“Good afternoon, my lovely bride.” Grinning from ear to ear, he rocked on his heels. “It is our usual nap time, is it not?”
As if on cue, the mantel clock chimed the hour.”
“Yes.” For the last three days, he had joined her, in bed. “The bouquet is for me?”
“Of course.” He sketched an elegant bow. “I raided our garden, as it is the end of the season.”
“But—why?” Confused, she blinked.
“Do I require a reason?” He arched a brow.
“No.” The babes moved, and she winced. “But you have never given me flowers. In fact, you never gave me anything, when in London.”
“I know that.” With a heavy sigh, he shuffled his feet. “Mine was a sorry excuse for a courtship, love.”
“Were you courting me then, as I hadn’t noticed?” In retrospect, he had gifted her nothing, not even a miniature of the Intrepid, as was customary of sea captains, when wooing prospective brides, during the two years she had pursued him. In contrast, she had given him everything.
“Alex, I have not done right by you, in so many ways. In effect, I took you for granted, and I would rectify that slight and never again repeat that mistake.” Jason trailed a finger along her cheek. “May I court you, now?”
“What is the point?” She shrugged, even as she almost choked on her enthusiasm. “We are married.”
“Better late than never.” He wiggled his brows, and she could not help but laugh. “What have you to fear?”
Complete and utter devastation, the likes from which I will never recover. “If that is your wish, who am I to stop you?”
“Then let us begin anew, darling.” He handed her the simple but charming arrangement and then swept her into his arms. “Right now, I should guard your slumber.”
“Jason, be careful.” Worried he might drop her, she clung to him, but he carried her upstairs as though she weighed nothing more than she had without the babes. “Do not injure your back.”
“Alex, I do not break so easily.” After entering their sitting room, he kicked the door shut and repeated the action, when he conveyed her to the bedchamber, and then set her on her feet.
As always, he untied her laces, removed her dress, and knelt to take off her slippers, garters, and stockings. He drew the chemise over her head, before lifting her to the four-poster. And then it was time for the main event.
Jason doffed his boots, cravat, coat, waistcoat, and shirt. Wearing only his skintight breeches, which tempted her even in her condition, he climbed onto the mattress, fluffed the pillows, and situated the cushion on which she rested her belly, at his side. When she had assumed her favorite position, he cradled her head and kissed her hair.
Without warning, she burst into tears.
“Why are you crying, darling?” He scratched her scalp, as he hugged her. “Are you uncomfortable? Are you in pain?”
“It is not what you think.” She sobbed. “Oh, Jason. I saw us like this, last year, when I dreamed of our future. I had envisioned such grand plans for us, and then everything fell apart. In those six months you were gone, I had thought it would never happen, and I surrendered my fantasies, but here we are, together.” She wept without shame.
“Alex, I must confess I remained ignorant of the seriousness of the misery I caused you, until now—until this very second.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “And I have repeatedly broken my promise not to pressure you into reconciliation, when I vowed otherwise. While I will never stop trying to restore your faith in me, know that I will never leave you, so there is no rush. Take all the time you need, love.”
“Do you mean that?” She shifted to look him in the eyes. “Truly?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “And I cannot apologize enough, for hurting you, for abandoning you, when you needed me most. I understand you are afraid, and that is your due. But I hope, very much, that you can find it within you to trust me, again.”
In that moment, the imaginary but nonetheless vicious chains shackling her heart loosened, and Alex sighed in relief. Invisible walls, so long imprisoning her in a miserable tomb of melancholy and fear, crumbled in a flash. He could not have known it, but Jason had just freed her from the powerful bonds of disappointment, devastation, and despair.
“Shall I pleasure you, so you might have your nap?” He tucked the blankets snug about her. “Tell me what you wish, and you will have it.”
“Will you hold me?” She nuzzled his chest. “I do so love sleeping in your arms.”
“Of course.” With a finger, Jason tipped her chin and bestowed upon her an achingly tender kiss. “Rest, angel. I will be here, when you wake.”
