Her heart gave a little thud. An unpleasant one. “You intend to leave in the morning, don’t you? You will return to London…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Or do you mean to return to Pandev and put yourself as far away from me as possible?”
“I cannot go home, although I would if circumstances allowed it. I suspect even the distance between here and London will not be sufficient to draw you from my mind and soul.” He rested her hand against his cheek, then turned his head to kiss her palm. “I must wait upon the convenience of your Queen before I leave, so I will bury myself in London until she beckons and resist your lure as well as I can.”
Elise’s throat tightened. Her eyes ached but she would not weep–not in front of him. This was what she had begged for; a single night by which to remember him. She would be dishonorable to complain or grow upset because he was abiding by their agreement.
Instead, she tried for a light note, to change the mood which had settled between them. “I am pleased to hear I am alluring, still. I wondered if perhaps, once I had revealed all of myself to you and shared everything a woman can share, you might be cured of the obsession.”
His smile was slow and heated. He pulled on her hand, bringing her arm over his shoulder, then drew her even closer to him, pulling her across the bed. “Cured? I do not think that is possible. It has changed, though. Grown, perhaps. Which means we were both wrong, Elise. I thought as you did. I thought that common intimacy would quench my thirst, but it has not.” He kissed her, his hand smoothing its way over her flank.
He was teasing her again, she realized, with a little start of her heart, and a tiny spill of pleasure.
After all, the night was not yet done…
Danyal lingered until the last possible moment, when they could hear the clump of servants on the stairs, bringing hot water and tending to fireplaces.
Even then, he seemed reluctant to release her. He dressed slowly, as she searched in vain for her nightgown, then put the wrapper on without a stitch of clothing beneath it.
In between each garment he donned, Danyal kissed her, his hands playing over her body, keeping it inflamed with need.
Now that the moment was nearing, Elise did not want him to leave. It did not matter to her that the chance he might be discovered in her room grew more certain with each passing minute.
She watched him move and dress, tracing with her gaze the lines of his body beneath the suiting and the linen, then the thick wool of the dressing gown, which he tied closed with a compulsive jerk of his hands.
“Come here,” he breathed, as he moved toward the door.
Elise went to him, her heart beating with sour notes and her chest aching. She had to keep her teeth tightly together to prevent herself from saying anything which might be construed as a request that he stay, that they forget their agreement, that they ignore every sensible reason why any relationship between them was doomed.
Danyal stood with one hand on the doorknob, while he studied her. He pushed her hair back over her shoulder and rested his fingers on the silk of her wrapper. Then he drew her to him and kissed her with the same quality of wild abandon that his kisses and caresses had taken on during the night.
It was as if he had put aside the last skerrick of royal concerns. The man behind the title was kissing her now. The real Danyal.
Elise clung to him, afraid to speak lest everything in her heart spill from her and trap him in her life.
Surely he could sense her feelings? She could not help but melt against him, and moan softly as his lips trailed down her throat to the edge of the wrapper, then push it aside and move farther—down to the flesh over her heart. It didn’t matter to her that by pulling aside her wrapper, he had exposed her breast, too.
“And the newspapers, too, please!” someone called softly from outside the corridor.
“Yes, my lord!”
A bedroom door closed.
Danyal groaned and let her go. He pulled her wrapper back into place. His hand trembled.
Then he drew in a heavy breath. He was bracing himself. Bringing himself to the moment. He turned the doorknob and the door clicked open. His gaze didn’t shift from her face. “Goodbye, sweet Elise,” he murmured.
“Goodbye and farewell, Danyal. And…thank you.”
He closed his eyes, as if his willpower had ebbed for a moment. Then with a compulsive movement, he yanked the door open, glanced outside for observers, then stepped through and let the door shut with another soft click.
Elise stared at the white door, her heart now running like a steam engine. Her pulse surged thickly through her, making her feel ill.
Stumbling, she went back to bed. She did not rise from her damp pillow until later that afternoon, long after Danyal had left Innesford.
Great Aunt Annalies and Elise, along with Iefan and Ben, did not linger in Innesford, after that. Their business was done. Iefan had visited his daughter and new son-in-law and was content that Richard was recovering properly and that Éve was happy.
The return train journey was subdued. It was as if everyone sensed Elise’s mood, even though she tried to behave as she normally did. She had trouble remembering how she normally behaved, though. The world had changed in the course of a single night and everything from before was hazy to her.
Great Aunt Annalies had acquired a copy of the day’s Times at the Euston train station as they boarded. She poured over the news, her spectacles on the end of her nose, until she looked up briefly. “The Queen has returned from Balmoral for a brief stay in London before they go to Windsor for Christmas.” Her gaze shifted to Elise. “I suspect Prince Danyal will be called to the palace shortly. It is as well your experiment is at an end. Was it successful, Elise? Do you despise the man now?”
“I…wish him well,” Elise said, her throat aching. “We are not compatible, Great Aunt Elise. I am not a Pandevanian woman, just to begin.”
Iefan raised a thick black brow. “He is required to marry a Pandevanian?”
