‘Forget it. It’s no use. It was to be our honeymoon. Little point in that now, don’t you think? I must go. I have urgent business to attend to in London—and I also think it would be best if we are apart for a while.’
Marietta flinched. ‘Going away won’t solve anything.’
‘For me it will. I have to do something to quench the fury of not being able to make love to my wife,’ he retaliated coldly. He was going away because, having become hopelessly entangled in his desire, he couldn’t help himself. He was weaker than he thought, for she had bewitched him, and if he didn’t put some distance between them he was afraid of what he might do.
‘How long will you be gone?’
‘I can’t say.’
Suddenly an image of the beautiful Lady Murray paraded before her eyes and her stomach clenched at the thought that he might be going to her. She moved further into the room and, fighting to control the mistiness that suddenly affected her vision, she drew a shaking breath. ‘Max, are you leaving me?’ she asked quietly, overwhelmed with emotions and the fear that this might be so.
Picking up his briefcase, he crossed to the door and loomed over her. ‘As yet I haven’t decided what I will do. When I do you will be the first to know. I don’t think you realise what this enforced abstinence is doing to me, Marietta. It is both intolerable and unacceptable.’
‘And in London I suppose your needs will be catered for by someone else—by another man’s wife. How excruciatingly naïve and stupid you must find me, Max.’
It had been a vain attempt on her part to hit back, an irrational expression of anger, misery and hurt. And then she saw that her remark had drawn blood.
Max’s eyes were like ice as he fixed her with a piercing stare and every muscle in his face and body was like a spring, coiled to snapping point. ‘Are you referring to anyone in particular?’
‘Lady Murray,’ she burst out, unable to keep the knowledge of his liaison to herself any longer. ‘My grandmother told me she was your mistress.’
‘Your grandmother was correct. However, the affair ended when I went to America. Are you accusing me of seeking my pleasure elsewhere?’
‘What else am I to think?’
‘Don’t try to put the blame for any of this on me, Marietta. It is your doing, not mine. What I have to do right now is put some distance between us so that I can try to make some sense out of it. And, yes,’ he said with a deep cold savagery, with a desire to hurt her as much as she was hurting him, ‘there are numerous beds in London with willing occupants and Claudia is still available to me should I still desire her, so you would do well to consider that during my absence. Am I not being driven to it by my own wife?’
Marietta’s cheeks burned from the cruelty of his remark and she was swamped with guilt. He was dismissing her as someone he considered unworthy to be his wife. He wanted to leave her—to be rid of her. She could feel it. And why shouldn’t he, something inside her cried accusingly, when he had saddled himself with a wife who refused to bear his children?
Max strode out of the room. Marietta watched him go, her heart crumbling even as the door closed, leaving her heartbroken and bereft, the tears springing to her eyes.
* * *
Not until Max was on the train heading south did he allow his thoughts to drift to his wife and her last heartbreaking words and how his enforced separation would be hurting her. To have implied that he would take another woman to his bed was contemptible, and to take Claudia as his mistress again was out of the question. The gossip created by a renewed liaison between the two of them would be endless, and the humiliation Marietta would suffer as a result of it would be immeasurable.
But he had to put some distance between them. He could not go on living with her as his wife and being unable to touch her, to make love to her, but to divorce her was not to be thought of. Despite his threat, which he knew had hurt her deeply and was not what he had intended, he could not contemplate doing something so cruel to either of them. The grounds of her refusal of conjugal rights in order to prevent the conception of a child would be sufficient to grant him a divorce, but he was damned if he was going to stand up in court and tell the world that his wife refused to share a bed with him.
Why was she doing this? That was an agonising thought and an infuriating one. But only for a minute, for in the purple light of deepening dusk, he couldn’t actually believe that a young woman as tender and gentle as she was wouldn’t want a child of her own without good reason.
