He'd given Alexandra plenty of brooding time while his own life had been utter hell.
Handpicked flowers sent to her room every day had been quietly set in different rooms, until the house looked as if someone had died. Suzanne had returned the jewelry he'd sent to Alexandra's room with a disgusted snort. Boxes of candy were given to the servants, who avoided Connor.
The charm he had depended on most of his life was failing when he needed it more than ever. The war had to end. Peace had to be declared, and he was willing to surrender, if only Alexandra would come out of her room and be a part of his life once again.
How much worse would it be if she found out about the arrangement he'd made with her father? If she reacted this strongly about a bet, what would her response be to the knowledge that he had married her for her father's money?
God, he must make sure the truth about their marriage remained hidden away forever. Because forever would not come quickly enough if she learned he was being paid to get her with child.
Connor stood outside her room, his hand poised to knock, feeling like a fool. Regret had been his only companion of late. He missed his wife's cheery laugh and teasing nature. He missed their verbal sparing. He missed Alexandra and wanted her back now.
He banged his fist on her door. "Alexandra, I'd like to talk to you."
"Go away."
"No. We must talk."
"We have nothing to say to one another."
He turned the knob and the door opened. She sat at the cherrywood desk that she had moved into her room. Glaring at him, she shuffled papers.
"I didn't give you leave to enter."
"I didn't ask."
She stood and moved toward him. "Go. I have no wish to talk to you."
"I'll leave as soon as you hear me out."
Her brows raised up haughtily. "Why should I listen?"
"Because I want to apologize," he said, his voice low.
He paused for dramatic effect and waited to see a softening of her expression. There was none. God, she was a stubborn woman. "I want to ask for your forgiveness."
Before Alexandra came into his life, he had never apologized to a woman. Now, he didn't think a week went by when he didn't say he was sorry for something. But he didn't care. He wanted his wife back and he'd do whatever it took to receive her absolution.
Lifting her head, she glanced at him, her eyes distant and cold. "Forgiveness is easy to give. Forgetting is much harder. And somehow, the one always seems to override the other."
"All I'm asking for is forgiveness. I don't expect you to forget what I've done. But I want you to remember our night together, how we both enjoyed the pleasure our bodies gave one another."
Connor watched as her chest rose, her lungs expanding as she sucked in air, her eyes widening. Somehow he got the feeling he'd said the wrong thing.
"You're absolutely right," she said. "Our bodies did give each other pleasure, pleasure you have spent years learning how to give women only to eventually toss them aside, regardless of their emotions."
She clenched her fists together. "I am not some whore that you can enjoy yourself with and then discard. I will not be used that way by you or any other man."
"I would never use you like a whore. You're different from any woman I've ever met. You've completely unraveled my life." He took a deep breath to ease the tension that gripped him as he tried to tell her of his feelings, confused as they were. "I never meant for you to be hurt by this damn bet that has turned my entire household against me."
She looked at him quizzically. "What are you talking about?"
"I came here today wanting forgiveness, wanting there to be peace between the two of us. Wanting to end this hostility that seems to be pervading my home. The servants are barely civil to me. My own sister is angry with me. I want some peace in my household."
She walked to the window and gazed out at the countryside. "Peace you can have, forgiveness you will have to earn, but forgetting will take a lifetime." She whirled to face him. "I don't care how much our bodies enjoyed one another."
"You wanted me just as badly as I wanted you." His words were spoken softly from his heart, yet as soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he should never have spoken them.
It was as if he'd touched every nerve as she bristled, her eyes glaring at him. "That was before I found out how much of a rake you really are. That was before I knew how despicable you could be. That was when I thought there was chance you could be a decent husband."
Connor sighed. He felt more discouraged than ever before. "I'm leaving. Though we're not finished with this. I never meant to hurt you. I never thought I'd marry you. But I did, and now I think we could be happy together."
She drew herself erect, her shoulders pulled back and her chest flared with indignation. "Let's make a bet. I bet five hundred dollars that you'll seek out another woman before you find your way into my bed again."
Connor closed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. She was using his own words against him and it hurt. It hurt like hell, and made him feel even worse for what he'd done.
Her eyes widened with fright. But the feel of her flesh beneath his hands, the smell of lilacs took the edge off his blind burst of temper.
"Damn you, Alexandra." Connor ground out between clenched teeth. "Damn you for making me want you like no other woman before you. Damn you and your stubborn pride."
Chapter Twelve
Alexandra sat across from Connor at the breakfast table, distant and aloof. She had returned to eating with the family, had gone back to her etiquette lessons with Suzanne. Though she was still terribly hurt and angry with Connor, life went on. She had promised to teach Suzanne to be a lady and she truly wanted to help the young woman. Maybe, if someone like herself had been around when she was Suzanne's age, her own life would have been different. She would not have trusted her father in the matter of marriage and would have listened to her own instincts concerning Gordon.
But Alexandra's life stretched before her, a lonely, barren existence, while Suzanne was young and still had opportunities awaiting her. Alexandra was there to help launch Suzanne into society, to teach the girl to depend on herself, and no one else. Once that job was done and Alexandra had received her first royalty payment, she would be free to leave Connor.
