The Pleasures of Passion: Sinful Suitors 4

by Sabrina Jeffries

  He must do the same for his, which would mean juggling the needs of his estate with the needs of hers. Somehow he’d have to make sure that by marrying him, she didn’t lose any more than she already had as a result of her husband’s selfishness. He would have to accept the messy circumstances of her situation and Silas’s, to make room for all of it in his life, if he was to gain her.

  “Very well,” he said. “Let’s go see what the blasted fellow wants.”

  At least she’d spoken of possible children with him. That heartened him.

  After making sure they both looked presentable, they left the trees and headed up the hill. Spotting his underbutler coming over the top of it, Niall called out, “Down here! We were touring the orchard.”

  The servant hurried down the hill to meet them. “You said to let you know at once if Lord Blakeborough answered the message you sent to him at Stoke Towers earlier, sir, and it just arrived. So I came right out after you.”

  He’d completely forgotten that he’d sent a note to Edwin asking to meet with him at his earliest convenience.

  As the servant handed over the sealed missive, Bree gazed up at Niall. “Why is Lord Blakeborough at Stoke Towers?”

  Gritting his teeth at the need to evade the truth with her yet again, he said, “Edwin thought my sister could use a respite from the excitement of town, so he brought her out here to take the country air for a while.”

  Bree frowned. “But at the party, I got the distinct impression that she meant to stay in town until close to the end of her time.”

  He didn’t answer right away, so intent was he on reading the message. It said, Come whenever you can. I have no set engagements.

  Good. Niall had been worried that he might have to return to town for the card game tonight before he’d had a chance to see his brother-in-law.

  Shoving the note into his pocket, he told his underbutler to go fetch the gig and bring it to the top of the hill. As the servant scurried off, Niall offered Bree his arm. “We must return to the house. I need to go over to Stoke Towers and discuss something important with Edwin before you and I get back on the road this evening.”

  Bree took his arm and let him lead her up the hill. “We can stop on our way back to town. Aunt Agatha and I would love to visit with Clarissa while you’re closeted with her husband. And I’m sure Clarissa would enjoy seeing Silas.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said without thinking. When that seemed to startle her, he cursed his quick tongue. “I mean, Silas is a bit too boisterous for a woman in her condition, don’t you think?”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. “We took him on a visit to Clarissa’s only last week.”

  “All the same, I’d prefer to be certain of your welcome before we descend on them en masse.”

  Halting to face him, she lifted one eyebrow. “What’s going on, Niall?”

  God, how he wanted to tell her about Clarissa’s difficulties. But he’d promised his sister’s maid that he would respect Edwin’s wishes, and so he must. At least until he was sure Clarissa and Edwin didn’t mind Bree knowing. “Nothing’s going on.”

  He strode up the hill ahead of her to where the gig was already waiting, with his underbutler at the ready. “Please take our guest back to the house,” he told the servant, “and make sure she and Lady Pensworth and young Silas have a good tea.”

  Bree came up alongside him. “Niall—”

  “I’ll be along presently, I promise,” he told her firmly. Taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back. “It’s just some business matters.”

  “Then why can’t—”

  He released her hand and strode off toward the stream that separated the two estates. He’d had enough of this secrecy. He would meet with Edwin and be done with the prevarications and evasions once and for all.

  Then he and Bree could finally start making plans for their lives together.

  The ride back to the manor house began as a silent one, which was fine by Brilliana. She wasn’t sure she could trust herself to speak civilly right now, even to one of Niall’s servants.

  When it came to her, Niall could be a very bad liar. And the fact that he could show her such sensual delights, then shut himself off from her yet again, drove her mad.

  She must have made some frustrated sound, for Niall’s underbutler slanted a glance at her. “You mustn’t let his lordship upset you, ma’am. I daresay he doesn’t mean to be curt. He just has a lot on his mind these days.”

  “I’m sure he does.” As do I.

  They traveled another half mile in silence.

