“This is me. This is my husband. Papa will have to accept that.”
Or perhaps he would not, which was why no invitation to find bedrooms upstairs was forthcoming.
They did not have long to wait to discover Squire Hopewell’s feelings.
Genie’s father trudged through his wife’s best parlor in his muddied boots, ignoring her tongue clucking. A wide-bellied man with weathered skin, he looked at Ardeth struggling to rise to his feet and waved him back down. He ducked his head toward the middle-aged woman sitting ramrod straight in a corner, and scowled at his niminy-piminy daughter-in-law trying to hide in the blasted cabbage roses on the upholstery. Then he looked at his daughter.
Genie had not expected him to hold open his arms. He had never been an affectionate, demonstrative man, but neither did she expect her father’s first words to her to be “Breeding, they say.” He did not bother whispering.
“Yes.”
“Could be any man’s babe, they say.”
“They are wrong.”
“Shot your own husband, they say.”
“Someone else put an end to Elgin’s life before I could.”
“Not that husband, and do not be fresh to me, girl. This is still my home.”
Genie nodded in acknowledgment. “They—whoever they are—were not present when Lord Ardeth was wounded.”
“There are strange men surrounding my house. I had to tell ‘em who I was before they let me come in my own front door.”
“I am sorry. They are for protection.”
Ardeth started to speak, but Hopewell stopped him. “I do not know you, sir. I will hear what my daughter has to say.”
“You never listened to her before.”
They all knew what Ardeth was speaking of, and no one wanted to dredge up the past, not when the future was so fraught, the present so puzzling. If Ardeth was throwing down the gauntlet, however, Hopewell would not refuse the challenge. He already had his wife whining, armed men at his front door—and the back, too, he supposed—and the whole parish talking about his family again. He did not like any of it. “I suppose she did not pull the trigger, then, not if you are speaking up for her.”
“She is my wife.” In those few words, Ardeth expressed both defense and offense. He would defend Genie with every last ounce of strength, and take offense at anyone who insulted her. No one, not even the blustering squire, could mistake the threat in his voice, the danger in his fierce look. They, the ubiquitous and anonymous grapevine, were right about that, at least: The earl’s stare could paralyze a man’s privates, all right.
Hopewell did not like being set down by a younger man, a sickly one, too, by the looks of him. “In this house, Imogene is my daughter.” Still, he addressed both of them when he said, “I do not like this situation, heaping new scandal atop old.”
Before Ardeth could answer, Genie did, not wishing to see two stags butting heads until one was bloodied. “We do not like it any more than you do, I assure you. That was one of the reasons we left London.”
“Gossip travels on wings, don’t you know. And your mother and I live here, not in London. Everyone and his uncle—more like his aunt, the way the women’s tongues flap—is talking about how your earl should be in his grave by now.”
Ardeth wondered, for the first time, just who was in his grave, where it was, or if he had one at all.
When he did not reply, Genie said, “My husband is strong and healthy. He is recovering, thank you.”
“We heard as how he had another wound.”
Genie silently damned that London physician Lorraine had insisted they call in to check the surgeon’s work. The charlatan had done nothing, but he must have spread the tale to each patient he visited. Ardeth seemed to have fallen into a brown study, so again she answered, “He was in other battles.”
Hopewell shook his head. “Word is, it looked like someone tried to put a stake through his heart.”
That brought Ardeth’s attention back in a hurry. Genie could feel him sit up, just as she could feel her own temper rise. She might have entertained the same thought on first seeing that other ill-healed scar, but only for an instant… before she fainted. Anyone else harboring suspicions that Ardeth was some kind of abomination was abhorrent. He might be odd, but he was her oddity. And he was a good man. “I am sure an intelligent person like you, Father, cannot believe such ignorant tripe such as ogres from fairy tales. Superstitions and the like are ridiculous in this modern day. Ardeth was in foreign lands with poor doctoring, that was all.”
“I suppose that’s why he talks in tongues.”
