‘My father does not rule my life, Anthony.’
Lascelles cocked his head to one side. ‘Do I detect a touch of antagonism, m’boy? I do recall there was a—shall we say, a certain tension between you and your father when we met before in London. Have matters between you not improved?’
Alex shrugged. ‘My father rarely impacts upon my life. I am my own man.’
‘Of course you are, dear boy. It is just...the Duke...he can be quite forceful. I have never yet seen any man—or woman—get the better of him.’
‘He does not rule my life,’ Alex repeated. ‘I make my own friends and my own decisions.’
‘I am pleased to hear it.’ Lascelles sipped his claret, and then raised his glass once more. ‘To new friends.’
‘New friends.’ Alex raised his own glass.
I’ll not forget what you did to Rosalind, though.
‘Now then.’ Lascelles put down his glass and steepled his fingers, propping his chin on them, reminding Alex of Father, who he’d seen in a similar stance more times than he cared to remember.
‘I confess to some curiosity, Alexander. Is this merely a courtesy call?’ Lascelles cocked his head. ‘Or do you have something in particular you would like to discuss?’
He’d wanted to lead into the subject of his mother gradually...almost as an afterthought. This was too obvious. Caution whispered through him: Don’t let him know how much it means to you. There would be time to talk of Mother, even if he must leave it for another day.
‘It is merely a courtesy call, Anthony. And a way to satisfy my curiosity—I’ve lived at Foxbourne five years now, and this is my first visit to Halsdon.’
‘Then you must allow me to show you around.’ Anthony rose to his feet. ‘At least, around the ground floor. I cannot believe you have any desire to view the bedchambers or servants’ quarters.’
‘Not likely!’
The first room they entered was a billiards room.
‘Do you have a billiards room at Foxbourne?’
‘No.’ Alex swept the room with envious eyes. ‘There’s no space. But even if there were, I’d have no one to play with.’ The thought of knocking balls around a table on his own held no appeal.
Lascelles raised a brow. ‘Jane might learn the game. Your mama was quite an accomplished player, you know.’
‘Was she?’ This is what he had come for. Knowledge of his mother, of the person she had been. ‘You played with her?’
‘Oh, yes. Several times, at various house parties at which we were both guests. She was as good as any man, and often won games.’ He laughed softly, his eyes far away. ‘She could be quite ruthless once she gained an advantage, both in billiards and at the card table. And...’ He paused, his dark eyes on Alex. ‘And she was a popular young lady.’
Alex frowned. Lascelles had been going to say something different, he was sure. He was aware his mother had had a reputation for taking lovers...of course Lascelles would not speak of that. And Alex didn’t want to hear it, either.
‘When did you meet?’
‘Let me see...it was her debut year. We were both eighteen—you must know she was three years older than your father?’
Alex nodded.
‘We were friends from the outset. But, of course, a bastard like me wasn’t deemed suitable company for a gently born and bred young lady. But, despite her parents’ objections, we remained friends. She confided in me.’
‘About...?’
Lascelles smiled. ‘Alex... Alex...dear boy. A confidence is a confidence, even if the confessor is no longer with us. But, a marriage made in haste, my boy... I am sure you can fill in the gaps.’ His features hardened. ‘Your grandfather was sick...fretting over the succession of the dukedom. But if my father had married my mother and made me his heir...’ He clamped his mouth shut. ‘My apologies. That is naught but ancient history.’ His expression softened. ‘You remind me of her. You have her colouring. Those eyes...such a tragic waste.’ He sighed, and clasped Alex’s shoulder. ‘You must feel free to come over any time you choose, my boy. Any time. We can play billiards, or cards. Or...just talk, if you wish. A man—especially one who has just married—needs male company, I find. Dear Margaret’s son will always find a welcome here.’
‘Thank you. I might take you up on that.’
‘Do. In fact...do you recall that, when your good lady invited me to dine on Tuesday next, I had to decline?’
Alex nodded.
‘I am hosting a small gathering—just a few friends to enjoy a day or two hunting and shooting. You must come by one evening for a few games. Billiards and cards... Oh! Have no fear, low-stakes games only. I cannot allow my guests to beggar themselves under my roof! There are more than enough gaming hells in Town should they wish to follow that road to penury. Gentlemen only, I’m afraid, so I am unable to extend my invitation to include Lady Jane...but I am sure she will understand if you wish to join us one evening. My guests arrive tomorrow, so shall we say Saturday? Or...’ his head dipped to one side again, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips ‘...might dear Jane disapprove? I should hate to be the cause of disharmony between newlyweds.’
‘Jane will not object. She doesn’t keep me on a leash, you know.’
Lascelles inclined his head, that knowing smile still lurking, setting Alex’s hackles to rise. ‘Of course she does not, dear boy. Acquit me, I beg you...it was never my intention to imply such a thing.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Tonight?’
It was Saturday, and Jane and Alex had just returned from a hack on Pearl and Nelson. They had even seen a shooting party on Halsdon land, and Alex had told her Lascelles was entertaining a party of gentlemen at the Manor, but even then he hadn’t thought to mention he’d been invited to join them for dinner that evening.
