aWhere the devil did you find her?a he asked, staring in bemus.e.m.e.nt at the now closing door.
aBadger did, in Portsmouth. She found him, actually. She saved him from being run down by a mail coach. I needed a maid and she needed a position. It seems she was between acting jobs. Thatas what she is, you know, an actress. Actually, she is very competent and I find her amusing.a aShe winked at me!a aWell, sheas never been a maid before. She was probably quite used to men looking at her and admiring her, perhaps even more. Perhaps she forgot herself for a moment and was seeing you as a possible leading man in a play.a More like a possible protector, Marcus thought, but said aloud, shaking his head, aJesus. The countess of Chase has an actress for a personal maid.a He added with a grin, aI will admit she does have panache.a Head actually referred to her as the countess. She felt something hopeful sprout in her, but then he turned away from her and began pacing the floor.
aYou shouldnat allow her to call you d.u.c.h.ess. Surely itas an impertinence.a This observation he tossed over his shoulder. aEveryone calls you d.u.c.h.ess. Youare not d.u.c.h.ess, youare a countess, youare a my lady.a aI donat really care,a she said, watching him closely. aHow is your wounded arm?a aWhat? Oh, my arm. Itas fine. Actually, it still gets a bit sore if I use it too much.a aAnd your ribs?a He looked at her now, stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, his legs spread, and just looked down at her. He was so big. She knew he was trying to intimidate her, but how could he when shead known him since he was fourteen years old? As she recalled, to a nine-year-old girl, head been overpowering even then. aWhat is this? Wifely concern?a aI suppose so.a aMy ribs are well again.a aThatas good.a aI met Trevor. He was riding Clancy. He looked like a b.l.o.o.d.y centaur.a She smiled, actually smiled, more than one of her meager little liftings of the corners of her mouth, and he knew she knew head made a complete and utter a.s.s of himself. He persevered. aTrevor is still a wretched dandyas name.a aPerhaps, but he is a man with nothing at all effete about him. Donat you agree?a aYes, dammit. Itas ridiculous to pin such a ridiculous name on a man who is my size.a aYes, but right now, I really donat care.a She paused a moment at the surprised look on his face, then said, aItas good to see you, Marcus. I was hoping you would come here.a aI hadnat intended to, but, wella"a He shrugged, and for a moment, she would have sworn he looked vastly uncomfortable, even embarra.s.sed.
aRegardless, Iam glad youare here. Your Aunt Wilhelmina is a difficult woman, a puzzle really. Your young cousin Ursula is very nice, Iam sure you realized that when you met her this morning in the garden. James is my age, perhaps a bit older, and I have no idea what heas like. The look on his face is decidedly morose. Something is wrong there. As you saw for yourself, Trevor is quite a lovely man. Heas kind.a aWhat do you mean heas alovelya?a aHeas big and very strong and handsome.a aI want you to watch what you say around him, be certain not to be overly friendly. He might try to take advantage of you. Youare very innocent and he is not.a aIam a wife now, surely Iam not all that innocent.a His eyes dilated. aYes,a he said slowly, ayes, you are. No, donat argue with me in that reserved well-bred way of yours. Tell me why youare glad Iam here.a She became perfectly still and he hated it. He shouldnat have reminded her that she was reserved. Shead become a bit more open with him, spoken freely, without restraint, but now her hands were folded quietly in her lap. Slowly, very slowly, she raised her chin and looked at him squarely. It seemed to him a mighty effort. Then she said baldly, aYouare my husband. I missed you.a aYour husband,a he said, sarcasm evident in his repet.i.tion. For a moment head forgotten her perfidy, but now shead fanned those perfidious embers back into a roaring orange flame. aDonat you find it odd that weare married, d.u.c.h.ess? Iave known you since you were nine years old, skinny with k.n.o.bby knees, and so very solemn you could have been a pillar in the Norman abbey in Darlington. Yes, so quiet you were, so aloof, so very reserved and watchful. I saw the future beauty in that somber, too quiet child. And I called you the d.u.c.h.ess and everyone then saw the same things I did, and thus it became your name, even to your red-haired maid whoas an actress and looked at me as if shead like to bed me and have me buy her a bauble in return.a aYes,a she said. aAnd when I was only nine years old, you were fourteen and proud and strong and the devilas own son. My father was right about that. You led Charlie and Mark into some disgraceful mischief. My father always knew it was you who led them, always. Do you remember when you, Charlie, and Mark made a stout pine casket and filled it with stones and laid it on the floor in front of the altar in the church? When people filed in for the Sunday service, there it was, that coffin, just lying there with a rough bouquet of flowers on top of it, and everyone was afraid to open it.a She smiled a very small smile down at her folded hands, then added, aI looked up to you ever so much, but still you frightened me.a aFrightened you, d.u.c.h.ess? Iam sorry, but I canat imagine you ever being frightened of anything. If anyone threatened you, youad just freeze him with one of those still, blank looks of yours. One of those inhuman looks that make a person silent as the grave. Why would you be frightened of me?a She looked away from him then, and he realized she was embarra.s.sed.
aWhy?a She said in a voice that didnat sound at all like her, a low voice, m.u.f.fled, reticent, aYou belonged here. You were strong and confident and you belonged. Even now you belong although youare fighting it with all your absurd misplaced pride. I never did belong.a He didnat want to deal with that, not now, there was too much else to think about. He said shortly, aWell, now youare the d.a.m.ned countess of Chase. Surely you believe that you belong now. More than I do, truth be told, for your father gave you everything that wasnat nailed down with the entailment. Doesnat everyone treat you with respect and deference?a aYes, everyone has been most kind. When Mr. Wicks and I arrived three days ago, I will tell you that I was nervous. After all, I am the former earlas b.a.s.t.a.r.d, no matter how you cut the cake, a former b.a.s.t.a.r.d who is now the mistress. But everyone has been generous. I am grateful for that.a aBut not dear Aunt Wilhelmina.a aHer behavior is frankly strange and leaves oneas mouth gaping open. I daresay you will gain her measure very quickly. It is time to go to the Green Cube Room, Marcus. It is time for you to meet her and James.a aVery well. No, no, donat move. Good G.o.d, youare showing too much cleavage, d.u.c.h.ess. Here, hold still.a He strode to her and she rose to meet him. He rearranged her shawl, tying it first in a knot and setting it directly between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then pulling the knot to the side so that the long part of the shawl draped low over the front part of her gown. It looked frankly ridiculous, but she said nothing, didnat move, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Still displeased, he tried to pull the gown up, but it wouldnat move, for it was banded snugly beneath her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. For a moment, she felt the warmth of his fingers against her flesh. If he noticed where his fingers were, he gave no indication of it, saying with a frown, aI still donat like it. You will have it altered. I trust your other gowns are not so very revealing. Doubtless that mangy dog Trevor will ogle you. You will give him one of those cursed cold looks with your chin up to the ceiling, like heas so lowly heas beneath your slipper.a aDo you believe he would prefer being a mangy dog to a b.l.o.o.d.y fop?a But now Marcus was looking at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Then he looked at his fingers that had touched her. He didnat say anything. She saw his eyes darken, saw his pupils enlarge. His cheeks flushed. Slowly, he lowered his fingers and lightly skimmed them over her bare shoulder. He looked utterly absorbed. Those calloused fingertips moved slowly, so very slowly, to touch the top of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She felt a shiver of warmth, felt a shaking response from deep within her and leaned toward him, pressing her flesh against those tantalizing fingers. He whipped his hand away. She was motionless for a moment, knowing she had to regain her sense, knowing that she hadnat behaved as she should have. Shead simply done what her body had wanted her to do and head found her unacceptable. She finally managed to say, aIt is time.a aYes,a he said in a low voice, still looking at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. aI suppose it is time, d.u.c.h.ess.a It was very late. She yawned, then realized that she couldnat manage the b.u.t.tons at the back of her gown. She stood there before her mirror for a moment, wondering what to do. She wondered until the adjoining door opened and Marcus walked through, wearing an old burgundy velvet dressing gown. His feet were big and bare.
