She gazed up at him. “What if this business is never settled?”
He pushed back a lock of her hair and kissed that tender spot below her ear, sending a delightful frisson through her. “It will be,” he murmured. “Then I’ll come for you. You do understand that your presence distracts me?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I distract you, do I?”
He grinned and chucked her under the chin. “I can’t be worried about your safety on top of…everything else.”
“Who is watching your back?”
He gently flicked her cheek. “I can look after myself.”
She sighed, wishing he would say he couldn’t live without her, but she no longer expected such fulsome declarations of love. Somehow his assertion that her absence would be a distraction, or worse, a penance, failed to reassure her. She went to open the armoire. “Something simpler, you say.”
He came to her side, surprising her even more. He’d never shown much interest in choosing her clothes. He reached inside. “What about this one?”
“The watered silk?” Laura took the luscious gown from its hanger, red threads glinting among the russet and gold. “It’s hardly what I’d call simple.”
“It’s perfect. You’ll look magnificent. Come to my room. I have something for you.”
Laura followed him through the open panel. She glanced at the bed they had never shared. It was odd to feel a stranger here.
Nathaniel pulled out a drawer on the rosewood chiffonier and took out a gold-edged leather case. “I’ve had these cleaned and reset. I brought them back with me from London this last trip.”
The parure was of a ruby and diamond necklace, diamond bracelet and earrings, and was absolutely breathtaking.
“Oh, but it’s exquisite! She removed the necklace, holding it up to the light to gaze into the fathomless ruby depths. “Why haven’t you shown these to me?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“You’ve certainly done that.” Laura laughed. “Were you waiting until I was well behaved enough to deserve them?”
Nathaniel chuckled. “I’m too impatient to wait that long.”
“Oh, you!” Laura pouted at him. “You don’t deserve such a good wife.”
His smile faded. “No, most likely I don’t.”
“I was only joking, darling.” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.
He returned her kiss, pulling her close. “Wear them tonight.”
She laughed. “But didn’t you just say I shouldn’t overdress?”
He grinned at her tease. “You are my wife, Lady Lanyon, and rubies will enhance your natural beauty.”
Taking the necklace from her, he clasped the jewels around her throat, his fingers gentle at her nape. He drew her over to the mirror. “See how well they suit you.”
When she could draw her eyes away from the dazzling gems, she studied him, amused that he’d chosen her gown to suit them. “I’ve never worn anything so fine. Mother said I was too young for lavish jewelry.”
“With your coloring, you should always wear jewels.” He met her gaze in the mirror. “These might have been fashioned with you in mind.”
She was confident they were not made for Amanda, for they would not have suited her fair coloring. “Were they your mother’s?”
“No. My mother preferred sapphires. These were my grandmother’s. She had red hair rather like yours.”
“What was her given name?” Laura asked, noticing how his features softened.
“Charlotte. A grand lady,” he said in a quiet voice. As if ashamed of his emotion, he undid the clasp and placed the necklace back in the case. “I’ll return these to the safe until you are dressed.”
Chapter Twenty-One
In the evening, Laura came downstairs wearing the low-cut russet silk, the ruby necklace at her throat, diamonds dangling from her ears. Agnes had quite skillfully arranged her hair in loose waves, the front a soft pompadour with small ringlets on her brow.
Nathaniel, handsome in dark broadcloth and crisp linen, came forward to take her arm with a proud and proprietary expression. It pleased her, although she would have preferred to find him blinded by love.
Their guests began to arrive. Mr. Archer, the rail-thin vicar, escorted his wife, Phyllis, her sturdy body clad in purple satin. The quiet spinster sisters, Misses Parthena and Orpha Fairfax, were girlish in white chiffon. Mr. Jack Whitelaw, Nathaniel’s rowing chum from Oxford, introduced his wife, Victoria, to her. She was attractive and had a forthright manner, her elegant lavender gown of ribbed silk satin perfect for her fair coloring. Laura immediately warmed to her.
