Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1

by Lynne Connolly

  “I was the young wife of an old man, considered fair game. Not a course I was keen to pursue.”

  The terse explanation held a world of pain behind it. He felt it; he knew it as his own pain, his own humiliation. He drew her hand closer and enjoyed the warmth of her body along one side of his own. “You hated it.” He made it a statement, not a question.

  “Yes. I…” She paused, but then carried on. “I never enjoyed the—physical side of marriage.”

  He kept his voice steady, despite his distaste at the thoughts chasing his imagination. “It’s not to be wondered at, with a husband of seventy.”

  “I don’t think I would enjoy it with anyone. It was too—personal. Such intimacies alarm and upset me and I would rather avoid them.” She’d turned her mind away from it, blocked off all of it.

  He listened, astonished. To be free to indulge and choose not to. It was a novel thought for Gerard, one he would have to think about before he could make sense of it. All he gave her was a mild, “I see.” He kept hold of her hand. “Perhaps someone might help you feel differently, one day.” He paused, feeling the warmth of her hand in his. At least she didn’t object to that.

  Her eyes met his, candid brown, anxiety furrowing her brows. He smiled, tried to look reassuring. “Use the curtains to close your mind. When you want to talk to me, alert me. Send me a sharp note.”

  “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand. You want me to write to you?”

  He laughed, delight infusing his voice. “No. Like this.” He sent her a single note, not the one he used when he wanted to communicate with Deborah, but a higher, sharper one. Her eyes widened when she received his message. Then he heard her response, a ting, like a hammer striking a small bell, tentative and wavering, but there. He laughed again. “Well done,” he said softly, and brought her hand to his lips.

  He folded her hand around the kiss and waited for her response. It came, wide-eyed but with no anger, no outrage. She leaned closer and lifted her face to his. “I owe you a great deal. Forget what I said earlier. It’s of no matter.”

  His heart missed a beat. She was offering herself to him. It was unmistakable, as was the rigid closing of her mind against him, her determination to show him none of her distaste. Gerard yearned with every fibre of his body to fold her into his arms, kiss her as he wanted to, try to show her that not all loving was distasteful, but he could not. Must not.

  He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You are very generous,” he murmured, his lips against her warm skin, “but there’s no need. What I do, I do from friendship. Nothing more.”

  She swallowed, then lifted her head and stared at him. “No other man would do that.” She forced a smile. “Thank you.” Her mind was still closed to him. He had no idea what she was thinking. It was as it should be, but he felt a sense of loss.

  Silently she got to her feet, reminding him of her old clothes, the formless garment folding around her body. “I have to go and change,” she said, then turned back to him. “Thank you for understanding, and for making sense of this strange gift.”

  “We’ll practice,” he promised her. “Learn to control it better. May I tell Deborah? If she picks up anything it could alarm her.”

  “I would appreciate it if it went no further. My father might cite it as grounds to lock me away with George.”

  His mouth formed a grim line. “He will not. But I don’t want it general knowledge any more than you do. Even my father doesn’t know of this.”

  He got to his feet and held out his hand to help her, smiling easily. “Friends are sometimes difficult to come by. I hope our friendship endures.”

  He wanted more.

  They decided on a gentle drive in the Park later in the day. Lord Ellesmere accompanied Faith, while Deborah allowed George to tool her about in the curricle. His lordship gave George a doubtful stare, but fearless Deborah insisted her brother hand her into the vehicle. Instead of a tiger, James the footman swung behind. George loved horses. He loved most living creatures, but horses were his favourite. This pair of matched greys met with his wholehearted approval, especially when he had flicked them into a trot. Glancing at Lady Deborah, he twitched the reins and slowed the animals to a comfortable walk. Faith, silently observing, saw Lord Ellesmere’s hands relax on the reins of his own pair, a handsome pair of chestnuts.

  “I told you he could drive,” she murmured.

  He gave her his sweet smile. “So you did. I should have known you would be right.”

  She flushed. “Only where George is concerned.”

