by Peggy Waide
He stood, his voice filled with contempt, his body rigid. Three strides brought him to her side. "I said sit down."
Whatever had he discovered? She sat in the nearby chair.
"How long were you going to wait before you told me?" he said.
"I beg your pardon?"
"The truth, Jocelyn? How long were you going to wait before you revealed all your nasty, hypocritical, precious lies and secrets?"
Had he discovered her pregnancy? Yes. That had to be it. He'd discovered her pregnancy and felt trapped. Once again. He didn't want this child after all. She closed her eyes. Please, let me wake. Let this be a nightmare.
"Well?" he said, towering above her.
This was no simple dream, but her husband in the flesh. And he was furious. "Secrets?" she asked, afraid to say the words.
He reduced his cigar to shredded tobacco with his fist. "God's bones, stop acting the injured pigeon."
While panic tore at her grip on logic, her mind whirled, her stomach roiled. As if denial would grant her clemency, she feigned innocence. "I don't understand."
"You once threw a name at me. I have one for you." He leaned within an inch of her face. "Phillip Bains. Your fiance."
"Phillip?" she muttered, now thoroughly confused. Unless Reyn-No, she dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. Only two sailors had occupied the inn today. "I told you about Phillip."
"Apparently, you neglected to tell me a great many things about your friend."
He knew. Somehow he knew. But how? "I don't understand," she managed to whisper.
"You mean he's not alive? Or that you haven't seen him here in London? You are not lovers and are not running away with him?" With the cunning determination of a hunter, he watched her and laid his trap. He threw a handful of glittering gems in her lap. Observing the tremor, disgusted by her reaction and the searing pain he felt, he jerked away.
"I suppose you intend to tell me these jewels, the ones I myself bestowed upon you, were lost. Perhaps stolen." He laughed with no warmth, only malice. "Maybe you simply can't remember. Maybe you're wondering how I found them in the possession of a pimply-faced clod like Bains." He circled behind her chair and leaned forward to breathe a warning in her left ear. "And before you attempt to lie again, you should know that today I spent a few hours in a tavern. The Two Sisters. An unobtrusive little place affordable to seamen. Perhaps you've heard of it."
"It's not what it seems." She forced herself to stay calm as her mind recreated everything Reyn might have seen or heard. Her hand felt as cold and lifeless as the gems resting in her palms. "Let me explain."
"No. Not one word. I have listened to the last of your lying, fanciful tales. I simply want to know one thing before I leave."
"Leave? For where?"
Ignoring her pleas, he swung back around to trap her in the chair. "Was it the money or the title, Jocelyn? Did you simply need someone to deal with your stepuncle before you could run away with that little roach?" He drew his hands through his hair in barely contained fury. "Lord, how you must have enjoyed yourself as this idiotic farce played itself out." He dropped into the opposite chair as his angry fever began to cool. "Was there anything between us that smacked of the truth?"
"Reyn, listen to me." She had to make him understand. Dropping to her knees before him, she begged. "Everything I told you about my step-uncle and Phillip is true. Horace was blackmailing Phillip. They had an agreement. I didn't understand it all until the other day. Phillip and I would marry, and we would receive a small stipend while the rest of my inheritance went to Horace. Phillip was willing to marry me, but only to save himself. I never loved him. I truly thought I murdered him."
He continued to stare blankly at the far wall, showing less regard for her presence than a flea on a mange-ridden dog. She cried in earnest. "Phillip blackmailed me. I didn't tell you about Phillip because he-he threatened to kill you or Agatha or tell Horace the truth about my amnesia."
Watching her closely, recognizing the possible truth, he forced himself to remember Phillip and Jocelyn embracing, to hear the tender words spoken again, to feel the seething anger he had felt. He had asked for trust. She had offered betrayal.
He leaned forward and traced the tears that fell unchecked down her cheeks, his voice more chilling and detached than ever. "How clever you are. Magnificent, in fact. Like a fine piece of cut crystal. And just as cold and dangerous. Unfortunately, I would no more believe you than I would believe England will ever rule France again."
