Love's Patient Fury (The Deverell Series Book 3)

by Susan Ward

  Kate shook her head in aggravation. “Pure nonsense. The best course is always the truth.”

  “I will not betray with words my foolishness to my father. I am in love with a man who has no tender feelings for me. A man who married me because of his loyalty to my mother. I am foolish, Kate. But at least I will keep possession of my dignity and pride.”

  “You are indeed foolish, Merry. As ever, you cannot see what is right in front of your face. Whatever this quarrel His Grace has put between you it is not the making of an indifferent heart.”

  Merry bit her lip. It was pointless to try to explain to Kate. Kate’s body and heart were still innocent, unlike her own.

  Merry spent the remainder of the day in her room, curled in a chair. She’d had no idea the situation with her family was so desperate. She had thought the worry her father would annul her marriage behind her. They had been married over a month. But her father had dispatched Uncle Andrew to London to investigate Varian and they were working on an annulment. They had not even spoken to her of this. Much had been happening at Bramble Hill so unaware was she of anything but her own heartache. Whatever the future of her marriage, it was not her want to have it settled by her father.

  For the first time Merry wondered why Varian had remained at Bramble Hill so long. Surely he knew there was danger for him here in her father’s house. If their marriage was nothing to Varian, why did he always return from his mysterious journeys to this place hardly welcoming of him? He did not claim her as his wife and he did not let her go. It was strange, very strange. Would she ever understand him?

  She rose from the chair and dressed for supper. She would join them below for the meal, something she had not done for many weeks. It was time she take greater notice of the goings on of her family. No matter Varian’s intentions of this marriage he had forced upon her, if her father thought she would permit him to annul it, he thought wrong.

  She found her family in the west drawing room gathered before super. Varian sat in an armchair beside her mother. Her father sat a morose stranger apart from them. Kate and Philip were huddled over a chess board. The tension in the room was palatable. It was ghastly.

  She crossed the room toward her mother.

  “Ah, Merry. What a delight it is you are joining us this night,” Rhea said happily from her chair.

  Merry smiled. “There is no need to worry for me, Mama. It just takes time to recover from so long on ship.”

  She went to her father next and placed a light kiss on his cheek. It was harder than Merry anticipated, calmly facing Varian. Memories of the darkness rose within her. She had not seen him since she left his arms, naked from his bed.

  Having organized in her mind a careful greeting for her husband, Merry turned to Varian, but she was never given a chance to speak.

  It was her mother’s voice she heard instead. “Lady Wythford, please join us.”

  Merry whirled, and before her flashing, disbelieving eyes, as beautiful as ever, Christina Wythford.

  Lady Wythford made a graceful curtsey. “Your Grace.”

