A Scandalous Wife (Scandalous Series, BOOK 1)

by Ava Stone

  “How old are they? The twins?”

  “Six. His twin, Madeline, is often in her own little make-believe world, with her head constantly in the clouds. She’s soft and everything feminine. And she’s the perfect image of Bethany. That fact causes James anxiety even at this age.”

  “Lady Carteret did turn many heads before she was married, didn’t she?”

  “I wasn’t around her much then, but that’s my understanding.”

  “So, Liam is serious, Katriona is prissy, Morgan idolizes his brother, and Madeline will break hearts like her mother?” he asked with raised brows.

  Lydia smiled, still trying to shake off the disappointment she felt from the realization that Robert was only interested in her womb. “And then there’s Fiona.”

  “Ah. The painter.” Robert’s eyes danced, and Lydia tried not to look into them. She didn’t need to be drawn to him anymore than she already was.

  “The painter?” she echoed hollowly.

  “When I spoke with Carteret he was covered in paint. Apparently it was Fiona’s handiwork.”

  Lydia laughed at the memory of that day. She and Bethany had scrubbed the little girl’s skin nearly raw trying to get blue paint off her. She had felt like such a part of the family. How comforting that had been. Things had been wonderful up until James told her that he was turning her over to Lord Masten. “Yes, paint and anything else she can get into. She’s a tyrant at three and I believe she could give ol’ Boney a run for his money. I’ve never seen a more troublesome child—spoiled rotten by her father but everyone adores her.”

  Robert grinned. “The youngest are always spoiled rotten. Although you don’t seem to be, Lydia. You are the youngest, are you not?”

  “No.” She moved to the other side of the coach and slid her feet under her and leaned against the interior wall. “I had a baby sister, Melody. I was five when she died.”

  “Oh, I am sorry.” Robert’s grin vanished, replaced by a look of concern. “What happened?”

  Lydia cringed and shook her head. “I’d really rather not discuss it, Robert.” And she’d rather not think about it, either. But the image of her lifeless baby sister’s body being shaken by their awful father flooded her mind, and she winced at the memory. Then her mother wailing when she realized Melody was gone. If Lydia could only forget all of it...but that would mean never remembering her sweet little sister, and that seemed an even worse prospect.

  ~ 10 ~

  Robert watched as Lydia slept with her head resting against the side of the rumbling coach. Tendrils of reddish-blond curls fell over her slender shoulders, and she clutched tightly to a lightweight lap blanket. She looked so young and innocent, peaceful.

  His wife was such a stunning woman, but from time to time she seemed so haunted, like earlier at the mention of a baby sister who had been gone for sixteen years. That pained look troubled him. He frowned, wondering about the secrets his wife held. As he studied her, he couldn’t help but wish that he could unburden her, to love and comfort her.

  One step at a time, he reminded himself. If he told Lydia how he felt about her, she’d think he’d lost his bloody mind. After all, he had kept her secluded for half a decade. She’d never believe that he’d started to fall in love with her. He sighed and thought and about how funny life was. What were the chances that after everything, he’d actually fall in love with his own wife?

  Lydia moved in her sleep, then blinked open her eyes and looked at him curiously when she found him staring at her. “What is it, Robert?”

  He shook his head. “Just admiring you, that’s all.”

  She laughed, and Robert was mesmerized by the charming sound and the delightful way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him. “Who would have ever believed that you’d admire me?”

  He ignored the remark, not wanting to be reminded of the way he’d treated her in the past. “Did your mother—”

  “No more questions about my family, Robert.” Lydia interrupted him. “Besides, you know all there is to know, anyway.”

  He was certain that was not the case, but decided against pushing her. There would be plenty of time to have all his questions answered, and he enjoyed listening to her light and melodic voice. The sound of it sent his heart racing.

  “But I know very little about yours. You’ve been acting like a Bow Street Runner. Why don’t you share your secrets with me now, Lord Masten?”

