Chapter 5
Jasper Coutts, Viscount of Wexton, had had the good fortune of securing the lease on a house in Cork Street, Mayfair, through the perspicacity of his solicitors. But then, that is why they were paid so well.
The lease came to an end on the 31st of August, which meant he would have spent six months in London. Some of those months were the most important to someone who was anyone in London ‘Society,’ and he’d made the most of them to date. He was, however, pleased to know that his long-time friend Quentin was on his way. The season had dwindled, and fresh blood was always welcome.
His valet had just brought him in a strong coffee with toast and marmalade which he was sampling in bed.
‘It must be at least two in the afternoon,’ he thought, noting that the sun had come around to shine tentatively through his curtains.
‘I wonder, will Quentin arrive today or tomorrow?’ he thought.
Sunday was Jasper’s day to recover from the week, so he didn’t worry unnecessarily about Quentin. He would be at home whether he arrived today or tomorrow.
“Biggs, that was one of the best coffees ever!” he called to the man in his dressing room, who appeared immediately.
“Any chance of a second?” Jasper looked hopeful.
“I would hate to spoil one of the ‘best coffees ever’, Sir, by providing another. Two would make it run of the mill,” Biggs replied in his driest tone.
“You are a tonic, Biggs,” Jasper replied laughing. “Let’s hope that the second isn’t quite as good as the first, then.”
Biggs sidled off to fetch another, taking the tray with him.
Jasper ran a hand through his thick blond hair. Then he passed it over his bristling jaw that was beginning to itch. He was going to have to make an effort to get up anyway. Bodily comforts called.
He’d spent a good part of the night with his mistress, who was pretty but insipid. He wasn’t smitten enough to want to wake up in her bed. Her time was counted now, and she knew it. When he left town at the end of August, he would be leaving her too, but a gift of jewellery would soften the separation.
That was the wonderful thing about his mistresses. They could be compared to a lease on a house. Good for a season.
Jasper was roughly the same age as Quentin. They’d gone to the same schools. They’d both gone to Oxford too, until Jasper had been sent down. He hadn’t seen any point to studying, as he didn’t need to work. His finances had been handled by his father until his death and now by solicitors, his man of business and bankers. He didn’t have to worry about anything. He could even die knowing that the title would go to his brother and his brother’s boys. He loved having a good time and a good laugh. Some might even say that he was reasonable as he didn’t gamble. He was glad that Quentin was arriving, though, because he had started to be bored.
Biggs arrived with the second cup of coffee and disappeared into the dressing room again, probably to prepare his shaving things and his clothes.
Jasper slid out of bed and stood naked in front of the cheval glass. He turned sideways to look at his body’s profile. His stomach muscles and thighs were toned thanks to his love of riding. His hand passed across the planes of his chest that showed a smattering of curly hair. He found that he was still in good shape. He reckoned that he was still young enough that his body would cope with any of the excesses he made it endure. No unneeded padding adorned him; he still looked good, but to what purpose? He was on his own, which was equivalent to being alone. Something was going to have to change…
Quentin had been enjoying the ride up to London. The weather was fine, Breugel was a delight to ride and the inn where he’d stopped to lunch had served an exceptional meal with a light ale that had quenched his thirst. He’d hesitated as whether to spend a night in an inn or to continue on to Jasper’s. It meant he would arrive about six in the evening but it wouldn’t yet be dark. So, he continued. Cork Street hadn’t been difficult to find and he knew that the house had stables in the ‘cul-de-sac’ behind it.
Jasper seemed sincerely happy to see him and they finished the evening with a vintage bottle of Claret. He actually slept quite well and woke to the strange noises of a city. Their first evening on the town had already been planned by Jasper. They were invited to dine with some of his friends of ‘minor aristocracy’ in his words.
“Jasper, dear lad, I hope you don’t intend to wear me out in my first five days of being here,” Quentin joked.
“No, it should take a full week,” Jasper teased back.
“Well, that’s all right then.” Quentin let out a breath of fake relief.
It wasn’t far from the truth, though. They were wined and dined all over London. They’d spent several evenings in Jasper’s club. They had been out driving in the park and had even had a picnic beside the River Thames with a small party of friends. They had received invitations galore to the point where Jasper was throwing them over his shoulder as he said, “yes, no (over his shoulder), yes, maybe, yes, no.”
It had been a long time since Quentin had laughed so much.