‘Yes. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘But...’ Jane frowned. ‘When was this arranged? I wasn’t aware you had seen Anthony since you went over there on Thursday.’
‘I haven’t.’
‘But you didn’t think to tell me he had invited you to dine tonight?’
‘I didn’t think I needed permission to accept an invitation on my own behalf. I’m sorry you’re not included, but it’s a male-only gathering.’ He grinned at her. ‘Not your idea of an enjoyable evening at all, I’ll wager.’
He didn’t even seem to realise how unreasonable he was being. She tightly folded her arms, as if to keep her anger inside.
‘You should have told me. I could have warned Mrs Godfrey. She’ll have prepared a meal for two...if I’d known I would be dining alone, I’d have been happy with only one course.’
Alex scowled. ‘Why should the cook care? It’s just a meal.’
‘And how do you think it makes me look, that I didn’t even know my husband intended to dine out tonight?’
Alex’s jaw set and Jane turned away, hurt he hadn’t told her—like he hadn’t told her anything about his visit to Lascelles, despite her asking. It was as though he were excluding her, reminding her of the old Alex...going his own way without being beholden to anyone. It made her feel...incidental. Shut out. First his nightmares. Now this.
‘Come on, Janey.’ He pulled her round into a hug, and kissed her cheek. ‘Don’t be cross. I’m still learning this husband thing... I dare say I’m too used to coming and going as I please. I’ll do better. I promise.’
He held her at arms’ length and his rueful smile melted her anger.
‘I’m not so much cross as hurt you didn’t tell me.’
‘I know. I understand. I’ll do better. And, to prove it, I should tell you Anthony has invited me over to play billiards any time I like.’ He arched one brow. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No. Of course not.’ How could she say anything different now? She consoled herself with the thought he was unlikely to go regularly. ‘Alth
ough—’
She bit her lip, locking her words inside. He’d already objected when she’d warned him to be careful. Sometimes it was hard not to recall his troubled boyhood and the scrapes he had dived into headlong...hard to relinquish the role of the sensible one who tried to prevent the worst of his excesses. But that was many years ago—their lives had led in different directions: his to school, university and the life of a man about Town whereas she had remained at home, only seeing him when she went to Town for the Season since he stopped visiting the Abbey.
‘Although?’ His lips continued to smile, but there was glint of annoyance in his tiger-gold eyes.
‘Although I will miss you.’
‘That’s my girl!’ He swung her around and, as he set her down again, he kissed her. ‘At least you’ll have Mist for company.’
Mist had joyfully adapted to her new life as Jane’s pet, clearly relishing the life of luxury, while Dora and the rest of the litter had returned to life in the stables. But a kitten was no substitute for her husband. Jane strove to conceal her dismay.
‘Do you know who his guests are?’ Olivia had told her of the time certain gentlemen had attempted to ruin Alex in order to wreak revenge on his father. What if any of those shady types were among Lascelles’ friends? Or what if—and her stomach tumbled at the thought—Lascelles himself harboured thoughts of revenge through Alex?
‘Yes and they’re all eminently respectable. Anyway. I’ve enough time to help Lilley work with that team of chestnuts before I need to change my clothes, so I’ll see you later, my adorable wife.’
He kissed her nose but his attention was already on the four ready-harnessed horses being led from the stalls.
The walk back to the house was surprisingly lonely and Jane spent the time scolding herself. On their wedding day she had vowed never to be a needy wife, nor to complain if Alex continued his own pursuits, but in the early weeks of their marriage she had grown accustomed to them spending time together. Maybe she had become complacent, believing that was how their life here at Foxbourne would always be, but Alex had led a full life before their marriage and she shouldn’t expect him to change his entire life to accommodate her. He had work to do. Although Jane was useful at certain times, it would be odd indeed if she expected to be included in every aspect of Alex’s work.
Besides, not only would Alex soon resent being tied too closely to anyone, even his wife, she also had responsibilities. She had the house to run; the staff to manage; she had those Christmas gifts to finish making, and she had also taken over the regular updating of the ledgers.
But those barriers between her and Alex—the feeling of being shut out of parts of his life—troubled her. That was the Alex of old, keeping everyone at bay. Hiding his innermost feelings. The initial happy contentment of their marriage seemed to be slipping further and further out of reach. She suppressed a sigh as she let herself in through the front door. How she wished her husband was easier to understand.
She went straight to Alex’s business room. She would work on the ledgers for a while before she changed her riding habit for a gown and her solitary dinner.
That is where Alex found her half an hour later. He breezed through the door, bringing with him the smell of fresh air and horses.
‘There you are!’ He rounded the desk, took the pen from her and tugged her to her feet. ‘No one knew where you were...they all thought you were still outside with me.’
He tilted her chin up as he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her close.
‘I was worried. I went upstairs and saw you hadn’t been up there to change.’ His tawny gaze darkened as it fastened on her mouth, and her heart thumped in response. ‘I thought you might still be cross with me for not telling you sooner about tonight.’
