Lightning Unbound: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 1 Page 5

  They took the first step two days later, when Faith’s first gowns arrived. Their sumptuousness took her by surprise. While simple, they were beautifully constructed and fit her perfectly—skin-tight bodices, skirts full and swirling over the small, fashionable side hoops. She stood in front of the large mirror in her room and stared. She had never owned anything so fine before. Her husband hadn’t stinted in providing adequate clothing for her, but nothing so fashionable, nothing as fine as this. Guilt gripped her. She could never pay them back for this generosity. They were very kind to her, more than kind, but what did they want in exchange? She could deny them nothing now. She couldn’t afford to.

  If Lord Ellesmere asked her to be his mistress, she would. Over the last week Faith grew aware that he treated her in an intimate way he rarely used with anyone else. He tended to keep people at a distance—servants, his father, even his sister—but he was unfailingly kind to her. He answered all her questions, never turned her away, talked to her with kindness and consideration. Faith could no longer deny that she wanted him, welcoming his presence warmly, allowing him small familiarities she’d find uncomfortable in anyone else. If he wanted her, he could have her.

  She turned before the glass, trying to see what he saw in her, what he wanted. She had no influence, no money, nothing she could bring to a dynastic marriage, so it must be her he wanted. It was flattering, if it was true, if it wasn’t her imagination. She pulled a face at herself and turned away. Foolish, foolish woman, to wish for what she couldn’t have. Lord Ellesmere was handsome, wealthy and eminently eligible. He was also kind to her. She was an idiot to imagine anything else.

  Smiling at the maid, Faith picked up her fan and left the room, enjoying the soft shush of her skirts as she descended the stairs and entered the drawing room. Lady Deborah swept forward and took her hands. “You look delightfully, my dear. That shade of rose pink suits you to perfection.”

  Faith stared at George in astonishment. He looked magnificent. He was dressed for socializing in the highest circles, his boyish face brighter and more alert than she had seen it for a very long time, if ever. He grinned. “I look good, don’t I, Faith?”

  She swallowed. “You look wonderful, George. Perfect.” She let her gaze drift to the man standing behind him. “Thank you, James.”

  The servant bowed. “It was a pleasure, my lady.”

  A low voice came from beside her. “You look well, Fordhouse. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight.”

  She turned her head to find Lord Ellesmere standing disconcertingly close to her. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. She’d not noticed that until now. “He’s never been to the theatre before,” she said.

  Faith’s smile was genuine and unbidden. “Have you?”

  “A few times. My husband hired a box.” She bit her lip. “He said he wanted to show off his young bride.” She appreciated his need to display her, but she hadn’t liked it.

  “He was proud of you. I can understand that.” His voice purred over her, and she felt like basking, as she never had for her late husband. He gaze traversed her body, caressing her skin with his eyes. She moved a little closer.

  Deborah cleared her throat, and the spell was broken. Startled, Faith stepped back and took his proffered arm in the approved manner. When she passed him, she saw her host, the duke, eye her in a speculative way she had seen before. In the eyes of her father. She shuddered and moved closer to Lord Ellesmere. Then a strange thing happened. She heard his voice, but in her mind. It’s all right, he said. I’ll take care of you.

  Knowing her ears had not processed the voice, Faith stopped dead and swung around to face him. He met her gaze, puzzlement in his own. “Is something wrong, ma’am?”

  She stared uncertainly at his face. “N-no. I thought I heard something.”

  He gently guided her towards the dining room. “Perhaps it was Stretton. He’s still abed.”

  Instantly she felt guilty. She had been so concerned with her affairs and with George’s she had almost forgotten the poor man who had lain next to her brother in that dreadful place. “He’s not mad anymore, he’s exhausted. His man arrived the day after we took him in, and he knows what to do. He seems very competent.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” They had reached the dining room. Lord Ellesmere helped her to a seat and took his own next to her. “He was brought in raving the night before you arrived at Bedlam. I don’t think it was entirely due to drink.”

  Lord Ellesmere nodded. “I believe that too, but I don’t know what is wrong with him. It seems I’ve known him forever, although in fact it isn’t very long at all since I first made his acquaintance. Have you ever known anyone else like that?”

  “No.” She had always been alone.

  Lord Ellesmere kept her gaze for a moment, but he said nothing, eventually turning to his meal.

  Faith enjoyed the meal much more than she had ever enjoyed one before. Ellesmere helped her to the dishes she required and engaged her in steady but undemanding conversation. He encouraged her to talk about the art she enjoyed, the few pleasures she could remember. Across the table, her brother was making a good, if messy, meal, helped by the manservant James, who did not seem at all perturbed by Lord Fordhouse’s table manners. Her brother had always been clumsy, but his overlarge tongue made it difficult for him to eat neatly. The only person who appeared in the least put out by him was the Duke of Boscobel, who said nothing, but cast several glowering looks in the direction of his young guest. Faith knew George had seen the duke’s disapprobation when he became even clumsier. There was little she could do. It hurt her that George knew and felt his inadequacies so much. Why could people not accept him as he was?