  “Your boy Silas is a sweet lad,” the underbutler went on. “Already got our housekeeper wrapped around his finger, and that’s saying something.”

  The words softened her. “I do hope he hasn’t been too much trouble.”

  “Not one bit. Reminds us of his lordship at that age.” When she looked at him curiously, he said, “I was a footboy then. The master and I practically grew up together, we did. He had a stubborn streak that fairly drove his father mad.”

  “I can only imagine,” she said dryly, remembering what Niall had said about his father. “Was the previous earl strict with his son?”

  “Oh yes, ma’am. Hired a tutor who made the young master toe the line until he went off to school. Then the old earl tried to keep him from mixing with the rakish blades there by having him live with a fine family all by himself, instead of on the premises at Eton.”

  “Did that work?”

  “Hardly. You know the young gentlemen, always up for a jolly time.”

  “Yes.” A jolly time that generally involved naked females.

  Still, she had to admit she was benefiting from Niall’s education in the art of pleasing women. She fought a blush. How could she have known that a man putting his mouth down there might be enjoyable?

  Or, for that matter, that making love could be so pleasurable. Eminently pleasurable. Only imagine if she and Niall were to do that often. . . .

  She frowned. She mustn’t think only of their physical encounters; there was more at stake than a few moments of passion. Of very delicious, enticing . . .

  Oh, Lord, she was becoming such a ridiculous wanton.

  “So,” she said, to put such thoughts from her mind, “you were saying that his lordship’s friends were all rakish blades.”

  “Not all. There was Lord Blakeborough, the only one that the earl approved of, on account of his being a responsible sort. But the earl found even some of the young master’s cousins suspect. Like Lord Knightford, who wasn’t allowed at the house in those years. The old earl disapproved of the marquess’s reputation.”

  “I can see why, though I gather that his father’s disapproval didn’t stop my fiancé from going out on the town with the marquess in their later years—at least before he left the country.”

  “Oh yes, those two gentlemen were thick as thieves for a while. Had some wild times, from what I hear.” He clucked his tongue at the horses. “But the young master changed in that last year before he got sent away. Started paying better attention to the estate and even reconciled with his father. So that duel he fought took us all by surprise. Didn’t seem like something he’d be wont to do anymore.”

  She eyed him closely. “Do you know why he fought the duel?”

  “Afraid not. The whole thing was kept hush-hush.” He looked at her. “But don’t you believe what the gossips say about it. He wasn’t the sort to fight over a mistress. We never heard nary a word about a mistress until he fled the country.”

  That didn’t mean he hadn’t had one. “Why are you telling me this?”

  The servant shrugged. “If you’re going to marry his lordship, I think you should hear how he really is, not who the gossips say he is.” He shot her a veiled look. “He’s not a fortune hunter. I don’t know who cooked up that nonsense about him, but it’s a lie. He doesn’t need to marry for money.”

  Fulkham had done his job so well that word had trickled down to Niall’s servants. Wel
l, at least they didn’t believe it. Nothing like a loyal servant to take the true measure of a man, no matter what the world said about him.

  “Besides,” the underbutler went on, “I can tell that the master truly likes you. That’s why he’s marrying you, I daresay.”

  She bit back a smile. “I hope you’re right. Because I truly like him.” Except for when he was being so secretive.

  Meanwhile, his servant seemed perfectly willing to tell every secret he knew about his master. Perhaps she could get him to reveal more. “Do you happen to know what his meeting with Lord Blakeborough this afternoon is about?”

  The underbutler shrugged. “It might be about her ladyship’s condition.”

  “Clarissa?” Her heart caught in her throat. “Is something wrong?”

  He blinked at her. “He didn’t say?”

  “I’m sure he would have if he’d had the chance,” she said quickly, not wanting to squelch his eagerness to tell all. “But we were too busy discussing the estate to talk about his sister.”

