by S. G. Rogers
Larken glanced at Brandon when she reached her mare. “Can you help me up?”
“Certainly.”
He laced his fingers together to form a stirrup, and Larken mounted Juniper successfully. When she smoothed down her skirts afterward, however, she inadvertently flashed him a broad expanse of her shapely lower extremity. Sweat broke out on his upper lip, and he blotted it away with a handkerchief. Larken really was a beauty, but lust was not love and a bargain was a bargain. She’d agreed to be his wife in name only, and he mustn’t go back on his word.
Larken dressed for dinner that night in an eye-catching sapphire blue gown. She’d shied away from the strong color in the shop, but Nell and the clerks had been so enthusiastic, she was persuaded to buy it. As she examined her reflection, she was pleased with the way the tight basque bodice accentuated her tiny waist and the color flattered her skin. Nell tucked a jeweled comb into her smooth twist for an elegant look. Although Larken was pleased with her toilette, she thought it was a shame her gown would be wasted on Brandon.
Myles was clad in a sailor suit, and Larken smiled with pleasure at his smart appearance. In turn, his expression of delight at her dress made her heart sing.
“You’re so pretty!”
“Thank you, young sir. And you look like a young gentleman! Are you ready to go downstairs?”
He bowed and offered her his arm with all the solemnity of a man four times his age. When they entered the drawing room together, Brandon had not yet arrived. While they waited, Myles tested the seat cushions on the sofa.
“Remember your manners,” Larken said.
He stopped bouncing. Larken poured two small glasses of sherry at the sideboard and took a tentative sip. The sweet wine didn’t taste nearly as bad as she remembered, and gave her a pleasant, relaxing glow. She was pouring herself a second glass when an impeccably-clad Brandon arrived. The wine did little to blunt her sudden breathlessness.
“You look just like Lord Apollo!” Myles exclaimed.
“Nothing quite so lofty, I’m sure,” Brandon said. “I’m sorry if I’m late.”
“Not at all.” Larken curtsied. “May I offer you some sherry?”
She plucked the waiting glass off the tray and delivered it into his hands.
“Why…thank you,” he said. “Very considerate of you.”
“May I have some?” Myles asked.
“No.” Brandon and Larken spoke at the same time.
“You wouldn’t like it,” she added.
“How was your dancing lesson?” Brandon asked.
“Lord Rowe says I’m making great progress.”
“He’s funny,” Myles said. “He tells jokes.”
Larken laughed. “Yes, he and his sister are charming. They never fail to send their regards to you.”
“When are they to be here next?”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Perhaps I’ll stop by. I’ve always enjoyed their company.”
His attention turned to Myles, and Larken managed to take a deep breath. Would she always feel so tightly wound up when her husband was near?
Chapter Seven
Throwing Down the Gauntlet
BRANDON WAS RELIEVED that Myles’ presence gave him somewhere to focus other than Larken’s bodice. Unfortunately, his blood had already been stirred and it was all he could do to behave normally. She’d been rendered even more stunning by the color of her gown, which was absolutely bewitching. It was his own fault, of course, for urging her to obtain a new wardrobe. Although in his mind’s eye he’d imagined her clad in something more matronly, she was young and to expect her to dress like his grandmother was unfair. Why on Earth had he invited her to dine when it was becoming increasingly clear she’d awakened a raging beast within him? Yes, he owed her the truth, but her proximity was lighting him on fire.
Conversation at dinner centered mainly on Myles and how well he’d settled in at Graceling Hall. Larken offered her comments every so often, but she seemed content to have Brandon’s attention focused on the lad. Brandon tried not to stare at her, but his eyes had their own agenda. Fortunately, the meal was a good one and served to distract him admirably. By the time he’d eaten a piece of pound cake with custard sauce, he almost felt relaxed. Apparently so did the boy, since his eyelids could not stay open.
“It’s grown quite late and I should take Myles upstairs.” Larken tucked her napkin beside her plate. “We’ll say good night then.”
“No, I’d like you to stay awhile longer. I’ll ring for a servant to escort the lad to bed.”
Myles waved good night sleepily on his way from the room. After the dishes were cleared, Brandon poured himself a snifter of brandy.
“Myles is enjoying his riding lessons, but I’d like to develop a schedule for a few school lessons,” Larken said. “Do you have any notion—”
“I’m sorry, but let’s not discuss Myles for a little while. I want to talk to you about a few other matters.”
Silence reigned as he sipped his brandy.
“Something’s been bothering me about your situation,” he said finally. “Although your father was a gentleman, you came here with few possessions and no money at all. Didn’t your parents leave you anything?”
“If they did, it’s now in the hands of the Howleys. All I had when I came to them was what the authorities could salvage of our luggage on the train and the personal effects my parents were wearing when they died. The Howleys took my parents’ jewelry and watch too, but I stole them back.”
He peered at her, aghast. “Your foster parents stole from you?”
“They were lauded in the papers for their generosity in taking in the Miracle Orphan, but it was quite a profitable move on their part. I don’t know what became of my parents’ estate in North Yorkshire, but the Howleys took everything of value I had with me when I moved into their home, as well as any money people donated to me through the newspaper fund.”
