Jane claimed there was an oriel window in the tower and that one of the two rooms there opened onto the parapet along the south front. They might make intriguing apartments. And stripped of its aging hangings and gothic furniture, the interior wouldn’t be too bad. It was just a bit unusual, the kind of structure that did not appeal to the common taste, but required a second look.
Very much like his wife, after all.
Glancing over at his bride, Raleigh eyed her consideringly. Surely, she had not been neglected by her loving father and siblings? Yet he remembered how Jane had always stood apart from them, different. Eccentric? He never would have labeled her so, but he was only now realizing just how easily he had dismissed her.
Did Jane see herself as eccentric? Awkward? Unlovely? Raleigh shook his head. She certainly dressed the part, but he suspected that without her awful clothes or her glasses or her tight bun—indeed all the trappings of a dowd—his wife would be exceptionally lovely.
For all her sturdiness, she was very dainty, with gentle curves and a small waist, Raleigh noted. He had begun to notice things about her—the delicate shape of her wrists, her small feet and the turn of her ankle—when he caught a glimpse. Her ears were small and beautifully shaped and close to her head, tantalizingly without lobes, and the nape of her neck was slender and graceful.
Raleigh was aware that these were odd things that he normally didn’t observe because he was too busy ogling a daring neckline or a set of bare shoulders. But with Jane, everything was hidden away, like forbidden fruit, and he enjoyed whatever glances he could steal, while yearning for the day he could look his fill.
Had he thought her plain? Raleigh sighed ruefully. Her eyes, behind those awful spectacles, were amazing, the bones of her face fine and her skin flawless. Had he thought her hair nondescript? It gleamed with buried strands of gold. Had he thought her dull? He had only to watch her childlike excitement upon finding an old watch, long tarnished, to realize just how blind he had been.
Jane might not be blatantly attractive, exposing her charms for all to see, giddily gay and amusing like those women to whom he was usually drawn, but she possessed a quiet appeal. Beneath the exterior she showed to the world, Raleigh sensed humor and intelligence and a passion that rivaled any he had ever known, if only he could unleash it.
Silently, Raleigh watched her take off her glasses to clean them, and he was seized with a hunger he had never felt before. Her lashes were thick over those intriguing olive-colored eyes, and a few wisps of dark blond hair had escaped their coil to cling, sweat-dampened, to her face.
Desire hummed through him in a manner wholly unlike its usual manifestation. Although he had always accounted himself an easygoing fellow, Raleigh did not feel like one now. There was a smudge of dirt on her nose, and he wanted to lick it off, to press his lips to her damp brow, to slip his hands beneath the high bodice to see if the rest of her was as hot and moist…
She blinked at him, obviously disapproving of his stare, and Raleigh wondered if he might actually be drooling. He glanced away, guiltily, as she hid herself once more behind the glasses. He had certainly never expected to make such a cake of himself over Plain Jane, yet his body was displaying an urgency that belied his usual indolent disposition.
Stifling a groan, he laid his head back against the cold stone of The Foot, knowing that he could not pounce upon her as he might have one of his past lovers, who would giggle and shriek in delight. Not Jane. Lud, if she knew his thoughts, she would run screaming from the house faster than the deserting servants.
His wife must be carefully coaxed and wooed, Raleigh told himself, and mixed up in all of his admonitions was her acceptance of him, which he had yet to achieve. As desperately as he wanted to bed her, Raleigh knew he would not be able to bear it should she look at him afterward with the disdain he had so often seen before. Although though he did not count himself prideful, Jane seemed able to prick what little conceit he possessed with one scornful gaze.
“Are you napping over there or helping?” Her scold brought his attention from his uncommonly morbid musings.
“Shall I get you a whip, love?” Raleigh asked dryly, but the sally sailed right over her head and only made him more uncomfortable in his tight breeches. With a sigh, he set the vase on a carved gilt table from which Jane had cleared the debris and studied it closely.
