Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7)

“My mother is eccentric, that’s for certain, but to the best of my knowledge she wouldn’t even kill my father, and she hated him more than one can imagine. As for William, I can’t imagine he would care if all of Cork and Kinsale knew he was a little lecher. Why would he care if you knew or not?”

Meggie sighed. “I wish to get up now, Thomas. I’m bored and my head hurts only a bit. Also, someone could simply open the bedchamber door, take one step inside, and shoot me. I’m rather helpless here, amidst all this virginal white.”

His eyes nearly crossed. God, he wanted her, right now, and he didn’t want to leave her, he wanted to pump into her, deeper and deeper and yell his pleasure to the rafters of this drafty old castle and fill her with his seed. And lie on top of her, to protect her. He was in a bad way and he knew it. And she didn’t. It was amazing. He said, “No one is going to come in here and shoot you, all this white or no.” Then, because he just couldn’t help himself, he said, “By God, you look delicious.”

This was interesting and she gave him what she believed to be a very warm smile, one filled with the promise of wicked things.

He didn’t move a muscle.

He was being noble, bless him. Truth be told, her particular place in the world didn’t feel all that steady right now. She realized she was scared, but she wasn’t about to say that out loud. She said, “I’m getting up now.”

He looked like he would protest, then shook his head, at himself, not at her. “I’ll send Alvy to you.” And he was gone. Guilt had driven him away, of that she was certain. He didn’t want to take a chance of hurting her head anymore. Yes, he wanted her and now that Meggie knew what this wanting was all about, she wished he would come back. He could leave her aching head to her. She smiled as she swung her legs over the side of that stark white bed. Yes, she was quite certain his eyes had become glazed, fixed on her face. She wondered if she were the first of all the cousins to make love, then frowned. All her dratted cousins were boys, and outrageous, just like their fathers, even her brothers, Max and Leo, seemed to know things, yes, even Max the Latin scholar. She’d seen him speaking to Leo just a couple of months ago, there had been this fixed smile on his face, really a rather stupid smile, and she hadn’t understood then. Now she did. She’d worn that stupid smile a couple of times now; she’d seen it in the mirror.

Ah, marital sorts of things were all well and good, but when all was said and done, when everything was right there, ready to smack her in the face, what was important was that someone had hit her on her head. As he’d said, an old place like Pendragon was filled with secrets, with mysteries. It was up to her to discover if any of them had come out of hiding and didn’t like seeing her as the countess sleeping in the White Room.

Meggie began pacing her bedchamber, her white nightgown disappearing amongst all the other white, the only thing keeping her set apart from the furnishings was the flapping gown at her ankles as she paced.

His mother, Meggie thought. She had to be the keeper of Pendragon secrets. Madeleine, who didn’t like her and didn’t bother to hide it. Madeleine, who wrote journals in both French and English. Why not beard the lioness in her den?

Was his mother mad?

She was becoming hysterical, just like Maude Freeberry, whose wails could be heard every third night throughout Glenclose-on-Rowan when her husband stumbled home drunk.

Well, if Madeleine wasn’t mad, she certainly w

as unpleasant, and perhaps, just perhaps—

“Why,” Meggie said aloud to the empty white room, stripping off her virginal white nightgown, “is Aunt Libby living here at Pendragon?”

Two hours later, after taking a very brief walk on Barnacle’s back, each step accompanied by groans and complaints and sighs, Meggie found Madeleine in her bedchamber, penning in her journal. She wondered if she was in a French mood or an English mood today.

“My lady,” Meggie said from the door, then stepped into the room. It wasn’t like any other room she’d seen at Pendragon. The room looked as fine as a London salon. It was large and airy, furnished in the Egyptian style, out-of-date, but distinctive and quite interesting, what with the sphinx feet on the sofas and the bird claws on the arms. Her mother-in-law sat behind a lovely antique ladies’ writing desk, perfectly positioned to get most of the sunlight coming through the very clean windows.

Madeleine was chewing on the end of her pen. She said, “Oh? It’s you, is it? Well, come in, don’t dawdle. You don’t look at all ill. Thomas said someone hit you on the head. I see no sign of it. I dare say that a real lady who’d been struck would be lying in her bed, pale as death.”

“Sorry. If I’d realized you needed some proof, I wouldn’t have taken off the bandage.”

“You’ve a very smart mouth, don’t you? It’s a pity. Mrs. Black told me that you had six women hired from Kinsale to come to Pendragon to clean. What is this all about?”

“I would have told you myself, ma’am, but someone hit me on the head last night and I was a bit fuzzy for a while. I’m fine now.”

“I think you’re the sort of girl who demands attention, and when she doesn’t receive the attention she believes she deserves, she enacts a scene.”

Meggie struck a pose, said, “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“You might amuse my son on rare occasion, miss, but you don’t amuse me.”

“Actually, I’m a Mrs. Actually, I’m a countess. Come to think of it, I’m even a ‘my lady.’ Even more to think about—I would precede you at an official function. What do you think of that?”

“Not much.”

Meggie sighed and said slowly, looking at her mother-in-law dead on, “You asked what this is all about. It’s quite simple and straightforward. I want Pendragon to be clean. I want the foundation of the castle to shudder from all the cleanliness, the smell of lemon wax, the smell of plain soap. I want Pendragon to sparkle just like your room sparkles. I want all the windows so clean they squeak to the touch, just like I’m sure your windows do. I want to destroy all those dirty old draperies that are frayed and have moth holes in them and let the sun shine into all the rooms. I want that ancient chandelier in the entrance hall to glitter. I want no more dust flying around when one walks on the carpets.”

“You want too much. It is absurd.”

“Why, may I ask, ma’am, is your room so lovely and the rest of Pendragon sporting dirt from the last century?” Hmmm, she wasn’t treating Thomas’s mother with much solicitude, but blessed hell, this was beyond too much. The dollop of sarcasm tasted good. The woman seemed to hate her anyway, no matter if she snarled or smiled. It made no sense.

Madeleine said, holding the black pen in her hand as if she wished it were a stiletto, “I want Pendragon to remain just the way it is. Be quiet and stay in your room. Wrap the bandage around your head again. Take to your bed and stay there, perhaps a week should do it.”