Mariah shivered, knowing full well what his statement meant.
“What shall we do about it?” she asked as they rode together openly in the late morning sunlight.
“We must be more careful,” he said. “And I must begin to show interest in another woman.”
“Lady Westlake?”
“I can’t think of a better. If I’m courting her, her little theory is apt to be ruined, don’t you think?”
“How do you intend to engage her…affections?”
He gave her a long, probing look. “I have my ways,” he said.
And how could he not? He was astonishingly handsome, well formed, charming when he wished to be. Even Lady Westlake, with her apparent devotion to the earl, might easily fall when the right kind of influence was applied. A little flattery and flirtation…
“You won’t be able to help me with Ash if you’re occupied with Pamela,” Mariah said.
“Oh, I’ll manage to steal some time away.” He frowned at her. “Be very careful, Merry. In the asylum, you had others to come to your aid. You will be alone with Ash.”
Mariah felt ill. “How did you know about the asylum?”
“Donnington mentioned it to me sometime or other. In any event, I’ll keep myself informed of our charge’s progress. If he does well, then I will contribute what I can to molding whatever gentlemanly qualities he possesses.”
“I’m convinced,” Mariah said, finding her feet again, “that he’ll continue to learn very quickly.”
“And then? Have you thought about the future, Merry?”
“We must not move too fast,” she said. “Have you learned more of his identity?”
He shook his head, clearly preoccupied. Mariah glanced toward the house. It was near noon now, time for luncheon, and Sinjin had decided to beard the lioness in her den by inviting himself to the meal.
He gave Shaitan a gentle kick and rode for the house. Mariah urged Germanicus into a trot, filled with doubt about Sinjin’s tactics. Would the dowager confront them? It seemed unlikely, given the severity of their supposed “crime.”
Luncheon was strained, as Mariah had expected. The dowager stared at both of them when she thought they didn’t notice. It was evident that the dowager Lady Donnington was bursting with questions she dared not ask.
Mariah was deeply uncomfortable, but she was willing to endure the discomfort. She had only begun to realize that if the dowager continued to harbor her nasty suspicions, she would be unlikely to search for another lover and find Ash by accident.
The meal ended at last. Sinjin had obviously run out of small talk, at which he was generally adept, and looked pained at his mother’s icy reception. Mariah excused herself to her room when Sinjin left to ride back to Rothwell.
She spent the entire day planning Ash’s education and considering what to bring him next. Histories of England and America would be useful. Still, there were only so many books he could study at one time.
And what about the future? Sinjin’s question had been a legitimate one. She hadn’t allowed herself to think much beyond setting Ash free and confirming his identity. But what would happen when he was fit for society and they were certain that he was indeed who they believed him to be?
What if he should relapse into insanity even after they felt sure of him?
She remembered Ash’s touch, his breath on her lips, on her neck, stirring her hair. She could feel again his unbridled masculinity, bold and unashamed. Was that insanity?
Feeling suddenly feverish, Mariah sat down before her dressing-table mirror and slowly unbound her hair. That was what Ash did to her…made her feel unbound. Free of convention, free of expectation, free to pursue her own forbidden desires.
She touched her lips, wondering what it would be like if he kissed her. When he kissed her…
She began to put her hair up again but dropped the pins and ended up with a rat’s nest of dark curls. I shall not surrender. Not to this…this lust. I shall be sensible, logical, sane….
And faithful. For as long as it took.
“IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO tell me, Nola,” Vivian said harshly. “I already know.”
The little maid shrank in her chair at her mistress’s tone. And why not? Vivian thought. She had utterly failed to bring forth any useful information. It had been Lady Westlake who had confirmed her suspicions.
And then Mariah had the gall to bring her lover into my home. My own son.
“It isn’t Mr. Ware, your ladyship.”
Vivian emerged from her ghastly musings and stared at the maid. “What did you say, girl?”
“I watched her ladyship, just as you instructed, ma’am,” Nola said. “I saw her with someone. Someone who wasn’t Lord Donnington’s brother.”
The revelation was too unexpected for Vivian to take in all at once. She had been so certain, even though she had prayed that her fears were groundless.
Nola might be lying. But what could she possibly have to gain by doing so?
“Who was this person?” Vivian demanded.
“I don’t know, your ladyship. Only that he has white hair.”
White hair? Would Mariah, so young herself, take an elderly man as a lover?
Vivian released her breath. If Mariah had been seeing a different man all along, she no longer need fear that Sinjin had cast aside his honor for that horrid girl.
“You must find out who he is, this man with white hair,” she said. She opened the small purse that she had placed beside her on the tea table and poured a number of coins into her hand. “Take these, and hide them. You shall receive more if you succeed in learning this man’s name.”
“Yes, madam.” Nola rose and accepted the coins Vivian offered, then left hurriedly when Vivian dismissed her.
Perhaps now, Vivian thought, it would be safe to approach Sinjin privately, even apologize if necessary. Lovers or not, he and Mariah were obviously close. She might even learn something new that she could use against the hussy.
