The Delicate Matter of Lady Blayne (Intimate Secrets Book 1)

by Blackthorne, Natasha

  Life had been so unfair to Sunny. He must always treat her with fairness if nothing else.

  If she came to him, if she gave him dominion over her, it would be because she wanted to. Not because she lived in fear of his familial authority over her.

  But what was he thinking? Hadn’t he already decided she was unsuitable as a wife?

  A hollow, aching sensation erupted in the center of his chest. To never have Sunny. But did he even still want her?

  Or was he holding on to the memory of Sunny as a girl of eighteen?

  No, he would make no hard decisions now. He would let her prove herself over time.

  It’s past time for taking a wife. You’re not a young man any longer. Nor is she. If it is to be her, twenty-six is not that young, either.

  He would give her some time to earn his trust regarding her behavior. Yes, that was right; that was fair. If she seemed able to become respectable, to be adaptable to be a nobleman’s wife, well, he just might make her another offer.

  But for now, he would focus on caring for her in other ways.

  How vulnerable she must feel! He held even her money in a trust. She had no house or carriage of her own.

  He tapped his fingers on the table and reminded himself that he must order her personal effects to be packed and sent to her before they left for the border.

  She hadn’t cared. She had been nervous to leave Blayne House immediately and had simply thrown a few items of clothing into a valise. But first there were things he must say to Catriona. He scooted his chair closer to her.

  Her eyes widened as he drew near.

  He touched her hand and stroked a finger along hers. “I can understand, Sunny, how…confined you must have felt wed to Freddy.”

  She dropped her chin and compressed her lips.

  “I can understand how you could be tempted.”

  She pulled her hand back from his. “I loved Freddy.”

  Her voice quavered.

  “Of course you did.”

  Everyone had loved Freddy.

  Her chin began to tremble and she put her hand to her mouth and turned her face to the window. Sunlight illuminated the pure line of her profile and made the golden lights in her hair glow. She was lovely. Everything he had ever wanted.

  The emotion quavering in her voice echoed in his ears. He shifted, aware of the sudden tension in his body.

  He must admit the shameful source of his disquiet. He couldn’t bear to hear the emotion in her voice. Couldn’t bear to hear of her love for Freddy. Take control over yourself.

  “What shall I do now?” Her voice sounded small.

  “You will do whatever you wish.”

  “I am not strong enough to make a decision like that.”

  She sounded as though the words had been forced from her. She was ashamed of her vulnerability and it wrenched her to admit to it. He couldn’t imagine showing such vulnerability to anyone. He admired her for being that honest with him. That brave to expose her weakness to him.

  It made him believe that perhaps there was a special bond of trust developing between them.

  Yet, his stomach tightened. Why should he be the one to make her feel so spread over the rack like this? Why had it all fallen to him? Aunt Frances had been correct, this was a matter for the ladies. A most delicate matter. Yet they have proved themselves unworthy of his trust.

  They had turned her over to that horrid charlatan of a doctor who had mistreated her. Stripped her of all dignity and trust in herself.

  Now she was too vulnerable. In need of healing.

  And she had no one but him.

  In their time alone, whilst she recovered from the opiate dependency, he must find a way to give her back this vital part of herself that she had lost.

  He was all she had.

  His chest constricted now. God, he was the last person who should ever be trusted with such a matter.

  He was a warrior, used to strategy and battles. He was ill-equipped to deal with people and their fragile emotions.

  How the devil was he to fix her?

  But if he could manage to help her, then it just might turn out that she would make a suitable wife after all.

  He reached for her hand again, gently caressing the backs of his knuckles over hers. “Sunny, you must trust me.”

  “You shall have to tell me what do to.” Her voice sounded stronger.

  “We’re going to go to my friend’s property, near Southdean, along the border.”

  “Will there be other guests?”

  She didn’t sound so strong now.

  “There’s a cottage on the edge of his property. We’ll be alone there. Would that please you?”

  “Yes, it will please me greatly.” She turned back to him.

  Her face had come alive once more. She was radiant.

  He hoped he had not built up her expectations too much. “It may be quite rustic. You may consider it a hardship. There’s not much time to make it over for us.”

  “Us.” A smile softened her expression. “For a while, at least, there will be an ‘us’.”

  That last word, spoken in her soft voice, seemed to take on a life of its own. A power of its own.

  “Yes, there will be an us,” he said, taking her hand more solidly in his own.

  She opened her hand and allowed him to lace his fingers with hers.

  Chapter Seven

  “So, you would allow your lust to overrule what is best for Sunny?” Bitterness scored hard lines around Aunt Frances’ mouth. The glare of the midday sun made the effect all the harsher. From the numerous silver threads glittering in her jet-black hair—held loosely in a chignon—to her simple pale-gray muslin day dress and the puffy, shadowed appearance of her eyes, she looked haggard.

  In fact, he had never seen her look so shabby.

  Her voice had resounded with violent emotion despite her low tone. They were standing in the garden of Blayne House, near the roses where James had first seen Sunny the day before. “I have concerns about her situation here,” he said.

