chapter 26
Unsurprisingly, James attacked getting well as if it were a business. Laura watched him go through each day, methodical and persistent, taking the drafts she gave him and downing the food laid before him. He even forced himself to rest.
He was equally intent on rebuilding his strength. The first few days he limited himself to trips up and down the stairs and along the hallways, but he soon began to venture farther—to the terrace, then the gardens, increasing the distance with each trip. Sometimes he had to sit and rest on a bench before starting back to the house, but he doggedly kept at it.
At least the weariness made him sleep. Laura wished she could say the same for herself. She told herself she tossed and turned because the cot on which she lay was uncomfortable, but when they disposed of the mercury beneath James’s bed and he returned to his own room, she found sleep even more elusive.
James, of course, was not bothered at all. He was smoothly polite, giving Laura his arm as courtesy demanded, but never touching her in any other way. He spent little time with her except at meals and in the evening, when they were surrounded by his family.
At first Laura reacted to his new aloofness by withdrawing into an equally stiff silence. It was not long, however, before she realized that this path led only to permanent separation. She could not bear to lose James entirely, as she had lost Graeme.
If their relationship could not be all she wanted, she could at least regain what they had had before. She forced herself back into her former amiable, light attitude, and James’s manner began to relax.
Laura knew the evenings spent in conversation with the others in the household were deadly dull for James—after all, they were equally boring for her—so she strove to enliven the gatherings. Sometimes she played the piano and Tessa sang along with her, which had the advantage of making it difficult for all of them to snipe at each other.
She suspected from the twinkle in his eyes that James guessed her reasons for the musicales, but it served its purpose. Laura knew he liked to hear her play, and though he refused to join in their singing—unlike Walter, who surprisingly turned out to bask in the attention—it warmed her to see James happy amidst his family. Well, happy might be too strong a word, but at least comfortable.
However, the music gave her little opportunity to be with James, so she frequently suggested a game instead. She feared at first that he would not join in, for he was bound to be annoyed by the play of most of the others, but to her surprise, James readily agreed whenever she suggested it.
It turned out that their most frequent companions at the game table were Adelaide and Patricia. It was not an ideal arrangement, as Adelaide was a foolish player and Patricia a terrible loser, but at least Adelaide’s saccharine conversation usually suppressed some of Patricia’s sniping.
After a few evenings spent playing cribbage, however, Adelaide protested, “No, not that game again, please!” She turned large soulful eyes on Laura. “I can never keep up when James is playing. The pegs are moving so fast, and everyone’s saying all those numbers.”
“Whist, then?” Laura asked, glancing at James and his sister.
Adelaide nodded enthusiastically, James shrugged, and Patricia said sourly, “It doesn’t matter. James will win whatever we play.”
“You could partner with James,” Laura offered, suppressing a grin at the look of alarm on her husband’s face.
“Goodness, no, that’s even worse. Then James is sitting there the whole time, judging my poor play.”
“Is he?” Laura sent him a teasing glance. “I suppose I should worry, then.”
“Not you.” Patricia’s lips thinned. “He thinks you’re perfect.”
Laura chuckled. “Hardly.”
“Laura remembers which suit is trump,” James told his sister with a pointed look. “Which makes it vastly easier to play with her.”
“Claude’s the same way,” Adelaide put in, smoothing the waters as she often did. “He knows every card that’s been played. He thinks I’m dreadfully silly.” She seemed more pleased than not at this evaluation. “He prefers the play at the tavern in the village. That’s why he took Walter and Archie there this evening.”
“They’re going to gamble?” Patricia’s brows pinched together. ”I thought it was just to have a drink.”
“Don’t worry, I doubt the play is very deep,” James told her. “Not like in London. Claude won’t let Salstone get into trouble.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Patricia glared and began to deal out the cards.
Laura, picking up her hand, said casually, “I suppose you must miss London, Patricia.” It made her feel a trifle guilty to probe an obviously sore subject for James’s sister, but she could not pass up the opportunity to dig for information.
“Oh, yes,” Patricia replied in the most heartfelt voice Laura had ever heard from her. Then she seemed to come to herself and glared. “I’m sure you know that.”
