When We Touch

by Heather Graham

  It was a question. It was a statement, as well. If he resided with Charles at the moment, he certainly wouldn’t be doing so after the wedding!

  “No, alas, I do not. I keep a town house for those occasions when I am in London. Uncle Charles lives at Moorhaven, an estate just beyond London. He does, however, have rooms at the club, and he is, naturally, welcome in my home at all times.”

  “Charming,” she murmured, attempting a tug at her hands. She looked smoothly toward the doorway. “I believe your uncle will be waiting.”

  “Indeed. And I would not postpone your nuptials for an instant! Good day, my lady, good sirs!”

  He released her hands at last. She almost managed not to snatch them back. Not quite. She loathed him. And whatever game they played before others, they both knew it. It mattered not in the least. He would be watching her. And if she betrayed her elderly husband in any way . . .

  She would know that he was watching.

  He didn’t look back, but exited the house with long strides.

  * * *

  “How ghastly!” Maggie exclaimed.

  “You’re right. He’s not just old. He’s ancient,” Justin agreed. “Maggie, it’s off. That’s it.”

  Maggie turned to stare at her brother. “I don’t mean Charles—I mean the nephew. Sir James.”

  “Jamie?” Justin said, surprised. “He’s quite a fine chap, really. Always off on the Queen’s business, here and there. He was in the military for a few years, but whatever he does now, the work is special projects. Empire, you know,” he said dryly.

  By then, Mireau had made it down the stairs to join them. Clayton was surely listening from somewhere. He was the perfect servant, and as such, knew exactly what was going on in their lives at all times.

  “What do you care about the nephew?” Mireau demanded. “Lord Charles is evidently quite smitten. Why, he’d give you the world.”

  “Yes, I realize that,” Maggie murmured softly

  Justin slumped down into one of the chairs. “I have just sold my sister. It’s as if I have sold my very soul.”

  “Justin, stop it, you didn’t sell me, and you haven’t sold your soul. I mean it, the old fellow is quite dear. I’m certain we’ll get along swimmingly.”

  “He’s really not bad at all, for a man as old as Moses,” Mireau offered cheerfully.

  Justin groaned again.

  “Look, there’s the point,” Maggie insisted. “He’s far too elderly to . . . well, to expect the usual things from marriage.” She flushed despite herself. This was not a topic she cared to discuss with either her brother or Mireau. But she was practical as well, and hardly a blushing innocent. She had been passionately in love with Nathan.

  “Does a man ever get that old?” Mireau asked Justin.

  “I rather think not,” Justin said. He rose impatiently, coming to his sister. “Maggie, you must feel free to back out of this at any time. I am the one who got into the debt.”

  “True,” Mireau reflected. “Jamie is the one who should get to marry the walking corpse.”

  “Jacques!” They both exclaimed.

  “Do excuse me, I’m only saying what we all know!”

  “Once more, I’m telling you both that it will be quite fine. Lord Charles is not a ridiculous, stinking old lecher. He is a man of dignity. I’m quite convinced that he is seeking companionship, and I will be happy to be his friend, his very good friend, until the end. And I will pray that he has a long and happy life,” Maggie informed them.

  Mireau and her brother exchanged looks.

  She sighed deeply. “Honestly! He barely walks, barely moves.”

  “It looked as if he walked quite fine to me,” Mireau commented.

  She shook her head impatiently. Justin stared at her. “I repeat.You are free to back out of this, Maggie, until the very last moment, do you understand? I don’t give a whit for what scandal we may create.” He almost smiled. “Might as well go to Newgate with a reputation!”

  She stared back at her brother. No, she was not going to back out! Because she would never see her uncle with Justin’s title, the family title! Never!

  “I know, Justin. I am decided. The marriage will take place.”

  “She has a point,” Mireau said. “Imagine the woman Angus might find if he felt obliged to see that you were married off, Justin!”

  “I shudder to think of it,” Maggie murmured dryly.

  “How much worse could it be?”

