by Amy Richie
Kyle’s face flashed in my memory; the Kyle from that very evening as we laughed and told stories to one another. I had felt twinges of guilt then, but that was nothing compared to the heavy weight of the guilt I felt now with Marcus watching my every expression.
“At least you enjoyed yourself.”
“Mmm-hmm,” I crossed my arms, but then let them fall back at my sides.
“Who did you dance with?”
“David,” I answered automatically, even while my ears burned.
“Is he a good dancer?” He began to circle the edge of the bed, bringing himself closer to me.
“He’s efficient,” I tried to smile, but my lips had gone strangely numb.
“I believe, dear wife, that you and I have never shared a dance.”
I stopped myself from telling him that if he’d wanted to dance with me, he should have come with us. “No, I don’t think we have.” Where was that maid?
“Your dress looks nice,” he complimented me, but it didn’t feel like a compliment.
I once again brushed my hand nervously along the pale pink gown. The delicate lace at the neckline did little to hide what was beneath it. “Thanks,” I said awkwardly.
If only I hadn’t danced with Kyle Duncan, I would have no reason to feel ashamed of myself. If only…
“Tell me,” he walked more purposefully and stopped right in front of me. “Who else did you dance with?”
My tongue dried up and stuck to the roof of my mouth. I had made the mistake of looking up at him and now I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his.
The dark blue color seemed to turn to liquid swirling around the too large pupils. The intensity seared through me, rooting me to the spot. Even if I had the strength to run from him, I wouldn’t have been able to. Besides, he was my husband–he had the right to know who I had danced with.
“There is… someone that I’ve met,” I admitted reluctantly.
Seeing him react so possessively made me immediately feel guilty for dancing with Kyle at all. I was a married woman after all. I turned the thin gold band on my finger around and around.
I would just tell Kyle that I couldn’t be seen with him anymore in such intimate circumstances. My shoulders sagged when I recalled the way I had felt with Kyle.
What kind of woman was I turning into? So what if my husband hated me and regretted our marriage? It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened. Look at what happened to Addison Montgomery, I told myself.
“Who is Addison Montgomery?” he asked suddenly.
“Huh?” Had I said her name out loud?
“You asked if I remembered what happened to Addison Montgomery?” He sat patiently on the bed, waiting for me to explain myself.
“A…girl from…Hamel,” I stammered.
“A friend of yours?” He asked with arched brows.
“She was close to my age.”
“What happened to her?”
I blushed furiously, angry that I had said her name out loud. “Her husband hated her,” I mumbled.
His eyebrows drew together with his frown. “Why?”
“Her father caught them in an…unfavorable…situation and forced them to be married.” I rushed over the embarrassing words. Although I knew what had happened, it wasn’t right to speak of it.
He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “Are you trying to distract me, Claudia?”
“No.” I clamped my hands tight.
“Then tell me who you met with tonight.”
“Just… a guy,” I said quietly.
“What guy?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Just,” I fidgeted nervously with a bracelet Sylvia had bought for me, “some guy that…” I stopped before I could tell him that Sylvia had introduced us. There was no need to turn his anger on her.
“What’s his name?” His breathing came out in heavy ragged pants.
I sank down onto the seat. Should I tell him? What if he went to speak with Kyle? Would he do anything worse? My heart kicked into hyper-speed at the thought. As strangely as Marcus had been acting since we arrived in London, I couldn’t put anything past him.
“Why do you care anyways?” I asked without much thought.
His mouth fell open with a popping sound, but he recovered before I could. “My wife is running around London with a young man who is not her husband, and you want to know why I care?” His nostrils flared with his excess emotion.
I should have stopped talking then, but I couldn’t hold my tongue. “All you do is ignore me; I figured you’d be happy that someone else is there to entertain me.”
“You go too far,” he said through clenched teeth. His eyes were wide and his lip snarled up slightly.
This time I cringed back. “I just meant…”
“Tell me his name.”
“It’s…I…”
He leaned down to where I was sitting and put both his hands on the armrests of the chair. “Claudia,” he began in a voice that had gone too quiet, “tell me his name or I’ll go and get it from Sylvia.”
My face blanched white from his obvious threat.
“I’m not telling you his name,” my voice shook.
“You protect your lover, then?” He pushed himself away from me with a grunting sound. The chair slid back a little with the force.
I sat back, stunned for a minute, but when I recovered, my anger surprised me. “How can you say that?” I almost screamed. He turned around to respond, but I didn’t give him the chance. “How dare you imply something like that? I have tried to get you to take me to the places you said you would–but all you want to do is sulk around the house or jump to do Silango’s bidding.”
“Do not say his name,” he warned.
“Why not? What are you trying to hide?”
“Guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Claudia?”
“I have no secrets from you. Sylvia has been with me every place I have been. I have done nothing wrong.”
“You do wrong by not telling me your gentleman’s name.”
“He’s not my gentleman.”
“Then, who is he?”
