Silent Revenge

by Laura Landon

  Simon had to force himself not to recoil. He didn’t have to look down to see Jessica’s reaction. He could feel her hand clench tighter around his arm.

  “Aren’t you going to tell me I look wonderful, too?” she said, lowering her lashes seductively.

  “My approval has never been important to you. I hardly think it’s warranted now.”

  “Dear me,” she said, snapping her fan closed and slapping it against the palm of her hand. “A bit owlish tonight, aren’t we? Not at all how I would prefer you to be after all this time.” Rosalind skimmed her tongue slowly across her ruby-red lips, then puckered them in a seductive pout. “Would it be possible to speak with you in private, my lord? It’s so terribly crowded here.”

  Simon smiled. “I hardly think so, my lady. I prefer an audience when I am with you.”

  “Do you?” She laughed. “Then an audience you shall have. But I’m quite thirsty. I’m going to get a drink from the refreshment table. We can continue our conversation there.”

  Simon was left with no choice but to follow Rosalind to the refreshment table in a remote alcove of the ballroom. They were no longer surrounded by a crowd of eavesdroppers, but only a few couples who were getting something to drink. None of them made a move to leave, but stayed to overhear whatever they could.

  Rosalind took a glass of punch a servant handed her, then turned to face him. “Have you missed me, my lord?” she asked after she took her first small sip. “I have to admit that I have missed you.”

  “No, Rosalind. I haven’t missed you at all.”

  Simon stepped to the side, in hopes that Jessica would be able to see Rosalind’s mouth. But Rosalind moved further away. Realizing there was nothing he could do to gain his wife the advantage, he gave up and stood his ground.

  “Have you been to your husband’s grave lately?” he said. “Placed even a flower there in remembrance?”

  Rosalind shot him a harsh glare, her face a decidedly paler shade. “How unkind to bring up something so painful at such a festive occasion. You have no idea how devastated I was. It took me forever to recover from my loss.”

  “More than a few hours? I can hardly believe such sentiment.” Simon straightened his shoulders. “Perhaps guilt made your recovery more difficult. Tell me, Lady Northcote. I have never quite understood what occurred that night. I have never been able to picture in my mind how my father’s accident could possibly have happened.”

  The uncomfortable look on Rosalind’s face quickly faded. She banished her unease with a laugh. When it came to acting, she was a professional.

  She glanced around at the couples scattered nearby who could undoubtedly hear at least fragments of what they said. “Now is hardly the time to discuss something so unpleasant, my lord. I would much prefer being introduced to your lovely wife.”

  Rosalind gave Jessica a brief glance, as cold as a chilling wind, then turned her back again so Jessica could not see her face.

  Simon knew his wife had no idea what Rosalind was saying. But more than that, it galled him to see the cursory glance she gave Jessica. The speed with which she dismissed her.

  He focused his gaze on Jessica. He saw the intimidation in her eyes. Felt her terror. She stiffened in his arms, the look in her eyes revealing her confusion—her fear.

  Rosalind curved her lips upward to a full, knowing smile. “I was most distressed you took a wife without first consulting me, Simon.” She leaned closer and spoke so softly the crowd around them couldn’t hear her. “I was even more distressed to find you had chosen such a renowned little wallflower to be your countess.”

  Simon bristled. “It will be a cold day in hell before I consult you on anything I do. As for my wife—”

  Jessica’s hand grasped his arm firmer, and he glanced down. The air froze in his chest. She looked at him with the most trusting smile on her face, but the look in her eyes bespoke pure terror.

  Rosalind cupped her hand to her mouth and whispered again, always averting her face so Jessica couldn’t see her mouth. “How unfortunate, Simon. If I had known how desperate you were for a wife, I could have helped you find someone more suitable.”

  Bright lights exploded in Simon’s head. How could he ever have cared for such a vile creature? She wasn’t worthy to even be in the same room with the woman he’d married.

  “My father deserved you,” he hissed, keeping a protective arm fastened firmly around Jessica’s waist. “Did you ever care for him at all, Rosalind? Or was it only his money you were after?”

  Rosalind bristled, the glint of defiance glaring in her eyes. She swirled her red satin skirt and opened her black lace fan with a flick of her wrist. “Be careful, Simon. Two can play this game of yours.”

  “I’m hardly playing a game, Rosalind. I am talking about my father’s death. Were you there when he died?”

  Rosalind’s glare turned deadly. “I am sure such a topic does not interest your wife in the least. Does it, Lady Northcote?”

  Rosalind asked the question loud enough for everyone to hear, but she did not face Jessica when she asked it.

  “Does it?” she asked again, turning to openly face Jessica. Rosalind waited a second, then lifted the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps she couldn’t hear my question?” she said, smiling the most malicious grin imaginable.

  The blood raced to Simon’s head, crashing against his ears like the waves of a wild, uncontrollable ocean.

  Rosalind knew Jessica’s secret. Somehow she’d discovered the secret Jessica had kept from society for more than a dozen years.

  A chilling fear paralyzed every nerve in his body and stole the breath from his lungs. He didn’t doubt for a moment that she would expose her to the ton if he questioned her further about his father’s death.