  “Let’s just be glad that we will not have to find out. Now, listen to me, Justin, because you will be handling the arrangements, of course. I must have my own allowance. I intend to be a good wife, and I believe that he’s a charitable and good man. But if I’m going through with this, I want to pursue some of my own interests,” Maggie said.

  “Best not let Sir Jamie hear such sentiments,” Mireau said softly.

  “Sir Jamie may fall in a lake and rot,” Maggie said sweetly.

  “I’m aware that you merely wish to feed every wretched little street urchin in London,” Mireau said. “But come, Maggie, you must look at this from the eyes of the Viscount’s family!”

  “I did not seek out Lord Charles; Lord Charles came here. Justin, I intend to be kind to the man, loyal, and trustworthy in every fashion. But . . .” She hesitated. “Oh, good God, let’s face it. I have just sold myself—you didn’t do it, Justin, I did. But the point is that, ugly as it may be, this is a financial arrangement. And I expect you to see to my part of it.”

  She wasn’t sure what he said then. But he was very unhappy, and she knew it. He started to depart the room, but paused, slamming his hand flat against the wall.

  For a moment he looked like a very old man himself.

  Maggie rushed to her brother and turned him around to face her. “Justin, stop. Listen, this isn’t a tragedy, and it isn’t so horrible. I loved Nathan. I will never, ever love again. This will not be a bad life for me, do you understand? He can provide so much that I so desperately want. He is a decent and charming old fellow. I am well pleased with this arrangement, and it will please me greatly if you don’t keep walking around as if you had signed over my eternal life to the devil.” She swung around, glaring at Mireau, who looked as if he had been about to speak. “Do you both understand? There will be no more pity, no more discussion, no more guilt. It is done, and that is that. I am happy.”

  Justin straightened.

  He made his way out of the room. This time, she heard the word he swore beneath his breath quite clearly.

  “Bullshit!”

  Once again, she swung on Mireau. “Not a word from you!”

  His mouth had already opened. He snapped it shut. “I was just about to say . . . Congratulations!”

  Maggie turned and fled up the stairs.

  * * *

  Three days later, Jamie reached the coast of France. Disembarking at Caan, he made short work of renting a horse, and riding the two hours inland to Arianna’s school.

  As any proper young lady in her position, she was being given an education in all the arts that would perfect her position as a young woman of great quality. She was taught how to walk, how to pour tea, how to converse in French without the least trace of an accent, how to sing, and how to play the piano.

  Since she was definitely a free-spirited soul, and her father’s beloved and much-spoiled child, she was also humored greatly, and therefore studied Latin, geometry, history, and the sciences as well. Jamie mused that her education was hardly a waste, for Arianna was a bright child, with an inquisitive mind, and a great intelligence. She also had a stubborn streak within her that stretched for acres.

  He had sent ahead to say that he was coming; informing Arianna of the upcoming wedding had been his first priority after the legal machinations had been set in place. Talking Charles out of taking the taxing journey himself had not been easy, but in the end, Jamie had managed it. He was anxious to speak with his cousin himself and quickly—he didn’t want her to hear about her father’
s intentions from another source.

  Arianna met him in the drawing room of the elegant old palace where the girls were housed. She hugged him warmly as Sister Sara brought them together, her delight at seeing him childish, despite the fact that she was hardly a little girl anymore.

  She was tall, with an elegant, sylph-like figure. Dark eyed, dark haired, with soft white skin so delicate in texture and appearance, she was almost ethereal. He was somewhat shocked to realize that his cousin was growing into an incredible beauty herself. Charles had best take care in his own house, Jamie thought.

  Then he realized, he’d be the one calling men out in this lady’s defense. Charles was beyond such a possibility.

  When Sister Sara left them alone to talk, Arianna backed away. “You’ve come to tell me about my father’s wedding.”

  He hesitated, shaking his head, then sighed. “Yes, I have. It’s quite amazing how quickly gossip can travel the English Channel.”

  “My father could not come himself?”

  “I talked him out of it.”

