‘Lucy?’
She turned to him and gave him a sad smile.
‘Well, you did it. You got rid of the watch. It is now back with its rightful owner.’
He knew at this moment he should be feeling an immense sense of relief. But he felt numb. No outpouring of emotion.
Nothing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lucy played nervously with her wedding ring. Rolling it round and round her finger. The simple gold band, reminding her that she was committed to this marriage forever.
Supper in their room was a silent affair. They remained in their suite after Madame Rochet departed, Avery cancelling their earlier plans to go sightseeing. He barely ate, while Lucy stared at her plate of food as she forced back the threatening tears.
‘I think I might go for an evening stroll,’ he said. He pushed his untouched supper plate away. He stood, put on his coat and left the room.
‘Just there, thank you very much.’
Avery looked up as a procession of three hotel staff bearing piles of boxes and parcels entered the room. Lucy followed closely behind. They put the boxes on the floor near to Lucy’s travel chest. She gave the senior member of the group a handful of coins and bade them farewell.
‘Well, that’s most of it done,’ she said proudly.
When she’d woken that morning, Lucy decided she needed to escape the stifling atmosphere of the hotel. She couldn’t sit and endure the soul-crushing silence any longer.
In the two days since their meeting with Madame Rochet, Avery had barely spoken a word to her. The only time he had touched her was late at night. Even then their lovemaking lacked the fervour and passion of their earlier encounters.
Avery remained distant.
Initially Lucy put it down to the loss of the pocket watch, but now she was not so sure. Avery was not by nature a talkative man; she had learnt to accept that in her husband. This, however, was something else. He sat for hours quietly staring out the window or sleeping.
I will not cry, I will not cry. I must accept that this is my lot. I have to be strong.
Inwardly she berated herself. How foolish she had been to pin her hopes on Avery coming out of his shell and opening himself to her once the burden of the pocket watch was gone. Once a soldier, always a soldier. He remained a stranger.
When Will came to take her shopping, Avery didn’t venture out of their bedroom to greet him. ‘Is he ill or just being a complete ass?’ Will said as he closed the door of the hotel room behind them.
‘I don’t know. He won’t speak to me. I’ve tried to engage him in conversation, but he just says, “Please Lucy, I need quiet,”’ she replied.
Will raised an eyebrow. ‘So he is just being an ass.’
Lucy gave him a pleading look. She had no idea how to cope with a silent, morose husband. All her life she had witnessed her parents’ marriage. Never had she seen them go for more than an hour or two before resolving their rare spats.
When the Duke and Duchess of Strathmore made up, the children knew they would not see their parents for the rest of the day. Now, as a married woman, Lucy understood what went on when her parents retired to their suite to ‘discuss their disagreement’. The reason for her mother’s smile when they finally reappeared was no longer a mystery.
Even Alex and Millie had managed to find a way to resolve their frequent arguments. Their marriage was based on heated passion and a deep knowledge of just how far they could push one another’s temper. Most of all, they loved one another and were not afraid to let the rest of the world know it.
She didn’t understand Avery. How could she when he refused to confide in her?
‘Oh, let’s not talk about anything tiresome or boring today, please, Will? I need to laugh and have some fun. Indulge me with a trip to every shop which sells fascinating knick-knacks. I have been in Paris for a week and not bought a thing.’
Will gave her a comforting hug.
‘Your wish is my command. And I know exactly the right place for us to have a slap-up lunch. This is Paris, you need to stuff your face with macarons until you cannot breathe,’ he replied.
Will was exactly the tonic Lucy needed. The day spent with him was filled with laughter, food and endless hours of shopping. By the end of it, Lucy had purchased special gifts for every member of her family.
Will offered to accompany her up to her hotel room, but Lucy declined. She feared he would take Avery to task for his behaviour. This was a battle she was going to have to fight and win on her own.
As soon as she took off her coat and dropped down onto the soft comfort of the well-padded couch she knew she had made the right decision.
‘Do we have any money left?’ Avery asked tersely.
She frowned at him. To speak of money to a lady in her world was considered crass.
‘Of course; Will shall settle any of the larger bills from the shops, Father’s steward will reimburse him. It’s all taken care of; you need not worry.’
He walked over to the nearest pile of her purchases and stood over them. He opened one box and gave a sniff of disapproval.
Lucy’s feet hurt. She was nursing a headache from eating too much sugar, and now her husband had shown an open disregard for her well-thought-out purchases.
Her good humour and patience with him finally snapped. She leapt from the couch, all thought of her aching feet fled from her mind.
‘How dare you! How bloody dare you turn your nose up at my things! You horrible, horrible man. I hate you!’ she shouted.
He clenched his fists. Anger etched the lines of his mouth.
‘You have no idea how this trip has been for me, you treat it as if it’s a holiday. Spending your day with your ladies’ man cousin, when I am in the darkest of places,’ he bellowed.
The familiar taste of tears flooded her mouth. In days past, she had stifled them, thinking not to show him how deeply affected she had been by the encounter with Madame Rochet. Today she didn’t care.
Let them come.