Cilla came in wearing an olive-green dress, a corsage of orchids pinned to her breast with not a speck of paint in evidence. Tall, solemn Hugh Pitney was at Cilla’s elbow. Pitney was yet unmarried and attractive. Perhaps he and Cilla might discover something in common, although for the moment, Laura could think of nothing.
“What a beautiful orchid.” Laura kissed Cilla’s cheek. “It is the same variety as those over by the window.”
“His lordship kindly sent them.” Cilla nodded at Nathaniel. “You have no need of flowers, Laura; you look like an exotic orchid yourself.”
“Thank you, my dear.” Laura ushered her guests into the dining room.
She was pleased with her efforts and those of her servants. She would be sure to praise them in the morning. The candles and the crystal chandelier bathed the room in a soft light. The new curtains and chair coverings, made by the upholsterer in Penzance, who was delighted to have the business, were perfect. Brilliant copper beech leaves arranged in Chinese urns added wonderful color.
Earlier, Laura had run a practiced eye over the table, as her mother had taught her. The silverware gleamed. Two rows of glassware for the champagne, sauterne and sherry. A red glass had been added for the Rhine wine, which she had to admit was a nice addition. Silver bowls filled with fresh fruits and dishes of celery, olives and radishes sat on the table.
Mrs. Madge outdid herself with six courses, beginning with shellfish soup, sole in cream sauce, buttered lobster, Cornish hens, ham timbales with cucumber sauce, a soufflé as light as air, and ending with chocolate pudding and pastries. In immaculate black, Rudge expertly poured the wine with his white-gloved hands.
It began as a subdued gathering, with the events of the last week discussed in respectful, hushed voices. But as the evening progressed, the atmosphere lightened. Nathaniel paused to smile at her. He and Jack Whitelaw discussed something about a new diving apparatus at Cherbourg, which allowed a man to go to greater depths in the sea. Laura returned his smile. The dinner proved a success! She had thirsted for such lively company since she’d come here. Thinking of her father, she listened with interest as the conversation turned to the British Army’s success over the Boers near Dundee, Natal, where there were heavy casualties. Concern was then expressed for Queen Victoria’s health.
Laura drew Mrs. Archer into the conversation, inquiring about her parish duties. The good lady expressed surprise at the spate of babies born in the last few months and how poor Mr. Archer had been hard-pressed to baptize them all.
Noticing how quiet Cilla was, Laura asked her if she’d heard of the latest Albrecht Dürer forgery discovered at a London art gallery.
“Hardly news. There are hundreds, possibly thousands of art forgeries in galleries all over the world,” Cilla stated flatly.
After the dessert course, the women left the men to their port and cigars and retired to the salon. While the sisters chatted with the vicar’s wife, Victoria leaned toward Laura. “My husband and I were delighted when we heard Nathaniel was to marry again. It would have been a terrible shame if a man such as he was left alone to brood.”
Laura took a deep breath, wishing to ask so many questions, which, of course, she could not.
Victoria laid a hand on her arm. “I can see you will be good for him. He has not made the mistake of marrying someone like his first wife. Many men do, you know.”<
br />
“Not in looks certainly,” Laura said. “If her portrait is anything to go by. She was blonde and very beautiful.”
Victoria’s blue gaze softened. “I don’t know you well, my dear, but I can assure you, you are nothing like Amanda in nature either.”
“I know very little about her.” At least little she could be sure of. Did Victoria mean Laura was not as lively? Amanda would be utterly charming in company, she supposed. Laura looked at Cilla, but she was absorbed in stirring her coffee.
Victoria smiled. “Amanda was pretty and vivacious, but you, I suspect, have a quiet strength.”
Cilla rose abruptly to pull back the curtain and gaze out into the darkness. Laura followed, aware of how out of place she seemed here. Had it been foolish of Laura to think that she would enjoy the evening?
“What is it, Cilla?”
“I thought I heard the wind pick up. Perhaps a squall.”
“I hope not. Come and sit with me, tell me more about Paris.”
