Macbeth's Niece

  Chapter Ten

  By the end of the week, Tessa had had enough of parties. It had become a strain to keep quiet when men around her said and did the same stupid things Scottish men had don’t to annoy her. Just months ago they would have received the sharp edge of her tongue, but now she forced herself to pretend they were fascinating.

  “Perhaps this isn’t the life I want after all,” she moaned to Mary one afternoon. “It’s one thing to say you’ll marry some dull fellow for his money and his name, but it’s another to go to parties and be told I am as beautiful as the goddess of the moon, Hera. I’m an ignorant Scot, and female as well, but even I know Hera isn’t goddess of the moon. Still, I must bat my eyelashes and murmur how sweet he is to say it, all the time trying to remember if this one is Charles or Cedric.”

  “But it’s how one meets men so families can arrange marriages. Once that’s done, you can retire to an estate somewhere and milk cows or whatever it is Scots lassies do for fun,” Mary teased.

  They had left the house and were strolling idly through the streets, looking at things they had no money to buy but enjoying themselves anyway. The streets of London were an adventure. Shop windows were crowded with things neither girl had seen before, and in the street itself were offered all sorts of things from barrows present from dawn to dusk. They were encouraged to buy everything from “good Scots metalwork” to “le-e-e-e-mons fresh from Spa-a-a-in”. They laughed together, pointing at this and that, until Tessa came to a dead stop, staring ahead of her. Coming out of a gateway was Jeffrey Brixton, dressed in traveling clothes muted with dust and boots caked with mud. He looked weary and defeated, eyes glazed and dull.

  Mary saw him a second later and screamed with delight, “Jeffrey! Jeffrey, over here!”

  As he raised his eyes, there was a flash of recognition. For a moment his eyes lingered on Tessa, taking in her becoming new coif, her attractive rose-and-cream outfit, and—she found herself hoping—more ladylike bearing. There was a flash of appreciation in his eyes, and his mien lightened. Mary fairly twitched with delight as he crossed to them. “Jeffrey, we have come to London to visit, and William is to find us husbands, all of us!”

  “Husbands?” Jeffrey seemed slow to comprehend, his brow furrowed in thought. Turning to Tessa, he asked, “Are you to have a husband?”

  “Of course, she is,” Mary babbled on. “Sir William will see to it his sister-in-law is well married.”

  “Sister—” Jeffrey began, and Tessa gave him a look that interrupted the thought and he stopped.

  “Your brother has been very kind to all of us,” she said, looking directly at him. “My half-sister has prepared me to be a good English wife as best she can in so short a time.”

  Jeffrey still struggled to understand; it was plain from his expression, but he kept quiet.

  Mary noticed nothing, so happy was she to see her cousin. “You must come with us to the house. Eleanor will want to see you.” His face showed indecision, and Mary added, “I believe William has gone out for the day.” Jeffrey smiled for the first time.

  “Good, then. If you care to wait, I will be a few moments, and then we will walk while you apprise me of recent events.” With a look at Tessa, he added, “I am interested to hear what brings you all to London.”

  After Jeffrey had arranged for his horse to be fed and stalled, the three of them made their way to the town house. Eleanor was joyful to see Jeffrey safe once more, but he disappointed her immediately. “I must be off tonight,” he said. “My ship sails with the tide.”

  “Where now?” Mary asked, but Jeffrey would not say.

  “Well then, I will at least see to it you have a decent meal before you go,” Eleanor insisted. She went off to find the cook, Mary trailing behind as they began a list of things to get for Jeffrey’s journey.

  Tessa watched them go, uneasy now that she and Jeffrey were alone together. He stepped closer so they could speak in low tones, and his eyes held an odd expression, maybe anger, maybe something else.

  “You are now Eleanor’s sister?” he asked coolly.

  “A story she made up to explain my presence.”

  “I should have guessed Eleanor’s ingenuity would solve all problems. But you will stay here now?”

  “I cannot return to Scotland after…what happened. It seems best to attempt to make a life here. Eleanor has given me a chance to remake my future.”

