Perfect 2 - A Perfect Groom

by Samantha James

  His mouth twisted. “My conduct, as usual, was abhorrent. I rode off to London that night, so no one would know I was there. The servants found him in the morning. I never told a soul I’d been there, that I was the one who killed him. No one, not even Sebastian.”

  Her heart went out to him for the guilt he’d lived with all these years, the mistaken belief that he’d killed his father.

  “Justin —”

  “There’s more,” he said in a tone that sent prickles all down her spine.

  He rose and walked to the mirror next to the armoire.

  His voice stole softly through the silence. “Remember that night at Thurston Hall, with McElroy? I’ll never forget what you said. That all your life you wanted to be like everybody else, look like everyone else. You asked me if I knew what it was like to gaze into the mirror and cringe. To hate what you see and know there’s nothing you can ever, ever do to change it.”

  His voice plunged further. “I know what that’s like, Arabella. I know. I’ll never forget, not long before that night with my father…I stood before the mirror in my room, staring at my reflection. Before I knew it, the glass was shattered. I’ll never forget bending over. Lifting a shard of glass and holding it to my face…” In the dark, he made slashing movements with his hand.

  A suffocating tightness in her chest, Arabella stared at him in horror, at his exquisite, perfectly sculpted features. “Justin,” she said on a strangled breath. “Justin, no—”

  His hand fell to his side. “Obviously, I couldn’t do it. But now you know, Arabella. Now you see the ugliness inside the handsomest man in all England. Now you see me for the coward I was. But then, you always did see me for what I am.”

  “Oh, God, Justin. It wasn’t you. It was never you. He poisoned you —”

  “Poison. Yes, that’s what I am.”

  His scathing self-disgust brought her to her feet. A single, scalding tear slid down her cheek but she paid no heed. Sliding her arms around his waist, she clung to him, laying her cheek against the sleek gold skin of his shoulder.

  “Stop that. If— if you had cut your beautiful face, I don’t think I could bear it.”

  He twisted around. “Why don’t you blame me? Why don’t you hate me?”

  “Don’t,” she said with utter fierceness. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it!”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? Didn’t you hear any of it?”

  “I heard everything. Everything.”

  “Then why are you still here? How can you stand to be near me? To touch me?”

  She heard the way he tried to stifle the emotion from his voice and couldn’t. Something painful caught at the corner of her being. She’d been given a glimpse inside his soul, and she couldn’t turn from him now. He needed her. He might not know it yet, but he did. She couldn’t desert him. She wouldn’t.

  Her throat aching, she drew a deep, quavering breath. Her vision misted by tears, she gazed up at him, uncaring that her heart lay in her eyes. “I’m your wife, Justin. And what kind of wife would I be if I were not here to share your life and your pain? A wife belongs at her husband’s side…and I belong with you.”

  “Oh, Christ.” His voice caught roughly. “I’ve made you cry again.”

  “It’s all right,” she said bravely. Brokenly. “Just hold me, Justin. Just hold me and — and don’t let go.”

  Powerful arms swept her against him, close and tight, exactly where she wanted to be. He fiercely kissed the tremulous lips she offered, wrapping his arms about her back and lifting her clear from her feet.

  This time when he carried her to the bed, there were no more words, no tears…nothing but the breathless splendor of being his.

  Twenty-one

  Wednesday of the following week, Justin was whistling as he vaulted onto the seat of his curricle. He’d just made a visit to his solicitor, and while it was a visit that cost him a goodly sum, it was, he decided with supreme satisfaction, well worth it.

  His mouth curled upward. Lord, how things had changed in the past year. His stylish townhouse in London had been the first of his acquisitions. Then a wife. And now a country house in Kent. He laughed to himself. Ye gods, he was now unquestionably a man of respectability!

  It was odd, he reflected, how with the addition of a wife his life had become…simpler somehow. It should have been the opposite, he suspected. For most men, that probably would have been the case.

