Zel laughed. The walk was a good idea. She’d begun to release a little of the stiffness, the embarrassment he hadn’t been surprised to see follow the wild abandon of their wedding night. It would take her time to become comfortable with her own sensuality, and he hadn’t helped matters by overdoing it. He should have been gentler, gone slower, reined himself in.
But Lucifer’s chin whiskers, he had wanted her, wanted to lay claim to every inch of her. He smiled, last night had been worth the wait. Zel hadn’t been at all shy, she had gone the distance, keeping up with him every step of the way. He kicked a stone over the cliff edge. Throughout the night and morning he had reached for her again and again. She hadn’t hesitated, eagerly sharing her body with him.
“What are you smiling about now? My aunt, my brother, or my father?” A teasing tone accompanied Zel’s wry smile.
“What about my mother, my aunt, or my cousin? If they weren’t so blasted funny, I might have strangled one of them.” He watched a bird soar overhead, a blur of movement in the darkening sky. “Fact is, I seriously considered a little murder. I already have the reputation, after all. But who would I start with and where would it end?”
Wolfgang frowned, resuming their former silence. Where would it end? He felt so useless holed up in the country, but it was safer for himself and Zel. He should have waited until this was resolved to marry her, but he had pushed her until finally they had no choice. He had gotten what he wanted, but at what price?
He watched the gull circle the bay, skirting the rocks in a long, low glide. Spawn of the devil! If Robin was his villain it could tear them apart. In the end she would give her loyalty to her brother. Zel cared for him, he felt certain, especially after her acceptance of their forced marriage. But how could he ever compete against her brother? All the years she had spent loving and protecting the unworthy cur would clearly outweigh the short weeks since they met at the Selby’s house party.
Robin could not be guilty. He wouldn’t allow it. It was as simple as that. It must be Simon. He had motive enough to kill. The obsession with the death of his sister endured even after so many years. Or Newton. He would enjoy all the plotting and planning, whether he wished to kill or just harass. Or his cold aunt and toad of a cousin. They were greedy enough and lavished no love on the new earl. He twitched his shoulders restlessly. Worm of hell! Where were Raf and Freddie when he needed them?
Wolfgang laughed harshly, catching Zel’s gaze as it lifted from the wave-thrashed beach to meet his eyes. His friends were loyally following orders and staying away from his honeymoon. He smiled thinly at her, wishing he dared to tell her everything, put that wise head to work on the mystery, put that compassionate heart to work on his worries. But Robin loomed between them, as tangible as if he were there, sharing their quiet walk.
“Are you sure we won’t be missed, Marmeduke?”
“We could fall off the face of the earth and not be missed by those two.” Jenkins chuckled, flashing his perfect teeth at his companion.
Maggie smiled warmly, her red hair shooting off copper sparks in the sunshine. “If they continue to stay abed this late every morning they’ll likely get bed sores.”
“No.” He took her hand, ignoring a rustling in the hedges, pulling her past the impossible topiary animals and evergreen turrets lining the side entrance to the Elizabethan wing. “I think you have to lie still more often for that.”
“For shame,” Maggie scolded. A week ago she would have expired of embarrassment at such a remark, but now her rosy lips parted in a sweet little pout. “Talking of your master so.”
“He wouldn’t blink an eye, and I for one am happy for the extra time we’ve had together these last few days.”
“It’s been like a storybook come true for me.” Maggie smiled boldly, then shyly averted her eyes.
“For me too, princess.”
“Princess. I’ll be damned.” Suddenly, a huge well-fleshed face loomed over them. “Caught you a fancy man, eh, Mags?”
“Ned!” she cried out, stepping in front of Jenkins, chin high. “What business have you here?”
“No business!” Jenkins moved beside her. “Remove yourself from Cliffehaven or you’ll be arrested for trespass.”
“Fancy man?” Ned laughed loudly. “My mistake. Not with that ugly face. Get out of my way. I’m here for my wife.”
