Married: The Virgin Widow

by Deborah Hale

  When he looked at Laura again and spoke, his feelings were back under cold, scornful, exasperating control. “My cousin did not marry some other lady. He wed you and you knew how much my inheritance meant to me. You betrayed me once and you intended to do it again. But you seem to have forgotten, I now possess a fortune you cannot steal. I have my lands and my title. The gossip might be rather humiliating, having you throw me over for a second-rate bumbler like Crawford. But it would pass quickly enough, I expect, as such things do.”

  All the harsh lessons of her marriage urged Laura to hold her tongue and not risk provoking an enraged man further. Yet, in spite of everything that had just happened, some part of her refused to believe Ford was capable of harming her as Cyrus had. She could not deny the ring of truth in his voice when he’d claimed to believe she wanted him in her bed. Given her conflicted desires, she could not swear he was entirely mistaken.

  Hard as it might be, Laura was willing to take responsibility for her past actions. That did not mean she would allow false accusations to go unchallenged. Especially when they tainted the reputation of an innocent person. “You know why I married Cyrus. It was not to hurt you, but to save my family. I did not know you went abroad to escape your creditors. I thought you wanted to be free of me so you could sail off to the Indies to pursue your fortune. And if I ever intended to run away with another man, which I assure you I do not, Sidney Crawford would be the very last I would consider.”

  She was about to explain why, vexed that Ford could not see what was so obvious to her, when he cut her off. “Save your breath. I refuse to believe another deceitful word out of your mouth.”

  He turned and stalked toward the door, then paused to fling down a final challenge. “Go ahead. Do your worst.”

  Chapter Ten

  Do her worst—what had possessed him to taunt Laura with such a challenge?

  Hours after leaving her bedchamber, Ford prowled his like a trapped beast. Only this trap was one he had set and sprung on himself.

  Bad enough he had dared Laura to do the one thing he most dreaded. But to do it after providing her with the perfect means to secure Crawford’s sympathy was nothing short of madness. She would only have to go to their neighbour with a tearful tale of how Ford had sought to force himself upon her before their wedding. Whatever scruples had previously kept him from stealing Ford’s fiancée, Crawford surely would leap at the opportunity to rescue Laura from such a licentious brute.

  Ford ploughed his fingers through his hair with violent force, as if he wanted to tear it out. The prospect of Laura jilting him yet again made his heart bound into his throat and needles of sweat break out on his brow. He tried to convince himself it was because he might lose the chance to break her hold over him at last. But deep down he suspected it was more than that.

  Part of him wanted to marry her for no other reason than to have her in his life. That part was growing stronger by the day, threatening to overthrow his caution and his self-control, as it had this evening.

  This evening…Shame gnawed at Ford as he recalled what he’d done. He struggled to justify his behaviour, a task that proved more difficult than he’d expected. He could see now that entering Laura’s bedchamber had been a fatal lapse in self-control. But he’d been consumed with desire and certain she wanted him. How could he have been so badly wrong?

  He’d bedded enough women to recognise when his attentions were welcome. Never had he found them so urgently sought as in Laura’s arms…or so he’d believed. Then, at the peak of his desire, he’d been suddenly and viciously rejected. Accused of base dishonour. Threatened with the worst humiliation he could imagine. It demolished the restraint Laura had already breached. His old hurt and bitterness had come pouring out.

  Though he knew such an outburst would only seal his fate, it had been such a blessed relief to vent the resentment that had been eating away at him for so long. Even now, though his plans lay in ruins, he felt strangely lightened and freed. Free enough to acknowledge the truth of what Laura had said. Even if she’d borne Cyrus a dozen sons, destroying any hope of Ford inheriting, she would not have stolen anything to which he’d been truly entitled.

  Part of him longed to tell her that—make a clean breast of everything, including his original reason for wanting to marry her. But pride and his finely honed sense of self-preservation would not permit it. She had threatened to destroy him, after all, and he had given her plenty of ammunition. Damned if he would give her any more.

