Finding the Black Orchid : A Victorian Historical Romance (Brides of Scandal Book 3)

by Diana Bold

  “It will be a marriage in name only,” Christian hastened to reassure her. “He’s willing to give your child his name and provide you with a substantial income for the rest of your life.”

  “But why?” A dozen conflicting emotions threatened to overwhelm her. “Why did you ask him to do such a thing?”

  “Because I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, and I don’t want to leave you alone and unprotected!” Christian’s control snapped, and he finally gave in to the panic and pain he’d hidden so well. “Damn it, Jess! I can’t bear the thought of going to my grave having failed you utterly.”

  Stunned by his passionate speech, Jessalyn blinked. How could she argue, when it meant so much to him? More importantly, how could she refuse the opportunity to keep her child from being born a bastard?

  Christian took her hand and pulled her to her feet, then, much to her surprise, embraced her. He’d never been a demonstrative man. “Just come downstairs and talk to him. You don’t have to decide anything right this minute.”

  “All right,” Jessalyn whispered. “I’ll talk to him.”

  * * * * *

  Jessalyn’s cheeks burned with humiliation as her brother ushered her down the echoing hall. Walking toward a hangman’s noose couldn’t have filled her with more dread.

  Where would she find the strength to face her childhood hero and accept his generous proposal? For Christian’s sake, she supposed she must, but she hated the thought of someone else suffering for her mistakes.

  All too soon, they reached Christian’s office. Jessalyn paused in the doorway and took a deep, steadying breath. I can do this. After all, it had been years since she’d last seen Ethan Tremaine. He wasn’t the same young man she’d loved with such childish purity. She’d changed in a thousand different ways. Surely, he had, too.

  Stepping farther into the room, she discovered it was worse than she’d feared. Ethan Tremaine wasn’t the handsome, brooding youth she remembered—he’d grown into the most devastatingly beautiful man she’d ever seen.

  He stood on the far side of the room, his hands clasped behind him, his feet braced wide, as though he stood on the deck of a ship in wind-tossed seas. His worn white shirt molded the powerful contours of his chest and shoulders, which looked even broader in contrast to his lean waist. His sable hair was a bit long, silky and thick, and streaked with gold.

  Stunned, Jessalyn lifted her gaze to take in the chiseled planes of his aristocratic face. He had high cheekbones, a thin blade of a nose, and a sinfully lush mouth. His eyes were a deep, mysterious green, framed by long, dark lashes.

  “Ethan, you remember Jessalyn, don’t you?” Christian’s voice choked with emotion as he performed the unnecessary introduction.

  Jessalyn forced herself to meet Ethan’s level gaze, only to find him staring at her with unblinking concentration, as though she were the only thing of interest in his entire world. An unnerving trait, yet one of the things she’d always loved most about him.

  If he took the trouble to do something, he did it utterly.

  Ethan stepped forward and captured her hand. He brought it to his lips with an elegance that belied his ragged manner of dress. “Lady Jessalyn.” The satiny heat of his beautiful mouth brushed her knuckles, sending ripples of desire down her arm. “You’ve grown up.”

  This was her childhood dream come to life, but she couldn’t enjoy it. He was too late. Far too late.

  She forced a brittle smile. “That tends to happen when you don’t see someone for almost a decade.”

  “He’s here now.” Christian shot Jessalyn a warning look. “We’re lucky to have such a steadfast friend.”

  “I’m the lucky one.” Ethan shifted his intense green gaze to Christian, his lean body tense with suppressed emotion.

  The loss of his regard was sudden, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud. Jessalyn felt very much in the shadows as she observed the quick glance that passed between Ethan and her brother.

  She wished she trusted Christian half as much as Ethan did.

  Clearing her throat, she tried to steal his attention back. “Christian has told me of your offer. It’s very kind.”

  “Christian would do the same for me.” For half a second, he let his gaze slide from her face to her still-flat stomach. “Given the circumstances, there really isn’t any other option.”

  The circumstances.