He’d had the satisfaction of being ‘pursued’ by several attractive women, who were known to be married. This was practically an invitation into their beds, but it wasn’t enough to tempt Quentin. Perhaps it came back to his lack of imagination (although it wasn’t lacking where Faith was concerned), or to his analytical mind which told him that a ‘toss in the hay’ wasn’t worth the guilt he would feel afterwards. He wondered why, with age, his scruples had changed, because fifteen years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated jumping into bed with any woman who invited him, regardless of her looks or marital state. So now, he continued the flirting game and nothing else.
-o0o-
A couple of days after Quentin’s departure, Eloïse sent a groom to extend an invitation to Faith and the children. They were invited to come to lunch the next day. As the groom was waiting for the reply, Faith hastily penned her thanks saying they would be happy to come.
She was a little sad that she didn’t have more dresses to choose from as she would have liked to look a little more presentable for a luncheon invitation. There was no point dwelling on the lack though, but it did make her think she should arrange to have her belongings collected from her friends. She needed to wait until Mr. Wolfe returned to ask if there was some way for her to collect them.
That evening, Faith had a devil of a job to get the children to sleep. They were so excited about going to see their new friends the next day that they couldn’t stop asking Faith questions. Christopher wanted to take Wizz with them being so proud to have his own dog, but Faith was firm about leaving him at home. She explained that Kate and Ben would see him soon enough when they came on their next visit and besides, he wouldn’t want him to get lost or fight with their animals. Christopher understood so agreed, although Faith could see the disappointment in his eyes.
When they finally slept, Faith threw herself into her bed and was asleep in record time.
Going to the Brosnan’s on foot with the children had Faith hesitating. A twenty-minute walk there wouldn’t have been too difficult for them, but then they would have to walk home, no doubt worn out by that time. So, she decided that the pony trap might be the best way to go on their first visit. Later she was glad to have used it, as the children had begun to drag their feet by the time they were ready to go home. She had to remember they were still little with energy that came in bursts.
The Brosnans had been waiting to give them a warm welcome to Farland House. It seemed that Kate and Ben had been watching out for their arrival for a good twenty minutes before they were due and were ecstatic when they heard the sound of the pony and cart on the bridle path. When Faith and the children broke out of the woodlands, they were greeted by Kate and Ben waving with both hands while jumping up and down, which got both Christopher and Helen waving back, as happy as Faith had ever seen them.
Henry Brosnan was there very briefly before leaving on estate business. He was a
pleasant looking man, tall and slender with dark brown hair and eyes. Faith had imagined that he would be more outstanding than he was, because Eloïse was so lovely, but Faith realised that it was of no importance. She could see that he and Eloïse were purely happy. He had waited expressly to make her acquaintance and had then departed giving Eloïse a quick kiss on the lips with a hand that passed in an almost imperceptible caress across her abdomen.
Farland House and its grounds were lovely. The house itself sat comfortably surrounded by flower beds with the drive leading up to them and then a wide path cutting through them up to the three steps at the front door. The house only had one floor more above the ground floor. The servant quarters were in a separate building at the back of the house and to one side, in line with the stables and carriage house. Faith would see it later as Eloïse showed her around.
All the rooms had the benefit of wide windows that let in a lot of light with their painted wooden shutters folding inside the rooms rather than outside. The kitchen was unusual in that it was a half basement at the front of the house due to a higher terrain. It had half windows looking out on the drive, but it came into its own at the back where it was ground level. Wide windows and a door with a climbing rose over it opened onto the vegetable and herb gardens which were interspersed with perennial flowers. It was a wonderful place to live with harmonious proportions. Faith immediately understood Eloïse’s enthusiasm for the place. She would love it too, had it been hers.
The lunch consisted of everything that might make a child pleased to eat it. All the children were well behaved and as soon as it was permitted, left the table to explore the house together. Kate and Ben’s nursemaid followed them at a safe distance, so Faith was able to relax with Eloïse.
“I was wondering, Faith, would you accept a couple of my dresses as a present? Before you say anything, please know that I won’t be able to wear them again for a long while and by then, they’ll no doubt be out of fashion. I’m sure you will only need to take up the hem as we are of a similar build, otherwise. What do you think?”
Faith had hardly expected to hear any such offer on so short an acquaintance. She didn’t know what was correct to say. Eloïse noticed her hesitation.
