SoundsofLove

by Marilyn Kelly

  She wanted to reach out to comfort him but that would be terribly improper. “I’ll give you all fine characters if you leave. You’ll have no trouble finding employment, but that is not my wish.”

  “Thank you, milady.” His face softened as he started to rise, and she shook her head.

  “Wait, please. I wanted to ask you about Sir Percival.”

  Victor’s countenance shifted abruptly. “He’s a pig, ma’am.”

  “Yes, so I’ve discovered.”

  Victor’s eyes scanned her as if searching for injuries. “Did he hurt you, too?” His thin hands fisted.

  “Yes, in many ways.”

  She started to ask him who else Percival had hurt, but he blurted out, “I should have dealt with him before.”

  “Before?”

  He glanced towards the kitchen door. “When he hurt Molly.”

  Cathryn rose from her seat. “He hurt Molly?”

  “Don’t talk to her, please, milady. She feels very badly.”

  She sat back down reluctantly. “When did this happen?”

  “The night of Sir Geoffrey’s funeral.”

  Two years ago. Dear Lord, Molly had been fourteen, a mere slip of a girl. Surely the unthinkable hadn’t… “What did he do?”

  Victor stared at the kitchen door as he spoke. “He grabbed her in the hallway and dragged her to his room. I heard her scream and came running. He threw her at me, knocked us both down in the hall outside his door. He was fully foxed and I think he meant to…” The long fingers clenched in impotent, powerless fury.

  Cathryn could scarcely believe the tale, but Victor would not lie. “Yes, I see. Thank heavens you were nearby.”

  His eyes were bright with the emotion he held in check. “He’s always been very rude to her, and to my mother, in private.”

  This was all much worse than she’d hoped to discover. “He’s a dreadful man.”

  Victor finally met her gaze. “I never met someone who thought themselves so superior, who was, in fact, so clearly inferior.”

  Cathryn looked at him with new respect. That was very well said. “I wish someone had told me, but I can understand the silence.”

  “We didn’t want to add to your burden.”

  “I hope someone meant to comment before I exchanged vows with the man.”

  “Pa said he would tell you, I swear.” The realization of how close they had come to a disaster dawned on the young man. “You haven’t married him, have you, milady?”

  “No. Thank heavens.”

  “Thank heavens,” he echoed in relief. “Is there anything else, milady?”

  “Yes. Tell your parents, and you and Molly as well, that I should like you to take your holidays for the next month, and we will discuss the situation at that time.”

  “So you’re not accepting our resignations, milady?”

  “No.”

  He looked relieved and nodded vigorously. “Thank you, my lady. I shall stay. I gave my word to Lord Ahlquist’s men.”

  “Very well. You may stay.”

  “The earl offered to send over some staff, milady. His footman says they have plenty of extra hands now that the season is over.”

  “That would be an excellent solution. I’ll pen a note accepting his kind offer. Please send them to me when they arrive. I’ll be at home all day.”

  “Thank you, milady.” He rose to leave and she nodded. He was nearly at the door when he turned and said, “Lady Sibley, I would not have let you exchange vows with Sir Percival without telling you what I knew, I swear.”

  “Thank you, Victor. That eases my mind.”

  As he exited, Violet entered from the hallway. She looked lovelier than Cathryn had ever seen her, vibrant and luminescent in a golden gown. Cathryn hoped her own new forest-green attire suited her as well.

  “Good morning, Vi. Goodness you look positively radiant.”

  “Good morning, Cat. You look very well yourself.”

  They had barely spoken the night before, each retiring immediately. Violet busied herself at the side table and came to her seat with only a piece of bacon on her plate and the teapot.

  Cathryn wished she had better news. “Victor’s just told me that Percival attacked Molly the night of Geoffrey’s funeral.”

  Violet set the pot down with a heavy thud. “Did he…?”

  Cathryn rushed to reassure her. “Victor stopped the attack.”

  “Thank heavens.” She mopped up a drop of spilt tea with her napkin.

