The question pierced whatever armor his pride had managed to strap into place as he had stood in the open doorway, exposed to Sarah for the first time as what he now was. Half a man.
And bloody maudlin about it, he chastized himself angrily, as soon as that forbidden thought had formed. From the first, he had been determined that he would never allow himself to wallow in self-pity. “Of course,” he said.
His tone was again too sharp. Hard and cold. Although he recognized that in her slight recoil, he said nothing to soften its effect. Let her think him a bastard rather than a coward.
Still she didn’t move. Not until he roughly put his hands under Drew’s armpits and held him out to her. She gathered the child close. Then, putting her hand on the arm of his chair to help her up, she rose to her feet.
She stood beside him a moment, still holding his eyes. Then, without another word, she turned and walked across his bedroom and opened the door into the hall, closing it behind her.
Justin’s mouth tightened, fighting the urge to call her back and apologize. She had been concerned about his health—a very natural concern—and in response, he had been rude.
He pushed up from the desk and fitted the crutch under his right arm. He swung over to the fire and, laying his left arm along the mantel, leaned his forehead against it, looking down into the flames. There was more to Sarah’s unexpected arrival than she had told him. But if he continued to treat her as he just had, she would never confide in him. Of course, considering his present situation, he wasn’t sure what he could do about whatever had sent her hurrying up to London.
At least they were here where he could watch over them. And as long as there was breath in his body, no matter how inadequate that body might now be, he would do that. He would protect either of them with his dying breath, he vowed fiercely. And he denied the urge to examine exactly why he was so sure of that. And so damned passionate about it.
Chapter Eight
There was little Justin could do during the next two weeks but watch as Sarah transformed his household. The most immediate change was in the deportment of his staff. And amazingly, despite the fact that Sarah had them working harder than they had in years, the servants seemed to think highly of their new countess.
Due to his stubborn determination not to parade his disability more than he had to, Justin was still taking his meals in his rooms. However, the temptation to join Drew and Sarah at dinner was almost enough to lure him out. of his self-imposed exile. Especially when he sat by his lonely fire, the agricultural plans that had occupied him for weeks almost forgotten as he pictured the two of them downstairs together.
He didn’t lack for company during the day, however. Andrew spent most of his time in Justin’s rooms, except when he went shopping with Sarah. He came back from those expeditions bubbling over with excitement, his cheeks reddened from the cold and his eyes sparkling.
It was after one of these trips that Justin realized how rapidly the holidays were approaching and that Drew would almost certainly expect a present of some kind from him. He could dispatch one of the servants to shop for the child, but that seemed impersonal. And highly unsatisfactory.
The one person who would know what Andrew really wanted would be Sarah, of course, but Justin hadn’t talked to her since the night she and Drew arrived. Remembering his terse response to her concern that evening, he shouldn’t be surprised she was avoiding him. He knew it was up to him to make the next move. And to make what amends he could for his boorishness.
He could legitimately ask her to come to his rooms, but that was nothing less than an act of cowardice. And even if he was an ungrateful bastard, Justin had decided, he was not yet a coward. So girding himself mentally, just as he had once done before battle, he determined to seek Sarah out and make his request.
He took more pains over his appearance than he had in months. After the first glance in the mirror in his room, however, he didn’t look at it again. Vanity, he acknowledged, but he didn’t allow his eyes to focus again on his reflection.
He made his careful way down the grand staircase. As he stood at the bottom of them, he could see into most of the formal rooms. And for the first time became aware of how much Sarah had accomplished in the time she’d been here. Accustomed to the deprivations of campaigning, Justin supposed he hadn’t realized how much needed to be done to bring the town house back to the standard of elegance it had once enjoyed. Not until he saw it now, almost exactly as he remembered it from his childhood.
Such a miraculous change could have been accomplished only by throwing an enormous amount of energy at a problem. Sarah had obviously done that. The old house gleamed. Wood and brass had been highly polished, so that every table carried a fresh coating of beeswax, and the scent of lemon oil permeated the air. The rooms were warmed by cheerful fires, and each crystal in the massive Venetian glass chandeliers glittered.
Sarah had even seen to it that there was some touch of greenery in every room. That had surely been done with Andrew in mind. Although his family had never spent the Christmas season in London, it seemed right to Justin that the rooms should be filled now with its scents.
He was overwhelmed by Sarah’s generosity, especially in light of the sums he had spent on the Park and his tenants. Now, he realized, he was even more indebted to his wife. On a personal as well as a financial level.
“Justin?” Sarah questioned.
She was standing in the doorway to the grand salon. Behind her, a bevy of maids were working. She had obviously been directing their activities when she had heard his distinctive footsteps in the hall.
The gown she wore was a plain gray merino, very suitable for housekeeping. Her fair hair, except for the curls that touched her cheeks and forehead, was covered with a lace cap. It was the first time he had seen her in this mode, Justin realized. Unconsciously, he smiled at Sarah’s attempt to assume a proper matronly air.
