‘Might I suggest that you aid the digestion of your food with fine wine and brandy brought in from France?’
‘It surprises me that such luxuries are available, when Britain and France have been at war for so many years,’ Delphine remarked, making herself comfortable beside Mrs Fielding, careful to avoid her husband’s dark-blue gaze.
‘A war fought by soldiers on behalf of politicians,’ the landlord replied.
‘And we Cornish have never allowed such considerations to stand in the way of trade, have we, landlord?’ Stephen remarked with a knowing wink.
‘By God, never! It benefits us all.’
Mrs Fielding leaned towards Delphine. ‘Have you seen anything untoward at Tamara, Lady Fitzwaring?’ she asked quietly. ‘You know—smugglers, that sort of thing?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Delphine replied in a low voice. ‘There have often been nights when I’ve been awakened in the early hours by strange sounds and, peering from behind my bedroom curtains, I have seen pack-laden ponies heading off across the moor.’
‘And what do you do?’
‘What can I do? Not that I would wish to do anything. One thing I have learned since coming to Cornwall is that the gentlemen are not openly discussed. The country people give nothing away. The men involved in the illicit trade have a reputation for brutality and it would be most unwise to apprehend them.’
‘Not without foundation,’ Stephen said, his eyes narrowing on his wife. ‘They have no respect for anyone—be it man or woman—who gets in their way. They are quite unscrupulous.’
‘Then I will take the greatest of care not to get in their way,’ she replied coolly. ‘Are they, do you think, so savage that they would harm children also? Lowenna is not yet two.’
Mrs Fielding gave a little shriek of mock horror and began fanning herself rapidly. Stephen’s lips curved in a half-smile.
‘Calm yourself, Mary,’ he said, picking up his glass of deep-red wine. ‘My wife was jesting, of course. I would assure you, though,’ he added, looking at Delphine once again, ‘that the matter of smugglers must not be treated with levity. I feel responsible for the safety of the people who live on my land, especially for my own family. Rest assured that where Lowenna is concerned there is no need for anxiety. The same applies to you.’
‘I am gratified to hear it.’ She looked at the serving girl as she placed dishes of steaming vegetables in the centre of the table. ‘Being a gullible, foolish female, it makes me wonder how on earth I have managed without a man to protect me for the past two years.’
‘You managed admirably,’ Stephen said in an ominously calm tone that belied the simmering anger in his eyes.
‘And there is nothing foolish about you, my dear,’ Christopher Fielding remarked, scooping a generous helping of potatoes on to his plate. ‘Although we all do foolish things at one time or another. Is that not so, Stephen?’
‘Do we?’ Stephen countered repressively. ‘The fact has escaped me.’
‘Then you either have a very poor memory,’ Delphine challenged softly, looking down at the succulent roast beef on her plate and nudging it with her fork, ‘or a very convenient one.’
Stephen carefully placed his wine glass on the table. ‘Precisely what is your meaning, madam?’ he demanded.
Delphine withered before the blast of those deep-blue eyes, glad that Mr and Mrs Fielding were preoccupied with helping each other to the vegetables. ‘Why, nothing at all,’ she lied softly.
Over the clink of cutlery, no more was said on the subject of smugglers as the four of them ate their meal, speaking instead of the ending of the war in the Peninsula and other matters closer to home. But as Delphine watched Stephen’s hand flexing on his wine glass, clenching it and loosening it, she suspected he was wishing that her neck, not his wine glass, were in his grip.
His mood appeared to mellow as the meal progressed and more wine was consumed. When one of the serving girls came to clear the table, Stephen leaned back in his chair, his lashes lowered as his gaze raked over her with the leisure of a well-fed wolf.
An answering sparkle twinkled in the girl’s eyes. She tossed her brown curls and her wide green eyes touched him everywhere. Boldly, she reached out and slowly removed his empty plate, intentionally brushing his hand. A piece of cutlery dropped on to the table.
