The Lady Who Saw Too Much

by Thomasine Rappold

  Gia turned toward the sound of giggling girls huddled in the foyer just outside the room. She listened for the sound of Alice’s voice, hoping she might be among them. To her chagrin, she heard something else.

  “Alice Elmsworth is pretty enough, but she possesses the personality of a mouse,” one of the girls said. “I don’t think she’s uttered a word all day.”

  “There’s nothing unnatural about that,” another girl replied. “Since mice can’t speak.”

  They all laughed, and Gia’s temper rose to new heights. Had Alice happened upon this conversation, she’d be destroyed. Tears of anger burned Gia’s eyes. Alice was a sweet person, who would never hurt anyone. She deserved understanding for her social anxiety, not ridicule.

  Gia charged into the foyer, hands on hips. “Or perhaps Alice has the good sense not to waste words on spiteful girls who have no manners,” she snapped. “Alice might be shy, but she’s also smart and generous, and kind. Any one of you would be lucky to call her a friend.”

  The girls cringed, shamed by the reprimand. Their eyes widened like startled deer as they stared over Gia’s shoulders before bolting from the room. Gia turned to watch them scurry away, and saw Landen in the doorway.

  She blinked back the remnants of her shaky emotions, lacking the stamina to deal with him now. “Excuse me,” she said, attempting to pass.

  He caught her arm.

  She froze, her heart still pounding in anger at the girls. If he said anything to rile her in her current state, she was certain she’d box his ears. She glanced up at him, ready to pounce, but the empathy on his face told her he’d overheard the exchange.

  “Well done.”

  Gratitude shined in his eyes, and she couldn’t look away.

  “It’s time to cut the cake!” Clara called to them.

  Gia blinked and started away. Landen caught up to her, and together, they made their way through the crowded room to the cake table. With Clara’s enthusiastic guidance, Gia cut the first piece of cake.

  “Now pack this away,” Clara told Florence. “It’s to be enjoyed on their fifth anniversary.”

  Everyone applauded. Five years… If only Gia could share their optimism. Presently, she couldn’t see past the next five days—could see nothing past her ominous visions of Landen and Clara.

  The thought prompted Gia to make one last-ditch attempt to keep Clara home. After they enjoyed their cake, people began to depart. Clara seemed perfectly well, laughing and seeing off the guests.

  Gia took this opportunity to seek out Landen. The man with whom he spoke excused himself with a smile as Gia approached.

  “I wish to speak with you about your aunt,” she said.

  “She’s your aunt now too.”

  She sighed at the sarcastic reminder. “Yes, of course.”

  “What is it you’d like to discuss?”

  “I fear she’s overexerted herself this past week.”

  “She’s a tough old bird.”

  “Even so. Perhaps you could persuade her to postpone the trip to Saratoga until she’s adequately rested.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he glanced toward his aunt, who was laughing heartily with the pastor. “She looks fine to me.”

  “She looks very pale.” The lie got his attention.

  His smug look faded. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Go see for yourself,” Gia said.

  Landen turned from Gia, then strode to his aunt. Clara’s dismissive wave ended their brief conversation, and before Gia knew it, he was back at her side.

  “She’s fine,” he said. “She’ll have a good soak in the baths at Saratoga. And we’ll proceed with our wedding night as planned.” He smiled. “I’m looking forward to it as well.”

  * * * *

  Florence helped Gia undress. Slipping into a light robe, Gia was grateful to finally be free of the suffocating skirts and undergarments now heaped on the bed.

  “Mr. Elmsworth had me prepare a bath for you in his room,” Florence said.

  Gia nodded. “Thank you.”

  “He’s waiting,” Florence added when Gia made no attempt to move.

  Gia fastened her robe securely, fingers trembling as she headed down the hall to Landen’s room. “Aunt Clara and Alice have left?” she asked as she stepped inside.

  “They’re well on their way. Except for Florence, the house is ours.” He removed his coat and placed it over a chair. “Now stop stalling and come have your bath.”

