The Colonel and The Enchantress (An Enchantress Novel Book 4)

by Paullett Golden

  It took him a moment to trace his thoughts back to their conversation. “If she so wishes, we will live among the foliage as jungle natives. Today went well? You like her? Why was shopping limited to an hour? I expected not to see the three of you until this evening or late afternoon at the earliest.”

  “We had a lovely time, and she’s a sweet girl. I admit to feeling dowdy around her. She’s so polished and proper. But she’s sweet and doesn’t put on airs, not even when my nervous chatter gets the best of me. We only shopped for an hour, maybe less. Talked with the shopkeepers, met villagers, and called on two neighbors.”

  Duncan waved a hand. “She must have been under the impression neither of you wanted to shop. It’s her favorite pastime. She could have been at it all day long if left unattended.”

  Miranda frowned, looking at him quizzically. “Actually, she said she didn’t care for shopping and only went because she thought we did. All settled that none of us did, we took to meeting people instead.”

  “Don’t you see? She was trying to please you. Shopping has always been something she’s enjoyed. A new bonnet, hours with a modiste for fittings…” his sentence trailed off.

  “I don’t doubt she once enjoyed shopping, but now it would seem she doesn’t. Wasn’t she sixteen when you left for the continent? The pastimes of a sixteen-year-old are different from that of a lady of one and twenty, Duncan.”

  He huffed, crossing his arms. “I think I know my wife well enough.”

  For snippets of the day, he had imagined Mary’s excitement at buying some frivolous thing. He had always found it endearing to hear her tales of shopping. There were letters even that detailed her adventures. Had it been so long ago?

  “Of course you do,” Miranda said, standing.

  Duncan stood, as well, all eyes of the children on them in case the two adults tried to escape.

  Turning to her girls, Miranda said, “I’m only going to put her down for a nap. Don’t give me those long looks.”

  Reassured, the children returned to their play. Duncan watched his sister-in-law tuck Olivia into a child’s bed, feeling extraneous.

  “We leave in two days. Will you be well on your own?” She gave him a knowing look. “Quinn is worried about you not having anyone to help.”

  “Nonsense. I have Mary, and I am quite well.”

  “You know what I mean. Papa Sean wants to send both wheeled chairs in case something happens. If anything does happen, promise you’ll send word right away.” She knelt next to the bed and brushed the hair out of her daughter’s eyes.

  “I’m almost fully healed. To look at me, you’d never know aught was wrong. Tell me I’m mistaken.” He waited, brows raised.

  With a scowl of reproof, she said, “You’re as stubborn as Quinn. Promise to send for us if something happens.”

  “I don’t need a hall full of nursemaids, Miranda. I’m perfectly well.”

  The evening before the family was set to leave, Mary sat in bed, embroidering. The candlelight was too dim by which to see well, but she was determined to keep busy while she waited for Duncan. It was far too early to retire, technically; nevertheless, they had retired early for the whole of the week, both eager for intimacy before slumber. Tonight, however, it would seem only one was eager for intimacy. He was nearly an hour late already.

  She stabbed at the lace. Had he grown tired of her so soon? Did she not please him? Dropping the embroidery to her lap, she gasped—what if something had happened and he could not walk? No, do not think like that. He would be able to call for help if something happened.

  She tied off her thread and set the tambour frame on the side table. She was cold, lonely, and feeling unloved.

  The week had been grand, truly, but each day sent Duncan off to do things on his own without a single invitation to her. He met with the tenant farmers without her. He arose early to meet with the steward without her. He rode about the park without her. However much she enjoyed his poems, she would rather have him by her side, the two of them doing things in tandem, riding together, calling on neighbors and tenants together, meeting the steward together, running the estate together. So hungry for affection, she kept accosting him wherever she met him. How else was she to show she needed and wanted him?

  Snuffing the candle, she pulled the covers over her and buried her head in the pillow.

