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

by Diana Bold

  Perhaps Jessalyn would miss him for a while, but he’d leave her well taken care of and eventually, she’d come to realize the truth—he wasn’t the solution to anyone’s problems. In fact, as long as he could remember, he’d been the source.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The day of Christian’s funeral dawned cold and bright. Jessalyn dressed in the stark black mourning dress she’d laid out upon her bed, her fingers numb and unwieldy. She didn’t summon a maid. She needed these last few minutes alone before she had to face the people who’d come to help her put her brother in the ground.

  Three days had passed since Christian’s death, yet she’d seen her husband only a handful of times. He’d arranged the funeral with brisk efficiency, taking care of the details so she wouldn’t have to deal with it, but he’d also stayed away from her bed, stayed away from the house.

  She didn’t know where he’d been or what he’d been doing, and the distance between them was killing her. She’d never needed him more, but she could feel him pulling away. She feared he planned to leave after the funeral. All his actions seemed to indicate it.

  How would she go on if he did? She had nothing now. Her brother was gone, and she’d lost her baby. If Ethan left, he’d take her heart—her very soul—with him. She wanted to beg him to stay, beg him to open up to her, but feared his rejection so much she let things continue as they were and hoped he’d eventually come around on his own.

  Now she wondered if she’d waited too long.

  * * * * *

  Ethan stood next to Jessalyn at Christian’s grave and listened as the minister intoned the words that were supposed to make those left behind feel better. He hoped Jessalyn found more comfort in them than he did.

  The grave was a gaping black hole in the snowy landscape, and it reminded him too much of the last funeral he’d attended. There had been two graves that day, and he’d been crippled with guilt then, too.

  Jessalyn swayed, and he anchored his arm tighter around her waist. Concern filled him as he peered down at her pale, tear-streaked face. Her black dress leeched every bit of color from her skin, and her blue eyes were red-rimmed. Somehow, she still looked beautiful.

  The last few days had been so hard. He’d wanted to be more of a comfort to her, but he was barely holding himself together. He feared if he allowed himself to hold her the way he wanted, he’d never be able to let her go.

  At last, the minister finished speaking, and Jessalyn stepped forward to throw a handful of dirt upon the coffin. The sound was terrifyingly final. Jessalyn shuddered and turned away. She stumbled over the rough, frozen ground. He followed her, leaving the rest of the mourners behind. None of them had really known Christian. They’d come out of respect for his title. Perhaps some had come in order to learn the gory details of his suicide, but Ethan had no intention of obliging them. There would be no wake. Neither he nor Jessalyn was up to making small talk with strangers.

  He would have liked to have had his brother here with him, but Julian and Jane had already left for Basingstoke, and it would have been difficult for them to make it back in time. Besides, he and Jessalyn had both agreed not to ruin their wedding preparations with today’s sadness.

  When he entered the house, Jessalyn waited for him in the parlor, warming her hands by the fire. She seemed calm, and he tried to sneak past her, unobserved.

  “Ethan?” She didn’t turn around, but he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t heard her.

  “Hey, Jess.” He entered the room, hating the awkwardness between them. “Are you doing all right?”

  “No.” She gave a lost little laugh. “I’m not all right.”

  He stood behind her, his hands clenched at his sides, and fought the urge to take her in his arms. “Is there anything I can do?”

  She turned and met his gaze, blinking away a sheen of tears. “You can tell me when you plan to leave. I’d rather know now than worry and wonder.”

  “That was always the plan.” He stiffened, stunned by her accusatory tone. “I never meant to stay after Christian was gone.”

  She flinched but held his gaze. “I thought things had changed. I thought you’d grown to care for me, at least a little bit.”

  “You know I care for you,” he answered, his voice rough with emotion. “But I have to go. I can’t stay here and put you at risk any longer.”

  “Put me at risk?” She shook her head. “Love is a risk, Ethan. I’m willing to take it. I’m willing to put my heart on the line and live every day as though it were my last. You’re the one who’s afraid.”

  Crossing the distance between them, he yanked her into his arms. “You’re right,” he agreed, fury burning away his grief. “I’m terrified to love you. I can’t lose anyone else. I’ve lost everyone. I won’t lose you, too.”

  “Don’t you understand? If you walk away now, you will lose me. What sort of sense does it make to walk away from something you still have?”

  He refused to allow her to confuse the issue. “If I’m gone, then at least I can rest easy, knowing you’re safe and happy, living your life here in England.”

  “I won’t be happy.” She released an exasperated breath. “If you leave me, I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.”

  “It’s not too late to get an annulment.” He shook her lightly, determined to make her see the sense in what he was saying. “You can find someone else. Someone who’ll love you and treat you right. You can start a family. You can have all the things you deserve.”

  “You’re right. I do deserve love. And it’s becoming clearer by the moment that you’re never going to give it to me. Do you know you’ve never said the words, not once?” She jerked away and glared at him. “When are you leaving?”

  Her sudden capitulation convinced him he was doing the right thing, though her words filled him with guilt. He should have given her that, at the very least. He should have told her he loved her.

