chapter 36
James watched his wife circle the ballroom with Graeme. She was beautiful, her face alight. James wondered how much of the glow arose from the fact that she was waltzing with Graeme. James glanced over at Abigail, in animated conversation with Tessa and Aunt Mirabelle. Obviously Graeme waltzing with his first love didn’t disturb her. It was foolish to let it nibble at him.
The difference, of course, was that Abigail knew she held Graeme’s heart in her hand. Whereas Laura . . . but that was nonsense. It was absurd to have this cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, this sense that something was lacking. Laura was his and his alone. She’d never been in any other man’s bed, never felt anyone else’s touch, never taken another into her warmth as she had him. If there was any lack, it was only love, and he was not some weak milksop of a man to sit about whining about romance. And how unfair, unkind, to wish he had Laura’s love, when he could not offer it in return.
James was fully aware that he did not love deeply. Heartache was foreign to him. Indeed, it was vaguely unsettling even to think about it.
There was nothing wrong in Laura dancing with Graeme. Nor was it worrisome that Laura visited Lydcombe Hall frequently. It was only . . . Laura never mentioned her visits to James. She had not once asked if James would like to accompany her. In fact, she seemed to call on them when he was not around—the day he had gone to Tunbridge Wells, for instance, or of a morning when he was in his study working. The thought that Laura didn’t want James with her left a slender thread of emptiness in its wake.
“They make an attractive couple, don’t they?”
Salstone, of course. The man had a knack for showing up when James least wanted to see him. James turned, polite inquiry on his face. “Who does?”
Salstone gave an irritating chuckle. Blast the man; it was he who had first put this maggot of doubt in James’s head. For that reason alone, James ought to dismiss the idea.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” James said with a little fillip of satisfaction at the wary look that entered Archie’s eyes.
“Talk away.” Salstone surveyed the room as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“I understand you’ve run up a bit of debt in London.”
Archie shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Where’d you hear that?”
James gave him the smile he’d perfected over the years, a thin lift of the lips that contained a predatory anticipation. “Archie, dear fellow, do you think I don’t keep up with what you’ve been doing in London? Don’t you know roulette’s a fool’s game?”
“The house cheated; the wheel was fixed.”
“No doubt you’re right.”
“I know better than to go back there now.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, since I daresay they won’t let you in anymore.”
His brother-in-law shrugged in a semblance of nonchalance.
James went on, “More worrisome, of course, are your notes to Cuddington and Lord Welborne. Not paying your gentlemanly debts will turn everyone against you—but you are already aware of that, aren’t you?”
“What is your point?” Salstone flushed with anger.
“Just this, Archie: I am prepared to pay off your debts.”
Archie’s eyes widened. “I—I say, de Vere, that’s damned decent of you.”
“There are conditions.”
“I might have known,” Archie said with some bitterness.
“First, you will give up your women on the side. I refuse to allow you to treat Patricia with so little respect.”
Archie bristled. “Patsy doesn’t know.”
“I know. Half the peerage knows. My mother knows. Do you honestly think Patricia isn’t aware, no matter how much she may pretend otherwise?”
Salstone glared at him, but finally he said grudgingly, “Yes, very well. I agree.”
“All of them, Archie. No mistresses, no prostitutes, no chasing the upstairs maid about. And if you believe I won’t know, think again.”
“You have no right!”
“Just as I have no obligation to pay your debts. If you want one, you take the other.”
“Yes!” Salstone ground out. “Yes, I will give them up.”
“Good. Now, for the rest of it—”
“There’s more? What the devil do you want from me?”
“I want you to be a decent man, or at least as much of one as you can be. You are also to give up gambling. I have a house in York where you and Patsy may live.”
“York! You’re exiling me to York?”
“My first thought was Scotland, but I suspected Patricia might have hysterics.”
“I should think so. Why even bother to clear up my debts if I can’t go back to London?”
“You can go to London if you limit yourself to one month a year. That will give you and Patsy an opportunity to visit without taxing your resolve to abstain from your vices. York is large enough that you and Patricia will have ample entertainment and society. And the two of you will have a home of your own. Patricia can be mistress of her own household. You won’t have to live here or at your father’s. You can be your own man.”
“My own man! To do what?”
“I don’t know, Archie. I suppose you will have to figure that out.”
“But . . . York! Why York?”
“For one thing, because I happen to own a house there.”
“Because it’s far away from you,” Salstone shot back.
“That does add to its appeal,” James agreed. “I have corresponded with your father, and he has agreed to increase your allowance since you will have a household of your own. I will also set up a regular payment from the trust—income only, you understand.”
“And what if I don’t agree to this . . . this . . . prison?”
“A rather luxurious prison. And one which you yourself will have the running of. I cannot force you, obviously. But if you want the income from your father and from Patsy’s trust, if you want a place of your own in which to live, if you want your present debts paid so that you can show your face in London, then you will do this.”
“I haven’t got much choice, have I?” Salstone asked bitterly.
“You have a choice. It’s just that one option is not very agreeable.” James leaned closer. “And, believe me, Archie, if you break trust with me, I will find out. Then you are finished. I will never pay another debt of yours. Your father will cut off your money, and I won’t give you a cent from the trust. You will no longer be welcome in my home.”
“Patsy’s your own sister!”
“Patsy can live here. Not you.”
“You’re a bastard.”
“You aren’t the first to say so. Do you agree or not?”
Salstone stared at him for a long moment, then burst out, “Yes! Yes, damn you, I agree.”
James gave him a short nod and turned away. The waltz had ended, and Laura and Graeme were wending their way toward him. James went to meet them, his dark mood lifting, as it always did, when Laura smiled at him.
