Chapter Twelve
He should go to bed, Leo told himself as he stood at his bedroom window, watching dawn rise over the city.
A gibbous moon was still high in the sky, which was itself a magnificent swirl of orange and purple.
He ought to feel tired. He’d suffered through an entire night with the ton, at a ball of all places.
He ought to be closing his eyes with relief that it was finally over.
Instead he felt strangely energised, as if, unbelievably, he’d actually enjoyed himself.
Strange as that was, he was aware of an undercurrent of some other emotion too, one that had reared its head the moment Florence had told him about the Wadlows’ land agent, Mr Archer.
The very name made him grit his teeth. Which was ridiculous.
She hadn’t sounded remotely regretful about the man.
On the contrary, she’d taken exception to his poetry and rejected his proposal.
Still, just the idea that somebody else had written a poem for her made him feel irrationally… jealous? Yes, definitely jealous.
It didn’t help that she’d been wearing her locket again tonight. Now that he thought of it, aside from during her convalescence, he’d never seen her without it. Now he couldn’t help but wonder whose portrait was inside.
He glanced over his shoulder at the door that separated their two bedchambers.
Would Florence be asleep already? Probably.
It must have been an hour since their return from the ball.
By now one of Cassie’s maids would have removed all the pins from her hair, then helped her out of her gown and into a nightdress.
Imagining it stirred his blood, making him feel even less like sleeping.
He wanted to be the one to strip away her clothes, to unfasten her stays and roll down each stocking.
Then he wanted to gather her to him, beneath him, on top of him.
His breeches were straining almost painfully tightly just thinking about it.
He turned back to the window, focusing his attention on the garden in the middle of the square.
Maybe he ought to go down there. The cold morning air might do something to quell the desire now raging inside him.
Damn it, he should have asked Cassie to put him in a different room, one on the other side of the house, because the idea that his wife was so close, on just the other side of a wall, lying in bed, crying out…
Wait… He whipped his head round… Crying out?
He snapped his brows together, wondering if he was imagining things. But there it was again, a faint cry, as though she was in pain.
He didn’t hesitate any longer, flinging the door open, crossing her room in three strides, and wrenching the bed-curtains apart to find her writhing on the bed, thrashing from side to side, a sheen of sweat on her forehead as she muttered words he couldn’t understand.
‘Florence?’ He bent over, putting his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘Wake up!’
‘What?’ She pushed back against him, before opening her eyes and giving a startled jolt. ‘Leo?’
‘Yes. You were having a bad dream.’ He pulled his hands away quickly, in case his presence there frightened her even more. ‘You were crying out. I was worried.’
‘Oh.’ She pushed herself up onto her elbows, panting heavily, her face a mask of distress. ‘I’m sorry for waking you.’
‘You didn’t.’ He made a conscious effort not to look to at her breasts, heaving beneath her nightgown. ‘And even if you had, it doesn’t matter. We all have nightmares sometimes.’
‘Really?’ She gave a ragged laugh. ‘You?’
‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘I don’t know why I said that. You just always seem so confident, I suppose.’
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ He gestured at the edge of the bed. ‘May I sit? Or would you rather be alone?’
‘No.’ She shifted sideways to give him some room. ‘Some company would be nice, if you don’t mind?’
‘Not at all. It might be a good idea to talk about your dream. Was it a memory perhaps?’
‘Perhaps.’ Her face took on a far-off expression as he sat down beside her. ‘I was in a forest, or at least there were trees. Lots of them.’ She gulped. ‘I think I was lost.’
‘That would make sense. You were found in the woods close to the village.’
‘I was?’ She sagged back against the headboard. ‘It never occurred to me to ask.’
‘I should have told you. Anything else?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
She shuddered and he felt a pang in his chest, fighting the urge to wrap his arms around her. It had nothing to do with desire now, only comfort. Slowly, he reached for her hand, brushing his thumb lightly against her wrist where her pulse was still thumping.
