Sweet Bargain (20 page)

"You are teasing," she said. "I like you to tease."

"I like it, too," he said with some difficulty as a particularly hot wave of desire crested in him. "I should go."

"I know," she said, as if she recognized the thing he was struggling with. "It's just that we are talking, not arguing, and it is nice and ..."

"Will you come with me to the river in the morning?"

"I will."

"Shut the door and lock it," he said. "Good night."

"Good night."

He stepped back, allowing her to close the door, and listened for the scrape of the key in the lock. When he heard it, he turned and crossed to his bedside. With shaking hands he fumbled for the tinderbox and lit a candle. He pulled his Scott novel from under a pillow and resolutely set himself to read.

Chapter 17

AN OVERCAST MORNING gave the river a dull pewter look, and Bel and Nick argued about how best to describe rain from a trout's point of view as they made their way down the hill through the woods.

Then they reached the bank above the pool. Six dead trout floated on the surface, drifting like logs, all the liquid silver movement of the living fish stilled—pale bellies up, fixed mouths gaping, no flutter of gills or tails.

"No," Bel cried.

Nick swore. He scanned the opposite bank and then began to examine the ground where they stood. Bel sank onto a rock and stared at the ugly sight in the pool. But in her mind she saw Darlington bending down at the water's edge with something in his hand, something that Auggie had not wanted her to see. When Nick looked at her, she lowered her gaze.

"There's nothing here to suggest who did this," he said quietly. "But you know, don't you?"

She looked up. His eyes were unreadable. "I do not
know
, but I would like to question ... someone about it."

He nodded and turned away. "Let's go back," he said. "I want to get Farre. These fish have to be removed."

"I'll help," she said, wanting to show him that she was on his side in this matter.

"No. I don't want you near the water." He whirled and faced her, his dark eyes burning. His curt refusal of her help stung her. This river that they both loved seemed destined to divide them.

He must have read her expression, for he spoke again more gently. "First we need to know whether the river is poisoned or merely the fish." He held out a hand to help her up.

She took his hand and rose. He looked once more at the spoiled pool and then drew her with him up the path, his stride purposeful and swift, his anger just barely controlled.

Halfway up the path she pulled against the hand that held hers, and stopped, bracing herself against his momentum. He halted and turned to face her. She drew a steadying breath.

"I know you are angry, and justly so, but will you still come with me tonight to Richard and Mary's?"

His eyes searched hers, then fell to their clasped hands. "I will," he said.

The trees outside Mary Shaw's drawing-room window bent low and sprang abruptly upright with the gusting wind. Rain drummed intermittently against the panes. But the fire in the hearth flared brightly and the logs popped as Mary led her female guests in from the dining room. Bel refused to take precedence over her sister-in-law at a family dinner, so she entered with her cousins.

"Bel, your husband is just as dull as all the men hereabouts," complained Ellen. "He hardly talked of anything but the Hilcombe trial."

"I could forgive him that," said Fanny, "but he asked Richard about Talavera, and you know how often we have had to endure that story."

Louisa laughed. "The worst was talking about the harvest. 'Will the rain spoil the crops?' "

"Is your earl so dull at home, Bel?" asked Fanny.

"Never!" she said. At her passionate, unhesitating defense of him everyone turned to stare. And she blushed, conscious of the false picture of their marriage they had been presenting all evening. But Nick must not be judged harshly by them. The Shaws must see past the fine clothes and stiff demeanor her husband adopted in company.

She was grateful when Mary called the ladies' attention to the wild flailing of the trees outside the window, but it was not a view that could hold Ellen, Louisa, and Fanny long, and even Bel's aunts and Mrs. Darlington soon turned away, drawn to the warmth of the fire. Bel lingered with her mother and Mary.

"It's so wild a storm for this time of year," said Mary. "Does it mean anything, do you think?" She was looking at Serena with particular interest, so Bel left them to their conversation.

She seated herself at the pianoforte and resolutely set herself to play a lively tune. Storms always made her wonder where Tom was, but tonight she found her attention wandering to her husband in the dining room next door, face-to-face with Alan Darlington and surrounded by the Shaw men.

