A Momentary Marriage

by Candace Camp

  Little likelihood of that, Laura thought sourly as she went inside her chamber. It was ridiculous. She had spent her entire life sleeping alone, but now her room seemed empty without him there. She could not escape the constant humming memory of his kiss—the way his arms had gone around her, his body lean and hard against hers, his lips wonderfully soft.

  How could James remain so indifferent? She had felt the passion in him; she could not be mistaken. But deep down she knew the answer to her question. James might desire her, but she was not the wife he wanted. Now that he was getting better, he realized what a mistake he had made in marrying Laura.

  She could never hope to match the paragon of cool self-sufficiency that he had wanted for a wife. When he had first described his ideal wife to her, she had been amused. Now she found it difficult to laugh about it.

  Other men might settle for something less, might let passion overcome their intentions. But not James. He would suppress whatever spark he might feel until it was utterly smothered. Laura supposed it was fortunate that she was no longer in his company as often. It would be easier for her to regain her equilibrium without him around.

  The only problem was that being apart from James was the last thing she wanted.

  Laura was sitting in the garden the following afternoon when she looked up and saw Abigail walking toward her. She jumped to her feet, smiling. “Abigail! How nice to see you.”

  Smiling, Abby took her hand in greeting. “When Graeme said he was coming to call on James, Mirabelle and I decided to join him. We’ve been in the drawing room visiting with Aunt Tessa and the others.”

  “Is that why you fled to the garden?”

  Abby laughed. “It was a bit dull.” She slipped her arm through Laura’s and they turned to stroll deeper into the garden. “How is Anna?” Laura asked.

  “Delightful, of course.” Abby grinned. “You must come visit us and see her again. It seems as if every day she’s doing something new.”

  “Thank you. I shall.”

  “You know, I am quite determined we shall become friends.”

  Laura glanced at the other woman, startled. “I should like that, as well.”

  “I hope I’m not too blunt. I hate to hint at things.”

  “I don’t mind,” Laura assured her. “I prefer to be straightforward myself. And I would value our friendship. You’ve already done a great deal for me.”

  “We’ve . . . exchanged favors,” Abby agreed. “But I would like there to be more between us. When I first met you, I thought, well, finally, here’s a woman in England I could be friends with.”

  “I liked you, as well,” Laura told her. “It’s just—”

  “Graeme. I know. It’s awkward. But I’m hoping it doesn’t have to be.” Abigail came to a stop and gazed earnestly into Laura’s eyes. “Graeme has told me what good friends the two of you were; you’re important to him. So is James. I don’t want there to be anything that hinders that closeness.”

  “I feel the same.”

  “Good.” Abigail began walking again. “I will tell you that I was jealous of you when I first saw you. So lovely and English and blond. So well bred.”

  “Oh, Abigail, no . . .”

  “Don’t worry.” Abigail smiled at her. “Graeme has convinced me of his love for me. I’m not jealous. I wanted to make sure you know that. But I didn’t know . . . whether the situation would be difficult for you.”

  “You mean, do I still pine for Graeme?” Laura asked wryly.

  “Yes.” Abigail turned her vivid green eyes on Laura, serious, even sympathetic. “I don’t want to cause you pain. But now that you have married James, I hoped it meant you no longer felt the same about Graeme.”

  “Since you are so honest with me, I must be with you, as well. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about James. But I am quite sure I don’t wish I was married to Graeme. Seeing how happy Graeme is, I could not feel any way but pleased.”

  “Really?” Abby’s expression was one of such astonishment that Laura had to laugh.

  “Yes. Really.”

  “If I knew that Graeme was happier with a woman other than me, I think I’d want to scratch her eyes out. His, too! No, I’d want to do worse than that to him,” Abby mused.

  “I think perhaps you love Graeme in a way I don’t. A way I’m not sure I ever did. Graeme is dear to me; we were friends for years. But I didn’t—I mean, when James—” Her words stumbled to a halt, her cheeks turning fiery.

