by Ingrid Hahn
He indicated the way and, after she scooped the dog into her arms, she followed the path toward the building. She slowed as they neared. “Is that really where we’re going?”
The orangery was in a severe state of neglect. The glass was dirty and broken. Vines had overgrown the far end, and everything else had been left to die and rot where it stood.
“It’s something I haven’t gotten to yet.” It was one of the final things remaining. “But it’s safe enough inside, I promise you.”
She stepped in carefully, keeping the dog close to her body, even when the little creature wiggled to free himself, too curious for his own good.
“It’s strange that the house is so lovely and this has been completely ignored.”
“It’s unnecessary.” If he sounded short, it was because he was in no mood to discuss his choices for rebuilding the estate.
She turned to look back over her shoulder, expression unreadable. “That seems a strange thing to decide.”
He followed her inside. “I want to know who else knows about this.”
“About our marriage?”
“About the fact that you deceived me into marrying you when I was meant to marry Christiana.”
“You paid a debt by marriage. I daresay you got off pretty well, all things considered. And because I have it on very good authority that you don’t have a heart, what difference does it make whom you married?”
“Did your mother have you do this to revenge herself upon me?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I’m the one allowed to demand answers here, my lady. Not you.”
Eliza looked him dead in the eye. “My mother knows nothing about it. Or didn’t, before we left London.”
“How am I supposed to believe you after what you’ve done?”
She threw her arms up in exasperation. “First you demand answers and then you throw doubt upon my responses? How am I supposed to reason with you if that’s your tactic?”
“I can hardly believe this. I could never have conceived of such a thing, and here for the past few days…” He could only shake his head. At least this explained how pale she’d been after they’d married. “How could you do it?”
She licked her lips and softened her reply. “I admit, I didn’t do a very good thing.”
He almost choked on crazed laughter. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“You think I wanted this? I wrote you those letters. I begged you to call it off. They didn’t work, but I dearly wish with every last fiber of my being that they had. You had no mercy for my position.” Eliza glared.
She dearly wished the letters had worked, did she? She had tricked him into marriage and she was the one with regrets? “You think to gain my sympathy?”
“I think nothing of the sort. But you should be made fully aware of what this looks like from my perspective. It was wrong, tricking you into marrying me, but I did it for the right reason.”
“First, there is nothing you or anyone can say to convince me of that. Second, there is nothing in the world to convince me your logic is the least bit justified.”
“Would you really rather have married her? She loves someone else.”
“So I’ve been told. And the nuptials will be tomorrow, apparently. He’s here now. I met him.”
“Then you must see that she needs him. She needs someone soft. Someone caring. Not a beast like you. You’d have cowed her when you flew into a temper like you just did.”
“I do not fly into tempers.” If she didn’t heed the lethal note in his voice, there would be hell to pay. If he did, he’d renege on all the promises he’d made to himself to remain in control at all times. More importantly, what he promised himself he would not become—a man like his father, who’d nearly crushed his mother’s soul before he’d had the good grace to die.
“I hate to be the one to disillusion you, my lord, but you’re in a temper now.” Eliza sounded anything but sorry.
He turned, momentarily unable to face her because he was afraid of saying “sod it” to the whole business and just kissing her.
Among the broken pots and overturned plants of the long-neglected orangery was a rosebush that had survived neglect. It’d grown tall and wild, taking over part of the framing on a partially collapsed wall. The pink buds were just beginning to open.
It was horribly symbolic. Like the angry and vengeful God of the Old Testament was sending Jeremy a pointed message.
Thankfully, Jeremy didn’t believe in such things. It was no more than happenstance. What he chose to read into what he saw was entirely on him.
He turned back to Eliza, broken glass crunching under the soles of his boots. “So you’re the better choice, then, are you?”
Daisy—which isn’t how Jeremy wanted to think of the dog, but it would have to do until a better name came along—squirmed out of Eliza’s arms and went to bark at a stray ginger cat that was sunning itself within the perfectly sized confines of an overturned table. The cat looked at Daisy with its ears back and gave the dog one good swat on the nose. Daisy yelped in shock and retreated.
“In the circumstance, my lord, there was no choice. I would have done far worse and far more than marry you”—she nearly spat the words—“to prevent so wretched and wrong a thing as a union between the pigheaded Lord Bennington and the sweet-tempered and lovely woman who is my s—cousin, Christiana.”
“First beast. Now pigheaded.” Part of what she said prickled at his conscience in a way he didn’t care to examine. This woman he’d taken to wife had deceived him. There was no justification for it. None in the world. So there was no point in considering the fact that the idea of being eternally wed to Christiana made his cock want to run and hide in the corner whimpering instead of stretching long and hard like it did around Eliza. That wasn’t the important part of marriage—what happened in the bedroom or how much one did or did not desire one’s wife. He narrowed his eyes. “What a fine opinion you have of me. Under the circumstances, you might want to rethink your approach, my lady.”