  The night slipped rapidly into a nightmare.

  ~~~

  The formal dining room was large. Merry had always hated this room for its formality and the vast size of everything within it. Tonight neither the room nor the table were large enough to suit her.

  For some reason, Rhea had set the Lady Wythford on Varian’s right, and had exiled Merry to the other side of the table beside her brother. From her vantage point directly across from Lady Wythford, it was impossible to focus on her meal and not witness the easy flow of Varian’s conversation with that woman or Christina Wythford’s charming flirtations. She gazed at him under slanted lashes. She laughed a touch too loud. She graced all at the table with her stunning smile. It was infuriating in every way.

  Over the table their gazes met. With that touch of eyes, the two women, once friends, were instant enemies. Merry calmly arched a brow, the usefulness of such a gesture learned from watching Varian. It was potent and effective. Christina flushed and dropped her gaze first.

  When Rhea announced it was time to leave the men with their port and cigars, Merry was only too grateful to flee the dining room. Without sparing a single look at her husband, Merry left the room.

  Merry wanted to pounce on Lady Wythford, but the presence of Kate and her mother made that impossible. Instead, she planted herself on the sofa beside Christina and before her mother could speak, she said, “It was quite an unexpected surprise to find you here, Lady Wythford. What brings you to Falmouth?”

  Christina smiled. “Her Grace was kind enough to insist I stay here when she’d learned I’ll be attending to business for my husband in Falmouth.”

  Merry’s eyes narrowed. Exactly how had her mother learned that? Was it Varian’s plotting or this dreadful woman’s?

  Merry let surface a sweet smile of her own. “And how is your husband? It has been too long since I’ve seen Lord Wythford. I trust he is in good health.”

  Christina flushed. Lord Wythford was a despicable little man, nearly seventy, and theirs an arranged marriage forced upon her by her father.

  “He is well, Your Grace. And let me offer my best wishes upon your marriage. Such a delightful surprise to learn that His Grace had returned and taken a wife. All of London is in great excitement over that. It is my greatest hope you will keep him here with us in England.”

  Lady Wythford’s subtle jabs were not lost on Merry.

  “It is all our hope,” Rhea piped up.

  Merry smiled. “We will see, Mama. No woman ever truly knows where her husband will take her.”

  “True words,” Christina said cunningly, and then quickly again a one-sided smile appeared on her face. “And Varian is the most unpredictable of men.”

  They locked eyes again.

  “He is that,” Merry replied stiffly.

  Merry heard the men in the hallway about to join them. They had not tarried long over port, most probably because her father could not tolerate Varian’s presence for more than a handful of minutes.

  The rest of the evening passed in heavy strain at best. By half past ten, Merry felt her nerves would snap and had had enough. She excused herself and went to bed.

  Alone in her bedroom, she set to pace. She couldn’t stop shivering. She chided herself for having left the drawing room. Only a foolish woman would leave her husband in the company of his mistress. Even Kate would have been wise enough not to have done that. But too often her impulses failed her with Varian.

  She dressed for bed and went to settle on the sill of the window. It was a rare clear night for autumn, the sky littered with stars and the hills gently lit by the glimmer of a full moon. How peaceful it was here. Merry felt anything but peaceful since her return to Bramble Hill.

  Nothing was ever quiet inside her when Varian was near. Not her passion. Not her love. Not her jealousy or her hurt. Every emotion raced through her veins with startling force, whether she wished them to or not. The past month had done little to change that.

  She closed her eyes. As much as she loved Bramble Hill, she wished they had never come here. She had left Cornwall a girl with an innocent heart and returned a woman with a heart broken.

  Every part of her world was in shambles. She knew not how to fix any of it.

  ~~~

  Varian found Christina sitting alone in in the garden, illuminated by moonlight.

  She was a beautiful woman and his affection for her would always run deep. They were true friends, loyal and kind to each other. He regretted having maneuvered her here, but some things were gentler done in person. As for the rest, the more pressing matters they had to discuss, could not be delayed and would not have been wise to put in a letter. Though Varian would have preferred this meeting anywhere but Bramble Hill, in the close proximately of Lucien Merrick, and in front his wife’s confused and hurt gaze.

  He felt a pain in his heart, knowing he had hurt Merry yet again. The look in her eyes across the table
at dinner had been a misery to endure. He would hurt her in a hundred ways in the coming days. Unavoidable. Necessary. Secrets had a cruel whim of their own to hurt. He prayed her heart was strong enough to carry her through all he must put her through.

  Varian settle a careful distance from Christina on the bench.

  “I am pleased to find you looking so well, my dear,” he said with a quiet smile.

  Christina’s eyes flashed. “You’ve been back a month and you have not even bothered to visit me. In the least you owed me that.”

  She watched the line of his jaw tighten and his face lose reflection, wondered what to make of that, and then noticed an air of deliberate distance in the elegant arrangement of his body, so carefully place away from her.

  “I’m sure you will forgive my tardiness. I have a new bride. My attention is focused there, as it should be.”

  Christina arched a brow. “Have you lost your wits, Varian? Meredith Merrick. Your little bird was Merry. I can understand you wanting to bed her. I cannot understand what appeal there would be to marry her. It’s quite absurd.”