  He had thought so little about her since their wedding, and now five years were gone. He’d wasted too much time as it was, and he wanted to know everything there was about his wife. She was intoxicating. He craved to learn all about her. But he supposed that he had been overly inquisitive. It was only fair to answer her questions as well. “Ask away, my lady.”

  “Everyone says that you’re a remarkable horseman.”

  He just grinned at that. Everyone had better say a whole lot more than that about his equestrian skills. “Was there a question in there, Lydia?”

  Saucily, she made a silly face at him. “I wasn’t finished yet. You are forever interrupting me.”

  “My apologies, sweetheart. Pray continue.”

  “Fine. Why, my dear husband, do they call you ‘Merciless Masten’ at Tattersall’s?”

  With a devilish tilt to his head and a roguish smile, Robert tapped his chin. “My sister has apparently been telling tales about me.”

  Lydia’s blush confirmed his suspicion that he had been a popular topic of conversation between his sister and his wife. She cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly. “So they don’t call you ‘Merciless Masten’ then?”

  Robert’s grin widened. “I have heard they do, however I didn’t know Caro was aware of it. Staveley must have been smarting after our last bout there.”

  “Do you always talk in circles, Robert? It was a very simple question. You’ve danced around it, but still haven’t answered me. Why the unflattering nickname?” She tilted her head as she surveyed him on the other side of the coach.

  Robert’s brow raised in amusement. “I know that’s how I’m referred to, Lydia, but no one’s actually ever called me that to my face. So, I’ll have to surmise that my opponents find me a worthy adversary when it comes to filling my stables. I always get what I want.”

  “Do you?” She giggled in response.

  “Always.” Robert looked at her as if he could see clear into her soul, and Lydia couldn’t help but blush from his attention. She quickly found herself falling under his spell again. She could feel it, and was powerless to stop herself.

  It was as if she were in the middle of a long tunnel. Robert was on one side and she could see him, but her sixteen-year-old self was at the opposite end, begging her not to trust him. She struggled for purchase, but wasn’t in control of her emotions. Against her better judgment she was being pulled toward her husband.

  Lydia took a deep breath as she kept her eyes steady on Robert. She had been so proud of herself when she’d stood up to him at the Staveleys’ ball—proud that she had finally taken control of her own life. But now he seemed to have even more power and control over her than he had for all those years. Lydia didn’t want to desire him; she was certain there was only heartache down that path. So, she would give him his heirs, and she would raise their children. Life would be rewarding, but loving Robert Beckford was not a wise choice. She needed to keep that in mind. Now if only she could get her heart to listen to reason.

  “Lydia, you look distressed.” Robert’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  But before she could respond, the coach came to a stop. Robert looked out the window and a smile appeared on his face. “We won’t have a problem finding a room tonight.”

  Lydia looked out her window as well. An inn, The Knight’s Arms, stood before them.

  “Wonderful, Henderson. We made excellent time,” Robert remarked as the coachman opened the door and lowered the steps. After exiting the coach, Robert offered Lydia his hand and helped her to the ground.

  He glowed with
happiness. Lydia hadn’t seen him giddy like this before and she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, enjoying the experience of an exuberant Robert.

  Soon they were inside the taproom of the quaint establishment and the robust innkeeper beamed when he spotted them. “Lord Masten!” He quickly left his spot behind the bar and rushed to greet the earl.

  Robert glanced around the room and gestured with his hands. “Hello, Lange. It appears that everything is going well.”

  “Only thanks to you, my lord. What can I do for you?” Lange seemed eager to please, and Lydia was intrigued by the man’s obvious enthusiasm. What a different experience from the inn they were at the previous night.

  With a smile for the rotund innkeeper, Robert motioned to Lydia. “Lady Masten, this is Mr. Lange of The Knight’s Arms. Lange, this is my wife.”

  Lange’s eyes grew round as he looked at Lydia. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed her at all until Robert introduced them. “Lady Masten!” The innkeeper’s wide smile put her at ease. “Welcome, welcome, my lady. So happy to make your acquaintance. Your husband is a most generous man. I don’t know what we would have done without him.”

