The Devil's Web (37 page)

He slid an arm beneath her head, leaned over her, and kissed her quite deliberately. “Take some time away from your concerns,” he said. “Concentrate on me.”

“Mm,” she said, touching his cheek with one hand.
“Have I been neglecting you, Cedric?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I haven't meant to,” she said. “You are like a rock for me. I would go all to pieces if you weren't there.”

“I need to be more than a rock,” he said.

“Kiss me, then,” she said. “And hold me. I am beginning to depend upon this too, you know.”

He kissed her deeply and slid her gown from one shoulder so that he could kiss her shoulder and her throat too.

“Oh,” she said after a while, her head on his shoulder, kissing the underside of his chin, “you feel so good, Cedric.”

“Stay here for the night,” he said.

“Cedric?” She turned her head to look up at him. “What are you saying?”

“Stay here,” he said, “and make love with me. I need
you, Louisa, more and more each day. And I'll take your mind off all that is making you weary.”

“Yes,” she said, pulling away from him and sitting up, “you certainly would do that. Oh, dear, Cedric, I have progressed a long way since last summer. The prospect is distinctly appealing. I feel tingles all over. But no, of course we must not. Goodness, the very idea! Can you picture me crawling back into my own house at some unheard of hour of the morning with a crumpled gown and disheveled hair?”

“Stay here until morning,” he said, “and have breakfast with me.”

“And arrive home in broad daylight in an evening gown,” she said with a smile. “No, Cedric, you naughty tempter. I have a better idea. I will marry you. Do you still want me to?”

He reached for her hand again. “You know you don't need to ask that,” he said. “Let's do this properly, though, shall we?” He stood up, drawing her to her feet with him.
He took both her hands in his. “Louisa Raine, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“Louisa Harvey,” she said with a smile. “Lady Louisa Harvey with no ‘dowager' attached. I like it. Yes, I like it very well. And I like you very well, my friend. We will remain friends afterward, will we not?”

“I think it is possible to be friends and lovers at the same time,” he said.

“Lovers too?” she said. “Oh, I like the sound of it more and more. I want to be your lover, Cedric, even at my very advanced age. Yes, I will marry you, dear, just as soon as you care to arrange the ceremony. Kiss me to seal the bargain.”

He kissed her.

“Mm,” she said after a few minutes. “What was that about staying all night?”

“I shall escort you home immediately,” he said, putting her away from him. “I will not countenance even the risk of gossip surrounding my betrothed. You ought not to have stayed here after the other guests left, you know.”

She smiled at him.

M
ADELINE WAS SITTING
in her mother's drawing room, her cousin Walter on one side of her and Jennifer Simpson on the other. She was laughing with Jennifer at the account Walter had just given of a bizarre bet made at one of his clubs.

“But then,” she said, patting her cousin on the hand, “all the wagers at the gentlemen's clubs are bizarre, from what I have heard. Are all of you constantly in your cups when there, Walter?”

He began to protest.

They were surrounded by family members and friends of the dowager countess's and Sir Cedric's. They had all met for an informal afternoon celebration of the betrothal, which had surprised them all.

Not that it should have been surprising, Madeline thought. Mama and Sir Cedric had been very close friends for years, and they did make a handsome couple even if Mama's hair was liberally streaked with gray and Sir Cedric's was completely silver. Perhaps it was the very length of the friendship that had made the betrothal so surprising. Any expectation that the two of them would eventually marry had long been put to rest.

But marry they would, just as soon as the banns had been read. And the newly married couple were to go immediately after the ceremony to the Continent for a winter of travel. And probably the following summer too, Sir Cedric had said, lacing his fingers with Mama's and smiling at her in a way that had tugged at Madeline's heart.

She was happy for them. After the initial shock she was more than delighted. They were friends as well as being very fond of each other. Their marriage would have every chance of success. Friendship was an essential element of any marriage if it was to be successful, she had learned. Edmund and Alexandra were friends as were Dom and Ellen. She and James had never been friends.

She got up restlessly to cross the room to another group of people.

“Your husband will doubtless come down from Yorkshire for the wedding, Lady Beckworth,” one of her mother's friends said.

Madeline smiled. “He is very busy,” she said. “And it is such a long way to come.”

“But a wedding is excuse enough to rejoin such a lovely wife,” someone else said with a wink. “And don't tell me that he is not looking for excuses, ma'am.”

Madeline smiled brightly and moved on.

“I am to have the honor of leading Mama down the aisle and giving her away,” Edmund was saying. “Not many sons have that experience, do they?”

“And will you be overjoyed to hand her over to someone else's keeping at last?” Uncle William asked with a broad wink.

“William!” Aunt Viola said. “The very idea. Take no notice of him, Edmund. He is just teasing. Your own sister too, William.”

Edmund laughed. “Well,” he said, “I will be quite confident in placing her hand in Sir Cedric's. I could not wish better for her.”

Aunt Viola tucked Madeline's hand beneath her arm and patted it. “And what are you planning to do when your mama goes away, dear?” she asked. “William and I would be delighted if you stayed with us for a while.”

“Oh, thank you,” Madeline said with a broad smile. “But I will be making some definite arrangements for my future soon. It is quite exciting, you know, to be starting a new life again.” She slipped her hand free and moved on.

Her mother's butler tapped her on the arm and handed her a card.

“The gentleman would not have me announce him, ma'am,” he said with a bow. “He directed me to ask you if he could be admitted.”

Everything around her receded. Sights faded, voices became a distant buzz. All that existed was the card in her hand.

“No,” she said after what might have been seconds or minutes. She closed her hand about the card. “Tell Lord Beckworth that I do not wish to see him.”

The man bowed and withdrew.