“Well, a suitable match, at least,” Great Aunt Annalies replied. “With the people in his principality agitating for independence from the Ottoman Emperor and the English influence which has held sway over his family for a generation, Danyal must listen to and be directed by their feelings, if he is to rule them successfully.”
“An English wife would destroy their trust in him,” Ben said, his tone thoughtful. He gave Elise a brief smile. “You are wiser than your years, Elise, to not pursue the man.”
She could not smile back, for her heart was breaking. Danyal had got his wish. His interview with Queen Victoria may have already taken place and he would be returning soon to Pandev.
Only now did Elise understand that she loved him. Her body ached with the knowledge…and with his absence, too.
She would have the rest to her life to grow accustomed to that ache.
CHAPTER TEN
It didn’t seem to matter to the rest of the world that her heart was broken. The days waxed and waned, the stars moved in their circuits and life went on, completely indifferent to the ruin that was Elise’s life.
She tried to find solace in the work she had so enjoyed, in the exercising of her mind to resolve problems which rose every single day. But while she had not lost any ability to find unique ways to mend and repair, resupply and restore the big house to a basic level of functionality, Elise could find no enthusiasm in the challenges she dealt with.
Jennifer Jane Balfour and her younger sister, Alice, moved into the attic bedroom together. Jennifer was a strawberry blonde with crystal blue eyes and a demure exterior that was utterly misleading, as both Elise and Ann learned within hours of the sisters’ arrival.
Their father, Ben, and the man who was publicly acknowledged as their father, the Duke of Wakefield, had barely stepped out of the house and into the grand coach waiting in the square with its lamps glowing, before Jennifer blew out her breath in a heavy sigh and dug into her pocket and withdrew a silver cigarette case. “I thought they would n
ever leave!” She lit a cigarette with a paper twist she thrust into the fire and whirled to face Elise. “Is that brandy, in the decanter?”
“I…um…whisky, actually,” Elise said, glancing at the last inch of the decanter which Danyal had not finished. No one else in the house drank regularly.
“I’ve not tried whisky before. Could I have a glass?” Jennifer dropped into the corner of the sofa and exhaled a cloud of smoke in a way that looked very…gentleman-like.
Great Aunt Annalies, at the other end, considered Jennifer over the top of her spectacles. “It isn’t even dinner time yet, Jennifer. You wouldn’t rather have a sherry, if you must have a drink at all?”
There was a rattle on the stairs, announcing the arrival of the other tenants, who would be curious about the two arrivals.
“Sherry is much too sweet,” Jennifer said, wrinkling her nose. “I suppose…should I pour it myself, then?” She glanced around, sizing up the drawing room and the absence of a butler and footmen.
“No, I can do it,” Elise murmured, happy to have something to distract herself, even if it was only for a moment.
Jennifer and Alice quickly learned the ways of the household, although adapting to a daily requirement that they travel to Middle Temple Lane and attend their new responsibilities at the offices of Davies & Spearing was more of a challenge for them.
“I had no idea one’s feet could hurt so much simply from standing all day,” Alice had complained on the first evening after their return to the house. She pressed her thumbs into the sides of her boots, to rub her foot beneath the leather.
“That is because you stand upon both of them at all times,” Beatrice Rose said from the depths of the wing chair.
“How is one supposed to stand if not upon one’s feet?” Alice asked, startled.
“You put your weight on one foot and merely rest the other on the ground,” Beatrice replied. “When that foot gets tired, you move your weight to the other foot and give that one a rest.”
“Did you ask your employer about a stool, Beatrice?” Elise asked, handing her a small glass of blackberry punch which she had made herself, stealing blackberries from the big pot of jam that Mrs. Brown had been making. She had spent many hours in the kitchen and servant’s quarters, lately, pouring over old books and ledgers, looking for hints of efficiencies and simplicities that former butlers had brought to the management of the household.
It helped pass the time.
“I did ask about a stool,” Beatrice replied, “though I near dropped through the floor while I was doing the asking.”
“And…?” Elise asked.
“He said if I could find one, I was welcome to it.”
Great Aunt Annalies murmured her thanks as Elise handed her a glass of punch, too. “And did you find a stool anywhere?” she asked Beatrice.
“I did not,” Beatrice said. “I couldn’t spare time to look for one.”
“Oh, dear,” Elise murmured. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Only I have been staring at a stool for the longest time and never realized it,” Beatrice added.
Everyone waited for her to continue.
Beatrice grinned. “I remembered how you thought…well, sideways, Elise. So, I thought sideways, myself, and there it was. The stool I hadn’t noticed until then.”
“Well, what was it?” Ann asked curiously.
“Two of the giant spools of cotton thread they stack against the walls. We wind off smaller balls from them throughout the day. The empty spools just remain there until someone thinks to shift them out of the way at the end of the week.” Beatrice laughed. “They’re this high, when you put them on their side.” She held her hand out at knee level. “I put one on top of the other, spread a cloth over them and sat on that!”
Everyone laughed. Even Elise found she could smile a little, pleased that Beatrice had found a way to deal with one of the troubles which blighted her days.