"The paper says the Rutherfords are sponsoring the opera this year along with the McGuilfords of New York," Connor said, his voice muffled by the newspaper he held in front of his face.
"How lovely," Alexandra said, her voice polite, yet distant.
There was nothing but silence. Alexandra watched as Connor turned the newspaper page. She caught a glimpse of his face. A crease marred his forehead. He seemed completely absorbed by whatever he was reading.
"What a strange article," Connor murmured as he laid down his paper, a troubled expression on his face.
"What?" Suzanne asked curiously.
"A story about a new book that's just come out. The stores cannot keep it in stock. It's a fictional account of two banking families in New York City, joined together by the marriage of their children."
Connor's voice trailed off as he turned in his seat. Alexandra looked up from her eggs and found his eyes questioning.
"What's the name of the book?" Suzanne asked innocently.
Alexandra knew before he said the words aloud.
"Hester's Revenge."
"What an odd name," Alexandra replied. She was trying to appear calm, but inside she trembled with excitement. Her book! Her book was written up in the paper. It was all she could do to keep from snatching the paper from Connor's hands.
"The editor told the newspaper the name comes from the novel The Scarlet Letter. Hester was the main character in that book."
"Who would have written such a book?" Suzanne asked.
Connor gazed at Alexandra. "Someone named John Smith."
"Never heard of the man," Alexandra replied as she felt her body growing stiffer with nerves by the moment.<
br />
"The editor admitted that the name was fictional, that the author wishes to remain anonymous. Yet they confessed the story has striking similarities to two of New York's finest families."
Why had George informed the press that the author's name was fictional?
"Who?" Suzanne asked.
Alexandra felt her eggs swell in her throat. She should have told Connor about Hester's Revenge. She raised her eyes to glance at him. His gaze was fixed on her.
"The Thurstons and the Halsteds."
Alexandra swallowed, her throat tight. God help her. Was Connor's anger as fierce as Gordon's? She had kept secret that she was the author. Would Connor realize she had written this book?
Suzanne's mouth dropped open. "But that's Alexandra's family."
Alexandra watched the myriad of emotions that crossed Connor's face. "Yes, it is," he said.
"Excuse me." Alexandra slid her chair away from the table, the wooden legs scraping on the hardwood floor in her eagerness to escape. She couldn't sit there any longer and pretend she knew nothing. She couldn't tell her husband she'd written a tellall novel about her exhusband.
***
As soon as Connor left, Alexandra snuck downstairs, grabbed the paper, and hurried to her room. She sat quietly reading the article, feeling a sense of accomplishment, elation, and fright. How would Gordon and her father react when they realized she could be the only one who had written this book? How would Connor respond?
Shortly after noon, Leona knocked on her door.
"Mrs. Manning, your Aunt Clara is here to see you."
Alexandra loved Aunt Clara dearly and had expected her since breakfast. She didn't know how her aunt would receive the news that she had written Hester's Revenge.
"I'll be right down," Alexandra called through the door.
She put away the pages she had written this morning.
Hurrying downstairs, she went into the morning room that looked out over the garden. It was her favorite room in the house, not as stuffy as the parlor. Sunlight poured through the large windows, bathing the room in bright morning sunshine. A breeze lifted the white gauzy curtains, the wind tinkling an angel wind chime, the music soothing and dreamy.
Aunt Clara stood when she entered the room. "Hello, dear. You're looking lovely, as always."
She kissed Aunt Clara on the cheek and together they sat on the settee. "Thanks, Aunt Clara. How's Uncle Sydney?"
"He's doing just fine." She paused. "I'm more concerned about you right now than I am about your uncle."
Alexandra tried to act surprised. "Me? Whatever for?"
Aunt Clara took a deep breath. "Have you seen the Gazette recently?"
"Yes, Connor was reading it this morning over breakfast."
"Did you see the article about that book Hester's Revenge? The one the ladies were talking about at Suzanne's tea?"
"I saw it."
"Dear, I hate to tell you this, but people are talking. They're asking who could write such a book. They say it's about the Thurstons and the Halsteds. They're wondering if such a tale could be true."
"What part of the tale?"
"That Gordon trumped up the charges of adultery in order to marry his mistress. That you were innocent all along."
Alexandra folded her hands in her lap demurely. She was trying not to react, but all she wanted to do was jump up and down shouting for joy. Everything was working.
Everything was going according to plan. It was hard to contain her excitement from the rest of the world when she wanted to shout that she was the author. She was the one who would cause Gordon's ruin, just as he'd spoiled her reputation.
She tried to keep her face as bland as possible. "The book is true."
"But I don't understand ..."
Alexandra bit the inside of her hp. Since the time of her mother's death, the only secret she had ever kept from Aunt Clara was the truth regarding her divorce and Gordon. After her father had rejected her explanation as rubbish, she had simply withdrawn and eventually packed her bags and escaped to England.