Anger surged within him. “I’ve never heard of anything so outrageous! They should be jailed for what they’ve done!”
“Perhaps, but I daresay Mrs. Howley is still seething with resentment for my taking back what was mine.”
Her fingertips crept to the locket around her neck.
“Was that your mother’s?” Brandon asked.
“Yes. She was wearing it when she died.” She paused. “My parents perished because of me, you know.”
“What?”
“It was my birthday, and they’d taken me to London for a weekend to celebrate. We were on our way home when the train derailed.”
“That’s not your fault!”
“It is, actually. I could have chosen Scotland instead, but I wanted to go to town. If it weren’t for me, we wouldn’t have been on that train at all.”
“I’m certain your parents wouldn’t want you to burden yourself so, but I think I understand how you could feel culpable. I feel that way about my brother’s demise.” He took a long sip of brandy. “You may have wondered about the relationship between me and Myles’ mother, Mariah Pettigrew.”
Her eyes dropped to her wine. “Truly, it’s none of my business.”
“She was my fiancée.”
Larken’s expression remained impassive.
“You guessed as much,” he said.
“I saw her portrait in the attic and suspected some sort of intimate relationship between the two of you.”
“She gave me that portrait as an engagement present. I was young and foolish, and I couldn’t imagine living without her by my side.”
“If you’re trying to tell me Myles is your son, I guessed that much too. I just don’t understand why you don’t acknowledge him.”
“Although I wish otherwise, he’s not mine.”
Her eyebrows rose, and Brandon read disbelief in her eyes.
“A few months before Mariah and I were to marry, she ran off with my brother Theo. Myles is my nephew.”
Larken gasped.
“I took it quite per
sonally, and saw it as the ultimate betrayal by the two people I loved most in the world. Our father was furious with Theo, and disinherited him immediately. When Mariah discovered he was penniless, she refused to marry him. My brother was disconsolate at her abandonment, but I turned a deaf ear to his pain. We had a horrible argument, and shortly thereafter he went off to Liverpool in a fruitless attempt to talk Mariah out of her plans to sail to America.”
“If she knew she was with child, why didn’t she marry him?”
“I believe she didn’t discover her condition until after she’d made the crossing. By then, Theo was dead. When Mariah’s parents learned about her illegitimate child, they disavowed her. Fortunately, her aunt agreed to take her in.”
“How utterly tragic.”
“Yes.” Another swallow of brandy. “Although Theo wronged me, I shouldn’t have spoken to him in anger. I believe he took his own life because of it.”
“You can’t know that for sure. Does Myles know he’s your nephew?”
“Not yet, but I mean to tell him when he’s older. The circumstances would likely be too confusing for him.”
“You can be assured I’ll keep your confidence. I only want the best for him.”
“I know.” He met her gaze. “I thought you should understand exactly why I’m not keen on marriage.”
“Because you’re still in love with Mariah?”
“No, I’m finally free of that particular burden, but my faith in the institution of marriage has been forever broken.” He shook his head. “I’m done with love and romance now. It’s all claptrap as far as I’m concerned.”
As Brandon’s story sank in, Larken tried to decide how she felt about what he’d told her. She’d been mistaken in her assumptions, and the facts certainly absolved him of spurning Mariah Pettigrew in her time of need. Brandon had been the victim of genuine betrayal, both at his fiancée’s hands and those of his own brother. Trauma was difficult to overcome, as she very well understood—but by turning his back on more tender emotions, he’d chosen to remain a victim of circumstance, and to involve her as well.
She stared at him, perplexed. He was young—perhaps twenty-six—and yet he’d decided his romantic life was irrevocably over. Nothing about her could tempt this handsome, virile man from his self-imposed emotional exile? Well, perhaps not, but his position wounded her feminine pride and prompted a retaliatory challenge of sorts.
“I’m glad you’ve been completely honest with me,” she said. “Perhaps I should make a confession of my own. One of the reasons I accepted your offer of marriage is because I’m un-marriageable.”
His eyebrows lifted. “In what way?”
“Forgive me for being blunt, but you’ve been so open that I feel as if I should do the same.” She paused. “You see, no man would ever be interested in having me in his bed.”
Larken couldn’t believe such vulgar words could spill out of her mouth without a blush, but it was rather easy to do after several glasses of wine and in the face of so much indifference.
Brandon cleared his throat, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me?”
A seemingly embarrassed shrug. “It’s a little humiliating to admit, but there it is.”
She gave him a smile. If he gave in to his curiosity and asked her to explain her previous assertion, he couldn’t possibly be as indifferent to her as he might believe.
“Would you…”
She met his gaze. “Yes?”
When he turned a deep shade of crimson, she almost felt sorry for him.
“That is to say…would you care to elaborate?” he managed.
“About what?”
“Ah…why no man would be interested in bedding you?”
Triumph. “Oh, that. Are you sure you want to know? It’s scandalous and I wouldn’t want to make you blush.”
“Not if you’d prefer to keep it private.”
“I’d like to keep it private, but I’ll tell you because you don’t care a whit.” She lowered her voice. “I have scars on my back from the train accident.”
