Daughter of Darkness (12 page)

‘I shall do no such thing. I have no intention of dining with a man who displays such ill manners and bad humor.’

His glare would have intimidated most people, but Willow ignored it. She’d worked hard to establish an easily managed routine in the house and had no intention of acceding to her husband’s bullying. He just didn’t understand that a routine had to be followed, or chaos would result.

Jeffrey appeared from the shadows behind her and said in a conciliatory manner. ‘There’s much to do before we dine, Gerard. It was our intention to ask you to join us— ‘

‘Our intention?’ Gerard’s gaze swept haughtily from one to the other. ‘Since when have you been a couple?’

‘Pray do not display such tedious arrogance.’ Willow gazed at the waiting footman. ‘Please make sure the earl’s tray is taken upstairs.’ Her hand swept in an arc across the table. ‘Remove this and find some means of keeping it warm. We’ll dine later.’ She turned towards her husband who was gazing at her with incredulity etched on his face. ‘Let me explain the situation.’

‘There’s no need to explain.’ His fist crashed down on the table, setting the cutlery dancing. ‘It’s obvious you have no intention of paying service to your position as wife, or obeying your husband’s lawful commands. You’ve taken my bread, enjoyed the comfort of my roof over your head, and worn the clothes I’ve provided on your back. You’ve been spoiled in my absence, and I’m sorely tempted to send you back to your father. Do not try my patience much further, madam.’

An anguished gasp issued from her mouth and she fell silent. Her eyes became fearful, as if haunted by memories of her past. He began to regret his words, but pride would not let him retract them.

‘Do not go on I beg of you, Gerard.’ Jeffrey put a restraining hand on his arm. I’ll dine with you if that’s your wish. It will be like old times.’

‘No, Jeffrey, it will never be that again.’ The anger drained from him as fast as it had arrived. He gazed silently at Willow. She was wearing an expression of such abject misery he was moved to guilt as he remembered the bloodied stripes the marquis had given her as a wedding present. ‘I’ve no intention of sending you back.’ She stood perfectly still when he advanced towards her. Her rigidity surrounded her with a barrier of tension. The purple quartz of her eyes was cold and glittering in the candlelight. Abject misery or not, she was not appeased by his about face.

‘I wish to point out that I’m not a servant to be ordered about,’ she snapped in a voice as cold as her eyes. ‘I
demand
to be treated with respect.’ The smile she sent his brother was troubled. ‘Explain to my husband the routine I’m forced to follow. He may condescend to listen to you, Jeffrey. God knows, he’s too proud to listen to a woman, whom he seems to regard as some sort of chattel.’ Her eyes swept over the table. ‘You will excuse me, husband. Others are more needful and deserving of my time.’

He could only admire her grace and courage as she swept from the room leaving her fragrance to linger about him. Then that too was gone. He turned to find Jeffrey staring at him with disdain in his eyes. Dear God, what had he done to turn his brother against him? He sighed. ‘I cannot bear to have you look at me so. Come, tell me what’s on your mind. You can speak the truth without fear of reprisal.’

Jeffrey’s eyes were flint hard. ‘You’ve changed, Gerard. You’re not worthy enough to be husband to Willow.’

‘What!’
He stared at him in astonished outrage for a moment, then seeing the misery in his brother’s eyes experienced a rush of sympathy. Jeffrey was in love. Willow the object of that love.

‘Nevertheless I am her husband,’ he said gently. He threw his arm around Jeffrey’s stiff shoulders in brotherly affection, waiting a few short moments until he relaxed. ‘Come,’ he said, sighing as he lead him to the table. ‘I seem to be doing everything wrong of late. You’ll give me the benefit of your advice, and I’ll tell you all about Virginia whilst we wait for the food to be warmed. Why does Willow not have the time to dine with us?’

‘Our beloved father will not eat unless she’s there to coax him. We usually have our meal on a tray afterwards and spend some of the evening in his company. Willow said it’s important father feels needed and loved at this time. We were going to invite you to join us.’

‘Why did she not tell me that?’ he asked, mortified by his lack of understanding of the situation.

‘I believe your pride would not allow her to.’

‘You’re right,’ he muttered. He gave his brother a conspiratorial grin. ‘Tell me, would Willow regard an apology with favour?’

Jeffrey returned the grin. ‘Unless you’d welcome another flea in your ear, wait until her temper cools.’

