Autumn's Wild Heart (Seasons #4) - Laura Landon Page 0,31

he couldn’t identify.

She smiled and their gazes locked in a way that confused him. He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t. He couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nestled her close to him while they walked back to Colworth Abbey.

The sudden desperation to have his wife in his arms completely flummoxed him. This urgency to feel her lush body beneath him, to feel her arms around him while they made love, was new to him. And astonishingly welcome.

His mind told him to push these thoughts away. To push her away. But instead, he held her close, and for the first time since they married, he realized the depth of his good fortune at taking her for his wife.

Chapter 10

Their autumn house party was nearly at an end. Everyone would travel back to London tomorrow and the house would be empty again.

Nella hated the thought of seeing her friends return to London. Especially since James had informed her that he had important business he had to take care of in Town and would be leaving at the same time as their guests.

She told herself she shouldn’t let his absence bother her. She’d known when they married that he would start to spend more and more time away from her. He was born for the life he had in London and couldn’t be required to stay at Colworth Abbey with her. It wasn’t the life he wanted or…deserved.

She sat in the library with a book in her hands, yet she wasn’t reading. She raised her head at a knock on the door, then smiled when her friends walked into the room.

“There you are,” Rosamonde said as she and Patricia entered.

“Yes, you knew right where to find me. Sit down. I’ll ring for tea.”

“Please don’t,” Patricia said after she and Rosamonde sat on the sofa across from her. “It’s nearly time for luncheon.”

“We wanted to thank you, Nella,” Rosamonde said reaching for Nella’s hand and squeezing her fingers. “We’ve had the most exciting time ever!”

“Oh, I’m glad.”

“Yes,” Patricia added, “and Lord Candleton told me he looked forward to dancing with me at the military ball next week.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Nella said.

“And Lord Pomeroy asked for permission to call on me when we return to London.”

Nella could hardly contain her excitement. This was much more than she’d hoped for. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if her friends married James’ friends and they could see them regularly?

“Oh, do let me know how things progress,” Nella said. “Write me often.”

“We will,” Rosamonde and Patricia said in unison. Then, their moods turned dour.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“We weren’t going to tell you this,” Rosamonde said as she gave Patricia a look.

“There was talk brewing before we left London.”

“What kind of talk?”

“It seems that Lady Blanche has it in for you.”

“For me?” Nella said clapping her hand over her mouth.

“Yes. She says it won’t be long before your husband is free of you.”

“Free? Of me? Why would she say such a ghastly thing?”

“She says…” Rosamonde looked to Patricia for reassurance, then continued. “She says she will forgive him and…and welcome him.”

Nella rose from her chair and stumbled across the room. What did Blanche know? What could have given Blanche the idea James would leave his wife? Unless…

Nella shook off the horrid thought.

When she reached the opposite side of the room she placed her hands on the window ledge to steady herself. “He wouldn’t leave me.”

Her dear friends rushed to agree.

“Of course he wouldn’t! We’ve seen how much he loves you.”

“We just want you to be aware she may still be plotting,” Patricia said. “Just be careful.”

Nella swiped the tears from her eyes and stared out the window at nothing. “I will. You will let me know what you hear when you return, won’t you?”

“Of course,” they both answered. “We’ll write straightaway. But don’t worry,” Patricia added. “Lord Danvers loves you. It’s obvious from the way he looks at you.”

How could she tell her friends that his look was no doubt for show? That it was merely the way a well-bred earl had been taught to treat his wife. But he didn’t love her. He couldn’t even bring himself to kiss her. Nor could he bear to come to her bed unless he’d bolstered himself with several glasses of brandy.

And, the only reason he came to her bed night after night was to get her with child. Hopefully, a son. The heir he so desperately wanted so he wouldn’t have to see her again.

That