Genie stamped her foot. “He speaks in foreign languages, not some gibberish from a religious zealot. He knows French and German and Russian, Italian, Spanish—” Genie knew there were others, but did not think her father would be impressed with Hindustani and Chinese.
She was right. “Yes, yes, but what has that to do with a man’s worth?” Squire Hopewell knew the King’s English and that was enough for him.
“If you wish to discuss my monetary worth, Squire,” Ardeth put in before either of them forgot he was there, “I can show you my bankbooks and the contract for Genie’s marriage settlements. It is a father’s right and responsibility to ascertain a suitor’s prospects, so I take no umbrage at your concern. I do not consider myself a suitor, naturally, since we are already wed, but for your information, Lady Ardeth already holds a fortune in her own name, plus various properties.”
The squire had not heard that bit of information. He glared at his wife. “Well, I suppose a countess is always welcome. Your mother would have my hide if I did not offer you rooms.”
Genie could not resist asking, “But what about a daughter? Is a daughter not always welcome?”
Ardeth did not wait for Squire Hopewell to answer. He stood again, holding on to the chair, and handed Genie her shawl after unwrapping the sleeping crow. He took her arm, leaning only a little, and said, “Did I forget to tell you, my dear, that I accepted Lady Cormack’s invitation to stay the week with them rather than impose on your parents? We should be leaving in time to change for dinner.”
Genie happily accepted the reprieve and the lie. “Oh, dear. I was not watching the time.” She bobbed a slight curtsy to her parents, out of politeness, if not out of respect. “It has been a pleasure seeing you both in good health. Give Brice my regards, and tell George I wish him luck chasing his rich bride.”
Now it was Mrs. Hopewell who was scowling at her husband. He cleared his throat. “Didn’t mean you wasn’t welcome to stay.”
“No? Well, perhaps we will call on our way back to London next time. I will be sure to send more notice.”
Hopewell looked at his wife, then nodded. “That would be better, then. Family and all.”
Which was as much acceptance as Genie was going to receive. “Family, yes. Of course you are always welcome at Ardsley Keep once we get settled there. Is that not right, my lord?”
Ardeth held out an olive branch. “Indeed. In fact, I might need some advice on managing the lands. I did not learn husbandry while studying those other languages.”
“We might just do that, maybe when the child is born. M’grandchild and all.”
That was the one fact no one could dispute.
—
Lorraine was not surprised to find Ardeth and Genie and Miss Hadley in her parlor. “I knew how it would be,” she said, ordering the fires built up, a more lavish dinner prepared, rooms made ready. “But what about the crow?”
The crow could stay in Ardeth’s room away from Peter, as long as he had food and water.
“Wine,” Olive whined.
Olive was not half as troublesome to Genie’s mind as the Dowager Lady Cormack. Elgin’s and Roger’s mother resided at the hall, which boasted no dower house, to Lorraine’s regret. The senior baroness still believed both Hopewell girls had entrapped her sons. Genie, for one, had hoped never to see the harridan again.
But the situation had changed. Little Pe
ter was healthier, skipping into his grandmother’s arms, thanks to Lord Ardeth. The heir to the barony was on Cormack Woods lands, where he belonged, also thanks to Lord Ardeth. Now Lady Cormack the Elder no longer needed Genie’s child to assure her husband’s succession. She could be generous, if not gracious.
Besides, having the earl and his lady in her house–she still thought of it as hers, also to Lorraine’s regrets—was a coup against Mrs. Squire Hopewell, her archenemy in the war for neighborhood supremacy. That Sophy Hopewell, the mushroom, queened it over the parish despite her lack of a title rankled the baroness. The squire’s wife was head of the altar committee, hostess for the sewing circle, chairwoman of the May Day Fair, and in charge of collections for the poorhouse. Besides, her husband was the local magistrate, so the tradesmen gave them better goods at lower prices to win his favor.
But Sophy Hopewell did not have an earl and a countess staying with her! Lady Cormack did.
