Shimmering rays of light streamed through the bedroom doors, filling the chamber with a rich abundance. Erienne stretched in the luxurious comfort of the bed, pulling up her long hair to spread it in thick waves across the pillows, then her brows creased in a troubled frown as she remembered the path her mind had wandered while she slept. Even in her dreams she could not escape the Yankee.
Disturbed by the betrayal of her subconscious mind, she donned a velvet robe and slippers and stepped out onto the terrace. The fresh scent of a frosty morn wafted on a gentle breeze that swirled through the trees and shrubs. She inhaled deeply of its fragrance, then watching her breath cloud before her eyes, blew long streamers of white into the chilled air. The cold penetrated her wrap, yet she was thankful for its crispness, for it cleared her mind of the haunting memory of her dreams.
The distant sound of muted voices drifted to her on a gentle rush of wind, making her pause. Peering through the trees, she recognized the dark shape of her husband moving through the carefully tended garden. At his side was a woman garbed in a long, hooded cloak. She was taller than Anne and moved with the confident grace of one well assured of her station in life. Erienne could not hear what was being said, but the woman seemed to be pleading with him as she walked along. Now and then she held an arm out in plaintive supplication, and Lord Saxton would answer with a slow shake of his head. After a time, the woman paused and faced the dark figure, laying a hand on his arm as she spoke intently for some time. The masked one turned away slightly, as if reluctant to listen, and waited in silence until she finished. He explained briefly, and again the woman made an appeal. He gave another small, negative shake of his head, and with a brief bow of farewell, he swung his heavily shod foot about and left her. The woman made as if to stop him but apparently thought better of it. After a moment she turned, and with head lowered, slowly walked into the house.
Confused by what she had seen, Erienne returned to her chambers. It was none of her business, of course, what her husband discussed with anyone. She had gained no right to question him, nor had she the nerve to do so. Still, the scene she had just witnessed left her curious. The woman had obviously felt no fear of Lord Saxton, for she had touched him freely, something his wife could not do.
A short time later Erienne joined the Leicesters for the morning meal, and her bemusement deepened when she was informed that Lord Saxton had left. Since they had connecting rooms, she thought it rather strange that he had refrained from visiting her in her chambers and delivering the message himself.
“Did he say when he would be back?” she inquired.
“No, my dear,” Anne replied kindly. “But I assure you, you’ll have no time to miss him. We shall be attending an assembly this evening, and you’ll be too busy enjoying yourself even to think of your husband.”
Erienne doubted the possibility of the woman’s statement. Stuart Saxton was not a figure one could easily forget. His dreadful appearance burdened her mind like an oppressive weight every hour of the day.
That evening when she was dressing for the affair, a small silk box was delivered to her bedchamber, and the meticulously garbed servant who brought it decorously announced that the gift was from Lord Saxton. A note written in a bold hand and signed with the single initial “S” accompanied the box and bade her to honor the Saxton family by wearing the gift to the assembly. Erienne was puzzled by the aloof manner in which her husband was conveying messages and presents. She did not believe he had grown shy of late and worried that his absence might have stemmed from a growing vexation with her.
When she lifted the lid and beheld the triple-strand pearl choker resting on the bed of royal blue silk, her apprehensions ceased to exist. It seemed unlikely that her husband would bestow such an expensive piece of jewelry on her when he was angry with her.
Small diamonds and a large sapphire adorned the clasp, and more of the same precious gems embellished the pair of pearl earrings that completed the set. The gift was far better than she deserved, she mused as the dreams of the night past came back to accuse her. It would be much more beneficial to their marriage if she kept her fantasies to a more wifely path.
Seeking to fulfill Lord Saxton’s request and present herself in a regal manner, Erienne chose a pale blue satin gown to complement the jewelry. A white fichu trimmed with a delicate lace sewn with tiny seed pearls was draped to bare her shoulders coyly. Tiny clusters of seed pearls nested in the tufts of the satin skirt. Tessie swept her hair back from her face and painstakingly curled it in a mass of ringlets that fell in soft tiers from the crown of her head and ended at the nape of her neck. The necklace and earrings were donned, and her reflection bore out the fact that she would at least do the Saxton name no harm.
She had only heard stories from her mother of the social gatherings of the elite and was rather nervous over what was to be her first experience. When they arrived, Anne introduced her about to the different lords and their ladies as the new mistress of Saxton Hall, gaily explaining that the manor was just as far north in England as London was south. By keeping up a stream of vivacious chatter, the woman gave little time for serious questions, and if any were overly curious, she laughingly swept her guest on to the next group.
It seemed as if the Leicesters knew nearly everyone present, for the circle around them widened. Erienne soon began to wonder if there would ever be an end to the formalities. Intertwined with the introductions were comments on the happenings in France. Everyone was aghast at the massacres of political prisoners in the streets of Paris and quickly agreed that such a thing could not happen in England. The fact that the French King had been taken prisoner was shocking, and what was even more disruptive to the orderly English mind was that many expected him to be executed before too much time elapsed.
