by Olivia Drake
“And I presume next you would have knocked on my door on the pretext of showing them the paintings in my chambers.”
“Do not chide me, Ethan. You are at fault here, not I.”
Aunt Willy wept into her handkerchief. “How could you have done this?” she wailed at Jane. “How could you have shamed me? Where did I go wrong in raising you? Oh, I do need a draught of my restorative.”
Ridden with guilt, Jane rushed to put her arm around her aunt’s pillowy waist. Wilhelmina sagged against her, and Ethan strode forward to grasp the woman’s arm. “You should lie down, madam. I’ll ring for a footman to take you to your room. Jane can go with you.”
“Yes, perhaps that would be best,” Lady Rosalind said. “His Grace and I can settle matters with Ethan.”
“I’m not leaving.” Jane had no intention of letting others decide her fate. They would attempt to force Ethan to marry her. And when he refused, they would feel obliged to send her back to Wessex in disgrace. “I am a grown woman and able to speak for myself.”
“I must stay, too,” said Aunt Willy, leaning heavily on Jane. “She is my dear niece, after all. It is my duty to guard her interests, especially in such terrible circumstances.”
“Very well, then.” Lady Rosalind lifted her hand in a majestic wave. “Shall we all step into the earl’s chambers? We can talk privately there.”
* * *
A few moments later, Jane sat on a stool beside the chaise where Aunt Willy lounged, sniffling and muttering. Jane bit her lip and tried not to feel as low as a worm. She regretted nothing. She had devised her plan for a pure and righteous reason, so that Marianne would have a mother.
Ethan took up a stance by the fireplace and faced his mother and the duke. His expression was etched in stone, utterly opposite from the warm, irresistible lover of the tower room.
Kellisham clasped his hands behind his back. His nostrils flared as he looked down his long nose at Ethan. “Well, Chasebourne. You have despoiled a young lady living under your protection. And do not think to make excuses.”
“I have no intention of denying anything,” Ethan said.
“Then I wish to assure myself that you intend to make an honorable offer to Miss Mayhew.”
His harsh words fell into silence. No one spoke, though Aunt Willy snuffled into her handkerchief. Jane sat tensely, waiting for the explosion when Ethan refused.
Without taking his eyes from the duke, Ethan inclined his head in a sharp nod. “Indeed so, Your Grace. I am aware of my duty toward her.”
Unable to believe her ears, Jane gaped at him. The hairpins pressed into her palm, but the pain barely registered. He would change his mind just like that? He would marry her?
Even as her heart soared, she felt sick inside. He was acting against his will. That fact was evident in his rigid stance, in his thinned mouth and grim expression. She had been a convenient affair to him, nothing more, and now he felt forced to pay the consequences.
“Oh, praise God!” Aunt Willy exclaimed. “Her reputation is saved! Though I would never have thought my Jane would succumb to the wiles of a wicked rake, a divorced man living on the very fringes of society—”
“That is quite enough, Wilhelmina,” Lady Rosalind broke in. “Let us rejoice in the alliance of our families rather than dwell upon the past.” As she turned to Jane, a smile gentled her lips. “I, for one, am delighted to welcome Jane as my daughter.”
Jane told herself to be happy. Her plan had succeeded. As Ethan’s wife, she would have an unshakable claim to Marianne.
Yet she realized bleakly that she wanted him to be willing. She wanted him to love her. And now he never would.
His eyes black as midnight, Ethan stared from his mother to Jane. “I should like a word with my bride. In private.”
“I hardly think that is appropriate,” Lady Rosalind said, frowning.
“My dear,” the duke said, “we can allow them a few moments alone. A man deserves the chance to properly propose to his future wife.”
Lady Rosalind glanced worriedly at her son, but she made no further protest as the duke helped Aunt Willy to her feet and escorted both women out of the bedchamber. The door shut with a decisive click.
They were alone.
Jane rose shakily from the stool. She folded her hands at her waist and hoped Ethan couldn’t tell how hard her heart was pounding. Before he could make her an insincere offer, she blurted, “I know you don’t wish to wed, and if you will give Marianne to me, I’ll tell the duke that I refused you.”