An attempt was all it was, he thought. Somehow she looked younger in the mob cap than she had in her bonnets, although it should have had the opposite effect, of course. Perhaps it had more to do with the blush of color in her cheeks and the gleam of excitement in her eyes, a gleam almost matching that in Drew’s.
This was the Sarah he remembered, he realized. Just as he had pictured her through those first lonely months in Spain. Before he had received her letter, which had shattered his dreams of the life they had planned together. Deliberately, Justin pulled his gaze away from her face, pretending to contemplate the changes around him instead.
“A remarkable accomplishment, Sarah,” he said finally. “I should never have believed the house could be like this again.”
He looked back in time to see the sweep of color intensify across her cheekbones. The result of his compliment, he realized. And there had been far too few compliments, after all that she had done for him.
He supposed he had been too concerned with his own pain. Not just the physical one, although when he had left Longford to come here that had been real enough. He had been too proud to acknowledge what this marriage had meant to him financially. And, he admitted, bitter over the fact that five years ago Sarah had so quickly and completely fallen in love with someone else.
“It’s a lovely house,” she said.
“It is now,” Justin said softly. “Thanks to you.”
“I had thought...” she began, her eyes on his face. “That is, I had hoped—if you don’t mind, of course—that Drew and I might spend all of Christmas here. The roads are very likely to become impassable this time of year. We were fortunate in our journey to town, but we might not be so lucky on the return.”
“This is your home, Sarah. Especially now...”
He paused, again fascinated by the effect of his words. She took a breath, high breasts lifting under the tight wool bodice. Incredibly, his own body reacted to that small movement, his arousal sudden, and obvious, he feared.
Again he pulled his eyes away, fastening them instead on the kissing bough someo
ne had hung over the doors where Sarah was standing. It was gay with streamers and fruit. Among the greenery were candles that would be lit on Christmas Day. And traditionally, of course...
Justin’s lips tightened, remembering other Christmases, long-ago holidays when he and Sarah were growing up. Their families had often entertained one another during the season. Until Sarah and Drew arrived here, however, he had almost forgotten the holiday, which had once been one of his favorite times of the year. A time full of wishes come true, especially for children.
“I have a favor to ask,” he said, remembering his mission.
“I wondered what had drawn the lion from his den.”
His eyes came back to her face. She was teasing him, he realized, seeing the small tilt of her lips. It was too close to the truth, however. He had taken to his rooms like some elderly invalid. And he wasn’t. His movements might be awkward, but he was no longer ill. The inflammation was subsiding, and he felt better than he had in weeks. Strong enough not to put the servants to the trouble of climbing the stairs with his meals.
“More apt a bear with a sore paw, I should think,” he said. “Can you forgive my behavior the night of your arrival?”
“Forgive you?”
“I was rude. And unwelcoming.”
“You were invaded,” Sarah said. “If anyone needs forgiveness...” Her voice faded over the apology.
“Will you tell me now the real reason you came?” he asked.
Her eyes widened slightly, but then she hid them with the downward sweep of her lashes. He knew by her reaction that he hadn’t been wrong. There was certainly more to Sarah’s flight from Longford than she had told him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. Her chin had risen minutely when she looked up again.
“Did your father do something to hurt Drew?”
“No,” she denied quickly. “Of course not. Brynmoor would never hurt Drew.”
“Andrew isn’t sure of that.”
“I know,” she admitted. “But...”
She took another breath, and resolutely he kept his eyes on her face, remembering the effect that subtle movement of her breasts had had. Falling in love again with Sarah Spenser wasn’t something he could afford. Or anything she would welcome.
“There was nothing like that,” she said.
“Still not ready to confide in me, Sarah?” he asked quietly. “I promise I can keep a confidence.”
“I’m sure you can,” she said. And then after a moment, she added, “But I haven’t any to make. You mentioned a favor?”
It seemed pointless to pursue it, considering her determination. She would trust him with the truth or she would not. He couldn’t force her to tell him why she was running away.
“It’s Andrew,” he said. “He’s certain to expect some sort of present, but I haven’t any idea what he’d like. I’m afraid that shopping for it...” He hesitated, envisioning the streets at this time of year, teeming with shoppers, despite the cold.
“Would be difficult,” Sarah finished for him.
Her eyes were as calm as her voice. There wasn’t a trace of pity for the acknowledged impossibility of his venturing out to the shops. That had been a simple statement of fact.
“Yes,” he said.
“And you would like me to make that purchase for you.”
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Tell me what you have in mind.”
Almost reluctantly, his mouth relaxed into a smile. “I had hoped you might have a suggestion,” he admitted.
“There was something...” she began, and then she shook her head. “Drew never told me what, I’m afraid. Something that only Wynfield could give him. I believe that’s what he said.”
“Something only I could give him?”
Sarah nodded. “Maybe he mentioned it to you? Something he has been wishing for?”
“Nothing,” Justin said, trying to remember any hints Drew had dropped.
“Subtlety isn’t Drew’s forte,” Sarah suggested. “I suspect that if you give him an opening...”
