Puritan Bride. Anne O'Brien

its nest by some malignant force. He sighed, touched by compassion, before drawing together the edges of the shirt with great care and respect for her modesty.

      The Viscount lifted the candle to give his attention to her face. With knowledge it was distinctly feminine. It was an arresting face, cast into clear relief by the short revealing hair, which, with hindsight, showed signs of being inexpertly hacked off at back and sides with a less than sharp blade. Long dark lashes, well marked brows, a straight nose. Her face was relaxed, but shadows marked the fragile skin beneath her eyes and the bruising on her temple was outrageous. As he pushed her hair gently back from her temples he noted its tendency to curl round his fingers. Her hands, which he lifted and turned over in his own, were fine boned, long fingered and clearly those of a well-born lady. This was not a girl who had worked for her living on the land or in the kitchen. As he released them he felt a strange tug at his senses. She was beautiful. How could he possibly have thought that she was a boy? He touched her cheek, so pale, so soft, with the back of his hand.

      The girl opened her eyes. They were a deep blue, the colour of delphiniums, and now almost indigo with pain and confusion. They were blurred, uncomprehending, as they moved searchingly over her line of vision. Then her gaze stopped and focused on his face. Suddenly they were filled with fear, a nameless terror. Tears gathered and began to trickle down her cheeks into the pillow and her ravaged hair. She said nothing.

      He was caught in that blue gaze for the length of a slow heartbeat, trapped in their sapphire depths, unable to do anything but wipe away the spangled drops from her cheeks.

      ‘Don’t cry,’ he murmured. ‘You are quite safe here. There is no one to hurt you here.’ What terrible circumstance could have driven her to cut her hair and ride the perilous roads at the dead of night dressed as a boy?

      The girl gave no recognition that she had heard him. She closed her eyes as if to shut out a world that threatened to engulf her in nameless horrors.

      Marlbrooke swallowed and rose to his feet from his seat on the edge of the bed. He turned to the hovering servant, who was as yet unaware of the deception unfolding in the quiet room.

      ‘Has he come round, my lord? Doesn’t look too good, does he?’

      ‘No, Robert. He does not. If you would rouse Mistress Neale with my apologies, ask her to come with all speed. It would seem that I need help here.’

      The Viscount lifted and spread the embroidered bedcover over the still figure and stood, hands on hips, looking down on her. Then he moved to the chair by the struggling fire to wait. But he could not take his eyes from her.

       Chapter Four

      ‘Good morning, madam. You look well. And remarkably fetching in rose silk. Is it new? Ah, Felicity … I have brought you the books you requested. I believe that Verzons will have taken them from Jenks last night and have them in his keeping. And these—’ holding out a number of slim volumes to Lady Elizabeth with guileless grace ‘—should keep you entertained and make your heart beat a little faster, my lady.’

      The ladies were seated in the magnificent library at Winteringham Priory. Chairs had been placed for them in the window embrasure where the light was good and a fire crackled beside them in the hearth. Warmth and light glowed on the leather-and-gold volumes and reflected softly from the polished oak table on which lay a quantity of embroidery silks and pieces of tapestry.

      ‘I see you have not lost your capacity to charm in your absence,’ Elizabeth responded in dry tones, but smiled with quiet pleasure as she returned his light kiss on her cheek. ‘Did the delicious Mistress Lovell not attempt to detain you at Court?’

      ‘Why, no. Your gossip is distinctly out of date, my dear.’ The Viscount’s eyes, so like his mother’s, held a decided twinkle. ‘The delicious Mistress Lovell has decided to cast her eyes and fortunes higher than a mere Viscount. She was fluttering her remarkable eyelashes in the King’s direction when I made my departure. And he was showing a distinct and lamentable tendency to engage her in conversation whenever their paths crossed. Which was frequently. Lady Castlemaine is even now sharpening her claws.’

      ‘I hope that she will not live to regret it! Or perhaps I do. Such a rapacious female in spite of her undeniable beauty.’

      ‘I doubt that Charles will notice her avarice as long as he has access to her equally desirable physical charms. I do not believe that she will have to wait long for him to accept her offers.’

      ‘How demeaning for you, dear Marcus …’ Elizabeth chuckled ‘… to be thrown over for the King!’

      Felicity sniffed, lips downturned in disapproval. ‘Really, Marcus. Such disloyalty to your King!’ She frowned at Elizabeth, but directed her censorious gaze at the Viscount. ‘We have been expecting your return any time this past fortnight, have we not, dearest Elizabeth? Your long absence has been a severe trial to your mother—and a source of grave concern. We hear such tales of footpads and robbers, as Elizabeth will tell you. Could you not have sent us word of your safety and intentions? Then your mother’s mind would have been put at rest—you must agree, dearest Elizabeth!’

      Elizabeth Oxenden suppressed a sigh, refusing to comply with her cousin. She shook her head slightly to deflect any sharp remark that Marlbrooke might be tempted to make in reply, a rueful smile touching her lips as she met her son’s sardonic gaze. Secretly Elizabeth was delighted that Marlbrooke had returned home and even more so that he should have noticed her extra care with her appearance that morning. Crippled she might be, but she retained a young woman’s interest in fashion and the latest styles at Court. Living in London had some distinct advantages. The deep rose of her full skirts and boned bodice compensated for the lack of colour in her cheeks. The lace edge at collar and cuffs was truly exquisite, if a trifle expensive. It was no good Felicity lecturing her on the sin of vanity. She enjoyed fashion and would do so until the day she died! If Felicity would only take more interest in her own appearance, she might be far more content with life. How could anyone be other than sour dressed in a gown of such unfashionable dark-green watered silk, and at least twenty years old? And with only the minimum of decoration. Felicity, an angular lady of more advanced years and thin features, grey hair scraped unbecomingly beneath a lace cap, managed a tight smile and dropped a small curtsy as the Viscount bowed politely to her and took the time and courtesy to salute her hand.

      ‘So what have you been doing in my absence? Nothing scandalous, I presume, or Verzons would have informed me on my arrival.’ He picked up a length of tapestry that had slipped to the floor. ‘More bed hangings? You could soon furnish Hampton Court! Have you been well?’

      Lady Elizabeth could not prevent her lips curving in a smile.

      ‘I find the cold weather attacks my fingers—’ she hid her swollen joints from his hawk-like gaze in her lap ‘—but I shall come about with the warmer days.’ She deliberately kept her voice light. How could she tell him of the pain that kept her awake and prevented her from doing all the things she had loved to do in the past? Her embroidery was a nightmare of perseverance and she dare no longer approach the spinet. The snowdrops and daffodils in the gardens bloomed without her care.

      But, indeed, she did not need to tell him. He had already discerned the fine lines around her eyes—were they perhaps deeper than when he had left?—and the haunted glaze of pain in her eyes.

      ‘I know you would wish to return to London, ma’am.’ He was as forthright as ever in his dealings with her. ‘I think you are lonely here and would far rather enjoy the visits of friends and the Court gossip. But if you could agree to remain here at the Priory until arrangements for my marriage are finalised and the bride has arrived, then I would willingly transport you back to town again. Can you bear it for a little longer?’

      ‘Of course.’ She smiled as he bent to brush her fingers with his lips. She could not hide the obvious signs of suffering any longer and did not attempt to. She adored her handsome son, and, even if not blind to his faults, she was aware of his love