Mary disappeared and Bathsheba folded her hands tightly in her lap. She had worked with Liam for the better part of a year now, and not once had he come to her home. They communicated via penny post or her visits to his office, which was more convenient for both of them. He was always at the Intelligencer, after all. And never had she detected the slightest interest on Liam’s part in calling upon her at home.
As if they were lovers.
As if they were…more.
She rose from her chair and smoothed a hand over her head. Her hair was pinned into the soft chignon Mary had grown adept at arranging. It was just as practical as the braided knot, but looser. Her dress was a new one, raspberry-colored with a delicate trail of yellow embroidery at the neckline. Even though it had been ridiculous to spend money on a new dress she didn’t need, Bathsheba liked it. She felt almost handsome in it, and every time the pink skirt swished around her, she remembered Liam saying she should wear colors. Now she twitched that soft, pretty skirt into place, put her shoulders back, and went down the stairs to the parlor.
Mary had left the door open, and late morning sun spilled through the doorway. Bathsheba’s steps slowed as she crossed the hall and her heart sped up. With a deep breath, she walked into the room. “Good morning. What a surprise.”
He turned. After three weeks of separation, it was like seeing him for the first time, tall and lean, dark hair ruffled as if he’d pushed his hand through it. The force of attraction nearly bowled her over, even now, and she surreptitiously placed one hand on the door to steady herself.
“Good morning, Bathsheba.” He paused. “You look well.”
She had to clear her throat; a lump had formed at the sound of his voice. With a quick breath—chiding herself for being emotionally unbalanced—she closed the door and came into the room. “Won’t you sit down?”
He took the small sofa opposite her. The Crawford parlor had seen better days, but it had also seen far worse. It didn’t have the eccentric charm or the secluded quiet of Liam’s house in St. John’s Wood. Bathsheba was irrationally aware of this as she perched on the edge of the armchair.
“How have you been?” Liam asked, his gaze intent upon her.
“Very well, thank you.” She pressed her hands into the fabric of her skirt to keep from fidgeting. “You?”
His mouth quirked. “Perfectly well.” He hesitated. “I’ve not received pages from you, and wondered when I may expect them. It’s been several weeks since the last story was published. I’ve been receiving queries.”
“Oh.” This was good news, and yet her heart seemed to drop from her throat all the way to her shoes. He’d come on business. She tried to rally a pleased expression. “How wonderful that it’s wanted. I should have something by next week.”
“Excellent,” he said with a quick smile. “I had begun to fear—” He coughed. “That is, I’m relieved you’re working as usual.”
“Mmm-hmm.” She rubbed her hands back and forth, her smile stiff. As usual. As usual, she pictured Liam’s handsome face on every hero she wrote. As usual, she thought of him every night when she retired to her quiet bed, and wondered if he had a new lover.
“I also worried…” His gaze dipped momentarily to her midsection. “You’ve not suffered any…unease?”
She blushed deep red. Had she conceived a child, he meant. She had wondered if she might, for a few days after their glorious night together, but that had soon been put to rest. Some tiny, unreasonable part of her had dwelt on the prospect with longing. Her heart yearned for Liam’s child in her arms, a little hand in hers, a lifelong reminder of her one taste of sensual bliss with the man she loved. She might never have another chance to be a mother, and it had taken her off guard how appealing it suddenly seemed.
But she also knew it would be a terrible thing for that child, to be illegitimate and possibly unwanted by his father, so when her monthly courses arrived on schedule, she told herself it was for the best.
“None,” she assured him.
“Ah.” His face was inscrutable. She couldn’t tell if his response was relieved or disappointed. Perhaps he’d merely had his curiosity satisfied.
“I would have notified you if so,” she added.
“Of course.” He glanced at the door. “I trust it remains our secret?”
She blushed again. “Danny doesn’t know, and never will.”
“Are you…” Liam seemed to be choosing every word with great care. “He would not beat you if he knew, would he?”
