In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4)

by Cynthia Wicklund

  At least his meeting with Smythe had taken care of one important issue. James was going to give Derrick an allowance and set him up in a modest establishment in London. And he wasn’t using Amanda’s money to do it, either. He was taking his own meager inheritance to remove his cousin from the vicinity.

  James admitted that he was salving his own conscience while making life more convenient despite his honest belief that Derrick was undeserving. But at the same time he hoped to spare his Aunt Henrietta the pain of worrying about what was to become of her only son. He would give them both the news this evening, and perhaps he could have Derrick and his cronies back in the city before Amanda ever discovered their visit.

  Derrick’s presence on the estate had been an added worry to James. He should have told Amanda that his cousin was in residence, but given Derrick’s malicious destruction of their wedding party, he had reason to believe she would not understand. He could hardly blame her.

  James felt his gut tense with anticipation as Lonsdale came into view. He kicked his horse into a run and entered the stableyard minutes later.

  The house, as always, breathed with life. As he entered the foyer he could hear voices emanating from the drawing room. The sounds were cheerful and inviting, and he decided to make an appearance before going upstairs to change for dinner.

  All the family was assembled, the uncles, Aunt Henry…his wife. Amanda’s eyes met his immediately when he entered the room, then she looked quickly away as two bright spots of color rose in her cheeks. If it was only embarrassment due to memories of last night then he was amused. But if her averted gaze signaled that she was still displeased with him, the coming evening was bound to be an uncomfortable one.

  She looked beautiful tonight in sapphire blue, her hair pulled back in an elegant chignon. Few women could wear that severe style. On Amanda it was stunning.

  James went to her side, apologizing for the smell of horse and sweat he brought with him.

  “I should have changed first, but it sounded as though you were having a party without me. I did not want to miss all the fun.”

  Huey giggled. “James misses the fun a lot. Doesn’t he, Amanda?”

  Amanda’s gaze centered on her husband again, the blush still staining her cheeks. She seemed unable to answer the simple question as though any response were more encouragement than she was willing to grant him.

  “Doesn’t he, Amanda?” James prodded softly.

  He looked deeply into her eyes, long moments passing, until the room and its inhabitants seemed to fade away, leaving the two of them alone. James wanted to take her elbow, force her to acknowledge him with words. But she was withdrawn, a remoteness in her lovely eyes that stung more than he wanted to admit. He felt gritty and smelly and, for the second time that day, altogether unworthy.

  A footman approached with a tray and a brandy, breaking the spell, and James reached for the drink. He took the brandy in a single gulp, the liquid burning the back of his throat and sending an almost immediate buzz to his head. For one brief and humbling moment he understood how his mother could retreat into alcohol to ease her pain.

  “Think I’ll go change now,” he mumbled.

  “Goodness, James,” Aunt Henry said, “you’d think we had never smelled the odor of horse before. You’re among family. You will miss the first course if you leave now. Let’s put convention aside for tonight.”

  She moved across the room and placed a persuasive hand on his arm, drawing him into the dining room. James glanced over his shoulder, hoping to catch Amanda’s gaze, but his wife’s attention was on the twins and Huey, her effort to ignore him obvious. At that moment, he could not imagine feeling more discouraged.

  ***

  “Let me see if I understand correctly,” Derrick said to James several hours later in the small garden at the back of the dower house. His mother Henrietta watched on anxiously. “You propose to send me off to London to live on a mere pittance and in an abode that is not much more than a hovel—and you expect me to be grateful?”

  “Please, Derrick,” Aunt Henry broke into the escalating argument, “your cousin has arranged to take care of you. You should be happy. You’ve always wanted to live in London.”

  “I’ve wanted to live in London as a gentleman not as a pauper. I shall be a laughingstock.”

  “You are a pauper, Derrick, without my intervention,” James drawled. “You will have a roof over your head and food on the table and a suitable clothing allowance. Except for my horse, you may have a single pick of my stable. You will live well enough.”

