Betrayed Countess (Books We Love Historical Romance)

by Diane Scott Lewis

  “Decide … yes. I need you, now.” His murmur sounded so eager. “Shall we go upstairs?”

  “Upstairs … to talk in private?” How far would she allow it to go? He’d just admitted his great need for her. She also needed him, his solid, comforting protection. Her body grew hot and full. “For a short time, yes.”

  He clasped her arm and led her from the parlor, down the hall, and they ascended the stairs. Only her thumping heart seemed real—the rest of this felt like a dream.

  In his chamber, Bettina glanced around the familiar room, her head a little dizzy. She resisted the urge to laugh and say they couldn’t go any further. She wanted to ask if he planned to divorce his wife; but of course he would, he’d have to now.

  Everett came to her then, engulfing her in his arms, his kisses so sweet. Still, she would stop him before he went too far, and extract a promise of marriage.

  He eased back from her, his expression questioning, as if he’d read her thoughts.

  “Of course, this will change everything,” she said, almost in a whisper. He hesitated. She stepped into him, against him. Smiling, she felt the power of her allure, seeing his blue eyes cloud with desire. She would prove his decency by letting him kiss her, then he would send her home.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He unfastened her dress, slipped it from her shoulders. His lips caressed her exposed shoulders and throat and she shuddered with emotion. She ached for his attentions, desperate for him to satisfy her fervent, confused yearnings. The scandalous state blurred in the wake of experiencing a tantalizing unknown.

  Leading her to the bed, he removed her gown, petticoats, corset and shift. He peeled down her stockings, kissing above each ankle. She allowed it as if in a trance, every silken touch reeling her senses. As he reclined her on the mattress, his kisses on her bared breasts sent waves of pleasure rippling through her abdomen. Bettina gasped as he ran his lips down her stomach to her thighs. Her pulse thudded through her head, but she couldn’t resist him, or stop him. A compulsion burned in her to make him a part of her.

  Everett rose and blew out the candles. Undressing himself, he crawled into bed with her. Bettina rubbed her hands over his back and shoulders, his body lean and hard. She reveled in the silky smoothness of their skin in heated contact. She closed her eyes while his lips caressed her every peak and hollow. His hand stroked between her legs, his mouth once more on hers, and she couldn’t get enough of him. When the probing became painful, she flinched, gasping.

  “Relax, darling, I won’t harm you,” he murmured, covering her face with hot kisses. He’d never called her ‘darling’ before.

  “Peut-etre we should not. Now you will have to….” Bettina’s words were stifled in a cry when he pushed inside her. Ignorant of all this, she gripped his shoulders as her eyes filled with tears. Everett moved slowly above her, driving in deeper and deeper. He moaned with his own pleasure, while she felt torn in half, surprised by the pain. She bore his increasing movement with muffled sobs. Finally he shuddered and rolled off of her.

  “I’m sorry, darling. Did I hurt you badly? It does hurt … the first time,” he whispered into her hair, kissing her tear-stained face. He put his arms around her, hugging her to his chest. His pulse raced beneath her cheek. “It happened so fast. I know I should’ve been gentler. Maybe I’m wrong to….”

  Bettina waited for him to say more, the smell of their sweaty flesh and the silence in the room crowding in on her. He held her close, yet now she felt she spun away from him into darkness. She opened her mouth to speak, but only her thoughts rang out. Do you love me, Everett? Tell me that you do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A peck on her cheek roused Bettina from layers of consumed wine. She opened her eyes to see Everett smiling down at her. He looked so endearing, with his hesitant grin and tousled hair, she couldn’t help but smile back. The early morning light seeped in through the sash windows of this room that wasn’t hers—a place she shouldn’t be. Her emotions were turned inside out. A shameful heat seared her cheeks.

  “How do you feel?” He brushed stray hairs from her face. His eyes appraised her with a caution mixed with concern. “I must apologize for my impetuousness. It wasn’t the—”

  “May I have water, please?” Bettina’s temples throbbed, her mouth tasted dry and sour. Remembering she was naked beneath the sheet, she pulled it to her neck and glanced away from him. She’d failed in her attempt to test his morality, and her own. But he could make it right with a proposal. “I need something to drink.”