“Dear Faith, we need to spoil ourselves every now and then. The children are wonderful, but they have to know that they aren’t the centre of the world. You have to show that you take care of yourself too. It would really please me if you would accept, as I do have so many clothes that will be out of use until after this baby is born.”
Faith laughed.
“I’m afraid I have no argument ready. You’re right the way you have put it. So yes, thank you very much for your generous offer. I have to admit I am a little tired of my limited wardrobe.”
They spent an hour with the dresses that Eloïse wanted to give her and when she left later in the afternoon, it was with three that would suit her colouring.
Eloïse had confided in Faith that the baby was due at the end of November or the beginning of December and she had not suffered from her condition in any way. She was very excited about having a baby in the house again. It seemed that producing babies wasn’t as easy for her as for so many other women.
Faith smiled saying that one always heard about the poor women who had children at the drop of a hat, so it made a change to hear that it wasn’t the same for everyone. She then laughed out loud saying to Eloïse, that here they were discussing a subject that was normally taboo and they hadn’t known each other more than two days. Eloïse replied that she had felt that they would be friends from the beginning, so why waste time skirting around subjects? Friends could talk about whatever they liked.
When the afternoon drew to a close, they had trouble getting the children to leave. It seemed that they too had established firm friendships. Christopher was quite a different boy when with Kate. He seemed to take charge and Kate looked up to him. Eloïse smiled to Faith.
“It looks like history is repeating itself,” she said.
She nodded towards the two older children.
“In that case, it’s a happy story in the making,” Faith added quickly with a smile. “Thank you for a lovely lunch and afternoon. Perhaps you would like to come to us the next time, we can organise a picnic? Do you think that it would suit you if we planned something for next week?” Faith realised Eloïse might have other obligations.
“I’ll send you a note, if that’s all right? Thank you again, Eloïse. The children have had a wonderful time. It is really a stroke of luck for us all that you live here.”
Faith was truly pleased to have the perfect neighbours. That evening Christopher and Helen went to sleep while relating everything that had happened. They were transformed in a way she would never have been able to accomplish on her own. She was doubly glad.
-o0o-
Quentin had been taken along with the drift of Jasper’s life in London. They had crammed so much into each day and night that he was beginning to feel that he’d been away from home for months. He often thought of Faith in her blue or peach coloured gowns, but at night he dreamed of her naked. He was grateful in a sense that Jasper had kept them both busy so he didn’t dwell on what he might be missing at home.
All continued in the same vein until the morning he woke with hands gently caressing his back and buttocks and kisses being plied to his bare shoulder. He was in bed with a woman he only vaguely remembered.
Dear God, how had that happened?
He turned and lifted the covers to find that she was just as naked as he!
It suddenly jarred. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol he’d consumed the night before or not, but he felt sick.
He dashed for the dressing room and a basin and vomited. Whittle appeared from the adjoining room to hand him his dressing gown without a word. He obviously knew better than to admit that he was a witness to an embarrassing situation, and the situation wasn’t the fact he was being sick.
Quentin returned to his bedroom where the woman was lying back against the pillows, her naked breasts blatantly exposed and a grin on her face. It was the last thing he wanted to see at that moment. He returned to the dressing room saying over his shoulder, “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go. I am feeling decidedly ill.”
Whittle reappeared and silently handed him a strong coffee.
“Would you please see that ‘Madame’ returns home safely,” he asked Whittle his eyes down, his nose in the coffee mug.
It was dreadful to be caught out like this, back to student days when it was thought a lark. Whittle had gone again, probably to get a maid to help ‘Madame.’ Quentin was sitting on a padded chair rubbing his face, dragging his hands through his hair. He didn’t remember whether he’d had sex or not. He hoped not. He would remember, wouldn’t he?
“Perhaps my Lord would like a bath?” Whittle suggested.
Whatever had happened, a bath would be the first step to cleansing himself.
“Yes please, and don’t forget to add ice as due punishment,” he said, almost seriously.
Whittle left with the tiniest of smirks on his face.
Jasper didn’t surface until very late. He’d had the good sense to be debauched somewhere else. He’d crept home at dawn and then slept until restored, which came to late afternoon.
Quentin was wondering if he could ask to change bedrooms. It was beyond his moral conscience to return to that blighted bed. The thought alone made him ill. Maybe he could ask Whittle to change with him? How was it possible to be thirty five years old, as near as damn it, and behave suddenly like a depraved libertine?
