Just then, a pretty young maid opened a vial and poured a generous amount of the contents into the bath. The delicious scent of jasmine swept the room. Willa closed her eyes and breathed it in for a moment. Her favorite scent.
She realized that she had a choice. Settle this with Hammil once and for all or dive headfirst into that divinely steaming scented bath.
No contest. Willa chose the bath.
11
Nathaniel strode through the house, his boots clicking loudly on the marble floor. Toward the back of the ground floor was a room favored by a certain someone.
Someone Nathaniel wanted answers from.
After he entered the room without knocking, Nathaniel closed the door behind him. “All right, Myrtle. What the devil is going on?”
An elderly woman looked up from her book as she read by the fire. Her chair was large. She was not.
“Thaniel, dear!” She smiled sweetly. “What a surprise.”
“Myrtle, what is the family still doing in residence? You all should have been en route to the country by now.” Where he wouldn’t have to face them.
“Don’t you even have a kiss for your own dear great-aunt?”
“Myrtle,” Nathaniel warned. She was his dear and the only one of his family who had not denounced him, but at the moment Nathaniel felt nothing but impatience. He turned halfway to the door.
“I didn’t want to come here like this. While I am happy to see that you are well, I would like to know why my instructions were ignored.”
Myrtle regarded him for a moment. “You’ve become hard, Thaniel.”
“Is that so surprising?” His tone was harsher than he’d intended.
“I never wanted you to leave us.”
“I know, pet. I apologize.”
“Oh, Thaniel, it’s been awful since you left. Victoria is impossible to please, and Basil is simply impossible. And your father …” She shook her head mournfully.
Nathaniel didn’t want to remind her that it wasn’t the leaving that had shredded the fabric of their family; it was the reason for the leaving.
“Yes, thank you for reminding me. Now, would you mind explaining?”
“Thaniel, it’s your father,” Myrtle blurted. “He’s dying.”
It shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have glued Nathaniel’s feet to the floor and kept him from tossing the lot of them off to Reardon. Yet it did.
His stepfather had been his hero. Tall and proud and infinitely demanding of his stepson, indulgent of his aunt, indifferent to the wife he’d married to gain a son.
The last Nathaniel had seen of the man had been the broad superfine-clad back he had turned on Nathaniel in disdain. Why couldn’t he turn his own back now?
Helpless to deny his need to know, Nathaniel turned.
“Tell me.”
Willa’s thoughts were spinning. Nathaniel had brought her here and dumped her like an unwanted kitten. There was so much he wasn’t telling her.
Who were the family? She could only drum up a whisper to ask the maid.
“Why, Lord Reardon’s relations, o’ course!” Lily said with a puzzled frown as she scrubbed Willa’s back with competent hands.
Why were they staying here?
“Well, where else would they stay?” True puzzlement from Lily this time and the beginnings of wariness, as if she wasn’t sure the lady she was tending was entirely in her right mind. Willa shut up tightly before she scared the girl away entirely. Answers would be nice, but at the moment, pampering was better.
Besides, Willa didn’t seem to be armed with the right questions.
After the most divine bath of her life, Willa put on her flannel nightdress after hesitating to don the clingy lawn nightdress.
Lily bustled back into the room with her arms full. Willa watched in confusion as the maid laid out a frothy construction of deep blue satin and cream lace on the bed.
Willa stroked one finger down the sleeve, then looked inquiringly at the maid.
“It is yours, isn’t it, miss?” The maid looked down at the dress in confusion.
Willa shook her head.
“Well, his lordship said it was for you, and to get it ready for you to wear tomorrow evening.”
Where had it come from? When had Nathaniel purchased a dress for her?
Taking her silence for disapproval, the maid hurried on. “I know it seems a bit grand for supper with the family, but there are very important guests expected tomorrow. Sir Danville is joining you.”
Willa blinked. A lord and a knight. Well, she was running in exalted circles now, wasn’t she? Moira would be thrilled.
