by Robyn Carr
“Oh, Charles, I think you have done much worse than that.”
“It’s none of your damn business.”
“If you do not cease, I will go to Lord Ridgley myself and—”
Her threat, the first she had ever leveled in twenty years, was cut short as he took two quick strides toward her and slapped her so hard across the face that she fell backward against the bookcase. Her trembling hand rose to touch her bloodied lip. She looked up into his enraged eyes, seeing that his fists were clenched at his sides as he struggled to control himself.
“Don’t you ever suggest such a thing again. If you take the slightest action against me, I will see you and your precious children stripped to naked flesh and cast out into the gutter. And don’t for a moment delude yourself that my brother will grant you some charity. He won’t give anything to any of my family.”
She shook her head in pained realization that he spoke the truth. “Charles, how can you be so cruel to those who love you?”
She saw his eyes glitter as if they welled with tears. His voice was a strained whisper. “Don’t you know how important this is to me, Elizabeth?”
He held out a hand to help her to her feet. She hesitated a moment, frightened that he might strike her again. Finally, putting her hand in his, she rose to her feet.
“You are my wife, whether content or not,” he said sternly. “Do not threaten to betray me again.”
She moved toward his study door with eyes downcast. Once there, she turned back to him. “I only wonder what will become of us when you are finished with this great effort.”
“I have kept you for many years past my need for your money, Elizabeth. As long as you act properly, you have no reason to fear for your future. Just take special care not to question me again. Remember that I am your only route to any decent kind of life.”
She looked at him with pity. “Unfortunately, Charles, I know that to be true.”
She left him alone in his study, and she went about her daily duties as if nothing had happened.
Something about the girl had changed. Tyson found her to be even more captivating than she had been four months earlier. He had been watching Vieve for a week since his return to Chappington Hall.
During their very first encounter she had seemed to have poor control over her youthful sensuality. He had reckoned that those early stirrings were both exciting and confusing for her; he was far past that time in life, but his memory of that period was clear. Typical of a flighty, blushing virgin, she had appeared to be romanced by the notion of marriage and seduced by the concept of true love.
However, over the summer of her seventeenth year she had become calmer of spirit. She was apparently done with adolescent games. She no longer appeared at the dinner table in teasing frocks, although her more conservative choice of gowns did little to hide her elemental beauty. Whether she realized it or not, her lace-covered décolletage, which alluded to rather than exposed her bosom, was much more alluring. In addition, her disposition was quieter. She was poised, but not solemn; reserved, but not dull. She behaved, he realized, like a woman.
Tyson kept a careful eye turned to Vieve, judging these changes in her behavior. He decided that her new temperament must be due to her having taken the persistent Andrew Shelby as her lover. But her young beau was conspicuously missing, which left Tyson confused.
Maintaining such an observant vigil had a curious effect on him. Although he believed himself capable of gentlemanly behavior, a recurring ache in his loins warned him that his resolve could fail if she appeared willing. He slowly grew accustomed to the idea that if they did finally come together, it would not be in some childish display of temporarily unbridled emotion. He wanted more from her. It came as a pleasurable jolt to realize he wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman before.
“Young Andrew does not seem to be calling quite so much,” Tyson observed while they dined one evening.
“No,” she replied, barely looking up from her plate. “He does not.”
“The boy seems discouraged by something or other,” Boris grumbled. He peered suspiciously at his daughter, but she did not return his gaze. “I can’t imagine what happened. I gave him credit for a great deal more stamina.”
The corners of Vieve’s mouth turned up slightly, but she declined comment and did not look at either Tyson or her father.
One afternoon Tyson found her in the sitting room with a book in her lap, although she appeared to be staring out the window, lost in a pensive daydream. Had she begun to regret some hasty decision to send her young man on his way?
“The house is very quiet today,” he said.
She looked toward him and smiled. “It is, isn’t it?”
“It is not at all what I expected. I had prepared myself to be stumbling over your ardent suitor. And if he has been chastised and sent from your stoop, where are all the young men who should be taking advantage of his absence?”
“There have been a few. They have not interested me.”
“You’ve had a disagreement with your young man, haven’t you?” he asked pointedly. “You were most determined to marry when I last visited.”
“Yes...I was.”
“You must be lonely,” he stated frankly.
“I assure you, I am not. Father seems to require more of me these days, and Paul and Evelyn are close enough that we visit often. I am quite content.”
“Yes,” he said. “I have noticed that as well.”
He troubled with his appearance every day, but cautiously kept himself from being disarmed by her charm. He had always prided himself on his ability to intrigue reluctant women with his straightforward manner and smooth control. This time he feared he had met his match. He quivered in his boots at the thought of her most innocent and unintentional touch. When she passed him in the foyer, the sweet fragrance of her soaps teased his nostrils and the sight of her gently swinging skirts gave his manhood cause to rise. He felt like a lad embarking on his first intimate experience, a condition that began to amuse as much as frustrate him.