She raised her brows at him and smiled. In the glow of the morning light, he could have mistaken her for a wicked angel sent by heaven to torment him with her shimmering strength and perfect beauty. “I’ve spent too much of my life holding my tongue. I don’t think it’s done a spot of good. From here on out, I plan to speak my mind. I won’t be silenced for your comfort, my lord.”
“You give your mother respect that you don’t give your husband?”
Her eyes went huge, and she snorted. “Respect? The last thing you’ve done here today, my lord, is earn my respect.”
He opened his mouth to reply, but she rushed to continue.
“I will say this, my lord. I respect you enough that I promise you that I will never—never—give you deference in situations when it would behoove you to be taken to task, instead. And if you don’t see that for the honor it is, you’re not a man I could ever give my respect.”
Her words took some of the heat out of his anger. Some. Certainly not all. This was too big. Her words were well aimed, but her deception was too much. What sort of woman dared do such a thing?
The question was poorly timed, because she licked her lips. It was just the tip of her pink tongue wetting that pretty bottom lip. A part of his brain he didn’t want to acknowledge rushed to answer him. The sort of woman who dared do such a thing was a woman he wanted to kiss. Again.
He really was going mad, wasn’t he?
She raised her chin at him. “Are you worried about scandal? Is that what this is about?”
“Setting aside the fact that you deceived me and are now insulting me to my face?”
“Well, I certainly would never insult you behind your back, my lord—you have my word on that. But yes, why don’t we set those two things aside for a moment?”
Jeremy took another breath.
“Scandal is a catching thing. It rubs off on people around you.” His voice lowered. “It leaves one’s progeny
tainted.” His cousins were proof enough of that. But his cousins weren’t at the forefront of his mind. Begetting his heir, however, was.
Eliza’s cheeks darkened. “I don’t believe this is the appropriate time to discuss—to discuss progeny, my lord.”
“Don’t you?”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “You’re trying to intimidate me, my lord. Just like you did in those horrid letters. It’s not going to work. I’ve lived with a bully since the moment I was born, and I am not about to allow you to do to me what my mother did.”
Jeremy almost stumbled backward. “I am nothing like Lady Rushworth.”
“You have a strange way of showing it.”
The conversation was slipping from his control. “Nobody speaks to me like this.”
She crossed her arm below her breasts. The dog yapped at him. “It’s clearly time somebody did.”
She exhaled and squared her shoulders. “I think I should return to the house to allow you some time—”
“We’ll discuss it now.”
“What is there left to discuss, my lord?” She waved a hand helplessly through the air. “What’s done is done.”
He stepped toward her, and the little dog gave him a warning yap to approach no closer to its mistress. Jeremy ignored the creature. “I don’t think there is an ecclesiastical court in the world that would deny me an annulment.”
She frowned at him. “You’re not going to seek an annulment.”
“No?”
“No. You’re so averse to scandal, you won’t put one foot wrong, even if the repercussions of an annulment would be far greater for me than for you.”
“Then where does that leave us, do you suppose?”
“I’m prepared to be a good wife to you, my lord.”
The sentiment only encouraged his imagination to take another turn through explicit and lurid scenes of what exactly being a good wife would entail. Sitting on his cock and riding him in wild abandon until they were both rendered boneless in the aftermath of intense pleasure, for example.
“Are you now?” He couldn’t help himself. He knew what he thought a good wife should do. He had to hear what she thought. “And what do you suppose that entails?”
“I’ll be a good partner to you, you can depend upon it. I’m levelheaded. I never succumb to hysterics. I’ll go to any length to protect the ones I love. And I don’t remain silent in the face of wrongdoing.”
“And you suppose that is what I need, is it?” Jeremy didn’t much care for the insinuation that marrying Christiana could have been considered a wrongdoing. Because, unfortunately, Eliza was all too correct. It would have been wrong. Instead of standing up to Lady Rushworth himself, he’d been all too ready to ruin a young woman’s life. He’d needed Eliza to stand up against him and show him he’d abandoned sense.
The fact remained, however, that she had deceived him. He’d married the wrong woman. Like she’d so aptly pointed out, he wasn’t about to seek an annulment. He’d bring no hint of scandal upon himself or his family. Ever. Not for any reason.
So they were stuck with each other.
“What else could you possibly need?”
“If you must know, only one thing comes to mind.”
“One thing?” She shook her head, frowning as if he were speaking in riddles she couldn’t puzzle out. “What’s that?”
“An heir.”
Chapter Twelve
Trembling, Eliza shut herself into her room and threw herself onto the bed, tugging carefully tucked covers over herself until she was safe inside a tight cocoon. She’d been bluffing when she’d told him she didn’t think he’d seek an annulment. Testing him, really.
She had fully intended to tell him everything, but when the moment had come, she’d been unable to speak. Speaking would have made it real. Speaking would have brought back all those memories that she thought time had slowly let drift into unimportance.
Foolish. Foolish. Foolish. It was of utmost importance. And now, apparently, the only thing the earl claimed to want from her was an heir.
Of course, she’d known it would come to this. In the orangery, she’d faced her husband like the woman she wanted to be. Strong. Unwilling to apologize for having done what was required to save Christiana.
