Soon there was another door where he waited and waited and which was, finally, grumpily, opened—this time by a half-dressed butler. “Lady Crawford to visit her brother, sir.”
“Lady Crawford?” Marks peered out into the street. “At this hour?” he hissed.
“Shhh.”
“Like that is it?” he whispered, “Well, get her in, then. I’ll wake Lord Halford. John?” The big man had come up silently behind him and awaited orders. “Help unload the carriage, man, while I rouse his lordship.” And where, wondered Marks as he stumped up the stairs, are we to put you, my fine lady, what with the house full of furriners and all.
Robert and Elizabeth came down the stairs together, looked at the piles of portmanteau and two large trunks and then at each other. “Where have you put my sister, Marks?”
“In the library, my lord. It’s the only room still warm, you staying up late as you did.”
“Very well.”
“Robert,” asked Elizabeth as she tugged at his arm, “where am I to put her?”
“In your room. You’ll have to come in with me.”
“I was in with you, but I do not like the whole world to—”
“Shhh. I like it no better, but there is nothing else to do, m’love,” Robert assured his wife. He took her arm and led her toward the library, where they would now confront his sister.
The sleepy housekeeper, not much more neatly attired than the butler, already faced Cressy in the library where she was countering demands made by their unexpected guest: “The Violet room is in use, my lady,” she said politely.
“The Green room, then.”
“It, too, is occupied.”
“Insolence! How dare you!”
“The rooms are occupied, my lady,” said the housekeeper firmly.
“The Rose room, then,” said Cressy sulkily, “although I like it not.”
“It, too, is occupied.”
“Then where am I to lay my head? A servant’s room in the attics?”
Lord Halford and Elizabeth entered just in time to hear this last. “I believe,” he said, his voice cold, “that they, too, are fully occupied. For this night, Elizabeth will give up her bed to you but some other arrangement will have to be made on the morrow.” Turning to the housekeeper, he said, “Marks will help you prepare the room. After a supper, we’ll all come up.” He moved toward a table where a covered tray sat. Marks had brought it to him some hours earlier, but he’d not been hungry, and he’d not touched it. He looked at the plate of buttered bread, curling slightly as it dried out, the cold meats, the cheese ... he shrugged. “This will do.” He smiled wryly. “Well, Cressy. This is unexpected.”
“I thought to stay at Crawford’s house.”
Was there just a touch of embarrassment under the defiance Elizabeth heard in her sister-in-law’s voice? “We will be all right for the nonce, Cressy,” she said soothingly, “but, truly, the house is full to the rafters. I’m sorry.”
“Lord Crawford? Is he here?” Cressy hated asking, but her arrival in London had been so different from what she’d anticipated. For one thing, the battle she’d expected to have with her lord must be postponed and, for another, the necessity of coming to her disapproving brother, was a complete anticlimax. She waved away the offered food and stared at Halford, ignoring the minx who had somehow managed to capture him in her first season. Cressy had never understood it. That the chit was niece to her old enemy, Joanna, only made it more intolerable. “Well? Do you know where he has laid his head?”
“I believe he stays with Sir Frederick, Cressy.”
“Frederick! Is he back?”
“Yes.”
Cressy’s mouth drooped. Here was another reason for resenting Lord Crawford’s intolerable decrees: Frederick was back in London and she’d not known. Frederick, the man who had tricked her into marrying his uncle! She hated Frederick very nearly as much as she hated Joanna who was wed to Pierce Reston, Duke of Stornway, the only man Cressy had ever truly wanted. She turned to stare out the windows.
“You are tired, my dear. I believe we can take you up now. But quietly. We’ve an invalid in the house, and she needs all the rest she can get.”
“Invalid?”
Half interested, half bored, Cressy listened with only half an ear—until it was mentioned that one of the visitors was her husband’s granddaughter whom the express had mentioned—the letter which had sent her hot-foot to London, despite Lord Crawford’s orders she was not to leave home. “Someone has gulled you, brother dear. Crawford has no granddaughter.”
