by Candace Camp
“I know.”
“I shall just continue my pretense of sleep. That’s easiest. What about you? Can you keep up the charade?”
“It’s a trifle hard not to look lighter of spirit,” Laura admitted. “But I managed it this morning.” That seemed ages ago. “And, aside from your mother and Walter, I am not usually given to conversation with any of them.”
“You won’t have to hide much longer. Everything can return to normal.”
“Aside from possible attempts to murder you.”
“Yes, aside from that.” He smiled at her. “But life always has its little ups and downs, doesn’t it?”
When James and Laura strolled into the dining room two days later, every jaw in the room dropped. But if James had hoped to see an indication of guilt on any of the gathered faces, he was doomed to disappointment. Astonishment so stamped their features that there was little room for anything else. Even the butler stood in blank shock, staring.
Simpson, not surprisingly, was the first to recover. “Sir James. Please, allow me.”
He whisked out the chair at the head of the table, in two quick gestures sending one of the footmen to bring in more place settings and another to pull out Laura’s chair. Tessa sprang to her feet, tears welling in her eyes, and went to her son, bending to kiss him on the cheek.
“James, love, I knew it.” Tessa turned and sent a smile bright with triumph at the others. “You see, Claude? I told you he would be fine.” She stroked her hand across James’s hair and bent to kiss him again. Then she burst into tears.
“Mother . . .” James looked pained, but stood and took his mother’s hand, patting it, and glanced over at Laura for help.
Laura went to her mother-in-law’s side, curving an arm around Tessa’s waist. “Of course you knew best. You are his mother.”
“Yes.” Tessa glowed at her. “Mothers always know, don’t they?” Tessa pulled out a delicate lace handkerchief and dabbed at her tears.
Before she could sit down, Mr. Netherly shot up from his chair across from Cousin Maurice and went to Tessa, taking her hand solicitously. “Lady de Vere, this must be a shock for you. Let me escort you to your room so you can rest after this excitement.”
“Careful, Netherly,” James drawled. “Mother is far too young a woman to be laid low by a happy surprise.”
“Of course.” Netherly shot him a dark look. “I didn’t mean to imply—it is just that Lady de Vere is so sensitive. So delicate.”
“Thank you, Mr. Netherly.” Tessa gave her swain a gracious nod, but disengaged her hand as she sat down again. “I assure you, I am not as fragile as I may appear.” Laura saw a silvery flash of amusement in the older woman’s eyes that reminded her forcibly of James. “Besides, we must celebrate.” She raised her glass toward James. “Welcome back, love.”
“Mother.” James nodded to her, a grin tugging at his mouth, and raised his glass in return. “I am most happy to find myself still in the land of the living.”
Laura had been watching everyone’s faces since they entered the room, but she had caught no sign of anything suspicious. After the initial shock, they continued to eye James, some curious, others more wary.
Only Walter grinned. “I say, James, this is splendid. I thought for sure you were, well, you know . . .”
“Dying?” James asked, quirking a brow. “No. Sorry to disappoint everyone.” James looked at Claude.
Claude returned James’s gaze stonily. “Don’t worry. We’re all accustomed to that by now.”
Adelaide looked sweetly puzzled, Archie laughed, and Tessa said placidly, “Now, boys.”
“No, James . . .” Walter protested, looking appalled. “You know we were all worried. Terribly worried.”
“Were you? How kind.”
Claude’s wife, Adelaide, offered a tentative smile. “It’s so nice that you are feeling better, Sir James. Claude has been most anxious. We all were.”
“Yes.” Patricia appeared more aggrieved than anxious. “You looked positively ghastly. Don’t tell me you were shamming all this time.”
“No, Patricia, I assure you, I was not malingering. Thank you for your concern.”
“Well, I was concerned. I came to see you several times. Whenever your wife would let me in.” She turned an accusatory gaze on Laura. “She positively hid you away.”