"I never planned on leaving with Phillip. Never. He lied to protect himself."
"You should suit one another quite well. You have much in common."
"You idiot!" she cried. "I love you.."
"My, my, you are desperate." He swilled a large dose of brandy directly from the bottle, wishing for the foggy bliss that would ease his bitterness. His state of mind grew more explosive every moment he lingered there with her, with each word she said, with each look of practiced anguish he saw on her face. "Well, that's just too damned bad."
She grabbed his hands. "You must listen to me."
He wrenched away from her, launched the bottle of aged brandy against the fireplace, stood and shouted, "No!"
"Where are you going?" she asked as he stumbled toward the door.
Bracing himself against her soft plea, he taunted, "I don't think you want to know. It's not at all proper to discuss certain things with one's wife." Turning a deaf ear to her sobs, he left the house, slamming the door behind him.
Dressed in a stunning sapphire gown, small yellow roses sewn upon the hem and shoulders, Jocelyn stood beside the fireplace in the salon. Restlessly, she fin gered the silver-wrapped package, Reyn's present, that lay on the mantel. In readiness for the party, she waited.
The house sparkled like a newly minted gold sovereign while the musicians warmed their instruments in the ballroom. Tantalizing scents of spice and wine floated from the kitchen.
With her head held high, she ignored the whispers of the staff. Like her, they wondered if Lord Wilcott would even bother to make his presence known tonight. Already the guests had begun to arrive and still one irate, belligerent husband seemed to be missing.
Agatha threatened to track down her scoundrel grandson, pummel him with her brass-handled cane and drag him to the party. Vehemently, Jocelyn rejected the idea. Instead, Walter and Tam assumed the duty of finding her husband. They would calmly explain about the party and bring him home. He would come because he recognized the truth, loved her, forgave her. Otherwise there was no point in his returning at all.
She touched the soft swell of her abdomen, glad for the life that grew within her. But when she thought that Reyn might never support her pregnancy, never help her select a name, never hold their baby in his arms, she felt a new urge to cry.
No, she told herself. Regardless of what happened tonight, she would maintain her dignity.
Tam interrupted her gloomy thoughts. "Jocelyn, may I say you look absolutely stunning?"
She whirled, eager to see her husband beside his friend. "He is not coming," she stated flatly.
With unspoken regret clearly etched in his eyes, he nodded. "I'm sorry."
Entering on Tam's coattails to hear her assumption, Agatha peevishly threatened, "I shall string the fool up by his toenails."
"I can think of a different part of his anatomy I would gladly tie in knots" said Walter, offering his fierce opinion.
Jocelyn looked to Tameron. "Where is he?"
"Jocelyn."
She recognized the pity and silent warning. Closing her eyes, gaining control of the tears she had held at bay all day, she said to Tam, "Take me to him."
Agatha sputtered this and that as Tam and Walter openly argued this decision.
"All of this is entirely my fault. I want him to have tonight, so much so that I am willing to beg. If I must, I will find him myself. I would prefer an escort."
Agatha shushed all concerned. Reluctantly, she said, "Best go with he
r, Tam. She means what she says. Walter and I will see to the guests until you return."
Thankfully, Tam kept his thoughts to himself as the carriage ambled through the bustling evening traffic. He had explained nothing about where they went, or whom they would encounter. She suspected her husband was with Celeste.
The coach halted in front of a three-story brick mansion where a large party seemed to be under way. Tam jumped from the vehicle and turned to lift her down. "Are you sure, Jocelyn?"
In order to spare her any pain, he offered one last chance of retreat. He didn't realize how deep the agony already dipped, that her body functioned on sheer determination to see this through. "Do not look so forlorn. I will be fine." She extended her arm with a gentle grace. "Shall we?"
Mustering every ounce of courage, every particle of pride, she majestically entered the infamous lion's den in search of her husband. She didn't wait long. The two couples encountered one another at the door.
Tightly pressed to Reyn's side, Celeste gave a smug smile of satisfaction while Reyn raised his eyebrows in a mocking salute. He ignored his wife and addressed Tam. "I thought you had grand plans for the evening?"