  Jessalyn’s panic returned full force, and she fought a wave of nausea. No matter how much she hated to accept Ethan’s help, she couldn’t escape the fact that she had someone besides herself to worry about. She couldn’t allow her child to face the stigma of being born a bastard.

  She gave Christian a pointed glance. “Do you mind if I speak to Mr. Tremaine in private?”

  Christian looked as though he’d like to protest, but Ethan silenced him with a quick, reassuring nod. “It’s all right. Give us a moment.”

  “Very well. I’ll be out in the hall.” Christian threw up his hands in defeat, pausing to give Jessalyn a pleading look before he left them alone.

  Ethan watched Christian leave the room with a growing sense of unease. He hadn’t expected to have to convince Jessalyn to marry him. He'd assumed she'd jump at this chance to secure her future and save her reputation.

  Unfortunately, he'd neglected to consider the possibility that Jessalyn might still be as obstinate and strong-willed as she'd been as a child. Though who could blame him for such an assumption? She looked like an angel.

  The cute little tomboy he'd always adored had matured into a dazzling woman. A touch of fire streaked her gorgeous blond hair and pain and intelligence radiated from her deep blue eyes.

  He wondered about the lover who had abandoned her. Why had she risked everything for a man who had proven unworthy?

  Her pregnancy wasn't yet visible, but it soon would be. He had a quick, unwelcome vision of that lithe, lovely body voluptuously swollen with child.

  A child that wasn't his. A child he'd have to raise as his own.

  Dear God, what was he getting himself into? He had no idea how to be a father.

  Jessalyn cleared her throat, obviously uncomfortable with his lengthy perusal. He glanced away, knowing he had a tendency to examine people as though they were specimens in a lab.

  "I wanted a chance to speak to you alone before we made any rash decisions." Jessalyn spoke in a rush, as though she feared she'd lose her nerve if she didn't get it all out. "While I appreciate your loyalty to my brother, I hardly think any friendship is worth sacrificing your entire future."

  He couldn't hold her earnest gaze in light of her concern. Striding to the window, he gave her his back and stared out the rain-streaked glass. His future was a vast, endless void. Marriage to Jessalyn wouldn’t be a sacrifice.

  But he didn’t want her to depend on him. He'd spent his entire life trying to come to terms with the havoc he'd wreaked the last time he was responsible for someone.

  "You've obviously never had a friend like Christian," he murmured at last, at a loss to explain his motivations any clearer.

  "You're right," she admitted. "But are you sure this is what you want? After all, you'll be stuck with me long after Christian is gone."

  Her voice broke on the last, reminding him she would feel Christian's loss even more than he would.

  "I'm quite sure." He wished he could comfort her, but he needed to lay all his cards on the table now, before it was too late. "I'll marry you because Christian has asked me to. But I want to be certain you understand the support I'm offering is strictly monetary."

  "Of course." The flush on her cheeks intensified. "I never expected anything more."

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "It's nothing against you, personally, but I'd rather not complicate the situation. My work takes me out of the country most of the time. It's important we define our relationship up front. I don't want to feel as though I'm abandoning you every time I leave."

  Tears welled in her eyes for just a mo
ment before she blinked them away. "I understand perfectly. I'm sorry to be such a burden."

  "You won't be." Though everything he'd said was necessary, he felt like the worst sort of ass. "Money isn't a problem for me. I’m happy to spread a little of it in your direction if it makes Christian's last days easier to bear."

  "Well," she murmured, seeming at a loss. "It appears everything is settled." She extended a slim, graceful hand. "We have a difficult few months ahead of us, and I'd like it if we can at least be friends."

  "I'd like that, too, Jessalyn." He took her hand and squeezed it briefly before letting go. He hated to contemplate how hard it would be to do as she'd said, to stand by her side and watch his best friend die.

  Already he longed to escape. To run to some far corner of the world and never look back.