Was Cilla enjoying herself? As she sat down again, Laura felt a rush of pity for her friend; she’d hardly said a word at dinner. Perhaps Hugh was not the right sort of man for her. She doubted he was interested in art. When Laura returned to Wolfram, she would cast the net wider to invite men to dinner who would appreciate her. More intimate dinners, where her friend might relax more. She may not wish to marry, but Cilla might enjoy a man’s company as much as the next woman.
Before Cilla could speak of Paris, Miss Parthena Fairfax leaned forward. “Don’t you agree, Lady Lanyon?”
“I’m sorry, Miss Fairfax. I missed your question.”
Miss Parthena repeated her request for Laura’s opinion of the vicar’s sermon last Sunday. “Wasn’t it splendid?”
Laura murmured her agreement. Her memory of the context and thrust of the vicar’s argument had quite escaped her.
“My husband does little in the way of formal preparation,” added Mrs. Archer.
“Divine inspiration,” Miss Orpha said with a sigh.
The vicar’s wife nodded, her eyes alight. “Mr. Archer prefers to step up to the pulpit and be fed directly by God.”
Laura thought she heard an amused huff from Cilla. She didn’t dare look.
The men chose that moment to enter and saved Laura from possible embarrassment. Stimulated by their port and brandies, the men added much-needed stimulation to the conversation. When politics were discussed, Laura absorbed every word with thirsty delight.
A short time later, all the guests departed into the night, the weather having remained fine. Hugh politely escorted Cilla to her cottage.
Laura and Nathaniel stood at the door as the last carriage rattled away. “Did you enjoy your birthday dinner?”
He slipped his arm around her waist. “I did. I must thank Mrs. Madge, especially for the cake. Rather a lot of candles on it, weren’t there? But it proved a great diversion. You were a gracious hostess. Your mother would be proud.” A corner of his mouth quirked and his eyes twinkled. “If I may say so.”
She laughed. “You may.” Finding respect in his eyes, her heart warmed. “Shall we have another when I return?”
“We will certainly entertain more often. You look beautiful tonight.” He stroked a finger down her cheek and followed it with a kiss.
She held her breath, hoping he’d change his mind about her leaving, but he said nothing more.
“When am I to go?”
He turned away, his face half in shadow. “The day after tomorrow, sweetheart. The best inns have been booked en route, and when you arrive in London, you might like to spend a night or two at the Savoy hotel where we were married.”
The honeymoon suite for one? Laura swallowed. “No. I’ll go straight to Richmond.”
He took her arm, and they climbed the stairs.
“Let’s make every minute count,” he said in a husky voice. “Hurry and dismiss your maid.”
Laura sent Agnes away and quickly finished undressing. Naked and trembling at her boldness, she pushed back her hair as it swung to her waist in tousled waves. Her hand at her throat brushed the ruby necklace. She searched for the spring hidden within the carved molding. The panel slid back. Nathaniel spun around, his shirt in his hands, his broad chest bare. “My God, Laura!” He came swiftly to her. “You’re a goddess!”
They would make love in his bed, and he would remember this night long after she was gone from Wolfram. Of that, Laura was determined.
***
With relief, Nathaniel watched Laura’s carriage depart for London. A hollow feeling enveloped him as he whistled to the dogs and walked to the stables. The abbey would seem profoundly empty without her. Before this latest disaster, Wolfram had begun to feel more like the wonderful place it had once been. Praise had been heaped upon his graceful lady wife by those who admired her visits to the poor and her interest in the children’s schooling. She was a blessing, the vicar had said.
But it was Nathaniel who was again dogged by suspicion. A deep yearning for closeness had grown within him since Laura entered his life. Was he foolish to hope that when all this was over it might be possible? His father had always said a man should keep a mistress and not allow his emotions to rule him. But hadn’t his father failed in his marriage? Nathaniel had never wanted to be like him, but he feared he might be. He sighed. What was he doing mulling over the past when the present and the future required his attention?