  It was not as though she did not have things to occupy her time. A household did not run itself. And there was the family to entertain. The anxiety stemmed from the family’s impending departure, she was positive. She had fallen in love with the family, wanting them for her own, and soon they would be leaving her alone in the house with Duncan and Bernard. Such a moment ought to be thrilling. But if he stayed busy all day, every day, what was she to do? With whom was she to talk? A solitary life yawned before her, the very thing she had wished to escape at Lyonn Manor. At least there she had her sister-in-law.

  The door opened.

  Mary squeezed her eyes closed and lay still. The light of a candle brightened her eyelids.

  “Mary?” Duncan whispered, padding across the floor.

  She heard his candleholder tap against the side table. A rustle of fabric. The soft tumble of clothes against the floor. The dip of the feathered mattress.

  Feigning sleep was not so easy when her body was aware of his every move and sensed the heat of naked flesh climbing beneath covers. Oh, blast. Why was she feigning sleep? Had she not been waiting for him so they could be together?

  A hand enclosed her shoulder. She still wore her nightdress. A shiver of longing trembled through her as he leaned his chest to her back.

  “Are you asleep?” he asked, tone hushed.

  With faux grogginess, not willing to admit she had been waiting for him for an hour like a lovesick bride, she said, “Only just. What time is it?” She added a stretch for good measure, her chilly legs brushing against his warm ones.

  “I’m glad I’ve not kept you waiting. I never expected to be so long.”

  Turning, she propped her head against her hand. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, hoping she appeared alluring in the candlelight. One look at him melted her annoyance.

  “What kept you?” she asked with an exaggerated moue.

  His arm snaked about her waist, tugging her to him. “I was reading to Bernard. I’ve not read to him since the wedding. He couldn’t understand why not and asked if I was sick again. I think we both know the real reason.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  “Reading to Bernard?” She frowned.

  Why had she not been invited? That was something she would have enjoyed. She would have invited herself if she had known, though it was possible the boy did not yet feel comfortable with her. Was it Bernard who did not want her to read to him, or was it Duncan not wanting her to intrude on time with his son? Either way, she felt the chill of exclusion. They were supposed to be a family.

  Pushing herself upright, she sat on her knees to face him. “Is this something you intend to do every night?”

  A crease formed between his brows. Raising onto his forearm, he said, “It is. Am I to infer from your tone that you disapprove? So help me, Mary, if you say the nursery is no place for a man—”

  “Pardon? What are you implying?” She was taken aback by his accusation, hurt and defensive. “How dare you think me like my mother.”

  Duncan sat up in a swift movement, his hands on her arms. “I said no such thing. I only thought for a moment that—well, never mind what I thought. I know you’re not like others of your station. I’m sorry I said that.”

  Studying him for long moments, she finally said, “I only wondered why you had not invited me. I should like to read to him too. If I’m not wanted—”

  He interrupted with a soft laugh. “Our first misunderstanding as a married couple is over who will read to our son. You see the humor in this, yes?”r />
  Her lips inched into a returning smile. Our son.

  Duncan dropped his hands to her lap, taking her chilled hands into his and rubbing warmth into them. “I hadn’t thought to mention it. It’s a standing tradition between us two men. My only thought was for him. I’m sorry not to include you. I’ll ask him tomorrow if he’d like for you to join. You do want to join?”

  Mary nodded, feeling a right proper ninny now. “Yes, I would like to join. I want a family, a real family. I’ve been on my own my entire life when all I’ve ever wanted was a family. Give me a chance, and I’ll be the mother mine wasn’t.”

  “We’re already a family. I only need you to be you, not what you think your mother wasn’t. She’s not so terrible, is she? She only wanted what was best for you.”

  “She doesn’t even know me, Duncan! She’s never wanted what was best for me. Not once did she come to the nursery when I was a child. Most certainly, she never read to me. My childhood was spent with nurses and governesses, nary a mother in sight until I was old enough to be married off to the man of her choice. She’s never wanted what was best for me.”