The realm of fanciful reveries danced at the fringe of her consciousness, and Alex smiled as she drifted. No longer would she fight her husband. No longer would she resist his overtures. No longer would she erect barriers between them. She would retrench. She would hope. And, with a little luck, she might find herself, again.
#
“Ouch.” Alex secured the needle and thread and sucked the end of her injured finger. Had any lady ever met her fate from countless pinpricks?
“Did you hurt yourself, your ladyship?” Molly leveled her gaze on the embroidery and grinned. “You are not concentrating, as your stitches are uneven.”
“Dear friend, how many times must I remind you that, in private, I wish you would call me by name?” Alex dropped her hoop to her lap. “And I am distracted.”
Of course, that was the understatement of the decade, as she had thought of nothing but her captain’s liberating proclamation, delivered during her nap, three days ago. The morning that followed, when the new day dawned, brought with it the tepid return of Lady Alexandra Seymour, as was, and Mrs. Jason Collingwood had yet to fully reconcile the two.
“I sympathize with your affliction.” With a deep-seated frown, the nursemaid halted her work. “It is strange, how we think we want one thing, when we desire quite the opposite.”
“Has something happened between you and—” A knock at the door interrupted Alex. “Come.”
“I beg your pardon, your ladyship.” Mr. Penniman, bearing an armload of firewood, entered the room. “Captain Collingwood bade me stock the hearth, as the staff remains short of footmen.”
“Thank you, Mr. Penniman.” Alex smiled, although he had not spared her a glance. But what struck her was the change in his appearance.
The chocolate brown coat and fawn colored breeches he wore fit as if they had been made expressly for the stablemaster. Someone had taught him to tie a proper mathematical, as his pristine cravat complimented a burgundy waistcoat, and a pair of polished top boots completed his impressive ensemble. Had the stableman employed the services of a tailor? But his attire was not the only aspect that had undergone a miraculous transformation.
His raven black hair had been cropped into the latest fashion, emphasizing a strong forehead and chiseled cheekbones. And his face was clean-shaven and bereft of a single smudge of dirt or grime. Had she thought him handsome? In truth, Tom Penniman would incite a riot, in the ballrooms of the ton.
“My apologies, for the disruption, your ladyship.” He sketched an elegant bow. “With your permission, I will leave you, now.”
“Mr. Penniman, will you not acknowledge Miss Duckett?” It struck Alex as odd that he ignored Molly. “Is the nanny not lovely, in her pink dress?”
“Forgive my oversight.” With his stare firmly fixed to the floor, Mr. Penniman inclined his head. “I beg your pardon. Good afternoon, Miss Duckett.”
“The same to you, Tom—I mean, Mr. Penniman.” The nursemaid leaned over the armrest of her chair and gushed, as would an eager pup, yearning for a pat of approval from its master. “It is a beautiful day.”
“Indeed, we enjoy very fine weather,” Mr. Penniman replied, in monotone, and compressed his lips. “Will that be all, your ladyship?”
“Yes, Mr. Penniman.” Stunned by his cold demeanor toward Molly, Alex gulped, as her well-intended advice may ha
ve sunk the nanny’s ship. “You are excused.”
As soon as Mr. Penniman quit the room, Molly burst into tears.
“Oh, dear.” Alex offered her handkerchief. “What happened? What went wrong?”
The nanny wailed louder.
“He made no attempts on your person, did he?” Alex wiped the nursemaid’s cheeks. “He has not accosted you.”
“I should be so lucky.” Molly sniffed. “Oh, Alex. I am in a terrible state. Tom no longer wants me. He only has eyes for the upstairs maid.”
“Colleen?” Alex tapped a finger to her chin and envisioned the new servant. “But I just hired her, and she is very young. The chit laughs at everything.”
“And now my Tom loves her.” Burying her face in her hands, Molly sobbed.
“Dear friend.” Alex wrapped her arm about the nursemaid’s shoulders. “Tell me the truth. When you asked me to help you resist Mr. Penniman, you really wanted my counsel on attracting him.” It was a statement, not a question.
“How did you know?” The nanny’s chin trembled, as she gazed at Alex. “What gave me away?”
“You and I have more in common than you realize.” Alex pondered her predicament. “That is why my advice was designed to garner his attention.”
