The Desires of a Countess

by Jenna Petersen

  “Is something wrong? Your shoulders are trembling.”

  “Nothing,” she said in a sharp tone that belied her words. “Just chilly.”

  Covering a smile, he sat down. She was nervous. It would certainly explain her attitude. But he was in no rush. He had all night to hear what she had to say, then show her that he felt the same way. Afterward, they could plan their life together. He hadn’t allowed himself a real life for so long that the idea of it was foreign. And amazingly wonderful.

  “Did you know that Harriet and Adam ran off to elope?” she asked, though she didn’t turn to face him.

  Simon counted himself lucky he hadn’t taken a drink, because he surely would have spit it across the room. “Excuse me?”

  “Yes, she gave me a note.” Ginny turned slowly and dug into her pocket. Two letters fell out and she gathered them both up with flaming cheeks. After checking the contents, she gave him one and stuffed the other deep inside her gown pocket.

  Simon read the note twice and couldn’t help the smile that turned up his lips. “Well, I’ll be. No wonder Adam was acting strangely. He was never around, and always so odd when he was. I meant to ask him but I was, well caught up in other things.” He stood up and came a step closer to her. “Caught up in you.”

  Ginny looked at him for a long moment, the look in her eyes almost painful. But why? She already knew he loved her, why was telling him the same so terrifying? Except for her unhappy past with Henry.

  That had to be it. The last man she’d shared her love with had hurt her, and she resisted a new love now.

  “Simon,” she began with a slow shake of her head. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us.”

  He grinned. “So have I. What would you say about taking a sail for our wedding trip? We could take The Keeper and a very small crew and go where our hearts took us for a month or two. I’m sure your family would love to have Jack for a while. And we could have a little time to ourselves before settling into married life at home.”

  She opened her mouth, but Simon kept on talking. “I’d love to show you some of the places I’ve seen. Islands where the sun is warm every day. Places where the native women wear less than your underclothes.” He swallowed at the image his words had created in his mind. “I’d love to see you in those places.”

  “Simon, I don’t love you,” she choked out with no fanfare or warning.

  Her words stopped him in his tracks and he stared at her. He must have misunderstood.

  “Ginny?”

  “I don’t love you, Simon.” She dipped her head so he couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.”

  Simon reeled back a few steps. “This isn’t a funny joke.”

  “Oh God, I’m not trying to be funny,” she said in a broken whisper as she finally looked at him again. Her eyes lingered over his face. “I should have said something this afternoon, but Noah interrupted before I could find the words to break the news.”

  Slowly her words began to sink in, and the pain they left in their wake was almost unbearable. “That wasn’t what you were going to say this afternoon.”

  Her blue eyes widened and for a moment she seemed to be at a loss for words. Finally, she jerked out a nod. “Yes it was.”

  “No, you wanted to tell me something about Henry.”

  He realized the level of his voice was going up, but at the moment, he couldn’t seem to control it. Just as he couldn’t control the wild beating of his heart or the anguish that ripped through him like wildfire.

  Ginny winced and turned her head like she’d been slapped. “Henry. Yes. I wanted to tell you that I loved Henry and I couldn’t love you.”

  “You hated Henry.” He took another step toward her and was surprised when she skittered back. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you? I’d never put a hand on you in violence. What’s really happening here? Why are you saying things you don’t mean?”

  Her eyes shifted as she grasped for an explanation for her behavior. She looked like game ensnared in a trap and that same wild, frightened look he’d seen when he’d first met her was on her face now.

  With her voice trembling, she said, “If you must know… it’s your background that keeps me from ever being able to marry you. You aren’t of Society as Henry was, and I don’t want my son being raised by just a tradesman.”

  Simon winced. Just a tradesman.

  “It would lower me and my child. And I just won’t do it.” He could tell she was clenching her teeth. “Bedding you was a great deal of fun, and I enjoyed our affair immensely. But I cannot marry you. Now that I’ve had time to get over the shock of us being caught in such a compromising position, I realize that.”

