Keep No Secrets, page 10
“No gloating or crowing or general jeering, I swear. Lady Beckingham ordered me to help you.”
“I don’t need help.” Yes, he did. He pointed to the Doric column near the lake. “Roll that away from the water. It’ll ruin if left there.”
Together, they made the building site as safe as it could be until Cubbits could put right everything Nathan had ruined.
“The Dour Earl is back,” Albee said, turning to face the lake. “And I don’t see why he should be, not with his countess so nearby. She’s impressive, Beckingham.”
“You’re too young for her.” Nathan lowered himself to the steps leading up to the folly’s entrance. They seemed secure enough. He groaned as he flexed and unflexed tense muscles. He’d not worked this hard since his first few years in business when he’d had to do most of the work himself by necessity.
Albee turned to face Nathan, smirking. “I don’t want her.”
“Is that so? Tell me why a rake bent on reformation would run about naked in the presence of a lady.”
Albee’s face turned crimson and he recoiled. “I didn’t know your wife was here, now did I? I’d been at Gregor’s farm all day helping with the roof! I was hot!”
“It’s October.”
Albee swatted the fact away and poked his finger into Nathan’s chest. “Besides, it’s my land and I’ll do as I please, and you can hardly blame my bare chest for your marriage troubles!”
“What marriage troubles?”
Albee snorted. “Come now. For two months you go on and on about how perfect your wife is, then once she arrives—a lovely surprise, by the way—you retreat! You should be upstairs bedding your wife, not down here muddying your hands. I find myself rather indignant in her defense. Is she the reason you’re so dour all the time? Is she the reason you’ve been doing the work of fifty men all on your own the last two months?”
Nathan stood and pointed his steps back up the hill to the gardens. “Tell me this, Albee, have you ever been in love?”
“No, I’ve not,” he answered without hesitation, catching up with Nathan and matching long strides to Nathan’s brisk pace. “But it seems like a deuced uncomfortable state.”
“It is sometimes. Not all the time.” Nathan thought of warm sheets and red hair spilled across satin pillows. “No. Not even often.” He thought of twenty-four years of contentedness. “Once in a rare while.”
“If you’re so happy, then why are you so unhappy?” Albee asked.
Nathan snorted. He wasn’t about to tell this morally suspect boy his deepest feelings of guilt. But … Humphrey wasn’t here for Nathan to talk to, and a large part of him itched to have it out, to say the words to someone, anyone, so he would have practice before saying them to Lola.
And hadn’t he learned in the last two months that Albee was harmless? Lost, yes. Confused, certainly. Angry, a bit, but mostly at himself. Perhaps speaking his thoughts could help the young man avoid further pain in the future, help him avoid making Nathan’s mistakes. “I’m unhappy because I’m a fool. I accused my wife of sleeping with another man. And she forgave me. But she should not have.”
When Albee did not answer, Nathan turned to study his expression. His mouth hung open limply and his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “That is, um, quite a lot to admit all at once.”
“It was quite a lot to happen all at once.”
Albee nodded, his face clearing. “I’m familiar with that type of panic. Sometimes feelings overwhelm even the most logical men. The least logical men have no protection from even the smallest heartache.” They walked in silence until they entered the gardens. Then he glanced sideways at Nathan. “Why do you say she should not have forgiven you?”
Nathan looked about the chaotic space, so much undone. So much left to do, yet he’d been here months already. In search of some continued movement, he picked up his pruning shears and attacked what had once been a row of well-manicured rosebushes but was now a tangled wall of thorns. He’d been saving the plants for resurrection later. Today, this very moment, seemed the right time. “Because”—he snipped into the tangle—“that sort of betrayal does not easily beget forgiveness.”
Albee paled. His jaw twitched. “Why not?”
“It’s a betrayal of trust, and trust is at the very center of a healthy marriage. Of all healthy relationships, really.”
