In the Arms of an Earl

by Anna Small

  “Oh, Frederick, don’t say it! I have never loved anyone as I love you. I only wanted to come here so I wouldn’t have to see…so you could be alone with…”

  She choked and pressed her face into his coat. She’d expected his arms to go around her, for him to offer comfort, words of love, forgiveness…

  “Alone with whom?” He gripped her shoulder and stepped back so he could look into her face. His fingers dug into her flesh. “Answer me.”

  When she finally raised her head, the look on his face was beyond what she’d feared.

  Pain, betrayal…

  Disgust.

  “Sus…Susanna.” The name spilled from her in a breathless gasp.

  His jaw clenched, and he ground his teeth. “Susanna.”

  In the space of a heartbeat, the months of agonizing pain and doubt vanished as clear certainty filled her mind. She had accused him wrongly.

  “So,” he inhaled sharply, “am I to understand you believe Susanna is my…what, my mistress?”

  She choked on a breath of air, quelling the rising sobs threatening to crack her ribs if she didn’t let them out.

  “I thought—” She gulped aloud. “Forgive me. I was wrong, but…”

  “So, you took a lover as vengeance? Or was it curiosity? Or wantonness?”

  His voice shook with disdain. She longed to hide her face again, but there was no refuge. She saw now, in all her cold calculations, how Alice had orchestrated the entire thing. First, she’d convinced Jane not to show her husband too much affection and desire. Then, she’d practically thrown her into the arms of Lord Winters. Mournfully, Jane recalled the dreadful coincidence of meeting Jeremy at the ball, and later in St. James’s Park. No wonder Frederick could accuse her.

  “I don’t have a lover. I couldn’t…”

  Alice’s face filled her mind. Her triumphant eyes as she’d convinced Jane of Frederick’s inability to control his lusty desires.

  Just like his brother Henry.

  “You couldn’t, or wouldn’t, go through with it. Well, that’s perfectly admirable, my dear.”

  He strode to the window, flinging up the sash so hard the glass rattled. Jane winced.

  “I never wanted a lover. I only wanted…”

  “Please, Jane, spare me the explanations.” A cord in his neck stuck out as he spoke. “Why did you marry me? And do not say it was love at first sight, because I saw your reaction to my…my disfigurement when we first met at the musicale.”

  “You are wrong!” She hurried to him, but he turned away. She dragged her hand across his coat, blinking back tears when he flinched from her touch. “I pulled away from you because you were a stranger, and I ought not to have touched you in a familiar way.” Her voice cracked. “I was perfectly content to sit beside you later that night, at Lucinda’s pianoforte. Do you not remember?”

  “Hmm…I always wondered about that.” His voice was flat, unfamiliar and cold. “What were you doing out of bed at such a later hour? Were you waiting up for someone else, perhaps? And used the excuse of requiring extra practice when you discovered me there in his stead?”

  “Whose stead?” But a sickly realization had formed in her heart. “Not Jeremy.” She nearly shuddered at the thought.

  “I found him alone with you at the ball in Shropshire. I found you alone with him at Lady Harrington’s. I found you alone with him at the park. You left with him during the opera.”

  “And what of your being alone with Susanna?” Every nerve in her body trembled at the extent of his outrage. “I heard you both in the theatre last night. You…you wished you’d never married me…”

  A sob broke through her resolve, and she crumpled into the nearest chair. He remained impassive and cold.

  “If you are going to spy on me, you should listen closely, madam. I said I wished I had never brought you to London. We should have gone straight to Dornley Park. I should have said hang it all to my duties, my obligations—” His voice wavered, and she peered at him through watery eyes. His chest shook with his sharp intake of breath. “I knew London would not suit you, and I was right. That was our conversation.”

  “You should not have been discussing our private matters with her.”

  “As you have done with Parker?” He crossed the room, as restless as a caged animal.

  “I have not confided in him.”

  “Then Lord Winters, perhaps. Forgive me, but I cannot keep your paramours straight.”

  “There are no…I have none.” She bit out her words.

