He’d worked hard, but he hadn’t survived alone.
No one survived alone.
Wearily, he returned his cup to the cupboard.
Well, if he’d made it through the madness of being thrust into manhood fully unprepared, he’d make it through this madness, too. Anything was simpler by comparison. This time, he faced a mere fourteen days of challenge.
Fourteen days of not kissing.
Which would not be a problem, so long as he maintained a proper distance.
In the next room, something clattered to the floor. He cocked his ear toward the countess’s rooms. A door opened and closed.
He gritted his teeth. Now he understood what Julia had been up to.
Sisters.
They’d be his death.
Chapter Thirteen
Wrapped in his banyan, Markham pounded on his sister Katherine’s door.
“I know you’re in there!”
Silence.
“Don’t make me break the door. Because I promise you, I will!”
“Percival!” Katherine scolded from the other side. “A moment, please!”
Her fabric rustled as she moved about the room. She and Bromton exchanged a few indecipherable words. Then, she opened the door.
Katherine, too, was clad in a banyan—Bromton’s. Her auburn hair spilled out around her shoulders. She was annoyed.
Good. That made two of them.
Markham stomped inside.
Bromton didn’t bother to look up from the bed. Instead, he busied himself with the latest gentleman’s magazine folded over in his hand. He was covered in sheets to his bare chest, his reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose; a faint smile graced his lips.
Well at least the situation had amused someone.
Katherine closed the door. “May I help you?” she asked with a frostily arched brow. “It’s not as if I wasn’t doing anything important.”
“I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to him.” Markham indicated Bromton. “Tell your wife and her fiendish little sister to stop meddling.”
“Me?” Katherine asked. “What have I done?”
“You know very well what you’ve done.”
Katherine made a sound of disbelief. “Can you believe this, Giles? The addlepate engages himself to a woman without her consent and somehow I’m to blame for his current”—she waved her hand up and down—“whatever this is here.”
“You haven’t been neutral, and you know it, Kate,” Markham answered. “And Julia—blast it—no one can survive her meddling.”
Bromton cleared his throat. “I survived Julia’s meddling”—he glanced over his glasses—“not to mention your own, pup. I have full confidence you will survive as well.” He looked back at his magazine. “Julia’s meddling, anyway. If Katherine decides to get involved, I withdraw my money altogether.”
“Giles!” Katherine put her hands on her hips.
“I am about to be told to mind my tongue.” Bromton nestled back into his pillows. “So I’ll do just that.”
Markham swiveled back to Katherine. “You—you and Julia—I’m telling you, you must stop.”
Katherine folded her arms. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, Percy.”
“You put Clarissa in the countess’s rooms when I expressly asked to have her placed in the blue room.”
Katherine eyes widened with surprise.
“Julia,” Markham spat.
Bromton chuckled.
“I thought,” Markham gritted, “you were going to stay out of this.”
Bromton lifted his brows in feigned innocence and slapped the magazine. “Am I not allowed to react to an amusing anecdote?”
“Never mind him.” Katherine took Markham’s arm. “I assure you I had nothing to do with putting Clarissa in the room next to yours.”
“Well, then. You can help me undo the damage.”
“And move an honored guest to an obviously inferior room? I’m afraid not. What’s done is done. If you find the arrangement uncomfortable, perhaps you should take up residence in the blue room.”
“Or,” Bromton suggested, “you could use Katherine’s time-honored method—send the maids to check on Clarissa’s sleep every hour, then give away all the food in the house and hope Clarissa eventually flees on her own accord.”
Katherine turned back to her husband. “I was suspicious of you, and, as it turns out, I was right to be so.”
“Consider me chastened.” Bromton winked. “May I remind you my devious courtship began at Markham’s insistence? Do be obliging and return your annoyance to its proper place.”
Markham groaned. “I’ve explained a hundred times. I invited Bromton here only because I believed the two of you were an excellent match.”
“Invited. Blackmailed. Pot. Kettle.” Bromton adjusted his sheets. “Countess’s room. Blue room. Who am I to quibble?”
“You,” Markham pointed, “are a happily married man. And if I hadn’t—”
Katherine shoved Markham’s shoulder and glared.
“I wasn’t about to say I was right to imply to him that I’d wagered you…” Markham threw up his hands. “I was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. And I’m never to be forgiven.” He massaged his temples. “Just—please, Katherine.” He slapped his hands together as if prayerful. “Please do not interfere anymore.”
“For what it’s worth,” Katherine continued, “I haven’t interfered, other than encouraging Clarissa to go along with this ruse, and encouraging her to come to Southford, which, might I remind you, was your idea.”
Markham swallowed. “Farring’s actually.”
“Farring?” Bromton and Katherine asked in unison.
Markham winced. “I told Farring Clarissa had no desire to marry, and he said that was probably because she’d been betrothed to Bromton and just hadn’t considered that it was Bromton she objected to, not the institution—forgive me, Brom.”