  “My goodness, don’t stop there,” Abby said. “When James what? Has he—I mean, I thought he was so ill he . . . I’m sorry. I’m too inquisitive. I beg your pardon.”

  “No, I’d—frankly, I’d like to talk to someone. But I can’t talk to Tessa about James. Or Mirabelle. And Patricia and Adelaide are . . . um . . .”

  “No need to explain. I’ve met Patricia and Adelaide.”

  Laura smiled, but her cheeks were still flaming. “It’s embarrassing. You probably don’t want to hear such things.”

  “My dear, this is exactly the sort of thing I want to hear,” Abby said, with such an easy droll manner that Laura relaxed.

  “Very well.” Laura took a deep breath and began. “Obviously, ours was not a love match. James and I weren’t friends—just the opposite. I was stunned when he proposed.”

  “Perhaps he had been harboring a secret passion for you all these years?” Abby suggested.

  “James?” Laura laughed. “You have met him, haven’t you?”

  “Well . . .” Abby shrugged. “I hoped it was something terribly romantic.”

  “Not at all romantic. But very kind. He’s a good man, however much he tries to hide it. I have come to care for him.”

  “Do you love him?”

  Laura hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s not the same.”

  “As it was with Graeme?”

  Laura nodded. “I don’t think James is wonderful or that he’s a perfect example of a man, as I did Graeme. James is excessively irritating sometimes. He’s aloof. He’s very . . . sealed off, somehow. I don’t know him; I’m not sure I’ll ever really know him. He doesn’t want anyone to. But I enjoy being with him. It makes me happy just to see him. And I feel—I have such—” A flush spread across her cheeks and she glanced at Abby, then away. “I want him.” Her words came out barely above a whisper.

  “Ah.”

  “I tell myself I shouldn’t.”

  “Why not? He’s your husband; it seems quite permissible to me.”

  “But I’m not sure that I love him. I am sure he will never love me. And that makes it just lust, doesn’t it?”

  “Perhaps it’s not sacred. But it’s legal.” Abby smiled, her eyes twinkling. “And James is very pleasing to the eye.”

  Laura laughed, though her cheeks still burned. “He is, isn’t he? It gives me shivers when he smiles in that wicked way, as if he knows something is sinful but he wants you to enjoy it with him anyway. His eyes light up silver, and he has such disgustingly thick black eyelashes. And when he kisses me, I—” She stopped, words failing her, and shook her head. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”

  “Oh, you should. You absolutely should,” Abby told her. “So the situation is thus: you’re married, and he wants you, and you want him.”

  “It sounds terribly silly when you put it like that, doesn’t it?”

  “No. I understand. You’re like Graeme. You want to do what’s right, and just because something is acceptable doesn’t mean it’s right.”

  “I’m not even sure James desires me.”

  “You just said he kissed you. I doubt it was charity.”

  “Yes, but it was when James was in a fever. He was delirious, out of his head. That’s not very encouraging, is it?”

  “He hasn’t kissed you any other time?”

  “At the ceremony, of course, and once here in the garden, but that was just for show. He didn’t want his relatives to know how ill he was.” Laura added in a rush, “And also the other day.”
>
  “Then he’s kissed you four times. We’ll dismiss the wedding kiss, and I’ll even omit the one ‘for show,’ though it seems to me that kissing someone isn’t necessary to prove you aren’t ill. There’s one when he’s feverish, which is open for debate. That still leaves you with one kiss that was clearly intentional.”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  “With no other motive than that he wanted to. Do you think James goes about giving out kisses indiscriminately?”

  Laura laughed. “No, definitely not. But after he kissed me, he jerked away as if he’d touched a hot stove and began to talk about the boundaries of our agreement. Then he told me he was going to move back into his bedroom.”

  “Boundaries? What do you mean?”

  “What we agreed to at the beginning—you know, that it would be a marriage in name only.”

  “But that was when he thought he was about to die. I cannot imagine he wants an entire lifetime of celibacy. Nor can I see why he would kiss you if he didn’t want to.”