  Gia glanced at the steaming tub in front of the fireplace. “You needn’t have gone to the trouble. I bathed this morning.”

  He smiled. “This bath is for my benefit, not yours.”

  Her breath hitched, and she peered at the floor.

  “Don’t be shy. We are husband and wife now.”

  “Yes, I am aware,” she said as evenly as she could manage.

  He sat, still fully clothed except for his coat, in a chair facing the tub. He waved his arm. “Proceed.”

  She lifted her chin. His smug enjoyment of the power he thought he had over her was infuriating. Inhaling a deep breath, she resolved to thwart his control. She moved toward the tub. Slowly. Raising the hem of her robe, she lifted her foot over the rim of the tub, testing the temperature of the steaming water with her toes. She dangled her leg, her calf a pendulum, toes skimming the water. She shot him a glance to gauge his response. He watched, mesmerized, gripping the arms of the chair.

  Her confidence soared. Opening the robe to expose her shoulders, she sank her foot lower. She let the robe fall to the floor, then stepped into the tub. She stood naked before him, firelight at her back. Holding her breath, she resisted the instinct to cower in shame. He swallowed hard, and his arousal overpowered her modesty. She straightened her spine. Staring into his eyes, she lowered herself carefully, then slid into the sudsy water.

  Submerged in the heavenly warmth, she closed her eyes to her pounding heart. Fire burned in her belly as the heat of the water—his eyes—consumed her. “Satisfied?” she asked through the silence.

  “Oh, I am far from satisfied.” His voice was husky and deep as he walked toward the tub. He knelt at her head, his face a mere inch from hers. He reached for the sponge and dipped it into the sudsy water. Squeezing the water over her shoulders, he let the sponge roam with the downpour. She squirmed inside her flesh beneath the trail of the sponge. He repeated the sweet torture, over and over, until she was trembling. “All in good time,” he whispered into her ear.

  She melted beneath his words, the water, the brush of his breath on her skin. He eased her forward. Water lapped at her breasts, teasing her nipples. He caressed her back in small circles, and she moaned, tension draining from her muscles but building elsewhere.

  His lips met her neck, and her head tilted toward him. After dropping the sponge, he clasped her face between his wet hands and kissed her. Hard. She drove her tongue madly against his, her emotions reeling with the awe of discovery. The pleasure. In this moment it all seemed so right. Her core ached, wanting more. Her plan to thwart his control was lost to her bliss. Her sheer want for this man. Clutching his shirt, she pulled him closer. The only thing stronger than her want was her need, and, oh, how she needed him.

  As though reading her thoughts, he lifted her from the tub and carried her, dripping wet and sudsy, to the bed. The cool air opposed the heat of the water, her scorching blood, and her skin. Grasping his neck, she absorbed the warmth of his clothing.

  They fell to the bed, and she welcomed him into her arms, kissing him fiercely. He tasted of champagne and cake, a delicious combination. The answers to all her girlhood questions would soon be revealed. With him… It all felt so natural and so meant to be. Eager to experience anything and everything Landen had to offer, she swirled her tongue against his, diving deeper.

  With a groan, he pulled his mouth from hers. The hot kiss to her breast set her aflame. She arched her back as he sucked her nipple between his lips, his tongu
e driving her wild. She moaned, lost in the sensations and pleasure. She tore at his clothing, their shadows in the firelight dancing on the ceiling and walls.

  A sudden knock sounded on the door.

  They froze where they lay, both panting for air.

  “Mr. Elmsworth.”

  It was Florence.

  Landen released a long sigh, head hung in irritation. “What is it, Florence?”

  “Please, come quickly. Your aunt has returned home. She’s in very bad shape.”

  Chapter 9

  Landen raced down the stairs, Gia at his heels. Aunt Clara sat slumped on a chair in the foyer, clutching her stomach.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.” Alice’s voice trembled. “It came on so suddenly. We were almost to Saratoga when she started complaining of pain in her stomach. I wanted to get her to the hotel, but she insisted on turning around and coming all the way back home.”