Laura ignored her last words. “I haven’t been to London often myself. What about you, Adelaide? Do you and Claude go there frequently?”
“No. I’m afraid Claude isn’t fond of the city. Oh, look! I took that trick.” Adelaide giggled and scooped up the cards. Laura was pondering how to phrase a more specific inquiry when Adelaide went on, “Actually, I don’t believe we’ve been in London for a year now. Since last Season.”
Laura glanced at James. If Claude had not been at the London house recently, that would exonerate him, wouldn’t it? After all, that was where James had first fallen ill.
“You didn’t come with him last time he was there?” Patricia asked. “We saw Claude, oh, it must have been two or three months ago.”
“Oh! Of course. How silly of me. Claude did go to the city on some sort of business. How could I have forgotten? I suppose it was because I wasn’t with him. Poor Robby had a terrible cough. I couldn’t leave him.” Adelaide sighed at the memory and shook her head. “You cannot imagine, Patricia, how hard it is for a mother to see her child suffering.”
Pain bloomed in Patricia’s eyes, and, not for the first time, Laura wondered if Adelaide was really as sweet as she appeared. Were her words artless or a barb about Patricia’s childlessness? Whichever it was, it didn’t make Laura like Adelaide any better.
Laura turned back to her hand, dropping her investigations for the moment. But later that evening, as she and James climbed the stairs to their rooms, James said, “Well, now we know that Claude had the opportunity to set up mercury in the town house as well as here.”
“But several of the others were in London, too. Obviously Patricia and Salstone were there.”
“Still championing Archie for the villain, I see.” James smiled. “Yes, it could have been any of them. But it’s another nail in the coffin for Claude. Or, actually, for me, I suppose.”
“James . . .” They reached Laura’s door, and she turned to him.
“Don’t worry, I’m not condemning Claude yet.”
Laura blushed. She hadn’t been thinking of Claude when she’d said James’s name. It had been merely a desire to stop him, to make him linger here with her, perhaps even come inside her room. But, of course, that was a hopeless endeavor.
So she smiled stiffly and said, “Well, then . . . good night.”
He stood looking down at her, a heat in his gaze that made her hope for an instant that he was about to kiss her. But he stepped back, giving her a sharp nod. “Good night, Laura. Sleep well.”
Little likelihood of that, Laura thought sourly as she went inside her chamber. It was ridiculous. She had spent her entire life sleeping alone, but now her room seemed empty without him there. She could not escape the constant humming memory of his kiss—the way his arms had gone around her, his body lean and hard against hers, his lips wonderfully soft.
How could James remain so indifferent? She had felt the passion in him; she could not be mistaken. But deep down she knew the answer to her question. James might desire her, but she was not the wife he wanted. Now that he was getting better, he realized what a mistake he had made in marrying Laura.
She could never hope to match the paragon of cool self-sufficiency that he had wanted for a wife. When he had first described his ideal wife to her, she had been amused. Now she found it difficult to laugh about it.
Other men might settle for something less, might let passion overcome their intentions. But not James. He would suppress whatever spark he might feel until it was utterly smothered. Laura supposed it was fortunate that she was no longer in his company as often. It would be easier for her to regain her equilibrium without him around.
The only problem was that being apart from James was the last thing she wanted.
Laura was sitting in the garden the following afternoon when she looked up and saw Abigail walking toward her. She jumped to her feet, smiling. “Abigail! How nice to see you.”
Smiling, Abby took her hand in greeting. “When Graeme said he was coming to call on James, Mirabelle and I decided to join him. We’ve been in the drawing room visiting with Aunt Tessa and the others.”
“Is that why you fled to the garden?”
Abby laughed. “It was a bit dull.” She slipped her arm through Laura’s and they turned to stroll deeper into the garden. “How is Anna?” Laura asked.
“Delightful, of course.” Abby grinned. “You must come visit us and see her again. It seems as if every day she’s doing something new.”
“Thank you. I shall.”
“You know, I am quite determined we shall become friends.”