  He turned his attention back to the road. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  They drove in companionable silence to the Park and passed through the wide gates. Now it was allowable to acknowledge their acquaintances, if they had any. Proud of her appearance in a new gown of apple green, with a warm cloak of darker green, she lifted her chin and met the stares of the fashionable world head on. The long plume of her hat drooped gently over the edge of the brim, making her feel quite rakish. Two hats had arrived with the garments from the mantua maker, together with a number of fine lawn undergarments, the like of which Faith had not seen for years. She liked these, unlike the ones her husband bought for her. They had made her uncomfortably aware that she felt not one iota of desire for him, while he revelled in her young body. Faith had died inside when she saw the lascivious expression on his face. All she had sold was her body, she reminded herself firmly. If he had lived longer they would have been safe there until Simon came of age. It was a small price to pay.

  “Penny for them.” Gerard was watching her. She smiled and shook her head. “Try to be happy while you’re with us. Perhaps that should be your penance. To look happy.”

  “I am happy,” she protested. Had she seemed ungrateful, with her constant worrying? Probably. “Happier than for…for a long time.”

  “Are you afraid of your father? Is that it?”

  She shook her head. “Not for myself. Just for George.”

  That look of grimness returned to Ellesmere’s face. Faith hated to see it. “A thoroughly reprehensible character,” he said. He tooled the horses around a gentle bend, very neatly, and drew up at a signal from a matron by the side of the path. Three young ladies, presumably her daughters, accompanied the lady, all dressed in the height of fashion. She stared at Faith for a bare moment before bestowing a broad smile on his lordship. “Why, I had no idea you were in town, my lord. Where have you been hiding yourself, Ellesmere? Are you feeling better?”

  “I’ve been at my father’s,” he said calmly. He ignored the last question, and Faith’s startled glance at his face, although he had seen it. “May I introduce you, ma’am?”

  All eyes swung to Faith. When introduced to Lady Brangton, she bowed her head, leaned down and touched her gloved fingers to her ladyship’s. Her ladyship took a step back and viewed Faith through narrowed eyes. “Is your acquaintanceship of long standing?”

  Faith swallowed, and before she could stop herself, glanced at Lord Ellesmere. Immediately she looked away again but the damage was done. The look spoke of intimacy. Not only Lady Brangton but also her daughters stared at Faith with poorly disguised antipathy. “We’re old friends.” Lord Ellesmere gave Faith a friendly smile. Don’t worry. It’s only a small hurdle. This woman has been after me for one of her daughters for years.

  They’re very pretty.

  Turning back to Lady Brangton, he added, “My father was well acquainted with Lady Bradley’s late husband.”

  Faith didn’t need to use her newfound ability to discern Lady Brangton’s reaction. Her enmity was only a little a little abated. She added to the illusion. “His Grace was kind enough to ask us to visit for a while. My father doesn’t care for town.” For sheer devilment, she added, “Lady Deborah and I are old friends. I am delighted to spend some time with her, and my brother is enjoying the visit.”

  “I see.” Lady Brangton considered the pair through narrowed eyes.

  “He’s toolin
g Lady Deborah around the Park.” She made a show of looking for George. “My brother is an excellent whip, ma’am, and he will show Lady Deborah off in style.” Her smile indicated a shared sympathy; that of men displaying their skills, especially in front of personable females.

  She heard his voice in her head. Oh brava! She only just stopped herself exchanging a warm smile with him, one which came naturally to her. Her alarm spiked, but she concealed it from him. He was an attractive man with an enviable social position; who would not be attracted? It was not something she was ready to share. It was not something she should think about.

  Faith watched the young ladies flirt with Ellesmere, watched their mother charm him. Any of them would make Gerard—Ellesmere—an excellent wife.

  She found it difficult to sit and watch, but Faith had learned her lesson in a hard school and easily kept her face bland and clear. When she saw George driving Deborah toward them she allowed her face to break into a more welcoming smile, as though Ellesmere meant nothing to her, and these two were her main reasons for being there.

