by Laura Landon
He sat in silence until the last tone faded into silence, then watched as she lifted her fingers from the keyboard.
“Why did you choose such a sad song?”
Her head swiveled round to face him. “No reason,” she answered without conviction. “My life is not sad.”
“What would you say it is, wife?”
She studied him, then looked away.
“I’m not sure. What would you say your life is, my lord?”
He smiled. “That’s easy. Interesting.”
He heard her small intake of breath.
“Is it?”
“Yes, Petronella. It is.”
She rose from the piano bench and walked to the small table where several decanters sat. She reached for the wine, then pulled her hand back.
“You changed your mind?”
“Yes. I don’t need fermented grapes to feel better. After last night I’ve learned it only makes me feel worse.”
She turned and walked to the door. “I think I’d like to go to bed now.”
There was that blush again.
“Go ahead, Nella. I’ll be up in a short while.”
She nodded, then opened the door.
“Nella?” he said, stopping her footsteps.
She turned to face him.
“The day will come when we will need to discuss what’s bothering you.”
She opened her mouth but James held up his hand to stop her words. “No, there is something. Denying it only allows the problem to grow.”
In the silence that stretched between them she turned and left him. And James refilled his glass.
Chapter 8
Nella had never been happier in her life.
Every day of the past week had been perfect. James had taken her to Siding Cross and she’d spent hours in the bookstore purchasing far too many books. The next day they’d chosen one of the horses from his stable and had gone riding.
Another day they went to a dress shop and Nella chose several pieces of material she wanted made into new dresses. The lady who owned the shop, Mrs. Blankenship, was a marvelous modiste. She showed Nella patterns she’d never seen before and told her which styles and colors of gowns to avoid because of her shape. Nella was stunned. Most of the styles and colors she was told not to wear hung in her closet.
Each day she wrote letters for James to deliver, and then suddenly, Thursday was here and he was about to leave for London. She tied the letters with a ribbon and tucked them into his valise as he bade her farewell.
A few days later he sent word back that he would return in one week and bring her two friends, Lady Rosamonde Littleton, and Lady Patricia Bickerton with him. He would also be accompanied by two more guests, the Earl of Candleton and Viscount Pomeroy.
Nella fairly sang as she readied the house for their party. She spent hours with Cook, planning the daily menu for the two weeks their guests would be here, preparing adequate rooms for them, organizing indoor and outdoor entertainment for each day, and completing the list of things that must be done.
Nella would be glad when they arrived. She could finally stop her worrying. She wasn’t so concerned with Rosamonde and Patricia. They’d been friends long enough that they were accepting of Nella and anything she had planned. It was Lord Candleton and Viscount Pomeroy that concerned her.
She paced the drawing room that looked out onto the front drive then stopped to look out the window. They should be here any time now. Oh, she wanted everything to go perfectly. She didn’t want to embarrass James in front of his friends. She would die if anything went wrong.
Nella had dressed carefully in the first of her new gowns. Two more were promised by Saturday. Now that she understood exactly what making subtle, flattering style changes could do for her, she could scarcely wait to show off her new wardrobe. And the new upswept hairdo the modiste had recommended showed off the neck she’d not realized was quite as long as it was. Certainly not at all swanlike, but long, nevertheless. She resisted the urge to preen.
Suddenly, a carriage came up the drive followed by three men on horseback. She recognized James right away. He was the tallest and sat his horse as if he had been born astride the beautiful beast.
The other two men were tall, as well, yet not as broad-shouldered as her husband. Nella ran to the door to welcome her guests.
“Patricia. Rosamonde,” she sang as she ran from the house and stopped before the carriage door. James had handed his horse over to a groom and was helping her friends dismount.
“Oh, Patricia,” Nella said, wrapping her arms around her friend. “Rosamonde,” she said, greeting her second friend. “I’ve missed you heaps and heaps!”
“It’s been nearly two months since I’ve seen you,” Patricia said, giving Nella another hug.
“Has it been that long?” Nella questioned. “I’ve been so busy I didn’t realize it was that long.”
Patricia turned Nella to face the carriage where a very lovely older woman was just descending.
“Nella, darling, I’m eager for you to meet Mrs. Merilee Applebaum, my aunt.”
It was a complete joy to welcome the woman whose rosy cheeks and twinkling eyes hinted that she would be a most delightful addition to their party, even if she was the girls’ chaperone.
“Mrs. Applebaum! Welcome!”
“Petronella?”
Nella turned to see her husband approach her, followed by two men she knew only by sight. She’d been introduced to them just once, yet she’d seen them often in her husband’s company at balls and formal events.
She caught a strange look in her husband’s eye that suddenly flustered her. Had his time in London been so satisfying that it had left that gleam in place through the entire ride home?
“Allow me to present my friends, Lord Candleton and Viscount Pomeroy.”
“Lord Candleton,” Nella greeted with a polite curtsy. “Lord Pomeroy.”