  “Then why did he pull away?”

  “I don’t know. Men are odd creatures. You said James doesn’t want anyone to really know him. Maybe he’s afraid that if he went further, he would be revealing too much of himself. That he would . . . I don’t know, be handing you the key to unlock him.”

  “But he has slept with other women. I’m sure of it.”

  “No doubt. But there’s a good deal of difference between a mistress and a wife. A man can lie with a prostitute and take the pleasure, but he doesn’t give up anything of himself.”

  “It’s a business proposition. A contract. James likes contracts.”

  “Exactly. It’s an exchange: he gives her money and she gives him, well, you know. But when there are feelings involved, when you are close to someone, it isn’t a barter, but a mutual sharing, and he would be giving you not money, but something of himself. Then he can be hurt.”

  “But so can I.”

  “True. It’s a risky endeavor.” Abby smiled. “But well worth it, I think. James wants you; all he needs is a little push.”

  “A push?” Laura looked at her, intrigued.

  “Yes. An alluring dress. A little flirtation. That sort of thing.”

  Laura looked doubtful. “I haven’t any alluring dresses.” She waved her hand down her dress.

  “Get some new ones. I doubt James would begrudge you a new wardrobe.”

  Laura laughed. “It irritates him that I haven’t bought any new clothes. I believe he thinks I’m dowdy.”

  “Maybe he just wants to give you something.”

  “Maybe.” Laura could not help but smile at that thought. “I haven’t had the time to go to London on a shopping expedition. I’ll be in mourning for months yet, and it seems wasteful to buy new clothes in black and then not wear them when the year is up.”

  “Hasn’t Tessa told you it’s never a waste to buy a beautiful dress?”

  “No, but I’m sure she would agree.”

  “In the meantime . . . I have several black gowns that I wore after my grandfather’s death. They’re a little behind in fashion, but that won’t matter. We’ll have to hem them, of course, but Molly can do it in a trice. Trust me, you’ll have James wondering why he was ever foolish enough to want a marriage ‘in name only.’ ” Abigail linked her arm through Laura’s. “Now, what do you say we sit down on this lovely bench and make plans?”

  Laura grinned. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

  chapter 27

  James stood at the window and brooded. He had been in his office since luncheon, and so far he had accomplished nothing. He had been trying for the past two weeks to get back into the routine of business, but his efforts had proved largely futile. It wasn’t that numbers still eluded him; in that sense his mind had been steadily improving.

  The problem was that his thoughts kept stubbornly going in a different direction. All he could think of these days was Laura. Laura with her hair down. Laura curled up in bed beside him. Laura undressed. Her body beneath his, her legs parting to take him in.

  With a growl, he turned away from the window. He would drive himself insane this way. He was beginning to think that the mercury had destroyed whatever part of his brain contained his willpower. Demosthenes, who had done no more than raise his head when James left the desk, now did not bother to do even that, just followed him with his eyes, then went back to sleep. The dog had become accustomed to James’s recent fits and starts.

  For the last two weeks James had sought the refuge of his office in the hopes that removing himself from Laura’s presence would ease his hunger for her. It had worked as well as removing himself from her bedroom, which was to say, not at all. It just meant that he spent his time daydreaming about her like a moonstruck calf instead of having the pleasure of her company.

  James was beginning to decide he was a fool.

  There were voices in the entry and the clatter of footsteps, along with high-pitched feminine laughter. Someone had come to call on Tessa. When the knock sounded on his door a moment later, he muffled a groan. The last thing he wanted was to have to go out and make polite conversation with his mother and her friends.

  In the next moment, though, he heard Graeme say, “James?”

  He opened the door. “Graeme. Thank God it’s you.”

  “Hiding in your office?” Graeme asked with a smile.

  “Of course. Is Lady Eugenia here, too?” James cast a cautious glance down the corridor.

  “No, thank heavens.” Graeme bent to give Demosthenes the greeting he expected, then straightened. “I took her back two days ago. I’m not exactly sure why it was necessary that I accompany her. She had her maid with her.”

