Yes, he knew what she meant. Still, it was rather discouraging to find she put the comfort of her other guests above his. Alvescot was in the habit of having things arranged for his own convenience. Her loyalty was admirable, no doubt, but it hardly soothed his wounded pride. Would she be as loyal to him when (and if) they married?
“Edward knows,” he said. “I’ve spoken to him and agreed to advance him three hundred pounds for his journey.”
“Three hundred pounds! James, he’ll never pay it back.”
“Oh, I know. He asked for five.”
Vanessa laid a hand on his sleeve, gazing up at him with worried eyes. “I don’t want you to be out of pocket, James. Please allow me to reimburse you.”
“We’ll discuss it later, my dear. Let’s see him away from Cutsdean first. He won’t tell his mother and sister about Mr. Curtiss. If there’s a bonanza to be had, he wants to be the only one to have it.”
“Naturally.” She withdrew her hand from his arm as he opened the door to the Saloon and her assembled guests.
It was apparent by their expressions when they saw Alvescot that Edward hadn’t told them about the earl’s arrival. Whether this was out of his desire not to let escape anything concerning their conversation, or mere maliciousness, Vanessa didn’t spend any time contemplating. There was a chorus of astonished reactions.
Hortense glared at him and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
Quite the opposite greeting from Mabel, who was seated beside William on the sofa but immediately rose to come forward with outstretched hand. “I knew you would return. I told them you had every intention of returning. There was never a doubt in my mind. Who could see Louisa and not be enchanted with her? She shall play the pianoforte for you directly after luncheon.”
Poor Louisa looked sick. Her gaze traveled from William to Alvescot and back. The earl nodded politely to her but William glared at both of them. He had stood at Vanessa’s entry and now strode to Louisa’s chair, muttering, “Why didn’t you tell me he had come back? Why did you pretend to be so glad to see me?”
“I am glad to see you, William, and I didn’t know his lordship had returned.” Her voice was little more than a whisper.
“Very likely,” he sniffed, turning on his heel and stalking to the window. Louisa followed him, going so far as to pluck at his sleeve to get his attention. “I won’t play for him after luncheon, no matter what Mama says,” she breathed, agitated. “It may be necessary for me to play this evening, if Vanessa wishes it, but I won't play before then, I promise you.”
William was only slightly mollified. It had been difficult enough for him to work up the courage to return to Cutsdean after his contretemps with Vanessa. To find Alvescot here was decidedly too much. For one hour, when he had first arrived, everything had seemed to be going his way. Mabel had courted him and Louisa had gazed at him with her limpid blue eyes full of devotion. Her eyes, he noted now, were full of desperation, or something, but it was not devotion. William would have liked to announce, to the whole crowd of them, that he and Louisa were going to walk in the garden. Right then, when they should be going into luncheon. But Hortense was watching them with her cold, sharp eyes, and Edward was sneering at them. Mabel didn’t look at him at all, but came and dragged her daughter away without a word.
Luncheon was an uncomfortable meal. But then, as Alvescot recalled, it usually was. William spoke to no one, and Mabel insisted that Louisa sit next to the earl. Hortense likewise was silent, regarding him with disdainful eyes.
Since Vanessa was at the opposite end of the table from him, he could not speak with her, but made polite conversation with Louisa, assuring her (as she was the only one to ask) that his brother was progressing nicely. After the meal he stated firmly to Mabel that he intended to see his godchildren and would be pleased to hear Louisa perform on the pianoforte after dinner.
“I didn’t bring them anything,” he told Vanessa as they climbed the stairs together to the nursery floor. “I left St. Aldwyns in rather a hurry, once my mind was made up to come here. Do you think they’ll mind?”
“No, of course not. They never had the opportunity to thank you for your gifts before you left. You wouldn’t want to spoil them . . . the way I do,” she teased.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he murmured, not quite loud enough for her to be sure she heard. And then, in a normal tone, “I like your children, Vanessa. My sister says all children are demanding when they’re young, and what you should look for is a good disposition and forthrightness. John and Catherine are possessed of both, thank heaven. Even if they can be disconcerting at times.”
