“Duke, to what do we owe the honor of your visit?”
With a start, Bella stepped away from the duke to see her husband stalking into the drawing room. The expression upon his handsome face was hard indeed. He didn’t appear pleased to find Devonshire in his drawing room. Bella felt guilty even though she knew she had no reason to do so.
“Mr. Whitney,” the duke greeted, sounding as shaken as Bella felt. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. I merely called to pay my respects to Lady Bella.”
Jesse’s jaw was as rigid as his expression. “I’m sure Mrs. Whitney was pleased to see you again.”
The emphasis he placed upon her new surname was not lost upon Bella. Her husband was marking her, reminding Devonshire that she now belonged to him and always would. And he notably refrained from saying he was pleased to see the duke again. The temperature in the drawing room had become decidedly frosty. Oh dear.
“Her ladyship has been a cherished friend and correspondent to me these last few months,” the duke said, seemingly unruffled by Jesse’s menacing stance. “I sought to offer my congratulations on your marriage. I’m glad to see her well settled.”
“Yes, she’s very well settled now,” Jesse gritted.
The two men were eying one another like a pair of bears about to tear each other to pieces. Bella decided it was imperative for her to step into the fray lest it become a melee. She stepped between them with a bright smile pinned to her lips that she didn’t quite feel. “His Grace was just leaving, but it was so lovely of him to drop by, wasn’t it?”
She met her husband’s gaze, sending him a clear message with her eyes. She saw the moment he relented but knew he still wasn’t exactly delighted with her. Very likely, he’d witnessed her embrace with Devonshire, and although her feelings for the duke were purely platonic, the expression on Jesse’s face said he wasn’t convinced.
“Indeed, we appreciate the call, Your Grace,” he offered finally, his tone dismissive.
Devonshire bowed. “Take good care of her, Whitney. If you don’t, there will be repercussions.”
“I don’t take threats kindly, and I have no intention of doing anything other than taking good care of my wife, Devonshire,” Jesse returned evenly, the leash on his anger looking shorter by the minute. “If I ever hurt her, I’ll be the first to kick my own arse.”
The duke bowed again, cutting a somber, lonely figure. “Good day, Mr. Whitney, Lady Bella.”
With that, he took his leave of the drawing room. Bella was left to face her agitated husband alone. “I’m sorry, Jesse. I didn’t know he would be calling on me.”
His face remained impassive. “Forgive me if I don’t like my wife’s old suitors appearing uninvited in my drawing room.”
“He’s not an old suitor,” she denied. “He was a friend, nothing more.”
He raised a brow, looking every inch the arrogant nobleman he’d made himself. “A friend you were preparing to wed, Bella. A friend I just now saw you embracing.”
So he had seen after all. Bella’s face flushed. “It was not romantic in nature.”
“Precisely what was it, then?”
She stared, the complex emotions that had blossomed to life within her suddenly crashing over her like a waterfall. He was scarcely even a presence in her life beyond the bedchamber and the breakfast table, and yet he dared to suspect her of wrongdoing? “Why do you even care?” she demanded, unbearably frustrated with him.
“Why do I care?” His voice was cold, laced with fury. “You’re my wife, damn you, and I don’t want to come home to the Duke of Dullness attempting to make love to you.”
“He was doing no such thing.” Bella’s patience snapped. “How dare you accuse me when you’re the one who is never at home?”
He frowned. “I’m at home every day.”
“For how long?” The hurt she’d been attempting to keep tucked away at last surfaced. “A few hours in the evening? Sometimes I scarcely even get to see you at breakfast. I swear I saw more of you at Wilton House than I’ve done in all the weeks of our marriage.”
“I cannot be forever stitched to your side, Bella,” he countered, raking a hand through his hair. “Wilton House was a brief idyll away from the world, but I’ve businesses to run. I trust I didn’t mislead you in that respect. This house and all its upkeep must be bought somehow, and I’ve no ancient English estate to rely upon.”