Gerard decided to make his apology later. The house was quiet when he slipped from his bed and shrugged into his robe. A grin played around his mouth. Willow would make a delightful change from the women he usually associated with. Something about her told him she’d be an apt pupil once she got over her initial shyness.

Anticipation roused him into a gentle half-readiness and he felt like laughing. Married four years and his wife still a virgin? No wonder she had such a foul temper.

Candle held aloft he stepped through the concealed door to the adjoining chamber. He stopped, looking about him in uncertainty. The oath he gave was succinct, and his half-arousal became a shadow.

Where the hell did she sleep?

When they came into the hall they didn’t see Gerard at the top of the stairway. Willow’s cheeks glowed with cold and her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snatched the hat from his brother’s head and threw it up in the air, laughing when a shower of snowflakes drifted down. Catching the hat with one hand, Jeffrey grinned as he helped her off with her cloak. They were just back from a ride. Willow’s riding habit was mismatched, the blue coat and hat at odds with the brown skirt. It offended Gerard’s aesthetic sense.

‘Let’s go and warm ourselves up in the ballroom,’ she suggested, stamping her feet against the cold on the crest of arms embedded in the marble floor.

Gerard shrank into the shadows when Jeffrey gazed about him. ‘What if Gerard’s about?’

‘Stop being faint-hearted, Jeffrey. After his excesses of the past few days he’ll probably sleep until noon.’

The scorn in her voice whipped color into Gerard’s face.
Not so, little lady.
His face was thoughtful as he watched them disappear in the direction of the ballroom. His habit was to rise early, especially in winter when the daylight hours were short. This morning he intended to breakfast with his father’s steward and familiarize himself with estate news. He wanted to discuss the new agricultural system he planned to implement. The commonly used strip system was inadequate. He couldn’t understand why his father hadn’t already begun to modernize the estate.

First, he’d make it his business to find out exactly what Jeffrey and Willow were up to in the ballroom so early in the morning. A grin tugged at his mouth as he descended the stairs and slipped into the study. Was she teaching Jeffrey to dance at this early hour? The thought amused him while he waited for Rodgers to bring his hot chocolate.

Leaning back in his chair, he stared into the fire crackling in the hearth. Despite his worry over his father’s state of health he experienced a sense of wellbeing. He was home, had the future of the estate to plan for and a woman to warm his nights when he so wished. And what a woman she was! His wife was exquisite.

His glance roved to the paintings adorning the walls. Mostly they were of horses and the men who rode them. He’d grown up with them, leaning against his father’s knee whilst he’d enthralled him with stories about them. It was said he resembled the fourth earl with his hawk-like features and fierce frown. His glance moved toward the likeness. For a moment he gazed with puzzlement at the blaze of blue in the centre of the fourth earl’s uniform jacket, then coming upright, stared at it for a few unbelieving moments more. The dagger had been removed. Tucked into the ripped canvas was the blue ribbon he’d cut from Willow’s cap.

Deciding the chocolate could wait, he sprang to his feet and strode off towards the ballroom, a grin playing around his mouth. The clash of steel against steel brought him to an abrupt halt in the doorway. It took a few seconds to register that the youth fencing with his brother was none other than Willow. They were using foils. He automatically checked if the tips were guarded before allowing himself to be mildly shocked at her attire. Far from a disguise, it only served to accentuate her femininity. The outline of her hips was rounded, but firm beneath the faded fabric of the breeches she wore. Slender, shapely legs disappeared into a pair of worn riding boots.

Fetching though her figure was, he managed to drag his eyes away from her provocatively displayed rear and concentrated on her swordsmanship. She gave a light laugh as she parried a head cut, then scored a point off Jeffrey’s padding with her
riposte.
Someone had taught her well. Light on her feet, she was wary as she circled, her eyes alert on her opponent’s movement. It took but a few moments appreciate her skill. Her co-ordination was good, her timing perfect, her concentration absolute. He could almost see her planning the strategy that would end the bout to her advantage. Springing forward, she expertly slipped beneath Jeffrey’s guard with a perfect thrust to the body. Her rapier formed a quivering arc as it met the resistance of the padding, then sprang straight when she removed it. Jeffrey clutched his hands to his chest, staggered theatrically backwards then sank to the floor.

