The Stranger She Married

by Donna Hatch

  He sat back and rubbed his bleary eyes, glancing at the clock on the mantle. It was not yet dinnertime, but already it felt like midnight. Alicia Palmer, now the Lady Amesbury, had robbed him of sleep many nights. If he didn't work so hard at wearing himself out riding, fencing, and boxing, he might never sleep.

  A letter sat to one side of the desk, fluttering gently in the breeze from the opened window. Aunt Livy had written, asking how he fared and expressing a desire to visit. As much as he enjoyed their company, he did not wish to entertain them at present.

  Restlessness tugged at him and he had to remind himself that he needed to stay here. Always before, he fled back to London or other haunts after the briefest of stays here in the country house, but this time, he needed to remain and take care of long overdue duties. In an attempt to restore his health, his father now resided with the youngest Amesbury son, Christian, at the house in Bath. As the heir, it was time Cole assumed responsibility of caring for the family estate.

  He wrote back to Aunt Livy, inventing wonderful lies about his happiness and told her he would see her in London this Season if he decided to go. After he finished his correspondence, he leaned back in his chair, wondering again if he had made a colossal mistake in arranging Alicia's marriage to Nicholas.

  How badly he wanted her!

  Stephens poked his head in the door and grinned. Cole scowled at him, which only broadened the offensively happy expression.

  "Wipe off that idiotic grin, you half-wit,” Cole grumbled.

  His valet tsked, sounding annoyingly like Aunt Livy. “The heat makes you irritable. Perhaps you need to go enjoy the fresh air. Cool off."

  "Perhaps I need to thrash a cheeky valet."

  Stephens chuckled.

  Cole rose and thrust several missives into Stephens’ hands. “See that these are posted."

  Stephens eyed Cole's clothes with a frown. “I just pressed that and already it's rumpled."

  "I don't need a nursemaid."

  Cole went outside and rode André to the fields where the thoroughbred trained. He listened with interest to everything the trainer said to him, and admired his new thoroughbred. Cole watched the fine lines of his newest acquisition as he and his jockey flew past them in graceful strides.

  Without any warning, the horse stumbled and went down in a spray of dirt and turf. The horse rolled over, screaming, with the jockey underneath him.

  Stunned, Cole stood frozen for an instant before he snapped into action. He called for a doctor as he sprinted to the scene of the disaster and fell to his knees in front of the motionless young jockey.

  He touched the jockey. “Adair? Can you hear me?"

  The young man breathed, but his face was pale and his forehead bled. His eyes remained closed. Cole began running his hand over the lad's limbs, checking for other injuries.

  The trainer arrived breathlessly. “Adair?"

  "He's breathing,” Cole said. “See to the horse."

  The head groom dashed to the thoroughbred. The horse rolled over and struggled to his feet. He walked with a limp. Cole returned his attention to the jockey. He found at least one broken bone in Adair's arm and, he couldn't be sure, but possibly a few ribs. Cole shaded the boy, and tried to assuage his fears when he awoke. It seemed an eternity before the doctors both arrived.

  The jockey would make a full recovery. The bones had been reset and he would require a long rest.

  However, the thoroughbred was so badly injured that he may never race again. He'd have to be put out to pasture for an indeterminate amount of time.

  Cole took the news in stoic silence, nodded, and went back out to the course. The trainer squatted near the scene of the fall examining the ground.

  "What caused it?” Cole asked.

  The trainer looked grief-stricken. “A mere divot."

  Heartsick, Cole nodded, arose and went for a long walk. He suddenly desperately needed to be with female companionship.

  * * * *

  Alicia sat reading in Poseidon's garden, enjoying the air and the bright sunshine. As she looked up, she nearly dropped her book.

  Wearing an impeccable suit, a self-mocking smile tugging his mobile lips, Cole Amesbury approached. Her memory had failed to duplicate this devastatingly handsome man. His long-legged stride brought his lean, muscular frame to her before she was ready to face him.