Unfortunately, after the warm welcome, Genie and Ardeth found themselves in separate chambers of the guest wing across the hall from each other. With all the extra servants, and Peter not sleeping in the nursery until it could be aired and cleared of anything with feathers, Lorraine had had to double up some of the arrangements. Miss Hadley and Marie were to share Genie’s room, while Ardeth’s valet slept on a trundle bed in his.
Genie was upset. If Ardeth was well enough to dress for dinner, he was well enough to… well, enough time had gone by.
“That is all right, my dear,” Ardeth told her when he saw her disappointment. “I am not quite ready for sharing a bed with you.”
They both knew they would not sleep.
“Besides, the more rest I get, the sooner we can leave and the faster we can travel.”
She had to accept that.
Chapter 23
Genie might be disappointed, but Ardeth was dismayed. Not that his valet shared the room, not that they were in possible danger, and not that things had gone poorly with Squire and Mrs. Hopewell. No, he was dismayed that he could not make love to his wife. Not that he would not, not that he should not, but that now he could not. Great gods, what if he had waited too long? He had the body of an able young man. What if he had the manhood of an ancient?
He cursed in far more languages than Genie had mentioned to her father, and he cursed the Devil, whose doing this had to be. That dastard never did play fair. Give a man six months—then make them hell on earth as a eunuch.
Or maybe he was just weak from the gunshot. Yes, that was it. His powers were at low ebb, so it made sense that the rest of him would be at half-mast. It made sense, but it sure as Hades did not make him happy. He was bound to recover, Ardeth told himself. Before too long, he prayed.
If not… no, he would not consider the alternative.
Damn, here he was, alive, where he never truly believed he’d be again. Here he was married, again. And this time liking his wife very well. He’d even reconciled desire with dogma. Lust was sinful unless it was for one’s spouse. Pleasing her was a duty. He’d thought it would be a delight, done right. He’d even thought that, in his weakened state, he could not hurt her.
He couldn’t, unless she broke a rib laughing at him.
Pretty Genie, so sweet, so eager, so naive in her way. She deserved far better. He thought of her, there in the dark, with her hair down and her skirts up. He thought of her with her gown unfastened, so he could touch and stroke and suckle. Then he thought of her out of her clothing altogether.
For once his room was too warm.
He’d thought he was getting closer to finding his true being. He was as honorable as he knew how, harming none, helping as many as he could. He actually enjoyed trying to improve people’s lives, not merely performing good deeds for the sake of his own salvation. He was discovering the comfort of friendship, family, children. He was no closer to finding the hourglass, but he’d thought he was nearer to what other men felt.
He needed time, which was the one thing he did not have. Well, time was one other thing he did not have.
—
They spent three days at Cormack Woods while Ardeth rested. Genie played with her nephew and twice visited with her parents and older brother. Lorraine threw a dinner party to introduce them to the neighborhood, and no one refused. The household was supposed to be in mourning for Elgin, so no dancing took place afterward. Miss Hadley played at the pianoforte, with others joining in song.
Genie relaxed. No one asked awkward questions, or gave sideways looks, or whispered behind fans. Ardeth stayed by her side like the perfect bridegroom, looking so handsome in his evening dress, she thought half the women must be imagining him out of it.
He was attentive to her needs, ready to come to her defense if any of the conversation turned personal or ugly. Her mother was before him, and her sister, Miss Hadley, the dowager baroness, and even Squire Hopewell.
“Helped nurse the soldiers, my daughter did,” the squire told everyone who would listen. “Got grit, my girl. And saved her husband’s life, besides. He could have bled to death without her, according to Cormack. And look at my daughters, the two prettiest gals in the county.” He skipped right over his daughter-in-law. “Good men they married.” He skipped right over poor Elgin. “Thinking of those without a string of titles to their names. Got honor. Land. Deep pockets.” He skipped over peculiar habits, unusual pets, and a tendency to attract trouble, scandal, and assassins. “What more could a father ask for his girls?”
So the visit turned out to be worthwhile in one way, at least.