No one knew the truth except herself, Gordon, and James Bradley, Gordon's partner, the man her exhusband had named as her defiler. Now the rest of the world would read her story and know of Gordon's immoral behavior.
She took her aunt's hands in her own. "Aunt Clara, I wrote Hester's Revenge. I'm John Smith."
Aunt Clara stood, a hand at her throat. "Oh, my." She paced the floor, looking worried. "Alexandra, dear, why didn't you come to me and tell me what was going on in your marriage?"
"I should have, Aunt Clara. I was young and frightened. Especially after Father didn't believe me."
"He is such a pigheaded fool!" The rustle of her skirts as she walked to the window was the only noise in the small room. "This is going to draw so much attention to you. It's going to drag up all the ugliness about your divorce to Gordon. You realize you're jeopardizing your future, your marriage to Connor?"
"Perhaps."
"Not perhaps. Charleston is all abuzz about who the author of this book is. They're comparing you and Gordon to the main characters. They're saying terrible things about Gordon and you. You already know what gossip can do to a person's reputation." She stopped and faced Alexandra. "I'm surprised you haven't heard from your father."
"Father will research every possibility before he reaches the conclusion that I wrote the book. Even then he'll think I hired someone to do the writing, and Gordon thinks I'm much too weak to do this to him."
"But what about Connor and Suzanne? Did you consider how this is going to affect them? Suzanne is entering into her first season, and poor Connor is going to be caught in the middle of a scandal that he had nothing to do with."
"I'm sorry about Suzanne. The book was already with the publisher before I met them. As for Connor, don't feel too sorry for him. He's not exactly been innocent since our marriage."
"But dear, this is going to affect your future. Society was just beginning to accept you again."
"Oh, please. Society is never going to accept me. They've proven that just in the last few months." Alexandra stood and began to pace. "When I wrote this book, I wasn't married and had no intentions of ever remarrying. I only wanted the real story to be told, to somehow vindicate myself for the pain Gordon caused me. This time the gossip is adverse to Gordon. This time he'll be hurt by the scandalous rumors."
Aunt Clara put her arm around Alexandra's waist and gave her a slight hug. "I know he treated you badly and I've never believed you committed adultery. I just wish you would have come to your Uncle Sydney and me. We would have tried to help you. We wouldn't have let him get away with his scandalous lies."
"After the trial, I just wanted to run away and hide forever. I never expected Gordon to treat me so shabbily."
"Some men are born bastards."
"I had to do something, Aunt Clara. I couldn't let the scoundrel get away with ruining my life."
Aunt Clara patted her on the back, then moved away. "I understand, dear. I truly do. But I don't know how this is going to affect your relationship with your new husband. I don't know how you're going to withstand the gossip a second time."
Alexandra frowned. How would everyone react when they found out she'd written a second tellall book that was even more revealing than the first?
***
Connor paced the reception area of William's office, waiting to see his friend. This would be their first meeting since that fateful day when Alexandra caught him receiving payment for the bet.
For an attorney, William didn't do too badly. The waiting area of his office was furnished with brown English sofas and club chairs. A young male secretary took care of the daytoday running of the office, while William handled the legal end.
A copy of the Charleston Gazette lay on a German Gothic table, and Connor resisted the urge to pick the newspaper up and read the article one more time. Why would anyone write a book about Alexandra's family and subsequent divorce? But most of all, who would write such a tale?<
br />
The book was sold out in the local bookstore, and Connor felt odd about ordering a copy, so he hadn't.
Could his wife have written this book? After all, it was about her family. Obviously someone close had to have written the novel.
The door to William's office suddenly opened and a gorgeous woman dressed in black stepped out. She turned and placed her arm on William's lapel.
"I can't thank you enough for all your help," she fairly cooed, her face turned up to William's.
Connor had seen his friend's expression before. Pure adoring lust. He watched as William picked up the lady's hand and kissed its back. "My pleasure, Mrs. Dierich."
The lady walked past him and out of the office, her heels rapping on the boardwalk outside.
William wiped the back of his hand across his forehead at the close of the door. He motioned for his friend to enter his office and shut the door behind him. "Crying rich widows. It's such a difficult job to take care of these women."
Connor laughed. "You wouldn't give it up for the world, especially when nice little packages like that one come in."
William shrugged. "The lady needs my expert legal counsel. After all, her dear husband has gone to the grave. She's all alone and doesn't know how to take care of the halfmillion dollars he left her. Poor dear needs my advice and comfort."
"Sell it to someone else, William. I know you'll make a nice fat commission and seek out a bonus."
"If I get the opportunity," William acknowledged.
The two men shook hands. "It's good to see you again," William said. "I was beginning to think I'd never hear from you."
Connor shook his head. "The tension in my home has been quite unbearable. Besides Alexandra locking herself in her room, not coming out at all, even the servants were upset with me. Leona barely spoke to me, and when she's angry, my breakfast is usually inedible at least once or twice. She nearly poisoned me those first few days."
William laughed. "So are things better, I hope?"
"They are livable, but still not the way I want. I have to admit your timing could not have been any worse."
A Scarlet Bride Page 17