Albee seemed to stop breathing, but he quickly recovered and lifted a jovial face to Nathan. He patted down his chest, his trousers, as if looking for something in his pockets. “You and Lady Beckingham are full of good advice. I must write that down for posterity.”
“I do not joke,” Nathan said.
“I do not think you do.” Albee looked up at the sky as if seeking rescue. “You’re touched in the head, you are,” he sighed and looked Nathan fully in the eyes. They were sad, serious eyes that had seen the bottoms of many pints, likely, and quite possibly the darkness of a few hearts. “Is insanity a consequence of falling in love? No, don’t answer. Those in love never recognize how dicked in the nobs they are.” A wicked look crossed his face. “Tell me, what would you do if I flirted with your wife? If I propositioned her?”
Heat brought Nathan’s blood to a boil, and he clipped the pruning shears wickedly at the young man.
Albee jumped away several steps. “Ah, I see. Yes. Well, then. What would your countess do if I flirted with her? If I propositioned her?”
The boy was angling at something. The heat in Nathan’s blood cooled. He’d play along. He clipped the shears in Albee’s direction once more.
“Ah, I see,” said, Albee. “The two of you are of one mind on the situation. Flirtation is allowed on no accounts. Then, despite your temporary madness when you accused her of infidelity, you do trust her.”
“I do.”
“And do you think she trusts you?”
“Miraculously, I think she does.”
“Does she have reason to trust you?”
“Without a doubt.”
“The countess strikes me as an intelligent woman. Perhaps she knows all this already. Thus, her forgiveness.” He shrugged. “And even if she doesn’t, I’m not sure she cares. I was witness to the little spectacle between you two earlier. I thought you would lie down right there in the garden and have at it like rabbits.” He sniffed as if the thought appalled him.
Nathan chuckled. “Even when we argue, things are good between us in bed. Sometimes even better. When we argue, that is.”
“Then I suggest you go argue in bed and have done with it.”
“You sound like Mr. Darby.”
Albee’s eyes lit up like he’d received a welcomed compliment. “We are much alike, he and I.”
Nathan shook his head. “No, I do not think bed sport is appropriate at the moment. We have not said everything we must say to one another. At least I have not said to her what I should. That’s what you write down for posterity, Viscount. Talking is not only beneficial, but necessary to healthy relationships.”
“Then why have you spent the last two months in Derbyshire while you wife remained in London?”
Damn the pup. “Well, she’s here now. I’ll speak with her.”
“Right now?”
“No, I still have a few things to take care of here.” He turned toward the roses. “First these, then I must write to Mr. Cubitts about the folly.”
“There’s a joke in there somewhere about the word folly.”
Didn’t Nathan know it. “Puns are low-hanging fruit.”
“A disgraced viscount is low enough to pick such fruit. But my brain box hurts. I’ll be off now. Can we expect you for supper?”
Nathan waved him away. “Of course.” He’d have to speak with Lola first, though. “Albee!”
“Hm?” The viscount had been trudging toward the stairs, but he returned now.
“If you needed to make something right with an action, a grand gesture of some sort, how would you do it?”
“I’m only good at grand gestures of the horrific kind, I’m afraid.”
“Never mind. I thought you were an imaginative sort. Perhaps,” Nathan grumbled, “someone good at horrific gestures should spend some time considering some good ones to balance the others out.”
“Likely.” Albee looked at the sky thoughtfully. “I think, if I were to enact a good grand gesture … I would have to change my very nature. Show the world I can be a different man.” He turned a cheeky grin to Nathan. “I’m working on it, but transformation is more difficult than those German fairy tales would have you think.” He stood in silence, as if waiting for Nathan to respond. When Nathan turned back to the roses, the younger man left, and Nathan let him leave this time.
Change the very man he was. Nathan would have to change from a dangerously passionate man, suspicious of anyone who looked his wife’s way, quick to give vent to heady emotions, into a calm man ruled by logic, who suppressed strong feeling and let sensibility rule him. His passion led him to such folly, after all.
