Gareth stood still for a second, amazed by the unexpected spectacle of his normally sedate wife running down the lane with her hair streaming behind her, periwinkle skirts flying up around her knees. He gave a shout of laughter and gave chase, catching her just as she reached the bend in the lane. He swept her, laughing helplessly, up into his arms, spun her around once, and looked into her eyes, breathing hard.
“I love you,” he said.
Faith gazed up at him, utterly speechless, but her eyes held a thousand words. The pounding of her heart had little to do with the unusual exertion. She laid a trembling hand on his chest.
Gareth was surprised to hear himself voice the words, but he didn’t regret saying them. It was true, he thought to himself, and probably had been since the evening he’d held her in his arms and waltzed her down that balcony. Not wanting to force the feeling on her, however, he softly kissed her on the forehead above those luminous eyes, then set her down and turned her toward the breathtaking view of Rothmere. She gasped.
The two forks of the circular drive disappeared to wind through rows of evenly spaced birches and reappeared just in front of the house in the distance. Flowering trees dotted a wide expanse of neatly trimmed grass between where they stood and the manor. Two charming ponds with a small connecting stream lay near the center of lawn, a gazebo with a little dock on the edge of one, a lovely willow on the banks of the other, its branches dipping lazily into the water. A flagstone path led to a quaint little footbridge that arched over the gurgling stream.
With a smile, Gareth led Faith down the path toward the house, enjoying the look of dawning amazement on her face. Rothmere was truly a sight to behold, amazing him even now, though he’d seen it several times since renovations on the facade were completed. Every time he approached the mansion, he was filled with a tremendous sense of satisfaction.
Very few structural changes had been made to the original building, but the difference was nonetheless breathtaking. The deep gray stone had been scoured to clear it of the lichen and discolorations that had accumulated during the years of neglect. A wide set of shallow steps flanked by two tall evergreen trees led from the drive up to the front terrace. Additional sets of stairs curved up to the terrace at the left and the right. Gareth had ordered a new balustrade constructed, as the old one had been weathered and crumbling. The new one was made entirely of marble and polished to a high gloss.
The windows along the front of the house rose almost to the second story, were repeated on that level, and topped by high, curved panes on the third floor. Centered above the massive front door was a circular stained-glass window depicting the Roth seal of a falcon in flight under two crossed swords. It had been done entirely in shades of gray and black, and was Gareth’s personal contribution to an estate long without pride.
Faith stopped in the middle of the small bridge and turned to her husband with shining eyes. “Amanda told us you were seeing to the renovation of your estate, but I had no idea how beautiful it was, Gareth.”
He smiled. “Ah, but it wasn’t when I acquired it, love. What you see now is the result of many hours of hard labor. There’s still a great deal to be done inside, but I had the staff rush to make as much of it as habitable as possible. I hope to move in within a few days.”
Faith bit her lip. “I’m afraid I don’t know a great deal about running an estate this size, my lord,” she admitted.
Gareth bent and kissed her forehead. “Neither do I,” he confided.
Suddenly, Faith felt a surge of happiness. She tugged on her husband’s hand. “Take me inside,” she said, looking like a little girl opening a present. “I would like to see our home.” She pulled him across the cobbled drive and up the front steps to the door. “Do you have a butler yet?” Her smile held more than a hint of fun.
“I’m bringing Desmond from London,” he replied, wondering at her dancing eyes and mischievous grin.
She turned the knob and peered inside briefly, then pushed Gareth through the opening. “You be Desmond,” she said, then firmly pulled the door closed in his astonished face. She waited a moment, resolutely ignoring the fact that a couple of the gardeners had stopped working to stare.
Gareth opened the door and peeked out at her. She gave him an indignant look and hissed, “I didn’t knock yet!” He promptly closed the door.
Faith raised her hand and knocked firmly.
Nothing happened.
She knocked again.
Still nothing.
She was just reaching for the doorknob when it was wrenched open from the inside. “Keep yer pants on, snapped Gareth. “I may be slow, but I ain’t deaf.”
Faith stared uncertainly. “Gareth?”
“I’m being Desmond,” he whispered. “You’ll love him,” he added with a little wink.
Faith recovered her composure and stuck her nose in the air. “I’m here to see the Marquess of Roth,” she informed him in an imperious voice.
“He ain’t in,” Gareth snarled.
Faith stepped out of character. “Yes he is,” she corrected in a stage whisper. “You have to invite me in.”
Gareth didn’t miss a beat. “I’ll let ‘im know yer here, Miss…?”
“Ackerly. Miss Faith Ackerly.”
“Well, come in, Miss Ackerly, even though yer not expected.”
Faith stepped inside with regal grace, then abruptly dropped the charade and looked around in undisguised awe. “Gareth,” she breathed, tilting her head back to look at the ceiling three stories above. “It’s beautiful.”
Gareth’s face softened as he looked around with pride. “It’s the first thing that has ever completely belonged to me,” he said softly. “I know it’s entailed, and will always stay with the Marquess of Roth, whoever he may be. That, however, is who I am at the moment, and this"—he spread wide his arms—"is what I’ve done.”
