by Donna Hatch
She choked. The wedding night. The horror of Mr. Braxton’s attack at the ball burst into her mind. Only moments from now, she would have to allow the humiliating act Mr. Braxton had tried to wrench from her. She set down her fork and clenched her shaking hands in her lap.
As if sensing her rising terror, he said softly, “You need not fear me. I will never force you to do anything that would seem frightening or distasteful. I don’t believe a man should be his wife’s absolute master.”
She glanced at him sharply. Was the baron speaking in general terms, or did he refer specifically to that intimate act between man and woman? She wondered if he would show her his face in private, or remain masked.
The innkeeper appeared and cleared away the table. “I’ll show ye to yer room, milady, if yer ready.”
Alicia rose on unsteady legs. She stumbled on the stairs and put a white-knuckled grip on the banister. Spots danced before her eyes and the pounding in her head became torturous. To her surprise, the baron stopped outside the door to her room.
“I’ll be with you after you’ve had a few moments to change.” He bowed and left.
Inside the room, Monique stared at her in concern. “Are you unwell, madame?”
“My head.”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Not much.”
Monique mixed a liquid in a glass and handed it to her. “This will help.”
Alicia gulped it down and coughed at the strong flavor. “What is that?”
“Laudanum and brandy.”
Alicia sat on the edge of the bed while Monique busied about the room. Gradually, the throbbing pain numbed and her shoulder muscles unclenched. Monique dug through an enormous chest and pulled out toilette items. Gowns and underclothes of every description lay inside.
Monique pulled out a lawn nightgown and helped her change into it. The thin fabric clung sensuously to Alicia’s body and showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing. She wanted to be anything but tantalizing.
Monique handed her a toothbrush, already sprinkled with powder. After she finished brushing her teeth, Alicia sat while Monique brushed her hair. It fell in loose waves down her back past her waist.
“You are beautiful, madame.” Monique blew out several candles and lamps to create soft lighting.
Alicia stared unseeing back at her own reflection. Would he be rough and brutal? Would he hurt her? Tears stung her eyes. With a start, she realized Monique had left and her husband had entered the room.
Her husband. What kind of man was he really? She dried her cheeks and turned slowly to face him.
He locked the door and leaned against it without making a move toward her. “My dear, you are lovely.” He sounded as if he truly meant it.
With such effort fighting back the tears, she had no voice to reply. He came closer, leaning heavily on his cane. She sucked in her breath. One giant gloved hand reached for her. She closed her eyes and bit her trembling lower lip.
“Alicia,” he whispered. “I won’t hurt you.” He touched her shoulder with his gloved hand.
She flinched at the touch and took a tremulous breath, her whole body shaking. A tear ran down her cheek.
His hand dropped and he regarded her silently. “I’m not a savage beast that would force myself upon any woman, least of all my wife. I will not demand you to consummate our marriage before you are ready. I only ask that you give me a chance to earn your trust.”
She nodded, hardly daring to believe her ears, and eyed him warily. He leaned in. She braced herself, but he only kissed her cheek through the mask. He limped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.
Her husband. A crippled, scarred man who never showed his face. There might never be enough time to learn to become accustomed to such a frightening-looking man.
Or the act he would one day demand when his patience ran out.
Chapter 15
As Cole walked, his thoughts skittered chaotically out of reach. Doubts teased, taunted.
Had he done the right thing?
At the top of a rise, he paused to look out over the valley bathed in moonlight. He continued down the other side, stepping carefully over the rocky ground. At the time, having his cousin Nicholas marry Alicia seemed the best possible alternative. Now he wasn’t so sure.
He came upon a stream and followed it until it pooled, mirroring the moonlight. He picked up a flat stone, and with a quick flick of his wrist, sent one skipping across the stream where it fell with a clunk among the rocks at the far bank.
Uncle Andrew and Aunt Livy had been attentive hosts, but a vague anticipation settled on him at the thought of going home and escaping the weary parade of hopeful ladies and their overzealous mothers. He hadn’t been home for more than a handful of days since the war, but now he had interests there.
Horses, for one. He had searched all over Ireland and found a promising new thoroughbred he hoped to enter in the next derby. Since then, he had only visited home long enough to check on the stallion’s progress and consult with the trainer and jockey. The emptiness of his childhood home, once so full of joy and love, mocked him, and he always quickly left again, preferring London, or the homes of his numerous relatives. This time, home beckoned.
If only Alicia had agreed to marry him.
The future lurked, uncertain. He had watched Alicia, unbeknownst to her, as she married a masked stranger. She stood white-faced and trembling in fear, trying so hard to be brave. How he longed to comfort her, to reassure her!
But she had rejected him on every level.
He left the pool and followed the stream through a thickening stand of trees, wondering if he would ever rid himself of this mad, burning desire for the girl with soft, gold-brown eyes who hated him no matter how hard he tried to win her affection. The night he found her fleeing Mr. Braxton, she had cried in his arms and snuggled against his chest before she remembered herself and pushed away. Having her in his arms, however briefly, stirred an unfamiliar sense of belonging. He ached to hold her again.
A taunting dream.
