Love and Adventure Collection - Part 1 (Love and Adventure Boxed Sets) Page 10

  The hustle and noise of the city was closing around them again. They threaded through narrow streets, then left them behind for an open thoroughfare.

  “If you are interested in our destination, we are bound for the house of my uncle in Berkeley Square. My Aunt Lucinda has arranged to give us luncheon. I hope you will feel up to a civil conversation, for I’m sure she will wish to know all about you. She is not a gossiping sort, but she had a large hand in raising me, and takes a proprietary interest in me and my affairs.”

  “I understand,” Julia managed. She was being warned, if that was not too strong a word, that she must be congenial to his relatives.

  “My uncle and aunt have offered us the hospitality of their home while we are in London. Because of my uncle’s interest in the East India Company, I felt it polite to accept.”

  “Yes, I see.” It would doubtless be convenient if the captain was to persuade his uncle to send an Indiaman to St. Helena at the proper time.

  “Naturally, they will be curious about the swiftness of our wedding. I recommend that you give the excuse of your father’s death. You could not stay in London without protection. If you can manage to indicate that ours is a love match of overwhelming intensity, it would be all to the good. We were married very quietly because of your mourning, of course.”

  “Of course,” she echoed, a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  “You need not be too apprehensive. I will not leave you alone for any length of time.”

  Was she supposed to be grateful for that consideration? Try as she might, she could find no hint of gratitude within herself. She flicked a glance at the man beside her from the corner of her eye. His face was set in a mask like expression, his blue eyes staring unseeingly ahead. One arm rested on the window ledge, while he thoughtfully rubbed his chin with his thumb. His other hand lay on his muscular, buff-covered thigh. Between them on the seat was his tricorn hat with its dull gleam of gold braid.

  The carriage ride was such a contrast with the one she had taken the day before with Marcel that she shivered a little, comparing them in her mind. The action, small as it was, attracted Rud’s attention.

  “You are all right?” he inquired.

  Unconsciously, she drew back into her corner of the carriage. “Yes. Yes, I’m all right. It is just that I can’t seem to remember, Captain Thorpe, how I came to be here with you. Oh, the wedding is plain enough in my mind, but I don’t seem to recall agreeing to marry you.”

  “Don’t you?” he inquired, his voice calm, quiet.

  For an instant, Julia thought she saw a shadow of sympathy flit over his face. Before she could be certain, it was gone, replaced by a faintly ironic interest.

  “No,” she answered baldly. “I don’t understand how it comes about, but I can bring to mind very little that happened after—”

  When she did not go on, he prompted, “After — what?”

  She closed her eyes without answering, her face paling as the memory of Marcel, writhing on the floor with the knife in his back, returned.

  “Julia?” he said, reaching out to touch her clasped hands.

  Immediately, her eyes flew open. “Marcel,” she gasped, removing her hands to touch the bee at her throat. “Is he — is he dead?”

  “Not when I last saw him,” Rud answered, leaning back once more. “He will live to take in other foolish young women.”

  “You were there. You thought I was going to stab him again. I remember.”

  “Yes, so I did. You will forgive my arriving at that unfortunate moment. A few seconds later would have done just as well.”

  “How did you know I would be there of all the inns in London?”

  “I am afraid I must admit that I set a watch on you. One of my men followed you when you left the ship. He had been given no instructions except to discover where you put up. When he saw you ensconced for the night at the Dog and Partridge, he returned to the ship to report to me. Since I was away in town, it was some time before he could make his report. I left at once for the inn, but arrived too late.”

  “Not too late to take me back to the ship, if that was your purpose.”

  “I would have preferred to spare you the kind of unpleasantness you had to endure because of my tardiness.”

  The abrupt tone of his voice inspired belief. An answering honesty compelled her to say, “The fault was mine. It would not have happened if I had not left the Sea Jade. You must realize the reason I left. It was because I objected to being married against my will, and yet, I find myself now in exactly that position. Again, I ask you, Captain Thorpe. How did that come about?”