Lud, he could almost swear it would bring some much-needed cash, but he would require Wycliffe’s far more knowledgeable opinion to be certain. Returning to the crate, he found some shards of broken pottery and the bust of some classic-featured fellow.
“Probably forgeries and fakes,” he muttered as he placed it alongside the vase. “If not, why hasn’t Mrs. Ghoul sold them all?” Hearing Jane’s outraged sniff, he grinned. “Perhaps that’s why she wants to be rid of us, so that she can steal off with a fortune in ancient artifacts.”
“I’m sure that the poor woman has no idea that anything here is valuable. She has no education, and besides, it would take a real eye to find the good pieces among all this chaff. Your great-uncle saved everything from clothing to statues, treating a priceless Botticelli and an old boot with the same degree of possessiveness.”
“You found a Botticelli?” Raleigh asked, turning in amazement.
“No, but I might,” Jane answered, and he laughed, delighting in her parry. Of course, only an expert could tell what was truly valuable among Cornelius’s hoard, but things were definitely looking up. He let his gaze linger on at his wife, remembering the soft feel of her pressed against him and grinned. Yes, things were definitely looking up. Too often, he noted with a rueful glance at the front of his breeches.
As he opened more old crates, Raleigh found what appeared to be a treasure trove of antiquities. Apparently, old Cornelius had been quite the collector at one time, for Jane discovered a notebook in which his purchases and their prices were noted in his own hand, along with arrangements for their shipment back to England.
They even discovered a box stuffed with muslin garments, now yellowed, in imitation of the old Roman garb. “Here, Jane,” Raleigh said, shaking out a long piece of cloth that was nearly transparent and looked as if it was meant to hang from one shoulder. “I do believe this is just the thing for you!”
He was rewarded with the expected scandalized expression. “You cannot tell me that any woman wore that!” she protested. Raleigh grinned, imagining scantily clad females enacting old-time orgies, and his estimation of dry, old Cornelius went up another notch.
Refusing to be cowed by Jane’s disapproval, he stepped closer and held the flimsy fabric up to her body as if judging its fit. “I say, I would love to see it on you,” he whispered, leaning close.
“Stop that!” She slapped at his hands, and Raleigh gave up, carefully arranging the garment on the deer antlers beside his coat instead of upon his wife. Stepping back to admire his hand-iwork, he heard her sniff. “It looks like some old shroud!” she commented irritably.
“Hmm. A little daring for funereal garb, don’t you think?” Raleigh asked, turning to grin at her. “But it might be a bit pale for you, at that. You need some color, Jane! You know that I’m not entirely a pauper and can dress you suitably. Which reminds me,” he said, leaning casually against the huge marble chimney piece, “Antoine said that my mother sent several trunks of gowns for you. Naturally, I wish she had sent money, food or servants, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one of them.”
She turned away from him, suddenly busy with a dusty, old crate. “I have my own clothes.”
“So you do, but now you have more. Why not try a little variety?” He paused to consider her. “A cranberry or lemon yellow perhaps.”
“I don’t wear colors!” she snapped.
“Whyever not?” Raleigh asked, truly mystified.
“Because Charlotte wears colors!”
Only the rigid set of her back as she spoke over her shoulder kept Raleigh from laughing at the inane explanation. “So what? So do most other
females! And Charlotte’s not here, so there can be no comparison.”
“There’s always a comparison!” Dropping whatever she was holding, Jane whirled around, her cheeks flushed, and as bewildered as he was by her attitude, Raleigh couldn’t help but delight in the display of the passions that rode beneath her stiff exterior.
Outside, the wind howled and the rain rattled the windows with its ferocity, as if in concert with Jane’s wild mood, and Raleigh felt a stirring within himself. “Why do you think I refused to let her sponsor a season for me?” she demanded.
Startled by her vehemence, Raleigh could only gape at his wife. He knew that she had not been brought out in London, but had put it down to Charlotte’s pregnancies and Plain Jane’s abysmal prospects of contracting a successful marriage. He was stunned to discover that she actually had forgone such an opportunity, by choice.