  Robert waived off the accolade and shook his head. “Please, don’t mention it, Lange. I’d say we’re even.”

  Lange eyed the earl with a dubious look and shook his head. He muttered under his breath, “Even, indeed.”

  Ignoring the remark, Robert motioned toward the staircase. “I assume I still have a room here?”

  With a hurt look, the innkeeper frowned. “You know you do. You built the place and the master’s suite always awaits you, my lord.”

  Robert grinned. “Perfect. Can you have Mrs. Lange show my wife to the master’s suite, then?”

  After Mr. Lange nodded in response and bustled off to find his wife, Lydia stared up at Robert in astonishment. What exactly was going on here? “You built this place?”

  “That’s a long story, Lydia. Why don’t you go upstairs with Mrs. Lange, take a nice long bath, and I’ll have dinner sent up.”

  A nice long bath. After two full days of travel, that sounded like heaven. Lydia sighed at the thought of soaking her tired muscles in soothing hot water.

  Soon a lean woman in her fifties with unruly black and grey curls that poked out of the edges of her mop cap entered the room. This had to be Mrs. Lange, as the innkeeper was right on her heels. Lydia thought she saw tears well up in the older woman’s eyes when she spotted Robert in the taproom.

  “Oh, Lord Masten!” Mrs. Lange gushed. “We’re so glad you’re here.” Then she turned her attention to Lydia. “And Lady Masten, is it?”

  Lydia nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Lange’s face lit up brightly. “Come along, my lady, I’ll show you to your room.”

  “Thank you,” Lydia replied quietly, still trying to get a handle on the enthusiasm the Langes showed for her husband. While Robert was growing on her, she’d never seen anyone so happy to see the earl before—he usually instilled either respect or fear in most people.

  As the older woman started toward the back staircase, Lydia hastened to follow her.

  “Mrs. Lange,” Robert called after them, “I promised my wife a long, hot bath.”

  “Then we shall see to it, my lord.” The innkeeper’s wife smiled cheerfully over her shoulder at the earl and then met Lydia’s eyes. “You are simply stunning, my lady. And I can’t tell you how glad I am that Lord Masten has finally married.”

  Lydia giggled despite herself. “We’ve been married for some years, Mrs. Lange. For five years, actually.”

  The older woman stopped on the staircase and looked back at their husbands conversing in the middle of the taproom. Mr. Lange was pointing at a spot on the back wall. Robert was listening and nodded with some sort of understanding then he glanced at his wife’s disappearing form. “Five years?” Mrs. Lange echoed. “I thought certainly that you were newlyweds. He never mentioned a wife. Not that he should have mind you. And just look at how he gazes at you.”

  Stunned by the older woman’s remark, Lydia looked over her shoulder at Robert. When she caught his eye, he tipped his head in her direction and then quickly refocused on Mr. Lange’s ramblings.

  Mrs. Lange smiled kindly. “Just rare, that’s all.”

  “What is?”

  “For a man to still be so much in love after so many years.”

  Lydia almost choked. “I beg your pardon?”

  They reached the landing and Mrs. Lange directed her down a long and slender hallway. “That was a bit too intimate, wasn’t it? I apologize, your ladyship. We’re just so fond of your husband. And ‘tis good to see him smile is all.”

  “Yes,” Lydia replied quietly as Mrs. Lange opened the door to a most magnificent set of rooms. “You don’t think most men love their wives after five years, Mrs. Lange?”

  The innkeeper’s wife pursed her lips. “Well, obviously yours does, my lady. We just see couples all the time in our business and while many of them may love each other, the look of pure admiration I saw in your husband’s eyes usually fades away with time.”

  “Oh,” was all Lydia could say to that. While Mrs. Lange was obviously mistaken in her assessment in regards to Robert’s feelings for her, Lydia knew better than to reveal the truth. So, she simply smiled instead.

  “There’s a bath tub through those doors, and I’ll have hot water sent up immediately, my lady.” Mrs. Lange pointed to a small room located at the back of the magnificent master’s suite.

