by Donna Hatch
Grady returned looking deadly serious. “The sum of two thousand pounds was deposited into her account on May fourteenth of last year. That’s a bigger sum than ever appeared in her account prior. Does that mesh with your gut feelings?”
Cole nodded soberly. That would have been about a week after his duel with Armand. So Vivian was involved. She had set them up and someone had paid her well to do it. But why?
“Amesbury?”
“My thanks, Grady, I appreciate it.”
“She got married a few months ago. She is Lady Featherstone now.”
“Featherstone? He’s thrice her age.”
Grady shrugged. “He’s titled. Rich.”
“I knew she was only a fortune hunter,” Cole said with disgust.
“Aren’t we all?”
They shook hands and Cole left with as many questions as he had answers. He dreaded seeing Vivian again, but he would do whatever he must to protect Alicia. This time, honor had little to do with his fierce desire to keep her safe.
Chapter 23
Alicia seldom saw her husband during the day, but Cole frequently escorted her to the museums that interested her, and knowing her love for the gardens, he even arranged to take her to some of the more famous private gardens.
He was gallant, attentive, and charming. Through it all, her husband gave no indication that he thought her frequent outings with his cousin seemed odd or inappropriate, but Alicia began to worry that tongues were whispering of scandal, despite them always being accompanied by Aunt Livy, or Cousin Mary, or another appropriate chaperone.
One evening after sunset, Alicia had the rare opportunity to sit with her husband in their walled garden. She looked over at him, thinking that, as difficult as it was to discern Cole’s thoughts given his practiced façade, determining her husband’s was nearly impossible, even when he spoke. She tried to pay attention to his posture, his movements, but he always sat straight and still, giving little clue as to his mood.
She attempted again to picture his face. Dark, he’d said. Before he was burned, he might have been handsome, perhaps resembling his cousin. But she only could visualize Cole’s face, not a variation of it.
“Will you trust me with your face, someday, my lord?”
He blew out his breath, and the cloth of his mask rippled. “Trust me, Alicia. You are not ready for this face. Seeing it would only drive you further from me.” He arose and offered her his arm.
She took it, wondering if she imagined his tension.
“Alicia, when my business here is concluded, I will return to my country home.”
She looked up at him, but when that proved pointless, looked away again.
“I want you to stay in London. Permanently.”
Desperate, she gasped, “My lord, please no.”
He turned to her and awaited an explanation for her outburst.
“I will be your wife in every way if I must, but please, do not cast me off.”
A tiny voice inside her mind whispered that if her husband freed her, Cole might want her.
Yet, he probably did not want her for a wife— only for a dalliance. Even if he did wish to marry her, she did not dare, knowing she would grow to love him and that he would only break her heart with his unfaithfulness. She was already half in love with him now.
She must not harbor any hope of a marriage with Cole. And the only way she could receive a divorce from her husband would be if he accused her of adultery. Considering her frequent public appearances with Cole, such a claim would be easy to believe. But the scandal would ruin them all. Annulments were even more difficult to obtain, and she had no idea of the legal requirements, only that they were usually messy, public, scandalous, and humiliating.
Her only chance lay with her husband. Her current husband.
Lord Amesbury remained silent, and she imagined he carefully weighed whether he wished to continue this unprofitable marriage with his unwilling and undeserving wife.
Alarmed that he seemed so unmoved, she continued, “I’m sorry I have withheld myself from you for so long. You’ve been more than generous. You may have me now, if that is your wish.”
“That is not truly your wish,” he said sharply.
“I beg you, my lord. Do not set me aside.”
“I am not setting you aside, I am setting you free. You clearly do not desire to be with me. My very appearance makes you shudder.”
She closed her eyes as the realization of how badly she hurt him sank in. She had treated him poorly. She’d indulged in selfishness far too long.
“Your appearance does not make me shudder. I’m much more comfortable with you than I was at first. I truly enjoy your company now. I can be a good wife. A true wife. In every way.” Her words nearly choked her, but she held her head up and looked directly into the mask.
She tried to recall every act of kindness he’d ever shown her, every pleasant conversation, every soft spoken word. Her courage strengthened.
He was silent for so long that Alicia feared she was too late. “Very well.” He held out his gloved hand.
She placed hers in it. He led her in the house and up the stairs.
Now? Alarm mounting, she stumbled beside him. Her courage fled. Fear coiled, tightened.
Inside her room, he locked the door and pulled the heavy drapes to block out what remained of the sunset. Her heart jumped into her throat as his dark, shadowed form approached.
His gloves rustled as he pulled them off and let them land with a soft thud on the floor. Next came his hood and mask. They too, hit the floor.
Involuntarily, she backed away from him as he advanced upon her. His uncovered face remained completely darkened. When the back of her legs found the bed, she stopped and forced herself to remain still, to breathe. She had asked for this. This was her price for a home and food. For safety.
He had proven himself a good man. Perhaps he would not frighten her or hurt her beyond her ability to withstand. Her breath rasped raggedly in the stillness of the room and she clamped her mouth closed to quiet it.
