by Lavinia Kent
He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his hands. His words had worn the fury from within him and only the despair remained.
“You said I was a man of honor, but in that moment I sold my soul. All my actions since that moment have been naught but an act of recompense.”
Her hand lay upon his back now, and she stroked it up and down as she would a small child. He did not push her away, but still betrayed no acknowledgement.
“She laughed at me. I was full of youthful ideals and she had only calculation. She told me she was very happy with her position and had no interest in me beyond my green eyes. I didn’t know what she meant. All I knew was I had to get away. With her laughter, the blinders lifted and I saw how far I had tumbled with such great velocity.”
“You were only a boy. How could you expect to know better? For whatever reason she’d laid a trap and you were only its victim. How could you have known?”
“What I knew does not matter. If she had even smiled once more at me I would have completed my betrayal and stolen her away. Nothing mattered but her beauty. Nothing mattered but my dream of her.”
“You were hardly more than a youth. What do you expect of yourself?”
“Better than I gave. I was twenty-one, hardly a child. Maybe I was innocent in the first, although I find even that hard to fathom, but I would have betrayed my uncle again and again if given the chance. I have never forgotten that.”
“Years do not make a man. You speak of your own innocence and idealism, the young do not always understand the full reckoning of their actions. You acted from your heart, you did not know the situation. Your imaginings were not unreasonable, many a young bride had been forced to matrimony for wealth or station.”
“And is that an excuse?”
She had no answer. She could understand the boy he had been so easily. She rolled and burrowed her face against his shirt, drawing in the comfort of his scent. Did he not now, as a man full-grown, understand that what he thought he would have done might have been far different from his actual actions? She could not believe the man she had glimpsed these last days would ever have knowingly betrayed his uncle. His first desires might very well have been quickly tempered if given time.
“My tale is not over, in any case. I slunk back to London like a well-whipped dog. My uncle did not understand, but was so taken by his sweet,” he choked on the word, “young bride that he let me go with few questions.
“A few months later I heard she was with child. Even then I did not think of my situation. I was still so overtaken by the shame of what I had done, of what I had wanted to do. That winter she was delivered of a boy and the life I knew had ended.”
She thought he was finished and moved up to massage his shoulders, the heavy muscles were knotted and strained. For the first time he shifted, giving her greater access. She was glad her hands were strong from her unladylike labors. He was harder than a rock.
“My uncle came to see me shortly after the birth.” He began again, taking her by surprise. “He was worried that I had not come to see his son, worried that I was hurt by fate. He had never wanted to remove me from my position, but could not hide his own conceit in his fatherhood.”
Wulf rolled onto his back, her hands still tangled about his neck brought her firm onto his chest.
“The worst of it was, he told me he’d had doubts about her, could not believe he’d fathered a child after so long. He said it was not until Peter, his son, opened his Falmouth green eyes and smiled up at him that he’d fully accepted his paternity. He opened himself to me with a vulnerability no man should expose and I could react only with horror. The trap had snapped tight about me.”
She could not mistake the tears that welled in his eyes then, but his hard features refused to admit their presence.
“He bought me my commission then. I think he believed in his heart that I’d only lusted for what he could give me, that I never valued him for the man he was. It was the sole explanation he could find for my sudden coldness. I went to battle then and never saw him again. I was camped in a field of mud when I received the news of his death. Men died of fever all about me and I had felt nothing for months, but that one brief note from a solicitor, sent me scurrying home. I sold my commission and took the next packet I could find.
“Only to find I had no rights. My uncle had apparently abandoned me, naming Clarissa’s brother as my son’s guardian. For the first time I tried to seek my son and was denied. Clarissa wrote that she’d have me arrested for trespass, say I had threatened the boy’s life, if I ever set foot on Falmouth lands again. I wrote and begged her for the chance to see the boy, promised to never reveal the truth. She never even bothered to reply.”
“And then you met me.”
Rose could not bear the fist that wrapped around her heart as she realized how deeply she had failed this proud man.
“Actually your sense of time is off.” Wulf spoke with a forced levity that rang hollow. “I’d first met you four years before, when bringing Burberry the dispatches. Can you really have forgotten? I know I never will. You represented life to me when I’d returned from the fields of death. How could I have resisted you? But, how could I make the same miscalculation a second time? I will never forgive myself for that.”
Rose was blasted by the lack of emotion in his tone.
He continued, “No, at that point, after being sent away by Clarissa, I just discovered that you also had a child, the sweetest little green-eyed daughter, is how she was described. I came to help bury a hero and discovered it was more pieces of my soul that were required. I hadn’t even known there were any left to give. And you wouldn’t even talk to me beyond pleasantries. All that was left was the army. I took up my commission again, in peace, and found myself at Waterloo.”
She wanted so badly to block out the pain. If he thought his soul had been spliced and parsed she knew hers was now bleeding. What had she done on that foolish afternoon? Whatever responsibility he felt for that afternoon, she also was far from blameless. She’d thought her daughter was beyond price, but was she really worth this, the flaying of this man? It was a question without answer.