  Chapter Four

  While Christian and Ethan went back to the docks to oversee the transfer of Ethan's cargo of rare orchids from the ship to his company's greenhouse, Jessalyn had the servants prepare a room for Ethan, then arranged for a late dinner to be served upon their return. All too soon, her domestic chores were complete. Nothing remained but to confront the enormity of her decision.

  She closed her bedroom door and wondered how this place had gone from a prison to a sanctuary so quickly. Just this morning, she would have given anything to escape, but given the uncertainty of her future, it now seemed like a refuge.

  Here, surrounded by all the little treasures she'd managed to salvage from Harding Hall, she felt safe. Despite her fears about Christian's illness and financial problems, she'd never thought he'd lose the London house.

  Impossible to imagine her brother ending his life as someone else's houseguest. And she'd never dreamed she'd be forced to marry a man who didn't love her in order to keep from being thrown out into the street.

  Anger at Christian's reckless mismanagement of a fortune that should have lasted several lifetimes threatened to overwhelm her. She sank to the chaise at the end of her bed and stared at the angelic mural that graced the ceiling of her bedroom. She supposed she should be glad he'd seen the error of his ways and was making an attempt to ensure her future. She just wished he wouldn't have waited until it was too late.

  She pressed her hand to her womb and wondered if her child would appreciate that in giving him a name, she'd forever relinquished the prospect of finding happiness of her own.

  Her self-pitying thoughts ground to a halt. What a terrible mother she would be, already blaming her child for a misery of her own making. Given her reckless, foolish behavior, she didn't deserve anything better than an empty, lonely marriage to a man who did not love her.

  "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, patting her belly. "I'll try to do better."

  Truth be told, she should be on her knees thanking God for Ethan's generosity. Most women would be thrilled to find themselves in her situation. After all, her future husband was handsome, kind, and wealthy. Best of all, he promised to make no demands on her whatsoever.

  Unfortunately, she wasn't most women. She'd enjoyed the physical side of her relationship with James. How could she spend the rest of her life alone, after she’d tasted passion's sweetness?

  With James, however illusory, she'd had a brief moment of true happiness, a sense of belonging she craved. In his arms, she'd felt special, cherished. To what lengths would she go to feel that way again?

  She feared she'd throw herself at Ethan and try to bind him to her side even though she knew her feminine wiles were no match for his restless wanderlust. In the end, she'd destroy their friendship, perhaps even earn his hatred for having violated the ground rules he'd been so careful to set.

  Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself to face the lonely years ahead. No matter how Ethan's stark male beauty tempted her, she must be strong. She could never repay his selfless gift in such a manner.

  She'd have to take solace in her child, be the best mother she could be, and hope her baby would love her despite her many faults.

  Resigned, she dressed for dinner.

  * * * * *

  Christian and Ethan were waiting when Jessalyn entered Christian's once grand dining room. Stripped of its lavish artwork, the room contained nothing except a massive walnut table that would easily seat twenty. Her footsteps echoed like gunshots in the vast, empty space.

  "Jess. You look ravishing." Christian turned with a smile and strode forward to give her a quick embrace. She clung to him a moment longer than necessary, girding herself to face her future husband.

  She'd only caught a glimpse of Ethan when she'd entered the room, but that had been enough. He looked ravishing himself in formal black evening clothes, his wild dark hair subdued at his nape by a scrap of black silk ribbon.

  "Thank you, Chris," she murmured as she drew away.

  "Your brother is right." Ethan took her hand and brought it to his lips. "You look stunning, Jessalyn."

  "You're too kind, Mr. Tremaine." Transfixed by the heat of his mouth upon her skin and the obvious appreciation in his deep green eyes, she realized she’d been hopelessly naive. Withholding her heart from this man would be harder than she’d ever imagined.

  "Ethan," he reminded her. "We're to be friends, remember?"

  Confused by his sizzling glance, she withdrew her hand and looked away. She’d waited all her life to see such a look in this man’s eyes, but he’d made it clear he wanted their relationship to remain platonic.

  "Shall we be seated?" Christian gestured toward the three place settings clustered around the head of the table.

