In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4)

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “Thank you,” James replied in a dry voice. He rescued his wife’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  “I suppose that makes us cousins as well,” Derrick said to Amanda. “Welcome to the family.”

  If she’d had a gauge to measure sincerity, he would have failed completely. Although he now directed his remarks at her, she had the unnerving feeling that they were meant solely for James. An undercurrent of tension charged the air, and even the viscount’s mother stirred restlessly as though she were feeling uncomfortable.

  “Would you grant me a waltz before the end of the evening?” Derrick continued. “Unfair of James to claim them all.” He raised his brows at her—waiting—as if aware that dancing with him was the last thing she wanted to do.

  So naturally she must consent. “Of course,” she said, her voice as cool as his was mocking.

  Derrick smirked, his regard shifting to James. Beside her she felt the earl tense. When she looked at him, his jaw was working, his expression stony.

  James bowed stiffly and, with obvious deliberation, placed Amanda’s hand on his arm. He sent an apologetic smile to his aunt who looked crestfallen.

  “We’ll talk later, Aunt Henry,” he said. One more glance at the viscount—Amanda would have sworn there was a warning in it—and he led her away to greet the rest of their guests.

  The remainder of the evening passed in a blur. It was a testament to the popularity of Earl Lonsdale and his family that so many of the aristocracy came to a bridal party hosted by the very common Archibald Campbell. Most of the earl’s friends were kind and gracious, but there were those who barely contained their condescension. Rather than being offended, Amanda made an extra effort to graciously change their minds. By evening’s end the talk that filtered through the gathering was almost completely positive. James Tremont had done well for himself.

  Toward dawn, James and Amanda found themselves alone for the first time in hours. “I meant to tell you about my family,” he began.

  “Oh?” She kept her gaze on the people still milling around the ballroom.

  “They are, ah,” he cleared his throat, “they are something of an inheritance. My father cared for them, and I’m afraid they have become dependent.”

  She turned to him, watching him closely.

  “I can’t put them out, Manda. I couldn’t sleep at night.”

  “Your Aunt Henry is right, my lord.”

  He wrinkled his forehead as if trying to understand. “She is?”

  “A good man takes care of his responsibilities.”

  It seemed to take him a moment to catch her meaning. All at once his face brightened with elation—and something more. James placed his arm around her waist and drew her near.

  “Thank you,” he said huskily.

  Amanda was to think later that life turned on a mysterious wheel, unpredictable and often cruel. At the instant that James and she were feeling closer than ever before, when hope was at its highest, fate intervened in the form of Derrick Bickford.

  The viscount approached as the final waltz was announced. His beautiful smile was confident and sly as he held out his hand to Amanda.

  “Come to claim my dance,” he said. Again, his attention seemed directed at the earl and not her.

  James bristled. “This is the last dance of the evening, Derrick. I hardly think it appropriate that my new wife gives it to you.”

  “Oh, come now, Cousin, what’s the harm?”

  “The harm, Cousin—”

  Amanda touched her husband’s arm. “No scenes, please, James. Not at the end of such a wonderful day. I did promise Derrick a waltz.”

  “Are you certain?” he asked. “He’s being rude and he knows it.”

  Derrick shrugged his shoulders in an innocent gesture that implied he had no idea what the earl was talking about.

  “It’s only a dance,” she said.

  The earl’s gaze whipped back and forth between the two of them before he nodded curtly. “I’ll be waiting right here,” he stated darkly.

  “I’m sure you will,” Derrick murmured, his smug expression never wavering. He placed his hand at Amanda’s back, almost caressingly, and escorted her onto the dance floor.

  The viscount was an excellent dancer, and Amanda concentrated on following his lead rather than talking. She was aware that he watched her, aware of his hand at her waist, and that he held her too closely. One glance at James standing at the periphery of the ballroom told her that he was aware of it, also.

  Derrick interrupted her thoughts. “Are you normally this quiet, or have you saved your silence for me?”

  “I’m tired, I think. It’s been a long day.”

  “So it has.”

  Something in his voice forced her to look at him. Her stomach dropped. Derrick was watching her, his gaze almost crude in its carnality.

  “Wouldn’t you know,” he said, his tone heavy with meaning, “my cousin marries the sort of woman who attracts me most.”

  She tensed. “This is my wedding day, sir.”

  “I thought perhaps I should put my feelings out in the open.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Thought you might want to know.”

  Amanda’s eyes narrowed, nervousness forgotten. “I have a feeling about you, Lord Lindley.”

  “Do you, now?”

  “If James had married a simian, you would want it. Your jealously is what you have revealed, my lord.”

  The hand at her waist tightened, only her corset keeping his fingers from digging painfully into her side. Strangely, she had no other indication that he was affected. His expression remained unchanged.

  “Very sure of yourself, aren’t you, my dear?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Have you given any thought as to why a man of my cousin’s stature would marry the daughter of a lowly plebeian, beautiful though she may be?”

