Chapter Sixteen
Darius stood outside in the cold and mist, the bright moon of just a few nights ago obscured thoroughly. Instead of the darkest black, the evening was charcoal, the clouds and moisture droplets reflecting the slightest light.
He stood well beyond the light shining from the dining room windows, where he could clearly see his wife talking animatedly with her friends.
Was she upset with him? No, not Ellie. She would support his need to take care of his people and estate.
Did she miss him? He fervently hoped so.
Even now he missed being in her warm presence, so much so that he’d debated leaving—but as usual, his logical side had won.
For that he was thankful, even as he yearned to return to the house.
He’d known even as he rode up from meeting with the Gereys that his black mood was taking over.
He’d barely held himself in check while discussing Mr. Gerey’s concerns, and as he rode for home, his irritation worsened.
He had nothing to be irritated about, which was so bloody frustrating.
When he’d entered the house and heard the female chatter, he’d started toward his study, but even before Beacham raised his brows, he knew he must greet Ellie’s friends… for her sake.
He’d barely made it through without revealing his unreasonable anger.
Luckily, Beacham reminded him his steward was waiting before he entered his study, and he’d kept the meeting very brief, locking the door after the man.
When the doorknob had been tried, he’d frozen in fear as if the lock wouldn’t hold.
But it did, keeping the warmth of Ellie from reaching him, or rather the coldness of his mood from touching her.
His heart skipped a beat as he watched Ellie through the window while she threw back her head and laughed at something one of her friends said.
Her bright-red hair caught the light and her vibrancy mesmerized him.
He could stand in the cold all night and watch her from a safe distance.
He’d never expected to fall in love with his wife.
He hadn’t loved Dinah, but felt they rubbed along fairly well.
That had been his gravest misjudgment. To discover she’d treated their children like she treated him made him want to hurt her, but she was far from his grasp now.
He’d thought having Dinah at Hawthorne Park, instead of letting her live elsewhere, as she’d asked, would be better for Maggie and Peter.
How wrong he’d been. He’d failed his children, first by telling Dinah about his black moods and then by forcing her to stay.
Why hadn’t he asked his children? If he’d been a worthy father, he would have asked and not taken Dinah’s assurances that she and the children enjoyed spending time together. She’d obviously done it to punish him.
He didn’t deserve a second chance, and yet he’d found one in Ellie.
His children deserved her, even if he didn’t.
But falling in love was the worst possible scenario.
Hopefully, she didn’t feel so about him.
He was hardly worthy of her. He couldn’t even tell her the truth. He was a coward, afraid he’d lose her.
Ellie rose from the table, and he watched as she herded her friends from the dining room into the parlor.
Her smiles were constant as she hooked her arm with one lady and spoke to another.
He couldn’t tear his gaze from her as she played hostess to the others, instructing the footman, talking with her friends, and, if he didn’t miss his guess, setting up a game of charades.
It looked as if Lady Georgina was to go first.
Movement in the dining room caught his attention, and he glanced that way to see the servants closing the curtains against the cold night.
He yanked his gaze back to Ellie. He didn’t want to stop watching her.
She half stood as she made a guess, only to fall back into her seat laughing.
He could hear her inside his head, his angst dulling as he listened.
The servants came into the parlor and began to close the curtains.
“No.” He stood helpless as his view of Ellie was impeded by the thick peach curtains.
He remained absolutely still, staring at the window, willing her to get up and open them.
He waited, wanting to see her more than he wanted to live.
He was her husband. He could simply walk into the parlor and take her in his arms. All he had to do was—
“Didn’t your mother teach you that standing out in the cold isn’t good for your wellbeing?”
Darius stiffened before growling, “Archer.”
“Who else would be such a fool as to be out here when it’s colder than the top of Ben Nevis?”
He spun, his frustration mounting. “What do you know about a mountain in the wilds of Scotland?”
“Been there when I was a lad. What are we watching?” Archer peered around him.
“Nothing,” Darius ground out between his clenched teeth.
