“I know, but if you will let me tell the story you will see that it is the darkest sort of fairy tale.”
Her smile winked out and her eyes grew wider.
“Now that I know you are an angler I will no longer be surprised at the scope of your knowledge. Are you an expert in globes and maps?”
“Not an expert, but I was very good at it in the schoolroom. I always wanted to visit the Galapagos. It has such a musical name. Tell me where to find Isla Mexicado.”
“Somewhere to the east of Mexico. That’s all I know. I have never found it on a map or globe and I think I may have been the first European to ever set foot there.”
“Oh my.” She was quiet a moment. “You are promising me that you are telling the truth?”
“Yes, Mia. I am.”
“Did they treat you as a god?”
“Most definitely not.” He stood.
She finished her toast and grabbed at his sleeve, her words coming out in a rush. “I was born in Naples. My mother died when I was three and my father and his sister took care of me until she married. I was nine, and so Papa and I managed alone. He played the harpsichord but his real genius was in building them.” She paused, lifting the teacup to her lips. “Now tell me how you escaped.”
“I didn’t.” Why was he doing this? It was like inviting her into his nightmare when she had enough of her own. “Sleep now and you can tell me more about Italy later.”
“But I want to know. I need to know what they did to you.”
His head was pounding, his admittedly limited patience pushed beyond bearing, so he told her the truth.
“Once they had nursed me to health they sold me into slavery.”
Chapter Twenty-one
MIA DID HER BEST not to choke on the tea. “David! Slavery! Dio mio, for how long?”
“A little more than three years.”
He remained standing, obviously eager to escape, but he was not such a coward. She would have the whole story. She stretched her hand out as she spoke, but he stepped away from the gesture. She dropped her hand and, with an effort, calmed her voice. “Did no one try to find you? How could that be?”
“The rest of the crew was drowned. The officers, too. According to the Admiralty I was among the dead.”
“But you were not. You were the only one to survive. Surely that was a gift from God.” His family. What they must have suffered to think him dead.
Now he did sink into the chair near her bed, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
“If surviving that storm was God’s idea of a gift, then the thought of what hell must be like terrifies me.”
She wished she had some brandy. This story was difficult for him and tea hardly seemed the right restorative. “How is it that you lived and no one else did?”
He opened his eyes and looked at her with both anger and anguish. “You do manage to ask the most pertinent questions.”
Waiting was hard, but Mia was afraid that if she urged him on he would leave. The silence lasted a little longer, and then he raised his hand and rubbed his forehead. “The only reason I survived was that I disobeyed the captain’s order and did not go below when the storm hit.”
“You disobeyed an order.”
“Yes.” He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and went on. “I was not a very successful midshipman.” He looked up at her hum of understanding. “Yes, I do prefer to be in charge, and if the shipwreck had not ended my naval career then I would have been sent home a failure after that first voyage.”
“Well, I see that one could hardly call the shipwreck a blessing, but you did survive. Both the sinking and your captivity.”
“Damn times ten, Mia. If you repeat a word of this to anyone I swear I will cut your tongue out.”
She pressed her lips together, actually believing him for a moment. “I will never tell anyone, David. I swear in the Virgin’s name.” Then she gave him the most generous gift she could. “You do not have to tell me any more tonight. Not if it’s too difficult.”
“It’s the last thing you need. You have been sick and are weak.” He seemed to consider what she offered but did not move from the chair.
“It is exactly what I need to make me appreciate how minor an inconvenience this illness is. And perfectly timed, as I was just beginning to feel sorry for myself.” That was a lie, but he nodded.
“There is not much to tell. It was a bestial existence, all physical work and punishment which I managed to avoid because I was young and strong.”
Mia let him tell the story in all its hideous vagueness.
“When I had been there so long I had almost forgotten my other life, a man came to the island, recognized me for a European, and bought me.” He stopped and thought a moment.
Mia was sure he was editing the story for his female audience. She had no idea how she was so sure of that, but she waited, then finally asked, “Was he English?”
“No, he was Spanish, from Mexico. He took me to Mexico City and I spent the next few years earning my way to England.”
“And paying the man back,” she added.
“Yes.”
“Why did you not write your father for help?”
“Damn it to hell, Mia. I was a total and complete failure. I was not about to beg him to send money so I could come home. I knew they thought me dead, so what would it hurt to wait another year or two so I could come back with something besides a borrowed suit of clothes?” Now he did stand up, angry and humiliated. “But I paid a price for that, too. When I did come home to Pennford I found that my mother had died the year before. So I failed even her. The one I missed most of all.”
Mia stared at the canopy and would not let him see her tears.
“Now try to sleep,” he said brusquely. “And if you have more nightmares do not blame me.”
He left, and Mia let him go without a word. When the door closed, ever so quietly, she blessed herself, a papist habit that was an odd comfort, even after all these years, and prayed for the boy and the man who had lost so much.
