by Meara Platt
She left a few minutes later and went in search of Tom. He wasn’t in his study nor anywhere else in the main rooms of the house.
“Has he gone out, Winwood?” she asked their butler.
“No m’lady. I believe I saw him go upstairs a few minutes ago.”
She nodded and hurried up the stairs, marching down the hall to their bedchamber. Her heart lurched the moment she stepped in and saw him seated on one of the wing chairs by the fireplace, his face buried in his hands. “Tom, my love.”
She closed the door behind her and knelt at his side. “Talk to me about it.”
He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her, his expression revealing he was quite torn apart. “What is there to say? I used to hate it when she asked for me. Tom. Where’s my Tom? Ah, there you are. Where have you been? I never knew whether she was looking for me or my father. Was she in the present or lost in the past? But now she says nothing at all, and it is so much worse.”
“We’ll talk to my Uncle George about it. He’s due to visit her today.”
He rubbed a hand across the nape of his neck. “He would have already done something if he could. I walked out of her bedchamber earlier because I wanted to rage and shake her and tell her to snap out of her stupor and talk to me. Even if she spoke gibberish, at least it would show she was here and not in some half-world between the living and the dead.”
He groaned in anguish. “You’re going to tell me I’m fighting nature again.”
“You are, but it’s all right. Perhaps I am too complacent, too quick to accept a situation and merely offer comfort instead of solutions.”
He lifted her onto his lap. “No, my lady. You are quite perfect.”
“So are you, my handsome lord.” She offered no resistance when he kissed her deeply, his mouth covering hers with a possessive hunger. But she stopped him when he began to unlace her gown. “No, Tom! I have an appointment with Madame de Bressard for the final fitting on my gowns, and I cannot be late. Lord Forster’s ball is tomorrow night, and her shop will be swarmed with ladies in panic for their gowns. If I’m even a few minutes late, I’ll be struck off her list and won’t be given an appointment with her for another month. She’s more in demand than the queen herself. Come with me?”
He sighed but nodded. “Why not? I do need a bit of air.”
Tom summoned his carriage, and they made it around the park and through the busy London streets with only minutes to spare by the time they drew up in front of the dressmaker’s elegant shop. “You know, hers is a natural outlet for our soaps and perfumes. Once the season is officially over and all the lords have gone up to Scotland to hunt their grouse, I think I shall stop in and speak to her.”
He nodded. “I’m not sure she’ll have the space for your wares, but perhaps she’ll set some aside, especially if she receives a percentage on your sales. It is easy earnings for her and not something that would compete with or detract from her dressmaking services.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
His good humor appeared to return, for he cast her a broad grin. “Our children will all be born wearing spectacles and carrying accounting ledgers.”
She laughed. “I find nothing wrong with that.”
They were quite merry as they walked into the shop until they ran into Lady Sarah and her two toady friends just walking out. “If it isn’t Miss Farthingale and Lord Wycke. Or should I now refer to you as Lady Wycke? Don’t the two of you make just the loveliest couple?” She laughed, although to Honey’s ears, it sounded like a witch’s cackle. Odious girl. “We shall see how long your wedded bliss lasts. Looking forward to seeing you at Lord Forster’s ball. You will attend, will you not? I wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”
She knocked past them, but her friends skittered around them, too daunted by Tom’s dark scowl.
Honey shook her head and sighed. “Sorry, Tom. You didn’t need her piling on to the woes of your already miserable day.”
He kissed her cheek. “My concern was for you. She is nothing to me, and there is nothing she can ever say or do to hurt me.”
Honey merely smiled at him, but the chill had just run up her spine again.
Why had Lady Sarah mentioned Lord Forster’s ball? It might have been innocent. After all, the ball was tomorrow evening. But Honey sensed it was something more.
What was the horrid girl planning?
Chapter Seventeen
Tom didn’t think he could be prouder than to escort Honey to Lord Forster’s ball. He studied her in fascination as she gave a merry twirl to show off her gown. “Do I make a worthy countess? What do you think of the gold silk? Isn’t it beautiful? I love the fiery sheen to it. When I dance, the gown will appear to change in hue depending on the way the candlelight strikes it. Of course, this is one of Uncle John’s fabrics. I’m sure Uncle Rupert or my cousin, William, came back with it from one of their trips along the Silk Road.”
Tom folded his arms across his chest. “It’s beautiful, and you are exquisite. An irresistible temptation, quite golden and sweet.”
“Like one of those sticky hot cross buns?” She rolled her eyes. “You are grinning at me like a hyena.”
“I can’t help it. I find you charming. Don’t berate me for adoring my wife.” He caught her in his arms. “You’ll be the prettiest lady there. Were you still unattached, you’d have a line of beaus out the door. I’d have to chase them all off, of course.”
“How tiresome for you.” But she laughed. “I see how it is. You only married me to save yourself the bother of chasing away your rivals.”
“There are several other benefits to marrying you.” He kissed her soundly on the lips but held back from ravishing her as he wished. She looked beautiful. Happy. Excited. Dimples formed in her cheeks whenever she smiled broadly, as she was doing now. Her eyes were sparkling, that incredible, shimmering blue. “Come along, my love. Time to make your first formal appearance as my countess.”
