by Liz Carlyle
Cole apparently mistook the gesture. Roughly, he reached out and snared her hand, dragging her close—so close that she could not possibly slap him with the force he now deserved. “Do not you ever raise your hand to strike me, madam.” He gritted out the words, his voice resolute. “I have had just about enough of your bad temper and shrewish tongue. I have no notion what manner of man you are used to heaping your abuse upon, but I’ll not put up with it”
Still struggling to pull away from him, Jonet looked up into eyes so blazing that they sent a shiver down her spine. The line of his lips was hard and ruthless, the set of his perfect jaw almost cruel. And yet, Jonet knew instinctively that he would not hurt her, that he had merely misinterpreted her gesture.
In fact, perhaps she had wanted him to do just that! How horrifying. Had she wanted to test him? To further torment him? No, it was almost as if she resented needing him. As if she felt compelled to punish Cole for having such quiet strength and utter serenity.
Yes, that was it, wasn’t it? And it was both unconscionable and dangerous. By God, she would not have it. Not from him. Not from herself. With one final effort, she jerked away from him. “Do not bandy words with me, sir,” she said, softening her tone. “I merely meant to point at you!”
“Did you?” Cole’s voice was laced with scorn, but his face was suffused with color.
“Yes—and don’t you dare to change the subject, sir. You meant to take my boys off to a cricket match at Lord’s.”
Cole seemed to relax incrementally. “With your permission, I should very much like to do so,” he agreed, his golden gaze steadying, his square chin now lifted a little arrogantly. “But calm yourself, madam. It is just a match amongst schoolboys, and yet some weeks away. I daresay we have time to iron out all the annoying little details.”
The condescension in his tone snapped Jonet’s temper again. “My children are not to leave this house!” she demanded. Her voice rose sharply, yet she was powerless to control it. “I shan’t have it, do you hear? And don’t you assume such arrogance with me!”
Cole’s mouth fell a little open, and he stared at her for a long moment. “Let me understand you, ma’am,” he finally snapped. “I am to educate your children, and undertake to improve both their riding and their athletics, as well. And yet, they are not to leave this house? Have you any idea how bizarre that sounds?”
Jonet was still pacing the room, her stomach tightening into a knot She really was losing her mind, “I do not care how it sounds, sir! We have a back garden! We have a mews! You must simply manage, that is all there is to it. I cannot have my children dragged from pillar to post by people I do not know! People whom I cannot trust!”
At once, Jonet felt the room grew hotter, more narrow. She could trust no one. The walls shifted inward, squeezing out the air. Jonet was scarcely aware that she had pressed her palms to her temples as she paced No one! Her pulse pounded. Her heart was in her throat. For a moment, the sunlit room faded. In her mind, she could hear a pistol shot. The deafening crack still rang in her ears. She felt the hum of the lead ball, skimming over her scalp, snatching away her hat. She could almost feel the horse beneath her tense, then rear.
When she spun about the next time, the vision was gone and Cole stood at her elbow. His breakfast napkin still in hand, he had managed to seize her, and drew her to a halt. “Jonet?” he said softly. Cole lifted one hand and tenderly turned her face back into his.
Dimly, she felt the warmth of his breath on the dampness of her forehead. She struggled to regulate her breathing, forcing back the walls of the room, which threatened to crush her.
“Jonet?” he said again, his eyes searching her face. “My dear, what is it? Please do not distress yourself. Let us not argue. I shall take care of the boys. I promise.”
“N-n-no,” she managed to say, leaning back against the edge of the table.
“Jonet.” Cole pulled her a little nearer, one big hand still cradling the side of her face. His touch was cool and soothing. “I have no wish to quarrel. I care deeply for the welfare of your children, too. But they are active boys, and we simply cannot smother them. Perhaps you have not yet gotten over your husband’s death? Perhaps you have some irrational fear that—”
“Irrational fear?” Abruptly, she shoved away his hand and exploded. “How dare you, sir? You know nothing of such things. They are not your children! You cannot possibly understand the love which a parent feels for a child!”
Jonet stepped away from him, her eyes wide and angry. “Even before a child is born, you must devote yourself entirely to its welfare. There are sacrifices one must make to ensure its safety. You can know nothing of that sort of devotion, sir. Nothing!”