  Everett kissed her on the forehead, then rose and put on a dressing gown. He poured her a cup of water from the ewer on a small table beside the four-poster. “Would you like anything else?”

  “Not at the moment, thank you.” She disliked sounding so stiff, waiting for him to set the tone, to open up to her, to declare his love.

  “Very well. I’m going to heat water to shave. I won’t be long.” He left the room.

  Bettina sat up. She hugged the sheets against her chest and sipped the water, the taste brackish but refreshing on her throat. Her body reeked of the night’s lewd excess and she craved a purifying bath. How did she let this happen, where were her principles last night? Her mother would be heartbroken. What a wanton creature Everett must think her. She was ruined, her chastity gone. He had to marry her now. She crawled from the bed, the motion inflaming a more intimate soreness. A few drops of blood stained the sheet where she’d lain. She jerked on her clothes.

  Several minutes later, Everett reentered the chamber. “Here’s warm water for you to wash.” He placed a bowl on his chest of drawers, his gaze uncertain.

  “Thank you. As I said last night, this changes everything.” She dipped her fingers into the bowl, focusing on her hands. Lightly splashing her face and neck, she felt self-conscious in every move she made. Each jostle increased the ache in her head. She patted her fingers through her unruly hair, using the looking glass above Everett’s dresser. Her eyes looked bruised.

  He remained silent for a moment. “Bettina, I see you’re upset. I’m not proud of my behavior last night. Something I haven’t … if it was wrong, I do care very much for you.”

  Her breath hitched at the word, care. Why couldn’t he say ‘love’? Especially now, after she more than earned the right to it. Bettina turned and tried to smile. She reached over and touched his arm. “We need to discuss what this means for us, the proper outcome.”

  He gave a flicker of a smile. “I realize I took advantage of you.”

  “We both took advantage. And I should not have stayed.” Bettina measured each word, remembering her own culpability. “But it cannot happen again. Such an act is risky and improper between people who are not married.”

  “You’re right, we were both carried away in the spirit of the moment. Still, I should have sent you home.” He put his hand over hers. The warmth of his flesh gave her hope he’d say the correct words. But he stared down at their entwined fingers.

  Bettina swallowed hard, his silence maddening. “We both know that after what happened between us, you should offer me marriage.” Her stomach gurgled. “You must find your wife and ask for a divorce.”

  “Divorce?” Everett said the word as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. He raised his eyes, a deep disturbance turning them opaque. He stepped back from her. “You do realize that divorce takes an Act of Parliament?”

  “But it is the only outcome to be expected.” Bettina walked to the settee, picked up her kerchief and draped it around her neck, fingers trembling. She struggled to steady her voice. “We cannot go on like this. Do you not want something more?”

  He walked up to her again and put his arms around her. “More? Of course I do. But such an act is rarely done, and extremely expensive. The legalities are complex, with many issues to consider.”

  “There is nothing to consider. You make it sound like a business transaction.” Fear crept up in her, twisting her gut, yet she stayed in his embrace and kept her voice soft
. “I deserve more. If you care about me as you say, you would want to make an honest woman of me.”

  Everett kissed her cheek. Lines she hadn’t noticed before appeared around his eyes, as if he just experienced a sharp pain. “Bettina, you have to understand, I do have various obstacles.”

  “Mais non. What is to understand but a betrothal and a wedding?” She waited for him to swear his devotion. A fist seemed to thump against her ribcage. She sucked in a breath. “What are these obstacles? Can you not tell me?”

  “It’s impossible to say at this point.” He released her and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “Impossible to say?” Bettina repeated his cold words. Her pulse vibrated in her throat. “You must tell me about these obstacles. We can overcome them.”

  “There are complications I need to sort out. We can discuss this another time.” He looked toward the door, as if anxious for her to leave, and rubbed his chin. “I’ll have the coach brought around. I don’t want Frederick to know we spent the night together.” He touched her shoulder then walked toward the door.