  Fearing his resolve might weaken if he encountered her again, he rode out at first light, telling Pryce he intended to check on the progress of improvements he had ordered around the estate.

  Ignoring the butler’s look of puzzled concern, he added, “If anyone asks, tell them I do not expect to be back for dinner.”

  He spent a wretched day riding from one far-flung part of the estate to another, an activity that left him entirely too much opportunity for brooding. At each site, he found the work proceeding at a satisfactory pace, which was gratifying but provided little of the distraction he craved.

  Late in the afternoon, when he arrived to inspect a drainage project near the boundary between Hawkesbourne and Lyndhurst, he spotted Sidney Crawford riding toward him.

  “Lord Kingsfold! A word if I may.” The younger man looked pale and a little intimidated, as usual. Yet his mouth was set in a resolute line and his gaze did not waver when Ford tried to stare him down.

  “Very well.” Ford mustered his self-control to hear the worst without flinching. “What is it?”

  His horse must have sensed his tightly wound emotions, for it grew restive, tossing its mane and pawing the ground. The same might be true of Crawford’s mount, for its ears flicked and its nostrils quivered.

  “I must warn you, sir, what I have to relate might be unpleasant to you.”

  Might be unpleasant? Ford’s fingers tightened around his riding crop. He longed to thrash the young bounder for his impudence. At the same time, he could not quell a grudging flicker of respect for Crawford. At least he had the civility to confront Ford face-to-face. That was more than Cyrus has done.

  “Perhaps more than unpleasant,” Crawford amended. “But you must realise much of that is due to your own disagreeable conduct.”

  That bit of understatement made Ford flinch, in spite of his resolve not to. Hard as he tried to excuse last night’s behaviour, he could not.

  Ford’s persistent silence seemed to rattle Crawford, but he forged ahead. “It was my sincere hope that we might be on cordial terms. However, from the moment we met, you have made your dislike for me quite plain. I am accustomed to this prejudice against the source of my family’s fortune from others of our acquaintance. But I had hoped you would not share their contempt for honest trade.”

  “What are you blathering about?” Ford demanded the instant Crawford paused to draw breath. “I don’t dislike you on account of your damned brewery. I might have tolerated your company, if you’d kept your distance from my fiancée.”

  “I protest, sir!” Crawford bridled. “I have never had the slightest dishonourable intention toward her ladyship. It was she who sought me out to encourage my feelings for her sister.”

  “Sister?” Ford wondered if he’d heard right.

  Or were his wits addled after a sleepless night?

  “Lady Kingsfold’s sister—Miss Belinda.” The moment her name crossed his lips, Crawford sat taller in his saddle. “I have admired her for a great while and was working up the spirit to court her when you returned to Hawkesbourne and made me so unwelcome. The more I experienced of your arrogance and ill humour, the more I detested the notion of that dear lady having to reside in your household. I have resolved to make her an offer of marriage this very day, before you have any authority to prevent her accepting.”

  With that, Crawford wheeled his horse and headed toward Hawkesbourne. He had only gone a few strides when he reined his mount and called back, “If Miss Belinda accepts my proposal, I mean
to offer her family a home at Lyndhurst as well. That includes Lady Kingsfold, if she ever has need of sanctuary.”

  Crawford and Belinda? As Ford sat watching his young neighbour ride away, he struggled to make sense of what he’d just heard. The longer he reflected upon the past several weeks, the clearer it became that Crawford’s version of events must be the correct one, while his was a distorted fiction, spun out of jealousy and suspicion.

  No wonder Laura had been so resentful of his incivility to their neighbour. No doubt she would have dispelled his assumptions about Crawford long ago, if he’d told her straight out what he suspected. Last night, when feral jealousy had broken through the iron cage of his self-restraint, she’d been swift and emphatic in assuring him Crawford was the last man she would ever consider running away with. And how had he responded? By refusing to believe her or even listen to a single word of explanation.

