White Lace and Promises

by Natasha Blackthorne

  He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, though. Instead, he was lingering with her in the parlour, sitting beside her with his long legs stretched out in front of him. The skin pulled tight over his angular cheekbones and he tapped his thigh with his fingertips.

  She reached and put her hand over his, stilling his fingers. He looked at her, his silver eyes piercing into her, as if trying to peer at her very bones.

  He looked…accusing.

  Her scalp prickled and her mouth went dry. But why? There was no reason for him to accuse her of anything. “Something is bothering you?”

  His mouth tensed. She pulled her hand away from his. He leaned away from her.

  “You were seen on Madison Avenue, near Beekman’s pond.”

  There was a timbre to his voice that made her heart stop. She felt unaccountably guilty. Hunted. Caught. “I took Ruth’s girls skating.”

  A small, somehow cynical smile curved his lips and he nodded slowly. “You were also seen in close conversation with a tall, slender, redheaded man. He kissed your hand.” He paused as his dark brows drew fiercely together. “You touched his cheek.” He sounded incredulous. “Dare I suppose this redheaded man was Dr Wade?”

  “Yes, it was.” Was that truly her halting voice?

  Oh, dear God.

  “And here I thought we were done with him.”

  His dry, too-light tone made her heart leap into a series of almost painful pangs. Oh, he was truly overset about this—more so than he was letting on. “Who told you this?”

  “Jenna Watson saw you and Thomas couldn’t wait to rush to my office and tell me.”

  Heavens, Watson’s silly daughter—of all the bad luck. “I see, and you naturally believe the worst.”

  “No, but I would like to hear your version.”

  “I told you.”

  “Humour me—tell me again.”

  Her stomach quavered and she took a deep breath. “I took Ruth’s girls out skating and Joshua followed us.”

  “You must have given him some kind of encouragement to stay and talk to you.”

  “He is my cousin—I can’t completely cut him.”

  “For God’s sake, you touched his face.”

  “It was nothing.” Her words echoed with a defensive tone. She winced. How could three little words manage to sound so incriminating? Emotion flared in his eyes, frightfully like hurt. Deep, irreparable damage between them. She gulped.

  “Ah, and dare I ask what provoked such a gesture?” he said with deadly softness.

  Under his steady gaze, she gulped a deep breath. She had to say something plausible, something to make him believe her meeting with Joshua was as innocent as it was. Nothing came to mind. Her heart pounded in her ears like a drumbeat.

  Think, think, think.

  She searched harder for the right thing to say. “I—I… He says I look unhappy. I was trying to assure him that I am not.”

  His jaw tensed.

  Oh, that hadn’t been the right thing to say. From his darkening eyes, she knew it was the very worst thing she could have said. She held her breath, waiting for his response.

  “You look unhappy,” Grey said.

  “So he said. But what does Joshua know?” She gave a nervous little laugh and smoothed her skirt. “He’s always had a very active imagination. It was nothing, Grey, nothing.”

  “Unhappy?” he repeated, as if he’d hadn’t even been listening to her. He jumped to his feet, then stared down at her. The hurt in his eyes made her suck in her breath quickly.

  She didn’t know what to say. Apprehension tickled around her navel. Something was happening. Something terrible. Like a ball of twine rolling downhill, unravelling. She shivered and hugged her shoulders. “It’s just what he said—it means nothing.”

  “Yes, well, the man doesn’t lie, does he, Beth? You are unhappy now—always unhappy.”

  She shook her head. “No, no, that’s not true. You know it is not. The other night—last night—”

  “Those were anomalies. You’ve changed. I scarcely recognise you anymore. I never wanted this,” he said with such flat finality that her blood went cold.

  “Our marriage?” She barely whispered the words.

  “No, this. Your changes.” His voice boomed in the chamber as he gestured up and down her body with a sweep of his hand. “I never expected you, of all women, to fall into this unnatural, idle way of living. I bought you the school so you’d have something of your own to work at and you turned it over to a business manager. Now you spend your days in useless melancholia, consumed only with shopping or sleeping the days away. I never wanted this.”

  “Now wait just a moment—”

  “No. I have kept quiet long enough. I never wanted to dictate how you must live but I thought you were different from the other women I knew. The vain, useless women I have known. I thought you had ideals, dreams, visions of what you wanted to create in the world. I thought you had the drive to bring those dreams into reality. It has been an ice-cold shock to find you are really the same as the rest. Content to be idle and isolated from the real world.”

  “That’s not fair. I have done nothing but try to please you and fit into your world.”

  “God damn it, where is the girl I met in Philadelphia? She’s the one I want.”

  “You froze her out with your distance, both physical and emotional.”

  He compressed his lips. “It is the war. You must be patient. Life will settle out.”

  “And I am so afraid of disappointing you I dare not make a move without worrying over how it shall affect your reputation and standing.”

  “So you turn yourself into a supplicant and me into a tyrant by doing so? Is that what you think I want?”

  His voice rose with each word and she flinched, taking several steps back. “I try so hard to be the lady everyone—including you—expects me to be.”