“I am so sorry.”
“That is so easy for you to say now. But, you’ve deprived me of my child, not once but twice. Even if I accept that you did not deliberately deceive both me and your husband, how do you explain keeping her from me now? What possible excuse do you have for holding my daughter from me, beyond that you wanted more?”
Yes, she had wanted more, and in confrontation with all of this it seemed so pathetic. She had set a great price on her goals of independence and control. She had never considered who paid that price. She would have cried, but this was beyond tears.
“Do you know what the worst is?” She braced herself, ready to face further sting. “In getting to know Anna in the past few days I realized how great a price I’d paid in never seeing my son. I think I’d even have risked imprisonment for the chance to see him, to hold him, to assure myself of his safety and happiness. I would leave now, in darkest night with the rains pounding down about me, if I thought I’d be allowed a glimpse of him. I let him go without even knowing what I was giving up. Now I do know and it’s too late.
“I will never see him run and race, never see him laugh up at the sky, or ride his first pony. I will never know the feel of his arms about my neck or hear him cry my name in joy. I have lost all this before I even understood that it was there.”
“I don’t know what to say beyond I am sorry.”
“And some of those fools below will think I should rejoice in the title, smile that I become an earl. If I’d joined you for dinner I would have shoved Sommerton’s nose behind his eyes.”
Deep in her heart, in the core of her being, Rose knew there was only one action she could take. She pressed up on her arms ‘til her face rested above him, inches from him.
“Yes, I will marry you, if that is what you still desire.”
She’d expected i
f not joy, at least acceptance, instead his face grew still harder and he turned it from her.
“I am not surprised. Yes, I will take my daughter and, therefore, you. Sleep now, my lady, tomorrow comes quickly.”
He rolled away from her, and lay still, his back a hard wall of separation.
Chapter Twelve
The heavy warmth beside her drew her like a kitten to the cream. Rose curled herself around it, relishing the heat that seeped to her very bones, despite the heavy morning chill. She could not remember being so rested, so content, so cherished. As the last thought meandered through her waking mind she opened one eye to the dismal dawn – and to Wulf. She pulled back, her mind scrambling to make sense of her position.
“Wulf, still abed? I know you cannot travel with the skies still full of gloom, but still I expected . . . ”
Rose started as the Marquess of Wimberly swung open the door, with only the barest tap, and sprung through.
“God, Tris. Didn’t you ever learn to knock?” Wulf rasped.
He sat up in the bed, his large frame pulling the cover from Rose. She yelped and attempted to dive back under, to find safety. Although she was still fully attired in her night rail, she was not eager to be spotted.
“Apparently not.” Wimberly attempted to back out of the room.
“I believe you met Lady Burberry yesterday, Tris. I take pleasure in informing you of our impending nuptials.”
Wulf pulled the covers back down as he spoke. Rose knew her face was beet red from ear to ear as she nodded at Wimberly.
“Good grief, Wulf. Don’t do that on my account. You know I am the soul of discretion.” The horror in the marquess’s voice was unmistakable.
“Don’t worry. We reached agreement last night.”
Wulf swung his legs out of bed. Rose could see Wimberly mark the wrinkled breeches. He lifted a brow and she could see he wanted to comment. Undoubtedly, he’d have found it more acceptable if they’d both been bare as babes. She pulled the cover up higher over her breasts.
Wimberly smiled and answered Wulf. “That’s fine then. I gather I’ll dine in solitude this morning.”
“Don’t see why.” Wulf ignored her and walked to the washstand and splashed his face. “Your company would do me well and we’ve much to discuss. You mentioned a visit to Westlake. How did you find Arthur? And the lovely young duchess?”
Rose peeked out of the covers. Did they have to act like she wasn’t here? She was party to this too.
“I am surprised you did not visit him, yourself.” Wimberley replied looking away from her. “You know Arthur would always welcome you.”
Rose could feel Wulf’s glance land upon her as she still sat huddled in his bed. “I am afraid the awkwardness of a year ago has not left. I cannot forget the great harm I almost caused him.”
Would the man never stop talking in riddles? Every time she got a glimpse into his thoughts another wall appeared.
“You know all that is forgotten,” Wimberly answered. “I understand you played the hero in the end, anyway.”
“Hardly a hero.” Wulf shook his shoulders loose, and turned back to her. “Perhaps, my lady.” She never thought she’d grow to hate the phrase so much. “Perhaps, it would be best if you left. You so rightly reminded me of the need to prevent a scandal. I imagine if you hurry you can be away before the maids arrive.”
He finally noticed her and it was only to ask her to leave.
There was not a trace of warmth in his voice. She’d heard him sound more friendly when addressing the hounds. Not at all the way she’d imagine he’d address her as his betrothed. Wasn’t the man at all grateful for all she was prepared to sacrifice? It might not be a love match, but she’d hoped for at least regard.
“You are right, of course, Major Huntington – but, do not think our discussion over.” She pursed her lips in stiff formality.
“Oh, before you go, I imagine you’ll make arrangements for Tris to stay another night. Wouldn’t do to kick a marquess out into the rains. And besides he’ll make a splendid addition to your ball this night.”
