Athena and Lord Halross were married in the village church, two miles from Halross’s Oxfordshire estate. As the bridal couple passed Desire on their way back down the aisle, she was overwhelmed by the expressions of love and joy she saw on their faces. She felt tears blur her vision. She was so happy for them, but it hurt too, because she couldn’t help wondering if she would ever know such love.
‘My lady, it is our turn to leave,’ said Jakob, in the formal tone he used now whenever he spoke to her. Desire hated it. It made him sound so cold and distant, quite unlike the man she’d first met.
For the past two weeks they had been guests at Lord Halross’s country house. Before that they had been Lord Swiftbourne’s guests in St Martin’s Lane. Because they’d been living under the same roof, either in London or in Oxfordshire, they’d had no choice except to go on seeing and talking to each other. But their first encounter after Desire had rejected Jakob’s proposal had been in the presence of others. Desire had felt tense and uncomfortable, and very conscious that their conversation was being overheard. She’d taken refuge in cool politeness, so had Jakob, and to her dismay that had become the pattern for all their subsequent meetings.
‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry.’ She allowed him to escort her from the pew. Once they were in the aisle, he offered her his arm. She hesitated fractionally, then laid her hand on his sleeve. She was awkward about touching him now—even in this most formal of contexts. He never touched her at all, except on those rare occasions when he’d helped her into or out of a carriage. And once when they’d gone for a walk with Athena and Lord Halross and he’d assisted her over a stile. For hours after the walk was over she’d recalled the warm clasp of his hand on hers—and spent even more time trying to decide exactly what the firm pressure of his fingers signified.
It was a month since the fire. It had been one of the most emotionally exhausting periods of Desire’s life. She was always on edge, her mood swinging between hope when Jakob unexpectedly smiled at her, to despair when his manner was particularly cold or distant. When she was in his presence she was wound to such a pitch of nervous agitation she could hardly think straight. She wanted to behave towards him in a way that was friendly but did not seem overly anxious to impress. She wanted to give the impression that, if Jakob felt like talking to her, she wouldn’t rebuff him—but that she could live quite happily without his attention.
It was a difficult balance to strike, and she was usually exhausted by the end of the day. Unfortunately, instead of sleeping, she had a demoralising tendency to lay awake, remembering every stray thing he’d said to her and examining his words for every possible nuance of meaning. And the next morning she’d feel tired, highly strung and even more self-conscious in his company. On a couple of occasions she’d seen him in the distance and darted away before he saw her, simply because she was so agitated she didn’t think she’d even be able to say ‘hello’ without betraying her feelings.
She was in love with Jakob. She knew that without a doubt, and she couldn’t imagine anything more miserable or ridiculous than her current situation. What woman with a particle of sense or refinement would set out to win a husband—and then laugh at the man’s marriage proposal!
But Jakob hadn’t asked her because he loved her. At least, she didn’t think he had. He’d never said anything about love. He’d enjoyed kissing her, and then he’d pulled away from her when he’d felt the scar on her leg. But she didn’t think there was any obligation for a husband to look at his wife’s legs when they were in bed together—or even touch them if he didn’t want to, so that really wasn’t a good reason not to marry her. And he’d kissed her as if he wanted her…
Her thoughts kept going round and round, like a dog chasing its own tail, until she thought she’d go crazy with confusion and frustration. If only they could go back to the way it had been before Jakob had proposed, when most of the time he’d been relaxed and good humoured. Surely there must be some way to overcome the awkwardness between them. At the very least she wished they could be friends again, at ease in each other’s company.
‘Halross seems to be well liked by the local people,’ Jakob observed.
‘What? Oh, yes.’ His words recalled Desire to a sense of her surroundings.
Even from inside the church she could hear the roar of welcome from the waiting villagers as Lord Halross emerged with his bride. A few moments later she walked beside Jakob into the autumn sunlight and the cheering crowd. The route of the bridal procession was strewn with rosemary and other scented herbs. Halross had brought musicians from London and they played with skill and verve. Young men and women from the village, dressed in their finest clothes, danced for the entertainment of the bride and groom. Lord Halross distributed alms freely to everyone who had congregated to see him wed. The wedding procession was a noisy, energetic celebration of the marriage in which all the local people could participate.
Desire tried not to feel self-conscious at being a part of the bridal train. She was growing more used to meeting strangers and, with the beautiful bride to claim their attention, no one was likely to spare her more than a passing glance. Lord Halross was laughing and bantering with the crowd. Most of them were his tenants. Everyone seemed in good spirits today. He had arranged for a feast to be laid on and free wine and ale provided at the village inn. Everyone present anticipated celebrating the wedding in grand fashion, even if they were not among those who dined with Halross and his new lady in the great hall.
