Of course Will would not bow to social custom. Of course he would be arrogant and demanding. Of course he would not leave. A reasonable man, knowing how betrayed she must feel by his deception, would have mercy and grant her some space. A reasonable man would not follow her to London and barge into her safe haven.
But the Earl of Pembroke was not a reasonable man. Nor was he a man worthy of her love. How foolish she’d been to allow him to deceive her and misuse her again and again. She couldn’t, for her own sanity and well-being, allow him to charm his way back into her good graces once more.
“What am I to do, Victoria?”
Before she could answer, the drawing room door burst open. Maggie’s harried-looking butler attempted to announce Pembroke while Will simply stalked into the room as if he belonged there. His gaze ensnared hers and her traitorous body went weak. She shot to her feet in an unsteady lack of grace, her forgotten book sliding to the floor with a thud her mind scarcely registered. Crossing her arms over her chest, she faced him. Her stomach tightened and her heart seemed a physical ache within her breast.
“Ah, I suspected you were hiding from me, my dear,” he said, his voice as smooth as fresh butter.
Poor Maggie appeared to be having apoplexy. Her face had grown red in her agitation. She hurried toward him like a hornet whose nest had been trampled, out to sting. “My lord, you cannot simply barge about in my home.”
He stopped and bowed, ever the sophisticated gentleman. “Pray accept my apologies, my lady. It is simply that I am overcome with love of my wife and I can’t bear to spend another second without her. I’m sure you understand.”
Victoria frowned at more of his silver-tongued niceties. He didn’t love her. How could he, and treat her as he had? She was rigid as he strode to her, his eyes fastened to her as if memorizing the mere sight of her. She knew it for the act it was, and she was determined to remain unaffected.
Maggie was sputtering. “Your wife is seeking refuge from you, my lord.”
“I am well aware of that.” He caught Victoria’s hands in his and raised them to his lips for a fervent kiss. “And I don’t blame her one whit.”
“You don’t?” Victoria asked, her brow furrowed.
“You don’t?” Maggie echoed.
“Not at all.” Will still held her hands in a tight grasp, his intense eyes never straying from her. “I’ve been a complete scoundrel to her. I don’t deserve her as my wife. I’ve abandoned her, lied to her, and hurt her, and for that I shall never forgive myself.” He paused. “But I will also never forgive myself if I let her go, for you see, she is the very best part of my life.”
She wanted to believe those words, fool that she was. Longed to believe them, just as she had so many other words that had rolled from his facile tongue. So many words that had dashed into meaningless promises.
“You certainly didn’t act as if I was,” she pointed out.
“Lady Sandhurst,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “Would you mind terribly giving us some privacy?”
“Oh my.” Maggie sounded breathless. Victoria cast a glance her friend’s way to find that she was watching the scene unfold, pie-eyed. “I suppose so, my lord. That is, if it is acceptable to Victoria.”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured Maggie, even though she wasn’t sure of the veracity of her own words. In truth, she didn’t know what to expect of Will, what to expect of herself. Seeing him again shook her. What he’d said shook her.
When they were alone, the drawing room door safely closed on curious ears, he pulled her into his strong body for an embrace. She held herself stiffly, her arms at her sides, as he pressed her tightly to him. He buried his face in her hair on a deep inhalation, as if he were drinking in her scent.
“By God, I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “I know you don’t owe me anything at all, but please, Victoria, listen to what I have to say.”
“I don’t know if I can.” As admissions went, it was completely honest, bereft of any trappings. She had never been good at girding herself against him.
“I’m begging you, my love.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her with such ferocity that it was almost painful. “Please.”
She loved the way he held her. Not returning his embrace felt somehow wrong. She had to force herself to recall the gravity of what he’d done. He was a man she could not trust and had shown that to her again and again.
She summoned her inner strength and pulled back to look at him, searching his gaze. “I needn’t listen to anything you have to say.”
“You are entitled to your good opinion, but before you refuse me, think upon this.” His beautiful face was taut with an emotion she couldn’t define. “What have I to gain in seeking you out now? You’ve already given me my freedom. Should a divorce occur, my family will keep your dowry. I’m young enough to remarry and try for an heir to please my father. I don’t need you, Victoria.”
His proclamation startled her. It hadn’t been what she expected to hear, and she had to confess, if only to herself, that what he said possessed a ring of truth. If they were to divorce, or perhaps even annul their union, he would be free to remarry. In time, the scandal would dim, and he was the heir of a duke after all. The money his family had needed was already theirs. He didn’t need her any longer, it seemed.
“I don’t need you,” he said again, tipping up her chin in that way that had become so familiar and beloved to her. “Except that without you, my life has no meaning. I was an aimless blackleg, with no thought for the future or my responsibilities, no care for anyone, including myself. And then I came to you in the country. You were beautiful and strong. You had transformed Carrington House, won over the servants, and I couldn’t get enough of you. I discovered I’d married a striking, intelligent, caring force of a woman who somehow saw the best in my blighted soul when everyone else believed it had no redeemable qualities.”