  “Thank you.” Lydia looked around the room. This was nothing like anything she’d ever seen in a country inn before. The dark walls and furnishings had a distinctly male feel to them—forest green and burgundy, which reminded her instantly of Robert’s study in Masten House. How interesting!

  While she waited for the hot water to arrive, Lydia walked about the master’s suite. There was a comfortable sitting room and large bedroom, both with a distinctly masculine feel. Mr. Lange must have done the decorating. Lydia couldn’t imagine that the innkeeper’s slender wife had such taste.

  When she was finally alone, she entered the small tiled room that held the porcelain bathtub. She stripped down to nothing, touched the water gently with her toe, and found it to be the perfect temperature to soothe away her aches, pains, and stiffness from days of traveling by coach. Slowly, she immersed herself in the tub and enjoyed the warmth that enveloped her. She sighed blissfully from the comfort. The Knight’s Arms was definitely an oasis for weary travelers.

  After washing her hair with the provided lavender soap, Lydia closed her eyes. For the first time in so long she felt relaxed. She was so lost in the comfort of the soothing water that she didn’t even hear Robert enter the small room.

  She first felt his breath against her cheek. “You smell delightful,” he whispered in her ear, “though I prefer your usual scent—gardenias isn’t it?”

  Lydia’s eyes flew open and she folded her arms across her bare breasts. “Robert!”

  Her husband chuckled, crouched down behind her, and gently put his hand on her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” He dropped a gentle kiss on the top of her still wet head.

  “No, I’m fine, but just a bit indisposed at the moment.”

  He whispered again, “You told me today that you wouldn’t refuse me anything, darling.”

  Lydia could feel her heart pounding in her chest and she turned her face to look at him. She knew what he was going to ask for. She could see the desire in his eyes. And she swallowed. “Am I to take it you want something from me?”

  The hand on her shoulder worked its way to her neck and he gently massaged her shoulders. “I don’t want a repeat of last night. I could barely get to sleep, I wanted you so badly. Give yourself to me tonight, Lydia. I need you. I need to make you mine.”

  Though she knew it was coming, hearing him speak the words aloud was still startling for her. Lydia couldn’t find her voice to answer him, so she stared at her husband with wide eyes and n
odded slowly.

  Robert smiled in response and nuzzled her neck. “Good girl.” Then he stood and Lydia could see a silk robe draped over his arm. “When you’re done, put this on.” He placed the robe on a nearby chair and left for the other room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  Lydia released her breath. She hadn’t even realized she was holding it in. Was she truly going to step out of her bath and into Robert’s bed? Just like that?

  Was she ready for this step? She wasn’t sure. Certainly she desired him, she just didn’t want to give her heart to him. How could she separate the two and keep from being hurt in the process? Some women were able to do so—her mother, for example. But, she didn’t know if she could. She nibbled at a fingernail—a habit she’d thought she long ago broke.

  She just needed to keep reminding herself that Robert needed an heir and she’d promised to give him one. That’s all this was. There was only one way to go about fulfilling that pledge. Though she craved his touch and wanted to be with him, this wasn’t about her desires. This was about fulfilling an obligation—an obligation all noblewomen were expected to perform.

  She gulped at the thought of climbing into Robert’s bed. The prospect was terrifying. She was already foolishly falling in love with him. And she was well aware that he could never love her in return.

  When he was finally through with her, would her prison at Blackstone not seem so bad anymore? It was one thing to hate her husband, but quite another to love him and know the feelings were not reciprocated. How much more difficult would it be after the intimacy they were about to share?

  When Lydia felt the water in the tub start to cool against her skin, she knew it was time. She toweled off, dried her hair, and picked up the robe Robert had left for her. It was huge. It was his. It smelled of his familiar sandalwood scent. She threw it on, but it hung off her small frame and dragged on the floor. She wrapped the belt around herself twice, but it still drooped open at the top, revealing her breasts. So she clutched the base of the robe with her hand and started toward her fate.