Page 39 of A Devilish Element
“A hip bath in mine would be—”
“Nonsense,” Linfield countermanded his attempt to spare the girl’s back. “See to it immediately, girl.”
“Right away, me lord.” She stomped away heavy on her feet and muttering things about her employer that Jem was certain were distinctly rude.
“What the devil are you about?” Jem muttered as soon as the recalcitrant maid was out of earshot. He did not expect or require an answer; Linfield’s intent was all too obvious.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to a spot just below Jem’s earlobe.
“Cleanliness is next to godliness.” Linfield smiled sweetly. “And you smell dreadful. Not to mention you also seem to have smudges of soot in all sorts of strange places.” He made a point of tracing a few of them. “Shall we go up now?”
One hand on Jem’s back, Linfield endeavoured to steer him towards the door. “Come now, you’re not going to protest taking a bath like some schoolboy scapegrace?”
“You need hardly escort me.”
“Oh, I think I must,” Linfield insisted. “If you will not satisfy me, Jem Whistler, then you can at least indulge me in this. We will go to my room, you will bathe, and I… I will watch. It will be desperately chaste and altogether civilised. Well, perhaps not entirely chaste… or civilised, but it will be within the bounds of your preposterous terms. Though do not think for a moment that I’ve forgotten our proposed rendezvous in the third-floor corridor just because it’s had to be delayed.”
Truly, Jem could not think of a man more self-absorbed.
“Your wife is comatose in bed having almost been consumed by fire. How can you even…? You might at least feign some regard for her welfare.”
“Do be a darling, and quit with your admonishments. Truly, Jem, do you wish me to fake affection where there is none? It’s a blessed relief not to have to spend my every waking thought wondering how I shall ever get through the ordeal of fulfilling the marriage contract. Of course, I am glad my wife emerged unscathed from this morning’s dramatics, but I feel no more affection for her than before. How many times must I state it for you? I find in her nothing that beguiles, charms, or excites my person, nor am I likely to grow into such feelings. Don’t mistake me, she is hardly unique amongst her sex in that regard. The feminine form has never been one that captivated my attentions. Some fellows like all that flummery, the softness, the abundance.” He made a crude visualisation of breasts to illustrate his point. “Others, however, like you, like myself, are entranced by other qualities. The sort of qualities that only another fellow possesses.”
They were not quite so alike as Linfield supposed. “Linfield,” he enunciated with deliberate care. “The maid did not start that fire. I am telling you this as a man of science, a man of logic. Someone attacked Lady Linfield deliberately, and the way you are behaving right now rather points at it being you.”
Linfield smacked him hard across the face. “How dare you?”
Jem lifted a hand to his stinging cheek. “What other conclusion would you have me reach. You are at pains to point out how little she pleases you, and how crippled you are by her existence. Why wouldn’t I think—”
Linfield grabbed Jem’s arm and twisted it painfully into the small of his back. “Watch your tongue, tutor, else you might give me even greater cause to loosen mine. I can ruin your Miss Wakefield with a mere suggestion of impropriety with a fellow guest. Cluett may be a merciless tin-kettle, but his mother has a multitude of talents, one of which is as society’s premier tell-tale-tit.”
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Jem
Jem stood by the linen draped tub, stripped of everything but his breeches and the vaguest smidgen of his dignity. That was about to be snatched away. Linfield was livid, or at least playacting the part. He’d dragged Jem up to his chamber before howling at the servants to get out. The last oversized pitcher of hot water still stood three quarter’s full beside him to his right.
“Get in,” Linfield barked. Lazy coils of steam rose off the water. It struck Jem that it was six and two threes whether Linfield intended to drown him or coerce him into a coupling. Mayhap he was contemplating both. Either way, he had little choice other than to obey. Threats to himself, he could stomach. Even a long march to the nearest village through the fog might be endured, but he would not have Eliza suffer for his actions.
“I said get in.”
There were two ways he could approach this; with a sullen, mechanical stiffness that made plain his indignation, or as if it were simply an ordinary bath, the purpose of which was only to rid himself of the stink of wood smoke and ashes. The former was more likely to spark the spontaneous ignition of the air between them, whereas the latter would require a masterful piece of acting.
“You’ll bathe, damn you, James.”
James! He was only ever that when he was in trouble, or Linfield meant to compel him in some way.
Capitulating with a sigh, Jem dropped his breeches, then himself into the steel tub. Maybe he was over trusting, but he submerged himself entirely and let the water cocoon him. Sadly, it didn’t whisper any insights into his lugholes. When he propelled himself into a seated position again, he found Linfield had taken a perch on the foot of the bed between the curtain swags.
Jem set to with the soap.
Linfield opened his mouth one or two times, without getting as far as speech, but eventually spat out, “I’m not trying to murder my wife. I’m doing my best to fulfil a duty I never asked for and have had thrust upon me. I can’t believe you think me that villainous. Nor am I trying to have her declared mad, though considering all her prattling about spectres, one might reasonably assume her to be.”
For a wonder, the man managed to sound genuine, if a touch irascible. The earl’s plans for his son’s future were certainly not being borne with ease, and grace had never got a look in. Linfield was far too used to being the centre of his own world, with those around him all dancing to his tune. It was hardly surprising that being compelled was making him volatile.
“I know she’s not what you wanted,” he replied, attempting a temperate tone. “And I appreciate how difficult things are.”
Linfield considered this with his head tilted almost to his shoulder, and his lips tightly pursed. “There wouldn’t be any point in doing away with her, anyway. Papa would only procure another chit. He’s positively set on me procreating. ‘Can’t have the line diverted off to some lesser branch,’” he mimicked. “I mean God forbid that one of my cousins had to inherit.”