“He has acknowledged her.”
“A by-blow’s by-blow from his salad days? And you house her?”
“It is much too long a story for tonight, Cressy.” Robert opened the door to Elizabeth’s room and waved her through. “But where is your maid?”
“The clumsy wench fell and broke her leg in Thirsk, and I had to leave her behind at the Golden Fleece.”
“Then Mrs. Comfort will maid you tonight. We’ll see you in the morning and send for Lord Crawford as early as convenable.”
“Good.”
The door closed, and Elizabeth allowed Robert to guide her back into his bedroom. “Robert,” she said, a dark, pensive look in her eyes.
“Yes love?”
“Will you be insulted if I tell you I do not much like your sister?”
“No. I’ll tell you a secret instead.” He pulled her close. “I do not much like her myself,” he whispered into her ear.
Elizabeth giggled, allowed herself to be lifted and settled on the wide bed. Robert pulled the bedclothes up around his wife’s shoulders and leaned to kiss her on the nose. She moved her face a fraction and took his lips with her own. Slowly the kiss deepened, and Robert’s arms slid around her, tightened. His long body stretched out at her side. All thought of unlikable sisters and too few guest bedrooms disappeared as the flames of passion kindled between them.
Late the next morning, while discovering Madame’s desires for the day, Elizabeth lifted her head and raised one finger, listening. “Madame, I believe I’m needed elsewhere. Please excuse me. She strolled from the bedroom. With Madame’s door closed behind her, she raced down the hall to her own room, which she entered abruptly and without formality. She looked toward the dressing table and, stepping between the cowering maid and her unwanted guest, warned, “Don’t you dare throw that!”
Cressy gritted her teeth. “That maid’s insolence is not to be borne. Get her out of my sight.”
“Put down that scent bottle.” It had been one of Robert’s first gifts to her and Elizabeth, prizing it, was sentimentally attached to it. “I will be very unhappy if it is broken.”
Cressy looked at her hand, raised her brows as if she didn’t know how the bottle had come to be there and, with elaborate care, set it down.
“Now, what has our maid done to offend you?”
Cressy scowled again. “I merely asked her about your other guests, Elizabeth. She refused to say more than that they arrived some time ago and that the old lady was ill. She refused any more information.”
A masculine voice answered that. “Good. I am glad to know that my servants obey their orders.”
“Robert!” said Elizabeth, glad to have him arrive since she wasn’t certain how to handle the situation. She held out her hand to him.
He strolled on into the room. “Elizabeth,” he said, mimicking her tone and slipped his arm around her waist. “Do remember, my dear, to put a bonus into that girl’s wages next quarter, will you? Such obedience in the face of my sister’s determination should be rewarded.”
“She might appreciate it more if it were given immediately, my lord,” said Elizabeth demurely.
“And, given immediately, it would reinforce her good behavior.” Robert nodded. “Excellent, my love.” He glanced at his bewildered, but still angry sister. “My servants have been warned they are not to speak of our I guests. If you have questions, you’ll have to ask me.”
“Last night you said my husband’s granddaughter was here.” Cressy didn’t tell them she’d already had the news of the chit’s existence from the letter she’d opened, even though it had been addressed to her husband. “I do not believe you.”
“I will allow Lord Crawford to explain what he will to you. But hear me, Cressy. There will be no more temper tantrums while you reside under this roof or I will have you, your trunks, and all your bits and pieces out on the street. There will be no polite waiting until you’re ready to leave us either. You will not disrupt my home.”
Cressy turned back to face the mirror. “Oh go away. You are horribly irritating, brother.”
“Lord Crawford will be here in half an hour. I suggest you be ready, sister.”
“Half an hour?” Cressy’s heart beat faster, but she responded languidly. “I cannot possibly be dressed in half an hour. Wherever did you get such a notion? You may send his lordship up here.”
