The Devil's Web

by Mary Balogh

  “No,” he said. “It is unmendable.”

  She sighed. “And all over Dora,” she said. “Oh, James, she really was not worth all the agony you have lived through and the rift with Papa. I did not know her well, but she seemed very shallow. I am sorry. Forgiveme.”

  “I have had to forget Dora,” he said, lifting his quizzing glass for his niece, who was looking for a new toy.

  “It is as well,” she said. “Is there anyone else, James? Miss Cameron, perhaps? You hinted a while ago that she may be someone special. Or Madeline, perhaps?” Her tone was casual.

  “Madeline?” he said. “Spare me, Alex. I have never met anyone with whom I was less compatible. You are joking of course. And Jean?” His expression softened. “I am very fond of Jean. But I am not quite sure yet how fond.”

  “I wish you could come to Amberley,” she said. “How lovely it would be to get away from town and have you all to myself for a few weeks. I don’t suppose it would be possible, would it?”

  “It would,” he said, smiling at her just to see her expression suddenly light up. “Douglas told me for the second time just this morning that I may take a holiday if I wish.”

  She scrambled to her feet. “You will come to Amberley?” she said. “Oh, James, you will see the house again and the portrait Edmund has had done of me and placed in the gallery, and we will go riding on the beach and up on the cliffs, and …”

  “Mama!” Christopher’s voice was impatient, it being the third time he had called for his mother’s attention. “Come and see.”

  “You are finished?” she asked, turning a glowing face to her son. “Let me see, then, sweetheart.”

  Caroline wriggled off James’s lap so that she too might see the completed painting.

  The fates must be against him, James thought. After the disaster of the ball, he had resolved to have nothing more to do with Lady Madeline Raine. He would not even see her again unless pure chance caused their paths to cross. He would put her out of his mind and out of his life, even before he sailed with the Adeona again.

  And now? It was too much to hope that she would not attend the picnic that was to be hosted by her mother’s particular friend. And she always went to Amberley for the summer, did she not?

  Good God, he would be living in the same house as she for a few weeks. And in the secluded atmosphere of a country home.

  Perhaps she would go elsewhere. When she knew he was going to Amberley, perhaps she would stay in London. Or perhaps she would go into Wiltshire with Lord and Lady Eden. Lord Eden was her twin, after all, and there had always been a close bond between them.

  Perhaps she would stay away from Amberley.

  And perhaps hell would freeze over, too.

  • • •

  SIR CEDRIC HARVEY rode out to Richmond Park in a closed carriage with the Dowager Countess of Amberley and Lord and Lady Beckworth.

  “You must be warned,” the dowager had said to him a few days earlier when he had been making plans for the carriages, “in case you have forgotten, that Lady Beckworth must not be exposed to moving air no matter what the weather, Cedric. And now that her husband is no longer in the best of health, she will be doubly cautious.”

  And so he rode with his friend and his guests in a carriage with the windows tightly closed on a sweltering hot day in late June when everyone else traveled in open carriages or on horseback.

  “But it does not matter, Louisa,” he had said, “provided only they come. Strange people, the Beckworths. I could never understand people not simply enjoying life when it is so short and the future so full of uncertainties. They do not seem overjoyed to have their son at home, do they?”

  “The foolish people are ashamed that he works for a living,” she had said. “They cannot simply rejoice that he is alive and well. My anxieties when Dominic was in the army for three years taught me to treasure every moment with my children.”

  “But then you always did, Louisa,” he had said, touching her hand.

  “I am so very pleased,” the dowager said now to the Beckworths as they were riding to Richmond Park, “that you will be coming to Amberley for a month. It is so much more relaxing to be in the country, is it not? And you will enjoy being close to the children for a while longer, ma’am.”

  “If only Alexandra would not allow them to be taken outside so frequently,” Lady Beckworth said fretfully. “The sea air is most injurious to their health, you know. I have warned her that Caroline is like to grow up in delicate health.”