  She stared at him, her eyes widening. “Why would you do that to me, Jamie?”

  “I fear for his health all the time, Arianna.”

  “Why? She’ll probably just poison him and he’ll die anyway.”

  “Arianna. What a terrible thing to say.”

  She was speaking so belligerently to hide her hurt, he knew.

  “Terrible!” she retorted with a sniff.

  “Arianna, I swear, your father wanted to be here, and I was barely able to talk him out of coming. Naturally, you’ll see him before the wedding. I’ll return for you myself in plenty of time. The bride has said that she wishes to keep it simple, but I imagine there will be a place for you in the ceremony.”

  “Don’t allow it to happen, Jamie,” she warned him.

  “What? The wedding? I can scarcely stop your father.”

  “Ah . . . his bride is what? Twenty-two, twenty-three? She must have fallen madly in love with father. What a . . . a slut!”

  To his amazement, he found himself defending the woman. Only before Arianna, because this must hurt her badly. “She is Lady Maggie, daughter of a baron, hardly a streetwalker. And where did you learn such language? Surely not from the nuns.”

  “Probably from you,” she informed him dryly.

  He groaned. “Your father would have my throat.”

  “Oh, Jamie! I am not so young and totally naive as you may believe. Yes, this is a convent school. And the nuns are certainly all chastity and propriety!” She giggled. “But we do slip out now and then.”

  “Slip out where?” he demanded, frowning.

  “Don’t look so fierce. We go shopping. We see the works of the new, upcoming artists. We sit in cafés and listen to the speeches of young, rebellious, handsome boys. Oh, don’t worry, and don’t look at me so! We go no further than that, I swear, Jamie.”

  “Thank God. If something were ever to happen to you . . .”

  “My father will now have a witch of a wife!”

  “Arianna, you haven’t even met her.”

  “I don’t need to meet her. I’ve heard all about her. She married a bobby, and began to spend her days in the East End. Then she thought that she was something of a detective herself, and determined to rid the world of mesmerists. Hardly an open mind there! I’ve seen some of these people at work. Some are quite amazing. I believe that they do have special powers to speak with the dead, to see the future, and touch the world.”

  “And some of them are out to fleece the rich,” Jamie said. It didn’t please him that he found himself defending his uncle’s intended bride. “Don’t judge the woman until you’ve met her.”

  Arianna shook her head. “Jamie, what is to judge? She is a very young woman, about to marry a very old man. Desperate love? I doubt it. It’s prostitution, nothing less.”

  “Arianna, for years, such marriages have been arranged. This is not really new, or even shocking in the least. She could not marry without her brother’s permission.”

  “He allowed her to marry the policeman as well?”

  “Apparently.”

  “Well, then, her brother is as low a creature as she! Oh, Jamie, this is horrible. Truly horrible. At his doddering old age, my father has become infatuated with a tart! Is there nothing at all that you can do?”

  “Arianna, I tell you this—I have never seen him so set on any course of action before. He is absolutely determined. Therefore, we must both accept it.”

  “Aha! You disapprove as well.”

  “My opinion on the matter is unimportant.”

  “It’s not. Father listens to you. You’re the son he never had.”

  “Arianna, he wants to marry this woman, and he will. I assure you.”

  “Men, you know,” Arianna told him. “They can behave quite disgustingly.”

  Jamie refrained from agreeing with her. But yes, he found it all rather disgusting himself. He couldn’t forget the moment when his eyes had first locked with Maggie’s, when their hands had first touched. She was electric.

  A witch, indeed. Tainted, society might say. Yet . . . electric. Sensual in her every movement, no matter how proper her words, dress, or manner. He thought of the feel of her flesh, and despite his devotion to his uncle, his thoughts were crass and carnal. Such a woman needed a far younger man. Vigorous, passionate, hungry . . .

  As he was himself.

  God help him! Whatever it took, he would bury such thoughts.

  Yet, how to bury what burned through him at the sight of her, when he touched her?

  Easy. Don’t look at her, and don’t touch her, he told himself dryly.