I WAS A TOTAL and complete failure. The words had haunted Mia for days, but there was no chance that she would hear an explanation any time soon. Not only was the house filled with servants again, but Lord David had scrupulously avoided her company. He had not come back to her room, and even now that she was up and dressed for the first time she had seen no sign of him all day.
She sat on the terrace at the back of the house. The warm air and sun felt wonderful and the late breakfast of coddled eggs and bread had been perfect.
If it were not for the nagging questions about Lord David’s past, Mia would not have a complaint in the world. During the two days she had been abed, everything had changed.
Janina had arrived the very next morning. She spoke for Romero as well as herself when she fell onto Mia’s bed, crying with remorse. “Was it not awful, signorina? Romero’s mother says she will eat one as a penance, which is nonsense. She is old and could die, so I have sent him to destroy every one remaining. I am so sorry that the coachman died, but it was not really because of the sweets.” Janina had convinced herself that it was the hot day that had caused him to pass out and fall, not the poisioned sweet. No one needed that on their conscience.
Mia patted her head soothingly and let the tears flow until Nina was quiet beside her. It felt so good to have her nearby. When Nina was composed again, Mia went on.
“I have convinced myself it was a kind of adventure. One that has made me much more sympathetic to your travel sickness.”
“By the grace of God, Mia, I think you could be on your way to the guillotine and call it another kind of adventure.”
“Well, yes, I would, leading to the greatest adventure of all.”
“Only you would describe death that way,” Nina said, crossing herself as she spoke.
How could sisters view life so differently? Mia wondered, and changed the subject. “I will regain my strength more quickly than you have, Nina. You were sick fr
om the carriage as well. Do you need to rest now?”
“No, I feel in excellent health.” She yawned. “I am only tired from three days of travel.”
“Three days?” The trip was less than fifty miles.
“Romero is so clever. He drove me here in a dog cart that he rented and the fresh air kept me from being ill. Sometimes when I was feeling not quite well, I would walk a little. It was an excellent trip. If I can ride outside and we go slowly enough, I do not think I will ever have a trouble traveling again.”
Three days to go less than fifty miles. Mia thought she would go mad if she had to travel that slowly, but it was a problem she would bring up later.
The sweet sounds of summer enthralled her. Mia closed her eyes, breathing in the smell of newly cut grass, the scent of summer flowers, and fell into a doze where she was as much a part of nature as the shrubs and trees.
She half dreamed of David sharing the day with her and wondered if he ever made the time to enjoy the world he lived in instead of planning for the world he wanted.
Mia heard the door open and opened her eyes to find Janina watching her. “I feel wonderful.” Mia hurried to speak before Janina could ask if she was feeling ill again. “It is wonderful out here. I was just thinking that Lord David should take some time to enjoy such perfect weather. Where is he?”
“In the study and asked to be left alone unless you take ill again. He says we will leave for Pennford as soon as you are well, but not for at least another two days to be sure you are strong enough.”
With that news the hope that she and Lord David would have any time alone together faded to nothing. And so it had been for the last twenty-four hours. Now that she was dressed and on her feet again, she would have to return the books she had borrowed. That would give her an excuse to see him, if only for a moment.
Nonsense. She did not need an excuse. Regardless of how he treated her, she was not a servant. He had held her through her nightmares and told her his, or at least the bare bones of it. After that they should not have to stand on ceremony.
She stood, drew a bracing breath of the warm summer air, went into the house, and moved briskly across the hall to the study. After a perfunctory tap at the door, she waltzed into the room without waiting for permission to enter. Exactly as he had done to her a dozen times before. The room smelled of books and leather, though the room was only half filled with shelves. A billiard table took up more space than the library table.
The weak light of the north-facing room was augmented by candles and the huge chandelier over the billiard table.
Mia said nothing, watching the way his fingers traced something he was studying. After nearly a minute of silence, Lord David looked up from the paper and stood as quickly. “You are among us again.”
“Yes.” She curtsied and he bowed to her. Rather a nice beginning. “What are you examining so intently?”
He stayed behind the table and she came farther into the room.
“I am trying to familiarize myself with Newcomen’s steam engine. I have to decide between his and Watt’s. Both are proven, and their prices are comparable. I have to present my choice and reasoning to Meryon.” He shrugged off business. “I can’t imagine you came to learn about the mill.”
“I am very interested in it, my lord.” She sat in the chair across from him. “Would you care to practice your presentation? I am a very good audience.”
He gave her a smile Mia pretended was not patronizing and launched into a description of what his cotton mill would do. There did appear to be such a machine as a “slubber.” It was used to draw out the loose fibers from the carding machine. The slubber twisted the fibers together to make them strong enough for the next step in the process.
She stopped him once or twice and asked basic questions, and finally he finished with “the cotton is then ready for weaving.”
“All that, and you still have so much more to do before it is calico or some such fabric.”
“Yes, and that process is as complicated. And now that Sebold has withdrawn from the partnership I have decided to reconsider where to build the mill. It will take much more study but I am inclined to favor Birmingham.” He spoke the last as much to himself as to her.