  The occult blackness of his eyes darkened. Christina saw it and cautioned herself. Lightly she placed her hand atop his. He tensed.

  “I’m sorry. My tongue gets the better of me at times. It did not set well with me seeing you two together.” She bent him a loving look under slanted eyes. “I have missed you, Varian.”

  He moved his hand from hers. “You are a remarkable woman, Christina. Better than I ever deserved. I will always cherish the memories of our friendship.”

  Christina’s insides went cold. A gentle, effortless rebuke. That easily Varian ended them. So she was to be the sacrifice? The sacrifice to his obsession against Rensdale, to his young wife, and the Merricks who wanted his head. It was too amusing. It should have made her laugh. She hid her hurt behind a smile.

  She stared out at the garden. She tried to pull her raging emotions into comfortable order. It hurt, more than she thought possible. She had always known this day would come, but it surprised her how sure he was of her love for him that he should dare such a casual ending. And yet she knew, as she suspected he knew as well, she could never do anything to harm him. She was in love with him and in spite of her inner pretense otherwise, always had been.

  “What is it you want from me?” she asked quietly. “You did not drag me to the wilds of Cornwall merely to end us like a gentleman. It’s not worth pointing out you failed in that regard if that was your intent.”

  She made a playful face and Varian laughed, and the sound of it ran through her body with the remembered sweetness of his touch and kisses.

  “I’m sorry I had to send for you, my dear,” Varian said quietly. “I would have preferred to wait until my return to London for this discussion. But the delay would not be safe for either of us. It has begun.”

  Christina studied the benign lines of Varian’s face. The unruffled arrangement of his features belied the dangerousness of his task.

  “I know. Lord Branneth was put under house guard before I left London. Castlereagh is investigating his work at the customs office. There is rumor that Lord Montrose and Lord Crandall are under suspicion as well.” She made a harsh laugh. “Wythford is beside himself with worry since it is only a matter of time before the investigation leads Castlereagh to the insurance fraud, and there is not a single document of Rensdale’s not touched by Wythford’s pen.”

  Varian covered her hand with his and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Christina. I would for anything never harmed you.”

  Christina tossed her head flippantly. “It is of no bother what happens to Wythford. Our marriage was doomed at its inception.”

  Varian’s smile was rueful. “My apologies are for my part in your circumstance and what will happen when the investigation reaches Wythford.”

  “We were both so young when we loved first. We are both to blame. Your punishment was to be exiled to America. Mine was to marry Wythford. I do not regret having loved you.” Her eyes met his. What she hoped to find never surfaced in their opaque darkness. She looked away. “As for my circumstance when Wythford is arrested, you should turn your concern toward yourself. The mood in London is not generous toward you. Rensdale and Wythford are working behind the scenes to see those old charges against you be brought for the destruction of the Carolina and the murder of your wife. Covertly they fan the flames of public outrage against you. The street pamphlets are everywhere with ballads about your poor new bride and your villainy. Rensdale’s handiwork I’m sure. All are aware the Merricks are not interceding this time on your behalf. Andrew Merrick is quietly working to obtain an annulment. Both the regent and the queen have taken notice. There are many who want your head.”

  Varian stared at the sky and smiled darkly. “Then it is all as it should be.”

  She met his eyes and felt a shiver to her soul. God help her, she still loved him. His recklessness was a physical torture for her to endure. She sighed and then said, “What is it you want from me? You didn’t send for me without a reason. I know you well and I have known you long, Varian Deverell.”

  He laughed, the sound low in his chest. She shivered again. At once the laughter stopped and she was held in the potent lock of his eyes. “I want you to stay close to Warton. If danger is to come to me from the Merricks or the crown we will learn it first through Warton.”

  Christina jerked back into the bench, eyes flashing. “Are you asking me to become his mistress, Varian?”

  Varian’s gaze darkened. “No. Never that. You have a casual friendship with him now. It would serve us well if you cultivated that friendship and stayed close to him. I would not ask more from you.”