  But he could be no less than honest. If his wife had chanced to be any woman other than Arabella, it wouldn’t have happened. He’d probably be trying to figure out how to extricate himself from the marriage trap, he decided dryly, instead of burrowing deeper. Hell, if it had been any woman other than Arabella, he wouldn’t even be married! Justin harbored no illusions. Compromised female or no, he would have found some way to elude impending matrimony.

  But he didn’t feel tied down. He didn’t feel chained. He didn’t feel trapped.

  He felt curiously…free.

  And, perhaps for the first time in his life, he looked forward to what the future would bring. Indeed, he welcomed it. In all truth, he’d never really cared before, for every day had always held the same monotony.

  But now every day was different.

  Up from Thurston Hall last week for a day of business, it was Sebastian who had chanced to mention the father of one of his friends had passed on. His friend had decided to sell his father’s small country estate, furnishings and all. That had given Justin the idea: With precise clarity, he recalled Arabella’s wistfulness at Thurston Hall the evening he’d kissed her; how she’d confided that as a child she’d never really had a home, not really. Because for all the starkness of his youth — of his entire life — the security of a home was the one thing he’d always had. Indeed, perhaps it was something he’d taken for granted, never really considering the absence of one.

  But he did then. Or perhaps it was their talk of children, a prospect which was still rather daunting. He knew why, of course. Rake that he had been for so many years, he’d never considered his future would include marriage, let alone children. But, he realized dryly, it was also no doubt inevitable, considering the way his desire for his lovely wife burned stronger every day…

  Children, he thought again. When the time came, he would be ready. More than ready. He was changing, he decided in amazement. Being with Arabella made everything different. With her at his side, he felt invincible.

  His mind returned to the house. As soon as Sebastian had left, he’d made inquiries at once.

  He’d taken a day to see the estate for himself. The first thing that struck him was the small cherry tree that stood just outside the drawing room window. He’d chuckled, remembering Arabella’s confession about the way she’d shocked her mother by climbing trees when she was young.

  From there, it all just seemed to fall into place. And difficult as it was to pinpoint, everything about it just seemed right. It was all so perfect…

  Ah, but he couldn’t wait to see the expression on Arabella’s face when he told her. Anticipation warmed his veins. She would look at him in that wide-eyed way she had, launch herself into his arms, and kiss him in wild, sweet abandon — which was exactly the way he would take her that night, he decided with relish.

  He grinned outright.

  Upon his return to Berkeley Square

  , it happened that Arabella was outside and was just about to climb the steps to the door when he leaped from the curricle. Spying him, she waited at the bottom step.

  He bent and kissed her lightly on the lips, feeling as if he might burst inside. “Just the person I wanted to see,” he said lightly.

  “And you, sir, are just the person I wanted to see. I’ve just come from Georgiana’s —”

  “Well, at least you weren’t out shopping,” he teased.

  She frowned good-naturedly. “Oh, come. I believe I have yet to spend any of your money.”

  “Nor have I been besieged by requests to redecorate. How
fortuitous that I chose such a thrifty bride and need not worry that I’m on my way to the poor farm.”

  “Why would I want to redecorate? This house is perfect just the way it is.”

  It pleased Justin to hear her say that. “However,” she continued, “at any rate, I have some news you might be interested in hearing.”

  “And I have some news for you, too. But ladies first.”

  “Thank you. Now, as I was saying, my visit to Georgiana proved to be rather enlightening.”

  Justin offered a hand to escort her up the stairs. “In what way?”

  “While I was there, Georgiana had a most unexpected visitor. And you’ll never guess who it was.”

  Justin glanced down at her. She was practically beaming. “You’re right,” he said dryly. “I shan’t.”

  She wrinkled her nose prettily. “You’re no fun,” she protested.

  “Sweetheart, I can see you’re just dying to tell me, so why don’t you?”

  “Very well, then. It was Walter. And when I left, they appeared to be getting on quite cozily. Her mother also confided this is the third time this week Walter has come to call on her.”

