Beau nodded. “Mrs Buss has them in hand. The last I saw she was scolding them for not eating their greens and feeding them vast quantities of cake.”
Milly smiled. “I wonder how they'll get along,” she murmured.
He made rather a show of stretching and giving a yawn. “Sorry, Milly, but I think I'm going to call it a night.”
She looked up at him in surprise. “Oh. Well of course.”
“It appears culture may give you an appetite, but it's worn me out.”
He was given the benefit of a curious expression but she said nothing and got to her feet.
“Good night, love,” he said, not attempting to kiss her cheek, but then hesitated as he followed her out the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. I left you a book on my desk. I expect you've had enough of Wordsworth by now.”
He gave her a warm smile and left her looking slightly perplexed in the vast hall.
***
Milly watched Beau leave with surprise. What was that about? It was barely ten o'clock and to her knowledge Beau never retired early. There had been a rather devilish look in his eyes which she was sure meant he was up to something. With curiosity she headed to his study and closed the door behind her.
He'd left a lamp burning on the desk and she felt her heart give a little kick in her chest as she recognised the cover of the book. With trembling fingers she picked up the note he'd left lying on top of it.
I'm sorry I disturbed your perusal of this the other day. I thought perhaps you'd like to look at it at your leisure. Make sure you keep it somewhere safe and replace it tomorrow. I suggest you pay particular attention to page seven. If you don't desire my attentions, you should at least learn how to bring yourself pleasure. Please follow her example.
Sweet dreams, little bird.
Milly felt like her face was on fire. He'd seen her! He'd seen her looking at the book. Not only that, he wanted her to look again and ... and ... She put the backs of her hands against her flushed cheeks but the prickle of heat continued to burn her skin.
Turn away, Milly. Ignore it. Do not look at the book!
But the pages drew her like a magnet. She wanted to know what he thought she should learn.
With her heart thudding too hard in her chest she turned the pages and found the image. Unlike the others this was a solitary figure, a woman alone and without her lover. She was reclined on a bed, her face one of rapture and her hands caressing her own body in the most intimate fashion.
Milly was struck dumb, torn between excruciating embarrassment and desperate excitement at the idea of her husband giving her such an intimate instruction. How was it that he could make her feel as though his slightest touch would melt her bones without even being in the room with her? It was outrageous and shocking and ... she reached to pick up the book.
She would regret this. She felt quite sure she would. It just had to be a bad idea.
***
Milly awoke late the next morning and stretched. With a start of surprise she realised that she'd overslept, and then remembered why.
She'd done just as Beau had instructed. It had been too swift, too easy. She'd had only to think about his body against hers in any one of the desperately erotic images that still swam behind her eyes and her body had taken control. It had left her shaken to the core and aching for something far more than her own touch. Her mind had been taunted by fevered images of his body tangled with hers, keeping her from closing her eyes until she had finally slept out of sheer exhaustion.
And now she had to face him.
The devil. He'd known. He'd known all along that this would only serve to give her torment. He must know. She put her head in her hands with a groan of frustration. Damn him. Just when she was beginning to believe they could find a way forward he had to go and complicate it all again.
Work, she decided. She needed to concentrate on work. Anything to banish the tumult of her emotions and the raging heat beneath her skin.
To her relief Beau had already eaten and left the house and so she was able to eat her breakfast in tolerable peace, apart from the insidious images that refused to let her be.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself and took herself off to the parlour. Beau had expressed a wish to change the decor in the rooms they used most. The house reminded him too much of his father and Milly was determined that the wicked old man's presence should be banished from the house for good. She had ordered fabric and wallpaper samples the week previously and had narrowed the choice to three different colour schemes.
Milly looked up as Rexom came into the room bringing two of the housemaids and a footman with him.
“Thank you, Rexom,” she said. “This room needs clearing- some of the items will go into storage,” she said, eyeing a large and gloomy looking cabinet with disfavour. “The others will be brought back in once the work is complete.”
She gave the staff their instructions and left Rexom to oversee them, returning her attention to the fabric as Mrs Goodly came into the room.
“Have you decided, Milly?”
Looking up Milly caught Rexom's frown of disapproval at the familiar way Mrs Goodly addressed her. She knew their relationship was a little unconventional. In the usual manner of things she should not allow Mrs Goodly such familiarity. But they had endured hell together and the woman was her friend and confident, not only her dresser. The rest of the staff would just have to get used to that fact.
“Yes,” Milly said, smiling and pointing at the fabric and paper. “I think this butter yellow paper for the walls and the silver grey fabric for the curtains. I did consider it the other way around but I think the yellow fabric will fade too quickly.”
The rest of the afternoon was spent industriously packing away ornaments and moving furniture. Dusty and hot by the time evening rolled around, Milly was only too ready to step into her bath.
Mrs Goodly was brushing out her hair, ready to dress for dinner when there was a faint scratching at the door.
“A note from your husband,” Mrs Goodly said, closing the door on the maid who had delivered it.
Milly felt the blush rise on her cheeks and turned away from Mrs Goodly.
“Oh, well, just leave it on the bedside table. I'll look at it in a moment.”
