Don’t panic. Keep your wits about you and don’t bother arguing with such insanity. “Let go of me,” she said in a low, calm voice.
He drew closer. So close she could see the insolent lust in his eyes and smell his sour, wine-laden breath. “You and I have wanted each other for a long time,” he whispered hoarsely, and began trailing his fingers down the sides of her face. “You have needs. I know you do. Arthur could never satisfy you, but wait ’til you see what I have for you.”
She tried to break from his grasp but he held her fast. “I said, let me go, James.”
“You little tiger! How I admire your spirit. It needs taming, though.” His hand trailed to the stiff, black bombazine bodice of her dress and pressed against her breast. Before she could react, he bent her back over his arm and crushed his thin, moist lips to hers. She nearly gagged and tried to fight against him, but he held her so firmly she could hardly move. Finally, he raised his lips, gasping for air, panting hard. Still holding her close, he whispered in her ear, “You won’t have to leave when I am the earl. You can stay right here. I shall make you my mistress. You can have your bedchamber back. Don’t worry. I shall move Beatrice to the end of the hall.” Before she could utter a protest, he smothered her mouth with another long, revolting kiss. As he did so, he clasped her hand in an iron-like grip and forced it down to his pants. “Do you feel that, my sweet? More than Arthur ever had, eh?” He pressed her hand into his bulge.
Dear God. She had to get away. Must get away. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she pulled her hand from his grasp. He reached for her, but she took a step back and gasped, “Get away from me, you lecherous old man!”
A silly grin came over his face, making her realize he was drunker than she thought. “Don’t be that way, you little tease.” He reached down and started to unbutton his pants. “I’ve got something to show you. Just wait ’til you see ...”
No! She could not imagine anything in this world she wanted to see less than James’ cock. She gave him an outraged shove. With a curse, he stumbled backward, nearly falling to the floor. Grabbing her chance, she bolted for the door, got through it and fled down the gallery. The first room she passed was her former bedchamber. The next, her mother’s. She darted inside, closed the door quickly and turned the key in the lock. Gasping for breath, she pressed her back against the door. She felt something in her hand and held it up. To her amazement, she still clutched the bottle of laudanum.
“I am not the least surprised,” said Mama. She and Granny were drinking tea at a small table by the window when Jane burst in. “You have only to look at James to see the lechery.”
“I’ve always hated the way he looked at me.” Jane sat perched on the side of the bed. Her mother had given her a strong cup of tea, and she felt much calmer.
Granny asked, “Did he actually say he would move Beatrice to the end of the hall?”
Jane nodded.
A rare smile appeared on her mother’s face. “It would almost be worth it, just to see Beatrice’s expression when he told her. I’d wager they would have to drag her down the hallway, kicking and screaming.”
The three of them shared a hearty laugh. Jane felt better, grateful to her family for helping her see the humor of it all. When the laughter died, she asked half jokingly, “What did I do to deserve this? Beatrice wants me gone, the sooner the better. James wants to bed me. So does Percy. I swear, that sneaky prig has been following me around the house.”
“Like father, like son,” Granny commented.
“What can I do? They live here. I feel so trapped, as if I don’t have any choice and must simply wait like a docile child for whatever fate awaits.”
“I say, throw them out,” Granny exclaimed. “James isn’t the earl yet and maybe he won’t be. Don’t forget you’re not entirely without choices. You could move to your dower house right now if you’re sure you’re not expecting.” She cocked an inquiring eyebrow. “Anything new?”
“I am two days late, but that doesn’t mean a thing.”
“Hmm, we’ll see about that, won’t we? Another choice you have,” Granny flicked a quick glance at her daughter, “is you could go to America and be with your father.” Her words caused Mama to practically spill her tea, but Granny went right on. “Don’t say a word, Amelia. The child has a right to do whatever she likes. You should be more than willing to pay for her passage out of that money John sent you.”
Mama found her voice. “That is outrageous and preposterous, Mother. Jane would never dream of doing such a thing, would you, dear?”