‘Of course I am not.’ Love for him filled her heart even as she warned herself this would not be the only time he would disappoint her. He was a complex man. She already knew that when she married him. If she’d wanted a paragon...an easy life...then Lord Alexander Beauchamp would have been the very last name on her list.
She smiled tenderly. ‘I don’t deny it was a surprise but I’m not annoyed with you.’ The need to speak the words battered at her. ‘I love you, Alex. I want you to be happy.’
He blinked, and a slow smile stretched his lips. ‘Darling Honeybee.’ He possessed her mouth in a slow, dreamy, lingering kiss.
Desire flamed inside, sizzling through her as his lips feathered to her ear and he nibbled her lobe, burning away her disappointment that he hadn’t said those three words in return.
‘I think it’s time you got out of those clothes, Janey.’
He unbuttoned her jacket and pulled her shirt free, deftly scooping her breast from her corset. She gasped, her nipple tightening as Alex bent his head. Hot lips sucked the tight bud into his mouth. His tongue swirled and pure need sparked along her veins. He reached for her skirts, and hoisted them high before slipping one finger between her thighs. She moaned, her core throbbing, already wet for him. She reached between them, unbuttoned the fall of his breeches, freed his straining erection and stroked along his hot, hard length before gently circling the tip.
‘Temptress.’ The low growl vibrated in her ear.
His hands still full of her skirts, he cupped her bottom and hoisted her up, perching her on the very edge of the desk as he parted her knees and moved between her thighs. He nuzzled her neck and then bit her lobe as he entered her with one swift thrust. She clutched at his shoulders, her head back, her legs wrapped around him as he stilled, his hands supporting her back. She lifted her head to look at him, and found him watching her with a wondering look in those tiger eyes of his.
‘Who knew?’ he whispered. ‘Who could possibly know the fiery wanton lurking inside quiet Janey?’
He started to move. ‘Thank you, my Honeybee, for making my life so sweet.’
* * *
Later, Jane watched Alex leave for Halsdon Manor with a heavy heart. For all his lovemaking, and all his sweet words, she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling that some kind of Rubicon had been crossed. Mayhap it was inevitable—they must settle into a humdrum daily existence. But it felt...she felt...as though shadows were starting to close in. She huffed a laugh at such a fanciful thought, and yet she couldn’t convince herself it was all in her imagination. There was a growing barrier between them, as though Alex had withdrawn from her—mentally if not physically. And, for her, that diminished the pleasure of their lovemaking.
He shared his body but not his thoughts.
He accepted her comfort at night when he suffered nightmares, but rejected her attempts to help him by bringing those nightmares into the open.
He was a stubborn man. He would tell himself he was protecting her. He would tell himself he was the man of the house and mustn’t show weakness. He would tell himself there was nothing she could do to help him come to terms with what had happened the day his mother was murdered.
Jane, however, remained convinced he was wrong. To talk about his memories was, she was certain, the key to stopping them haunting him and, more importantly, the way to stop him retreating behind those impenetrable barriers he had erected against the world, including her.
She must keep trying. She might be defeated for now; she was not defeated for good.
After her lonely dinner, Jane went to the drawing room. She played with Mist, who was turning into an adorable bundle of mischief. When she wasn’t running up the curtains, sharp claws scrabbling, she was climbing on the furniture, leaving paw prints on the polished surfaces, much to Mrs Kent’s chagrin. Then she worked on the Christmas gift she’d made for Alex—a beautiful ruby-red satin waistcoat which she was embroidering with cream and pale green silk thread.
She meant to wait up for Alex but it grew late and she could barely keep her eyes open. Eventually, she gave in and went to bed where, ironically, sleep el
uded her for what seemed like hours. Finally she must have slept because she was roused by Alex stumbling against the bed.
‘What time is it?’ she asked groggily.
‘Late. Gone four. Shhh—go back to sleep.’
A short while later she was vaguely conscious of him lying close behind her, one arm draped over to cup her breast, and then she slept again.
She was woken by Peg opening the curtains to allow light to flood the room. Alex was no longer spooned against her back and, when Jane rolled over, his side of the bed was cold and empty.
‘Where is His Lordship?’
‘In his own bedchamber; he felt sick in the night.’ Peg’s pursed lips made her disapproval clear. ‘Drabble says he moved so’s not to disturb you.’ She lifted a tray from the dressing table. ‘I brought your chocolate and rolls, milady.’
Jane sat up, tugging the pillow up behind her to lean against. ‘Thank you, Peg. Is he awake yet?’
Peg placed the tray on Jane’s legs and snorted. ‘Not he! I don’t doubt he’ll still be abed at noon, complaining of his head a-banging. Well, he won’t get no sympathy from me, that’s for sure.’
‘Now, Peg. Do not forget who pays your wages. If Lord Alex hears you talking like that, you’ll be out on your ear.’
Peg laughed. ‘I’ve known Lord Alex as long as you have, milady. He’d not dare.’ Then she nodded. ‘Not but what you’re right. Me ’n’ Drabble might have a grumble now and then, but you know we wouldn’t see no harm come to him. And nor would we say such things in front of them others below stairs.’
Christmas with His Wallflower Wife Page 14