It had been planned that the bridal couple would travel most of the two miles from the village to the house in Halross’s carriage. Several of the other honoured guests were also going to travel in a similar style, though many of the gentlemen and some of the local ladies had opted to ride. As they strolled towards the waiting carriages, Desire felt a surge of reluctance to climb into a coach. She didn’t want to sit in a confined space and make small talk to virtual strangers. She wanted an end to the unbearable awkwardness between her and Jakob.
‘It’s such a beautiful day, perhaps we could walk,’ she said impulsively. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she was afraid he wouldn’t like the idea. She held her breath as she awaited his reaction. When he didn’t immediately reply, she hurried into speech.
‘Of course, sir, if you’d rather ride in the coach I’ll be happy—’ She was desperate to avert a flat rejection to her suggestion.
‘No. If you wish to walk, by all means let us do so,’ he said.
It was an acceptance, and he didn’t sound put out by her request. She risked a glance at him. His expression was impassive. ‘A walk will certainly sharpen my appetite for the feast ahead,’ he added.
That was not the response for which Desire had hoped. She wondered if she’d made a mistake, then she stiffened her resolution. They had managed together in perfect harmony—well, perfectly satisfactory disagreement and teasing—until the moment of the marriage proposal. Surely they could at least recover that earlier good will. But Jakob looked dauntingly remote and didn’t seem at all inclined to initiate a conversation. She swallowed past the nervous pulse beating in her throat.
‘Since your appetite will be so keen, it is lucky the feast will consist of more than cheese,’ she said, making her first bantering comment to him in weeks.
The wedding celebrations were in full swing. The air was heavy with the scent of good food and wine, and hot wax from the many candles. Music and laughter rang in the great hall.
Desire sampled a marchpane tartlet while she watched her fellow guests. She was so used to being alone that at first her senses had been overwhelmed by the lively clamour and movement all around her. Like a skittish animal she’d been unable to eat the feast because she’d been too busy looking this way and that at her fellow feasters. The boom of unexpected laughter, the clatter of a knife on the floor, all had prompted an immediate, head-turning response from her. Now she felt more settled, lulled rather than agitated by the ceaseless roar of conversation all around her. Both her neighbours at the table were currently more interested in talking to the guest on their other side than to her, and she was quite content with that. It gave her time to reflect on her conversation with Jakob—though her thoughts gave her no pleasure at all.
There had been no conversation. Jakob had hardly said a thing to her on the walk back to the house. She had been on tenterhooks all the way, full of nerve-tingling anxiety, uncertainty and hope. But during the entire walk he had only made three spontaneous remarks. She’d tried to initiate a conversation several times, but in the end her ideas and her courage had both dried up. They’d finished the walk in stony silence, and separated as soon as decently possible when they arrived at their destination.
He wasn’t seated next to Desire, which meant she didn’t have to struggle for something to say to him while they ate. On the one hand that was a relief, but it did mean she had to endure the sight of him smiling and laughing with the daughter of one of the local gentleman. Miss Ludlow was much younger than Desire, pretty and pert, and Jakob didn’t seem to have any difficulty thinking of things to say to her. It hurt to watch them together, so Desire tried not to look in that direction, but her gaze kept drifting back towards him. On one occasion he glanced around and caught her looking at him. For a long moment their gazes locked. Then Miss Ludlow spoke to him and he turned away.
Desire released a shaky breath. A hot flush washed over her body. She was embarrassed he’d noticed her staring at him. What did that look he’d given her mean? Was he annoyed with her for acting like a love-sick fool? Or telling her without words that he’d found someone new to entertain him? She decided not to risk looking at him again. She’d given him the perfect opportunity to talk to her if he’d wanted it, and he hadn’t taken it. So now she would forget about him and enjoy the party.
While she was fiercely assuring herself she didn’t care who Jakob flirted with, the celebrations moved on. The tables were set to the sides of the large chamber and Halross called for dance music. He and Athena danced the first measure alone. They were such a handsome couple, and so clearly aware only of each other as they moved gracefully through the steps.
‘May I have the honour, my lady?’ Jakob appeared suddenly before her.
Desire’s heart began to beat double-time. Why did he want to dance with her when there were many other ladies available? Especially since he’d had nothing to say to her earlier. Perhaps he believed it was a courtesy he owed to Athena and Lord Halross.
