by Julia London
But he was tolerant of her stepfather—Ava knew, because Downey cornered her later, his little eyes blazing. “He’s agreed to give my venture serious thought!” he said eagerly. “Serious thought!”
And she supposed he was tolerant of her, for he danced with her.
He asked her in front of several ladies, knowing full well she could not cut him and cause more talk than was already circulating. As it was, the ladies were eyeing them closely, waiting for the first crack in the façade.
When they stepped onto the dance floor, Middleton took her in hand and said, “Stop looking as if you will perish with disgust at any moment.”
She looked away.
“Look at me,” he commanded her. “They will think we are arguing if you don’t, and I, for one, am sick of the speculation.”
Ava looked at his neckcloth.
“I’ve missed you,” he said simply.
Her heart wrenched; she lifted her gaze to his hazel eyes and swallowed the bitter taste of tears in the back of her throat. “What, as busy as you’ve been at the zoo? I don’t see how you possibly might have missed someone as insignificant as me.”
He sighed, bent his head, and looked at her closely. “Are you unwell?” he asked.
There were the tears again, always the blasted tears since she’d missed her courses.
“Ava…what’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” she said, blinking back the tears. “The very thing that has been wrong from the beginning.”
“God,” he said, stealing a glance around them. “Please don’t do this here. Not now.”
“When would you prefer that I do it?”
He sighed again, but said nothing. They danced on in silence, his hand warm on her waist, his shoulder firm, wide, and strong beneath her hand. She didn’t want to miss him, but she did. Terribly.
At the end of the dance, he kissed her hand and looked at her as if he meant to say something, but then pressed his lips together. “I am leaving now.”
“Good night,” she said, and as much as she wanted to ask him to stay, she wouldn’t. She preferred to cling to whatever shred of pride she had left.
A full two weeks had passed since their return to London—two interminably long and tense weeks. The ton was growing restless with rumors, too, he knew—there were little whispers in the gentlemen’s club, vague on dits in the society pages. Even Harrison had asked him bluntly if he and Ava were estranged.
“Only temporarily,” Jared had responded.
Harrison frowned. “What of your father’s Autumn Ball? I rather imagine he won’t brook an argument between you and Lady Middleton for everyone to see.”
“There is no argument,” Jared lied. “Nothing more than a young woman adjusting to married life. Lord and Lady Middleton will attend the soirée as required.”
He left it at that, preferring not to tell Harrison about his audience with his father that very morning, only a day after his arrival from Scotland, in which his father had berated him for having mucked up his marriage before it had even begun. As if he needed to be told that. As if he hadn’t berated himself a thousand times over.
“You are a disgrace, gallivanting about with your mistress before you’ve put your seed in your wife’s belly!” he’d blustered angrily, assuming what everyone else had assumed.
It was interesting, Jared had blandly observed, how everything with his father seemed to surround the heir. How sad, he thought, to be so driven by something over which one had absolutely no control. What a miserable existence for the old goat.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?” his father demanded at the sight of Jared’s little smile.
“Nothing, other than I am amazed at how quickly you have gleaned the gossip, having only just arrived in town. And how ironic I find it that you would fault me for doing exactly as you did.”
That clearly surprised the duke. “I beg your pardon?”
“You kept a mistress, or a series of them, throughout your marriage to Mother,” he said calmly. “Why would you fault me for doing the same?”
His question, which he’d thought so straightforward, caused his father a near fit of apoplexy. “You are a vile man,” he said low. “How dare you!”
“No, Father…the better question is, how dare you? You have disdained me since I was a boy. Perhaps I deserved it—I hardly know or care any longer. But I have done as you’ve wished—no, as you’ve commanded. I have married a woman with the pedigree you require. And if we give you your bloody heir, I shall be very happy for it. But frankly, I scarcely care if Ava ever bears me a son.” Because he loved her. He loved her. “Furthermore, I want you to set aside part of the entail of Redford for Mr. Edmond Foote so that he will always be provided for.”
“Who?” the duke asked.
Jared’s fist closed. “My son. Your grandson,” he said tightly.
“You are mad! You’ve done well enough by him as it is. You’ve installed the boy and his father at Broderick and given them an income in spite of my warnings—”
“It’s not enough. It can never be enough. I want him protected by the grandeur of your name,” Jared said simply. “And if you don’t set aside part of the entail for him, I shall tell the world how you sought to destroy a young boy’s world by taking his father from him in a most unscrupulous manner.”
“I didn’t take you from him!” the duke said angrily. “He was never anything to you!”
Jared let that dagger sink into his heart for a moment, then said, “I didn’t mean me, unfortunately. I was referring to your threats to tell a young boy that the man who took him in when he was an infant, the man who ignored the fact he had been sired by me, was not his real father in order to force me into a marriage. Furthermore, you have threatened a decent, Christian man with ruination for having given your grandson a name. Do you have any idea how cruel that was?”
“Honestly—”
“And do you realize, sir, that Mr. Foote has done what you and I have never been capable of doing?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“He is a father, in every sense of the word. That is a function that has escaped us both. It is too late for me to be a father to Edmond, and I daresay, too late for you to be a father to me. But by God, I will ask Mr. Foote if there is some role I might serve in my son’s life, and I will, at the very least, provide for that child and Mr. Foote, and Edmond’s children.”
