hopes we are somehow helping your father,” she whispered as he lay her between the covers and started on her buttons, while she tore at his cravat. “But that would be a lie. Not a complete and total lie, but a partial one.”
“I have no such excuse.” He nipped at her ear and neck. “I have wanted you since you walked through my door and took command of my household. I still cannot fathom how someone so small and seemingly insignificant can wave a magic wand and restore order.”
She laughed at this description of her as he opened her bodice and kissed her breasts. Laughter only enhanced her desire—and his, apparently. Rain nearly tore open her pretty corset.
“You are not romantical even in passion, sir. I do adore that about you. Small and insignificant, indeed! Apparently I do not need flattery. Just your presence can reduce me to this silly miss aching for the caress of a man she shouldn’t have. I fear your ghosts have infected us with foolishness.” She cried out in delight as he kissed the hollow of her neck and caressed her breasts.
“We may as well be as mad as the rest of the household. I don’t think I can survive without this.” He hiked up her skirt and touched her through her drawers, rousing her to readiness.
It was still daylight. People would be looking for them soon enough. Their time together was so short. . .
Bell took him in her hands when he unfastened his trousers. His groan of pleasure was music to her ears. She could do this to a man who controlled a world larger than she could imagine. She loved that she was the one able to break his ice and reduce him to human instead of marquess.
They came together quickly and roughly, not hiding their cries as they quaked with pleasure. The release was exquisite. Bell wanted more. She roamed his chest while he gasped for air.
“Marry me, dammit,” he muttered. “I don’t care if the whole place goes to hell. I need this. I need you.”
She pinched his nipple. “If we heal the duke, you will have a lifetime to regret your choice. I want what Iona has. . . a love so strong that she can think of abandoning her duties and run off to Italy because her husband wishes to test his skills. I doubt that I would even follow you to London. Or that you would go as far as Edinburgh for me. And Craigmore is much more remote.”
Rain kissed her nose and rolled to the side of the bed to right himself. “If you ask me right now, I think I can assure you I’d hie to Craigmore at a moment’s notice as long as I knew I could have you in my bed.”
Bell chuckled and sat up to tie her corset. Her nipples were engorged and still aching for his touch. “I think I can appreciate that. We need a honeymoon period where we work off all these. . . energies. . . before we can return to normal.”
“Yes, that might work. Except I’m no longer certain what normal is.” He turned to caress her breasts before she could finish enclosing them. “I live with chaos. You are this serene oasis where I can retreat as needed. Don’t ever leave.”
She couldn’t promise that. She finished fastening his shirt and collar. “There will be fewer guests this evening. The doors have stopped slamming. Let’s take this one day at a time. By next week, you’ll most likely find my small and insignificant presence very boring and be ready to hie off to parts unknown.”
That the doors had stopped slamming gave her icy shivers, but she wouldn’t burden him with her fears.
It wasn’t having his child that worried her. She knew he would do right by her, and she loved children, even if she feared she’d not be able to take care of one. Her fear was that his hysterical nagging grandmother had decided to take over any infant growing inside her.
That evening, Rainford regarded the much reduced company in his formal drawing room in a more relaxed mood than these past few days. Or weeks or months. The parrot had escaped its cage and was even now squawking from the crystal chandelier. Victoria had the servants moving enormous pots of exotic greenery in front of the mullioned windows where the Christmas tree had been a few weeks ago. Salina had her tarot cards out and w
as entertaining Lady Pamela and Lady Dalrymple with their futures. And his brothers-in-law were quietly arguing over who could cut expenses most, if he understood the few phrases he caught. Nothing had really changed.
But because of the woman practicing card games with Alicia in a far corner, he had hope.
Rain realized he’d lost hope a long time ago. He’d become more and more cynical as time passed and his marriage prospects seemed less and less interesting. With his father’s illness, he’d given up any expectation of finding a true match and simply attempted to find an honest woman. There for a while, after he’d proposed to Araminta, he’d felt as if he were finally moving ahead, finding his place in the scheme of things. But gradually, as he’d realized how entirely unsuitable she was, the tension had returned until he’d nearly reached a breaking point.
Now, he was expecting the intractable female who refused to marry him to restore the promise of a future. His formidable intellect must be disintegrating. He supposed he could try to change her mind about marriage. But she was right. Years of proceeding cautiously demanded time to make a logical decision, not one made in passion.
He didn’t have time.
Abandoning her lessons, Alicia approached to take his arm. “You will play whist with us this evening, will you not? Bell has agreed, although she has some mysterious errand that prevents her from joining us directly after dinner.”
“That mysterious errand is visiting the duke. She is too discreet to say so. I will be with her, so set your tables up without us. If all goes well, we’ll join you later.” He’d rather take Bell back to her suite, but the dratted maid would be there.
Alicia squeezed his arm. “He’ll be all right, won’t he? The doors have stopped slamming. Doesn’t that mean our ghostly grandmother is satisfied?”
“Or the house has settled back to normal now that there aren’t numerous guests darting about. Or that Lady Pamela is a less disturbing presence than the opera singer. You may make up any reason that pleases you.”
Captivating the Countess Page 19