‘You cannot fool me,’ she scolded, and, ripping the mask from her face began to catch her breath. ‘You allowed me to win.’

Jeffrey grinned when she threw her mask at him. With lithe grace, he sprang to his feet and bowed low. ‘I confess I gave you a couple of openings, but one needed to be skilled to have observed them.’

Gerard laughed, he couldn’t help himself. His brother had a smooth tongue for one so young. He was a fine looking youth, lacking yet of muscular strength. Women would have to watch out for him before too long.

A look of consternation passed between them before they turned to face him.

‘I know what you are about to say, Gerard.’ Jeffrey slid protectively in front of Willow. ‘If anyone is to be chastised it should be me.’

‘Nonsense.’ Defiantly, Willow pushed herself forward. ‘We’ve done nothing untoward. I
refuse
to be chastised for nothing.’ ‘

You call dressing immodestly nothing?’ Wanting to laugh, he waited with interest to hear her reasoning.

‘If you were a woman and forced to wear cumbersome skirts, you would soon discover that being so confined is not comfortable—given certain circumstances.’ The expression in her eyes was deliciously indignant. He could admire her ingeniousness when she appealed. ‘How do you expect me to fence under such restrictions?’

He understood her point of view, but his enjoyment of the situation was growing too much to let it pass. ‘Perhaps I do not expect you to indulge in such unfeminine pastimes as fencing.’

Her voice rose to a squeak. ‘Not fence?’

She was easy to tease. He tried to keep the amusement out of his eyes when Jeffrey turned aside with a grin on his face. ‘Women should be modest and gentle.’ He exchanged a conspiratorial glance with his brother. ‘They should run the household, and only concern themselves with womanly pursuits such as embroidery.’ He hesitated slightly before thinking of something guaranteed to raise her ire rise even further. ‘Women should be decorative and agreeable for their husbands. Above all,’ he said quickly when she drew in a deep breath and opened her delicious mouth to protest, ‘a woman should keep her place, and never answer her husband back.’

Never?’
A conflict of emotion danced in the depths her eyes. First came a spark of rebellion, then disbelief—subdued by an incredible hurt to dim their flame. Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes filled with tears. ‘You’ll find me sadly lacking then, husband. I confess, I’ve none of the admirable qualities you desire in a woman.’

Damnation, he’d made her cry. ‘Indeed you have,’ he hastened to reassure her. ‘You’re the sweetest, and most beautiful woman I’ve ever come across.’

An embroidered handkerchief was removed from her cuff and an aroma of perfume was released to tantalize his nostrils. ‘But I’m a most disagreeable person, and I argue with you.’ Eyes quivering with tears were turned his way. Drawn into their depths, he discovered a disturbing gleam of mischief. If her purpose was to test his temper it would do no harm to lull her into a false sense of security, he mused.

‘There’s nothing quite so boring as a woman who has nothing to say for herself,’ he encouraged. ‘It does not displease me.’

The handkerchief was applied to her eyes leaving Gerard momentarily bereft by the withdrawal of their regard. She gave the tiniest of sighs. ‘I hate to be thought immodest. I’ll give up fencing and apply myself to embroidery instead. Lady Edwina tells me I’ll never be a good needlewoman. Still, it will amuse her to berate me for my lack of skill.’

He couldn’t abandon her to such a fate. ‘You have my permission to continue to fence if it amuses you.’

‘And the breeches?’

‘As long as you don’t wear them abroad.’

‘Thank you, Gerard.’ She surprised him by lightly kissing his cheek and he discovered that there was no trace of tears now.

‘A reward for the ingeniousness of your plea.’

Their eyes joined and held. A soft, self-mocking smile curved her lips. ‘I had not expected you to be quite so perceptive, nor so indulgent with me.’

‘Touche, madam.’
His eyes narrowed a fraction. She was young, but she had a strong instinct for survival. He picked up her hand, placing a kiss in the palm as compliment. ‘Who taught you to fence?’

Dark, feathery lashes dipped momentarily over her eyes. ‘It was my tutor, James Langland.’

‘Earl Langland’s second son?’

She nodded.

‘That must account for it. He’s an expert swordsman, and a crack shot, I believe. Some say he equaled your father’s prowess before he dropped out of sight.’ A frown creased his brow. ‘Rumor has it he was deeply in debt to the marquis. He must have pledged himself to your father to avoid debtors prison.’