His words left her stricken, partially because she was afraid to believe them, and partially because she knew no one could put on such a skilled performance. There remained many questions, however, that needed asking. “Why would you lie to me? Why not tell me the truth?”
“I was in too deep,” he said without hesitation, his gaze never wavering. “By the time I realized how much I cared for you, I was too afraid to admit to you that I wasn’t the good husband seeking redemption that you thought me to be. I didn’t want you to hate me or to leave me. If I could go back and erase the damage, tell you when I ought to have, know that I would. There’s at least a hundred things in my life that I’d do differently, given half the chance. But I can’t. All I can do is promise to do better in future. I give you that promise now, my love.”
It was what she needed to hear. But the inundation of his revelations was too great. She was besieged, her mind trying to sort through the particulars of what he’d told her, her heart wanting to throw herself immediately into his arms.
“I can’t make a decision now,” she said, trying desperately to hold on to her fleeing sense of self-preservation. “I need time, Pembroke, time to think about all you’ve said.”
He released a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. She was shocked that he was openly showing such depth of emotion. He had always been filled with skillful lovemaking, sensual smiles, and teasing to deflect from the seriousness of the moment. He had never been this open, this vulnerable.
“I understand, my dear.” He brought her hands to his lips for one last, lingering kiss. “Thank you. I shall give you all the time you need, but I’m afraid I cannot stay away from you. I’ll return every day until you reach your determination.”
He would return every day? Good heavens. Her ability to resist him would be worn thin in no time if she had to see him each day. Yet she had to admit that some small, rebellious part of her wanted that to happen. She wanted nothing more than for him to prove himself to her. She had resigned herself to the fact that, regardless of what he had done, she would never love another man as
she loved Will.
“Very well,” she agreed.
“Until tomorrow, my love.” He hesitated. “May I kiss you?”
She wanted nothing more than to feel his mouth upon hers, but her common sense told her she ought not to tempt it. “No,” she denied at last. “You may not.”
He nodded. “I understand.”
And with a bow, he took his leave.
“Are you going to forgive him?”
The question, asked by Maggie over breakfast, gave Victoria a start. She glanced up from her plate and the food she’d been toying with but not eating. Blood sausages had never held any appeal for her, but she had to admit she hadn’t had much appetite over the last week.
“I’m not certain,” she murmured. “So much has come to pass between us, and it’s all left me hopelessly confused, Maggie.”
Maggie sent her a commiserating smile. “I know, my dear. You have to admit he’s been incredibly attentive. His actions seem to be those of a man desperately in love. I confess I’m rather jealous. I wish Sandhurst looked upon me the way Pembroke does you.” She sighed, staring out the window into the busy London morning. “On second thought, I wish Sandhurst would look upon me at all.”
Poor Maggie. Her husband the marquis was in love with Lady Billingsley and made no secret of it, carrying on an affair with the woman despite his relatively new marriage. Victoria had only met him but once, and he had been polite but frigid. He did not seem to be a particularly kind man, and Maggie certainly deserved a better husband.
Victoria forced her mind to her own husband. Maggie was right. Pembroke had arrived each day for the last sennight, paying her careful, polite visits in the presence of Maggie. He was charming as ever, incredibly solicitous, handsome to a fault. She suspected he’d even won her friend over with his undeniable magnetism. But though her resolve was weakening, she was still left more conflicted than ever.
She missed the life they had begun together, that much was irrefutable. Of course she missed sharing his bed, the incredible pleasure he gave her. She longed for his teasing smiles, his witty sense of humor. Still, hidden inside her was a desperately frightened heart.
“I’m scared,” she admitted to her friend.
“That’s to be expected, dear heart,” Maggie said. “But nothing in life is worthwhile if it’s easy.”
As her friend’s words sank into her mind, the butler reappeared to announce Pembroke’s daily arrival. He awaited her in the drawing room. She took a deep breath. “Will you come with me, Maggie?”
“Not today, I think,” her friend said with a sly smile. “It’s time you met him on your own.”
Perhaps Maggie was right, she thought as she stood, abandoning her barely eaten breakfast. Love was worthwhile, and she still loved Will, despite their troubled past. But was she ready to forgive him? Did she dare?
Victoria entered the drawing room to discover her husband had not entirely come on his own. It appeared he had also brought a study’s worth of documents with him. He had spread an assortment of papers all over a Louis Quinze table.
“Darling,” he greeted her, looking up from the act of shuffling through a sheaf of documents. He had an unusually severe air this morning, no sign of his customary teasing grin. “You are looking beautiful as ever this morning.”
She was instantly on edge. “Thank you, but what in heaven’s name is all this?”
“Legal papers prepared by my solicitor. Come and have a look.” He waved her onward. “I hope they will hold some meaning for you.”
Wary, she crossed the room to his side. His familiar scent teased her senses. She couldn’t help but notice how very gorgeous he appeared. She longed to fall into his arms, fall back into the life they had tentatively begun together. Forcing her feelings of longing to abate, she glanced down at the papers he had brought for her.
She quickly skimmed over them, not certain she was reading them correctly. “Can this be what I think it is?”
