by Janet Woods
There was a sheet of music on the stand. She seated herself and attacked the piece with the hesitation of a beginner. When she’d fumbled her way through it, she grinned widely at his pained expression. ‘It is not so bad, considering I could not read a note of music a month ago. I think my singing is better, though.’
Francis joined her on the piano stool. ‘Then I will play and you will sing.’
The piece was a simple lullaby. Her voice was sweet and full of longing. He turned when she choked on the words, surprised to see tears in her eyes.
‘My mother used to sing that song to Daisy.’
He nodded and took a handkerchief from his pocket, touching it gently to her eyes. ‘You miss her, don’t you?’
‘I feel lonely without her. I didn’t realize it would be so hard to be responsible for my sister and brother.’
‘Which is why I have paid Siana the honour of asking her to become my wife,’ Edward said from the doorway, and crossed the room swiftly to lay a possessive hand on her shoulder.
Shocked, Francis scrambled to his feet. Edward was going to wed her! He gave her a formal little bow. ‘You didn’t say you were to marry Edward.’
‘That’s because she has not decided one way or the other yet.’ Siana sat, her hands folded in her lap, held prisoner to her seat by that firm hand on her shoulder. Edward gazed down at her, ‘Have you, my dear?’
She gave an imperceptible shake of her head.
Edward smiled at her. ‘I heard you playing the piano as I came in. You’ve improved.’
Her eyes slanted up to his, then met his glance square on. Her smile was one of a woman who’d just become aware of her desirability and was pleased by it. ‘It wasn’t me playing, it was Francis.’
‘Then it must have been you singing like a nightingale.’
She blushed so sweetly from the praise that Francis felt betrayed by her. He looked at Edward and caught his breath. The man’s feelings were almost incandescent. Edward Forbes was besotted with her.
Well, well, Francis thought wryly. Who was it preached to her about hypocrisy? Who must now acknowledge that this awful feeling inside him was envy?
Edward had seen the intent in him as soon as he’d entered. He’d sensed the danger of a challenge and made his prior claim to her clear right away.
Siana shrugged Edward’s hand aside and rose as a maid came in with the tea tray. ‘Fetch another cup for Sir Edward,’ she said.
She didn’t look at him directly for the rest of the afternoon. Watched by Edward, she played the hostess to perfection.
For Francis, the afternoon became an agony.
15
‘You’re turning down my proposal?’ Edward couldn’t believe it. ‘I took you off the street and gave you and your sister a home. I cancelled my engagement to Isabelle for you.’
Which wasn’t exactly the truth. He’d cancelled it because he found the damned girl repulsive and she’d meddled in his affairs. He’d done the right thing in casting Isabelle aside, he told himself. If the rumours were true and she had been desperate enough to take up with a rough labourer, he’d had a lucky escape. Now, here was this snip of a creature rejecting his honourable proposal of marriage. And what’s this she was saying?
‘I thought you acted from the goodness of your heart. I didn’t expect to be constantly reminded of my obligation to you.’
‘There’s no goodness in my heart at this moment. You’ve wounded me to the core.’
Siana couldn’t look at him as she twisted the small amber ring she wore around and around her finger. The ornament seemed vaguely familiar to him. Now where had he seen it before? ‘I’m sorry, Edward. I’ve promised myself to Daniel.’
‘Who has tossed you aside in favour of another,’ he pointed out more brutally than he should have done. He suddenly recalled buying the trinket for Elizabeth and leaned forward to examine it more closely. It was a pretty thing, but inexpensive. ‘Did he give you this ring?’
‘Yes.’ Stretching out her finger, her eyes softened as she admired the trinket. Remembering Daniel with fondness, no doubt. It incensed him, that look.
‘The ring was a gift from me to Elizabeth. It’s a poor secondhand token for a man to give to the woman he’s supposed to love.’
There was a cat-like alertness to her eyes now. She struck with a pointed delicacy. ‘Daniel had told me it belonged to his mother. A rich man gives a diamond when a poor man can give only his heart. Which has more value to the recipient?’
