Gemstones

by Janet Lane-Walters

  * * * *

  By the time Nicola reached the room on the second floor of the inn, her hands shook and her legs trembled. Fear for her sister had dissipated and anger took its place. Anger toward whom? Margaret? The Earl? He'd been right about Margaret needing discipline. Sometimes Nicola thought her sister's common sense had been buried with their father.

  "Margaret, why?"

  Margaret's brown eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall, but Elizabeth said the Earl was kissing you. I wanted to see."

  Her sister's words reminded Nicola of the kiss and the burning sensations that had flowed through her body and of the desire to know and experience what happened between a man and a woman.

  She shook her head. "You must not act like this again. What will our grandmother think?"

  "Will the Earl punish me?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps if you can show him what you are really like, he will change his mind."

  "I will try."

  Nicola sank on the bed. I really hope she can, she thought. She closed her eyes. She was so tired of the responsibility, and yet, she didn't want to relinquish it to someone who might treat her sisters sternly.

  Chapter 4

  Margaret bounced up and down on the carriage seat. Her erratic movement sent the plaid woolen lap robe slithering to the floor. Nicola caught the edge and spread the cover over her legs. Though the sun shone bright in a cloudless sky, the air held a touch of the frost that had covered the ground that morning. She wondered if she would ever feel warm again.

  Without warning, a memory of the heat evoked by the Earl's kiss arose. His lips had called for a response she couldn't define. Mouth congress had brought pleasure and confusion. Would body congress with the Earl send her further along the path to enlightenment the way the Kama Sutra promised?

  Before he had claimed her lips, kisses had been light touches on her cheek or brow by her parents or sisters. She closed her eyes and again saw the Earl's angry eyes. His lips had been taut; the muscles in his arms tense. When the rigidity had seeped from his body, she had found a similar relaxing of her own. Once more she had hoped she'd found a man like Siva. Then Margaret had fallen and his reaction had dashed her dreams.

  "Bored. I am most bored." Margaret's voice held a whine of impatience. "How long has it been?"

  Nicola fumbled beneath her cloak to look at the watch pinned at her waist. "Ten minutes since the last time you asked. Be still. You can't shorten the journey by hopping about."

  Prahba reached over and stroked the child's leg. "Young Margaret, good things be waiting at the end of the traveling. Best to wait."

  "When has she ever waited for anything?" Elizabeth asked. "When Margaret whines and fusses, everyone jumps. She has been indulged every day of her life."

  "Enough." Nicola closed her eyes. "We are all tired of traveling."

  Even the days spent at Mr. Grey's house in London had been ones of confinement. There had been two afternoon expeditions to the shops and one Sunday morning's attendance at church. Their host had been too busy to entertain three girls. The narrow walled garden behind the house had offered the illusion of freedom, but even, but even there, Margaret's restless nature hadn't been stilled.

  "Nica, Nica, look." Margaret pulled the curtain away from the carriage window.

  Nicola's gaze followed her sister's finger. A long wall of golden brown stone lined the right side of the road. Moments later, the carriage turned between the open gate in the wall and entered a tree-lined lane. The branches of the massive oaks met above the wide passage. At the end of the lane, she caught a glimpse of a house built of the same golden stone as the wall.

  "Oh, Nica, there is so much that needs to be done." Margaret's face showed her reaction to the untended grounds. "Do you suppose the Earl will let me clean the flower beds?"

  "He is more likely to chain you in the schoolroom until you learn to control your behavior," Elizabeth said.

  "Why?" Margaret leaned forward and pulled the strings of her sister's had. "Just because you don't want to feel the earth in your hands doesn't mean I can't."

  Nicola grasped Margaret's hands. "This closed space is not right for quarrels. I am most disappointed in the pair of you." A wave of weariness rushed over her. She was tired of being mother and father to her sisters.

  The ten-year-old sank back in the seat. "Sorry."

  "And so am I," Elizabeth said. "I am afraid. What will we do if the Earl and our grandmother don't wish us to stay?"

