*
They made good time, pulling into Bury St Edmunds an hour ahead of schedule.
Ashe settled them at the Fox, an inn at the east entrance to town and closer to the place where Alex was housed. The Fox was a nice inn with heavy oak timbers and panelling in true Jacobean style. Plain and unassuming, what it lacked in luxuries it made up for in cleanliness. Ashe secured two rooms upstairs and gave instructions for the horses to be stabled. He would rent a small gig from the livery for the short trip to see Alex.
‘You’ve checked your watch three times in the last minute. It won’t make the horses come faster,’ Genevra scolded playfully while they waited in the courtyard for the borrowed gig to arrive.
Good lord, he was nervous, Ashe admitted to himself. He had no idea what he’d find. Where had Henry housed Alex? Was it some raving-lunatic asylum? What was Alex like now? Would Alex even know who he was? That probably scared him the most. He supposed he harboured hopes that Alex could give him answers to all his questions. It was hard to imagine Alex’s mind being gone.
*
The gig had arrived and they made the short drive to the home a few miles outside the city. Ashe’s worries eased slightly as they approached. The home was an old estate, well kept with a neatly trimmed yard. The house itself seemed to be in good repair.
Inside, they were welcomed. Ashe gave the man at the door his card and they were ushered into an old library converted into an office by a matron dressed in a clean grey-and-white uniform. Then they waited. But not for long.
The door opened and a bearded man in an austere dark coat and simply tied cravat entered. ‘I’m Dr Lawrence, Mr Bedevere, what a pleasant surprise to see you. Audley doesn’t have many visitors.’
‘I must apologise for the abruptness of my visit,’ Ashe said. ‘I’ve recently returned home and I did not want to delay in seeing my brother.’ He was glad to note that the hospital had shown Alex the proper reverence and adopted the use of his official title when referring to him. He wondered if it meant anything to Alex, though.
‘Does he understand our father has died?’ Ashe asked, taking a seat opposite Dr Lawrence.
Dr Lawrence shrugged. ‘At times. But not always. What can I help you with today?’
‘I want to see him and I want to hear about his condition. It has not been fully explained to me. I would also like to discuss the possibility of having Alex come home with me.’ At the last comment, the doctor stiffened ever so slightly. He covered it hastily with a condescending smile, but Ashe had noticed.
‘I think those are laudable sentiments, Mr Bedevere. However, I think once you understand the nature of his condition, you will realise it is best to leave him here where he can be under professional supervision. We have others like him, others from families not unlike your own. He is in good hands.’
Ashe studied the man. Dr Lawrence had been good natured and open, but the mention of taking Alex home had changed him into a man of great wariness.
Ashe could see it in his eyes. He chose to let it go for the moment. He would not help his cause by alienating Dr Lawrence too soon.
‘Tell me about my brother.’
‘Lord Audley has been with us since November. It is a shame we didn’t have him right away after the breakdown. We might have been able to do more for him. But, as you know, nearly three years had elapsed and there is little hope for any further recovery. Instead, it has become apparent that he is prone to recurring breakdowns.’
‘Breakdown? Define that for me,’ Ashe prodded. He was interested in causes right now.
‘Nervous breakdowns are triggered by a stressful event in a person’s life. From what Mr Bennington shared with us, it is likely the trigger was the Forsythe scandal or perhaps the family’s failing financial situation in general. Unable to face up to his financial responsibilities, Lord Audley’s brain simply stopped functioning.
He was despondent, he didn’t answer when spoken to, he stopped eating. He lost all time orientation.’
Dr Lawrence paused, his voice lowering. ‘Mr Bennington shared with me that one night he found Lord Audley with a gun. His intentions were quite clear.
‘I must be straightforward with you, Mr Bedevere. Your family did an admirable job caring for him as best they were able even after that incident. But when your father began to fail last autumn, there simply wasn’t the time or ability to look after them both and your brother’s condition appeared to worsen.
