When she shivered again, he said, “We had better both go inside and get out of these wet clothes before we catch our deaths.”
“Not yet,” she said. “Please?”
“Very well. I’m not as wet as you are.”
She was silent for a moment, collecting herself. She felt utterly wrung out, but she wanted to make her peace with him while they were still alone.
“Antony?”
“Yes?”
“I-I’m truly sorry. I behaved dreadfully. I just don’t know what came over me. It was exactly like the day I ripped up at Elizabeth, and the day Rockland told me you had known about his prank. I can’t seem to stop. It’s almost as if some other Charley takes over and starts shouting. Y-you don’t think I’m losing my mind, do you?”
He chuckled, and she felt more warmed by that sound than by the sunlight. He said, “You are not losing your mind, angel. I didn’t realize what was wrong, or I’d have made you let off some of the steam you’ve collected under your lid long before now.”
“What steam?”
“We had a cook when I was still in the army,” he said, his voice soothing, calm, and musical to her ears. “He made a stew one night in a heavy pot over a quick fire. The gravy bubbled up around the lid and baked tight, sealing the pot shut. All of a sudden, without the least warning, the lid blew right off that pot and nearly took a young soldier’s head with it. The steam inside could not escape, you see, and it built up so much pressure that the lid finally blew.”
“Is that what has been happening to me?”
“I don’t think it will happen again,” he said, “but yes, in a way, I think that is what has been happening. What with trying to look after Letty and manage everything after your parents and grandfather died, you allowed yourself no time to grieve.”
“But I never felt like grieving until just now,” she protested. “Then it just washed over me like a huge, unexpected flood.”
“You didn’t allow it to happen before. I’ve watched you, angel. You like to be in control of your world, and you’ve rarely had to submit to anyone else’s authority. It was the thought of having to submit to Alfred, remember, that made you look first to Rockland as a possible husband, and then to accept my bargain as your last hope of escape. Correct?”
“You know it is.”
“Then how could you allow yourself to submit to mere emotions? If you cannot control them, how can you control anything or anyone else?”
“I don’t try to control people!”
“Don’t you?”
Much as she wanted to deny it, she hesitated.
“What about Rockland?” Antony prompted.
“That’s not control,” she said scornfully. “The man cannot make the simplest decision on his own. If I didn’t tell him what to do, he’d never do anything.”
“He did at least one thing on his own,” Antony reminded her with a smile.
“That was an aberration,” she said, squirming to get off his lap. “I’m beginning to get cold now. There’s clouds drifting across the sun. We’d better go inside.”
“Very well,” he said, helping her stand up, then getting up himself. He retained a light grasp on her arm, however, and when she would have turned away toward the house, he restrained her, adding gently, “Don’t get the idea that I’m through with you yet, because I’m not. Not by a long chalk.”
“But why? I’ve apologized, haven’t I?”
“I am not the one who deserves your apology.”
Her gaze met his, and although she expected to see sternness, what she saw was understanding. Looking away, she sighed. “You mean I’ve got to apologize to Letty.”
“Do you think you need not?”
“It’s humbling to think that I must, that’s all.”
Once you have cleaned up and are feeling more the thing, you will manage it well enough,” he said.
Glancing at him again, she wondered why she did not resent his insistence upon such an apology. Instead, she felt steadied, and more sure of herself than she had felt for some time. She managed a watery smile. “I won’t wait. You are quite right. She deserves an apology, and I mustn’t put it off. Will you come with me?”
“Oh, yes,” he said. “Didn’t I say I’m not through with you yet?”
“But you can’t mean to scold me any more! Not when I’ve already admitted my fault and apologized for it.”
“No,” he said, putting an arm around her and urging her toward the house, “I won’t scold, but we are going to talk about your parents and your grandfather. And don’t bristle like a hedgehog,” he added when she frowned, “because it won’t do you any good. I found early on in my interesting career that the worst thing a man can do if a friend falls in battle is not talk about him. The Irish hold wakes where they drink and carouse and generally celebrate the deceased person’s life and memory, and that, my angel, is what we are going to do as soon as we’ve got you all cleaned up.”
Charley did not reply. It was not the thought of talking about her parents and grandfather that silenced her, however. It was the casual way Antony assumed—if she had not misunderstood him—that he was going to help clean her up.
Inside the house, he said to the footman, “Have a bath prepared for Lady Foxearth in her bedchamber, John, and be sure someone builds a blazing fire to go with it. She took a tumble into the pond, and we don’t want her to take a chill.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where is Lady Letitia?” Charley asked, trying to maintain at least a semblance of her dignity, despite the fact that the footman was taking great care not to look at her.
“She is still in the drawing room, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Conscious of her squishing shoes, and of Antony’s presence behind her, Charley went to the drawing room, where she found Letty curled up on the window seat with Jeremiah, staring out at dark clouds gathering over the Channel.