“That I will not. You are building to a rousing good fight, are you not? Even though you’ve been made aware there is an invalid in the house and that such disturbance would not be in order. Well, I’ll not have Madame disturbed. You, Cressida, will take yourself down to the library from which I’ve had all breakables removed.” The last was said with a touch of rue. Robert’s eyes met his sister’s in the mirror and, for a moment, an emotion approaching understanding passed between them.
Cressy smiled sourly. “You know me well, brother.”
“As you know yourself, my dear. Have you never heard the phrase, one collects more flies with honey than with vinegar?”
“Often. Ever since the nursery.” She again met his eyes. “I suspect I do not like flies, Robert.”
“Your saving grace, Cressy, is the fact you know your failings and can occasionally laugh at yourself. Control your temper if you can, m’dear. You’ll not get away with your starts in this house, as you well know.”
“ ’Twas once my home, too, Robert.”
“A woman’s home is with her husband, Cressida. That is the way of things.”
“Oh go away. I will come down as soon as I may.” “Soon” stretched to well over an hour and, when Cressida finally showed her face there was a combination of emotions not quite hidden from those who received her in the library. Robert saw respect for Crawford, which he hadn’t expected. He also noted defiance and determination. He sighed.
“Well, lady wife?”
Not, thought Robert, a hopeful sign. Lord Crawford was as ready for battle as was Cressy.
“Well, my lord husband?”
“It is not well. You lied to my servants.”
“You left me no choice.”
“And our son, madam?”
“I presume our son goes on as always.” Cressy shrugged. But somewhere deep inside, she, too, wondered if the boy fared well. It hadn’t occurred to her when she left Northumberland that she might worry about her child. She had disliked children all her life and that her own might somehow be a different matter had not occurred to her.
“He needs his mother.”
“Your heir has Nanny, a wet nurse, two nursery maids, and a footman. He is well served, my lord.”
“Luckily for you I trust Nanny completely or you would feel my whip on your ribs, lady wife.”
“Oh, come now!” Cressida’s eyes widened. “You would not beat a woman?”
“Would I not? Believe what you will, m’dear, but go too far, and you’ll find out. The hard way.”
“Robert!”
“No, this is not my argument. Do not call on me, Cressy.”
“You would let him beat me?”
Lord Halford nodded. “As our father should have done.”
Cressy, her eyes holding his, had to believe he’d not aid her. She bit her lip.
Robert turned to Lord Crawford. “What would you now, my lord?”
“I would order her back at once, but she has exhausted my servants, to say nothing of the horses, and they are in no fit state to take her.”
“So?”
“So, perhaps...” Crawford scowled. He walked toward Cressy and took her chin roughly between his fingers. “If you promise to behave, you may stay for two weeks.”
“Only two weeks?”
“Two weeks. You may spend my money on fashions and fribbly things. You may visit friends and acquaintances. You will attend the theater and the opera, I presume, and you may go to tonish parties. But, on one condition, Cressida.” He caught her eyes and held them, his stare fierce. “You will not gamble.”
Her cheeks whitened. “Not play?”
“No. Not at all.” His fingers tightened until Cressy feared bruises would result. “I will not be ruined by my wife’s gambling. I will set you aside and divorce you if I find you have not obeyed.”
“You would not!”
“I would.”
“I ... do not believe you.”
“I think you do.”
“But...”
“You will promise or I will send you home post with especially hired guards to see that that is where you go.”
Cressy blinked rapidly, thinking furiously. Could she pass up the temptation to sit at the tables? “Even silver loo, my lord?” she pressed, hoping for she knew not what.
“Even that. No gambling. It is a sickness with you, my lady wife, and I will cure you of it or deny you my name.”
Divorce. The thought frightened Cressy far more than the thought of a beating did. Bruises healed, if her husband actually went so far as to inflict them, which she doubted. Yes, bruises healed, but the disgrace of being a divorced woman—which she could believe he’d do, would follow her throughout the rest of her miserable life. “I hate you, I think.”
