by Goodman, Jo
"Are you really so obtuse?" Susan shook her head and gave her hair a half-dozen crackling strokes with the stiff-bristled brush. "I think he's terribly lonely. Oh, he enjoys pointing out that you dance to my tune, but he knows that is not so. And even if it were, I think there are times when Christian would like to waltz, so to speak. Don't look at me that way," she said to Scott's reflection. "I didn't say that he wanted me for a partner."
Scott snorted. "He'd better not."
"Christian likes to goad me," she said, "and I don't doubt that it's done with a certain amount of affection. By all accounts, his parents had a very happy marriage. It makes sense to me that someday he'll want the same thing for himself." She set down the brush and swiveled in her seat, facing her husband. "I can't help but believe that he's envious of what you and I share. If I didn't think that were true I could not tolerate his needling."
"He needles you because you rise so beautifully to the bait."
"I rise to the bait because it gives Christian one of his few pleasures. It's the least I can do for a man who gives me pearls."
Scott laughed. "If only he knew how easily you see through him. He'd hate it."
Susan rose from her chair and approached the bed. "Help me with the buttons, darling, will you?" Above her, the snowy white canopy billowed slightly as she sat down and gave Scott her back. "Did you notice that Christian was particularly attentive to Beth this evening? I could hardly credit my eyes when he got down on his hands and knees and helped her corral the kitten."
"Mmm-hmm." Scott leaned forward and kissed the back of Susan's bowed neck just above the gold clasp of her choker. His fingers fiddled with the cloth buttons of her gown. "He did seem to enjoy himself tonight. I would not have predicted that after Miss Holland's accident. He was more than a little troubled by it." In truth, 'troubled' did not begin to describe the state of Christian's mind when he had arrived at the house to seek help, yet all Scott had been able to learn was that Jenny had had a nightmare and that she had hurt herself. He had followed Christian back to Marshall House and taken care of Jenny's feet, but the sense that many things were being left unsaid never left him. Jenny was withdrawn. Christian was morose. Only Mrs. Brandywine talked, and she did quite a lot of it without saying anything. Little more than twenty-four hours had passed since then, making Christian's mood this evening more difficult to explain. Scott shrugged. "Perhaps even Christian can be moved by the spirit of the holiday."
"He should have children," said Susan. "Lots of them. It's clear to the meanest intelligence that he enjoys them. He would be an attentive father, Scott."
"When did you become Christian's advocate? And don't say it's the pearls because I know better. A few weeks ago you were cautioning me that he might not be worth saving."
Frowning, she glanced at her husband over her shoulder. "I hope I did not make him sound as hopeless as that. And if I did, I suppose it's because I was jealous."
"Jealous? But why?"
Susan blushed, embarrassed. She left the bed and drew her gown over her shoulders as she disappeared into the dressing room. Some things were easier to answer when there was distance. "Between the hospital and all the hours you were spending with Christian, it seemed as if Beth and I never saw you. I suppose I resented him for occupying so much of your time."
"But—"
"I did not like feeling that way," she said. "After all, I was aware of the demands that being a doctor was going to place on you... on us. I always understood that I would have to share you. Most often I can accept it, just as I did with Papa when he was alive. Growing up with a doctor for a father, well, you become accustomed to certain aspects of the calling." Susan hung her gown in the chiffonier and unlaced her corsets and petticoats. "Or at least you think you do. So... if I sound as if I'm put out with Christian, it's because I'd like to see as much of you as he does." She peeked into the bedroom to see if Scott was listening to her or if he had fallen asleep. His nearness brought her up short. He was standing in the open doorway, one naked shoulder resting against the jamb. Her eyes followed the tapering of his chest hair to where his drawers were resting low on his hips. She smiled. "When I said I wanted to see more of you, this isn't quite what I—"
Scott pressed a finger to her lips. "Happy Christmas," he said, drawing off her chemise. He knelt and removed Susan's shoes. Pressing a light kiss to each knee, he rolled her stockings down the gently curving length of her calves. He stood and took a step backward, admiring the turn of his wife's waist, the swell of her hips, and the lustrous fall of hair that covered her breasts. He brushed aside her hair and smiled wickedly as his gaze lifted to her throat. "Come to bed, darling... and wear the pearls."
* * *
"Will you be up much longer, Mr. Marshall?" Mrs. Brandywine asked. She tightened the sash on her robe as she poked her head in the study. Christian was sitting in his favorite leather armchair, his feet propped on the ottoman. He had a book in his lap, but it was closed. Mrs. Brandywine did not think he had ever had it opened. His head was resting heavily against the high back of the chair and his eyelids were at half-mast. "I could stoke the fire for you. It's going to go out shortly."
Christian's faint smile indicated that he was indeed awake. "I'll see to it," he said, waving her on. "You take yourself off to bed. It's been a long day." Indeed, he thought, there were moments when he believed it would never end. Only during the war had he known a day to drag on so interminably as this one. Then it was the anticipation of battle that slowed time to a crawl. Now it was the anticipation of... nothing. "A long day."
"But a merry one," she said, watching him closely. He looked exhausted, much the way he had looked yesterday morning, his complexion gray, his skin drawn taut over the bones of his face.