  “Oh, I see. After years away, you spend one day here and suddenly, you’re in a position to know what is best for Sunny.” Her eyes narrowed. “Your motives are transparent to me. You could always fool others but you can never hope to fool me.”

  “Sunny wants a break from this Meeker fellow’s ministrations.”

  “Ah! Should a mentally fragile young woman be allowed to overturn her physician's orders?”

  “I overturned them. Frankly, after speaking with the man myself, I have to say, I am alarmed by his demeanor and his beliefs. I have forbidden him to see or even to try to contact her.”

  Aunt Frances’ mouth dropped open even as her face went white as chalk. Then two spots of bright red colored her cheeks. ”You had no right to do that!”

  “I had every right. I was paying for his services.”

  Aunt Frances compressed her mouth, making the hard lines appear more prominent. “I have funds. I shall pay him from here on.”

  James shook his head. “Sunny wishes to leave Edinburgh. I intend to let her.”

  “You intend to let her?” Again she narrowed her eyes. “Are you daft? Do you not understand how delicate her situation is? She cannot be left alone in the company of servants.”

  “She will be with me.”

  “With you?” Frances’ eyes went wide and her complexion seemed to turn a bit grayish. Her shoulders sagged a bit. “Do you intend then to wed her?

  He stared at her, sternly. “Sunny is no longer your concern.”

  “Ah, you do fancy her. After all these years away, I thought you had given up that particular infatuation. Well, she is not as you imagine her to be. You do not even know her.” She turned and swept her hand over the plentiful roses, the neat, well-tended herb patch, rows of various brightly colored flowers, an almost garish collection of vividly painted trellises with profusions of climbing plants, not all of which he could name, and a mismatched yet somehow whimsically charming coll
ection of small stone fountains and birdbaths with brass accents. “Do you know, she tends to this garden herself, every day, working with her hands in the dirt?”

  “I think the activity has likely been good for her.”

  “It is not good for any young lady of breeding and title to spend hours of her day, alone, with her sleeves rolled up, immersed in intensive labor.”

  “Better she should be inside, reading to you or tending to some other whim of yours?”

  Frances compressed her lips so tightly that the skin around her mouth turned white. . “Or working at watercoloring. Or needlepoint. Or perfecting her skill on the harp; she never has become proficient at that particular instrument.”

  “Does she need to play all instruments perfectly?”

  “You know how skilled she is at music. It would be a shame for that talent to be wasted.”

  “All those things are quite valid pursuits for any young woman of breeding, in that you are correct. But if they don’t suit her and if she doesn’t want to attain excellence at the harp, that is her choice,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I want what is best for her. I want her to be the lady she was meant to be. You know how rare she truly is. Her talents know no measure.”

  “It seems to me that all of those things you say she should be doing would necessitate her presence in the parlor—with you.”

  “I do enjoy her company, I won’t deny that.” She glared at him. “I won’t have you twisting that into something selfish on my part.”

  “I think it is best that Sunny be removed for a time from all these expectations others seem to have of her.”

  “What of your expectations?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You think to wed her? Beneath what polish I have managed to instill in her, she is really quite common. You wouldn’t be happy with a wife like that. You have no idea how firm a hand she requires. Do you know that at Landbrae, she inserted herself quite brazenly into the gardens. Oh, she did it with her smiles and her charm. She used to make the gardeners laugh and she knew all of their stories, everything she could use to charm them into standing aside. The poor, common girl, I had to tell her that ladies, baronesses, do not do such things. They do not chat and share a chuckle with mere gardeners. They do not kneel in the dirt and labor with their hands.

  “Can you imagine! I told her, she mustn’t do these things. That she was destroying the dignity of the Blayne name. And she began to comport herself properly, to be a dignified wife for Freddy and a loyal, companionable daughter-in-law for me.”

  “Then why do you allow her to work in the gardens here?”

  Aunt Frances’ eyes flashed and she lifted her chin. “Dr. Meeker says the activity and sunlight are good for her. Good for her disposition. Good for her to distract her from her dark thoughts. From her dependency.”

  “She should not be shut away in this house and this garden. She should be out in Society. She is a young widow. She needs to find another husband, to begin a new life and have children of her own.”

  “Sunny will never have children.”

  Her tone was so firm, dare he call it determined? A chill settled into his bones. He gaped at her. “How can you say that with such assurance? Of course she will remarry. Of course she will have children.”

  Frances shrugged slightly, some of her elegance returning now. “I think that men have disappointed Sunny. I think she has left all notions of a married life behind her.”

  “That’s how you see her? Remaining unmarried, living with you here and at Landbrae?”

  Frances smiled, a smug certainty lighting her eyes. “She has a good life here. I take excellent care of her. I spoil her. Before all this unpleasantness over Freddy’s death, she was always such a happy, biddable girl. She will be again, once Dr. Meeker heals her spirit and cures her unfortunate dependency. There’s no reason for her ever to leave.”

  James returned from Blayne House and his discussion with Aunt Frances. But he couldn’t let go of the sense of unease and foreboding. He’d had no idea of the strength of Aunt Frances’ sense of possession towards Sunny.