She froze. aWhat are you doing here?a He walked up to her, stopped just inches away, and smiled down at her. aIam your husband. Iam also the master here. I can be anywhere I please.a aI see,a she said, her eyes on the lapels of his dressing gown. She saw the bare threads threatening to pull apart, particularly at his elbows.
aI doubt it.a aWhat do you think of Aunt Wilhelmina?a He frowned a bit. aShe is unexpected. She was all charm and sweetness to me, but I donat trust her. As for Trevor, I was right. He stared at your b.r.e.a.s.t.s and donat try to deny it. And James, he was staring too, but he is more concerned with his own troubles than with your attributes. It went off all right. Everyone behaved himself. Itas fortunate that there are so many tidbits of interest right now, what with the political situation and all the entertainment our foreign visitors are providing us. Have you heard that ditty about the Grand d.u.c.h.ess Catherine? With the rude, crude, and lewd? She and her brother, Czar Alexander, and their antics, will provide dining conversation for another three months.a aI have heard Spears singing it. I think it a clever ditty. He has a beautiful voice.a aHe thinks so at any rate. As I said, Aunt Wilhelmina acted normal, at least as much as a Colonist can act normal, their speech being so slow you want to yell at them to just get on with it. Yes, the evening went off just fine.a The evening hadnat been all that painful, she thought, as she nodded slowly. She had, however, been surprised when Aunt Wilhelmina had oozed charm all over Marcus. He was right about that. And shead watched him, she couldnat seem to help herself. Shead looked at his beautiful mouth, listened to his deep voice, his deeper laughter, the way he chuckled off-key, and couldnat seem to keep her eyes off his hands, large hands with black hair on the backs, and those long fingers of his, fingers that had touched her, caressed her.
aWould you please unb.u.t.ton my gown, Marcus? I cannot seem to manage it.a With any other woman, he would have believed it an invitation. But not with her. Not with the d.u.c.h.ess. His wife. She turned, lifted the thick glossy black hair that was in a loose pile down her back. It hung there in deep ripples, for shead just pulled the braids apart and smoothed them through with her fingers. It was a style that suited her, those fat braids interwoven with ribbons in a coronet atop her head. Her face was too fine, too well-sculpted for all those cl.u.s.ters of ringlets over the ears. No, this style suited her to perfection. He unfastened the row of small b.u.t.tons that marched up her back. The gown was quite pretty, the dark blue the precise color of her eyes. Still, it was cut too low.
When the gown gaped open, he took a step back. aThere,a he said. aYouare free of it.a She turned to face him. He didnat move. There was no screen in the bedchamber. aI have to change now, Marcus. Would you please leave me for a while?a aNo. But I will get in bed.a She stared at him, words shoved together into a meaningless ma.s.s in her throat. She watched him walk to the bed set on its foot-high dais, watched him walk in his bare feet, big feet that were really quite beautiful, watched him pull the covers back, unsash the dressing gown, shrug it off, and naked as a black-haired G.o.d, climb into the bed. He pulled the covers to his waist, fluffed the pillows behind his head, and settled himself. Now he watched her.
She wasnat stupid. He wanted to have s.e.x with her. But still there were no words in her mouth or in her mind. Her mind was filled with the sight of him, standing there, for just an instant really, shrugging off that dressing gown, showing her his long muscled back, his manas flanks, his manas b.u.t.tocks and long, thick legs. She swallowed. She supposed shead considered this, but not really, not to this point, not to where he was actually in her bed, and he was awake and sober and appeared to want this. To want her.
She felt a surge of hope. She stared at his chest with its mat of thick black hair, at the obvious strength and power of him and said, aYou want me to be your wife now, Marcus?a He merely smiled at her and crossed his arms behind his head. aGet undressed, d.u.c.h.ess.a Slowly, she pulled the gown off her shoulders, eased it past her hips, and let it drop to a soft pool of blue silk at her feet. She slid her hands beneath her chemise and pulled the dark blue garters down her legs and unrolled her stockings. She kicked off her slippers and pulled the stockings off her feet. Dressed only in her chemise, she stepped out of the clothing and walked slowly toward the bed.
aYou didnat want me before,a she said, stopping a foot from the dais. Her black hair fell and framed her face, a face now very pale in the dim light. Maggie her maid had been right. The contrast of all that sinful black hair against the white flesh of her arms and legs and the pure white of her chemise was starkly beautiful. She was exquisite, this wife of his who had drugged him and married him while he was in a stupor and who had come to his bed and made him take her virginity so that he couldnat, in a state of enraged stupidity, if he could have ever been that abysmally stupid, annul the marriage.
aTrue,a he said, abut Iam a man. Since you are my wife and have no say in the matter, I might as well avail myself of you. Itas certainly more convenient than riding into Darlington and finding a comely wench there to see to my pleasure. Not that Iall gain much pleasure from you, but Iall make do. Iam not that bad off, so even a modic.u.m of pleasure will suffice me. Now, come here. I want that chemise off you.a aBut you said you didnat want a child from me. You said you would gain vengeance against my father by not allowing a child of mine to inherit the earldom.a aThat is what I said. I meant it.a aI donat understand.a aUndoubtedly you donat, but you will soon enough. I do ask that you not cry or moan or whimper when I take you, d.u.c.h.ess. If you must lie there like a piece of silverware, then I will make do, but no sounds, if you please.a aYou wonat call me Lisette, will you?a He laughed, not a very pleasant laugh. aOh, indeed not. But perhaps I will call you Celeste.a She paled even further, flinching deeply, but none of it showed in her face, for it was all inside her. She didnat move. aYou were only in London for a single night.a aYes. So?a aThis Celeste person, you were with her for just that one night?a aYes. She was quite talented. Not so much as Lisette, but sheas from Bristol where there were naught but rough seamen to practice on. Doubtless it will take her another year or so to perfect her skills. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were quite impressive. I couldnat hold them and my hands are quite large. Not that it mattered really. Now, come here, d.u.c.h.ess.a There was pride, after all, and head just pushed her beyond what she could excuse, beyond what she could bear. aNo, Marcus. I donat think so.a No, she couldnat bear any more of it, not another word. She turned on her heel, her bare heel, grabbed her dressing gown from the end of the bed, and walked quickly to the door, jerking on the dressing gown as she went. Her hand was on the doork.n.o.b when she felt him behind her, touching her, his right hand over her head against the door. She tried to jerk it open but it didnat budge.