Jane brought up an instant vision of sailing for America and escaping not only this dreary place but also the Eltons, as well as the inevitable question, have you come ’round yet? What a wonderful thought, but right now a near impossible dream. Her mother didn’t understand and never would. “I must say, it’s tempting.”
Granny’s expression turned crafty. “You have another choice.”
“I do?” She couldn’t imagine what.
“Marry Douglas Cartland.”
Mama gasped and set down her tea cup. “Why on earth would she do such a thing? She hardly knows the man.”
“She knows him better than you think.” Granny cast Jane a knowing look. “Douglas isn’t rich, but he isn’t poor, either. He’s the fifth son of a viscount, so that makes him eligible in your eyes, doesn’t it, Amelia? The biggest reason of all—Jane likes him. Isn’t that so, missy?”
“It doesn’t matter whether I like him or not.” Jane shrugged. “I sense he’s not a marrying man.”
“Pshaw!” Granny tittered and had to set her own cup down. “What man is? It’s your job to change his mind.”
“I have more important matters on my mind right now.” Jane was pleased by the way her words came out, so cool and offhand. Truth was, she’d spent a lot more time thinking of Douglas Cartland than she had ever cared to admit, even to herself. She told him she didn’t want to see him again, but her words didn’t erase him from her thoughts. The problem was, that soft kiss he gave her played again and again in her memory, and the rough kiss, too, and his hands on her breasts, and his mouth ... Each time she remembered their moments together, she got a hot ache in her throat. Her knees went weak and sometimes she even had to sit down. Oh, yes, she thought of Douglas Cartland ... To what purpose? Now was not the time, nor would it ever be.
She heaved a sigh and slid off the bed, ready to face the day again. “Thanks, Granny, but the only choice I have right now is to wait for nature to take its course. Oh, I shall be so glad when I come ’round!”
She found Meg alone in the dining room, polishing the silver. “I have something for you.” She held up the bottle. “It’s laudanum. Didn’t you say your father’s supply is almost gone? Well, this belonged to the earl, who obviously won’t be needing it anymore. Please take it.”
Tears sprang to Meg’s eyes. “He is in such pain ... oh, thank you, your ladyship. You don’t know what this means.” She took the bottle and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”
Jane gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Meg, it was no trouble at all.”
Chapter 10
Heavy rain fell the next day, the next, and the next. The leaden skies matched Jane’s mood, ever darker as each day passed with still no sign. She often sat alone by her window watching the dreary rain, yearning to ride Beauty along the trails she’d grown to love. Her mind drifted off, imagining how she would accidentally meet Douglas Cartland on one of the trails. They would ride together and stop at that secluded spot by the river. They would talk. He would make her laugh with his quick wit. He would massage her feet again, and kiss her again and then ... The thought of his searching tongue in her mouth, his hands sliding over her breasts would send a hot shiver of desire running through her.
Stop. You can’t see him anymore. A great sadness overwhelmed her. She must do her duty. Other people could have what they wanted. Never her.
She tried to keep busy, grateful for her duties as mistress of the house. At least James and Beatrice gave her no further trouble. James ignored her, shifting his gaze away rather than look her in the eye. As for Beatrice, she was the soul of politeness since their confrontation. She didn’t fool Jane for a moment. In fact, breakfast was a tension-filled affair, with Beatrice hardly able to control her agitation. And every day it became worse.
Jane slid into her place at the table.
“Good morning, Jane. How are you this morning?” Translate that to Have you come ’round yet?
“Just fine.” Translate that to No, not yet.
An awkward silence would fall around the table. Everyone—Granny, Mama, Millicent, Percy, even James if he happened to be present and sober—could sense Beatrice’s disappointment from the way her eyes hardened, her lips twitched, her smile became increasingly more phony as she tried to hold it in place. So far, she’d managed to counter with some politely inane remark such as, I do believe we will receive more rain today, but it was obvious she had to choke the words out. As the days went by, everyone wondered how much more time would elapse before she erupted.