  “Well, she’s having a bit of trouble with the babe. From what I hear, it’s nothing to be overly concerned with, but Lord Blakeborough isn’t taking any chances. That’s why he brought her out here. To get her away from the city and visitors and such.”

  Visitors like her and Aunt Agatha and Silas, who might be “too boisterous” for a woman in her condition. Did Niall really think she would do anything to jeopardize the health of his sister?

  Goodness gracious. The man was a piece of work, keeping everything close to his chest while she confided in him regarding everything.

  You didn’t tell him about Reynold’s suicide.

  She scowled. That was different. It had naught to do with him.

  It had everything to do with him. If not for what your husband found out about you and Niall, Reynold might still be alive.

  A plague on her noisy conscience for being right. And, Lord forgive her, she was glad Reynold wasn’t still alive. What did that say about her?

  It said that she wanted what Niall was offering—passion, family, a future. She wanted to be his wife, to share his thoughts, to have his heart. She wanted to have picnics with him and engage in scandalous outdoors lovemaking and, yes, give him children, lots and lots of children who’d be playmates for Silas and a comfort to both her and Niall in their old age. It was all she’d ever wanted.

  The question was, did she want those things so badly that she was willing to overlook his secrets and his youthful peccadilloes and his refusal to trust her?

  Of that, she wasn’t sure.

  Fifteen

  If Niall’s argument with Bree hadn’t already killed his erection, this visit to Stoke Towers would certainly have done so. The servant who’d shown him to Edwin’s study had walked as if on eggshells. The very air in the manor house was subdued, as if its denizens were holding their breaths for Clarissa.

  Had her situation worsened? God, what would he do if it had?

  Edwin walked in, looking even more somber than usual. “I suppose you’ve come because you heard about your sister’s troubles.”

  Niall braced himself for anything. “Yes, when I came by your town house this morning, her lady’s maid told me. How serious is it?”

  “Dr. Worth says that a woman can sometimes have a little blood at this stage, that it’s not unusual.” Edwin let out a shuddering breath. “But I can’t stop thinking about the possibility that she might lose the babe.” His eyes looked a bit wild. “I don’t know how I’d bear it. How she would bear it.”

  “If Dr. Worth says she’ll be fine, then she will be,” Niall said to soothe the man’s agitation. “You trust him, don’t you?”

  “With my life—but it’s not my life at stake. Still, he says that if the bleeding doesn’t become heavy, then it’s naught to be concerned about.”

  “So, where is Clarissa now?” Niall asked.

  “In her bedchamber. The doctor says she needs plenty of rest.”

  “Of course.” Niall eyed his friend closely. “I don’t suppose I could see her?”

  Edwin’s face closed up. “No visitors for a while, Dr. Worth said.”

  “Even family?” Niall said, though he wasn’t entirely surprised by Edwin’s answer. He’d already known he might not be able to talk to her.

  “Yes, even family. And especially not your mother. At least not until Dr. Worth can be sure this isn’t anything more than normal. He was very firm on the ‘no visitors’ rule.”

  “It’s probably a good one.”

  “Yes,” Edwin said absently.

  “She doesn’t mind, does she?”

  “No, she doesn’t want to risk the baby any more than I do.” Edwin stared out the window. “I only wish there was something more I could do to help. I feel so . . . bloody useless.”

  If ever Niall had been in doubt about his brother-in-law’s feelings for Clarissa, those doubts were dispelled. The man was obviously distraught. “I’m afraid this is one area in which a husband isn’t much good to a woman, other than to keep her company—which might be more helpful than you’d think. Clarissa’s unaccustomed to being cut off from people, so she probably welcomes your companionship.”

  Edwin snorted. “You’d think so, but no. She says I fuss over her too much, that I’m as bad as an old woman.”

  Niall let out a laugh that made his brother-in-law scowl at him. “Sorry, but that sounds exactly like something Clarissa would say.”