Willa eyed the dress again. It was like nothing she’d ever worn in her life. It was divine. She reached to stroke the silk again. It felt like liquid under her fingers. A girlish part of her heart longed to wear it.
So why was she hesitating?
For the first time, it occurred to her that Nathaniel might be ashamed of her. After all, he was used to women who dressed like this all the time. Women who had fine soft hands and embroidery skills and played the pianoforte charmingly. Things Willa had never had a chance to learn.
She wanted to wear the beautiful dress—but not if Nathaniel was trying to hide her in it.
Slowly, she lifted it by the bodice and held it against her. She wasn’t surprised to see the hem puddle on the floor. She’d ever been less than tall.
“Oh dear, miss. ‘Twill take some alteration for sure. I’d best fetch my pins.” Lily scurried off.
Willa sighed. It looked as though she was in for a fitting. All she really wanted was to lie back on this luxurious bed and go to meet the sleep that beckoned her. All the days of travel seemed to catch up to her at once, and she positively ached for some rest.
She carefully laid the blue dress across an overstuffed chair and sat on the bed to wait. She sank deep into the tick and almost shuddered from the sheer temptation of it. Her eyes began to shut all of their own, and her spine dissolved with weariness.
As she slipped involuntarily to the pillow, it occurred to her that since she was a married woman, perhaps she ought to be sleeping with her husband….
Nathaniel leaned silently against the bedpost and watched the only father he had ever known sleep. The face on the pillow was not the same one Nathaniel had faced over kippers every day of his childhood. This face looked like a hag-ridden caricature of that one.
His father was a giant. This man was a skeleton.
His father was powerful and opinionated. This man was weak and listless.
How could he have changed so much in a few months? What disease could have sapped the life from him so quickly?
“‘Twas his heart.” The voice behind Nathaniel was all too familiar.
Nathaniel didn’t turn. “Hello, Simon.”
“Nathaniel.”
“What are you doing here? Don’t you have young minds to corrupt for that den of thieves you call the Liar’s Club?”
“Actually, I think they’re corrupting me. But I’m here on the request of your compatriots.” Simon came abreast of him. “I was sent to wait on you, essentially. I’ve already sent word that you’ve arrived. And I came to watch over the Old Man, being a friend of the family.” He folded his arms and regarded the man on the bed. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Nathaniel hadn’t yet turned to look at the almost brother he’d never been able to live up to or to live down. “I doubt that.”
“No, I do. I know because I think it every time I step into this sickroom. You are thinking that this isn’t him. That this is some sort of charade, a hoax, because this couldn’t possibly be the same man who was nine feet tall and could lift a dozen horses.”
“Ten.”
“What?”
“He was ten feet tall,” Nathaniel whispered.
Simon came to stand with him. “Yes. Ten,” he agreed quietly.
For the first and only time in his memory, Nathaniel looked at the man he’d long considered an inte
rloper and shared a moment of perfect understanding.
Then Simon became Simon again. “It’s good to see you, Nate, but I hope you aren’t staying. You don’t want to endanger your cover.”
A corner of Nathaniel’s mouth twisted up. Some things never changed. “You’re not the spymaster of me, Magician.”
The look that crossed Simon’s face was priceless. Nathaniel could see that his old rival had forgotten to whom he was speaking. The Cobra didn’t take orders from the former or current leader of the Liar’s Club. The Cobra didn’t even take orders from the Prince Regent.
Simon’s lips twitched. “No, my lord. I am not.” He bowed. “Consider me most properly put in my place, my lord.”
Simon wasn’t the enemy. He never had been. Nathaniel let out a gust that ended in a weary chuckle. “Consider me most properly chastised for my rudeness.”
“You’ve got nothing to fear from me, Nate,” Simon said gently. “I know the truth.”
Nathaniel nodded, then stepped closer to the man lying still on the bed. “But he doesn’t, does he?”
Simon ran a hand through his hair. “You know why.”
