by Golden Angel
Claiming His Wife
By Golden Angel
Published by G. Angel at Smashwords
Copyright 2013 G. Angel
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There are many people I need to thank for helping me with this book:
Katherine, my longest beta reader, who always keeps me on track and motivated.
Sir Nick, for providing the badly needed male perspective.
Marie and Chelle, my two new beta readers, who gave such great insights about both the characters and the plot.
Marie S., for taking the time out of her busy schedule to help me with the editing… she caught a ton of the mistakes that I and others didn’t and I can’t thank her enough for her attention to detail and thoroughness. It’s almost impossible for any book to be perfect, but I know this is the closest any of my books have ever come thanks to her!
And, as always, my husband. Who is awesome.
Chapter 1
An hour into their carriage ride, Grace's body was still reverberating with shock. Shock, betrayal and the smallest kernel of fear. All emotions that, at this point in her life, she'd thought herself to be far beyond. She'd truly believed that she'd already lost her faith in people, that nothing they could do would surprise her, and that she couldn’t be hurt again. It had taken her estranged husband less than an hour to show her differently.
It was fitting, perhaps, since he was the one who had taught her the meaning of betrayal in the first place. Not that he'd meant to. But she could still hear the words, ringing in her ears, like poison in her heart.
One woman is as good as another for a wife... and, thanks to you, Grace's dowry made her especially useful as mine.
If one woman was truly as good as another, then why wasn't her husband letting her go and contracting a marriage with a better one? A less embarrassing one? She looked outside the window, relieved that she couldn't see his straight-backed form on his horse. It would have been too tempting to throw something at his bloody stubborn head. One woman is as good as another... it was a chant that swam round her head, one that had tormented her for months when she'd first left Alex.
Well he'd certainly proved it, time and again, with one woman after another. A few months after she’d left him, she had just started feeling worthwhile again, enjoying the flirtations and words of men who thought she was beautiful, who thought she was desirable. Men who appreciated her for more than a business deal with her father. Then Alex had started his affairs, crushing what little had been left of her heart as he replaced her in his bed and divesting her of her last forlorn hope that perhaps she’d somehow misunderstood. Grace had faced down more than one of his lovers, who taunted her and flaunted his relations with them in her face. The women of the ton were catty and cruel, especially in the face of Grace's youth and beauty. They'd been gleeful that the young, stunning bride, a Diamond of the First Water, had been replaced in her husband's bed by them.
That's when Grace had finally succumbed to her first rake. At least there she'd chosen wisely. The young Marquess of Hartington had been nursing his own broken heart when he'd seduced her. There had been no expectation of a future for either of them, no painful emotions, just a joining between sympathetic souls and a great deal of pleasure. It was empty pleasure, nothing like the joyful passion she'd found in Alex's arms, but it had healed something inside of her. A belief in herself, the confidence of knowing she was desirable… and the broken edges of her heart hadn't felt quite so sharp after that.
That was the first lesson she'd learned from her lovers; that there was still pleasure to be found in the world. That lesson led to many others, and eventually she'd begun to hope perhaps she had a chance for love in her life after all. Just not with her husband. Grace wanted him to divorce her, and then she could make her way to America or the Continent to start anew. Some of the gossip would follow her, but maybe not all. Paris would probably be particularly welcoming of a young, scandalous beauty. Their nobility wasn’t nearly as stuffy as London’s, from what she heard, in Paris scandal made a woman more desirable.
"Bastard," she muttered under her breath as her husband, seated handsomely upon his horse, dropped back into view, riding just a bit ahead of her carriage. Her hand twitched and if there had been a small enough object within reach, she definitely would have thrown it.
Immediately Rose, her maid, looked up from the shirt she was stitching. Grace glared, filling her eyes with the hate and fury and frustration that were consuming her, and Rose dropped her gaze back down. At one time, Grace had considered Rose almost a friend, despite the difference in their stations. She had used Alex's money to pay the girl an outrageous wage, given her all sorts of privileges, and had even confided in her often. Now she knew that Rose was just another spy in her household.
Just like Peters.
Blinking away tears, Grace looked back out the window. That betrayal might hurt the worst. She'd always considered the butler to be her anchor, her haven. He guarded her home and kept the gossipmongers and dangerous roués away. But this morning he'd not only let Alex in, he'd instructed the household to pack her bags, and he'd been instrumental in getting her out the door and into Alex's carriage. He’d been apologizing the entire time as she'd wept and raged, but his true loyalty had been revealed; Peters belonged to the man with the stony face who'd watched the proceedings and then stepped forward to give her a single stinging slap on her rump. She'd felt the blow even through the layers of her skirts and she'd been aghast, as he ordered her to stop heaping abuse on Peters.
One woman is as good as another.