Tyson was stunned when he realized the permanence of his emotions toward Vieve. He cursed the fact that he had not seduced her, or bent to her seduction, on his visit the previous spring. He might have become her lover before she had submitted to Andrew. But that was not the most important issue, since chaste women were rare in Tyson’s experience. He was feeling a rare possessive spirit where Vieve was concerned and became determined that no one must ever come after him. He believed, of course, that he would make her a better lover.
On the seventh morning of his visit he rose with a firm decision that he would wait no longer to begin his slow seduction of Vieve. He was as yet uncertain about the ends to which he was bound and understood the ramifications of acting improperly. He was an American in a noble British household and bolstered himself for the agony of arousal without satisfaction. He believed he read desire in her glistening blue eyes, but he expected her to show hesitancy. It was the way of young dames.
He bathed with the fresh scent of sandalwood, cautiously removed the last stubble from his chin, and donned his riding clothes. His single apprehension came from the notion that she would expect to be courted as a young virgin would, and his ability to comply. It was not as if all the women he had known were promiscuous, but he had always been put off by the skittish nature of the very young. Their bodies and manners invariably invited while their declarations forbade. He was thirty-five years old. It had been a long time since he had embarked on this kind of adventure.
Wearing his leather boots and velvet riding jacket, and with his crop in hand, he went to the stables to be assured that his stallion would be saddled before he asked Vieve to join him for a ride. He was en route when he saw two riders disappearing over the hill. There was no mistaking Tristan’s light color and the golden tresses that bounced down Vieve’s back. And even though he saw them for only a moment, he knew the man with her was Andrew Shelby.
Without any clear intention, he
saddled his own horse and rode out after them. He had no plan, but felt anger throbbing in his temples. He had not even spoken his intent, but still he felt betrayed. He did not take the time he should have to think about the dangerous implications of assuming such possession.
Vieve gave a critical eye to her reflection in the mirror, judging the conservative style of her gown. She smiled in appreciation, finding that it suited her mood very well.
She went to her father’s study and tapped on the door. She was relieved to find he was still alone. On every previous day he had been involved in deep discussions with Tyson and it had been impossible to beg a moment of his time for a private conversation.
“What is it, daughter?”
“If you have a moment?” she requested almost shyly.
“Certainly, child. Come in, come in.”
She perched on the edge of a chair in front of his huge oak desk, her hands folded in her lap. “I don’t mean to pry, Papa, but I am wondering what this business with the captain means to our family wealth. Are your worries over?”
“Over? I think not. But I admit, his invested money is a tremendous help.”
“But Father, I...” She seemed to lose the words she had so ably rehearsed.
“Speak up, lass. I don’t think I follow you.”
“I have worried about money. Paul said there were problems and you said more than once that Andrew did not seem well suited to care for me.”
“Ah,” Lord Ridgley said, leaning back in his chair and looking at her shrewdly. “You wish to know how this improved state affects you?”
“In a manner, Papa. It is just that there has been no one...I mean I have kept company with many... my lord, I have not liked any of the men of able means who have called.”
He did not even attempt to conceal his grin. “You would like to be relieved, daughter? You do not wish this burden of finding a well-endowed husband to save me from ruin?”
“Oh, Papa, I didn’t mean...”
“It’s all right,” he coughed. “Your worries over that issue were of your own making; I did not ask you to find a wealthy husband on my account. You have my leave to relax your pursuit, if it pleases you. But heed my advice, daughter. Do not be so foolish as to fall in love with the first handsome swain who looks your way. Even with the captain’s investment, our wealth has a bottom, and a poorly sought groom will find the end of your fortune quickly.”
Her face instantly brightened. “No, Papa,” she said with a beaming smile. “I assure you, I wouldn’t do that.”
She left her father’s study with a lighter heart. She did not wish to be distracted by suitors. She had always been both bold and romantic; she wanted to fall in love and with a bit of good fortune, have him be a worthy man. She began to believe Tyson Gervais was the man.
She tried to dispel illusion about Tyson, but it was difficult, for she desired him. He had displayed himself well: handsome, mature, and masculine. He was an erotic figure of a man, but she remembered the night she had invited him to kiss her and knew better, this time, than to put herself boldly in his path. She tried to linger in the background of his visit, for she doubted him capable of an innocent courtship. She could only hope that if she carefully crafted her manners around him and did not attempt to undermine him with teasing and adolescent behavior, he would find her a worthy woman. But, she prayed, let him find her soon.
Luncheon was just past when Andrew called. Vieve was surprised that he came to Chappington and a little reluctant to see him at all. Realizing she could not avoid him forever and judging his humble and contrite expression, she invited him inside.
Andrew did not live in the Chappington town, and his own family lands were far northeast of London. He kept apartments in London, but when he came to the country he imposed himself on those neighbors who would feel obliged to house anyone of noble stature. To Vieve’s recollection, he had never rented rooms of his own, and on this trip he had presumed upon the hospitality of Paul and Evelyn in the Dumere manse. This was partially the reason that Vieve felt obligated to allow him within. She had told Paul she would try to understand his hurt as well as her own.