He would have periods where he wouldn’t know who he was or what his circumstances were and this created an intense paranoia on his part. He’d begun taking long walks and not know how long he’d been gone. There were occasions when he’d become lost and had to be searched for. Mr Bennington and four ageing aunts couldn’t manage the dual responsibility. Mr Bennington put your brother here, because he has become a danger to himself.’ ‘
‘I would like to see him.’
Dr Lawrence nodded and rose. ‘Please follow me. You must understand he lives mainly in the past now.’
Ashe asked Genevra to wait in the foyer. He wanted to meet Alex alone. Dr Lawrence led him upstairs and down a hall. ‘Your brother has access to the entire house and grounds, but we have a companion assigned to him so that he goes nowhere alone.’ He stopped at a big, bright room at the end of the corridor. ‘I’ll leave you for a few minutes.’
Ashe stepped into the room. It was white and clean and stark in its features except for a little vase of yellow flowers on a small table, but Ashe’s gaze spared little consideration for those details. His attention was focused on the lanky figure standing in the big bay of the window looking out over the lawns, his back to Ashe.
Alex was much as Ashe remembered him: a thinner rendition of himself. Even growing up, Alex had sported a more slender physique, a poet’s build. It wasn’t a weak man’s build, but he’d never had Ashe’s powerful shoulders or muscled thighs. Alex had been strong in other ways. He was an astute thinker and a compassionate human being. He would have made a good earl.
Alex turned from the window and saw him. Ashe’s breath caught. He looked so normal. Ashe wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Shouldn’t a crazy man look a certain way? He supposed he thought one should. But Alex was dressed in a patterned-blue waistcoat and trousers, polished boots and a pristine white shirt.
He looked no crazier than the next man and Alex hadn’t known he was coming.
It gave him hope.
‘Alex,’ Ashe said simply.
Alex’s brown eyes registered recognition. ‘Ashe. I knew you’d come.’ In a moment Alex’s long legs had covered the distance of the room, Alex’s arms enveloping him in an embrace. ‘Thank God, you’ve come at last,’ he said in quiet but firm tones. ‘You have to get me out of here.’
Chapter Seventeen
‘Get me out of here.’ It was what insane people said all the time. Alex was prone to periods of extreme paranoia. Dr Lawrence had told him it was customary. Still, Ashe couldn’t bring himself to share that bit of information when the doctor had come back for him. He’d said simply it had been a good visit and that he’d come back tomorrow. Other than that bit of paranoia, Alex hadn’t demonstrated any more outwards signs of mental debility.
*
He told Genevra as much over dinner at the Fox that evening. ‘Of course, we didn’t talk of anything upsetting other than Father’s death.’ He poured her another glass of the excellent red wine. They had a private parlour and dinner was proving to be a delicious meal of venison stew and freshly baked bread. A mincemeat pie waited on the sideboard for dessert. ‘Perhaps he can handle little things without becoming overwrought.’ There was a pathetic amount of hope in his voice. There were no cures for these kinds of ailments. He didn’t do himself any favours in pretending there was.
‘I’m glad the visit went well.’ Genevra took a bite of the stew, the candlelight limning the delicate curve of her jaw. She looked like a veritable angel in the flickering lights.
His angel.
&n
bsp; Or his devil.
He had won her, for better or worse, for Bedevere, for his aunts, for Alex. He needed her money for all of them. For them, he’d bought her the only way he knew how—binding her to him with passion and seduction, even if he feared it would cost him the last of his pride and the last of his soul. He could talk about protection all he wanted, but once the concern over Henry was retired, he would be left with only the pleasure he could give her in bed to keep her bound to him.
He’d have to look that man in the mirror every morning, knowing he’d found his price.
‘I will go back and see him tomorrow.’ Ashe rose to fetch the pie. He’d given explicit instructions that they be left alone while they dined. ‘Will you be all right on your own for a few hours?’
