Wells had just slipped the shirt off his head that evening when he heard a knock at the door.
“Enter,” he called, expecting Cuthbert.
Yet it was his housekeeper instead who marched inside, making his heart skip to think she might relent at last.
“My lord, have I leave to speak?” She bobbed a proper curtsy with her question.
“You do.” He motioned her to continue before removing his boots.
“The rooms are ready for tomorrow’s arrivals, sir. I’ve arranged for Cuthbert and Fergus to fetch the new help and have given your men strict orders not to hassle the girls.” She paused. “Although it might impress them even more, my lord, were you to reinforce this yourself.”
“Done.” He began to unbutton his fall.
She swallowed, looking away. “I also received a letter today from my sister, sir, who informed me you visited her and my father this week.”
“I did.”
She rushed to speak. “I should like to thank you for the kindness she wrote you showed our father given his infirmity. He is not the man he once was, my lord, and she tells me you were most respectful towards him despite his own lack ofcourtesy.” She swallowed again. “I am sure it brought him great pleasure to have you visit, Lord Wellesley.”
“It brought me pleasure too, Charles.” He spoke without emotion, looking straight at her enough that she blushed. “Your sister was perfectly delightful and your father, in his way, quite the gentleman.” Wells flashed her a small smile.
She wagered a timid one in return. “He was once, my lord, a gentleman, and both soldier and scholar, sir.”
“And your mother?” he asked.
“A lady, sir, of the finest caliber.” She hesitated. “Theirs was a love match, which is why he took her passing so hard. We believe he suffered a fit upon her death, likely apoplexy.”
“I see.” He chose not to press her more.
“My lord, I should also like to offer an apology for the manner in which I behaved before, in the courtyard regarding the saddle.” She hurried to finish. “I should not have spoken as I did, in such coarse terms, nor responded as I did to your lordship’s chastisement.” She looked down. “Were my mother alive she would find great fault in the manner in which I have behaved, and I give you my word I shall improve my behavior in future.” He watched her hands ball into fists at her sides. “It is not easy for me, my lord, to serve under your . . . direction.”
His mistress’s apology had come, but not as he’d expected. She’d not thrown herself at his feet, begging his forgiveness, nor had she thrown herself into his arms, begging for his bed. Instead, she’d humbled herself rather nicely, owning up to her errors. Wells was not sure how to respond.
“Apology accepted, Miss Merrinan. Your sister asked that I be forgiving of your . . . spirited nature, I believe she called it.” He exhaled a breath. “It is not something I wish to quell in you, Charles. It is something I admire, even, in you.” He searched for words. “But I have a role to play, a role which demands obedience and respect here at Almsdale. And if I show you toomuch favor, tolerate too oft your impertinence, then I become weak. And I cannot show weakness before my subjects. It is a role I must take seriously, Charles, even if I am not yet the Duke of Allendale—and even if it gives me little pleasure to imagine myself one day Duke. What pleasure I havefound here, has been only with you, lass, in your arms.”
He watched her eyes grow wide—likely at his slip in speech—for that wordlasshad again tumbled from his lips as if he were a wholly different man. He upbraided himself as her dark green irises stared deep into his eyes, as if she wished to devour him with her gaze.
And then she bolted from his chamber, footsteps pounding down the hallway’s flagstone like a spooked colt. Unbelievable!
Wells shook his head in arousal, confusion, and then sheer frustration. Maybe he did, in fact, need a different mistress. He’d tell Cuthbert as much tomorrow—see if his man couldn’t find him a simpler, pretty enough village girl. Because Charles Merrinan was too much for him to handle. He didn’t care anymore how well she argued, or how well she fucked. He could not comprehend this woman’s behavior, nor would he likely ever.
***
Charles scurried down the hall to her closet of a room and slammed the door shut with a bang. The hammering in her heart was so loud, so deafening, she thought the poor organ might expire in her chest. She could scarcely breathe for her heart’s terrific pounding. She wanted to run straight into Lord Wellesley’s arms and crush her body to his. Yet she could not, dared not, let him see her so completely overcome by his words.
His tenderness, this time, had torn her open. Charles felt more alone than ever before.
ACT II
ENVY
Jealousy is bred in doubts. When those doubts change into certainties, then the passion either ceases or turns absolute madness.
François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld (1665-1678), fromMoral Maxims and Reflectionsno. 33
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“And the table linens, what few of them are usable, are stored here.” Charles opened another cabinet to show her new staff. “Cutlery below. In time, there will be more of everything, but for now we must make do with what is here. I am sure we shall discover more as we begin to unlock the secrets of this house.” She smiled at Ginny and Ruby, who stared back wide-eyed. She knew the two girls had never stepped foot in a place so grand as the Abbey, for despite its disrepair it had once been magnificent. No doubt in their eyes, it still was.
