In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4)

by Cynthia Wicklund

  “I’ll make her understand.”

  “Bah!” Campbell waved his hand in disgust. “If you think this will die in a day, my lord, you are in for a disappointment. Manda does not like to be manipulated. And she hates subterfuge. We’ll be fortunate if she ever forgives either one of us.”

  All at once the man looked deflated, his face gray with upset. He resumed his pacing, now silent.

  “I was never comfortable with the way we began this thing,” James stated. “Amanda should have been given a choice.”

  “If we had done it any other way, she would have had nothing to do with you. I did what I had to do.”

  Feeling his own anger emerge, James said, “Then it should not have been done at all, Campbell. We’ve not been fair, you or I. But at least I have the excuse that I did not know your daughter.”

  “Want to clarify your meaning?” Archie rapped out.

  “Damnation!” James plunked himself on the red brocaded sofa, bouncing on the springs as he did so. “This bickering is getting us nowhere. Neither of us is without blame. My only concern is mending this appalling rift with Amanda.”

  “Are you sorry you married her?”

  James looked up into the watchful eyes of his father-in-law and was aware that the wrong words spoken now would seal his doom.

  His mind drifted back a few hours to that scene on Amanda’s bed, and he found himself unable to meet Archie’s probing gaze. It was all too complicated and fraught with sexual overtones to explain honestly. Sorry? The only thing he was regretting right now was that he was having a mighty uncomfortable talk with the bride’s father instead of being secluded upstairs with the bride.

  “I married Amanda because I wanted to. If I had found her unsatisfactory, all the ‘enticement’ in the world would not have brought me to the altar.”

  Archie beamed at him. “If you are sincere, my lord, then I have hope.”

  “Right,” James muttered. “Want to tell me how I should go about persuading Amanda that I’m sincere?”

  “You’ve your work cut out for you, that’s for certain.” The old man sounded almost cheerful now. “I’m on my way. If there’s any fighting to be done, don’t let that temperamental gel of mine break the good china.”

  James stood abruptly. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to tell me what to do?”

  “A bleedin’ gentleman man-of-the-world asking a toad like me how to woo a woman?” Archie laughed, shaking his head. “Love her, my lord. She’ll forgive you anything if you can convince her of that.”

  Ten minutes later, a large brandy burning a pleasant hole in his belly, James tapped on Amanda’s bedchamber door. Silence echoed from within, and he wondered if he had misjudged where he would find her. He waited for several moments, deciding finally to leave, when the door eased open.

  His lungs turned to stone, breathing impossible.

  Amanda stood on the threshold, face ghostly white against her black hair, hair that hung loose in a cascade of satin down her back. Her dark eyes glittered in the half-light cast by a candle from inside the room, and her full lips were parted ever so slightly. She wore a white cambric nightdress, buttoned to the throat. She was beautiful, so beautiful, words failed him.

  Unfortunately, she chose not to speak as well. They stared at one another until the silence became a tangible thing between them. He licked his lips at last, calling on the brandy for courage.

  “Amanda—”

  “Not tonight, James,” she whispered in a tight voice. “I need to think before we…talk.”

  Only then did he notice that her chin trembled, that the brightness in her eyes came from unshed tears. She was hurt, devastated, and in the face of her anguish, he was as devastated as she.

  “Manda, please let me explain,” he said gently. “It’s not the way it appears.”

  When she did not reply, he reached out to cup her face. Her eyes fluttered shut, expression drawn as though his very touch pained her, but she did not flinch away from him as he feared she might. He caressed her cheek with his thumb and, since she remained immobile, he began to hope. Until she looked at him again. The bleakness in her gaze was like a blow.

  “Perhaps tomorrow would be better,” he murmured.

  She nodded, her relief palpable, which did nothing to either ease his conscience or salve his pride. In that moment, James knew he had a difficult road ahead of him. She might forgive—might—but forgetting would be a different matter altogether. He let his hand drop to his side.

  The door closed as quietly as it had opened, and James found himself alone in the corridor. He turned his back to the wall and sagged against it, letting his head fall backward. For several long moments he stood there, wishing with all his heart he was on the other side of that wall.

  Derrick had done well tonight. No matter what the future brought, he and Amanda would have this ruined wedding day between them. There was nothing he could do to salvage what was lost, for despite what he had told her, it was exactly as it appeared. Amanda was no fool. She knew that. All he could hope for was a second chance to prove himself, to prove what had begun as one thing was now something else entirely.

  He pushed away from the wall and sauntered to the stairs. Might as well have another of Campbell’s fine brandies, he thought morosely. It was going to be a long night.

  ***

  Amanda put the last piece of her clothing, a silk chemise, in the portmanteau and shut the lid. Placing her hands on the case, she surveyed her bedchamber as though seeing it for the first time. It was late morning, and gray light that heralded a rainy day leaked into the room, as depressing as the pall on her spirits.

  A week ago the prospect of leaving here, embarking on a new life, was an adventure that left her breathless with excitement. Now she felt nothing, overcome by a numbness she could not dispel.

