Taking a chair beside the bed, the vicar smiled with a hint of complacency
“Perhaps it did not all turn out according to your plan, but I assure you that Beatrice was most distressed when she arrived at the house. She was genuinely concerned for your welfare.”
The reminder of precisely how Beatrice had returned to the house sent a fresh flare of anger through Gabriel.
The very thought that she had so recklessly risked her life made him wish to slam his fist into something very hard.
“She should have been throttled,” he muttered.
The older gentleman lifted his brows in surprise. “Pardon me?”
“She took a boat onto a storm-tossed lake that even I would hesitate to attempt without the barest ability to swim. One errant wave and she would now be—” He gave a deep shudder. “Gads, I cannot even bear to think of it.”
Astonishingly, the vicar merely shrugged. “Beatrice is a woman of tremendous courage and resourcefulness. You surely did not suppose she would be content to weakly await rescue after you had been injured?”
Well, of course he knew his wife was a woman of courage and resourcefulness, for goodness’ sake. She was also far more intelligent than any other person he had ever encountered. Unfortunately, she had failed to use her God-given wits when she had climbed into that boat.
“I thought she possessed more sense than to so absurdly risk her life,” he growled.
“She was quite desperate.”
“She had no right to expose herself to such danger, no matter how desperate she was.”
A vaguely disturbing smile touched the round countenance. “Yes, well, it is done and all is well,” he soothed.
Gabriel forced himself to thrust aside the horrid image of Beatrice upon the raging lake. He had no doubt it would haunt him for years.
“I suppose.”
“And you cannot deny the incident revealed that Beatrice is still very attached to you.”
“Perhaps,” he slowly agreed.
“It is a very good omen.”
Gabriel was not nearly so optimistic.
“But she no longer trusts me. And without trust our marriage is doomed.”
“You must have patience, my son.”
Patience? Gabriel ground his teeth. He was beginning to detest that word.
“Easy enough for you to say.”
Humbly chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
Rather sheepishly realizing he was being deliberately contrary, Gabriel summoned a lopsided grin.
“Forgive me. I am told that I am a very petulant invalid.”
A twinkle entered the sherry eyes. “Yes, I did hear as much from the good doctor.”
“Gads, the man was fortunate that I was too weak to have him tossed out on his ear. Do you know that wretched fool poked me from head to toe and then threatened to have me bled when I complained?”
“No one enjoys the attentions of a doctor, especially when it means being confined to bed.”
“I shall no doubt go mad,” Gabriel readily agreed.
“Why do I not find a chessboard and we can have a game or two?”
Despite his reluctance to be left to his own devices, Gabriel knew he should protest. The poor gentleman had not come all the way to Derbyshire to entertain an invalid.
“Surely you would prefer to be exploring the countryside or visiting your friend?”
“Not at all,” the vicar stoutly denied. “There is nothing I enjoy more than a rousing game of chess.”
“Well, I cannot promise a rousing game,” Gabriel warned. “It has been years since I have attempted my skill at chess, but I would appreciate the company.”
Humbly promptly rose to his feet. “Good. I shall return in a few moments with the board.”
* * *
The vicar left the room with a decided spring in his step.
Things were coming along quite nicely, he decided with a knowing smile.
Perhaps Gabriel and Beatrice had not yet fully comprehended the depths of their true feelings for each other, but they had made decided progress.
Beatrice had willingly risked her life to save her husband. And Gabriel had suddenly been forced to think of a world without Beatrice.
Both had been badly shaken by the incident. And both were now forced to genuinely confront the emotions that had been so unexpectedly exposed.
With a bit more prodding, he would surely have the two of them happily settled.
Busily congratulating his fine work, Humbly made his way toward the distant kitchens. He would ask Cook where to find the chessboard, he told himself, and at the same time perhaps discover a tasty snack to tide him until luncheon.
A lovely lemon tart would certainly still the grumbling in his stomach. Or perhaps a scone fresh from the oven.
Lost in his thoughts of delicate pastries, Humbly had no sense of impending doom. In fact, it was not until a shrill voice split the peaceful silence that he realized his danger.
“Mr. Humbly.”
Muttering a less than devout curse, Humbly came to a halt and watched Mrs. Quarry hurry in his direction.
“Oh, Mr. Humbly,” she cried. “At last I have found you.”
He gave a stiff bow. “Mrs. Quarry.”
“Naughty man.” She waved a bony finger directly in his face. “Have you been hiding from me?”
Rather childishly, Humbly stuck his hands behind his back and crossed his fingers.
“Of course not.”
“But I have not seen you about at all,” she complained.
Humbly knew he should feel a measure of guilt at having so assiduously avoided the widow. But he had not managed to remain a content bachelor for nearly sixty years by being a ready target for desperate females. A gentleman had to be swift upon his feet to avoid the numerous traps they could lay.
“Yes, well, I have been rather busy visiting my friend and, of course, becoming better acquainted with Lord Faulconer.”
“I see.” Astonishingly, the thin lips managed a well-rehearsed quiver. “I suppose it was too much to hope you would have time for a foolish old widow.”
