“I dropped the papers out the window,” he said smugly. “When we were … you know.”
She didn’t remark on his inability to name what it was they’d been engaged in, for which he was thankful.
“Oh! I wondered what you were doing,” she said with what sounded like awe. “That was a brilliant idea. I’m sorry for doubting you.”
“Do not praise me yet,” he said ruefully. “I dropped two sheaves of papers out of a third story window. The odds of them not having scattered all over the garden are very low.”
“Do not be such a pessimist,” Gemma chided him. “At least we have them.”
“I am a realist,” he responded as he brought the curricle to a halt on the path he’d seen tradesmen take to the kitchens at Pearson Close.
Cam tied the horses to a tree branch, then stepped around to grasp Gemma by the waist and lift her down from the vehicle.
He was grateful he’d instructed the grooms yesterday to give his matched pair a rest. He had no doubt that this pair of carriage horses they kept in Beauchamp House stables would be far more amenable to remaining tied up outdoors in this weather. The grays would have broken the reins or injured themselves at such an indignity.
Just as temperamental as the grays, but equally as valuable he’d come to realize, was the lady in his arms at the moment.
When she got her feet beneath her, he saw a spark of desire in her eyes, but then she’d shaken it off and pushed him away.
“Come on,” she ordered, stomping forward over the shell-covered path.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in an undertone as he followed her.
It was just as well that she was keeping the focus, he reflected as he caught up to her.
He’d forgot for a time that their betrothal and everything that went with it was only temporary. It wouldn’t do to mistake lust and friendship for anything more permanent.
Once he was walking beside her, he was careful to keep them to the edge of the wood so that they would be less visible from the house. But it was slow going thanks to the mud and ice. The hems of Gemma’s garments were soon filthy, but she didn’t complain once.
“Which window?” Gemma asked as they neared the path alongside the house.
Cam had calculated the location based on his view out his own window, and its proximity to Sir Everard’s rooms. But it had been the papers contrasting with the dark green of the holly bushes growing beneath the windows that gave him the precise location. Fortunately the wind had been blowing toward the side of the house rather than crossways, so the pages were in a relatively tidy pile.
Unfortunately, aforementioned holly bushes were well over seven feet tall. A height neither of them could boast even on their toes.
“You’ll have to boost me up,” Gemma said frowning up at the top of the hedge. “Make a step with your hands. Like so.”
She threaded her fingers together and proffered them in the way she wanted him to do it.
Cam shook his head. “That won’t work.”
“Why not?” she demanded. “I’ll get the height I need.”
“But you’ve got nothing to hold on to,” he argued. “You’ll have to climb onto my shoulders.”
He said it with an air of apology.
“I certainly will not,” Gemma said emphatically. “Not in this gown.”
She glanced around them, as if looking for some alternative means of getting the papers.
“Gemma,” Cam said in a soothing tone, “It’s the only way. You need enough time to be able to gather them all and I certainly can’t climb onto your back.”
“But it’s … it’s … it’s unseemly,” she finally finished.
“Where is the lady who confessed to enjoying lovemaking more in the bedchambers of other people?” he asked wryly.
“That was different,” she hissed. “That didn’t entail you putting your head up my skirt.”
“If you’re doing it right it does,” he said with a shrug.
“I hate you,” she said hotly.
“I know you do,” he said. “But it’s the only way.”
Even as he spoke, he knelt and held out his hand to help her climb up.
Gemma scowled. Then when he didn’t relent, she gave a very unladylike curse.
“Do not look,” she ordered. He did his best to obey, but it was impossible not to peek just a little.
From the corner of his eye he watched as she gathered her skirts between her legs, then lifted them so high her garters were showing.
Her legs were long and slender, and he was forced to think about the mineral composition of his latest soil samples in order to suppress the image of those legs over his shoulders in a very different circumstance than the present one.
The frigid temperature did the rest.
“If you ever tell anyone about this I will murder you,” Gemma said tightly as she climbed onto his shoulders. “With a rusty knife.”
“You have my word,” he said, reaching up to grasp her by first one stockinged leg, then the other.
Despite his attempts at distraction, it was impossible to ignore the fact that if he were to turn his head just a fraction he’d be able to kiss the soft skin of her inner thigh. He closed his eyes and counted to ten.
“Stand up,” Gemma ordered, pulling on his hair. “It’s cold.”
He felt a shiver run through her and cursed himself.
Without reply, he stood to his full height and walked slowly so that she was close enough to the top of the neatly trimmed holly bushes.
“A little to the right,” she instructed him, and Cam did as she asked.
“Here.”
It took much less time than he’d have expected, probably because she was cold and when he offered to rub her legs to make them warmer she’d told him to go to the devil.
Finally, when she had them all, she handed the sheaf of papers down to him and ordered him to kneel so she could climb off. He wasn’t even completely on his knee when she hopped off and dropped her skirts down and began smoothing them.
With an imperious hand she indicated that he should hand her the papers.
He did so, deciding that she had earned the right to order him about for a little while.