  "That won't happen." Nicola struggled to keep her voice calm. She knew the truce between her sisters was only for the moment. Since their father's death, they'd changed from loving friends into rivals. Perhaps here in England, they would find the security they had known in the bungalow in Calcutta.

  The carriage halted. Through her window, Nicola saw a fountain filled with leaves and stagnant water. The huge house loomed on the other side. Though their bungalow had been among the largest, the entire compound could have fit into the area between the wings jutting on either side of the central portion of the house.

  As soon as the carriage doors opened, Margaret tumbled out. "Margaret!" The Earl's deep voice made Nicola jump.

  Nicola grinned. The Earl would find turning Margaret into a lady as difficult as turning base metal to gold.

  The Earl extended his arm. His brow wrinkled into a frown. What troubles him, she wondered. She was the one who had come to an alien land to wed a stranger. The thought of marriage frightened her. Other than what she'd read in the Kama Sutra, she had no knowledge of what passed between a man and a woman. He surely did. The East India Company wives had offered whispered words of how a man enjoyed the pleasure of marriage before his wedding night.

  As soon as her feet touched the ground, she removed her hand from his arm. Margaret had plunged into one of the tangled garden plots beside the steps leading to the house. Nicola walked up the first three and paused on the broad landing.

  "La child, you look so like your mother."

  A slender woman with graying hair crossed the second landing. She wore a lavender gown and clutched a purple shawl. Nicola ran up the second set of steps. Brown eyes the shade of Elizabeth's glistened. Nicola felt the pressure of tears against her eyelids. This is how Mama would have looked.

  Arms enfolded her. For a moment, she felt safe. "Grandmother, I'm so glad we've found you. Elizabeth, Margaret, come at once."

  Margaret raced up the steps. Elizabeth moved faster than her usual languid stroll. The dowager touched Elizabeth's hair. "You have my eyes and your grandfather's beauty." She turned to Margaret. "And you, child, must be the image of your father."

  Margaret edged closer to the Dowager. "They say I have his face, though I'm not sure it's proper for a girl to look like a man. 'Tis the nose, I fear."

  "You will grow into your face. I find you a pretty child."

  "But one full of mischief and sorely in need of discipline," the Earl said. "The first thing I must do is find a governess who will teach you manners and control."

  Nicola stiffened. What right had he to separate her from her sisters?

  "But Nica gives us our lessons," Margaret said.

  "Your sister will have other responsibilities." He put his hand on the Dowager's arm. "Aunt Aldora, you shouldn't be outside in this chill air. What has come over you that you didn't wait for us in the house?"

  Nicola glared at him. His voice held more ice than the air. If she had been the Dowager, she would have run outside the moment she saw the carriage. How could he be so indifferent to the excitement of this meeting?

  The Dowager looked at him. "How could I have waited? These are my girls and I had to see them at once."

  "You've been ill. I don't wish to see Dr. Rodgers at your bedside again."

  The concern in his voice tempered Nicola's irritation. If he cared for her grandmother, perhaps there was a chance for her to touch his heart.

  "La, Drew, I am well recovered, but I suppose I must obey the head of the
house."

  His laughter startled Nicola. "Only when you can't find a way to divert me."

  As the Dowager crossed the broad landing, she held his arm. "I'm glad you returned so quickly, my boy. I have missed you."

  Margaret clutched Nicola's hand. When they entered the massive and gloomy front hall, the child's grasp tightened. Nicola felt small and insignificant. The marble floor, a checkerboard of black and white, needed to be scrubbed. At the far wall, a pair of fireplaces flanked a massive double set of wooden doors. No fires burned in the hearths. Soot smudged the carved white marble chimney pieces. She saw pale places on the paneled walls where pictures had once hung. Cobwebs hung from twin chandeliers and in the high corners of the room.

  The neglect she had noticed in the gardens continued in the house. A dozen questions arose but she hesitated to ask them. The house was like and unlike the one her mother had described.

  A stoop-shouldered man entered the hall through a door on the right side. He bowed. "My lord, my lady."

