Her Counterfeit Husband

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Her

  Counterfeit

  Husband

  Ruth Ann Nordin

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and also represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher.

  Her Counterfeit Husband

  All Rights Reserved.

  Copyright 2012 Ruth Ann Nordin

  V1.0

  Cover Photo images Dreamstime. www.dreamstime.com. All rights reserved – used with permission.

  Cover Photo images Shutterstock.com. www.shutterstock.com. All rights reserved – used with permission.

  This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the publisher/author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Ruth Ann Nordin Books

  http://www.ruthannnordin.com

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  List of Book by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Coming Soon: A Most Unsuitable Husband

  Dedication: To Lauralynn Elliott whose kindness and love for writing is an inspiration to remember that books are more than words on paper: they are an emotional experience to be cherished.

  List of Books by Ruth Ann Nordin

  Regency Collection

  The Earl’s Inconvenient Wife

  Her Counterfeit Husband

  Nebraska Historical Romance Collection

  Her Heart’s Desire

  A Bride for Tom

  A Husband for Margaret

  Eye of the Beholder

  The Wrong Husband

  Shotgun Groom

  To Have and To Hold

  His Redeeming Bride

  Isaac’s Decision

  South Dakota Historical Romances

  Loving Eliza

  Bid for a Bride

  Bride of Second Chances

  Native American Romance Series (historical)

  Restoring Hope

  Brave Beginnings

  Bound by Honor, Bound by Love (coming soon)

  A Chance In Time (novella) – main characters show up in Restoring Hope and Bound by Honor, Bound by Love)

  Virginia Brides Series (historical)

  An Unlikely Place for Love

  The Cold Wife

  An Inconvenient Marriage

  Romancing Adrienne

  Other Historical Western Romances

  Falling In Love With Her Husband

  Meant To Be

  Contemporary Romances

  With This Ring, I Thee Dread

  What Nathan Wants

  Suddenly a Bride

  Christian Sci-Fi Thriller

  Return of the Aliens

  Chapter One

  October 1814

  “I came to see my ailing brother,” Lord Mason said as he entered the drawing room.

  Anna, the Duchess of Watkins, turned from the window and inwardly shuddered, not caring for the way he scanned her body. She glanced at Appleton, her butler, and said a silent prayer of thanks for his calming presence. If there was one ally she had, it was him.

  Turning her attention back to Lord Mason, she cleared her throat. “I don’t know if my husband is up to seeing visitors. His health has taken a turn for the worse.”

  Lord Mason gave a slight frown and clucked his tongue. “I hope he gets better soon. I’d hate to see you become a widow.” His gaze lingered on her breasts. “However, if he did die, you’ll always have a place here at Camden. Never doubt that. I believe in taking care of family.”

  She crossed her arms in a protective measure, feeling as if she was naked before him even though she was fully dressed. She forced a polite smile but darted a silent pleading look at Appleton who stepped forward.

  “Lord Mason,” Appleton began, “perhaps it might be better if you’d return at a later time. The doctor will be here in an hour to tend to him.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary. Jason’s my brother,” Lord Mason replied, turning to face him. “Seeing me will lift his spirits. And in any case, he might have some last words to pass along to me, should I need to take over the estate.”

  She averted his gaze.

  “Your Grace?” Appleton asked her.

  She nodded her consent, and Appleton led Lord Mason out of the drawing room. There was little she could do to stop her brother-in-law. When he decided to do something, he did it, regardless of what she wanted. The only person who was able to stop him was her husband.

  She released her breath and glanced at the piano. Many times, she’d used music as a way to escape the harsher realities of life, but there was no escaping Lord Mason or the threat he posed if he became the Duke of Watkins.

  She walked over to the window and pulled aside the curtain so she could see if Lord Mason left his carriage by the front door. He did that if he planned to make it a quick visit, and thankfully, on this day he wouldn’t stay long. She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes.

  “Your Grace?”

  She opened her eyes and let the curtain fall back in place as she turned to face Appleton. “Lord Mason won’t be here for long. There’s no need to bring tea.”

  He nodded and came closer to her so that no one else could overhear them. “I’m afraid your husband looks worse than he did this morning. I didn’t say anything to Lord Mason, but…”

  He didn’t have to say it. She knew what he was thinking. “Is my husband able to talk to Lord Mason?”

  “Yes. He’s still well enough to speak.”

  “I wonder what they’re talking about.”

  “I’m sure whatever they’re discussing, it can’t be of any consequence.”

  “Probably not.” And she doubted Lord Mason cared about what her husband had to say. Most likely, he had come to judge how close he was to becoming the next duke. “He’s like a vulture circling a dying prey.”