‘Allow me.’ Stephen was quick to retrieve the knife and place it on the pile of plates in the girl’s hands. He continued to smile and, looking at his wife, caught her brittle regard of them. She sat stiffly on her chair, considering the serving girl with anything but friendliness.
Picking up Delphine’s plate, raising her big eyes, the girl found herself beneath Delphine’s glare, which was cold enough to freeze her on the spot. Unabashed, the girl’s smile broadened as she turned away and sauntered across the room, hips swaying, the sound of her shoes brushing the wooden floor, leaving a smell of cheap perfume behind.
When the same girl returned to remove the empty vegetable dishes, Delphine saw her look deep into Stephen’s eyes, her red, pouting lips in her painted face smiling a blatant invitation, her green eyes flashing, her voluptuous breasts heaving against the fabric that strained to contain them. In the spirit of the moment, completely at ease and confident of himself, Stephen winked and chuckled, watching as she twirled away, swaying her hips provocatively.
Observing the exchange in a state of angry, humiliated pain, Delphine was torn between a desire to rush after her and scratch her eyes out and the need to turn away, to pretend she was not affected by the incident in the slightest.
‘My word, Stephen,’ Christopher Fielding remarked, laughing jovially, ‘you’ve charmed that serving wench all right. Would that I were thirty years younger.’
‘You mustn’t take it seriously, Lord Fitzwaring,’ Mrs Fielding said with a smile. ‘It’s all part of the act with these girls. The landlord insists that if they keep the customers happy they’ll return. At the next influx of customers, some other fortunate gentleman will be getting the favours.’
Stephen glanced toward Delphine, who had been sitting silent and stunned at the serving girl’s blatant flaunting of herself. It was madness to feel such keen jealousy rip through her, but she had felt it and still did—full bodied, sick jealousy. She had never thought herself a possessive woman, nor had occasion to be. But Stephen was her husband, she thought, with a quite irrational primitive feeling of possession, and no other woman was permitted to touch him in any way.
Stephen chuckled softly, leaning towards her. ‘Perhaps I should have warned you about the girls at the Saracen’s Head,’ he said lightly, seeing her frozen look. ‘But they are friendly enough and mean no offence.’
Delphine forced herself to laugh. ‘Good heavens, Stephen, it’s no matter to me,’ she said, as carelessly as she could, considering the way she was seething inside. ‘I can see for myself that the girl is friendly, but there are no circumstances I can imagine that would make acquaintance or even contact with her necessary. Please do not think for one minute that I’m jealous of a mere serving girl.’
As soon as she had spoken, she felt colour stain her cheeks. She had sounded appallingly haughty, and if their companions didn’t notice it, Stephen certainly did. His look was as insulting as her own words had been.
‘You need not be so patronising, Delphine,’ he said quietly. ‘When I recall your involvement with those less fortunate than yourself in London, you, of all people, should understand what an insult it is.’
She bridled at what he must think of her. She knew very well it had been searing jealousy at the sexual invitation from the serving girl that had made her speak the way she had. But that wasn’t something she was going to admit, especially to this hard-faced man who had left his true love behind in Spain. She was aware of Mr and Mrs Fielding glancing awkwardly at one another, suspecting that
all was not right between Lord Fitzwaring and his wife. Knowing that she had better draw back, at least for the time being, if she didn’t want the meal to end in an embarrassing scene, Delphine gave an acquiescent sigh.
‘You are quite right, my love. It’s an unfortunate trait of mine I will have to watch very closely and no one can deny that the young women the landlord employs are extremely fetching. I am sure his business booms every time he opens his doors. And the food is of excellent quality. Don’t you agree, Mrs Fielding?’ She turned to the older lady, not wanting to linger on Stephen’s sardonic look at her endearment. It was the first time she had ever called him her love, though it hadn’t been said with any loving intent and they both knew it.
She could not see why her casual remark should have mattered to Stephen at all. Why had he not defended her instead of reproaching her in front of their companions? Why could he not have dismissed it with a shrug or even applauded her wildness and individuality he had remarked about the previous day? But because something had soured between them since his return, he had taken against her. It was almost as if their current predicament was somehow her fault.