‘I’ll be fine. I’d like to explore the market and see if there’s a merchant who would be willing to take some of your aunts’ designs for the summer.’ Genevra reached to take the pie and knife from him with a laugh. ‘Let me do that. It’s a pie, not a pig. You’re butchering it, Ashe.’
Genevra passed him a slice of pie and he was struck by the domesticity of the moment. Little things like that had not mattered much to him before. This idea of someone doing something for him who wasn’t a servant was quite novel. He wondered if this was how it was like for his friend Merrick and Alixe. Of course it would never really be that way for him and Genevra. They had to marry. Merrick and Alixe had married for love.
It occurred to him, as he finished his pie, that he wished it could be different. If he had seen her across a ballroom in London, if he had been able to marry anyone he chose, he might have been tempted by her beauty, her grace and her wit to fall headlong into a decent romance. It was a shame he’d not find out what it would be like to come to her honestly as a man in love.
This was a new revelation to him that perhaps a heretofore unacknowledged part of him had secretly wished to marry for love, in spite of the realities he’d long ago accepted. Even second sons, especially second sons, had to marry where the money was.
‘You look deep in thought. Are you thinking about Alex?’ Genevra rose to clear the dishes, another intimate, domestic act.
‘No.’ Ashe sighed and pushed back from the table. It would do no good to tell her he wished it could be different. Instead he said, ‘Thank you for coming. Alex seemed quite well today. I’ve changed my mind about tomorrow, I think he’d like to see you. We can tell him together about the wedding.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘It would mean giving up your tour of the market and franchising my aunts’ handiwork.’
Genevra gave a light laugh. ‘Ah, I see you’re starting to accept the idea.’
‘Tolerating the idea.’ Ashe chuckled. ‘Since there’s no dissuading you from it, I’ve decided to tolerate it.’ This was a good moment, a hopeful moment. In time, their marriage might be full of more moments like this where they weren’t merely two strangers thrown together by circumstance.
‘It’s late, I should go up.’ Genevra gathered the last of their dinner things and set them on the sideboard next to the remaining pie.
‘I’ll walk you up.’ Ashe rose. He smiled at her wariness. He could see she wanted to protest his offer. Going up alone would preclude any seduction. She’d be safely ensconced behind a locked door before he mounted the stairs. And that would not do tonight for either the rake in him or the husband-to-be.
The rake in him argued this was a perfect opportunity. They were here, alone, at an inn with no one but Genevra’s maid and the coachman for chaperons. Who would know if he went to her bed or if she came to his? And with nuptials pending, who would care? The soon-to-be bridegroom in him saw it as another chance to remind her that she could trust him. They might marry without the benefit of romance or common knowledge but he would not be a cruel husband, he would not be another Philip.
‘It is not necessary. Stay here and enjoy your brandy,’ Genevra offered generously.
It was on his lips to answer, ‘When I could be upstairs enjoying you? Never.’
But tonight was not an evening for glib words. ‘Tonight is not for being alone, I think, Neva,’ he said in quiet tones. The last two days had been full of strain for them in separate ways. She’d witnessed Henry’s duplicity firsthand and faced the reality of her options. For himself, he’d reunited with his brother and secured a marriage, neither event without its own turmoil of emotions. It was time to seek solace for those emotions.
‘Very well, you may see me up.’ Genevra’s voice was as quiet as his as they exited the private parlor, a sure sign she understood.
Ashe kept his hand at the small of her back up the stairs. At her door they stopped. She fumbled for her key. ‘Allow me.’ Ashe deftly took the key from her and fitted it to the lock, swinging the door open. The room inside was lit by a carefully laid fire. One of the inn’s maids had been here recently.
‘Do you have everything you need?’
‘I think so.’ She looked up at him, her grey eyes luminous, her thoughts transparent behind them, her pulse racing at her neck. She was not unaffected either by the domestic intimacy of their dinner or their companionship on the long carriage ride.
She wanted him. Ah, Ashe understood her reticence downstairs immediately.