Without a word to him, she set off back toward where they’d tied up the curricle and horses.
“We will not speak of this again,” she said firmly as he came up beside her.
“Was it so bad?” he asked. “It only took a quarter hour at most.”
“You take off your breeches and climb up on someone else’s shoulders in the freezing cold where anyone might happen upon you at any minute, and tell me how much it matters that it only lasted a quarter hour.”
“You have a point,” he said.
Then, he heard her sniff. And had that been a wobble in her voice?
She tried to hurry forward, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Gemma,” he said gently, “are you all right?”
She didn’t turn but he could see that her shoulders, normally proud and strong, were sagging.
“Cameron, my day has consisted of finding a dead body, discovering that the fossil I hoped would help me establish myself as a legitimate scholar missing, kissing my brother-in-law, being hurried into a betrothal with said brother-in-law, breaking into a dead man’s bedchamber, pretending I enjoy lovemaking in other people’s homes, and exposing my lower limbs in the outdoors in the freezing cold where anyone might see them. I am most assuredly not all right.”
Her voice broke on that last, and Cam muttered a curse and lifted her into his arms.
She clutched the papers to her chest, but didn’t protest him carrying her because she was shivering too badly to speak.
“I’m an idiot,” he said to himself. If she caught her death of a cold from this he’d never forgive himself.
The walk to the curricle was brief, thankfully, and when he climbed in after untethering the horses, he shrugged out of his greatcoat.
“What are
you doing?” she demanded through chattering teeth. “It’s freezing.”
“For once in your life, do not argue.” He wrapped the coat, still warm from his body, around her, and turned to rouse the horses.
“There’s room enough for a family of four beneath this coat,” she said after they’d gone a few hundred feet. “You must be cold too.”
Realizing that she would very likely argue until he succumbed, he allowed her to drape the coat over his upper body, too. Before they were halfway back to Beauchamp House, she’d snuggled up against his side and fallen fast asleep.
Cam shook his head ruefully.
If he didn’t watch it he was going to find himself married to her.
He was no longer entirely sure that would be a bad thing.
Chapter 13
Gemma came awake with an abrupt jolt when the curricle stopped.
She realized with a start that she was cuddled up against Cam’s side like an ivy vine twining around an arbor. She pulled away, trying to be casual about it, but given that he was about two inches away it was doubtful he’d failed to notice.
“We’re here,” he said unnecessarily.
Fortunately William appeared at the side of the vehicle then, and she hastily scrambled to climb down with his assistance instead of Cam’s.
But to her dismay he was there just as she gained her footing and offered her his arm.
When she hesitated, his lifted brow was all it took to spur her into accepting his escort.
“I’ve got the papers here,” he said as they walked. “I thought perhaps we should wait until tomorrow to go over them. You need to get warmed up after…”
“After exposing my legs like a common strumpet?” she asked bitterly. She truly wanted to recover her fossil, but this afternoon’s escapade had perhaps been too bold even for her.
“I didn’t see anything,” he said with a haste that told her he had in fact seen everything.
When they reached the door, it swung inward and George ushered them inside with a tutting noise. She must have looked more bedraggled than she realized, Gemma thought with an inward sigh.
“This mud will be the death of us, Miss Gemma,” said the butler with a shake of his head. “I’ll see to it that Tillie takes good care of this.”
She looked down and realized that, indeed, her lovely persimmon velvet was thoroughly spattered. Which reminded her of something else.
“I know I’ve resisted it, but I suppose you’d best choose a ladies maid for me from among the staff, George,” she said. “Or perhaps Serena won’t mind sharing Tillie with me for a few days until one can be hired on? Either way, one of them should be able to salvage it.”
To his credit, the butler’s eyes only widened for a half-second before he nodded and said he would do so at once.
“Look at me nattering on about household business while you wait,” she said, realizing that Cam had been standing silently behind her. “Let George take your things. I’m sure Maitland or Kerr have something you can change into while yours are cleaned.”
But to her surprise—and disappointment, she realized—he shook his head.
“I won’t be staying. You need some rest, and if I’m to reach the vicarage in time for supper, I should leave now.”
Gemma frowned and turned to look at him. She’d been embarrassed by her behavior in the curricle, but somehow she’d thought he’d take his evening meal here.
“I wish to discuss the best course of action in our search for your fossil with Benedick,” he said. “He’s a bit of a nuisance as brothers go, but he’s not entirely useless.”
“You’re frozen to the bone, he added. “Get warm and get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
This last he said with such gentleness she felt her chest squeeze.
Perhaps it was better if he left now. If she wasn’t careful, she’d become so attached to him she wouldn’t be able to break their engagement when the time came.
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said with what she hoped sounded like lofty unconcern. “We can go over Sir Everard’s papers.”
“Yes,” he said with a nod.
They stood awkwardly for a moment. How did one take leave of the man who’d had a close up view of one’s naked thighs, she wondered. That wasn’t even accounting for the kissing.
