“No,” she flung back. She felt the rise and fall of her chest as she struggled with her indignation and her need to voice it. “This is my fight.”
“Very well, my lady,” he said quietly, his expression shuttered.
She strove for calm. “I’ll let your brother know what I think of him … at a more opportune moment.”
And then slowly, with her back ramrod straight, she brushed past the Earl of Chadwick and returned to her seat, trembling because she longed to barge through the crowd, to push Finn on his chest, to scream at him how horrible he was to have deceived her so.
But she couldn’t. She could only sit there and be aware that he was charming her little sister somewhere out in the corridor. And in a moment, he would return to the box, a ready smile on his face. And next week, he would come to dine, and her family would ooh and aah over his American adventures.
How droll life was sometimes. How unfair. And wrong.
Chapter Twenty
Marcia couldn’t tell anyone. That was the most difficult part of all. When she returned home from the opera, she could barely make it to her room without revealing her angst.
“Don’t ask,” she whispered to Kerry, then stuck her fist to her mouth to keep the sobs at bay. She managed to do so, but it took everything she had.
Pale-faced, Kerry undressed her in silence, pulled down Marcia’s counterpane, and helped her into bed.
“Shall you read, my lady?” the maid asked.
“No,” Marcia whispered. “Blow out the candle, please, and tell anyone who asks that I have the headache.”
“I’m so sorry, my lady, whatever happened.”
“Thank you.”
Kerry blew out the candle and left her, pulling the bedchamber door softly shut.
Marcia lay awake another hour in the dark, tears slipping down her cheeks. She’d only wanted what every girl wanted.
A safe harbor. Intimacy. True love.
She rolled on her side and put her hands under her cheek. How would she have been different if she’d known the truth?
She wondered about that, and wondered some more, until her stinging eyelids finally grew heavy from sheer exhaustion.
She’d given up so much to keep that flame for Finn alive in her heart. She’d nurtured this love—one that was almost entirely imagined by her—until she’d built her whole life around it and become completely blind to what genuine love was.
No more fooling myself, she told herself, as she drifted off.
No more.
* * *
The following morning at eight o’clock, Marcia knocked on Lord Chadwick’s door, Kerry beside her. Most of London’s upper ten thousand were still abed or barely stirring, but she was nervous to be seen, nonetheless. Mama and Daddy would be furious if they ever found out what she was doing.
But she must do this. She simply must. She knew how to comfort children. And she couldn’t bear thinking of that little boy crying.
Lord Chadwick, too, would be suffering. She had to admit, part of her wanted to be there for him. She knew the helplessness he’d be feeling, the frustration, and even anger.
If at the moment she couldn’t be headmistress at Oak Hall, she could still behave like one by assisting someone with a child in a time of crisis.
When no one answered, Kerry grabbed her hand. “Perhaps we should leave,” she suggested.
“One more try,” Marcia insisted, lifting the knocker and letting it drop.
Finally, she heard steps, and the door opened a crack. It was Lord Chadwick himself, lines of fatigue etched around his eyes. His cravat was wrinkled, and his jacket, slightly askew.
“Oh, good,” he said, his voice a bit scratchy. “Your timing is impeccable. I could use someone to vent my spleen on. An intelligent young lady who blatantly defies the rules of polite society at her peril is the perfect target.”
“Is everything all right?” Marcia blurted out. “You don’t appear to have slept a wink.”
“I didn’t,” he said. “You need to go. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Please let me in.” She put her hand on a door panel.
He shut the door a further inch. “Must I remind you, young ladies are forbidden to meet gentlemen in their homes? Besides, I sent all the servants away till noon. I need to be alone. And Joe’s sleeping soundly after a harrowing morning in which he had to say good-bye to someone he loves very much and will never see again.”
His tone, already bleak, took on an extra layer of bitterness that panicked Marcia no end. Lord Chadwick wasn’t a bitter man. He was serious, a man of purpose. But no man who played the pianoforte and sang the way he did, or loved a boy with all his heart the way he did, could have a cynical nature.
“Lord Chadwick,” she said. “Please. I’m not leaving until you let me in.”
“I believe you. But I’m in no mood for company. Which means if I have to, I’ll escort you home. That won’t sit well with your parents, will it?”
Marcia exchanged a worried glance with Kerry.
“I’ll wait in the kitchen,” the maid suggested helpfully. “And make tea. He could use a cup.”
“Yes, he could,” said Marcia. “And probably a good breakfast. Too bad he let the staff go. I wonder if Joe had something to eat?”
“I’m still here,” the earl grated out. “And no, Joe and I haven’t eaten a thing. We will later, when the staff returns. But I sent them away, you see, to have a bit of privacy.”
Marcia ignored the withering look he sent her and took Kerry’s hand. “You should go. Come back at eleven.”
“But my lady—”
“He needs looking after.”
“Who? Me or Joe?” the earl said. “I certainly don’t, and I can look after Joe on my own.”