  The newcomers exchanged greetings with Lady Brangton and her daughters. Faith’s stomach tightened when she realized this was George’s first real test.

  He passed with flying colours. He said little, but what he did say was appropriate. After a first, curious stare at his slack mouth, Lady Brangton exchanged a few comments about the weather, which George answered perfectly readily. She went on to discuss the upcoming events of the season with Deborah, who leaned forward, ostensibly to exchange confidences, but in reality to give George some peace. Faith was grateful. George would be finding this a strain. It was likely he would need a rest when he returned to the house. Her brother’s shoulders slumped.

  Don’t worry. He’s doing very well.

  Faith nearly turned to him, shocked at the ease with which he could communicate with her. His assurance was brusque, as though he felt uncomfortable with it, but sincere. She smiled, but he didn’t smile in return. He turned back to Lady Brangton, who smiled sweetly at him. “We’re holding a rout shortly to celebrate Lydia’s presentation. I do hope you can attend, my lord.” She turned her shoulder on Faith in a subtle gesture of dismissal.

  “I hope so too,” Ellesmere replied, neatly sidestepping a definite acceptance of the invitation.

  “You have deprived us of your company for too long, sir,” one of the girls reminded him with a coy smile. She lowered her head and glanced at him through her lashes. The other girls vied for the attention of Ellesmere, but he was uniformly polite to all of them without revealing he noticed their blatant flirting.

  “We must take our leave, ma’am, but we will all look forward to receiving your invitation.” He glanced at Faith, making it clear he expected her included.

  “Of course, my lord. It’s a pleasure.”

  Gerard tipped his hat and drove on, watching Faith’s expression from the corner of his eye. “You should go,” he said easily, his attention ostensibly on the track and the people strolling beside it. “Could your brother manage it?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. It would confuse and upset him, even if everyone is kind to him, which is hardly likely.”

  “Then we’ll make his excuses so he can leave early. You should take your place in society again.”

  Her laugh was amusement tinged with a bitterness Gerard hated to hear. “Sir William Bradley’s widow? The girl who so blatantly married an old man for his money? That’s what they said, you know, on the few occasions that I appeared somewhere. He hadn’t as much money as they supposed, but I can hardly tell them that.”

  He didn’t rebut it. “We need to establish you both in society, so firmly that you become an accepted part of it. We can’t hide your brother’s difficulties, and we shouldn’t try, but we can introduce him to people, enough to make sure he isn’t locked away as mad.”

  “You shouldn’t do this,” she said, her voice low. He heard a tremor and turned to glance at her. Her face was averted, in the shadow cast by her hat, but he knew she was upset. Whether it was the mention of her brother or the discussion on her own situation he wasn’t sure.

  “I like to do it,” he said. “It’s up to every citizen to right injustice; none of us can afford to turn our backs. Who more than a duke’s son?”

  He’d said the right thing, he realized with relief when she turned to him, her face smooth and bland. Distancing himself from the situation had helped her. He was drawn to her, he couldn’t deny that, but the secret he kept locked inside himself made things impossible between them. He might have to tell her before they were done. The incredible ease with which she opened her mind to him, something Deborah and he had worked years to achieve indicated a simpatico he had never known before.

  They drove in companionable silence until he took another turn, then she said, “I heard someone else the other night.” She paused and bit her lip. “Someone else, in my mind.”

  His thoughts immediately swung to his sister. “Deborah? You’re privileged. She doesn’t do that as a rule, even with me. She dislikes it.”

  “No, not Deborah. A man. I thought you did too. At the theatre, when I tried to block my thoughts.”

  He nearly dropped the reins and had to make a clumsy grab to regain them, swerving in front of a curricle coming in the opposite direction. “No, I did not. Did you recognize him?” He straightened the phaeton, and received a tight-lipped glare from the exquisite driving the curricle. But his mind still swirled with the knowledge to do more than give the man a taut nod of apology. How many of them were there, people who could communicate in this way?