Was she afraid of bearing a child and, if so, why? Or did she genuinely not wish to be a mother? He’d been so wrapped up in his own need, misery and anger that he hadn’t even bothered to ask, to get to the bottom of it. It might have been the lulling motion of the train that had this mellowing effect on him, but it seemed to him somehow that for whatever reason she had married him, she had come to care for him deeply. He thought of the short time they had been together as man and wife before the subject of children had driven them apart, of the way they had passed their days in quiet talk and laughter and unbridled passion. No woman alive could have tried to give him as much pleasure as he was giving her if she didn’t care for him.
* * *
The countryside had changed in the weeks since Marietta’s marriage to Max. Autumn had given way to winter and dried leaves carpeted the ground, and as Marietta slipped deeper into the world of Arden, she began to notice the changes in herself, in her own body. At first she couldn’t bear to contemplate that her worst nightmare had been realised, that she might be pregnant, but with each new day, each morning when the sickness had her scrambling from her bed and reaching for a bowl, she knew it had to be faced.
She missed Max dreadfully and now wanted him more than ever. His leaving had hurt her deeply. She ached for the warmth and strength of him. Her world was collapsing about her in some horrible, inexplicable way. Max had taken with him all the vitality, all the colour from her life, and there was nothing but emptiness and this new fear in her heart. She was also sick with dread that he might have returned to the arms of his former mistress—and that she had sent him there. She tried to tell herself that he would not do that to her, but her tormented imaginings almost drove her mad.
Everything had gone wrong between them because there had been so many misunderstandings on her part about him and his relationship with Nadine, and because she hadn’t been capable of making him understand her irrational, physical fears about bearing a child. Perhaps she would have tried, had she been able to understand them fully herself. What was to be done? All she had was her own fallible strength.
Battered with a torrent of conflicting emotions and self-condemnation, and aware that, having trampled his pride, Max would not come near her unless she made the first move, she realised that to make things right between them her pride was going to have to suffer now. She would not let her fear ruin her life and destroy her chance to have a warm and happy marriage. She would have to go to him and try to explain the best she could her fear of childbirth. Not only that, the mere thought of him enjoying the delights of another woman—especially those of Claudia Murray—was beyond bearing.
With that motivation, she told Yang Ling to pack her bags and arrange for the carriage to take them to the station first thing the following morning. She then wrote her grandmother a letter, informing her that she was to join Max in London.
Chapter Nine
Darkness had settled over London and the lamplighter was making his way down Curzon Street when Marietta finally arrived at the door of Trevellyan House near Regent’s Park. Mason, the elderly butler who opened the door, regarded her with courteous enquiry and Marietta immediately made it known who she was. She was suitably impressed with the enormous central hall and colonnaded gallery.
‘Is my husband at home, Mason?’
‘No, your Grace. The duke is attending a musical evening at Lady Dunaway’s residence in Kensington. I don’t expect he will be late home since he is leaving early in the morning to spend
the day with an old friend in Surrey.’
He handed her a gold-embossed card that had been delivered two weeks earlier. Marietta turned it over in her hand, seeing the invitation was addressed to the Duke and Duchess of Arden. ‘I see. Well, my decision to come to London was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Still...’ She bit her lip thoughtfully. After coming all this way, she was impatient to see Max. ‘A musical evening, you said, Mason. What a pleasant way to relax following a long and tedious journey. Have someone show me to my rooms and have the carriage brought round.’
‘To take you to Kensington, your Grace?’
‘Yes,’ she replied with a confident smile. ‘Since my husband is out enjoying himself I think I shall surprise him.’ Which Marietta did the moment she entered Lady Dunaway’s elegant mansion, where, contrary to what she had said, Max was not enjoying himself.
* * *
Max was seated with a hundred other guests in Lady Dunaway’s salon, with his legs crossed and a bland expression on his face. After listening to music by
Chopin and Bach for over an hour, he was bored out of his mind and somewhat irritated.