He’d been gone for nearly three weeks and he now knew that it was time to go home once and for all. He didn’t expect to set foot in London again, if he could help it.
He’d had lunch on his own, ruminating past, present and future. He was now sitting in an armchair, hours later, still ruminating. He had lost it… his direction.
Jasper strolled into the room looking pleased with hims
elf. He did stop from commenting when he saw the black look that had settled on Quentin’s face. He went to the decanter and poured a glass of red wine and then raised his eyebrows to Quentin with the decanter in his hand.
“No thank you. It would be a waste.”
“Drink a little too much yesterday evening?” Jasper suggested.
“That is an understatement. It was all too much.”
He looked drained.
“Jasper, I’m going home. I’m not used to this high-flying. I’m sorry if you think I’m letting you down, but it will be the death of me. I’ve lived a too quiet life to change now.”
Jasper put his head to one side as he looked down at him. Quentin continued by saying, “You’re welcome to come home with me, if you like?”
“I don’t think so,” Jasper replied, “I have my own country property where I can dig a hole and bury myself, if the urge grabs me. Thank you just the same.”
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow.”
“Well, if I’m not up in time, have a safe journey home. You do realise that this is probably the definite parting of ways…?”
Quentin nodded.
-o0o-
Mr. Reed had come by ten days after they’d gone for Wizz; a week after Quentin had left for London. He’d wanted to check that all was well in case there had been second thoughts about keeping the dog. He hadn’t needed to mention it, once he’d seen how well integrated the puppy was.
He took advantage of the visit to explain to Faith that she should go into St Alban’s to order her working clothes at Mandle’s. The shop was used to supplying the Baron Isleworth’s staff with their clothes and would forward the note to be paid. He reminded her she was also allowed to order shoes.
Baron Isleworth? Faith’s face suddenly went blank as the information sank in. Quentin Wolfe was a Baron?
Mentally, she pushed herself in an effort to continue the discussion with Mr. Reed. She would think about this news later. When she mentioned that she was missing her aunt and her companion, he seized the occasion to propose his services to accompany her and the children for a visit; perhaps one afternoon the following week?
“One of those afternoons that are to be spent and not wasted,” he reminded her with a smile.
He hadn’t been able to free himself immediately, so they had gone ten days later.
In the meantime, Faith had invited Eloïse, Kate and Ben to come for a picnic, but they’d had a surprise visit from some of Eloïse’s family, so asked to postpone the picnic to another day. Not wishing for the children to be disappointed and having a beautiful day ahead, Faith took them on one anyway. They took Wizz, who loved sniffing at every little hole he found. It seemed to Faith that both Christopher and Helen had grown quite dramatically in the few weeks that they’d been in her care. Also, they were both more relaxed and confident—dare she say happier?
James Reed appeared as soon as he was free to accompany them all to her aunt’s.
Their visit had surprised both the ladies, who were ecstatic. Her aunt had clapped her hands with joy when she’d opened the door to find them all. Nessie had rushed around preparing goodies for them to sample and then had spent some time outside with the children and the donkeys. Christopher and Helen were surprisingly good and polite. Florence could see that Faith was now the centre of their world.
She’d later looked appraisingly at Mr. James Reed, but had kept her thoughts to herself. It seemed that Faith hadn’t noticed or had preferred not to notice the lingering looks he laid upon her.
The afternoon had gone far too quickly. They’d had to make a move, because it would soon be time for the children’s evening meal and Faith hadn’t thought to ask Millie to keep it back. Hasty goodbyes were made, but that only added excitement to the enjoyable afternoon. Helen went to sleep in Faith’s arms on the journey home.
Mr. Reed drove up the stone drive and around to the side of the house to deposit Faith and the children at the side entrance.
There, to everyone’s surprise, was Quentin Wolfe, the reins of his horse in hand, apparently just arrived back from London. Upon hearing the wheels on the gravel, he’d turned to face the approaching vehicle. Seeing the image of familial bliss that had blossomed in his absence, shocked him before it twisted his stomach into knots.
This was his domain!
What gave them the right to go about, enjoying themselves on his property as soon as he was gone? His estate manager, his governess and his nephew and niece. He scowled as he handed his horse over to the groom and went in without a word to anyone.