Nathaniel nodded again. He had proposed this devil’s bargain himself. “I know why—” His voice simply stopped working. He swallowed violently and looked away.
Simon’s hand rested on Nathaniel’s shoulder for a silent moment then he quietly left the room.
When Nathaniel left the sickroom a short time later, his mother awaited him in the hall outside. She was tall and fair, like him, but there the resemblance ended. In his most dapper days he’d never attained the severe, arrogant elegance that permeated Victoria. Nor did he want to. He hoped to God his eyes never took on such an icy glare.
“Have you come to cast more embarrassment upon us all?” The words were scathing, but the voice they were spoken in was so rich with studied melody that it sounded like the disdain of an angel.
Nathaniel took a deep breath, then smiled resolutely.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Do not call me that.”
“Of course, madam. How meticulous of you to remind me.”
“If you’d stay away from your stepfather and I, as you agreed, I wouldn’t have to.”
“I prefer to think of him as my father.”
She folded her arms. “Your father was a wastrel, like you. You are nothing like Randolph.”
“And yet, he is the only father I ever had—the only one I’ll never have.” He didn’t bother saying the same about her.
She only scoffed at his garments. “You look a proper sight. Are you performing in a mummery, perchance?”
“Sorry. I didn’t want to take the time to change before I saw him.” Why did he bother explaining himself to Victoria? It never got him anywhere.
“It doesn’t matter, you know. You can crawl back here forever and a day, but he will never, never absolve you. Randolph never forgets betrayal.”
He wanted to retreat from her bitterness. Like a king cobra. He smiled wryly. “Not even if I slither on my belly in penitence?”
“You are impertinent.”
He clapped one hand to his cheek. “Oh no, not impertinent! Tell me it isn’t so!”
Her mouth worked in silent rage for a moment. “This is your house. I cannot make you leave it. But I pray you will take care not to cross my path if you can avoid it.”
Nathaniel sketched a mocking bow. “As always, Mother, you shower me undeservedly with your maternal affection. I wish you good evening.”
Turning his back on her sputtering, Nathaniel wondered where Willa was.
Alone in her great bed, Willa slept with the far-flung limbs and abandon of a child. Nathaniel sat carefully on the edge of the thick mattress and watched her sleep.
He’d bathed and changed, having had quite enough comment on his wardrobe, thank-you-very-much. With his hair clean and tied back, clad in black superfine to suit his mood, he doubted if Willa would even recognize him as the road-worn man she’d married.
He hoped she would like what she saw.
The contrast of Willa’s vibrancy and health against the pallor and waste of his father revived him. Willa was riotously, passionately vital, and she affirmed that life did go on.
Sweet, enchanting Willa.
Her lashes lay thick and dark upon her cheeks, and even by candlelight Nathaniel could spy the dusting of freckles across her nose. Her lips were soft and pouting and begging to be kissed.
Even when she was completely still, Willa’s hair had a life of its own. Her braid sported numerous escapees that trailed across the linens. He reached to tug a strand of hair from across her mouth. It clung for a moment, and her lips worked sleepily until it was freed. With a sigh, she butted her head more deeply into the pillow.
Nathaniel wrapped the silky outlaw around his finger. It was warm and damp from her breath. He leaned closer to catch and identify the fragrance filling the enclosed area of the bed. It was soft and flowery but spicy in its sweetness, just like Willa.
Jasmine, he thought, but did not move away, even though he had solved the puzzle.
Leaning closely above her, he could feel the warmth of her rising up to him, and it was almost more than he could resist.
Was there anything more seductive than Willa’s warmth? Physically and emotionally, she was a bonfire of affection and energy. He wanted to bask his frostbitten soul in her glow, let her radiance burn away the last bone-chilling ache of war and icy pain of betrayal.
He was tired and sore, within and without. He wanted to strip away his clothing and his cares and slide between Willa’s bed linens. He knew she would welcome him sleepily into her bed and he would find a fragrant haven in her arms. The heavy draperies were closed, and he and Willa would be shrouded in delightful privacy.