If only Donnington were here…
She bowed her head into her knotted hands and began to weep.
A WEEK PASSED WITH no sign of Sinjin.
Mariah assumed that he was occupied with courting Lady Westlake and easing her suspicions as well as his mother’s. Nola had come to Mariah shortly after that day at the cottage and informed her mistress that the dowager now absolved her of any improper relationship with Mr. Ware.
Feeling both more vulnerable and as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, Mariah devoted every night, from midnight ’til dawn, exclusively to Ash. Though he showed no sign of being able to read, he was a quick study. He rapidly expanded his vocabulary, and asked incessant questions about everything and anything that entered his mind.
When she finished the book about the rancher in Cochise County, he demanded further descriptions of the forbidding landscape, the cattle, the hard and capable men who fought man and beast for their livelihoods. He hung on every word when she shared a little of her early childhood in the same unsparing environment.
And always, always, he was close to her. Too close. He circled the table like a pacing tiger, pausing to sniff at her hair, pulling his chair beside hers so that their shoulders nearly touched. His clothing might disguise his body, but her memories of his nakedness would not let her be. She both longed for and dreaded Sinjin’s return.
One early morning he came, scowling and impatient. He reported that he had been spending considerable time with Lady Westlake, but that he couldn’t stand the woman.
“Your protégé had better make some progress soon,” he said, casting Ash an almost hostile glance.
“What further progress have you made in learning about his origins?” Mariah asked, beginning to feel put out herself.
“I am still waiting for information to arrive from America. You can scarcely expect it to take less than several weeks, if not months.”
“Then how can you expect Ash to regain his memory in a few days? He already knows a grea
t deal more than he did a week ago. He—”
“I am here,” Ash said, rising from his chair at the table. “Speak to me.”
They both turned to stare at him. Mariah flushed. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
“You should leave,” Ash said, holding Sinjin’s gaze.
“And you should put on different clothing,” Sinjin said, sniffing audibly.
“That is my fault,” Mariah said. “I can’t go on taking clothes from Donnington’s room, and I must be very cautious in ordering a new wardrobe unless I have packages sent to another address. Can you lend him some of yours?”
“I do not want anything from him,” Ash said.
Sinjin ignored Ash’s pronouncement and addressed Mariah. “Very well. If you can guarantee he’ll look better than a monkey in them.”
Mariah barely restrained herself from taking both men by the shoulders and giving them a good shake. “Sinjin,” she said, “I believe I am making good progress with Ash’s education. If you can provide a few additional things he needs, that will be most appreciated.”
“And what of your education, Merry?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You’re alone with a single man of uncertain origins. What is he teaching you?”
She clenched her fists. “You have made such insinuations before. Do I take it that you have assumed your mother’s position regarding my supposed lack of morality?”
His expression lost its harshness. “I’m sorry, Merry,” he said. “Pamela’s less than admirable behavior has apparently polluted my mind. I’m unfit for any decent woman’s company.”
“Yes,” Ash growled. “Get out.”
The air crackled with tension, but Sinjin chose not to engage in yet another battle. He turned to go.
Merry caught his arm.
“Then don’t torment yourself with that woman,” she said.
“I can’t just drop her. It’s gone too far, Merry.”
“What do you mean, gone too far?”
He avoided her gaze. “I did tell you that she was one of those apt to ignore her marriage vows.”
Mariah let go of him. “You mean…are you saying that you and she…”
“It would hardly be the first time. For either one of us.”
Between one moment and the next, Sinjin became a stranger. His appearance hadn’t changed. He was still her friend, her loyal companion.
But he was not the man she had known. Rumors were one thing; no one in his right mind would have taken the dowager’s grotesque speculations seriously. But Sinjin had just admitted that he was engaged in an affair with a married woman.
“You would have found out sooner or later,” Sinjin said. “I’m no monk, Mariah. You may think you’re the teacher, but you’ve got a great deal to learn about the ways of the world.”
Without another word he turned on his heel and left the cottage. Ash stood beside his chair, his fists working open and closed, open and closed.
“I don’t want his help,” he said.
Mariah returned to the table and fingered the pages of the book she had been reading. “You will need it eventually. Sinjin is far better suited than I to teach you a true gentleman’s behavior.”
“Does he know what gentleman means?”
He couldn’t possibly have understood her exchange with Sinjin, she thought, but he had struck a little too close to the truth.
“We are none of us perfect,” she said. “You must learn the proper manner of speaking, addressing others…basic courtesies, certain ways of doing things.”
He swung into another of his lightning-quick changes of topic. “Ware said he was not a monk. What is that?”
“A—a monk is a man who doesn’t consort…spend time with women.”
Silver brows lifted. “He has mated with Westlake?”
There were definite disadvantages in his ability to learn quickly. “Whatever he has done, it has been for your good.”
“Because we are family.”
They had returned to the subject she had hoped to avoid a little while longer, but it was safer than the one he had been pursuing.