  Every instinct Amanda possessed told her to flee. This was not something she wanted to hear, not now, not tonight. She cast her husband a frightened glance. Derrick looked at the earl, also, his smile now challenging and malicious. She saw James start in their direction, but gave her head a quick shake, staying him.

  Derrick’s gaze still locked on James, he said, “My cousin inherited debts and obligations and little else. He has been forced to consider how to mend his situation.” His regard shifted to her. “A marriage of convenience? Distasteful but done all the time. However, his sacrifice need not be all painful. Why not marry a woman who can pleasantly warm his bed while he recovers financially?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face. She was right. She didn’t want to hear this. “I don’t believe you!”

  He ignored her outburst. “Personally, I understand his motives. My finances mirror his. I will most likely have to seek a marriage beneath me to repair my circumstances. I’m not in despair, however. A lovely body can do much to tame the beast.” His strange gaze deepened. “You’re right about one thing—I do envy my cousin this night.”

  Amanda pulled away from him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “As I said, I thought you would want to know.”

  “Then you thought wrong.”

  “Forewarned is forearmed, as they say. You may hate me now but later you’ll thank me.”

  “You are an evil person,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Derrick shrugged again. “Slaying the messenger?”

  “You’re full of quotes, aren’t you? But all the platitudes in the world won’t hide who and what you are. Keep away from me, Lord Lindley. You and I have no need to ever speak to one another again.”

  Amanda left him in the middle of the dance floor and stalked across the room, unconcerned by the way her hooped skirt bounced wildly in response. James met her as she reached the door to the ballroom.

  “Manda?” His brows were drawn together in a deep frown. “Are you all right? What did Derrick say to upset you?”

  The pain around her heart was so intense, Amanda coul
dn’t breathe. She opened her mouth to speak and found she had no voice. To her humiliation her chin quivered. She clamped her lips together and shook her head, pushing passed him.

  She was certain she left a scene behind her but she didn’t care. There was only one person she wanted to see right now. Amanda could imagine his outrage when she told him, his demand for retribution. She went in search of her father.

  ***

  James found Derrick hiding in the garden. Anger filled every corner of his body, and he was grateful that he did not have a weapon. In his present mood he wasn’t certain he would have refrained from using it. He advanced on his cousin, who did not look nearly so cocky anymore, backing him into the trunk of an old gnarled elm tree.

  “Explain what just happened in there,” he ground out.

  The viscount swallowed. “Don’t know what you mean.”

  James grabbed his collar and yanked—hard—bringing them nose to nose. “You upset Amanda, Derrick. What did you say to her?”

  Derrick went white around the mouth. “N-nothing I’m certain she d-didn’t already know.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “We were t-talking about the differences in the classes, a-and why a man like you would marry a woman like—” He broke off abruptly, his eyes widening with fear as James bellowed a curse in his face.

  “Damnable coward! I ought to flay you alive.”

  “James, surely she’s not that naive.” A begging quality had entered his voice.

  “My reasons for marrying Amanda are mine and mine alone.”

  “We were only t-talking. I meant no harm.”

  “You bastard, who cares whether it was intentional or not? The damage is done.” James dropped his hand and his cousin staggered away from him. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” he said, disgusted. “Spiteful as always. You haven’t changed a wit since we were boys.”

  Derrick clutched at his throat. Blood suffused his complexion, and his eyes were suspiciously bright. “You know what I think, Cousin?”

  “Do you think I care?” James snarled.

  Apparently, now that the earl was no longer in his face, Derrick’s uncertain courage resurfaced. “I think you’ve grown soft over a woman who is only one generation away from the gutter. How the mighty have fallen.”

  James no longer felt the need to control the demon anger that fought to take him. He let the rage, hot and all-consuming, roll over him. He took one step forward, reared back and with all his force punched his cousin’s smug mouth. Derrick crumpled like a cloth doll.

  For several moments he stood over the fallen viscount, fists clenched. His voice when he finally spoke was harsh with constrained violence. “What you think, what you say about me, is of no import. Amanda is another matter. She is my wife, will be the mother of my children—” He hoped. James gulped on the bitter memory of betrayal on her face. “Bloody ingrate, I spare you the beating you deserve for your mother’s sake.”

  “James, I—”

  The earl cut him off. “I expect your things to be gone from Lonsdale before Amanda and I arrive.”

  Derrick stared up at him, eyes shiny with panic in the darkened garden. “I have nowhere to go.”

  “Should have thought of that before you took it upon yourself to ruin my wedding day.”

  James strode away without looking back.

  ***

  CHAPTER 4

  “Papa! I can’t believe you are saying this to me.”

  Amanda watched her father’s implacable features with growing alarm. He was seated behind his desk in the library, fat fingers laced across his middle, seemingly unperturbed by her distress.

  “What you ask is impossible, Amanda.” He wheezed, coughing. “There will be no annulment.”

  “But I was deceived.” She crossed the room to stand over him. “Surely, you can’t want me to stay with a man who has lied to me.”

  “What was his lie, Manda?”

  “I told you! He married me for your money.” Even as she spoke, her voice broke with a new rush of pain.