He made her sound like a spoiled lady of privilege, something she’d taken great pride in believing she was not. “Of course I know that you must tend to your business. I well understand you have responsibilities, but you also have a responsibility to me and to Clara. I’ve grown terribly lonely.”
His eyes darkened. “Is that why you had the duke come calling?”
She hadn’t wanted to make a row of it with him, but it would appear as if she must. Feeling weary, Bella sighed. “I didn’t invite the duke here. He came of his own volition. But I was glad for the company. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve married an utter stranger. I never imagined our married life would be governed by business and absences.”
“What are you saying, Bella?” His expression was a hard mask appearing as if it were about to crack. His voice was as tight as a cinched corset. “I want to be perfectly clear.”
She paused, taking great pains to carefully phrase the tumult of emotions swirling within her. She very much did not want to hurt him, but neither could she deny the restlessness and deep unhappiness that threatened to envelop her. “You’re keeping something from me, Jesse. I know it.”
“Where the hell is all this coming from?” he asked, crossing the carpet until he stood before her. “You seemed happy enough this morning. What did that bastard say to you?”
“This has nothing to do with the duke. I’ve been feeling this way for some time, but I’ve been trying to make the best of our situation,” she admitted. “You’ve almost grown more distant since we wed. It’s simply not right between us. Surely you know it as well as I do, Jesse. For some reason, you insist on keeping yourself apart from me.”
“Like hell I do.” He raked a hand through his already-disheveled hair yet again. “I’m trying to build you the life you deserve.”
“You’re so distant. I—” she faltered, searching for the proper words. “I’ve grown most discontented. I don’t wish to feel that way any longer.”
“Ah, and there’s the crux of it.” The smile he gave her held little warmth. “Perhaps now that the adventures of courtship are over, you’ve decided you’re weary with real life. You want the excitement and romance of your books. You want your escape.”
Did she want escape? Her heart kicked into a frantic pace at the mere thought. Did she truly want to live separate lives as many of the Marlborough House set? Of course not. She loved Jesse. She only wanted him to be open with her, to hold her through the night if she asked it of him, to turn back into the devoted lover he’d been. Although she had known marriage would be different than courtship, somehow the intimacy they’d shared during that time had dissipated. She wanted to regain what they’d lost.
He tipped up her chin, his touch firm, almost punishing. “Do you know what I think, my dear?”
She swallowed, barely able to shake her head. She was trapped in the stormy depths of his eyes. Never had she seen her husband this angered, his entire being nearly vibrating with fury. She knew a moment of fear, not of his physical strength but of what her words could do to them. Once spoken, they couldn’t be taken back. She didn’t want to damage their love. She couldn’t bear to lose him.
“I think that for all you raged at me about our age difference, you are, in the end, just a spoiled girl. You wanted something you couldn’t have, and now that you’ve gotten it, you don’t want it,” he accused, sounding bitter.
“That’s not true,” she denied, anger kicking back up within her. How dare he call her a spoiled girl? Before she could rethink the wisdom of what she was about to say, she plowed onward, seeking to harm him as he ha
d wounded her. “Everything changed when you left me. Maybe you should not have come back. I begin to fear I would have been happier with the duke.”
He released her, visibly recoiling from the shock of her words. “If that is how you feel, perhaps you should take him as a lover.”
“Maybe I shall. It certainly seems as if you cannot stand the sight of me,” she tossed back at him in anger. “You can’t even remain in the same chamber as I for longer than an hour.”
The moment the words left her lips, she wished she could recall them. Of course she didn’t mean them, not one whit. But he had pushed her to the cliffs of her patience and then she’d fallen over the edge. How easy it could be to wound the people one loved the most. Love should have been easy, but instead it was proving the most difficult part of her life. Still, she knew it could also be the most rewarding.
“You’ll do no such thing.” He caught her elbows in his grasp and pulled her into his chest. “You’re my wife, damn you.”
“Then why are you so insistent upon pushing me away?” she demanded, nearing desperation.
“You’re doing the pushing, Bella, not I.”