Suddenly she saw Cole’s face go white with anger. The muscle in his jaw jerked hard, and he spun away from her, hurling his napkin onto the table in one smooth, disdainful motion. “How very right you are, madam,” he bit out, his back to her.
He half turned again to stare at her over his shoulder, his eyes dulled by an emotion she did not recognize. “I do indeed know nothing of it. How very kind of you to remind me.” And on that remark, he strode rapidly from the parlor.
In the distance, Jonet could hear his heavy riding boots thunder down the hall and out the back door. Weakly, she collapsed into her chair and let her head fall forward into her hands. What had she done? What had she said? And when would this nightmare end?
Chapter 5
In Which Captain Amherst Prevails
Cole and the boys were finishing luncheon in the schoolroom when a light knock sounded at the door. One of Jonet s footmen had just begun to clear the table. He set down the tray and opened the door to reveal his mistress standing in the corridor. Looking past the footman’s shoulder, Cole came swiftly to his feet. Framed in the lintel, Jonet wore a hat set at a rakish angle, its veil turned back, emphasizing the soft, full style of her hair. Over her arm, she carried a black shawl, and at her feet, Rogue and Scoundrel pranced like impatient ponies. Obviously, Jonet was on her way out, and the collies sensed it.
“Good afternoon,” she said, her voice unusually hesitant “I thought perhaps we ought...” She faltered a bit, shifted her gaze from Robert to Cole, then drew a quick breath. “That is to say, it is such a lovely afternoon, is it not? I think we should go for a walk. In the park.”
“Oh, capital, Mama!” shouted Robert, shoving back his chair and giving his mouth one last swipe on his shirtsleeve.
Jonet’s hand came up to stay him. “If Captain Amherst—Cousin Cole—says we may. We cannot go if you are behind in your lessons.”
His anger still on edge, Cole wanted to sarcastically reply that they had barely begun their lessons and could hardly be expected to have accomplished anything in three short hours. And yet, he recognized Jonet’s backhanded apology for what it was and held his temper in check.
Stuart, who had been staring out the window, turned to face his mother. “What about our being in mourning, Mama? What will Uncle James say?”
Jonet smiled, but without light or happiness. It tugged at Cole’s heart in a way that a frown or a pout could never have done. “I do not think the bounds of propriety will be breached by my taking a little exercise in the company of my children, Stuart,”
she answered softly. Jonet transferred her gaze to Cole. “Shall we go, Cole? What do you think?”
Hands clasped tightly behind his back, Cole inclined his head. “By all means,” he answered with clipped civility. “I have lessons to prepare.”
“Oh, no,” she said, stepping tentatively from the threshold and into the room, as if reluctant to trespass on Cole’s territory. “I meant for all of us to go. Ellen —Miss Cameron—is fetching her cloak.” She looked across the room, where the footman was quietly loading the luncheon tray. “And Stiles, you must come as well. To—to help with the dogs, of course.”
“Oh, I say, that’ll be jolly!” answered Robert. “I shall take my ball, Cousin Cole. That way, we may practice a bit. And
my bat, too. Do you think I might make a good bowler? Will you teach me? Will you? I think I might be quite good.”
Stuart came away from the window to stand at Cole’s side. “Let’s do go, sir,” he said softly. “We haven’t been out since we came home from Kildermore. Won’t you come along?”
And so it was that Cole found himself trailing through Grosvenor Square and across Park Lane shortly after one o’clock. Miss Cameron walked at his side, chattering amiably. Ahead of them strolled Jonet, her veil down now. She was flanked by her children, whose hands she held, with the dogs trotting dutifully at her heels. Behind her walked Stiles, holding the leashes. They entered through the gate near Upper Brook Street to find the park almost empty.
Inside, the beds and borders were in full bloom, tulips and daffodils splashing great, glorious swaths of color across the spring grass. Cole looked ahead to see a lone phaeton come wheeling through the gate at Hyde Park Comer. At once, a small brown dog scampered toward them, yapping madly, sending Rogue and Scoundrel into a frenzy of canine indignation. After the dog had disappeared and the collies had calmed, Jonet turned and knelt down to unleash them, her black skirts pooling elegantly on the pathway. In a stem voice, she instructed them to behave; then set them loose to run across the grass.