  After the meal they didn’t tarry over tea, but climbed into the coach which took them to Covent Garden for the play.

  Lord Ellesmere never left Faith’s side. He attended to her needs, treating her like a queen. It was wonderful. He took her cloak from her shoulders with his own hands, made sure she was comfortable. It wasn’t until Faith saw the curious stares turned in their direction that she felt in the least uncomfortable. During the first interval, when Ellesmere had left them to pay a brief visit to a friend in another box, Lady Deborah enlightened Faith. “He likes you, my dear, and it isn’t usual for him to show it in public.”

  Faith stared at Lady Deborah, her eyes wide. “I like him too. Will there be gossip?”

  Deborah grinned. “There’s bound to be. Ladies have tried to fix his interest since he first came of age.”

  Faith wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I don’t want to cause gossip.”

  Deborah’s grin widened. “Yes, you do. You want everyone to notice you and your brother, to see that you are both perfectly normal, acceptable members of society. I presume that is why Gerard is paying you so much attention. It will increase the gossip and the speculation. He won’t do anything to compromise you, you must know that, but the word will be all around London by morning that Lord Ellesmere is taking an interest, at last.” She sighed. “Of course, that means the others will increase their attentions to him.”

  “Such a shame,” came an amused voice behind them. Deborah drew back to allow her brother to reclaim his place. He sat down and took a glass of wine from the tray offered him by a footman. He smiled at Faith. “It’s probably time I took more of an interest in society.”

  Faith smiled at him, careful to show none of her hurt. She had thought he was pleased to be with her, happy in her company, but according to Lady Deborah it was all an act, all part of the pre-arranged plan.

  Faith set her mind to enjoy the evening. Although she was nervous—not unusual for a woman who had previously spent her life in relative seclusion—this was so new, so exciting she would have to be a saint not to enjoy it. It might not be for long, but it was good while it lasted.

  The play was a Shakespeare comedy, Twelfth Night. Although she couldn’t give it her full attention, Faith enjoyed it. She knew it well enough to fill in the gaps whe
n her attention wandered. At one point, when she smiled at a jest that was covered with audience discussion, Lord Ellesmere moved closer to her to murmur, “You have very good hearing.”

  She turned and smiled at him. His face was dizzyingly close and for a moment she lost her powers of speech. “I know the play,” she managed eventually.

  “Amateur dramatics?” He showed no desire to move back, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted him to. She didn’t feel crowded, but cherished. A strange feeling from a man she didn’t know very well, a man who could have no intention of being more than a temporary friend to her, but she was aware of it, and revelled in it. No one had shown her any degree of protectiveness before. She had always been the protector.

  “I spent much of my time when I was younger hiding in the library, reading.”

  A look of concern crossed his face. She forced a smile. “I managed. My father never considered education important for me, although I was well trained in the feminine arts.” She paused when she remembered the deportment lessons, the language of the fan and the meticulous instructions on flirting and attracting a man. “My governess was—unusual.”

  He leaned back at last. Faith glanced around the crowded theatre only to discover most of the populace watching her discuss Shakespeare with Lord Ellesmere. Her flush filled her cheeks with uncomfortable warmth.

  “You’ll grow accustomed to it.” The calm reassurance went a long way to helping Faith regain her equilibrium. “What did your governess convey to you?”

  “Most of her lessons were with one aim in mind—how to attract a man. Not how to keep him, but how to draw him to my side.” She deployed her fan, covering her warm cheeks from the stares of strangers.

  “I’ve noticed. But you preferred to read?” Amusement tinged his voice.

  “Yes.” She flicked her fan shut. “I found the lessons uncomfortable and intrusive. I could not refuse or he would use George as my whipping boy, so I did my best. However, I never believed that was the way to a happy future.”

  “You’re probably right. Most men know when a female is using her arts on them. Most look for more in a wife, but it’s enough to dazzle some.”

  Faith watched Viola, a winsome blonde in breeches far too tight, enchanting Olivia. “Sir, I was trained for a role I felt uncomfortable fulfilling. I never used the tricks on my husband. He disliked them as much as I did.”

  “It sounds as if you had a lucky escape with your first marriage.”

  “My first marriage, my lord?” She turned to stare at him, allowing her mouth to curl in a smile. “You make it sound as if my second marriage is inevitable.”

  Perhaps it is. She heard the words, but his lips did not move.

  Confused by the sound of his voice in her mind, she tried to answer him. It won’t happen.

  He deliberately looked away on the pretence of having his glass refilled.

  Faith stared, unseeing, at the stage. He felt it too. He had heard her. How could that possibly happen? Were they so attuned they could hear each other’s thoughts, or was it just her imagination? The shock reverberated through her body, and it took her some time to bring her whirling thoughts back to a calm assessment.

  She liked him and she found him easy to talk to. That was all. She admitted the physical attraction too. It was the links of friendship coupled with wishful thinking, she was sure of it.

  Just as Faith had finally decided on the practical solution, she heard his voice again. Can you hear me?

  Yes. She breathed the word into her mind, but sat rigidly staring at the stage, not attempting to turn to him.

  We have to talk about this.

  We are talking.

