Desire walked around the blackened ruins of Godwin House. For days the acrid smell of smoke had saturated the air, but today it stung her throat with the bitterness of personal loss. She was only one of thousands whose homes had been destroyed. By comparison with most she was lucky. She was only a wherry ride along the Thames from her Kingston house. What would all those who had no such alternative do?
‘Don’t go any closer.’ Jakob caught her arm as she moved towards the house. ‘It’s not safe.’
Desire accepted his warning with a nod. Her eyes still felt swollen and bleary from the tears she had wept the previous night. Her head felt as if it was stuffed with hay, her thoughts were slow and disjointed.
The scene before her was so strange she could hardly recognise it. The ground around the house was strewn with debris, including one or two unburned household items that must have been thrown to safety in advance of the flames. Desire saw a stool lying on its side, two legs parallel to the ground, one thrust jauntily into the air. She struggled to see something familiar about it, but it was just a stool, probably from the servants’ quarters. Most likely she’d never seen it before. It held no memories for her.
She walked on, Jakob staying silently at her side. Parts of the building still smouldered. The east wing was the most completely destroyed. The western end of the south wing had partially survived. Most amazingly the west wing seemed almost undamaged. It was the oldest part of the house.
‘I hardly went into it from one month to the next,’ Desire murmured.
‘You had no need,’ said Jakob.
‘No. But the east wing—I walked and walked in the long gallery.’ She bit her lip, remembering the last time she’d done so. ‘It’s not there any more,’ she whispered. She stared at the blind, empty windows that pierced the blackened eastern wall. There was no roof. The oak floor on which she’d paced was gone. This part of the house was an empty shell.
She pressed her fingers to her temple, trying to comprehend the loss. With her own eyes she could see the destruction. Her mind accepted the inevitable consequences of the devastating fire, but in her heart she couldn’t believe in the finality of the dreadful transformation.
‘If I close my eyes it’s all still there,’ she whispered. ‘How can this have happened?’
Jakob didn’t say anything. She didn’t expect him to. She understood the sequence of events that had led to this. She just hadn’t had time to adjust to them.
‘They say you should be careful what you wish for,’ she said after a moment. ‘I used to wish I could walk through Cheapside and visit St Paul’s. Now they’re both gone for ever—’
‘They’ll be rebuilt,’ said Jakob. ‘London is full of merchants and tradesmen. They have to conduct their business or they’ll starve. The shops and houses will go back up.’
‘Yes,’ said Desire. ‘Perhaps…’
‘Perhaps what?’
‘Perhaps, when the last fires have stopped burning, I ought to go and see the ruins of London,’ she said. ‘And then visit again when the shops and houses are rebuilt.’
If she did that, at least she’d be able to say she’d been part of the new London from the start, even though she’d never been part of the old.
Before the fire, she’d also wished she could venture out from behind the safety of her walls. Now she had been forced out. However difficult life became, she could never retreat to the peaceful sanctuary of her roof garden.
‘I must speak to Lord Halross.’ She folded her arms across her body.
‘Halross? Why?’ There was an unusually sharp note in Jakob’s voice, but she barely heard it.
‘I need a new steward,’ she replied, walking away from the house. At the gate she stopped and took one last look at her ruined home. ‘Lord Halross may be able to recommend someone suitable.’
Jakob put his hand under her elbow as they headed back towards St Martin’s Lane. They had an escort of three of Halross’s footmen. With Arscott on the loose and with his guilt proven beyond doubt, Jakob wasn’t taking any chances with Desire’s safety. She was grateful for his caution.
An image of the horrifying experience of climbing the side of the chimney flashed into her mind. It was so overwhelming that for a moment she felt she was right back in the dark, claustrophobic space, with Arscott behind her, threatening and deadly. She shuddered and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t realise she was standing stock-still in the middle of the street until she was suddenly swept off her feet.
She gasped, her heart thudding with alarm, then realised Jakob had picked her up.
‘What are you doing?’ she demanded.
‘Taking you to safety.’
She had a limited view of his face, but his expression seemed uncharacteristically grim.
‘I can walk,’ she protested, but made no effort to extricate herself from his arms. It was embarrassing being carried through the streets as if she’d lost the use of her limbs—but it was also rather thrilling to lie in Jakob’s arms while he strode purposefully forward. She realised anew how strong he was, how full of virile energy. He’d held her the previous night, even until she’d fallen asleep, but she’d been so grief-struck she’d taken only comfort from his embrace.
