Her Husband’s Lover (32 page)

It seemed from Lady Darleston’s silence that she had not been aware of that particular fact, nor did it please her to know it. With a terrific flounce, she stormed past Emma up the stairs, presumably to collect her accoutrements, only to stumble near the top and topple forwards onto the landing. Harry Quernow took the stairs at once, closely followed by Mr Phelps and Mr Connelly.

‘Are you well, milady?’ Harry asked. Emma didn’t hear the response, only saw her father’s mouth set into a grim line. He nodded at Harry. ‘She can rest while the maid packs. I’m not so heartless as to send anyone away injured.’ Between the three gentlemen, they carried Lady Darleston to her room. Once they were out of sight along the upstairs corridor, Darleston caught Emma’s eye. ‘Forgive me,’ he mouthed, his expression one of grim softness.

Forgive him! Why she could barely comprehend what had just occurred.

‘Emma, dearest, are you all right? You look quite faint. Has she shocked you very much?’ She realised it was her father speaking, but could not meet his tender expression. Instead, she worried her lip and fought hard to hold her fast-brewing tears in check. ‘Oh, my poor child,’ continued Mr Hill, ‘it’s been quite horrid, I’m sure. You look nearly overcome. Perhaps it would be best if you retired for a spell. I’m sure Amelia will take charge of the guests.’ The knowing look that passed across his face at the mention of his younger daughter made Emma suspect that he hadn’t missed that little exchange between Amelia and Harry Quernow after all. Keeping Amelia busy with the other guests would also keep her away from Harry, who had duties of his own to attend to.

‘Yes,’ Emma agreed. ‘I think I should like to lie down. Excuse me.’

Child! A child!
Emma felt only the cold reality of the linseed-polished wood beneath her hand as she made her way back up the grand staircase to her chamber. Why had Darleston not told her? Paternity doubts aside, he must acknowledge that it had bearing upon the situation. She knew Darleston did not love his wife and, if all he said were true, she did not deserve his affections, but surely he was not knave enough to leave his wife – the woman, however wrongly, he had sworn before God to cherish and protect – to fend for herself while pregnant?

Worse too was the fact that her own frigidity had been bandied before everyone. They had all thought her odd enough before; now she’d be discussed like a prize heifer, and Lyle’s virility was bound to be called into question. They would all be at risk.

Nauseous to the depths of her stomach, Emma swayed, suddenly overcome by light-headedness. She longed for a steady arm to hold onto in that moment, but no one came to her assistance. They had not even followed her up the stairs to see that she was well. They were all so used to her rebuffs – even Lyle knew better than to attempt any sort of affectionate contact – yet that was the very thing she craved: someone, be it the lowliest servant, to put their arms around her and tell her that all would be right, though that was a lie no one had cared to offer her since her mother’s funeral. Yet what she wouldn’t give to hear it said. Sometimes one had to believe in little deceits in order to stomach reality.

Head still swimming, Emma entered her room, fell onto the bed and closed her eyes.

She awoke some time later in response to a persistent knock upon the door. ‘Emma, please open up.’ After thirty or so
rat-a-tat-tats
achieved him naught, Darleston lifted the latch and let himself in. Groggily, Emma lifted her head from the pillow, only for her hair, which had come loose from its pins, to tumble over her face. ‘The others are at the fight,’ he explained, while she brushed the strands aside. ‘I came back as soon as I was able. Oh, Emma, I’m sorry you had to hear that from her. I ought to have told you what she’d come here for, but in the wake of everything else it clean slipped my mind.’

Even if she had not already trusted him, the sincerity with which he spoke would have assuaged any doubts. Still – ‘You can’t send her away penniless to rot,’ she said. ‘Not when there’s a child involved.’ She hunched herself up so that she sat cradling her knees. She’d experienced first-hand what poverty did to children, even those who were loved. Lady Darleston didn’t seem the type to make an affectionate or even interested mother. The best the child could hope for was a doting nursemaid or to be claimed by an adoring father, but the latter would be impossible so long as Lady Darleston insisted upon the child’s legitimacy.

‘I confess I’m not even sure she’s quickening. I did go to see her maid last night, but not for any sordid reason. I meant to discover the name of the actual father.’

