Deceived & Honoured--The Baron's Vexing Wife (#7 Love's Second Chance Series)

by Bree Wolf

  “I’m fine,” Kara had assured him, a rather indulgent smile on her face as she had followed him inside where he had set down the buckets by the stove. Without another word, Derek had returned outside, closing the door before his wife could slip inside as well.

  “What are you doing?” she had asked as he had stepped in her way. “It’s cold. Let me in.” Rubbing her hands down her arms, she had stood before him, her green eyes slightly narrowed.

  “She’s with child!” he had hissed in her face, his fists balled to control his anger. How could anyone be so oblivious?

  Drawing in a deep breath, his wife had lifted her chin. “Then you ought to find someone to help out around the house.”

  “I told you there are no servants here,” he had growled under his breath, unwilling for the argument to be overheard. “Do you truly not see when your help is needed? Or do you only hope to escape it by ignoring to see the need? Are you truly this selfish?”

  At his words, her face had turned red with anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like this! It is not my fault that you are unwilling to hire servants.”

  “It might be hard for you understand that, but not everyone can afford servants.” Gritting his teeth, Derek had glared at her.

  A challenging grin had come to his wife’s face as she had held his gaze. “You can now.”

  Stunned into silence, Derek had stared at her. “I told you I would not use a penny of your dowry.”

  “Why not? After all, you did what you had to do to claim it.”

  Fighting down the urge to shake her, Derek had taken a step closer, his gaze burning into hers, openly showing the anger he felt. “Go inside before I strangle you!”

  Completely unimpressed, she had rolled her eyes at him as though all of this was a mere game and had then wordlessly slipped past him and into the house. Derek had remained rooted to the spot for another minute or two, afraid he would lash out at the next person he met merely because he could not control the anger that made his blood boil.

  That day had been a dark one, and yet, Derek knew that as unimpressed as she had acted, she had understood him. For only a few days later, he had walked into the kitchen to see her stop Kara from lifting a bag of flour. Bending down, she had picked it up herself, placing it on the workbench. Then upon stepping back, she had become aware of the flour now clinging to the front of her precious gown and let out a blood-curdling shriek.

  Derek had laughed at the sight, unable to help himself.

  And his wife had swung around to glare at him, her own eyes now filled with hatred.

  It seemed they were caught in a snare of their own making, trapped, unable to break out.

  Turning his gaze from his wife and Collin as they came to stand by the pond, throwing little pebbles into the water, Derek sighed, wondering how best to continue…

  …with the roof…

  …as well as his wife.

  When the sun began to drop lower and the light slipped away, making the roof more treacherous, Derek decided to climb down. It would serve no one if he fell from the roof and broke his neck. As he glanced at his accomplished work one last time, Derek realised that he felt a certain amount of resentment toward Madeline as her words and actions belittled the accomplishments he had achieved. After all, not everyone was born into a rich family with servants to see to their every wish! Some people−most people, actually−had to do the work themselves.

  Looking at the small area of the roof he had been able to restore that day, Derek determinedly lifted his chin. At least now, his sister’s room would be free of rain, and that was something to be proud of. Did his wife resent him that he had not patched the part of the roof covering her own chamber first?

  Abandoning such thoughts, Derek climbed down from the roof and then headed into the kitchen through the back entrance. As he stepped into the room, he was surprised to find only his wife standing by the workbench, angrily attacking a bunch of carrots with a sharp knife, muttering angry curses under her breath.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking around. “Where are Mother and Kara?”

  Flinching at the sound of his voice, his wife turned to glare at him. “Don’t sneak up on me!” she admonished before turning back to the carrots. “Kara and Collin have come down with a cold. Your mother is seeing to them.”

  Derek felt his insides constrict. Illnesses were outside his control, and they terrified him. “Is it serious?”

  “How would I know?” Madeline snapped as the knife cut through the carrot, dangerously close to her fingers.

  “You seem upset,” Derek stated as he stepped closer, his gaze taking in the silent anger that held her body in its clutches. “Is something wrong?”

  A disbelieving snort escaped his wife. “Wrong?” Shaking her head in exasperation, she sighed. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

  Derek drew in a slow breath. “Do you truly despise being here so much?”

  At his words, she froze. Then her head turned, and she looked at him with wide eyes. “How can you ask that?”

  “Because I don’t understand,” Derek admitted. “I know this life is different, but can you truly not derive satisfaction from accomplishing something, from knowing that you’re needed, that you’re making a difference?”

  Staring at him, she swallowed. “Am I?” she croaked, and for a second, her gaze fell from his. Then she drew in a deep breath, and her head snapped up once more, the green in her eyes ablaze. “In case it has escaped your attention, my lord, I have nothing to be satisfied with as I have not accomplished anything.” Her tone remained calm, and yet, Derek could tell that she was on the brink of giving in to a panic that seemed to be hiding just below the surface. “I don’t know how to do anything you ask of me. I fail at everything. Can you not see that? Or do you merely ask me that to make me feel even smaller than I already do?”