Several ladies, anxious to speak with Anne, wedged their way in front of Erienne, separating her from the older couple. Left more or less to herself for the moment, she took the opportunity to look through the hall. The rooms, though elegant, were a trifle stuffy, and feeling in need of a breath of fresh air, she moved toward the tall French doors that led out onto the narrow balconies. She had almost gained her goal when a satin-garbed gentleman seized her arm. Surprised, she looked around and found herself staring into Lord Talbot’s smirking grin.
“Why, ’tis Erienne! Sweet, little Erienne!” He was astounded at his good fortune and made only a small effort to subdue the lust that shone in his eyes as he warmly appraised her. “My dear, you are simply ravishing. ’Tis amazing what the proper clothes will do for one.”
Erienne tried politely to disengage her arm, but he glanced about imperiously, appearing not to notice as he arched a darkened eyebrow.
“You came…unescorted?”
“Oh, no, milord,” she rushed to assure him. “I am here with the Leicesters. We…ah…were separated…”
“You mean your husband didn’t…?” He let the incomplete question hang with heavy innuendo.
“N-no,” Erienne stammered, feeling the full weight of the implied neglect. “I mean…he had pressing business elsewhere.”
“Tsk! Tsk!” Lord Talbot twitched the ends of his thin, waxed moustache as he pursed his lips in mild disdain. “The idea! Leaving such a lovely wife to fend for herself. Well, from what I hear of him, I can well understand his reluctance to appear in public and why he chooses to wear that hideous mask. Poor devil!”
Erienne’s spine stiffened, and she was rather amazed at the hot indignation she experienced at this slur against her husband. After all, the statements had been very much a part of her own thinking. “I have seen no evidence that Lord Saxton is anything but human, milord.”
Nigel Talbot pulled back his coat and, resting a hand on his hip, flexed a knee and leaned close, in the process gaining a clear downward view of the upper curves of her bosom underneath the fichu. “Tell me, my dear,” he half whispered, “what does he really look like beneath that mask? Is he the horribly scarred wretch everyone thinks he is?”
> Erienne stood rigid, stunned by the affront. “If he wanted people to know, milord, I’m sure he would give up wearing the mask.”
“Is it possible”—Talbot straightened and glanced quickly to either side, then pressed a heavily scented lace handkerchief to his lips as if to squelch a threatening giggle—“that even you don’t know what he looks like?”
“I have seen him in the dark,” she stated, chafing under his snickering arrogance. It was one time she wished Lord Saxton would appear. She had no doubt that by his mere presence he could silence the muffled chortles and pale even the painted blush on the man’s cheeks.
“In the dark, you say?” His eyes gleamed knowingly.
Lifting her slim nose to a lofty height, she refused to answer him. She would not gratify the man’s salacious bent by explaining that the moment to which she was referring had naught to do with the intimacies of marriage.
Talbot was undaunted. His gaze was slow and pointedly bold as he perused her soft and exquisite radiance. “There is something about marriage that always enhances the beauty of a woman. I must compliment your husband on his excellent taste, at least in choosing a wife. However, I will chide him on his neglect of such a fair creature.”
Turning slightly away from her, he scanned the crowded room. “I came here with several friends, all gentlemen of good account, of course.” He drew himself up as if the association enhanced his own importance. “When last I saw them, they had obtained companionship for the evening and were preparing to leave, but I can hardly ignore my duty to Avery and leave his daughter unattended amid strangers. I see no help for it, my dear. You will have to come with me.”
“I assure you, milord, I am quite well escorted,” she insisted. “You needn’t have a care.”
“Nonsense, child.” He dismissed her statement with a wave of his lacy handkerchief. “If you were being looked after, you’d not be standing here alone. Why, any disreputable scoundrel could whisk you off, and no one would ever know.”
“How true!” Erienne mused derisively.
Suddenly Talbot waved to someone across the room, and Erienne spotted three richly garbed men, each with a lavishly gowned woman on his arm. One of them returned Nigel’s gesture and pointed toward the entrance with a leering, knowing grin; then as a body the three couples moved in that direction.
“Come, my dear,” Nigel commanded, assuming Erienne’s assent. She opened her mouth to protest, but a waggled finger in front of her nose silenced her. “I really must have a care for Avery’s daughter. I will hear no more of you staying here alone.”
“Lord Talbot, I am not alone!” she cried in desperation.
“Most assuredly not while I’m with you, my dear.” He tucked her hand beneath his elbow and held it firmly in place as he half dragged her through the crowd. “You know, I was really quite miffed that your father chose to put you on the block without consulting me. I am sure we could have arrived at some equitable arrangement.”
Erienne tried to give him as much resistance as she could without creating a scene. “I don’t think my father was aware that you were seeking a wife.”
“Heaven forbid!” Lord Talbot chortled. “The thought of marriage never entered my mind.”
“ ’Twas a condition of the roup,” Erienne panted as she was towed rudely along.