“No offense taken,” Bromton replied. “I didn’t like me much either, then.”
“And then Farring suggested I show her Southford. And for some stupid reason, I agreed because everyone knows that sheep are the way to a lady’s heart.”
“Wait.” Katherine splayed her fingers in the air. “You actually want to woo Clarissa?”
“Of course he does,” Bromton said, without looking up from the bed.
Of course he did.
Only he wasn’t about to pursue a lady who did not wish to be pursued.
“The situation is delicate. She’s agreed to remain for the fortnight, and if Julia keeps—well then, I might—and, damnation, I can’t even speak properly.”
“Ah, the course of true love…”
“Giles.” Katherine scowled. “Percy, if you were assured of Clarissa’s regard, how would you proceed?”
If he could be sure…absolutely sure? “I’d marry her at once. I’d swear to love her until the end of my days. I’d do”—his voice cracked—“everything I could to make her happy.”
Good Lord, he’d become everything he’d feared—foolishly romantic, desperately hopeful. And his foolish sister was smiling at him with mist in her eyes.
“Oh no, Kate. This is not a good development. I’m not assured of her affection. Not in the least. Clarissa intends to leave with Rayne on his next adventure. I’m terrified she will. And I’m terrified she won’t. I can’t be the one who strips her of that dream. I refuse to be anything”—his voice cracked again—“like Father.”
He didn’t even want to picture Clarissa in that golden cage of a room. He closed his eyes.
“Ah, Percy,” Katherine said gently. “You’re hurting, aren’t you?”
Markham ignored Bromton’s presence and nodded, eyes still closed.
Katherine placed her hand against his back and then rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t understand what you mean. How don’t you want to be like Father?”
“Well, you know.”
She hummed as she forced him to look at her. “I’m afra
id I don’t.”
“Mother was always sad. No matter how much he gave her, no matter what he did.” He swallowed. “She—she couldn’t even get out of bed.”
“Is that what you believe?” she asked.
“That’s what happened. She—she used to ask me to kiss her, so she’d have the courage to rise,” he sniffed, “and then she wouldn’t…”
“She was sick, Percy. Terribly ill and in pain. All the time. The only time she smiled was when she was with us—or Father.”
“But she cried and cried, and he couldn’t make her stop.”
Katherine frowned. “When?”
“I don’t know,” Markham concentrated. “Julia wasn’t walking yet, just screeching like the little banshee she is, and you…now I remember. It was the summer you sank my ships.”
Katherine’s shoulders fell. “That was the year of the great fear in France. Mother’s mother had just been killed in a riot. You knew that.”
Had he? “I knew our grandmother died in the upheaval…”
“Mother was sick, sad, and terrified the unrest would spill onto our shores, but she wasn’t trapped. And she never blamed Father.”
He closed his eyes. “It’s not how I remember things.”
“Well,” Katherine rubbed his back, “Even if mother was unhappy, does it follow that you would make Clarissa unhappy?”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. No one could answer such a question.
“I love you both and I don’t believe you could.”
He sucked in his lips.
“If you are trying to woo Clarissa, is having her sleep in the room next door such a bad thing?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“How could you even ask? For one, I have a habit of disrobing.”
Katherine glanced heavenward. “If you are truly concerned about preserving your modesty, wear clothes. Or don’t…and thank your lucky stars for Julia’s ingenuity.”
“Be serious!” Markham demanded.
“I am being serious.” Katherine replied. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you. Before marriage it’s almost impossible to find a place to… Well, never mind.”
Markham closed one eye. “Bromton! You didn’t!”
“Definitely staying out of this.” Bromton turned a page.
Katherine lifted a brow. “You’re rather prudish for a man called Hearts.”
“You—you and he—in this house?”
“No,” Katherine said. “At The Pillar of Salt.”
“Bromton! You compromised my sister at the local inn?”
Bromton pursed his lips and lifted his shoulders in a tiny shrug. “I did have a special license.”
“Not for that!”
“Don’t be silly, Percy. It was not entirely Giles’s fault. He was drunk on Lizzy’s gin.”
Bromton sighed. “All this outrage is exhausting. Markham, will you please finish saying whatever you came in here to say? I’d like to get back to—ahem—conversing with my wife.”
Markham reddened to his roots.
“You deserved that.” Katherine softened her voice. “But, really, this is far simpler than you’re making it. Just…”
“Just what?”
Her eyes misted again. “Just show Clarissa who you really are.”
“Glib and annoying?”
“Sometimes.” Katherine smiled crookedly. “But a good man. A fine man. I might even say first-rate…on occasion.” She gathered him into a loose embrace and kissed his cheek. “And if she unbolts that door—be glad.”
He sent her a wry glance. He wasn’t any more assured of a happy ending, but his anger had melted away. Katherine always had a way of reordering everything in a way that made sense.
Just be himself.
Not Hearts, the sought-after lover, but himself.
Perhaps she’d come to him, perhaps not. Either way, he didn’t have to give up hope yet.