‘Maybe it was just my imagination,’ she said after a few moments, looking down at their joined hands. ‘I was so nervous before the ball. Maybe this was just a reaction to it.’
‘Perhaps.’ He moved his thumb slowly back and forth. ‘But I hope you enjoyed this evening a little. In case Cassie didn’t mention it enough times, you were the perfect marchioness.’
‘Not perfect, but I did enjoy myself. Everyone was much nicer than I expected, especially towards the end of the evening.’ She slid her tongue between her lips. ‘I suppose that was after someone started those rumours about us being a love match.’
He didn’t say anything. Now that her panic had eased, he found his mind drifting towards how smooth and silky her skin felt beneath his fingertips, sending fiery sparks shooting along his nerves.
He could smell that floral scent again too, jasmine and honeysuckle and rose.
The confined space of her bed seemed far too small suddenly, as if the air between them was getting thinner.
He ought to go back to his own room, he told himself, only he couldn’t quite bring himself to get up.
Sitting together in the semi-darkness, while the rest of the house slept, reminded him of the night he’d found her in the hallway at Rainton Court.
Only their relationship had changed since then.
He coughed. ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Much better.’ She took a deep breath, her breasts heaving again. ‘Thank you for coming to help me.’
‘Do you think you can sleep?’
Her gaze flickered uncertainly. ‘I might read for a little bit, but you should go. I’ll be all right.’
He hesitated, looking towards the door and then back again.
‘You know, after my mother died I had nightmares every night for months. Cassie used to sleep in my room to comfort me. Whenever I woke, we would play games. Cards mostly. Vingt-Un is still my favourite.’ He tilted his head. ‘What do you say?’
‘You mean now?’ A shy smile crept across her lips. ‘I’d like that.’
‘So would I.’ He let go of her hand reluctantly. ‘Let me fetch a pack of cards and a candle.’
It was almost noon by the time Florence found herself at the breakfast table the next morning, blowing air over a cup of steaming hot chocolate, while she listened to her husband and sister-in-law bicker.
It was, she reflected, a lot like listening to her brothers back home in Cumberland.
The whole scene felt strangely comforting, as if she was part of a family again.
‘Surely a couple more days won’t make so much difference?’ Cassie implored Leo. ‘You’ve barely arrived.’
‘We’ve been here for five days.’ He bit into his toast with a loud crunch.
‘Exactly. Scarcely time to unpack. Oh, do say you’ll reconsider. The Ives are holding a Venetian picnic by the river tomorrow afternoon.’
‘And?’
‘And you and Florence were such a success at the Jenners’ ball, it seems a shame not to capitalise on it. I’m sure the whole ton is still talking about you this morning.’
‘Do you really think that’s going to encourage me to do it again?’ He reached for his tea. ‘Have we met? Do you know me at all? Because I could have sworn we were related in some way…’
‘Pooh!’ Cassie rolled her eyes. ‘All I’m saying is that it’s unfair to deny people further opportunities to see and discuss you, especially when the Season finishes so soon. Besides, I’d like to spend some more time with you. That’s not so terrible, is it?’
‘Not at all. You’re welcome to visit Rainton Court whenever you wish.’
‘Oh, don’t be so difficult. You know I can’t stand the place and I hate to travel.’ Cassie waved a hand dismissively. ‘I only married George because his estate is in Kent.’
‘I thought you said you loved me?’ George peered over the top of his newspaper.
‘I do, darling. But I only agreed to marry you once I discovered how close your property was to London.’
‘Ah.’ The paper lifted again. ‘Fair enough.’
‘In any case,’ Leo went on, ‘we have commitments back at Rainton.’
‘Rearrange them!’ Cassie pouted. ‘Have you asked your wife what she thinks?’
‘Yes, he has,’ Florence answered, lifting her cup to hide her amusement.
‘And you want to leave me too?’ Cassie sounded dismayed.
‘No, but it’s the summer fair. We need to be back for it.’
‘Oh, good grief, you’re as bad as he is.’ Cassie abandoned her perfect posture in order to fling herself back in her chair. ‘Who cares about the blasted fair?’