“How could you find me here?” Maggie stood her ground.
“Weren’t too hard.” Ned grasped her arm. “Everybody in town’s talkin’ about that wild mistress of yours and her new husband, the earl. The very ones I ran into in London.”
Jenkins pushed Maggie behind him. “Leave now! She’ll go nowhere with you.”
“I say she’ll come.” Ned swung a beefy fist.
Jenkins dodged it easily. “Maggie, get back.” He tugged up his sleeves. “The man needs to learn a lesson or two.”
Ned drew back his arm, but Jenkins stepped out of range before the huge man could plant his next blow. The valet quickly jabbed the giant on a jowly cheek and circled wide.
“Marmeduke, take care.”
“Marmeduke?” Ned bellowed, cheeks bright red. “That ain’t no man’s name.” A fist glanced off his chest, as Jenkins landed a facer square onto Ned’s nose. “Eeow, you mangy dog.” He shook his head. Blood splattered on Jenkins’s white vest and cravat.
Jenkins pranced around Maggie’s husband, teeth bared. “A little harder isn’t it, beating up a man?”
“Ain’t none of your affair what I do with my wife.” Ned growled, breathing hard.
“I’ve made it my affair.” He continued to whirl about the big oaf.
“Oh! Please!” Maggie stepped between the two sparring men.
“No, Maggie!” Jenkins groped for her, off balance. Ned moved in with surprising speed, fist hammering into his mouth. He bent, spitting out the blood into his hand. Two hard little objects spewed out with the bright red liquid.
His teeth. The bastard had cost him his teeth.
Straightening, Jenkins held his fists high, pitching well-aimed blows in his opponent’s face. Ned waved his arms about wildly, failing to connect a single punch.
Jenkins beat a rapid tattoo into Ned’s jaw and cheek. He could see the man’s eyes begin to glaze as he nailed a final blow to the chin, then watched the massive form crumble to the pebbled walk. “Get a few footmen and some rope. Quickly, Maggie.” As she ran up the pathway he surveyed the giant brute laid out before him. If he had the money, he’d ship the beast off to the most untamed corner of the world.
“What did you bag, Jenkins? Looks like a big one.” The captain was at his shoulder, dressing gown and hair flapping in the breeze. “Your mouth!”
“I’m fine. Sorry to get you up, Captain.” He gestured to the recumbent form. “But Maggie’s husband found us.”
“You did good work, but I’m afraid a broken nose and a few bruises won’t keep the man away.” The captain pushed his hair off his brow. “Maybe I can pay him off.”
“He doesn’t deserve payment for his brutality.”
“Do you want Maggie free and safe or her husband treated justly? Unless we intervene the courts will return her to him.”
“I see your point, milord.”
“Don’t go getting all stiff and formal on me.” The captain sat on a little stone bench. “Three letters should do it. One to Harcourt to book this fellow passage to the New World, on one of his fine frigates. The second to my agent in Canada to purchase a small farm.” He stretched out long legs. “The third to the local magistrate swearing out a complaint for assault and theft.”
Jenkins smiled. “I think that will hold him well and guarantee he won’t return.”
Three footmen emerged from the house following Maggie. Lady Zel dashed out behind them, trying to keep her dressing gown closed over bare legs, her ever-present wolfhound at her side.
“Zel, I asked you to stay inside.” The captain frowned briefly at his wife, scanned the unconscious man on the ground, t
hen turned to Maggie. “Maggie, I believe your husband has decided to become a Canadian.”
* * *
“You’ve been shamefully neglecting your other lover.”
Zel nearly fell off Wolfgang’s knee, spilling deep purple burgundy on his formerly immaculate cravat. “Lover?”
He took the wineglass from her hand, cuddling her closer. “Herr Beethoven, of course.” She felt his lips on her ear. “You haven’t time or stamina for a third.” He licked at the tip.
She sighed. “I hope one day I will become accustomed to that wicked tongue of yours.”