"Yes," he lied, forcing a deeper smile for her benefit. "Quite merry."
"You were very generous," she said, referring to the gifts of money Christian had given to the household staff. "They would want me to thank you again."
"It's well deserved. I know I haven't... well, I haven't been the easiest person to work for."
"No one's complaining."
"Not where I can hear them anyway." Christian lowered his head, picked up his book and opened it. "Good night, Mrs. B. I'll see you in the morning."
When her footsteps receded in the hallway, Christian set the book aside and stoked the fire. He had no intention of returning to his room any time soon. He hadn't slept there last night and thought he wouldn't sleep there again tonight. Although Jenny had returned to her room, her presence seemed to linger in his, and with it, the memory of what he had done to her. She could not be gone from his house quickly enough to suit him.
Yet he shied away from simply turning her out. Scott and Susan would end up taking her to live with them, and he could not allow Susan to accept that burden. There was Beth to think of as well. Jenny could hurt the child in the throes of one of her nightmares. He had seen the proof of that with Mrs. Brandywine.
There was also his staff to consider. They liked Jenny Holland and nothing would sow discontent more quickly than if he were to dismiss her without cause. It did not seem likely that she was going to give him cause. According to Mrs. Brandywine, Jenny was diligent in her duties.
And what of Jenny herself? She was not fit to go anywhere without a keeper. That was not a position Christian relished for himself. When he'd told Scott he would allow Jenny remain at Marshall House, it had never occurred to him that he might come to regret his words.
Christian's musings were interrupted as the pocket doors to the study opened behind him. He turned, leaning on the fireplace poker as if it were a cane. When he saw who was standing between the parted doors, he scowled. It was nonsense to believe that her presence had anything to do with his ruminations, but then again... "What the hell do you want?"
Jenny was already losing color in her face before Christian spoke. She had gone out of her way to avoid him yesterday and today, and he was the last person she wanted to see. She immedi
ately retreated a step, pulling the doors together as she went.
"Come back here."
Jenny froze until Christian rapped the iron poker hard against the floor. She slipped though the opening still left to her and entered the room.
"What's that you have in your hand?" He lifted the poker and used it to gesture to the envelope she was holding.
"It's... it's my Christmas money," she said, regarding the envelope rather than him.
"For God's sake," he said, impatient with her diffidence, "are you afraid someone's going to take it from you? Does that explain the death grip?"
It was then that Jenny realized her fingers had folded tightly around the envelope. She was indeed clutching it as though she expected it would be snatched away. "I... no... that is, I don't think anyone will take it." Her intention had been to place it on his desk and leave. Jenny nervously smoothed the envelope and slipped it into her apron pocket. "I came for a book," she said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."
He came close to saying that she could not help but disturb him. Instead, he confronted the obvious lie. "You didn't come for a book. I don't know why you trouble yourself to prevaricate when you are so very bad at it. You were going to return the money."
"I don't..." Jenny sighed, done in by the impressive cynical lift of one of his eyebrows. "Yes, I was going to return your gift."
Christian tapped the poker again. "Why?"
"I haven't been here long enough to earn this."
"It's not meant to be earned. That is the very nature of a gift."
She looked down at the floor. "It is too generous. I, um, I know what some of the other employees received and you gave me far too much."
Christian frowned. "Do you mean that you discussed the amount of your gift with other staff?"
"Oh, no," she said quickly, darting a glance at him. "I wouldn't. I didn't. It's just that Mary Margaret and Carrie were talking about how they were going to spend their money, and I realized that you had given me so much more than either of them. It did not seem right."
Christian leaned the poker against the fireplace and slipped his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. "And what did you think?"
"I thought there must be a mistake."
He shook his head. A lock of copper-streaked hair fell forward. "No mistake."
"Oh."
"What are you thinking now?" As if he couldn't guess. Christian realized he was becoming rather adept at understanding how her mind worked. He was not certain he had any particular liking for the talent.
Jenny lifted her chin and met his gaze directly. "I am thinking you mean to insult me. This money isn't a gift at all. It's a bribe."
"A bribe. You think I am paying you to keep quiet about what happened in my bedchamber. Is that it?"
"Aren't you?" she asked. There was a touch of defiance in her husky voice.
"No. I don't care who you tell. In fact, I'm wondering why you have kept your silence this long. You've certainly had the opportunity to tell someone. I left you alone with Mrs. Brandywine and Dr. Turner. You could have told either of them how close you came to being raped. Why didn't you?"
Jenny turned her head and gave Christian her three-quarter profile. From where she stood, she could see a pool of yellow light from a street lamp illuminating the snowy sidewalk. She stared at that. "I don't want to be dismissed," she said finally. "I don't have anywhere to go. I imagined that you would send me packing if I said anything; therefore, it was in my interest to say nothing. It still is. The money is unnecessary."
"The money is not a bribe," he repeated. "And I don't know if I would have dismissed you or not."
She snorted indelicately. "Of course you would have let me go. After all, according to you I was the one who lured you into bed. I was the one at fault for trying to comfort you. You were simply taking what I offered."
