My Lord Viking (18 page)

     
Looking at her sister, sitting next to her betrothed on a gold settee in the small parlor, Linnea was astonished at a pinch of envy.
 
She did not wish she was the one marrying Lord Simmons, that was for certain.
 
Harvey Simmons was a pleasant fellow and had the wealth to afford an excellent tailor who made his coats to hide his bony form.
 
Dinah seemed utterly taken with him, although Linnea was still waiting for him to speak of something other than wine or cards or horses.
 

     
Her envy was not of her sister’s fiancé, but of the fact that her sister could openly admire a man who had caught her eye.
 

     
Was she out of her mind?
 
She might not have changed her mind about marrying
Randolph
, but she would be insane to consider entangling her life with Nils’s.
 
Even if Nils was not determined to return to a time long past, he was the most overbearing and condescending and beastly man she had ever encountered.
 

     
“Martin,” Minnie said with a laugh, “you should take care what jokes you relate when your younger sisters are in earshot.”

     
“They are both husband-high,” he returned as he refilled his glass from the bottle that still had dust on it from the cellars.
 
Holding up the bottle, he smiled when Lord Simmons held out his own glass.
 

     
“Even so, you know Lady Sutherland would not be pleased to hear you speak so.”

     
“That is why,” Dinah interjected, “he saved the story until Mama went to
Brighton
to bring Great-Uncle Roger for the wedding.”
 
She wafted her lashes at Lord Simmons, who smiled broadly in her direction.
 

     
“Excuse me, my lord,” said a footman by the door.
 
“Lord Tuthill is calling.”

     
Martin winked at Linnea as he stood.
 
“By all means, bring him up without further delay.”
 
When the footman left to obey, Martin added, “It seems we shall be quite the party this evening.”

     
Lord Simmons took a deep drink from his glass, his bright red hair gleaming in the lamplight with the motion.
 
“I had noticed one was missing.”

     
Linnea kept her smile from falling as they all looked at her.
 
She wished she could please them by acting delighted that
Randolph
was calling, but the truth was that she had been glad he had not visited
Sutherland
Park
for the past few days.

     
Even so, she rose to her feet when
Randolph
appeared in the doorway.
 
She was aware of five pairs of eyes gauging every motion she made as she went to greet him.
 
This requirement to act as if she were glad that he was intruding on her evening was absurd.
 

     
When she heard the echo of Nils’s laughter, her feet suddenly seemed to weigh as much as
Sutherland
Park
’s gatehouse.
 
How Nils would roar with laughter if he was privy to her rebellious thoughts!
 
She had been careful not to let Nils discern—as she had taken care not to let anyone know—how often she found the constraints of the
ton
uncomfortable.
 
She would not have been walking along the strand without her shoes and stockings the day she found him otherwise.

     
“Good evening, Randolph,” she said, stopping far enough away from him that he could not kiss her as he had when she last saw him.
 
She had to admit he looked handsome tonight, for his navy coat was unblemished by even a hint of dust, although his hair was tousled as if playful fingers had slipped through it.
 

     
He drew a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.
 
“These are for you, Linnea.”
 
He lowered his voice.
 
“I know they cannot atone for my crude behavior when last we spoke, but I wish you to know how sorry I am.”

     
She looked from the bouquet to his earnest face. “
Randolph
, where have you been keeping yourself for the past few days?”
 
She hoped her cheerfulness did not sound as false to the others as it did to her.
 

     
His brows lowered, and she knew he had noted to her brittle tone.
 
“I am pleasantly surprised that you missed me.”

     
“Of course she missed you when you did not call for almost a week.”
 
Martin, ever the genial host, came to stand behind her.

     
“I have been,”
Randolph
replied in his most correct voice, “in
London
cleaning out my father’s house there, so it can be sold.”

     
“Tedious work, I would wager by your expression.”
 
Martin threw his arm around
Randolph
’s shoulders and squeezed them companionably.
 
“You know Simmons, I trust.”

     
“Yes, we have met.”

     
Linnea glanced at the others, but no one seemed to hear the edge in
Randolph
’s voice.
 
Was it simply because he was annoyed with her attempt to feign an effusive welcome or for some other reason?
 
She was amazed to realize that she could not recall ever seeing
Randolph
and her sister’s betrothed in the same room.
 

     
“Do sit down with us and enjoy a bit of the poker-talk that Simmons has brought with him from
London
,” continued Martin, his smile far more genuine than
Randolph
’s.
 
“You may have more tales to add, if you are just back from Town.”