Archer stepped around him and studied the barren gardens. “Obviously. I’m guessing you were on your way to the bathhouse?”
Was he? Yes, that was why he was out in the cold. He’d started for his cave when he made the mistake of looking back and saw Ellie. “Yes.”
“I’ll walk with you.”
He ignored Archer and started north. “I know the way.”
“As it happens, so do I.”
He didn’t want to talk to his gamekeeper. He didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Except Ellie.
His step slowed. He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking.
He entered the north wood and took the path toward the former bathhouse. If he didn’t know the building was there, he would have walked right into it, because no light shone from the windows and no fire crackled inside. It fit his mood perfectly.
“Here, you better let me go inside first.”
He started, having forgotten Archer was with him.
The man walked on silent feet. “I’m not an invalid,” he snapped at him before opening the door and stepping inside.
It was just as cold inside as out, but not as damp.
He walked forward toward the fireplace where the tinder was kept and bumped into the settee. “Damn!”
“I told you to let me enter before you. I can see in the dark.”
He wasn’t sure if Archer meant his words, but also didn’t care. Feeling his way around the settee, he felt for the mantel and found it. Running his fingers along it, he found the tinder box, but he couldn’t seem to get it opened. “Worthless box.” He slammed it back on the mantel.
A chuckle came from in front of him as he scowled into the darkness.
The flint was struck and a tiny flame moved to a lantern, where it caught, and light shone on Archer’s face and onto the sitting area. “I would have had the place prepared if you had sent me word you were leaving.”
“Just light the fire, since you’re here.” Darius covered his cold ears with his hands. He could have started the fire himself, and had many times, but watching Ellie through her entire dinner had not helped his body heat.
Archer was not only expert but efficient, and by the time Darius’s ears had warmed, the fire was going tolerably well.
“Here.” Archer held out a glass. “It’ll warm you from the inside.”
Knowing Archer, it was probably whisky, but Darius didn’t care. He took the glass and threw it back. The burn did indeed warm his chest, but he grimaced as he handed the glass back. “That’ll burn your insides to ash.”
Archer lifted his glass high in salute. “That’s the whole idea.” The gamekeeper threw back his own glass before returning to the sideboard.
Darius took off his greatcoat and hung it on a hook by the door next to Archer’s. Then he sat down on the settee and managed to take off his boots.
“Here’s your brandy.” Archer held the glass out to him. “You might want to sip that.”
Darius scowled at what the man thought was humorous. “I know how to drink good brandy.” He took a sip and set it on the small table nearby.
Archer settled into the wingback chair with a larger glass of whisky. “The new Lady Ferncroft appears very different from the late Lady Ferncroft.”
Darius ignored Archer as he untied his cravat.
“She has the whole village abuzz with talk of St. Thomas Day. The word is she has issued an invitation to all the widows to come to the house.”
Darius had suggested she give the coin to the church to distribute, but she insisted on doing it herself and involving her friends.
“She wants the many widows of our men who fought Napoleon to know they are not forgotten.” He dropped his cravat over the side of the settee, before picking up his glass and taking another sip. It was so much better than the whisky.
“My missus is all aglow over her. She’s made an impression on all the women. They say she’s friendly and kind. It sounds like you found the perfect woman for your children.”
Darius stopped in the process of unbuttoning his waistcoat at Archer’s comment.
“She is. Not only is she well versed in healing, but she’s also most learned.
I may not need to hire a tutor for Peter.
” Even as he said the words, he knew he held back what was the best of Ellie.
It was almost as if he talked about it, he’d lose it.
“Don’t know anything about that, but I can tell you are pleased. Congratulations on picking the right woman this time. I imagine it’s easier to find a mother than a wife, since you focused only on your children.”
Archer was right. That had been his motivation, but he’d found so much more, which meant he had to protect her even more, especially from himself.
“Of course, you’ll probably need a few more children. You nabobs always like to have a good half-dozen. Hope she’s not a cold fish like your last wife.”