He hadn’t expected her to turn his words back on him. Her quickness was slightly disconcerting. But then, he had not crossed swords with her before and he found it stimulating – as long as she did not take it too far.
‘Daniel is a young man who gives his heart easily and forgets just as easily.’
‘Because you choose to tell me so?’ Her eyes were challenging as they came up to his. ‘Daniel has not written to inform me that our understanding has come to an end. Until he does, I will honour the agreement I’ve made with him.’
Now he felt angry enough to hit her. ‘Surely you must have been tempted to read the letter I left in your room?’
Her eyes narrowed, their greenness glittering from between her dark, feathery lashes. Her voice was too controlled. ‘You left it there on purpose, then?’
She’d trapped him and he tried not to glare at her, because a thought had occurred to him and he was made suddenly aware of her lack of distress at losing Daniel.
He chuckled. ‘Of course I left it on purpose. Well? Did you read it or not?’
She gave a thin, satisfied smile. ‘You hold small opinion of me if you imagine I’d read private correspondence addressed to another.’
She was lying, he knew it. ‘You’re a woman. Admit it, you did read it.’
‘I admit I’m a woman. I admit to nothing else.’
‘You’re a damned aggravating one,’ he growled, enjoying her contrariness now he had her measure. ‘What if you hear this from the lips of Daniel’s own mother? Will you believe it then?’
She gave a faint smile. ‘Are you telling me that Daniel lacks the courage to inform me himself?’
‘Will you or won’t you?’ he roared.
She put her fist to her hips, peasant fashion, standing her ground. ‘If you are about to burst a blood vessel because you cannot get your own way, perhaps I should call Francis back.’
Like hell she would! From his observation, the pair had been altogether too familiar, gazing at each other and laughing together when he’d come in. The surgeon was personable and twenty years younger than himself. What he’d felt for Siana had been clearly written on his countenance, and it wasn’t just lust. Edward knew he must win Siana’s heart quickly before she gave it to another. Once they were wed he would teach her to be biddable.
He fell to his knees and, taking her hands in his, turned them over and kissed each palm. ‘I adore you and yet you are being deliberately cruel to me, Siana.’
She laughed, seemingly pleased by his flamboyant gesture. ‘Get up, Edward. One of the servants might come in and see you.’
He stood to gaze down on her, wondering if he should kiss her. Her lips were soft, the bottom one sculpted to a perfect little natural pout in the middle. Laughter curved them as her eyes came up to meet his squarely. ‘You may kiss me again, if you wish.’
He was disconcerted, but only for a moment. Taking her face in his hands, he gently caressed the side of her mouth with the balls of his thumbs until her eyes closed, the better to savour the sensation.
Her mouth trembled to the touch of his lips, parted under the pressure and accepted him. Her surrender was indicated by a little sigh – by the sweet, sucking pleasure of her warm mouth. He wanted more of her than this. Much more. He needed to crush her beneath him, to take her innocence and strip away the surface. He would awaken the raw sensuality he detected in her and she would enjoy every sweet assault on her body.
She gave a little shiver when he withdrew. Laying her han
d against his chest, she took a step back, and with it a deep breath. The kiss had had an effect on her. ‘Your relationship with Elizabeth. Have you informed her of your feelings towards me?’
Her acceptance of the situation with Elizabeth made him wonder if he hadn’t been premature in ending the association. Hell, he couldn’t insult Siana by expecting her to share him with another woman, however friendly they were. She would not have mentioned Elizabeth’s name otherwise.
‘My association with Elizabeth is one of friendship. I will inform her of my feelings for you when she returns from London.’ He fished in his pocket, brought out a jewellery box and changed the subject. ‘I have brought you a gift.’
She appeared awed when she opened it to find a simple circle of pearls, perfect in their purity, nestled on a bed of black velvet. Tears trembled on her lashes when she gazed up at him. ‘Thank you, Edward. They’re exquisite. Will you fasten them for me?’
He chose to forget Siana had not had the upbringing to know the significance of such a gift. That she’d accepted the pearls bound her more firmly to him in his mind. He placed them around her neck, a little pearl collar, fumbling with the clasp as she leaned her body slightly back into his. He kissed the top of her head, groaning a little as he pressed against her.