  “Are you accusing me of taking advantage of you in your moment of weakness?” he asked. “If so, I can only plead that last night you were not unwilling.”

  “Next, you will be saying I was eager!” she exclaimed, anger kindling in the depths of her golden eyes. “Well, I refuse to believe it.”

  “And next, I expect to hear you denying that you asked me to spend the night in your cabin,” he drawled, his eyes oddly intent as they rested on her face.

  She would have liked to oblige him. Instead, she found the memory returning of herself lying unclothed beneath the coverlet of her bunk while Rud made himself free in her cabin, rummaging in her trunk for a gown. That was in the clear light of morning. What might have taken place during the night?

  “What are you saying?” she asked, keeping her voice even by an effort of will.

  She was not to receive an answer. Before he could reply, the carriage drew in at the curb of a Palladian mansion. By the time the wheels had ceased rolling, the footman had appeared to swing the carriage door open and let down the steps.

  If Rud had acquired the use of his uncle’s carriage, it stood to reason that he had already called upon the Baxter household. It was not surprising, then, that the elderly butler who opened the door to them accepted their arrival with perfect composure.

  “Good morning, captain, madam,” he said, taking Rud’s hat. “On behalf of the staff and myself, may I offer congratulations on your nuptials.”

  “Thank you, Masters. Don’t bother to announce us. I can find my way.” Rud clapped the butler on the back, and as the man beckoned to a footman to convey their baggage from the carriage, he touched Julia’s arm, indicating a pair of doors which opened off the wide entrance hall to the left.

  Throwing open the door, he ushered her into a sitting room done in shades of pale yellow and green. Julia received an impression of cool elegance, of polished furniture, shining crystal, and bouquets of spring flowers. An instant later, her attention was caught by the man and woman who came forward to greet them.

  Thaddeus Baxter was a large, solidly built man with a high forehead exposed by receding, sandy-gray hair, and a merry twinkle in his blue eyes. Some resemblance between him and his nephew could be traced in his features, but there was an openness about his expression which went well with his ruddy complexion and hearty manner. His wife was a slight, rather wispy woman who, when she stood to come toward them, tumbled the book she was reading, one of Miss Austen’s romances, from her lap. A lavender morning gown with flowing sleeves contributed to the fly-away impression. Despite this beginning, before Julia had been in the lady’s company for a quarter of an hour, she was convinced that Rud’s Aunt Lucinda was sharper than she appeared.

  A bottle of champagne was broached in honor of the occasion. Rud, standing with his back to the fireplace, his wineglass in his hand, made what Julia felt to be a credible explanation of their romance upon the seas. Hearing him, one would have thought he had spent months making himself known to her family in New Orleans, so that nothing could have been more natural than a dying father’s benediction upon their union. The smiles he sent her as she sat beside his aunt, his handsome gesture of a silent, loving toast, would have been enough to convince a less level-headed woman that he was as smitten by her attractions as he pretended. Indeed, to have him smile at her in that warm, sincere fashion was revela
tion for Julia. It softened the harsh planes of his face and brought a more gentle, almost sensitive look to his eyes. At one point, he addressed her as his darling Julia in such an intimate tone that she found herself blushing like a convent-school miss. Under the indulgent gaze of his uncle and aunt, there was no hope of open reprisal. The best she could do was send him a look of such languishing adoration that he stared, momentarily losing track of what he was saying to his uncle.

  Not long afterward, her hostess offered to show her to the rooms prepared for Rud and herself. Leaving the gentlemen behind, they mounted the stairs to the upper level.

  The rooms allotted to them consisted of one bed-chamber, a dressing room, and a sitting room. The suite was exquisitely decorated with cream damask walls and velvet drapes of deep azure blue at the windows. Rugs of an oriental design in cream and blue and black were scattered on the polished floor. Nothing had been neglected for their comfort. The sitting room was supplied not only with the normal settee and chairs, but also a desk outfitted with paper and quills and sealing wax. A dish of fresh fruit sat upon a small table suitable for private dining, and a bookcase held a selection of choice volumes. The dressing room was commodious, with plenty of space for a hip bath, Watteau screen, toweling rack, and shaving stand, in addition to the dressing tables.