  Though Simon felt an overwhelming urge to turn away from her words, he forced himself to look at her. Something in him told him this was wrong, and it wasn’t just the pain she seemed to be purposefully causing him.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes for long. “I married one man because my family asked me to. I can’t do it again. Not with you.”

  “You had a week from the time we were caught and today to decide that. Why do this now? Just as early as this afternoon you were picking out a dress for the ceremony.”

  Taking great care not to frighten her, Simon clasped his hands around her upper arms. Just touching her sent heat and longing through him despite everything.

  “Please let me go,” she whispered, but he heard desire in her voice along with desperation.

  “Tell me you don’t care for me. Look in my eyes and tell me,” he ordered as he stared down into her face and looked for the truth beneath her words.

  “No, let me go!” she insisted and began to struggle in his arms. As Simon dropped his hands to release her, his fingers caught on her pocket. When she pulled back, the fabric tore.

  She didn’t seem to notice as she almost ran to the other side of the room. He dropped the piece of jagged silk, along with the paper that had fallen from the pocket when it tore and watched her back away.

  “I don’t love you. I don’t want you. I don’t… need you.” She was nearly hysterical as she spat out each ugly, hateful word. “I want you to leave me alone. Don’t come to see me, don’t interact with my son. If you must manage the estate, do it from London. Do it from your ship. But you aren’t welcome in Westdale.” Squaring her shoulders, she looked him in the eyes. “Hear me. I don’t want to marry you. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  With that she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. There she turned and looked at him. Her face was the same icy mask she’d worn when they first met. The anger in her eyes was the most honest emotion he’d seen on her face since she’d come into the room.

  “Do you understand?” she whispered.

  His nostrils flared and he barely resisted the urge to howl out his pain. “I understand you perfectly well, madam. You’ve made yourself more than clear.” He accentuated each word in a quiet voice he was surprised he could control.

  She dropped her gaze. “Then the matter is closed. Good evening.”

  Turning, she left the room. As he heard the front door close, he barely kept himself from sinking to his knees and letting out a scream of anguish.

  ***

  Ginny lay across the carriage seat sobbing. They weren’t dainty, lady-like sobs, either, but hard, hysterical weeping. She hadn’t cried like this since the first time Henry’s hand had smashed across her face. Then she’d cried for the life she once thought she’d have. Now she wept for the life she knew she’d lost.

  And for the pain she’d caused Simon.

  Judging from the betrayal that had flickered in his eyes, his anguish rivaled the excruciating ache in her heart. It killed her to cause him such hurt. To take away that loving light that had been in his eyes when she arrived at his door.

  Seeing it there had nearly undone her. She’d very nearly allowed him take her into her arms, told him that she loved him more than she’d ever loved anyone. Her innermost heart had wanted to ask
him to protect her from her demons and keep her by his side no matter what happened.

  But before she’d done any of those foolish things, she had remembered just who her demon was. Robert Dennison. And if she told Simon any of the things she wanted to say, she would free herself, but condemn the man she loved to a terrible fate. Not to mention, doom her son to a life with Cordelia, who had more than proven she wasn’t capable of raising boys into decent men.

  With a shiver, she bit back her last sob. She had no other choice but to say the hateful things she said. Better a prison for herself than for the two people she loved most.

  Now she had to go and face the man who had put her in this position.

  As if in answer to her thought, the carriage pulled to a stop at her front door. As the carriage rocked and Thomas got down, she steeled herself to what was yet to come. Robert could already be in the house waiting for her. Perhaps if she handled him properly, she could negotiate with him. After all, she had done what he’d asked of her so far. What more could he want?

  She shivered at the possibilities. The miscreant had already admitted to watching her. There was little doubt to what else he desired.

  “My lady?”

  She started when she realized Thomas stood at the door, offering her a hand. “I’m sorry, Thomas. Just woolgathering.”