Bathsheba blinked. If her brother would beat anyone, it would be Liam. “No. I’m sure not.”
“But he would be displeased?” Liam persisted, his voice low. “You were so adamant that he not know about Lady X, I couldn’t help but wonder if he would take it badly if he knew about us.”
She bit her lip. “Danny would not be pleased,” she admitted. “He believes himself responsible for me, even though I’ve told him many times he mustn’t feel so.”
“I see.” Liam looked at the floor. “Would he be displeased on principle, or because I was the man?”
What was he after? Suddenly wary, she tried to parse his question. “Both, I imagine,” she said cautiously. “He would not like me taking a—a lover, and as he knows you, I suspect he would view it as a sort of betrayal. He would likely have wanted you to refuse my entreaty and then perhaps even tell him what I’d done, so he could put a stop to it.” Liam’s eyes flashed, and she stopped. “But he’ll never know,” she promised quickly. “Not from my lips, and I told no one at all. Only your coachman knows…and the man who called upon you that last morning…” Her voice trailed off questioningly. She’d suffered a thousand pangs of curiosity and dread over that man.
Now Liam looked awkward. “That was my brother Angus. He was neither expected nor welcome. I extracted his promise not to say a word, and he’s got no idea who you are.”
“Oh.” She let out her breath in relief.
“Bathsheba, I think you ought to tell your brother,” said Liam. She froze, eyes wide. “About Lady X. Your sales have been strong, steadily growing. I know you wished to keep it secret in case things did not go well, but they unquestionably are going well. You plan to keep writing, don’t you?”
“Well—yes, but—”
“Daniel didn’t disapprove of you working on Fifty Ways to Sin. He knew you read it, even edited some issues,” Liam went on. “I think you do him wrong to believe he would view it as indecency.”
Her mouth was hanging open. “I never said that—”
“Then why don’t you tell him?” Liam edged forward. “You’re succeeding. You think he worries about providing for you, but you’re providing for yourself. Why do you hide this from him?”
“Because it’s not enough,” she said before she could think better of it. Liam sat back, brows raised. Bathsheba sighed. “The money I’ve saved… It’s not enough to show him and say, there—you needn’t worry about providing for us.”
“When will it be?”
She raised her hands and let them fall helplessly. “I don’t know. Perhaps never. It’s not reliable like an annuity, you know.”
“So you intend to keep it secret forever?”
“I don’t know,” she said again.
“Is it only about the money?” There was an underlying urgency in his question that unsettled her. Why did it matter to Liam if Danny knew what she was doing? And why did she not have any answer about telling her brother? Her small savings was not trivial, and even if it would never be enough for her to feel completely secure, it would surely give Danny some comfort to know she had it. But she hadn’t told him.
“Mostly,” she muttered.
Liam was quiet for a moment. “Is it because you fear it would reveal your deepest desires, and you’re ashamed of having them?” Bathsheba sucked in her breath indignantly. “Or is it because you’re afraid of pursuing them, so much that you’d rather give up all hope of gaining them?”
“What does that mean?” s
he demanded, furious.
“You’d rather lie to your brother for the rest of your life to keep him from knowing you write successful stories. You’d rather spend the rest of your life minding his house and protecting him than strike out after something that brings you pleasure.”
“I wonder what you mean by that,” she retorted. “I did strike out after pleasure. But now that’s done and I must live my life”
“So tamely and nervously?” he persisted. “Sneaking around any time you want to have a word about your writing. Pretending he’s the only source of support you’ve got.”
Sneaking around. Bathsheba stared at him. “Sneaking around to see you, do you mean?”
Liam’s mouth firmed into a flat line. He said nothing.
She drew a deep breath. “If I told Danny, you think it would make me more independent, more daring. I could go out whenever I chose, and spend the night where I wished. Is that it? Do you want to carry on as we were?”