  Still, it was the bedchamber with its enormous Elizabethan tester bed, hung with a tapestry of shepherds and shepherdesses a-Maying, that claimed Julia’s attention. She stared at it in consternation. Through some peculiar disorder of the senses, she had not had time to recognize the implication of her early morning marriage. Now, it struck her like a blow.

  “My dear, are you feeling unwell?” the elderly woman asked, moving to draw the drapes, letting in the bright light of a southern exposure.

  Julia turned away from the other woman’s searching eyes. “I have a slight headache. Nothing worth mentioning.”

  “But, you should have said something. You must lie down here on the chaise, and I will send for a glass of hartshorn and water.”

  “No, please,” Julia protested. Though her headache was real enough, she did not like to make too much of it. The thing she required most was the thing she was least likely to be allowed, a few moments alone.

  The other woman hesitated. “I don’t like to pry, my dear, but I am not constituted to ignore the physical hurts of my guests, particularly when that guest is the new bride of my dearest nephew. I have been studying the bruises which mar your lovely complexion for this past hour, and despite the fact that I know men are unpredictable creatures at best, I cannot believe that Rud inflicted them upon you.”

  “Oh, no! You must not think that,” Julia said, truly dismayed that Rud should be falsely suspected. “I — we encountered bad weather at sea and I stumbled over my own feet.”

  “That does not explain the bruises on your wrists. However, I will not press you. Our acquaintance has been short, but I like you, Julia, and I would like to say that should you decide to give me your confidence, I would be honored. With that out of the way, let me say that if I may be of help in any other way, you must not hesitate to ask. My carriage is at your service for any little errands you may have. If you require a maid, there are several girls in the house who would be happy to serve you while you are here. If there is anything else you need for your comfort, do not be shy. You have only to make your wishes known.”

  Unaccountably, Julia felt tears well into her eyes. She blinked them back with an effort, but there was still a constriction in her throat when she expressed her appreciation. “There is one thing,” she continued. “I must go into black for my father, but I did not come prepared.”

  “Naturally, not,” the other woman answered with understanding. “Such a sad loss, and so unexpected. We must see what can be done. Perhaps, my modiste will have something made up. These things always catch one unawares, do they not? Not at all in the mood for deciding on materials and trimmings.”

  From the style of the gown Lucinda Baxter was wearing, Julia knew the modiste used by Rud’s aunt would not be inexpensive. “I must warn you, madam, that I do not have a great deal to spend.”

  “You must not be so formal, my dear. Call me Aunt Lucinda as Rud does, if you like. As for the expense, I am positive my nephew will not begrudge a few gowns, even if they are mourning wear. Black is notorious for flattering ladies of your blonde coloring. A pity the conventions prevent you from going much into society, but I think a small dinner or two to make you known to my closest friends will be unexceptionable.”

  Julia smiled without further protest. Rud must disillusion his aunt; she could not. As for the rest, she allowed herself to appear delighted at the expected dinner parties. In truth, she dreaded the thought. In her present state, meeting a collection of strangers could be nothing, but a chore. She felt like seeing no one, doing nothing, only shutting herself away somewhere where no one could disturb her. That would never do. She must control such longings. For her own sake, she must put everything that had happened, her father’s death, Marcel’s brutal treachery, behind her. And yet, how could she? She was trapped in a loveless marriage that was the direct result of those things.

  When the luncheon gong sounded, Julia splashed water on her face, applied another dusting of rice powder, and with Rud’s aunt beside her, descended the stairs.