“Really, Wulf, that’s not necessary. Even with the weather I can make it to an inn. There must be one hereabouts.” Wimberly’s brows furrowed in thought. “Although, it might be more convenient . . .”
“Of course, you must stay.” Rose knew her duties well. “Whether you choose to attend the festivities this evening is your own choice, but I won’t hear of you sloshing over to the Two Headed Hog.” She flushed in sudden memory as she spoke the name. “Perhaps I should cancel the dancing for tonight. Given both weather and circumstance, it hardly seems appropriate.”
Wulf cut her off as she finished.
“I would disagree, my lady. We do have a betrothal to announce.”
“Is that wise?” Wimberley began, clearly not yet sure his friend had not given in to sudden madness.
“Surely not so soon.” Rose continued.
“I don’t see why not.” Wulf’s voice resounded with command and Rose could see why men had followed him into battle. “If I wait until we are informed of Falmouth’s,” his voice slowed, “death, then the wedding will be delayed. I would rather announce it now and push forward despite all mourning.”
“But, why? Is there a need to rush?” Rose had no desire to hurry her impending fate. She would not, could not change her decision, but that was no reason to run forward blindly.
“Do you forget, my lady, I seem to have a tendency to virility. I will not risk another child that does not bear my name.”
Rose resisted the urge to throw another vase at him. Did the man have no sensitivity? He changed like a chameleon. Every time she caught another glimpse of the man within he threw up a wall.
“Major Huntington,” she borrowed the same mocking tone he so frequently employed.
His gaze darkened upon her.
“Major Huntington, can we not wait and see if there is reason for concern? If you are set to ignore society and custom what can a few weeks matter?”
Wimberly said nothing but stood aside studying them both with ponderous eyes.
“I will not risk any hint of scandal surrounding the birth of this child.”
“There is no child.”
“There might be, and I will not risk any question of my paternity. If all expected comes to pass, this baby could be my heir. It is good that Anna is a daughter and could not inherit anyway. I would not want any child of mine deprived of what should be theirs by right.” Wulf spoke with such planned precision that she could only guess at the pain behind his words.
Wimberly began to cough at this exchange. A rise of color fled her skin. She knew the men were friends, she had her limits.
“In that case,” Wimberly finally found his tongue. “Just let me know what you want and I will lend my support. I would admit my tendency would be to wait, to play by the rules, but I understand your desires. It will be as you wish.”
Wulf turned to Rose. “Then, I do believe the ball tonight to be the perfect occasion for our announcement. I am sure Lady Smythe-Burke would be most upset if she were not allowed to witness the next move in the game.”
“I still think I should cancel, or at least delay,” she added. “I am sure my guests would understand under the circumstances. Given the weather nobody will be leaving soon.”
“No. I think tonight would be the perfect occasion to announce our coming marriage. We wouldn’t want your other suitors to keep hoping.”
What had she gotten herself into? She’d sought a manageable husband and even before the wedding was announced Wulf was trying to call the play. She longed to speak up for herself, but despite his tone of command she could see his hollowed cheeks and shadowed eyes.
A whispered giggle sounded from the hall and she sprang from the bed and scurried to the door, opening it a crack to peek out. “You were right before, I must be off.” She slipped through the door and hastened to the nursery stair welcoming the chance to escape, to gather her thoughts.
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br /> “What was that all about?”
Wulf turned to Tris, trying to think of an answer to his question. Despite his rapid-fire conversation of the past half-hour his mind felt empty. The emotional outpouring of the past night had left him wiped clean. His chest was still tight and there was a lingering horror at his own emotional outpouring. He was sure Rose would find some way to turn it to her advantage. She’d been fast enough to agree to marriage once she knew the earldom would soon be his.
He’d almost let himself be persuaded, had wanted to be persuaded, by her protestations of love for Burberry. Sometimes he saw a gentle caring woman, but then the bossy shrew would appear. Which was the real woman? He’d have to trust his intellect. She was an aristocrat to the end, and that meant a cold, calculating lady.
“Cat got your tongue, or did you wear yourself out whispering sweet nothings to your bride-to-be?” Tris’s biting tone roused him to himself.
“No, I am hardly the type for sweet nothings. No woman would seek romance from this.” Wulf gestured to his massive frame.
“I’ve never known you to lack for feminine company.”
Wulf grinned into the gray morning, wondering if he looked as hollow as he felt.
“True, but they’ve never been after romance, more curiosity I think. Is he big all over?” Normally his own crude comment would have brought him some embarrassment, but not this morning.
“But, surely the Lady Burberry sees more than that. She did agree to your offer.”
“Yes, once there was a potential earldom added to the pot. Before that she made it clear I was good for little more than bed play.”
Tris walked around the room until he faced Wulf straight on. “Then why did you offer? I know your opinion of ladies even if I don’t always share it. I would admit the widow attractive in a wholesome manner, but certainly there are other jovial bedmates? Perhaps you were attracted to her fortune, or is it madness brought upon by my news?