“I believe the next dance is mine,” he said, and led her out onto the floor to take her in his arms.
Later in the evening, as the ball began to show signs of winding down, James and Graeme made their way to James’s study to enjoy a glass of brandy. Graeme leaned back with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Aunt Tessa’s party was a success, it seems.”
“I’m sure she’s pleased.” James took a sip of brandy as he watched his cousin. Despite his cheerful words, Graeme was frowning slightly, his gaze on his hand as he turned his glass around aimlessly. James waited a moment, then said, “For pity’s sake, Graeme, out with it.”
“What?” Graeme turned toward him, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re the one who suggested we have a drink away from the party, and I doubt you were intent on complimenting my mother’s party. You’ve something on your mind. Say it and have done with it. I promised Laura another waltz.”
“Well, um, actually, it’s about Laura.”
“What about Laura?” James frowned.
“Nothing, really.” Graeme set down his drink. “It’s just . . . I wanted to ask you to . . . please be careful.”
James’s eyebrows soared. “What the devil are you on about? What do you mean, be careful? Of what? Who?”
“I would hate for Laura to be hurt.”
That brought James upright from his casual pose. His tone as icy as his eyes, he said, “I beg your pardon. Are you suggesting that I would harm Laura?”
“No, of course not,” Graeme replied hastily. “I know you would never try to hurt her.”
“So it’s just that I am likely to do so without trying? Is that it? That I am so unfeeling, so boorish, I will mangle her and never even notice?”
Graeme stared. “No, of course not. Good Lord, James. Calm down.”
“I am perfectly calm. Dead calm. Despite what you and others might think, I don’t delight in kicking puppies and pulling the wings off flies. I have no interest in making Laura unhappy. I cannot change the fact that we are married. I didn’t set out to tie her to me irrevocably, to force her to spend her life with me. But—”
“Bloody hell, would you stop putting words in my mouth?” Graeme snapped back. “I never said any of that. I know you married her with the best of intentions.”
“It is just the result that makes her unhappy.” The rush of anger drained out of James as quickly as it had come, leaving him empty and faintly sick. He set his mouth grimly. “Did she come to cry on your shoulder? What is it Laura wants? She could have told me herself.”
“No! Good Lord, James, why would you assume that? You misunderstand. Laura has said nothing to me. She’s not unhappy about your marriage. Not at all. It’s just the opposite; she seems very happy. Giddy, almost.”
Relief flooded James. “Then what the devil are you talking about?”
Graeme sighed. “James, you know I want the best of everything for you. I’m glad you married Laura. My sincerest hope is that you find the same sort of happiness Abby and I have. But I worry a bit because Laura is the sort of woman who puts her whole heart into everything she does. I hope you won’t, um . . .”
“Break her heart,” James said flatly.
“Exactly.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re right. But I’m fond of Laura.”
“I am rather fond of her myself, as it happens,” James said drily.
“It’s obvious you are. But I know how you feel, what you think about love. And I know the . . . the sort of relationships to which you are accustomed.”
“You think I’m going to treat her like a mistress? That I’ll toss her aside one day with a note and a bauble?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not at all. Laura is my wife—and, I must point out, not yours.”
“James!” Graeme’s face flooded with red.
“I don’t need you telling me Laura’s too good for me. I already know that. I realize she will never have what she wants, what she deserves, in a husband.” James swung away. “And sooner or later she will realize it, too. But I can hardly stop her from doing that.”
He downed the rest of his drink and slapped the glass onto his desk. When he turned back, his temper more firmly in control, he found Graeme staring at him, stunned.
“You love her, don’t you?” Graeme said in awe.
“Don’t be absurd,” James scoffed.
“I’m not. You have fallen utterly, madly in love with Laura.” His cousin began to grin.
“Come, Graeme, you know me better than that.”
“I do know you. And I have never seen you act like this over any woman.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not acting any way.”
“No, not at all.” Graeme’s eyes danced. “You aren’t jealous or anxious or angry at me.”
“I am angry at you. You’re pushing your nose into my business. It has nothing to do with how I feel about Laura.”
“And how do you feel about Laura?”
“The same as I always have,” James retorted, beleaguered. “She’s an admirable, intelligent, lovely woman who was foolish enough to fall in love with you and even more foolish to marry me.”
“That’s what you think. What do you feel?”
“I feel damn sorry I ever walked into this room with you, that’s what. I’m leaving.” James turned and strode to the door. “I am going to dance with my wife and do my best to forget this entire conversation.”
A smile played at the corner of Graeme’s mouth. “I wish you luck with that.”
James made his way down the corridor toward the ballroom. He realized he was scowling when one of the footmen walking toward him took one look at him and hurriedly ducked into an open doorway.
Making a conscious effort to clear his forehead and unclench his jaw, James continued to the ballroom. There were still a few people dancing, though some had left and many were sitting about in small clumps, chatting. He glanced around, but Laura was nowhere to be seen.
He looked across the room to the double doors leading outside and saw Laura standing on the flagstone terrace. She leaned against the stone balustrade, hands braced on the wide stone rail, gazing out across the garden. James stepped through the doorway, saying her name, and she straightened and turned toward him, smiling.
There was a harsh scrape of stone against stone on the balcony that formed the roof of the terrace. Instinctively James glanced up and saw a large, dark shape hurtling down from the balcony above. He shouted Laura’s name, his insides going cold as ice as he desperately lunged for her, knowing he could not possibly reach her in time. Laura flung herself forward, falling to the ground, as a large stone flowerpot crashed onto the railing where she had been standing.