  Relieved, Jessalyn took the chair on Christian's right, but that placed her directly across from Ethan. Every time she glanced in his direction, the intensity of his green eyes struck her.

  She was glad when the servants entered the room, distracting her as they served. Everything looked and smelled wonderful.

  Her pride was a bit salved by the fact they were at least able to provide their guest with a good meal. Thank God Christian had managed to retain his chef. She hated to appear so needy and desperate.

  A soft sound of appreciation escaped Ethan's lips as he took a bite of the first course, a rich turtle soup. "Ah, this is wonderful. I can't even remember how long it's been since I had a decent meal."

  "The shipboard fare was that bad?" Christian raised a brow and signaled for a bottle of wine.

  Ethan laughed. "All shipboard fare is bad. And I’ve had more than my share."

  Daring another glance, Jessalyn decided Ethan had spent quite a lot of time sunning himself on deck with the wind in his hair during the return voyage. The sun-lightened streaks in his hair contrasted sharply with his swarthy skin.

  The urge to touch him, to run her hands through that long, silky hair, startled her so badly she dropped her fork. Embarrassed, she shot a quick glance at Christian, but his attention was centered on his friend.

  In an attempt to distract herself from her foolish thoughts, she leaned forward in her chair and seized the chance to question him about his travels. “I know you always wanted to explore the world, but what made you decide to hunt orchids?”

  He smiled a bit, looking pleased by her interest. “After the University, I spent far too much time rudderless, getting drunk in seedy dockside taverns. I wanted to leave the country but had no idea where to go or what to do when I got there.” He shrugged. “One day I shared a few pints with an orchid hunter who was about to embark upon an expedition to Africa. A few hours later, he’d convinced me to tag along.”

  She dropped her gaze to her soup. Somehow, she’d expected the answer to be far more romantic.

  “It wasn’t quite the adventure I’d imagined. The heat, the hunger, the bugs—” Ethan gave a short, rueful laugh. “But I found myself fascinated with orchids, especially the promise of a black one.”

  “Why black?” Her curiosity ran rampant. “I can’t imagine there’s much of a market for a black flower.”

  “Legends abound about the black orchid.” Ethan's eyes lit up with
passion for his subject. “Will its petals poison or cure? I don’t know. But I’d like to find out.”

  A small shiver of awe went through her at the thought of him traipsing through the jungle, intent upon his quest. “I wish I could go with you. I’d do anything to see some of the things you’ve seen. Do some of the things you’ve done.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Christian scoffed, irritation in his voice. “I hardly think Ethan would be foolish enough to take a gently bred young woman on his journeys.”

  “Christian’s right.” Ethan gave her a moody glance. “I’d never dream of exposing you to such danger.” He seemed to be warning her, reiterating the fact that she would never share anything with him except his name.

  “I wasn’t asking you to take me with you,” she told him, stung. “I was just dreaming out loud.”

  Ethan gave a small nod of apology, then shrugged those broad shoulders. “In any event, I’m finished traveling for the time being. I plan to buy a greenhouse and spend some time experimenting, maybe cross-breed some of my specimens, or write a book.”

  Visibly relieved, Christian let out a pent-up breath. "Does this mean you intend to visit Julian? He’d like a chance to mend all that's gone wrong between the two of you."

  Jessalyn wondered who Julian was. It sounded as though he were some sort of relation, but she’d always assumed Ethan didn’t have any family. Why else had he spent every school holiday with hers?

  A pained look crossed Ethan’s chiseled features at the mere mention of the mysterious Julian. He pressed one hand to his temple, as though his head had begun to pound. "I suppose I'll attend his wedding, as long as it isn’t held at Basingstoke. I'm not ready to go back there. I doubt I ever will be."

  As he lowered his hand, Jessalyn caught a glimpse of something so startling she almost gasped aloud. There was a scar on his wrist; a slash of pale skin so deep and ragged it could only mean one thing—sometime in the past, Ethan Tremaine had tried to take his own life.