“Will you not?” laughed Darrows, raising a sardonic brow. “I think you have no choice madam. I will speak as I wish. If he is so honorable, one would ask why, if indeed you did, marry in such haste. You return from Portugal professing to be his wife, but who in their right mind would marry in such a God forsaken place, and in such unseemly haste?”
An angry flush suffused Jane’s cheeks. “I assure you, the marriage is registered and is legal. I have my marriage lines to prove it.”
“Pity,” said Darrows, with an ironic half-smile. “But ’pon reflection, that would have been too easy. Perhaps there is another way!”
“Another way for what, sir? Explain yourself!”
In no way disconcerted, Darrows took her measure and smiled unpleasantly. “I say too much, my dear duchess; it would not do to lay my intentions before you. Let it be enough to say that I hold your husband in quite as much aversion as he so obviously holds me, but there are other ways to achieve my end.” He roughly pulled her to him and pinned her delicate frame against the wall with his large body. The move forced the breath from her lungs and caused the blood to roar in her ears as she fought for air.
“You do not find it so easy to evade me now, do you madam,” he sneered, his face looming scant inches from her own.
She felt his hot breath on her cheek and for a moment thought that she must swoon, but her indomitable spirit rose to the fore and she attempted to kick at his shins, but her soft kid slippers made no impression on his booted legs. She felt his laugh rather than heard it, so close was he pressed to her. He raised his hand to turn her chin toward him but she turned her face and bit down hard onto the portion of his thumb that she could reach.
“Spitfire!” he ejaculated. Taking the injured digit to his mouth, he leaned his body more fully onto hers so that she felt him pressing on her full-length. Knowing her to be completely imprisoned, he released his hold on her to capture her face in both his hands, making it impossible for her to evade his greedy mouth.
Revulsion filled her whole being and without thinking she brought her teeth down hard on his bottom lip, triumphant as she heard his cry of pain and tasted the metallic essence of his blood.
He quickly lifted his head away, his face livid, and pressed his fingers against his torn lip. He examined his scarlet-stained fingers and suddenly gave a bark of sardonic laughter. “You are not the milk and water miss I supposed you to be,” he said, with genuine amusement. “I begin to see the fascination you hold for Lear, but I assure you, you will not find me repugnant forever. You will come to recognize the prudence of currying my favor. My embrace will not remain distasteful to you and I shall hold sway over you yet, madam!”
“Never!” she seethed, pressing the back of her hand to her swollen lips. “I shall make your actions known to my husband.”
“I do not think that prudent, Jane. I may call you Jane may I not, now that we have become better acquainted? Yes, I really think I must. It preserves the air of intimacy that we now share.”
Jane struggled, pushing against his chest with both hands, but her ineffectual efforts seemed only to amuse him. With very little effort he pinned her arms to her side. Bowing his head he spoke in her ear saying, “I must reiterate, my love; it would be most imprudent to mention our little encounter to your husband as he would undoubtedly be obliged to call me out. I must warn you that I am considered a most deadly shot. Would you wish to subject him to such danger?”
Seeing the stricken look on her face, he smiled. “No! I thought not. We will keep this little moment to ourselves, shall we not? It would not do that I should be obliged to kill him.”
***
At what precise moment Robert realized that it was his wife in Darrows’ embrace he could not remember, only that his throat closed and iron bands constricted his chest making it impossible to breath.
He had been taking a short-cut from the stables to the house through the sunken garden when the sight of the distant pair halted him in his tracks. He was not close enough to hear their words, but to him, their actions were only too obvious. The years rolled back to when he had previously witnessed such a scene, a fond leave-taking of two lovers. He heard not the intense dialogue between the two nor saw the terror on Jane’s face, only that she was securely wrapped in Darrows’ embrace.
A white-hot rage over which he had no control engulfed him, but he did not rush forward to confront the lovers as he had done in his idealistic youth. Bearing witness to Jane’s perceived faithlessness wounded him too deeply.