  Stunned by her honest revelation, Derek hesitated. Was that truly how she saw herself? Was it not the snobbish notion to be better than others that kept her from helping, but the fear of failing at tasks as simple as cutting vegetables?

  “You seem to have everything under control,” he finally said, pointing to the steaming pot. “Would you not call that an accomplishment? Even if it might only be a small one. However, without it, we would go hungry tonight.”

  Holding her gaze, Derek saw a small spark of pride light up for the barest of seconds. However, it was immediately snuffed out by renewed anger and doubt. “All of this is your mother’s doing. Not mine. I wouldn’t even know−”

  “But you’re helping,” Derek reminded her. “Without your help−”

  “But I’m doing it wrong!” she snapped, her arms waving about, the knife still in her hand. “Even the smallest tasks your mother gives me, I cannot do right. I cannot even cut carrots!” With wide eyes, she shook her head, her hands gesturing wildly. “Not the right way and too slow! I spill and drop things. I know nothing of cooking or sewing and mending clothes.” Again, she glanced at the pot, then snorted. “And now I’m standing here talking to you when I ought to be cutting these.”

  Snatching up another carrot, Madeline turned back to the workbench, her brow furrowed in tense determination. “I need to finish before she comes back and sees that I’ve failed her again. Not only does she need to look after Kara and Collin but help also me out as well.”

  Concern sneaked into Derek’s heart as he watched Madeline berate herself. Always had she seemed confident and self-assured, and yet, in the past few weeks, her well-crafted mask had begun to slip, revealing more and more of her insecurities. If only she were not so afraid to show them, Derek thought with regret. Still, he could understand the need to appear strong, better than she might think.

  “Why is it,” his wife demanded, not taking her eyes off the carrots, “that you always help your tenants before you lift a finger for your own family?”

  Derek drew in a slow breath, aware that she was merely trying to redirect her anger. “Because my family h
as more than they do. Because they need it more. Because they have no one to look out for them.” Stepping closer, he spoke in a calm tone, his gaze fixed on her face as her knife continued to slice through the orange vegetable in jerky cuts. “Because they have you now.”

  At his words, her head swivelled around, her eyes wide as she stared at him. Her fingers slipped off the carrot, and yet, her other hand brought down the knife as before.

  Alarmed, Derek stepped forward, reaching for the knife, but it was too late.

  Blood welled up as the tip of the blade broke her skin, and she let out a cry of pain.

  Chapter Fifteen − Honest Words

  Clutching her hand to her chest, Madeline gritted her teeth as a sharp pain assailed her. However, deep down, she knew that it was more the pain of humiliation than physical discomfort that made her ache. Had she not just now proved how unskilled she was? Could he not see that the only thing she knew how to do was attract suitors? Attend society teas? Spend the night on the dance floor?

  Over the past few weeks, Madeline had come to realise that her insistence on making the perfect match that stemmed from a deep desire to be someone.

  To achieve something.

  To stand out.

  And yet, a part of her had always known that it would only have been a pretence.

  Among the ton, few people stood out due to their own achievements. If not for scandalous gossip, it was merely one’s position in life, defined by birth, which gave one recognition. Certainly, manners and personal conduct added a personal note. However, they were only window dressings for a house built out of attributes one had no control over.

  She had been born a lady, and it did not matter who she was; she would always be a lady. Her family’s reputation, fortune and influence, garnered over the centuries, added to her own position, her own worth.

  None of it had been her own doing.

  And deep down, Madeline had always resented that.

  Deep down, she had always wanted to accomplish…something.

  To be someone worthy of respect and admiration because of who she was, not because of the position she had been born into.

  And now she had failed.

  At a simplest task no less.

  Once and for all, she had proved that she was worth very little. That she had been fortunate to have been born into a titled family because she would never have been able to achieve such a position herself.

  Unlike the man she had married.

  He had indeed proved his worth.

  And she could not help but admire him for it.

  “Let me see,” her husband whispered beside her, and Madeline sucked in a deep breath at finding him so close. Gently, he drew her hand away from her chest and inspected the cut. “It’s not deep.” Filling a cup with water, he poured it over her finger, washing away the blood. “However, one always ought to pay attention,” he said, the hint of a grin tugging on the corner of his mouth, as he pulled a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wrapped it around her finger, “when one is handling a weapon.”

  Madeline snorted, “A weapon?” She shook her head, trying to distract herself from the warmth of his skin against her own. “It’s only a small cutting knife.”

  His dark eyes shifted to hers, and all humour left his face. “You would not believe what harm even such a small knife can inflict on a body.” He drew in a slow breath as his gaze held hers, their hands still touching, seemingly unable to part. “I pray that you shall never find out.”

  Swallowing, Madeline searched his eyes. Memories hung over them, dark and painful, and a part of her wished he would share them with her. Not because she desperately wanted to know, but because more than anything she wanted him to see her as someone worthy to confide in.

  Again, his mother’s words from her first day at Huntington House echoed in her mind. He rarely shares his burdens. Maybe he will share them with ye. Madeline had to admit that even if she had not wished for it then, she did now.

  She wanted his trust.

  Be in his confidence.