  “And have you done well here in London?” he asked, his voice tired. He slumped into a nearby chair, his eyes watching as she moved nervously about the room. “Eleanor has made you into a social success?”

  His words stung, but Tessa chose to ignore what she interpreted as sarcasm. “I have come to love Eleanor, and she has done much for me,” she answered.

  “Do you forgive me, then, for what I did?”

  Tessa looked sharply at Jeffrey. He seemed to speak in earnest, and she turned away, unable to decide what the question meant. Was he mocking her? Did he think ill of her for turning her situation to the best advantage possible? Whatever she had done, he had begun it, taking her by force from her homeland.

  Anger flared, and she felt her face growing warm, but Jeffrey went on. “I’ve thought about it, many nights. You did no wrong, and I—your uncle and I—we caused you great suffering for our own ends.”

  “Was it awful, the fighting?”

  “Yes.” No more.

  “I am glad you did not succeed.” She was defiant.

  “I was sure you would be.” He paused. “Will you marry an Englishman, then, and become an obedient wife?”

  “What else have you left me?” It was more strident than she’d intended.

  Suddenly, he sprang from the chair, his weariness gone, and came to her side. “I have thought of you,” he said softly. “The way you struggled to get free of me on the riverbank. The way you shouted at me in the cabin of the ship, unafraid even though your life was in my hands. And I remember your vow that you would repay me for ruining your life. Sometimes it seems I think of nothing but you, who never once cried, never once begged for mercy. If Scotland has more like you, she will never be defeated.”

  Tessa’s throat closed with emotion. As Jeffrey put his arms around her and drew her to him, her mind refused to function. Half-formed thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of his touch and the feel of his coarse beard as his lips found hers. The kiss brought the sensation of heat, of melting, she’d first experienced aboard ship as his captive. The world receded for a long moment, but finally a voice drifted into her consciousness.

  “Well, Jeffrey, it seems you are not as fatigued as the Lady Eleanor had imagined.”

  The two sprang apart guiltily. “Aidan,” Jeffrey managed, but it was all he could say.

  Tessa stood mute, wondering what had just happened. How did she feel about Jeffrey Brixton? She’d thought until a minute ago that she hated him. Now all she could feel was the blood that rushed through her body, the lingering traces of his touch on her skin.

  Finally she gathered her dignity around her. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I will leave you alone. I’m sure you have much catching up to do.” She met neither man’s eyes as she left them, running straight up the stairs to her room and closing herself in.

  Tessa sent Mary down alone to supper, saying she had a headache. Eleanor dispatched a servant with a tray and a cold compress soaked in witch hazel, and the girl sat miserably with the food before her, untouched. What had she been thinking, to let Jeffrey Brixton kiss her? And what was Aidan going to do about it? Would he tell Eleanor? William? Sick with dread, she considered her reaction. She had responded to the kiss of a man who’d torn her from home as if she did not matter. But he’d thought of her. Her heart held on to that confession despite her mind’s objection: Sometimes it seems I think of nothing but you.

  A few minutes later, as she sat by the window staring at nothing, Tessa came to her senses, reminding herself that to a man like Jeffrey Brixton, words were used to get what he want
ed. They meant nothing. Within half an hour she had convinced herself she was a fool to react to a man who made love to his own sister-in-law and then had the gall to say he thought of her. If he did, it was with lust, wishing he’d taken advantage of her when he had the chance. He would never have such an opportunity again, for she would see to it they spent not one moment alone together in the future. She even convinced herself she was grateful for Aidan’s interruption of what was an unfortunate and unwanted encounter.

  The next morning things were as usual, and Eleanor showed no knowledge of a change between Tessa and Jeffrey. Aidan treated her politely, as did William. She guessed no one had even told the head of the household of Jeffrey’s visit. Once they were alone, the women talked of Jeffrey, how tired he had looked, how soon he’d had to leave, and how dangerous his life must be. Tessa noted with amusement that since Mary and Alice had other prospects, their erstwhile mooning over Jeffrey was replaced with mere affectionate concern. Mary’s stammering young man was the only son of a prosperous merchant, and Alice had caught the eye of a widower with two sons and a thriving business. A penniless cousin, fourth in line to inherit, was not such a glittering prize by comparison, no matter how much they liked him. Eventually the talk turned to the evening’s entertainment.