  "Greene, these are my granddaughters. Show them to the suite we prepared." The Dowager sank on a large bench beside the door. "I will see you at luncheon."

  "In one hour," the Earl said.

  Nicole followed the butler into a smaller hall with the same pattern of black and white marble on the floor. The staircase rose to a landing before continuing to the second floor. Sconces with huge candles lined the walls on either side of the stairs.

  Margaret's eyes widened. "'Tis big. Like a castle."

  Elizabeth laughed. "Hardly a castle. There would be maids to do the cleaning and footmen to fetch and carry."

  "And young ladies with enough manners not to find fault," Nicola said.

  The butler opened a door into a sparsely furnished parlor where a fire burned on the hearth. Beyond the sitting room were two bedrooms, one with a wide, curtained bed and the other with a pair of narrower beds.

  "Must I share with Margaret?" Elizabeth asked. "She is forever creating disorder."

  "And she will need the entire wardrobe and the dressing table for her things," Margaret said.

  "'Twill not be for long," Nicola said.

  Elizabeth smiled. "Will you share a bedroom with the Earl?"

  "I don't know." Nicola entered the green and white room that would be hers until the wedding. A musty odor caused her to wrinkle her nose. Tomorrow, no, on Monday, she would see these rooms cleaned. Why had her grandmother allowed the servants to neglect the house?

  Elizabeth sat on the bed. "With all the rooms in this house, I would think I could have one to myself."

  "Mayhap there are things we don't know. Mr. Grey said our grandfather left many debts."

  Elizabeth sniffed. "Perhaps the Earl uses his money for pleasure. I heard Mr. Grey's servants speak about the ton and their wastrel lives. I hope you won't let him waste our inheritance. He could be as greedy as Cousin Fergus."

  Nicola shuddered. "I don't believe Papa would have arranged our lives this way if that were true."

  Thuds from the sitting room made Nicola jump. What had Margaret found to overturn? She rushed to the door. Sarad, Jem and Mr. Grey's driver had arrived with the trunks. The Earl followed with the portmanteaus. Her eyes widened. In all the stories she'd heard about nobility, she'd never heard of one who acted like a servant. The Earl was rapidly becoming an enigma.

  "Thank you, my lord," she said.

  Muttering a response, he wheeled and left the room. His broad shoulders were braced and his back stiff.

  "Can I go outside?" Margaret asked. "'Tis a lovely day. From my bedroom window, I saw a lake."

  "Our bedroom," Elizabeth said.

  "We must unpack before our new dresses are wrinkled beyond repair."

  "I would like to find the music room." Elizabeth opened one of the trunks. In all the days of travel, I fear I've lost my touch. Why did you refuse to allow me to bring my pianoforte?"

  Margaret skipped to the door. "Would you have gone into the hold to practice? You're afraid of the dark and the creatures that lurk there."

  "Come back here," Nicola said.

  Her call went unheard. Torn between capturing her sister and unpacking the trunks, she sighed. "That child must mend her ways before she is sent away to some school."

  Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "Do you think he would do that? She needs us and we need her. Papa wouldn't like her to be sent away."

  "But Papa is not here." Nicola hugged her now weeping sister. "'Twill be all right. I won't allow him to tear us apart."

  * * * *

  Drew stared at his empty plate and waited for the Dowager to signal the end of the evening meal. The incessant chatter of the youngest girl made him yearn to escape. Aldora rose. He pushed his chair back and headed for the door. "I'll leave you ladies now and return to my study."

  "My lord." His bride-to-be's voice flowed like smooth cream.

  "Yes."

  "I need to speak to you. There are things we must discuss."

  "Tomorrow," he said, knowing the moment the church service ended he would ride to London.

  "I'd rather speak now." Her voice sounded close and determined.

  He strode down the hall. The rustle of silk and the sweet aroma of some exotic flower told him that she followed. Did she fail to realize what danger might face her if she were alone with him? He didn't know how long he could control his lust.

  "We must talk about the house and the hiring of servants. Cook says there are any number of people in the village in need of employment. If you are loath to ask, I will write to Mr. Grey for money."