He leaned down, his left hand lifting her hair and he kissed the back of her neck.
She stood very still, her dressing gown loose about her for somehow, somewhere, the sash had disappeared. He blew his warm breath against her ear and gently nibbled the lobe.
She didnat move, didnat make a sound. She was holding her breath.
Very gently, he turned her around, laced his hands beneath her hips and lifted her. He carried her to the bed and laid her on her back. He stood above her, naked, but she didnat look at him, she couldnat, she was too frightened and far too excited. She was aware of his size, his power, the way be filled her vision, if she would but look at him. He didnat say anything. He jerked the dressing gown off her, then turned and smiled. aNow the chemise.a He lifted her hips and jerked it up to her waist, then pulled her upright, bringing her face against his chest, and tugged it over her head.
He eased her back down and stretched himself out next to her on his side. He didnat touch her, just looked at her face.
aSo cold, so contained,a he said, then stroked her hair from her forehead and back from her ears. aIt is what a man expects from a wife, who is also a lady, I suppose. It is considered well-bred to be cold and contained, having no ill-bred feelings to betray any bodily pleasures. But still it is a disappointment. You have very nice ears, d.u.c.h.ess.a He kissed her ear, his tongue tracing its outline.
She sucked in her breath, but held herself perfectly still.
aDonat ever again wear a gown like the one you wore tonight,a he said in her ear. aItas beautiful and obviously expensive, but itas still a tartas gown.a aYou mean it is a gown my mother would wear?a He paused a moment. aI didnat say that.a aYouare afraid I will be a tart, that itas in my blood, that itas already beginning to come out, at least in my clothes.a aPerhaps, I donat know. Hold still now.a He leaned over her and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were pressed against his chest. He closed his eyes a moment at the feel of her. His hand fell to her face, his fingers tracing over her cheekbones, her nose, smoothing her eyebrows, then moving to stroke her throat. aYou are so white,a he said, leaned down and kissed the pulse in her neck. Then his mouth was on hers, hot and pressing, and she gave no more thought to Lisette or to Celeste; she gave it no thought at all. She opened her mouth and gave him her own warmth and her excitement that was building deep inside her, pounding in her, wanting to be free, to shout, but she tried to hold it down, tried and tried.
His hand was caressing her breast now, tugging gently, making that pounding go deeper and deeper until she didnat think she could bear it. She slid her arms around his back, fascinated by the warmth of his flesh. He was now hers, this man who was also her husband, and at least now, in these few moments, he held no contempt or anger for her, just wanting and need, and it was enough, it had to be enough.
He raised his head and stared down at her. He saw the flush on her cheeks, saw the pulse pounding in her throat. Her arms were tight around his back, her hands stroking downward to his flanks.
ad.u.c.h.ess,a he said and came over her.
She moaned words that wouldnat speak themselves, she couldnat hold it in, at the feel of him against her, the heat of him, and she opened her legs for him.
She heard him suck in his breath, she saw him rise over her, looking down at her body, his breathing harsh and raw now, and then he was touching her with his fingers. Suddenly he shook his head. He stared at her until she was trembling with the excitement of it, then he lifted her hips and then his mouth was touching her belly, his tongue harsh and wet and hot on her flesh, and she didnat understand, but she didnat care, for the pounding was building and building and there was no stopping it now. She knew if it did stop, she would shatter somehow.
She cried out, her hands now on his shoulders, wildly kneading his flesh, then in his hair, tugging, and he went lower then and sealed his mouth against her and she screamed with the shock of it, the immense power of it. Screamed and moaned and lurched wildly, her head thrashing on the pillows.
The feelings were beyond shattering. Never had she believed such a thing possible, but it was and she was in the midst of it, and it went on and on and she let those feelings fill her, knowing somehow they would overwhelm her and she wanted that. She reveled in the nearly painful sensations that rocked her deep, expanding to enclose all of her, not just her body, but her mind and her hearing and her smelling and it was hard to breathe even. The wildness controlled all of her senses, and for those moments she was naught but feeling, naught but mad frenzy, willingly trapped in those wondrous sensations that shook her and made her cry out. His mouth burned into her flesh, so very hot, pulling on her, then soothing her, and slowly, very slowly and gently as the feelings retreated, softening now, but they were still there, deep yet easing now, but somehow waiting still, and he reared up, and she saw him staring down at himself and at her, saw his hand on himself, then move to open her for himself, and he came into her fully and deeply.
She screamed, bucking upward, nearly heaving him off her, grabbed him around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers. She felt the weight of him, the strength of him and she felt his tongue deep in her mouth just as his s.e.x was deep inside her belly. It didnat last long, just a few moments and she felt him tense and drive even more deeply, even more fiercely, and then she took his moans in her mouth and she held him against her. She never wanted to let him go, never.
15.
IT WAS HE who left her, pulling away to stand beside the bed, his big chest heaving with the power of his release, a sheen of sweat making his flesh glisten, just standing there, staring at her, and she wanted desperately to touch him, just to touch her fingertips to his flesh, to slide them through the thick hair on his chest, to trace the contours of the deep muscles that shaped his arms and shoulders and his belly. Shead never known, never even considered that a manas body could be so very beautiful, so pure and strong, such an instrument of pleasure for her. She forced her eyes upward.
She started to hold out her arms to him, wanting desperately to bring him back to her, to feel the heaviness of him on top of her, to feel his warm breath against her cheek, her ear, but knowing now, realizing now as her brain cleared, that he was well and far away from her now. She was utterly alone. Slowly, saying nothing, for there was nothing to say, after all, she pulled the covers to her chin. She wanted to cover herself, to sink down under the protection of those covers, for he was gone now, almost as if head never been driving into her, making her quake and scream and heave like a madwoman.
He said, aDammit.a That was odd, she thought, and frowned. aWhy do you curse? Did I do something wrong?a His eyes narrowed even more on her face. aI hadnat meant that to happen.a She heard it now, the disgust in his voice.