Faith stepped up to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I belong to you, my lord,” she said in a quiet voice.
As she felt his arms close around her, it occurred to her that Gareth was leaving the renovation of Rothmere as his mark upon the world. He was improving his title—a title that would be handed down to the child she would someday bear for him.
The thought made her blush hotly. She kept her head down to hide her flaming cheeks as he led her through the various rooms of the house. She was so consumed with the direction her thoughts had taken, she barely heard him telling her the history associated with different objects throughout the estate.
Gareth watched his wife nod and smile with a distracted air during the tour, but she didn’t comment. His heart fell a little each time she asked no questions and displayed little interest in the things that had become such a source of pride to him. He began to fear that she was humoring him—and not at all well. For that reason, when they passed servants busily working to make the place habitable, despite the fact that he knew them all by name, Gareth didn’t introduce his quiet bride to any of them.
By the time they reached the master bedchamber, a slow anger had begun to build inside him. Was she so much better than he that she could dismiss so easily all he had accomplished? He let go of Faith’s hand and walked inside ahead of her.
“This is my room,” he said curtly and strode to the doors that led to the bathing area that connected his chamber with hers. He walked through it and had almost reached Faith’s chamber when he realized she was no longer behind him. Infuriated beyond reason, Gareth turned on his heel and stalked back into his bedchamber. He found Faith standing frozen, staring fixedly at the enormous bed that dominated the room, her cheeks flushed bright red. “Faith?”
Lost in thought, Faith didn’t hear him say her name. She recalled her conversation with Grace about physical intimacy, and knew that when she moved into this home, Gareth would expect her to fulfill her marital obligation. She recalled the tender way he’d held and kissed her that afternoon. It didn’t seem possible that something so wonderful could end up being painful, as
Grace had said it might, the first time. Without warning, her mind flew back to her childhood, and she was once more lost in the maze with the spider, only this time, it wasn’t the chambermaid’s breast upon which Duncan was feeding…it was hers. She shuddered.
“It appears you don’t find your home quite what you expected, princess.”
Jolted from her thoughts by his taut voice, Faith raised confused eyes. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she stammered. What he’d said hadn’t registered, but the tone of his voice had, and Faith found herself suddenly even more off-balance.
“No, Faith,” he said with resignation. “I am the one who is sorry.” He saw her glance again at the bed and quickly look away, biting her lip. He felt a small pang of regret as he realized she still did not want to share a bed with him, that they weren’t going to have quite the life he had envisioned. His anger abruptly dissolved, leaving a lump in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m certain you are tired,” he said in a quiet voice. “Let’s go home.” Regret surged through him again. Home. Somehow, he doubted she would ever feel this house he had painstakingly renovated and modernized for his marchioness was her home.
“Gareth?” Faith’s voice was small as he walked past her to open the door. He stood silent, his face impassive, and patiently waited for her to precede him from the room. Confused, she stopped next to him and looked up. “Gareth, have I made you angry?”
Gareth looked down at her upturned face and for a moment his heart wrenched. He resolutely repressed the emotion, because he would not force her to feel things she naturally did not. “No, Faith. I am not angry.”
She stared at him a moment longer, felt the distance between them, and drew her eyebrows together in a little frown. As always, when presented with something she didn’t understand, it seemed more prudent to retreat into herself to analyze and assess, so she said nothing.
Gareth watched his wife carefully. She hadn’t responded to his declaration of love, a fact he’d attributed at the time to shyness or surprise. Now, given her ever-increasing levels of disengagement, he read far more into her silence. “Shall we?” He bowed a little and indicated the door.
Faith gave him an odd look, then turned and left the room without a word.
Twenty-four
The walk home was silent and filled with tension. A couple times Faith mustered up the courage to address her husband. Each time, the words died on her lips as she looked at Gareth’s set, stony face.
Miserable, she watched the caretaker’s cottage draw closer and wondered if the whole night would be spent in taut silence. Her unspoken question was answered as soon as they reached the door. Gareth turned the knob, pushed it open, and stepped aside to allow Faith to enter. When he didn’t follow, Faith turned back to look at him.
“One of the footmen is coming down from Rothmere to stay here tonight and keep watch. I am going back to oversee the correction of some final problems in the renovation. It will be late when I finish, so I will just sleep there.”
Faith didn’t say a word, but her lips tightened and her brow furrowed.
“You are not to leave the house, Faith,” Gareth commanded.
At that, she lost her temper. “For what, precisely, are you punishing me?”
Gareth raised a cool eyebrow. “You are my wife. I owe you no explanation.” He then turned to go, leaving Faith standing with her mouth open, shocked by his high-handed statement. Just before the door closed, he looked back. “I mean it. Stay put.”
And then he was gone. Faith pressed her lips together still more tightly, firmly repressing the urge to yank open the door and go after him. Hot words tumbled about inside her head, words she wanted to let loose and hurl at her husband. Instead, she stood still until the white-hot anger cooled to a cold core deep inside. Slowly, her lips relaxed and her hands unclenched, and she began to think about the circumstances that had led up to this predicament.