Today it was exciting to be in Jakob’s arms, except…
Her muscles cramped with mortification as she remembered what had happened the last time she’d been excited in Jakob’s embrace. That memory was just as real and, in its own way, just as devastating as Arscott’s attempt to steal her by forced.
‘We’re nearly there, älskling,’ Jakob said reassuringly, apparently misinterpreting the sudden tension in her body. ‘You’ll be safe in Swiftbourne House and you can rest.’
‘I must go to Kingston,’ she replied. It was suddenly unendurable that she was so entirely dependent upon the good will of others. She wanted to go to her own home, even if it was a home she’d only rarely visited in the past. ‘I will speak to Lord Halross, if he has a convenient moment to talk to me—and then I’m going to Kingston.’
Even though he knew it was an irrational response, Jakob’s jaw clenched with annoyance at Desire’s plan to ask Halross for advice without, apparently, even considering Jakob in the role of adviser. Did she take him for nothing but a soldier, useful only for the quick power in his muscles? He had land of his own in Sweden. He could not lay claim to an inheritance equal to Desire’s, but he was not ignorant of the responsibilities of a landowner. And his years in the army had given his vast experience both of ruling men, and judging their character.
He knew two or three men he could have recommended to replace Arscott, all of whom were honest and competent. Of course, they were all Swedish, and only one of them spoke any English. All the same, Desire should have asked for his opinion instead of assuming he was only good for the task of portering her back to St Martin’s Lane. Despite his annoyance, he kept his tongue between his teeth and listened as she talked to Halross.
‘I thought you might be able to recommend someone,’ she said to the Marquis.
‘One or two possibilities come to mind.’ Halross frowned thoughtfully. ‘Can you tell me a little more about the location and condition of your estates, my lady?’
‘Of course,’ she replied, and proceeded to give Halross a very full account.
Jakob listened, impressed, as he had been before, by the breadth of Desire’s knowledge. She might have travelled no further than Kingston during the past six years, but she had clearly maintained a close watch on the income and expenditure of all her properties.
‘That’s very helpful,’ said Halross, when she’d finished. ‘I need to make a few enquiries, but I’ll give you some recommendations as soon as possible.’
‘Thank you.’ Desire smiled at the Marquis.
It occurred to Jakob how much more at ease she had become in the company of others. He knew she was grieving for the loss of her house, but she did not seem unduly daunted by the challenges that lay ahead of her. It was almost as if she had been in hibernation for a few years, resting quietly until it was time to wake up and take on the world. When she’d fully recovered from the shocks of the past few days she would be a formidable lady indeed. The image was an enticing one. It pleased him so much he hardly noticed when Halross left the parlour.
‘Now I must make arrangements to go to Kingston,’ said Desire briskly. ‘Benjamin said the roads are dreadful. I’d like to go riding again soon, but for now I’ll send a message to have the Godwin barge brought back from Kingston. That seems best, don’t you think?’
He looked at her, his mouth suddenly dry as he realised the moment to speak was upon him and he wasn’t prepared. She glanced at him questioningly, obviously expecting an answer from him. What had she just said? Oh, something about travelling in the barge.
‘Very likely,’ he said, ‘as long as you don’t expect me to row.’
‘Why should I expect that?’ She stared at him in astonishment.
‘No reason,’ he replied gruffly, embarrassed by his ill-considered remark. Of course he wouldn’t have to row the barge. No wonder she was looking at him as if he’d lost his wits.
He stood up and walked across the room to the window. After years of being completely sure of himself in feminine company he was suddenly, hideously, at a loss for words. Desire said something to him, but he didn’t notice. He stared blindly out of the window. His whole body knotted with tension as he sought desperately for the words he needed, but his mind was completely blank. Sweat broke out on his forehead. At last, after a stomach-churning interval of confusion, a coherent sentence formed in his mind. His panic receded. He knew what to say. He turned to face Desire.
‘Will you marry me?’ he said. To his own ears his voice seemed over-loud and unpolished, but his usual, easy self-assurance had deserted him.
He watched Desire’s face intently for some sign of her response. His heart thudded as if he was waiting to go into battle, but surely her answer would be favourable? How could it not be when she kissed him so willingly, and even trusted him sufficiently to fall asleep in his arms.
But she simply stared back at him, no discernible expression in her eyes, except perhaps mild bewilderment.
His stomach clenched with unfamiliar, sickening anxiety. He’d expected…what? Pleasure? He’d hoped for excited happiness, but surprise would be understandable. Even maidenly confusion would be acceptable. Something more than this coolly unemotional response.