  Jessica stared at Rosalind in confusion and then turned to him. Simon saw the open pleading in her eyes. How could she answer when she had not seen what had been said?

  Simon clenched his teeth until every muscle in his jaw ached. He could feel Jessica shudder against him, feel her trembling hand clench around his forearm.

  She kept her head high and her features composed. But he knew she was terrified on the inside.

  He couldn’t do this to her. Having her deafness exposed was Jessica’s worst nightmare, and Rosalind was threatening to do just that with half of London society watching.

  Jessica looked around to each of the couples standing near them, then back to him. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Only a ragged gasp of air.

  “It wasn’t important, Jesse,” Simon interrupted. “If you will excuse us,” he said, looking at Rosalind with cold disdain, “my wife and I were just leaving.”

  Simon made a move to lead Jessica toward the door, but Rosalind stepped in front of them. Her hand rested on his forearm, and she did not even try to hide the satisfaction on her face.

  “You must call on me, Simon. Soon. We have so much to catch up on.”

  Simon put a protective arm around Jessica’s shoulder and ushered her from the room. He had to get her out of here. He had to take her where she would be safe.

  Rosalind.

  Jessica could still see the invitation in her seductive grin as Simon walked away from her.

  The air caught in her throat. She didn’t think Simon’s mistress would have the nerve to accost them in front of such a large crowd. She didn’t think Simon would publicly acknowledge her before all of society.

  She’d been wrong.

  Jessica kept the forced smile on her face as they issued the expected words of appreciation, then bade their host and hostess a pleasant farewell. When they reached the door, Simon took the apricot satin wrap Madame Lamont had made to go with her gown and placed it around her shoulders.

  His fingers barely touched her before he pulled his hands away to grab his black cape from the butler. With a powerful swish, he wrapped the black satin around his shoulders and fastened the clasp beneath his chin.

  Jessica placed her hand atop his of
fered arm, and a rush of trepidation raced through her. The muscles beneath her fingers bulged like hardened bands of steel, strung taut and ready to snap.

  A breath caught in her throat, and Jessica swallowed past the lump that refused to move.

  They walked out the door and down the stairs to where their driver waited for them.

  Simon did not speak one word. Neither did she. Nor did she brave a look at his face until he turned to help her up the two wooden steps into the carriage. What she saw squeezed painfully around her heart.

  His exposed emotions lay close to the surface, and Jessica tried to interpret what he felt.

  There was a hard set to his jaw as the muscles on either side of his face clenched tightly. She looked into his eyes, but the furor she saw frightened her. She wanted him to say something. She wanted to discover to whom his anger was directed—at her, or at the woman they’d just left. But he said nothing.

  Gnarled fingers of dread twisted around her heart, threatening to suffocate her. Never before had she seen such anger in another person. And it was an anger she didn’t understand.

  A picture of the breathtakingly beautiful Rosalind flashed before her eyes.

  Was he angry because the woman he’d hoped to keep secret possessed such incredible nerve as to flaunt herself in front of not only the whole of society, but also his wife? A wife he’d thought to keep in ignorance until he was assured of an heir?

  Or was he angry because his wife was such a stark disappointment when compared to his mistress? And now all of society knew it.

  Jessica couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe. She’d known this would happen. She’d known she wouldn’t be able to hide her deafness. She’d known when she couldn’t read the lips of the person talking to her, she’d look the fool. A crazy, addle-headed fool.

  By the saints, no wonder Simon didn’t want her. Even dressed in the most beautiful gown she had ever created, Jessica had paled in comparison to the dark-haired beauty.

  A picture of the woman in the red satin gown swam before her eyes. The seductive look in her eyes seemed burned in her memory for all time. Had her action been a challenge for him to acknowledge her before the ton? Or his wife? Or both?

  Her face burned with embarrassment. How dare Simon put her through this. She stopped on the top step of the carriage and spun around to face him. “Tonight will be the only laugh you and Rosalind will have at my expense, Simon. Ever.”

  Her husband reached out to turn her to him. He intended to counter her demand with a demand of his own. But she would not let him. Not this time.

  She turned away from him, refusing to read what his lips said.

  With that, she stepped into the carriage and leaned back against the soft maroon leather seat.

  Simon sat in the seat across from her, not next to her as he had on their way to the ball. He moved his long, muscular legs to one side as if to touch her was painful.

  She turned her face away from him, focusing her gaze on the darkness outside as they sped down the empty London streets. Hadn’t Simon asked enough of her since their marriage? Did he have to add a public confrontation with his mistress to the list? She cursed the lump that formed in her throat and swallowed hard.

  Damn him. He would not make her care. Even flaunting his mistress in front of her before all of society would not make her care.

  From the moment he had agreed to give her his name in exchange for her money, she had known he could never love her. He had told her as much. Love had never been part of the bargain. Why hadn’t she remembered that vow all the nights he’d held her in his arms, the times he’d kissed her, and taught her to dance? All the nights he’d lain with her beneath him, giving her pleasure—taking in return? All the nights he’d made love to her, pretending to care for her?