“Speechless, my lord?” she asked. “Rattlepate Raleigh caught without a tactful reply? Well, spare me your pity. That’s just why I would have nothing of London, for I would not have everyone feeling sorry for poor Charlotte, saddled with a younger sister who doesn’t look like her at all! However will Charlotte marry off the girl? What a coil to be plagued with such a plain sister!”
Raleigh felt the unusual heat of a flush rise in his cheeks as he recognized words that he might well have once used himself. Then, recovering himself enough to push from the wall, he sputtered a denial. “Lud, Jane, you act as though you are a hatchet-faced ape-leader, an antidote! You are a young woman and more than passing attractive. You have only to look in the mirror to see for yourself!”
“No, thank you! I shouldn’t expect you to understand in the slightest, for how could you?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him through those awful spectacles. “Vanity, thy name is Raleigh.”
Momentarily taken aback, Raleigh stared at her in bemusement “You think I’m vain?” he asked.
“I know you’re vain!” she replied, pointing accusingly at his person.
Raleigh looked down at his embroidered waistcoat and buff breeches and back at her, startled. “Lud, just because I like fine clothes, does not mean that I’m vain.”
Among his friends, he counted Wroth, who was purported to be the best-looking man in all England. The marquis practically had to beat the women off with a stick, much to his wife’s annoyance. Wycliffe, although not as popular with the ladies because of his rather stiff demeanor, was no slouch, either. And Sebastian, the earl of Ravenscar, continued to draw the females, despite the wicked reputation that had not entirely been laid to rest by his marriage.
Raleigh had never imagined himself to be in their league, for he had always been the average one of the group. Not as tall, not as handsome, not as clever, and certainly not as monied. He gazed at his wife curiously. And to his astonishment, she struck a pose, one hand on her hip, the other holding up what he could only guess was an imaginary quizzing glass. Her nose stuck in the air and an absurd expression on her face, she looked the picture of a self-absorbed dandy.
Raleigh laughed at her play. Oh, Jane, you are becoming more delightful with every moment. “Wonderful!” he said, clapping enthusiastically. “But I am not vain. I simply like to look my best. Where is the crime in that? I try to do well with what I have, while you do your worst. Why disguise your attributes?” he asked softly.
With a sniff of outrage, Jane turned away. Then, as if reconsidering her withdrawal, she whirled back toward him. “And, another thing—you talk too much!”
Raleigh laughed. He was beginning to think that her unusual display of temper was a reaction to the intimacy they had shared earlier. And although he regretted her fierce denial of it, he understood her confusion. Jane, the very picture of restraint, would not easily accept the passionate side of her nature.
“I suppose you would prefer a brooding Byronish sort or a big, hulking, silent brute,” he said. Jane was not the only mimic in this company, and hunching his shoulders, Raleigh curled his arms outward and walked forward, grunting like a witless laborer. To his utter amazement, he had only taken a few steps before he heard the muffled snort.
Pausing in surprise, Raleigh turned to see that Jane had lifted one hand to her mouth as if to hold back her burgeoning mirth. Then, to his lasting delight, it spilled forth in a bright peal of laughter that bubbled through his blood like the finest of wines, delicious and heady. But some of the intense yearning that came over him must have shown in his eyes, for all too quickly, Jane sobered and backed away. As if trying to maintain the distance between them, she lashed out at him again.
“Oh, why don’t you just stop all this pretending?”
“Pretending?” he asked, confused once more.
“Always acting amiable and entertaining, just as if this absurd marriage bothers you not a whit!” She glared at him, hands on her hips, while he stared back blankly.
“You have to resent me!” she protested, and Raleigh wondered at her words. Initially, yes, he had rued the loss of his freedom, but the bitterness that he felt on his wedding day was gone. It had seeped away in the days since, without him marking its passing, and had left him vaguely contented with his new lot.
When he considered it, Raleigh realized that the constant maintenance of outrage required too much energy for him to continue it. Besides, he had the suspicion that Jane had saved him from a marriage to some cold-blooded female of his mother’s choosing, and the very idea made him shudder.