“May I give you my arm. Miss Cameron?” asked Cole politely, trying to tear his gaze away from Jonet as she rose to shake out her skirts. “I fear this path is not perfectly smooth.”
He looked down to see Miss Cameron blinking uncertainly. Finally, she took his arm, and the group resumed their leisurely promenade. Cole had not realized that his mood was so dearly reflected in his face, but apparently it was. At his elbow, Miss Cameron delicately cleared her throat. “One might get the impression, Captain Amherst” she said very softly, “that you do not approve of my cousin.”
Curious, Cole stared down at her. “It is hardly my place to approve or disapprove of Lady Mercer,” he calmly responded. “And I cannot imagine my opinion is of consequence to anyone here.”
“Oh, but it is.” Ellen lowered her lashes. “That is to say, Captain, that I daresay I understand how you feel. After all, I’m little more than an impoverished relative myself.”
Cole forbore from pointing out that he was hardly impoverished, nor was he really very much of a relative. It seemed too cruel. “Miss Cameron,” he quietly responded, “I wish you would not demean yourself by—”
“No, no!” She cut him off with a smile. “You must pay me no heed! In truth, I receive an adequate allowance, and despite aunt’s dreadful attempts to marry me off, I manage to live as I please. But I am a little older, and a little more serious than my cousin, so if you find Jonet a little... well, frivolous, I would simply ask that you remember her situation.”
Cole lifted his brows and stared at her in some amazement. “Frivolous, Miss Cameron, is not a word I would ever apply to your cousin,” he responded. For a long moment, neither spoke as they trailed steadily along the path behind the rest of the group. At one point, Cole watched Robert look up at his mother, obviously pleading for permission to romp with the dogs, but his mother shook her head, then reached out to touch the child lightly on the shoulder.
Again forcing his eyes away from Jonet, Cole studied the speeding collies as they made darting forays across the grass. The dogs had clearly suffered from being confined. Now freed, they sped around trees and bushes with blazing energy, tongues dangling and feet flying. Nonetheless, at a single word from Jonet, they would skid to a halt and whirl about, returning to her side with breathless eagerness. Eventually, the dogs worked their way toward the water, and animal instinct took over as they proceeded to herd the scattered ducks into a cluster away from the pond’s edge. Circling one arm about Stuart’s narrow shoulders as they walked, Jonet lifted her hand to point, and together, they laughed gaily at the sight of the birds, now flapping and quacking their displeasure. A particularly fat drake fluffed himself to full impudence and dived for Scoundrel’s feet, but the old dog calmly paid no heed, continuing in his instinctive efforts to guard his flock.
With measured reluctance, Cole returned his attention to Jonet’s cousin. Paired off with her as he was, he had little choice but to converse, though he had no heart for it “Tell me, Miss Cameron,” he finally said, the words slipping out before he could curb them, “do you believe the rumors about Lord Mercer’s death?”
On his arm, Miss Cameron’s hand suddenly tightened. “Are you asking me, sir, if Jonet hated her husband enough to kill him? Oh, I know what the gossipmongers say, but no marriage is perfect How can it be, when marriage benefits men, not women?” Her voice was cool, oddly detached.
“My cousin’s pride was wounded, but people rarely kill out of pride.”
“Pride? I am not sure I take your point, ma’am.”
Ellen stared absently toward the Serpentine, which glistened in the distance.
“Unfortunately, Jonet married so young, she did not understand that men”—she cut her eyes up at Cole, then blushed—”that men require diversions. Of course it made her angry.”
“What exactly are you saying, Miss Cameron?”
Jonet’s cousin clutched at him a little awkwardly and tilted her chin up as if to study the light clouds that were scuttling across a surprisingly blue sky. “You are the scholar, Captain Amherst. What was it Congreve said? ‘Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned’? Something like that?”
“ ‘Nor hell a Fury like a woman scorned,’” finished Cole softly. “But that logic would imply that Lady Mercer loved her husband when she married him, and by all accounts, she did not, did she?”