‘You are right, Avery, I have no idea. And do you know why I am clueless as to your current state of mind? It’s because you have shut me completely out of your life. I thought we had become close after we crossed the fens, that we had a chance. Clearly I was wrong. The moment something bad happens in your world, your whole existence becomes Avery Fox and no one else. You make a point of not sharing anything with me,’ she cried.
She watched as a series of emotions played out across his face. An unwelcome sense of satisfaction pervaded her being as she saw he was struggling with her words.
‘You want me to share with you the carnage of that day? Will you only be satisfied if you can smell the burning cannonballs and see death first-hand?’
Lucy slowly shook her head, bringing her temper back in check.
‘You don’t need to tell me about Waterloo, I know it is too painful for you. But you are more than that single day. I just want to share the rest of your life. I’m sorry if that is too much for a wife to ask.’
Any hope that she had finally gotten through to him was quickly and most cruelly dashed. ‘You will not see William Saunders again while we are in Paris, do you understand?’ he replied.
Lucy snorted. ‘You won’t tell me what to do, Mr Fox. If I choose to see my cousin every day while we are in Paris, I shall do so. Who the devil do you think you are?’
In three long strides he came to where she stood and towered over her. If he had thought to intimidate her, he was sadly mistaken. With two older, imposing brothers, Lucy had fought this fight many times.
She looked deep into Avery’s eyes. The same ones which she lost her soul within every time they made love were now fiercely trained upon her. Yet even as they struggled for supremacy over one another, she felt the surge of desire. How magnificent it would be for him to take her in an angry sexual encounter.
But only in that arena of combat would she yield. No man, brother or husband, would dictate to her how she lived her life. Especially
not one who showed so little regard for her.
‘You will stay in our suite until the time comes for us to leave Paris. Am I understood?’ he ground out.
The sexual spell broke and Lucy gave him her best look of disdain before walking away. Intimidation failed as a tactic when the victim refused to meekly accept it.
‘Let me know when you intend for us to depart and I shall be packed and ready to go. Until then I intend to continue spending time seeing the sights. I also have a second fitting with the modiste tomorrow afternoon. I ordered five new gowns from her this morning,’ she replied.
From the sharp intake of his breath, she knew she had pushed just far enough to finally elicit an emotional response. She prayed it had not been too far.
‘No! You won’t be going anywhere. If I have to tie you to the bed, you will stay in this suite and do as I command. Do I need to remind you that I am your husband and you will do your duty as a wife and accept my orders?’
She picked up three of the boxes of her purchases and carried them over to a nearby table and took a seat. Avery was welcome to continue the pointless argument, but she was not going to participate. She would not yield.
‘Are we going to eat downstairs this evening?’ she ventured.
A change of topic was always the best release when it came to arguments with her brothers; she hoped it would be so with Avery.
When Avery didn’t answer, she looked in his direction. Her heart sank. He was standing, eyes closed, in the centre of the room.
She rose from the chair and came to him.
‘Why do you keep fighting me? What have I done to incur your wrath?’ she asked.
‘Always questioning me, never doing just as I damn well tell you what to do. If you were one of my troops I would have you beaten for insubordination and dereliction of duty!’ he fumed.
‘But I’m not one of your reports, I am your wife and I love you,’ she calmly replied.
‘I know that, Lucy.’
Avery walked to the closet, pulled out his hat and coat and headed to the door.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘Out,’ he said, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Lucy stood and stared at the door.
‘Avery,’ she whispered.
Instead of insisting he go on to Edinburgh and seek a Scottish divorce, she had lured him to the Key and tempted him into her bed. A bed in which she now had to lie. If a cordial relationship with her husband was the best outcome she could eventually hope for, it was more than many women of her social standing enjoyed.
She turned from the door. There was little point in waiting for Avery to return. The only real choice left was to decide how long she could allow her heart to remain open to him. Hardening her heart and denying the love she felt for him was impossible.
While she wished her mother was on hand to offer sage words of advice, she knew the truth lay in listening to her own heart. If she was to succeed in reaching Avery she had to hold fast.
The rest of the afternoon Lucy spent going through her parcels and boxes, methodically making lists of who was to receive which gift.
For Emma, she had purchased a set of ribbons in blue, her sister’s favourite colour. She held the delicate ribbons up to the light and smiled.
‘Perfect,’ she murmured.
The afternoon slipped into evening. She ate supper alone and finished some letters to friends. Taking a seat outside on the balcony of their suite, she listened to the sounds of Parisian life as it went on in the street below. At a nearby cafe a band struck up a tune. It was soon accompanied by a group of singers who proceeded to render a tone-deaf version of ‘Au clair de la lune’. Lucy smiled when the choir decided to add their own bawdy lyrics to the tune.
Paris is warm, she wrote. She and Avery had visited many places and the people were kind and friendly. She gave a detailed account of their happy day trip to Versailles, relying on her extensive knowledge of the Bourbon kings to make a convincing lie. When she finished the letters, Lucy checked them. Confident the facade of her wonderful honeymoon would hold, she arranged for them to be posted home to England.