She let him lead her into the dance, holding her head high and doing her best to appear serenely indifferent to her surroundings. She knew Jakob naturally drew the attention of others. When she danced with him she would not be able to avoid curious, and probably jealous, glances. She would be mortified if she stumbled or forgot the steps in front of an audience. She concentrated very hard on getting everything right, and neither she nor Jakob said a word through out the dance.
When it was over, Athena’s younger brother gallantly claimed Desire for the next dance. She parted from Jakob with her emotions in a state of tumultuous regret and unhappiness. The situation between them was stretching her nerves to breaking point.
Later, Lord Halross came over to speak to her.
‘Athena would like you to join her,’ he said. ‘It is time for the bride and groom to retire.’
‘Oh.’ Desire’s attention was distracted by the sight of Jakob laughing aloud at something Miss Ludlow had just said to him. It was horrible to watch him flirting in full public view.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, my lord!’ she exclaimed, giving her full attention to Halross and embarrassed that he might have seen the direction of her gaze. She was determined not to let anyone think she was pining for Jakob. ‘Thank you for telling me, I’ll go to her at once.’
She took her leave of the Marquis and hurried over to Athena. On the way she noticed that Jakob was bending down to hear something Miss Ludlow said to him, his head close to hers. And he had allowed the brazen wench to lay her hand on his arm!
Desire gritted her teeth. This is what it would have been like if she’d married him. He was too beautiful and too used to women’s fawning attentions. Unless he married a woman as beautiful and assured as he was himself, his wife would be doomed to endless disappointment and humiliation. It was unquestionably a good thing she’d laughed when he proposed. He thoroughly deserved to receive such a setback.
Jakob heard only one word in ten his companion said to him. He fixed an attentive expression on his face, and laughed and nodded at what seemed to be appropriate intervals while he watched Desire from the corner of his eye. He was proud of the way she’d conducted herself today. No one watching her dance in her new burgundy silk gown would ever guess this was her first large party. She held her head up. There was no sign of the woman who’d hidden her face from him at their first meeting on her roof, and only occasionally did she show a shy reticence, which was entirely acceptable among so many strangers.
Not that he had any right or business to be proud of her. He hadn’t seen the faintest hint she regretted rejecting him. Except on rare occasions, her manner to him over the past few weeks had been as warm and welcoming as the first frosts of autumn.
‘You must tell me more about Sweden, Colonel,’ said his companion, leaning forward to artfully reveal a little more of her bosom. ‘It must be very beautiful.’
‘Yes, it is,’ he said, recalling with frustrated pleasure the first time he’d seen Desire in a similarly low-cut bodice.
Her new burgundy gown suited her even better than the blue one she’d borrowed from Athena. Unfortunately, the fashionably styled gown revealed her charms not just to him but to all the other male guests present. It had taken all Jakob’s self-control not to stride across the room and plant a fist in the face of one of Halross’s middle-aged neighbours when he had leered at Desire’s chest for the entire time they were supposedly dancing.
Jakob gritted his teeth, suppressing a growl of pure frustration. He didn’t know if he was more infuriated with Desire for being so stubbornly blind to her own best interests, or with himself for having allowed the situation to get so disastrously out of hand. Even as a youth he’d never lacked social address, but suddenly all his usual easy confidence had disserted him. Two miles he’d walked beside Desire—and he’d been unable to discuss anything more scintillating than the state of the local roads. Each time he’d tried to make a more personal remark he’d remembered how he’d bungled his proposal and writhed inside with embarrassment. With every step, his discomfort had grown until the fear of making a fool of himself again had prevented him from saying anything at all. No wonder Desire had parted from him with such cool disdain when they’d finally arrived at the house.
He would have done better to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to some secluded spot to sort out their differences. She wouldn’t have been cool then! He remembered the hot-tempered way she’d railed at him when he’d taken her off her roof. With her hands and legs tied up she hadn’t hesitated to call him a scurvy, double-dealing numskull. But it was weeks since she’d called him anything except ‘sir’ or ‘Colonel’. He hated it when she called him ‘sir’ in that chilly manner.
För bövelen! He was a numskull! He’d always considered himself adept with words—at least until the dreadful moment of his proposal—but Desire had never been particularly impressed by any of the things he’d said to her. She’d doubted his explanation for abducting her, been suspicious of his connection to Kilverdale, questioned the truth of his accusation against Arscott…
But she had been impressed by him. He remembered that with renewed confidence. She had been impressed by his actions! She’d never once rejected him when he’d kissed her or held her. Obviously the way to win her was not through pretty speeches but by more active courtship. His rising excitement suffered a momentary setback when he remembered, with some chagrin, that he hadn’t always performed very well in that respect either. His honourable attempt to do the right thing the night of her nightmare might well have sewn the seeds for her subsequent rejection of him. But he could make amends for his apparent lack of ardour. In fact, he was eager to make amends!