  She fought back a tear. “I will consider it,” she said stiffly.

  “That is all I can expect of you, my dear.”

  Varian rose and Christina floated onto her feet, swaying a little toward him and lifting her face. They stood so close and she could feel the warmth of his body surrounding her. She wanted so very much to touch him.

  She placed a trembling hand on his chest and met his eyes directly. “Kiss me goodbye, Varian.”

  He took a step back and placed a light kiss on her hand. “Be careful, Christina. My dear friend.”

  She stood in the garden, her eyes following his brisk strides toward the house. The door closed and a sharp pain struck her heart. It hurt so much more than she had feared it would.

  ~~~

  When Varian entered his bedroom, he found Merry curled in a chair waiting for him. He had not expected otherwise.

  Her bluebell eyes fixed on Varian damningly. Merry lifted her chin and assumed a noble posture. It was a touch endearing and a tad amusing, and both added to the sharp bite of his regret in this.

  “I want that woman gone. Gone from this house. Gone tomorrow.”

  Her stare was like a knife cutting his flesh. “She is your mother’s guest. I cannot un-invite her.”

  Her eyes were sparkling pools of hurt. “Don’t pretend this insult was not of your doing. You humiliate me by having her here.”

  “I have done no such thing. She is an old friend. Nothing more.”

  She stared at him a moment and then looked away. “She is your mistress. Do not pretend otherwise with me. I will not believe your lies over what I have seen with my own eyes.”

  “I have not been with another woman since I took you to my bed, Merry,” Varian said, his low voice potent with emotion. “There would be no pleasure with another woman because I adore you. You need never have fear of that, Merry.”

  Merry searched his eyes. What was in them frightened her. She wanted so badly to believe him. Suspicion, unwanted, rose its ugly head. Varian’s handsome face could be so cleverly beguiling and misleading when it suited him. Another woman would most probably believe him. The distress of her heart would not let her. She did not know for sure when Varian spoke truth or lie. She could not trust her heart to him and she could not step away.

  She was
not yet ready for either direction, and it was agony.

  ~~~

  The Lady Wythford departed shortly after breakfast the next day. Two days later, Andrew Merrick returned from London. He had made a fast crossing over land to Falmouth, and would have preferred fresh clothes and a bath, but this discussion with his brother could not be delayed.

  Time seemed to move quickly with cruel whim and unexpected events these days. England seemed a much changed place since Varian Deverell had returned to its shores. Coincidence, perhaps, a product of his own disdain and distrust of the man, but Andrew Merrick only half-believed in coincidence.

  He entered his brother’s study in fast agitated strides and made a harsh gesture for Moffat to leave. As the door closed, he began to spread documents across Lucien’s desk.

  Lucien sat back in his chair. “What has you so impatient, Andrew, that you cannot greet your brother?”

  “There is much happening in London which we will soon discuss, but I thought it important to share first with you my discoveries on Varian Deverell.”

  Lucien arched a brow. “A simple accounting will do.”

  Andrew’s eyes fixed intensely on the papers. “A simple accounting this is not. Varian Deverell is an unimaginably wealthy man. He has accumulated a remarkable fortune, and these are just his holdings in England.” Andrew’s hand swept over the documents. “And he’s done it with care, Lucien. Each enterprise artfully concealed, as if he did not want the pieces of what he was doing to ever join.”

  One by one Lucien lifted the sheets, gave them a thorough study and went to the next. It went on and on. Unthinkable in scale. It was unfathomable the vast wealth contained on the ledgers.

  “This is not a fortune, Andrew. This is an empire.” Lucien Merrick sat back and stared at the copious bundles of reports spread across his desk. The tally of assets—land, ships, investments, gold, currency—it went on and on. It was staggering. “How does one man accomplish all this in a decade? He was nearly impoverished when he left England ten years ago.”

  “Not by legitimate means, I assure you. There is no greater time for a man without scruples to profit than during a time of war. He’s put to good use our conflict with Napoleon and America.”