Whirling on his heel he headed out of the garden, his face dark with anger, his temper at its most extreme and entered Stovely by a side entrance.
***
If he had lingered a moment longer he would have seen their less lover-like actions. Being finally freed by Darrows from her entrapment by the wall, Jane drew back her arm and forcibly struck her tormentor full across the face.
Darrows merely laughed, rubbing his hand across his cheek. “I do so admire your courage, my love and I am sure it will only add spice to our relationship.”
“We have no relationship,” spat Jane. “Whatever ideas you have in that direction I can assure you will never be fulfilled.”
“But what of your husband? Does it not trouble you that, in rejecting my attentions, you put his life in danger?” Without effort he caught Jane’s wrist as she raised her arm once more to strike him. “Calm yourself, my dear,” he said, amusement heavy in his voice, but as she continued to glare at him his mood changed to one of belligerence.
Letting go of her arm, he made a small bow. “I will leave you now, my dear duchess, to reflect on the matter and I am sure you will, after due reflection of course, see the wisdom of showing me a gentler side to your nature. You will not find me uncharitable. As the thought of me putting a ball in your husband’s most noble, arrogant frame is so repugnant to you, I am sure that you will have no hesitation in coming to the right decision.”
“Now I will wish you au revoir, my little dove, I would not wish your absence to be noted and there will be another time when we can take this matter further.” So saying he bowed once more and seeing the terror in his companion’s face, confident in his triumph, sauntered toward the stables.
For a moment, the reaction to the encounter held her immobile and it was not until the tears began to fall that she found herself able to move and catching up her skirts, she ran toward the house. Entering the hallway, however, she forced herself to regain some composure, it would not do to be seen by the servants in such evident distress.
***
Unaware of the true state of affairs, Robert was pacing his study in great agitation, finding it difficult to control the cold anger rising within him, an all-consuming jealousy lying at its root. In his fury, the thought that he should approach the matter calmly and reasonably had been summarily dismissed. With the thought she is mine uppermost in his thoughts, at this point he was beyond reason, but whether his anger was directed against his wife or Darrows, he found it hard to define. Such jealousy in a callow youth could be dismissed but in one such as the duke, it could be deadly.
***
Oblivious of the turmoil evolving below, Jane sought the comfort of the bedroom, pacing between hearth and window before finally coming to rest in the window seat.
Drawing up her feet she sat hugging her knees, rocking back and forth in a comforting gesture. “Robert, my love, where are you?” she cried to the empty room. “Yet how can I tell you? I know you too well. You would put yourself in danger for my sake and I could not bear it.”
Suddenly the door burst open and the duke strode into the room. His face dark with anger, he wasted no time in slamming it shut in his wake. “So, madam wife, you hide yourself away,” he seethed through clenched teeth which was all the more awful because of its intensity.
“Robert,” she cried and would have thrown herself into his arms had he not held her away.
“There is no need for this show of affection,” he said glowering down at her
. “You may not know it, but I was witness to your little performance in the garden not so long ago. A very touching moment I assure you. Quite romantic. I applaud your choice.”
She recoiled as if he had struck her a blow. “My love, it is not at all what you imagine,” she cried, a choking sob catching in her throat.
“You left nothing for me to imagine,” he said, once more griping her shoulders. “Did you not swear that you were mine, entirely mine, always! Now this! You betray me!”
“Robert, I am yours. It was not of my doing, please will you hear reason, listen to me?”
However, he was beyond reason; reason at that moment did not exist. “You belong to me, I will not relinquish my hold on you, do you hear me,” and he shook her roughly.
As if from a distance she heard her voice echoing his passion, “Leave go of me, I am not a possession. If I belong to you it is by choice, I will not be coerced. You are hurting me. Robert, please!”