But there were moments when she seemed to have forgiven him, or at least forgotten her abhorrence. At the race course, she chatted with him amiably and laughed with abandon. There were other times that she looked at him with shy, innocent desire. At first, he thought he had merely imagined those moments, but they continued to happen with some regularity.
Although, there had been no question of her feelings when she’d soundly refused his proposal. He did not entertain any delusions that Alicia’s rejection stemmed from a fear of social ramifications that a scandalous elopement would bring. No. It came from her hatred of her brother’s killer. When faced with a masked, scarred cripple as her only alternative, still, she had rejected Cole.
He wasn’t surprised. But it hurt. Deeply. Much more than he had expected.
He didn’t blame her. He couldn’t. Anyone astute enough to see beneath his pleasing façade would see the monster lurking below and shrink in fear. Shooting Armand had only been one in a long list of sins.
Her new husband would never hurt her, and even if she didn’t know it, she was safe.
But was Cole safe?
He desperately hoped that letting her wed Nicholas would not prove to be the gravest mistake of his life.
Chapter 16
Alicia and her mysterious husband traveled slowly, stopping to eat and stay at inns along the way. They spoke occasionally, and though their conversation was forced and awkward, he treated her with courtesy, his voice soft and muffled by the mask. Each night, the baron escorted her to her room, kissed her cheek, and left her alone.
As they traveled through the heart of Northumbria, the baron straightened in the seat across from her. “We’re home.”
They pulled off the main road onto a long driveway lined with towering trees. The trees parted, revealing an enormous castle situated upon a slight rise, commanding an impressive view. They drove across a bridge that spanned a murmuring creek and pulled up in fr
ont of the stone structure.
As they alit from the carriage, Alicia stared. This would be her home?
The baron tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her slowly up the stairs. She looked down at his feet and his cane, wondered if walking up stairs hurt him.
They paused inside the doorway. The baron’s estate was a far grander place than even Catherine Sinclair’s home. The wide, main corridor boasted marble columns and floors scrubbed to a mirror-like luster. Crystal sconces lined the room between tapestries and paintings. A mural of angels and cherubs frolicking among the clouds adorned the ceiling above crystal chandeliers. Two grand, sweeping staircases led upstairs on either side of the curved entry way. Elegant, intricately carved and richly upholstered furniture promised comfort. The splendor took her breath away.
“It’s magnificent,” she breathed.
“I hoped you would be pleased.”
Servants lined the entryway, and her husband introduced her to the head housekeeper, Mrs. Hodges.
After Alicia had met all the other servants, Mrs. Hodges beckoned to her. “Come, my lady, I will show you to your room. You must be most fatigued by your long journey.”
The baron bowed to Alicia. “I will leave you to become settled.”
Alicia followed Mrs. Hodges up the staircase as it curved around to the second floor, stepping on lush, thick carpet, and holding on to a banister as intricately carved as the pillars and molding. All the tall, sparkling clean windows had their draperies firmly pulled back to let in the bright afternoon sunlight. Magnificent portraits lined the corridors.
Mrs. Hodges showed her to a room near the end of the corridor and motioned to the door next to it. “That room belongs to my lord. Here is yours, my lady.”
She opened the door to reveal an enormous chamber with an adjoining sitting room. Through another door Alicia found the dressing room. The furniture and wallpaper had a subtle French flavor in soft greens. It felt serene and restful. Everything had been scrupulously cleaned and polished. Even the wood shone like glass.
“It’s beautiful,” she said in awe.
Mrs. Hodges looked pleased. “We will be happy to redecorate it or refurnish it to suit your taste. Lord Amesbury ordered me to spare no expense making you feel at home. I’ll send in your abigail to help you change.”
Two footmen lugged in her chest and set it near a clothes press in her dressing room. They bowed to her and retreated. Mrs. Hodges left Alicia alone to look over her new surroundings. A beautiful watercolor painting of a landscape hung from one wall signed “Christian Amesbury.” Cole’s brother. She hoped not to find too many reminders of Cole Amesbury. On the opposite wall, tall windows framed a view of breathtaking gardens that extended to the horizon.
“Madame? Are you ready to change?” asked Monique in French as she stepped inside the open doorway.
“Oui, Monique, merci.”
Monique opened the clothes press. Inside already lay several gowns.
“For you, madame.” Monique beamed. “A whole new wardrobe. And look.” She opened a jewelry case lined in black velvet. Several pieces of fine jewelry lay inside, clearly precious family heirlooms.
Alicia lifted a diamond and ruby brooch, admired it, and then on a whim, turned it over. On the back was an inscription, “To my beloved Anne. Bound forever by love.”
Overwhelmed, Alicia folded both hands over the brooch and hugged it to her chest. She’d dreamed of one day finding a love such as this. That dream had faded.
“Ah! Magnifique!” Monique exclaimed, admiring the jewels still lying inside the case. “You are most fortunate, madame, that your husband is so generous.”
“Yes, he certainly is generous.”
The baron had already proved to be more kind and thoughtful than she ever anticipated. In many ways. She hung her head. And she had repaid him with fear and rejection.