  Duncan continued to rub her hands between his, his frown deepening. “Now that you have a family of your own, I think it’s time you forgave her, don’t you?”

  “Forgive her?” Mary said, pulling her hands from his. “Forgive her for what? Wishing she never had a daughter? Wishing I were the heir’s spare instead?”

  “There’s no reason you can’t make peace with her, Mary.”

  “I don’t want to make peace. I never want to see her again.” She folded her arms over her chest.

  “You don’t mean that. She’s your mother. I saw how much her attending the wedding meant to you. I never wanted to come between you and your family, so don’t put me in this position. My whole intention of entering the Army rather than eloping with you was to ensure you were not estranged from your family. I refused to steal you from them. Even now, I feel like a coward for asking permission of your brother. All my work to earn her respect with a worthy military rank is for naught if I hide behind your brother and you hide behind me. I’m determined to call on her before the new year. And I’d like for you to make peace with her.”

  Mary laughed as though his words were the funniest she had ever heard. “Call on her? Earn her respect? Will you listen to yourself? You asked permission from my brother because he’s head of the household now, not my mother. No matter what you do, you’ll never be good enough for her.”

  His expression turned so menacing, her humor faded.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “You know what I mean. You’re the youngest son of a colonel. It doesn’t matter what accolades the Crown gives, you’ll remain nothing more than a youngest son.”

  Duncan turned from her, reaching to the floor for his nightshirt. As he slipped it over his head in jerky motions, she panicked, reaching for his arm.

  “What are you doing? Why are you dressing?”

  “I’ll sleep in the lady’s chamber. At least there I won’t be judged as worthless.” He tossed the bedcovers aside and swung his legs over the four-poster frame.

  Mary threw herself against his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Don’t you dare leave this bed. And don’t you dare pretend for a minute to believe that’s what I think of you. To me, you’re everything. You’re my greatest hero. It’s my mother who thinks you’re unworthy, not me. If you put words in my mouth, I’ll put salt in your tea.”

  He sat still beneath her chokehold. Though he did not speak, he at least did not get out of bed or leave the room.

  “Duncan, there’s no point in seeking her approval. Neither of us is worthy of her.”

  “I don’t accept that,” he said, a hand wrapping around her wrist. “If you’re not going to maintain a relationship with your mother, I left you for the Army for nothing.”

  “But you loved it. And look what all you achieved. It wasn’t for nothing. My mother isn’t the relationship type. I know her. She doesn’t want to make peace. She’s glad to be rid of me.”

  Duncan turned to face her. Releasing the stranglehold, she sat back on her knees.

  “At some point, we’re both going to have to deal with her, Mary. She’s a millstone about your neck whether you see it or not.” Moving his legs back under the covers and pulling her to him, he said, “I’m sorry I upset you.”

  “I shouldn’t have gotten upset. I apologize, as well. Is this the part where we forgive each other for the next hour? Preferably unclothed?”

  He chuckled and kissed her neck. “We should argue more often if it leads to this.” Trailing fingers over her hip, he tugged at her nightdress.

  “I would prefer if it leads to this without the argument. Could we agree to that?”

  “Mmmm,” he mumbled against the hollow of her throat. Pausing his exploration of her neck, he looked up. “I thought you liked shopping.”

  “Shopping?” she stared at him, perplexed. “Yes, I suppose so, when I was a little girl.”

  “No, I distinctly recall you like shopping. You know, bonnets and frivolity.” He danced fingers around his head in the shape of a bonnet.

  Mary laughed as she leaned over him to snuff out his candle. “I grew out of that just after my come-out.” When he grunted, she said, “Come here, foolish man, and kiss me like we’re making up from an argument.”

  “Yes, my lady.” His words muffled against her lips.

  Chapter 20

  The household awoke early to break their fast together before seeing the family off to Northumberland. They wanted to get an early start in hopes of arriving home before dusk.