  “I see. You disapprove of a marriage that considers the financial arrangements?”

  Momentarily, she was too startled to speak. “Not…necessarily. But I thought James—” She could not finish saying what she thought. Her throat had closed over the words.

  For the first time since they had entered the room, her father’s expression softened. “Sweetheart, be reasonable. There is always the business side of any contract. I want to know that my son-in-law can support you in the manner to which you have become accustomed.”

  Disbelief made her squeak, “You are going to give him money?”

  “A dowry, Manda. What’s wrong with that?”

  Nothing, actually, when put that way, done all the time. But there was something odd about the transaction that left her feeling used and uninformed.

  “It’s more than the formality of receiving a dowry, Papa. I understand that James is in serious financial trouble. He had to make a wealthy match or lose everything. It is one thing to accept a dowry as a customary gesture and another to need it.”

  “Well, then,” he said slyly, “aren’t you pleased that you can help him?”

  Amanda blinked at her father, dumbstruck. How could he be so obtuse? Pleased? Her heart was breaking and he wanted to know if she was pleased? To her horror, she began to cry.

  “Oh, Papa.” Her fingers shook when she raised a gloved hand to dab at her eyes. “This is not what I expected, not what I wanted.”

  He lifted his shoulders irritably, shifting in his seat. He had never been comfortable with tears.

  “There’s no need for that, Manda. Take hold of yourself. You behave as though we’ve had a disaster.” He stood from his chair, barreling out from behind the desk. “You have a life to get on with. I’m going to leave you to it.”

  Just like that he was dismissing her, abandoning her to sort out a muddle that was not of her making. She swung around as he passed her on his way to the door.

  “What are you saying?” she asked.

  “I’m saying, you have a new husband who is waiting for you.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I promised you and James the townhouse for tonight. Yes, I’m leaving.”

  “You needn’t bother,” Amanda replied coolly. She supposed he would understand her meaning.

  He did. Her father advanced back into the room, for the first time appearing angry. “Amanda, it’s time you grew up. You’re spoiled, used to having things your way. You have ahead of you a life most young women only dream of. Know when to be grateful.”

  “I should feel grateful for being deceived by that man?”

  He shook his head, disappointment radiating from his black eyes. “I don’t propose to tell you how to feel, my dear. But understand what you are discarding before you discard it.” He turned toward the door again, this time stopping at the threshold. “Manda?”

  She stared at him dully, unable to respond.

  “I approached the earl,” he said, “asked him to meet my daughter. I wanted you to marry well, Manda. Don’t blame James for my machinations.” The door clicked softly behind him.

  On a sob, Amanda slipped to the floor, her green satin gown pooling around her. Surely, her father’s last words were meant to absolve James from any blame, but his confession had had the reverse effect. She pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing against the sudden bile that rose in her throat.

  James had known from the beginning, had agreed to meet her with the intention of wooing her regardless of his own feelings. In fact, feelings evidently had not been a part of the equation, only the need to mend his circumstances.

  What an actor he was, and she a fool, believing he could care for her. How he must have laughed at her provincial pride. Unfortunately, she had none of that pride to sustain her at the second, for she had freely exposed her emotions to him. To her humiliation, she loved James and even now wanted him.

  What was she to do? Papa wo
uld not support her if she forced an annulment. And that gave her few options indeed. Was she to follow James to Lonsdale like a whipped puppy, tail between her legs? Was she to be his wife in all ways despite his treachery?

  This last caused her the most anguish of all, because she could not imagine lying with him when she felt his interest was only aroused by obligation and the aristocratic need to produce an heir. Not when her heart was painfully attached, not when she wanted so much more.

  And what of Papa? she wondered, stricken to the core. The one person she had always counted on for protection had conspired against her, used her like a pawn. Amanda doubted she could ever forgive him.

  It took a few moments of grappling with nausea before she was able to regain her feet. She stood reeling in the middle of the library, unsure what to do next. The happiest day of her life had become a nightmare.

  She could hear the last of the guests leaving, knew that soon it would be only James and she in the townhouse. Amanda wanted to flee rather than face him but was surprised to discover at least some of her pride remained. Avoiding him was cowardly, and she had never been a coward. She would confront her new husband, head held high, and proceed from there.

  If only she knew where “there” was.

  ***

  “How in God’s name could you have let this happen?”

  Archibald Campbell, sequestered with his son-in-law in the drawing room, strode the length of the floor and back again, hands gripped behind him, his wrath filling the air like a noxious mist. The tirade had gone on for some minutes, and James had remained mute, waiting for an opening.

  The old man paused in his pacing, leveling on James an icy stare. “Well?” he barked.

  Unprepared for the sudden attack, James looked back, disconcerted. “It was unintentional, sir, I swear. I had no idea my cousin would do such a spiteful thing.” He hesitated, ashamed that he was forced to explain himself like a wayward school lad. “Derrick placed a rather nasty implication on the affair. I can hardly blame Amanda for being offended.”

  “Damned right. I warned you that my daughter would not take well to our scheming.”