  “No. Not precisely. I’ve heard him before, but I can’t place him.”

  “Someone from your home?”

  She frowned. “No. No, I’m sure it wasn’t. Someone from my London life, perhaps someone I met briefly at a ball, or somewhere like that.”

  “Will you know him again?”

  “Yes. I’m sure I will. It’s someone who knows about the communication, someone who is used to it. When I closed my mind, I used a picture of curtains to do it. He remarked that it would be better to use a door.”

  “It is,” he agreed without thinking. It was only then he realized what she meant. “Whoever communicates with you like that knows as much as I do, and most likely more. He might be able to penetrate our thoughts without us knowing, without our consent.” The thought made him shudder. “We need to find him.”

  Chapter Six

  Faith’s nervousness could no longer be denied when she stood once more before the mirror in her room, preparing for the ball at Lady Brangton’s. She would do. She wore delicate blue silk, the petticoat heavily embroidered with twisting vines, embroidered grapes glittering between the leaves. Vines and grapes, highlighted with flashing amethysts, ran down the robings at the front of the gown and around the hem of the skirt. It was a fairy-tale gown. Her hair, powdered for the occasion, drifted around her face like a halo, the bulk piled on the crown and at the back in intricate twists and plaits. Faith knew she had never looked better. She was terrified.

  Terrified of the price of this costly gown, terrified of the expensive jewellery Deborah lent her, necklace, bracelets and brooches, not to mention the jewels quivering en tremblant in her hair. Terrified of the reception she would receive, terrified of her feelings for Lord Ellesmere. That most of all. She felt far too much for him. She closed her mind to him, afraid the intimacy of their minds merging would make her wish for too much. Drawn to him despite her best intentions, invited to share his mind, Faith found it much too enticing. Now she found herself daydreaming about him, like a lovesick schoolroom miss drooling over her dance tutor. She couldn’t allow her dreams to continue. Life just wasn’t like that.

  She left the room, feeling the sensations of expensive new silk, the sound of it swishing around her, the softness against her skin, the scent of new fabric, and loving it, despite her determination to stay clear of such dangerous emotions. There was someone she could please
without stint, however. George.

  Faith went into George’s room after tapping at the door and stood before him, waiting for his approval. George, sitting at the small table with James, a pack of cards and a pile of counters revealing their occupation, stood and his mouth dropped open. James stood respectfully back, allowing the brother and sister their own private moment.

  “You look like Cin-Cinderella.” The multisyllabic word was hard for him and she was more touched than she would have been at any elaborate compliment. Then Faith knew it was worth it, to see the glow in her brother’s eyes. “Before the ball or after it?” she teased him, injecting a lighter moment.

  He grinned. “During. You look beau-beau—”

  “Beautiful,” came a deep voice from the door. Faith whirled around to see Lord Ellesmere lounging in the doorway. “Forgive me. I heard voices, and I thought I would bid Lord Fordhouse good evening.” He straightened and bowed to George, who jerked a stiff response. “Will you allow me to escort you downstairs, ma’am? When you’re ready, of course. I’ll wait outside.”

  “No, there’s no need,” Faith said, but he backed out of the room. She turned to find James had gone too. George stepped forward and reached out to touch her. She had seen people flinch from his touch, as though he could contaminate them.

  Faith leaned forward and let him touch the fine silk of her sleeve, run his fingers through the fine lace triple ruffles at her elbow. “It feels good.”

  “Yes. It does.”

  “I like my clothes too,” he ventured. While he was not dressed elaborately and his coats did not have the close fit Lord Ellesmere affected, George was dressed according to his station, in fine linen and good cloth, the coat falling in stiffly formal folds below the waist. His hair, worn long, was neatly confined at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon.

  “You look very fine in them, George,” Faith said gently. They must feel good to him too. Touch had always been important to George. He used to own a piece of cloth that he liked to carry around with him, velvet he had fondled so much the pile had worn away. Faith would get him another. Perhaps a cushion of the same fabric might be acceptable.