“Tish, tosh!” Talbot sneered airily. “A few hundred pounds would have settled your father on that score.”
They were in the foyer, and as they passed a slim column, she hooked an arm around it. With that anchor, she snatched her other arm free and immediately feared that she had left some skin behind.
Talbot faced her with a brow raised in surprise and, at her glare, hurried to explain in a conciliatory manner. “I only meant, my dear child, that you might have occupied a quite…ah…special place in my household. I’m sure you would have preferred it above your present situation. Avery should never have forced you to wed that scarred beast of a man.”
A deepening pink hue was creeping upward from the top of Erienne’s gown. “My husband may be scarred, sir, but he is not a beast.”
“My dear girl.” His eyelids lowered as he savored the beauty her anger roused. “I only wish to assure you that should the horror of your bondage become more pressing than you can bear, such a position in my household could still be arranged. I, for one, do not consider marriage to be a blemish, as many do.”
He snapped his fingers loudly, winning the attention of the butler away from several guests who were just entering. “My cloak and hat,” he demanded arrogantly, “and fetch the Lady Saxton’s too.”
“Really, Lord Talbot!” Erienne protested vehemently. “I cannot go with you! I am here with the Leicesters, and they will be most distraught if they cannot find me.”
“Calm your fears, child,” Lord Talbot soothed. “I shall leave a message informing them that you have departed with me and”—he smiled down at her sanguinely—“that you are receiving only the best of care. Now come, my dear, my friends are waiting in the carriage.”
He caught her arm as she tried to turn away, and he ignored her attempts to pry his fingers away.
“Please!” she gritted out in an anxious whisper. She tried to twist her arm free, fearful of rousing the ire of such a powerful man, but also determined to stay where she was. “You are hurting me!”
A man detached himself from the new arrivals and approached the butler, who was in the process of handing the cloaks, cane, and hat to Lord Talbot. As the man neared, his own cloak slipped from his arm, falling at his lordship’s feet. He bent to scoop up the garment, and when he straightened, his head struck Talbot’s forearm with enough force to break his grip on Erienne. She was thrust away by the intruding body and, seeing the opportunity granted her, lifted her skirts and fled without a backward glance. The man’s plunge continued upward, his shoulder striking Talbot in the ribs, then his arm caught solidly beneath the sagging chin. With a loud “clop” Talbot’s mouth closed, and he staggered backward on high gilt heels to slam against the wall. He clapped a hand over his bruised mouth and hopped forward, teetering on one foot as he strove to regain his balance until the other man caught his arm with almost undue force; then he was held in check with one foot clear of the floor and one shoulder strained high.
“My apologies, sir,” his assailant cajoled.
Lord Talbot looked in horror at the blood in his palm. “I bi’ my ton’, you damn foo’!”
The man released his grasp, and his lordship nearly fell at the sudden lack of support. He was caught again, this time a bit more gently. “I really am sorry, Lord Talbot. I hope you are not seriously injured.”
Talbot’s head snapped up, and his eyes widened as he recognized the tall form. “Seton! I thought it was some country oaf!” A quick vision of Farrell Fleming’s half-cocked arm crossed his mind, and he dispensed with the possibility of an outright challenge.
Christopher faced the butler, laying his cloak over Erienne’s, which the man still held, and nodding to the man to put them both away. Christopher grinned ruefully as he turned back to his lordship. “Again my apology, Lord Talbot. I must admit my eyes were on the lady you were with.”
“ ’Twas the mayor’s daughter.” Talbot’s tone was brusque and curt. After searching the room and failing to catch any glimpse of her, he grunted in derision. “Or should I say, the Lady Saxton?”
“She is very lovely. But then, I expect Lord Saxton is more aware of that than anyone else.”
“ ’Twould seem that wealth agrees with the wench.” He missed the slight lowering of the lids over the grayish-green eyes, and with a brief sigh he resigned himself to a momentary defeat. “For a man who can’t even mount a horse, how can he do justice to that little filly?”
“Mount a horse?” Christopher repeated with a query.
“Aye! ’Tis rumored the man is too clumsy even to ride.” Talbot gingerly tested a rib, worrying that it might be cracked. “If you will excuse me, Seton. I must repair my appearance.�
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“Of course, my lord.” Christopher raised a hand to indicate to the butler, who held out a satin cloak. “If you’re leaving, you’ll no doubt be needing this.”
Talbot loftily waved the servant away. “I’ve changed my mind. I shall be staying for a while.” He smirked. “The filly has spirit. She should prove highly entertaining in a chase.”
A corner of Christopher’s mouth lifted in a meager smile. “I’ve heard Lord Saxton is quite adept with firearms. Be careful that you don’t get clipped.”
“Pah!” Talbot dabbed his handkerchief to his lips. “The man is so clumsy, he’d sound a warning a mile away.”
Erienne anxiously searched until she found Anne seated with a couple at one of the small tables provided for the playing of cards. The older woman’s face brightened when she saw her, and she patted the seat of the chair beside her invitingly.
A Rose in Winter Page 29