  “While you live in grand style here at Lonsdale on your wife’s money?”

  A tense and very nasty silence ensued, the only sound Henry’s gasp of shock.

  “You seem to forget, Derrick, I owe you nothing,” James said at last. “Fortunately for you I have chosen not to follow that course.”

  “Owe me nothing?” Derrick’s face had turned a bright red, spittle forming on his lips. His strange eyes glowed with malice. “I am your blood. That makes you obligated whether you like it or not.”

  “Derrick,” Henrietta tried again, her dismay now palpable. She grabbed at her son’s sleeve, but he shrugged her off as he moved toward James, his stance becoming more aggressive.

  James stared at him as though his cousin had gone daft. “Do you really wish to rile me, Derrick?” he asked quietly. He balled the hands at his sides into fists, the only thing holding him back the respect and love he felt for his aunt.

  And Derrick clearly knew it. His displeasure grew into an acid smirk as his gaze shifted to his mother then back to James.

  “You may think you have rid yourself of me with these paltry little ‘gifts.’ But it won’t be that easy, Cousin. You’ll see.”

  “Be that as it may, I want you gone as soon as the arrangements are made, Cousin. And be certain to take your lowly friends with you.”

  Derrick turned to walk away but James’s next words stopped him. He continued to give them his back, however, shoulders stiff and belligerent.

  “Be careful how you choose to spite me, Derrick. What I contribute I can easily take away. You might find my paltry gifts have more value than you imagined.”

  The stillness rose around them, rife with festering emotions still not completely excised. Derrick then sauntered into the shadows, the side entrance door of the dower house slamming moments later. James could not help forming the impression of a snake slithering home to its den, there to plot more mischief for the unsuspecting.

  Next to him his aunt gave a moan of despair.

  James put his arm across her shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Aunt Henry.”

  “Doesn’t matter. Assigning blame will do no good. I know that. But we still must have contact with him.” She looked up at her nephew, eyes sparkling with tears. “Am I a very bad person for wishing that were not so?”

  He hugged her to his side. “Even a mother at some point will find her maternal instincts tested, my dear. I don’t doubt you love your son. But you can be forgiven for not being particularly fond of him right now.”

  She sniffed into his coat. “Thank you, James. Your understanding—” She stopped, plainly unable to continue.

  “Get some rest,” he said gently, releasing her. “Tomorrow is soon enough to decide what we must do.”

  In the main house a short while later, James took the stairs to his chamber, his hand sliding along the banister as he slowly mounted the steps. Troubled thoughts on Aunt Henry and Derrick, he had no solution for the problem his cousin posed beyond exiling the wayward gentleman to London. And aside from threatening Derrick’s livelihood, there was little he could do to control the ingrate’s behavior. Unfortunately, in deference to his aunt, he was obliged to wait for actions that went beyond the pale before he could cut Derrick off completely. His mouth twisted ironically. There were those who would argue his cousin had already passed that point.

  As he attained the landing, James thoughts shifted abruptly as his
gaze turned toward the door at the end of the hall. He paused in his steps, uncertain, which annoyed him because indecisiveness was not a usual fault of his. But last night had preyed on his mind all day, the extraordinary, sexually fulfilling parts—and the parts that undermined his confidence, left him feeling guilty and unworthy all over again. He had believed one night of making love would, if not solve his predicament with his wife, at least help them put their unfortunate beginning behind them and move on with their lives. Wishful thinking, he supposed. He sighed. Men and women clearly did not perceive the worth of a good tumble in the same light.

  James walked toward the room he shared with Amanda, ashamed of his sudden reluctance. As he reached the door he tapped lightly then turned the door handle. Of course. She hadn’t waited for him. Though he had bathed earlier, hopeful, he wasn’t surprised to find her abed.