“Well, I can see why you spend so much time working.”
David nodded, his eyes already drifting back to the papers in front of him.
Not before I have my reward, Mia thought. “I need some exercise and you need some time away from this desk. I think your shoulders are beginning to grow rounded and you are definitely starting to squint.”
He straightened and then stopped himself from raising a hand to rub his eyes.
“Shall I ring for tea or would you prefer to go for a stroll?”
He didn’t say anything, but did begin to stand.
“I wanted to thank you for confiding in me about your time away from home.” She was rather proud of her discreet description of his shipwreck and slavery, but the sense of good humor Mia had felt in him disappeared.
“It is not something I will ever talk about again.”
Not only had his good humor disappeared, anger was only a breath away.
“But why the change of heart, David? I thought we were becoming friends.”
“Your maid has arrived and the house is filled with servants again. Our quarantine is over. Life returns to normal.”
“And you will never talk to me again? I am now no more than a silly woman who is not worth any of your time?”
“Mia, do not paint me heartless. It’s just that I am no longer at your beck and call.”
That hurt, but at least he was using her given name. He had not forgotten everything.
“We both said things that it would be unwise to think on too long,” he went on, twisting the knife deeper. “You were, and are, in good hands now, with people who can give you better care than I can. What we shared here is in the past.”
“You make it sound as though we had a torrid affair and now it must end.” How stupid, she thought, swallowing over the lump in her throat. Nothing made her more angry than stupid men.
“We may not have been intimate, but society will find that hard to believe if we continue to spend time together, to share stories better forgotten, and if we are seen as friends rather than barely cordial relatives.” He sat down again.
He shuffled a few of his papers and then looked at her. The measuring expression he wore told her the real reason he was trying to discourage her. He was afraid that he had told her too much. Afraid of allowing her to know him any better.
“You said once that you would never marry me,” he said. “And I have no desire to marry you, or any woman. So you had best leave me alone for the next two days lest we be forced into that situation by appearances.”
“All right, if you insist.” Mia came closer to him, determined to show him that it was not so easy to cut short what had grown between them. She half sat on the edge of the table so that she had only to lean down and turn her head to touch his face with her lips. “Thank you for taking care of me, for holding me, for staying with me all night.” She brushed her lips against his cheek. He hadn’t shaved today and the feel of his whiskers made her lips tingle.
She delighted in his warmth, in the feel of the muscles in his arm when she touched it. The smell of tobacco, leather, and ink was as distinctly a part of him as his blond hair and blue eyes. She closed her eyes and realized that she could find David Pennistan in a group by his scent alone.
Mia buried her face in his neck and could feel the pulse racing. “I want you to hold me again. Now that I am healthy you do not have to be so careful.”
David pushed her away from him. If she had not been leaning against the table she would have fallen to the floor.
“Damnation, woman! Have you ever considered being a courtesan? You have everything one needs. You are beautiful, graceful, talented, and as selfish as the best of them. And most important of all, you know exactly how to bend a man to the breaking
point.”
He yanked her to him and began to kiss her with such a ferocious passion that her knees weakened and she sat on the table to keep from falling.
Pushing her legs apart, he moved his body between them, without ending the assault on her senses.
She barely had a moment to think: Did she want this?
Yes, she did. Her body knew it was what she wanted more than anything else.
More than a sensible engagement.
More than a cautious courtship.
She wanted to be swept off her feet and into a world where nothing mattered but the way it felt to have this man lose control and share all the passion he had with her.
But a small, barely coherent spot in her brain knew it would be a mistake. Even as he pulled her hips closer to his arousal, even as he teased her breast through the thin dress she wore, even as she pulled him closer, Mia knew this was the wrong way to start. It would end before it began and he would hate her for it. They had bypassed any number of steps along the way, important steps.
“Stop,” she breathed against his neck. He didn’t hear her or didn’t listen.
“No!” she said, more forcefully. “Stop right now.” Her body arched to him, making her words a lie, and she thought that she could no more stop than he could.
“No, David. Not like this.”
Some part of him heard her and he stopped kissing her. He still held her close, both of them breathing hard as they tried to gather some self-control.
He stepped back, his face filled with anger, his body still aroused.
“If you slap me, Mia, I swear before God that I will slap you back. This is what you have been asking for since we first set out on this trip. Do not dare deny it.”
She swallowed hard against a protest.
“Now leave this room and do not come near me again in private.”
Mia nodded and stumbled toward the door. She paused and turned back to him. “I’m sorry, David.”
He made a sound like a disgusted laugh, and sat down to continue working.
WHEN THE DOOR CLOSED with a click, David threw his pen down and swore when ink spattered over the plans for the cotton mill. As he blotted the spots, he cursed the pen, the paper, the tabletop, yesterday’s rain, today’s sun, and the hopeless mess that tomorrow was sure to be.
Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 04] Page 17