Mrs Goodly gave her a slightly curious look but did as she asked. Milly, thoroughly discomposed, tried her best to appear calm but her eyes kept straying back to the blasted note. What had the devil been up to now?
Once she was dressed and ready, Mrs Goodly left her to go and eat her own meal with the staff and Milly snatched up the letter.
Dearest Milly,
Forgive me for not dining with you tonight. Turnbull has requested I visit a farm close to St Albans to see some of the innovations they have introduced. I shall be back with you by tomorrow evening.
Will you miss me, little bird?
I thought of you all of last night. I hoped that perhaps you might overcome your dislike of my touch and come to me. I wait for the day, love.
Did you do as I asked you? I think perhaps you did. I am holding onto the hope that it was me that you thought of. I wouldn't touch you, sweet Milly, without your invitation. But only give me a sign, a look - a touch. Tell me that my advances would not be as repulsive to you as I had once believed and I will come to you.
Look at page twenty, little bird. Look and imagine us together. I have.
Yours, ever,
Beau x
Milly sat with the paper held in her trembling fingers and didn't know what to do. If he had been here, now, she knew she would have been powerless to resist him. He would have instantly seen the look he was hoping for. The idea of having to wait a whole day until she saw him again was excruciating.
She hauled in a breath and laughed, a frightened, trembling sound that seemed to echo around her room. The space seemed empty, the house devoid of life now the vitality of its master had gone. The emptiness echoed through her, a hollow feeling clutching at her deep inside. Oh God, what wa
s the use? She loved him now. Whether or not he would always be faithful to her, would that change how much it would hurt? At least she would know too. At least she would know how those other women got to feel when he took them in his arms.
Milly hugged her arms about herself and took another deep breath before getting to her feet and going to the wardrobe. At the back, wrapped in an old shawl she had hidden the book, intending to replace it before she went to dinner. Now she turned the pages with her heart thudding in an uncomfortable rhythm in her chest until she reached the page he had written of.
She caught her breath, a rush of desire pooling with molten heat deep inside her. Two lovers, their limbs entangled, his mouth fastened against her breast and his body fitted intimately between her thighs. It was by no means the most shocking of the images in the book, but to know Beau had thought of her in that way was enough for Milly's legs to tremble. She sat on the bed before her knees gave way and stared at the image, her heart full of longing for her husband.
“You devil, Beau,” she murmured, half laughing, half furious. For surely he would know that by tomorrow night she would be beside herself. Oh, good Lord, the torment of enduring a whole night alone with that decadent image in her mind. Along with the knowledge that wherever he was he was perhaps laying awake too, thinking of her, thinking of them together in such a way. He would be lucky if she didn't throw herself at him before his carriage had drawn to a halt.
As she'd known it would be, the night was interminable. She ate little of her dinner and went to bed early, only to be tormented with lustful images of her beautiful husband. Somehow these were far more shocking to her than anything she had seen so far as they came from the fevered imaginings of her own mind, with no help required from the pages of that sinful book.
The next morning she rose early, feeling she no longer wore her own skin in the manner intended. It no longer fit her. Her clothes rasped against her flesh, the nerves all on end and over sensitive. Oh God would this day never end? She tried to work, to sit down and make plans for her business. She had received a letter from Mr Priestly advising her that he had found the perfect location for premises at a very reasonable rate. The paperwork was ready to sign and if she was able he would be at her disposal the following afternoon. It should have been exciting, it was exciting but everything paled against the image of Beau coming home to her.
As her mind wouldn't settle to concentrating on some projected figures that Mr Priestly had forwarded she returned to the parlour. Dressed in one of her older gowns she decided to go and make some plans for the garden. There were some beautiful areas now that the gardeners were getting back to work but there were some parts in desperate need of modernising. She went into the parlour on her way to observe the work in progress, pleased to see the room stripped bare and clean, ready for decorating. She found Mrs Buss there, looking about with the same pleased expression as she inspected the swatches of fabric and paper.
“What do you think of my choices, Mrs Buss?” she asked, delighted with the approving glint in the woman's eyes.
“I think you have a very fine eye, your Grace. It will be truly elegant and everything that is tasteful. Just like yourself, if you don't mind me observing it.”
Milly smiled, more than delighted by her approval. She knew that the woman was probably the closest thing Beau had to a mother growing up and she had tried hard to win her acceptance. To receive such a compliment was more than she'd hoped for.
Looking up she saw Rexom standing in the doorway.
“Your Grace, there is a Mrs Headley to see you.”
Milly admitted to surprise. More so by the concerned look in old Rexom's eyes. They'd had few visitors since they returned to Ware. When she'd questioned Beau about it he'd told her that there had been many letters but he'd put people off for the time being. He said he wanted her to settle in quietly and get used to her position before facing people. She didn't doubt that he'd used her frail health as a motive and at the time she'd been relieved, grateful even for his consideration. Now she had to suppress a tremor of doubt.
She cast a dismayed glance at her faded gown.
“Oh dear, would you send her my apologies and tell her I'll be with her in just a moment. I really must change.”
“Oh don't do it on my account, your Grace.”