‘Didn’t you hear me?’ he demanded, the horrible uncertainty and fear roughening his voice and his temper. ‘Or am I not even worthy of a reply?’
When she still didn’t reply, a strong sense of injustice suddenly overwhelmed him. She said she’d tried to let Arscott down gently when she’d intended to refuse him. Presumably she had at least spoken to the steward when he’d proposed to her. So far she hadn’t deigned to say a single word to Jakob.
Then, to his horror, she started to laugh!
‘Do you think my proposal is funny?’ he demanded, filled with furious, frustrated disbelief.
‘Vill ni gifta er med mig?’
Desire gazed at Jakob, wondering what he’d said. Her mind was full of travel arrangements and he’d been staring silently out of the window for so long he’d taken her by surprise when he suddenly spoke.
He stared back at her, a disturbingly intense, expectant expression in his eyes. She tried to repeat in her mind whatever he’d just said to her so she could answer, and discovered only a collection of garbled, meaningless syllables in her memory.
His brows drew together over his penetrating gaze. Impatience and tension radiated from his large body.
‘Hörde ni inte vad jag sade?’
It belatedly dawned on Desire that he was speaking in Swedish. He’d occasionally done so before, but never in the obvious expectation that she’d reply. She was just about to point out his slip when he said something else.
‘Eller är jag inte ens värdig ett svar?’ He sounded so unaccountably aggrieved with her she couldn’t help laughing.
‘Tycker ni att mitt frieri är lustigt?’ he snarled, fury blazing in his eyes.
‘I’m sorry, but if you want me to answer you’ll have to speak English,’ she said. His inexplicable display of temper disconcerted her, but she refused to be cowed by it. In the circumstances it was quite ridiculous of him to be vexed with her.
‘Vad? För bövelen!’ Before her fascinated gaze, Jakob’s angry expression turned to one of deep chagrin. He half-turned away from her as he muttered something inaudible under his breath.
‘Did I just say everything in Swedish?’ he asked, once more facing her.
‘Yes.’ Desire had never expected to see the usually self-assured Jakob flush with obvious embarrassment. There was something both comical—and endearing—about a handsome, virile man blushing like a nervous maiden. A smile tugged at her lips, but she did her best to keep a straight face. She didn’t want to upset him again.
‘Even my proposal?’
‘What proposal?’ She looked at him blankly, then remembered they’d been discussing travel arrangements. ‘Have you decided it’s not a good idea to send for the barge?’
‘Barge?’ He stared at her as if she’d gone mad. ‘What barge? What are you talking about?’
‘What am I talking about?’ Desire exclaimed indignantly. ‘You’re the one who started shouting at me in a foreign language. I’m just trying to make arrangements for going to Kingston. Could you instruct a messenger—?’
‘Will you stop talking about barges!’ Jakob exploded.
Desire was so startled by his sudden shout she took a step backwards.
Jakob glared at her, bristling with incomprehensible but unquestionable outrage. She swallowed, suddenly nervous. He’d spent hours yesterday struggling to contain the fire at Godwin House. Had the smoke somehow addled his brain? He’d never before behaved so bizarrely.
‘Are you feeling quite well?’ she enquired delicately. ‘Perhaps you should sit down. I know an excellent remedy for agitation of the nerves—’
‘My nerves are not agitated! I defy any man to remain even-tempered when he asks a woman to marry him and she laughs in his face!’
‘I didn’t laugh in your face. But it was funny when you bristled up like a frustrated hedgehog when—’ Desire broke off as the meaning of Jakob’s words finally sank in. ‘You asked me to marry you?’
‘That’s what I just said,’ he said belligerently.
‘Oh.’ She stared at him. It was so far from what she’d been expecting that, for a few seconds, she felt nothing but blank surprise. ‘You want to marry me?’ she repeated.
She saw Jakob’s chest expand as he drew in a deep breath. He scowled at her, every line of his body radiating barely controlled masculine outrage. She received the distinct impression he considered her at fault in the exchange.
His anger triggered her memory of the last time he’d been angry with her. He’d felt the scar on her leg and climbed out of her bed—leaving her aroused, exposed and humiliated—and then he’d accused her of looking for someone to chase away her ghosts. She still had a vivid memory of his barely contained fury swirling around her bedchamber. He’d said they’d talk in the morning, but Godwin House had burned instead.