He walked toward her, his face cold in the candlelight. “It’s true, then. This was a plot to take Marianne from me. And now you would use my child as your bargaining chip.”
He made it sound so sordid. She couldn’t bear the disgust darkening his eyes. Swallowing painfully, she said, “I have her best interests at heart, that’s all.”
“That’s all? You came to the tower room to seduce me. You read my private papers. You pretended an interest in my verse to get past my guard.”
“That’s not why I praised your work. I truly believe you are gifted—”
His hand slashed through the air to cut her off. “Don’t cozen me again. You’ve duped me twice now, first with Portia and again tonight. You conspired with my mother to catch us in the act.”
“Don’t blame Lady Rosalind. I acted on my own.”
“Then how did my mother know to visit my chambers? Answer me that. How did she know she would find us together?”
I advise you to go speak to him at once. How had the countess known for certain he would make love to Jane?
“Perhaps it was feminine intuition. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I am at fault, and no one else.” Her voice went husky with the need to feel his arms around her again. Unable to stop herself, she placed her hands on his shirt, absorbing his heat and strength, willing him to listen. “Yes, I deceived you. I was desperate. I love Marianne, and I was afraid to lose her. I would beg you to understand that.”
With a grimace of distaste, he caught her arms and shoved her away. “So you sold your virginity to a man you despise.”
“I don’t despise you, Ethan. I meant it when I said … I love you. I’ve always loved you, even when we were children.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “How inconvenient for you, then. To be shackled to a man who despises you.”
His cruelty flayed her. She wanted to protest further, but knew from his stony expression that he would never believe her. If not for the incident with Portia … But it was too late. In his eyes, she had proven herself a liar, a conniver who would say or do anything to achieve her objective. Even so, she would not—could not—give up the baby.
Doggedly, she forced herself to go on. “It is not too late to tell the duke that I refused your offer. Please, Ethan. If we can reach an agreement about Marianne, if you will allow her to live with me in Wessex—”
“No. She stays with me. That is final.”
Jane clenched her trembling fingers into fists. She turned away and walked to the night-darkened window. The storm had died to a drizzle, the lightning only a flicker in the distance. The garden below lay shrouded by a blackness as thick and suffocating as the pall around her heart. Sensing his presence behind her, she stiffened, though he did not touch her.
“You will marry me, Jane,” he said in a flat voice. “As soon as I can obtain a special license from the archbishop. Tomorrow evening, if possible.”
His edict died into silence. A burst of raindrops struck the window. She could see his reflection in the glass, the set features, the dark eyes revealing no warmth of emotion, only an icy determination. Why was he allowing himself to be trapped into this marriage?
Because he had a sense of duty. Honor. Decency. All those virtues she had doubted he possessed. She had thought the worst of him. Yet she was the one without principles, the one who would stop at nothing to gain her will.
A hard core of regret throbbed beneath her breastbone. She should do the
noble act. She should reject his proposal. But there was Marianne to consider. The baby needed a mother, a constant presence in her life, someone to give her love and guidance.
And Jane saw herself returning to her solitary cottage in the country with only Aunt Willy and her books to keep her company. She envisioned the years ahead, long and lonely years, empty of the joy she had found for a brief interlude tonight. Would Ethan make love to her again? Or had she destroyed his desire for her? Somehow, she had to believe there was hope for them, that a caring man dwelled underneath his anger, the man who had written poetry to his infant daughter.
And so for the second time that night, she let her heart speak.
“All right, then. I’ll marry you.”
* * *
“Seldom have I seen a lovelier bride,” Lady Rosalind said, unclasping the heavy heirloom necklace from Jane’s neck. “You looked like a princess dressed in gold silk and diamonds.” She handed the necklace to a maid, who bore it away to a velvet-lined jewel case in the wall safe.
“’Twas a fine wedding,” Aunt Willy agreed. “Even if ’twas done in haste. Mercy me, we must prepare for gossip when the announcement appears in the papers tomorrow.”
“Pish-posh,” the dowager said. “Any scandal will be outweighed by the fact that it is the match of the Season. More so even than my marriage to Kellisham.”