Humbly nervously cleared his throat. “I . . . that is . . .”
“No, no. I understand.” The woman magically produced a handkerchief to dab at her thin nose. “You mustn’t change your schedule to worry over me. I assure you I am quite accustomed to being ignored. It is the lot of the poor relative, you know. And I would never presume to push myself where I was not wanted.”
Despite the realization that the woman was blatantly attempting to stir his pity, Humbly found himself weakening.
Whatever her annoying tendencies, she was still one of God’s creatures, he reminded himself reluctantly. It was his duty to provide what comfort he could.
“Perhaps we could share tea later this afternoon,” he grudgingly offered.
She patted her nose again. “Well, I shouldn’t wish to be a bother.”
“It is no bother.”
“You are quite certain?”
He swallowed a sigh. “Quite certain.”
Within the blink of an eye the downtrodden martyr had been replaced by a smugly confident female. The handkerchief disappeared and a predatory glint entered the pale eyes.
“Then, I must meet with Cook,” she chattered as she tapped her finger to her narrow chin. “Do not think I haven’t noticed how well you enjoy those lovely lemon tarts. And, of course, plenty of cucumber sandwiches.”
Humbly shuddered. Mrs. Quarry and cucumber sandwiches? Dear heavens, what had he done to deserve such a wretched fate?
“Cucumber sandwiches?” he said weakly.
The widow smiled coyly. “A gentleman of your age must think of his health.”
“You are not related to Mrs. Stalwart, are you?”
She batted her stubby lashes in confusion. “Mrs. Stalwart? No, I do not believe so. Is she an acquaintance of yours?”
“Never mind.” He performed a resigned bow. “I shall see you later.”
“I do not believe it is even a possibility,” he muttered.
She gave a shrill giggle. “Oh, Vicar, what a tease you are.”
Turning on his heel, Humbly made his way back to Gabriel’s chambers. He would have one of the endless footmen go in search of the deuced chessboard.
And on the next occasion he would not allow the rumblings of his stomach to put him off his guard, he told himself.
The temptation of lemon tarts was not worth the torture of an afternoon in the company of Mrs. Quarry.
Not unless there also happened to be one of those nice muffins or a tasty sponge cake.
Eleven
After two days of being kept a virtual prisoner in his bed, Gabriel expected to be a ready candidate for Bedlam.
He was, after all, a gentleman accustomed to endless activity. Work about the estate kept him on the run from the moment he awoke until he tumbled into his bed late in the evening. If he wasn’t in the fields or meeting with his steward, then he was in his study, attempting to sort through years of neglected ledger books.
To suddenly be trapped in his chamber with nothing to occupy him but the occasional visitor was surely worse than being placed upon the rack.
But much to his surprise, he found an unexpected benefit to being an invalid.
Covertly turning his head, Gabriel regarded his wife, who was seated close to his bed as she fiercely studied a handful of fabric swatches.
Each day Beatrice had spent a portion of her time seated close beside him. Whether reading to him from the morning paper or simply sharing what progress had been made by the workmen, she had revealed a bit more about herself.
He now knew that she was well read on the latest politics and held very firm views on the plight of children and the troubles faced by soldiers returning home from the war with no jobs and few opportunities. He also discovered that she closely followed the ’Change and knew precisely the worth of the stocks that were held by her father. Perhaps more surprisingly he learned she possessed a lighthearted interest in the current gossip that filled the scandal sheets.
The charming insights into her character only made her more precious to Gabriel.
Somehow he had always suspected that a large dose of familiarity would lead to a disgust for each other. Certainly a number of his married friends had warned him of just such a disaster. But as he was allowed to glimpse deeper into Beatrice’s thoughts and feelings, he found himself eager to discover more.
She was a fascinating mixture of practical common sense and soft-hearted liberalism. She could be fiery in defense of the helpless and impishly amusing when recalling stories of her days among the ton.
She was also deeply lonely.
As lonely as himself.
The knowledge made him more determined than ever to reach out and forge a bond between them.
They clearly needed each other.
If only he could prove to her that he was worthy of her trust.
Easier said than done, he acknowledged with an inward sigh.
His gaze ran a restless path over the pale features that had become so endearingly familiar. Then a faint smile tugged at his lips as he noted how she frowned over the bits of fabric.
“So serious, my dear?” he softly broke into her dark thoughts.
Lifting her head, she held out the samples for his inspection.
“I cannot determine which color most closely resembles the draperies in the library. What is your opinion?”
Gabriel glanced over the offered fabrics with a lift of his brows.
“Good gads, they all look the same.”
“Of course they do not,” she protested. “This is a much darker shade, while this one possesses a hint of plum.”
He laughed as he shook his head. “I shall have to take your word for it.”
She heaved a sigh as she fingered a threadbare square of fabric. “I do wish the original were not so faded. It is impossible to determine the precise color.”
Gabriel settled himself more comfortably in the pillows, as always amazed by Beatrice’s obvious devotion to Falcon Park.
“Surely the color of the draperies in the library is not of such prime importance?”