  “Of course.” She grasped his hand but when her feet touched the ground, he gave it an uncharacteristic squeeze. “Is there anything I can do, Lady Westdale? Anything at all?”

  She smiled at the older man who’d served her husband’s family for years. He’d always been kind to her. All the servants had been, even when some learned the truth about Henry’s death. How she wished they could help her now.

  “No, Thomas.”

  “I-I couldn’t help but hear you crying in the coach.” The man dropped his eyes with a blush. “Normally I wouldn’t say nothing, but if you want me to go back and give that Webber a roughing up, I’m sure some of the boys would be happy to help. We all hate to see you hurt. W-We always have.”

  A swell of gratitude washed through Ginny at the man’s words. Despite the impropriety, she reached out to brush his hand. “No, Thomas. I’m afraid I’m the one who hurt Mr. Webber. And myself in the process. No roughing up is necessary. Have a good evening.”

  The man looked at her with confusion, then shrugged. “Good night, my lady.”

  At the door, she nodded to her London butler, Jenkins. Though she didn’t know him as well as she knew Ingram, he seemed kind enough and looked at her carefully as she came in. She was well-aware of how obvious her tears were.

  “Is there anyone here to see me, Jenkins?” she asked with trepidation.

  “No, madam. No callers this evening.”

  Relief filled her. Robert wasn’t there. Perhaps he wouldn’t come to tell her of his further requirements until tomorrow. She could use a night to recover from her encounter with Simon. Not that she believed one night or even a thousand nights would ever heal the pain inside her. They would only solidify how much she’d lost.

  “Will you require anything further?”

  She jumped at the butler’s question. She’d almost forgotten he was there.

  “Was there any word from Harriet?” she asked. How she needed her best friend now.

  “No, my lady, I’m afraid not.”

  She sighed. “Well, if there is any, be sure to bring it to me immediately.” She began to ascend the stairs when she stopped. “Oh, and Jenkins?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “If Mr. Webber comes to the house, I don’t wish to see him. But don’t let anyone, er, rough him up.” She smiled at the man’s shocked face. Somehow she couldn’t imagine the starched butler allowing that. Ingram might, but not this man. “Tell Nora I won’t need her assistance tonight. I want to be alone.”

  “Very good, my lady.”

  She hardly heard him as she trudged up the stairs on lead feet. Her whole body seemed heavy with grief, disappointment and fear. Together they were enough to weigh down the strongest of souls.

  She sighed as she closed her bedroom door. One by one she slid the buttons from the front of her torn dress. She’d burn it if she thought it would allow her to forget what had happened that night. But it wouldn’t. She’d never forget the words she’d said or Simon’s flashing eyes.

  She had the gown half-undone before she turned. Robert Dennison leaned on the doorway between her dressing room and bedchamber. He stared at her with lusty green eyes and his blond hair was tousled. With a quiet screech, Ginny pulled her dress closed.

  “What are you doing in my room?”

  “Hush,” he said as he stepped closer. His eyes never left her half-exposed breasts. “You don’t want to bring the whole house down.”

  Ginny briefly considered her options. No, she didn’t want the reprisal that would come if she screamed, but the way Robert looked at her made it abundantly clear he wanted her. And he’d already proven he’d take what wasn’t given to him freely.

  She backed up until she was nearly flat against the wall. “If you touch me, I’ll cry out.”

  “And risk what I could tell the world?” he asked with a smug smirk, but he stopped advancing on her. “Never mind. I’ll have plenty of time to look and touch to my heart’s content later. Eventually you may even come to enjoy it.”

  Revulsion twisted her face, but she resisted the urge to tell him she would be disgusted by his touch for as long as she lived. There was no use angering him when he had agreed… in some small way… to leave her be.

  “Did you do it?” he asked with another thin smile as he sat down at her dressing table.