Oh G.o.d, he was regretting all of it now. But she wasnat a shy tongue-tied maiden to be devastated. She had pride, but still it was difficult to keep her voice steady and calm, but she managed it, saying, aYou didnat mean what to happen? You didnat want to stay with me?a He shrugged then, and grabbed up his dressing gown. aOh, I wanted to stay with you, d.u.c.h.ess, and that was my downfall, but it wonat be again. Next time, Iall do what I must. Surely this one time wonat matter, surely.a aWhat are you talking about, Marcus?a aYouall see,a he said, then grinned painfully. aDoubtless youall see even before this b.l.o.o.d.y night is over.a Shead expecteda"she didnat know what shead expected. Perhaps some new sign of closeness from him, for what head made her feel had been more than she could ever have imagined. It had been glorious and beyond wonderful, and shead been part of him even though he was a man, a being so utterly different from her in thought and strength and body. Unlike her, he hadnat seemed to care or notice or feel anything other than his manas release. She could have been Lisette or Celeste or any of the now faceless women who would probably be in his future. She couldnat bear it. She was nothing to hima"a wife, a convenience. She couldnat bear to look at him. She turned her head away from him.
Marcus stared at her as his heart finally began to slow. Head never experienced such untidy surges of raw feeling before with any woman in his life. And now with her, the bloodless d.u.c.h.ess, who was cold and contained and frigid and . . . what b.l.o.o.d.y nonsense. When head caressed her with his mouth shead been more frantic, more uninhibited, than any woman head known in his adult life. And when head come into her, shead become frenzied again, pulling him deep, bucking and yelling and it had made him into a savage, grunting over her, wanting to devour her, to absorb her into himself. Fool that he was, head been a part of her frenzied pleasure and head lost control. By G.o.d, he didnat like that, didnat like what shead made him do, didnat like what shead made him feel.
He was lying to himself. Head more than liked what shead done to him then. But not now, not now that his brain had returned to functioning properly.
He said, as he flicked a fleck of lint from the sleeve of his dressing gown, not looking at her for he was going to lie to her now, not just to himself, aYou surprised me, d.u.c.h.ess. You didnat just lie there and endure me. You didnat whimper or moan. Well, you moaned, but it was with pleasure not sufferance.a Actually shead screamed like the most lascivious woman ever born. She said nothing. Shead pressed her fist into her mouth.
aYou were willing. You were more than willing. You appeared to want me more than the most skilled harlota"a He broke off, then continued more slowly now, his speech measured, aI didnat mean that. Forget I said it. What I meant was that you were not pretending. I know women well and I know when a woman feigns pleasure. No, you werenat dissembling. I find that vastly incredible.a Tears seeped from her eyes and onto the fist stuffed in her mouth to keep all sound within her. She would die if he knew how he hurt her.
aI donat like it, d.u.c.h.ess. I donat like surprises and I donat like losing control. Is that what you wanted me to do? Lose control so that you would breed a son for this cursed earldom, for your cursed father who gave you what you wanted? Was it a deal the two of you struck? Well, it doesnat matter what your plots and plans may be. It wonat happen again, not this way, in any case. I will see you later.a As soon as the adjoining door closed with a sharp snap, she sat up and snuffed out the candles on the table beside the bed. There were more on the dresser and she rose. There was his seed on her and her steps faltered for a moment. She bathed herself, then snuffed out the other branch of candles.
She was sore, but it was a wonderful sore, a drawing sort of feeling that made her feel again those hidden places that were deep within her. She pulled her nightgown over her head and got back into bed, burrowing beneath the covers.
She lay awake for a very long time. He didnat come to her again that night.
When she awoke, the sunlight was bright in her bedchamber. She blinked and yawned, her mind blurred, for she was feeling again the warmth deep inside her, remembering the softness, the frenzy, the utter losing of herself within her and within him.
aGood morning.a Slowly, she turned her head to face him. He was seated on the side of her bed, fully dressed in a riding habit and glossy black Hessians. One leg was crossed over the other. The softness was gone, the deep warmth naught but a senseless dream. Shead been a fool, naught but a witless fool.
aDid you sleep well?a She nodded. aYes, very well.a aA man who knows what heas doing can bring a good nightas sleep to a woman.a aAnd vice versa?a He frowned. aYes, that is also true. And yes, I slept very well. Of course a man is much easier to please than a woman.a His frown deepened. aI didnat wake up during the night. If I had, I would have come back to you.a He fell silent now, obviously brooding, swinging a booted foot. aYou surprised me.a She waited. She wanted desperately for him to tell her that he was pleased, that he found he now wanted her. That he hadnat meant what head said last night.
aYes, you were a great surprise. So wild you became when I put my mouth on you. When I came inside you I thought youad throw me off you were so frenzied.a Surely he shouldnat be speaking so baldly about it, not now, not in the sunlight, but he was Marcus and he was her husband, and so she said honestly, aI felt things Iave never imagined could be. I couldnat help it.a aNo, I daresay that if you could have stopped yourself from being so very frantic and savage, you would have.a He paused then, and she wondered what he was thinking. Then she wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. Head said it last night. In a thin voice barely above a whisper she said, aYou shouldnat have been so surprised, Marcus, that I acted like a harlot. After all, didnat you believe my gown last night was a tartas gown, like a gown my mother would have worn? Why shouldnat I react to a man like my mother undoubtedly did to my father? You called me savage and wild. Perhaps lewd and promiscuous would do as well, given the b.a.s.t.a.r.d I am, given my mother was a rich manas mistress, his bought wh.o.r.e.a aI do not find you amusing. What you are doing,a he said coldly, ais giving over to melodrama. It doesnat suit you.a She only shook her head. Shead said it and he hadnat denied it, just steered clear of it. He rose and began to pace the bedchamber. She saw he was carrying a riding crop. He was slapping it against his right thigh as he paced. He turned then, saying, aThat d.a.m.ned impertinent Spears was hovering over me this morning, indeed, it was he who woke me because in my dreams I could hear his breathing and see that vicaras disapproving face of his, and he was exhorting me not to be a sinner, and when I woke up there he was.a She said nothing.
aSilent? Yes, of course, youare always silent. That way, you never put yourself on the line, do you? You never have to take a risk. Well, it doesnat matter. Spears knew Iad been in your bed, doubtless doing despicable things to your fair person. He was concerned. No doubt Badger was outside the door anxiously awaiting a full report. I told him to go b.u.g.g.e.r himself. He drew himself up proud as the Prince Regent, only without the huge belly, and said in that insubordinate bland voice of his that he would fetch his lordshipas bath. Then, I daresay, he left to confer with Badger, the disloyal sod.a He lightly slapped his riding crop against his open left hand. aShould I have told him that you were more than willing for me to be with you? Should I have mentioned your screams, the way you lurched and trembled and quivered when I touched you? No, I suppose not. Leave him with his belief that you are the Madonna reincarnated. Youare silent. No matter. Your red-haired maid is wrong. Youare beyond pa.s.sable. Thereas no need for any stretching at all. Youare b.l.o.o.d.y beautiful with that black hair of yours all tangled around your face, and your mouth looks red and swollen. Was I too rough with you?a He leaned down and planted an arm on either side of her. His breath was sweet and warm on her cheek. aPerhaps a bit swollen, but very soft too. I have things to do else Iad stay and kiss you and if I did, then those covers would be around your dainty ankles and Iad be freeing my s.e.x and coming into you so fast you would surely faint from the boorishness of it. No, if I did that, I doubt strongly that youad behave as you did last night. Yes, you would swoon.a She looked up into his blue eyes and said, aPerhaps not.a He jerked, looked uncertainly at her mouth, then forced himself to straighten. aI will see you later.a He was gone then and she was left to wonder what was in his mind. Shead surprised him a bit. That was something, she supposed. Maggie came in then, doubtless sent by Marcus, and soon she was bathed and perfumed and powdered and dressed in a becoming, quite modest morning dress of white cambric muslin with two deep flounces at the hem. The gown fell gracefully to her ankles where the ribbons of her white slippers were tied in a small bow over her white stockings. The gown also looked exquisitely sweet with its small puffed sleeves. A well-bred just-out-of-the-schoolroom gown fit for a shy debutante. Why had she ever considered the b.l.o.o.d.y thing? She knew the answer to that. Shead bought it when she didnat know a blessed thing about what went on between men and women, more to the point, what Marcus would do to her and make her feel.