Vanessa very much wanted to ask him if he had discussed her children in particular with his sister, but found she hadn’t the nerve. “Does your sister have children of her own?”
“Yes, two of them, but she and her husband have been living in Ireland for the last few years and I haven’t seen them very often. Janine’s at St. Aldwyns now for a visit while her husband confers with government officials in London. He has an appointment in Ireland which is rather tricky to handle and I think she’s glad to be back at St. Aldwyns for a few weeks. I hope she’ll still be there when you come to visit.”
“I’m surprised you were willing to leave when she was there, if she comes so seldom.”
Alvescot was following her down the hall to the schoolroom now and couldn’t see her face. “The first time I came she had left to visit her husband’s family for a while. This time . . . she understood the necessity of my leaving.”
In the open doorway she turned to study him. There was no mistaking the fondness in his eyes, the conspiratorial half-smile that played about his lips. Vanessa felt her heart rate speed slightly and suffered a moment’s shortness of breath. Alongside the excitement was a trace of fear. Was this what she wanted? For herself, undeniably yes. But was it best for her children? She glanced into the room where they played easily together.
“Catherine, John, look who’s here,” she called.
At sight of him looming behind her in the doorway, they squealed with delight. Vanessa wondered when he’d had the time to so capture their enthusiasm. She watched as they ran to him and he caught one in each arm. Both children spoke at once, asking questions, telling him their latest adventures. It was as if they’d known him all their lives, but had been separated from him for a long time.
Vanessa was willing to concede that they liked him, which was not the same thing as saying they would want him as a stepfather. He was like a favorite uncle to them, now. But how would they feel if he uprooted them, took them away to a place they’d never known and didn’t want to know? They weren’t particularly timid children, but such an upheaval in their lives was bound to upset them. And Alvescot would expect a great deal of her time, time which might have to be taken from that set aside for the children.
For an hour he stayed with them and talked, about his home and about theirs. Frequently he glanced up at Vanessa to see how she was reacting to this ploy, but her face was guarded. When John asked him how long he was staying, he said, “I don’t know yet, but this time I’m sure I won’t have to leave without saying good-bye. You’ll know when I’m going to leave as soon as I do.”
“Stay,” Catherine insisted, working her little fist inside his large one. “Everyone stays.”
“Yes,” he agreed, laughing. “I’ve noticed that.”
“Mr. Oldcastle is here, too,” Vanessa told them, but they showed not the least interest.
Chapter Eighteen
“Will you ride with me?” Alvescot asked as they left the schoolroom.
“Yes,” Vanessa said, though her shoulder still gave her a little trouble on horseback.
“I’ll have to borrow one of your animals. I only brought the carriage team.”
“Of course. We have several horses who will carry your weight.” They were on the first floor landing and he stood so close she could have touched him by lifting a hand. “Shall we meet at the stables in a quarte
r of an hour?”
Alvescot repressed a desire to touch her glorious hair or brush her cheek with a loving finger. Patience, he schooled himself. She does like you, she’s simply not sure if this is a wise step to take. He did expect to be able to convince her that it was. “Quarter of an hour,” he confirmed, watching as she walked away from him toward her corner suite at the other end of the hall. From the way she moved, not quite so gracefully as usual, he knew she was aware of his scrutiny and he turned reluctantly to his room.
When she arrived at the stables a few minutes after him, she wore a royal blue riding habit with a foam of lace at the collar and cuffs. He’d never seen the outfit before and knew without being told that it was her best.
“Your groom suggested Winterfrost for me. I’ve had your mare saddled.” He allowed the groom to assist her onto her horse, though he would have preferred to do it himself. It turned out best that he didn’t, though, because this way he was able to watch her mount and he saw the slight wince as she twisted to arrange herself in the sidesaddle. Apparently her shoulder was not so well mended as she would have him believe. Alvescot felt a rush of anger toward Edward, but shoved it aside. They were going to be rid of Edward for good and what was important was that he keep his eye on Vanessa to see she didn’t tire herself.