It was during the interval when the musicians and guests paused for refreshments, to stretch their legs and to mingle and indulge in polite conversation, that, with wine glass in hand, Max suddenly found himself confronted by a grinning Lord Toby Basildon and his former mistress, Lady Claudia Murray. Max had it on good authority that Basildon was Claudia’s present lover.
‘Max, it’s good to see you.’ Lord Basildon’s mocking voice cut through the conversation going on around them. He drew Claudia forwards. ‘I’m sure that no introductions are necessary between the two of you.’
Max turned to Claudia and inclined his head slightly. ‘Claudia? I trust you are well.’
‘Never better,’ she replied coolly, not having forgiven him for marrying Marietta Westwood. The humiliation she had suffered at that woman’s hands had not gone away.
‘Your wife is not with you? Is it not unusual for two people who are so recently married to be at opposite ends of the country?’
‘You are at liberty to think so if you wish, Claudia,’ Max replied coldly.
At that moment his attention was diverted to a latecomer who had just arrived. She was surrendering her coat to the maid at the door and being greeted by Lady Dunaway, who engaged her in quiet conversation. The glass in Max’s hand stopped en route to his mouth when he recognised his wife. Attired in a dress of gold satin with a flat-fronted skirt and drawn over a soft bustle at the back in a complex drapery of pleats and flounces forming a small train and clutching a small gold-silk reticule, she was the most radiant creature present.
After weeks of missing her, seeing her now gave him the most piercing joy of his life to find her here. Leaving her had almost torn him apart. With single-minded determination he had thrown himself into the task of not thinking of her. He’d immersed himself in work, spending hours each day poring over business investments and reports in his study and meeting with business managers and bankers. He worked until it was time to go to bed, where he would stare into the darkness, knowing that close by there were buildings with rooms where many a warm bed waited, and his hunger would grow, but it was not for the ladies who occupied those beds. It was for the memory and the gentle dream of Marietta, his wife. So stricken was he with the innocence of her, that he could not rouse himself to seek relief in someone else’s bed.
His thoughts would grow tender as he remembered the golden candlelight upon creamy, silken flesh, still moist from making love, her soft curling hair flowing across a pillow as she slept, and his thoughts brought memories to mind of how those sweet and gentle arms had felt about his neck, and how those full, pink lips had pressed against his and how her warm young body had cleaved to his. She had served his pleasure well, more than any woman before, and from that first moment he had clutched her to him, she had held his every thought so tightly that even in his sleep he could dream of nothing else but her.
As these thoughts beset his mind he would turn over and strike his fist into his pillow in mute frustration. My God! he thought. My wife denies me and my very soul crumbles. She had closed all doors to him but one, and that he had slammed in anger when he had left for London. But in his heart he knew he could not keep away from her much longer. Already he was contemplating his return and what he might do to win her back. I’ll bide my time carefully, he had mused, play the suitor all over again and court her tenderly, and then perhaps she would turn to him. It had been late when he fell to sleep with the realisation of his love and new resolve.
And now, what the hell was she playing at, coming to London without notifying him? But then he shouldn’t be all that surprised. She had the passion, the intelligence and the courage to dare to do anything.
‘My wife has been unavoidably detained,’ he said in reply to Claudia’s question. ‘But she is here now. Excuse me.’
Putting his glass down, Max strode out of the salon to join Marietta. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Lady Dunaway melted away. Max stepped in front of Marietta, neatly isolating them from view of those in the salon and to all appearances he looked like a relaxed gentleman in intimate conversation with his wife.
‘Marietta,’ he said in an ominously calm tone that belied the leaping fury in his eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’
Marietta stared at him. When he had strode through the door, the hall seemed to shrink. He was so tall that she thought he must surely have grown since she had seen him last, but otherwise he was unchanged. There was still the same masterful face, the same silver-grey eyes, the same thick, well-groomed black hair. In formal evening dress—dark tailcoat and trousers, a dove-grey waistcoat, white bow tie and shirt with a winged collar—he was devastatingly handsome. Marietta gazed at him wonderingly, forgetting for a moment all that she had suffered because of his absence.