—
They left, heading north. With fewer coaches, but with as many outriders, they should have been able to travel faster, except that Genie still suffered morning sickness at odd times of the day. Her discomfort was exacerbated by the rougher roads and the less well-sprung carriage, so they stopped frequently. While she recovered, they admired the scenery, an old chapel, a Roman ruin, a meadow filled with wildflowers. The outriders were less wary now, after all the side turns they had taken. No one could know their itinerary in advance, and the rear guard reported that no one was following them. Campbell sent word back that all was clear ahead; he’d encountered no trouble.
Ardeth was not as weary as he had been, so slept less in the carriage. He even thought of riding the stallion for a stage or two. Genie thought otherwise. He was still weak and a fall might reopen the wounds. Furthermore, no one could keep up with his horse, to protect him from highwaymen or hired assailants lying in wait.
He smiled as he handed her into the coach. “Your nagging sounds just like a real wife.”
She looked back and said, “I am a real wife.” Then she whispered so Miss Hadley could not overhear, “Almost.”
The look she gave him spoke volumes. Chapter one could be titled “If he was well enough to think of riding the horse, he was well enough for another kind of ride.”
He quickly climbed into the carriage after her. “You are right. I am not fit for such strenuous activity.”
They played cards, read out loud, sang folk songs from various lands, and discussed plans for the school they were going to establish where girls would be educated, too. Miss Hadley pretended to doze so they could converse more privately. Olive grew bored and sat up with the driver. To the crow, the wind in his feathers was almost like flying, without huntsmen or hawks.
On one night of the journey, the inn they chose happened to have enough rooms that Miss Hadley and the servants could each have one of their own. Genie brushed her hair, laid out her traveling outfit for the morning, read a few pages of her book, and repeated her father’s words to herself: “Got grit, my girl.” She gathered that grit, took a deep breath, and rapped on Ardeth’s door after she heard his man say good night.
“Is your room not to your liking?” he asked when he saw her standing in the hall. “Did you have enough supper? Are you feeling ill?”
“Thank you. I am fine. I… I was wondering if you were well.”
He raised his arm to
show that he was getting more use of his shoulder. “I am feeling little pain, only stiffness, thank you.”
Her grit was sinking to her slippers. “Um, perhaps you want company, then.”
“After all these days in the carriage and nights sharing your rooms, I’d have thought you would cherish your privacy.”
“I was, um, worried that you might need someone here with you, in case you required something in the night.”
“I have not taken laudanum for a week, and can reach for candles, blankets, or water for myself. Do not fuss, Genie. I do not need a nursemaid.”
“Of course. I am sorry. I did not mean to be a nag again. There is nothing I can get you?”
How he wished. “No, thank you.”
“Your room is warmer than mine.”
“It usually is. Do you want me to build up the fire in your room?”
What for? Genie almost snapped at him. The man was as blockheaded as the bedpost. She was wearing her night rail, for goodness’ sake, her hair left unbound the way he seemed to like it. What did he think, she was here to borrow a book or tuck in his covers? She turned to go back to her own cold, lonely room. “I suppose I should leave you to your rest, then.”
He did not contradict her, and her heart sank, too, along with whatever courage she’d mustered. He was rejecting her and her protruding belly.
He touched her shoulder, so she turned, hopeful. He kissed her forehead instead of her lips, but placed a hand gently on the mound of her pregnancy. “I am sorry, Genie. I am not ready to share a bed with you, as much as I might want. And I do want. Never think otherwise. I am just not strong enough yet.”
“I could… that is… sometimes Elgin wanted me to…”
He held a finger to her lips. “Please, do not speak of Elgin in our bedroom. Even if this is not our own room, I do not want his ghost in here.”
She spun around. “Can he…?”
“Metaphorically, I meant.”
At least her husband was not seeing apparitions, Genie thought in relief. Who cared if he believed in ghosts? A lot of people did. Then she started to apologize for being forward. A strong man like Ardeth might not like a woman taking the initiative.
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