“Mm. I’ve found Laura to be quite dictatorial.” He slanted a dancing look at Laura.
“James, you cannot mean it,” Walter said anxiously. “Laura is the most pleasant, gentle . . .”
“Clearly she hasn’t been forcing noxious liquids down your throat.”
“Do stop teasing everyone, James.” Laura sent a kindly smile toward her champion. “Don’t worry, Walter. I’ve learned that Sir James is not nearly so fearsome as he would have one believe.”
“No?” James raised his brows.
Laura raised hers in return. “No.”
James held the supercilious look for another moment before his lips twitched and he murmured, “Clearly not to you.” He turned his cool gaze back to his sister. “I am sorry, Patricia, that you were not allowed in the sickroom the numerous times you wanted to keep watch at my bedside.”
Patricia, not fool enough to misunderstand his dry remark, fell back on her usual pout. “I would have been happy to. She would not let poor Archie in at all.”
“Astonishing.” James’s eyes moved to the man in question. “And when Archie has been so kind to Laura.”
Patricia colored and opened her mouth to retort, but her husband said, “Leave it alone, Patsy. You’ll never induce James to like me.”
“It’s not fair,” Patricia said, setting her chin stubbornly, but she subsided.
“Any other complaints?” James asked lightly, glancing around the table. “Walter? Cousin Maurice? I hope my illness did not discommode you.”
Walter, correctly taking his question as rhetorical, said nothing. Maurice replied, “Good heavens, no, no bother at all. I’ve been laid up all week with my lumbago.”
James cut his eyes toward Laura, whose eyes were dancing, her lips pressed tightly together to keep from laughing. James clamped his napkin to his mouth, muffling a choked noise.
“James, what’s the matter? Are you all right?” Tessa asked. “Claude, do something.”
“No, no.” James held up a hand. “I’m fine, Mother. I was just overcome for the moment by the joy of being back in the bosom of my family.”
“Of course you were.” Tessa gave him a sparkling smile. “Now that you are better, perhaps we should have a party. What do you think, Adelaide? We haven’t had the chance to introduce Laura to everyone.”
The conversation moved on as the other three women, ignoring Laura’s protests, launched into plans for a party. Laura said little, spending most of her time studying the faces of everyone around the table, hoping for some look or gesture or words that would give someone away. Now and then she cast a glance at James, monitoring his condition.
When the meal finally wound to a close, Laura moved to head off the possibility of James lingering with the other gentlemen over port. As she rose with the other women, she gave a smile to the table of men and said, “I hope you will excuse me. I am rather tired. Dear?” She turned to James. “Will you escort me?”
Amusement flickered in his eyes. “Of course. Dear.”
As they climbed the stairs, James leaned in to murmur, “You know they will all assume you are a shockingly demanding bride.”
“Oh, hush.” Laura could feel her cheeks heating. “Perhaps they are not as low-minded as you.”
James chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that set up the same sort of tingles in her as his wicked smile. “They are men, Laura.”
“Well, I couldn’t rely on you to take care of yourself. And I don’t think you’re quite up to another sparring session with Mr. Salstone.”
“You might be right. I’m not objecting, you understand. No doubt they are all green with envy.”
�
��Come in and stop talking nonsense. Does your head ache? Sit down and I’ll rub it for you.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“I didn’t offer because I had to.”
James hesitated, then sank onto the stool in front of her vanity. Laura came up behind him and slid her fingers into his hair. She glanced in the mirror before them. James was watching her reflection, and he quickly looked away. Laura began to massage his temples. He closed his eyes, hiding their silver gleam. Laura felt his body relax, leaning back into her. His head was heavy against her stomach.
Anticipation coiled low in her body, a breathless sense of waiting. She thought of sliding her fingers over his neck and across his shoulders, down onto his chest. It was wicked of her, for he had amply demonstrated yesterday that he wanted nothing like that from her.
