Page 42 of A Tempest of Desire
“Very good.”
Stuart began walking, and Langdon fell into step beside him. He loved his brother and didn’t usually go about issuing threats but the thought of anyone seeing Marlowe as a source of momentary amusement made his blood boil. She was worthy of a man who appreciated every aspect of her. Hollingsworth might not be her husband, but she seemed to care for him and he for her... exceptfor the one night when he’d offered her up. That continued to vex and made no sense.
“At dinner the other night, Mother speculated this might be the Season you settle on a wife,” Stuart said quietly.
Langdon sighed. “Why are mothers always so anxious to marry off their children?”
“I think it makes them feel their children become someone else’s responsibility.”
“I’m twenty-eight. She’s no longer responsible for me.”
“She feels differently. Why else have me come check on you?”
“She’d probably feel responsible for us if we’d seen a hundred years. Perhaps it’s just the way of mothers.” He wasn’t quite certain Marlowe’s mother had done right by her. He tried not to sit in judgment, but he wondered how different her life would be if her mother had stepped up and taken care of matters instead of relying on her daughter to do so. He also understood how hard it was to let others see you bruised and broken. His family all believed him scarred but mended. However, some wounds simply wouldn’t heal.
They reached the shoreline where Stuart had moored his boat. Two men Langdon recognized as serving as footmen up at the estate were sitting on a large boulder staring out at the sea of blue. “You didn’t come alone.”
“No. Water might look calm, but I don’t quite trust it.” He grinned. “If you’d known I wouldn’t be alone with her, would you have let me take her across?”
“We’ll never know.”
“Oh, I think we very much know. How does it work when a mistress wants to be mistress to some other gent? It’s not as if she has to divorce the first. Does she just leave? Would you have to duel for her honor?”
“She’s not going to leave him.”
“Conferred with her about it already?”
He sighed deeply and with frustration. “No. And I’m not going to discuss it with you. Get in the damned boat.”
With a deep laugh, Stuart swept his arm through the air. “All right, gents, we’re headed back to Heatherwood.” It was the name of the family estate.
After everyone was situated in the boat, oars at the ready, Langdon pushed on the skiff, wading into the water until he could properly shove it and its occupants off.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Stuart yelled.
Shaking his head, Langdon waved. Then he stood there, the water swirling and eddying around his calves, and wondered how a mistressdidgo about breaking things off with her lover. He knew men who had let their mistresses go, usually by purchasing them expensive gifts, but he’d never wondered how a woman might instigate the proceedings. And would Marlowe have any interest in securing him as her protector?
On the other hand, did he want to be associated with a woman of such notoriety?
Chapter 17
When he returned to the residence, he found her in the main room, sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, and already working to mend the fabric. There was a homey feel that had never been part of this dwelling. It was a bit disconcerting, making him think that at long last he could find the peace that he’d come here seeking.
She glanced up. “Your brother is a bit of a scamp.”
“He is that.”
“And you’re wet.”
He looked down at his sodden trousers. He’d left his boots just inside the doorway. “I shoved him”—at her eyes widening, he decided an amendment was in order—“his boat into the water. I won’t be long.”
After dashing up the stairs, he was surprised to find the bed set to rights. He seldom bothered to make the bed, because he’d only unmake it later.
Nothing about the room seemed the same. The sunlight appeared brighter, coming through thewindows. He couldn’t look around without seeing her within these walls or hearing her cries of fear soon followed by shouts of pleasure.
He shrugged out of his coat, stripped off his trousers. He set them in front of the fire to dry before drawing on another pair. He followed that with a dry set of boots. His stomach rumbled. Stuart’s arrival had delayed breakfast.
He made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He smiled at the large wicker basket resting on the table, not needing to look inside to know what he’d find. He added a few things before popping back upstairs and grabbing a quilt from the cupboard.