She called him into the parlor, deciding that if Andrew was of the same bent, to attack her the moment they were alone, she would prefer to find out in a safe environment where her protests could be heard.
“Paul had a serious talk with me and I understand why you are reluctant to be in my company,” he said quietly, coming straight to the point. “I bring apologies.”
“Accepted,” she said simply.
“I am sorry, Vieve.” A look of complete embarrassment marked his handsome cheeks with bright, pink blotches.
“Before you die of shame, I admit that I did not discourage you soon enough.”
“Thank goodness you showed some good sense,” he muttered.
“Andrew? Do you mean that?”
“Vieve...I... truly do mean it. Thinking back on the whole past year, I hardly recognize my own behavior. Everything I said and did goes completely against my nature. I respect your father and Paul.” He hung his head in shame. “Vieve, you saved me; I would not have been able to look any member of your family in the eye, had you obliged my indecent request.”
She cocked her head slightly, peering at him. She wondered if she dared hope he was sincere. “You seem to see the error of your ways.”
“But... I wonder...” He seemed to falter, not able either to look at her or to formulate the right words. She was suddenly torn with pity for him, for clearly she had broken his heart.
“You wonder what, Andrew?”
“I’m afraid of your answer, Vieve, but I must know: is there any hope that we will ever be as...”
“As we once were?” she finished for him as his query failed him.
“Yes.”
She frowned slightly, knowing how cruel it would be to mislead him. “Andrew,” she said with a strong voice, “I don’t think that I can accurately explain all the changes in my feelings, nor can I honestly tell you that you are the only cause. But I cannot lie; I do not feel as I once did. It will not be the same for us. I am sorry if I hurt you. Perhaps you will find the truth less painful than some charitable lie and my continued avoidance.”
He gave a long, heavy sigh that almost sounded like relief. “Even so, I can’t abide the thought that you will forever suspect me of being nothing more than a crude and selfish rogue.” He shrugged. “I really did care for you, though I showed it poorly. I want to regain your trust enough so that we can be friends.”
He smiled, though she could see sadness in his eyes. For the first time in months she had lightened her opinion of him. “Your brother,” he went on quietly. “He is my friend. I’d like it best if I have not destroyed that through my bad manners with you.”
Vieve smiled very tolerantly. “Paul is not angry with you, Andrew. In fact, he urged me to try to understand that you were hurt, too.”
“I must remember to thank him, though I don’t think I deserve much understanding. I behaved as only a vulgar beast would.”
She frowned at the recollection, but it was a beginning that he had the presence of mind to admit his mistake. Her anger with him had provided her with a dilemma: she was the only one he had wronged, and he was a family friend. She wished for him to occupy a tender place in her memory. After all, he was her first love.
“Your friendship is accepted. So long as you don’t attempt to compromise me, I have no cause to dislike you or be angry with you.”
He smiled brightly. “You know, Vieve, I’ve missed you. You complained all I ever wished was to have you in my arms. But while you were avoiding me, and I have been much alone to consider my actions, I’ve been quite lonely. It has not been for want of kissing that I’ve hungered most. I’ve missed your company.”
“Really?” she asked. She remembered when he began to court her, over a year ago. She recalled that walking with him, riding with him, and sitting in the parlor over tea cakes and sherry had been ple
asant and easy.
He seemed to relax a great deal, unburdened as he was, and leaned back in his chair to begin a series of entertaining stories about pranks and pastimes of his youth. Within an hour Vieve was laughing and having a good time. She knew it was impossible for them to ever resume their romance, for reasons that went far beyond his conduct—reasons that had only recently become clear to her. However, she discovered that when Andrew was well behaved she was not bored in his company. It took very little time for her to form the hope that a family friendship could be rekindled.
As the afternoon passed she doubted her own memory and started to wonder if she had made the crisis larger in her mind. It was nearly three o’clock and the day at its warmest when he stood and said that he had to leave. When she was at the front door with him, he issued an invitation that was so light and innocent, she did not think of it as any conspiracy against her. “God, it’s a beautiful day. When have you known it to ever be so pleasant in September? Vieve, change clothes and let’s go for a quick ride. I don’t have much time if I’m to return to Paul’s home before dark.”
“All right,” she said, all worry gone. Andrew could not comport himself poorly and then go innocently to her own brother’s house to dine. “But I can’t go far.”
“I’ll see that Tristan is saddled for you while you tell your father that we’re out for a very short ride. Tell him it will not be more than an hour.”
She was not unduly concerned when there happened to be no groom to attend them, and she had only a slight hesitation when Andrew suggested they go off the road near the old keep. “Come on, goose. I gave you my word, didn’t I? I want to show you where Paul and I camped when we’d both decided our parents were too severe and we’d have to run away and become soldiers of fortune.”
“When was that?” she asked with a laugh.
“Let’s see, I think we were both twelve...maybe younger. It took Lord Ridgley about an hour to find us, but we’d built quite a home for ourselves in that short time.”