Once in the hall, the door shut, he had trouble breathing. He gasped, drawing in ragged breaths. He found he still held his riding crop, so he slung it away from him towards a table with a bowl of flowers, barely missing them. He could hear their muffled voices outside and didn’t want to be reminded of the intimacy they shared, so he strode to the staircase and mounted it, two stairs at a time. He entered his bedroom and closed the door firmly leaning back against it while he tried to gather his thoughts.
He’d come home thinking of Faith, never imagining that her life had continued in his absence. If he were to admit the truth, his whole time in London had been tainted by his memories of Faith. Every woman who had approached him had been compared to her subconsciously. Now he felt as though the bottom had fallen out of his hopes, out of his life. He couldn’t be more alone than at this moment.
Even Whittle wasn’t here yet.
He was in a void.
He walked slowly to the tall-backed armchair and sank into it wearily. This was pathetic. For an instance, he had understood how one could be driven to suicide. The vacuum he had sensed could suck the life out of you. He continued to sit looking far beyond the room. He hardly noticed the twilight hour. His room looked grey and then as time passed, it was without light — pitch black like his mood. He had no idea of the time. He couldn’t see the hour on his watch in the dark. He would have spent the night where he was without moving, except that now he had to piss.
Before standing, he pulled off his riding boots and stockings. The cool air he felt with them gone was good.
He now stood and shucked off his jacket, pulled away the neck cloth that he must have already untied at some time, opened and removed his shirt and found that the removal of all this apparel gave him a liberty that he’d never appreciated before. He took off his trousers and stood in his drawers for a moment surprised at himself. He removed his drawers. Here he stood erect, uncovered, a man who was purely Quentin, without the trimmings.
He lit a candle to go down the corridor to the water closet. This entire floor was his. There was no one here at the moment who shared it, so he wasn’t concerned about his naked state.
He went in, pissed, washed his hands and came out. He turned to go back to his room when something moved at his feet. The feeble candlelight revealed a dark bulk that had come over to sniff him, and he knew that it was the ‘blackmail’ puppy that had grown. He bent down to pat him and the candle spluttered and went out.
At the same moment, he heard soft footsteps coming down the back stairs, so he flattened himself against the wall in the dark.
Hiding in the dark was getting to be a habit.
“Wizz, where are you?” a woman’s voice whispered.
She suddenly appeared at his level in a halo of candlelight and his breath caught in his throat as he recognised the source of his discontentment. It struck like a knife to the heart that he wanted this governess for himself, and he didn’t want to share her. It was at that moment that the puppy decided to wee on his foot.
“Oh damn.” he muttered without thinking.
“Mr. Wolfe?”
She advanced holding her candle higher, then stopped as she took in his rather statuesque form in the dim light. The little of him illuminated by her candle made her think of his body as that of a Greek God. She didn’t look to see if there was a vine leaf in place.
“Oh my.” She smiled unable to resist saying,
“this is going to be worth a lot in blackmail.”
That was the last straw!
The word ‘blackmail’ took him in a flash to their embrace in the library. He knocked the candle from her hand as he pulled her to him. The light had gone but his mouth found hers as he pulled her up his body and held her tight to him. All but her toes had left the floor and she threw her arms around his neck for support. He groaned as she sighed into his mouth.
He could feel all of her body through the cotton nightdress. He wanted to rip it off her but daren’t relax his hold for fear of losing her. Their mouths moved on their own, kissing, licking, sucking and biting. He lowered a hand to her bottom and pulled her tighter to him.
He had to have this woman. He had spent all his free moments thinking about her, even when he hadn’t wanted to. He groaned again as reality surfaced with an animal licking his hairy leg. He bent his head to her shoulder and inhaled heavily as his breathing calmed.
She spoke softly saying, “You’d better put me down before we’re both in trouble.”
“I don’t want to,” he admitted, hugging her to him tenderly.
He put soft kisses on her neck and shoulder but he could feel her hands pushing herself away gently. So, he set her on her feet and stood flat against the wall again, palms feeling the cool texture of the paint.
He was glad that it was dark. She wouldn’t be able to see the desolation he felt.
She left quietly with the puppy in the dark. He stood against the wall until all was silent and then he returned to the water closet to relieve himself in a way that he hadn’t, since he was fifteen.
Faith kept Wizz with her. No point wandering around risking her virtue again. She kept losing candles too. She sniffled. What was she to do? She was faced with a predicament and no solution in sight.