  He ceased pacing. “You must admit, Jane, your affections turned from me as soon as we reached London. Where your kisses had been frequent and ardent, you became cold. When I wished to share your bed, you were ill.”

  “I…I…” Horrified, she realized what Alice’s intentions had been all along. “I did not want to be a clinging bride.”

  “A clinging…?” He snorted a sharp laugh. “You were certainly far from it. I have to beg for time alone with you.” His eyes had grown heavier, the shadows beneath them increasing in his agitation. “You never answered my question. Why did you marry me?”

  “I loved you. I still do.”

  “I think it was infatuation, my dear. I truly do.” His voice grew sad. “You did not wish to be left behind your sisters, and your parents were very proud you’d made a good match.”

  “That is not true.” She could think of nothing in her own defense. On the surface, everything he was saying made sense. But that didn’t make it true. “I have no other love in my life. You cannot say the same, Frederick.”

  Her voice broke with emotion, but she refused to give in to tears. He stared at her in shocked amusement.

  “Shall I tell you about Susanna? My mistress, is she?” He laughed sharply. “Her brother, George, was my best friend. I grew up with the Oliviers. Our mothers were distant cousins. When war broke out, George and I both joined the army and fought in the same regiment. On the bitter day that shall haunt me for the rest of my life, George put himself between a French bullet and me. You see, the French had already shot off my hand. Our brigade was outnumbered and the castle of San Sebastian had a formidable advantage. When I awoke, I discovered both of my hands were gone; George was my other hand.”

  His voice grew husky. He blinked rapidly, but it didn’t stop the tears sliding down his cheek.

  “It was my fault George was killed. He’d told me where to go, to stay out of the worst of it, but I didn’t want special treatment. You see, I joined the war with him as a favor to Susanna. He was all the family she had, and she wanted to be certain nothing happened to him. My disregard of his orders caused my injury and his death.”

  He took a moment to gather his emotions. Jane stared at him in stunned silence.

  “He died in my arms. I had to return to England without him. Susanna was devastated at his death. So was I.”

  He perched on the window ledge. A slight breeze from the opened window stirred the dark curls brushing his shoulders. Jane longed to go to him but was unsure what his reaction would be, so she stayed riveted to her spot.

  “When I returned home from the war, I was filled with hatred and anger. I turned from everything I knew.” His gaze met hers. “I contemplated taking my own life. I hated the French for taking my hand, and for taking my best friend. I had no one to turn to, no one who’d listen.”

  He swallowed. “But Susanna listened. She spent many hours commiserating with me. We were so close, many people”—his eyebrow quirked up—“believed we were lovers, including the illustrious Jeremy Parker, who wanted her for himself. But nothing could have been further from the truth. She became my sister through our shared misery. I’ve replaced George in her life, and she comes to me as a sister would an older brother. I thought all the love I’d ever possessed vanished when I lost my hand and my best friend. I thought I would never find a woman who’d ever look at me with anything more than pity, or”—he grimaced—“disgust. I often visited my former comrade-in-arms, Colonel Parker,
and found solace at his home. I also found something else. Something I never expected.”

  He stopped, and she realized she’d forgotten to breathe. His gaze penetrated hers. “I found you, Jane, and in that one instant when I heard you at the pianoforte, playing so clumsily, yet with all your heart, I knew—” His words cut off.

  “What?” She was breathless in her desire for him to continue.

  “I wanted you as I had never wanted anyone, before or since the war. When I came upon you with…with Parker, I feared the worst. I thought you had chosen him, with his two hands and his youth. I wanted you to be happy, so I resolved to force him to marry you, if that’s what it would take.”

  “I never loved him.” She spoke steadily, as if her very words were the only thing keeping them together. “He is in love with Susanna.”

  “He is not good enough for her,” he growled, the earlier tenderness vanishing from his eyes.

  Her entire body flushed and her limbs trembled. “But he was good enough for me? A poor spinster who had no hope to marry anyone unless he was forced to.”

  His brow furrowed deeply. “That was not my meaning.”