  “Not unlike His Grace was when their father died,” Appleton softly replied, not hiding the displeasure in his voice.

  “I wish I’d known their father. It sounds like he was a good man.”

  “He was. It was a privilege to be under his employ.”

  And their mother had been a fortunate lady to have been married to him. What she wouldn’t give for a noble husband who would have treated her well.

  “Your Grace?” Appleton whispered, bringing her attention back to him.

  Wiping a tear from her eye, she swallowed the lump in her throat and let out a weary sigh. With a humorless chuckle, she made eye contact with him. “How I envy you, Appleton. Your lot isn’t fixed upon what men decide to do with you. I’m afraid things will only be worse once my husband dies.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but Lord Mason strode into the room with a wide smile on his face.
“My brother looks good today. Perhaps he’ll cheat Death,” he said with a smirk.

  He didn’t believe that any more than she or Appleton did. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “In case he doesn’t, then I will move to a cottage so you may bring the woman you’ll marry here.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of doing that to you, Your Grace,” Lord Mason objected as he approached her.

  Without thinking, she shifted closer to Appleton who made it a point to step in front of her.

  Lord Mason’s eyes drifted from her to the butler, and a low chuckle rose up in his throat. “I assume there’s nothing of a more personal nature going on between you two.”

  “Most certainly not!” Her cheeks warmed at his insinuation. “I have been faithful to your brother.”

  “It matters not to me how you conduct your private affairs, Your Grace,” he commented, a trace of amusement in his voice. “But I wouldn’t dare send you away to a cottage. You are my brother’s wife, and as such, I will provide for you here. You needn’t worry about your future.”

  A knot tightened in her stomach, and she averted her gaze from his so she wouldn’t give away her apprehension.

  “I must be going,” Lord Mason said. “Until we see each other again, Your Grace.”

  She curtsied as he bowed, and when he turned to leave, she breathed an audible sigh of relief. Once Appleton led him out of the room, her shoulders relaxed. She went to the chair by her writing desk and collapsed into it. Thankfully, it was over. She hated it when he came to visit. Though he never came out and asked for a more intimate relationship with her, she saw the intent in his eyes. Once her husband died, there was nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted. She shuddered and closed her eyes, focusing on her deep breathing in order to calm her nerves.

  After the knot in her stomach loosened, she opened her eyes and stared at the wall, not seeing the portrait of her husband’s grandmother. The sound of footsteps brought her attention to the doorway where Appleton came in with a tray. Usually, she’d welcome the tea and biscuits, but today, she had no appetite.

  “I can’t eat or drink anything right now,” she softly told him before he could place the tray on the desk.

  “Your Grace, far be it from me to pry, but you’ve hardly had anything to eat or drink in two days. Please at least take a sip of the tea?”

  Though her throat constricted at the idea, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

  As he poured the hot liquid into her cup, he said, “I have unpleasant news for you.”

  She cringed. “Lord Mason plans to return tomorrow?”

  “No, but His Grace wishes to have a word with you.”

  Her stomach grew queasy. She took a deep breath and stood up. The sooner she got this over with, the better.

  “Won’t you have some tea first?” he asked.

  “I can’t.”

  “Then I’ll go with you.”

  “There’s no need. He can’t do anything to me on his deathbed.”

  Without waiting for his reply, she strode out of the room. Perhaps her husband would be exhausted after his brother’s visit and fall asleep while talking to her. She hurried up the stairs, knowing if she delayed, things would be worse. When she reached the door of his bedchamber, she stopped and waited for a moment, hoping the pounding of her heart wouldn’t give away her anxiety. Clearing her throat, she quietly turned the knob.

  She nudged the door open and peeked into the room. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the sunlight. A few candles were lit around his bed. He had the covers pulled up to his neck, and his hands were folded on his chest. She saw his eyes were closed and swallowed the lump in her throat. She stood still, unsure of whether she should whisper his name or take her chances and leave. Her grip tightened on the doorknob.

  “There’s no need to stand there like a statue, Anna,” he rasped, his eyes still closed. “I know you’re here.”

  Disappointed, she stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. She approached him, her slippers quiet as she crossed the large room. It would be over soon.

  She sat in the chair next to his bed and got ready to ask him if he’d been able to keep any liquids down when he opened his eyes and shot her a critical glance. “Did it occur to you that I might want some water?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Your Grace,” she mumbled and went to the table by his bed.

  She picked up the pitcher and poured the water into the glass. She turned slightly away from him so he wouldn’t see how badly her hands were shaking. As much as she kept telling herself a sick gentleman didn’t have enough strength to do her any harm, she couldn’t so easily forget how powerful he’d once been. She managed to perform the task without spilling any water and set the pitcher down with relief.