  “Do not speak about me as if I weren’t here,” Aunt Clara scolded. “I’ll die in my own bed, not in a hotel room.”

  “You are not dying,” he said.

  She keeled forward from the force of her pain, and he wasn’t so sure this was true. For as long as he could remember, Aunt Clara had never been ill. Uncle Howard had always been the sickly one. Landen’s aunt was the last of his elder relatives, and his chest tightened at the thought of losing her too.

  “I’m going for the doctor.” He started for the door.

  “Get me to my bed,” Clara said, attempting to rise.

  Gia rushed to assist her. “Let’s get her upstairs first,” she said, grasping Clara by the arm.

  Landen nodded. Trying his damnedest to remain calm, he helped Gia get Clara to her feet. Together they started the mountainous journey up the staircase, inching at a snail’s pace as they moved Clara along.

  They finally managed to get her to her room, and Clara collapsed on the bed.

  “I’ll be back soon with the doctor, Aunt Clara,” he said.

  Clara reclined on the pillows, eyes closed. Whether she’d heard him or not, he couldn’t tell.

  “Hurry,” Gia said.

  He started for the door, hesitating at the sight of Alice. Tears welled in her frightened eyes as she hugged her arms to her chest. He faltered with the urge to console her.

  “We’ll be fine,” Gia said. “Go.”

  The certainty in Gia’s voice reassured him. While Alice might crumble in the crisis, Gia would take charge. Gia nodded toward the door, and he started away.

  “Denny, wait.” Clara struggled to sit upright. “Before you go, I must speak with you.”

  “Not now. You need a doctor. We’ll talk later.”

  “There may be no later. This is my death bed, damn it, and I’ll have my say in it,” she said, sounding more like her old self.

  Unable to argue her point, Landen obliged. With an anxious sigh, he took a seat in the chair beside the bed.

  “We’ve always been at odds, but all I’ve ever wanted was what’s best for you. What’s best for the family. I know you blame me for what happened with Isobel,” she said. “Just as you blame me for pushing you into this marriage, but promise me something.”

  “Aunt Clara—”

  “Please, Denny,” she said. “It’s important.”

  He cradled her trembling hand in his. “What is it?” he asked. A lump of emotion rose in his throat. He swallowed his sorrow and regret at the possibility of losing this woman, who’d vexed him so often—and meant more to him than he’d realized until now.

  “Take care of your brother and sister.” She glanced over his shoulder. “And be kind to your wife. Howard and I were married for thirty years,” she reminded him with a shaky smile. “You’re married now and just beginning your lives together. I won’t be here to help you along, but promise me…” Gripping his hand, she winced in pain.

  He waited in the unbearable helplessness of her suffering until she was able to speak again.

  “Promise me that no matter what happens, you will… You will name your first daughter after me.”

  Landen blinked in surprise. The vain request was true to form for Aunt Clara, and despite the somber circumstances, he couldn’t help smiling.

  “I promise,” he said, patting her hand.

  She nodded. “I’m so happy you’re settled now.”

  “I know you are,” he said honestly. He placed a kiss on her stark white cheek. “We’ll talk more later. When you’re feeling better.” He stood. “I’ll be back soon with the doctor.”

  She closed her eyes, dismissing him to the task, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t leave her.

  “Landen.”

  Gia’s soft cue nudged him from his frazzled state, and he swallowed hard. Without a word, he rushed from the room, dogged by urgency and fear. By the time he returned with the doctor, his aunt might be gone.

  * * * *

  To Landen’s immense relief, Aunt Clara was still alive when he returned to the house with Doctor Reed less than an hour later. During his absence, Gia and Alice had managed to get his aunt into a nightdress. Tucked beneath a thick quilt, she moaned, clenching her teeth, as Gia applied a wet compress to her forehead. The bottle of brandy on the bedside table told him Gia had attempted to treat his aunt’s pain on her own until the doctor arrived.