Laura glanced at the other woman, startled. “I should like that, as well.”
“I hope I’m not too blunt. I hate to hint at things.”
“I don’t mind,” Laura assured her. “I prefer to be straightforward myself. And I would value our friendship. You’ve already done a great deal for me.”
“We’ve . . . exchanged favors,” Abby agreed. “But I would like there to be more between us. When I first met you, I thought, well, finally, here’s a woman in England I could be friends with.”
“I liked you, as well,” Laura told her. “It’s just—”
“Graeme. I know. It’s awkward. But I’m hoping it doesn’t have to be.” Abigail came to a stop and gazed earnestly into Laura’s eyes. “Graeme has told me what good friends the two of you were; you’re important to him. So is James. I don’t want there to be anything that hinders that closeness.”
“I feel the same.”
“Good.” Abigail began walking again. “I will tell you that I was jealous of you when I first saw you. So lovely and English and blond. So well bred.”
“Oh, Abigail, no . . .”
“Don’t worry.” Abigail smiled at her. “Graeme has convinced me of his love for me. I’m not jealous. I wanted to make sure you know that. But I didn’t know . . . whether the situation would be difficult for you.”
“You mean, do I still pine for Graeme?” Laura asked wryly.
“Yes.” Abigail turned her vivid green eyes on Laura, serious, even sympathetic. “I don’t want to cause you pain. But now that you have married James, I hoped it meant you no longer felt the same about Graeme.”
“Since you are so honest with me, I must be with you, as well. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about James. But I am quite sure I don’t wish I was married to Graeme. Seeing how happy Graeme is, I could not feel any way but pleased.”
“Really?” Abby’s expression was one of such astonishment that Laura had to laugh.
“Yes. Really.”
“If I knew that Graeme was happier with a woman other than me, I think I’d want to scratch her eyes out. His, too! No, I’d want to do worse than that to him,” Abby mused.
“I think perhaps you love Graeme in a way I don’t. A way I’m not sure I ever did. Graeme is dear to me; we were friends for years. But I didn’t—I mean, when James—” Her words stumbled to a halt, her cheeks turning fiery.
“My goodness, don’t stop there,” Abby said. “When James what? Has he—I mean, I thought he was so ill he . . . I’m sorry. I’m too inquisitive. I beg your pardon.”
“No, I’d—frankly, I’d like to talk to someone. But I can’t talk to Tessa about James. Or Mirabelle. And Patricia and Adelaide are . . . um . . .”
“No need to explain. I’ve met Patricia and Adelaide.”
Laura smiled, but her cheeks were still flaming. “It’s embarrassing. You probably don’t want to hear such things.”
“My dear, this is exactly the sort of thing I want to hear,” Abby said, with such an easy droll manner that Laura relaxed.
“Very well.” Laura took a deep breath and began. “Obviously, ours was not a love match. James and I weren’t friends—just the opposite. I was stunned when he proposed.”
“Perhaps he had been harboring a secret passion for you all these years?” Abby suggested.
“James?” Laura laughed. “You have met him, haven’t you?”
“Well . . .” Abby shrugged. “I hoped it was something terribly romantic.”
“Not at all romantic. But very kind. He’s a good man, however much he tries to hide it. I have come to care for him.”
“Do you love him?”
Laura hesitated. “I don’t know. It’s not the same.”
“As it was with Graeme?”
Laura nodded. “I don’t think James is wonderful or that he’s a perfect example of a man, as I did Graeme. James is excessively irritating sometimes. He’s aloof. He’s very . . . sealed off, somehow. I don’t know him; I’m not sure I’ll ever really know him. He doesn’t want anyone to. But I enjoy being with him. It makes me happy just to see him. And I feel—I have such—” A flush spread across her cheeks and she glanced at Abby, then away. “I want him.” Her words came out barely above a whisper.
“Ah.”
“I tell myself I shouldn’t.”
“Why not? He’s your husband; it seems quite permissible to me.”
“But I’m not sure that I love him. I am sure he will never love me. And that makes it just lust, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps it’s not sacred. But it’s legal.” Abby smiled, her eyes twinkling. “And James is very pleasing to the eye.”
