Nodding, Gwen crossed her arms over her chest. “You should have told us, me and your wife – especially your wife. What possessed you, Tristan?”
“I thought I had more time,” he silently cursed himself as he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over his sister’s shoulders, lest she become chilled. “I was so preoccupied with obtaining Victoria by all means necessary and averting scandal that I failed to consider that she would discover anything on this particular evening.”
“Your wife isn’t a possession to ‘obtain,’” Gwen chastised him with her icy tone. “Despite what our laws say to the contrary.”
“You sound like Victoria,” he mused – two peas in a pod, his sister and his wife. For the first time in a very long time, he opened his heart to his twin. “I needed her, Gwen. How could I not? Victoria is intelligent, vivacious, kind, witty, brave and beautiful. She is effervescent, illuminating even the dullest of rooms by her very presence.”
Tristan raked his hands through his hair. “She is also incredibly stubborn. Hell, she infuriates me one moment and leaves me desperate for her the next. It became obvious to me quite early on that I couldn’t allow her not to marry me – I don’t give a damn how antiquated that may sound. Such was my reality at the time.”
Gwen leaned against the stone balustrade next to him, studying his profile. “You love her. I know it and so do you. Isn’t it time you made the admission, at least to yourself?”
“It is a great deal more complicated than that,” Tristan met her intense stare.
“You don’t want to be vulnerable. I understand.”
Her empathy was worse than her anger in his opinion. He didn’t want his sister’s compassion. Her next question sliced him through to his core. “Why did Lachlan beat you?”
As if sensing his shock, Gwen explained, “Your wife confided in me about your scars.”
“Victoria shouldn’t have done so,” Tristan tried to keep his tone in check since this was a topic he never wished to discuss with his sister.
“Why?” she paused for a long moment. When he failed to respond, Gwen grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. “Was it because of me? Did he discover you had been tutoring me?”
Tristan chucked his sister on her chin, offering her a reassuring grin. “I will never burden you with this, Gwen.”
“I know you well enough to realize that your attempt at dissuading me was a confirmation,” Gwen said, her tone more gentle than her words. “An explanation is the least I deserve.”
Turning his attention to the gas lamps illuminating the garden below in shadows, Tristan admitted at last what he never wanted his sister to know. “Yes, Lachlan discovered I was secretly tutoring you. He insisted I stop, however, I refused. With each of our sessions, I received a lashing.”
His twin’s sharp intake of breath relayed her horror. “I always knew you took great risks in tutoring me. Had I known what he was doing to you—”
“That is why I never told you.” He had hidden the repulsive truth for so long, to spare his sister from pain, and yet it still managed to reveal itself. The knowledge made his stomach churn. “How much did that viper tell Victoria?”
“We overheard Lady Markham holding court in the powder room. Discussing how your reputation is damaged to the point that your career is in jeopardy.”
Tristan waited for his sister to continue, his muscles taut.
“Victoria knows that the majority of the ton feels that you married her to save your reputation. Lady Markham called Victoria a ‘naïve, unsuspecting girl,’ which wounded your wife more than I ever thought possible. Until Lady Markham revealed that the ton pities her because of your illegitimate child, consummated with a Madame. A child you refuse to claim as your own.”
“Damn it to bloody hell,” Tristan pounded his fist against the stone balustrade. He wanted to kill the damned old bat who took great pains in gossiping at Victoria’s expense.
Gwen grabbed his arm, leading Tristan to the tall shrubs of the gardens. “No more lying to me, do you understand? I want the truth and I want it now.”
They reached a bench within the garden maze, the tall hedges buffering them from outsiders, when Gwen cornered him. “None of this makes sense, Tristan. A man who would take beating upon beating as opposed to a simple decision to stop educating his sister wouldn’t shun his own child. Nor would a man who had taken his grandfather’s dwindling estates and turned them into a fortune be so indolent, all but casting aside his career. What are you hiding?”
He opened his mouth but before he could form the words his sister added, “Do not lie to me. Not again. I will not abide any more lies.”
“It is complicated,” Tristan admitted.
“Try me,” she said, her words thick with sarcasm. “I bet I can keep up. I had a wonderful tutor.”
Tristan clasped his hands behind his neck and looked upward, at the constellations twinkling above them. “Some is accurate , but very little. I did have a dalliance with a Madame. It set forth a dangerous course of events that placed my reputation in a poor light. I allowed everyone to believe the child was mine.”
Gwen’s brow furrowed, visible even in shadow and Tristan knew he had a choice – alleviate his sister’s confusion by admitting the truth or lie to her. He chose to tell the truth. Of course it was the least Gwen deserved, but it also came from his complete exhaustion stemming from his many machinations.
He just couldn’t keep up this charade any longer, at least not with his sister.
“I do love Victoria.” It was the first time he’d admitted it aloud and his words hovered in the crisp air. “Christ, I ran from her for so long, believing Victoria to be unattainable and in the end loving her was inevitable. She is my lifeblood. But I made a decision long before I married her and can’t turn back now because it would endanger too many people including my wife.”