The pull was almost more than he could bear. One night, he begged himself. Just one night of loving oblivion, before he sent her away from him. One night to keep him warm forever.
But it was worse to feel a moment of warmth in the cold. It shook you, made you ache with loss and shiver even more when it was gone. It would kill him to taste of her warmth only to be forced back into his wintry isolation.
That would surely destroy him.
He had to go. He was awaited in the Chamber.
Keeping his hands quite rightly to himself, he left his wife with the merest feathery kiss on her lips.
The Chamber in the dusty depths of Westminster Palace was unchanged from the last time Nathaniel had been there—a bit mustier, perhaps. Nathaniel was fairly certain that the Lion had been smoking in there again. Hopefully, the Prime Minister’s more elder nose would not pick up the scent.
Nathaniel seated himself in the Cobra’s chair. The Falcon and the Lion were already there, as was Lord Liverpool, who had once been the Cobra, before stepping “down” to serve as Prime Minister of England.
Of course, Liverpool wasn’t seated at the table, although Nathaniel saw him eyeing the Cobra’s chair. Was that misty longing he saw in the Prime Minister’s eyes, or was it the dust lining the carving that was upsetting the man?
Nathaniel was well aware he was a second-string selection for the Cobra. Dalton Montmorency, Lord Etheridge, had been Liverpool’s chosen successor. The Prime Minister had still not forgiven Dalton for stepping down to lead the Liar’s Club when Simon Raines had chosen to leave for his lady.
Still, second-string or no, Nathaniel was the Cobra now, with all the power and burdens the seat bestowed. The honor was stunning and the onus backbreaking, but nothing could ever convince Nathaniel that it wasn’t worth every abysmal hour of disgrace. He was the Cobra, no doubts, no regrets.
Liverpool was addressing the Three. “Sir Foster might try to contact the Cobra on his own. He ran before the final confrontation, so he could have no way of knowing how the Knights of the Lily met their end. He may well still believe the Cobra is loyal to the French.” He turned his gaze to Nathaniel exclusively. “You could act accordingly in public. It may
reassure him that he can approach you.”
Nathaniel only nodded respectfully at Liverpool’s managing tone. Rank was a delicate matter. The Prime Minister was only too aware that he was here only in an advisory capacity. There was nothing to be won by rubbing the man’s nose in his voluntary demotion.
Not unless Nathaniel disagreed with him, at any rate.
“For the first order of business, I would like to announce that I will marry shortly.”
The congratulations were warm, but Nathaniel could see the doubt his words had caused in the other two and Liverpool. “Yes, I know it is sudden. I met her upon the road to London, about the time I lost Foster….” Perhaps the less said about how, the better.
“She is from the country then,” stated Liverpool. “Does she know of your current position in Society?”
Thinking of the mud streaming down Willa’s hair, Nathaniel nodded shortly. “She does now.”
“Hmm,” was all Liverpool said.
The Lion reached across the table to shake Nathaniel’s hand. “My best wishes for you both.”
The Falcon did as well, although perhaps a bit more soberly. “I hope you will have a smooth life together.”
Nathaniel twisted his lips wryly at the Falcon’s choice of words. “I don’t think that’s too likely, do you?”
Liverpool leaned forward. “Are you sure she’s simply some country miss? The enemy knows you are in a vulnerable position for this sort of thing—”
“If you are implying that she was thrown into my path, I can assure you, it was the other way around,” Nathaniel said warningly.
“I think we’ve a good start to the Foster matter,” the Falcon interjected smoothly. “But what of this Chimera?”
“Who?” Nathaniel asked.
“The unknown master of the French espionage activities in London,” the Falcon explained. When Nathaniel only blinked at him, he shrugged. “Well, the operatives had to call him something!”
The Lion grinned. “The Liars have nicknamed the bastard, by God!”
Celeste Bradley - [Royal Four 01] Page 12