  “You were a soldier,” she whispered, not certain how to ask, how to keep him talking. “What was it like?”

  For a long moment, he remained quiet, his gaze locked on hers as though trying to determine if she truly wished to know. “It was heaven and hell,” he finally said, drawing in a slow breath as he saw confusion come to her face. “The bloodshed, the pain, the loss of lives was beyond anything I could even begin to describe.” He shrugged. “It was hell, and to this day, I wonder how I made it out.”

  As he spoke his hand closed more tightly on hers, and Madeline found herself trembling with the intimate way his gaze held hers, the way his words rang true, open and honest. Never had he spoken to her like this.

  No one had ever spoken to her like this.

  “And heaven?” Madeline prompted, her voice a mere squeak as she fought the nerves that threatened to undo her.

  “The camaraderie,” he whispered as though revealing a well-kept secret. “The honest respect, blind trust and unfailing devotion. Even in moments of pain, fear and death, you are not alone. There are people who stand with you, no matter the consequences. There is truth in these moments like in no others. You finally see what is important, understand your place in life and realise that you matter.”

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Madeline swallowed as she felt a lone tear slowly rolling down her cheek. Ashamed, she lifted her hand to brush it away, but her husband stopped her.

  Gently, his hand closed over hers, and his gaze traced the tiny drop as it made its way past the corner of her mouth and down to her chin. He met her gaze then, the depth in his eyes stealing the breath from her lungs, before he lifted his hand, and his thumb and index finger gently took hold of her chin.

  Raising her head, he stepped closer, his gaze now burning into hers with an intensity that warmed her chilled toes. “You matter,” he whispered, responding to her silent doubts. “It is not important whether you succeed or not. All that matters is that you try.” He nodded his head for emphasis, his fingers tightening on her chin, “That you keep trying. Don’t give up. Don’t ever give up.”

  Shuddering under his gaze, Madeline found herself shaken to her core. And yet, it was neither melancholy nor despair that swelled in her chest but hope instead.

  Suddenly, Madeline felt empowered as though he had just handed her the tools to change her fate…with only a few simple words. Did he truly mean them? Did he truly believe that she…?

  No, he would not have lied to her. He was an honourable man in the truest sense.

  The words he spoke had been the truth. If nothing else, Madeline believed that.

  Desperate to repay him for his kindness, to express her gratitude and show him how much his trust meant to her, Madeline opened her mouth, grasping for words…only to find them fail her. On impulse, she tugged on her arm, her hand still resting in his, and pulled herself against him, her mouth finding his, seeking to convey what she could not say.

  For a moment, her husband seemed taken aback, and Madeline feared that he would reject her. However, before she could retreat in shame, he returned her kiss, his lips gently moving over hers as his hand slid up to cup her face.

  There was such tenderness and care in his touch, in the way the tips of his fingers brushed over her skin, barely touching, and yet, so intimate, that Madeline felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes.

  But she did not want to cry.

  Not now.

  Please not now.

  She wanted to feel…alive…and free…and cherished…and cared for.

  Did he care for her?

  Did she care for him?

  Unable to deny those delicate feelings of affection that had begun to blossom in her heart for the man she had never wanted to marry, Madeline allowed herself to believe that even if he did not care for her now…a day might come that he would.

  And maybe that day was not too far off.

  Maybe it was just around the corne
r.

  Maybe all she needed to do was admit to her own feelings for him. But could she? Did she dare be so vulnerable?

  His left arm tightened on her, pulling her closer, as his right hand slipped to the back of her neck. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss, but then suddenly froze…and pulled back.

  Staring up at him, Madeline searched his eyes, confused about the sudden distance she could sense growing ever wider between them. What had happened? Why had he broken their kiss?

  “Why did you come?” he whispered, his breath warm on her skin as he continued to hold her, his voice gentle. Still, these four words felt like a bucket of cold water dumped over Madeline’s head.

  Swallowing, she drew in a shaky breath. Did he not want her here? Did he want her to leave? Could he not see that she had nowhere else to go? “I…I…” Again, words failed her. After all, someone like him who had weathered the dangers of the world could never understand the misery of her own little life. Compared to his, it was nothing.

  “Did you−?” He swallowed, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tense. A touch of repressed anger and a sense of urgency came to his gaze as it searched her face for an answer he feared to receive.

  What had changed? Madeline wondered, confused about the direction his thoughts had travelled. What was he asking of her?

  Looking down at her, her husband seemed to suddenly realise how tightly she was still wrapped in his arms for he immediately stepped back as though burnt.

  Madeline’s heart began to ache as his arms fell away and she saw the doubt and regret on his face. Averting her gaze, unable to look at him, she turned back to the workbench. Her gaze fell onto the knife, its tip tinged with her blood, and a soft smile touched her face. This was how it had started, the small, seemingly insignificant incident that had brought them closer.

  Or had she only imagined it?

  Remembering the task Bessy had given her, Madeline once more reached for the knife, her injured finger still wrapped in her husband’s handkerchief. With a sigh, she forced her gaze away and back onto the carrots. It would not serve her to cut herself again.