Rexom and Mrs Buss looked around in joint outrage as the lady sailed past the butler and into the bare parlour.
As fair and lovely as Beau himself the woman became a stunning contrast to the shabbiness of the empty room, and Milly herself. Dressed all in a bright canary yellow twilled sarsnet it seemed as though a burst of sunlight had entered the room.
“That will be all, thank you, Rexom, Mrs Buss,” Milly said, smiling at the butler and the house keeper and trying to hide her discomfort. Both Rexom and Mrs Buss looked furious and unhappy at this affront to their Mistress but Rexom bowed to Milly with great deference and contented himself with sharing a disgusted look with Mrs Buss who gave a sniff of deep disapproval before they closed the door behind them.
Mrs Hadley ducked an insolent little curtsey and crossed the room, arms outstretched, taking Milly's hands in hers.
“I know darling Beau said you weren't receiving visitors yet, but we're such old friends and I was overcome with curiosity to meet his sweet little wife.”
Milly was no fool, the honeyed tone of her words did little to hide the arrow shaft that was intended to find its mark. Worse than her words, however, was the floral perfume, heady and sickeningly familiar. The scent she had detected on Beau the night he'd stayed away. Milly did nothing to betray her discomfort but only smiled at her guest.
“I'm afraid my husband is away at the moment and you find me in the midst of making some changes to Ware. I'm afraid the parlour, as you see, is not ready to welcome guests, but perhaps you would care to drink tea with me, in the dining room if you have no objection?”
“Oh, no, dear. I shan't intrude. I can see you are keeping yourself admirably occupied. A good thing Ware is such a vast place, no doubt. You'll have plenty to occupy yourself during your husband's absences.” She gave a little trill of laughter and shook her head. “Naughty Beau, he is quite incorrigible isn't he. But then, that's the price of marrying such a handsome man I suppose. I married a rich, old goat, but then that has a price too ... of its own kind.” She gave Milly a very direct look, her meaning perfectly plain. “I must be going now, Madame, such a pleasure to meet you.”
She headed to the door and then gave a little exclamation. “Oh, my head! I shall forget it one of these days. I almost forgot the reason I came.” She searched in the pretty beaded reticule that dangled from one dainty wrist. "Oh, yes, here it is.” She held something small in her delicate fingers, gesturing for Milly to take it from her. Reluctantly Milly held out her hand and Mrs Hadley dropped the article into her palm. “I can't think how he came to lose it, but there you are. These men are so careless and unthinking of everything but themselves, don't you agree?”
With another grating trill of laughter the woman bid Milly a good day and left as suddenly as she'd come.
Chapter 18
“Wherein our heroine keeps her pride but our hero's is lost.”
Milly stared at the cuff link in her hand. Enamelled with Ware's rampant lion and fleur de lis on a background as blue as Beau's eyes it was unmistakable. Mrs Hadley's intent in giving it to her needed no explanation either. Milly swallowed, the small lions on the sleeve buttons blurring as her eyes filled and she blinked away tears.
Fool.
She had known he had spent the night with someone since they'd been here. Somehow she had managed to push it from her mind. As long as the woman had remained faceless, nameless, she'd been able to pretend it hadn't happened. It had only been once after all.
But it wouldn't be once would it. Beau had said the marriage vows before her but he'd told her before he'd ever spoken them that those words would mean nothing to him. They would be friends and nothing more than that.<
br />
But now he was changing the rules. He'd become greedy and he wanted his cake and to eat it too. Poor, plain little Milly. The pitiful woman that he'd rescued from the goodness of his heart had become a challenge to him. In denying him she was a door that had remained stubbornly locked against him and he had become desirous to know everything that lay behind it. He wanted to take everything she had but was offering nothing in return.
She had been a fool to imagine it couldn't hurt worse than it did right now. For she knew that if Mrs Hadley had come to her in a few days time, after she had given herself, body, heart and soul ... that there would be humiliation to add to the pain of her despair. At least now she still had her pride. She could look him in the eye and say no. No you cannot. For as he would never truly be hers, she would never truly be his.
She wiped her eyes and took a deep breath.
Leaving the room she discovered Rexom waiting in the hall. She was gratified by the fatherly look of concern in his eyes but she couldn't deal with sympathy right now. Sympathy from the butler meant that he knew, and if he knew then likely all of the staff knew, and why wouldn't they? It was hardly a surprise that a man like Beau should have lovers when his wife was such a plain, dull little thing. Well damn it. If he was going to lead his own life then so should she.
She had promised him no more than he had promised her. She had promised to be his good friend, to make his life comfortable and so she would. But surely his life, both of their lives, would be more comfortable if he didn't have to bear the jealousy of his wife. More than that she could help him most by concentrating on her business.
She went first to her room and took the wretched book that had caused her so much restlessness and carried it back to the study. Searching the room for a gap in the thickly ranged shelves she was forced to stand on a chair to slide it back into the place he must have taken in from.
From there she instructed Mrs Goodly to pack their belongings, ignoring the look of concern in her friend's eyes and deflecting her questions.
The Devil May Care Page 15