Then why had he kissed her? Why, in his delirium, had he caressed her and fitted his mouth to hers, his fingers seeking her breasts, his tongue hot and eager in her mouth? Even though she was inexperienced, Laura couldn’t believe his actions had not meant that he was as hungry for her as she was for him.
It was pointless to deny her own passion. However wanton that made her, Laura wanted him. She wanted to be married to him in this most intimate way, to feel his heat and desire. Laura gazed at her reflection again. Her face was loose and soft, her eyes lambent. If James opened his eyes and saw her this way, he would know how she felt. It would be horridly embarrassing. She had to stop thinking this way. Feeling this way.
Suddenly James surged to his feet, taking a long step away from her. He dragged his hands through his hair, pulling it into some sort of order, and it seemed to Laura that he was trying to sweep away the touch of her hands. Had he sensed her thoughts? Her emotions?
She turned away, humiliation roiling in her. However much it might appear that James desired her, it was equally clear that he wished he did not. “I’ll ring for Owen to help you.” She yanked at the bell pull. “Since it’s clear you don’t want mine.”
“Laura, no . . .” He took a half step toward her. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“What nonsense. Of course you did. You seem to have acquired some notion that I am about to impose myself on you. Well, let me reassure you—the fact that I helped you when you were ill does not mean I want anything more from this marriage than we bargained for. I don’t.” She gave a sharp nod for emphasis. “Now. I am going for a walk and leaving you to yourself, since that is obviously the company you prefer.”
Without waiting for a response, Laura whirled and stalked out the door.
chapter 26
Unsurprisingly, James attacked getting well as if it were a business. Laura watched him go through each day, methodical and persistent, taking the drafts she gave him and downing the food laid before him. He even forced himself to rest.
He was equally intent on rebuilding his strength. The first few days he limited himself to trips up and down the stairs and along the hallways, but he soon began to venture farther—to the terrace, then the gardens, increasing the distance with each trip. Sometimes he had to sit and rest on a bench before starting back to the house, but he doggedly kept at it.
At least the weariness made him sleep. Laura wished she could say the same for herself. She told herself she tossed and turned because the cot on which she lay was uncomfortable, but when they disposed of the mercury beneath James’s bed and he returned to his own room, she found sleep even more elusive.
James, of course, was not bothered at all. He was smoothly polite, giving Laura his arm as courtesy demanded, but never touching her in any other way. He spent little time with her except at meals and in the evening, when they were surrounded by his family.
At first Laura reacted to his new aloofness by withdrawing into an equally stiff silence. It was not long, however, before she realized that this path led only to permanent separation. She could not bear to lose James entirely, as she had lost Graeme.
If their relationship could not be all she wanted, she could at least regain what they had had before. She forced herself back into her former amiable, light attitude, and James’s manner began to relax.
Laura knew the evenings spent in conversation with the others in the household were deadly dull for James—after all, they were equally boring for her—so she strove to enliven the gatherings. Sometimes she played the piano and Tessa sang along with her, which had the advantage of making it difficult for all of them to snipe at each other.
She suspected from the twinkle in his eyes that James guessed her reasons for the musicales, but it served its purpose. Laura knew he liked to hear her play, and though he refused to join in their singing—unlike Walter, who surprisingly turned out to bask in the attention—it warmed her to see James happy amidst his family. Well, happy might be too strong a word, but at least comfortable.
However, the music gave her little opportunity to be with James, so she frequently suggested a game instead. She feared at first that he would not join in, for he was bound to be annoyed by the play of most of the others, but to her surprise, James readily agreed whenever she suggested it.
It turned out that their most frequent companions at the game table were Adelaide and Patricia. It was not an ideal arrangement, as Adelaide was a foolish player and Patricia a terrible loser, but at least Adelaide’s saccharine conversation usually suppressed some of Patricia’s sniping.
After a few evenings spent playing cribbage, however, Adelaide protested, “No, not that game again, please!” She turned large soulful eyes on Laura. “I can never keep up when James is playing. The pegs are moving so fast, and everyone’s saying all those numbers.”