The duke gaped at Jared.
“Oh, and one last thing,” he said, almost casually. “There is no mistress. I ended it with Lady Waterstone when I asked Ava to marry me. Unlike you, I could not take one woman to wife and bed another—it destroys people.”
His father, he noticed, looked pale, but Jared didn’t care. He stood up. “Ava and I will be happy to attend your Autumn Ball on Friday,” he said. “Thank you for the invitation.”
For the first time in his life, Jared left his father’s house feeling quite unburdened. He hardly cared what the duke thought of him. He hardly cared if he disowned him or planted roses in his arse. The only thing Jared cared about was bringing Ava home.
The sooner, the better. He felt like an empty cage without her.
And to that end, Jared asked his driver to take him to Clifford Street. He had a call to pay.
The butler opened the door to the Downey house almost as soon as Jared released the brass knocker. “Yes?” he asked politely, his face showing no recognition of Jared.
“Lord Middleton calling for Lady Middleton.”
“Have you a card?”
A card? Jared snorted. “I would assume that Lady Middleton does not need a card from her husband.”
A silver tray appeared in the butler’s hand and he put it out to Jared all the same. “I’m to take a card to her ladyship, sir.”
Jared sighed, supposed that the jeweler’s clerk hadn’t quite learned the finesse of butlering even yet, withdrew a card from his pocket, and placed it on the silver tray.
The butler
seemed very pleased, judging by his beaming grin. “If you’d wait here, milord,” he said, pulling the door open so that Jared could step inside.
Jared did as the butler asked and stood patiently in the foyer as the butler trotted off to hand over the card. A few moments later, Morris returned. “She’s not receiving, my lord.”
The wench. Middleton smiled. “Like hell she’s not,” he said politely, and began to walk in the direction Morris had just come.
“No, no!” Morris cried, rushing after Jared once he’d recovered from his surprise. “You can’t go in, milord! She’s not receeeiving!”
But Jared walked on, opening one door and then the next, stumbling across Downey in a small study. “I do beg your pardon,” he said to the stunned Downey, and shut the door.
“My Lord Middleton!” Mr. Morris cried frantically. “Allow me to at least introduce you properly!”
The door to the small study banged open and Downey rushed out, his eyes wide with consternation. “I told her she had to go, my lord!” he said frantically. “I’ve not sanctioned her stay here! This won’t affect your agreement to hear my proposal, will it?”
“Lord Downey,” Jared said, frowning darkly.
“Yes, sir?”
“Shut your gob,” he said, and looked at the butler. “If you’re to announce, be quick about it.”
Morris hastily opened the door and stepped inside. A few moments later, the door opened again, and Jared noticed the dew of perspiration on the poor man’s brow. “Very well, sir,” he said with a low bow, and opened the door wider, stepping out of his way.
Jared strode past him into the room, his eyes immediately locking on Ava. Then her sister. And Miss Downey. And the ever-present Sally. Frankly, he could not recall a more vigilant lady’s maid than Sally.
He ignored them all, looked directly at Ava. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, my lord. Thank you for calling, but I am not receiving today.”
“Oh, but I think you are,” he said evenly.
“Oh,” Sally said, her brows reaching her hairline.
“Oh but I’m not,” Ava said. “My sister and I were just reviewing our accounts.”
“Perhaps the accounts can wait, as I shall be paying them. And besides, madam, your husband needs a word.”
“Husband,” she said with a bit of a smirk.
“Oh my,” Miss Downey said, exchanging a stunned look with Sally.
He didn’t care how angry or hurt she was, he would not tolerate her insolence. “A word, Lady Middleton,” he said sharply. “Alone.”
“I beg your pardon,” she said with a flick of her wrist, “but I—”
“We were just leaving,” Phoebe interrupted, frowning darkly at her sister as she gestured for Sally and Miss Downey to stand.
Ava exclaimed at the betrayal and gaped at her sister hurtfully.
“Come on, then, Lucy,” Phoebe said sternly. “His lordship would like a word with his wife,” she said with a firm nod for Ava. “Come on, then—you, too,” she said to Sally, and extended her hand, took Sally’s firmly in hers, and with her free hand on Miss Downey’s back, pushed them all to the door, forcing the butler out, too, as well as Lord Downey, by their exodus at three abreast.
When the door shut, Jared turned to look at Ava, who was staring back at him defiantly. So defiantly, in fact, that he noticed her skin had a certain glow about it. “You’re beautiful,” he said helplessly.
She put up a hand and shook her head. “Just…what do you want?”
“To see my wife. To hold her again.”
She rolled her eyes, turned away from him, and stalked to the sideboard, where she poured a glass of water for herself. “Now that you’ve seen me, you can leave.”
“Ava!” he said commandingly. “You will cease acting so missishly. I’ve come to tell you that my father is hosting the annual Autumn Ball and we are expected to attend.”