The inevitable finally happened at breakfast on the tenth day Jane was late. Upon hearing Jane’s Just fine, the frustrated woman’s face flushed bright red and she threw her fork down. “I am sick and tired of your saying ‘Just fine.’ Do you know what I think?”
In the dead silence that fell over the table, Jane replied in a quiet voice, “No, Beatrice, I do not know what you think, so why don’t you tell me?”
Beatrice slammed her fist on the table, so hard the plates jumped, the silverware rattled and everyone bounced in their chairs. “I think you’re lying. You’ve come ’round and you’re not telling anyone.”
Everyone gasped. Mama’s eyes went wide. “How dare you accuse my daughter of such a thing!”
“Beatrice Elton, you are daft,” Granny said. “My granddaughter doesn’t tell lies and well you know it.”
Even Millicent spoke up. “Don’t you talk that way to my sister!”
“Don’t be a damn fool,” James called to his wife from the head of the table. “Arthur could not have fathered so much as a gnat, so don’t fret. It’s bound to happen.”
“I don’t have to stand for this!” Pale and shaken, Beatrice arose from her seat and threw her serviette on the table. “You had better come ’round soon.” She stalked from the room.
They ate the rest of the meal in dismal silence until James and Percy left and Granny spoke again. “That is one angry woman. If I were you, I would be very, very careful.”
“Thank you for the warning, but really, aside from making life unpleasant for us, what could Beatrice possibly do?”
* * * *
“God’s blood! I can’t tie this thing. I had better borrow your valet.”
Douglas Cartland jerked the cravat from his neck and frowned at his image in the full-length mirror in Lord Rennie’s dressing room. Rennie, slouching comfortably in a nearby chair, his boots stretched in front of him, eyed his friend with amusement. “You never could tie a cravat. Frederick! Come help Mister Cartland.”
The impeccable Frederick, Rennie’s stoic German valet, appeared and took the cravat from Douglas’ fingers. “Which style would you like, sir? The Oriental? The Mail-Coach? Perhaps the—?”
“Just tie the damn thing.”
“Testy, testy,” commented Rennie.
Douglas tipped his head back while Frederick worked on his cravat. “Who wouldn’t be testy after what you just told me?”
“I suppose.” Rennie scrutinized his friend’s elegant attire. “Except for Lansdown’s funeral, I haven’t seen you this dressed up since the old days in London.”
“You don’t have to be Beau Brummel to haul a long boat along a tow path.” Douglas sniffed ironically. “If I don’t pass Griggs’ inspection, he likely won’t let me in, and I must see the countess immediately. What that Elton woman is planning is monstrous.”
A clap of thunder rattled the room, accompanied by the sound of pounding rain. “You can’t go out in this. At least wait until the storm passes.”
“The devil I will.”
“You could send her a note.”
“Her very life could be in danger and you think I should send a note?”
“Oops, sorry, old man.” Rennie appeared properly chastised. “You said you weren’t going to see the countess again.”
“I’ve changed my mind. It was kind of you to offer the loan of your carriage.”
“Of course. Thank God you’re not planning on riding Thunder to Chatfield Court in this god-awful weather.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your concern.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t concerned for you, I was concerned for your horse.”
Douglas caught the amused smile that flickered across Frederick’s face, quickly replaced by his usual expression of aloofness. He wished he, too, could be amused by Rennie’s jest, but his worry over the countess had robbed him of his humor. “You’re sure about this? You heard correctly?”
“Of course I’m sure.” Rennie grew serious. “I don’t wish to belabor the point, but it strikes me you’re going to a lot of trouble for a woman you claim to have no interest in.”
“As you very well know, I shall never marry. However, I have a great admiration for the Countess of Lansdown. She’s a woman of great virtue and outstanding character. She—”
“Spare me.” Rennie raised a protesting hand. “Whom do you think you’re trying to fool? I’ve seen the way you look at her. That gleam in your eye is sheer lust.” Rennie made kissing noises with his mouth. “Ah, those firm, high-perched breasts! Those rounded hips! Ah, how I’d like to wallow between those long, lithe thighs.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Don’t give me that blather about her virtue and outstanding character.”