  Then again, if she really loved him, she would have fought a little harder. Apparently, the thought of starting fresh with someone new was not without its merits.

  “I’m going to stay for Julian’s wedding. I’ve already promised him I’ll be there. But I’ll probably leave by the first of the year.”

  “Fiji?” she asked, weariness and acceptance lacing her voice.

  “I don’t know.” He’d once thought Fiji sounded like Paradise on earth. But now he knew better. He’d found Paradise right here, in Jessalyn’s arms.

  * * * * *

  As the heavily sprung coach pulled out of the drive, Ethan sank back against the velvet cushions and cautiously met Jessalyn’s gaze. She’d insisted upon accompanying him to Basingstoke for the wedding, but he dreaded the endless days they’d spend together in such close quarters.

  She blinked, as though holding back tears, and turned her face to the window. When the house became a mere speck in the distance, she pressed her forehead against the glass. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come. I should still be in mourning.”

  “I don’t need you to go with me. It’s not too late to turn back.”

  She flinched. “If you don’t want me to go, just tell me.”

  “I didn’t say that.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, overwhelmed with misery. He hated the distance between them but couldn’t bridge the gap, since he’d been the one to create it.

  She leaned forward, took his hand, and forced him to meet her gaze. “I don’t know what you want from me. You haven’t said a word to me in weeks.”

  Not since the night of the funeral. The knowledge hung between them, and he felt like the biggest cad who’d ever lived. He’d tried not to dwell on the things she’d said, the maddening logic she’d employed when trying to convince him to stay.

  “I’m sorry.” He squeezed her hand and then let go, unable to bear even that small connection. “I don’t know how to do this.”

  “Do what?” she asked with strained patience.

  He shook his head and searched for the right words. “I’ve
never had someone like you in my life. I don’t know how to push you away when all I really want is to hold you close.”

  “You don’t have to push me away,” she cried. “Despite everything, I still want you. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me. For as long as you’re here.”

  Her words destroyed him. God, he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve her sweet understanding and generous nature.

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.” He let out a puff of frustrated laughter. “Because even though I’ve been such a bastard, I don’t think I’ll be able to get through the next few days without you.”

  Questions shone in her eyes, but for once, she didn’t ask them. Instead, she moved across the aisle to sit beside him. She laid her head against his shoulder and squeezed his hand. “It will be all right. I’ll be there if you need me.”

  Her generosity stunned him, and the wall around his heart cracked a little more, leaving him damned near defenseless. The warmth of her body chased away some the chill that had settled around his heart. God, he’d missed her.

  “I’m glad you came with me. I haven’t been home since I was twelve. Going back there will be difficult.” Now that was perhaps the biggest understatement of his life.

  “You need to go,” she assured him. “It’s time to face your past and put it behind you once and for all.”

  He took a deep, calming breath and inhaled her unique, sweet fragrance. And somehow, with his arms around her waist and his lips pressed against the fragrant cloud of her hair, he almost believed her.

  * * * * *

  The huge pile of gray stone known as Basingstoke Castle watched over the stark northern landscape, its dozens of towers and battlements reaching into the clouds. The castle had been in the Tremaine family for four hundred years and had grown from a simple stone keep to a sprawling maze of additions with varied architectural styles.

  Ethan sat forward in his seat as the castle came into view. A thousand conflicting emotions raced through his mind. The sense of loss and grief he’d expected was there, but it wasn’t overwhelming. What he hadn’t expected was the sharp sense of homecoming. For better or worse, this place ruled some corner of his heart and always would.

  Jessalyn twined her fingers more tightly with his and stared up at the huge stone edifice with visible awe. “This is where you grew up?”

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He gripped her hand even tighter, glad to have her at his side.

  Thank God the lake was on the property’s back edge, over the hill and not yet visible. As long as he couldn’t see it, he could pretend it wasn’t there. The coach rattled across the ancient drawbridge, which hadn’t been shut in hundreds of years. The moat had been drained long ago.

  “A drawbridge.” Jessalyn shook her head. “Shall I leave a trail of breadcrumbs so I can find my way back?”

  She surprised a small laugh out of him. “Might be a good idea. I know these halls like the back of my hand, but there’s no rhyme or reason to them. The additions were made without any sort of master plan.”

  “It looks like something out of a fairy tale. But it’s where the evil giant lives, not the princess.”

  This time, Ethan laughed in earnest. Her words broke the spell of the past, at least momentarily. There would be plenty of time to dwell on the bad memories after Jessalyn had been comfortably settled in for the night. It was time to give in to the ghosts of his family and see if he could get them to grant him some peace.

  * * * * *

  Jessalyn and Ethan barely had time to unpack and freshen up from the trip before they were summoned downstairs for dinner. She left the bedroom suite with a lingering glance at the huge bed that dominated the center of the room.

  Of course, Jane would expect them to share a room. They were newlyweds, after all. Ethan hadn’t said a word about the sleeping arrangements, but she felt a little thrill of excitement. They hadn’t slept together since the night of Christian’s death. Even during the days on the road, he’d gotten them separate rooms. Perhaps this would work where all else had failed. She wanted to share that big bed with her husband, wanted to sleep beside him all night and wake up in his arms.