Nick had been reluctant at best to keep their engagement for the evening, and until he knocked at her door, she had doubted he would come. In their carriage he had explained that poisoned bait had been fed to the trout; nothing had been added directly to the water. He had said little else except to ask her to remind him who was who among her relatives. Then he had listened with solemn attention to her recital of names and connections while the little flutter of awareness spread outward along her nerves until she was trembling. "You're cold," he had said, and she had let him think so.

Her mother and Mary strolled from the window to the fire arm in arm, looking pleased with one another, and Bel stopped playing.

"Mary has some wonderful news," Serena announced. She stepped back and let her quiet daughter-in-law speak.

"Richard and I are to have another child in April," said Mary.

There were so many exclamations and questions that everyone seemed to be talking at once; Mary beamed, trying to answer them all. Bel left the pianoforte to offer her best wishes to her sister-in-law, and the thought struck her that she herself might have such an announcement to make if she were sharing her husband's bed. To think of it made her warm, though she was far from the fire. But to do it she would have to say she wanted such intimacy between them.

"At least Princess Charlotte has made the tiresome thing fashionable," said Fanny.

"Oh, Fanny, do let Mary enjoy her moment," said Bel.

"When will you have an announcement, Bel?" asked Louisa sharply. The question drew the eyes of her aunts and Mrs. Darlington. Bel felt the heat rise in her cheeks but tipped her chin up defiantly.

"Why, when it's my turn, Louisa," she said.

Then the men entered, and it was plain that Richard had announced the coming birth to them. Bel's father came forward at once to take Mary's hands and tell her how pleased he was to hear of yet another grandchild coming into the world.

Bel looked for Nick and found him listening, with every appearance of polite attention, to something Uncle Charles was saying. She could not help but stare, and, as if he felt her gaze, he glanced at her— and slowly, wondrously, he grinned. It was one of those rare unguarded moments when he let her see the warm feeling in those near-black eyes of his. She had the distinct impression that her husband had had his share of the port. She sought to hide her response to that glowing look by returning to the pianoforte and leafing through the music.

It was Darlington, not her husband, who joined her there almost at once.

"Are you going to play a reel for us, Bel?" he asked.

"I might, if there's a request for dancing," she said with cool civility, wondering how to get the truth out of Darlington about the poisoned fish.

"And will you dance?"

"If I am not needed at the instrument," she replied.

"Will your husband dance?"

Bel studied the music sheets before her. It was a question she could not answer with any certainty.

"It won't do, Bel. You can't convince me you and your earl have got a real marriage," Darlington said.

"Mr. Darlington," Bel replied, speaking in a low, taut voice, "my marriage is not a subject I will discuss with you. What I wish to hear from you is what you and my brother were doing along the Ashe yesterday when I came upon you."

"Auggie told you—fishing." Darlington placed a hand on the instrument and was leaning negligently against it, but he was not meeting her gaze.

"With poisoned bait?" she asked.

His eyes betrayed him with a sudden quick glance at her.

"It was an ugly act," she said.

"If I am guilty of it, so is your brother," he said, leaning intimately toward her.

Bel looked at Nick and found his eyes fixed on her. Darlington caught the look and laughed with such smug assurance that she longed to slap his arrogant face.

"You'll never tell your titled husband your brother's crimes, Bel." He bowed a mocking bow and strolled over to the table where the tea service had been set out and Mary had begun to pour.

Darlington was right about the dilemma she faced. If things were better between Nick and herself, she might have told him about Auggie. If Auggie had not hurt the Ashe, things might have been better between Bel and Nick. She looked at Nick, but he turned away and strolled to the window to gaze out at the storm. He seemed as distant as ever.