  She jumped to her feet, sending her book tumbling to the ground, and clutched at her heart in a vain effort to still its traitorous thumping.

  His smile broadened, turned smug. “Could it be that you are happy to see me?"

  "Absolutely not!” she replied with as much venom as she could muster. “I was simply surprised."

  She picked up her book, dusted it off and carefully closed it. When she felt composed enough, she looked up at him and tried to resist admiring his perfect, patrician features, or the way the sunlight glinted on his sable hair, or the broad, strong lines of his body. She found the task difficult.

  She moistened her lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, my lord?"

  His grin widened. “Since we are cousins, I believe it would be quite appropriate for you to call me Cole."

  Sitting quickly before her knees gave out, she pressed her lips together and lifted her chin. “I pity my husband for having you as a cousin."

  He laughed, which only intensified her heart's fluttering. “Well, you know what they say, ‘you can pick your friends but not your relations.’ However, we are a bit of both.” Exuding latent sensuality, he sat down on the bench next to her and looked her over with a languorous smile. “You're looking well. There's color to your cheeks and you have filled out. Very nicely.” His gaze traveled over her figure while her cheeks heated under his openly appreciative assessment. “I see marriage agrees with you."

  "He ... is good to me.” She wished that the bench was longer so that he would not be seated so near.

  He tilted his head to one side. “'Good’ to you. He doesn't make you blissfully happy, though. Less than satisfying as a man, is he?"

  She looked at him sharply. “That's a terrible thing to say!"

  "It's true, isn't it?"

  She opened her mouth and then closed it. Did his eyes have to be so blue? She rose and took a few steps away to put some distance between them and tried to calm her ridiculous heart. It was maddening the way her senses throbbed when he was near.

  "It is not appropriate for us to discuss this,” she said primly.

  "Oh, I think it is. Actually, it is the reason I came see you.” He arose and followed her.

  Incredulous, she stared. “You're joking."

  "I have come to ask if you're ready to leave that scarred cripple for a real man who can satisfy all your needs."

  Her mouth dropped open. “How dare you!"

  Those blue eyes bored into hers with intensity that contradicted the lazy grin on his face. He prowled nearer like a dangerous feline stalking its prey, filling her with his presence, his scent. “You don't want him. You probably haven't even consummated the marriage."

  "How dare you!"

  "Am I wrong?"

  She spluttered. “It's no concern of yours."

  "It does concern me. I have come to rescue you from this farce of a marriage. We could leave the country. Go to the continent. No one would ever know of your first mistake."

  Her eyes blazed. “You are conceited! You assume that I would ever want to be with you, but you are very wrong. I wouldn't have you if you were the last man alive!"

  A slow smile spread over his lips. “So, you do not claim any loyalty to him, just a healthy hatred of me. That's all right. The opposite of love is apathy, not hate. Your passion could be channeled into a more useful activity.” He lightly traced his fingers along her cheek.

  Stunned at how delicious his touch felt, she stepped back. “Your lifestyle of debauchery has no place here."

  His eyes darkened with desire, his lazy grin turning sultry. “He isn't even a whole man, is he?"r />
  "I don't know if he's whole or—” she broke off, mortified. She had said too much. She put her hands over her burning cheeks.

  His smile broadened gleefully and he pounced on her words. “It's not him, it's you! You have rejected him and locked him out of your chambers. If I know Nicholas, he isn't the type of man who would force his advances.” Determination smoldered beneath his lazy, unconcerned exterior. “If he's so repulsive that you won't let him into your bed, then leave with me. I'll make you forget all about your first so-called marriage, sham that it is."

  "Of all the aggravating ... underhanded ... disloyal ... immoral...."

  His knowing laughter snapped her mouth closed. The dratted man had perfect knowledge of his effect on her. He neared, his handsome face, his strong body, his masculinity all stirred her awareness in an alarming manner. Like a predator, he advanced, his meaning clear. She backed away until she found herself stopped against the unforgiving trunk of a tree.