“We believe,” she began, and found her own chair. “We believe that you are the son of the dowager’s sister. You are Sinjin’s cousin.”
“Is that like a brother?”
“In many ways. The dowager’s sister went to America long ago. That is why we believe you may have come from there.”
“The place in the book.”
“Yes.”
His black eyes searched hers, and then he demanded that she read to him again. But the sun was coming up, and Mariah knew she had to get back to the house.
“More books,” he told her, as she started for the door.
She was too agitated to laugh. “Yes, Ash. More books.”
He gave her one of those rare and beautiful smiles that seemed to catch the rising sun and fill his eyes with radiance. It was difficult to leave him.
But when she thought of the meadow, and his nearness during their reading sessions, it was much easier to run away.
“DONNINGTON? IMPOSSIBLE.”
Vivian’s voice rang too loudly in the cool evening air of the garden. This interview, unlike the others, had been held outside, for Vivian no longer felt it safe to conduct them within the house.
Especially not now.
“Utter nonsense,” she said more quietly, turning with a hiss of her skirts. “If you do not start providing me with truthful information, my girl, you will soon find yourself discharged without a reference.”
Nola appeared chastened and humble, her gaze averted downward and her shoulders hunched. Vivian wasn’t deceived. If this girl weren’t a practiced liar, she was certainly possessed of a fantastic imagination.
Donnington, indeed. As if her son would return home and not come immediately to Donbridge.
“White hair,” she said sharply. “You said this man had white hair.”
“Yes, your ladyship,” the maid whispered.
“Then it cannot be the earl. His hair is jet-black.”
Which was not precisely true. It had been going a little gray of late, as was not unexpected in a man of one and thirty years. As earl, Donnington had been burdened with more than his share of worries.
But white? Some said a great shock could turn even the darkest hair pale. Could Donnington have endured such a shock during his mysterious absence?
Even giving the idea the slightest credence made Vivian furious with herself. “Your eyes deceived you,” she told Nola. “I will give you one final chance. Provide me with something useful and you shall remain employed. Until that time, your salary is ended.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“One last chance, Nola. No more ridiculous stories. Am I clear?”
The girl curtseyed so deeply that Vivian might have suspected irony in the genuflection. If Vivian had dared to confide in any of the other servants and ask for help, she would have discarded the girl in an instant. But she couldn’t afford such a luxury.
She was about to dismiss Nola when she caught a glimpse of something in the girl’s face that she didn’t understand. It wasn’t pity. If it had been, she would have discharged the girl on the spot.
No, it was a kind of patient understanding, as if Vivian were the young, foolish girl, and Nola the elder and wiser. It made Vivian feel very small, very uncertain.
“Get out!” she cried. Nola scurried away like a little mouse, and Vivian told herself that what she had seen had merely been an illusion.
FIVE DAWNS LATER, Ash followed Mariah to Donbridge.
She knew she was a fool not to have expected it. A man of Ash’s vitality and will would not long be content to remain in any sort of captivity after spending weeks, perhaps even months, in a cage.
He was defiant when she asked him to return to the cottage. She wondered if she’d only imagined that his tone of voice was different, his manner of speech a little more refined than it had been a few days ago. But he remained stubborn
, and she was compelled to escort him back to the cottage and remain with him another hour, reading A History of England, before he would agree to stay.
As a result, she returned to the house after dawn, and was forced to endure the dowager’s icy demeanor and barely veiled hostility. When she deigned to speak at all, Vivian spitefully asked why her daughter-in-law no longer received invitations to teas and luncheons from her fellow matrons in the neighborhood.
Mariah knew the answer, of course. “Distracted” by Sinjin or not, Lady Westlake had undoubtedly encouraged talk that Mariah was not all she ought to be, even if Sinjin had been absolved of any wrongdoing. It was an excellent thing that Mariah had long since abandoned any pretensions of becoming a real part of high society, here or in America.
If you were a part of it, she told herself as she tried to recoup her lost sleep with a midday nap, you would not be seeing Ash.
And that thought was very nearly unbearable.
She slept fitfully until evening, went down to dinner—minus the dowager, who obviously had no desire to see her—and waited impatiently for nightfall. She followed her usual roundabout path to the cottage and lingered outside for a good twenty minutes before she approached it.
As always, Ash seemed pleased to see her, though his demeanor was sober after their quarrel, and he made few comments as she sat down to read more of A History of England. She noticed that the as-yet-untouched novels had been shifted about, and she briefly wondered if Ash had been attempting to put her lessons on the alphabet to use. She cherished the hope but kept it to herself.
The night fled quickly, as did the subsequent three. Every evening found Ash a little more fluent in his speech, a little more swift to pick up the words Mariah pointed out to him. Four nights after she’d completed A History of England and had begun on a survey of the states of the American West, she dared to enter Donnington’s library to gather a new set of books. The moment she stepped into the room she felt a prickle of awareness lodge in her spine.
Someone was in the room with her, someone so quiet and still that she had not been able to detect his presence until now.
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