  “Yes. I only wish they had informed me before now.” Cathryn’s relief over Molly’s well-being was a welcome buffer against the staff’s irksome omission, and she moved on. “I’ve given the Lewins a month’s leave, although Victor plans to stay. Lord Ahlquist is sending over staff to replace them for the time being.” Saying Julian’s name aloud returned her thoughts to the previous night.

  “That’s very kind of him.”

  Cathryn couldn’t help agreeing. “He’s proving to be a very kind man.”

  An awkward silence prevailed while Cathryn sipped tea and Violet prepared a piece of toast. The silence stretched on while both women ate a lightly buttered slice. They had never had an uncomfortable moment in four years. It seemed a pity to begin when they had just shared such an adventure. Cathryn simply could not think of a thing to say besides, what did Darbonne do to you that shocked you so? Of course, she couldn’t ask that, and nothing else came to mind as she recalled their shameless encounter in Vauxhall.

  Violet also appeared uncomfortable, and she glanced at the kitchen door before she whispered, “You weren’t sleeping, were you?”

  “No,” Cathryn whispered back.

  “I can’t believe I did such a thing. It must have been the wine.”

  “Indeed, we all had too much.” Cathryn’s blood started to pound. Could she ask such a personal question? Her curiosity raged and she knew this was the time, while they were discussing intimate details. “Even Mr. Darbonne seemed…affected.”

  Vi’s blue eyes widened. “He’s practically perfect, although I know Mother would disagree. I can think of no defect, except…”

  “Except…?” Cathryn encouraged.

  Vi’s blush deepened. “He seemed to lose his way at one point.”

  “In what manner?”

  “I think he meant to…kiss me…there.” Her eyes darted to her lap.

  Cathryn’s core quivered. Julian had made no such attempt, and now she wondered why. He seemed more a man of the world than the American did, surely he would have done such a thing to her if it were customary. Even Fanny Hill had made no mention of men kissing women…down there. “Oh, dear, well…”

  “Of course, I corrected him, but now I wonder…”

  “What? What do you wonder?”

  “If I should have stopped him. Perhaps he knows something I don’t.”

  Remembering her intimate lessons with Fanny Hill, Cathryn knew that was a distinct possibility. “Hmm, I don’t know. Julian hasn’t…”

  Violet’s disappoint was evident. “Oh, I see. I thought perhaps…”

  “No.” Cathryn wished she had more knowledge and resolved to ask Julian if he had any more erotic texts she could study.

  “Oh,” Vi said with a sigh. “Well, then, I shall just have to wait and see what happens when I see Rune again.”

  Cathryn couldn’t help a small smile at the pleasant turn both their lives had taken. “The earl has invited us to dine with him at Ahlquist House.”

  “Yes, I recall.” Vi smiled back and reached for her cup. “I wonder if he’ll invite Mrs. Aubrey? I’d like to know her better.”

  Cathryn’s smiled melted. “Did you see his face when were discussing her? I think he may still have feelings for her. I’d rather avoid her for the time being.”

  “He seems thoroughly smitten with you, Cat, and he’s asked you to marry him. If you can rid yourself of Percival, I predict a happily ever after for you two.”

  Cathryn lifted her teacup, reassured. “I
only hope Julian is truly rid of Mrs. Aubrey. I shouldn’t like to have her as a rival.”

  “Neither would I.”

  * * * * *

  Julian entered Fiona’s studio for his private lesson at four, but the master was not there. Searching the nearby rooms, he found her in her study, seated at a window overlooking the busy street. She seemed lost in concentration, and he stood and watched her profile.

  Her straight blonde hair was loose and hung just past her waist. She wore a black shirt and trousers, not out of mourning, but as a sign of her accomplishments with the sword. She was a master in a man’s world, and she held her own with constant dignity and sharp humor. Her perfect features were unmarred, with no sign that she had ever been bested in battle. In another time, she might have been a queen, sought for her extreme beauty, bravery and quick wit. She showed few signs of her age, only a slight crease between her high eyebrows and a handful of faint wrinkles around her light blue eyes.

  “I heard you were in Oxford, and thought you would miss our meeting,” she said without looking his way.