Newfound purpose surged through him. He looked around the great hall, intent on locating Desire. He was determined to put his new plan into action at once. He couldn’t see her, but he did catch the eye of Lord Halross who made a silent, easily interpreted gesture.
Jakob’s companion cleared her throat impatiently. He’d completely forgotten her presence. Now all he wanted to do was get away from her and find Desire, but first the bride and groom must be bedded.
‘Forgive me, Miss—’ What the devil was her name? Halross had introduced them, but damned if he could recall who she was. ‘Gracious lady,’ he substituted, with only a minor internal wince at sounding like a florid courtier, ‘I regret I will have to tell you about Sweden another day. It is time for me to attend the bridegroom.’
The stately bedchamber was bright with candles and cosy from the fire flickering in the hearth. The air was lightly scented with the herbs and flowers scattered over the bed. Because of the season most of the flowers were dried, but they smelled no less sweet for that.
The women laughed and joked as they removed the exquisite cloth-of-gold dress in which Athena had been married. Desire watched as Athena’s sister, Tabitha, unlaced the bodice.
‘Hurry, the men will be here soon,’ said one girl, her eyes bright with excitement and mock anxiety.
‘Where is the brush?’ Tabitha snatched it up from the dressing table.
Athena stood quietly, dressed only in her shift as Tabitha began to brush out her hair until it cascaded around her shoulders like pale, shining silk.
‘You are very beautiful,’ said Desire, captivated by the image Athena presented, and momentarily forgetting to be on her guard among so many strangers.
Athena met her gaze and smiled. ‘As long as Gabriel thinks so,’ she said softly. ‘I have learned that it is what he sees that counts.’ She held Desire’s gaze for a second longer. Desire’s stomach gave a tiny flip. Was Athena trying to tell her something in that silent exchange of glances?
‘Since you have been married before, I do not suppose you need any advice from me,’ said Lord Halross’s sister-in-law.
Athena’s eyes danced with sudden merriment, but she responded with appropriate courtesy to the woman who had been wife to the previous Marquis of Halross.
‘Than you, my lady, but on this occasion I don’t think I need advice,’ she said. ‘Though I will gladly learn more from you on the management of the household.’
There was a pause for a moment as former mistress of the house and the new mistress regarded each other.
‘What a cheerful fire,’ one of the other women observed, a little too brightly.
‘She’ll not care about that. His lordship will keep her warm!’ another replied, provoking a gale of knowing laughter that eased the momentary tension.
Desire felt herself blush on Athena’s behalf. She could not imagine the awkwardness of appearing in front of others dressed only in her shift. At least, not when she’d had forewarning of what to expect, she amended, remembering how scantily she had been clad when Arscott tried to take her from Godwin House. At the time she’d been too afraid to care about how she was dressed.
Athena seemed to be bearing up very well under the scrutiny of her companions, though Desire did notice the new Lady Halross had a tendency to cross her arms over her chest as if she wasn’t entirely at ease being the centre of the women’s teasing attention.
‘I can hear them coming!’ one of the women suddenly gasped. ‘Quick, my lady, get into bed.’
They pushed and pulled Athena across the room. She climbed up the steps and scrambled under the covers, just as the door opened.
All the women laughed and clapped as Lord Halross entered, dressed only in a nightshirt that revealed his muscular calves and strong bare feet. He was accompanied by the male guests who, as Desire immediately noticed, included Jakob.
‘Your bride awaits you, my lord!’ the women cried.
Halross grinned. ‘I’ll not try her patience any longer,’ he replied. Without any further ado he strode across the room and climbed straight into bed beside Athena.
His enthusiasm prompted good-natured, though somewhat bawdy jests from the men and shrieks of laughter and mock disapproval from the women.
The room was suddenly full of wedding guests, all crowding around the bed for a view of the bridal couple. The air was alive with expectation and disturbingly potent emotions.
Desire was jostled by her companions, then something was thrust into her hands.
‘Here, my lady, try your luck at throwing his lordship’s stocking!’