She also wore the Wycke diamond and ruby necklace. He’d given it to her earlier to wear as a complement to her gown. The diamonds shimmered at her slender throat. The necklace was only permitted to be worn by Honey since she was the present countess. Not even his mother could wear it now that he’d taken her as his bride.
Not that his mother would have an inkling about the family’s heirloom jewels.
Did she even know who she was?
He suppressed the dark thoughts bubbling just beneath his calm facade. Nothing to be done for this loving woman who’d raised him. He could only arrange to keep her comfortable and visit her every day in the hope there was a glimmer of her former self still lurking inside her aging shell.
Honey was so finely attuned to him.
She gave his hand a light squeeze. “You look magnificent, my lord. But I have a problem.”
He immediately took notice. “What is it, my love?”
“My dance card is woefully empty. I need someone to fill it.”
“Ah, a weighty problem indeed.” He tucked her arm in his to escort her downstairs to their waiting carriage. “Need I point out that you don’t have a dance card yet, nor will you need one since you already know I’m a possessive arse, and no one is going to fill it but me.”
“Actually, you have a rather nice, firm ar–” She blushed furiously, the comment she was about to make dying on her lips when she noticed Winwood standing at the foot of the stairs with her gloves in his hand.
He’d obviously overheard her remark, although he did a commendable job of maintaining a stony expression.
“Ah, Winwood. Thank you. Lady Wycke was wondering where her gloves had gone to.”
Tom grinned at her once they were settled in the carriage. “You’re still blushing.”
She shook her head and groaned. “What your butler must think of me!”
“Why? Because you almost passed a comment about my arse? I can assure you, he’s probably heard worse. Not just us talking, either. His room is immediately above our b
edchamber. Not to mention, Merrick’s room is just next door.”
“Your valet, too?” Her face was on fire. “How much do you think they heard?”
“Of us in bed?” He chuckled. “All of it. You are noisy in your passion.”
“Oh, Tom!”
“Gad, you’re too easy to tease. Of course, they haven’t heard us. The bedroom walls are far too thick.” I hope.
She lightly kicked his shin. “You are a terrible man. My heart is in palpitations.”
He shifted over to sit beside her instead of across from her. “Perhaps I ought to check it out. Let me put an ear to it.”
“Naughty creature.” But she was laughing merrily. “You’ve just stuck your nose in my cleavage. And that is your hand, not your ear. And that is my breast, not my heart.” She was still laughing as she pushed him back into the seat across from her. “I will not have you drooling worse than Jasper all over the front of my gown. No wonder they called you Wicked Wycke.”
He continued to tease her but far more gently. He liked that she gave back as good as she got. Her quick wit and playfulness always put him back in good humor. He also liked her innocent charm, her gullibility despite her obvious intelligence.
It was refreshing.
He helped her down from their carriage when they arrived at Lord Forster’s elegant London mansion. They waited in line to greet their host and be announced.
Gasps filled the air, and all eyes in the ballroom turned to them the moment the major-domo announced them. “Lord Wycke and Lady Wycke.”
Silence surrounded them for several heartbeats, then the room erupted in chatter as everyone began to move toward them. They were surrounded by well-wishers. Some others held back, mostly those who had held hope their daughters might make a match with him. The sight of Honey wearing the Wycke necklace dashed their plans.
Also hanging back with a malicious smile on her lips was Lady Sarah.
Hell and damnation.
He’d hired Homer Barrow to follow Honey around, but the man had noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Was it possible Sarah had already discovered whatever it was she was hoping to find to hurt Honey and no longer needed to shadow her?
Or was he blowing everything out of proportion and giving the wretched girl more credit than she deserved?
When the crowd finally parted and they’d made their way across the ballroom, Lady Sarah gave a shout to gain everyone’s attention. She stood on the steps they’d just descended to enter the ballroom and held a glass of champagne in her hands. She raised it high, as though to offer them a toast. “Cheers, Lord Wycke. May your happiness be dashed. You may think you’ve got yourself the perfect bride. A perfect lady. But she has a secret, one I’m sure she has not shared with you. And now I shall tell you and all the world.”
“Tom, no!” Honey held him back as he started toward Sarah, knowing he could not reach the witch in time to shut her up, but he didn’t care.
He wanted to snap her neck.
Finn and his brothers blocked his way, obviously fearing he meant to murder the duke’s daughter. Indeed, this is what he would have done were she a man. But she was a female viper, so all he could really do was carry her out of everyone’s hearing.
“Let me go, Finn,” he growled, trying to shrug out of his grip.
“Not until you calm down.”
“I am calm.” More Braydens put their hands on him to restrain him. He managed to toss off three, but by that time, another three had come forward. He himself was big, but so were these Brayden men. Big as damn oxen. He was no match for all of them.
“You are now trapped in marriage to a bastard,” Lady Sarah taunted as he struggled to break free and silence the banshee. “She lied to you. She is no genteel lady but an illegitimate, baseborn nobody. Have I shocked you, Lord Wycke? The lady you’ve chosen to wear your precious heirloom necklace was born out of wedlock. Isn’t that rich? What a taint to your proud and noble bloodline.”