  Turning back to him, she held out the glass to him. “Here it is, Your Grace.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Dimwitted woman. I need to sit up to drink it.”

  “Right. Yes. Of course.”

  She quickly set the glass on the table and gathered the pillows behind him and helped him sit up. Slightly out of breath from the task, she grabbed the glass and held it out to him.

  He examined the glass and grunted. “I’m parched and you give me a mere drop’s worth?”

  She ignored his snickers as she poured more water into his glass. When she presented it to him, she feared he would demand she bring it to his lips, but fortunately, he took it and drank the water. All she needed was to spill water on him. When he was done, he handed the glass to her, and she set it back on the table.

  He managed to keep the contents down for a minute before he threw up into a bowl. She looked away from him and pressed her hands over her ears so she wouldn’t gag. Her only reprieve was knowing she didn’t have to dispose of his vomit. Thank God the servants did that. She waited until he stopped retching before she dared a look in his direction.

  Gulping the swell of nausea in her throat, she retrieved a handkerchief from the table and gave it to him. He wiped his mouth with it and flung it in her direction. He laughed as she yelped and jerked away from it.

  “If nothing else, you were always amusing,” he remarked. “Pick it up and dispose of it.”

  She knelt down and picked it up by the hem so she wouldn’t touch anything wet and threw it into the bucket by his bed.

  “Sit and listen to me!” he barked.

  She sat in the chair, praying he’d grow tired from sitting up. “What is it you’d like to say, Your Grace?” she managed to ask, resisting the urge to look at the door which wasn’t too far from her.

  “Go,” he sharply told her.

  Startled, her eyes grew wide. “Your Grace?”

  “I know you can’t wait to get away from me.”

  She opened her mouth to protest his statement, but the words wouldn’t come. He was on the verge of death, after all. He’d been unable to keep any foods or liquids down for over two weeks and grew weaker every day. She’d done her part in playing the docile wife. Never arguing, turning a blind eye to all his indiscretions, silencing her complaints. The years of suppressed bitterness for the way he’d treated her during their marriage struggled to make its way to the surface. She’d spent so much time in dread of him, but as she studied him, she saw how close to death he was. Why did she continue to let him have any power over her?

  “Oh, don’t bother holding it in,” he snapped before he coughed. “You’re pathetic and spineless. I told my brother to do whatever he wanted with you once I’m gone. I told him you’re as barren as a desert so he has no reason to worry people will talk.”

  Something in her snapped, and she reached for the glass and threw it at him. She gasped, pressing her hand to her mouth. How could she have acted out in such a way? To her surprise, he laughed. She was about to demand he explain why he found it humorous, but he began to vomit into his bowl. He motioned for her to hand him another handkerchief, and she made a motion to obey him when she recalled the way he handed her over to
his brother.

  “I hope you die,” she hissed. “You’re as disgusting as your vomit.”

  Then she hurried out of the room. He couldn’t follow her, and he couldn’t call after her to stop. With any luck, there would be no repercussions to saying those words. If he didn’t recover, there wouldn’t be. But if he did… She forced the possibility aside. Either way, she was doomed. Whether it was her husband or his brother, she was still doomed.

  Chapter Two

  He’s dead. Anna stared at her husband, hardly believing it. Though death was, in itself, an ugly thing, she studied him, noting the way his vacant eyes remained open. Even as she experienced overwhelming relief, she knew she had a much bigger problem ahead of her.

  She glanced at the pocket watch on the table beside his bed. It was just after midnight. The doctor wouldn’t come by to check on him until after ten. Her husband’s valet had walked out, and considering how many valets her husband had been through, she hadn’t been surprised when the last one quit. So there was no one who would check in on him for at least ten hours.

  She bit her lower lip and walked to the window so she could lift the curtain and look outside. It was so dark. There wasn’t even a sliver of moonlight out tonight. Anyone could be out there, and there was no way she’d see them. She gripped the curtains. Did she dare? Could she get away with it? She couldn’t do it alone. Her husband was too heavy. Even if he had lost considerable weight, she couldn’t carry him out of the house and dispose of his body.

  What she needed was help from someone she could trust, someone who would keep her secret to his grave. Appleton. If there was anyone who’d understand her plight and could help her, it was him. She dropped the curtain back in place and turned from the window. No. She couldn’t ask him to do such a devious thing. Not when he was the only good thing in her life, the one person who’d helped her keep going when all she’d wanted to do was give up. Her gaze went to the scars on her wrists. If he hadn’t found her when he did, she wouldn’t be here now. And he’d saved her for what? So her lot would get worse?