The Complete Regency Surrender Collection

Chapter Ten

When Will awoke the next morning, she was gone from his bed. Perhaps last night’s release was what he had needed. It was the first real rest he’d had since waking from the coma. He’d slept so soundly that he had no idea whether she’d stayed as he asked.

He rather hoped she had. His dreams had been deliciously lurid, opium-drenched fantasies of some Turkish paradise where he reclined on a pillow while a nubile woman ministered to his every need.

He grinned. What he had thought of as a dream was very close to what had actually happened. She had seemed so prim when she came to him in her plain gown and cap. Then she had kissed him soundly and taken him to heaven with a single hand. After, she’d stripped naked at his bedside and stretched like a satisfied cat.

Was it any wonder that he had dreamed of paradise? When he closed his eyes he could still see her high, full breasts bobbing above a narrow waist and hips that made a man long to hold on to them. What had he been thinking, to invite her to bed so that they might simply talk? She had pleasured him to the point where it had not mattered in the slightest who she was or where she’d come from. His only concern had been that she continue until she had finished.

* * *

When he came down to breakfast, she was already there. He should not have been surprised. He thought himself an early riser, but she seemed to pride herself on being ahead of him. The post had come and she had kept a single letter for herself and arranged the rest at his place. Then she made sure that his plate and cup were prepared just as he would like it.

Today, instead of greeting her with a curt nod, he went to her side and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He glanced down at the paper in front of her.

He frowned. Despite what had happened between them, she still seemed to stiffen at the touch of his lips and shift nervously away as though fearing a blow. Her movement obscured the note, which had all but disappeared beneath her plate. Then she relaxed into the passive doll he had come to expect. ‘Good morning, William,’ she said dutifully.

‘And good morning to you, my dear.’ And where have you gone? It was not as if he expected her to arrive at the table like a slave in a harem, attired in nothing but scarves. But when he looked at her, he’d expected to find some sign of the change between them.

She glanced down at the paper peeping out from beneath her breakfast plate. ‘If you are wondering about the letter, it is a note from a friend of my parents, congratulating me upon our marriage. I will answer it after breakfast.’

‘Of course,’ he said. It was not so unusual that she had friends, nor that they would correspond with her. But since she had not mentioned them before, he had flattered himself that he was her entire world. It did him no credit that he felt jealous of the person who wrote to her and the time she would spend on them. ‘And you will write to your sister as we discussed?’

Her expression, which had been pensive, changed to a brief, radiant smile. Then it faded to the more sedate half-smile she usually wore. ‘If you still wish me to, I would like that.’

It was as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud only to disappear again. He grinned at her, hoping to remind her of the previous night. ‘Of course I still wish it. And if there is anything else that will make you smile as you have just done, you must ask immediately. On such a fine morning as this, I could deny you nothing.’

She glanced at the window, as though expecting to see a change in the weather. ‘I thought it rather chill, when I was walking.’ She looked back at him, giving no indication that she understood the reason for his happiness could be traced back to last night. She held out his cup, ‘Coffee?’

He took his usual seat and accepted the cup. ‘Thank you.’ Perhaps it was an ordinary thing for her, or had been so before the accident. If that was true, then damn him for forgetting so much. He leaned closer to her, catching her eye and smiling. ‘And thank you for last night as well.’

The delightful pink of her cheeks clashed with the reds in her hair. ‘You are welcome.’ She glanced down at the table. Toast?’ She pushed the toast rack closer to his plate, as though appeasing one appetite would make him forget the other.

He ignored her offer of bread and continued on his original topic. ‘I enjoyed what you did for me, very much,’ he said, thinking the words oddly polite. But they seemed a match for her reserved response.

‘I am glad,’ she said, sending the marmalade pot after the toast with a nudge of her finger.

He ignored that as well. ‘Did you enjoy it as well?’

To this, she gave him an odd look, as though it had not occurred to her to have an opinion about it. ‘It makes me happy when you are happy.’ Then the placid smile returned.

‘That is not what I asked,’ he said. ‘I want to know if you enjoyed touching me.’

She glanced around her, as if to remind him that they were in the breakfast room, not the bedroom. She looked down at her plate as though trying to decide if it might be possible to pretend she had not heard. She took up her knife and fork and began slicing the sausage on it into ever smaller bites. Then, as if she’d noticed what she had done to the rather significantly shaped meat, she set down her utensils with a clatter and said, in a rush of words, ‘Enjoyed it? Of course. Why should I not? You are my husband, after all, and it is my goal...’

‘To make me happy,’ he finished. ‘That brings us back to where we began.’ He pushed the toast rack out of the way and reached for one of her hands, holding it gently in his and noticing how cold the fingers were. ‘It is not that I object to being happy. But I assume, when I married you, that I wanted you to be happy as well. Surely I said something of the kind.’ He hoped that it was true. This morning, she was acting almost as if she was afraid of him.