"Isn't that all true?"
Jenny's spine stiffened, but she answered quietly, simply. "You know it's not." She drew a deep, calming breath and released it slowly. "If the money wasn't a bribe, then what was it?"
"Talk to Mrs. Brandywine," he said dismissively. "She's the one who suggested the amount."
That brought Jenny's head around. "But why—"
"Something about you needing clothes."
When Jenny had removed herself, Christian slumped into his armchair and kicked the ottoman out of the way. He stared at the spot he had last seen her for a long time before closing his eyes. He pressed his fingertips against his temple and the ache that was forming there.
What in God's name was he supposed to do about Jenny Holland?
* * *
Susan Turner came awake by slow degrees, stretching with feline grace. A sleepy glance at the window and the muted sunlight beyond the drapes assured her she had an hour or so before Beth woke. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand and smiled to herself as she remembered Scott's delicious lovemaking. He'd been fierce and gentle by turns, and Susan had never felt more wanton or adored. She giggled. Happy Christmas indeed.
Warming the soles of her feet against Scott's calves, she raised herself on one elbow and studied her husband's angular features. She wondered how long he had been awake or if he had slept at all. There was a small crease between his brows, and his blue eyes were clouded with the uneasiness of his thoughts. He was staring at the patterned ivory paper on the far wall and one corner of his mouth was lifted in a pensive manner. A lock of his fair hair had fallen over his forehead. Susan brushed it back and then continued to smooth it with her fingertips.
"What are you thinking?" she asked. "Hmm?" She sighed when he did not respond. He was miles away, and she doubted that he was thinking about their lovemaking. "I've decided that an affair would be just the thing for each of us."
"Mmm-hmm."
"There is another man, Scott. Someone I've met only recently, but I know he would leave his wife if I asked him to. I am not certain I want that. I could be content just having him over a few afternoons each week. Would you mind?"
Scott's frown deepened. He blinked twice and dragged his unfocused stare away from the far wall. When he spoke, his voice was husky from his long silence. "Did you just say something about the affair?"
"It's not important, darling. I was trying to get your attention." Susan kissed his temple and then fit herself against him. Her head lay in the curve of his shoulder. "Have you been awake long?"
"No, not long." His arm went around her. His fingers trailed back and forth along the length of her bare arm. "You?"
"Just a few minutes. It seemed as if you were adrift in a sea your own thoughts. I decided it was time to reel you back in. What were you thinking about?"
"Jenny Holland."
"Oh." Susan considered that. "Should I be jealous?"
"God, no!"
"That was rather vehement," she said. "Are you quite certain?"
Scott turned on his wife and kissed her deeply. If that did not convince her, he thought, nothing would. "Certain," he said, sipping on her rosy lips.
Susan pushed gently at Scott's shoulders. "Dearest," she said softly. "I was teasing." She snuggled against him again. "Tell me about her. Why does she still trouble you?"
He did not answer Susan's question directly. "You saw her last night," he said instead. "What did you think?"
"I don't know that I'm qualified to have an opinion. She hardly did more than flit in and out of the dining room while we were eating. Oh, and there was the time she served tea in the parlor when Beth and Christian were both on the floor with the kitten."
"You noticed her then? So did I. What did you see?"
Susan did not have to think before she answered. The young woman's face was clear in her mind. "Pain," she said. "Withdrawal... as if she were hurt and turning away from it."
Scott nodded. "That's what I saw. What was it, do you suppose, that caused her to look that way?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"I'm sure I don't know either." Scott sighed. "Do you think
Christian and I did the right thing by her?"
"If you are really asking me if she belongs in a lunatic ward, then my answer is absolutely not. If you're wondering if she should be staying in Christian's house, in his employ, then I am not as certain. Perhaps you will think I am being fanciful, but I think Christian is extraordinarily aware of Jenny Holland."
"Oh?" He was of a similar opinion but not prepared to share it quite yet. What Susan thought mattered to him. "Why do you say that?"
"He watches her," she explained simply. "And he seems to know when she is watching him. While we were his guests last night I found myself entertaining the notion that Christian was being especially attentive to us, to Beth—I don't know, to prove something, I suppose."
"To prove something to us?"
"No. He was proving something to Jenny." Susan raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "I really can't explain it any better than that. And don't ask me what he was bent on proving. I haven't any idea. Just as I have no idea why he should want to do it in the first place."
"And Jenny? You think she is aware of him?"
Susan laughed softly. "Oh, darling, do you know any woman who isn't?"
Scott grunted. "I don't like it, Susan. Nothing good can possibly come of it. She's too fragile, and he should know better."
"Scott," she said gently, placing her hand over his heart. "If you feel so strongly about it, why not talk to Christian? Anyway, I merely said that Christian was aware of Jenny, not that he had any intentions of acting on it. She is in his care, under his roof, and that counts for something with Chris. Credit him with at least a few finer instincts."
Scott was not convinced. "If only we knew more about her," he said, laying his hand over Susan's. "Of her own choice she remains an enigma, and I can't help but think that's part of what makes Christian aware of her. She is a puzzle to solve." He mocked himself with a short laugh. "Now I sound fanciful."