He neared. His hands found her shoulders and he drew her toward him. A tiny sound of fear escaped her throat as she relived Lord Braxton’s humiliating advances, his rough hands, his violence. She squeezed her eyes closed.
He made no further move. “You are not ready for this,” he whispered.
“I—”
“Alicia.” His bare hand found hers. It was surprisingly warm. “Your hands are icy and you are shaking.”
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat.
He drew in a long breath, held it, and let it out. “I ache for you, Alicia. I crave you. But you fear me too much. You must first trust me.”
A bare hand touched her cheek, cupped it. Gentle lips pressed a kiss to her forehead. His mouth felt warm and soft, not cold and lifeless as she had feared. His clothing rustled as he gathered his protective coverings and pulled on his mask. He went out, leaving the door open. Light poured in through the doorway.
“Your coat milord?” one of the footmen asked from out in the corridor.
“Yes, Sexton, thank you,” came the baron’s voice.
“Shall I call the carriage?”
“No, don’t bother. I wish to walk.”
The front door closed with a thud.
She drew a shuddering breath. She had just attempted to save herself from ruin by offering him her body like a common whore, but without the courage to go through with the act. And in the process, she had again hurt her husband, a kind and patient gentleman. He would never want her now. He must despise her.
She despised herself.
Alicia took a carriage out to Hyde Park early enough in the morning to avoid the crowds. Her husband had already left for an appointment, so Alicia ordered the tamest mare hitched to the phaeton. The servants groused about wanting her to take the landau with a driver, but Alicia had grown weary of the smothering attention of the servants. She drove the phaeton herself, with only a footman in accompaniment,
confident that she’d meet few people at this unfashionable time of day.
The morning proved bright and clear, and a chorus of birds serenaded her as she drove along the paths of the park. In the distance, she spotted two figures, one astride a magnificent white horse. She recognized the rider the same instant that she recognized the animal. Sunlight dappled Cole’s figure astride his beautiful white horse, André, standing next to a carriage that belonged to the baron. As she moved closer, she spotted her husband’s cloaked form inside the carriage.
Cole spoke earnestly to her husband, his face solemn. They appeared deep in conversation, but when Cole noticed her, his face brightened. He said something to the baron and gestured toward her. The baron turned his masked face her direction. They both raised their hands in greeting.
Feeling strangely as though she’d been caught with rival suitors, she guided her carriage to them, and managed a smile. “I didn’t realize your appointment was at the park with Cole,” she said to her husband upon her arrival.
“I’ve already finished my first appointment,” the baron said softly. “I thought I’d enjoy the fresh air first before going to my next one. Meeting Cole here was a happy coincidence.”
“Do you have time to accompany me to my club first? I have not had breakfast yet,” Cole said to the baron.
“Nor I,” the baron said, his voice hushed as if deeply troubled. “I accept.”
Alicia realized that she had intruded and wondered what had her husband so troubled. Her behavior last night?
“Then I shall bid you both good morning.” She inclined her head to them and snapped the reins.
After passing them, she glanced back. They had fallen into deep conversation again. Cole, his expression grave, dismounted, tied up his horse behind the baron’s coach and got inside. The coach drove toward the park entrance.
Alicia frowned. Seeing them together came as a stark reminder that she might be coming between not only cousins, but close friends. She needed to stop seeing Cole. No good would come of this dual loyalty. She was proving to be loyal to neither.
But the following afternoon, Cole bounded in, his smile lighting up the gloomy day, and she lost her resolve.
“You must save me,” he exclaimed.
Unable to resist his smile, she patted the seat next to her.
He accepted her invitation and held out a printed piece of stationary. “I have been invited to the one hundredth birthday celebration for the grandfather of one my father’s closest friends.”
She paused. “A birthday celebration?”
“I think one hundred years of life is worth celebrating, don’t you?”
She smiled. “It certainly is.”
“I don’t normally accept invitations to these kinds of social affairs. They always end up being husband marts. But my father wrote me and specifically requested that I attend in his stead.”
“Why is this a problem?”
“If I attend, I become the target of every lady, widowed and unmarried, in Town. And there are a great many, even at this unpopular time of year. Others have come into Town specifically for this celebration. It will be a crush as big as those during the Season. I daren’t go unprotected. You have no idea how terrible it is to be so targeted. It’s like being a fox, surrounded by hundreds of yelping hounds.”
“It must be such a burden to be so handsome and charming,” she said dryly.
He smiled wryly at her comment and then sobered. “I’m the heir to a powerful earl and stand to inherit a vast fortune, plus what I have built up with my own investments. They see only a title and a bottomless money vault when they look at me.”
“You have much more to offer a lady than that.”
“What do I have to offer?” Vulnerability crept into his beautiful face.
She paused to choose her words. “Things you don’t often show others. You hide your kindness and your honor behind a careless exterior. You are courageous and you have a deep sense of justice. You are truly caring, but you keep others at arm’s length, seldom trusting them to see the man you really are.”
His gaze searched her face, one corner of his mouth raising. “Your good opinion matters more to me than any other’s.” Moving slowly, he leaned toward her, desire clear in his face.