Darleston perched on the foot of the bed, barely finding purchase on the rumpled coverlet, his full coat-tails fanning out behind him. He had dressed in some of his most magnificent finery, a charcoal-grey silk suit overlaid with a cobwebbed pattern of embroidery and diamonds. His waistcoat alone, a fiery shade of taffeta that matched his hair, sported more rubies than the lacework necklace Lyle had given her as a betrothal gift. The ensemble gave him an air of grandeur that would elevate him far above the rank and file of the fight crowd. It might single him out as a target for the pickpockets, but it would also buy him a great deal of respect among those with pretensions of grandeur. Emma wondered if he was expecting further trouble. He always dressed beautifully, but this excess seemed to her to be a kind of mask.

‘Do go on.’

He shook his head. ‘Sally was far from forthcoming, but she did let slip a few details that make me think it all a ruse to extract money for some other purpose. I’m not altogether sure what, but something is afoot.’

So he had armoured himself by making his status absolutely plain.

‘What do you suspect?’ She tilted her head, taking the pressure off her chin and resting her cheek upon her knee instead.

Uncertainty turned his eyes a watery grey. ‘It could simply be creditors exerting pressure, but I do wonder … I’m not sure … I think perhaps she’s ailing in some way and not quickening at all. The maid said that she’d been to take the waters at Bath, something Lucy’s been fervently dismissive of in the past. Sally had no notion of her being with child.’

Emma straightened. Upper servants were privy to all manner of delicate information. ‘How is that possible?’

‘I’ve asked myself the very same. I may write a letter or two later. There are one or two physicians whose opinions I respect and who might be able to shed some light upon the matter.’

‘No baby.’ Emma rubbed at the tension building in her temples again. ‘Do you think it a tumour or some other malignancy growing inside her?’

‘Oh, that, definitely,’ he agreed heartlessly, only to apologise a moment later. ‘I’m sorry. Lucy does bring out the absolute worst in me. I don’t want to offer her anything. I can’t help suspecting that giving her money will only open myself to future demands.’

‘Blackmail?’

‘Nothing is beyond her.’

Emma nodded. ‘I still feel it’s wrong to leave her with nothing, no matter how heartless or cruel she is. Would it hurt you dreadfully to offer her some modest amount?’

Darleston gave her an inscrutable look, one that turned his grey eyes almost the same hue as his coat. She doubted many would notice it, but she knew a war raged inside him over her request. Externally, only the faint wrinkling around his eyes gave any hint of his thoughts. After an awkward pause, he said, ‘I fear you are a far better person than I, for I should dearly like to wring her neck. I’ve certainly no desire to look after her, but I suppose I have not really told you the half of what she’s done. Nor have I any wish to recount it,’ he hastily added. ‘However, if it pleases you to be kind, then I will see she’s given a stipend, enough to live comfortably if modestly upon. I’ll have my lawyer oversee it. I hope not to meet her again outside of hell.’

‘You’re a good man. No one who sees into your soul would ever send you there.’

Darleston gave a dubious snort. ‘I think you are forgetting some of my preferences, my love.’

Not for a moment would she ever forget that he’d been her husband’s lover before he’d become hers, or that he remained so still. They might all stay for a day or two more, once today’s fight was over, but she sensed that life was moving on. Some sort of decision and arrangement had to be agreed upon by the three of them before the tide of departures from Field House sent them off in different directions.

‘Emma, may I move up this bed?’ Darleston asked. He seemed to sense her depression. ‘Leaving here needn’t be an end to anything. I should like you to think it a beginning.’

Emma held her hands out towards him. He didn’t take them. Instead, he enfolded her in his embrace, so that her head moulded to the crook of his shoulder and his familiar musky scent evoked a warm glow inside her, though it didn’t entirely quell her fears.

‘How will it work?’ she asked. How could it work? She and he might feel the same way about each other, but she and Lyle were more like brother and sister than husband and wife.

‘It’ll work because we’ll take measures to ensure it does.’ He gripped her a little tighter as he spoke, but the extra closeness didn’t eliminate her doubts. ‘Lyle’s prepared to be adaptable. Can you be?’

She clove to the silky smoothness of his coat. ‘I’ll try.’ That truly was the very best she could offer, not knowing if she would ever be able to tolerate any touch but Darleston’s. Desire had driven her to open up to him, but that was something she simply didn’t feel for Lyle. Maybe it would come in time. They did love one another in their own curious way.

