She cringed at his vulgarity. He was angry, lashing out. Still, she didn’t like to think about him “rutting” with her. She’d rather think about him…
What? Making love to her? That was almost as nasty a thought, for it implied an emotion. And Henrietta was trying so hard not to get emotional.
“I want to forget about last night,” she said, tamping the hurt in her breast. “I want to live apart from you once we’re wed.”
“No.”
He breathed the word quietly, but the intense conviction burning in his eyes was impossible to ignore.
“Sebastian, I don’t want to pretend—”
“We’re not going to pretend, damn it! You’re going to be my wife. You will live under my roof. And you will sleep in my bed.”
She met his steely stare. “Then I suppose you’ll have to force me to your bed, for I won’t go willing again.”
Sebastian took in a hard breath. “So you want to live apart from me, do you? What about a child?”
“What child?”
“You might be enceinte, Henry.”
She gasped. That was true. She might have a babe…but that did not change anything. “Then I will raise the child alone.”
He thundered, “You would deny me my own child!”
She felt a pinch of regret, but quickly shooed the sentiment away. “You are not fit to be a father, Sebastian. What will you do with a son? Teach him to be a ‘friar’ at your club? What about a daughter? Will you raise her to be part of the demimonde? A ‘nun,’ perhaps?”
He looked genuinely appalled. “You think me such a fiend?”
“Yes!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I think you’re wicked. And if I have a child, I won’t let you hurt it.”
“I don’t want to hurt the babe!” He dug his fingers in his hair and let out a curse. “Blast it, is living with me really such a terrible fate?”
The tears burned her cheeks. “Yes!”
“Why?!”
“Because I…”
He took her by the shoulders. “Tell me, Henry. Tell me why?”
“I can’t forget.”
Brow pinched, he said, “Forget what?”
“You…in that abbey…with that woman.”
Sebastian sighed. “Henry, listen. It won’t be like that anymore. I won’t go back to the club, I promise.”
“No.” She wrested free of his hold. He wanted to get under her skirts, to beguile her into believing he had honorable intentions. “I won’t let you charm me into some sort of trap. I don’t trust you, Sebastian. I will never trust you…not with my heart.”
Henrietta lifted her skirts to dash through the snow, tears burning her eyes. But she didn’t care. She had to get away from Sebastian. She had to get away from his promise to change. A promise he couldn’t keep.
“The little slut,” Emerson grumbled
He trudged through the snow, making his way back to the front of the house. He had come to see the wench, to gauge how the piece of on-dit he’d planted in the paper had affected her. But apparently it’d had no effect on her at all.
The harlot! It was bad enough he’d had to wade through the muck of winter looking for her, but to find her in that bastard’s arms! She didn’t even care about the foul gossip he’d spread, curse her.
Seething, Emerson kicked up the snow. Yesterday she had looked ready to skin the viscount alive. But today she was kissing him. It was just like a woman to be so fickle. And it burned in Emerson’s gut to know that his plan to destroy the couple had failed. Once more, Emerson found himself humiliated at the hands of the viscount. It was more than he could bear.
Settling into the sleigh, Emerson ordered the driver back to Ormsby Manor. And during the hour-long journey, the bile in his belly churned.
Emerson would not let Ravenswood win again. Palms fisting, he vowed to destroy the viscount, make the man feel the misery of defeat. And he was going to use that hussy Miss Ashby to do it. If Ravenswood wanted the little strumpet, then Emerson was going to take her away from him—by any means necessary.
Back at Ormsby Manor, Emerson entered the house, rife with newfound resolve. But his curmudgeon of a father put a swift end to that.
“Is that you, you blundering numskull?”
Emerson hardened. The clip-clop of the earl’s cane resounded throughout the hall.
“Yes, Father,” he growled.
The old miser hobbled into the foyer, as cranky as ever. “Where the devil have you been?”
Emerson gritted, “I was tending to a personal affair.”
“What was it? A gaming debt? I’ll not give you more money!” The earl brandished his cane. “Mark my words. I’ll let you rot in debtors’ prison first!”