Her toady friends now stood beside her, their champagne flutes raised in triumph.
Tom felt such a deep ache for the humiliation poured on Honey, but the damage was done, and he now had to undo it. Were she a man, she would not have lived to take another breath.
But as detestable as she was, he could not strike her.
Even at the height of his rage, he would not have hurt her. It simply wasn’t in him to ever beat a woman. All he meant to do was drag her out of the room and call her father into Lord Forster’s study to deal with her outrageous behavior.
But she’d gone too far in her attempt to destroy Honey to make the matter private now. He finally shrugged out of Finn’s grasp. Honey had moved toward him and now stood by his side. He put his arm around her, a trembling rage flowing through him.
He had yet to calm when he turned to Lady Sarah. “I am only shocked by your stupidity and saddened by how tragically pathetic your life must be to spend your time obsessing over how to destroy the happiness of another. My wife has never lied to me. Never. There is nothing you can say, no malicious gossip you can ever spread to shake my faith in her or my love for her. She is a lady through and through, and I am proud to have her wear my family’s heirloom jewels. She honors me by accepting to be my wife. As for you, is this the life you’ve made for yourself? Unhappy, angry, jealous. You are the laughingstock, and so are the peahens you believe are your friends.”
“My father will call you out for this!”
“I doubt it.”
“Your wife is a–”
Her father came up from behind her and dragged her toward him and Honey. “Get on bended knee and apologize to Lord and Lady Wycke at once,” he said, his voice and body shaking with unbridled fury. “My abject apologies Lady Wycke.” He then turned back to his daughter. “Get on your knees.”
“No, please.” Honey grabbed hold of Tom’s arm as she spoke, obviously needing the support, although there might also have been a desire to hold him back, for he was still enraged. As Nathaniel had said, these Farthingales had finesse and knew how to handle two problems at once.
Surprisingly, Honey’s touch calmed him. He still wanted to wring Sarah’s neck but had regained enough of his control to know he would not do her physical harm, no matter how much she provoked him.
“Please, Your Grace,” Honey said, her voice gentle. “It isn’t necessary. I do not want her to kneel before me. She is not well. This is too much humiliation for her to bear.”
The Duke of Remson appeared about to cry. “Wycke, your wife has more honor in her little finger than my daughter will ever have in her entire body. If there is anything to know of Lady Wycke’s past, it is obvious you know it already, for she is not the sort to ever connive or lie to you. Even now, she has shown my undeserving daughter nothing but compassion. You have married a jewel.”
He turned away and dragged his daughter out of the ballroom.
Her friends scurried after her like the brainless peahens they were.
No one moved or said anything for the longest time. Then the crowd parted as Lord Forster and his wife made their way toward him and Honey. “It is my custom to open the ball by dancing with my wife. However, she has advised me that she’d rather be escorted around the dance floor by a handsome man and not an old goat of a husband.”
Tom grinned.
“Would you do me the honor of opening the ball by partnering with my wife? And I shall be delighted to partner with Lady Wycke.”
The gesture was enormously kind, and Tom told Lady Forster so as he twirled her about the dance floor. “I must also give my apologies for the scene caused.”
“Nonsense, Wycke. You and your lovely wife have made our ball a success. It will be all anyone talks about until next year’s ball. You have added to our cachet.”
He glanced over at Honey, trying to keep his eyes on her as others now came onto the dance floor to join in this opening waltz.
“Worried about your wife?”
He nodded.
“She’s made of
stern stuff. I suppose it’s true. She’s illegitimate. These outrageous accusations often are. But what matters most is that you knew it already. I suppose your wife told you before you married her.”
Tom hesitated to respond, but the damn secret was out, and he was relieved, more for Honey’s sake than for his own. He loved her too much. The circumstances of her birth were inconsequential to him. The sooner it all came to light, the sooner everyone would forget about the supposedly shameful secret. “Yes, she told me everything before accepting my proposal. She wouldn’t marry me until I had time to consider the truth.”
“Then she is, as you said, a lady through and through.”
“Thank you, Lady Forster. Indeed, she is.”
“I was an opera singer when my husband met me.”
Tom laughed.
“I mention it because I see how you worry for her. But you mustn’t. It will all be forgotten in a few years, likely sooner. But, ah me. I am so sorry for His Grace and that daughter of his. I suppose he’ll ship her off to one of his estates in Scotland now. The girl will never step foot in London while he is alive.”
“She will not be missed.”
“No, the nasty ones never are. Life is difficult enough. Who needs that sort of filth piled up on it?”
The rest of the ball passed smoothly. Tom returned to Honey’s side and danced the next two dances with her, more for his need to touch her and know she was all right. “I will be fine, my love.”
“Are you certain? I’m so sorry this happened. She likely was following you around London, desperate to find a way to destroy you.”
“She hasn’t hurt me, as you can see. But Tom, you must stop looking at me in that besotted way or all your bachelor friends will be making fun of you.”
He laughed. “Let them.”
A moment later, he sobered. “What Lord and Lady Forster did for us was quite gracious. There may be others who are less accepting and will give you the cut.”