She turned, slanting him a look that was all innocence. ‘What ails you, Edward?’
If this had been Elizabeth, she’d know exactly what ailed him – know exactly how to soothe his turbulent needs. He smiled ruefully and turned away, picking up his hat and cane to hold them casually in front of him. ‘It’s nothing, my love.’
Her fingers touched tentatively against his lips, understanding came into her eyes and she gave a faint smile. ‘I will come to the door and see you off.’
‘So you can tease me further by making me kiss you again?’ he growled. ‘I think not, my love.’
His words were the catalyst for a rosy blush that brought her palms whipping against her face to cover it. He chuckled as he strode off, confidence restored, choosing to forget the fact that Siana had still not accepted him.
Siana watched him go, her heart thudding with she knew not what. It was hard to believe this distinguished man had fallen to his knees and told her he adored her. She touched the pearls, cool and creamy against her skin.
‘Marriage,’ she whispered. Never again would she have to scrub pots, go without food, wear patched rags or shiver from cold in the winter. Her sister, brother and future children would never know poverty. Her bed would be her own.
But no! It would not. She would have to accommodate her husband. Perspiration gathered on her forehead. For a moment she felt a rush of excitement mixed with the fear of the unknown.
Her children would be Edward’s children! She touched a finger to her lips, recalling the feel of his mouth against hers. It had been pleasant, that kiss. Beneath its gentleness, she’d discovered a restrained passion. Her body had responded to the power of it, pushing her in directions she hadn’t dared to go. It had been hard to keep her distance from him.
Even now she could feel spring surging inside her. Her breasts were taut inside their skin, like buds about to burst, her moisture designed to trap instead of sustain. Edward seemed to have sensed the exact moment when she’d become womanly in her desires, and had connected in some way to the very core of her.
But was it love? Was Edward who she wanted? He was certainly not the man from whom she’d expected to be offered marriage. Daniel was. Her smile faded and a tiny wound opened in her heart. Daniel had proved to be fickle. Her own heart had proved to be fickle. She must forget him, yet she’d rather hear from his own lips that he no longer loved her.
Francis came into her mind then. She had an enormous admiration and respect for him. He had a special place in her heart and she loved him for his compassion and his honesty.
She shook her head, bemused at the way her thoughts were going. Was she wicked-natured to crave the company and admiration of three men? Francis would always be her friend, and that’s how they would stay. Nothing about the way he dealt with her had suggested anything more personal. He’d been in love with his wife and was still in love with her memory. Siana was pleased he had their two daughters to remember her by.
She shrugged. The fact that she didn’t love Edward in the way she’d expected to feel love didn’t really matter. How was love supposed to feel? She’d promised her mother she’d take care of Daisy, and what better way to do it? She’d be a fool to turn down Edward’s proposal.
Edward was obliged to stop at a house in town, set discreetly in a back street, where he was relieved of his hat and cane by the manservant.
‘Is Jasmine receiving visitors?’
‘I will make enquiries, sir.’
A few minutes later he was led to an upstairs chamber, dimly illuminated by an oil lamp. Jasmine was reclining on the bed, her dark hair drawn into a golden ring. Her body was wrapped in a filmy gold cloth. She looked like an erotic painting when her almond eyes gleamed at him through painted-on defining lines.
He said nothing, just seated himself in the chair. Jasmine began to writhe, then she contorted her body. First she folded herself this way, then that, keeping the cloth covering her all the while, so never a personal glimpse was afforded to her audience. She ended up on her stomach looking at him. Slowly, her legs came up and slid over her back, pulling her pelvis with it. She ended up folded in half, her chin resting on her arms, and looking at him from between her slightly spread legs. Her tongue flicked rapidly in and out of her mouth as the gold cloth gradually slipped sideways.
‘As always, you are innovative, Jasmine,’ he murmured as he threw some coins onto the bed. The girl slid to the floor and snaked sensuously across the rug to the chair.