Miss Cameron smiled tightly. “No, but she tried to.” Abruptly, she came to a halt on the pathway. “But what idle talk this is! I believe you have tempted me to speak too boldly, sir. Jonet would never harm anyone, no matter how enraged she became. It is simply not within her nature to act with such... cold calculation.”
“Nor with such violence, I hope?”
Miss Cameron’s eyes flew open wide. “Why, certainly! That, too. Her temper is very bad, to be sure, but being possessed of a bad temper is hardly a sin. Or if it is, then one must suppose hell to be very crowded indeed.”
Suddenly, Cole realized that Jonet had stopped on the path and was staring over her shoulder at him, her look intense but inscrutable. Strangely frustrated by something he could not name, Cole deliberately held her gaze, but her eyes did not waver.
Finally, Cole gave her a little nod of acknowledgement and resumed his pace. Miss Cameron was obliged to come along.
The Serpentine was very near now. They drew to a halt beside Jonet, who looked anxiously at her cousin. “Ellen, the boys would very much like to walk along the water. What do you think? I do not wish to let them, but I daresay I am being foolish.”
Beside her, Robert gave a little whine. “It’s just a pond, Mama! Look, there are some other boys! The ducks are loose now, and I see a swan. A black one!” He turned a plaintive gaze on Miss Cameron. “Cousin Ellen will come with us.”
Jonet shot her son a chiding look, but Ellen chimed in. “Yes, of course I shall.”
“Do you mind?” asked Jonet softly. She gave her cousin a veiled look. “It would be very good of you, Ellen, since I should like to speak privately with Captain Amherst for a moment I shall send Stiles along with you, of course.”
Stuart and Robert shouted their happy agreement and set off with Ellen Cameron and the footman. The collies jerked up their heads, then dashed forth to greet them. Jonet pointed toward a long, low bench under a small copse of trees. “Will you sit with me, Cole?”
He nodded, and Jonet strode toward the bench, her slender figure graceful, her narrow shoulders rigid. Cole followed her, watching the black silk of her skirt hem trail over the tender spring grass, and trying to suppress the sudden, incomprehensible surge of longing that swept over him. Lust. Yes—that was exactly what he felt. And something more. Frustration. Apprehension. And yes, a good deed of admiration. Co
le shook his head. The feelings which Jonet Rowland inspired in him were exasperating. Inconceivable and irrational, too. Did she have this effect on everyone? No wonder she drove men mad.
Good God, he was angry with the woman, as he had been since the first moment he had entered her drawing room, days ago. And yet, she engendered in him every protective instinct and all the masculine emotions he possessed, with desire foremost among them. Burning with a sudden shame, Cole ducked beneath the low tree limbs, the leaves brushing coolly against the heat of his skin. Jonet sat down, then reached gracefully up to fold back the veil of her hat. Cole took a seat at the for end of the bench, and as if she could read his thoughts, a flash of humor lit Jonet’s face, then just as quickly disappeared. Slowly, she turned to look at him through eyes that were shrewd, but not cold. “I daresay that I owe you an apology, sir,” she said, her voice low and husky. “My behavior this morning at breakfast was inexcusable.”
“We both behaved rather badly, I fear,” Cole calmly replied. Good God, he had called the woman a shrew! Yes, he had meant it, but now the insult seemed so much uglier. He was ashamed of his ungentlemanly behavior.
Jonet gave a sad little shake of her head. “It was my fault I fear that I spoke very harshly—and a little irrationally —this morning at breakfast. I hope you will forgive me for... for losing my temper.”
Cole fixed her with a knowing look. “It was rather more than your temper which you lost, ma’am,” he said pointedly. “Indeed, one might be excused for thinking you were frightened.”
Jonet gave him another of her humorless smiles. “I believe my husband was murdered, Cole,” she said levelly, looking away to stare across the wide swath of green that separated them from the children. “Would that not be enough to set anyone’s nerves on edge?”
“On edge, perhaps. But not over the edge,” Cole responded. He stared at her unflinchingly, determined to understand her. He dropped his voice to a more intimate tone. “Have you any intention of telling me, Jonet, just what it is which has you so thoroughly terrified? It might be better if you trusted me just a little.”