Teeth grinding, Emerson sidestepped the earl.
“Come back here, you varlet of a son.”
But Emerson ignored the earl and mounted the steps instead.
“A pox on you!” the earl cried. “You’re nothing but a disgrace. I’ll not leave you my estate. I’ll live forever! See if I don’t.”
And he was just spiteful enough to live forever, too, Emerson thought, infuriated.
It was intolerable, living under the earl’s thumb. Emerson wanted the roost to himself. But the old penny-pincher wouldn’t die.
Well, Emerson was going to get his way in one matter at least. He was going to destroy Ravenswood. He was going to take Henrietta away from the viscount, devastate the man. And he was going to do it in front of the entire ton.
Footsteps pounding, Emerson stormed into his bedroom.
The startled chambermaid shrieked.
Seething with ignominy, Emerson eyed the feeble maid. He needed to feel in control. It burned inside him, the desire for power.
He slammed the door closed and advanced on the whimpering wench. With a rough movement, he grabbed her and tossed her onto the bed.
Chapter 27
H enrietta had a terrible habit of sneaking off without telling anybody, but she was at her wit’s end. A visit with her dearest chum was the perfect respite. The duke and duchess had been invited to the wedding, but the couple weren’t scheduled to arrive for another day or so. Henrietta couldn’t wait that long to confide in her best friend, so she’d slipped out of the house with nary a thought for the turmoil she might cause. She had left behind a note, though. She wasn’t alone, either. Her maid was with her, so there was no reason for anyone at the house to worry about her. Henrietta had every intention of returning home in time for the wedding. She wasn’t going to disgrace her family by running away. She just wanted to be with a friend.
“There it is, Miss Ashby,” said Jenny. “The castle!”
It was night. Henrietta peered at the castle through the frosty sleigh glass. It was a very dark structure, constructed of stone. Ancient, too. Spire rooftops capped the round towers flanking the castle gates. But despite the look of an imposing edifice, there was a warm glow coming from the keep’s windows. The fiery glow of candlelight. A welcoming glow. And Henrietta was suddenly anxious to be inside the keep. To be with her dearest chum. To shed the misery inside her soul. She wanted to shake the darkness that had come over her heart after yesterday’s tiff with Sebastian. But she was having a deuced hard time of it. The viscount’s words haunted her still:
I won’t go back to the club, I promise.
Henrietta closed her eyes at the pang in her breast. A shame the offer was nothing but a falsehood. A capricious man like Sebastian could never change and commit to marriage. He’d be overwhelmed by ennui within months of the ceremony, perhaps even weeks. And Henrietta wasn’t about to let him break her heart again.
And what the devil was the matter with the man anyway? she wondered. Why was he so insistent that they have a real marriage? He didn’t need her to slake his lust. All he had to do was visit that vile club of his and fornicate with a “nun” if he needed to satisfy his carnal desire. Why couldn’t he just let her be?
The sleigh came to a stop before the pompous main door
s.
A footman appeared to assist Henrietta and her maid from the sleigh. He attended to the luggage, too, as Henrietta whisked inside the drafty main hall.
The butler appeared. “Good evening, miss.”
Henrietta presented him with a calling card. “Miss Henrietta Ashby to see the Duchess of Wembury.”
With a brisk nod, the butler disappeared again.
Henrietta tugged at her gloves, divesting herself of the soft leather. All the while she perused the mighty entranceway, noting some rather vile-looking gargoyles perched high above her head. But scaffolds filled the grand arena, indicative of a restoration.
As Henrietta took in the keep’s gothic atmosphere, hasty footsteps pattered toward her.
She turned around and beamed. “Belle!”
Mirabelle rushed into her arms. “Henry!”
With a spirited laugh, the young ladies warmly embraced. Oh, it was such a joy to be with her chum again! Five months had passed since the masquerade ball. A dreadfully long time. There was so much to catch up on.
“You look well, Belle.”
Henrietta spied her chum’s regal attire. A faint butter yellow frock woven from the finest wool.