“I should like it to be as close as possible.”
“You have truly taken on a tremendous task, my dear,” he said in genuine admiration.
As always, she turned a flustered pink at his words of praise. He had already determined that she was unaccustomed to having her talents admired.
“I do not mind.”
“Still, it is very generous of you,” he persisted.
“This is my home as well as yours now.”
His heart warmed at her words. Falcon Park was indeed becoming a home again. And it was all due to this woman’s inexhaustible efforts.
“Yes, but most brides would prefer to redecorate in a more modern style,” he retorted with a rueful smile. “It would be far simpler than devoting such energy to restoring the house to its previous glory.”
She shrugged aside the vast burden she had so willingly shouldered.
“I hope it will be worth the effort.”
Gabriel reached out to gently cover her hand with his own. “Have I thanked you yet for all you’ve done for Falcon Park?”
Amazingly, she managed to blush a deeper shade of red. “There is no need,” she mumbled. “I am your wife.”
“My wife.” He savored the words as if they were a fine wine. “I very much like the sound of that.”
He felt her sudden tremor even as she battled to maintain an air of cool control.
“You are being absurd.”
“No, I am not.” He captured her gaze with his own. “As I said, I never thought I would have a family. I am finding that I enjoy being a part of one with you. It is very comforting to know you will be here when I awaken in the morning, to think of you strolling in the garden, or to catch the scent of honeysuckle when I enter the room. It gives me a sense of belonging here that I have not felt since my mother died.”
The amber eyes abruptly darkened. “Oh.”
Gabriel glanced down to where his larger hand covered her fingers. “I only wish that you felt more comfortable here.”
“I—it has only been a few months since I arrived. And with the workmen—”
“Perhaps I should say that I wish you felt more comfortable with me,” he softly interrupted her stumbling words. “Do you recall the first evening we met?”
There was a faint pause before she gave a nod of her head. “Of course.”
“I had been introduced to what seemed like a hundred maidens since arriving in London, but the moment I was in your company, I realized that you were the only woman who I felt as if I had known my entire life.”
She regarded him with obvious disbelief. “I find that difficult to believe. I was so nervous, I chattered like the veriest nitwit.”
Gabriel gave a low chuckle as he recalled their brief encounter. At the time he had known nothing about her beyond the fact that she possessed a large fortune and was reputed to be decidedly eccentric.
He had prepared himself for yet another shallow miss who had been sternly tutored in the proper behavior for a debutant. No matter what the rumors of Beatrice’s odd manners, he refused to hope she would dare to be anything but tediously proper.
It had been a refreshing treat when she had boldly spoken her mind without apology and without artifice. He had been instantly intrigued by the unconventional maiden.
“You were charming,” he said in firm tones, a reminiscent smile playing about his mouth. “And you certainly did not chatter.”
“Yes, I did,” she perversely argued. “I told you of my dislike of London, of my grandfather, of my inventions. I think I even told you that my shoes were pinching my toes.”
He shrugged, his fingers unconsciously stroking the back of her hand and delicate curve of her wrist.
“That was far preferable to the sti
ff conversations of the weather or latest fashions I endured. There were even some maidens who managed no more than a number of nerve-shattering giggles. You cannot conceive my relief to discover a woman who could share a sensible conversation. I even recall that you wore a pale green gown with satin ivory roses.”
She abruptly ducked her head, although she did not attempt to pull free from his light caress.
“I fear that was my mother’s notion of a suitable gown for a debutant. I attempted to warn her that I looked unfortunately like an underripe apple, but she would not heed my warnings.”
With an impatient click of his tongue, Gabriel reached up to cup her chin and forced her to meet his narrowed gaze.
“Why do you say such things of yourself?” he demanded.
She appeared startled by his disapproving tone. “It is habit, I suppose.”
“I will not have it in my presence,” he informed her sternly. “The only one who finds you wanting in any fashion is yourself.”
There was a stark silence before he heard her heave a faint sigh.
“It is not always comfortable to be considered different by others.”
Gabriel was not to be swayed. Certainly he could sympathize with desiring the approval of others. He had lived through a similar battle with his own father. But he would not allow her to belittle her worth.
“Surely your grandfather did not apologize for being different?”
She gave a reluctant smile. “Goodness, no. He did not give a fig for others’ opinions.”
“A wise man. You should follow his example. You are Beatrice, Countess of Faulconer. Hold your head proudly and know that those who truly care about you desire you to remain precisely as you are.”
Their gazes locked for a long while as Gabriel silently willed his stubborn wife to realize just how wonderful she truly was.
“I shall try,” she at last conceded. “Now I must go. You need your rest.”
Gabriel grasped her fingers, which had thankfully healed over the past two days. He had no desire to have their time together come to an end.
“Gads, all I have done is rest. I am bored senseless.”
“I know that the vicar spent the entire morning playing chess with you,” she chided with a teasing frown. “Not to mention the fact that the servants have transferred the entire contents of the library to your chamber as well as newspapers and your estate ledgers. How could you possibly be bored?”
Love and Marriage Page 32