‘What are you doing with that?’ He pulled the valise out of her hands.
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ She tried to take it back. The clasp snapped open as they tussled over the case. ‘I’m throwing you out of my room.’
‘Fine,’ he said. Which made her let go of the case. ‘Do you think I want any more to do with you?’ He went to the washstand and began shoving toiletries haphazardly into the valise which hung open over his arm.
He was just going to walk out on her, after only a handful of days, because he’d seen another man kissing her, was he? And thought he could get away with shouting abuse at her all the way through the house? So that everyone—from the footman who’d been lighting the hall candles, to the mayor’s wife who’d opened the door of her bedroom to see what was going on—knew exactly what he suspected her of doing?
Well, she’d see about that!
She grabbed everything she could see that belonged to him—which comprised his evening shirt, which a maid had laid out over the back of a chair, a pile of freshly starched cravats, and his telescope—marched over to the main door to her suite, and threw them all out into the hall.
A couple of his neckcloths sailed over the banister and fluttered down to the hall several floors below. His telescope rolled to the top of the stair and went rattling down to the next landing.
‘Bloody hell!’ He pushed past her, running down the stairs to recover his telescope. ‘You’ve broken it!’
‘Good!’ She was glad she’d managed to break something of his. The way he’d broken her...
No. He hadn’t broken her heart. That was just an expression. She did feel shattered, but having such a violent argument with anyone would have made her feel this bad.
The feeling would pass.
It would.
But, since he was one flight down, kneeling on the carpet, cradling the dented brass instrument to his chest, she took the opportunity to slam the door shut on him. Shutting him out. Ooh, how she hated him. Almost as much as she hated that telescope. If he hadn’t been carrying it around on the night of the masquerade she’d never have mistaken him for David. She was glad she’d broken it. Glad!
She whirled from the door, her hand to her mouth as just one sob tore free. She couldn’t break down and weep. She didn’t have time. Besides, going about her normal duties, as though nothing mattered, would help her keep herself together. She would smile, and pretend nothing was amiss. The way so many society brides had to do.
The way Ellen always did. Oh, Lord, now she was feeling just the way her poor sister-in-law must have felt every time Nick had been unfaithful, and then abused her for daring to complain. No wonder she just drifted about the place, looking as though her mind was somewhere else. No wonder she took no interest in the running of a household and estate that would one day belong to her husband. She must wish she was anyone else’s wife. That she could live anywhere else.
Well, Julia wasn’t going to behave like Ellen and have everyone feel sorry for her. She was going to behave with dignity. So, she’d ended up in exactly the kind of marriage she’d never wanted. Did that mean she had to let everyone see she was miserable? No. All her married aunts managed to pretend they were fine with the boors whose children they were obliged to produce. She could do no less. In fact she’d had good training for the position. She’d been pretending she was fine, when inside she’d been cold and lonely, ever since her mother had died.
She yanked at the bell pull viciously. She was going to wash off the feel of Eduardo’s mouth on hers, instruct Mabel to burn the dress he’d had the cheek to put his hands on, and deck herself out in her finest clothes and jewellery. And tonight she would dance with anyone who asked her. And laugh at their witticisms. And show the world she didn’t care what Alec thought.
And then she’d come back up here and sleep alone.
‘Mabel,’ she said, the moment her maid arrived. ‘When you’ve finished here I want you to take a message to Mrs Dawson. I would have her make sure there is a fire up in Captain Dunbar’s room.’
‘Captain Dunbar’s...?’
‘The one he had when he first arrived.’ It was still vacant, since it was only large enough to contain one person, and the other guests who’d been invited for tonight’s ball were all couples or families. ‘I want you to make sure that not one item belonging to him remains in my room, too. And just one more thing. Have Stephens keep an eye on him.’ She’d been amazed—though perhaps she shouldn’t have been, given she’d seen the muscularity of her husband’s body—at the ease with which he’d dealt with Eduardo. There was only one footman on the staff who was likely to be able to match him. Stephens. Well over six feet tall and as broad as a barn door.
‘On no account is Captain Dunbar to be permitted access to my room. If he attempts to come in here...well,’ she said with a toss of her head, ‘Stephens will know what to do.’
* * *
‘Alec?’
‘Yes, Lizzie?’ He looked up and pulled his mouth into a smile for his sister. She’d been creeping about him for the last couple of days as though she was half-afraid of him. He sighed. He supposed it wasn’t so surprising. Rumours of how he’d broken the actor’s nose, his arm, and the greenhouse window were running rife. And Lizzie had been rather fond of the actor. Well, all the girls had. He’d watched them at rehearsals. Fluttering and blushing whenever he singled one of them out for any reason whatever. He rather thought a couple of them deliberately fluffed their lines in an attempt to get him to give them individual tuition. Not that he’d succumbed to their machinations. No— Eduardo was clever enough to keep them all dancing to his tune, while he kept his eye on the bigger prize. A married woman. A woman he could dally with in safety.
Or so he’d thought.
Well, hadn’t he fallen into the same trap? Alec had managed to fend off all the eligible young girls, only to succumb to the advances of a woman who was more experienced.