Though he had heard every word of Charles Shaw's explanation of how a postponement of the Hilcombe trial had been managed, Nick had been watching Darlington talk to Bel. He was so incensed by the manner in which the big man leaned over the pianoforte toward his wife that he found it necessary to stroll to the dark, cool windows beyond which the storm lashed the trees. He was conscious, too, of having consumed more wine than he usually allowed himself. The effect was not entirely unpleasant. Whenever his eyes met Bel's, he felt a surge of desire course through him unchecked. He had been most careful to keep a close guard on his tongue at those moments. In truth, he was not sure he could speak with his senses so full of his wife's mere presence in the room. He had barely steadied himself when Darlington appeared at his side. The man blocked Nick's view of the others. Nick gauged his adversary's stance warily.

"So, Haverly," Darlington began, "how's your Courtland property doing?"

"Fine," said Nick. He stared out the window at the storm.

"You certainly have been the attentive landlord this past fortnight. Your tenants sing your praises in the public room."

The tone made Nick tense his muscles and shift his stance, anticipating an attack, but he answered mildly. "I am gratified to serve them well."

"And do you serve your
wife
well?" Darlington asked.

Nick whirled to face the other man and with the sudden movement felt the alcohol swirl like a mist in his brain. His fists clenched, and only Farre's training kept him from throwing a wild first punch. Judgment prevailed. The eyes of others in the room were on them.
Damn
. He could not fight the man here, now.

"You choose well in making your insults in the safety of this drawing room, Darlington," he said quietly. "Don't make them anywhere else. I have the right to defend Bel now."

"I can say what I want anywhere and everywhere in Ashecombe. Bel was meant for me, and I'll have her yet."

Nick knew a flash of self-doubt, but he kept his gaze steady. Bel might not truly be his, but that she was meant for Darlington he couldn't credit. He let his fists open. If Uncle Miles had taught him anything, it was the power of a cutting word.

"By whom was she meant for you? By your own arrogant designation?" Nick had the satisfaction of seeing Darlington flush.

"By her family. Look about you, Haverly. I've known these people all my life, and I know Bel. She's too proud to have a husband who will look down on her family."

"It is fortunate, then, that she married me rather than you, Darlington, for you have a habit of showing contempt for her and all the Shaws. Excuse me."

Nick gave a sudden glance over Darlington's left shoulder, then stepped right, neatly eluding his adversary. He sauntered to the tea table, accepted a cup of coffee from Mary Shaw, and turned toward the pianoforte. He raised the cup to his lips, letting his pulse slow even as he considered Darlington as an opponent. It was plain from the style of the man's verbal attack that with his size Darlington had never felt obliged to learn strategy. Darlington would put all his energy into the first punches, confident he could stun opponents with one or two blows. Lord, it would be sweet to plant the man a facer.

Nick was roused from this satisfying reverie by a sudden stir in the room. Darlington had left his awkward position by the windows and joined Bel's cousins in a knot around the instrument. Ellen Fletcher emerged from the group and hurried from Mary to Richard Shaw, and suddenly she was approaching him.

"We're to have dancing, your lordship. Will you join us?" She didn't wait for an answer but skipped away to speak to her mother and aunts. Nick looked for Bel, but she was surrounded by cousins. He lowered his cup to the saucer and laid the china aside on a nearby table. The self-satisfied glow of his encounter with Darlington faded. He was sure to make a fool of himself in front of Bel now.

"Haverly, will you help us move a few things?" asked Mr. Fletcher.

Nick nodded.

When Ellen, bored with talk of babies and storms, proposed dancing, Darlington immediately agreed. Bel looked for Nick. His back was to her as he accepted a cup of coffee from Mary. His refusal to dance at their wedding had been one of the most hurtful things he had done to her, and she had no doubt that Darlington's enthusiastic support of Ellen's suggestion was meant to test Nick. Surely he would dance with her now, and surely a waltz in the drawing room would lead to a kiss in the carriage.

For a few minutes there was a great deal of confusion as sofas, tables, and chairs were carried to the edges of the room. Then a footman was sent for and the rug rolled up. Mary volunteered to play for them first, and the only thing remaining to be resolved was whether to begin with a country dance or a quadrille.

At that moment Ellen turned to Nick. "Let Lord Haverly decide," she urged.