  His wife lay on her side, facing the far wall, and for the first time he had no sense of whether she was awake or not. Perhaps it was because tonight he was too tired to try and figure it out. If Amanda were asleep, he didn’t want to disturb her. If she were pretending to sleep then she was the one who didn’t want to be disturbed. Either way, he was resigned once more to feeling the estrangement that had plagued the early days of their marriage.

  He loosened his cravat and removed it then unbuttoned his shirt. He wondered if he should sleep in his trousers again to spare Amanda’s sensibilities, at once balking at the very idea. To hell with that! He wanted to be comfortable, wanted to believe he belonged in his own chamber instead of feeling as if he were a visitor or, worse still, an intruder. He stripped off the rest of his clothing.

  Now naked except for his drawers—he kept them on because ultimately he didn’t want to offend his wife—James climbed beneath the coverlet next to Amanda’s back. He closed his eyes and, for the first time that day, allowed himself to relax. Tight muscles along his back eased, and his shoulders loosened gradually. He groaned softly as the mattress brought his body some comfort, relieving him of the need to hold himself upright and be the man of responsibility and power he had now become. His thoughts drifted and a gentle scene coalesced around him, tropical breeze on a pristine beach, brilliant, cloudless sky and sea the color of green turquoise. Worries were left on the shore as he headed for the water….

  ***

  Amanda knew when James entered the room. She also sensed his indecision as all went quiet for a moment. She assumed he was assessing the situation. Then she heard the rustle of clothing as he disrobed. The bed dipped next to her, the ropes creaking as he climbed beneath the covers. She also heard the muffled grunt that escaped him when he relaxed against the mattress. He lay very still and gradually his breathing grew even. Amanda could feel his weariness as if it were her own. She also felt something else.

  Disappointment.

  The day long Amanda had thought about last night, and she was more confused than she thought possible. She’d been upset, no doubt, but if she had said making love to her husband had been a terrible experience, it would have been a colossal untruth. It had been shocking and unexpected and…thrilling. James had made her feel sensations she had never felt before, sensations she hated to admit that she yearned to feel again. Even now a compelling warmth was spreading through her belly and dipping lower, a tingling heat that made her squirm when she thought of him doing to her what he had done before.

  Amanda had wanted James to approach her tonight, to take control again. That way she need not take responsibility. Need not have to admit she desired him and that, in fact, she found intimacy a worthwhile endeavor. And that “participating” was not an issue between them any longer. She could pretend, of course, but inherently she was not a liar. It simply seemed no longer worth the price. All their posturing back and forth was reducing their relationship to an immature competition, more about outdoing the other than trying to come to a solution. Playing chess with Huey was infinitely more valuable than the game they had been playing with each other. In fairness to her husband, he had tried to stem the foolishness. She simply had not been ready to give over.

  Perhaps the most important decision she had arrived at today was the belief that it was time to forgive and move on. Naturally, that was difficult to accomplish because it required her to accept that, though her husband’s subterfuge was wrong, over time and with good intentions on both their sides, they could put it behind them. But first she must prove to James that she sincerely was trying to do that very thing. That meant no recriminations or dredging up old hurts. It also meant becoming a participant in every aspect of their lives, from the drawing room to the bedchamber.

  Amanda pulled in a shaky breath and eased onto her back and then onto her other side to face James. She came up on her elbow, leaning over him.

  He lay very still, covers to his waist, eyes shuttered. Though his expression was relaxed, he looked drained as though emotional exhaustion had claimed him rather than a simple need to sleep. As on other occasions, she was aware of his beauty, the lean muscles that formed his shoulders and chest, the bronze of his skin. He wasn’t overly hairy, which was more to her liking, although a dark stubble—he would remove in the morning—covered his jaw, lending him a devilish aspect Amanda found particularly compelling. The hands crossed on his stomach were long and lean, a sinewiness that implied strength. But she knew those hands could be gentle, too…

  She was moved by a sudden desire to touch him. Dared she?