She sighed and pulled the bodice down as far as she could, but there was no cleavage in sight. There were two rows of lace that reached nearly to the pulse in her neck.
Maggie said, aWhatever are you doing, d.u.c.h.ess? Donat ruin the line of this lovely gown. Ah, I see. You want to entice his lordship. Well, cleavage is all well and good, but not necessary, not with your other a.s.sets.a The d.u.c.h.ess laughed, a rueful, perhaps even wistful laugh, and Maggie fell silent for a moment, but only for a moment. aNow, you heed me. At least long hair is back in fashion. All those mincing little coiffure fools with their snapping scissors wonat be balding any more ladiesa heads. Letas keep the fat braids on top of your head with the tendrils dangling down to your shoulders. Those silly little ringlets youare supposed to pile over your ears donat become you, not as they do me. I was made to wear them, what with my brilliant glorious red hair, but you werenat.
aAnd stop worrying that he wonat notice your other things. Men always notice things, particularly a ladyas things, though theyall pretend not to, at least overtly, since theyare supposed to be gentlemen, at least around ladies.a This monologue left the d.u.c.h.ess momentarily deprived of words. aI understand, Maggie,a she said at last. aThank you.a Maggie beamed at her and patted her own hair, all done up this morning in those impossible little ringlets on each side of her face that did indeed look quite alluring on her. aNow, you go downstairs and have breakfast.a * * *
Badger was waiting for her in the breakfast room, a smallish nearly circular room that was filled with bright sunlight pouring in through the big windows that faced toward the east of the house. The table wasnat large enough for all the relatives currently descended upon Chase Park and she imagined theyad dined in the formal dining room. She was thankfully alone. She could see through the lime, maple, and oak trees and the thick well-trimmed bushes to the stables.
aYou are pale and too thin. Eat this porridge, itas from a Scots recipe and I made it myself.a She allowed him to seat her and eyed the steaming oats before her. aI hate porridge, Badger. Iam not thin. Itas this silly little girlas gown that makes me look unsatisfactory.a He frowned and said, aI forgot. Youave hated it since you were a little nit. All right, here are some sweet scones. Eat those. You look quite satisfactory, believe me, even in that virginas gown. Some kidneys?a aNo thank you. Mrs. Gooseberry allowed you into her kitchen? I know how I look, Badger, in short, ridiculous.a aI believe his lordship asked Mrs. Gooseberry to take a nice vacation early this morning. I am now in charge of the kitchens. There are two other cooks and I will direct them if I donat wish to prepare the dishes myself. I am, I told his lordship, still your valet and my first duties are to you. He got that stubborn look on his face, but Iall say this for him, he did manage to hold on to his temper. You look like a tender pullet in that gown and thatas how his lordship better treat you.a aThe scones are delicious, Badger. His lordship will always do just as he pleases. You canat change him. Iam not a chicken, tender or otherwise.a aExactly. Now that youave taken a nice bite of that scone, chew it. Thatas it. Mr. Spears and I will attempt to change him if it becomes necessary. Now, tell me what happened. Mr. Spears is most worried because his lordship was being snappish and rude to hima"a aYes, I know. Marcus told Spears to goa"oh yes, to go b.u.g.g.e.r himself.a Badger looked shocked, his eyes nearly crossing. aYou canat know what that means.a aWell, no, but it canat be very nice, considering itas from Marcus and he was quite put out.a aI wonat tell you. Just never say it again, all right? Now, tell me what happened.a She took another bite of scone and nearly choked on it. aI canat, Badger. Really, itas very personal.a aHe didnat hurt you again, did he?a aHe never really hurt me before. He didnat hurt me, no. Quite the opposite, in fact.a aAh. How very strange. Or is it? Hmmm, I must think about this. Good G.o.d, youare blushing. You, the d.u.c.h.essa"who can freeze the wart off a face with just a look.a aBadger, itas true, youare more my father than my real father ever was, but surely you must realize that such references embarra.s.s me to my toes. And Iam not cold, please, Iam not, truly.a aYes, I can see that I could possibly make you feel uncomfortable. Iall tell Mr. Spears not to worry. Iall also tell him that you wonat say such things as ab.u.g.g.e.ra ever again. d.u.c.h.ess, you will tell me if his lordship does anything that is, well, beyond what a gentleman should do?a aI donat know,a she said, looking suddenly quite interested. She was wondering what that beyond could possibly entail. Shead become something last night she didnat know was possible, or perhaps if one called a spade a spade, shead simply been loose as a tart. Maybe she was indeed a tart. How could she find out what she was? She looked at Badger, knowing she couldnat ask him, shead die of embarra.s.sment. Somehow she couldnat see asking Aunt Gweneth either. She could just see herself saying in a very calm voice that shead lost all control, all desire to control. Shead nearly burst with pleasure.
What was this beyond business? What else could there be? He could stay with her, hold her close and kiss her and fall asleep with her, but she knew deep down it wasnat that. She wanted to know very much.
aMeet me in that small morning room that you like, d.u.c.h.ess, and we will plan the menus for the week. Iave a fancy to try my hand at some of those Frog dishes. Their filet de truite poch la sauce aux capres wasnat bad, was it?a aAh, yes, the trout with capers.a aAnd I shanat forget the pommes-noisettes.a aNo, it would never do to forget the potato b.a.l.l.s.a He grinned at her. aAnd perhaps some asperges tendres la sauce Bernaise. Yes, thatas it. Twenty minutes?a She nodded. He patted her shoulder and took himself back to the kitchen.
aYou surely shouldnat allow a servant such liberties, d.u.c.h.ess. Not only did he actually touch you, he was overly familiar in his speech. And he spoke French.a aDid you hear all of it or just the last little bit?a aJust enough, I daresay.a It was Aunt Wilhelmina and she looked primed for battle.