“Ma’am, I sincerely hope not.”
And he deftly demonstrated some of the reasons why his hope was the more likely of the two. Zel wrapped her arms around him, responding warmly to the pressure of his lips on her mouth. But the warmth was not limited to her lips nor even her skin. It pervaded her entire being. She no longer felt embarrassment at the abandonment with which she gave herself to him. It seemed right, as if she belonged in his arms, in his bed, in his life.
She sighed, pushing him away. “We must stop for just a few minutes. I wish to talk seriously, Wolfgang.”
He gave her the look of a boy who had lost his last plaything. “But I was being serious.”
Zel pried off his arms and shifted onto the cushions of the settee beside him. “We’ve been married ten days now. I believe it is time to return to London.”
“Is the honeymoon over already?”
“I hope not.” She took his hand, squeezing his long fingers. “But the world goes on without us. I must attend to Aquitaine House and you have a bill in Parliament.”
“Debate on that bill has begun.” Wolfgang bit at her knuckles. “I do need to be there. I’ve won a few supporters but I need many more to give the bill a prayer. We should also appear at some of the fetes honoring the return of the heroes.”
“We shall take London by storm, Wolf.” Zel laughed. “If anyone will receive us.”
“People will receive us, elf. We’re a nearly respectable married couple now. And not all political circles are such sticklers.” He sucked on her thumb. “Look at Lady Holland, even a divorce couldn’t destroy her. You’d like her and she you.”
“If you are sure we would be accepted, I might enjoy a political dinner or two.” His lips were soft and pliable around the knuckle of her thumb.
“Gossip dies quickly. Remember we’re married. We are the earl and countess of Northcliffe, and we are very wealthy. Most of the ton will embrace us with open arms.” Wolfgang stroked hermuslin-covered back. “And to play our parts, you must spend a little money, jewels, gowns, accessories.”
“I do not need a lot.”
“Zel, I have the money, the merchants and tradesmen need the work, and your aunt’s castoffs are close to fifteen years old. Then there are your undergarments. They’re so hideous I can’t wait to get them off you.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t get any.”
Wolfgang kissed her neck. “That would suit me just fine.”
“I’m sure it would until I caught an inflammation of the lungs. Wolf, I’ve never spent freely. I do not, know if I can.”
“We’ll find you a new and struggling, but clever, modiste, a brilliant jeweler with twenty children to support, and a war-wounded shoemaker. And just think of all you could buy for Aquitaine House.” He fingered the neck of her gown. “Will that help you spend more freely?”
Chuckling, she trailed little kisses along his strong jaw line. “Indeed, my rich and gracious lord.” She pulled the leather thong from his hair. “Shall we retire for the evening?”
“Are you hinting at something, Gamine? I had hoped you’d read aloud to me.”
“Not hinting, demanding.” Zel stood, hauling his unresisting form to his feet. “I don’t wish to read tonight. Besides, you never take your turn.”
His lips twitched. “Literature be damned. I have a sportin’ wife. I’ll find Hecate. You settle in Remus and I’ll meet you upstairs in five minutes.”
CHAPTER 16
STACCATO
Crisply cut short, disconnected; from the Italian “to detach”
The book room door stood ajar. The rumble of masculine voices drifted into the hallway. Wolfgang was closeted with his secretary, as he had been on several occasions since their return to London the day before. Zel should leave and approach him later, but this matter concerned Mr. Radison too.
She silently pushed the door open and slipped through. Both men bent over the desk, Wolfgang’s dark head with the silver flash a stark contrast to his secretary’s shiny, pink dome fringed in light brown.
“Now these figures show the income from Cliffehaven over the last quarter.” Radison’s soft monotone droned, as his finger traced lines in a large open book. “This column is the outlay for improvements.”
“Just tell me.” Wolfgang’s tone carried a sharp edge. “Am I laying out too much money or is the place turning a profit?”