“Lady Danvers,” they both greeted. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again. Thank you for your invitation. We’ve been looking forward to visiting you and your husband.”
“Thank you, my lords. Please, come in.”
James placed a proprietary arm around her waist and led her inside the house. Lords Candleton and Pomeroy extended their arms to lead Patricia and Rosamonde. When they entered, Covey took their cloaks and hats and handed them to the two footmen waiting in the foyer.
“Come,” Nella said. “I imagine you’re quite exhausted from your journey. Follow me to the drawing room.”
Nella and her husband led the way, and when they reached the drawing room, James poured a glass of brandy or wine for each of the party. Covey followed with a tea tray and pastries.
When all had been served, Nella looked at her friends and smiled. “How was the journey?” she asked.
“We were both surprised, Nella,” Rosamonde said. She was always the first to jump into any conversation. “Colworth Abbey is not all that far from London.”
“No,” Patricia added. “It took us barely two hours to get here.”
“And I can’t wait to show you the estate. It’s very beautiful.”
“So have you found areas to put on canvas?” Rosamonde asked.
“My wife has already painted several landscapes,” James jumped in. “I will take you to see them later.”
“You paint, Lady Danvers?”
Nella felt her cheeks warm. “I dabble in it.”
“She does more than dabble, Pomeroy. She’s an amazing artist.”
“Have you heard her play the piano?” Patricia asked.
“Enough,” Nella said. She was desperate to change the topic from herself.
“I force her to entertain me every evening,” her husband said, gracing her with a warm smile.
“Then we can’t wait to hear you,” the Earl of Candleton said. “You can be our evening’s entertainment.
Nella turned her gaze to where James sat. There was a hint of pride on his face, but there was something wrong. Something in
the hooded darkness in his eyes said something was not as it should be. That’s when she noticed it. The fading bruises on his knuckles. A faint bruise on his cheekbone beneath his left eye. As if he’d been in a fistfight.
A knot clenched in her midsection. James was not a man prone to fisticuffs. He seldom raised his voice let alone became angry enough to raise his fists.
What could possibly have happened to make him so angry that he fought someone?
Nella cringed. In the back of her mind, in a place where she wanted to keep her fears locked away and hidden, she knew that whatever it was, it had something to do with her.
She decided not to mention it now, but would ask James about it later. When they were alone. Right now there was too much to talk about.
Patricia and Rosamonde filled her in on all the latest gossip, the talk of the haute ton that she was grateful to hear had replaced the scandal she had caused.
They filled her in on who was rumored to be in love with whom. Even the men stopped talking horses long enough to listen.
What followed turned out to be a splendid evening. The meal was peppered with laughter and she managed to choose light-hearted music for their entertainment that followed.
All in all, the house party was off to a charmed beginning.
Nella undressed and climbed into bed. The first day was over. Patricia and Rosamonde had retired early to get enough rest to be ready for the events Nella had planned for the next day. James and his friends had remained in the card room to chat. Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day. Nella had it all planned.
After they rose and ate, they would go for a hike and picnic down by the stream Nella had discovered when she first came to Colworth Abbey. After that, they would lounge about. Then, Nella had board and card games planned for the evening.
What pleased her most was that her husband’s friends and Patricia and Rosamonde seemed to hit it off splendidly. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company. All through dinner there hadn’t been a lull in their conversation. The laughter had been genuine, ringing in the halls and bringing smiles that lasted through the evening. Nella was glad.
She lay in bed reliving their day, then struggled to keep her eyes open while she waited for her husband.
Perhaps he wouldn’t come to her tonight. It depended on how long he remained with his friends. But she hoped she might have a chance to speak with him before tomorrow. She was desperate to know how he got his bruises…and why.
She had almost fallen asleep when she heard him come up the stairs. He walked down the hall and stopped at her door. He hesitated for a bit, then opened her door.
“Are you awake?” he whispered.
“Yes. I was waiting for you.”
He entered, then closed the door behind himself. He removed his clothes, then slid into bed beside her.
James reached his hand to cup her cheek, then drew it gently through the tawny hair she’d brushed for one hundred strokes.
“I didn’t find an opportunity to tell you how lovely you looked today.”
His quiet, husky voice seemed on the edge of sleep, but his words wakened every nerve in her body. In truth, she had felt lovely. She would pen a note to her modiste in the morning, with effusive thanks for guiding her choices in the new gowns.
“I particularly like this new gown,” Nella whispered.
“I wasn’t speaking of the gown, although I quite agree.” His hand found its way out of her lush curls and trailed across her shoulder. “It was your face. Your smile. Everything was alight. So…so exuberant.”
“Exuberant?”
“Mm-hm,” he said drowsily. “Like your music. Alive. Exuberant. I felt like dancing.”
Nella tsk-tsked. “May I remind you, dearest husband. We do not dance.”
“We do not?” He raised his head to peer at her. “Still, I stand by what I said. Perhaps we didn’t move our feet, but tonight we definitely danced.”