  “I would never miss a lesson without letting you know, Master.” He approached her, sensing a disturbance in her demeanor. “Is something amiss?”

  She inhaled sharply, and he watched her chest rise and fall. “Your father and I have had a disagreement, one that I do not believe we can repair.” Her gaze moved his way. “I want a child, and he does not.”

  Their eyes locked and Julian could not believe the timing of her disclosure. He’d wanted her for two decades, always leaving himself available to the possibility that she might come to him. He would have withstood the scorn of the ton to marry her, and he would gladly have given her as many children as she wanted.

  But he’d just proposed to Cathryn, and he was falling in love with her gracious beauty.

  Now, he had nothing to offer Fiona but friendship.

  “I’m sorry, Fiona. I know you’ve spoken of children before—” He took a chair near her.

  “I fear I have only a few years left before I am unable…” She choked on the words. Fiona Aubrey feared very little.

  “It’s natural to want a child.” He shrugged slightly. “You’ll have no trouble finding a man—I’ve heard the cavalry is drilling in Hyde Park early mornings.”

  She moistened her lips, and the pink tip of her tongue stirred old memories of his obsession with her. “Are you taken, then?”

  He nodded, and his chest tightened. How long had he waited, prayed, bargained with the Lord himself to make Fiona available to him? The gods were having a laugh at his expense today.

  Cathryn was magnificent, everything he wanted in a wife, far better suited than the forceful, fickle…phenomenal Fiona.

  “I had hoped to see you before you spoke with Lady Sibley. She’s the one, isn’t she?”

  “She is.” The one who was keeping him from saying yes to the question he had most wanted to say yes to for as long as he could recall.

  Julian, will you make love to me?

  Yes, of course, let me put aside my pride and take on my father’s cast-offs.

  “I see. Well, I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”

  For twenty years she had made him terribly uncomfortable, at times painfully so. He’d fought a dozen battles over her honor in his youth, earning himself an unwelcome reputation as a violent personality. And he’d dreamt of burying himself inside her more times than he could count, causing a string of embarrassing episodes at Eton.

  All he could say was, “I wish the timing had worked in our favor.”

  She rose in a swift, graceful movement and strode past him towards her studio. “You have me at a disadvantage today, Julian. Don’t waste this opportunity to best me.”

  He was rigid in his chair as he considered what had just occurred. Fiona Aubrey had offered herself to him, wanted to mother his children, and he had turned her down without a pause. Well, half a pause, but not a serious consideration. Cathryn Sibley was in his blood, and no other would do. He had just proven that to himself unequivocally.

  With a grin, he followed Fiona’s trouser-clad figure down the hall. It helped that his balls were as empty as they had been in a decade. Four times he’d come inside Cathryn, four times she’d milked him and each release had surpassed the one before. She was his equal, his perfect mate, and she might already be nurturing his child.

  And he would see her in three hours.

  Julian left the studio an hour later with a lighter spirit. He’d outdone Master Aubrey ten out of twelve rounds, a personal best. Unfortunately, it hadn’t come at a group lesson where he could brag about it. The street was swarming with carriages, and he saw his coach a block away. He jostled through the crowd on the sidewalk, his thoughts on seeing Cathryn, and possibly stopping at a jewelry store to pick up a pair of earrings for her. Emeralds—

  A large man came alongside him and bumped him slightly.

  Another man in front slowed, but Julian was distracted and barely noticed.

  A third man boxed him in from behind before Julian became aware of the danger. He was ill-equipped when a sharp blade was stuck under his jacket, steering him pointedly off the busy walkway into a narrow alley three doors down from Fiona’s.

  Julian jerked away from the knife just as the front man slammed his enormous fist into Julian’s gut and emptied his lungs of all air. The knife followed, with a searing sting bursting from the wound, but Julian had no breath to protest.

  In seconds, they had taken him down, and one kicked him in the arm with a heavy boot before they turned back to the crowd. Intense pain radiated from his shoulder and belly.

  They hadn’t robbed him, or spoken in any way, and it cost him great effort to call out, “Say there, who sent you?”