Their chatter swirled around Jane. She felt numb, her limbs as wooden as a dressmaker’s mannequin. She let them remove her corset and chemise. Dutifully, she raised her arms to receive a nightdress over her head, the sheer white fabric slithering over her cold body.
Seating herself at the fancy gilt dressing table, she removed the circlet of rosebuds crowning her head. She plucked the pins from her hair, letting them plink one by one into a blue porcelain dish. Then she picked up the ivory-backed brush and dragged it through her unruly hair. The oval mirror reflected her pale face and haunted eyes, the features too strong and stubborn to be considered beautiful.
She was a wife now. Ethan’s wife.
In spite of everything, the thought gave her a delicious shiver. As she brushed her hair, the narrow gold band on her finger flashed in the candlelight. Earlier in the evening, she had wed Ethan in a private ceremony with only a few close friends and relatives present.
She had entered the drawing room to see him waiting for her by the marble fireplace. How handsome he had looked in blue and silver, how coldly he had behaved toward her. His aloof expression held no warmth. He had spoken his vows in an indifferent tone and then kissed her cheek as if she were his cousin or perhaps a maiden aunt. With all the yearning of a bride, Jane had wanted him to gaze at her with love in his eyes. It was the dream that had lain dormant since she was a girl, longing for the boy who took no notice of her. And now that she belonged to him, the charming rogue had become a passionless stranger.
A stranger who hated her for trapping him into wedlock.
How inconvenient for you … to be shackled to a man who despises you.
“There, you’re ready now,” Lady Rosalind said, bending down to straighten Jane’s delicate lace sleeve. In Jane’s ear, she whispered, “Never fear. The moment Ethan sees you tonight, he will forget his anger. Men are like that.” She beckoned to the maids. “Give your curtsy to her ladyship, quickly now.”
The two young servants bobbed up and down before Jane, casting awed glances at her before trailing the dowager out of the dressing room.
How strange to be the Countess of Chasebourne, Jane thought. By virtue of her new rank, she had become an object of obeisance, mistress of this mansion, a respected member of the ton.
And she would trade it all for Ethan’s love.
Jane set down the brush and turned the ring on her finger around and around. Would he forget his anger so easily? She doubted so. Lady Rosalind didn’t fathom the depths to which he blamed his bride.
Aunt Wilhelmina lingered by the dressing table, a wistful smile on her jowly face. “Pray forgive me for disapproving of his lordship, Jane. Though his reputation is tarnished, he did wed you, and that means he is not lacking in honor.”
“Better I should forgive myself,” Jane murmured. “I’ve believed ill of him, too.”
Her aunt gave her a motherly pat on the shoulder. “Don’t fret, my dear. You, at least, have a chance for happiness. I only wish I’d had the courage to do as you did.”
Startled, Jane met Wilhelmina’s pale blue eyes in the mirror. “To force a man into marriage?”
“To accept an honest proposal.” The older woman sighed, her plump fingers twisting the linen handkerchief into a knot. “Oh mercy, I’ve never told anyone this.”
“Please. What is it?”
“In my youth, I became enamored of a local gentleman, the eldest son of a prosperous farmer. But I thought myself too good for a man who earned his living by tilling the soil, and so I refused his offer of marriage.” Aunt Willy’s gaze went unfocused as if she were looking into the past. “Of-times I’ve wondered if I made the right choice.”
A lump crowded Jane’s throat. No wonder her aunt relied upon her bottle of restorative; she had never forgotten her heartache.
Rising from the stool, she enveloped Wilhelmina in a hug, breathing in her faintly medicinal scent, feeling the familar pillowy softness of her form. “I’m so sorry. I never knew.”
Aunt Willy returned the embrace. “I am glad, truly glad you did not become like me, old and alone, with no one to love.”
“You are not alone,” Jane said fiercely. “And you may stay here for as long as you like. You shall always have a home with me.”
“Bless you, Jane. You always were a good child.” The older woman gave Jane a dry peck on the cheek and shuffled out of the dressing room.