‘Oh, no,’ she instinctively demurred, but her protests were ignored. Later she realised she’d been among those selected to take part in the traditional ritual because, with the exception of the newly married Marchioness and Lord Halross’s widowed sister-in-law, she was the highest-ranking lady present.
She was pushed to the end of the huge bed and turned so her back was towards the couple sitting in the middle of it.
‘Throw the stocking!’
‘Aim for his lordship’s nose!’
Desire took a deep breath, closed her eyes for luck, and tossed the stocking over her shoulder. She was rewarded with cheers and laughter.
‘A hit! An undeniable hit!’
Desire turned round to find the stocking lying draped across Halross’s head, half-obscuring one eye. He smiled wryly at her. She had the feeling he was patiently tolerating, rather than enjoying, the antics of his guests.
‘’Tis a sure sign you’ll be wed soon!’ exclaimed one of the older men. ‘Which one of us will you take, lass? I’ve a lusty arm—’
‘It’s not your arm that’s lusty, Arthur Endicott,’ one of the women scolded. ‘Hush now, it’s time for the posset.’
The smell of warm wine and fragrant spices filled the air. Everyone watched as the finely wrought goblet was presented to the couple in the bed. Desire knew it contained a rich mixture of milk, wine, egg yolks, sugar and spices.
Athena took only a few sips, but Lord Halross lifted it in a salute to her.
‘To my beloved wife!’ he declared, and drained it with gusto to the acclaim of everyone present.
‘Now we’ve furnished you with so much entertainment, leave us to ours,’ Halross commanded. ‘Or I’ll get up and chase you out!’ he roared suddenly, provoking another burst of laughter from the guests.
Desire edged towards the door. The highly charged mood in the bridal chamber unsettled her. Unnoticed by the others, she slipped from the room. Jakob was in there. A man, just like all the other men, joking with the bridegroom. He’d seen her throw the stocking and heard the cry that she would soon be married. It meant nothing. It was only a traditional game. But did he think…what did he think?
She felt confused and jumpy. Unsure what to do or where to go. Music and laughter still echoed up from the great hall, and the guests who’d escorted the bride and groom to bed would soon be returning there. The party would continue until the early hours of the morning, even without the presence of the host and hostess.
Desire had a sudden, overwhelming need to be alone, for silence and solitude and a chance to regain her composure. She hurried down the hall and up a flight of stairs, anxious to reach the refuge of her bedchamber before the rest of the wedding guests spilled out of the bridal chamber.
Her room was dark except for the moonlight that shone in through the window. No welcoming candles or cosy fire had been lit here. No one had anticipated she would leave the party so soon.
The moon was almost full. There had been a full moon the night she lay beside Jakob in Kilverdale’s house at Putney. A whole month had passed since then. She moved restlessly about the room. She had come here for sanctuary, but being alone gave her no respite from her confused emotions. The events in the bridal chamber had left her feeling excited and edgy. Desire wandered over to the dressing table to examine the gloves Halross had presented her with that morning, one of the traditional gifts from the bridal couple to their wedding guests.
The exquisite gold-work embroidery glimmered softly in the moonlight. Halross had spared no expense on his wedding. Gold was often considered an appropriate colour for a widow to wear and Athena had been glorious in a shimmering cloth of gold. By marrying a widow with no fortune of her own in such pomp and grandeur, the Marquis had sent a powerful message to his friends, family and neighbours. The new Lady Halross was to be treated with all the respect and courtesy due to her. She was in every way his chosen bride.
Melancholy crept over Desire. She wondered if she would ever be the recipient of such public devotion. She laid the gloves aside. She didn’t know what to do next. She thought she could still hear music and laughter echoing faintly in the distance, but perhaps she could only hear it in her imagination because she knew the party still continued. This part of the house was very quiet—disconcertingly quiet, in fact. The rustle of her skirts when she moved seemed unnaturally loud. She stood uncertainly by the dressing table. She didn’t want to rejoin the celebrations, but she wasn’t calm enough to sleep. Indeed, she couldn’t go to bed until her maid unlaced her. She couldn’t put on or take off her new gown without assistance.
The silence was broken by muffled footsteps approaching her door. She tensed, her heart jumping in alarm. Was this a reveller who’d lost his way in the large house? Surely he’d pass by without disturbing her. If a male guest in his cups discovered her alone, the situation might prove awkward. A sudden image of Arscott flickered in her mind. Kilverdale was still in pursuit of the treacherous steward. She glanced around and snatched up the first movable object that came to hand.
The door opened. Her heart leapt sickeningly into her throat. She lifted her makeshift weapon in an instinctively defensive gesture.