Page 38 of A Devilish Element
While Linfield’s argument was surprisingly logical, Jem couldn’t quite bring himself to accept it as a true accounting of the matter. That fire had burned too fierce and fast to be anything but deliberate, and the maid had nothing to gain from hurting her mistress, unlike Linfield, who would be only too delighted to mourn the loss of his wife.
“I shall check on my lady’s welfare again in a little while,” Linfield announced. He forced a smile. “There, will that appease you? I shall take her flowers and candied almonds and play the dutiful husband. I will even listen attentively to whatever raving nonsense she wishes to impart about the phantasms that haunt this old place.”
“She saw something yestereve.”
“Aye, likely her own shadow. I understand it is quite the fashion, but I confess I have no patience for the timidity and sensitive natures of young ladies. They are so squeamish and ridiculous.”
“That is rather a generalisation, my lord.”
“Is it? Is it? Name one woman who is not prone to such fits of blancmange.”
“Eliza.” Her name burst from his mouth before he had time to think over the wisdom of it.
“Eliza?” Linfield’s brows instantly relocated to halfway up his forehead.
“Miss Wakefield.” Jem coughed.
“Yes, I’m aware of to whom you refer. What concerns me is how intimate the two of you appear to be.” He silenced Jem before he could make any sort of explanation. “Please, I need no further reminders of your previous meeting. What alarms me is that after such a short acquaintance you are on such close terms. Particularly when one suspects that closeness leans to a deeper sort of intimacy than that which you currently afford me. Me.” He sidled closer, raising a hand to cradle the side of Jem’s face. “The man you loved with considerable fervour until a few weeks ago.”
“Loved?” It was unwise, but he couldn’t help the expulsion. “It was only ever a physical arrangement. Let us not pretend otherwise.”
“You wound me,” Linfield theatrically clasped a hand to his chest.
Jem rolled his eyes. “Linfield, please. We have already been over this. You are a married man, and no longer free to—”
“Bugger my fellow man? Jem, dear, has it really escaped your attention that that was never legal?”
“I am fully—”
“Hence a marriage oath hardly seems to matter, particularly as we both know this marriage was forced on me.”
“That is wholly irrelevant.”
“I need your aid more than ever, Jamie. However, it is plain to see why you’re so reluctant to give it. ’Tis more than pretty words you’ve exchanged with Miss Wakefield, is it not? Or do you expect me to believe the bruise I spy beneath your collar the result of a kiss from one of Bell’s leeches?”
He stupidly gave himself away by raising a hand to touch the spot where Eliza had earlier concentrated such attention. Linfield burned him with his gaze.
“Good God, man, look at the state of you. Perhaps it has escaped your notice that there are char marks on your cuffs, not to mention a hole burned through the shoulder of your coat.” Such damage had in fact escaped Jem’s notice, but he was more flummoxed by Linfield’s pointing it out at this juncture when he’d expected an artillery charge over his connection with Eliza.
Linfield stuck his finger through the hole he’d just pointed out. “You’re a shambolic disgrace, Mr Whistler. I simply cannot have you in my presence in such a state. You had best shed this ignominious garment immediately.”
When Jem didn’t leap into action, Linfield added an expectant, “Well?”
Jem gaped at him.
“Off. Off. Take it off.” He near wrenched the coat from Jem’s back. “In fact, the waistcoat too, and the shirt. The whole lot needs to be removed. Your whole wardrobe reeks of smoke and ashes. I will not have you in my presence stinking like a bonfire.” Jem stood bewildered, hands upon his buttons, as Linfield rung for a servant. The more buxom of the two maids appeared, and so quickly that she must have been right outside with her ear to the door.
“Me lord?” She dropped into an idle and very insincere sort of curtsy.
Linfield didn’t seem to notice.
“Have a bath drawn for Mr Whistler at once.”
“Ah bath! T’ be taken t’ ’is room!”
Jem swore she was calculating exactly how many trips from the kitchen to his chamber up three flights of stairs that would take, and the vexatious puckering of her features told him she didn’t care for the tally.
Linfield tapped his index finger to his lips, oblivious to her lack of obsequiousness. “Heavens, no. There isn’t space. Before the fireplace in mine, that’s the thing. You’ll be more than comfortable there.”