  With a distracted nod, Edwin walked toward the door. “I don’t mean to be inhospitable, old man, but—”

  “Actually, I didn’t just come to find out how Clarissa is doing,” Niall put in. “I need to speak to you about something important.”

  That arrested Edwin. “All right. I can spare a little time.” He walked over to a brandy decanter. “Something to drink?”

  “Oh yes,” Niall said. In some ways, discussing Clarissa’s assault would have been easier with her than her husband. Now that the moment was upon him, he wasn’t sure how to begin.

  He waited while Edwin poured them each a finger of brandy, then took a drink to steady his nerves. “Warren told me that you know why I fought that duel with Joseph Whiting.”

  Though Edwin’s gaze darkened, he nodded.

  “I realize this is difficult to talk about,” Niall went on, “but here’s my situation.”

  As succinctly as possible, he laid out the details of the aftermath of the duel. Niall revealed everything that had happened between him and Bree years ago, including telling Edwin the lies Father had told Bree in an apparent attempt to save Niall from himself.

  He even explained Fulkham’s scheme, and how that had brought him and Bree back together again. Niall knew he could trust Edwin with that secret, since Edwin was indebted to Fulkham for the latter’s refusal to let Edwin be prosecuted for the death—in self-defense—of Whiting’s other cousin, Durand.

  Edwin asked more questions about Fulkham’s scheme than Niall expected, and Niall answered impatiently, wanting to get to the important part of the discussion—his desire to tell Bree the truth about the past.

  But at last, Edwin seemed satisfied with Niall’s answers. Only then did he discuss what Niall had revealed about his past with Bree. “Clarissa and I guessed that there’d been something between you two, but we had no idea of the full extent of it. She’ll be astonished. When I can tell her, that is.”

  That arrested Niall. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not about to reveal any of it now. She already feels guilty that you went into exile because of what she sees as her ‘error in judgment’ by letting Whiting get her alone.”

  When Niall tensed at the very idea, Edwin added hastily, “Trust me, I’ve fought to disabuse her of that notion. You and I see that bastard for what he was—a rank blackguard—and I think I’ve convinced her that she wasn’t at fault for what happened.”

  “Thank God. I have never blamed her for my exile. And I have certainly never regretted fighting that duel.
If you could have seen her lying there beneath Whiting, crying and bleeding—” He caught himself as Edwin paled. “Sorry—I don’t know how much of it she told you.”

  “Everything, I think. But it took weeks, even after we were married.” His voice hardened. “That man nearly destroyed her. And I refuse to let him take one more thing from us. Which is why I’m not telling her any of this until after the babe is born.”

  “That’s fair,” Niall said. “I had hoped to gain her permission to reveal the truth about the duel to Bree, who still believes that I fought over some mistress, but if you think Clarissa shouldn’t be bothered with it—”

  “I do. If she learns that you lost your only love because of what happened to her that night, it will eat at her, and she doesn’t need that burden right now.”

  The finality of the words struck a chill through Niall. “I understand. And you’re probably right.” He stared his brother-in-law down. “But I hope I at least have your permission to tell Bree the truth.”

  When Edwin said nothing, merely turning aside to gulp a generous portion of brandy, Niall’s blood pounded in his ears.

  “Edwin,” Niall said firmly, “Bree believes I betrayed her with another woman. She’s balking at marrying me precisely because she knows I’m keeping secrets from her. I have to tell her.”

  “Of course you do. Just not yet.”

  “Damn it, man—”

  “This is my wife we’re talking about!” Edwin faced Niall, a hint of desperation in his features. “And my child, possibly my heir. If any of this got out, if people knew that Clarissa was raped all those years ago—”

  “Bree would never jeopardize Clarissa’s health or reputation. They’re friends, for God’s sake.”

  Edwin glowered at him. “Not close ones. Not the way Clarissa and my sister are friends. All it would take is one word from Mrs. Trevor to the wrong person, and Clarissa could be embroiled in an enormous scandal. You know that.”