  A slight smile touched his sensitive mouth as he rested one arm on the trunk beside her shoulder and leaned toward her. “Come away with me, Alicia."

  Her senses filled with his potency, his scent, the desire burning in his eyes. He was wholly male and he desired her. She drew in a ragged breath as trepidation and something else she could not name shot through her. Frightened and ashamed at his power over her, but more at her response to him, she cast about for a lifeline and then channeled her emotions toward something else entirely.

  Sudden anger flared. “I'd die before I'd have a heartless murderer like you!"

  * * * *

  The baron appeared in the doorway of the dining room before Alicia had finished her dinner.

  "I have come too soon, I see. May I sit with you as you finish?"

  She nodded and returned her focus to her plate but ate with little appetite. Cole Amesbury was without a doubt the most aggravating man she'd ever known. He was without conscience. Without scruples. How dare he expect that she'd have anything to do with him, after all he did to her family!

  "You seem distracted tonight,” her husband observed.

  Alicia realized that she had been stabbing her food with her fork without even tasting her dinner. Looking up, she also became aware that he had been speaking and she hadn't heard a word he had said.

  She set down her fork and picked up her napkin. “Forgive me, my lord."

  "Is something on your mind?"

  She shook her head wordlessly.

  He leaned back in his chair. For several moments, he watched her. “I understand my cousin Cole paid a visit today."

  She started, her eyes flying to his face, but, as usual, found no answers there. Had the servants seen and reported to him? She tried to keep her voice uninterested. “He did. Are you close?"

  "We've been friends since childhood. He used to spend the summers with us. We even went to Cambridge together.” He cocked his head to the side. “Did you talk about anything in particular?"

  She picked up her glass and kept her eyes fixed on it. “Nothing worth mentioning.” She wasn't sure if she was angrier that Cole had the nerve to try to tempt her to leave her husband who had shown nothing but kindness, or that he would so quickly betray a family member who was also a close personal friend. He truly was despicable. The more she learned about him, the less she liked him. What a fool she was for letting his beautiful face affect her.

  "Did I mention the Duke of Northumbria is having a ball now that his daughter is of age?” Lord Amesbury asked.

  She gathered her skittering thoughts and focused on his question. “No, I don't remember you mentioning that."

  "Would you like to go?"

  "Of course."

  "I thought so. I already sent our acceptance. If I remember the process correctly, it requires you to have a new ball gown?"

  Alicia always felt uneasy when he made purchases for her when she clearly did not deserve his money or gifts. “I don't believe there's time to have one made. I can wear something I already have. I have so many pretty new things, thanks to you."

  In the last few weeks, such a vast array of lovely gowns had arrived from both London and Paris that she hadn't even worn most of them yet. Her wardrobe bulged with gowns, hats, gloves, shoes, stockings and all the appropriate undergarments of the finest silk and trimmed with yards of delicate lace.

  "I have already taken the liberty of arranging for one to be made. Monique saw to the details. It should arrive any day."

  Guiltily, she dropped her eyes and forced cheer into her voice she did not feel. “Thank you. You are most thoughtful."

  She could feel his smile under the mask. “I have two sisters. I would be unforgivably unobservant if I didn't know at least part of the requirements of a social gathering."

  Casting about for an appropriate response, she said; “Tell me about your sisters."

  He paused. “Twins, two years older than I."

  "Twins,” she whispered. “I was a twin."

  "I'm so sorry you lost him.” Softly spoken, the sincerity in his voice could not be mistaken.

  She looked sharply at him, but, of course, saw nothing in the expressionless mask. “You know?"

  "Cole told me everything. He lives nearby, so we have occasion to speak often. In fact, I have him to thank for our marriage. He wrote to me, described you, and told me of your circumstances. He wanted very badly to help you. And when I knew, I did, too."

  She stared at him. “Why would he wish to help me?"

  "He feels responsible for your predicament."

  Alicia studied the glass in her hand. “In a way, he is."