Jane might not be as beautiful or charming as some, but she was…Jane. Raleigh smiled slowly, for his only regret now was that his was not a love match. He had played matchmaker so many times that he had hoped one day someone might do the same for him.
Even as his parents pressed for an heir, Raleigh had put them off, waiting and hoping for some special female to strike his fancy. Oh, there were plenty he found attractive and likable, but none who touched his heart. He had seen the way Wycliffe and Charlotte looked at each other, and the Ravenscars, and Wroth and his wife. And he had never found that.
When he was in his cups and feeling sorry for his lot, it saddened him, but the rest of the time he ignored it, for he would not be the first man to live without love. He knew he had much for which to be thankful, so how could he pine after something so insubstantial?
Eyeing Jane, he shrugged helplessly, which only seemed to inflame her further. “I do not believe it, for I know I resent you! If you had not displayed your usual lack of responsibility, getting blind drunk and staggering into the wrong room, I would still be back at home—”
“Doing what?” Raleigh asked, curiously stung by her words. Certainly he had regretted their forced marriage, but he had made the best of it. Indeed, he was beginning to like his wife, as well as want her. Badly. To learn that, despite her enthusiastic return of his kiss, she still harbored nothing but contempt for him cut him to the quick.
“What exactly did I take you away from, Jane?” he asked. Then, seized by a dreadful suspicion, Raleigh reached for her, taking her by the shoulders. “Was there another? A young man?”
She shook her head sharply, as if in pained surprise, and Raleigh felt a rush of relief that nearly left him weak. He sighed raggedly. As much as he admired his wife’s burgeoning passions, they were exhausting him. Easing his grip upon her, he took a deep breath.
“For your information, I harbor no resentments,” he said softly. “Being of a flexible nature, I always try to make the best of the situation and have made myself comfortable with our marriage.”
Instead of being comforted by his words, she sniffed disdainfully. “You don’t care about anything, do you?”
“What’s that? You want me to carry a grudge?”
“Oh, it’s no use talking to you!” Although she tried to free herself, Raleigh held her still. He had no idea what was going on behind those glasses, but he was determined not to dismiss it.
“I am what I am, Jane, and know no pretense,” he said softly. “I am sorry if my very nature displeas
es you.”
“I just don’t understand,” she mumbled, turning her head away.
“What? What don’t you understand?”
“How can you be so…careless about everything?” she accused, still unwilling to meet his gaze. “It is maddening! This contentment with our marriage that you claim, is this something you would feel no matter who your partner? Would you be satisfied with anyone, being too lazy to feel otherwise?”
Raleigh tried to ignore the disapproval in her words, for he recognized the sad uncertainty in her tone. Although he felt a bit uncertain himself, he was far more experienced than Jane and so owed her his assurances. His normally strong, determined wife was floundering helplessly, and it gave him a hollow feeling in his stomach to see such a glimpse of the vulnerable girl behind the stiff facade.
“No, Jane. I feel very, very fortunate that it was you I found in my bed,” he said quietly. She colored, but would not look at him. “And prickly as you may be, I find you a wonderful surprise, an utter delight. It is as if I were handed a gift in plain, brown paper, and am only now finding that the wrappings hide something shining and precious.”
Raleigh heard the indrawn breath that denoted her surprise and tightened his fingers on her shoulders. He had the vague suspicion that the closer he got, the farther she would push him away, and he knew a moment’s self-doubt that maybe he wasn’t worthy. Hadn’t his parents told him that often enough?
But she was too near for him to hold on to that thought, her breasts beneath their dull covering rising and falling rapidly and a bead of moisture evident along her brow. Raleigh wanted to put his tongue to it, to take off her glasses and kiss every inch of her face, easing her fears, erasing her frown and loosing the passions inside her. Slowly, very slowly, he leaned forward, only to halt abruptly when he felt something cold and wet upon his hair.
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