     
“I had hoped to have a moment to speak with Linnea,”
Randolph
said.

     
With a laugh and a slap on the back that sent
Randolph
forward a half-step, Martin winked at Lord Simmons.
 
“You two will have time enough for whispering court-promises during another call.
 
Come and sit with us and have some of this worthy port that Simmons brought.”

     
Simmons chuckled as he snagged another glass and filled it with a generous serving.
 
“I think the ladies were just about to excuse themselves so we might enjoy blowing a cloud.”
 
He reached under his coat and pulled out another cigar.
 
“Let them fill their heads with all the details of the wedding to come at week’s end.”

     
“And toast Simmons while he is still free of the parson’s mousetrap.”
 
Martin raised his glass.
 
“To your last hours of your carefree bachelor days.”

     
Linnea did not wait to hear the men’s response.
 
Going with Dinah and Minnie out into the hallway, she let her sister’s chatter about the banquet to be held after the marriage ceremony ease her disquiet.
 
Minnie gave her a sideways look, but Linnea was unsure what her sister-in-law was trying to say silently.
 

     
Whatever it was, Minnie did not take the opportunity to tell her while Linnea put the bouquet in a vase, or during the two hours they listened to Dinah prattle in another sitting room farther along the gallery overlooking the entry.
 
Linnea waited until she heard the clock chime ten times.
 
Then, rising, she excused herself.
 
She needed to go and check on Olive before going to bed as she did each night now.

     
Check on
Olive
?
 

     
Linnea almost laughed out loud, but not with humor.
 
She might be able to fool others that nothing was different about her life in the past week, but she could not lie to herself.
 
Going out to the pavilion to check that Olive was set for the night was only an excuse to see Nils again.
 
She wanted to assure herself that he was not trying to sneak away, and she wanted any chance to be with him while she could.
 
He had cast a spell over her like an alchemist, although she knew it was more likely that iron would be changed to gold than she could alter Nils from the outspoken warrior he was into the epitome of a fine gentleman.

     
A form wove toward her as she walked down the stairs.
 
Her heart contracted sharply, then she realized it was not Randolph, but her brother Martin.
 

     
“Where are you off to at this hour?” he asked, his words blurred from the port.
 

     
“I have an errand I need to tend to before I go to bed.”

     
“What has Dinah talked you into doing for her now?”
 
He put his hand on the newel post.
 
“She has run this whole family ragged with her requests for her wedding.
 
I hope you are not going to be the same if you are witless enough to let your girlish dreams of catching yourself a husband lead you to marrying Tuthill.”

     
Linnea gasped in amazement.
 
“I did not realize that you disliked
Randolph
.”

     
“Dislike him?”
 
Martin shook his head as he sat on the bottommost riser.
 
He must have been more foxed than Linnea had guessed.
 
“I do not dislike the man.
 
He is just the most boring creature I have ever met.
 
Even with the conviviality of fine cigars and good drink this evening, he insisted on being dolorous.”

     
“Mayhap,” said Minnie, coming down the steps to stand beside him, “because he wished to call on Linnea tonight and not you old toads who were determined to sit and croak all evening.”

     
“Is that a kind way to address your husband?”
 
He set himself on his feet and held out his hand.
 

     
When Minnie put her hand on his, Linnea could not mistake the love between her brother and his wife.
 
She knew there had been much prattle about the earl’s heir marrying the daughter of the vicar in the next parish, but no one had been able to persuade Martin not to have the wife of his heart.
 
Somehow, past the lump in her throat, she bid them good night.
 
She doubted if they heard her while they went up the stairs together, as engrossed in each other as they had been on the day they wed five years before.
 

     
This was the love she wanted.
 
Not the quiet acceptance of
Randolph
as an inevitable part of her life.
 
The thrill of Nils’s touch was intoxicating, but was that what she wanted, either?
 
She had seen her older siblings fall in and out of love with quicksilver speed.
 

     
She wanted this lasting love that brought a smile when loving gazes met.
 
She wished she knew where to find it.

* * * *

     
“Nils?” Linnea called as she did each time she came up the stairs since she had discovered him half-dressed.
 
She glanced at where Olive was asleep on one of the stone benches.
 
Olive would not rouse to less than the roof falling in.

     
“I am awake.”
 
Nils motioned for her to join him sitting where the moonlight draped across his chest like a luminescent cloak.
 
When she hesitated, unable to see his face, as it was hidden in the shadows, he said, “Young Jack ran to the kitchen to get some cake for the two of us.
 
He shall be returning any minute now, so you need not worry about being without a watchdog.”