“Your wife deserves the truth,” Gwen said softly. “These rumors, these lies, are going to destroy her, Tristan. You must see that.”
Tristan did indeed comprehend that. But he also recognized the danger that lurked behind the gentle façade of several members of so-called polite society. He had to proceed with caution and told his sister such.
Only after he’d been assured of Gwen’s complete silence, did they return to the ballroom. The hour was late and guests had already begun to depart.
Tristan scanned the room in search of his wife, finding her in the far corner chatting with Eve, Colin and Sebastian. Their families had formed a protective barrier between her and the rest of the ton, he noted with relief.
This night must have been so humiliating for her. His heart felt bruised at the reminder of how much his wife had endured. Silently vowing to make it up to her, Tristan racked his brain for a way to do just that.
Victoria would demand answers and Tristan’s body tensed with dread for he would never be able to be completely honest.
Damn him for committing himself to these secrets and for ignoring the signs two years ago that his heart would belong to Victoria. But he had done so and it was too late to turn back now.
Besides, a child lives because of his deceptions. He must remember that because he suspected his next conversation with his wife would make him feel like the biggest debauched arse in all of England.
Even though he’d allow her to believe the lies, he must remind himself of the truth.
He was protecting his wife and the child by keeping his mouth shut.
Tristan must never forget it.
Chapter 17
Tristan stood on the terrace of his study, or should he say his father’s study at Ainsley? Though dead, the man’s malicious presence still lingered in the hellish place.
How he detested this structure and all of the memories it roused. Tristan had spent his life running from them, pushing his past aside in a desperate attempt to forget.
Being in the location where it all began made everything worse. That was the reason he had never stayed here, even when visiting his
sister nearby. He hated these walls as much as he despised the man who beat him.
This manor, and their estate in Scotland, had seen the worst of Tristan’s abuse. After his mother died, his father’s rage was palpable. At the time, Tristan thought it was from grief but now he knew the truth. It was because of his mother’s tryst and his brother’s paternity. Odd that Colin never received any of the physical abuse. No, that was left for Tristan, the man’s actual blood relation. Then there were the many lashes he took because he dared tutor his sister. He took each and every one of them, never once allowing his father to know just how painful they were.
Tristan was a liar even then, well before he was old enough to understand. That is how he was able to destroy his good reputation with very little effort over the course of two seemingly short years. Who wouldn’t believe his penchant for meaningless romps with a skilled Madame? When the child was presented to him, he did what was necessary. He perjured himself, caring not about the barrage of innuendo and hearsay.
Only three people knew the truth, his reasoning behind it, and understood that he wasn’t the immoral, corrupt man the ton considered him to be. Tonight that number of those who understood the truth increased to four with his admission to Gwen.
His sister was correct, of course. Victoria had been placed in the middle of his mess and she did deserve the truth. But she also deserved to be safe. As he explained to his sister tonight, the threat was formidable.
How he wished it were different, that he had behaved differently for Victoria. Tristan wished he had told her of his London reputation before Lady Markham had ambushed her.
The one event he didn’t regret, though, was how he handled the child because Tristan was left with no other choice at the time. His untruth helped keep the little girl safe and he would continue to rebuff the paternity claim because it was far too late to change the plan now. The situation had become far too treacherous and he would protect the child and his wife at all costs, even if Victoria didn’t understand or, worse yet, loathed him for it.
Based upon his wife’s reaction tonight, she must indeed abhor him. The fact that Victoria had taken the carriage and returned to Ainsley without him was a sure sign if ever he saw one.
Tristan stood, rooted in the very spot where he had once been beaten by a hot poker as a child, just one of his many scars. No child should ever have to suffer the horrors that he did. Every time his resolve wavered, every time he wanted to confess the truth to his wife, all he had to do was reach out and touch the raised, deadened tissue on his back.
It was enough to persuade him against any admissions.
Sighing, he rubbed his chin now rough with stubble as he glanced at the terrace doors. His wife was just beyond them, past the study and through the connecting doors to the bedroom suite they shared.
So close, yet so far from his reach.
Fatigue, a weight the likes of which Tristan had never before known swathed his heart, cloaking it in a heavy gloom. He didn’t relish the thought of returning to his suite for yet another confrontation with his wife. Victoria would never understand that the child was safer away from him. But she was.
How could he get his compassionate wife to accept the inconceivable?
The life that he once crafted with precision had unraveled and his past was catching up with him. He should have prepared for it. But he was too wrapped up in marrying Victoria and saving her from the scandal that their elopement would cause that he never expected Lady Markham would strike so quickly or viciously tonight.
Damn that woman and her big mouth!
He raked his hands through his hair. The notion of calling out the old bat was quite appealing. Pistols at dawn would do nicely. So would a bloody duel. Even though she was tough, there was no doubt in Tristan’s mind that he would best her. But, even if he had the satisfaction of silencing the damned gossip, his biggest regret remained that Victoria had learned the worst of his secrets and would never again see him in the same light.