  What a fool she’d been to think if she put on a pretty gown and threaded ribbons in her hair, she would be like all the other women.

  A pain tightened in her chest. Lord, she hurt. Facing the truth was painful, but she could no longer ignore it.

  All the fashions and finery and frills in the world would not change the fact that she was flawed.

  Jessica didn’t flinch when Simon placed his fingers beneath her chin. She was too numb to care.

  He wanted her to look at him. Perhaps he’d come up with an excuse he thought she would believe. Perhaps an apology he thought she deserved. Perhaps some well-rehearsed lies to smooth over the situation. Well, she didn’t want to see it.

  Jessica resorted to a trick she’d learned over the years. She closed her eyes. She closed her eyes and locked herself in her private world of silence. A world where no one could intrude. What she couldn’t see, she couldn’t read. She couldn’t hear.

  He placed his fingers beneath her chin again.

  She kept her eyes shut and turned her face farther away.

  The third time, Simon grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. It wasn’t a hard shake. Not hard enough to hurt her. Only hard enough to demonstrate his frustration.

  When Jessica still refused to open her eyes, he released her arms and let her sink back against the leather seat.

  In a move that caught her off guard, Simon cupped the palm of his hand against her cheek and moved his thumb along the sensitive skin just beneath her closed eyes.

  Jessica stifled a gasp and jerked her head away from him.

  Damn him. He would not make her yield. Her deafness was her only defense against him.

  She leaned her head back against the cushion and rode the rest of the way home in dark silence. Her stomach knotted in a tight ball and lurched with every bounce along the cobblestone streets. Only when the carriage came to a halt did she open her eyes, but even then she didn’t look at Simon. He would not have the satisfaction of knowing how much he had hurt her.

  She didn’t wait to be helped from the carriage, nor did she take his offered arm. She walked the short distance to the town house, knowing he was close behind her. Before she reached the entrance, Sanjay opened the front door, flashing her a broad smile that was the antithesis to her dark mood.

  “Did you and the master have a good time, missy?” Sanjay said, taking the cloak from her shoulders.

  Jessica laughed. “Wonderful, Sanjay,” she answered, choking on the words.

  She spun around and looked at Simon. His black look impaled her with a violent fury. “Didn’t we, my lord?” she said, then turned toward the steps and forced herself to take them one by one instead of running away from him like she wanted.

  Damn him. He would not make her cry.

  She swiped at the wetness that dampened her cheeks.

  He would not make her cry.

  Chapter 19

  The door to their bedroom opened, and his massive figure filled the lighted space.

  Jessica stared at the entrance, the light from behind him making his shadowed form appear larger, more impressive. She knew he’d come to her eventually. She’d lain in her bed for hours, waiting. She knew him well enough to know he would not let what had happened tonight rest, that he would face the turmoil head-on.

  She breathed a heavy sigh. Yes, it was best to get it out in the open. Best to learn about the mistress he refused to give up and know where their marriage was headed.

  He took several steps into the room, closing the distance between them. He no longer wore his tailcoat, his waistcoat, or his white satin cravat. His gleaming white dress shirt hung open almost to his waist, exposing a good portion of the dark hair on his chest. In his hands he cradled at least a half-dozen candles and holders. One was lit. As he walked to her bedside, the fame flickered, casting the features of his face in a glowing light.

  “Have you finished with your pouting?” he asked, making sure she could see his face.

  She refused to answer. She hadn’t been pouting. She could not believe he saw it that way.

  He shrugged his shoulders as if it did not matter one way or another, then took the one lighted candle and reached out to light the ta
per Jessica had at her bedside. He put another beside it. One by one, he lit each candle he’d brought with him plus the other candles already in the room. He placed them in a circle around the bed, on stands, on chairs, on the desk, on anything nearby. Candle added to candle and the room glowed with a brightness that equaled daylight. He lit the last candle and set it on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

  “What are you doing?” Jessica sat up in bed and leaned her back against the headboard.

  Simon moved to her side, propped a pillow behind her back, and pulled the covers under her chin.

  “I am making sure you can see every word I speak.” Then he closed and locked the door. “Can you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Simon stood beside the trunk. He clasped his hands behind his back and braced his feet apart as if he were prepared for battle. The look in his eyes indicated he was ready for more than just a minor skirmish.

  “Have you calmed, wife?”

  The breath caught in her throat. “You are asking if I have calmed?” She laughed. “I’m not the one who stormed to the carriage without speaking a word.”

  Or the one who could not bear to touch his wife after he’d seen his mistress.

  He stepped closer and grasped the tall posters at the foot of the bed. He lifted his chin ever so slowly and impaled her with a look that sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m not the one who shut her eyes and closed her husband out, Jessica. I’m not the one who built a barrier impossible for anyone to penetrate. I’m not the one who used her deafness to take the coward’s retreat and fight unfairly.”

  The hooded darkness of his eyes and the vein that stood out in his neck evidenced his anger. She could only imagine how loud his voice must be.

  He took another step. “You will never again do to me what you did tonight, wife. Do you understand? No matter how angry either of us becomes with the other, you will not shut your eyes to close me out.”