  He turned. "You will not."

  "But there is much that needs to be done in the house. Prabha and Sarad will help but they can't prepare the house in time for our wedding. In India, we had twice the number of servants for a house a little bigger than the front courtyard."

  Though he'd intended to hire staff for the house, he didn't care for the demand in her voice. Denmere was his and he would give the orders. "This is not India and there is no need to make the house pretty for the wedding. Don't expect guests from London. I have other uses for the money that will be mine on the day we wed."

  She touched his arm. He took a step toward her. Her eyes reminded him of the lake on a sunny day. He raised his hand and thought to touch her hair. Her lowered lashes and demure stance excited him so much that he wished to rush the wedding night. The desire to feel her beneath him, to touch her soft skin brought a groan. He backed away. He wouldn't allow lust to shatter his control.

  "Leave me now." He strode to the window to escape the subtle lures she cast. Until he heard the door close, his shoulder muscles remained tense.

  Why did her presence raise these storms of lust? Each encounter left his body aching and his thoughts torn between anger and need. Once again, she had issued a challenge and had attempted to snatch the rule from him. She had better soon learn that he wouldn't live under the cat's paw.

  He knew the house needed servants to clean and polish but the land and the herds came first. Any money advanced would be used for the priorities he'd set. The house ended the list. Surely she didn't believe there would be houseguests arriving for the wedding.

  A rush of air hit his back. His jaw clenched. Would she ever learn to obey? Angry words became sputters when he saw Aldora standing in the doorway. "La Drew, they are wonderful. Thank you for your willingness to wed Nicola and bring them here."

  "I had to marry an heiress. How else could the estates be restored?"

  She sighed. "I know your view of marriage has been distorted by the ones you've seen, but there are marriages filled with love and joy."

  He shrugged. "I'm looking for neither of those things. I wish of a civil marriage and an heir. I won't harm her." He looked away. He stood in more danger of harm. Nicola Gordon stirred yearnings that led only to hurt.

  "I know you would never do harm with intent." She warmed her hands at the fireplace. "Already they have brought me happiness." She wiped her eyes with the lace-edged ha
ndkerchief she held. "This afternoon, Nicola showed me portraits of her parents. Alice looked as though she'd been blessed with a great love. Nicola said her father carried his grief to the grave."

  Drew stiffened. Did Miss Gordon expect to be so loved? Impossible! He would never trust her enough to put his happiness in her hands. If he did, she would turn from him the way his mother had.

  "Margaret is the image of her father. In time, she'll be a handsome woman and learn to use her energy in her home."

  He cleared his throat. "She is an unruly and undisciplined child."

  The Dowager sighed. "Do not take her behavior to be her nature. You were the same when you first came to the manor."

  Drew thought back to the day Aldora had arrived at the house where he and his father had rooms. Perhaps he had been wild, but for good reasons. He'd been so glad to leave the beatings and the sour smell of alcohol, he hadn't wanted to be confined.

  "Elizabeth has her grandfather's beauty. When she comes out, we'll have more offers for her than we can handle."

  "She is vain and selfish."

  "In time, she'll learn there is more to a person than beauty." Aldora frowned. "And Nicola, what faults do you find in her?"

  "She...she...." He walked to the desk. The fault he found her arose from his own response. "She will do. I made a promise I will fulfill."

  The Dowager walked toward him. "She will be a good wife and she has many qualities you admire. Though you don't love her now, I'm sure those feelings will grow as you learn more about each other."

  "I've no belief in love and I've no desire to experience such folly. Love makes addle coves of men and women. Look at the way you stumbled over yourself trying to please a man who gave you naught but anger. I'm sure you believed yours was a love match."

  Aldora shook her head. "It would have been better if I had loved Edgar. I gave my heart to a man with no title or expectations. My father would see me a countess. As a young man, Edgar was different from the man you knew. My constant sighing for a lost love changed him. My failure to give him an heir embittered him. At first, he gamed to find excitement. Later, he reveled in each loss. He tossed money the way I threw away his love."