Almost as violently as he had shook her he now held her to him, crushing her against his chest. “Forgive me, my love,” he groaned laying his cheek against her temple. “I will listen, but tell me quickly for I am in torment.”
“I will tell you but you must be calm,” she pleaded, leading him to the window seat she had so recently relinquished and seating herself at his side. “I promise you an explanation, but you must hear me out. I cannot bear it when you look at me so, it terrifies me.”
“The thoughts that inhabit my mind terrify me,” he replied in a tortured voice she had not heard before. “I cannot lose you, but I will not be cuckolded. You cannot know the torments that go through my head!”
She did not know how to explain, how to allay his fears, her own being so fresh in her mind. Darrows’ actions had horrified her but it was nothing to the anguish she felt at wounding her beloved friend.
“What you saw was all there was to it,” she said, attempting a level voice, determined not to repeat Darrows’ threats. “If you had but waited a moment longer you would have seen my reactions for yourself. It was something he did on impulse and I left him in no doubt that his attentions were unwelcome and must never be repeated. Now do you believe me, my Robert?” she implored. “Say you believe me.”
“Have I been such a fool?” he asked, uncertainty in his voice. “Must I not believe what I saw?”
“It is the interpretation of what you saw that is in error, my love. If you would but search your heart, surely you must know that I speak the truth?”
“Can you ever forgive me?” he asked snatching her to him. “Now you see the power you have over me should you but choose to wield it.”
She smiled weakly, resting her head against his shoulder. “That I never would, I love you far too well and it fills me with dread that you would ever let me go.”
“My dearest wife, have I not just told you that I could never let you go, that you are mine,” and the embrace that followed left her in no doubts that she was indeed his, sharing a passion that only reprieve could bring.
***
Lying awake long after his wife had drifted into slumber, remnants of his former agitation rendering him unable to sleep, the duke eventually rose and donning his dressing robe made his way down to his study. Lighting no candles he took a decanter of brandy and a glass from a small table by the hearth and sat in his large leather chair, staring through the moonlit casement.
Jane had begged him to forget the incident, not to confront Darrows, fearful lest he should call him out as Darrows had predicted, but this was something he could not, would not forget and a cold determination for retribution gripped him. He would not involve Harry in this coil but he must be made aware of the situation and to this end resolved to visit him as soon as he should rise in the morning, hoping that he would be able to furnish him with Darrows’ movements.
***
It was just before noon on the following day that the duke arrived at Harry’s apartments to be met by Eaves who informed him that the major had company. Rightfully interpreting this to mean Edmund Darrows, for he had no other visitors, the duke could hardly believe his luck. A murderous look came over his face, a look that had the effect of sending Eaves scurrying from the room to find the duchess.
Bursting open the door to Harry’s sitting room, the duke strode into the room, leaving its occupants in no doubt as to his intentions. Darrows had been so confident in his powers of intimidation that it had not entered his head that Jane would actually inform her husband of what had transpired. In his arrogance he had foolishly been assured that he had conquered her spirit. At Robert’s entrance he rose hastily from his seat, made clumsy by the obvious fury in the duke’s face.
In two strides the duke breached the distance between them and his lean fingers closed around Darrows’ throat sending him reeling against the wall, and through clenched teeth he seethed, “You would dare touch my wife, I will have your life for this.”
Jane at that moment arriving at the door with Eaves at her side was just in time to see the two men locked together in the throes of battle. They were matched in height but the duke had the slight advantage of weight as he drove a punishing right into Darrows’ jaw, felling him in one blow, and stood glowering over him. “Get up,” he ordered, a satanic gleam in his eyes.
A sneer spread over Darrows’ bruised countenance. “Shall we not settle this matter in a more civilized manner?” he mocked.
“My very thought,” snarled the duke, “A far more satisfactory outcome would be assured. Swords or pistols?”
“Whatever your choice, it will make no difference,” scorned Darrows, reckless in his anger.