  “Do you honestly believe I expected this—this transformation from the most exciting, audacious girl I’d ever met into a joyless, idle caricature of her former self?” He frowned.

  “How unfair! I have done everything just to please you.”

  “Then stop—just stop it. I told you the other night. I have no wish for the shadow of Cornelia Hazelwood and her poison between us. If I wanted a vapid, colourless creature for a bride, I’d have married long ago.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “But this is deeper, isn’t it? You are unhappy in your life with me. Something has changed between us.”

  Emotion trembled through her, tingled in her fingertips and toes. She feared the truth but she could no longer escape it. “I told you.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I cannot respect a man who will not be a true father to his own son. I cannot respect a man who would use his money to bribe my own sister into keeping her distance from me. You think you have the right to control the lives of those around you. Even those closest to you, those who love you. You don’t know how to love us back. You throw your money at us and expect us to be satisfied. Well, I am not satisfied with that.”

  His face went rigid and the very temperature in the room seemed to plummet. “So you don’t respect me now?”

  The lethal-sounding note in his voice made her catch her breath.

  At that telling catch, his jaw jutted arrogantly. “I want to hear you say it.”

  All the blood suddenly drained from her head. She expected to drop to her knees. She wished the floor would open up and she could disappear. But neither happened. She kept standing there and he kept staring at her with that closed off, hard expression.

  “I want to hear you say it, Beth.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? She hadn’t wanted to openly admit it, but it was the truth—she didn’t respect him. Not any longer. She became aware that her lungs burnt and she released her breath all at once.

  He uncrossed his arms and reached out a hand towards her. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. She swallowed hard against a su
dden rise of nausea.

  “Say it, Beth, damn you—at least have the courage to say it openly.” He released her chin.

  She tingled all over now. She didn’t want to admit it. But it must be said. “All right…” Her throat closed up as though her body was rebelling against what her mind was forcing her to say. She swallowed again. His measured, deep breaths sounded in the pause, heavy in the air, a tangible oppressive. Her stomach flipped in response and she laid a hand over it.

  Out with it—just get it out and then it will be done.

  “I don’t appreciate the way you treat me. As if I were a mistress whom you may bed and then expect to sit on a shelf until the next time your lusts need easing. I don’t respect the way you treat your son. I can’t have children with a man I don’t respect. I won’t tolerate being treated like a mistress in my own marriage.”

  His jaw hardened and his eyes were like blades of silver flame. “And I will not tolerate a wife who thinks to govern my behaviour through this kind of emotional coercion.”

  Her chest went very tight. Each breath grew harder and the room seemed to whirl about her. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be happening. But what else had she expected? Nausea rose again and she suppressed a groan.

  “What shall we do now?”

  Shoulders held stiff, he walked over to the hearth, took the poker, crouched down and gave the fire several jabs. “I don’t see how we can continue to live together under such circumstances.”

  She nodded mutely. He had put one wife aside. He would have no trouble sending her back to her brother. “When would you expect me to…to leave?”

  The ticking of the clock marked the long moments of silence between them. Then he put the poker back into the rack, stood and faced her. “You need a house of your own before you can live elsewhere. I think you’d find Long Island pleasant. You shall have a newly built mansion there.”

  “I shall?” she asked, too stunned by this whole turn of events to say more.

  “Yes. In the meantime, when I return from Philadelphia I will find quarters near my offices until your home can be occupied.”

  Of course. When a gentleman put a mistress aside, she got a diamond bracelet. When he put a wife aside, she got a new-built mansion. However, she didn’t want his parting gift. She shook her head. “No, I can go back to Philadelphia.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening, and her heart pounded in her ears in the silence.

  “I prefer that you make New York your home.” His tone was implacable. Even in this, the insufferable man wanted to dictate to her.

  But why? If they were apart, they were apart. She frowned.

  “What should it matter to you so long as I am gone?”

  Beth’s hopeless tone cut into Grey. But he couldn’t live with her lack of understanding and censure, her constant pressure for attention, any longer. They needed space, time apart. And yet… “You’re still my wife.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to slow his pounding heart. This was not all that terrible. Some distance could be the start of a new, more tolerable marriage for them both. In time she would come to see that he had been right in his choice of action towards Jan. And they could continue their union, but with alterations. He would never again choose to live with her on an ongoing basis. He just wasn’t suited for that kind of daily, intense interaction with another person—even Beth. His life did not allow for it. And she’d be happier, too, having that kind of freedom. The break would hurt now—it would hurt them both. But in the long term it would be better for their marriage.

  “I see. You want to keep up appearances for the sake of your reputation.” Her voice was hard, brittle.

  He closed his eyes, struggling for the right way to handle her. He had lost his head, driven her too far. Now he must gentle her to this idea. “We need space between us for both of our sakes. Yours as well. However, there’s no need for the world to know of our differences.” His heart continued to pound against his chest wall and his mouth was drier than dust. He did not want her to leave New York. Could not let her do that. He must continue to provide for her, to shelter her under the protection of his name. He wanted her in his life, just not so ever present. He was simply tired of her pressure for him to be something he couldn’t be. Some distance, some control would be beneficial. But there was no need to sever their ties, either legal or emotional. Given some time, she could readjust her expectations and they could redefine the terms of their marriage. They could come to a sensible negotiation. But she was such an emotional woman, so impulsive—he must tread lightly now or risk losing her completely.