  Lady Amberley smiled. “And you must be looking forward to spending more time with your son, sir,” she said, “before he returns to Montreal.”

  Lord Beckworth inclined his head. “I have learned to live without him, ma’am,” he said. “All is as God wills.”

  Altogether, Lady Amberley found, it was a great relief to descend from the carriage when they reached their destination and to find everyone there before them and in noisy high spirits.

  Jennifer, Anna, and Miss Cameron were with Dominic’s twins and young Caroline, although two nurses had been brought along to care for them. Christopher was perched on his father’s shoulders, holding tight by a fistful of hair. Madeline was laughing over something with Colonel Huxtable, Walter and Mr. Chambers. Dominic and Ellen were talking with Allan Penworth. Alexandra, her arm linked through James’s, was blushing over some doubtless teasing remark that William was making. Viola Carrington was looking flustered and indignant, as she so often did at her husband’s quips. The Earl of Harrowby appeared to be deep in conversation with Duncan Cameron.

  It was, the senior Lady Amberley thought, a very pleasant scene for a picnic. And she was particularly glad to see Madeline looking happy. Though one could never be sure with Madeline. Often the happier she looked, the more restless and unsure she was. The dowager saw a great deal more than she ever disclosed. She was worried about her daughter.

  But this afternoon was no time for worry. She turned to smile at Sir Cedric.

  “It is far too early for tea,” he announced. “There are acres and acres of delightful greenery to be explored and enjoyed before we even think of eating.”

  He took the dowager’s arm and held it firmly to his side as Lady Beckworth indicated that she would sit down on one of the blankets.

  “We will walk,” he said.

  JEAN CAMERON HAD STROLLED AWAY FROM the babies to join James. She smiled brightly up at him and took his arm. She looked entirely happy. “Is it not beautiful here, James?” she said. “I had heard that the English countryside is quite lovely, but I have not had an opportunity to see much of it until today.”

  He covered her hand with his and smiled affectionately down at her. “Let’s walk,” he said. “And you may feel English grass beneath your feet and see English trees above your head and breathe in English country air.”“

  And next week we will be at Amberley,” she said, her eyes sparkling up into his. “Anna says it is quite the loveliest spot in England. Oh, James, I can scarcely wait.”

  It had clearly been the right thing to do, James reflected, looking into her happy face, to ask Alex if she would invite Jean into the country too. Because the girl would thereby be made entirely happy, he had explained to his sister and convinced himself. There could be no other reason why he would want her there with him.

  “Let’s enjoy today first,” he said. He looked about him and raised his voice. “Would anyone care to join us in a walk?”

  Anna and Mrs. Chambers, Walter and Jennifer, Dominic and Ellen were all agreeable to the walk. Madeline, who was standing quite close by, James noticed, her back to him, made no move, though the colonel looked down at her inquiringly.

  It was the first time he had seen her in more than a week. She was dressed all in yellow, sunshine yellow, and she looked more vivid and more lovely than ever. But she had scarcely looked at him, and she had not acknowledged him.

  It was as well under the circumstances. He had made up his mind to stay completely away from her.
He did not want her walking with him and Jean. He wanted to be able to concentrate his attention on his companion.

  He brought his mind back to her. They were strolling among trees. Jean had thrown her head back so that the shade of the branches and the sunlight played over her face. She was smiling.

  “I could stay here all my life,” she said. “I love this country, James.”

  “You would miss the winters and the snow and the sleigh rides,” he said.

  “Perhaps the sleigh rides,” she conceded, “but not the long, long winters. Oh, definitely not those. I wish I could stay.”

  He laughed. “By Christmastime you would probably be crying for home,” he said. “As it is, you will have wonderful memories. I’m glad for you, Jean. I was hoping you would not find your stay here dull.”