  Not like this. Has this happened to you before?

  She gave a tiny shake of her head. No.

  I can sometimes talk to my sister. Am I imagining this?

  Faith shook her head again. Not unless it’s a mutual imagination.

  Then something happened that shook her through. Another voice, one that sounded vaguely familiar, but one she couldn’t place, a masculine voice echoed in her mind. Welcome.

  Abruptly Lord Ellesmere stood. She glanced at him to meet his shocked gaze, but she knew he had cut off the communication of their minds. She concentrated, imagined a heavy curtain, like the one pulling back from the stage below, drawing closed, no cracks of light showing. She hoped it would work. It was all she could think of doing. Just before the curtains in her mind swung together, she heard that voice again, the one she couldn’t place. Excellent. But a door is better.

  She looked to where Lord Ellesmere was leaving the box. His hand shook when he put it on the gleaming brass doorknob and her hands, clasped tightly over the closed fan in her lap, were trembling.

  Faith kept her mental curtains closed, unable to think, unable to reason her way out of this.

  Chapter Five

  Gerard woke Faith with a mental request. Can you meet me in the garden?

  Yes. In about twenty minutes.

  In the summerhouse at the end of the garden, Gerard leaned back against the hard wall and closed his eyes. He could see her in his mind’s eye, every luscious curve. In his imagination he watched her cross to the clothes press, her light nightgown drifting over her delectable body, showing a glimmer of warm flesh.

  Gerard opened his eyes and stared at the wall opposite, fighting for control. It would never happen. He could only yearn for what he could never have. Gerard had realized a long time ago that the continuation of the title in the direct line was far more important to his father than any mere person. What he wanted, the agony he had gone through, would go through, was of no importance to his surviving parent.

  The sound of feet tapping on the path alerted him to her approach. Closing his eyes again, he sent her an image of his whereabouts. This was easy, even easier than with Deborah. The footsteps paused, then he heard the scrape of her heel when she turned and headed for the summerhouse.

  In a moment she arrived, neatly attired, her hair drawn into a soft knot at her nape, a thick shawl thrown over her loose gown to protect her against the early morning chill. Her figure was neat, even without stays. He’d seen the sweet curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. His mouth went dry. He swallowed.

  “Good morning, sir,” she said brightly. Too brightly.

  He got to his feet. “Good morning. Won’t you sit down?” He was surprised to hear his voice, low and steady, seemingly in control.

  She smiled and took a seat. He sat next to her, on a long bench. There were no cushions. The frosty atmosphere would have destroyed them in no time, but later in the summer the place would be decked out with drapery and cushions. Gerard preferred it austere and undecorated. It suited his mood.

  “You slept well?”

  She nodded, meeting his gaze steadily. “I didn’t expect to, after the shock I received last night.”

  “Does it frighten you? Should I stop?”

  Slowly she shook her head, and let her gaze drift away from him. “I don’t know what it is, and I know it should frighten me, but it doesn’t.”

  “Has it happened before?”

  Again she shook her head. “Never.”

  “Deborah and I thought it happened because we are siblings. We’ve always done it, so it seemed natural to us. Now it’s happened with you.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. It just is. I was astounded to discover I could communicate with someone other than my sister. It happened for the first time in Bedlam, but I wanted to know you better before I tried it again.” He paused, studying her serious, uptilted face. If he could choose anyone, he would choose her. It took all his will not to lean forward and touch his mouth to hers. Forever forbidden. Not to be thought of. Except that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. “I have no idea why it happens or where the gift comes from. I can help you to control it a little.”

  “Can you? I learned to close it off last night. Is there more?”

  “Yes.” He found himse
lf reluctant to tell her. Long ago Deborah and he had agreed not to tell his father anything of their gift. And he had become accustomed to keeping the secret. “We can sometimes force someone else to hear us or at least influence their thinking. We discovered that purely by accident, when I decided I didn’t like cabbage.” He grinned. “The maid discovered a disinclination to serve it in the nursery. They don’t know you’re doing this, it seems as if their minds are suggesting it to themselves.” He heard her sharp intake of breath as she began to understand the implications of what he was saying. “We prefer not to use that part of our talent. It takes practice and effort, and when it is against the wishes of the person, it doesn’t usually work. We’re always afraid someone will find us out.”

  “I didn’t believe it at first. I’m not sure I believe it now.”

  He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and took her hand, as he had the other day. She was cold, her hands freezing. “You should have put your gloves on.”

  “What?” Her attention went to her hands. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You need looking after,” he said without thinking. “I’ll wager all your thoughts are for your brother. Are you wondering how you can use this gift to help him?”

  She gave a small nod. “I have to. He needs me.”

  “Do you never think of yourself?”

  “Rarely.”

  He pressed her hand. It felt right, good. Gerard pulled his mind away to what he should not be thinking. “Perhaps it’s time you did. If we can help you secure your brother’s future you could take your rightful place in society.”

  She gave a scornful laugh, her lip twisting at one corner. “I did that once. I didn’t find it rewarding.”

  “Why not?” He really must stop asking these personal questions. However, she didn’t seem averse to answering him.