Chapter 13
Nathan sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest, and glared at the picture before him—two heads, Lola’s and Lord Albee’s—bent toward each other, filling the space between them with whispers. Now and then, a full-throated laugh would escape one or both of them. What in hell did they speak of? It had gone on all night, first before dinner as they’d had drinks in the drawing room, then all during dinner, and now in the library over glasses of port.
He’d let it happen, sitting back and focusing, instead, on his plans to reshape and revitalize the viscount’s gardens and beyond. His entire damn estate would be heaven on earth when Nathan finished with it.
He’d also practiced self-restraint, letting his trust in Lola tame his passionate reactions to watching another man make her laugh.
But passion bubbled closer and closer to the surface of his skin, particularly because nothing, yet, had been settled between them. He’d not yet spoken with her, as he’d planned to. Once he’d started trimming the roses, he’d not been able to stop, and once he’d finished the task, he’d set about writing to Mr. Cubitts, thinking it best to complete all business before giving Lola his full attention. Only, it had taken longer than expected as he’d tried to find the right words to explain why he was only now calling on his help. By the time he’d written seven drafts and finally felt pleased with his communications, it had been time to dress for dinner.
And so, heaviness still hung between them in the form of unanswered questions and insecurities.
He’d retreated to the far end of the room with his sketchbook, leaving Lola and the viscount to sit fireside, but now he leaned forward across his half-finished sketches to hear their conversation more clearly. No good. He grabbed his sketchbook and pencils and sought out a table nearer to them. He settled himself and pretended to consider the placement of a new ha-ha. Really, he listened.
“That’s all society requires?” Albee asked with a laugh.
“Truly,” Lola answered. “Once you take a wife, all is forgiven.”
Take a wife? “What in hell are you talking about?” Nathan demanded, then silently cursed himself for letting loose his temper.
Lord Albee leaned back in his chair and wove his fingers together behind his head. “Your wife has been helping me reform. Apparently, I must take a wife to be forgiven. But I must confess I find the solution rather drastic.”
Lola’s face lit with merriment. “You are in dire straits, dear sir. It’s the only possible solution. Now, the woman in question must be of good breeding and quite, quite tame.”
“Is it not likely I’ll make her miserable, rogue that I am? I do not think I could wish any woman to such a fate.”
Lola leaned forward, merriment draining from her face. She tapped the young viscount on his knee then retreated, sitting strong and tall as an oak in her chair. “Your concern for the woman’s happiness tells me everything I need to know about you. Rogue. Ha! Hardly. A human who has made mistakes, yes. But not a full-on villain. She’ll be fine. You may even fall in love with her. And I’ve no doubt she’ll fall in love with you.”
He shook his head with wide eyes, mystified. “You are a rare bird, indeed, Lady Beckingham,” he whispered, hanging his head.
“Oh, please.” She swatted at his legs with her cane. “You must call me Aunt Lola as they all do.”
“Aunt Lola,” he said thoughtfully. “Such an unusual name. I’ve not heard it before.”
“It’s short for Dolores,” Lola said. “It’s a family name on my mother’s side. She was Spanish, and it is a common enough name in Spain.”
“Yet not in England, where you remain, in name as well as in action, as I’ve already claimed, a rare lady indeed.”
She blushed, and Nathan stood. The blush demanded it, driving jealousy through his skin and into the air around him. But that was not the only strong emotion spurring him. He’d always loved Lola in a blush.
He found himself by his wife’s side in seconds.
She looked up at him, her smile a mixture of curiosity and welcome. “Sit. Join us.”
He pulled an ottoman up and sat near her. The air sparked between them, and he ached to wrap her hands in his, but he folded his arms across his chest instead. “You should not advise the boy to marry without love.”
“It’s not possible for everyone, Nathan. Some never find love.”