  “No, no coach. I do not care to announce my illicit night to the village. I see there is nothing more to discuss.” Her voice came out crisp, tart. He wanted his whore gone. Flayed to the bone, she whirled about and strode to the door.

  “Bettina, wait.” He followed after her.

  She hurried down the stairs to the front of the manor and gathered her mangled pride about her. She heard his footsteps but didn’t bother to look back.

  Outside the front door, the July air caressed her face, fanning the tears that formed. She rushed through the tall grasses and down the hill, tripping over stones. Her knuckles scraping on brambles, she shuffled down the trail to the back of the inn. No one was in the kitchen when she dashed through. She gushed out a held breath and scurried into her tiny bedchamber.

  “Merde! You foolish girl.” The tears came fast now. She swept her kerchief over her face and then dipped it into her washing bowl. She bunched up her skirt and scrubbed his scent from between her thighs. Bettina shivered from the cold water and cursed herself again for giving her virtue to a callous man.

  * * * *

  “Where was you last night?” Maddie demanded when Bettina returned to the kitchen for breakfast. “Couldn’t get no sleep, fretting over your whereabouts. And I ain’t got time to be tired, no how.”

  “Maddie, I am so sorry.” Bettina looked into her livid face and filled with more shame. How could she admit what she’d done, after Everett’s rejection? “The storm was so terrible. I—I was not thinking.”

  “Not thinking be right. Upsetting me, gadding all the night. Anything could o’ happened.” Maddie moved the pot of gruel she boiled to a higher hook, turned and slapped a hand down on the table. “People be already whispering tales ’bout you and what goes on up there. You still denying it?”

  Bettina stifled an angry whimper. She massaged her aching head and sat at the little table. “I was condemned by lies then. Now….”

  Maddie came to hover over her in a rustle of stiff apron. “I try not to listen to gossip. God knows they’ve jawed plenty ’bout me in the past. But I feel you are a sister to me. Like I’m responsible, bein’ you was just a child when you come.” Her tone softened. “Do you wanna tell me what happened?”

  Bettina sighed and stared up at the blackened rafters where herbs hung in baskets. She inhaled the piquant smells. “Last night … I thought I became a woman. This morning—”

  “You slept with him, didn’t you.” It was an accusation, not a question. Maddie’s green eyes turned sad. She sunk into the chair opposite. “Lord save us, as Ann would say.”

  “I was weak. I thought he loved me.” Bettina’s throat tightened, but she refused to cry again. She gripped the chair edges. “I should have been betrothed first, it is true. But it is done.”

  “An’ what did he say this morn?”

  “I thought he needed me, as I did him. But he put up excuses as to why he cannot seek a divorce.” Her voice rose in pitch. “I am a fool.”

  “Nay, you just be a trustin’ young girl.” Maddie chewed her lower lip, a habit she had when nettled. “Worthless men, the whole lot of ’em. He don’t want no serving wench, aye?”

  “I am more than … it does not matter. The terrible thing is, I think I still love him.” Her admission, for some bizarre reason, eased the tension knotting up inside. She tried to slam down the idea of her destroyed virtue. “But I will never trust him again.”

  “Aye.” A brittle laugh escaped Maddie’s lips. “Didn’t nobody tell you, love don’t make sense? Comes out o’ nowhere and knocks you over when you ain’t looking.” She stood, smoothing her apron in deliberate strokes. “But, here’s my advice, don’t never let him take you to bed no more.”

  Bettina remembered his kisses, the sweet sensations before it turned painful. That tantalizing unknown undid her. The iciness of their parting froze over that memory. “You do not have to worry about that. He will never take advantage of me again.” She made a decision. The idea of London loomed up once more before her—then so did Frederick’s sweet little face.

  Maddie took two bowls from the cupboard, spooned in gruel and set one in front of Bettina. She then poured them tea from the chipped crockery teapot. Seated again, Maddie looked thoughtful. She turned to stare at Bettina. “I loved a married man once.”

  “Oh? Vraiment?” Bettina always pictured Maddie as a force that needed no one. Glad for a shift in subject, she picked up a spoon and stirred the gruel, though her appetite was now gone.