Quentin Wolfe was a loner, that was obvious to her now. So much would depend upon whether it was by choice or circumstance. If it were by choice, she was doomed whatever she did. If he wanted her badly enough, he could use the children to get her into his bed or she could refuse and leave. No commitment there on his part and her loss if she refused.
There was the tiniest glimmer of hope that it was circumstance that made him solitary. He may not have met a woman that attracted him. There was certainly a strong attraction between them, whatever else one might say about a clashing of characters. In that case, he might consider marrying her and forming a family with the children.
Wait a minute — marriage? She didn’t know him. She hadn’t liked him and only tolerated him now because of the physical effect he had on her. She’d seen how rude he was when they’d come home earlier. He tended to sulk if he was contradicted. He made no attempt to get to know people. No wonder he might be solitary from circumstance. Who would want to know him?
She groaned.
She loved those children and they loved her. That was the crux of the matter. As her aunt would say, ‘you have to start by aiming high.’ She’d talked him into £20 hadn’t she? Maybe she could talk him into marriage? If she were prepared to sacrifice herself for the children, better aim for marriage.
Mistress or wife, the only time she would have to spend with him would probably be in bed, so that was all right. It would be one place where they would like each other. Feeling that she’d found a solution, she was able to sleep with an easier mind.
Quentin now lay in his bed wide awake. He couldn’t escape that inner ache that he felt for Faith no matter which way he turned in the bed. He knew it went deeper than his physical attraction to her. He wanted her to want him in the way she did the children.
His birthday would be soon but who knew or cared? It all came down to wanting to have someone to love and who cared. He was pathetically jealous of the children, because they already had her affection. Tomorrow he would have to talk to Miss Eversley and establish exactly how things lay between them, because he couldn’t bear the situation as it stood today. And the idea that she might be considering James Reed…
He slept fitfully but without dreams.
Quentin prepared himself carefully the next morning. He wore grey trousers with a dark blue superfine coat, white shirt and a dark blue neckcloth. The mother of pearl pin that he used in the neckcloth had no particular value except that Jeremy had given it to him when he had begun to wear neckcloths. The sentimental value was more binding than the monetary value could ever be.
Looking at himself in the long mirror, he knew he wasn’t handsome, but that he did cut a fine figure. He was tall, broad shouldered and in good shape from the physical work on the estate and from his horsemanship. He had a thick head of hair, all his teeth and decent hands. He stood straight and had no fat on him. Women were supposed to take all of that into account when looking for a ‘mate’, weren’t they? He had the added attraction, for all his other failings, of being rich and a Baron to boot.
This was going through his head as he was preparing himself to confront Faith. Before going down he suddenly realised that this was the Saturday that he met with James Reed.
Blast! That took the wind out of his sails, but it had to be, as it was too late to cancel.
He hadn’t been seated at the table with breakfast more than five minutes before James arrived. Quentin looked at him trying to see him as a woman would. Unfortunately, he could see that he would be called handsome.
Not good.
Bugger! It was a futile exercise in self-torture, so forget that.
“So how did your time in London go?” James enquired. “Did you make any new acquaintances?”
“It was fair to middling but it palled at the end. I’m not made for city life. I doubt I’ll return, unless there’s a dire need for me to go. Did everything go well in my absence?” Quentin tried to keep his tone neutral, although jealousy was roiling away in his gut.
“Nothing out of the ordinary to report. We had rain while you were gone that came just at the right time, so it’s going to be a good crop this year.
“Apart from that, yesterday, we all went to visit Miss Eversley’s aunt as she hadn’t seen her since coming here. That’s where we’d come from when you saw us arrive. The outings are a great adventure for the children.”
“So your excursions have become a regular occurrence?” Quentin forced himself to ask.
“Not as much as I’d like. Miss Eversley is charming company and I hope that she is not indifferent to mine.”
He smiled.
Quentin’s stomach turned. He had to leave the room now or he’d be sick.
“Excuse me just a minute…”
He stood and left hurriedly. He went to the kitchen to ask for a glass of water as an excuse. He returned to the dining room and stuck his head in the door for James Reed’s benefit.
“I’m going into the library now, but you don’t have to hurry. Join me when you’re ready.”
A little while later, Reed appeared and they began to go over the estate’s business. The morning passed with Quentin half listening. They had lunch and an hour later, they’d gone over everything and finished. It was a relief for Quentin.