The little girl turned at once when they entered and got quickly to her feet, leaving the monkey on the seat. Speaking rapidly, she said, “We’ve got it all cleaned up, Cousin Charley, and I’m very sorry that I broke it, and I’ve written a note to Cousin Melissa to tell her that it was all my fault and that I’m very sorry, and—”
“Letty darling, hush, it’s all right,” Charley said. “Come here and tell me you can forgive me for being such a horrid shrew.” She held out her arms, and Letty rushed into them, only to jump back again with a gasp.
“You’re soaked to the skin!”
“Sir Antony thought I needed to cool my temper.”
“He did?” Uncertainly, Letty looked from one to the other.
Glancing at Antony, Charley saw that he was smiling at her. Though Letty clearly was bursting with curiosity, Charley knew Antony would reveal no more than she did herself. Without further hesitation, she said, “Letty, I-I must apologize for shouting at you like I did, and even more for shaking you. You did not deserve that.”
“But I wasn’t careful, and I did break the vase,” Letty said. “It wasn’t Jeremiah at all. I was reaching to catch him, and I knocked it over.”
“That was still an accident. Even if you had done it on purpose, which you never would, it would have been no excuse for my behavior. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course. I daresay you are very tired after everything that has happened these past weeks, and I have observed that when grown-ups are tired, they do not always behave as sensibly as they might otherwise.”
“You observe quite a lot, I think.”
“I expect so. Should you not change your clothes? You are shivering.”
“I mean to do that straightaway, darling.” Giving Letty another quick hug, she turned to go. Antony paused to speak to the little girl before he followed her, then took the stairs two at a time until he caught up with her.
“What did you say to her?” Charley asked.
“I just suggested that a double serving of Aggie’s apple tart with clouted cream might tempt her to have her supper i
n the housekeeper’s room.”
“But why should she?”
“Because, angel, I don’t want our little talk to be interrupted. We’ll have our supper up here.” He reached ahead of her to open the door of her bedchamber. “Ah, Kerra, excellent. Here is your mistress, dripping wet. Pop her into that tub as quickly as you can, and don’t let her out until she’s thoroughly warm again.”
“You’re very decisive this afternoon,” Charley said with an edge to her voice.
“I am, am I not? Would you care to contradict my order?”
“Go away, Antony.”
“I will for now, but I’ll be back in a trice, just as soon as I’ve told John we want our supper served up here, and to check the windows. I think there’s a storm brewing.”
“Antony?”
“Yes?” He paused on the threshold, looking back.
She hesitated, aware of the maid and uncertain of him in this mood. He had not lost his temper or argued with her, but he had ordained her every move since she had lashed out at Letty. On one hand, it was oddly pleasant to let someone else make decisions for her. On the other, she did not like being told what to do, and at the moment he was giving her no choice. She said, “Don’t come back till I send for you.”
“Get into that tub, angel, before your bones start rattling.” Then he was gone.
As Charley turned to let Kerra begin stripping her wet clothes off, she caught sight of her own reflection in the glass, and gasped. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her cheeks blotched and white from her emotional storm and the cold. Anyone who had seen her in the past few minutes must know she had been weeping.
Looking over her shoulder at Kerra, who was undoing the hooks at the back of her gown, she saw that the maid’s eyes were fixed resolutely on her task.
“I expect you must wonder how I became so wet, Charley said quietly.
“It is not my business to wonder, my lady, but as it happens, one of the lads who helped fill yon tub said you had tumbled into the horse pond.”
“Oh, he did, did he!” Another score to settle with Antony. “Doubtless everyone at Seacourt Head will know the whole tale by dinnertime!”
“If you will just let me slip this gown off, ma’am, we can get you into the tub.”
With a sigh, Charley submitted. She could smell the spicy scent of her favorite bath salts, and she saw that Kerra had set aside the soap she used to wash her hair. Putting her feet in the tub was hard, because the water felt too hot at first, but once she sat down, she leaned back and closed her eyes, relaxing, inhaling the delicious scent.
Remembering her ravaged countenance, she murmured, “Dip a cloth in cold water for me to lay across my eyes for a while before you wash my hair, Kerra.”
“I’ve witch hazel, ma’am. I’ll dip some cotton in it to put on your eyelids. The smell will overcome the spicy one, but it will do more for your eyes than plain water.”
Moments later, eyes closed, half dozing, Charley felt as if her muscles had turned to warm wax. The first touch of the soap bar on her shoulder startled her, but the lathering was swift and sure, over her shoulders and up her throat to her chin, then down her right arm and over to her left. She let the maid do all the work, and concentrated on relaxing, letting the warmth penetrate to her bones.
When the soap moved toward her breasts, it moved more slowly, caressingly. The motions were unusual, for Kerra had helped her bathe many times, and usually she lathered her shoulders and back briskly, then left her to wash those portions she could reach by herself. Although the maid had not asked her to bend forward so she could soap her back, as she usually did, she thought Kerra had merely respected her evident desire to lean back and relax. The soap dipped between her breasts.
Lethargically, she raised one hand and removed the witch-hazel soaked pad from her right eye to look into her husband’s grinning face. “Antony!” In her shock, she sat bolt upright, then slid quickly back down in the water, losing the other witch-hazel pad in the process. “What,” she demanded, “have you done with Kerra?”
“Sent her away.”