“Thank you.” He kissed Katherine’s forehead. At the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. “But will you please tell Julia to stop meddling?”
Katherine snorted. “Do you think that will work?”
“No.”
He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door.
“Besides,” Katherine called through the door, “you might need her help.”
Bromton chuckled. Markham shook his head.
Sisters.
He didn’t know what he’d do without them.
…
Clarissa had never been more grateful for her former betrothed—he kept up the conversation while she stumbled through the meal. Her sentences had all been awkward, responses all wrong. Finally, she’d just fallen silent. No one who saw her now would believe she’d been trained to be a proper lady, one who put everyone else at ease.
This was not, however, a drawing-room morning call; this was a siege. She’d drawn her fortress, and she intended to defend her embattlements.
But how could she remain strong when Markham kept drawing her attention? Not to mention knowing he preferred to go about bare as the day he was born.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
Thinking of Markham naked had spawned all sorts of thoughts.
Vivid thoughts.
Thoughts which—she glanced through her lashes—she rather wished she could have the chance to explore.
Their gazes met across the table and held.
What was going on behind those eyes? And how could she both long to know and also long to run from the room…from the house, from the entire country?
They finished the meal. Bromton suggested they forgo the usual custom of separating into groups of men and women and so they moved into the library together.
Katherine chose a novel and seated herself by the fire. “I hope you don’t mind, Markham, but I left your plans out on the table.”
“Do you approve of them?” he asked.
“Of course I do!” Katherine replied.
Markham wandered over to the table, clasped his hands behind his back, and studied the papers.
“Why don’t you play one of your new songs?” Bromton suggested to Julia. “I’ll turn pages.”
Clarissa hesitated, still in the doorway.
The five of them made a lovely family portrait—domestic tranquility.
She did not belong.
“Clarissa.” Katherine looked up from her book. “Would you mind raising the wick on the Argand lamp?”
“Of course.” Though she didn’t understand why Katherine hadn’t asked Markham, who was much closer to the lamp in question.
She went over to the lamp, leaned down, and turned the small dial. As the light and heat rose, a lock of hair slid from her shoulder. She moved to draw the strands back behind her ear and accidentally brushed Markham’s arm.
His sharp intake of breath stilled her hand.
She glanced askance. She was close enough make out the individual flecks of gold in his eyes.
He placed his hand on her arm. His long, strong fingers rested against her wrist, not so much holding her in place as silently requesting she stay.
She wanted to stay.
He shook his head, as if clearing the fog of sleep.
She forced her gaze down to the plans he’d been reviewing.
On the map, Southford’s long, picturesque lawn had been shortened and half-acre lots added to the far west of the drive. The lots would be visible from the library, if at a distance. Landowners usually preferred the picturesque over the practical.
“Allotments?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. She knew how the curls felt between fingers—thick and silky. She remembered the way he closed his eyes, threw back his head, and moaned, his strong, masculine form entirely at her—
“Markham.” Katherine turned a page of her book. “I believe Clarissa just asked about your plans.”
“Plans. Right.” His cheeks darkened. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes. Allotments, and—” He stopped abru
ptly. “Do you want to know about my plans?”
She didn’t want to be interested. But she was. Very. She nodded.
He smiled so brilliantly she almost turned the lampwick back down.
Too bright.
“All this,”—he ran his fingers across the map, indicating parkland and a good deal of the forest—“was once common land.”
“Was it enclosed by Parliamentary decree?”
“Actually, no.” He exchanged a glance with Katherine. “If it had been enclosed by decree, there would have been an enclosure commissioner appointed to protect both the landowners’ rights and the locals’ rights of pannage, agistment, and turbary—that is to say—”
“Pig feed, cow pasture, and the right to cut turf,” she cut in.
Another brilliant smile. “That’s right. If there’d been a commissioner, those rights, and others, like the right to lead their cows to our pond for water, for instance, would have been taken into consideration.”
“They weren’t?”
He shook his head no. “After a succession of three too-wet years, my father bought the rights from hungry locals and created the enclosure himself.”
She raised her brows. Not only was such a thing unfair, but— “Without rights, small farmers wouldn’t have been able to survive.”
Markham nodded. “There were over thirty families living in the area two decades ago, and the number has dwindled to less than twenty.”
“And you believe you can stop the exodus by creating allotments on your parkland?”
“At this point, it’s not a matter of keeping laborers close at hand, it’s a matter of righting a wrong.”
Her gaze softened.
He blushed. “We wanted to have the plans drawn up before, but when we first inherited, we—”
We?
“—had a great deal of debt to manage. But since, well, Katherine made changes, I rearranged some investments, and—”
“Don’t be modest, Percy.” Katherine looked up. “He has excellent foresight. I do, too, of course. But we turned around the fate of the estate together.”
“I believe,” Bromton said, glancing over from the pianoforte, “my steward informed me you implemented a similar scheme on the Rayne estate?”
Heart's Desire (Lords of Chance) Page 16