“I’ve renounced my claim upon your marriage settlement,” he confirmed. “The remainder of the portions of the funds I was to receive has now been relinquished in full to the duke. There’s no more threat of him cutting me off. I’ve cut the purse strings myself.”
Could it be true? Her heart beat faster as she took up the documents for a closer inspection. Yes, she realized, it was true. He had truly forfeited his wealth, the one cause that had originally sent him back to Carrington House to woo her in the first place.
She looked back to him, a hand pressed to her furiously racing heart. “Why would you do such a thing?”
“To prove to you that it’s only you I want. The rest can go straight to bloody hell as far as I’m concerned.” He paused, his vulnerability reflected in his tense expression as he raked a hand through his dark hair. “There’s nothing that can come between us now. My father has no hold upon me. Money has no hold upon me. I would have turned over the entail to him as well were it possible, but my solicitor assures me it’s binding and old as the proverbial hills.”
The gesture left her speechless. She had never expected something so drastic from him. A wild surge of love hit her, strong enough to bring tears to her eyes. It was too much for her to process. She couldn’t have been more overwhelmed.
“Don’t say anything yet,” he continued, his brow furrowed as if he believed she would still reject him. “We’ll need funds of our own, but I’ve thought this through. With your help, we can make the Carrington House estate profitable enough to live comfortably for the rest of our lives. It may not be the life to which you’ve been accustomed, but it will be ours.”
Theirs.
She couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more than to be free to love him without the encumbrances that had wrought havoc upon their union. “Are you very sure, Will?”
His eyes were steady upon hers. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He closed the distance between them then, slipping his arms round her waist and securing her to him. “I’ve also sent word to your parents, inviting them to join us in the country. I hope it wasn’t too forward of me, but I’ve suggested they bring your sisters, Rose, Lillian, Edith, Pearl and Libby.”
She reached up to trace the strength of his jaw, a tentative wonder unfurling within her. “You remembered all their names,” she murmured, truly touched by both the gesture and that he had troubled himself to recall each sister’s name.
His grin appeared in full force then. “The woman I love told me I ought to know.”
“Oh Will.” She felt suddenly weightless and breathless all at once. “I love you too.”
He held her closer, angling his head down so that their noses nearly brushed. “Thank Christ. I’d begun to fear you no longer did.”
“I could never stop loving you.” She slid her palm up to cup his cheek. “No matter how hard I might have tried.”
“Nor I you. Believe me, falling in love with my wife was the last thing I wanted.” He paused, his lips achingly near to hers, his breath a hot invitation on her mouth. “I didn’t even think it possible. But now I can’t bear to live without you. I love you so much it bloody well hurts.”
She laughed at his pained pronouncement. “I feel the same way, my love.”
His teasing air returned. “It’s been a week since I’ve kissed you, and I fear I may soon perish with wanting.”
She grinned at him. “Then what are you waiting for?”
“Ah darling.” His mouth finally claimed hers, the kiss possessive and deep. When he broke away, they were both breathless. “Marry me, my love?”
She giggled, pressing another kiss to his beloved lips. “We’re already married, you silly man, and I couldn’t be happier.”
His expression turned wicked. “Then let’s go home to Carrington House. I can’t wait to undo all those damned buttons.”
His naughty words sent desire through her. It had been far too long. “I should like nothing better,” she said.
And hand in hand, they traveled
out of the drawing room and into a dazzling new future together.
One year later
e’ve done it, my love.” Will slid his arm around Victoria’s waist, drawing her in a snug embrace to his side. Before them stood the result of their mutual hard work and determination: a brand new roof on the east wing of Carrington House. He couldn’t have imagined ever gazing upon the old stone heap of his youth with pride or—even more shockingly—with such sated happiness.
But he was.
And it was all because of her.
She threw her arms around his middle and gazed up at him, her green eyes bright enough to rival the summer grass. How was it possible that she was even more lovely now than ever? A year of marital bliss had blessed her with a radiance that not even the dreary country weather could dim. “You’ve done it, Will,” she corrected him gently, “and I’m ever so proud of you.”
His heart squeezed in his chest at her praise. He’d be strutting about like a damn peacock for the remainder of the day just knowing that she was proud of him. But even so, this particular victory was not his alone. It was theirs, meant to be shared and savored together.
He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, unable to resist a swipe of his thumb over her full lower lip. “No, darling, we’ve done it together. Without you and your father, I couldn’t have raised the funds for this endeavor, and we both know it. There’s no shame in putting thanks where it’s due.”
“I’ll be forever grateful for the months that we spent in New York.” A sensual smile of remembrance turned up the corners of her mouth. “My father was more than happy to have you at his side. And I was more than happy for the nights. After all, that precious time is what gave us Alistair.”
Victoria’s large, boisterous family had visited Carrington House as promised, and during that time he’d developed an unlikely friendship with her father. The man was a bit of an enigma, but he was one of the most successful stock speculators on Wall Street. He’d offered to take Will under his wing as an apprentice of sorts, and Will had been willing to do anything if it meant a stable source of income.
Her Errant Earl (Wicked Husbands Book 1) Page 15