“My friend.”
“You have Sylvia to be your friend.”
“Sylvia is my friend.”
“I will have his name.”
“Not by my lips.”
“You will not see him again.”
“What are you going to do, lock me up in this room?”
His glare made me flinch back. “If I have to.”
Suddenly, my fairy story had taken a dark turn. Instead of him rescuing me, Marcus was now becoming the bad guy.
“You can’t be serious,” I breathed.
“Do not test my patience, Claudia; it is not one of my strongest qualities.”
Seeing him now, like this, it was hard to remember the man he had been; the man I had fallen in love with. “What happened to you, Marcus?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re so different here.”
“It has nothing to do with here. I am angry because I found out about your new friend.”
How had he found out about Kyle anyways? Sylvia? No, I shook my head quickly, Sylvia wouldn’t have said anything to him. It had to have been David, then. I ground the back of my teeth furiously.
“It doesn’t really matter how I found out,” he continued, “there should have never been anything to tell.”
“There isn’t!”
“And yet you hold his name back from me.”
“I don’t want you to embarrass me.” I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my lips, but I couldn’t take them back after they were in the air.
“Now I embarrass you?” He stormed to the door and let his hand set on the handle.
“You’re leaving?” I stood up quickly.
“I’m staying here with you,” he pointed his long finger at me accusingly.
“Shouldn’t we talk about this?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I need to go see Syl
via now.”
“Marcus!” I took a step forward when he turned his back. His hesitation gave me a little hope. “Why don’t we just go back to Hamel? Things were so much better there.”
“Hamel?” He snorted–a short unattractive sound. He turned to face me fully . “I should have just let you die back in Hamel.”
His words cut me down like a hundred sharp knives. My knees had grown too weak to hold me and I fell back in the seat, my mouth still hanging open.
The door slamming seemed to vibrate through the room, making my jaw shake. I blew the air I had been holding in my lungs out slowly. That had been the worst thing I had ever been through.
It was even worse than the night Ryan had come for me. Even though that night I had found a dead dog, gotten clawed by an unseen man, fell and cut my leg, and ripped my nightgown, I would always remember that it was then that Marcus came to my rescue.
Now he regretted ever saving me.
A young maid came in to help me remove my gown and undo my hair then. I sat silently, careful to avoid looking in the mirror, while she unfastened the clips that I couldn’t reach. I stood up obediently so the dress and all my undergarments could be slipped off of me.
I raised my arms at just the right time and felt the soft material of a brand new nightgown slide down my body. Then, I sat back down so the pins could be removed from my hair.
I glanced up at the mirror when I felt the long curls cascade around my shoulders. It was as neat as I’d ever seen my unruly mess, even after just being up all night. She ran a brush through the strands several times before bowing out of the room: so unlike my Becky.
The blankets felt heavy on my tired body, the darkness was too thick. I had done nothing wrong in accepting Kyle’s attention, and yet if I was completely honest, I was sad that I wouldn’t be able to keep seeing him.
I rolled on my side and buried my face into the pillow, my tears finally unleashed. I cried for my ruined friendship with Kyle and for the love Marcus and I shared that was slipping away.
When I awoke the next morning, my tears had finally dried up. My heart had broken, but it was time for me to pick up the pieces. I couldn’t just wallow in my self pity.
So what if Marcus didn’t love me? I could find other ways to make myself happy. If I had married Edmund Harris, it wouldn’t have been for love, so I shouldn’t be so upset. At least here I had Sylvia to keep me company.
Marcus had said he wouldn’t be returning to Hamel with me. Now, in the light of morning, I wondered if he still felt that way. Too much had been said between us.
I lay on the bed for a long time just staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure how I was going to face another day in London. Maybe if I talked to Sylvia, she could convince Marcus to let me go back to Hamel. The two had once been close. Or if David talked to him…
I closed my eyes tight, trying not to think anymore. I was just going to have to make it through a few more days; there was nothing else to think about.
With a determined puff of my cheeks, I flung the covers off me. When I turned to slide off the large bed, something caught my eye and made me gasp out loud.
Lying in the middle of the pillow that should have been Marcus’s was a single red rose. Each petal was arranged perfectly. I gently traced my finger along the stem.
What did the flower mean? Had Marcus put the rose there to say he was sorry or was it a more sinister reminder?
Chapter Twenty-Six
I watched the rain pool up outside my bedroom window. The skies had been dark and threatening all morning, but they rain had staved off. As the morning gave way to afternoon, the rain finally had its way.
Marcus had come back briefly that morning, but left again before things could be fully made right between the two of us. I had decided it was best just to stay in my room. I wasn’t yet ready to face Sylvia.
“Hey,” a voice called softly from the room behind me.
“Marcus,” I smiled slowly. Would he be the old Marcus that I loved or the man he had become since we left Hamel?
“Why are you in here all by yourself?”
I stood up to face him, catching my hands behind my back. “Watching the rain.”