  Hesitantly, almost pulling back as her courage faltered, she laid her palm lightly on his breastbone. She could feel the steady pulse of his heart as his chest rose and fell, the warmth of his skin beneath her fingers. Amanda truly didn’t know what she was trying to achieve other than to feel close to him, absorb some of the raw sexuality he exuded even in sleep. Maybe she was trying to stoke the fires that were banked in her belly, she thought in self-mockery. She suspected, on some level, she had been as dishonest as James about what her intentions were.

  She studied his quiet features. Despite the dynamic man she knew him to be, he had a vulnerable look in rest that caused a lump to rise in her throat. Perhaps she had misjudged him. Perhaps her expectations had been out of line with reality and she needed to understand, as her father had suggested, what she was giving up before she gave it up. She needed to forgive James—now not later—not for his sake but for hers. She loved him and didn’t want to be angry with him anymore. It was simply too exhausting to be upset all the time.

  Amanda sighed softly, withdrawing her touch.

  At once a hand clamped around her wrist, holding her in place.

  She yelped, her startled gaze darting to a pair of icy-blue eyes that were much too alert to have been sleeping.

  “Y-you frightened me!” she said in a breathless voice.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I…well…waking you up, apparently.”

  “Why?”

  “I didn’t mean to.”

  His brows lifted in doubt, expression now showing a trace of amusement. “Are you certain?”

  “I don’t know what you mean, I’m sure. Why would I want to disturb you?”

  “Oh, you’re not disturbing me, love.” James pressed her hand closer to his chest.

  The timbre of his voice, the sudden drooping of his lids, the sultry quirk of his mouth sent a wave of pulsing heat directly to her pelvis. Her response was so intense, for a moment she couldn’t speak. She assumed that response was the direct result of now knowing what intimacy entailed. Not the act itself—she had known before last night what to expect in that regard. What she hadn’t anticipated was how she would feel, both physically and emotionally, during and after their lovemaking.

  “Amanda?”

  Her gaze locked with his and, as he clearly assessed her mood, a gradual heat gathered in those icy eyes that took her breath. Without knowing she meant to, she leaned down and touched her lips to his. Unsure of herself, her attempt at seduction was tentative. He must have found her effort satisfactory, howeve
r, as Amanda could feel his heart gathering speed, thump, thump, thumping against his ribs. She expected James to gather her into his arms and take the lead, but he didn’t. Instead, he clung more tightly to her hand, allowing her, she realized, to control the moment.

  She pulled back to look at him again, and this time the message in his gaze nearly singed her.

  “Your turn,” he murmured hotly.

  “My turn?”

  “Amanda, only you will decide how we progress tonight.”

  “Oh? What if I decide to roll over and go to sleep?” Though she was whispering, her tone became a touch more spirited.

  “Then so be it.”

  “You mean that?”

  “I don’t want our lovemaking to leave you feeling… Last night you felt…ah…”

  “Forced?”

  He winced though he met her gaze directly. “That term feels a little too much like ravishment for my comfort.”

  “Coerced then?”

  “You’re not going to forgive me, are you?” He sounded demoralized. “Was it really so terrible?”

  She removed her hand from his and walked her fingers over his chest to cup his jaw, enjoying the feel of his day-old beard against her palm. “I’ve already forgiven you, James. And…” she licked her lips, “it wasn’t terrible at all. That’s what upset me.”

  His features relaxed into relief and he smiled, teeth oh-so-white against his sun-burnished skin. “You do understand that makes no sense at all, don’t you?”

  “It does sound a bit contrary.”

  “A bit?”

  Amanda nodded. “I was holding a grudge, and I realized holding a grudge is a decision. Letting a grudge go is a decision, also.”

  “I’m not sure I follow.”

  “Don’t you see? How I responded last night was a decision. I was angry because I wanted to be angry. I don’t want to be angry with you anymore.”