His eyes flashed. “You make it sound so craven. I didn’t advocate telling Daniel in the hopes of prolonging our affair. I thought you wanted to be independent, and not have to lie to him about where you are going. Don’t you want to have a life of your own?”
“I do have a life of my own,” she protested. “Perhaps not the life you would choose, but it’s the one I’ve chosen.”
“But if you weren’t hiding—”
“Then what?” She shook her head. “I have to think of Danny, too.”
“He’s a grown man,” Liam pointed out. “He could make do without you.”
“Yes, but what would I do?” Bathsheba asked before she could stop herself.
Liam opened his mouth, and then he went still, as if frozen in mid-thought. The silence stretched taut. For a wild second she hoped he would say, elope with me. Because she would. For Liam, for his love, she would leave Danny without a qualm. All he had to do was say one word…
But that was unlikely, and sure enough he didn’t say it. After a long pause, during which he seemed to struggle with some inner decision, he gave a nod. “Very well. As you say, it is your life to choose. I should be going.” They both rose and Liam bowed. “Oh yes—” He clapped one hand to his side as if just remembering. “You forgot this,” he said with a hint of his usual wry smile. He drew out her reticule from his coat pocket. “Good day, Miss Crawford.”
She bobbed a slight curtsey and he left her standing there with the reticule in her hands. The front door closed behind him and she flinched, knowing it was probably the last time. Slowly she sank back into her chair. Was he right? Ought she to tell Danny—not just about Lady X, but about her desire to have a lover? The only reason she could see for Liam’s bewildering insistence that she drop the secrecy was that he wanted to continue their affair, which made her heart take a leap even as her mind protested. If three nights had left such a deep mark on her, what might three months—three years—do to her?
Bathsheba was still sitting there, deeply uncertain, when the front door opened again, and there came the sound of Danny’s familiar tread in the hall. A moment later he was in the doorway. “Bathsheba! Could I have a word?”
“Of course,” she said as he came in and took Liam’s seat. “Are you well? I didn’t expect you so early.”
He nodded. “Perfectly well. I’ve got something to tell you, which I hope will come as happy news.”
“Oh.” She tensed. Danny looked braced for a bad reaction, which put her on guard. What had he done?
“This job in Greenwich has been very profitable,” he said. “I told you Mrs. Brown engaged me to repair her late husband’s library. It happened to include a number of—er—erotic books, of which I’m sure the lady was ignorant at the start.” He went pink. “Catherine—Mrs. Brown, I mean—and I spent a great deal of time together, sorting out which books ought to be restored and which ought to be sold or disposed of.” He cleared his throat, looking young and awkward for a moment, and in a flash Bathsheba knew what her brother was going to say. “She’s wonderful, Bathsheba. Everything I ever admired in a woman, and she doesn’t even mind my lost arm.”
“Danny,” she said blankly.
“I will never abandon you,” he added forcefully. “I’m going to complete the job as planned, and she’s going to pay as planned. But the money is for you. Catherine and I… We’ve discussed marriage. I can never repay you for how you cared for me after the war, but now you won’t be stuck keeping house for me—”
“You rogue!” She jumped up and ran to throw her arms around him. “You’re in love! Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
He grinned bashfully. “Because I wanted to have the money first, and I refuse to take it from Catherine before the work is done. You would be welcome to live with us, of course, but"—he gave her a knowing look—"I suspect you might not wish to. With this sum, you should be able to keep this house and Mary. Catherine’s manor house is in a quiet part of Greenwich, and it might be too remote for your taste.”
She thought of Liam’s secluded house and how lovely and private it was there. If she were newly married, a spinster sister-in-law was the last person she would want to share that house with. “Of course you want your own home, with your bride. When shall I meet her?”
“Soon,” said her brother, his face brightening with relief and pride. “I’ve been trying to work out how to tell you for some time. Catherine—She advised me weeks ago that I ought to tell you.”