  “Aye, me. Hard to imagine, eh? Be a long time ago. I was sure he were gonna leave his wife. Wanted to believe everything he told me. The truth of it, even slept with him a few times. But he soon tired o’ me and went back to her. I learnt a cruel lesson. Ruined me for any decent future.”

  Bettina digested that painful revelation. She stirred milk into her tea. “I am sorry. But this should have been different. Everett’s wife is already gone. She left with his blessing. He told me the whole marriage was a … a blunder.”

  “If he spoke the truth.” Maddie thumped a knuckle on the marred table, rippling the liquid in both their cups. “Don’t let no man trifle with your feelings, child. Be brave, an’ walk away. Attend to one who’s been there.”

  “I will. I will be strong.” Bettina forced a smile. She would walk away, or rather ride away, to London. Frederick would have to survive without her.

  “Good. You can hide your sorrows by workin’ in the taproom this eve. Kerra be down with a queasy ailment my mint tea ain’t cured.”

  Bettina took a sip of gruel and fought the bile that rose in her throat. Maybe Everett gave excuses about divorce because he knew his wife to be dead. Was she a bigger fool than she thought to have dismissed that rumor?

  * * * *

  Bettina didn’t relish her return to the manor, the place of her most dismal failure, but shook this off. She’d half expected the coach not to come for her, but it did, as if nothing had changed from four days previous. The Bronnmargh library, once a refuge from the inn, now looked somber and cold, a wooden box to suffocate her. Only Frederick’s expectant face lifted her sorrow.

  “Uncle went to London again.” He plopped down on his stool. “More business, all the time. But Uncle acted so grumpy, it’s good he went. Even Mr. Slate thought so.”

  “I am sure he had reasons to be grumpy.” Bettina hadn’t realized how cramped her muscles were at the idea of seeing Everett, until they relaxed at the relief that he was out of the area. He was probably in the arms of a London mistress, someone who required no commitment. Bettina chased away her lingering thoughts of him, her naive hopes that he’d have rushed down to the inn and retracted everything he’d said. She jerked open the desk drawer to retrieve a pack of cards. She was resolved to earn a few more weeks’ pay, let the child down gently, and travel to London to search for her mother.

  “Your uncle spends a lot of his time traveling back and forth to
London. I am surprised he does not move closer.” Bettina shuffled the cards for a game she’d devised using French nouns and verbs. “Sidwell cannot be very interesting for him, out here with little society.”

  “His offices are in London, where Grandfather worked, too. But this is the family home.”

  Bettina fingered her cards. “I suppose your Aunt Miriam enjoyed London.” She studied the child’s face. This was her first intrusion into his personal family business. But she felt so pushed from the center, she strived for a clearer peek within.

  Frederick stared at his cards and pursed his mouth. “She liked Town better than here, my mother always said.”

  “Did you like your Aunt Miriam?” Bettina couldn’t help herself. She wanted to know more about this woman whose life, or death, was an obstacle.

  The boy screwed up his face. “I know it’s not polite, but … no.”

  “Was she not a nice lady?” Bettina hated her urge to dig deeper. She moved the flimsy cards around. They were already dog-eared from use, made from brown wrapping paper she’d collected at the inn.

  “My mother said….” He stared up at the ceiling, faint eyebrows knitted. “Aunt Miriam had too many airs, and wasn’t kind to her husband, Uncle Everett, I mean. Uncle grew up out here, and wanted to stay and help my grandparents. She didn’t.”

  “Your uncle, he only keeps this place because it is the family home?” She understood that. She’d known French nobles who clung to their crumbling estates out of family honor.

  “Grandfather is buried here, and people before that.” Frederick bid his cards.

  Bettina shivered at the idea of another grave—the one in the cellar.

  “I told you my great-great-great grandfather built Bronnmargh. He made his fortune in tin mining. There’s even a town south of here called Camborne.” The boy twisted his plump mouth. “Depechez-vous, Mademoiselle Bettina. You need to bid your hand.”