  She compressed her lips and folded her arms over her breasts.

  “Beth, it’s the reasonable thing to do.” The words seemed to resonate with hollow effect. But damn it, his proposal was completely rational.

  Her throat moved up and down and she closed her eyes.

  His stomach clenched. Christ. What the hell was she going to say now?

  She nodded. “All right.” Her voice shook. “If it means that much to you—if it will help prevent damage to your reputation—I will stay in New York. But I want Ruth and her daughters to come and live with me.”

  “I’ll find her a house of her own.”

  “That’s not necessary. I shall have plenty of room in a mansion of my own.” Her lip curled up. She was becoming defensive, slipping into former patterns. He hated to see it.

  “Beth, I think you need some independence from your family—”

  “How dare you dictate to me on this? You understand nothing about caring for family. You want everything in its own neat little partition, under control. But there is no room for compassion or understanding.”

  “Better said, your family needs independence from you. You need your own life.”

  Her face went white. “As your second cast-off wife, what life have I now?”

  Her stricken eyes threatened to weaken his resolve and tightness burned through his stomach. This had to be the single worst moment of his life. But it had been inevitable from the start. He struggled for the right words to delineate the differences between their marriage and his first. “I told you. I never cast Juliana off. She left me. She went home to her father. I am not casting you off. Our differences are driving us apart.”

  He clamped his jaw, afraid that he’d say more and permanently damage the situation, send her fleeing back to Philadelphia. Back into the destructive life she’d lived under the poisonous influence of Cornelia Hazelwood and being taken advantage of by weak, selfish Charlie McConnell. Or, worse yet, she’d become Dr Joshua Wade’s mistress. The burn in his stomach increased, as if he might vomit. He should leave now. Talking wasn’t going to help anything. They both simply needed time to adjust to the new terms of their relationship. “Beth, I’ve got to go. We shall discuss the details later.”

  Her lip curled up higher and she nodded. “Of course.”

  The pain in his belly rose to centre in his chest, tight and burning. A brittle pain, as if his heart were breaking. But such dramatic reactions weren’t necessary. This wasn’t the end. It was simply a change, a new start. A way to make their marriage into something he could navigate.

  They would both adjust.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Maybe it’s for the best.”

  Beth resisted the urge to snap in response to Ruth’s statement—she was only trying to be helpful. And one couldn’t expect a woman married to a man who also kept a wife in England and whom she only saw once a year or less to understand the pain of being sent from Grey’s house. Beth turned away from her sister to stare again at the floral and vine pattern of the wallpaper in her bedchamber. Grey had left for Albany for a few days. He seemed to have recovered quickly from their decision to part ways.

  “He’s so arrogant. So tyrannical. You’ll be better off on your own. And it will be all right. He has to provide for you. If he don’t, you can go to the courts and they will force it.”

  “Ruth, shut up. Plea
se.” Beth closed her eyes. Had their quarrel even affected Grey at all? He’d downed a hearty breakfast the day he’d left. Yet she felt miserable. Tired, queasy and unable to eat a thing. How long could this sort of grief last?

  At a knock on the door, Beth’s heart skipped a hopeful beat. Maybe he’d reconsidered his position. Maybe he was coming to say he didn’t want her to leave. She curled her lip. Pathetic—utterly pathetic, Beth.

  Ruth’s skirts rustled and the door opened. “Oh, thank you for coming.”

  “Of course, any time.”

  It was Joshua’s voice.

  Beth bolted upright in the bed, clutching the sheets to her neck, covering her shift-clad body. “What the devil is he doing here?”

  “Ah, that’s the cousin I know so well,” Joshua’s voice rang out with his customary charismatic cheer. He took Ruth by her ample hips and pulled her out of the way.

  Ruth slapped his hands. “You watch yourself, Dr Wade.”

  A lurch of nausea made Beth groan inside. Was there a female alive who didn’t fawn over him?

  “I sent for him, Elizabeth. You’re not well.” With that, Ruth slipped out of the door, a broad smile on her flushed face.

  “Close the door, sweeting, let me properly examine your sister, and then I shall come and alleviate your worries”—he glanced at Beth, his eyes strangely serious—“I hope.”

  Ruth giggled and flustered, her eyes twinkling back at Joshua.

  Beth stared as the door closed behind her sister. Doctor or no, Joshua was the last person who should be here. However, Joshua knew how to prevent an oncoming illness. She’d seen his preventative pills work for Mrs Hazelwood time and time again. And how could Beth tell Ruth the truth of the matter? How could she explain if she suddenly ordered Joshua out of here?

  What did it matter if Joshua was here now? Grey already thought the worst of her. He had grasped at that possibility first. That had hurt so much—how could his further suspicion possibly touch her?

  She had already lost Grey. Everything from here out was simply a formality. She knew Grey—he would be painfully polite, civil and above all generous. But it was all over between them—they saw life too differently.