Mirabelle looked dashing in her accouterments, the dress matching the rich golden threads of her long and wavy hair. She looked happy, too. It burned in her amber eyes, the joy.
A joy Henrietta had lost.
“Henry, what are you doing here?”
Henrietta divested herself of her cape. “I’m sorry, Belle. It was very hasty of me, I know. Am I intruding?”
“You, my dear, are always welcome.”
Henrietta smiled. “Thank you, Belle. I just had to see you.”
Another tight squeeze of a hug. “Is something the matter, Henry? You’re going to be married in two days! I’m all set to visit you. Why are you here?”
Henrietta bit back her sorrow. “I just had to see you, Belle.”
“Come here, luv.” She folded her arm around Henrietta’s waist. “I’ll show you to a room.”
A few minutes later, Henrietta was snug and warm in a spacious guest bedroom. Her maid was sound asleep in the servants’ quarters, and the Duchess of Wembury was pouring her unexpected visitor a hot cup of tea.
“Here you are, Henry.”
“Thank you, Belle.”
With a cup of warm tea in her hand, a sympathetic friend in the room, and a soft divan behind her, Henrietta was feeling very much at ease.
“So what’s it like living in a castle, Your Grace?”
Mirabelle snorted. “There’s so much to do here, Henry.” She snuggled next to her chum on the divan. “For instance, I have to sit with the housekeeper every morning to go over the day’s meals. I mean, right down to how many peas I want on each plate! It’s all such a bloody bother.”
Henrietta smiled. Her chum was exaggerating, but Henrietta could commiserate with the woman’s newfound responsibility. Mirabelle had not been reared to govern a household like other young ladies of the peerage. A merchant’s daughter, she had lived a simple life before she’d met the Duke of Wembury.
And speaking of whom…
“How did you snag a duke, Belle?”
“With my womanly grace and charm.”
Mirabelle’s husky laughter was infectious. An orphan with four seafaring brothers looking after her, she wasn’t one for womanly grace and charm. In truth, her boyish tendencies matched Henrietta’s—making them the best of friends.
“Really, Henry, I didn’t know Damian was a duke when I first met him. I thought he was a navigator.”
“A navigator?”
She nodded. “He was serving aboard my brother’s ship.”
“And what were you doing aboard your brother’s ship?”
Mirabelle grinned. “I’d stowed away.”
Henrietta balked. “But why, Belle?”
“I wanted to be a sailor.”
Henrietta sipped her tea in bewilderment. “And the duke? Did he want to be a tar, too?”
“No, Damian was stranded in America with no credentials. He needed to disguise himself as a navigator to get back home to England.”
“And you fell in love with the man?”
Another snort. “The bounder stole my heart.”
At the thought of a certain bounder stealing and then breaking her heart, Henrietta’s breast smarted.
“Now, Henry, why are you here? Is something the matter?”
Henrietta tried to keep her composure, but Mirabelle’s soothing voice and comforting company had her blurting out, “Oh, Belle, I’ve made a terrible blunder!”
Startled, Mirabelle set down the cup and saucer. “Tell me, Henry. What’s wrong?”
Henrietta sniffed. “It’s Ravenswood.”
“Yes, I see you finally did something scandalous to get the viscount’s attention. He’s asked you to marry him. I’m so happy for you, Henry. I know you’ve loved Ravenswood for years.”
Henrietta’s teacup rattled in her hands. “That’s just it, Belle. I don’t love him, not anymore. I don’t think I ever really did.”
“What do you mean, Henry?”
“I was smitten with Ravenswood, but I never truly loved him. How could I? I didn’t even know the man, not really.”
Mirabelle took the china from Henrietta’s shaky grip and put it aside. She clasped Henrietta by the hand. “What’s happened, Henry?”
“Ravenswood’s a rogue!”
A snort. “The duke was once a rogue, too. I think he still is at times. What has that to do with anything?”
But Henrietta didn’t want to dampen her friend’s spirit with the belief that once a rogue, always a rogue. And since Mirabelle had married the duke of all rogues, it just didn’t seem appropriate.