Delphine could see Mrs Fielding was thankful the awkward moment had passed. She was even more thankful when they rose to leave. They bade farewell to their companions and Stephen escorted her outside to their horses.
‘It isn’t like you to be pompous, Delphine,’ he remarked as they walked across the yard to their waiting horses. ‘I hope it isn’t a true indication of your character and that you’ve been playing me false.’
Delphine drew her breath in sharply. Any softening of her attitude and the vain hope that the incident would pass vanished immediately.
‘How dare you say such a thing to me?’ she flared. ‘You didn’t have to make it quite so obvious that you were so displeased with me. I know I was foolish in saying what I did—if you must know, I deeply regret it—but did you have to reproach me in front of Mr and Mrs Fielding?’
‘I am not displeased with you. And I am the one with the regrets, not you.’
She looked at him sharply. The sun was not as strong as it had been earlier, but she still had to shield her eyes from the glare to look at him. ‘You mean you regret marrying me, don’t you?’ Her heart was breaking, but she had to ask.
‘I regret hurting you.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked.’
‘How could I regret marrying you when you have given me the gift of Lowenna?’
‘Prevaricate all you like, Stephen,’ she said coldly, ‘but it makes no difference whether you say it or not, if it is what you think.’
He hadn’t answered her question, but, too afraid to delve deeper lest she didn’t like the answer, she left it at that. How could he not regret marrying her when her very presence in his life barred him from being with the woman he really wanted? How could he be so cruel, condemning her to a life with a man who had so little regard for her feelings that he would openly flirt with another woman in her presence?
The one small salve to her pride was the fact that she had never told him how deeply she had come to care for him. Thank God he didn’t know, for that would be the final humiliation.
‘I have always been completely honest with you.’ She gave him a pointed look. ‘Can you boast the same? Are there not things you keep hidden from me?’
If she had hoped to goad him into betraying some unease at her words, she was unlucky.
‘This is not about me, Delphine.’
‘Yes, it is,’ she said, trembling with hurt fury as she faced him. ‘How dare you look at that serving girl in that way? I hope I never have to endure such humiliation again.’
His gaze flicked to her. ‘I did not realise you cared sufficiently to mind it,’ he drawled cruelly.
Her eyes blazed with indignation. ‘Well, I do care. I understand perfectly that when soldiers are away from their wives for some considerable time, they have—paramours. Naturally they are expected to be discreet about such matters. But when you flaunt your interest in other women in front of your wife, it’s profoundly humiliating and it—it hurts. I have no doubt that should you return alone, you will find her waiting and willing. Do you not always get what you want?’
The dark-blue eyes chilled as they met hers squarely. ‘Usually,’ he answered irately. ‘Perhaps because I am arrogant, inconsiderate and selfish—or so I have been told.’
Delphine didn’t like having her own words quoted back at her. She raised her chin obstinately. ‘If you hope for an apology, you hope in vain.’
‘Hell and damnation!’ he barked. ‘I don’t want an apology—nor do I intend on becoming closer acquainted with the serving girl. And another thing that I would like you to take note of, my dear wife: I am not going to let this situation between us continue. Know this, Delphine. As long as you live under my roof, you will come to share my bed.’
‘You would force me?’ she retorted with disgust. ‘How easily you forget the conditions set forth for our marriage when you came back from Spain. You agreed then to give me time…’
Stephen threw up his hands impatiently. ‘Damn it, Delphine, I’m not going to rape you—if indeed it can be classed as such a thing between a husband and his wife. But I’ve given you long enough.’ What he said was true. His patience had run out. He’d been willing to indulge her until she was used to having him back at home, using the time to savour the anticipation of what was to come. Now, however, he was no longer interested in anticipation.