There was a pleasure in helping soothe other people’s days, Elise realized. She had only indirectly helped Beatrice, but she liked the outcome. She liked seeing Beatrice smile more often.
So she threw herself into the work of running the household. She told Ann she would remain the butler for a while and that Ann should enjoy the last of the mild weather, instead.
She helped Jennifer and Alice adapt their attic room into a warm and comfortable bower, with the addition of lamps and cushions and shelves to place beloved books.
“Father—Papa Dane, that is—does love his books. The library at the house on St. James Square is enormous. We were permitted to read any book we wanted,” Jennifer had explained as she carefully stowed first editions of Dickens and Gresham King upon the shelf which Elise had nailed upon the wall…and that seemed to be holding all the books without fail, much to her silent amazement.
“I was allowed to read anything in the library at Northallerton, too,” Elise said. “But I was to ask questions and demand explanations for anything I read that I did not understand, or that troubled me.”
“Yes, that was Papa’s condition for reading, too,” Jennifer replied. “Only, he was terrible at explaining things. He would go on and on. Papa Stephen was much better at giving a simple answer.”
“Uncle Stephen,” Alice corrected absently, as she leafed through a copy of Middlemarch.
“Elise is family,” Jennifer replied. She lifted one of her finely arched brows. “You do know about our family, don’t you?”
“Not officially,” Elise replied. “Although when I was smaller, I remember thinking how interesting it would be to have three fathers, so I must have learned of it somehow.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes. “It is three times as vexing as having just one father. Especially when they get all hot and bothered by something I’ve done or cannot do, or that I’m not old enough to do just yet…and it doesn’t seem to matter how old I get, the required age is always just ahead.”
Elise smiled. “They all love you.”
“Oh, far too much,” Jennifer said, her tone one of agreement. “I simply couldn’t wait to live here, when Papa Ben told me about it.” Her grin was full of mischief. “I can even put up with having to tend to Papa Stephen’s demands when I am on duty at their offices, if I am not to linger in his company in the evening and put up with his cross-examination.”
“He does turn into a tyrant when he is working,” Alice said.
“Your fathers are considered to be the best solicitors in London,” Elise pointed out. “They have advised the Royal Family. They have a reputation to maintain.”
“Which is why we agreed to assist them in their offices,” Alice said, closing her book with a thud. “Although I would much rather have done something very independent like you and Ann.”
“Oh, I don’t mind the work at all,” Jennifer said. “It allows us to stay in London, instead of Wakefield during the off-season. There, they all fit!”
She stood back to admire the full shelf of books.
Alice reached up and placed Middlemarch on top of the upright titles.
With a groan as the only warning, the shelf shuddered and tilted, spilling the books onto the bed and over Alice’s head.
“Apparently, there is more to hammering a nail into wood than I understood,” Elise murmured as the two sisters stared at the ruined shelf and Alice rubbed her abused head. “I will have to learn the trick of it.”
How to properly hammer a nail was just one of a great many items which Elise added to her notebook for further research and thought over the next few weeks.
Laborers arrived to install the new plumbing and water closet in the house, causing a great deal of inconvenience and adding a fine cloud of dust to the air, too. Everyone was more than happy to put up with the fuss, once Elise explained what the work entailed and what the end result would be.
The sound of hammering and sawing permeated the house, ending only late in the day, when the laborers went home. While they were in the house, though, Elise learned from their
supervisor, a Mr. Jones, the most efficient way to nail a shelf to a wall, so it remained in place and strong enough to hold up books.
The days grew shorter and Christmas was just around the corner. Letters from Northallerton spoke about her and Ann returning home for Christmas. Elise avoided responding to that demand. The thought of Christmas festivities surrounded by family made her feel uneasy. She wasn’t sure she was yet ready to pretend to feel joy in the season.
It might be best if Ann went back to Northallerton alone. Elise added a note to herself to speak to Ann about it before too many days had rolled by, before getting on with the ever-challenging task of solving problems and removing them from her notebook pages.
Then a letter arrived from Danyal and everything changed, all over again.
The postal markings on the thick cream envelope were strange. Some of them weren’t the stamps which post offices everywhere had begun to use to cancel a postage stamp. They were merely hand-written slashes and foreign lettering.
The date of postage was clear enough, though. It had been sent on the seventeenth.
“Is that the foreign letter I spotted earlier, Elise?” Ann asked, slathering butter on her toast as usual, as Elise stared at the envelope and tried to make her hand stop shaking.
Great Aunt Annalies said, “It is my understanding that a letter is far more difficult to read with the envelope still sealed, than if one opens it.”
Elise swallowed. “It is from Pandev.” Her voice emerged in a croak.
Beatrice Rose was the only boarder at the table beside Ann and Great Aunt Annalies herself. She frowned, looking from Ann to Annalies, trying to grasp understanding from their startled looks.
Ann put down her knife. “I cannot think why Danyal would need to write to you,” she said, her tone wary.
“Neither can I,” Elise admitted. Her voice was more normal, this time, for which she was thankful. “It was posted only a week ago…”
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