  At Aunt Clara’s insistence, he waited with Gia and Alice downstairs in the parlor while Doctor Reed examined his patient in private. Landen paced the carpet, his mind reeling in a dozen directions. “I don’t understand how this happened,” he muttered. “She looked fine to me, and now she’s in this state.” He shook his head. “I should have—”

  “For goodness’ sake, Denny,” Alice said. “You’re not responsible for everything. No one could have predicted this.”

  “She did.” He flung a hand toward Gia.

  She flinched, dark eyes flashing wide.

  “She noticed Aunt Clara didn’t look well this morning.” He turned away, emotions tumbling inside him. Fear and anger and guilt balled into a massive knot in his gut.

  This relative stranger had observed what he hadn’t. Even after Gia had pointed it out to him, he’d given no real credence to her concern for his aunt’s health. He realized now that he’d refused to see it—had not wanted to see it. He’d been so overcome by his eagerness to get Gia into his bed he’d practically pushed his aunt out the door.

  He turned to Gia. “I should have stopped her from going to Saratoga as you suggested.”

  The tight purse of her lips told him that she agreed and wanted to say so out loud.

  “No one stops Clara from doing anything,” she said, taking the high road instead.

  Her attempt to mollify him had the opposite effect. His anger tore off in every direction. At Gia. At himself. Even at his aunt for falling ill and interrupting his wedding night. The despicable truth stoked his anger and guilt.

  But the memory of Gia’s naked body, her silky wet skin, invaded his mind nonetheless. Her hair was still damp from the bath, tendrils curled at her temples. His desire for this woman who’d encroached on his peaceful existence and turned his life upside down would be his undoing.

  “I’ll ask Florence to bring coffee,” Gia said.

  “No,” he said sharply. “Go on to bed.” Already he was ignoring his aunt’s advice to be kind to his wife, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Alice and I will take care of our aunt.”

  “Denny!”

  “It’s all right, Alice.” Gia gave a nod toward the door. “Please see to the coffee.”

  Alice obliged, looking grateful for the excuse to escape the tense scene.

  Gia turned back to Landen. Anger flashed in her eyes, and he knew she was seething. He also knew he deserved it.

  She took a step toward him. Her citrus scent was pure heaven. “We are all upset, and this is no time to quarrel,” she said. “But your concern for your aunt does not give you the right
to behave like an ass. Clara is my aunt too. You said so yourself.” She tilted her head, awaiting his protest. “I’m a part of this family now, and like it or not, I’m not going anywhere.”

  Her gumption was as alluring as her scent. And as effectively taming. He took a deep breath, conceding the truth. Despite wishing otherwise, he did not want her to go.

  * * * *

  Gia glared at Landen, daring him to object. He was upset about Clara, but the blasted man made it difficult to sympathize with him. While Gia couldn’t truly fault him for disregarding her warning about Clara, she was irked, nonetheless, that he had.

  And now he had the audacity to be angry at her?

  How unfathomable it seemed that this was the same man who’d held her in his arms and kissed her so passionately only hours before. She searched his eyes for any sign that he remembered. For any shred of proof that what had transpired between them had been real. That he’d felt what she had in that bed. Staring into his steely face, she felt foolish for her effort.

  The doctor entered the parlor, surprising them both.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Landen said, nearly accosting the man.

  The doctor held up a hand. “I believe your aunt is suffering with a bladder stone.”

  “Bladder stone?”

  The doctor nodded. “Extremely painful. With any luck, the size of the stone is not overly large and will pass on its own.”

  “And if it is overly large?” Landen asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “Given her age, surgery is out of the question. If the stone remains lodged, she will die.”

  “Christ Almighty,” Landen uttered.

  “We can only hope for the best.”

  “What do we do in the meantime while she suffers?” Landen asked.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much to be done. She must drink plenty of water to help flush the stone from her system. Continue to give laudanum to ease the pain. Other than that… Time will tell.” He turned to Gia. “She’s asking for you, Mrs. Elmsworth.”