“Hate me with a passion, m’dear. I care not.”
“No. I am nothing now. Now I have produced for you the heir you desired.”
“You are my wife and the mother of my son. Let that be enough for you, Cressy.”
Again silence stretched, and Robert, pitying his sister, cleared his throat.
Ignoring the sound, Lord Crawford prompted his wife. “You do not promise.”
“I promise to try.” He shook his head at her response. “Please, my lord. I cannot do better than that.”
A touch of desperation colored her tone, but Lord Crawford didn’t relax a jot. “It will not do. I will organize your journey home.”
“No!”
“Then you must promise.”
“And if I cannot keep it?”
“I suggest that you do.”
Cressy took a turn around the library. She could feel the fever in her blood to join a card game—or hazard ... she could almost feel the dice between her fingers. It had been months and months. How could she keep a promise not to gamble?
“Well?”
“Oh, the devil take it, I promise. I cannot go back to the country without new gowns. What I have are rags and lack style.” She shrugged, but it was obvious she only pretended indifference.
“Two weeks, m’dear. You can keep that promise, believe me. It can be done.”
“You will open Crawford house?”
“For a mere two weeks? Ridiculous. No, I think the Pulteney, a suite of rooms.”
Robert again entered the conversation. “Elizabeth has been busy this morning, my lord. If you can accept the rather crowded conditions, we can arrange accommodation here. Miss Cole and your granddaughter will share the room Madame la Comtesse occupies. Madame will take Elizabeth’s room, and you and my sister may have the back rooms over-looking the garden.”
“We do not wish to impose.”
“Look at Cressy and think if you’d like to rephrase that, my lord,” said Robert with a laugh.
Cressida did indeed look as if she preferred the idea. “I cannot like living in a hotel, Crawford.” She was also mulling over the problem of the granddaughter. “I would prefer to stay with my brother, sirrah.”
“But I’m not certain I wish you that close to my Françoise. You have a w
ell-deserved reputation, m’dear, for an uncontrolled temper. It might lead you into doing or saying that which I would not wish done or said.”
“How dare you!” Cressy looked about for something to throw but, as warned, there was nothing. She stamped her foot. “Oh, how dare you say such a thing to me!”
“Leave us Halford,” ordered Crawford.
He did, but removed only so far as the room across the hall. From there he listened, without shame, to the argument which followed Lord Crawford’s public version of Françoise’s history. He was not surprised Lord Crawford did not trust Cressida with the true version. It would be ammunition for her if Cressy were to lose her temper—which she undoubtedly would. Over an hour later Cressida, exhausted by emotions which swung widely, opened the library door. “It’s decided then. You’ll inform my brother of your decision?”
“I will. Go to your room, lady wife, and show no one that stormy face.”
Cressida laughed, a sound rapidly approaching hysterics. “But my lord, I no longer know what room is mine!” For just a moment Lord Crawford looked as disconcerted as he ever could. His eyes met Cressida’s and the humor of the situation rose between them. He held out his arms, and she walked into them. He drew her to his chest. For a long moment his exhausted wife rested there. “Feeling more the thing, m’dear?” he asked softly.
“I’m calm now. Do I look a hag?”
“You are as lovely as ever, m’dear, but a hairbrush and a wet rag for your face might not come amiss. Wait here while I discover where you may retire.”
Once Cressida was settled, Halford invited Lord Crawford back to the library where he poured Madeira into a pair of stemmed glasses—which had reappeared with Cressy’s absence. “Were you not a little hard on her, my lord?” He stared into his glass, raised his eyes to stare at his elderly brother-in-law. “Do you wish you had not married her?”
“That is a very personal question, my lord.”
“I am her brother.”
“Do you wish that that were not so?”
A Reformed Rake Page 19