Undaunted, Jocelyn answered anyway. "He does. We have a very special evening planned. We hoped to convince you to join us."
Deadly sparks flew from Reyn's eyes. "Not on your treacherous little life."
With his hands fisted at his sides, Tam said, "Why, you bloody fool. I ought to-"
"Tam." Regardless of how she felt, Jocelyn kept her voice calm and reasonable.
Reyn's face contorted with disgust. "If this isn't touching. Have you bedded her yet? She really is quite good. I would prefer you wait until our annulment goes through; then you may have her as often as you like. You aren't titled, but all that money should have her on her knees declaring undying love in no time."
Tam pulled his arm back, ready to drive a punch through Reyn's stormy face. "Go to hell."
Reyn sneered. "You forget. I've already been there."
Jocelyn placed a hand on Tam's sleeve while looking directly into Reyn's eyes. "I know you hate me right now, but tonight is for you. I promise, if you come home with us, everything will be self-explanatory. Please. We have a wonderful surprise planned. After that, perhaps we can talk?"
Reyn jerked their wraps from the attentive doorman. "I've had more than enough surprises lately. I thought I made myself perfectly clear last night. I want nothing more to do with you. I will finish this business with your step-uncle. Then I want you gone. Until that time, stay away from me. I will gladly do the same." He stormed from the house, ushering Celeste before him.
"Smile, Tam." Jocelyn fussed with a tassel on her cape. "We seem to be attracting a crowd. I won't Tarnish my husband's reputation. He deserves that much."
"I swear, I will break the blighter's neck."
"Dear Tam, thank you for your friendship. However, your loyalty should remain with my husband. I never meant to hurt him, but that is exactly what I did. For that, I will never forgive myself."
"Give him time, Jocelyn. He'll see his way clear after he has time to think things through."
She cleared her throat. "We shall see. If you don't mind, I would prefer everyone thought you and I, that we-Oh, goodness, this is more difficult than I expected. Would you do me the honor of pretending we care for one another? If everyone believes you and I to be involved, then Reyn and Celeste's relationship will seem more acceptable."
Tam understood exactly what she wanted. Tilting her chin toward his, he placed a tender kiss on her cheek before presenting his arm to return to Black House. Empty-handed.
Reyn felt as though he'd been knifed and gutted. The physical pain might have been easier to accept than the haunting vision of Jocelyn. She had looked so beautiful tonight. He reminded himself that beauty provided a cold substitute for honesty and truth and love. Yet, her image, so proud and loving, her eyes, sad and broken, filled his mind. Along with her startling declaration of love. God, how he wanted to believe her. In fact, that was the only reason he found himself on the doorstep of his own home, willing to give her a chance to explain one last time. The cynical man laughed at his foolishness. The lonely youth hoped.
A bright streamer caught the tip of his boot, snagging his attention. Odd, it looked as though someone had given a party. He saw the large banner decorating the foyer entrance. Not just a party, his mind corrected, a birthday party. His birthday party.
"So, the prodigal husband returns."
Startled, Reyn's face lifted to find Tameron Innes balanced against the dark balcony rail.
"You're drunk." Reyn charged the stairs, more confused than ever.
"Not really, although I'm giving it one hell of a try."
Reyn came eye-to-eye with his friend. "What the devil is going on?"
"You seemed to have missed your party. You remember, the party? Walter and I tried to tell you about it. The same party your wife practically begged you to attend." Tam crossed the hall to the study to pour himself another whiskey.
Like a whipped dog, Reyn obediently followed, his mind in shambles as he attempted to sort through this information. "Where is Jocelyn?"
Tam appeared to be in no hurry to provide any explanations. "Until tonight, I never realized how incredibly lucky you were. I also decided you're the biggest fool I know. Your wife waltzed back to this house filled with revelry and your well-wishers, proudly explained that you had made other plans, and told them to have a grand time. Hopefully you would end your business before the night was over. Blamed herself, she did. Told me she didn't want anyone thinking the worst of you. Can you imagine? That beautiful young woman chose to protect you. And what were you doing? Breaking her heart. You really are a cold-hearted fool."