‘Our tenants, our staff, the tradespeople who supply it…’ Leo started to list on his fingers.
‘Well, all right, yes, they probably all do, but they could still hold it without you.’
‘The marquess is always in attendance. It’s tradition.’
‘That’s exactly the sort of thing Father would have said.’
‘I am not Father.’ Leo’s tone hardened. ‘However, on this particular subject, I happen to agree with him.’
‘You’re right, that was uncalled-for.’ Cassie hauled herself upright again. ‘Very well, if you’ve made up your minds, I suppose I’ll just have to make the most of you both today. Will you at least accompany me to Hyde Park this afternoon?’
‘Of course.’ Florence answered before Leo could refuse. ‘It would be our pleasure.’
‘Thank you.’ Cassie threw him a superior look before pushing her chair back. ‘Now I suppose I ought to go and see what havoc my boys are wreaking in the nursery.’
‘I’ll come with you.’ George folded his newspaper. ‘We’d better find out what it was they broke in the dining room too.’
‘Hyde Park?’ Leo arched an eyebrow at Florence once they were alone.
‘Yes. It’s the least we can do after she’s been so welcoming and generous.’ She smiled unrepentantly. ‘Besides, you can’t blame her for wanting to keep you here. She really does care for you.’
He made a harrumphing sound.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Nothing.’ He sighed. ‘I know she loves me and that she feels guilty for leaving me behind at Rainton when she married George. I’ve told her a hundred times that she had her own life to lead, but she’s not the best listener.
’ He rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘Sometimes all this just feels like a lot of fuss.’
Florence nodded slowly, choosing her words with care. ‘She told me a little about your upbringing. Maybe she’s afraid that the way your father treated you still affects you?’
‘Perhaps.’ He held her gaze for a moment, his own unfathomable, before looking away and changing the subject. ‘How did you sleep after I left last night? No more nightmares? I left the door ajar just in case.’
‘I noticed.’ She smiled. She didn’t remember his leaving.
She only had a vague memory of drifting to sleep mid-game and waking hours later to find herself neatly tucked into bed, with only a stack of cards on the cabinet beside her to prove it hadn’t been another dream. ‘And I slept very well, thank you.’
‘Good.’ There was a flicker of heat in his eyes. ‘Perhaps we should play cards more often?’
‘Perhaps.’ She cleared her throat, aware of a ripple of something warm and liquid spreading through her body.
The way he’d comforted her during the night had caught her entirely off guard.
She’d assumed that his attentive behaviour at the ball had been an act for the ton, but when he’d rubbed his thumb across the inside of her wrist, it had been only the two of them.
Then her own body’s response had surprised her as well.
Even now, just thinking about it made her toes curl, making her extremely conscious of the fact that they were alone again, with only a breakfast table between them.
She felt a sudden urge to stretch those same toes out, to move them closer to his, maybe even to slide her slipper across his thigh…
‘You know, you don’t have to agree with me.’ He sounded serious all of a sudden. ‘I’d like to be back for the fair, but if you want to stay in London for a while longer…?’
‘I don’t.’ She answered quickly, jolted out of her reverie.
‘I’ve done what I came to do and the fair is important.
Besides…’ she knitted her brows ‘…even though I enjoyed last night, I can’t help thinking about how we must have appeared to the Wadlows.
I don’t know if they were there, but I wouldn’t want them to think I was gloating, especially if they hear this new rumour. ’
‘Does it really matter what they think?’
‘Yes,’ she answered emphatically. ‘They were kind enough to bring me to London in the first place. I don’t want to hurt them any more than I already have. Or Amabel.’
‘Very well, then.’ His gaze softened. ‘We’ll stick to our plan of leaving tomorrow.’
‘Good.’ She leaned forward over the table. ‘After a promenade in Hyde Park with your sister this afternoon?’
He groaned aloud. ‘If I must.’
‘Oh, I think you must.’ She couldn’t stop herself from smirking. ‘You’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.’