To her shock, when she offered him her hand, Cam pulled her closer and kissed her on the mouth.
“You didn’t see that, Stephens,” he said to the butler.
“See what, my lord?”
“Until tomorrow,” Cam said to Gemma.
And then he was gone.
She stood dumbfounded for a moment. When Stephens coughed slightly, she realized it had been longer than she’d realized.
“Send up a bath please, Stephens,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried up the stairs. At least one reason for her shivers could be taken care of.
* * *
An hour later, Cam was seated in Benedick’s study. Fortunately, they were of a size, so he’d been able to borrow a mud-free, dry set of clothes. He’d need to send for his things tomorrow. Any pretense of normalcy at Pearson Close had been lost with Sir Everard’s murder and Cam would rather be here, close to Beauchamp House in case Gemma had need of him.
Good lord, he was a fool.
“Already regretting your actions of the day?” Benedick asked with one of his omniscient vicar looks. Cam knew there was no actual all-knowingness behind them, but it was an effective tool in his brother’s repertoire of expressions that annoyed Cam.
“Not at all,” he replied blithely, despite his very real misgivings. “We’ll dissolve the betrothal a few months from now and all will be well. Gemma wishes to marry me as little as I wish to marry her.”
“I can’t imagine she’s eager to give up ownership of Beauchamp House so soon after inheriting it,” Benedick agreed. “Especially after she’s been the one heiress to escape the parson’s mousetrap over the course of the year. I can’t say I blame her for being reluctant.”
That was one aspect of the situation Cam hadn’t considered.
“I know it’s the law that her property would become mine, but I’m not a monster. I’m sure I could have my solicitor draw something up if it came to that,” he said with a frown. “She knows I wouldn’t do anything with her property without consulting her first.”
“Does she?” Benedick wondered thoughtfully.
“Of course she does,” Cam said with a vehemence he immediately regretted. So much for appearing calm and collected.
“Does she?” Ben asked again. “It’s not difficult to believe she might not know that. You don’t know one another that well, do you?”
Rather than protest that they knew one another quite well, in fact, Cam instead tried for nonchalance. He set one booted ankle on his knee and leaned back in his chair.
The picture of calm.
“It isn’t important,” he said. “We’ve agreed not to go through with it.”
Why did the room, which earlier had seemed a comfortable temperature, despite the cold outdoors, seem blisteringly hot?
He resisted the urge to run a finger beneath his cravat.
“Hmmm.” Benedick got up to stoke the fire and Cam had a tiny fantasy of leaping to his feet and throwing all the windows open. But he remained where he was.
“I thought the two of you were better suited than we’d realized,” Ben said once he’d stood upright again. “But you know best, of course. I don’t know where you’ll find another woman who would be content with your collection of dead things and stones.”
That surprised a laugh out of Cam. “But I know very well where I can find a wife who will not put up a fuss about anything. Much less my fossil collection. Gemma would no doubt object to everything but the fossils.”
“Oh, and where is this magical place where uncomplaining wives are so readily available?” Ben asked, sitting on the edge of his desk. “For I must save up the name and tell everyone at Brooks’ when
next I’m in town.”
“Come now, Ben,” Cam said to his brother with a roll of his eyes. “You know as well as I do that young ladies willing to marry into a ducal family are thick on the ground in London during the season. I could likely find a half dozen willing to wed me in the course of one trip to Almack’s.”
“You seem to assume that these ladies have no minds of their own,” Ben said with a shake of his head. “I think you may be mistaken in that.”
“And you seem to have become accustomed to having the sort of wife who doesn’t know her place,” Cam said. Even as he said the words he knew he was being rude.
But Ben had never been quick to anger. “If I were a different sort of man,” he said dryly, “I’d call you out for that. Fortunately for you, I only inflict physical harm on one person per day. And it’s too damned cold out to duel.”
It was his brother’s sangfroid that made Cam feel the worst. He deserved a thrashing.
“That was badly done of me,” he admitted, dropping the pose of calm and leaning forward to set his brandy glass down. “I don’t know what I want, Ben, and that’s the honest truth.”
“I know you’re uneasy in your mind,” his brother replied. He’d also never been the sort to say ‘I told you so’. “But perhaps this time you spend together searching for Gemma’s missing fossil will give you the answers you seek.”
“It’s proximity that I’m afraid of,” Cam said, thrusting a hand through his hair. “I fear the more time we’re together, the more opportunities I’ll have to compromise her beyond the point where either of us can call off the match.”
Perhaps not the best thing to tell the brother who was also a sort of guardian for the lady in question. But Cam had no one else to confide in. And as Ben knew Gemma better than he did, maybe he’d have some notion of what to do.
“What does your heart say?” Benedick asked.
Cam laughed bitterly. “I don’t know that I have a heart. I’ve spent most of my adult life pleasing only myself and seeking to fulfill only my ambitions in the quest for the next discovery. I’d always thought finding a wife would be another extension of that.”
“What do you feel when you’re with her?”
One for the Rogue (Studies in Scandal) Page 13