But Marcia ignored him again. Instead, she opened her reticule and handed the maid some change. “Find yourself something to do. Mama thinks we’re heading to the park and shopping afterward. Take a walk yourself and buy yourself something. I’ll see you later, at the kitchen door.” She pushed the door open and went inside. “And Kerry?”
“Yes, my lady?” Her eyes were anxious.
“Don’t worry a bit about me. I can take care of myself. I’m a headmistress, remember?” Marcia smiled contritely at her and shut the door.
“Who could ever forget?” Lord Chadwick frowned when she turned around to face him, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I came to meet Joe,” she said. “I knew he’d be awake. Children don’t sleep late, do they?”
“No, they don’t. He was up at six, but he cried so hard when Aislinn said good-bye, he wore himself out and is sleeping again.”
“Good,” she whispered. “How—how are you?”
His expression was unreadable. “Fine.”
She came a step closer to him. Reached out. Grabbed one of his crossed arms and pulled it down. Held his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said plainly. “It must be ghastly to have to witness a child’s grief, the bone-aching kind.” She gave a little laugh. “It’s bad enough seeing them cry over silly things. It used to break my heart all the time at the school.”
He appeared to be listening but said nothing.
She went on. “For me, there were two times when a student cried over the death of someone she loved. In one case, it was a father. The other was a sister. And … it was terrible.”
His face looked carved in granite.
“So,” she said carefully, “this must be very hard for you.”
“Not as difficult as it is for Joe.”
There was a silence.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s more difficult to be the observer. It’s a helpless feeling. At least when you know it’s your own pain, you get to decide what to do about it. But when it’s someone else’s…” She trailed off, not sure he was even listening.
He inhaled a breath, turned toward the back of the house, and began walking. “Why don’t we go to the kitchens?” he called back.
; She scurried after him. “So I can make you that tea?”
“Might as well,” he said. “I’ve nothing else to do until Joe wakes up.”
“Will he soon, do you think?”
At that very moment, there was a thump from upstairs. Lord Chadwick’s expression became immediately alert. He cocked his head. “I’ll need to check on him.”
“May I come?”
He gazed at her. “Why are you here again?”
“To meet Joe,” she said. “Forget the idea of having him to yourself. I intend to become his friend.”
“You?”
“Me.” She followed him up the stairs and tried not to enjoy the sight of him from behind. His shoulders were broad, and his back, long and lean, the tails of his coat falling straight down over muscular legs.
He glanced back at her, and she flushed with embarrassment.
His eyes narrowed, a glimmer of reluctant amusement in them. At the top of the stairs, he waited for her. “Second door on the right,” he whispered.
Together, they walked silently down the corridor. At the door, he peeked in first. She could see the worry on his face.
He signaled to her then, and she crept close. She could feel his breath on her hair as she leaned forward for her own look.
Her heart instantly softened. Joe, his golden blond hair tufted every which way, lay sprawled upside down on his bed. In his apparent tossing and turning, he’d managed to knock a book off the bedside table with a stray leg or arm.
She watched him breathe, peaceful in sleep, and looked up silently at Lord Chadwick.
He looked down at her, and their gazes locked.
He’s adorable, hers said.
I know, his said back.
He stepped back from the door and took her elbow, leading her a few doors down to what looked like a spare bedchamber. “He’ll wake up soon, I’m sure of it. He’s already had a full night’s sleep.”
“Are you wondering what to do?’
“Yes, and I have no idea.” His voice was rough. “I was clueless this morning, too. I simply held on to him, as much as he struggled and screamed and cried. I wouldn’t let him go.”
“Your instincts are good,” said Marcia. “He needs to know you’ll never leave him.”
They were silent again. “He might sleep longer than you think,” she said. “When a child undergoes trauma—”
Heavens, when a young lady undergoes trauma, she couldn’t help thinking. After Finn had left, she’d slept for weeks. Her parents hadn’t known what was wrong with her.
She swallowed and started again. “When a child undergoes a sudden upheaval, they tend to sleep. It’s a way to escape. And renew.”
Lord Chadwick’s expression was taut with something like anger.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I never wanted him to go through trauma,” he said. “I should’ve prevented it somehow.”
“You can’t prevent everything,” she said.
“I could have prevented this.” He raked a hand through his hair and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Stop it.” It seemed the most natural thing to do to move toward him, reach out, and tuck a lock of his hair back. “Stop blaming yourself.”
He pulled her between his legs. She put her hands on his shoulders and felt that awareness between them, that powerful pull. And where she was standing felt right.
But you have a calling, a voice within her reminded her. It was the strong, steady, calm voice that had seen her through the past four years.
“Thank you for being here,” he said.
“I—I’m glad to be.” Against her better judgment, she thrilled at the proximity of their bodies. “During troubling times, we all need a friend.”
He yanked her closer. “Have you always had a friend … during troubling times?”
She felt a wave of pain, remembering. “No,” she whispered. “There was one time in which I felt quite alone.”
“Was it when Finn left you?”
“Yes.”
“Come here,” he said, and pulled her down to the bed to sit next to him. “I wish I had been there for you, the way you are for me today. For me and Joe.”