As they rode, the sun beat down on them and sparkled off the metal on the horses’ harness. Alvescot spoke of his family, of St. Aldwyns, of Frederick. They encountered Paul Burford, whose eyes widened in surprise when he recognized the earl, but who greeted him warmly and inquired after his brother. Burford did not stay with them long, leaving with a jaunty, expectant smile. He knows why I’m here, Alvescot thought, slightly disgruntled. Perhaps it was time to make his visit more explicit to Vanessa.
They had ridden into a leafy glade where the luscious green grass was inviting and a profusion of wildflowers poked their blossoms toward the afternoon sunlight. Primrose and wood sorrel were interspersed with wood anemone and bluebells, each looking fragile but courageously gay. Alvescot reined in his horse. “Shall we?”
Even the short ride had made her shoulder ache, but Vanessa was half afraid to leave the safety of her mount. His eyes were softly caressing, squinting in the bright light. Behind him she saw a bird flash in the tree branches, its flight an easy escape. “All right.”
With that muscular simplicity of motion she had grown to admire, he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree, turning to grasp her about the waist and ease her descent. His hands remained at her sides for a moment, steadying her, before he asked, “Your shoulder’s hurting, isn’t it?”
Vanessa dismissed the pain lightly. “Only the least bit. I haven’t ridden much since the accident.”
Taking her hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world, he led her to a tree where he sat and patted the ground beside him. “Lean against me and I’ll massage it, my dear. Sometimes it takes a while for that kind of injury to heal properly. Is the doctor satisfied?”
He was leaning back against the tree, looking up at her with one brow lifted questioningly. Vanessa hesitated before seating herself a little apart from him, but he moved so his legs lay alongside hers, barely touching. Immediately, she could feel his strong hands come to rest on her shoulder, unmoving, waiting. “The doctor thinks it will be a few more weeks before the pain is entirely gone, but he said that’s only to be expected.” She kept her gaze on the patch of bluebells at her booted feet.
The hands started to move, gently kneading her shoulder and upper arm. “Tell me if that’s too much,” he urged. “Do you have your maid massage it?”
“No, I hadn’t thought of it.”
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“When I was wounded at Waterloo, I wouldn’t let anyone touch me except the doctor. Even my valet had to practically beg me to let him change the dressing. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I didn’t feel like being reasonable at the time. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you would. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t think I’m a particularly unreasonable man most of the time, but there are moments when everything seems to come in on you all at once and you aren’t quite ready to cope with it. Decisions are like that, too. When there are a lot of extraneous matters littering up your mind, you would sometimes rather not have to consider a large issue that will affect your whole future.”
“That’s true,” she murmured.
“On the other hand,” he continued gently, his hands still steadily working, “sometimes making the larger decision is the solution to the smaller problems. I’ve noticed that you, for instance, Vanessa, like to take charge of a situation. You like to get to the bottom of the matter, find out all the facts, consider all the possibilities, and then act. That’s an admirable trait. Most people are prone to acting on their instincts, with the relevant facts only partially digested. Your handling of the estate shows a wholesome regard for having the proper information and taking a long-range view of a problem.”
He shifted one hand so it touched her chin, lightly turning her face toward him. “I’m not accustomed to thinking of myself as a large problem, but I can see that you might think I am. The fact is, my dear, I’ve grown to love you, and I want to marry you. I realize that would mean a certain amount of disruption for you and the children, but I think we could overcome the worst of that. We could live part of the year at Cutsdean and part of the year at St. Aldwyns. It’s not ideal, but it’s possible.”
Alvescot waited for her to say something. Her eyes had become large with emotion, but when she spoke, her question was almost irrelevant. Almost.