  The bottles and items seemed to catch his attention and he began to fiddle with them. He smelled her perfume and rubbed his hands over her things in a way that made her ill.

  She narrowed her eyes and did nothing to keep her hatred from her voice. “Yes, it’s done.”

  “Very good.” Robert put down a bottle of perfume water to watch her refasten her gown. “And Webber won’t come around?”

  A flash of Simon’s angry, pain-filled face invaded her mind. “No,” she choked out in a voice no more than a whisper. How she wished he would.

  Robert rubbed his hands together with a pleased chuckle. “Excellent. Absolutely perfect.” His eyes came back to her. “And now onto the next step. I need you to write a few letters.”

  Her eyes narrowed. This didn’t sound good. “To whom?”

  He smiled. “You’ll see. And if you’re thinking of refusing, please don’t forget how much you have to lose.”

  With a mute nod, Ginny sank down into a chair. She’d already lost everything, what did a few more losses matter?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Simon lifted his head from the parlor floor with a groan. Again he heard that voice, that horrible voice that pierced through his numbing haze.

  “Sir?”

  “Go away,” he slurred as he stumbled from his prone position to his knees. Through blurred vision he saw a concerned butler and footman staring at him from the doorway. “Make yourselves useful and get me some more brandy.”

  “It’s eight-thirty in the morning, sir,” the footman offered with a nervous smile.

  “Then get me scotch,” Simon roared. “I don’t care!”

  “But you have a visitor.”

  “That’s it!” This voice was familiar and made Simon’s stomach lurch. “I’m not waiting any longer.”

  Noah Jordan came through the door in a few long strides, pushing both servants aside with little effort or fanfare. Simon found himself being grabbed by his collar and hauled up to his feet, then pushed back until he hit the wall with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs.

  “What the hell did you do to my sister?” Noah growled in his face.

  “Oh, go ahead,” Simon groaned back. Noah turned his head away from his breath. “Kill me. Finish the job Ginny started. I don’t even give a damn anymore. In fact, you’d be doing me a favor.�
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  “What the hell are you talking about?” Noah asked as he crushed Simon against the wall again. “What did you do to Ginny?”

  Simon laughed, though even in a drunken fog none of this seemed very funny. In fact, it stung like hell. Where was his breakfast scotch when he needed it? Alcohol-induced unconsciousness seemed the best option at present.

  “You won’t laugh when I break your neck,” Noah growled. “Now tell me.”

  “What do you mean what did I do to her?” he asked. “What about what she did to me?”

  “Explain yourself,” Noah demanded without releasing him.

  Simon shook his head. “I didn’t do anything except make a bloody fool out of myself telling her I loved her. But she came here last night and told me she never wanted to see me again.”

  The anger that knitted Noah’s brow smoothed and he slowly eased his grip on Simon’s collar. “She told you that?”

  “Where’s my scotch?” Simon bellowed to no one in particular since all his servants had seemingly scattered once Noah barged into the room. Damn bunch of cowards, all of them.

  “Focus, Webber,” Noah said as he scrubbed one hand over his face. The other stayed firmly at Simon’s throat. “What did my sister tell you, exactly?”

  Simon laughed again. “Well, I’ve been meaning to make a list. I figure if I keep it in my breast pocket-” he tried to pat his chest, but ended up rubbing his stomach. Close enough. “-then I’ll never make the mistake of loving any woman ever again.” He hiccupped and all he’d drank threatened to come back up all over Noah’s jacket, but he managed to keep it down. “What was your question again?”

  Noah cursed. “Ginny. What did she say?”

  Even in his stupor, Simon could see he was frustrating Woodbury. Served him right. If Simon was frustrated, he wanted all the men in the world to be just as unhappy. But he liked Noah. Or he thought he did. So he tried to focus.

  “She told me she didn’t love me. Then she said she loved Henry. And then,” he chuckled. “This one is my favorite. You’ll like this one. She told me I was beneath her and she wouldn’t marry me.”