“Eaves, fetch my rapier,” demanded the duke. “Harry be so good as to give Darrows your blade, we will have this matter done with now.”
Both combatants removed their boots and coats, rolling their sleeves up in a business- like manner. Darrows flexed the blade of Harry’s weapon between his hands to get the feel of it while they silently waited for Eaves. Jane stood with her back to the doorframe both hands clasped over her mouth recognizing the futility of trying to call a halt to the proceedings, both men being beyond reason at this moment, their very anger rendering them unapproachable.
Eaves returned with the duke’s sword that was snatched from him by impatient hands and as they entered the wide, well-lit corridor, the duke bade his opponent en garde.
“At your service,” replied Darrows with maddening alacrity.
The blades met in the briefest salute, then engaged, steel ringing on steel with a terrifying ferocity. Both men were driven by anger, each determined to make an end to his opponent. The duke had a strong wrist and fought with a dangerous intensity, but Darrows possessed an almost animal cunning and drove his opponent hard, recognizing that the duke had the skill he lacked. Their stockinged feet padded on the wooden floor, their breathing becoming labored. Sweat stung their eyes, neither daring to wipe their brow should in that moment the other choose to strike. Suddenly Robert’s vision became impaired with perspiration and he was forced to quickly wipe his forearm across his eyes. He paid for the moment’s distraction by finding himself scant inches from death, only an instinctive parry deflecting a near-fatal blow so that Darrows’ rapier glanced off his blade.
Each was threatened in turn. Being evenly matched in their desire for vengeance, both fell prey to the other’s attack. Time stood still, the ringing of blade upon blade and the harsh breathing of the combatants being the only sound in the corridor. Nothing else existed but the duel, no one being sure of its outcome.
There appeared no lessening of the ferocity of the duel and of a sudden, Jane could take it no longer. “No more! No more!” she cried, and as the combatants blades once more engaged, she ran forward, foolishly intending to come between them.
In that moment, his concentration broken by her movement, the duke was unable to draw back from a lunge, which Darrows deflected with a sideways swipe. The tip of his rapier ripped through the sleeve of Jane’s dress as she drew abreast o
f them and he saw the scarlet start on the thin material.
“Jane!” he cried, recklessly throwing his blade from him as she appeared to sway on the point of oblivion and he caught her up in his arms. “My God! I swear, I couldn’t draw back in time”
In the confusion that followed, flinging his sword aside, Darrows snatched up his boots and coat and beat a hasty retreat through Harry’s apartment, running barefoot toward the stables.
“’Tis only a scratch, my Robert,” she smiled weakly, as he carried her into Harry’s sitting room and placed her gently on the day bed. “It was just the shock that made me feel faint. I am recovered now.”
“You little fool!” Robert expostulated as he knelt by her side and tore open her sleeve to reveal the wound. To his great relief it was indeed only a scratch, but one that bled sullenly, and taking the cloth that Eaves offered, he attempted to wipe away the blood. “What the deuce possessed you to do such a foolish thing, you could have been killed?”
“I was afraid for you, my love,” she whispered struggling against tears “What if Darrows had wounded you, or killed you? What would I have done?”
“Better that than you should suffer this,” he said an unreasoning anger against himself rising. “That I should have wounded you is insupportable, yet how could I have avoided it? If I had put more weight behind the lunge you would now be dead.”
She smiled wanly. “But as you see, I am not, and it had the desired effect. The duel was halted and you are safe.”
“Do I appear so inept that I needs be defended by my wife?” he asked, throwing aside the cloth and rising to stand over her, his guilt driving all sanity from his mind. “Or if truth be told, was it Darrows you wished to defend? That would make more sense of your actions.” Waiting for no answer, he flung from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Robert,” she cried desperately after him, “Robert,” but he was gone and by now out of earshot, but even if he had not been too far away, his anger would have rendered him deaf to her pleas.
My Dearest Friend (Books We Love Regency Romance) Page 14