His eyes burned into hers. And then he lifted one of her hands and encircled her fist with his own, holding it against his chest. Bending down, he kissed her lightly. Just once. But it was a wonderful kiss. Full of feeling. Gratitude. Comfort.
It was the sweetest gesture in the world.
“Thank you,” she said. “That was a lovely sentiment. I especially liked the kissing part of it.”
“I’m glad,” Duncan said. “I must tell you something. I sent Finn away for a week, at least until your family’s dinner party is over. I’m going to tell your mother he was called away on business. I’ll come on my own.”
The hurt came back afresh. “I told you I’d take care of him my way.”
“You did,” he said. “But remember, it’s my fight, too. I’m the head of the household, and I needed him to know his deception was unacceptable. You can do what you will when he returns. If it’s any consolation, he’s severely chastened and terrified to see you.”
She actually laughed at that. “Good. Let him stay that way.”
“You’re a force to be reckoned with,” Duncan said. “I found that out last night. Of course, I already knew. I’ve known it since you were on that packet to Ireland.”
He kissed her again, but in this kiss she felt desire, demanding and raw. “You’re not meant to be sad,” she whispered against his mouth.
“You’re making me happy,” he told her, and deepened the kiss.
But they were in a bedchamber not far from Joe’s room. They both seemed to notice at the same time the precarious nature of the situation.
The tension was thick.
“I want to take you somewhere,” he said. “Someplace we can be together in private but still hear Joe if he wakes up.”
She studied him a moment—or rather fell into the warm brown depths of his eyes.
Oh, she was lost.
Lost.
Hadn’t she felt that way with Finn? Powerless to deny the attraction? Stubbornly refusing to listen to reason?
And look what had happened to her!
But this time was different. This time she knew who she was. This time, she’d hold back something of both her heart and her body. Lock the essence of herself away. It was the pragmatic thing to do.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
He smiled at her, and her heart caught in her throat. Then he picked her up and carried her to the set of French doors opposite the bed. With one hand he opened them, and they were on a balcony, birds singing in a great tree hiding them from the street. Otherwise, they were completely in view of anyone who trudged through the back garden.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, still wrapped in his arms. “Are you sure no one will be out here?”
“They’re all gone, remember?” He put her down gently and pulled the doors almost shut, but not quite.
There was an unusual chair hung from the ceiling of the balcony with silken ropes. It was made of bamboo and was almost like a giant circle, with open sides.
“How interesting,” she said. “And beautiful.”
“I brought it back from the Orient.” The earl lifted open the lid of a teak cabinet and pulled out an emerald-green silk cushion. “This goes on it.” And he placed the pillow on the seat. It looked so inviting, a place to lounge and look at the tree, or the garden, or simply to read upon or even nap upon. “Come try it.”
She did, and she loved the feeling that she was dangling. She could gently spin to the left and right.
“Stay there,” he said.
She sat up and chuckled. “You can’t fit on here with me.”
“I know. But I like to see you in it.”
She blushed. “Why?”
“You look so pretty.” He stood directly in front of her, looking down at her. “Like a pearl in an open shell.”
>
“What a lovely thing to say. Thank you.” She spun lazily.
“Now every time I use it, I’ll remember you.”
“You will?”
“Let me get some more pillows.” He opened the cabinet again and pulled out four big pillows and stacked them behind her spine. Now she was almost sitting straight up, like a queen on a feathery throne.
He bent down and she extended her neck upward, and they managed a kiss, a kiss that didn’t seem to stop. He licked the seam of her lips with his own, and she opened up to him, their tongues exploring, playing.
His hand found her breast through her gown, and she inhaled a sharp breath at the flash of pure pleasure that ricocheted down to her belly and her feminine core. She scooted forward, wanting to be close to him. He got on his knees, and she loved the feeling of his broad chest pressed up against her breasts. He bent to kiss her neck, and her head fell back.
What pure pleasure this was!
It only increased when she felt cool, fresh air on her breasts. It was a glorious feeling made even more exquisite when his hot tongue circled her nipple and then sucked upon it.
“Duncan,” she moaned.
Out of pure instinct, she put out a hand, hoping to caress the hard length of him through his breeches. But she couldn’t reach.
He laughed against her mouth.
“It’s not fair,” she said, frustrated beyond belief.
“I don’t care.” He pushed her back against the pillows and lifted one of her legs, running his hand along the back of her calf—and then her thigh—as he kissed her.
She wanted so much to open up to him. And then he was gently pushing her to do so, physically maneuvering himself so her legs were spread.
It was daring. And exciting.
She could hardly believe she was in the midst of such a sensual experience, especially when Duncan caressed her thigh and moved his hand, like a whisper, to her most secret place, the tender feminine flesh which had been aching for his touch. When his finger came into contact with the nub at her center, she moaned aloud, needing him.
Wanting him even closer.
“Come, beautiful girl,” he murmured into her mouth. “Come to pleasure for me, Marcia.”
Loving Lady Marcia Page 19