‘Just tell me one thing,’ he went on with irate frustration. ‘What am I to you? Your plaything? Your puppet—that I should dance at your bidding, tossed aside when you become bored or vexed, where I must wait until the mood strikes your fancy and I am brought back to perform for your pleasure? Be damned, I’ll not be at any woman’s beck and call. I kowtow to no one. You shall conform to this marriage, so get used to it.’
‘Not until I am ready,’ she stubbornly declared.
An icy hardness came into those midnight eyes, making Delphine draw back slightly.
‘Yes, you will,’ he rejoined tersely. ‘Two years we have been married. How much longer do you need? I consider myself a married man, not a monk. We have one child and I mean for her to have a sibling before long, so we will settle our differences and have done with it. Perhaps if you were to itemise your grievances we could talk about them and come to an understanding.’
She looked at him coldly, still smarting over his disgraceful flirtation with the serving girl. When she spoke her tone was cutting.
‘I was left alone for a long time, Stephen—so long that I almost forgot what the father of my child looked like. When I married you I knew little about marriage—even less about being a wife and mother. I was denied the opportunity to experience the former two—as for the latter, I have done my best. All I asked when you returned was that you give me time to get used to having you home. Surely there is nothing unusual in that. If you want us to live in harmony it is something you will have to agree to.’
‘For how long?’ he retorted sarcastically. ‘A month—six? A year?’
‘You’re angry, Stephen. I think we should let the matter drop.’
‘Angry is hardly the word for it. Furious would be more appropriate to describe the way I am feeling—and yet I doubt I’ll ever be too angry to ignore your presence. Were you ugly then I could ignore you as you wish. But of all the women in London, Oakley had to choose a precious virgin—the queen of all virgins, who sits upon her throne surrounded by a sea of purity.’
‘Curse virgins all you like,’ she flared, ‘but it met your mood to take me when there was no one else.’
Delphine turned from him, but immediately found her arm seized in Stephen’s hand. He spun her about and caught her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her soft flesh, his face dark with rage
. There was scorn in his eyes and a contemptuous curl to his strong mouth. ‘Be warned, Delphine,’ he stated icily. ‘You are my wife. I wronged you, true, so wreak your vengeance upon me if you must, but then be done with it and let me hear no more. You tempt and taunt me every time I lay eyes on you, then you deny me my right as your husband.’
Delphine’s anger was increasing by the second and she felt anything but calm. Tearing herself from his grip, she glared at him. ‘If you’re feeling so badly done by, perhaps you should revert to type and take to the streets to purchase a paramour lively enough to meet your taste,’ she hissed, displaying her anger and sarcasm without fear of retribution. ‘You have only ever turned to me in the absence of anyone else. What do you expect of me, Stephen—that I should humbly wait and when you snap your fingers, jump into bed like a well-trained bitch? Do you think I should dote on you and spend my life pandering to your fancy when you’re feeling bored with no other female around to tempt you?’
Raking his hand through his hair in angry disgust, he half-turned from her. ‘I’m beginning to think you enjoy baiting me, for you do it better than anyone I’ve ever known.’ He frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to him and cocked his head. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you, Delphine?’
‘No,’ she replied, whirling from him, ‘just cautious. I am a woman—my own woman—and I do have some pride.’
Stephen watched her as she walked away, admiring the sight of her body moving with unconscious grace. He felt the familiar burning need for her rise in his loins. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand this living arrangement. He didn’t follow her to their horses immediately. Whatever she felt for him, her words just now had confused him. She seemed to suggest that it was all right for him to have a paramour when he was away from home, to satisfy his lust, but her pride was piqued at the idea of him making up to any other woman in public.
Unable to understand the logic of this, shaking his head, Stephen followed her. He had never imagined he would return to Tamara to find himself confronted with this apparently insurmountable barrier—the barrier Delphine had erected around herself like a wall of ice. But if she thought to continue withholding herself from him indefinitely, then she was mistaken. Because of the time they had been apart, he had respected her wishes and had not touched her in any way. But she was still his wife and he did not intend living a celibate life for much longer.
Miss Cameron's Fall from Grace Page 15