Jane heard the outer door close; then silence whispered around her. She felt ashamed for all the times she had resented her aunt’s complaining and made uncharitable judgments about her. She hadn’t understood that Wilhelmina had once been young and hopeful, pretty enough to catch the eye of a man. How sad to look back on one’s life and feel regrets. How dreadful to pine for a love that couldn’t be returned.
As she pined for Ethan.
Staring at her pale reflection in the mirror, she braided her hair as she always did. Tonight her fingers were clumsy and the task took twice as long. She tied the end with a ribbon, then tossed the plait over her shoulder so that it lay heavy against her back. She imagined Ethan untying the ribbon, running his fingers through her hair.…
A faint scent lingered in the air, a hint of old perfume. Jane uncorked several pots and jars on the dressing table until she found the source of the smell in an elegant cut-glass bottle. She held it up to her nose and sniffed. The flowery aroma brought a memory into sharp focus.
Lady Portia had worn this cologne. She had once occupied these rooms. She too had tricked Ethan into marriage.
Jane hastily capped the bottle and pushed it away. She was not like his first wife. She would never betray her marriage vows, no matter if Ethan was unfaithful. And she did not require fidelity from him. So why did the thought of him with another woman rouse a fierce wrath inside her?
She padded into the bedchamber, the rug soft beneath her bare feet. Her belongings had been moved from the guest room to this sumptuous suite adjoining Ethan’s in the east wing. The huge chamber with its gilt cornices had been furnished with exquisite taste. The primrose velvet draperies on the tall windows had been drawn against the night. A silver branch of candles glowed on the white marble chimneypiece, and a fire burned cheerily in the hearth. The canopied four-poster bed stood on a dais, the covers folded back to pristine linen sheets and a bank of fluffy pillows.
Jane’s gaze went to the door that connected her room to Ethan’s. The white-painted panel seemed to mock her. Was he in his chamber? Or was he upstairs in the tower room, writing poetry? Perhaps he was composing an ode to deceitful wives.
In a rush of a dismal certainty, she knew Ethan would not open that door.
He would not come to her tonight.
How inconvenient for you … to be shackled to a man who despises you.
An ache assailed Jane, the feeling so brutal she closed her eyes and pressed her fists to her bosom. Despite all her excuses to the contrary, she needed Ethan. She needed to feel his arms around her, his lips against her hair. She needed him to touch her, to kiss her, to put himself inside her and make them one body, one soul.
By her own deception, she had destroyed his trust. She had gained Marianne, only to lose Ethan.
A wild grief tore at her, and she took several shuddery breaths to calm herself. She must not succumb to regrets. She must remind herself of the true purpose for this marriage.
She snatched up an ivory silk robe, thrust her arms into the sleeves, and knotted the sash. Taking a candle, she hastened out of the bedchamber.
* * *
The brandy had failed to do its work.
Ethan sat in his bedchamber, his bare feet propped on the fireplace fender. The fire had died to glowing coals. His moody gaze flitted to the crystal decanter on the table beside the leather wing chair. Over the course of several hours, the dark liquid inside the container had dipped steadily lower as he refilled his glass. Even so, he felt clearheaded and awake, denied the relief of oblivion.
He couldn’t purge Jane from his thoughts. Nor could he forget she was his wife.
Angry denial burned in his chest, and he took another long drink to cool the heat of his resentment. She had known his opinion of marriage, yet she had lured him nonetheless. She had invaded his privacy, pretended enthusiasm for his writings, and maneuvered him into lowering his guard. Like a besotted fool, he had believed her lies.
Or were they all lies?
Now that he’d had time to reflect, he remembered that Jane had wanted to leave the tower by the garden door. Because of the rainstorm, he had brought her down to his bedchamber to exit through the other door. Which meant she hadn’t planned for his mother to entrap them. He could absolve Jane of that deed at least.
But he could not forgive her for taking his freedom.
Tonight when she had walked toward him in the drawing room, wearing a slim gold gown and the Chasebourne diamonds, a halo of white rosebuds in her hair, she’d looked as innocent as an angel. Showing no shame, she had spoken her vows in a clear, ringing tone. As if she really meant to honor and obey him, in sickness and in health, for so long as they both should live. He knew as well as she did that she only wanted his child.