She wanted him, not as a result of any flirtatious games he’d invoked at dinner, because he’d invoked none, nor did she want him as a means to satisfy a growing curiosity like she had in the library at Bedevere. She wanted him simply because she did and that was very gratifying indeed. For him. For her, Ashe thought, such a realisation would be frightening, a clarion call to caution. She would worry he would use such knowledge against her as Philip had. She would worry such a wanting would make her weak in this fledgling partnership of theirs.
He understood those feelings all too well. They were not that different than his own. God help him, tonight he wanted her for reasons that had less to do with securing his inheritance and more to do with a being a man desiring a lovely woman. He tilted his head to capture her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss at the door.
‘Neva, I’d like to come in,’ he said in hushed tones against her ear. Tonight, he would show her with his body what he could not tell her in words. He could feel her body tremble against him as she made her brief contemplation and decided.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
*
There was no going back now, perhaps there never had been. Perhaps she’d been fooling herself all along about the one night in the library. It had never really existed as a moment out of time. Genevra stepped into her chamber, feeling Ashe’s body move behind her, hearing his elegant hands shut the door. Tonight he would be her lover. She had no illusions about what he’d requested. He wasn’t coming in to check for rats. He was coming in to share her bed and she could not pretend she’d not thought about it throughout the day.
It might possibly be the most audacious thing she’d ever done. This would not be like the library, rash and unplanned. She’d not gone downstairs that night thinking she’d encounter Ashe and let him seduce her. Tonight was premeditated.
There could be no excuses for rash behaviour afterwards.
Genevra turned and faced him, her hand reaching for the hairpins. She tugged once, twice and her hair fell. ‘Two, the answer is two.’
Ashe gave a low growl, all manly appreciation. His eyes glowed with the intensity of coals. ‘Allow me to do the rest. Let me undress you, let me worship you.’
Genevra gave a throaty laugh. ‘Shall you play lady’s maid?’
‘Oh, no, I shall play the supplicant. No lady’s maid has ever undressed you like I shall.’ He managed the tiny buttons down the back of her dress with alarming efficiency, pushing the sleeves of the gown down her arms with a gentle thrust that sent goose bumps of pleasure coursing through her. His lips skimmed her bare shoulders, his hands holding her firm at the waist, his thumbs deliciously close to the undersides of her breasts.
She moaned in frustration. She’d become greedy for his touch
in such a very short time. He kissed her neck, nipped at her ear. His hands moved up at last to cup her breasts, caressing and teasing through the fabric of her chemise until they felt heavy with desire in his hands. Only then did he reach to gather up the cloth of chemise and tug it over her head. Genevra wiggled her hips and let the gown slide to the floor. At last she was bare and free. She turned in his arms and his mouth met hers in a fierce, possessive kiss.
It was her turn now to undress him. She reached for the cravat and tugged, laying waste to his efforts at an intricate knot. She drew him out of his coat, then his waistcoat, her hands fumbling at the buttons in her haste.
‘I thought it was only women who dressed in layers,’ she teased. She had not imagined undressing him to be frustrating, but she had not imagined her need being so great. She was well aware her body thrummed for him, that his caresses had driven her to a perfect state of readiness.
Genevra tugged on the tails of his shirt, pulling the length of fabric from the waistband of his trousers. Ashe stepped back and finished the shirt himself. ‘Look at me, Neva.’
Again, he was magnificent in the firelight, his torso limned by flame, his musculature defined by shadow and light. Genevra’s fingers itched to trace the lines of those muscles and the tantalising path they drew leading to the waistband of those trousers. She swallowed hard as his hands followed her eyes down. He boldly cupped himself through the tight trousers, making her fully cognisant of his arousal.
He pulled at his boots and pushed at his trousers, his eyes never leaving her. It was the most erotic undressing Genevra could imagine. He was displaying himself for her, letting the disrobing heighten her own desire until she was nearly overcome with it and he missed not a moment of it. He was entirely conscious of the effect.
How to Ruin a Reputation (Rakes Beyond Redemption) Page 14