Douglas answered with an unintelligible grunt. What could he say? How could he argue with the truth? “Suffice to say, the countess needs to be warned immediately and I intend to do just that.”
“Tell her she can always come here to Lancaster Hall. She would be safe here. She can stay as long as she likes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The valet finished the cravat and stepped away. Douglas took a quick glance in the mirror. “Thank you, Frederick. It looks splendid.” He had no idea whether his cravat looked splendid or not. It didn’t matter. A flash of apprehension coursed through him. He must get to Chatfield Court as quickly as possible.
He was almost at the door when Rennie called, “Wait up!”
Douglas turned to see his friend rise from his chair, duck his head and shuffle his feet. “When you’re at Chatfield Court could you ... uh ... uh ...”
The transformation was amazing. In less than a second, Rennie changed from his confident, witty self into Rennie the insecure, lovelorn, practically drooling idiot. All because of that bird-witted sister of Jane’s. “You want me to ask after Millicent, do you not?”
“Well, yes, if you could.” Rennie’s expression reminded Douglas of an eager puppy. “Tell her I said ‘hello’ and I’ll come to call ... as soon as I get the nerve. No, don’t tell her that. Just say I send her my regards. No, don’t say anything. Just ... find out how she’s faring in this inclement weather. What I mean to say is—”
“Rennie, for God’s sake, just leave it to me, all right? I’ll say the right thing. If at all possible, I shall bring you a report on the state of Miss Millicent Hart’s health. Will that be satisfactory?” Watching Rennie’s grateful nod, he remained straight-faced. His friend’s aching, unrequited love for Millicent Hart was no laughing matter.
Turning on his heel, he hurried downstairs and out to the covered portico where Rennie’s carriage awaited him. He scrambled in quickly and took up the reins.
Must hurry. No time to lose.
* * * *
Late in the afternoon, Jane was sitting in her room, watching the rain from her window, when there w
as a knock on her door. When she opened it, Griggs informed her, “You have a visitor, m’lady.”
“Who?” She could not imagine anyone coming to visit in weather like this.
“Mister Douglas Cartland. I put him in the drawing room.”
Douglas. Her heart gave a little leap. “Thank you, Griggs. Tell him I shall be down directly.”
She hurried to the mirror. Dear Lord, what a depressing sight. She had not realized till now, but she’d lost a bit of weight and the black bombazine made her look almost skinny. Not only that, she had dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked sickly pale. At least her hair looked presentable. Bruta had swept her auburn curls to a loose knot atop her head and fastened it with a comb decorated with black onyx. Black, nothing but black. How she hated it, especially considering she wore mourning for a man she hardly thought of anymore.
What on earth did Douglas want? Why was he here, especially when she’d told him she would not see him again? She took a final peek in the mirror and pinched a bit of color into her pallid cheeks. Telling herself she must not appear too eager, she left her bedchamber and descended the staircase at a slow, dignified pace, as if she didn’t give a fig that the man who kept her from her sleep at night awaited her below.
She stepped into the drawing room. He was looking out the window, hands behind his back, appearing deeply absorbed in examining the rain-sodden landscape. He turned when he heard her. “Your ladyship.” He did not smile and gave her a formal bow.
“Mister Cartland.” She curtsied and shut the door behind her. My, how handsome he looked! All dressed up for a change, in a short frock coat with brass buttons, a light brown waistcoat and matching breeches, top boots and a perfectly tied cravat. Kid gloves and a polished beaver top hat rested on a nearby table. “How elegant you look. I see you’ve put your valet to work for a change.”
He sniffed with amusement. “I don’t have a valet. I borrowed Rennie’s. Sit down. I want to talk to you.”
The Last of Lady Lansdown Page 12