She was determined to pursue her course now that the die was cast. “Where do you go when you leave my bed?”
He stilled, seemingly startled by her question. “To my chamber. I’ve already told you.”
“That’s a lie,” she countered. “I’ve checked. You’re never there.”
“Sometimes I have a brandy and soda-water before bed,” he said, but there was an air of dishonesty to his explanation.
Suddenly, it occurred to her that he’d been doing an excellent job of avoiding her since their marriage had begun. Why? Was he hiding something far more sinister than old secrets? She searched his face for some hint of the truth. Dear heavens, she couldn’t bear it if everything she’d held true was actually a lie.
“Do you have a paramour?” she asked, afraid to ask but afraid not to.
“Jesus. Of course not, Bella. What do you take me for?”
“I’m sorry,” she hastened to say, guilt lacing through her for even doubting him for a moment.
Suddenly, his gaze strayed to a point over her shoulder. Heart in her slippers, she turned to find Clara hovering on the threshold. Her face was pinched, and Bella knew she’d been listening to their row for far longer than she should’ve been. Blessed angels, the last thing she needed was her stepdaughter as an audience to her folly.
“Clara,” she managed to say in a cheerful voice even if she couldn’t quite shake the tremor in her voice. “Please do come in.”
“I finished my lessons early,” the girl murmured.
“How wonderful.” Bella pasted a smile to her lips that she didn’t feel. “You are just in time for tea. I believe your father will be joining us. Won’t you, Jesse?”
He shook his head, looking lost, his expression tighter than ever. “I’m afraid I can’t stay. I’ve business to attend to.”
Business once more. She stiffened. “I see. Then it shall be only Clara and I for tea.”
Again. The unspoken word lay heavy between them. Jesse caught her gaze, seemingly torn, before he bowed and left the room. She wished she hadn’t accused him of having a mistress. She knew very well he was bound to her alone. But even so, their ship couldn’t sail in two different directions, she thought grimly as she watched him go. There could only be one captain, one course. Something would have to give, and she certainly hoped it wouldn’t be their hull.
Bella sipped her tea in Lady Stokey’s drawing room. It was a rare respite from the tedium of her days spent overseeing finishing lessons for Clara and approving menus with Mrs. Beeton. She’d grown quite close to Tia, as she was more familiarly known to her intimate circle, and she was grateful for her friendship now more than ever. With her sister-in-law Cleo still in the countryside and no other close friends, Tia had become her sole confidante.
“Your stepdaughter is rather a spitfire,” Tia said, taking a dainty sip of her tea.
“I should have warned you.” Bella smiled, replacing her cup in its saucer with a delicate rattle. “She can be a handful at times, but believe it or not, her demeanor has greatly improved since our first meeting.”
“I shudder to think what she was like then,” Tia quipped. “But I do like the girl. She reminds me of myself when I was her age.” She paused, considering Bella. “You’re looking rather Friday-faced today. Why?”
Bella bit her lip. She hadn’t realized she was that obvious. More than a sennight had passed since her angry confrontation with Jesse in the drawing room, and he hadn’t come to her in the evening. Not even once. If she’d felt a chasm between them before, there was now an entire river valley. Perhaps even a vast ocean. She knew she was partly to blame for it, but she wasn’t willing to claim complete responsibility.
“I had a row with my husband.” She took another sip of her tea. “He saw the Duke of Devonshire in the drawing room, and I’m afraid we had an awful exchange.”
“The Duke of Dullness?” Tia wrinkled her nose in obvious distaste. “Why on earth should he be jealous of such a boring fellow? I don’t suppose he was doing anything more wicked than regaling you with tales about the country and such drivel.”
Bella couldn’t help but laugh at her friend’s dismissal of the duke. Apparently, Jesse wasn’t the only one who had applied the sobriquet to Devonshire. “In his defense, he’s an avid reader. He’s a bit shy, but when you earn his confidence, he’s a lovely man. We enjoyed discussing the novels we’ve read with one another.”