The d.u.c.h.ess said, aItas a lovely day, donat you think? Iam going for a walk. What do you think, Aunt Wilhelmina, a cottage bonnet or a small round straw hat tied under my chin by white ribbons?a Aunt Wilhelmina frowned at her in frustration and chewed on her bottom lip.
aOr perhaps I could change into riding clothes. Then I could wear that adorable black beaver riding hat with the short ostrich plume. What do you think?a aI hope you get tossed from your horse because youare a b.i.t.c.h.a aWhat? Excuse me, maaam?a aI said, aYou should be careful not to get lost and thrown into a ditch.a a aAh, certainly. Thatas what I thought you said. It was just such a kindly sentiment that I was taken aback. It is rather early, isnat it?a aWhy donat you just go away?a The d.u.c.h.ess just smiled at her, c.o.c.king her head to the side.
aI said, aWhy donat you go enjoy the nice day?a a aOf course thatas what you said. Such kindness from a relative I hadnat even heard of until Mr. Wicks told me of my fatheras legacy.a aWell, all of us wish wead never heard of you, but we had, for Gweneth has written about you over the years. Everyone also knows that you married his lordship for the position and the money.a aEveryone? Could you be more specific, maaam?a Aunt Wilhelmina settled for an elaborate shrug. aMy dear son Trevor said it was so and he is very smart.a Trevor had said that?
She managed to say calmly, aIt isnat true. No, maaam. Regardless, I inherited fifty thousand pounds. That is quite a sufficient sum. It was Marcus who would have been hurt had we not married, not me.a aFifty thousand pounds! Itas unheard of to leave a b.a.s.t.a.r.d such wealth!a aI wasnat a b.a.s.t.a.r.d long after he left me the money. If youall recall, Aunt Wilhelmina, my father made me legitimate, something I beg you not to forget again. You become tedious when you continually forget things. It quite makes me yawn. It quite sends me to sleep.a aThe earl doesnat like you. He married you only because he had to. Heall take countless mistresses and march them all in front of your impertinent nose.a aWell, that isnat your concern, is it? After all, you will soon be gone, back to Baltimore, and I daresay I wonat remember anything you said.a The d.u.c.h.ess left Wilhelmina Wyndham standing there, for once without another word to say or to reshape.
She met with Badger, agreeing to the menu he suggested with just two additions. aRemember those Roehampton rolls you used to make, Badger? Some of those, please. And yes, perhaps some salt cod with parsnips?a He grinned at that. aSorry, d.u.c.h.ess, no fresh cod, not today. Perhaps Wednesday night. Iall have to send a lad to Stockton on Tees to the fish market. Now youare certain those American relatives will like the jugged hare?a aOh yes, theyare not at all provincial. Do send the hare to the table with some red-currant jelly and string beans.a He gave her a severe look. aNaturally. I have always used the old Lincolnshire recipe.a In another thirty minutes, she was in her black riding habit with its epaulets, tight waist, and high black boots, the small black beaver riding hat with its short ostrich plumes set jauntily on her head. She went to the stable to ask for the sweet-mouthed bay mare, Birdie, shead ridden at Lambkinas suggestion two days before.
Trevor was just mounting Clancy, laughing at the stallionas efforts to remove him from his broad back, patting his glossy neck, enjoying himself and the horseas performance thoroughly. He saw her and called out, aCome with me, d.u.c.h.ess. I would like to ride to Reeth, an errand for my mother.a aThat is a two-hour ride, Trevor.a aYes, I know. Sampson gave me excellent directions. Come with me, d.u.c.h.ess.a aJust a moment, both of you.a It was Marcus striding toward them, flicking the riding crop against his thigh. aI feel like riding and Reeth is a fine place to ride to. You would doubtless get lost, Trevor, and G.o.d knows the d.u.c.h.ess couldnat find her way to the next dale without me to show her the path.a Trevor arched his dark eyebrow a good half-inch. He said in such a p.r.o.nounced drawl that she wondered how he could say everything he wanted to say before an hour pa.s.sed, but he did, aRegardless of all the problems that would doubtless plague us, Marcus, we could have managed. However, it appears that you are set upon being the third in our party. Come along, my dear fellow, before Clancy here becomes enamored with the d.u.c.h.essas mare and we find ourselves in the soup.a The three of them rode out of the stable grounds, through the park and down the long driveway lined with giant oak and lime trees. They turned their horses onto the small winding country road that led southwest. There was a good deal of silence, black silence. She breathed in the clean summer air, not caring that Marcus was in a snit. She even grinned when Marcus managed to insert Stanley between Birdie and Clancy. He was acting jealous, that was it. She was astounded and absurdly heartened. She smiled between Birdieas twitching ears, wondering how long he could contain himself.
It wasnat long.
aI donat like you going off with strange men, d.u.c.h.ess, without my permission.a
16.
SHE TURNED IN her saddle. aStrange? You believe Trevor is strange, Marcus? Exotic? Peculiar? Surely you just think his name is strange, donat you?a aYou know very well what I mean, madam. Donat bandy words with me, particularly not in this mongrelas presence. It gives him too much satisfaction.a aSo Iam a mongrel, not just a strange man. That makes me feel more acceptable, cousin.a Marcus realized in that moment that he was being an a.s.s. He managed to hold his tongue to bland topics until they neared Richmond.
Richmond lay just four miles to the east of the small hillside village of Reeth. They stopped at the Black Bull Inn for a gla.s.s of cider.
aSince I am with you, d.u.c.h.ess,a the earl of Chase informed his wife as he closed his hands about her waist and lifted her from Birdieas back, ait will be acceptable for you to come into the taproom with us. If, however, you had accompanied this mangy hound by yourself, you would have had to wait out here in the stable yard so that everyone could see that you understood the decorum demanded by your station, and good sense.a aHe is a considerate husband,a Trevor said, grinning. aNo, Marcus, keep your verbal darts to yourself. Iam thirsty.a He said to the d.u.c.h.ess, aDoes he always concern himself with what people think of you?a aNo,a she said, athis is the first time. I rather like it. It makes him appear masterful.a aMasterful? Ah, that has a fine ring to it, doesnat it? What do you think, Marcus?a Whatever Marcus thought he kept to himself. He strode ahead of them into the inn.
To her surprise, once there were two ales in front of the men and a ladylike lemonade in front of her, they began to discuss the war between England and America. It was as if now they were the best of friends. They spoke as would two soldiers concerned with strategy and tactics, not with politics or principles. They were perfectly amiable to each other as long as she kept quiet, which she did, content to look at Marcus, to listen to his voice, crisp and certain.
As they rode toward the s.p.a.cious village green of Reeth, she said to Trevor, aThis is one of the more charming of the Swaledale villages. See all the black and white houses? Are they not unusual? And there are many pottery shops. Reeth is known for its fine pottery.a He smiled at her enthusiasm and nodded. aThe shop I must visit is on High Row.a Marcus frowned, but held his tongue.
aHigh Row is just on the western side of the green. Ah, yes, lead is mined in the nearby hills,a she added, grinning at him now.
aMore educational bits, d.u.c.h.ess?a Marcus said.
aI am pleased to be educated,a Trevor said. aThere is propriety in education. Such education a husband canat possibly object to.a aWell, let me see. If we had time, we would ride to Muker, itas the most rugged and remote of the Yorkshire dales. Itas really quite savage. I picture the Scottish Highlands as looking something like Muker.a aA charming namea"Muker.a She realized then that she was telling all this nonsense to Trevor just to enrage Marcus. She was surprised, somewhat disappointed actually, at his restraint. Had they been alone, by now he would be cursing, telling her to cease being a nitwit, any number of utterly Marcus-like things. She could picture his scowl, hear him muttering. But his face was set and cold. He did look disgusted, but he was admirably silent. She swallowed and looked away for a moment. Had he really been jealous?