  “Arianna, there are cases of deep devotion between young wives and older husbands. And vice versa, for that matter. It’s not unheard of, you know, for an aging dowager to marry a much younger man,” he said.

  “Only if he really needs the money!” Arianna retorted.

  Jamie sighed. “As I said, this will happen.”

  “There must be a way to stop it.”

  “Indeed. Should I try to convince your father that he is a doddering old fool? That he doesn’t know his own mind? Or better still—should I point out the very obvious, that it is a fiscal matter, and that the bride is hardly in love with him? He is not a fool, Arianna. He wants the woman for his wife, and he can afford her, and therefore, he will have her. Nothing that I can say or do will change that. All that will happen is that he will push me away, and I will no longer be there as his confidant, friend, and champion. You must realize as well that any attempt I might make to prevent his marriage would certainly appear very badly. I am next in the line of succession to his titles and estates.”

  Arianna stared at him, entirely frustrated.

  “Perhaps I can stop the wedding,” she mused.

  “Arianna,” he murmured warily. Blunt, even crude speaking had not been such a good idea. But at least she seemed to understand that he would, indeed, alienate her father if he attempted to step in. “You will stay here in school and study until I return for you. And then you will attend his wedding and be pleased with whatever happiness it is that he seeks from this young bride.”

  “You will make sure that they make no attempt to have me be a part of that ceremony. In fact, you should inform my father that I have no intention of attending.”

  “Arianna, please, be reasonable. Your father expects that the two of you will be friends.”

  “Oh, I hardly think so!”

  “I’m sure she will make every effort to make it so.”

  “Will she? You don’t know just how fast rumor flies across the channel, Jamie. I know all about her. She was stunningly beautiful when she had her season, teased every man in the Ton, had her way, and rejected them all and eloped—with a policeman! Then he was killed. Serving the citizens of London, so they said. She probably planned it! Realizing that she had, indeed, married a commoner, and that there had been much more in the world for her to snare! She is able to maintain
her beauty because she is so very evil. A strange magician is in her employ. He helps her make up her spells, and creates all kinds of incantations. And now, she has her eyes set on my father. She was left a penniless widow to rue her evil ways, and to rectify what she has done, she intends to milk my father dry. God knows, she’ll probably kill him as well!”

  “Arianna! Her husband did die in public service; he was killed by the murdering madman he was trying to arrest. I assure you, there is no witchcraft going on in the house.” He hesitated. He, too, had heard about the man, Mireau. A friend of her husband, a poet, writer, in need of a patron. Was that all?

  Arianna was staring at him. “She did nothing to her husband. I have done extensive research on her past. Don’t you think that I would have made certain that all we had heard was truth regarding her first marriage?” he demanded indignantly.

  Yes, he had done research on her. She spent too much time in districts where poverty—and crime—ran rampant. She wrote letters to the newspapers herself, indignantly exposing those who set up shop as “mediums” or “spiritualists.” She had been known to dress in disguise and attend séances, then disobey the commands of the mediums, and fly from a chair to demonstrate that a ghostly spirit was nothing but a sheet on a string.

  Evil? Perhaps not. Foolhardy? Extremely. And the time she spent in the East End, where every manner of pickpocket, rapist, and thief was known to ply his—or her—trade . . .

  He had, without emotion, given Charles reports on everything he had learned. And every word had only endeared her to the old man more.

  “You simply cannot imagine what they say!” Arianna whispered. There were tears in her eyes once again. “I will not go to the wedding!”

  He sighed. “As you wish.”

  “Oh, Jamie!” She threw herself into his arms. “Why was I not enough for him? I love him so very dearly. I can be his companion, and his helper, there to talk about books, languages, and faraway places.”

  He held her tightly, not ready to explain that conversation was not what her father was seeing when he looked at Maggie.

  “It will be all right, you will see,” he told her gently. It would have to be. Charles was, in all other respects, certainly of age, sane, and the master of his own fate. He’d made his decision, and his family must accept it.