“Well, get her back, and go away yourself. You have no right to come in here while I’m bathing.”
“I am your husband, angel. We can begin our little talk at once.” His hand rested lightly on the curve of her right breast, and Charley found it hard to breathe.
Swallowing, she said in a gruff voice, “Do you think you are going to wash me all over? Because if you do, you can think again.”
He sighed. “A very tempting thought, I’ll admit, but I daresay you can wash most of the best bits by yourself. Bend forward, and I’ll scrub your back.”
Certain she would do better not to defy him, she obeyed.
“How do we wash your hair?”
“We ring for Kerra to do it.”
“I don’t think we need Kerra,” he said, unpinning her hair and letting it fall over her shoulders and breasts. “However, if I am not to do something wrong, you’d best tell me what to do. In between, you can tell me about your father. What manner of man was he? Were you fond of him?”
“I didn’t really know him very well,” she said. From that point, the words flowed more easily than she had thought they would. Between instructions about soap and rinse water, she found herself telling him things she had never told anyone. She described how her parents had spent much of her childhood wrapped up in the social whirl, going to London for the Season, to Brighton for the summer, then to endless house parties during the hunting season, rarely spending time at Tuscombe Park.
“Didn’t you mention a house in Plymouth?” he asked her.
“I did. We lived there for brief periods after my cousin Melissa moved away to Scotland, but until I grew old enough to go to London for the Season myself, I spent most of my time with my grandparents and Great-Aunt Ophelia. For that matter, until Aunt Daintry married Letty’s father, I spent more time with her than with my parents. After she married, Papa and Mama made an effort to spend more time with me, but … do you know, Antony? Before this afternoon, I cannot recall a single time in all my life that I curled up in someone’s lap and cried my heart out like that. Isn’t that odd?”
“Bend over again,” he said. “I’ve got to pour rinse water over your hair again.” When he did, it ran into her ears and she got soap in her eyes. He handed her a cold, damp cloth to take the sting away, and said, “Tell me more about your mother.”
Telling him was easier than she had thought it could be. She felt as if, just by explaining Davina to him, she began to understand her better, and herself as well. She described her grandfather, a staunch believer in the superiority of the male sex, and told Antony about the vituperative arguments St. Merryn had frequently engaged in with Lady Ophelia, who had made no secret of the fact that she thought the earl an idiot.
“That must have been fascinating for a child,” Antony said, holding out a huge towel for her and averting his eyes while she stood and quickly wrapped herself in it.
“Oh, it was,” she said. “They even fought about the Bible. Aunt Ophelia believes ancient men made the whole thing up to suit themselves. She once told Grandpapa she was only thankful to know that had a good English barrister presented the case of Eve’s apple before upright English magistrates, the blame must have fallen where it belonged, and Adam would have found himself in prison.”
“Adam? But Eve was the one who tempted him.”
“A bagatelle, sir. Will you hand me that wool robe on the bed, please? You see, by English law, anything a woman does in the presence of her husband is assumed to be done under his command and control. Silly, of course, since many women act in direct opposition to their husbands’ commands, but there it is.”
Antony chuckled. “I like your Great-Aunt Ophelia.”
“Do you, sir?” Charley slipped behind a screen, dropped the towel, and wrapped her robe securely around her. “I adore her, but I warn you, she terrifies most men.”
“I don’t terrify easily,”
he said.
She stepped from behind the screen, her damp hair tumbled about her shoulders and down her back. Smiling, she said, “You don’t, do you?”
“Come, sit by the fire. While we dry your hair, you can tell me more about your childhood.”
“We’ve talked enough about me for a time, and you were right, in that I feel much better for it. The pain isn’t gone, but it’s no longer a huge knot inside me. Tell me about your family, Antony. I know Alfred is not your brother, but I don’t know if you’ve even got a brother.”
“I have no family to speak of,” he said curtly.
“What became of them?” She was determined this time to find out something about his past.
“They disowned me when it became known that I had spied for Wellington.”
“I know you said that your father disapproved of that. I still think he ought to have been proud of you for helping the Duke defeat Napoleon.”
“Gentlemen don’t stoop to spying,” he said bitterly. “England does not take unfair advantage of any opponent.”
“Is he the one who said that to you?”
“He agreed with it, but I heard those words first from my mother.”
“Oh.” She knew in that moment that he had helped her enormously, for the anger that struck her, though sharp, did not threaten to overwhelm her. Carefully controlling her countenance, she turned so the heat from the fire could reach her hair. “As you brush,” she said, “pull up so the hair separates as it falls. It will dry quicker.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Glad she had not distressed him with her questions, she said airily, “That demure attitude won’t help you, you know, for I’ll get even one day. I don’t take lightly to being ducked in a horse pond.”
“Then don’t give me cause to do it again.”
Swiftly, she stood and faced him, saying, “Antony, don’t think that because I’ve agreed that I was wrong this time I shall submit meekly now to your every whim and caprice, because I won’t. I deserved what happened today, and … and I am grateful to you for stopping me before I’d done or said anything truly horrid to Letty, but—”
Amanda Scott - [Dangerous 02] Page 29