“He won’t be able to resist the opportunity to tell me.”
“Probably not,” Sarah agreed.
“I haven’t had much experience with children, I’m afraid.”
She said nothing, and her smile had faded.
“That’s obvious, I suppose,” he added.
“Drew adores you. You must know that,” she said.
“Drew had a need for masculine attention that we both recognized,” he said. “And a gruesome fascination with the bits and pieces of me that are missing, along with a natural curiosity about how that came about.”
She said nothing for a moment, her eyes dark, her mouth unmoving. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I’ll speak to him.”
“No, Sarah. Good God, I didn’t mean that. Andrew’s openness is far easier than the other.”
Justin hadn’t meant to suggest she should chastise Drew for his natural curiosity, but despite his attempt at control, there was a trace of bitterness in the words.
“The other?” she repeated, and waited through the silence.
“The pretense that nothing has changed,” he said finally. “That it’s...unnoticeable.”
“Or unimportant,” she said.
Again the silence grew. He had revealed too much. Said too much. Sarah was more astute than he had expected.
“It is unimportant, of course,” he said, lightening his tone, hating the self-pity he had heard there. “After all, I survived. Believe me, I’m very grateful.”
“Believe me,” she said softly, “I’m very grateful as well.”
She held his eyes only a second longer, and then she turned and disappeared into the salon. He could hear her voice raised to direct whatever the maids were doing, its tone so different from the soft agreement she had just made. I’m very gratefud as well.
Perhaps she was grateful for Drew’s sake? he thought. But later, alone in his room, remembering what had so briefly been in her eyes, he had to wonder if concern for Drew had anything at all to do with what she had said.
Neither Andrew or Sarah urged him to join them for Christmas Eve, but he had asked his valet to find out what time dinner would be served, even before he made his decision. When he had, he dressed as carefully as he had the morning he sought Sarah out to ask about a present for Andrew. And this time he resisted looking into the cheval glass at all.
Despite providing plenty of opportunities for Drew to make his request, he still had no idea what the little boy had been referring to when he had mentioned something only Wynfield could give him. Having run out of time, Justin had reluctantly dispatched his man to the shops. The comfits and the mechanical toy he’d brought back seemed very little, but unless he wished to ask his wife for a loan, Justin thought, they would have to do.
As he descended the stairs, he could hear Andrew’s laughter. He and Sarah were probably playing games before dinner, a Christmas Eve tradition. This was one of the few times during the year when children were encouraged to take part in entertainments usually reserved for adults.
Drawn by the sound of Drew’s giggles, Justin swung across the hall and stopped in the doorway to the parlor. He hadn’t been mistaken. They were engaged in a spirited game of spillikins, fair heads close together. As he watched them, Sarah’s laughter joined her son’s, filling the room with a gaiety that had long been missing from this house.
As if sensing his presence, Sarah lifted her eyes suddenly to the doorway, finding his face. Her laughter died as her eyes dilated in shock. What he saw in them, however, was not unwelcoming.
Before he could fully analyze it, Drew shouted, “Wynfield!”
He ran toward the doorway, and Justin braced himself. This time, however, the little boy skidded to a stop and took Justin’s hand, pulling him toward the game table where he and Sarah had been sitting.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” Justin said to her.
“
In your own house?” she questioned, smiling at him. “I should think not. We are very glad to have you join us. Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“I have beaten Sarah soundly,” Drew announced.
“Without any mercy at all,” Sarah acknowledged cheerfully. “Would you like to try your skill?”
“I am acquitted to be a fair hand,” the earl said to Andrew, as he eased down in one of the chairs that had been placed around the gaming table. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
“Who is MacDuff?” Drew asked with interest, preparing the jackstraws for the next game.
“A character in a play by Mr. Shakespeare,” Sarah explained.
“Can we act it out after dinner?” Andrew asked.
Sarah laughed. “MacDuff is from a play that is, I believe, unsuitable for holiday masquerading.”
“Was he a soldier?” Drew asked.
Sarah’s eyes, filled with amusement over his obsession with the military, lifted over Drew’s tousled curls to find Justin’s.
“I believe he was,” she said. “At least, when he was called upon to be. The rest of the time, I think he was simply a very good man.”
The evening passed in a blur of rich food and games and laughter. A company of mummers came by, offering a spirited performance in the street outside. Although he was country-bred, Andrew had never seen a troop of mummers before, and his excitement was infections. Despite the cold, Justin found himself standing beside Sarah in the entrance to the town house, both of them laughing along with Drew at their antics.
As the hours passed, the constraints that had been between Sarah and himself seemed to lessen. It was too easy to remember other evenings they had spent like this, her eyes smiling into his. Too easy to forget what had happened to push them apart.
It shouldn’t have been. Not with Drew as a constant reminder. The child, however, had won his own place in Justin’s heart, no longer simply a symbol of his mother’s infidelity.
“What shall we do next?” Drew asked after they had finished a lively game of snapdragon, in which Andrew, by design of course, had acquired most of the raisins.
Gayle Wilson Page 14