She blinked at him, as though the details of their past were as murky to her as they were to him. Then she glanced down at their joined hands with an expression of such modesty and beauty that he wanted to capture it in oils. ‘Of course, my love. It is just that I do not want to seem less than grateful for all you and your family have done for me. Your offer last night, to allow me to send for Margot...’ She looked up hopefully, as though fearing he meant to retract it in the cold light of day.

‘Grateful?’ Was that why she had been so affectionate? It was oddly annoying to think that her treatment of him had been some sort of a reward for a perfectly normal offer of hospitality. ‘You needn’t be, over such a small thing. Where else would you sister stay, if not with us? If you pine for her company, then you shall have it.’

‘I do. Very much so.’ Her smile returned, and for a moment he was afraid that she might cry. Or stranger still, that she might repeat her behaviour of the previous evening and sink to her knees before him during breakfast. Exciting though the idea was, it was rather alarming to think of her putting a hand in his breeches each time she wanted a favour.

‘Then it is what I wish as well,’ he said carefully. ‘For I want to see you happy, just as you wish to see me happy.’

She nodded, as though all was settled.

‘But I wish that your happiness, last night and in nights to come, can be separate from the thought of your sister’s visit. It is quite a different thing, you see.’

‘Of course it is,’ she said, nodding. But there was something in her tone that announced she had no idea what he was talking about. What kind of a selfish beast had he been, if he had not taught her that the bedroom was a place to seek mutual pleasure? This obtuse behaviour on her part was almost enough to set his mind to doubting again. It did not sound like him, at all.

At least, it did not sound like the sort of husband and lover he had wished to be. But how was he to know, really? His experience thus far had been limited to the sort of women who knew what they wanted in bed, even if it was only to pretend satisfaction in exchange for jewellery and rent.

Did gently bred virgins behave in the same way? Were they taught to submit to their husbands and trade favour for favour like courtesans? Did no one speak to them of the pleasure of the act? Perhaps it was his job to teach that particular lesson. The prospect of that made him want to grin like an idiot. Instead, he smiled at her with as much kindness and gentleness as he could muster, then leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek again. ‘Tonight, I shall demonstrate what I mean.’

‘Oh.’ It was but one word. But she said it in a tone that said, oh, dear. Or, worse yet, oh dear, you needn’t bother. If he had not seen her on the previous evening, totally in control of both his body and her own nerves, he’d have thought she was frightened.

‘For now, let us finish our breakfast,’ he said, dismissing the subject until later. ‘I will leave you alone so you might go to the morning room and write letters to your friend and to your sister.’

With that, the relieved smile returned to her face as though it had never left.

* * *

He expected something of her.

Justine was not sure what it was that he had wanted, but it seemed some display of happiness was in order. Clearly, he did not understand how difficult it was to appear pleasant and at ease when one was already holding a paper full of admonishments on how she must behave if she was to ferret out the Felkirk family secrets. In his note, Montague had approved of the move to this house, since it was most likely to hold what they were looking for.

But he had also hinted that he would expect a detailed accounting of her activities when next they met in the woods. She rather feared that was more than just a description of the rooms she had searched and what she might have uncovered in them. He would want to know exactly what had transpired in the bedroom with Will.

Of course, Will seemed to want to talk of that as well. What was wrong with men, that they could not put what happened in the bedroom firmly in the past, as she meant to do? His kisses were nice, of course. She especially liked the little ones he had given her in the breakfast room, as though it were a matter of course to remind her of his feelings throughout the day.

But she wished he would stop. Small kisses only made her think of other, more intimate ones and the feel of his skin under her hand. It felt nice, just as the kisses did. But it would all lead to the same place in the end, where he had all the control and she had none. Badgering her about her own happiness was unnecessary. Life was what it was. Even the difficult bits went more smoothly if one did not brood on one’s feelings from moment to moment.

This morning, he meant to leave her alone, just as promised, to write her letters. Once the door was closed, she began with a thorough examination of the room. As she’d expected, she did not find a desk drawer full of loose stones, or a treasure map rolled up in a pigeon hole. Yesterday’s tour of the house had convinced her that the library was the only room worth searching. It held the books and papers left behind when the previous duke had moved to the new house.

If there was nothing to be found, so be it. She assured Montague in the note she wrote him that she would follow his orders to the letter, but she had no real intention of rooting through Will Felkirk’s mind for the truth. Why risk disturbing the conveniently forgotten past, on the slim hope of gain?

It was far better, in her opinion, to ensure Margot’s safety through the rather ordinary method Will had suggested. If money was needed to make her situation permanent, she did not need stolen diamonds. Her husband was a most agreeable man. If he meant what he’d said at breakfast, she had but to smile and ask for it, and he would open his purse and give her whatever she needed. It would work for a time, at least. Justine would face the consequences if and when he remembered what had happened in Bath. With luck, Margot might be safely married before the truth came out.