“What?” With an expression of utter horror, Molly shuddered. “Do you mean that your instruction was intended to lure Tom?”
“Yes.” With a smile, Alex gave Molly a gentle nudge. “I suspected you had not abandoned your campaign.”
“Oh, no.” To Alex’s dismay, the nanny slumped forward, in a heap of misery.
“Molly, what have you not told me?” A chill of unease shivered down Alex’s spine. “Please, talk to me.”
“I have made a terrible mistake.” The nursemaid hiccuped. “Because I was not honest with you, I am to blame for what has happened.”
“You speak in riddles, and I am confused.” Yet Alex suspected she had committed a grievous error. “And I have an awful feeling.”
“Do not worry about me, my lady.” With a plaintive sob, Molly clutched Alex’s hand. “You are not at fault, as my plan failed because I misread your sage guidance.”
“But I thought my directions quite clear.” In a flash, Alex catalogued her suggestions and could find no flaws. “Where did I steer you amiss?”
With her arms wrapped about herself, Molly stood and walked to the window. “You are innocent, Alex.”
Despite attempts to the contrary, Alex blanched and braced for a lightning strike. “I would not say that.”
“But you are, as I twisted your recommendations to suit my purpose.” Molly vented a self-mocking snort. “My mother once told me that manipulating men was quite simple, as one need only pretend to favor the opposite of the desired objective. So I tailored my behavior to countermand your counsel, thinking I might win Tom.”
“Oh, Molly.” Shifting from side to side, Alex scooted from the sofa and joined her friend. “Would that you had confided in me, as I would have aided you, whatever your endeavor.”
“It is all right.” The nursemaid dried her tears on the sleeve of her plain frock. “I brought this on myself, as I envied your marriage, and I thought Tom was my match, as Captain is yours. Perhaps I was not meant for that sort of happiness, and I should settle for the blessings of a secure occupation and a comfortable residence.”
Hideous laughter, haunting and taunting, filled Alex’s ears, and she swayed. A series of rejoinders, rebukes, and rejections echoed, and she shook her head. Grasping the shield-shaped back of a Hepplewhite chair, she clutched a fist to her chest.
“Do not despair, Molly. It is never too late.” The declaration, freely made, worked as a balm, soothing frazzled nerves, but something she had not foreseen happened, just then. A surge of confidence invested Alex, spreading from her heart, inch by inch, until it suffused every muscle with a burst of derring-do, leaving her no choice but to act. “The cook baked some fresh Bath buns, this morning, and I know they are your favorite. Why don’t you enjoy an early tea, and will you send in Phipps, as you make for the kitchen?”
“That sounds lovely.” The nanny sniffed. “Thank you, your ladyship.”
Alone, Alex paced before the window. Wringing her fingers, she peered beyond the glass, at the manicured lawn and boxed hedges. As she had cared for the grounds of the manor, she had to nurture her staff, as they were her responsibility.
“You wished to see me, your ladyship?” Artie entered the drawing room, and Alex marveled at his elegant appearance and refined manners.
“Yes.” Nagging self-doubt reared its ugly head, but Alex quashed it. “Will you ask Gertie to deliver a pot of tea, some Bath buns, and black butter to the back parlor? And send for Mr. Penniman to join me, posthaste.”
“Very good, your ladyship.” Phipps bowed.
With hope as a shield, Alex tottered to the oval mirror and assessed her appearance. Molly had arranged Alex’s brown hair in loose curls, with a single thick lock draped at her neck. Turning left, she scrutinized her silhouette, which lacked the refinement of her pre-pregnancy figure, but the pale blue morning dress accented her creamy complexion, to perfection.
And then she studied her reflection. Trailing her knuckles along her cheek and throat, she inhaled a shaky breath and smiled. How long had it been since she had spared a second glance at her attire? Marking another triumph, however small, Alex charged into the fray.
#
“You wished to speak with me, your ladyship?” Tom Penniman bowed, with polished refinement, which piqued Alex’s suspicion.