Dominic was miraculously there beside her. He took her elbow and she smiled at him. She did not know if she would have fainted otherwise. She did not know if everyone in the room was aware of what had just happened. She did not look about her to see.

She did not notice Alexandra slip from the room.

“That coat is Weston's creation, is it not?” she said. “I have been meaning to tell you how very splendid it looks, Dom.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Ellen was all admiration too when I put it on for the first time earlier this afternoon.”

“She was more likely all admiration for the man inside it,” she said.

“Well, there is that too, I suppose,” he said. “Not that I am conceited, of course.”

“Of course not,” she said, and they grinned at each other.

“You are all right?” he asked quietly.

“Perfectly,” she said. “Why would I not be?”

He drew her arm though his and they sat down with a group that included their mother and Sir Cedric.

He was in London. He had been downstairs just a few minutes before. He had come for her. Oh, God, he had come for her. At last.

More than a month had passed. What had he been doing in all that time? Had he been at home? Had he missed her? Had he been as relieved to see her go as she had been to get away?

Had he missed her?

He had not written at all.

Why had he come? Was he going to play the tyrant and drag her back home against her will? And could he do so? Did he have the right to do so? She was very much afraid that he did. But she would not go. He would have to tie her and gag her for the whole distance and then keep her behind locked doors for the rest of her life. She would not go. Besides, Edmund would not allow her to be taken back by force. And Dom would not allow it.

But they were merely her brothers. He was her husband. Would they do the honorable thing and stand aside and refuse to interfere?

“I am afraid not,” she said with a smile to the lady sitting beside her. “He is too busy and it is too great a distance to come.”

But he was here, she thought. He was in London.

Perhaps he would not force himself on her. Perhaps he would not drag her back home. Perhaps he would go away now that she had refused to receive him. Perhaps he would return home alone.

Panic grabbed at her. Perhaps she would never see him again.

Her mind was effectively brought back to the topic that was never far from it. Could it be true? It would just be too ironic after all those months of anxious waiting and agonizing disappointments. Now that it could not be true without hopelessly tangling her life, it looked as if it might be true. Three weeks overdue already.

It was the emotional turmoil she had lived with for the past month and a half. That was the cause of it. There were no other symptoms. No morning sickness. No unusual tiredness. Nothing. Only the fact that she was three weeks late. And the latest she had been in the months previous was four days.

She did not want it to be true now. He would never let her go if she was carrying a child of his. He would force her to go back. She did not want it to be true. She did not want to go back.

But several times every day she looked anxiously for signs that it was not true and lay on her bed staring upward as if the very stillness of her body would stem a flow of blood.

And he was here. He had come. He had come for her. He had come to her.

James.

“I was very, very nervous about telling my children,” her mother was saying, her eyes on Madeline. “I was afraid they would disapprove of my choice or feel betrayed.”

“Oh, Mama.” Madeline leaped from her chair and crossed the short distance to her mother. She hugged her and sat on the arm of her chair, an arm about her shoulders. “I could not possibly be more happy for you. My only complaint is that you did not make Sir Cedric our steppapa years ago.” She wrinkled her nose at Sir Cedric. “Will you expect us to call you Papa?”

The whole group laughed.

Where was he now? Madeline wondered. Would he come back? Or would he go away and never come near her again?

She would die if he did not come back.

And yet over the next ten days she denied him admittance ten times.

“J
AMES
.” The butler had delivered his message, and James had turned away before Alexandra was halfway down the stairs. She hurtled the rest of the way down as he turned back and opened his arms to her. “James.” She pulled him toward a small salon.

“Alex,” he said, hugging her again when they were inside. “How good it is to see you again. You are losing your figure already.”

She pulled back after a while and looked at him. He was quite haggard, his face thin and sallow, his eyes very dark and haunted. His hair was overlong. She lifted a hand to push back the lock that had fallen over his forehead and into his eyes.

“I knew you would come,” she said. “Edmund has been planning to leave for Yorkshire, but I knew you would come.”

His smile was almost a grimace. “The grim elder brother?” he said. “Coming to dish out punishment?”

She lowered her hand to his shoulder. “You are talking about Edmund,” she said. “He is a concerned elder brother, James. He was coming to see if anything might be patched up.”

“I doubt it,” he said. “She has just refused to see me.”

“James,” she said, smoothing her hands over the lapels of his coat. “Oh, James, it is not true, is it? Dora is not your mistress?”

He grimaced. “I suppose everyone has been told that,” he said, “and believes it. It's not true, Alex.”

“I knew it could not be,” she said, “though Dominic told Edmund that that was what the trouble was. James, when did you last sleep? You look dreadful.”

His eyes held a moment's amusement. “Do I?” he said. “Perhaps it is as well she would not see me today, then. Will she see me, Alex? How is she?”

She shook her head. “Busy and smiling and enjoying the Season,” she said.

They looked into each other's eyes. “She is miserable, then,” he said.

“Yes.”

He turned from her and walked to the window. “I made a mess of it,” he said. “I should never have married her.”

“I thought you loved her,” she said, her voice flat and unhappy.

“I do,” he said. “That's the whole trouble.”

She put her arms about him from behind and rested a cheek against his back. “I thought you had changed when you came back last summer,” she said. “I thought you had put all the old troubles behind you and started to live again. I was very happy when you married Madeline. I love her too.”

“I
had
changed,” he said. “I had come to terms with myself and life. I had even begun to find some meaning. God, perhaps, though not the God we were brought up to know, Alex.”

“He is not the real God,” she said quickly. “Edmund taught me that, and my life with him has shown me that he is right.”

“But I suppose there was still something in me,” he said, “that told me I did not deserve a wife I loved. Or happiness either.”

“Dora?” she said. “Is she very unhappy? Has she suffered as much as you have? And does she still suffer?”