At some point during the tour of Rothmere, she had done something that angered Gareth. She thought back through the entire scene, and it slowly dawned on her. She had been so occupied with her thoughts of future children—and what would occur to create those children—that she had been silent as he showed her his home. Their home. The home he had spent so much time renovating in order to…
Faith groaned, knowing he’d misinterpreted her silence as indifference. But then she frowned. This knowledge hardly excused his behavior. If he’d only asked her, spoken to her instead of bottling it all up, this misunderstanding might have been avoided.
Shaking her head, Faith looked out the window and saw John, an affable footman who’d accompanied them from London, standing in the middle of the clearing in front of the cottage. He was clearly a guard. She gave him a little smile and moved away from the window. Poor John didn’t deserve what she was about to do. Once she’d gotten to Gareth, however, and explained everything, she was certain all would be well again.
Quickly, Faith walked into the bedroom and opened the window. Making sure she couldn’t be seen from the front of the cottage, she sat on the window ledge and carefully put one foot, then the other, through the opening. Turning onto her stomach, she carefully slid down until she felt her feet touch the ground outside. Happy that nobody had witnessed her awkward exit, Faith next took a couple of steps toward the corner of the cottage. She was pulled up short by her skirt, which had snagged on the windowsill. Impatiently, she tugged it loose, then peered around the corner.
John was precisely where she’d seen him last, standing with his back toward her, looking down the road that led to Rothmere. Praying he wouldn’t turn around and see her, Faith crossed the clearing on quick, light feet and slipped into the woods.
She followed the road but kept to the trees until she was certain John couldn’t see her progress. Darkness was approaching, however, so she soon emerged and walked briskly along the side of the road, her mind spinning.
Gareth would be furious when he saw her, she admitted to herself with a guilty little pang. She briefly pondered how she should approach him. Should she be meek and apologetic or firm and businesslike? Faith pictured both scenarios, then dismissed them as too calculating. She would just be herself.
It was nearly dark when she reached Rothmere. The grounds, earlier bustling with activity, were deserted. Faith tried the front door but found it locked. She bit her lip in indecision. In all likelihood, Gareth was alone. She was not quite brave enough to knock on the door, have him open it, and find her standing there in the deepening twilight, blatantly disregarding his order. She hesitated a moment longer and decided to try to find a different way into the house. It would be better if she faced him on her terms, having found her own way to their confrontation.
Crossing the terrace, she went down the steps and hastened around the side of the building.
It was almost completely dark at the cottage when John finally realized that something was not quite right. He peered at the little building. All seemed peaceful, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. And then it hit him: the house was enshrouded in gloom, and the marchioness had yet to light a single lamp.
Alarmed, John knocked on the door. “Lady Roth?” There was no response. His heart pounding, the footman went inside. A cursory search confirmed his suspicions—Faith was not there. He left the house and took off at a run for Rothmere.
Gingerly, Faith lifted her skirts to step around some of the muddier spots behind the house. She’d been unable to find another way into the building, though she knew there had to be a servants’ entrance, or at least a place where deliveries were dropped off. The only possibility left was to go back around to the front and knock.
But as she rounded a corner, she saw it: a dilapidated greenhouse. She walked over to the door and found it half-hanging off its frame. Carefully, she pushed, and it grudgingly moved, the hinges protesting loudly. As soon as she’d forced an opening large enough, she slipped into the musty room.
Rows of tables covered with overgrown vi
nes and broken pots met her eyes. Faith picked her way through the chaos toward the back of the room, where she hoped to find a door into the house. Sure enough, it was there, up three steps in the middle of the dirty wall. She grasped the knob and turned it, perfectly certain it would be locked, as had been all the other doors she’d tried. To her surprise, it turned easily. Her heart pounding, she stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and set off in search of Gareth.
John trembled at the thunderous expression on his master’s face. “She went inside, my lord. I didn’t see her come out at all. I swear I never moved from my post at the door.”
Gareth’s voice was tight. “I believe you.” He stood and strode from the study, barking out orders to the footman, who was scrambling to keep up with him. “Gather as many men as you are able, get some torches, and meet me back at the cottage.”
John hastened off to obey, leaving Gareth alone with his thoughts. He had no doubt that she’d disobeyed his instructions deliberately. He left the house and set off for the cottage, jogging steadily and easily down the road. Behind him, the meager household staff was quietly assembling in front of the house. They wouldn’t be far behind.
The dark cottage came into view, causing Gareth’s heart to sink. Somehow, he’d managed to entertain the notion that Faith would be here when he arrived. That hope was further dashed when he entered the dwelling and did not detect any sign of her presence.
He gave the main chamber a cursory inspection and went into the bedroom. The window was open wide and a scrap of color caught his eye. He crossed the room to look more closely. There, caught on the rough edge of the sill, was a torn piece of fabric of the same blue-purple shade as the dress Faith had worn earlier. He leaned out the window and inspected the ground. Despite the darkness, several footprints were clearly visible, all the same size.
Relief surged through him, followed quickly by disappointment. Faith had not been forced to leave, nor had she run off with someone else. But she had left.
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