Page 21 of The Virtuoso
Belmont regarded Val’s naked form with frank appraisal. “My wife will want to stuff you like a goose, Windham. Have you no provisions at your campsite?”
“We eat regularly.” Val sank into the water on a heartfelt sigh. “I’m not sitting on my arse all day anymore, playing pretty tunes and idling hours away. God in heaven, was there ever a pleasure greater than a hot bath?”
“If you have to ask that, you are not right in the head, or somewhere else.”
“I’ve been accused of same.” Val closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “There is a kind of grime farm ponds do not get clean.”
“It has been at least a year since I’ve gone swimming,” Belmont replied, gathering up Val’s breeches, shirt, and socks. “Now you may soak. I’ve no doubt my wife is grilling Mrs. Fitz at some length, so take your time. By the way, you seem to be getting on with the lady well enough.”
“She is amiable,” Val pronounced from his tub. “As am I.”
“Amiable.” Belmont frowned. “Well, all right. I won’t pry, but Abby will get the details out of Mrs. Fitz, so you might want to spill anyway.”
Val frowned right back. “What I tell you will get straight back to our mutual friend Nick, who will tell my brother Westhaven, who will tell his wife, who will be interrogated by Her Grace, and so forth. You and your brother are no doubt discreet fellows who do not cut up each other’s peace. My borders are not as easily defended as yours.”
“Fair enough. So let me leave it at this: If you do want to talk, I can, contrary to your surmise, keep my mouth shut. Ellen is lovely, and had I been a different kind of widower and she a different kind of widow, she and I might have been closer friends.”
“What does that mean?” Val scowled, abruptly wishing they were having this discussion when he was dressed and not lounging naked in a tub.
“It means I would not blame either one of you for what you did in private,” Belmont said. “Neither would Abby.”
Val blinked. “My thanks.”
“I’ll see your boots cleaned and leave them at the door.”
Axel repaired to his library, there to start a letter to Nick Haddonfield, generally regarded to be Val Windham’s closest friend. And while Axel would not violate a confidence, something had to be relayed to Nick regarding his brother-in-law Darius and his friend Lord Val, if only placatory generalities. Darius had attached himself to Val at Nick’s request, after all, and this little plan to foster Day and Phillip in Windham’s camp had been Nick’s casual suggestion, as well.
Casual, indeed.
***
Ellen unpinned her hat and surveyed the gracious, airy guestroom. “You weren’t joking about a bath, were you?” Maids were trooping in, each one dumping two buckets of warm water into a large copper bathing tub.
“Travel in summer is often a dusty, uncomfortable business,” Abby Belmont said as she closed the drapes to the balcony doors. “And being around Day and Phillip can leave anybody in need of some peace and quiet. Shall I send a maid in to assist you?”
“Oh, good heavens, no.” Ellen blushed to even think of it, and Abby regarded her curiously.
“Axel told me you don’t use the title. By rights we should be ladyshipping you and so forth. Let’s get you out of that dress, and you can tell me how the boys really behaved.”
Grateful for the change in topic, Ellen pattered on cheerfully about Day and Phillip until she was soaked, shampooed, rinsed, brushed out, dried off, and dressed for luncheon.
“You didn’t love your first husband the way you love Mr. Belmont, did you?” Ellen asked before they’d left the privacy of the guest room. The question would have been unthinkable even an hour ago, but pretty, dark-haired Abby Belmont—formerly Abby Stoneleigh—had a comfortable, unpretentious air about her.
“That is a difficult question,” Abby replied slowly, “but no, I was never in love with Gerald and probably never truly loved him, though I was—however mistakenly—grateful to him. I am in love with my present husband, but even he, who loved his first wife dearly, would tell you a second marriage is not like a first.”
Ellen said nothing—the topic was one of idle curiosity only—and let Abby link their arms and lead her to the family dining room.
In the course of the meal, Ellen watched as Val consumed a tremendous quantity of good food, all the while conversing with the Belmonts about plans for his property, the boys’ upcoming matriculation, and mutual acquaintances. At the conclusion of the meal, Belmont offered Val and Ellen a tour of the property, and Abby departed on her husband’s arm to take her afternoon nap.
“May I offer you a turn through the back gardens while we wait for our host?” Val asked Ellen when the Belmonts had repaired abovestairs. “There’s plenty of shade, and I need to move lest I turn into a sculpture of ham and potatoes.”
He soon had her out the back door, her straw hat on her head. She wrapped her fingers around Val’s arm and pitched her voice conspiratorially low. “Find us some shade and a bench.”
He led her through gardens that were obviously the pride and joy of a man with a particular interest in flora, to a little gazebo under a spreading oak.
“Did we bore you at lunch with all of our talk of third parties and family ties?” he asked as he seated her inside the gazebo.
“Not at all, but you unnerved me with your familiar address.”