  “Thanks to you,” she said, “it has all been wildly exciting, James. And there is more to come. Oh, how all the girls at school would envy me if they knew.”

  They were a little behind the rest of the group. It would be the easiest thing in the world to slow his footsteps, to become lost among the trees, to take her into his arms and kiss her. She was very young and fresh and pretty. Very kissable.

  And he needed to hold a woman and kiss her. With warmth and affection, and just a manageable dose of desire. A woman who would not constantly make him feel guilty. One he could feel free to love, free even to marry if he so chose. A woman who was not Madeline.

  But if he kissed Jean, he would be making a very clear declaration of intent. She was too young to dally with. He would be telling her by his actions that he wanted her as a wife. He did not know at all what her feelings on the matter were. Sometimes he thought that she clearly favored him. At other times he thought that she saw him only as a type of elder and rather indulgent brother.

  But Duncan would expect him to marry his sister if he kissed her. And so would Douglas. Even if he were to go back inland with the fur brigades and could be expected to remain there for years and probably take a native woman for a wife, they would still expect him to marry Jean once he had kissed her. For those country marriages, of course, were unsanctioned by either church or state.

  It would be an expensive kiss. And he was not at all sure that he was prepared to pay the price.

  He smiled down at Jean and quickened their pace.

  During the next few minutes Anna overheard Ellen remark to Dominic that when they got back it would be time for her to take the babies into one of the carriages in order to nurse them. If those babies were to be played with, Anna declared, there was no time to be wasted. And it seemed that Jennifer and Jean agreed with her. The men and Ellen were left laughing as the three of them marched off, arm in arm, in the direction of the carriages.

  “Abandoned for a pair of bald babies!” Walter complained. “The cut direct.”

  “Those ladies recognize a handsome lad when they see one,” Dominic said. “Charles has a pair of fine gray eyes. He inherited them from his mother.”

  Ellen smiled at James. “Anna and Jennifer have been the best of friends since they met last summer,” she said. “I am glad they have adopted Miss Cameron too. She is a charming young lady. She seems to be enjoying herself.”

  “She is,” he said. “She has just been telling me that she wishes she could stay in England.”

  “Oh, dear,” she said, “what will her father have to say to that?”

  He began to stroll back slowly beside her and her husband. It was quite understandable, he thought, that Jean had been so captivated by the English countryside. He was feeling a quite strong nostalgia himself, walking among the trunks of large and ancient oak trees. Although he had renounced his home and now thought of Canada as the place where he belonged, there was indeed no place like England.

  He looked about him and breathed in the heavy scents of summer.

  And his eye was caught by a flutter of yellow, lighter and flimsier than any leaf or petal. He looked again. She was almost out of sight, leaning up against the trunk of a tree, only a part of her muslin skirt and one bare elbow visible from where he stood. And she seemed to be alone.

  “I’ll catch up to you,” he said to the others, and looked about him as they strolled on. He stood there awhile, uncertain what to do. Instinct had stopped him. Common sense told him to move on. But common sense had never figured largely in his dealings with Madeline Raine.

  He walked among the trees until he could come around the one against which she stood and see her fully.

  She must have heard his approach. She did not seem unduly startled. She did not move either, but merely looked at him. Her head was back against the trunk of the tree.

  “Madeline?” he said. “What is it?”

  “YOU DO NOT WISH to go walking?” Colonel Huxtable asked Madeline.

  “In a moment,” she said. “I must talk to Allan first.”

  But it was merely an excuse. Allan Penworth was sitting on a blanket and seemed quite content to be doing so and talking with her Uncle William and Lord Harrowby.

  “Are you feeling abandoned, Allan?” she asked, smiling at him. “Would you like Jason and me to stay here too? We would not mind at all.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, breaking off his conversation with the other two men. He grinned. “I have already quarreled with Jennifer and sent her on her way. Not you too, please. But you will never give up being my nurse, will you, Madeline? Wait until you see me with my new leg. I will have a race with you and win, I will wager.”