“Some forfeit the possibility with their own actions.” Albee’s voice hung dark above them. He sighed. “But Aunt Lola is usually right, I find,” he drawled, no hint of heaviness in his tone. “Though I’ve known her so briefly, I know that of her already. Too bad I’d rather take a lover than a wife.”
“Are your words meant to shock or for truth?” Lola asked.
He blinked, as if he’d not considered it. After several seconds, he said, “Shock, I think. You are relentless, Aunt Lola.”
“It’s all in your favor, my boy.”
“I might be more willing to marry if I could find a wife like you.”
Nathan felt his entire body stiffen, but Lola’s hand lighted on his knee, and he relaxed once more. “There are none like my wife.”
“I’m aware, and despondent.” He stood. “And in the way. I think I’ll retire for the evening.” He left quietly, leaving behind Nathan, Lola, and the crackling space between them.
Lola smiled quizzically at Nathan. “Did you interrupt my chat with the young viscount for a good reason?”
Nathan hesitated, but finally took her hand and lifted it, placing his lips just above the velvety skin of her knuckles. He inhaled her scent, relishing it with closed eyes, then kissed the back of her hand softly, offering gentle promises.
Her breath hitched. Her other hand fluttered to the soft slope of her breasts. “Not … not yet. We must talk, Nathan.”
She was right, but weren’t they best when they let their bodies talk? They had not done so since the fight, and he was on fire for her. But also, what if he could channel his passion into the conflagration that always burned between them? What if he could drain the passion from his body into hers so it would never again break loose destructively as it had the day in the hothouse?
“We will talk,” he said, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. “But first, Dolores, why not speak in other ways. God,” he choked, “I’ve missed you.”
Her breath hitched, but she wrinkled her nose. “Despicably prudish name.”
He pulled her arm around his shoulder and tugged her off the chair and onto his lap. “I always liked it.” He kissed the hollow above her collarbone. “But whatever Lola wants, Lola gets. So, Lola you are.”
“The viscount and I chatted all evening long.” She sighed as he tugged her earlobe with his teeth. “Were you bothered by our tête-a-tête?”
“Oh, quite,” he assured her.
“But you never interfered.”
“No. I can control my passions, you’ll see. Or use it for other, more pleasant things.”
She lifted his face from her neck where he’d been pleasantly busy tasting her. Her small, soft hands held his head firmly, and her steely eyes looked lost. “What do you mean?”
“Making love to you.”
She swatted his shoulder. “Not that. I know that. What do you mean about controlling your passions?”
He would answer this one question. She deserved an answer. He swallowed and turned to stare into the fire, gathering his thoughts. “I think I went mad, briefly, Lola. When I thought you were with child. It brought back all my old grief and churned my emotions into a conflagration. I will never allow my passions to hurt you again.”
She stared into his eyes as if trying to see into the very depths of his heart. “But I enjoy your passion, Nathan.”
He turned from her.
Her gaze and hands dropped to her lap. “Why did you never share your grief with me? I thought you wholly unaffected by our ill luck. You said often enough it did not matter, that we two alone were enough for you.”
His arms tightened around her. “And I meant it. You alone are enough for my entire happiness. Yet it would have been nice to have a child, to be able to father a child.”
Her head snapped up and she lifted her chin with a ferocity unmatched by even Wellington’s soldiers. “You cannot know it is your fault. It is likely mine, considering my other flaws.” She lifted one shoulder in an almost imperceptible shrug and her gaze skittered away from his own. She’d learned confidence in their last twenty or so years together, but there was her old doubt, creeping into her posture. He thought he’d banished it from her forever, yet its return was likely his fault.
“By Jove, Lola, you’re perfection,” Nathan growled. Enough talking. There would be time enough for conversation. It was glaringly obvious Nathan needed to show her the truth in the best way he knew how. He clasped her and stood, cradling her in his arms.
“Ack!” Her arms shot around his neck, holding on tight. “Nathan, put me down!”