“Scars?”
“On my lower back, yes. Right where a man might rest his hands in a romantic moment. A real husband would have found my scars repulsive and feel rather cheated for not being able to bed a perfect wife. Fortunately, our marital arrangement allows me to avoid physical intimacy.”
“I-I can’t imagine any scars of yours that would put a man off for long.”
“I’ll never have to put it to the test now. I daresay the rejection would be mortifying.”
Larken finished her wine, hoping Brandon was fervently wishing he could judge for himself how off-putting her scars might be. If it kept him up all night, so much the better.
“Thank you for dinner.” She rose. “Our conversation has been most illuminating.”
He lurched to his feet, but she didn’t spare him a glance as she sailed from the room.
The next afternoon, Myles preferred to play outside while Larken worked with Lord Rowe and Lady Clarissa in the ballroom. Toward the end of the session, she became so comfortable with the footwork, Rowe was even able to teach her a few advanced turns and movements.
“Not every fellow will waltz as well as I do, of course,” Rowe said with mock seriousness. “But just in case you’re fortunate to have a good partner, we want you to be able to follow.”
“You socialize with a great many people,” she said. “Did you know Theo King?”
He frowned. “Yes. Terrible tragedy, that accident. The King brothers were a force of nature when they were together. They looked quite similar, but they were complete opposites. Theo was sensitive and artistic—like air, and Brandon was powerful—like fire. They needed one another, spiritually speaking. I think your husband is only just starting to recover from his brother’s loss.”
“Myles is helping a great deal.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Mrs. King. I expect you have something to do with it.”
She merely smiled. “Did you ever meet Miss Mariah Pettigrew?”
“Many times. She had an exquisite face, I suppose, but I never warmed up to her overmuch. I can’t remember the details, but I believe she was engaged to one of the King brothers at one point. Then Theo had his accident and she simply dropped out of sight.”
“Life often takes some horrendous turns.”
“Yours more than most. How did you overcome your tragedy, if I may ask?”
“I haven’t completely. The sun continues to rise, however, the world continues to turn, and I’ve no choice but to go on.”
His eyebrows drew together. “Dear lady…I don’t know what to say.”
“Please don’t feel sorry for me. Each of us has a cross to bear, do we not? I really have nothing to complain about, all things considered.”
“Well, I can’t complain about your progress on the dance floor. Perhaps after we review the waltz next time, we can begin to learn the two-step?”
“Why not?”
After his dinner with Larken, Brandon had spent a restless night. If he didn’t know better, he might have suspected her disclosure was meant to provoke a physical response. In all their other interactions, however, she’d been nothing but demure and modest. The mention of her body had, unfortunately, quickened his pulse and set his thoughts on the exact path he’d been trying to avoid. The notion of peeling away her corset to view the flesh underneath was such an irresistible image, he’d been forced to take a history book to his room. He’d stayed up late reading The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, but he wasn’t so sure he retained a jot.
Brandon also reflected on the events regarding Larken’s inheritance. Something about her foster parents’ behavior didn’t seem quite right, so he wrote a letter to his lawyer, asking him to look into the matter. The very notion the Howleys would take advantage of an orphaned child made him furious, but he would let Mr. Waite deal with them. The London-based lawyer had a zeal for such things and had served the King family well for decades.
<
br /> After lunch, Brandon rode over to the chapel, where his family’s burial plot was located. He spent a few minutes mourning his father, Theodore Jacob King. The man had been handsome and vigorous throughout his life, but had been prematurely felled by a stupid hunting accident. Brandon also laid a bouquet of forget-me-nots on his mother’s headstone. Although he remembered her as charming, happy woman, the loss of her eldest son and her husband in a short period of time had been her undoing. She’d simply wasted away, and Brandon had been helpless to do anything to save her.
A fresh bouquet of yellow roses on his brother’s grave meant there had been a recent visitor. Could the mourner be one of the many girls who’d tried to capture Theo’s heart years ago? As he stared at the headstone, a fresh wave of pain made him sink to the grass.
“When you fell in love with Mariah, I should have stepped aside,” he said out loud. “I’ll always regret I didn’t.”
As if Theo was answering him, a gentle breeze stirred the branches of a willow tree nearby. Although he didn’t believe in the supernatural, Brandon felt as if his elder brother’s memory was haunting him at Graceling Hall. Certainly a ghostly Theo would have found it amusing to play tricks on him every so often. A smile tugged at Brandon’s lips as he remembered the imaginative games his elder brother had invented when they were children. In many ways, he’d been a great deal like Larken—whimsical and light-spirited. Perhaps that’s why Brandon’s mood seemed to lift whenever he was in her company these days. She reminded him of happier times.
As he rode back to the house, he remembered he was supposed to look in on Larken’s dance lesson. To his disappointment, the music had stopped when he arrived and it appeared as if the session was over. Brandon shook Rowe’s hand, bowed to Clarissa, and exchanged pleasantries.
“So how is Larken coming along with her dancing?” he asked finally.
“She’s a very quick study,” Rowe said.
“I believe she’s mastered the waltz already,” Lady Clarissa added.