She squeezed her eyes shut as Captain Pearson’s words once again battered her brain. Whore. Would she ever be free of his ghost? Not if she was about to live the debacle over again with Lord Bennington. The thought turned her stomach. She kicked her way free of the covers, took Daisy in her arms, and went to where she’d hidden the jewels. They were still her way out.
She’d no sooner turned the key in the lock than Christiana all but waltzed into the room. Her eyes were bright, her hair in some disarray. After the incident with the lambs and the ruined carriage, however, it was hardly noticeable.
“Daisy,” Christiana all but purred, pulling the dog into her lap on its back and rubbing the exposed belly. “If there are more in the litter to be had, I want one, too.”
Eliza tried to smile, but inside she was hollow. Her reserves had ebbed away. “Of course. I’ll let the earl know.”
As she finally focused on her cousin, Christiana’s features drew into concern. “Is everything quite all right?”
“Oh, my dear. Please don’t worry about me.”
There was a pause. “You told him, didn’t you?”
Eliza gave half of a nod.
Christiana’s breath caught. “And?”
“I wish I knew.” Eliza slipped the key to the jewel box into the dressing table and slid the door shut. “I can’t stop myself from feeling that I’ve let him down.”
“Let him down? But he couldn’t have had any expectation of you. Not yet.”
Expectation? No expectation, indeed. Only an heir. He might despise her, but that wouldn’t prevent him from bedding her.
Eliza’s throat nearly closed, and she struggled to seem as normal as possible as she continued the conversation in a casual tone. “Of course, people have expectations of one another. Fair or not, that’s human nature. But I think in his case, it was entirely fair of him to expect that the woman he thought he married not drag him into unexpected scandal.”
“What scandal? You’re a lady. He’s a lord. You had one broken engagement, not ideal, certainly, but it can’t be as bad as all that, can it?”
“I deceived him into marrying the wrong woman.” Deceived. That was the word the earl had used. It sounded so coarse. So wicked and so unlike her. Yet it was precisely what she had done. “If that’s not the stuff scandals are made of…”
“Who has to know? I can’t imagine your mother wanting to bring the scandal down upon herself, so no matter how displeased she is, she won’t say anything.”
Eliza held her tongue. There was always the risk that her past would come back to haunt her. But not the part of her past that Christiana knew about. If anyone ever learned the details of where and how she’d surrendered her virginity, it would be scandal of the highest degree. And there was always the risk, wasn’t there? Because the man who’d taken it from her had but to whisper a word in the right ear, and the gossip would be all around Society by the end of the week.
Christiana spoke gently. “So what have you decided?”
“I haven’t decided anything.” Eliza straightened, unable to bear another moment of the torturous conversation. “But he tells me Tom has come. Is this true?”
Christiana colored prettily. “We’re to be married tomorrow.”
“On your birthday. How perfect. He has the special license?”
Neither of the parties having resided at Idlewood long enough to qualify for a common license, they’d need the special license. Tom had pined for Christiana from almost the moment he’d first laid eyes upon her. No doubt it hadn’t taken him long to begin plotting how he’d make her his bride, especially after she had given him a resounding no when he’d posed the question of elopement.
“He does.” She pushed to standing,
and, right there in the middle of the ornate bedchamber, she swirled, clasping her hands together in delight. “I can’t believe it’s finally going to happen.”
It was so like Tom to be aware of the technicalities such as marriage licensing requirements. Christiana was going to be well matched with such an excellent man.
An unfamiliar sensation prickled behind Eliza’s eyes, hot and strange. “I’m so terribly happy for you, cousin. You deserve this.”
And Christiana did. She had the biggest heart of anyone Eliza had ever known. Nobody was more deserving of happiness with the man she loved. Eliza would never regret giving her the chance to make the marriage she’d been born to make.
Never.
Chapter Thirteen
In the morning, Jeremy stood beside Eliza in a shaft of light coming through the stained-glass windows in the dank church witnessing Miss Burke and Lieutenant Hart pledge themselves to each other for eternity.
It was difficult not to witness two people coming together out of real affection and ignore the strange sensation that he’d been too hasty and too final in his judgment against love matches. Making his own was an option that was closed to him, though. Forever.
He’d never thought he’d make one himself, true enough, even before Lady Rushworth had taken the choice from his hands. Then Eliza had schemed to marry him when he was supposed to have been marrying Christiana. He should have known something was amiss when the two of them arrived early and without Lady Rushworth. He’d been too blinded by Eliza’s beauty to think of anything else but what it was going to be like when he took her to bed.
It wasn’t the first time being randy as a goat in spring had gotten him into trouble. But it far and away eclipsed every other unfortunate incident, in both magnitude and repercussions. All the more reason to redouble his efforts to keep his urges in check. He knew well enough how powerful his needs were. He must maintain the control to remain master over them.
He stared at Christiana. She was certainly pretty. Young, though. Far too young, really. What was she, all of twenty-one? She wasn’t a silly girl, he could say that, but he couldn’t dream of ever having anything to say to her. Moreover, he couldn’t picture himself being intimate with her. The idea alone made his delicate areas clench with the wrongness of it.