  At last Ford roused from his brooding enough to turn his horse toward Hawkesbourne and give the reins a half-hearted jog.

  He no longer had to worry that Laura would jilt him to wed Sidney Crawford. But that was no consolation. After what he’d said and done last night, Laura would surely accept Crawford’s kind offer of sanctuary. She would leave Ford standing at the altar, the laughingstock of all his neighbours.

  And he had driven her to it.

  Laura sank into her bed on the eve of her wedding, craving the peaceful oblivion of sleep. She’d got no real rest the night before, with so many powerful, conflicting emotions swirling inside her.

  She wanted to hate Ford for the way he’d burst in upon her, terrifying her with his wild, perilous passion, and rousing similar dangerous urges within her. Then, when she’d made a desperate bid to defend herself, he had turned on her with scathing recriminations and cruel accusations. More painful than any of those was a glimpse of the deep hurt and betrayal he had suffered as a result of her actions.

  All these years she’d blamed Ford for abandoning her in her time of need, only to discover he had been forced into unwilling exile as a result of her actions. Worse than that, she had broken his heart.

  Through the long bleak hours of the night, Laura sought to ease her conscience by reminding herself she’d had no choice but to do what she’d done. She’d been forced to accept a devil’s bargain to protect her family and to protect Ford, even though she believed he’d forsaken her. She had paid a far higher price for that protection than she could have foreseen. Somehow, none of that mattered when she recalled the look on Ford’s face—like a wounded beast, baring its fangs in the hope of frightening off a fresh attack. Much as she disliked and even feared some of the ways he had changed in the past seven years, she now faced the wrenching likelihood that she was responsible for turning him into the man he had become.

  At last she’d fallen into a fitful doze, haunted by elusive dreams of Ford that left her with a hot, hungry ache in her loins and a wretched, rueful ache in her heart. When she woke the next morning, she’d forced herself to go in search of Ford, hoping that in the cool light of day, he might be willing to hear her out and recognise the truth when he heard it.

  Instead Mr Pryce informed her the master had ridden off to inspect the improvements being carried out around the estate and did not expect to return for dinner. After going through the motions of the day in a daze of regrets, painful memories and questions about her future, she’d retired for the night, only to have sleep elude her again.

  A faint trace of Ford’s scent still lingered in her bed—sandalwood, arrack and dangerous, seething passion.

  How could she wed a man who provoked such dangerously intense feelings in her and she in him? But what choice did she have with her family still dependent on her? Even if Ford did not turn them out of his house, the upset of Laura calling off the wedding would put a strain on her mother’s frail health. And the scandal would taint her family’s reputation, making it even harder for her sisters to find good husbands. All she’d endured during her first marriage would have served no purpose but to postpone her family’s ruin.

  A light, rapid tap on her door made Laura’s heart race. Could Ford have returned to continue their confrontation where he’d left off last night?

  Bounding out of bed, she pulled on her dressing gown.

  “Who is it?” she called, taking up a position near the hearth where the fire irons were within easy reach.

  The words had scarcely left her mouth when the door flew open and Belinda burst in.

  “Lolly, I’m so glad you’re still awake!” Belinda threw her arms around her sister and twirled them both in a dizzy circle. “I’d have hated to wake you when I know you need your sleep before the wedding. But I couldn’t keep this wonderful news until morning or I might burst with happiness!”

  “N-news?” Laura struggled to collect her badly ruffled composure.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t guessed by now since you had a hand in it.” Belinda pulled her over to sit on the bed. “Mr Crawford—dearest Sidney—has asked me to marry him!”

  “That is wonderful!” Laura seized her sister in a joyful embrace. “And so quick. Mr Crawford only danced with you for the first time last night. When did he propose? What did he say? Tell me everything.”