But the first step towards that happy state was to invite her sister for a visit. Justine chewed on her pen, unsure of what to say. There was so much that had happened and so little that could be explained. Suppose someone at the school saw the letter, or enquired as to the reasons for Margot’s sudden departure. Suppose Montague had spies to prevent Margot’s escape from his power. She must not think of that. There was little she could do, other than to hope that Montague heard nothing until Margot was well under way.

In the end, she settled on a brief note, explaining that she had married and was eager for her sister’s company. Margot was cautioned to tell no one of the wedding, as it had not been announced to the whole of William’s family. Under no circumstances was she to communicate with Mr Montague, as it was a sudden elopement and Justine had yet to tell him of it. If anyone asked, she must simply say that she had been called home for a visit. Then she was to take the next carriage north. Once she was here, all would be explained.

She folded sufficient bank notes in the letter to allow for comfortable travel, sealed it up and summoned a footman to place it and the note to Montague in the outgoing post. Now she had but to hope that Margot appeared before her next visit with her guardian.

* * *

Will was secretly relieved that Justine had plans to occupy herself for the morning. If she had taken such care in nursing him to health, he doubted that she would approve of what he had planned for his day. If one wished to regain one’s life, some risk must be taken. He had no plans to remain swaddled in cotton wool, simply to please his lady.

His lady. The idea was more appealing than it had been, just a day ago. There were still problems, of course. But many of them involved coaxing his wife out of the shell she had built around herself.

His own problems would be dealt with as they arose. He meant to conquer the first one today. He walked out from the house, choosing a stouter walking stick than usual, in case he became unsteady. Though he tired easily, and had to rest once on his way, there were no instances of imbalance. While he did not feel as strong as a bull, he could almost forget that he had recently been an invalid.

His nose pricked at the scent of hay and horse, growing stronger with each step. Justine would laugh at him, should he tell her that the smell of manure was its own sort of cure. But it reminded him of how he felt in the saddle, riding a beast that was the epitome of strength and freedom. He paused at the doorway, offering a brief prayer, should anything remain of the spirit of his faithful Jupiter. If there was a heaven, Will’s place there must have a stall for Jupe.

He paused again, staring into the barn and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light within. Then he ignored the sadness and carefully searched his heart for any signs of fear. He had been telling himself it was his own foolhardiness that had nearly killed him. A weaker man might have blamed the horse that failed him. Of course, a stronger man would have had the sense not to take a jump. Could he really trust his own mind at all?

‘Hello, my lord,’ the stable master said.

‘Hello, Jenks.’ Jenks was technically a servant of the duke’s, but he had been with the family since Will and Adam were boys. The man had taught him to ride. Who better to understand the problems that might occur today? ‘I suppose you heard of my accident?’

‘Yes, my lord. We were all most concerned for you.’

‘I cannot remember much of what happened.’ It was a lie. But it was too painful to own the total blank of the incident. ‘It seems I lost my mount as well.’

‘A shame, my lord.’ There was no censure in the voice, even though he deserved it. ‘Are you planning a trip to Tattersall’s?’

Will sighed. ‘I do not know if I am ready to purchase another. But I must get a horse under me, sooner rather than later. If there is a problem with my judgement...’ For instance, if he collapsed in terror before taking the saddle. He had known of a man so shaken after a little tumble that he had sold his hunter and now travelled in nothing more exciting than a barouche with full livery.

Jenks nodded again. ‘It is widely said, sir, that when one falls, one must get right back on.’

‘It is almost a cliché,’ Will agreed, ‘but very true. What do you have ready in the stalls for me? I fancy a gentle ride about the property.’ He had emphasised the word gentle, but just the sound of it depressed him.

‘If you wish a gentle ride, I have a mare right here, ready to saddle.’ Jenks patted the neck of a nearby grey and her head swung round slowly to look at them.

Will had expected fixed feelings, when the moment came to ride again. Perhaps he would not experience outright terror. At least there would be some trepidation at mounting. However, at the sight of the horse Jenks suggested, he felt nothing but scorn. ‘You might as well put a saddle on Penny’s pet terrier. It would have more spirit than this beast.’

There was a sparkle in Jenks’s eye, as though he had meant the first choice as nothing more than a joke. He walked down the row of stalls, and stopped before a chestnut gelding. ‘Perhaps Aries will suit you better. Sound legs. A good chest. Not prone to starts or skittishness. He is a fine horse, my lord.’

‘True.’ He could handle the beast easily. But somehow, the thought of riding did not excite him as it once did. He glanced down the row at the largest stall, a place of honour in the centre of the stable. ‘Do you think my brother would mind if I borrowed Zeus?’