Or so he’d thought.
The hell of it was, they’d both fallen prey to the same woman. The same deceitful, conniving...
‘Alec, I was just wondering...’
‘Hmm?’ He set aside the block and tackle he was mending. Since he’d had the fight with Julia, he’d actually found some solace in spending his days with Lizzie. His marriage might be over before it had properly begun, but Lizzie would always be his sister.
During the first night he’d spent curled up in the freezing attic to which his wife had banished him, he’d reminded himself that she was only a detour anyway. Lizzie was the reason he’d come to Ness Hall. And he was damned well going to stay here as long as Lizzie did. For her sake. And take part in the activities that amused her. And since she was so heavily involved in the theatrical production, that meant lending his skills to the carpentry, and other backstage work that required a man who was handy.
Besides which, the amateur dramatics were now one man down. Eduardo had been sent back to London, his future with the company in question.
‘That is...when are you going to make it up with Julia?’
He scowled at her. ‘I don’t think that’s any of your business.’
‘Oh, but it is. I want you to be happy. And you aren’t happy, are you?’
He bent his head to the task in hand. No, he wasn’t happy. He was damned miserable. But he’d have to make more of an effort to appear content, if even his sister could see through his attempt at nonchalance. It was just that whenever he saw Julia, striding about the place with that little smile on her lips, busily tending to all her father’s guests, he wanted to...shake her till her bones rattled. Kiss that treacherous mouth until she melted in a puddle at his feet.
And then step over her as though she was nothing. Nothing!
‘Alec,’ Lizzie said again, clasping her hands together at her breast. ‘It...it wasn’t fair, what yo
u said to her.’
He lifted his head and stared at her in disbelief. This chit had no right to correct him. No right at all. Besides which, how the hell could she know what he’d said to his own wife? Such things were private.
Although he hadn’t exactly been discreet, had he? He’d shouted at her proud back all the way to their room. Then got into a tug-of-war over his valise. Which ended only when she threw his telescope down the stairs, denting the tube and shattering one of the lenses.
It had pretty near shattered him. He couldn’t put into words what that telescope meant to him. His captain, and the ratings, had bought it for him when he’d passed the exam to be made up to lieutenant. It not only marked his transition from boyhood to manhood, but was also proof that he’d left his past behind. That he wasn’t the kind of man his father had been, but the kind that other men approved of, and could even look up to. It had become a sort of...talisman. A reminder that he’d escaped from under his father’s ignominious shadow, and was making his own reputation.
And she’d ruined it.
He’d started to think that he might have a future with her. That with Julia at his side, he could undo the damage done by his own father, and build up something of value to leave his own sons. But as he’d knelt over the dented remains of the one symbol of hope he’d ever been given, freely, by his peers, it was as if she’d destroyed that hope.
It would have been better had she never given him that hope, only to wrest it from him and toss it away.
‘The only thing I regret,’ he growled, ‘is marrying her in the first place.’
‘Oh, Alec, no! You were happy with her, delighted with her, in fact, at first. Until Eduardo ruined everything.’
He gritted his teeth. That his own sister, an innocent girl, should have to learn that married women could be so faithless...
‘It is better I learn what she’s like now, than later.’
‘But you haven’t! That is...’ Lizzie wrung her hands. Which were shaking. ‘Oh, Alec, I can’t bear it. I have to tell you the truth. It was me.’
‘What do you mean? What was you?’
She looked over her shoulder. Then the other. Leaned forward. Lowered her voice to a tortured whisper.
‘It was me out there with Eduardo.’
He set down the block and tackle. Drew in a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what game you’re playing this time, Lizzie, but I have to say I don’t appreciate it. Julia was...’
‘Julia was protecting me!’ Tears sprang to Lizzie’s eyes. She sniffed them back. ‘Eduardo took me out there, to get me some flowers for my hair, he said. He said we had to do it in secret because some old gardener guarded them like a dragon does its hoard of gold. I thought it was just going to be a bit of a lark. And that I could laugh over it after, with Winny and Electra. But when he got me out there, he...’ She dashed a tear away swiftly with the back of one hand. ‘He...’
‘I think you’d better sit down.’ He sighed, bracing himself for a full melodrama. God alone knew why she felt the need to keep on interfering in his life. But he supposed it showed she cared. And he’d be a fool to dismiss her, when she was all the family he had left.
She sank onto the chair beside him, and turned a tragic little face up to his.
‘He didn’t do anything much to me. But when Julia came in, and Nellie, he made out that we’d been doing something wicked. And told Julia that she’d have to pay him to keep my name out of it. She refused. Said he had as much at stake as I did. And then Nellie saw you coming, and we hid behind the potted palms. And that is when he grabbed her, and kissed her...’
‘That’s enough, Lizzie,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know why you’re making up this ridiculous story. I was there, remember? I saw her. If it was as you claim, that he grabbed her and she was just an innocent victim, then she would have slapped his face. But she didn’t, did she?’
‘No. Because he said he’d expose me if she struggled—show them where I was hiding, and it would all come out and I’d be ruined.’