  Tessa had indeed captured the attention of Lady Acton. Her son, Cedric, was everything Eleanor had described: good-looking, wealthy, well taught, and—deadly dull, not so much from a lack of intelligence, but from an inability to think of anything but himself. His mother’s dotage, his good looks, and his vast fortune had convinced him he was peerless among men. His hair, seldom covered, was his pride and joy: thick, wavy, and honey-colored. His posture was so erect as to appear uncomfortable. And Cedric certainly had enough chin for a lord—perhaps for a lord and a half.

  Though she couldn’t deny his good looks, Tessa secretly longed for a personality to accompany them. Cedric considered himself a catch, and most of London agreed. He was the type of man whom Tessa in her former days would have sent off in less than three minutes with scathing comments resounding in his ears. As it was, she smiled through clenched teeth when he told her for the third time about the last hunt he’d gone on. He thought it masculine to laugh loudly and often, which made Tessa’s head ache, he used an exaggerated courtesy she found irritating, and he endeared himself to her, or so he thought, by calling her Tessie, loudly and often.

  Cedric assumed any girl would be flattered to be the object of his attention, and perhaps she should have been. Though she tried, Tessa couldn’t feel flattered; the best she could achieve was resignation.

  Eleanor often caught Tessa’s eye as Cedric droned on and winked to let her know she understood. He was far from her perfect mate, but what could she do? If Sir William ever discovered she was not family, she’d be homeless in a trice. She had to hope for a match quickly, before her secret was out, or before something happened to Eleanor, who weakened daily. The others had begun to comment that she was losing weight, looking tired. So far, Eleanor had laughed it off or used some excuse, but Tessa could see she was very ill.

  Lady Acton was herself a formidable pill to swallow, manipulative and opinionated, especially where her son was concerned. In Eleanor’s view, she was well disposed toward Tessa precisely because she had no dowry or strong family ties. “She wants control, and her son wants a beautiful wife to show off,” Eleanor told Tessa as they washed their hair in rainwater, softer and less drying than regular water. “They have all they need of money, houses, land, and servants. You will always be under her thumb, and she will hold it over you, too. Oh, my dear, can you abide it?”

  “I believe so,” Tessa answered, toweling her thick curls thoroughly. “I am dishonest in entering into marriage with Cedric—if he asks me—since I want the security of his name and wealth, not Cedric himself.”

  “That is how marriages are made.”

  “Cedric’s mother is a gargoyle, to be sure. I will manage as best I can to be where she is not, and I will give her grandchildren, which will soften her, I hope. As long as we all get what we want, is it so bad?”

  “Not so bad,” Eleanor said sadly, “but I wish you could wait for the man who makes you feel alive.”

  Tessa looked up in surprise. “You knew such a man?”

  Eleanor’s blue eyes clouded. “Once, yes. But my father would have none of it. The man I loved was merely one of his knights, far removed from inheriting anything.”

  Like Jeffrey, Tessa thought, but she pushed it aside.

  “Did you love him?”

  Eleanor smiled sadly. “Oh, yes. And he loved me. He hoped money would change my father’s mind, so he went off to win his fortune, to Normandy.”

  “Where is that?”

  “Across the Channel. Miles hoped to get a grant of land as a reward for helping the duke.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I never heard from him again, but it wouldn’t have mattered. My father had made his bargain with Lord Brixton. I pleaded with him to delay the marriage for a year, but he would not.”

  Tessa felt sad Eleanor had been treated so, but the latter smiled brightly.

  “As I told you before, I believe we must make our own happiness. William allows me to do as I wish up in York while he stays here in London. Mine is a better lot than some.” She grinned at Tessa. “I’m afraid with your temper, you’ll have to convince Cedric to be where you are not, or you will end up braining him with a firedog.”

  “Oh, no,” Tessa said, joining in the jest, “it would take at least a pike to pierce through all that hair!”