Jenks started in surprise. ‘He would not mind, for the beast needs exercise. But do you think it wise?’ Zeus was black as Satan and notoriously bad tempered. But he shared a sire with Jupiter and was as close as Will was likely to get to his old friend.

‘It is probably not the best decision,’ Will admitted. ‘But I would like to try. Keeping control of him will teach me to be alert, when in the saddle.’

‘Of course, my lord.’ Jenks gave him a doubtful look, but set about saddling the horse. And, as Zeus was wont to do, he spat out the bit, blew out his stomach to fight the saddling and danced in the stall, making it as hard as possible to accomplish the task.

The sight should have worried him. If he had nearly split his head after a ride, shouldn’t such a spirited animal worry him? Instead, when he looked at Zeus, he felt excited and eager to ride. It had been too long since he had felt a horse under him. When Jenks finally got control of the stallion and led him out of the stable, Will practically itched with the desire to mount.

It was not as easy as he’d hoped. His legs were still weak and he had to resort to a mounting block to get a foot into the stirrup. But once he was astride, the problems were minimal and he set out from the stable at a walk.

It was good to feel the wind in his face again and good to see the family lands from the accustomed combined height of man and animal. He glanced back at his house, hoping that Justine was not too near any of the windows, as he did not want to frighten her, then nudged the horse to a trot. There was still no sign of the fear he had expected to find in himself. Other than the strangeness of a new mount, there was nothing exceptionable about the ride.

He experimented with cantering, and even galloped for a short stretch with similar results. Zeus seemed more bothered by the outing than he, he recognised that the commands he was given were not from his true master and was still trying to decide whether he needed to obey them. But Will kept a firm hand on the reigns and tightened the grip of his thighs which, if truth be told, were still not strong enough to take too much more of this.

One last test and he would go back to the stables. He turned the horse towards a low fence at the bottom of the pasture. There was no risk in it. He had been jumping that particular obstacle since he was a boy and the horse was familiar with it as well. As they approached, he felt nothing but pleasant anticipation of both man and beast, for the moment of weightless flight as they passed over it. And they did, with ease.

It was then that Zeus chose his moment for rebellion, landing hard, dipping his head and digging in his feet to send Will over his neck and to the ground with a thump. His moment of triumph was immediately followed by the air being jarred out of his lungs and the warning snap of large sharp teeth beside his ear.

‘You dirty bastard,’ he wheezed, rolling out of the way.

‘My lord!’ Jenks was rushing to his side to take the reins and help him to his feet.

Will held up a hand to signify that all was well and managed a weak laugh. ‘Nothing to worry about, Jenks. I have not cracked my pate, or damaged anything but my dignity.’ Hardly even that. The fall had been tonic, just as the ride had been. He had not feared the jump or the fall. His riding clothes were stained with mud and he smelled of grass and dried leaves. But he had not shattered as he’d feared he might. His mistake had been in taking his brother’s miserable horse out in the first place. But there was nothing particularly fragile about him that might prevent such rides in the future.

He thanked Jenks for his help and promised to visit again soon and choose a more manageable horse. Other than that, the day had been a success. Yet it did not fully content him. Would he never regain anything from the time before the accident?

It was sad that he could not remember his wife. But how near to death did one need to go to erase even the fear of falling from one’s mind? He had been half-expecting that an innocent tumble would knock the memory back into him. He would see a flash of that time, on a different horse. Perhaps Jupe had startled at the sight of a rabbit, or stumbled on a hole. He had sent Will sailing through the air with the knowledge that the landing was likely to be a bad one, ending in pain and darkness.

Still, there was nothing. His mind was as smooth and as blank as a block of ice, with the things he wanted frozen for ever inside. He would find Justine and beg her for more information on the day of his accident. Perhaps she had seen something that might have indicated the reason for it, other than carelessness on his part. Had he been drunk, or in some other way completely unaware of what was about to happen to him?

When he returned to the house, she was nowhere to be found. The morning room was as tidy as if she had never occupied it at all. Her bedroom was equally empty, as was his. Only in the library did he see evidence of her presence. In the darkest corner of the room, a table was stacked with leather-bound journals his mother had kept while she still lived in the house. What she sought there, he was not sure, for his mother had been an indifferent correspondent at best.

Beside them, the family Bible was open to the page where his birth had been recorded, along with the significant events of his childhood. Was she really so eager to please him that she chose to research his past? What else could she be looking for but his mother’s anecdotal record of his life and perhaps a few favourite recipes and menus?

He smiled. He’d have found the behaviour strange, had it been described to him. But there was so much about his new wife that was odd, it hardly surprised him. If she had a fault, it was her almost obsessive desire to make him happy. Tonight, she would be surprised to learn that to accomplish her goal she must take as much pleasure as she gave.