James took his leave asking Quentin to pass his regards to Miss Eversley when he saw her. Quentin resisted grinding his teeth in front of Reed, but he couldn’t shut the door quickly enough behind him as he left. He returned to the library trying to slam its door, but it wouldn’t slam. Something to do with air pressure, he guessed as he finished shutting it with his foot.
He went and sat behind his desk and slouched in the chair his hands over his face. Tired, mentally tired.
In his absence, things had got out of hand.
Someone tapped at the door. He thought it might be Miss Eversley. He straightened in the chair and called to ‘come in.’ It was Whittle who was making it known that they were back from London.
“Glad to see you back safely, Whittle. You and Ted may take the rest of the day off. And you can have tomorrow off too.”
“Why, thank you, my Lord. I’ll tell Ted, a
nd if you feel you can manage, I’ll go into St Albans to my sister’s. I’ll be back in action for you first thing Monday morning.”
“Perfect. Enjoy your free time.”
Whittle left with a smile. He didn’t have a sister in St Albans.
Five minutes later, another knock on the door.
‘No point in trying to guess,’ Quentin thought. ‘Too many servants lived in the house. It might even be Ted coming to thank him for the free time.’
“Come in.”
This time it was Miss Eversley, and he was surprised. He’d had a mounting resentment within him that she had been continuing her life enjoying herself without him, while he had been unhappy without her.
He jumped to his feet and asked her to be seated. She was back to her washed-out blue dress. Hadn’t she been on an ‘excursion’ to St. Albans yet? He’d have to mention it to James that she needed her dress allowance filled. James was slipping in his attentions, he thought sarcastically, inflicting pain on himself so he wouldn’t relent now that Faith was in front of him. He looked at her and he couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t seen her as ‘impressive’ before Reed had mentioned it. She was lovely even in a faded, plain dress. It wasn’t fair.
“Mr. Reed asked me to give you his regards. He left about a half an hour ago.”
Why was he turning the knife in his own wound?
She sensed he wasn’t happy so didn’t say anything.
“So what may I do for you, Miss Eversley?”
“May I speak frankly?” she asked tentatively but with a smile.
He didn’t like the sound of that question but he tried to remain bland.
“Yes.”
It was all he said.
“You know I am devoted to the children?”
She saw that he nodded but was not reassured by his coldness.
“And you may have noticed that we have a certain attraction to each other?”
He nodded again with a wry smile. He knew only too well that they were physically drawn to each other. Where was this leading, he wondered, almost worried. Was she going to find something to hold against him?
She hesitated now.
What had seemed a reasonable solution lying quietly in her bed now struck her as ludicrous, but she didn’t want to back down now, so she continued.
“I thought that perhaps you might consider marrying me…?” she said rapidly before trailing off so the ‘me’ was barely audible.
He relaxed as he understood that he, in fact, had the upper hand.
“Now why would I do that, Miss Eversley?”
“Blackmail?”
She ventured the word as a jest, but then saw that there wasn’t the least hint of humour in his look.
“Ah, but I have a better word,” he retorted. “Coercion.”
She didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry. I was only joking about blackmail, I thought you realised…”
“But I’m not joking about coercion. I admit that I am attracted to you, but two encounters hardly merit marriage. What I suggest is that you pass an entire night with me in my bed, and then we will see what arrangement might suit. Where the coercion enters is — if you are not agreeable, consider yourself dismissed.”
Her face drained of blood. She was paralysed. She tried to raise a hand to wipe a strand of hair from her cheek, but the hand missed her face and her eyes began to fill with tears. The moment had come when she had to decide. She’d never really thought it would happen. Why had he become bitter like this? He had been tender last night and she had really thought that she would have given herself to him had they continued any longer.
“Are you perfectly sure you don’t wish to retract what you’ve just said to me? I will treat it as pleasantry if you do.”
She gave him a half smile and the chance to change his mind.
“Yes, I’m perfectly certain,” he said confidently.
“Before I leave, Mr. Wolfe — because I will be leaving — let me tell you that I might have given myself to you without coercion and without marriage.”
She stood without another word and left.
Miserably, he watched her go, wondering how he could have misjudged everything so badly. He’d calculated that if she’d agreed to one night, it would give him the last word. She would be his and then he would marry her. Now it was certain that he’d just ruined at least three lives in one blow.
Jealousy is a nasty sentiment when it gnaws away at you…