  “I’m sure the sole reason is that she knew she could bully you into it.”

  Graeme sighed. “She has a way of making it so that one has to be rude not to do what she asks.”

  “You should try it.” James sat down, and Graeme took the chair across from him.

  Graeme smiled faintly. “You manage to do it without resorting to rudeness.”

  “That’s because she knows I will be if she presses.”

  “How are you feeling?” Graeme asked. “You’re looking much better.”

  “I am better. I even managed to walk down to the castle and back without stopping the other day.”

  “Your insomnia’s gone?”

  “Somewhat.” There was something else that kept him awake at nights now—but he could hardly talk to Graeme about Laura and his desire for her. “I’m better, Graeme. Really.”

  “You seem . . . different.”

  “Almost dying will do that to one.” James moved restlessly.

  “Have you found out anything more about who, um . . .”

  “Tried to kill me? No, very little. I got a new bottle of tonic from the apothecary. Since there was no mercury in it, presumably the apothecary was not the one doctoring it. We haven’t spotted anyone sneaking into my bedroom to check on the mercury. But of course I can hardly keep an eye on it all the time, and I daren’t risk the gossip that would ensue if I told one of the servants to spy on it.”

  “How would anyone have gotten their hands on mercury anyway?”

  “It’s used for a number of things, from making hats to actual medicines. Scientists conduct experiments with it. It’s in thermometers—though I doubt anyone would have broken that many thermometers and emptied them out.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  James shrugged. “I’m not sure. As the dowager countess pointed out, it’s a rather delicate situation.”

  “You can’t allow a murderer to run about loose.”

  “I doubt he’s going to kill anyone but me.”

  “I would think that would be enough.”

  “I’ve considered tossing Claude out of Grace Hill. That would hopefully relieve the immediate threat, but he could go after me in London or somewhere else. And while he seems the likeliest, it’s possible it was one of the o
thers. Laura is partial to Salstone as the villain.”

  “Archie? He’s always been a bit of a scoundrel. You know he keeps a mistress in London.”

  “Worse than that. The man’s a bounder, but little good it would do Patsy to tell her. Claude got into fisticuffs with him over it. The stick I used with him was financial. But the black eye didn’t stop Archie for long, and when I hold back money, Patricia’s the one who loses. You can bet Salstone takes care of what he wants first.”

  “But what would killing you get Archie? A different trustee who would be freer with the money? Would even Salstone murder a man for that?”

  “If Archie had the nerve, I imagine he’d kill me for far less.”

  Graeme shook his head, looking worried. “I don’t like any of this, James.”

  “I’m not fond of it myself. But I’ll handle it. I don’t think any of them are foolish enough to try something so soon after the first attempt.”

  “True. At least you’ll have some time to decide what to do. Why don’t you and Laura move to London?”

  “The idea appeals,” James admitted. He had thought about it more than once. He could take Laura to plays and concerts, indulge her in all the things she had never had the money to buy. Clothes and jewels. They could be alone together, without the annoyance of everyone else. But of course that was the problem, as well—he would be with her all the time, no distractions, his hunger growing by the day. His control was already tenuous at best. James shook his head. “Better to be here, I think, where I can keep an eye on them. The answer’s more likely to be here, if I can just find it.”

  “If there’s any way I can help . . .”

  “I know. Believe me, I will call on you if I need it.”

  A silence fell on them. For one of the few times in his life, James felt vaguely uncomfortable with Graeme. The only other time there had been this constraint between them, the reason for it had been the same: Laura Hinsdale. No, Laura de Vere. (And how strange it was that he felt a little throb of satisfaction, even smugness, at the thought that she bore his name.)

  At that time Graeme had been so furious with James that he had barely talked to him for weeks, and when they had conversed, there had been a certain wariness, a careful avoidance of the topic. James could understand better now the fury Graeme had felt. It would have been hard to lose a woman like Laura, to love her and know he must marry another. It made James doubly glad that he himself wasn’t the sort to fall in love.