Why had he come back for her? Why did he want reconciliation instead of divorce? It couldn't be for the deal between him and her father anymore. Grace was quite sure that would continue no matter what; it had proved most profitable for both of them. Even if Alex divorced her, her father wouldn't back out of it; he'd basically disowned Grace when she'd left Alex's residence.
The day she’d left her husband, she’d made the mistake of trying to return to her father's house, and been rewarded with a split lip for her troubles. There had never been any love there, but she'd still somehow thought that her father might at least shelter her for a night while she decided what to do, where to go. Instead she'd spent the night in a hotel, eventually paid for by Alex, nursing both her broken heart and her wounded lip. The only thing that surprised her was that her father hadn't eventually come after her, demanding that she return to Alex and stop sullying her family's honor by her behavior.
Perhaps he'd felt that completely distancing himself from her was enough, since she and Alex were still technically married.
At least Alex continued to provide for her. She didn't know why, but she didn't particularly care either. Some form of guilt, perhaps, or maybe just to keep up appearances. It had kept her from having to contemplate less savory options for survival. Finances seemed to be the only thing he understood, the only thing that truly mattered to him. Since Grace was no longer of any use to him, she truly didn't understand why he didn't trade her out for a more willing wife.
******
Around midday, Alex called a halt for a meal. After riding all morning in the hot sun, hoping to give his wife some time to cool down after her rage this morning, he was feeling in dire need of sustenance. Perhaps it would also help give him the fortitude to get in the carriage and ride with Grace for the a
fternoon. He needed to do it at some point. Bath was several days away and he didn't intend to spend the entirety of the journey on his horse. While he was certainly hardy enough to, he hoped that he and Grace could at least begin to repair their relationship before reaching Bath and their friends. That required being in the same space. Besides, it was never good to let a woman stew with her own thoughts for too long. Especially if those thoughts were already bound to be belligerent.
As she swanned out of the carriage, lips pursed, refusing to look at him, he sighed internally. She certainly hadn't softened since this morning. Although her eyes were still a bit red-rimmed from weeping, she looked as beautiful and unapproachable as a marble statue. Not at all like the laughing young woman he'd married. It made his chest ache as he wondered if he’d truly been the reason behind the death of that laughter.
Sometimes he wondered if it hadn't been him at all, if perhaps there had been some other reason for her disaffection. The day she’d left him, she’d called them both fools. The rest of her words had been broken, disjointed, thrown at him between tears and raging insults, and he still didn't know what he, or they, had done that was so foolish. Back then, he hadn’t cared; he’d been too affronted by her insults and too hurt by the fact that she’d left him without any warning.
As Grace swept into the inn, her maid, Rose, trailed behind her. The young woman caught his eye and grimaced before following Grace through the door. Alex knew that the two had had a very strong relationship, the kind of trust that was necessary between a lady and a maid. He supposed he was to blame for ruining that too.
Going into the inn, he arranged for a meal and a private dining room for them. Partly so that he could at least try and speak with Grace, partly because he didn't want anyone to witness the outburst that he was sure must be boiling. During their short marriage, Grace had never been one to bottle up her emotions. From what he'd observed since she’d left him that was no longer true, but this morning had been an exception to that. Perhaps this afternoon would be too.
Hell, he almost wished she would rage at him again, instead of doing this damnable impression of an ice princess.
"I ordered us some food and wine," he said as he walked into the room where Grace was already settling herself down at the table. He looked at Rose and tilted his head towards the door, dismissing her. For just a moment he thought he saw a flash of anger in Grace's eyes as his presumptuousness, but then it was gone and she was back to staring at him blankly. After her fury this morning, he was all set for another scene, but instead she'd withdrawn inside herself again. Placing his hat down on the table, he sat across from her, studying her face. Grace looked over his shoulder, staring resolutely at the wall.
The idea of spanking her, as his friends had suggested, was becoming more and more appealing. Heating her bottom might break through some of that ice. Unfortunately, he didn’t really think he could stomach spanking her just to make her talk to him. He didn’t want to discipline her unless she’d actually done something to earn it.
The door behind him opened, admitting the innkeeper, who fluttered around them with their midday meal. Alex pasted a smile on his face, something he rarely expended the energy to do, and assured the man that the repast of meats and cheeses, with a small plate of fruit, was quite enough for both him and the lady. Anxious to please, the innkeeper poured their wine with a flourish and then hurried away, obviously picking up on Alex's desire to be left in peace.
Having a third party there certainly helped to ease the tension for a few minutes; the second the innkeeper left the room, the air seemed to thicken and Alex could feel his stomach churning with anxiety. Kidnapping his wife in order to force reconciliation sounded quite easy in theory, but in actuality, the reconciliation part was going to be anything but.
Grace was already filling her plate, her focus completely on the food in front of them rather than looking at him. With an inward sigh, Alex supposed it was enough that she wasn't throwing the food at his head.
They ate in complete silence.