  The meal passed without incident. The conversation was carried for the most part by Rud and his uncle and aunt as they tried to catch up on the events of the past three years. Now and then, one of the three would stop to include her pointedly in the discussion or apologize for speaking of people she did not know. It did not matter at all to Julia. The headache she had claimed earlier was growing worse. The food before her, though beautifully prepared, could not tempt her appetite. She pushed it around on her plate in a halfhearted attempt at eating, though every bite she took seemed to stick in her throat. It was an immeasurable relief when Aunt Lucinda, after sending Julia a shrewd glance, placed her napkin beside her plate and announced that she had lately taken to having a short nap after luncheon every day to recruit her strength for the evening. When her husband stared at her in amazement, she merely returned him a limpid look and shepherded Julia from the room.

  ~ ~ ~

  In her bedchamber, Julia took the pins from her hair and brushed the lustrous golden-blonde strands into smooth order. She removed her gown, and wearing only her chemise, slid between the sheets scented with lavender. A cloth soaked in cologne had been recommended for her brow by her hostess, and since Rud’s aunt had been kind enough to send a maid to her with the compress, she settled it in place. Aunt Lucinda had offered to have a fire made in the bedchamber, but Julia had refused. Now, she wished she had not been so hasty. Her feet were like ice. Despite the pale spring sunshine outside, there was a chill within the thick walls of the mansion.

  Lying flat on her back and gazing at the carved headboard and turned posts of the Elizabethan bed did nothing to help her troubled senses. There was a voluptuousness in the representations of shepherd and shepherdesses in courting poses, in the soft mattress and coverlet, that disturbed her. As time passed, the turnings of her imagination presented images of Rud and herself between the linen sheets which left her appalled. With determination, she pushed them from her. She must not succumb to what was without doubt a crise de nerfs. Searching through her mind, she discovered what must surely be the cause of such a mental trick as her mind had played — the suggestion that she had invited Rud to remain with her in her cabin. There were some important questions which required answers concerning the night before. She must face them. Avoiding them solved nothing.

  Was it possible that she had taken the man into her bed? She did not feel within herself that it could be so; still, she was aware of a certain tenderness between her thighs. It could be explained away by her struggle with Marcel, the prodding of his knee as he sought to spread-eagle her beneath him. She could not believe that after fighting so desperately to protect her maidenhead from o
ne man she would give it up without a struggle, or at the very least without some memory of the process!

  True, Rud had not mentioned lovemaking between them. What he had said was that she had invited him to stay with her in her cabin. But, what if his failure to put the deed into words had been mere politeness, the reluctance to embarrass her? Such a possibility must cast a new light on their relationship. What had happened to the marriage of convenience he had hinted at so short a time ago? Had he found her more attractive than she had guessed?

  No. No, she would not admit the prospect even for a moment. Every instinct resisted it. She could not, would not be the wife of Rudyard Thorpe in anything except name. Her wits must have been wandering indeed for her to permit this ridiculous arrangement of a single bed-chamber between them. What did she care what his aunt thought of their marriage? Many husbands and wives had separate quarters. She would demand that she be given another room. Let her husband make what explanations he would!

  It was amazing how much better she felt following this decision. The agitation deep inside her grew calmer. Even her headache began to loosen its grip. She was just drifting into sleep when the door of the bedchamber swung open. Through slitted eyes, she saw Rud enter, closing the door softly behind him. At the sight of him, her resolution nearly misgave her and she lay still, allowing her lashes to rest on her cheeks.

  He came closer, moving silently, only his clothing rustling in the quiet room. The side of the bed gave as he sat down. “Julia!” he said in a low voice.

  For a long moment, she did not move, and then, goaded by the cowardice of her action, she opened her eyes, reaching up to sweep the cologne-soaked cloth from her forehead. “Yes? I’m not asleep.”

  “How is your head?”

  “Well enough,” she answered, the difficulty of concentrating on what she intended to say making her sound ungracious. To make amends, she gave him a small, polite smile. Lying full-length while he sat over her left her feeling at a disadvantage. She drew herself erect, keeping a firm grasp on the sheet and coverlet, and leaned back against the headboard. There was something of a disadvantage also in being caught in a state of undress, one she felt greatly as Rud’s gaze moved over her bare shoulders.