  Mary was anxious about their departure. She pushed food around her plate, unable to eat more than a few bites. Having the in-laws here had been wonderful. While Duncan busied himself, she at least had the family to keep her company. What would she do once they departed?

  For the time they had remaining, she chatted with Miranda, as delighted by the woman as she knew she would be when they first met. Miranda was a compassionate woman and a nervous talker. Mary loved this about her. Such stories the woman could weave! More than once, Mary suggested Miranda ought to write a book. However much she had blushed at the recommendation and insisted there was enough to do as a mother of three and a vicar’s wife, she all too clearly favored the suggestion. Mary decided to send her enough paper and writing supplies to write a dozen books. A Christmas gift, she would claim it.

  The closer the hour drew for them to depart, the closer Mary came to weeping. Oh, please don’t leave. Stay forever! But that was foolishness. They had lives and homes of their own. The village church would be missing their vicar.

  As the family gathered in the foyer, donning coats, bonnets, gloves, cloaks, boots, and sundries for a cold travel home, Bernard approached Mary, looking ever so sheepish and shy. One look at his teary eyes had her shedding the morning’s anxiety. So selfish of her! She was not the only person who was overwhelmed by their departure. Bernard had never known life without them, not since he came to England with Duncan. His whole time as Duncan’s son had been with Duncan’s father in London first, and then with both he and Georgina at Cois Greta Park, complete with nigh daily visits from Quinn, Miranda, and their three children.

  Here Mary was, nervous to be alone with her new family for the first time, but what of Bernard? He would not fully comprehend the departure of his grandparents, uncle, aunt, and cousins, and from this point forward, he would be in a strange house with a strange woman and his papa. This must be quite the ordeal for him. What a selfish ninny she was!

  Mary picked up Bernard and balanced him on a hip. “Hello, my sweet. Are you sad to see them go?”

  He nodded then tucked his face against her shoulder.

  “Think of all the fun we’ll have! You’ll have to help me explore the house. We must investi
gate every room for evidence.”

  One eye peeped up at her. Muffled words said, “Esidance of what?”

  “Why, evidence of who lived here before. We must discover the mystery of their past. Their favorite foods and hobbies. What they did each day. Which chairs were their favorite. Who their guests were. Do you think we’ll find evidence of kingly visits?”

  He shook his head but giggled.

  “Will you help me investigate?” she asked, tugging his hat tighter around his ears so it would not blow away.

  He nodded, turning his face to her. “I don’t wanter sleep in the nursery.”

  “Oh, darling, Mrs. Eloise will be there, remember? She might be scared to sleep there alone, so she’ll need you to keep her company. Will you be brave for Mrs. Eloise so she’s not scared?”

  Bernard made a noncommittal sound somewhere between a harrumph and a grunt.

  “What if I joined you and Papa for reading?” she asked. “I could help tuck you in and check the room for fairies.”

  “Fairies?” he asked with more incredulity than curiosity.

  “Yes, fairies. They like to leave gifts for brave little boys. We can’t have them leaving gifts, now can we? I’ll have to check the room to ensure there are no fairies.”

  He stared at her, his brows a worried weave of wrinkles. “But what if I want fairy gifts?”

  “Oh, well, hmm. In that case, you’ll need to be brave first. And I’ll not check the room for them but instead will have Cook prepare a plate of fairy-sized biscuits to invite them. I can bring the plate, and we can all read together. How does that sound?”

  A finger to his mouth, he said, “What sort of gifts? Do they bring horsies? I wanter horsey.”

  Mary laughed, glancing at the family who were gathering at the front door, ready to brave the cold air, the carriages waiting outside. “I think a horse would be far too large to fit in the nursery, don’t you? Just imagine trying to get it up the stairs!”

  Bernard giggled. His face turned solemn just as quickly as it had smiled. “My mummy’s in heaven.”