Arscott’s terrifying assault on her, followed by the destruction of Godwin House had crowded the painful memory to the back of her mind. Jakob had rescued her from Arscott and tried to save her home. He had not, by word or deed, referred back to the moment of her utmost mortification, and she had tried to pretend it had never happened.
But it had. He had come to her bed. Kissed her, teased her and left her in disgust when he discovered the extent of her scars. She burned with shame as she remembered how she’d wept in his arms the previous night. How could she have been so lacking in self-respect that she allowed herself to fall asleep on his lap?
‘Desire?’ He reached towards her. His blue gaze was focussed on her with unnerving intensity. Was he hoping she’d say ‘no’?
He must be asking her to marry him from pity or compassion. He’d soothed her grief as if she were a child, not a woman who aroused his passions. He had not kissed her once since he’d left her bed, and he’d kissed and teased her often before that. And he’d asked her to marry him in a language he knew she didn’t understand. What greater evidence could there be of his reluctance to wed her?
‘No,’ she said, lifting her chin.
‘No what?’
‘No, I won’t marry you,’ she said.
‘You’re refusing me?’ He sounded absolutely dumbfounded.
His surprise gave a spur to Desire’s own temper. ‘You are so vain!’ she flung at him. ‘Did you think you’d only have to issue an order and I’d come to heel? Grovel with pathetic gratitude at your feet?’
‘Of course not.’ His voice was laden with scorn and anger. ‘I asked you to be my wife. Is that not an honourable position?’
‘I’m sure women from London to Stockholm are vying for the honour. But I’m not one of them.’
‘You’ve made that very clear, my lady.’ Jakob’s jaw clenched. ‘Since my offer seems to be a source of both amusement and offence to you, I withdraw it.’
‘Just like a man.’ Inside Desire was crying, but she was too proud to reveal the depth of her misery. ‘You would never want it known you’d suffered the humiliation of rejection. So much easier to pretend you never asked.’
A muscle in Jakob’s cheek twitched, but he made no other response to Desire’s accusation.
‘I apologise for misjudging your feelings,’ he said coldly. ‘As soon as we are assured Kilverdale has captured Arscott, I will relieve you of my presence. Until then, I will continue to guard you from possible threats.’
‘There is no need—’ Desire began.
‘Yes, there is,’ he said flatly. ‘It is a matter for my conscience that I fulfil the task I set out to do. Your opinion is of no relevance.’ He turned and stalked out of the room.
Jakob was by turns numb with shock and incandescent with rage. After years of holding himself aloof, he had finally made a commitment to England and to the woman who had won his heart—and she had laughed at him!
He clenched his fists. Beneath his anger and mortification he was unbelievably hurt. How could she have so little regard for him that she rejected his proposal with no consideration for his feelings? Apparently he rated less highly than her murderous, treacherous steward. Or was this her revenge for his cousin’s long-ago lack of kindness to her?
‘Balston, have you had bad news?’ Halross demanded, encountering Jakob in the hall.
‘Bad news?’ Jakob frowned at Halross. Such an unfeeling rejection of his proposal might be considered bad news, he supposed, but not news he intended to share with the Marquis. ‘No,’ he growled.
‘I see.’ A faint smile played on Halross’s lips. ‘You look so thunderous I thought you might have had word of another outrage by Arscott,’ he said.
‘No. Are you going out in the next few hours?’ Jakob asked.
‘I have no plans to. Why?’
‘Then may I request you ensure Lady Desire’s safety?’ Jakob said through gritted teeth. ‘And do not, on any account, allow her to go to Kingston without me.’
‘I believe I can do that,’ said Halross. ‘When will you be back?’
‘I cannot say,’ said Jakob, frustrated by the need to supply an explanation to Halross, but constrained by common courtesy to say something. ‘I am going for a walk.’
‘Ah,’ said Halross, a world of extremely exasperating understanding in his voice. ‘Conversation with a lady can have that effect.’
Jakob scowled at the Marquis, unwilling to admit such a motivation.
Halross grinned. ‘The important thing is to be back in time for the next conversation,’ he said. His smile faded and his expression suddenly grew serious. ‘Don’t leave the intervals between conversations too long,’ he said, ‘or the chance may be gone forever.’
Jakob acknowledged Halross’s comment with a curt nod, but it lingered in his mind as he went to see the smouldering ruins of London.
Jakob had asked her to marry him. But he considered her opinion of no relevance!
Desire strode around the room. A chair blocked her path and she shoved it aside.
Her opinion was on no relevance!