  She sucked in a ragged breath, her heart racing so fast it vibrated in her ears. “It is what you said, Frederick.” She would have left the room except he was standing closer to the door.

  “I thought you had chosen him over me.” His voice was quiet and steady, his soft tone returned. “I wanted you to be happy with the one man who could make you so.”

  “As if I would choose Jeremy Parker over you.”

  The clock ticked above the mantel, and somewhere down the corridor, a door banged shut. Jane closed her eyes, counting her heartbeats along with the seconds ticking by.

  “Yet you do not trust me. You say you love me, but you don’t believe I can love only you.”

  “Why should I?” Her voice broke and she faced him again, not bothering to hide her anguish. “I am nothing compared to her. I was the first woman who didn’t see your injury, and you fell in love with me because of it.”

  He stared at her for so long she feared he was having a fit of apoplexy. “So this is what you think of me.”

  Too late, she knew she’d said more than she ought. Nothing would take back her words.

  “I hold you blameless, Jane.” He blinked rapidly. “I will see to your comfort. We have another house in town. It’s small, but will suit you.”

  She didn’t realize her mouth was open until her jaw snapped. “What do you mean?”

  His dark eyes continued to gaze at her. “When we return to London, you may settle at Highgrove Street. All will be handled with the utmost discretion. Your parents needn’t know if you’d rather they didn’t.”

  She was beyond tears. Her limbs felt as if molten lead now dripped through her veins. Her hands were numb. Everything was cold stone.

  “I don’t…” Her voice cracked but she steeled herself. “I won’t go back. I’ll stay here, and then…”

  Her father’s face came to mind. He’d been so proud on her wedding day. He had whispered words of joy into her ear as he’d walked her down the aisle, before handing her over to a man who no longer wanted her. “I’ll go home.”

  He nodded. His mouth was cinched tight, and she knew his arm throbbed. How she longed to go to him, to erase the last few days, to reveal all about Alice, but it was too late. She’d missed her chance. She’d never been more mistaken about something in her entire life.

  “I will leave immediately. I’d prefer not to be here when your brother-in-law comes home.”

  “What…what do I say to Amelia?” Her sister’s opinion was the last thing she feared. It was almost surreal that her marriage had dissolved in the last few minutes. She gripped the back of a chair, her nails sinking into the patterned silk with a tiny tearing sound.

  He opened the door a crack. “Tell her what you will. Put the entire blame on me.”

  She waited for something to happen. This couldn’t be the end. Perhaps he would reconsider and tell her all was forgiven. The terrible nightmare she’d been living through the last few months would end.

  He didn’t speak again. Without a sound, he closed the door softly behind him.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Frederick avoided Dixon’s querulous look when he returned to London late in the night. He took his time preparing for supper, not wanting to answer Alice’s inquiries as to Jane’s whereabouts. The semblance of normal life must go on, even if the world had crashed around him like a broken crystal glass.

  He glanced at his reflection in his dressing room mirror, a thing he’d avoided since returning from the war. The missing left hand only emphasized everything else he’d lost. His best friend. His promising musical career.

  The assurance that a woman loved him for what he was, and not from pity.

  He studied his image, forcing himself to take notice of what he presented to the world. His cravat was knotted crisply, his dark blue coat pressed to perfection. The only difference distinguishing him from any other peer in the House of Lords was his empty left cuff, sewn shut so as not to offend anyone with a weak disposition.

  A decanter of brandy sat conspicuously on his dressing table. He smiled flatly. Dixon intended a means other than laudanum to ease his pain. He poured a finger of the amber liquor and raised the glass. At the same time, he noticed the door between his and Jane’s chambers was ajar. For a heart-stopping moment, he imagined she’d returned. Forgetting the brandy, he put down the glass and strode to the door, her name on his lips.

  The silence in the room deafened him. Disappointment and a renewed sense of grief enveloped him like a shroud.