  They arrived in the beautiful dining room to find far fewer guests than she’d expected. Only two other couples had been invited to the wedding.

  The Earl of Warren, Michael Blake, was a handsome blond man perhaps a year or two older than Julian. His warrior-angel good looks were complemented by his gorgeous, dark-haired American wife, Emma.

  Dylan Blake was Michael’s younger brother and Julian’s closest friend. He was dark and exuberant, the complete opposite of his elegant, quiet brother. Dylan’s wife, Natalia, a brunette with exotic green eyes, was the Duke of Clayton’s daughter.

  Jessalyn felt drab and colorless, surrounded by the trio of beautiful, refined women. She prayed she wouldn’t do anything to embarrass Ethan. Thankfully, Jane, the consummate hostess that she was, did her best to make Jessalyn feel at home.

  “Dylan and Michael are Julian’s closest friends,” Jane confided as they sipped a glass of wine while waiting for dinner to be served. “With Ethan gone for so long, I think Julian adopted them as his brothers. He misses the big family he once had and since I have no family to speak of, we’ve had to create our own.”

  Jessalyn smiled, feeling more at ease. “They seem very nice.”

  “Oh, they are.” Jane took her hand and led her toward the other side of the room where Natalia and Emma had their dark heads together. “You’ll love them once you get to know them. I hope we spend many more weekends and holidays together.”

  “That would be lovely.” Jessalyn prayed Ethan would be around next Christmas but feared he wouldn’t be. Only a miracle would keep him at her side after everything that had happened.

  “What are you two whispering about?” Jane asked as they joined the other women.

  Emma blushed and gave a quick glance across the room at her handsome husband. “I was just telling Nat that Michael and I are expecting a child in July.”

  Jane let out a squeal of delight. She hugged her friend and heaped congratulations upon both her and Michael, who was called over and toasted by everyone present. Jessalyn tried to smile, but her own loss was still too fresh.

  She couldn’t imagine how wonderful it would be to be Emma, pregnant with the child of a man who loved her completely. She wished her own pregnancy had been greeted with a just a tiny bit of the joy Emma’s was.

  Ethan came up behind her and squeezed her shoulder, then leaned down with a concerned frown. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and blinked away a film of tears. With everything that had happened the last few weeks, she’d shoved the loss of her child to the far corner of her mind, too wrapped up in her relationship with Ethan and her grief at Christian’s death to dwell on the accident. But Emma’s good news made her realize that once Ethan left her, she’d never know the joys of motherhood.

  For one crazy moment, she imagined asking him to give her a baby before he left. She wondered if he’d even consider it. Did he want to get away from her so badly that he’d do whatever she asked just to soothe his guilty conscience?

  She didn’t want him to do anything out of pity. But perhaps, if he made love to her just once more before he left…

  Trying to pretend she wasn’t jealous and heartsick, she gave Emma a hug and wished her well.

  * * * * *

  Jessalyn stood on the landing and stared up at the portrait that dominated the stairwell. The painting portrayed Ethan’s entire family before tragedy had torn them apart.

  Ethan’s father, the seventh earl, looked very much like Julian. His countess was fair and delicate; her expression far away and dreamy. Three handsome young boys surrounded a dark-haired little girl. She studied each boy in turn, noting the serious gaze of the oldest boy, and Julian’s obvious mischievousness.

  Her breath caught at the sight of Ethan and his twin. Ethan’s hand rested upon Elizabeth’s sh
oulder, and he smiled down at her with a look of pure adoration. The love between them—indeed, the love present within the whole family—shone through.

  “That portrait was painted just a few months before Nathaniel and Lizzie died.”

  Julian’s voice cut through her thoughts, and she turned to find him standing behind her. He gazed up at the painting, an unreadable expression on his handsome face. For the first time, she realized Ethan hadn’t been the only one to lose everything that day.

  She cleared her throat, embarrassed to have been caught wondering about their family’s tragedy. “Ethan doesn’t like to talk about what happened. I only know there was some sort of terrible accident, and now Ethan blames himself for their deaths.”

  “It wasn’t his fault.” Julian blew out his breath in a weary-sounding sigh. “It was just a stupid, senseless accident.”

  “Will you please tell me what happened?” She tried, without much success, to keep the excitement from her voice. “I know it’s none of my business, but perhaps if I knew the source of his pain, I could help ease it.”

  “I’m glad you care enough to ask.” A slight smile curved Julian’s mobile mouth. “I had my doubts about your marriage, I must admit, but the more I see the two of you together, the more I realize your brother was right. Ethan does care for you.”

  Jessalyn’s eyes welled with tears. “Do you really think so?”

  Julian nodded, then looked away. He cleared his throat. “Ethan and Elizabeth went ice skating that morning. Our father had forbidden them to do so, because the ice was still too thin.”

  “They didn’t believe him?”

  “Ethan and I always went out before Father had a chance to test the ice, but Elizabeth was far more inclined to play by the rules. I don’t know how Ethan talked her into going out there, but somehow, she fell through.”