“Whist, then?” Laura asked, glancing at James and his sister.
Adelaide nodded enthusiastically, James shrugged, and Patricia said sourly, “It doesn’t matter. James will win whatever we play.”
“You could partner with James,” Laura offered, suppressing a grin at the look of alarm on her husband’s face.
“Goodness, no, that’s even worse. Then James is sitting there the whole time, judging my poor play.”
“Is he?” Laura sent him a teasing glance. “I suppose I should worry, then.”
“Not you.” Patricia’s lips thinned. “He thinks you’re perfect.”
Laura chuckled. “Hardly.”
“Laura remembers which suit is trump,” James told his sister with a pointed look. “Which makes it vastly easier to play with her.”
“Claude’s the same way,” Adelaide put in, smoothing the waters as she often did. “He knows every card that’s been played. He thinks I’m dreadfully silly.” She seemed more pleased than not at this evaluation. “He prefers the play at the tavern in the village. That’s why he took Walter and Archie there this evening.”
“They’re going to gamble?” Patricia’s brows pinched together. ”I thought it was just to have a drink.”
“Don’t worry, I doubt the play is very deep,” James told her. “Not like in London. Claude won’t let Salstone get into trouble.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Patricia glared and began to deal out the cards.
Laura, picking up her hand, said casually, “I suppose you must miss London, Patricia.” It made her feel a trifle guilty to probe an obviously sore subject for James’s sister, but she could not pass up the opportunity to dig for information.
“Oh, yes,” Patricia replied in the most heartfelt voice Laura had ever heard from her. Then she seemed to come to herself and glared. “I’m sure you know that.”
Laura ignored her last words. “I haven’t been to London often myself. What about you, Adelaide? Do you and Claude go there frequently?”
“No. I’m afraid Claude isn’t fond of the city. Oh, look! I took that trick.” Adelaide giggled and scooped up the cards. Laura was pondering how to phrase a more specific inquiry when Adelaide went on, “Actually, I don’t believe we’ve been in London for a year now. Since last Season.”
Laura glanced at James. If Claude had not been at t
he London house recently, that would exonerate him, wouldn’t it? After all, that was where James had first fallen ill.
“You didn’t come with him last time he was there?” Patricia asked. “We saw Claude, oh, it must have been two or three months ago.”
“Oh! Of course. How silly of me. Claude did go to the city on some sort of business. How could I have forgotten? I suppose it was because I wasn’t with him. Poor Robby had a terrible cough. I couldn’t leave him.” Adelaide sighed at the memory and shook her head. “You cannot imagine, Patricia, how hard it is for a mother to see her child suffering.”
Pain bloomed in Patricia’s eyes, and, not for the first time, Laura wondered if Adelaide was really as sweet as she appeared. Were her words artless or a barb about Patricia’s childlessness? Whichever it was, it didn’t make Laura like Adelaide any better.
Laura turned back to her hand, dropping her investigations for the moment. But later that evening, as she and James climbed the stairs to their rooms, James said, “Well, now we know that Claude had the opportunity to set up mercury in the town house as well as here.”
“But several of the others were in London, too. Obviously Patricia and Salstone were there.”
“Still championing Archie for the villain, I see.” James smiled. “Yes, it could have been any of them. But it’s another nail in the coffin for Claude. Or, actually, for me, I suppose.”
“James . . .” They reached Laura’s door, and she turned to him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not condemning Claude yet.”
Laura blushed. She hadn’t been thinking of Claude when she’d said James’s name. It had been merely a desire to stop him, to make him linger here with her, perhaps even come inside her room. But, of course, that was a hopeless endeavor.
So she smiled stiffly and said, “Well, then . . . good night.”
He stood looking down at her, a heat in his gaze that made her hope for an instant that he was about to kiss her. But he stepped back, giving her a sharp nod. “Good night, Laura. Sleep well.”