“Mmm.” He raised his eyebrows slightly. “Not a very pleasant way to spend the afternoon.”
“No,” I agreed.
“You want some tea? I can call some up for you.”
“No.”
We both looked away awkwardly. Hopefully he would just be gone again soon and leave me to my own misery. Would it be rude to turn away from him and go back to the window? I stayed where I was.
“You’ll come down for supper, right?”
“Are you staying?”
“No.”
“I’ll go down and eat with Sylvia.”
“Good, I don’t want you to be staying in here alone all day.”
“Alright,” I nodded softly.
“I’ll walk you down.” I nodded again.
Marcus waited patiently while I sat at the vanity to fix my hair and dab perfume under my ears. He even helped me fasten my bracelet and choose which necklace I should wear.
At the door, he turned back to me and put his hands on my arms. “I love you,” he said softly. He brought his lips down to gently touch my own. It was nothing earth shattering, but it was a start.
We parted ways at the entrance to the parlor. “I’ll be right back,” he promised. I only nodded; I had heard that before. He kissed me gently again and went quickly back down the hall.
As I watched him walk away from me, my heart swelled with an unfamiliar possessiveness. Marcus was my husband and we belonged together. I wasn’t going to give up that easily. But first I needed to find out more about Silango.
Who better to ask than Sylvia.
When I entered the parlor, Sylvia was the first one I saw. “Claudia,” she exclaimed happily. Her face split into a wide grin. “I was worried about you.”
“I was just tired.” I returned her embrace readily.
“You look better now.” She led me to sit beside her on the long couch.
I had never had a sister before, but I imagined she would have been a lot like Sylvia. “I have to ask you something, Sylvia.”
“Okay.” She poured tea carefully into two cups.
“I want to know about Silango.”
She was fidgeting with the sugar, but I heard her small gasp. She handed me one of the cups before she said anything at all. “What do you want to know?”
“Why is he so…strange?” I finished on a small shrug.
“Silango is…very old,” she said with a tilt of her head.
“He doesn’t look very old.” He looked older than Marcus, perhaps, but not incredibly old.
Her tongue darted out to quickly glide across her bottom lip. I couldn’t understand why talking about Silango made her so nervous. But it wasn’t only Sylvia, I realized. David and Marcus also didn’t like the topic; and yet it was clear that they respected him. Was it fear? Were they afraid of him?
“He goes back a long ways with the Letrell family.”
“Is he a friend?”
“Well,” she shifted uncomfortably, looking away from me to stare into the fire, “not a friend, exactly.”
“Then, what is he…exactly?”
Her eyes came up to meet mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. My breath caught and I couldn’t help it when I moved back away from her. I couldn’t understand the things I saw in her expression.
Fear–yes; but there was so much more to it. There was the ancientness that I had sometimes glimpsed when Marcus looked at me; a sadness that seeped all the way down to the hidden parts of her heart. Looking into her eyes made me feel small, just like that night Marcus and I had looked at the stars.
She laughed the expression away in the next moment, though. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen something I shouldn’t have.
“I can’t tell you what he is exactly,” she answered my question that I had forg
otten I’d asked, “because I don’t even really know myself.”
“But…”
“But,” she continued forcefully, “all I can say is that he is sort of like their father.”
“Their father?” I was more confused than ever. “But Marcus said that none of them were actually related.” Only him and Paris were truly brothers.
“I said sort of like their father.” She glanced quickly to the doorway as if someone had called her name. “They aren’t close, but all of them…” she paused to take a quick breath, “they all listen to him.”
“Listen to him?” I shook my head, still confused. “Like he is wise?”
“Not that kind of listen.” She inched closer to me, which made me lean into her. “They obey him.”
“Like you would obey a father?” I was starting to see what she meant. I hadn’t had a father in a very long time, but I would still obey Uncle Philip as if he were my true blood father.
“A mean father,” Sylvia grumbled.
David strode purposefully into the room then, glaring daggers Sylvia’s way. I was surprised by his uncharacteristic anger. He was always so tolerant of his wife.
He sat with exaggerated force and crossed his elegant leg. “What are the two of you talking about?” He moved his eyes once to include me, but then turned back to Sylvia.
“Just girl talk,” she shrugged without looking up at him.
“It didn’t sound like girl talk.”
I didn’t dare say a single word. I was used to seeing Marcus angry by now, but seeing David like this left me speechless. What was it about Silango that made these two men behave like this?
“It was nothing,” Sylvia insisted. “Claudia was just curious.”
“You are not to talk about… these things.”
“What things?”
“She has a right to know,” Sylvia continued as if I hadn’t said anything at all.
“It isn’t your place to tell her.”
“She is going to find out sooner or later.”
“He shouldn’t even have married her.”
“It’s better that we just tell her.”
Were they talking about me? Why were they talking like I wasn’t even in the room? And what were they worried about me finding out? What secrets were they hiding?
“What is going on?” I asked loudly. “Just tell me!”