  Justin stopped short. “Georgiana and Walter?”

  “It would appear so.”

  Justin didn’t mean to smile so broadly — it just happened.

  Arabella laughed at his expression.

  “Perhaps theirs will be the next London wedding.”

  “I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” she agreed, tucking her fingers into the curve of his elbow.

  Their eyes caught and held for an immeasurable moment. Justin took a deep breath, all at once rocked to the depths of his soul. Her eyes were a soft clear blue, shining like the sky above. She looked so happy, so unutterably content, even radiant. He was half-afraid to give voice to the thought that spun through his mind for fear it would evaporate. Was it possible? he marveled. Did he make her happy? That he might was a thought that nearly sent him crashing to his knees.

  God, but she was lovely. A warm breeze teased a few errant curls at her temple. A tinge of rose bloomed on her cheeks. Her lips carried the faintest hint of a smile. And knowing she was his kindled potent, primitive urges. Desire flamed in his veins. He experienced a sudden urge to carry her upstairs, close the door, and make love to her until they were both exhausted.

  His hand came out to smother hers, there where it rested on his sleeve. He was about to put forth that very proposition when Arthur opened the door and they stepped inside. Then Arthur was hovering at his elbow with the day’s post and invitations. When he turned around, he saw that she’d disappeared up the stairs.

  Which was all well and good, Justin decided, since she was exactly where he wanted her…

  The brass knocker sounded at the front door. Arthur opened it and Gideon stepped inside.

  Justin raised his brows. “Back from Paris already, I see.”

  “My good man, it’s been over a month. And pray forgive my dropping in so unexpectedly, but I’d thought to see you at White’s.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been there in several weeks.”

  “Ah,” Gideon said smoothly. “Busy with other things, such as your new bride, I expect.”

  An amused curiosity glimmered in Gideon’s eyes, but Justin wasn’t about to indulge it.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not a good time.”

  Gideon raised both hands. “Oh, no need to worry,” he stated breezily. “I’ll be brief. Indeed, I only came to settle up our affairs.”

  Justin’s gaze flickered. “There is no need,” he said stiffly. Christ, until this moment he’d forgotten his damned wager with Gideon.

  “Indeed there is,” Gideon insisted. “We had an agreement, that the lady in question would be yours within the month, and so she was. Granted, I certainly never expected that you would be forced to wed the chit —”

  “I wasn’t forced,” Justin said tightly.

  Gideon shrugged. “The fact remains, I trust the terms of our agreement have been…gratifying nonetheless. However,” he went on, “I am a man who always pays his debts.”

  With a wink Gideon dropped a pouch into Justin’s hand.

  Before he could say a word, there was a whisk of skirts behind him — Arabella!

  “Oh, hello!” she said upon seeing Gideon.

  Justin half-turned. He knew the pouch contained the money from their wager. He mouthed a silent curse. Goddammit, he couldn’t give it back, not without making a scene!

  Pointedly he said, “Gideon was just on his way out.”

  “Yes.” Gideon executed a low bow. “Again, my heartiest congratulations to the both of you.”

  The door was no sooner closed than Arabella nodded at the pouch.

  “Ah,” she teased. “I saw his sly wink. What did he bring you?”

  Justin’s heart sank. “Nothing of any consequence,” he said quickly. “Really.”

  “Nothing of any consequence, is it? Hmmm, that sounds mysterious. Perhaps it’s a treasure. Let’s give a look, shall we?” Laughing, she snatched the pouch from his hand and peered inside.

  Her eyes widened. “My word, there must surely be half a fortune here.” She glanced up, her expression curious. “Are the two of you in business together?”

  Justin hesitated. “No,” he said.