“Drivel, just as I said.” Tia sniffed. “It isn’t as if he was undoing your bodice in the drawing room. Indeed, I daresay he wouldn’t even know how to find the fastenings on a woman’s bodice. What caused the row?”
Bella flushed at Tia’s frank language. “The duke and I were saying goodbye, and I embraced him.”
“Oh dear. I begin to see. I thought perhaps you were going to say Mr. Whitney had received the bills for Clara’s dresses and that was the cause.”
“Hardly that.” Bella grimaced. “It was impulsive and foolish of me to embrace the duke, and it meant nothing.”
“But not to your husband,” Tia wisely guessed. “I think I understand. Men are horridly jealous creatures at heart. I hope you assured him nothing untoward had occurred?”
“Of course I did. But to make matters worse, Mr. Whitney has been very distant since our marriage. I see precious little of him, and I’m afraid I didn’t react well to his anger. I accused him of being inattentive, and I’m sure I insulted him grievously.”
“Never fear, my dear.” Tia leaned forward to give her hand a comforting pat. “Marriage is fraught with misunderstandings and rows. I’m certain I fought nearly every day with Lord Stokey. In my defense, he was an utter blighter, of course. But in the end, all shall wash out for you. I’m certain of it.”
Bella wished she shared her friend’s confidence. “I’ve never had a row with him like this before.”
“Pish.” Tia waved a dismissive hand. “Yours is a love match, yes?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. It was the only fact she knew for certain.
“Then you haven’t a thing to worry about, my dear, as long as you never forget what drew you together in the first place. But pray don’t tarry. Life can be over quite abruptly. If I had known Lord Stokey was about to meet his end, I would have had no shortage of things to say to him.” She frowned, seemingly mired in a long-ago place deep within her thoughts. “I daresay not all of them would have been nice.”
“I’ve done my best to speak plainly with my husband, but I’m afraid I’m a failure as a wife. I don’t know what to say or do,” she admitted, feeling rather small in that moment.
“No one does, my dear.” Tia flashed her a supportive smile. “We all merely act as if we do.”
Bella had never considered that, and it imbued a fragile sense of possibility in her. “But I’m sure he could have found a better wife than I
.”
“And I’m equally certain that he could not have, for you’re obviously the perfect wife for him. I can clearly see the love you feel for him on your face whenever you mention his name.” She tilted her head, considering Bella. “I envy you, Lady Bella. Love is dear but worth the price.”
Bella knew her friend was right. Love was indeed worth the price. At least, that was what she’d always believed. She’d loved Jesse for years from afar, and now that he was hers, she couldn’t afford to allow him to slip through her grasp.
“Do you think the price is ever too dear?” she asked, wondering despite herself.
“The price for a multitude of things is too dear, Bella.” Tia returned her teacup to its saucer with a clatter. “But never love, for that is a rare animal indeed.”
Bella stood at the threshold of the door joining her chamber to Jesse’s. He hadn’t come to her tonight, and he’d been polite but distant at dinner. She’d lain in bed for some time, holding her breath, hoping to hear his familiar footfalls approaching her bed. Instead, there had only been silence and the same aching loneliness that had been building within her for weeks.
It seemed that if she wanted their lives to return to normal, it would be up to her. Her friend’s suggestion was vivid in her thoughts. She was determined to put an end to their stalemate. Mind made up, she turned the knob and pushed her way inside. She felt her way across the carpet until she reached the gas lamps. As the light flared to life, she discovered that, once more, his chamber was completely empty.
Her heart felt as if it had plummeted to her toes. Where had he gone again? His bed was neatly pressed, the coverlet undisturbed. She was beginning to think her husband was a ghost. Until she heard it, a low, keening cry from somewhere down the hall.
Worried, she secured her dressing gown at her waist, took up a candle, and stepped out into the hall, trying to determine the direction of the sound. The cry came again. She moved along the corridor in the darkness, following the unmistakable sound of someone hollering as if the hounds of hell were upon his heels. Unless she was wrong, the voice belonged to Jesse.
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