Just as Liam had advised her to tell Danny, and have a life of her own. And now—oh goodness—she didn’t need to decide about Lady X. She could tell Danny or not, and either way she would be independent.
She forced her mind away from that and back to her brother’s happiness. She asked him about his betrothed bride, and to her amusement, Danny spoke at great and rhapsodic length about Catherine Brown. In his telling, she was beautiful, sensible, and utterly charming. Her late husband, a man twenty years her senior, had left her a comfortable income and a small manor near Greenwich. Danny, who had once been a bit of a hell-raiser, was looking forward to life as a country gentleman.
When Danny had finished extolling his beloved’s virtues, he gave Bathsheba a somewhat abashed look. “I could have mentioned her sooner, I suppose.”
“You suppose rightly,” she replied. “But I can see you’re in love, so I must forgive you. No man is sensible when he’s in love.”
He ducked his head, grinning like a fool. “I should have known you’d take it well.”
Bathsheba blinked in surprise. “You thought I wouldn’t? Why?”
A flush covered her brother’s face. He opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. “Well—er—I meant to say…”
Suddenly she felt very conscious of the reticule on the chair beside her, the one she’d left at her lover’s house after their last rendezvous. Danny hadn’t told her because he worried that she would feel alone and unwanted, when all this time she’d been keeping her romantic activities from him, just as he had done with his. “Never mind,” she said in a rush. “I understand.”
“Perhaps you should come live with us,” Danny replied, his face still pink. “I hate to think of you alone—”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She steadfastly refused to look at the reticule. It seemed to be taunting her over her declaration to Liam that everything between them was over. If only she’d waited another day. If only Danny had told her this sooner. “Think of your Catherine, who will likely not want to share her home with her new husband’s spinster sister.”
He looked torn, but let it go. “I feel responsible for you, Bathsheba.”
She forced an uncomfortable smile. “You shouldn’t.”
“I do. Our father would expect no less of me. If ever you are lonely or in need—”
“I’ll be fine,” she cut in forcefully, trying to fend off the image of sitting alone in this house, writing stories about love and passion, but never finding them. If she listened to the men around her, she’d end up sunk in pity over her sa
d state, and Bathsheba had a mortal disdain for self-pity. “Perfectly fine. Invite me to dine with you from time to time, provide a nephew or a niece for me to dote upon, and I shall be content.”
His face eased. “Of course. Nothing daunts you! You’ve got more backbone than most men of my acquaintance, Bathsheba.”
“As a woman,” she said dryly, “I expect that’s fairly typical.”
He laughed. “No doubt.” He rose. “I’m glad to have told you at last. It’s been weighing on me for a while now.”
“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?” She shook her head. “What puzzling creatures men are.”
He merely laughed again and went up the stairs. Bathsheba remained where she was, feeling at once happy and a little maudlin. Danny, married! She would have a new sister. Bathsheba said a heartfelt prayer that she and Catherine Brown took a liking to each other.
And now she wouldn’t have to hide anything—not her writing, not her evening activities. She could even bring a lover here if she wished. Her gaze fell on the sofa where Liam had sat just a half an hour previously, and her hand settled on the reticule he had returned. She hadn’t even missed it, which was unusual for her. Bathsheba liked everything in its proper place.
Absently she pulled open the strings and drew out the small notebook, and felt another pang in her heart. What a ninny Liam must have thought her that first night, planning to take notes when he was planning to drive her out of her mind with passion. On impulse she flipped through the pages of the notebook; what had she written in here?
At first she thought it was nothing of import; there were scribblings about her book, but she’d already written those parts. But halfway through there was a different handwriting, and she blushed as she realized it was Liam’s.
He’d read her notes. He’d commented on them, too. Her mouth curved as she read his suggestions about the blacksmith; she’d made that character a clever fellow, just as Liam thought she ought to do. Some of his comments were so irreverent, she could almost see the sly expression on his face, which made her smile widen, but wistfully.
The Secret of My Seduction (Scandals Book 7) Page 9