  Unwilling to tear himself away, he remained in the doorway, trying to absorb what remained of her. The faint scent of lavender hung in the air. Four large boxes from the most popular modiste in London awaited their owner. Sensing Jane’s odd withdrawal from him, he’d ordered new baubles and millinery to please her. Now, she would never see the bonnets he’d carefully chosen. The coral beads would languish in their velvet case, and the diamond bracelet would never grace her slim arm. He’d anticipated her sweet smile upon receiving his gifts and had hoped for a warm kiss as his reward.

  A dull ache filled his chest. He leaned against the door to restrain himself from going to her bed and burying his face in the pillows to claim her scent one last time.

  His left arm throbbed in protest at the position he’d taken, but he ignored it. Better the pain of his arm than the pain in his heart. He stared at her dressing table and imagined she was there, brushing her long hair into glossy waves. The emptiness of the room still bore a trace of her, and he took a small measure of comfort in his memories.

  At least he would always have those. Better than pretending she had never existed at all.

  He turned to leave, but a glimmer of something white poking from under her bureau caught his eye. Wondering how the chambermaid had neglected to notice, he entered her chamber and picked it up. It was a letter sent by Lucinda to Jane a few days earlier.

  “‘You’ll hardly be surprised to hear,’” he read, “‘that Jeremy has broken off his engagement to Miss Dudley. Papa is in a dither, as are the Dudleys. Jeremy cited meeting you in town as the source of his impulse. Silly boy—I don’t know what he was thinking…’”

  With an anguished cry, Frederick crumpled the letter and tossed it into a corner. He slammed the door shut and stormed out of his own chamber. His heart thudded viciously. Jane had accused him of taking a mistress, but it was clear she’d had her own intentions all along. Evidently, she’d expected a proposal from Jeremy, but when it hadn’t materialized, she’d accepted him as the next best alternative.

  How could he have been so mistaken, so fooled? She had shown no interest in Jeremy at Everhill. Indeed, she’d fled like a hare trapped in a box before Jeremy could pursue her further.

  But had it all been an act? He had presumed she was inexperienced and had never had a suitor, but it was unlikely she had g
one unscathed from her mother’s schemes. Perhaps she was playing a coy game between Jeremy and himself. After all, she’d accompanied Jeremy outside the night of the ball. Perhaps she’d wanted to be discovered in a compromising state in order to ensnare a husband. Only when Jeremy vehemently declined a proposal did she turn toward Frederick.

  He clenched his fist and rubbed his eyes, the motion causing his left arm to spasm in sympathetic motion when his right arm moved.

  There it was. The answer lay before him in the misshapen remains of his arm. Why shouldn’t a country girl like Jane accept his suit, with the promise of riches before her? He’d made her a countess and lavished support on her parents’ farm. By her own admission, her mother’s sole intention was to marry off all her daughters. She’d succeeded, and, oh, how she had succeeded with his marriage to her last daughter.

  He paused on the marble staircase to gather his composure. Strains of violins from the quartet Alice had hired for the evening dinner party reached him from the main salon. The sound of music always brought tender thoughts of Jane, and he inwardly cursed himself for visiting the Parkers’ home when Jane was there.

  Better that they’d never met.

  He’d have remained a happy bachelor, content with his music and his travels, visiting friends whenever he liked, and not having to worry about an inexperienced girl who didn’t fit in. A girl who listened to the paltry gossip of others instead of trusting her heart.

  Trusting his heart.

  He started down the stairs, sorting through his emotions. No matter how hard his conscience argued against her, he knew he was wrong. She had never wanted his money or his title. He’d heard her maid refer to her as Mrs. Blakeney, neglecting the obligatory my lady. At first, he’d thought it an intended slight of the maid, until he realized Jane had insisted on the simple courtesy.

  He shook his head, exhaustion creeping upon him until it took all his strength to keep moving down the stairs. Jane was no manipulator, plotting to ensnare the first wealthy man who winked at her. He could not deny the innocent fervor of her kisses, the soft gasps and shy whispers in the seclusion of their marriage bed. She’d given herself to him, body and soul, and this was how he treated her.