‘When I arrived at the house and Mason told me you were attending a musical evening, since the invitation included us both, I didn’t think you would mind if I came.’
‘Why should I if Lady Dunaway doesn’t? Come into the salon, the music will be starting shortly.’
Placing her hand on his arm for him to escort her into the salon where everyone was craning their necks in curiosity to see them, for it was the first time the Duke and Duchess of Arden had been seen together, they looked in accord, Max just a step behind his wife. Max would have to be blind not to notice the open admiration in the eyes of every male in the room as they settled on his wife. Sheer, unadulterated jealousy tore through him. She was the loveliest woman here, drawing men’s attention to her like bees to a flower. She was glorious and his own adoration and need of her was barely under control. He wanted to drag her into his arms and kiss her until she, and he, were breathless. Instead he said, ‘I see, Marietta, that you only have to walk into a room to bring the entire male population to their knees.’
A sparkle twinkled in Marietta’s eyes as she glanced at him sideways, a tantalising little smile playing on her soft lips. ‘Not quite the entire population, Max,’ she said meaningfully. ‘But then I would be astonished to find you in such a silly position as on your knees.’
Suddenly Marietta saw Lady Murray standing a little away. Her arms and legs began to tremble from the moment she saw Max’s former mistress, in the very same house as Max. Was it coincidence or had they arranged it so? Lady Murray was alone, her partner having disappeared to get her a glass of wine. In sick dread, Marietta felt tears burning the backs of her eyes as Lady Murray fixed her cold eyes on her. Why, she thought, did Lady Claudia Murray have to be so provocatively beautiful, and why did Max have to look so devastatingly handsome tonight, so utterly desirable? Marietta felt the muscles in Max’s forearm tense into rigidity and he would have steered her in another direction, but Marietta carried on walking towards the woman who was eyeing her coldly.
The two women regarded each other for a moment with open hostility, the unpleasant events of their previous enco
unter on both their minds. However, despite Lady Murray’s previous relationship with Max, Marietta had said that when they next met she would apologise for her unacceptable behaviour and she had meant it.
‘This is my wife, Marietta,’ Max said. ‘I believe the two of you are already acquainted.’
Every pair of eyes swivelled to them, surprised that the two women were speaking to each other given Lady Murray’s previous friendship with the duke.
‘Yes, we are,’ Claudia said tightly. ‘Introductions are not necessary.’
In a state of angry, humiliated pain, though making a concerted effort not to show it, Marietta met Claudia Murray’s assessing gaze with quiet composure. ‘Lady Murray, I feel an apology is in order.’
‘So you admit it, then. You did push me into the fountain.’
‘I—might have—brushed against you,’ Marietta prevaricated. Despite having quietly admitted the fact to Lady Murray at the time, she was determined not to let the other woman have the upper hand. ‘Anyway, however your tumble into the fountain came about; I would like to offer my apologies for any discomfort it may have caused you.’
‘What you did was most uncalled for,’ Claudia protested as Max was about to guide Marietta away.
Marietta fixed her with a level stare. ‘I recall you were saying unkind things about my maid. Your malicious comments took me off guard. Because you despised her and because you laughed at her, you paid for it.’
‘That Chinese woman is your maid.’
‘She is also a human being and my friend, but I do not expect you to understand that. You took me off guard that night. I could not help myself.’
‘Then you should practise self-control.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. Unfortunately, I’ve always been an impulsive and often difficult person of an unpredictable disposition and the despair of all my governesses and my late father.’
A slow, sensual smile curved Claudia’s lips as she glanced provocatively at Max. ‘I appreciated your support that night, Max. I found it such a relief to have you there.’ Her tone of voice carried the implications home.
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