Laura laughed, though her cheeks still burned. “He is, isn’t he? It gives me shivers when he smiles in that wicked way, as if he knows something is sinful but he wants you to enjoy it with him anyway. His eyes light up silver, and he has such disgustingly thick black eyelashes. And when he kisses me, I—” She stopped, words failing her, and shook her head. “I shouldn’t be talking about this.”
“Oh, you should. You absolutely should,” Abby told her. “So the situation is thus: you’re married, and he wants you, and you want him.”
“It sounds terribly silly when you put it like that, doesn’t it?”
“No. I understand. You’re like Graeme. You want to do what’s right, and just because something is acceptable doesn’t mean it’s right.”
“I’m not even sure James desires me.”
“You just said he kissed you. I doubt it was charity.”
“Yes, but it was when James was in a fever. He was delirious, out of his head. That’s not very encouraging, is it?”
“He hasn’t kissed you any other time?”
“At the ceremony, of course, and once here in the garden, but that was just for show. He didn’t want his relatives to know how ill he was.” Laura added in a rush, “And also the other day.”
“Then he’s kissed you four times. We’ll dismiss the wedding kiss, and I’ll even omit the one ‘for show,’ though it seems to me that kissing someone isn’t necessary to prove you aren’t ill. There’s one when he’s feverish, which is open for debate. That still leaves you with one kiss that was clearly intentional.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“With no other motive than that he wanted to. Do you think James goes about giving out kisses indiscriminately?”
Laura laughed. “No, definitely not. But after he kissed me, he jerked away as if he’d touched a hot stove and began to talk about the boundaries of our agreement. Then he told me he was going to move back into his bedroom.”
“Boundaries? What do you mean?”
“What we agreed to at the beginning—you know, that it would be a marriage in name only.”
“But that was when he thought he was about to die. I cannot imagine he wants an entire lifetime of celibacy. Nor can I see why he would kiss you if he didn’t want to.”
“Then why did he pull away?”
“I don’t know. Men are odd creatures. You said James doesn’t want anyone to really know him. Maybe he’s afraid that if he went further, he would be revealing too much of himself. That he would . . . I don’t know, be handing you the key to unlock him.”
“But he has slept with other women. I’m sure of it.”
“No doubt. But there’s a good deal of difference between a mistress and a wife. A man can lie with a prostitute and take the pleasure, but he doesn’t give up anything of himself.”
“It’s a business proposition. A contract. James likes contracts.”
“Exactly. It’s an exchange: he gives her money and she gives him, well, you know. But when there are feelings involved, when you are close to someone, it isn’t a barter, but a mutual sharing, and he would be giving you not money, but something of himself. Then he can be hurt.”
“But so can I.”
“True. It’s a risky endeavor.” Abby smiled. “But well worth it, I think. James wants you; all he needs is a little push.”
“A push?” Laura looked at her, intrigued.
“Yes. An alluring dress. A little flirtation. That sort of thing.”
Laura looked doubtful. “I haven’t any alluring dresses.” She waved her hand down her dress.
“Get some new ones. I doubt James would begrudge you a new wardrobe.”
Laura laughed. “It irritates him that I haven’t bought any new clothes. I believe he thinks I’m dowdy.”
“Maybe he just wants to give you something.”
“Maybe.” Laura could not help but smile at that thought. “I haven’t had the time to go to London on a shopping expedition. I’ll be in mourning for months yet, and it seems wasteful to buy new clothes in black and then not wear them when the year is up.”
“Hasn’t Tessa told you it’s never a waste to buy a beautiful dress?”
“No, but I’m sure she would agree.”
“In the meantime . . . I have several black gowns that I wore after my grandfather’s death. They’re a little behind in fashion, but that won’t matter. We’ll have to hem them, of course, but Molly can do it in a trice. Trust me, you’ll have James wondering why he was ever foolish enough to want a marriage ‘in name only.’ ” Abigail linked her arm through Laura’s. “Now, what do you say we sit down on this lovely bench and make plans?”
Laura grinned. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”