The day was warm, but not overly so. It looked to rain, but she hoped it would hold off until the afternoon.
aSo,a she said to Trevor after theyad left their three horses in the grubby hands of a boy whoad handily snaggled the single pence Trevor had tossed to him, ait appears that Marcus has decided youare all right, despite your name.a Trevor laughed, tossing a smile toward Marcus. aEvidently he so admires my ability to handle Clancy here that he is quite willing to overlook my regrettable name. Isnat that so, cousin?a aClancy,a Marcus said, ais an unaccountable stallion. There is no saying what sort of man he will tolerate.a Trevor just laughed again.
aMarcus does say what he means.a Trevor said, aItas a relief heas not one of Castlereaghas diplomats. England would surely be at war with the entire world.a She laughed, a sweet sound that made Trevor Wyndham start. It made Marcus feel vicious. Trevor said to her, aDid he tell you about the Wyndham legacy?a aNo, what is that, pray tell?a Marcus said, aThere is no need to regale her with all that nonsense. The only reason youave said anything at all is because you believe itas just a story, a fantasy, naught more than a silly legend.a aVery true, but it is interesting. Also, my mother believes it to be genuine. Listen now, d.u.c.h.ess, and learn about it.a He told her about the treasure buried sometime during the sixteenth century, probably somewhere during the time of Henry the Eighthas marriage to Anne Boleyn, that unconscionable harlot, and how his father had told them story upon story about it, speculating what it actually was, but knowing, just knowing that it was wealth beyond anything imaginable, this mysterious treasure that was here, at Chase Park. It just had to be found. He told her that Aunt Gweneth had corresponded with his father and with his mother, after his fatheras death. aI told Marcus that my father couldnat really place it, but he did tell more stories about the time of Henry the Eighth than of any other. That is why weare here in Reeth. Mother believes that there is a clue to be found in this small Antiquarian shop on High Row owned by a Mr. Leonardo Burgess. My father and this Mr. Burgess were friends as boys and young men, and corresponded faithfully and enthusiastically over the years. Mr. Burgess kept an eye on things here, so my father said, and just last year, Burgess wrote to tell my mother that head discovered something. He seemed quite excited about his find. So, we are on a treasure hunt, d.u.c.h.ess. What do you think? Are you interested?a aI think itas wonderful,a she said and laughed aloud again. She thought she heard Marcus mutter under his breath, aThe b.l.o.o.d.y fool, the d.a.m.nable b.l.o.o.d.y fool.a aSurely though, Trevor, your mother canat want you telling all of us about the treasure.a aIt doesnat matter,a Trevor said, shrugging. aAs I said, I donat believe it exists. I agree with Marcus entirely. It is a game to pa.s.s the time until I can pry my mother from here and take her and James and Ursula to London. But before I can do that, I must exhaust all possibilities. She must be convinced that there is no treasure and never was. Iam sure youave noticed that her mind is of a tenacious bent.a aBut if there is such a thing and if we find it, why then, it would belong to Marcus. Surely your mother realizes that.a aThat is why she wants to box my ears for spilling the treasure story. If she thought I had the two of you with me today, off on this most sacred of quests, shead doubtless want to stick a knife in my throat. I suppose she planned to dig up the treasure beneath a full moon at midnight, pile it into a coach, and escape without you, Marcus, being any the wiser.a aIall tell her as soon as we return,a Marcus said. aA knife in your throat isnat a bad thought.a aOh no, he wonat, Trevor, donat worry. Weall stay mum. Your mother will never know that weave dipped our feet into her treasure hunt. And Ursula? What does she think about all this?a Trevor shot her an odd look. aUrsula is a girl.a aThis is incontestable. What does she think about the treasure?a aI donat know.a aGirls do have brains, you know, Trevor, and imaginations. Perhaps they even have talents about which men have no idea.a aYes,a he said, his voice suddenly clipped.
aThe d.u.c.h.ess is right. Girls have many thingsa"talents includeda"that continually surprise men,a Marcus said, his eye suddenly caught by a quite lovely young girl who was openly eyeing both him and Trevor. aThat little la.s.s over there, why she could be naught but a flirt, or she could willingly want to have a man pleasure her.a The d.u.c.h.ess clamped her mouth shut.
Trevor frowned at Marcus.
They walked in silence to High Row.
As it turned out, Mr. Leonardo Burgess was quite a surprise to all three of them.
Once theyad identified themselves, Mr. Burgess ushered them quickly into the dusty shop, pulled the curtains over the windows, and drew them back into the deep shadows.
aYouall not believe this,a he said, shaking Trevoras hand with fervent enthusiasm.
aProbably not,a Trevor said, then smiled, robbing his words of offense.
Mr. Leonardo Burgess was a bull of a man, completely bald, but sported a huge black mustache that he liberally waxed. He grinned as he spoke, showing crossed front teeth.
aIam glad youave arrived, Mr. Wyndham. And you, my lord. I knew your uncle, but Iave yet to meet your lovely wife. My pleasure, your ladyship. Very nice, very nice. Now, Mr. Wyndham, do allow me to tell you how sorry I was to hear of your fatheras death from dear Mrs. Wyndham.a Trevoras father had died five years before, but he nodded gravely to Mr. Burgess. aThank you, sir. Now, I understand that you have come across something that will help us locate the Wyndham treasure?a Mr. Burgess drew nearer and lowered his voice to a near whisper. aOh aye, lad, Iam not stupid. I know you believe this is all twaddle, all fevered imaginings on your fatheras part and now on your motheras part. The old earl never did anything but laugh contemptuously about it. But do I look like a man who would suffer twaddle? Thereas still a cast of uncertainty in your eyes. You believe me a meandering old fool. Ah, no matter. Just wait until you see this.a He turned on his heel and sped as fast as his impressive bulk would allow through a curtained-off entrance to a back room. He returned shortly, cradling in his arms a very large book that looked to be ancient. The cover was an illumination of a thick cross with a beautiful rope of pearls looped around it. The cross was red, the pearls a deep gray. The red ink was faded and peeling, but still vibrant. It was old, so very old.