As badly as she wanted to taste his lips, she stood. “What do you plan to do regarding the birthday celebration?”
He looked as if he’d received a death sentence. “I wish I could avoid it. But for Father, I will attend.” He glanced at her. “Perhaps if you also come, and remain at my side constantly, you might help stave off the harpies who will be there.”
She laughed at the image of bejeweled, half-human and half-bird in ball gowns circling the ballroom floor with outstretched claws extended toward Cole, screeching, ‘Pick me, rich earl’s son!’
“Does that mean you will rescue me?” He smiled at her hopefully, and with a twinkle in his eye.
How could she refuse that charming smile? It reached inside her and drew out a nod. “Yes. I will rescue you. Far be it for me to ever abandon someone in need. Besides, you’re family. I vow to protect you from the harpies.”
His relief was like a ray of sunlight spearing a storm cloud. He pressed her hand to his lips. “I am in your debt. Mary and Charles will come for you in their carriage, and I will eagerly await you there. The birthday celebration is Tuesday next.”
She smiled. “I’ll be ready.”
“I can hardly wait.” There was a bounce to his step when he left.
After dinner, the baron joined her with a challenge to play backgammon.
Alicia moistened her lips as they set up the game pieces. “My lord, with your permission, I’ve been invited to attend a birthday celebration. If you have no objection, I’d like to accept.”
“You need not ask my permission, Alicia. I shan’t attend, but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t.”
Wanting to be perfectly forthright, she added, “Cole asked me to be there. Something about helping protect him from the ladies who are always pursuing him.”
He lifted his head and she felt his heavy gaze even through the mask. “I see.”
“Mary and Charles are to pick me up in their carriage. I’ll only see Cole at the party.”
He leaned back and steepled his fingers. “What exactly are your feelings regarding Cole?”
She blinked and looked away. “I find him arrogant and annoying. But he can be diverting. Charming, at times. I see why Cousin Mary and Aunt Livy are fond of him.”
“Is that all?”
She faltered. “My lord, I have not betrayed you, nor do I plan to, with Cole or any other. I won’t go if you wish me to—”
He made a negligent wave of the hand. “Go.”
“You… you don’t mind?”
“You may do as you please.” He rose and left the room.
She looked down at their unfinished game and wondered when she’d become so selfish.
The evening of the birthday celebration, Alicia asked Monique to do something special with her hair. As a result, a cascade of ringlets showered down the back of her head, lightly brushing her shoulders. She dressed in a cream silk gown and donned a tastefully simple strand of pearls.
The baron appeared in the doorway and said in an even voice. “I hope you have a nice time.”
She looked at him sharply, but he turned and left.
Perhaps after their failed attempt at marital intimacy, he planned on going through with a divorce, despite the irrevocable scandal, and simply had no interest in her activities now that he had decided to cast her off.
Guilt shot through her. She couldn’t blame him. She was using him and giving nothing in return except a good reason to throw her out on the streets. It was also possible he had found consolation in the arms of a mistress. The image disturbed her more than it assuaged her guilt.
She pressed a hand over her face. When had it all become so tangled?
A footman knocked at the door and informe
d her that Mary and Charles’s coach had arrived. Without any joy, she rose and descended the stairs to the waiting coach. However, Charles and Mary’s lively conversation kept her diverted. She cast off the gloom and enjoyed their company, and they became a merry group.
Charles and Mary introduced Alicia to the host and hostess, and their surprisingly bright-eyed centurion. The crowd was full, though not the crush it would have been during the London Season. Still, for an off-Season gathering, a goodly number of well- wishers had arrived.
Cole sidled up to her the moment she’d been announced and had finished greeting the host and hostess.
“Dearest cousin. You look magnificent. My sister Margaret is here. I’ll introduce you. Come.”
Eyes watched Alicia as she walked with Cole. Some nodded, others whispered. Gazes, openly admiring, fixed upon Cole.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Only a fool would not stare at him in admiration. Striking, exuding strength and masculinity, as well as a sensuality she had never felt from another man, his very presence taunted a lady’s sensibilities. He misunderstood his appeal. He wrongly assumed that he was the target of any member of the ton or any fortune hunter merely as a wealthy viscount and heir to an earldom. He did not seem to understand that no woman alive could look upon him without desiring him.
Pride swelled within her as she realized that, of all those women, many of them beautiful, he had chosen to be with her. As they walked together through the crush, he gave no outward indication that he saw any of the ladies clustered in their finery hoping to catch his eye.
Pity she could no more attain him than they.
Guiltily, she swallowed. Her husband should be claiming her thoughts, not his errant cousin who so blithely escorted her in his stead. But her husband had practically washed his hands of her.
Cole led her through the crowd to an imposing lady with sleek hair the same color as his. “Alicia, may I present my sister, Lady Hennessey. Margaret, this is Alicia, Nicholas’s new wife.”
The intimidating woman turned to her. “Alicia, I’m very happy to finally meet you. Nicholas has told me so much about you.” A smile began in her mouth and finally reached her eyes, casting off the earlier imperiousness.