  She had been married less than forty-eight hours and, despite her aim to attack the situation directly, she had avoided talking to James about anything of substance. Yesterday had been quiet, all politeness and unspoken anguish. They had eaten together, discussed their trip to Lonsdale, spent the evening playing cards. And slept in separate rooms.

  Papa had arrived downstairs a short while ago. She had put off going down, not yet ready to speak with him. She wondered if she would ever be ready.

  A soft rap at the door and Betty entered the chamber. “The carriage is here, my lady.”

  All at once Amanda panicked. She was on the verge of a journey that would change her life irretrievably. Why had she decided to follow through with an arrangement that left her feeling cheapened and exploited? Could it be that James leaving without her was even more painful than the terrible blow she had suffered to her pride—her heart?

  Pathetic, she thought miserably, yearning after a man who cared for her only marginally. She did give James that much credit. His lust for her was most likely real. But it sickened her to think that he would use her in such a tawdry way, marriage or no marriage.

  Well, that was one thing that wasn’t going to happen—at least, not the way he thought it would. Though she had kept her thoughts to herself since the wedding, she had been doing some planning of her own. She was going to Lonsdale, was going to adhere to her part of the bridal contract. However, her cooperation came with a few stipulations. She suspected James would acquiesce. After all, he stood to lose a lot of money if he did not, money he clearly needed.

  Amanda glanced up to see Betty still waiting for a reply. “Tell them I will be down shortly.”

  She snapped the clasps shut on the portmanteau.

  ***

  “Come, Manda, tell the old man goodbye,” Archie said.

  The entry was filled with servants, along with Papa and James, all of them waiting for her to do the daughterly thing. Amanda could not refuse her father’s request without appearing ungracious. The need for good manners did not make it any easier.

  She gave her father a stiff hug, ending it almost immediately. She stepped back, unable to mee
t his gaze.

  “I’m not forgiven, am I, love?”

  There was a wistfulness in his voice that made her look at him.

  “I need time, Papa,” she said in hushed tones. “Your scheming took more than a day, and it will take more than a day for me to come to terms with it.”

  “I wanted what was best for you.”

  “Really? Have you ever held a beautiful diamond in your hand, so beautiful it took your breath away, only to realize it was made of paste?”

  “Sweetheart—” He coughed suddenly, a loud, deep-chested explosion. He coughed again and then again, until his face was red and sweating.

  James clapped him on the back. “Are you all right, sir?”

  A diversion, Amanda thought cynically, to change the awkward subject. Just as well, for she was uncomfortably aware of the proximity of the earl during her private moment with her father. The coughing fit finally eased, and the old man escorted the couple out to the carriage.

  A light rain was falling, more mist than droplets. The air was heavy with the scent of moisture, and swirling black clouds moved quickly across the sky, promising a deluge—a dreary, soulless day that mimicked her emotions completely.

  James opened the carriage door and helped Amanda climb inside. He turned to his father-in-law, and the two men shook hands.

  “Take care of her, my lord,” Archie said.

  “I promise.”

  They shared a meaningful look, and Amanda felt a rising impatience related directly to their original plotting against her. Their silent communication left her feeling excluded once again. Perhaps she was being unreasonable, but it hardly mattered. Hostile and out of sorts, she turned a jaded eye on her husband as he entered the carriage.

  Amanda glanced out the window. Her father still stood on the walk and suddenly she saw an old, tired man. He looked deflated and alone and strangely unsure of himself. His sad figure brought a tear to her eye, but she ruthlessly brushed it and her sympathy aside. If he were regretting how they had parted, then he had only himself to blame.

  As the vehicle rolled into the lane, however, a desire to turn back filled her with misgiving. It took all her commitment to her injured pride to keep from asking James to stop the carriage. She wasn’t ready to forgive. Both she and her father must accept that.

  ***

  CHAPTER 5

  They rode for the next thirty minutes without speaking. Amanda chanced a peek at James and found him watching her moodily. There was an indolent quality to his posture, arms folded casually over his chest, not reflected in his penetrating blue eyes. Her stomach dropped. Secluded in a large townhouse with her husband was one thing, alone with him in the closed quarters of a traveling carriage was something else entirely.

  “Yes?” she managed after a moment.

  “I find the silence hurts my ears.”

  “It does? You are welcome to speak if that is what you want. I hadn’t yet thought of anything to say.”

  “I see. Am I the only one who feels we have much to discuss? We’ve avoided what lies between us since the wedding, Amanda. I think it’s time to brave it out.”

  “Perhaps you would like to open the discussion,” she said tightly, “since I haven’t a clue where to begin.”

  “What I would like, really like, is to pretend nothing has happened, that Derrick did not fill your mind with poison, and you do not believe the very worst of me. Is that possible?”

  “You ask too much.”

  James sighed. “I ‘spose so.”

  “But it seems that is what you believe I ought to do.”

  “It would be the practical course,” he agreed.

  “Really? What would you do in my place?”

  For a moment he looked startled. “Point taken,” he said softly. “But I think you have identified where we should begin.”

  “I have?”

  “Tell me my sins with no holding back, and I will address them to the best of my ability. Then I will tell you what I would do in your place.”