Nella smiled and felt the warmth of it linger in her veins. James was right. Today had been perfect. Harmonious. Joyful. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps there was more than one way to dance.
But he was distracting her, and she couldn’t allow it just yet.
“Is there something else you wish to tell me?” she asked.
He rolled to his back and placed his forearm over his eyes. “I thought perhaps you might want to know about that,” he sighed. “If I pretended to be obtuse, I would ask what it is you want to talk about, but I know you well enough to know what it is you want to know.”
“Yes, I suppose you do.”
Nella turned on her side and gathered one of his hands in hers and touched his bruised knuckles. She pressed the palm of her other hand against the faint bruise on his cheekbone. “Who gave you these?”
James drew her hand away from his face and kissed her palm.
“It was just a little skirmish.”
“Over…?”
“It doesn’t matter, Nella.”
“I see,” she answered, then shifted to her back. “I’m sorry.” Her heart ached with such pain she could barely breathe.
“You have no blame in this,” he said almost angrily as he came over her. “And we will not speak of it again. Wife.”
He pressed angry kisses about her shoulders until at last his mood turned tender.
Nella held him, wishing for words that would make the need for words vanish. She wrapped her arms around him and gathered him to her, trying to keep the tears at bay, though she could not.
It was her fault his dear face was battered, his gentle hands scraped.
She should have allowed him to be discovered compromising Lady Blanche. At least he would not have to defend her honor every time he went to Town. Nor would he have had to stand up to the abuse and insults because one of the least appealing women in Society had tricked the most handsome man in all of England into marrying her.
~■~
Nella rose early the next morning and went down to make sure the preparations for their picnic were in order. When everyone was ready and had leisurely breakfasted, she called for the coach and carriage to be brought around. Patricia, Rosamonde and she, and of course Mrs. Applebaum, would ride together in the coach. Their ladies’ maids would follow in the carriage. With the men on horseback, they would proceed to the spot she’d chosen for their day. It wasn’t until they were on their way that she was able to relax.
“Oh, Nella. Rosamonde and I can’t thank you enough for inviting us to spend time with you. We’ve missed you.”
“As I’ve missed you,” she answered and reached out her hands to grasp her friends’ fingers.
“Are you as happy as you seem?” Patricia asked.
Nella felt a blush rising to her cheeks. “I’ve never been happier. Lord Danvers is the most considerate husband. He is ever so kind.”
“And he appears happy,” Rosamonde said. “Patricia and I worried that he would resent you for…well, you know. But he doesn’t seem to at all.”
“Tell me, what is the gossip concerning our marriage. Has the shock and disapproval died down any?”
Her two friends looked at each other.
“Well, that’s answer enough, isn’t it?”
“There have been several other scandals, but you are still among the main topics of conversation. Your husband’s appearance in Town only renewed the speculation surrounding your marriage.”
“Well, hopefully, in time, another scandal will surpass the one our marriage caused.”
Nella turned the conversation to happier subjects until the carriage came to a halt and the men came to assist the ladies to the ground.
Several Danvers footmen had arrived earlier to set up for their picnic. A large blanket was spread beneath a shade tree and several baskets were placed about, waiting to be opened.
“I suggest a toast,” James said, reaching inside one of the baskets and taking out decanters of wine chosen from his well-stocked cellar. He passed the glasses as he filled them.
�
�To Lord and Lady Danvers,” Lord Candleton said as he raised his glass, “for inviting us to spend time with them.”
“Hear, hear,” they chorused, then took a drink from their glasses.
“To my wife,” James said, “for hosting our autumn party, and making this a most enjoyable day,” her husband said.
“Hear, hear,” they all echoed, lifting their glasses again, then taking a drink.
Nella couldn’t help but smile when she looked at her husband. She’d never been complimented like this, especially by someone whose opinion meant more to her than anyone else’s.
But it was more than that. Today, James’ gaze lingered on her, as if assessing her and finding her most satisfactory.
Nella pressed a hand to the bodice of her new autumn-gold walking suit—the one that minimized in all the right places. She felt transformed. Almost, dare she say it, lovely.
“Thank you,” she said studying his face and finding sincerity there. She turned her attention back to her guests. “Could I interest anyone in a short walk before we eat? It’s a beautiful day and quite soon after breakfast. Perhaps a walk will make us more hungry for the extravagant meal Cook prepared for us.”
“Excellent idea, my lady,” Lord Candleton said, extending his arm for Patricia to take.
Viscount Pomeroy extended his arm to Rose, and they followed Candleton and Patricia from the pleasant glade. The ladies’ maids stayed to tidy up the picnic while Mrs. Applebaum napped in the sun, content to let the young ones take their stroll.
“That leaves you, my lady,” James said and extended his arm to her. “You are stuck with me.”
Nella looped her arm through his. “I shall do my best to bear it,” she quipped dramatically as they walked behind the other two couples.
“Do you know how happy and proud I am?”
“As well you should be, my lord. Your estate is expansive and beautifully cared for, your staff is thoughtful and meticulous.”