“Ravenswood and I don’t suit.” Henrietta battled with tears. “I don’t trust the man. I don’t even like the man anymore. And now I have to marry him because I wrote this silly letter and…”
“Hush.” Mirabelle stroked her hand. “It’s all right, Henry.”
Softly, she said, “It will never be all right, Belle. I’m doomed to marry a man I don’t love.”
Mirabelle bit her bottom lip. “Henry, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you cannot make a go of the marriage?”
“Very sure, Belle. Ravenswood, he’s…he’s not the man I thought he was. And I don’t have the courage to trust him, to sacrifice my heart to him the way you sacrificed your dream of seafaring to live on land with the duke.”
The duchess shrugged. “It wasn’t really a sacrifice, Henry.”
“What do you mean?”
“I love Damian more than the sea.”
At another sharp twinge in her breast, Henrietta said, “How do you know when you’re in love, Belle?”
The duchess sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s all a matter of fear.”
Henrietta wrinkled her brow. “Fear? What do you mean?”
“Well, I wasn’t always so sure I’d be happy with the duke. In truth, I was very sure I’d be unhappy with him. But I was just afraid of getting my heart broken.”
Henrietta could understand that. “What changed your mind?”
“I almost lost Damian,” she said quietly.
“How?”
“He was injured in a fight. Very nearly died.” The duchess smoothed her skirt. “I quickly realized I would rather risk my heart being broken than live without the duke.”
“But he didn’t break your heart, did he, Belle?”
“No, he didn’t.” She smiled. “And I’m very glad I took the risk.”
There was a terrible ache in Henrietta’s belly. She had risked it all, too, to be with Sebastian: her reputation, her heart. And it had turned out miserably. She just couldn’t risk it all again.
“I’m very happy for you, Belle.” And she was. She was just devastated her happy ending had turned out to be such a nightmare. “You’re the best person I know, and you deserve all the contentment in the world.”
Mirabel
le’s face fell.
“What’s the matter, Belle?”
The duchess sat up and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Oh, Henry, I’ve lied to you!”
Henrietta blinked. “What?”
“I don’t want us to have any secrets. I have to tell you the truth, even if you hate me forever.”
Alarmed, Henrietta sat up, too. “What is it, Belle?”
“I’m not the best person you’ve ever known.”
“Belle—”
“Really, Henry, I’m not.” Restless, the duchess abandoned the divan and started to pace before the great hearth. “I’m not a merchant’s daughter, either.”
Henrietta quirked a brow. “You’re not?”
She paused. “No, I’m a…pirate’s daughter.”
Henrietta eyed her chum with scrutiny. “Be serious, Belle.”
Mirabelle wasn’t smiling, though. “I am, Henry.”
Henrietta swallowed. “Good heavens, Belle, you are telling the truth!”
Mirabelle nodded. “And I wanted to be a pirate, just like my father…and my brothers. That’s why I stowed away, to prove to the stubborn brood I could be a good buccaneer.” She bunched her fingers. “Do you hate me, Henry?”
Bowled over, Henrietta gawked at her comrade. “Hate you? No. I could never hate you.”
“Really, Henry?” Mirabelle rushed back to the divan and took her by the hand. “You don’t think ill of me?”
“I could never think ill of you, gel. You rescued me from a tree, remember? I’m forever in your debt. I’m just stunned, is all.”
And she was. Good God, Mirabelle was a pirate! And here Henrietta had thought she’d lived the simple life of a merchant’s daughter. What rot! Mirabelle had sailed the high seas and plundered for treasure. It was scandalous…It was something Henrietta would have done.
“So what’s the best treasure you ever found, Belle?”
She grinned. “My husband.”
A loud scuffle erupted somewhere in the castle just then.
Henrietta looked at the door. “What the devil?”
Mirabelle sighed. “Just ignore them.”
“Them?”
“My brothers.”
Henrietta perked up. “Oh, will I finally get to meet the Hawkins brood?”
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