There had been distinct rumblings amongst the villagers since Mallory died, and yesterday someone had yelled at him: “Two is one too many for coincidence.” A stranger to Wolfram, but there were those here who shared the same opinion. The smugglers might be rounded up, but even when the last of them was brought to justice, the rumors would continue to hound him. He’d never be free.
He shook his head to rid himself of the depressing thoughts. He had work to do if he was to bring Laura home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Until the very last moment, Laura hoped Nathaniel would ask her to stay. When he didn’t, she gloomily waved goodbye from the carriage window and turned to face the arduous, lonely trip north.
Laura’s new lady’s maid, Agnes, accompanied her. At the prospect of seeing London for the first time, the maid filled the carriage with excited chatter, which gradually subsided into awed silence as the distance between them and the only place the maid had ever known increased. The constant rain made the trip seem endless, with mist obscuring the view from the window.
The slow journey provided Laura with too much time to contemplate the state of her marriage. Her face heated at the thought of their last night together. Nathaniel was an undeniably passionate lover and a generous man. Nor was he ever unkind to her. But she hated when he clamped down and placed a wall between them, which nothing she did or said could breach.
At Wimbledon, the butler, accompanied by a footman, hurried out as the carriage pulled up. “Lady Lanyon, I trust your trip was pleasant?”
“It was long and tedious, Barker. You’re keeping well?”
“I am, thank you, my lady.”
Laura entered the house yearning to seek comfort from her father’s quiet strength. Yet she held back when she saw how tired he looked. He seemed to have aged since she left home. The failure of his tilt at prime minister surprised her. She never considered failure where her father was concerned. He’d always triumphed with everything he attempted. She began to doubt her own dreams, which had remained as vigorous as ever.
As soon as she’d changed her dress, she wandered into her father’s study to read the London newspapers, searching for any articles on further inroads the suffrage movement might have made. She found nothing to hearten her. “It seems the push for the right to vote has stalled,” she said to her father.
He looked up from his desk. “Because of wrong tactics. Men will never be swayed by violence from women.”
Her mother entered the study, having been away at a charity luncheon. “Let me look at you, Laura. You’re pale. Not incre
asing, are you?”
Laura sighed wearily. “I don’t think so, Mother.”
“It won’t happen if you and Lanyon spend too much time apart.”
“Now is not the time for such talk. Laura is tired after her long journey,” her father said sharply, pushing away from his desk. He stood. “Come, let’s enjoy a drink before dinner.”
It was strange being back in her old home. Laura glanced around the moderately sized drawing room, so different to Wolfram with its rambling corridors, enormous high-ceilinged rooms and wonderful library. There was a certain freedom from convention there, while at the same time, a strong sense of its history.
Later that evening, Laura sat in front of the dressing table mirror in the bedroom where she’d dreamed of a future here in London, before Nathaniel came to change it. Unsettled, she removed the pins from her hair. She ran her fingers through her long locks and picked up her brush. The girl she’d been when she left to be married seemed to have vanished. Laura considered herself her own woman now, and this was no longer her home. The rush of homesickness she suffered was for Nathaniel and Wolfram.
Her mother appeared while Agnes tidied away Laura’s clothes. “You may leave us.”
After Agnes bobbed a curtsey and left the room, her mother sat on the cream damask chair, her frown reflected in the mirror. “Why are you here?”
“Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“That’s hardly the point, is it?”
“It’s been some time since I saw you and Father. Do I need a better reason?”
“A woman doesn’t leave her husband’s side but for a very good reason.”
Laura turned on the stool. “Mother, did you and Father always have separate bedrooms?”
Her mother pursed her lips. “So, that’s it.”
“I’m sorry. That’s what?”
“Trouble in the bedroom.”
Laura flushed. “Most definitely not.”
Her mother’s eyebrows arched. “No? Then what has brought you here?”
Laura looked down at the brush in her hands. “Something bad happened at Wolfram. A man was killed. Nathaniel wanted me somewhere safe until the police find the culprit.”
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