“You didn’t need my support. Your mother was happy for you.”
Penelope giggled. “Thrilled, you mean. She always hoped I would catch the eye of a peer.”
“What mother doesn’t wish that?” Cecilia said with a chuckle.
“Surely yours wanted the same for you? And you’ve succeeded.”
Cecilia hid a wince. “My mother ... yes, you are right, she wanted the best for me.”Was that even true?
“Lord Blackthorne is a knowledgeable man of the world.”
Cecilia eyed her with faint amusement. “Are you saying you think Oliver should become such a man?”
“Oh, no! Oliver is a man comfortable in England, at ease in drawing rooms or in the countryside. I think he still fights the memories of his time in India but wants to overcome them.”
“And Lord Blackthorne? Tell me your impressions of him.”
“I think you were very brave and in love to marry a man you’d never met.”
“You may say it without hurting my feelings, Penelope—you wouldn’t have done the same.”
“I am not brave like you. Lord Blackthorne ... he seems a stern man, with a strong feeling of duty to his country. He will go wherever his regiment sends him, and you’ll be separated once again. Have you ever thought of traveling with him?”
Cecilia’s eyes widened. “No, my dear, my place is here. I had enough of India.”
“Then you will be separated much of the time.”
“He writes compelling letters. We will get by.” If she even stayed married to him.
Late that night, Michael came awake with a start. He didn’t know where he was at first until the shadowy gloom revealed the bedroom where his wife had banished him.
His very skittish wife.
But he couldn’t fault thoughts of his wife for why he awoke in the middle of the night. It had been happening long before he met her. Dreams clung to the corners of his mind like cobwebs. He saw his friends, the three his military decision had doomed to death. In his dreams, they were alive again, even Lord Appertan, taking his son in hand and making a man of him.
With a sigh, Michael slid his legs to the side and sat on the edge of the bed. These dreams weren’t nightmares. No one haunted him, or berated the decisions he and his superiors, the Duke of Rothford and the Earl of Knightsbridge, had made in all honor.
But the sadness of those lives cut short could not be denied, and he felt a debt of honor—not one of guilt, as Rothford and Knightsbridge foolishly insisted on feeling—to try to help those left behind. Guilt had no place, once a battlefield decision had been made to the best of one’s knowledge and ability. And he would never allow himself to be ruled by emotion.
Lady Cecilia’s family had been altered by a decision he’d help make: Three men had died because Michael and his fellow soldiers had thought it was noble and humane to release prisoners—including women and children—about to be tortured for information in a secret encampment. He, Rothford, and Knightsbridge had turned their backs while their prisoners slipped into the jungle, and thought themselves making the honorable choice.
But their regiment had been attacked by the prisoners they’d released, and three soldiers—good friends and mentors—had died. Rothford and Knightsbridge had returned to England to make amends to the families of the other two dead soldiers. Young Appertan was too soon the earl, without his father’s guidance and knowledge. Michael could help make that right.
Lady Cecilia had written that the new earl had left Cambridge University to assume his duties. Like a man, Michael had thought at the time, now realizing he’d only made assumptions without knowing the facts. The young Lord Appertan seemed to be a spoiled, arrogant boy who put his own pleasures above duty and responsibility. Weak and selfish, he left the burdens of the earldom on his sister, enjoying all the money and the pleasures for himself.
Michael could see what kind of woman Cecilia was: hardworking, selfless, beloved by her servants and tenants. And if he worried it was love of power that drove her to exercise control over the estate, he’d soon been able to tell that she was just as open to suggestions from the people below her and would change her mind. She wasn’t afraid of stepping in something unpleasant in a barn or taking a laborer’s dirty hand. He’d watched everyone on the estate consult her even as they praised her to him, her new husband. He’d almost felt proud, as if he’d had something to do with it. In one sense he had: he’d enabled her to have access to her own funds, to do as she needed to guide the earldom. He long ago heard of the late Lord Appertan’s pride in her, and now he knew it was justified.
And he was still astonished by her range of knowledge about every aspect of the estate. She must have been tutored at Appertan’s side in mathematics and even agriculture rather than simply learning the feminine studies of languages, domestic skills, and artistic endeavors like painting. Although she’d probably mastered those as well from what he’d been able to observe so far. Their written conversations could lead to even better discussions—if she allowed it.
But there was a sadness deep within her that surprised him. Did others see it, or did they simply want to believe that she was content with her life?
First, he would make her life easier by teaching her brother to be a man. This should help her soften her regard for him and hasten a more normal marriage. He hoped it would happen quickly because sleeping so near Cecilia might surely destroy his peace of mind.
Michael awoke in the morning, feeling tired from his restless night. He’d bathed the night before, so he dressed for the day, looking out the window. He knew who he was looking for: his wife. Perhaps she thought of him, even longed for a man’s touch. He knew whathewas missing, after all. He might not be reckless, but he’d had the occasional night with a willing woman. Of course, he had no idea how far things had gone with her suitors before she married him...
Hearing a knock on the door, he went to answer it. Cecilia stood there, hands linked together with casual elegance, fresh as sunshine in her cream-colored gown. He wanted to bask in the warmth of her, and his body, long starved for a woman’s attention, flared to uncomfortable life once again.
She didn’t cross the threshold. “I thought I would accompany you to the breakfast parlor.”