She kicked a footstool out of her way. The corner of a table caught the top of her leg and it hurt. She muttered angrily, rubbing her aching thigh. How on earth did Lord Swiftbourne put up with such a cluttered parlour? She leant her weight against the heavy oak, nudging the table aside to create an unimpeded circuit of the room.
She marched around it, longing for the freedom to stride up and down her own long gallery. But that was gone for ever. Her stride faltered as a sudden wave of grief washed through her. Her house was lost. If it hadn’t been, Jakob would never have asked her to marry him. He’d been prompted by pity, or…
She didn’t know what ‘or’. Why had he proposed in such an abrupt manner, in a language she didn’t understand? It was clear he hadn’t truly wanted her to say yes. He’d shouted at her!
Men did not shout when they proposed to the lady of their choice. Desire did not know much about the world, but she was sure that was so. Even Arscott had taken her hand and pretended to be solicitous of her feelings. Jakob stood two yards away and shouted and bristled. Desire bristled herself at the memory.
But her anger was rooted in confusion and agitation rather than genuine fury. Her pace around the room slowed as sad bewilderment gradually overwhelmed her other, more immediate, responses to Jakob’s proposal.
He had asked her to marry him. It was only a day or two ago she’d paced the long gallery of Godwin House, wondering if he would be a suitable husband. In this very room he had taken her hand on the day of their return from Putney and she’d anticipated a marriage proposal. Instead he’d revealed Arscott’s treachery. Perhaps that was why she didn’t believe in this proposal today.
After they’d spent the night together at Putney, Jakob might have felt some compulsion to protect her reputation with an offer of marriage. She wouldn’t have been surprised, because she would have known Jakob was motivated by his sense of honour, not by personal attraction to her.
But how was she to interpret this proposal? He didn’t truly want her. He had proved that the night he left her bed. One touch of his hand on the scar that marred her leg and he’d pulled away from her. A tiny sob escaped her lips. She’d always thought the scar on her body didn’t matter, but now it seemed it mattered more than the scars on her face. She laid her hand on her thigh where the ugly, snaking scar was hidden by her clothes.
Why had Jakob proposed? She wished she’d asked him. She wished she hadn’t been anxious and preoccupied with travel arrangements when he asked her to marry him. She wished she’d been politely ladylike and hadn’t laughed when he shouted at her so incomprehensibly. She should have indicated to him delicately that he was speaking the wrong language. How could she ever find out why he’d proposed now? He’d withdrawn his offer. It was as if it had never been. Could never be again. For how could they ever overcome the awkwardness of their last encounter?
Her hands flew to her cheeks as she imagined the embarrassment of their next meeting. And then she realised the true reason Jakob wanted to marry her. Not for her money—or not exactly. She didn’t believe he was a cold-hearted fortune hunter. But Lord Swiftbourne would favour the union of his heir with the Godwin name and estates. She remembered how much interest Jakob had taken in her descriptions of her estates and their income when she was talking to Lord Halross. At the time she’d felt flattered by what she’d believed to be his admiration for her understanding and good management. Now she realised it had been her lands he’d been admiring. What a naïve fool she was.
She sank on to the nearest chair. Now her sense of loss was far more acute. She’d only just learned to hope for romance, but now, before she’d ever truly believed such magic could be hers, her hopes had been destroyed. There was no romance, only a practical assessment of land and rents. Tears pricked her eyes. She rubbed her temple, determined not to cry. She had many important decisions to make. She tried to give her attention to the future of Godwin House, the need to appoint a new steward, the travel arrangements to Kingston—but all she could think about was Jakob.
She thought about him laughing with her, teasing her, comforting her, kissing her. Her fragile hope that maybe he was the man she hadn’t known she was looking for…
She heard the door open and leapt up, swirling about in the certain expectation it would be Jakob.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ said Athena.
‘Oh. No.’ Desire’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. ‘No, of course not.’ She forced a welcoming note into her voice and a smile to her lips. ‘I am just making my plans for going to Kingston,’ she said.
‘Would you mind very much delaying your journey?’ Athena asked.
‘Delaying it?’ Desire was confused. ‘Is there some reason why I should?’
‘Not a reason, exactly. I would like you to come to my wedding.’ Athena’s eyes glowed with happiness as she mentioned her forthcoming marriage. ‘If you would like to,’ she added, a little more hesitantly, as if she suspected Desire would have something more important to do.
‘Of course I would like to.’ Desire took the hand Athena offered. ‘I would very much like to see you get married,’ she said.