  “We’re the duke’s men,” the burliest one said over his shoulder, as if that absolved them of the assault. “Leave off the translation.”

  “What duke?” he asked weakly. If the man responded, Julian didn’t hear as he faded into the oblivion of pain and shock.

  Julian woke with a pounding headache in Fiona’s guest room. He’d been in here once or twice and recognized the deep blue fleur-de-lis print wallpaper and bed coverings. He tried to prop himself on one elbow but fell back with a cry of agony at the explosions of pain. His shoulder was dislocated his belly sliced, and his entire body throbbed in discomfort.

  “Stay still, my lord. We’ll set this right,” a voice said from beyond his sight, and then a tall physician Julian recognized as one of Fiona’s pupils came into view. “I wish you’d stayed unconscious another five minutes.”

  Julian gritted his teeth and spit out invectives while the man popped the displaced bone back into place. After a blast of blinding pain, the agony subsided, replaced by a pounding ache. “You’ve lost a great deal of blood, my lord, although the wound isn’t deep. I fear there may be injuries to your spine. I’d like you to stay here for a few days.”

  Fiona appeared at the bedside, wearing her black shirt with a crimson skirt and her hair pulled back as if she’d been assisting the man. “A few days under my roof and you’ll do anything I ask.”

  Julian tried to summon a laugh, but his body failed him and he said weakly, “I’ve always done everything you’ve asked, Fiona.”

  The doctor looked flustered at the sound of her name and Julian cursed himself for not observing Fiona’s rule. It was Master Aubrey under this roof unless they were alone, and few men used her given name at all.

  She winked before she turned away. “I can see you’re going to be a difficult patient.”

  Fiona’s patient. How many times had he dreamt this particular scenario? Although he assumed a duel would bring him to her care, he’d imagined the former camp follower nursing him a thousand times. If she put on the white cap nurses were known for, he might have an instant erection in spite of his injuries. When she’d told stories of the men she’d saved near and even on the battlefields, he’d ached to be one of those wounded soldiers, to have her ha
nds stroking his brow in comfort. A juvenile dream, but it lasted a lifetime, amplified after she fell in love with his father while caring for him.

  The gods must be laughing their arses off today. He was in Fiona’s bed, and she was separated from his father. He sank into his pillow and thought of Cathryn. He’d only known her a week—truly, less than a week. A few minutes alone in her presence, and he pounced on her. An hour, and he proposed. It was insane. She was beautiful, desirable and stimulating, but was she worth giving up this opportunity with Fiona Aubrey?

  What was he thinking? He’d given his word. “Please, send for Lady Sibley. I need to know she’s safe.”

  “I’ll let her know what’s occurred, of course.” Fiona’s voice cooled. “I understand there’s a bevy of Ahlquist footmen at her townhouse. I’m certain she’s safe there.”

  Something in Fiona’s tone unnerved him. “Send for her, please.”

  “Of course.” She gestured to a footman stationed by the door, and Julian sighed his relief as the man left the room.

  The ache in his side and shoulder throbbed along with the pounding in his head, and he nodded when the doctor offered him laudanum. If ever there was a night to get drugged and sleep, this was it.

  Fiona answered a knock at the bedroom door, and Rune Darbonne entered just as Julian was accepting the spoonful of opium.

  “Dear God, Ahlquist, we heard you’d been attacked.” Julian was glad to see him, and he managed a smile when the man added, “At least they spared your face.”

  He nodded and rested back on the pillow. “They said they were the duke’s men, and to leave off the translation.”

  “Damn. Do you know a duke associated with Hedges?”

  “No, but someone at the club will know.”

  Fiona came to his side. “The Duke of Clarendon has been privately funding Hedges’ research for some years.”

  All the men looked at her with incredulity.

  Julian shook his head slightly in amusement as he felt the effects of the drug edging into his system. Fiona was a marvel. “Well, Darbonne, I suggest you begin with the Duke of Clarendon. Hire some men, Bow Street runners or such, to go with you, or bring the authorities here tomorrow. I understand I’ll be under Master Aubrey’s care for some days.”