  “For heaven’s sake, you make it sound as if we are striking a bargain. It’s not as if you aren’t biased. Can I really expect a fair answer?”

  “Think of it as a game then. If we solve nothing, what have we lost?”

  Amanda humphed, pulling at her skirts while she thought. She had already decided what she wanted to do, how she was going to handle the situation. Just like a man to take over and change the rules. Unfortunately, she was curious.

  “Oh, all right. Only one sin but it’s a very bad one,” she said primly.

  James leaned his head back, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. “Go on.”

  “You should have told me about your straitened circumstances, and I should have been given the opportunity to decide whether or not I wanted to be part of resurrecting them.”

  “True.”

  Simple as that he agreed with her. With one word he had taken the wind from her sails. Was he being honest or merely humoring her?

  “If you believe that—”

  James came forward in his seat. “Archie Campbell is a difficult man to say no to. Your father felt you would turn me down. I should not have listened to him.”

  “You know this makes you a fortune hunter, don’t you?”

  All the hurt she had felt came rushing back, and Amanda had to clamp her teeth to control the quivering of the muscles in her face. She hadn’t mentioned what hurt most of all. She had thought he loved her. As she loved him. Realizing that their marriage was essentially a sham was torment to bear.

  “A fortune hunter,” James said slowly. “That’s a lowering thought.”

  “I should think so. Now, it’s your turn. What would you do if suddenly you discovered that I married you because of, oh say, your title?”

  He smiled wryly. “Not my fortune?”

  “It seems unfair to present a scenario you can’t identify with. We’ll adhere to something you understand.”

  “Aiming for something vital, my dear?”

  “Do you object?”

  James shrugged, a smirk still playing about his mouth. “Marrying me for my title, eh? Hardly a novel idea. Men of rank have been fielding such proposals since forever. It wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

  “Even if,” she swallowed over a lump in her throat, “I had made you believe that I had married you for another reason?”

  He glanced away, and Amanda attributed his sudden unease to a guilty conscience. It was as she had thought. James had married her out of necessity, nothing more.

  “You are ending the game?” she asked with false brightness. “Seems it’s only amusing when I’m the one who feels uncomfortable.”

  His gaze shot back to hers, blue eyes narrowing, taking her measure. “We’re not going to get through this thing easily, are we?”

  Unable to maintain the pretense any longer, Amanda wanted to cry. She wanted to lean her head on his shoulder and weep her pain and beg him to ease her misery. But how could she take comfort from him when he was the source of that pain? the very reason this much awaited trip was now a journey into an uncertain and frightening future.

  She made a small sound, a pitiful mewling that escaped her unintentionally, and shifted away from him to look out the window. The landscape blurred through her tears, colors washing together like paints on a palette. She was embarrassed to have revealed so much. With a monumental effort she stemmed the flow, slowly gaining control of herself.

  The carriage rocked and James joined her on her seat.

  She turned to him, alarmed. “What are you doing?” she asked shrilly.

  “Manda,” he said, his voice dropping intimately as he moved his hip next to hers and placed his arm around her shoulders. “Talk to me.”

  James was so close, his face next to hers, warm breath dusting her cheek, intense blue eyes boring into hers. She could smell his crisp linen and the enticing masculine scent of shaving soap. His hand curled around her neck, his thumb slipping into her hair. A longing so intense
took hold of her, for a moment she could only stare at him, lips parting in wonder.

  His gaze dropped to her mouth.

  It was a tentative kiss, contact that was almost no contact at all, back and forth softly with just a hint of his tongue. Something inside her melted, and despite her reservations she did not pull away.

  Emboldened, James deepened the kiss, easing her back on the seat as he did so, gripping her hair gently. She could feel his fingers massaging her scalp, and her entire body instantly pebbled with goose flesh.

  He eased his other hand beneath the jacket of her traveling gown, feeling his way slowly.

  “Stays,” he murmured hotly. “Damn them!”

  His voice sounded far away, but vaguely she agreed with him. Damn them, indeed.

  He grasped her breast, rolling the soft flesh beneath his palm, stimulating the tip until she could feel it pucker. His breathing intensified, and he moved his mouth to her jaw and down her throat.

  Amanda’s contribution to the exercise was passive, too overcome by a sensual lethargy that crept over her limbs but left every cell in her body tense with expectation. She was back on her feather bed on the night of her wedding, experiencing sensations completely and enticingly new to her, flushed with excitement and the joy of being held by someone she loved, someone who loved her…

  Pain like acid rained on her senses, all the more agonizing because she was aroused. She wanted him to make love to her even now, even though he had fooled her, most likely was fooling her again. How quickly he had seduced her, brought her to the point of capitulating. Now whom was she fooling? To the point of begging was more accurate.

  A sob caught in her throat, and she rolled away from him, falling to the floor of the carriage. Her crinoline popped up exposing her drawers.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” James gasped, his eyes bright with lust.

  He reached for her, but Amanda scrambled off the floor and onto the seat across from him.

  “I’ll not do it, do you hear?” she cried, pulling at her skirt.