“Why did you leave without speaking of this? Why didn’t you write something in your letter?”
“I needed to be away from you to consider the matter, my love. Marriage is not a step I take any more lightly than you do, though I’m not so encumbered with family as you are.” It was the truth, every word of it. And yet he could have said more. He chose not to, which was a mistake. Vanessa, tuned to every nuance of his speech, sensed that he was not being completely frank with her.
She waited for him to say more. Instead, he kissed her. He drew her tenderly into his arms, lowered his lips to touch her forehead, her eyelids, her lips. Vanessa was conscious that he cradled her body so as to protect her sore shoulder, barely conscious, but it was important to her, his thoughtfulness. His kisses were long and tender, inadvertently drawing her into participation. She responded to the firm pressure on her mouth, hopeful but undemanding. Her lips craved the contact, sought the reassurance that his nearness brought.
One of her hands stole up to twine in his hair. How long ago it seemed when she’d first thought how she would like to feel the texture of his hair. It was soft and smooth, the individual strands teasing between her fingers. She could feel one of his hands in her own hair, nestling her head against his shoulder. His touch was confident, relaxed. This was the love he offered—gentle, even as his physical involvement grew. Vanessa opened her eyes to look into his. They were touched with desire and he smiled apologetically as he eased himself fractionally away from her.
“No,” she whispered. “I want you to hold me, to touch me, but not . . .”
“Of course not,” he murmured, smiling. “I’m a gentleman, my love. That must wait for when we’re married. You are going to marry me, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know, James.”
Alvescot was stunned by her words. There had been little hesitation in her response to his kisses. She had even invited him to continue, nay to progress in his lovemaking. Her smokey eyes didn’t waver for a second from his gaze, though they were filled with a strange mixture of sadness and desire.
When he didn’t speak, and showed no sign of renewing his amorous advances, she flashed him a brief, uncertain smile and shifted away from him. “I’m very fond of you, James. If I had no one but myself to consider, I wouldn’t hesitate. But there are the children, and th
ere’s Cutsdean. Have you thought about children of our own? I conceive rather readily, I’m afraid,” she admitted with a deprecatory wave of her hand. “If I had a son . . .”
“I’ve thought about it.” He leaned back against the tree, wrapping his hands about his bent knees and not looking at her. “It would be difficult for John, of course, having a younger half-brother who would inherit the title one day, and even for Catherine to have a half-sister who bore a title with her name. That can’t be changed, and I’d want to have children. You have to weigh that against your children’s acquiring a man to give them the attention they can never have from their own father. John’s situation doesn’t really change. He inherits Cutsdean whether you marry me or not. I don’t think you can let his peace of mind dictate your decision, Vanessa, especially when there’s no way to tell how much it would affect him.”
“Perhaps not.” She rose, dusting the skirts of her riding habit. What they were discussing was a concern, certainly, but not what really pressed on her mind. She couldn’t shake the idea that he wasn’t telling her everything. “I don’t mean to be difficult, James. As you said before, I like to consider all the facts before I make a decision. Sometimes it feels as though a piece were missing, and it’s harder to reach a resolution.”
Alvescot had risen when she did and now stood staring down at her. His thoughts were tangled with a variety of threads: hurt at the possibility she would reject him, confusion about what she wanted from him, surprise at her behavior. The last was uppermost in his mind. “Do you consider the missing piece to be your physical response to me, Vanessa?”
“No,” she said sadly. “Did I shock you? I’m lonely, James, and I’ve built your few gestures of closeness out of all proportion. All I needed to know was that you would be gentle, and I already knew that. I wanted you to touch me because your touch makes me feel wonderful. It’s not just the excitement; it’s the feeling of being joined with you. I’ve stood on my own for some time now, and I intend to continue doing that, but having someone to make me feel like a woman again . . . I’m afraid I can’t explain it, James. You’re the only one who seems to accept me as the mistress of Cutsdean as well as a woman.”
Laura Matthews Page 20