‘Shall I tell you how I imagine us to be?’ His breath stirred the disarranged curls that hung each side of her face. Emma kept quiet, knowing he would take that as a cue to continue. ‘Don’t think that I don’t know your preferences. I do, which is why I see myself in the centre.’

‘In the centre of what?’ she enquired.

He hesitated and, as his chest pressed against her back, she felt too the tremulous leaping of his heart. He had reservations about sharing this. She wondered if this was something he’d shared before, perhaps with Lucy, and had had thrown back in his face. ‘There are certain things I’ve always imagined myself part of. Having both you and Lyle is already more than I ever hoped to gain.’

‘You want us together, though.’

‘Yes – like we’ve been, but more so. Do you think you could do that, Emma? Could you let me make love to you while Lyle was present? He wouldn’t have to touch you, but it’s likely he’d be touching me.’

Likely!
She had a sudden, startlingly clear image of what Darleston was tentatively hinting at. She’d seen the men together often enough now to know how things worked between them, and if Darleston were in the middle then, yes, it would be possible for them all to be joined at once; but did he really believe that they could manage it without her and Lyle touching one another? The strange thing was that, in the situation he envisaged, the thought of accepting Lyle’s touch when lost in a sensual haze didn’t disturb her nearly as much as the idea of tolerating even an everyday embrace from Amelia.

‘I can try,’ she said. ‘Will I be able to feel him through you?’

Darleston turned her head so that he could look at her. His grey eyes shone with wonder. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to understand so completely, or to accept it with such grace. He seemed pleased that she had. She supposed most women didn’t want to hear about their lover’s past deeds, or their love of other people, but somehow she didn’t feel threatened by his desire for Lyle, only intrigued.

‘I don’t know. Some of his movements, perhaps. I’ve never really been in that situation to know.’

‘But you have performed … made love in such a way?’

He stroked her hair, and then pressed his lips against hers. ‘No. Not exactly in that way. You have to understand that the two halves of my life have never really crossed. I’ve loved two men at the same time, and I’ve bedded women in the company of another man, or two, but the woman in question was always centre stage. That’s not how it’s going to be between us.’

‘So many lovers, and yet you find time to be intrigued by me and my coldness.’

‘You’re not cold at all.’

She accepted his words with a nod, while not entirely believing them. ‘Has Lyle asked you to stay with us?’

His expression grew dark. ‘I think he intended to talk to you first.’

‘Ah.’ They sat in silence a moment, until Darleston bent and gave her another gentle kiss.

‘He knows how I feel,’ she said. ‘I can’t see why he’d delay making the offer, unless he feels threatened or uncomfortable in some way.’

Darleston cocked his head to one side as if considering. ‘Perhaps he simply wants to talk it over thoroughly in case there are terms to negotiate. It’s a big step, inviting me into your lives like that.’

‘He wouldn’t have thought twice about it if I weren’t involved. We’ve entertained his lovers before.’

‘This is meant to be rather more permanent.’

Emma mulled that over for a moment, but she couldn’t see that permanency was the issue. Lyle lived too much in the moment for that. He didn’t think in the long term, only of the now: how things affected him now, not how they would be in three days’ time, let alone longer. ‘He’s not going to present me with some ridiculous plan whereby we get you for three days a week each and only share you on Sundays, is he? I hope he knows that’s not going to work. That would be tiresome and awful.’

‘Then how do you propose we arrange it?’ Darleston steepled his fingers before him and tapped his fingertips to his mouth.

Emma frowned at him, incredulous. ‘That we go about our daily lives and see what comes of it. I’m sure we’ll all desire privacy at some point, but we can address that as adults, can’t we?’

‘He’s already jealous of the time I spend with you.’

‘Oh, is he?’ She was already aware of that. ‘Well, I don’t suppose he’s thought about the amount of time the two of you spend together gallivanting about the estate and how that excludes me. In fact, you’re able to see a whole lot more of one another than I can ever hope of doing with either of you. I might be seen as peculiar, but I’m still obliged to entertain the ladies of the district. They’ll be constantly calling, once it’s known you’re staying with us – an actual viscount.’