  All right, it was more than being uneasy. The whole exchange had left him profoundly unnerved.

  Sunny had to be removed from that situation.

  She had to be allowed to experience life away from the constant demands put on her by Aunt Frances. The constant reminders of how grateful and obligated she must be for the sake of everything that had been done for her and her parents by the Blaynes. Aunt Frances was not pleased. But he’d made her understand the change in situation would go forward even if she didn’t agree with it.

  Now he sat with Sunny, once again in the Carsons’ drawing room. Her continued paleness caused him concern.

  “Did you sleep?”

  “Yes, I did. I didn’t think I would. I could hear the maids’ footfalls in the corridor. I kept feeling as though one of them would burst in at any moment.” She glanced away, flickering a nervous look about the chamber. Then she met his gaze once more. “Must I stay here?”

  Her tone was calm but her eyes implored him.

  He felt the pull of her fear, her anxiety, as strongly as if it were his own. Again, it disquieted him how acutely her emotions affected him.

  Even more disquieting was how hard it was for him to ignore the answering need to fulfill her desire. To ease her unhappiness and distress. The urgency pressed on him, making him restless. He shifted on the seat. His neckcloth pressed on his windpipe and he gave it a loosening jerk.

  His thoughts kept roiling. Returning to his discussion with Aunt Frances in the garden.

  Christ.

  He’d been so distracted by war and his need to climb the ranks, the need to bring honor and reward to the Blayne name, he had neglected this whole matter of Sunny and what had been done to her.

  At an age before she even knew her own mind, she had all but been sold by her parents, given to Aunt Frances as a virtual slave. A china doll to replace the daughter Frances never had.

  A perfect little lady, one who would never be allowed to grow up. Never allowed to have her own pursuits. Never allowed to have a normal marriage. Never allowed to be a mother.

  She hadn’t even been allowed a Season.

  Not even one Season.

  Never allowed her own free choice.

  Even he had tried to strip her of her free choice in the manner in which he had approached her, seducing her into a compromise that would have forced her to become his wife.

  He gave his cravat another jerk, more violently this time.

  Was that how the Blaynes reacted to life? Even to love? Use wealth and power to gain the obligation and to tie those they desired to themselves?

  The thought rested uneasily on his nerves and he focused his mind on the matter at hand.

  “You’re uncomfortable here?” he asked, needlessly.

  “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I need to be someplace where no one knows who I am.” She folded her hands in her lap.

  He could feel how hard she worked to appear composed, but her eyes held that touch of wildness.

  “Can’t we find a place like that? Will you take me there?” Her eyes implored him, touching him so deeply, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t deny her.

  “Of course we can go someplace like that. But I am afraid, on such short notice, that it won’t be very luxurious.”

  “I don’t care about hardship. I just want anonymity. Can we leave here soon?” Now her voice held a touch of anxiety. She reached to the hollow beneath her ear—the hollow where he longed to press his lips once more—and tugged a small curl loose and began to twist it about her finger.

  That simple gesture, so sensual yet so vulnerable, sent heated blood rushing into his loins. At the same time, it made him want to take her into his arms and shield her against the whole world.

  He realized too, how much it must have cost her to reach out to him. To ask for his aid in escaping from those who held
her in bonds of guilt and obligation. To ask for his aid in escaping from that abominable physician. She had taken a great risk in trusting him. James might have well ignored her pleas. He might have even betrayed her to Aunt Frances for her pleas for help and left her behind in a far more vulnerable position than before.

  He’d been a man of power and position with much responsibility. Yet he’d never been entrusted with such weighty matters in such a personal way by a woman. The idea that she had trusted him that much filled him with warmth. And maybe some hope.

  He wasn’t used to hope.

  “Very soon?” she asked softly.

  “Yes, we can leave as soon as you are ready.” He frowned. “Has anyone treated you poorly?”

  “No, they’ve been quite lovely. But I am nervous here. I feel as though they might be watching me.” She gave a weak laugh. “Lady Carson seems to know that I am dependent on laudanum.”

  Her gaze flickered to his, direct, cutting him to the bone. Was there a hint of accusation in her eyes?

  “Did she say something to you?” he asked, feeling that his neckcloth had perhaps shrunk again.

  “She asked how much I take daily.”

  Damn Donna for her meddling and not knowing when to hold her tongue. And damn him for being so rattled by the whole matter as to have confided in her to begin with. He was to blame. Accused and found guilty of sharing Sunny’s secrets. A profound sense of shame and remorse hit him hard. “I am sorry, Sunny, I shouldn’t have shared your—”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “I am accustomed to it, James. Everyone speculating about me, discussing me, watching me.”

  She was trying to appear unconcerned but he caught the hunted look in her eye. It hurt him. He felt an actual twinge in his chest. She shouldn’t have to be accustomed to such infringement on her dignity.

  He was the head of this family. He should have been here to be the one who made the final decision on how to handle Sunny’s…her what, exactly? Peccadillo? Is that how he should refer to it? That was certainly less painful than calling it what it was.