“Indeed.” Reclining on the chaise in the back parlor, she sized up her prey. “Will you light the fire, as I am chilled? And I wondered if you might join me for tea, as we have yet to become better acquainted.”
“As you command, your ladyship.” Despite his calm response, he moved with a stiff and awkward gait, as he approached the hearth, squatted, and nursed a blaze.
“Have a seat, Mr. Penniman.” Unpracticed and suffering from months of inactivity, she devised an impromptu attack, yet it felt so good to stretch her independent wings. “And may I call you Tom?”
“You may refer to me however you wish, your ladyship.” The stablemaster perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair. Again, Alex marveled at his miraculous metamorphosis, as the young man was altogether quite handsome.
“You do not approve of me, do you, Tom?” In anticipation of his answer, she held her breath.
His cheeks flushed a charming red, and he shifted his weight. “It matters not how I—”
“I know I am not your favorite person, but I would like to know why?” In advance of what some might consider an unforgivable slight, she raised her defenses, lest she overreact. “You have my permission to speak freely, without fear of reprisal.”
In a flash, Mr. Penniman came alert, pinned her with a harsh stare, and whispered, “You killed my love.”
“I beg your pardon?” Confused, Alex set down her cup of tea, which jostled, as she trembled with shock. “Please, explain your accusation, as I have done no such thing.”
“Perhaps I have exaggerated, as Molly lives.” He scowled. “But she is no longer my girl, because you poisoned her head with fancy notions.”
“I do not follow.” Yes, she had encouraged Molly to try new things, but how had that harmed the nursemaid? “Miss Duckett is impressionable, but that should have changed nothing between you.”
“You changed everything, your ladyship.” Tom crammed his hands into his coat pockets. “From the first, I have loved Molly, as she was a simple maiden, bereft of guile or pretentious airs. For years, I brought her daisies, after church on Sundays. Now she wants roses, which I cannot afford to purchase on my salary.”
“We have a rose garden, and you may select an arrangement, when the blooms are in season.” Alex twined her fingers in her lap, as the solution seemed quite elementary. “That should resolve your difficulty.”
“There is more, my lady.” The stablemaster sighed.
“We had planned to purchase a small parcel of land, and I had intended to build a cabin, for our family. We are but poor country folk, so we could not manage much, but I would have constructed a comfortable home to raise our children. Now she wants to live on an estate. Do I look like landed gentry?”
“No.” Little by little, Alex’s renewed confidence flagged, as the enormity of her disastrous matchmaking skills weighed heavy. “Pray, continue.”
“My heart holds me captive to the dreams Molly and I once shared, and I am her prisoner.” When Tom met her gaze, she recognized his pain and torment. “I gave her all I had to offer, and she rejected me. Have you any idea, can you even begin to fathom the depth of my agony?”
“Actually, I can sympathize with your dilemma, more than you realize.” But then a particular point occurred to Alex. “If you feel that way, why did you spurn her, in Plymouth?”
“Because I knew not what to make of her altered state.” Tom pushed from the sofa and paced. “Molly has always been sweet and honest. Then she came at me, gowned in a style I found utterly foreign and indecent, with her face painted, batting her lashes as some cheap doxie, and she scared me. I preferred her as she was, without useless ornamentation.”
“I am so sorry, Tom.” Alex searched her mind for a solution.
“But I cannot blame you, entirely.” Mr. Penniman paused and compressed his lips. “In my ignorance and confusion, I shunned her. Then I heard gossip, in town, and talk of a noblewoman residing with Captain Collingwood. When Captain enlisted my aid to secure the cottage, I found the dress Molly had worn and confronted him. Cap’n told me about you and your friendship with my Molly.”
“You have my word, as a lady, I never meant to harm your relationship.” At that moment, Alex rued the day she had meddled in the nanny and the stablemaster’s affair. “And all is not lost.”
“How I wish that were so, your ladyship.” With shoulders slumped, Tom shuffled his feet. “I apologized, but Molly refused to forgive me. I declared myself, but it meant nothing. In the end, she rejected me as I had foolishly rejected her. Have you any idea how it hurts to have your devotion mocked and refused?”
Brethren of the Coast Box Set 2 Page 51