Will she ever forgive me?
He’d been asking himself the same question ever since his conversation with Gwen. Then he overheard Lady Markham in the ballroom bragging that Victoria had been seen fleeing the powder room upon learning that the groom had an illegitimate child. It took all his strength not to confront the gossipmonger and cause a scene. It was no wonder Victoria had avoided him for the rest of the evening.
This, the night of their wedding celebration ball, had begun with such promise, with his wife openly flirting with him, smiling at him, her serene beauty and quick wit all but mesmerizing him. Yet now it ended with him wondering if Victoria would remain his bride or try to run as far and as fast as she possibly could.
In truth, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.
“Is it true?” Victoria’s voice, a husky whisper, sliced through the cool night air.
Squinting in the darkness, his eyes found her bathed in a sliver of moonlight, leaning against the stone balustrade. She no longer wore her crimson gown, he noted. Instead she wore a heavy velvet robe tied at her waist with a satin sash. Her robe was violet, Tristan suspected, judging the way the moonlight illuminated the fabric.
“What?” he asked, bridging the distance between them. He still hadn’t heard her speak the words.
Victoria remained silent until he reached her, scrutinizing him. “Do you have a child?”
He couldn’t answer truthfully, so he chose to remain silent.
“Let’s try another question, shall we? Did you marry me to save your reputation?”
“No,” on this topic he was adamant as he gently brushed a stray curl from her face before tucking it behind her ear. “Think what you will about me, Victoria, but I did not marry you to enhance my reputation.”
Judging by her harsh expression, Victoria remained unconvinced. “Lady Markham believes that you did as do many others in the ton.”
“When did Lady Markham become a beacon of truth?” he snapped at her, his tone much more scornful than he had meant it to be. In an attempt to soften his statement, he tipped her chin up, locking his gaze with hers. “Had my reputation been of any concern to me, I could have married a myriad of women. Most of whom I wouldn’t have had to abduct.”
He paused, allowing his last quip to sink in before assuring his wife, “I married you because I wanted to.”
“Prove it,” she beseeched him. “Be honest with me about the child. Is she yours?”
It would have been so easy to confess the truth. No one deserved it more than his wife. Hell, she deserved so much more. But Tristan had vowed never to tell anyone. He had already broken his promise once tonight with his twin but at least Gwen was far away from the danger. Victoria would return to London with him and be in the thick of it. No, this was a secret he would take to his grave if it meant protecting Victoria.
“I can’t do as you ask.” Of course his bride would assume the child was his, just as everyone else in polite society had done.
He couldn’t help that.
There was too much at stake.
His wife pulled away from him, crossing to the edge of the terrace, staring at the lawns, her curvy silhouette illuminated by the opaque light of the crescent moon hanging high in the night sky.
Oh, how he wanted this woman and he would want her until the end of time.
“So these were the truths, to which you referred earlier, before the ball?” Her voice became small and raspy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He strode towards her, placing his hand on the small of her back. “I wanted to.”
“Instead, Lady Markham holds the distinction of revealing all,” Victoria’s words were laced with anguish as she stared into the muted shadows of the garden shrubbery.
Rubbing his wife’s back in small, circular motions, Tristan placed his chin on her shoulder.
“You promised to protect me from the vultures and instead offered me to them on a silver platter.”
Tristan turned her to face him. “That was never my in
tention.”
“Your sister knows about your child … I will refer to the little girl as yours, even though you have yet to confirm or deny those rumors. It was an intentional slight, I’m sure.”
His wife was sharp as a blade. What in God’s name ever possessed him to think that he should spend the rest of his life with any other woman? It had been absolute madness.
After his conversation with Gwen, it became apparent to him just how much he loved his wife. The fact that Tristan had admitted the truth aloud to his sister, freed his once guarded and lackluster spirit.
Victoria tensed as he slid his hands around her waist, as if she had felt the same jolt that he had the moment they touched.
“Gwen told me,” he clarified, his heart pounding in his temples at her close proximity. “She also admitted that she wanted to strangle me.”
“Ah, smart woman,” she tipped her chin, leaning against the stone balustrade he knew was behind her. “Pray tell, what prevented her from doing so?”
He bridged the small gap between them, now leaning against her. “The fact that I’m her twin grants me immunity.”
“Shame,” Victoria retorted.
“Sorry to disappoint.”
She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest as Tristan wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her within the protection of his warm embrace.
“What are you thinking?” he spoke into her auburn curls, kissing the top of her head. She was quiet, too quiet. What he wouldn’t give for his wife to yell at him, slap him, fight him. An odd request, he knew, but it was far better than this unusual apathy that had settled within her.
A tight knot of panic wrapped settled within his abdomen, seizing his organs until he felt physical pain.
“Please talk to me, Victoria,” he beseeched her.
“All of my fears came to fruition tonight,” she whispered against his chest. “You promised to protect me yet Lady Markham publicly announced that I am a ‘naïve, unsuspecting girl’ whom you married to save your reputation.”
The Skilled Seduction Page 27