aCome here, away from the light. The pages are so fragile I fear theyall split and crumble. Now, look here, all of you.a Mr. Burgess gently laid the book on top of a counter. The d.u.c.h.ess breathed in the stale dust raised by the turning of each thick page. The pages of the huge tome were done in beautifully executed script, some in a deep black, others in royal blue, yet others in that same brilliant red as the red cross on the outside of the tome. There were more picturesa"of animals grazing in fields with piles of strange rock formations in the background, of priests blessing kneeling men and women in the square of a town, of the inside of a small Norman chapel that surely looked familiar. Finally, there were sketches of a magnificent abbey, drawn in stark black against a background of fierce heavy black clouds. Oddly, the next pages were of its lush grounds.
aI recognize this abbey,a Marcus said, lightly tracing a fingertip over the outline of the building.
aAye, I do myself, my lord. It is the Saint Swale Abbey, once one of the richest monasteries in all of northern England.a aIts ruins lie very near Chase Park,a Marcus added.
aSo that is Saint Swale,a the d.u.c.h.ess said. aAs children, f.a.n.n.y, Antonia, and I would track each other like the wild Indians in America through the ruins.a aAye, my lady. Listen now, Cromwell, that miserable jackal, put it toward the top of his list.a aCromwell?a Trevor said. aI thought Cromwell was the fellow who led the anti-Royalist Roundheads and beheaded King Charles I back in the middle of the seventeenth century.a aAye, Oliver Cromwell was the great-grandson of this Cromwellas nephew. Betrayal, greed, and power mongering flow in all their veins, curse the b.u.g.g.e.rs, begging your pardon, my lady. The kinga"Henry the Eighth named Cromwell his vice-regenta"made him more powerful than any man should ever be.a aSo it was in Henry the Eighthas time. What is this about a list?a Trevor asked.
aThe king was bankrupt. The easiest way to get all the wealth he wanted was to take the monasteriesa"they owed allegiance to the pope, after alla"and not to Henry who was the head of the Church of England. Cromwell made up a list, beginning with the wealthiest of the monasteries. It was called the time of the dissolution, beginning way back in 1535 and lasting for three years.a aI begin to see where the legend of the treasure derives,a Marcus said, stroking his fingertips over his jaw. aMany of the monasteries had great wealth, not only in land and buildings and holdings, but in jewels and gold collected over the centuries. And their religious artifacts were priceless even thena"gold crosses encrusted with precious gems and the like. They knew Cromwellas men were coming and thus they hid as much treasure as they could.a aExactly, my lord, exactly.a Mr. Burgess beamed with approval on Marcus, until Marcus added, aI would have thought, however, that instead of burying all the loot, the monks would have taken it with them when they fled.a aThey were holy men,a Mr. Burgess said in a voice to rival a bishopas. aThey didnat want their monasteryas wealth to fall into the kingas rapacious hands.a aAs I recall,a Marcus continued, amost of the monks were set adrift in the world after Henry sold off their monasteries to anyone with the money to meet his price. Many starved, for they had no notion of how to survive.a aAye, atis true, the poor b.u.g.g.e.rs, beggina your pardon, my lady.a b.u.g.g.e.r was a versatile word, she thought. If the monks were b.u.g.g.e.rs, then surely it couldnat be so very bad, could it? Did monks b.u.g.g.e.r themselves as well as being b.u.g.g.e.rs?
Trevor said, aSo, you have a clue to tell where some monk buried his abbeyas wealth?a aNot exactly, Mr. Wyndham. What I have is the proof that there was a treasure buried.a Mr. Burgess turned another page. There was only script on this one. It was in Latin. He ran a blunt finger beneath the words as he said slowly, aThe monk says that it was Beltanea"the celebration of Beltane or the first of May is an ancient rite, still practiced in Scotland and here in northern England,a he added to Trevor, then continued. aAye, the monk writes that it was Beltane and the night was dark as a dead manas eyes, and the winds blew strong across the dales and whistled through the crags, threatening to uproot the trees in the maple forests. The fires burned too brightly and many became uncontrolled, the winds whipping the fires and the people into a frenzy. Many were burned and killed but they stayed, swaying with the ancient rhythms of the past and crying out in blind ecstasy, and performing the heathen rites of fertility that heralded the growth and rich heat of summer. He says that he and six of his brothers dragged the chest from the abbey, staying in the shadows as best they could for theyad heard that Cromwell had sent men there to prevent just what they intended to do. Look here. It also seems they were carrying a body with them, a large bloated body, he writes. This is very odd. What body?a He pointed back to the following text. aHe writes they promised their Holy Father that the king would not have their abbeyas wealth for his immoral uses.a The page ended. Mr. Burgess slowly lifted the page and laid it carefully down. The next page was a drawing of the raging Beltane fires, their flames shooting heavenward with wild-faced people staring upward at the shooting flames. And then it changed. The people were still pointing, or perhaps reaching for something, but now, strangely, they seemed to be inside a room, not outside with the Beltane fires. And they were looking upward.
Mr. Burgess gently lifted and turned that page. There was nothing more, only the obvious proof that someone had torn out one or more of the precious pages. Gently, as if he were touching the most precious of gems, Leonardo Burgess lightly traced his blunt fingertips along the jagged rips. aSomeone tore out the next pages, all of them.a aIall be d.a.m.ned,a Marcus said.
aIndeed,a Trevor agreed.
aBut who?a the d.u.c.h.ess asked. aAnd when?a aA long time ago,a Mr. Burgess said. aThereas yellowing at the edges. See?a aI do wonder who,a Trevor said. aIn any case, the thief didnat find the treasure, else it would have been the news of the decade.a Marcus said suddenly, aYou, sir, look very familiar to me. Itas the way you hold your head, the waya"a aAye, my lord. I believe I would be your half-cousin, and yours as well, Mr. Wyndham. Goodness,a he added, smiling at the d.u.c.h.ess. aYouare all my kin. My mother was born on the wrong side of the blanket, begging your pardon, my lady, thus she was a half-sister to your grandfather. Thus it wasnat difficult for me and your father, Mr. Wyndham, to be friends as boys and to keep that friendship once head left for the Colonies. The earl, naturally, didnat acknowledge me.a Marcus shook his b.a.s.t.a.r.d half-cousinas hand before they left the shop, a.s.suring him of acknowledgment.
aGood G.o.d,a Marcus said, shaking his head, as they walked back to where the young boy was patiently tending their horses. aI believe that there is some sort of precedent here.a He said to the d.u.c.h.ess, aDo you think I am expected to continue in the tradition of producing offspring out of blessed wedlock? Will my ancestorsa ghosts haunt me if I donat populate the area with my b.a.s.t.a.r.ds?a aThat is all well and good, Marcus,a she said, frowning at him, abut not to the point. What we learned makes me believe there is more to this treasure than fevered brains making up stories.a aI wrote it all down,a Trevor said.
aAnd you,a Marcus added to her, asketched those drawings very nicely. I had no idea you had a ladyas talents. You continue to surprise me. I donat like it.a aYou have no idea of many things, Marcus,a she said. aOr perhaps you do, you just donat want to accept them.a He saw the half-smile on her mouth and wished devoutly that Trevor was in Algiers. He wanted her. Quite simply, he wanted to jerk up that riding skirt of hers, brace her against a tree, and bury himself inside her.