Finally, Tam fell into silence. He settled himself beside the fire, eyes closed, a half-empty crystal glass in hand.
Reyn felt as though he had kissed the gunner's daughter, tied to the breech of a cannon and whipped. "Where is she now?" he managed to rasp.
Peering through one heavy eyelid, Tam said, "In her room, I imagine. Never said another word about you. Never shed a tear. She managed to last for hours before she thanked us all for our kindness and excused herself with a headache."
Reyn didn't bother to explain. A deep, searing need for exoneration drove him to bolt up another level of stairs to storm her bedroom, where total darkness greeted him. After lighting a lamp, pure terror filled him. The room was empty. Prepared to search the house, he noticed a glittering package balanced on top of her dressing table. With his palms sweating and his pulse beating rapidly, he reached for the white note perched beside it.
Dearest Reyn, it began. Tonight, I realized I have relied upon your strength, your infinite charity and tenderness, far longer than I ever should have. I took my burdens and made them yours, ignoring the possible consequences. That will happen no longer. I will take back what is mine and return your life to you. I can never apologize enough for hurting you. That was never my intention. When all is said and done, I hope you can remember me with a bit of kindness. I do love you, you know. By the way, I left Caesar in your care. I believe he has grown fond of his surroundings.
Yours, forever. Jocelyn.
His anguished wail reverberated off the walls. Jocelyn had left, but the most frightening thought was the instinctive knowledge that she had gone to confront Horace.
He stumbled down the stairs and collided with Tameron, roused from his stupor by Reyn's cry.
"What happened?" Tam asked.
"Jocelyn's gone. I believe she has gone after Horace."
"Holy Mother," exclaimed Tameron.
"My sentiments exactly." Reyn turned to a stupefied Tam from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you coming or not?"
She huddled in the dark, numb with defeat, the pistol in her trembling hands. Cold, empty, alone. That was all she felt. Only her resolve guided her to Horace's house. Now Jocelyn awaited his return, calculating everything she would say, everything she wo
uld do. She would wait for hours, if need be.
She would not cry, nor would she fail. She might not have Reyn, but she did have his baby. Nothing or no one would keep her from vengeance or her inheritance. Not anymore.
With senses honed like a predator's, she jerked her shoulders at the scraping of metal against metal followed by the sound of a door opening. Was he alone? Please, let it be so.
She choked back her fear, stepped from behind the curtain to encounter the enemy, and found the courage needed to raise the gun toward her step-uncle. "Put down the lamp and sit down."
Horace reeled about to find a pistol pointed at his chest. Narrowing his eyes for the space of a second, a wicked smile on his face, he said, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my beloved niece." He set the lamp on the nearby table. Lifelike shadows danced on the walls as he reached inside his jacket.
"Don't move," Jocelyn snapped, "or, by heaven, I will shoot you." Slowly, she maneuvered toward the door from which he had entered, gesturing for him to sit in the chair near the curtains she had vacated.
"Nothing more sinister than a cigar hides in my coat pocket, my dear. Do you mind?" He didn't bother to wait for a response and withdrew a small metal canister, pulled out a cigar and reached across the table for a match. "So, the ruse has ended. I admit you played well. I even believed you for a time, until I located a former attendant from Bedlam. Someone you might know. Jocko? Yes, I can see by your expression that you do remember him. He told his version of events. Then poor Phillip managed to surface long enough to waggle his tongue."
He watched her over the tip of the cigar, paused long enough to light it, then nonchalantly asked, "Where is your husband? Surely, he should be here for the closure of this little drama. Or doesn't he know the entire story, Jocelyn?"
His blase attitude sent tremors through her upper body, yet she managed to hold the pistol steady. She tried to speak evenly. "I decided this business demanded my attention, not my husband's." She nodded toward the table. "I prepared a statement, a full confession, for you to sign. Afterward, I will present it to the authorities. You will be arrested. You can spend your life in Newgate for all you have done."