He didn’t need any more of the stimulation of her play-acting. Impatiently, he pulled her to her knees in front of him, leaned back into the cushions with a sigh and thought of another as Jasmine began to earn her pay.
They met in a clearing in the woods, several men sworn to secrecy, their lanterns held aloft.
‘They says George Lovelace is ill and still in jail. The other five Tolpuddle men are in the prison hulks Leviathan and York, which are lying off Portsmouth. Soon, they’ll be shipped off to New South Wales.’
It was a cold night. The labourers shuffled from one foot to another and hugged their chests as the spokesman of the group stepped forward. ‘We all know James Frampton got them on a trumped-up charge. Administering an unlawful oath be somethin’ only sailors can be accused of, I were told.’
One or two of them spat on the ground, the rest began to mutter amongst themselves.
The man they’d come to meet, known only as Captain Swing, held up a hand. ‘There’s going to be a protest march in London next month. The labour unions will march on Whitehall to present a petition to Lord Melbourne himself. In the meantime, keep up the harassment, gentlemen. The landowners can’t be allowed to get away with this.’
The man shook hands all round. ‘I’ll be gone then. Make sure the lad passes on the message.’
After Captain Swing headed for the road, the remaining men gathered together and passed around a stone jar of the local scrumpy cider. ‘I don’t know if we can trust Josh now his sister be the squire’s woman,’ one of them said.
‘Wouldn’t mind a little bit of that one, meself.’
Someone laughed. ‘Nor me. As for young Josh, he be as trustworthy as they come. The lad has fingers in more pies than a horse has teeth. I hear tell he transported the squire’s trout to Poole right under the man’s nose.’
There was a gruff laugh. ‘Talking of the squire, I hears you be doing his intended a favour, Ben.’
‘Did you, then?’ Ben reached out for the man. ‘She bain’t be his intended no more, so you keeps your dirty tongue to yourself or I’ll rip it out by the roots. Anyone who insults Miss Isabelle insults Ben Collins hisself.’ He thrust the man backwards and gazed belligerently around them. ‘That goes for all of
you.’
‘Calm down, Ben, he didn’t mean no harm,’ the spokesman said. ‘Now, let’s plan the night’s mischief.’
Half an hour later a haystack in the Cheverton Manor home meadow erupted into a conflagration. The red, flickering glow brought Edward jerking out of his downward slide into sleep. Where the hell were the watchmen he’d hired to guard his property?
He swung his legs out of bed and, still in nightshirt and cap, opened the door to his room and bawled out to rouse his servants before crossing to the window. He cursed. It was too late to save it . . . but they might be able to stop the fire spreading to the second rick if the wind didn’t change direction.
Doors opened and shut, people whispered together. Edward already had his lantern lit and was pulling on his trousers when his personal servant arrived. ‘Fetch Hawkins. Tell him to meet me in the hall, then send someone to rouse the rest of the men. Tell them to bring pitchforks,’ he snapped, shrugging into a shirt and pulling a warm coat over the top.
‘I’ve already done so, sir. Allow me to assist you into your boots.’
Edward loaded a pistol and shoved it into his waistband, just in case it was needed.
Booted up, he took the stairs to the lower level two at a time. Jed Hawkins was already there waiting for him, his nightshirt tucked into his trousers.
‘Let’s go, we have no time to waste,’ Edward shouted at him. ‘If you set eyes on those watchmen we hired, bring them to me immediately. I’m of a mind to give them a good flogging.’
But the two watchmen were already on the scene when they got there, ineffectually trying to beat out the flames with some branches pulled from a shrub.
Edward took one by the scruff of the neck and shouted, ‘Where were you when this happened, man?’
‘Where the stream widens into the pond, sir. We heard a whistle or two from over yonder and saw a gleam of light from a lantern. We reckoned someone were stealing your trout, sir, and went over to investigate.’
At least they’d been awake, if not alert. ‘A diversion, obviously.’
The man looked apologetic. ‘Most likely, sir, but we wasn’t to know that. There were signs someone had been there recently. Fresh footprints in the mud. We intend to keep a better watch on that place in the future.’