His fingers froze over the pulley assembly. Could that be true? Was it possible that Julia hadn’t gone out there to tryst with the actor? That it had been Lizzie all along?
‘Why didn’t she say anything? After I’d disposed of him? Why didn’t she defend herself?’
‘Alec, you didn’t exactly give her a chance, did you? You were so angry you hardly stopped to draw breath.’
And she’d just stood there, as he’d shouted at her. Going whiter and whiter. Trembling. Clenching her fists. And finally, tossing her head and stalking off.
The block and tackle fell from his suddenly clumsy fingers.
What had he done? Dear God, what had he done?
Chapter Twelve
Alec turned to look at Lizzie, a strange, cold shakiness stealing through his limbs.
‘Why didn’t you say anything at the time?’ He drove his fingers through his hair, leaving it standing all on end. ‘Why didn’t you come out when you saw it was me? I could have understood you hiding if it had been anyone else. But not me, surely?’
‘I wanted to. I tried to,’ she wailed. ‘But Nellie pulled me down and held her hand over my mouth. And whispered it was best to let you get it out of your system. That Julia knew what she was doing. I should let her take the force of your first fury. That you’d calm down, and make up after a day or so, the way all married couples did. Because it had been nothing more than a kiss. And what was a kiss, after all? All the gentry go about kissing indiscriminately at Christmas, she said, once they’ve had a drink or two, and if there’s any mistletoe about. And that you’d get over it. But you haven’t, have you? And you haven’t made up with Julia. Anyone can see that you’re both still really cross with each other. And I can’t bear it any longer. Not when it was all my fault.’
He shut his eyes. Shook his head. ‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘It wasn’t all your fault. It was that...actor’s fault, for using the threat of a scandal to try to extort money from Julia.’ And his own, for being so hasty to judge her.
He couldn’t think what had come over him. He was renowned for being level-headed. He never condemned anyone without a fair hearing, no matter how bad the circumstantial evidence might be.
Yet he’d taken one look at Julia, in another man’s arms, and was overcome with fury. If the actor hadn’t taken to his heels he’d have beaten the blackguard to a pulp. And as for the things he’d said to Julia...
‘Well, now you know the truth,’ said Lizzie firmly. ‘So you can make it up with Julia, can’t you?’
‘Make it up with Julia?’ He turned slowly to look at Lizzie. Her bright, hopeful eyes. And shook his head again. There was no way he could ever make it up to Julia. No way she would forgive him.
He’d called her a trollop.
Twice.
His stomach lurched and cramped, as it would had he fallen from the crow’s nest to the heaving deck below.
‘All you have to do is say you’re sorry,’ Lizzie persisted. ‘Tell her that I owned up. That now you know the truth. And then...’ A troubled frown pleated her brow. ‘Oh. I suppose it would be better if you didn’t admit that I’d told you everything. Tell her,’ she went on, a bit more brightly, ‘that you know she couldn’t have played you false. That now you’ve calmed down, you know there must have been a good explanation for what she was doing in his arms. And ask her to tell you what it was.’
It was too late for that. She’d told him on the spot that he didn’t deserve an explanation. If he hadn’t deserved one then, how much less did he deserve one after an interval of two more days?
‘Let her tell you what really happened. That should do the trick. Especially if you admit that the sight of her in another man’s arms drove you to such heights of jealousy that you couldn’t think straight.’
‘That much, at leas
t, is true,’ he mused. Jealousy. That was what had made him behave so abominably. Not that it excused him. Nothing did. Nothing could. Which meant he couldn’t compound his error by spinning her a pack of lies. There had been enough lies and deceit already in this marriage. It was practically founded on them, which was what made it so shaky.
‘And then just tell her you love her. You haven’t said it to her yet, have you?’
‘No,’ he said bleakly. Because it hadn’t occurred to him that he did. Only now did he see that it was the only thing to account for the way he’d reacted. Why his fury had been so completely out of proportion to the offence.
‘Well, then tell her. And convince her that you do.’
‘It won’t do any good.’
‘Of course it will. Once she knows that you love her, too, she will forgive you anything.’
Love her...too? That implied that Julia loved him.
Oh, dear God—of course! Lizzie believed they had fallen for each other on sight. That it was a love match between them. She had no idea that they’d only married because of the terrible indiscretion they’d committed.
But Julia had never loved him. She’d only agreed to marry him because he’d insisted. And because it was better than facing the possibility of having a child out of wedlock. And now that he’d given her a taste of his bitter jealousy, his violent temper, and his hasty condemnation of her when she’d been completely innocent of any wrongdoing—had in fact been selflessly shielding a vulnerable younger girl from a situation that had gotten out of hand—she never would.
* * *
Twelfth Night couldn’t come fast enough as far as Julia was concerned. Because then everyone would go home. She was sick of them all whispering about her behind their fans, stealing glances at her whenever Alec walked into the room, to see how she would react. Or he would react.
He’d taken to being scrupulously polite the last couple of days. As if, now his first flush of anger had died down, he was resigned to having the kind of wife no man could want, but no gentleman would complain openly about.
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