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Now she asked Rendel if she might visit her parents. He was working on a sheaf of papers and frowned absently. ‘I cannot spare the time at present. Some other day.’
‘I could go alone,’ she said quickly, too quickly, for his dark head lifted at her urgent tone and his eyes narrowed on her face.
‘Why?’ he asked sharply, and she felt her heart race at his suspicious look.
CHAPTER TWELVE
When she did not immediately respond, Rendel pressed her. ‘You have not had any bad news, have you?’
She shook her head, fighting for composure. ‘Oh, no—but I have not been to the city since our marriage and I am longing to see it all again.’
‘The city?’ he asked slowly. ‘Or Doctor Belgrave?’ And his face was suddenly planed smooth of all expression, only his grey eyes alive in the mask of his face.
Her consciousness of her secret reason for wishing to see Andrew made her blush hotly, looking away from those probing eyes.
‘Is there any reason why I should not visit my parents? Must I never go out without your company? I do not ask where you are all day. You come in and go out as you choose without question. You might extend to me the same courtesy.’
‘I think I have told you before, Madame—I have an old-fashioned view of marriage. I will not tolerate cheats.’
‘You must excuse me if I am surprised,’ she said crossly. ‘What I have heard of you does not give me that impression.’
He looked at her, eyes narrowed into mere glittering slits. ‘You have been listening to gossip, my dear. You must not believe all you hear.’
‘If I believed only half,’ she said unwisely, ‘I should still have cause for complaint.’
He stood up and looked down at her, smiling lazily. ‘Can it be that you are jealous?’
Very pink now, she put up her chin defiantly. Her heart thudded. She met the challenge of his glance head on, saying, ‘All this fuss because I asked if I might visit my parents. A dog would be less unreasonable.’
‘My lady, I am a dog. Did you not know?’
He bent and softly kissed the hollow of her throat, pushing one hand into her hair and curling a lock around his fingers in a proprietorial gesture. Involuntarily, she closed her eyes and submitted, turning into his arms, her mouth raised blindly for his kiss.
He made, however, no further objection to her visiting her family, and next day she drove to the city in her coach. Nan, when she confided her decision to ask Andrew’s advice, was hostile to the idea.
‘You should not do so. You know very well Sir Rendel will not like it. ‘
Cornelia looked obstinate. ‘Andrew has been my doctor since I was a child. How can it be wrong for me to consult him now?’ Her mouth folded in a soft smile. ‘Oh, Nan, now more than ever, I need Andrew’s support.’
Nan looked fiercely at her, but said no more, grumbling under her breath in little gasps, her head shaking in distrust.
The coach stopped outside Andrew’s house and Cornelia knocked upon the door. Ellen opened it, exclaimed joyfully and held out her arms.
When the laughing and crying was over, they went up to Andrew’s dark study, and Ellen happily opened the door. ‘You have a visitor, sir. ‘
He was mixing some physic at a bench, his hair tumbled in disorder. Turning absently, he stiffened at the sight of Cornelia. Slowly, he put down the beaker he held and came towards her.
Ellen, smiling, went out.
‘Andrew.’ Cornelia forgot everything but joy in seeing him. She flung herself, weeping, into his outstretched arms, and he held her fast against his chest, stroking her curls.
After a moment, he held her away from him. ‘So,’ he said gently, ‘you have not forgotten your old friends. Marriage becomes you. You have lost the air of delicacy which used to disturb me. You look stronger.’
She smiled at him, damp-eyed, and wiped the back of her hand across her face. Then, in her turn, she studied him, and the smile went from her face.
He was as thin as ever, his skin so pale it was almost transparent, his eyes deep-set and very bright.
‘You have been working harder than ever, I see,’ she accused him. ‘Oh, Andrew, what will come of it if you do not relax more often? No man could continue at such a pace. It will kill you.’ •