  “It was just after you went to bed,” Belinda began, clearly bursting to relate every detail, “since it was such a lovely evening, I decided to take a walk in the garden. When Sidney appeared, I thought he must be looking for you, so I told him I was sorry but you’d retired for the night. He said I must not be sorry because he had come to speak to me.”

  “It was always you he hoped to see, whenever he called at Hawkesbourne.” Laura squeezed her sister’s hand.

  “That’s what he told me.” Belinda blushed. “But why did you never say a word to me if you guessed his feelings?”

  “I did not want to raise your hopes in case I was wrong or Mr Crawford could not work up the courage to speak to you himself. I’m delighted he did at last.”

  “He said he has admired me for a very long time.” Belinda’s eyes sparkled with the pure joy. “But he could not bring himself to tell me, in case I might not be able to care for him. There was also his mother, who had her heart set on him making an advantageous marriage.”

  Laura grimaced. “Mrs Crawford gave me quite a lecture about that at the ball. I hope she will not make trouble for you.”

  Belinda did not look the least bothered by the prospect of having Mrs Crawford for a mother-in-law. “I’m certain I can win her over. I may not have your strength of character or Sukie’s high spirits, but I do know how to make myself agreeable. Besides, Sidney told me he would not tolerate any interference from our families. After he found the courage to stand up to Ford, he said managing his mother should be the easiest thing in the world.”

  “How did he stand up to Ford?” Laura found it hard to believe Sidney Crawford had survived such a confrontation.

  “It really is the silliest thing.” Belinda gave an indulgent chuckle. “But I suppose I must not be vexed since it provoked Sidney to act on his feelings for me at last. Somehow Sidney conceived the bizarre notion that Ford was a cruel tyrant who would make all our lives miserable. So he resolved to rescue me.”

  Laura shook her head in amazement at the strange way things had worked out. After all her worry that Ford’s rudeness would drive Sidney Crawford away, it had driven the young man straight into Belinda’s arms instead.

  “Men do get the strangest notions in their heads, poor things,” Belinda continued. “You will never guess what a daft idea Ford had. He thought Sidney was in love with you! I suppose that explains why he wasn’t as pleasant to Sidney as he might have been.”

  Laura tried to look amused though it sickened her that Ford could have harboured such suspicions.

  “Now that I think of it,” said Belinda, “perhaps it was not so farfetched a mistake for Ford to make. You and Sidney did talk together very often and you always spoke well of him. I know you were only trying to encour
age his interest in me, but men do see rivals everywhere when they are in love, don’t they?”

  Part of Laura wanted to believe Ford’s irrational jealousy of Sidney Crawford was a sign that he might still care for her, in spite of his denials. But reason and past experience suggested otherwise. It was Ford’s distrust of her that had spawned the suspicion she was plotting to betray him with their innocent neighbour.

  “Now I must leave you to get a good night’s sleep for your wedding.” Belinda pressed a kiss on Laura’s cheek then headed off with such a light step, she seemed to be floating on air. “I wish Sidney had proposed sooner so we could have a double wedding tomorrow.”

  Laura quailed at the thought of Ford and Mr Crawford sharing altar space at St Botolph’s.

  “I almost forgot.” Belinda paused with her hand on the knob of Laura’s bedroom door. “Sidney said to tell you he would be delighted to have any of my family come and live with us at Lyndhurst, including you. Nothing I could say would persuade him Ford will be a very kind husband to you. Once we’re all settled down and they get better acquainted, I’m sure the two of them will become great friends and laugh over this foolish prejudice against one another.”

  After Belinda had departed, humming the tune to which she and Sidney had danced at the ball, Laura sat frozen, mulling over Mr Crawford’s generous offer. Half an hour ago, she’d had no choice about marrying Ford. Now she did.

  To her dismay, she realised that choice did not make her situation the least bit easier. For it meant she would have no one else to blame for her future misery if she made the wrong decision.