  “Well,” she said, “you had better not wager your whole fortune, Allan. I always was rather good at footraces. It is what came of always pursuing boys when I was a child in the hope that they would let me play with them. Dominic would never simply say yes.”

  But she really must turn back and begin the walk, she thought, since Jason clearly expected her to do so and there was really no reason whatsoever why she should not. Except that there was one member of the group who she wished fervently was at the other side of the ocean again already. But she would see him at the bottom of the ocean before she would admit to him or to anyone else that she was afraid of his presence.

  The others had had time to get far enough ahead, anyway. And why should she care if they caught up to the group and were compelled to walk with them? She had Jason to walk with and talk with.

  She smiled at him and took his arm.

  Jean Cameron had been looking quite radiantly happy. Surely far happier than the summer’s day and the picnic and the company could account for. She had looked up at James as a new bride looks up at her groom. And he had looked back at her—she had seen it before she had turned away—with gentleness and affection and tenderness. He had been smiling. He had looked at Jean in a way he had never once looked at her. Not even on that one occasion when he had kissed her with something she had thought was tenderness.

  And it did not matter. It did not matter how he looked at Jean or she at him. It did not matter if they loved each other, if they would marry after their return to Canada. It simply did not matter.

  Except that it mattered a great deal.

  “How clever of me to make that excuse of talking to Allan for a moment,” she said gaily, looking archly up at Colonel Huxtable. “Now I have you all to myself.”

  “You may regret your cleverness,” he said, looking back at her in some amusement. “I may take you among the trees, Madeline, and kiss you breathless and keep you captive there until you have promised to marry me.”

  “Ooh,” she said, batting her eyelids at him and lowering her voice to a seductive murmur, “is that a threat or a promise, sir?”

  He lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Both.”

  They both laughed.

  He was quite remarkably handsome, Madeline thought, with his very military bearing and blond wavy hair. It should be possible to fall in love with him without any effort of will. Years ago she would have tumbled headlong and been dreaming of marital bliss with him long before this. He was a younger
son, but he was heir to an inheritance from an elderly aunt. He would probably sell out of the army when he inherited, he had once told her, though he was in no hurry for that day to come. He was fond of the old girl, and the life of an officer suited him.

  Perhaps if she tried very hard …

  James and Jean had fallen somewhat behind the others. Jean was walking with her head thrown back, as if her surroundings and her companion had put her into an ecstasy of enjoyment.

  “Jason,” Madeline said, clinging more tightly to his arm, “let’s not follow the others. Let’s be alone together for a little while.”

  “Gladly,” he said. “I just wish I had a deep dark den to take you into. Your family would hear no more of you today. Or perhaps for several days.”

  “I’m serious,” she said. And she looked up into his face, noting his good looks as if she had never seen him before, knowing his good nature and his steadfastness, knowing that he was surely the most eligible suitor she had ever had. Far better than she deserved.

  He turned her to their left, away from the path that the others were following, and they strolled for a while in silence among the ancient oaks. Until he stopped and turned to her, and she set her hands on his shoulders and looked at him expectantly.

  It was a light kiss. His mouth was closed over hers. His hands, holding her firmly by the waist, kept her a little away from him.

  But it was not enough. Not nearly enough. She joined her hands behind his neck and looked down at his lips when he raised his head.

  “Jason,” she whispered, “hold me. Kiss me properly.”He tried to kiss her properly. But propriety was the last thing on her mind. She put herself full against him and twined her fingers in his hair. She moved her mouth over his, willing it to open, licking at his lips with her tongue.

  “Kiss me. Kiss me,” she whispered desperately when his mouth moved to her cheek and her ear. “Jason.” And she pressed even closer when his embrace grew more ardent, wanting to lose herself entirely in him, wanting to be taken into him. And moving desperately against him when her mind would not let go and allow sensation to take its place.