  "Perhaps someday you will find it in your heart to forgive him."

  Alicia clenched her teeth and she carefully set down her glass. “Armand was my better self. I was braver, kinder, smarter when he was with me. Watching him die slowly...” She struggled for composure but continued without finding it. “It's probably not fair, but I also blame Cole for my parents’ death.” Tears blurred her vision, and he became a shapeless mass. “Robert had sent a message that Armand had been wounded, and was gravely ill. We were rushing to London when the carriage overturned and killed them. If Armand had not been shot, we would not even have been in that carriage on that road that day.” A sob broke through. She put her hand over her mouth.

  After a long silence, he stirred. “I can't tell you how sorry I am."

  She pulled her hand away, dried her eyes with her handkerchief. “Thank you. Fear not, I do not hold any malice toward you. After all, I can hardly hold you responsible for the actions of your cousin."

  Lord Amesbury remained silent throughout the evening, sitting more hunched than usual. After she had finished dinner, he excused himself and she did not see him for the remainder of the night, but the next day after breakfast, he came into the kitchen where she sat with Mrs. Hodges going through the linens.

  "Would you like to walk down by the lake?"

  "Yes, I would.” She hesitated. “Does it hurt you to walk?"

  "A bit, but I think it's good for me."

  They strolled silently, the trees whispering in a gentle breeze. Their feet and his cane crunched on the walkway. She glanced several times at him, unnerved by his expressionless mask and the difficultly with which he stepped. She wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to it all. To him.

  "Are you.... “She stopped, unsure of how receptive he would be to her questions.

  "You may ask me anything. Even if you fear it improper."

  She drew a breath. “Are you in any pain?"

  "Not more than I can bear."

  "How did it happen?"

  There was a long pause. “I served as an officer on a ship in the Royal Navy. During a battle, I noticed a young gunner had forgotten to pour seawater on the cannon to cool it before he prepared to fire it again. He couldn't hear me shouting at him over the noise. I rushed to him and tried to stop him from firing it while it was too hot. I didn't reach him in time. He lit the fuse. The cannon exploded. I threw
myself to the deck, but I was burned. The boy was ... there was not much left of him.” His voice took on a flat, unemotional tone as if he tried to protect himself from the emotions that must have sprung up at the memories. He remained silent for several minutes. “He was only thirteen. I failed to save him. Or the others around him."

  "Surely you did all you could."

  "Not enough. Watching countless young men die all around me while I lived ... it haunts me. I wasn't a better officer than those who died. I lived because I was lucky. I was burned, but at least I live. I'm undeserving.” The last came out in a whisper.

  Alicia's own memories washed over her and she struggled against the feelings of loss. She should have died with her parents in the carriage that day. She, too, was undeserving. They walked in silence until they reached the lake where they found a place to sit on a carved stone bench.

  "Are you sorry you married me?"

  She turned to him. “No, of course not. I'm safe and I have everything I desire."

  "Except the man of your dreams."

  She bowed her head in shame, acutely aware that she was not fulfilling her duty as a wife. Cole's face flashed into her mind. Guiltily, she shoved away the image. “You must be sorry you married me."

  "No. You are a delightful companion and I am growing quite fond of you. This is more than I had ever hoped. Not many women would agree to marry a monster such as me.” His shoulders sagged.

  "You are not a monster,” she assured him quickly. “You are a kind, warm man. A true gentleman. The others would not have treated me with such courtesy."

  They sat in companionable silence.

  "Do you still wish to go to France?"

  She brightened. “Yes. Some day.

  "Next spring."

  "Truly? I'd like that very much."

  "Then we shall plan on it."

  She smiled and managed to look at the masked face for a moment longer than normal before letting her eyes drop.

  "Alicia, I know it makes you uncomfortable when I escort you to your room. You feel as if I'm pressing you to let me in. I desire you. And I have developed feelings for you. But I will not come to you. When you are ready, come to me.” His muffled voice hushed. “I hope you decide to come to me soon."