  “I thought not. Frankly, I should be astonished, for Gideon has never struck me as a particularly industrious sort.” She pursed her lips. “Indeed, I know he is your friend, but he asked me to dance once — a tiresome experience, as I recall. All he could speak of was his excellent luck at the hazard table earlier in the evening. I’ve heard tales of men foolish enough to wager an entire fortune on a single roll of the dice. Let us hope he is not one of—”

  All at once she broke off. Her gaze slid to the pouch in her hand.

  Her smile slipped. Slowly she raised her head. “Justin,” she said haltingly, and then, “It cannot be. Surely this is not —”

  She stopped. Something pleading flashed across her expression. “Justin?” The sound of his name verged on desperate.

  For the longest time, Justin couldn’t say a word. His eyes bored into hers. It was as if he’d been turned to stone…

  Quietly he spoke. “Do you remember the wager I told you about?”

  Her breath caught. Every drop of blood surely drained from her face. Anguish filled her eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, the only hint of color in her face. And Justin was aware, with stark, chilling certainty, of the precise moment he shattered her trust and she splintered apart.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, the sound half-strangled.

  Arabella knew what it was. Payment for the wager to the man who claimed her virtue.

  The knowledge slipped into her heart like a dull, rusty knife.

  She floundered helplessly, still reacting when he guided her into his study. He wrestled the pouch from her grip and dropped it onto the corner of his desk.

  Arabella remained where she was. It was as if an icy chill swept across her soul. Cold to the tips of her fingers, for a heartbeat she felt herself waver, like a flame in the wind.

  He caught her under the elbow.

  Quickly she righted herself. “I’m all right.”

  “Yes.” He smiled slightly. “I forgot. You never have the vapors, do you?”

  His hands displayed a tendency to linger. “And I won’t now,” she informed him. Wrenching herself away, she marched toward the far corner of his desk. She had to put some distance between them. She absolutely couldn’t bear it if he touched her.

  Her voice scraped the silence. “I believe you said there were five men who entertained the wager. Five men who bet on who would claim my virtue. I recall quite distinctly, Justin, that you told me you were not among them. I remember it clearly.”

  He shook his head. “And I was not.”

  Arabella made a sound of impatience. “You make no sense!” she accused sharply. “You just said —”

  “I know
what I said. But I was not among those who entertained that particular wager.”

  Arabella lost her temper. “Do not lie to me!”

  “I am not lying. I will not lie.” He paused. “Gideon and I entered into a wager of our own. A private wager. We doubled the terms of the other men’s wager.”

  “The wager for my virtue. Say it, Justin.”

  He seemed curiously reluctant. The seconds ticked by, one by one, and with each Arabella was suddenly fiercely, bitingly angry. “Say it!”

  “Yes. Yes. We agreed to double the terms of the wager for your virtue.”

  “Was it a competition then between the two of you?”

  He shook his head. “Gideon told me you’d already spurned his advances. The wager was that I could take your virtue.” A pause. “Within the month,” he added softly.

  And he had. He had. Oh, God. God. In the span between one heartbeat and the next, she relived the achingly tender way he’d taken her on their wedding night, every fleeting, burning caress…She was cringing inside, the memory suddenly tarnished. And now he stood motionless, leaning against the side of his desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching her.

  How could he be so calm? Arabella wanted to scream and rage, to pummel him with her fists. Though she was blistering inside, she forced herself to match his aplomb.

  “How much?” she asked.

  He said nothing.

  Her gaze skidded to the pouch. “I can always look,” she reminded him.

  “Six thousand pounds.”

  She was right. Half a fortune. “Well,” she said coldly, “you certainly must have been very confident of your…persuasive abilities.”

  There was a taut, rippling silence. It flashed through her mind that he didn’t know what to say, and so he said nothing.

  “Ah, of course,” she mused aloud, “the game was never to wed me…but to bed me.” She was torn between the urge to laugh hysterically and cry in sheer, utter shame. In truth, she might have well surrendered her virginity to him without benefit of marriage. Oh, perhaps not that fateful night Georgiana and Aunt Grace had come upon them, but in time…