“Oh how grand!” she exclaimed to the ceiling. “I suppose I should pretend that all is perfectly all right between us and smile happily when you steal a kiss from your mistress in some dark corner? Or better yet, on a private terrace. You seem to know where all the private terraces are,” she said, setting the glass down with a thwack against the sideboard.
“Good God,” he said, his exasperation mounting. “I told you—there is no mistress! There has never been a mistress!”
“Please spare the lies, sir. I will not attend.”
He struggled to maintain his composure. “You may not decline, Ava.”
“How can you insist on anything from me?” she cried. “Haven’t you taken enough? And now you would take me into your father’s house and make a laughingstock of me?”
“A laughingstock? I would take you into my father’s house as my wife!”
But Ava wasn’t listening. “You think I am a girl, a mere child whom you may make a fool!” she said, waving her hand at him as she turned in a frantic circle. “I don’t care what sort of bargain you think we struck, sir, but I will not be your wife in name only!”
“You can’t say that you have been my wife in name only,” he said angrily. “Frankly, you can hardly claim to have been my wife at all these last two weeks.”
“Why should I pretend? The moment you are alone, you rush into someone else’s arms,” she said, picking up a newspaper and flinging it at him. “Your friends have made certain it is printed in the morning newspapers!”
“That’s a lie. I—”
“I will not be held hostage to this marriage by vows we took in vain!”
“You wanted those vows!” he angrily reminded her. “You pretend as if your motives were pure!”
“I hardly know what my motives were,” she said adamantly. “But God knows how I have regretted my lack of deliberation many times over!”
He bristled, put his hand on his hips, and glared at her. “Ava, listen to me. We may have taken vows in vain, but everything has changed—”
“Yes, everything has changed! I don’t want to be married to you. Will you please accept it? I don’t want to be married to you!”
The tremor of anger in him was turning to white fury. This was not how he had envisioned this meeting—he had imagined telling her everything, that he could see only her, think of only her, feel only her in his heart. Yet the vile way in which she spoke to him now made a part of him wish he’d never met her.
Unfortunately, he was married to her, and she to him. But that did not mean he had to remain in her company. He crossed the room in two strides, took her arm, and held her close so there would be no mistake. “You may not want to be married to me, but madam, you are, and you will attend my father’s ball. If you think to defy me, I will carry you bodily. Do you quite understand me?”
“Ha!” she cried to the ceiling. “Now you will dictate to me where I must go and when? Very well, sir, I shall attend. But I will not be timid when your mistress presents herself.”
His rage bubbling over, he clenched his jaw against the curses that were rising up in his gullet, and let her go. Silly woman. Stupid, silly child. She would one day regret her harsh words, but at the moment, he was too angry to care if she did or not. He let go, turned on his heel, and strode for the door.
“There is one more thing I would say before you rush off to meet your lover,” she said acidly.
He closed his eyes and tried to summon his composure.
“You have your wish,” she said behind him, her voice breaking a little. “I am carrying your child.”
He felt that thing in him burst. That impossibly large thing in him that had made him so uncomfortable these many weeks suddenly burst. He gripped the door handle, his mind trying to absorb that wonderful—and wretched—news. A moment or two passed before he was able to speak, and he slowly turned to face her, his heart wrenching at the sight of the tears in her eyes.
Lord God, how he’d hurt her. “You are certain?” he asked quietly.
“Yes, yes!” she cried heavenward. “I am
certain! You shall have your heir! You may toss poor Edmond aside like so much rubbish, but you will have your legitimate heir.”
His heart was breaking. He could feel it breaking. “You have your wish as well,” he said quietly, and reached in his pocket and withdrew the diamond bracelet he had intended to give her as a gift. “I did encounter Lady Waterstone at the zoo shortly after we arrived in London, but quite by accident…at least on my part. I suppose she followed me there. But therein I told her, unequivocally, that there is no one for me but you. And there hasn’t been anyone but you in months. I told her that I love you. Desperately so.”
“W-what?” Ava tearfully stammered.
“I can’t say why I feared it or why it has been so hard to admit…,” he said, and glanced up, into her lovely pale green eyes. “And there is so…much about Edmond you do not know. But I love him, Ava. And I love you. I love you so much that I am astounded by the depth and breadth of it. I think of nothing but you. I dream of you. I yearn for you.”
It felt as if his knees were buckling, and he braced himself on the back of a chair. “I ache for you, Ava. There is a hole in my day, a hole in my heart when you are away from me. I am nothing without you. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said, and tossed the bracelet onto the chair and walked out, completely spent.
Thirty
A va felt quite ill the next morning, but couldn’t be entirely certain if it was her pregnancy or the turmoil she felt about Jared.
Her illness tipped Phoebe to her condition, however, for she found Ava crouched over the basin and handed her a cool clean cloth. “Are you carrying a child?” she asked bluntly.
“Yes,” Ava said, and sagged into a chair and closed her eyes.
“That’s marvelous!” Phoebe squealed.
“No, it’s not,” Ava said.
“Ava! You will not sully this with your anger! It’s marvelous!”
Ava laughed wryly. “It’s not my anger that sullies it, Phoebe. It is my stupidity,” she said, and opened her eyes. “He came here to tell me that he loved me. But I railed at him, Phoebe. I made quite an ass of myself.”