In fact, Grace didn't make a single noise, speak a single word, until he started to follow her into the carriage. Already seated upon the bench, she whipped her head back around from where she'd already been looking out the window, her large blue eyes even wider than usual.
"What are you doing?" she asked sharply, her voice laced with shock. Alex had thought it was pretty obvious was he was doing, but he answered her anyway.
"I thought I might join you in the carriage for the afternoon," he said, keeping his tone as amiable as possible, but also firm. He turned his head, giving Rose a jerking nod at the other carriage which was carrying several of the other servants. The maid turned, leaving him to climb in with Grace.
Firmly planting himself on the bench across from her, his legs stretched out, taking up as much space as possible. The carriage door shut and Grace hissed, like a cat whose fur had just been ruffled the wrong way. In fact, she looked very much like that cat. Alex ignored her.
There was a long silence between them, and then the carriage rocked as it began moving. He looked at Grace as she looked out the window, studying the tense muscle in her jaw, the long line of her throat, the way her breasts heaved as she sucked in air through her nose, and the tiny fists that were balled on her lap. It had been a long time since he'd been able to look at his wife this way, to examine her so minutely. There were small changes in her body, although she'd only become more beautiful with age, but the largest changes weren’t immediately visible.
At one time they would have sat side by side in this carriage, talking and laughing, and she would have pressed herself against him while he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. One time he'd even made love to her in a carriage. After a ball, on their honeymoon, he'd pulled up her skirts and taken her right then and there, because he couldn't wait till they'd returned to the hotel, his passion for her had been so great.
"Stop looking at me like that."
Alex raised his eyebrow. As far as he could tell, Grace's attention hadn't strayed from the window. But then again, he hadn't been looking at her expression just now. His eyes rose back to her face, noting the pink tinge to her cheeks.
"What do you mean?" he asked, although he knew very well what she meant. He'd been looking at her the way a man looks at a woman, at his wife. The way a man looks at a woman who has been in his bed and found pleasure there.
"It's making my skin crawl." She shuddered, to emphasize her point.
Although the little barb pricked, the way she'd meant it to, he couldn't help but wonder if her attack was more of a defense. There was certainly something about the tilt of her chin, the way she was holding herself, that made him feel as though she was trying to protect herself from something. From him. Hope kindled in his chest. She wasn't as indifferent as she pretended to be. Perhaps she didn't hate him as much as she seemed to.
"I would think you've become used to men looking at you like that," he murmured. Grace's eyes snapped to his face, flashing blue fire, before she tore them away again. Her pretty rosebud of a mouth was wound up tight and pinched. As he watched it slowly smoothed and relaxed, as if she was pulling down a mask over her face. "Many men enjoy looking at a beautiful woman."
"Many men enjoy doing quite a bit more than that."
A reference to her lovers. He wasn't surprised. Jealousy had become a part of his everyday life after she'd left him, but he'd always considered it just punishment. After all, he'd been the one to drive her to that point.
"You would know, I suppose."
To his surprise, Grace flinched. Her eyes slid over to him again, wary and defensive.
"I didn't take a lover till you took a mistress," she said, obviously expecting him to argue.
"I know."
Her mouth opened and shut, surprise flitting across her face. Apparently he'd rendered her speechless. Something that he hadn't thought possible. The carriage rocked as she looked back out the window, her brow creased in thought at his revelat
ion. Her face was closed, impassive again, and he couldn't read what she was thinking. It nagged at him, even as he recognized the irony, considering that many among the ton called him "Stone Face" for the same reason.
Alex knew that many of his desires were improbable. He wanted his younger wife back, the trusting young woman whose expression had always been open, whose moments of bitterness were constantly turned to lightness at the drop of the hat. There had always been a bit of a dark core to Grace, behind her laughing face. Alex assumed her father was somewhat responsible for that; the man hadn't cared overmuch for his daughter, before or after her marriage. If it hadn't been for Alex's intervention, the Duke would have had her ostracized once she separated from Alex.
But the man had respected Alex's wishes when it came to dealing with his wife.
However badly he'd gone about doing it. Now was the time to fix that though. He'd seen the marriages his friends had procured for themselves; remarkably similar to the marriage he'd once thought to have. The main difference, it seemed, was that they spanked their wives when the women became unreasonable or acted inappropriately. If Alex had given Grace time to calm down the very first time that she’d first ranted at him, if he’d swallowed his foolish pride and actually followed her and spanked her until she talked to him about whatever the problem was, maybe they could have avoided the misery that they'd made of their marriage.
It was by no means entirely her fault, but nor was it his. Still, he assumed the burden of responsibility. After all, he was older, should have been wiser, and was the head of the household. It was past time to start making up for their mistakes and establish a new world order. He’d originally come to London this year hoping to speak with her, hoping to end the stalemate, and then he’d seen his friends’ marriages and he’d begun to realize what he needed to do. Now it was time to put their advice and suggestions into action.