“Come, we must prepare you for dinner.”
Alicia bathed, changed, and sat at a dressing table while Monique arranged her hair. Mrs. Hodges announced that dinner was ready and that Lord Amesbury would be with her shortly thereafter. The tightness in Alicia’s chest, which had eased as she explored her new boudoir, returned at the mention of her husband. She fidgeted with her wedding ring.
Mrs. Hodges gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know he must seem overwhelming, even frightening, but your husband is a good and kind man. As a youth, he was mischievous and energetic, but he always had a good heart. He has suffered many losses, but the time that I have spent with him since his return from the war has assured me that he isn’t all that different.”
“Then you have been with the family long?”
“Oh, my goodness, yes. Why, I knew his mother as a new bride. Saw her through the birth of her children and watched them grow, along with all their joys and tragedies. A delightful family. I love them like my own.”
Timidly, Alicia eyed her. “Is he that badly scarred?”
Mrs. Hodges smiled sadly. “He won’t allow any of the servants to see his face, but don’t let that frighten you.” She patted her arm. “I think if you give him a chance, you will discover that the man behind the mask is everything a woman could wish for in a husband.”
He might give her everything money would buy, but she doubted he could give her anything else. Still, she ought to give him a chance.
Mrs. Hodges led her into a cozy breakfast room. “This is where the family usually dined when they weren’t entertaining. The grand dining room was used for more formal gatherings.”
Mrs. Hodges served her in the warm and friendly room, a place where children would feel welcome. “Lord Amesbury takes his meals in privacy so that he can remove the mask. He sends his apologies at requiring you to dine alone, but he will join you shortly.”
Alicia was unsurprised. He’d done the same during their trip. Despite her apprehensions, her appetite returned and she devoured the delicious food. There was such a tremendous variety, and all so beautifully prepared, that she wanted to sample everything.
After she had finished, she sat sipping her tea, comfortably full. Soft thumping of a cane and heavy footfalls outside the room approached. Alicia set down her teacup and sat up straight, her heart beginning a low thud. Despite traveling with him over these past few days, his presence never failed to instill fear. His large form appeared in the doorway and he thumped his way toward her.
“I hope you enjoyed your dinner,” his soft voice rasped.
Alicia swallowed. “Yes, very much, thank you.” She nervously fingered the locket around her neck.
“I brought my cook with me from Versailles. I told him I was in love with his cooking and that I should pine away and grow thin if he didn’t come cook for me.”
In spite of herself, Alicia felt her mouth curve. “I can see why you wanted to keep him.”
“I thought you might enjoy a brief turn about the garden before you retire?”
“I would, thank you, my lord.”
A clear, moonlit night greeted them as they strolled along the walkway in the garden. Insects sang and a light breeze brought the mingled scent of flowers.
“In my youth, the gardens became forests that hid wild beasts, and ferocious dragons that deserved to be slain. That tree,” he indicated a cypress, “served as my castle where I looked out for approaching enemy soldiers. I often played a black knight and attacked my sisters, much to their dismay.”
Alicia smiled.
They stopped at the edge of a small lake, its shimmering surface reflecting, with barely a ripple, the silver moon. A night bird cried, soaring overhead, and insects sang.
The baron spoke again. “That lake became Loch Ness where I battled its fearsome beast repeatedly. I always defeated it, but somehow, it returned another day to terrorize our fair kingdom again. Even after I went away to school, I loved coming back here to challenge the beast again.”
When he began walking, Alicia matched his unsteady pace.
His cowl-covered head turned toward he
r. “Tomorrow, if you wish, I will give you a tour of the gardens. My great-great-grandfather designed it based on Greek mythology, and each generation has added to it. There’s even a maze in the middle—my grandfather’s addition. He was a second son, but when his brother failed to produce an heir, the title fell to him. He determined to make his mark in the family history.”
A nightingale sang in the distance and a light breeze stirred Alicia’s skirts. The lake mirrored the star-dotted sky. “How many barons Amesbury have there been?”
“I am the fourteenth. Our family goes back to William the Conqueror. I understand your family is quite old as well. If I recall correctly, your great uncle was a marquis?” he asked.
“Great-great uncle,” she corrected. With growing courage, she added; “My father’s father was a third son. He had our manor constructed—the one that belongs to my Uncle Willard now.” A faint resentment flared, but she quieted it.
He gestured off to the right. “The stables are beyond those trees. Do you ride?”
“Not well. My mother was an excellent horsewoman, but I never became competent.”
After concluding their walk, he led her inside to a comfortable study decorated with deep greens and rich browns. It smelled of leather and wood polish. Though the fireplace stood black in the warm summer night, several lamps illuminated the room. A small teakwood table held a chess set, ready for a game.
She indicated the table. “Do you play chess, my lord?”
His breath expelled slightly and she imagined a smile underneath the mask. “My father tried to teach me, but there were fish to catch, lakes to swim in, fencing, riding, shooting, boyish mischief that I shall not disclose… well, I am sure you understand. I never developed the skills to be truly competitive at chess.”
“I occasionally played with Papá or my brother on winter evenings.”