The sun set and she finally turned in for bed. When she eventually succumbed to the power of sleep, Avery had still not returned.
He finally came back to their suite some time in the early hours of the morning. As he climbed into the bed beside her, Lucy could smell the strong odour of heavy liquor on his breath.
For the first time since they had come together at the Key, they did not make love. He rolled drunkenly over onto his side, his back turned away from her. The sound of his snoring soon hummed through the room.
Lucy sat up in the bed, clutching her pillow tightly to her chest.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The first time it happened, Avery put it down to Lucy being overtired. The strain of the long journey to Paris and their ongoing disagreement was beginning to take its toll on her.
The night following their fight, they made quick, perfunctory love. As soon as it was over, Lucy rolled over onto her side and faced away from him. Avery thought it odd, but accepted that she had been in a peculiar mood all day. His apology for their blistering row, followed by him coming back to their room drunk in the early hours, had been accepted with a curt nod of the head.
She had every reason to be angry with him. He had no right to take his frustrations out on her. Lucy had been nothing but supportive of him throughout their trip to France.
When it happened the second night, he lay in the dark listening to Lucy’s breathing, seeking the telltale signs that she was asleep. Her breathing, however, remained steady; barely a whisper. She was awake.
And then it hit him.
Lucy had ceased to curl up against his back at night and whisper ‘I love you’ since the day they had met with Madame Rochet. She had said little of what she thought of his revelations regarding Pascal Rochet. Under the withering gaze of Pascal’s mother he had revealed far more than he ever intended. Lucy now knew much of the vicious and desperate struggle which had taken place that fateful day. He prayed she did not judge him a monster.
Since giving up the watch he had retreated into his self-contained existence, the only place he felt safe in a world he sensed judged him daily.
‘You are a Fox and everyone knows Foxes have no honour.’
The words of taunt thrown at him long ago by Thaxter still rang in his ears. Every day he wondered if he would ever feel like a true man of honour. How he could conceive of ever being a good husband when he felt like this was beyond his comprehension.
What was not beyond his understanding was the gnawing sensation that Lucy was slowly, irretrievably pulling away from him. Day by day, trapped in his private world of self-recrimination, he watched her retreat. Saw the pain in her pale blue eyes.
He was losing her.
Reaching out in their moonlit bed, he touched her hair. She shivered and pulled the blankets up around her neck, blocking him from any further physical contact.
The words were on the tip of his tongue. He knew he should tell her.
Lucy had given everything to him, and he had taken it. Greedily. Now as he stared at his wife’s back, the fear that she had reached the end of her generosity filled him with dread.
His wife was from a family where love was central to all their lives. He could not recall having ever loved anyone. Whatever emotions he might have felt for his long-dead mother were shadows of memory. Until Lucy, no one had ever loved him. Lucy had been brave enough to speak the words, but never once had he been man enough to offer up his own unbidden words of love. Never truly declared himself to her.
He was a fraud.
After lying on his back for a frustrating hour staring at the ceiling while sleep eluded him, Avery finally gave up and climbed out of bed. He dressed and left the hotel. He would seek the numbness of oblivion in the bottom of a whisky bottle.
‘Why are you here?’
William Saunders threw himself laz
ily onto the couch opposite. Avery looked down at the whisky glass in his hand and tried to ignore him.
‘I don’t think that is any of your business, Saunders. I do not answer to you,’ he bit back.
Will sighed. ‘Nor, apparently, to your wife. So who do you answer to, Mr Fox? Tell me; I am intrigued to know.’
Avery shook his head. He was three drinks into what he planned to be a long night. Why he was seated in the Café de Foy was anyone’s guess. He had a perfectly good hotel in which to get drunk. But the cafe was crowded and afforded him a greater sense of anonymity than the hotel where the staff all knew him by name.
He put the glass down. The cafe was only a quarter of a mile from the Hotel Meurice, but he knew Lucy would not venture out to find him.
He had admitted that much to himself, at least. He was hiding from his wife, because he didn’t know how to face her. He was a coward.
‘Have you come to lecture me once more on my marriage, because I don’t think you, as an unmarried man, have any right to preach to me. When you too have a wife, then perhaps I might listen,’ he replied angrily.
Who the devil was William Saunders to wade into his private matters?
‘I had one; she died,’ Will replied flatly.
Avery picked up the whisky glass and drained its contents down his throat.
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied.
‘So am I.’ Will got to his feet. ‘Come with me.’
From the way he spoke, it was not a request. Avery knew an order when he heard one. He rose from the chair and, after putting on his coat, followed Will to the door of the cafe.
‘Merci, Monsieur Lacerte,’ Will said, shaking the maître d’hôtel’s hand. Monsieur Lacerte bowed and put his hand in his pocket. Avery looked away, shamed to know that the very man who had been serving drinks to him for the past two hours was a spy in the employ of William Saunders.
Outside, Will stopped in the cool night air and put on his hat.
‘Sorry, old man, but I had the feeling you might revisit the cafe. Let’s walk.’
The Duke's Daughter Page 26