“Captain,” Radison responded patiently, “you asked me to show you—”
“I don’t know why either of us bothers. We know it looks little better than hen scratchings to me.” He shoved the ledger at Radison and stood abruptly, almost toppling his chair. “Why I never get used to it—” He broke off, eyes on Zel in the doorway, a slow flush staining his neck and face.
“I, ah, needed to talk …” The words stumbled from her mouth.
“Radison, leave us.” Wolfgang sank back into the chair, staring at a little carved centaur on the lacquer desk before him.
Looking at his unusually slumped shoulders, the pieces fell into place. She remembered only seeing him read once, that day shortly after they’d met, when she’d come upon him mumbling over a letter. Too aware of his physical presence at the time to note it, she now realized his low voice had stumbled, hesitated, and he’d quickly put up the letter as he became aware of her. And there were all the times he had avoided reading words or figures. He refused to look at the accounting of Robin’s debts. He memorized the play at the Staffords’ house party with Jenkins’s assistance. The nights since their marriage when she read aloud, he wouldn’t take a turn, flattering her with comments on how lovely her voice was and how he could listen to her for hours.
“I’m sorry, Wolfgang.” Zel moved toward him.
“Why should you be sorry? It’s my problem.” He turned away, his fist tightening over the jade centaur. “The only thing you have to be sorry about is your marriage to an idiot.”
“Do you think I have grounds for annulment?” she teased, astounded by the pain in his eyes when he whirled about to face her. Kneeling beside him, she took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, that was a cruel joke.”
“I don’t know what made me think I could keep it from you.” Wolfgang’s eyes were directed at their joined hands.
“There is no need to keep it from me.” She stroked his tapered fingers. “Maybe I could help, I have tutored several women who had difficulty with reading and mathematics.”
“What’s wrong is beyond mere difficulty. I’ve had these problems all my life.” He slumped into the silk-and-lacquer chair. “Mathematics may as well be Egyptian hieroglyphics, and the written word is little better. Reading aloud is the only way I can concentrate enough to follow the words at all, and even then they dance about the page and my attention wanders.”
“Did no one try to help you?”
“My father and all my teachers and tutors tried to beat it into me. I was called wild, undisciplined, even evil.” He raised his head, voice a faint whisper, but his eyes did not meet hers. “My father, the genius religious scholar, hated me. He couldn’t believe he spawned an imbecile. He ridiculed and abused me. I only wanted to please him.” Wolfgang twisted, pulling at her fingers. “I tried, but I could barely sit still in my chair, I couldn’t attend to my work for more than minutes at a time. And it made little sense when I did attend anyway.”
“You are not an imbecile, far from it,” Zel tried to reassure him, but h
e continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
“I was always in one scrape or another. Even now I act before I think.” He laughed harshly. “You know that better than most.” He weakly attempted to push her away as she rose and planted herself firmly on the arm of his chair. “I should have stayed in the army. That was the only place my recklessness has ever been appreciated. You get medals for it, plus I understood the maps and strategy and I always had aides to read the orders. If it wasn’t for all that damned getting shot at.” His eyes darkened. “And watching my men die.”
She stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “It must have been horrible.”
Wolfgang shrugged and turned away.
Zel tried to keep her voice light, but she felt a dull ache in her chest for the pain of the little boy and the man. “How did you survive all those years of school, even university?”
“It’s funny I even wished to stay—but horrible as it was, it was preferable to home.” Wolfgang sat erect, his hand moving restlessly over her hack. “I never would have survived if not for Raf and Freddie. They supported me through everything. They read my lessons to me and luckily most exams were oral.” He tugged at her chignon. “I could have become an adequate student, except for my continuing scrapes. But all that only confirmed Father’s opinion that I was wild and undisciplined and a cheat besides.”
“Your father was the fool.”
“Perhaps.” He eased the pins from her hair, threading his hands through the thick mass.
Zel ran a finger over his lips, sliding off the chair arm into his lap, resting her head against his shoulder. “He must have been, because you are not.”
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