by Hatch, Donna
Sudden anger flared and filled her with venom. “I’d die before I’d have a heartless murderer like you!”
She ran from him. But she couldn’t run from her memories.
****
The baron appeared in the doorway of the dining room before Alicia had finished her dinner.
“Ah, good; you have not yet finished.” He eased himself into his usual seat across from her.
She offered a polite smile and returned her focus to her plate but ate with little appetite. Cole Amesbury was without a doubt the most frustrating man she’d ever known. He was without conscience. Without scruples. How dare he expect that she’d have anything to do with him, after all he did to her family!
“You seem distracted tonight,” her husband observed.
Alicia realized that she had been stabbing her food with her fork without even tasting her dinner. Looking up, she also became aware that he had been speaking and she hadn’t heard a word he had said.
She set down her fork and picked up her napkin. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“Is something on your mind?”
She shook her head wordlessly.
He leaned back in his chair. For several moments, he watched her. “I understand my cousin Cole paid a visit today.”
She started and tried to peer into his face, but, as usual, found no answers there. Had the servants seen and reported to him? She tried to keep her voice uninterested. “Yes, he did. Are you close?”
“I’ve known him as long as I can remember. We even went to Cambridge together.” He tilted his head to the side. “Did you talk about anything in particular?”
She sipped her wine. “Nothing worth mentioning.” She wasn’t sure if she were angrier Cole had the nerve to try to tempt her to leave her husband who showed her nothing but kindness, or that he would so quickly betray a family member who was also a close personal friend. He truly was despicable. The more she learned about him, the less she liked him. What a fool she was for letting his beautiful face affect her.
“Did I mention the Duke of Northumbria is having a ball now that his daughter is of age?” the baron asked.
She gathered her skittering thoughts and focused on his question. “No, I don’t believe so.”
“Would you like to go?”
“Of course.”
“I thought so. I already sent our acceptance. If I remember the process correctly, it requires you to have a new ball gown?”
Alicia always felt uneasy when he made purchases for her when she clearly did not deserve his money or gifts. “I don’t believe there’s time to have one made. I can wear something I already own. I have so many pretty new things, thanks to you.”
In the last few weeks, such a vast array of lovely gowns had arrived from both London and Paris that she hadn’t even worn most of them yet. Her wardrobe bulged with gowns, hats, gloves, shoes, stockings and all the appropriate undergarments of the finest fabrics and trimmed with yards of delicate lace.
“I have already taken the liberty of arranging for one to be made. Monique saw to the details. It should arrive any day.”
Guiltily, she dropped her eyes and forced cheer into her voice she did not feel. “Thank you. You are most thoughtful.”
She could feel his smile under the mask. “I have two sisters. I would be unforgivably unobservant if I didn’t know at least part of the requirements of a social gathering.”
Casting about for an appropriate response, she said; “Tell me about your sisters.”
He paused. “Twins, two years older than I.”
“Twins,” she whispered. “I was a twin.”
“I’m so sorry you lost him.” Softly spoken, the sincerity in his voice could not be mistaken.
“You know?”
“Cole told me. He lives nearby, so we have occasion to speak often. In fact, I have him to thank for our marriage. He wrote to me, described you, and told me of your circumstances. He wanted very badly to help you.”
She stared at him. “Why would he wish to help me?”
“He feels responsible for your predicament.”
Alicia studied the glass in her hand. “In a way, he is.”
“Perhaps someday you will find it in your heart to forgive him.”
Alicia clenched her teeth and she carefully set down her glass. “Armand was my better self. I was braver, kinder, and smarter when he was with me. Watching him die slowly…” She struggled for composure but continued without finding it. “It’s probably not fair, but I also blame Cole for my parents’ death.”
“Why?” he whispered.
Tears blurred her vision, and he became a shapeless mass. “Robert had sent a message that Armand had been wounded, and was gravely ill. We were rushing to London when the carriage overturned. Papa and Maman were killed. If Armand had not been shot, we would not even have been in that carriage on that road that day.” A sob broke through. She put her hand over her mouth.
After a long silence, he stirred. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
She pulled her hand away, dried her eyes with her handkerchief. “Thank you, but I hold no malice toward you. After all, you are hardly responsible for the actions of your cousin.”
The baron remained silent throughout the evening, sitting more hunched than usual. He excused himself and she did not see him for the remainder of the night, but the next day after breakfast, he came into the kitchen where she sat with Mrs. Hodges going through the linens.
“Would you like to walk by the lake?”
“Yes, I would.” She hesitated. “Does it hurt you to walk?”
He waved off the question. “I think it’s good for me.”
They strolled silently, the trees whispering in a gentle breeze. Their feet and his cane crunched on the walkway. She glanced several times at him, unnerved by his expressionless mask and the difficultly with which he stepped. She wondered if she would ever grow accustomed to it all. To him.
“Are you …?” She stopped, unsure of how receptive he would be to her questions.
“You may ask me anything. Even if you fear it improper.”
She drew a breath. “Are you in any pain?”
“Not more than I can bear.”
“How did it happen?”
He took a moment to answer “I served as an officer in the Royal Navy. During a battle, I noticed a young gunner had forgotten to pour seawater on the cannon to cool it before he prepared to fire it again. He couldn’t hear me shouting at him over the noise. I rushed to him and tried to stop him from firing it while it was too hot. I didn’t reach him in time. He lit the fuse. The cannon exploded. I threw myself to the deck, but I was burned. The boy was … there was not much left of him.”
She put her hand over her mouth as images conjured by his words played through her mind.
His voice took on a flat tone as if he tried to protect himself from the emotions that must have sprung up at the memories. “He was only thirteen. I failed to save him. Or the others around him.”
“Surely you did all you could.”
“Not enough. Watching countless young men die all around me while I lived … it haunts me. I wasn’t a better officer than those who died. I lived because I was lucky. I was burned, scarred, but at least I live. I’m undeserving.” The last came out in a whisper.
Alicia’s own memories washed over her and she struggled against the consuming loss. She should have died with her parents in the carriage that day. She, too, was undeserving. They walked in silence until they reached the lake where they found a place to sit on a carved stone bench.
“Are you sorry you married me?” he asked softly.
She turned to him. “No, of course not; I’m safe and I have everything I desire.”
“Except the man of your dreams.”
She bowed her head in shame, acutely aware that she was not fulfilling her duty as a wife. Cole’s face flashed into her mind. Guiltily, she shoved away the image. “You must be sorry you married me.”
�
�No. You are a delightful companion and I am growing quite fond of you. This is more than I had ever hoped. Not many women would agree to marry a monster such as I am.”
“You are not a monster,” she assured him quickly. “You are a kind, warm man. A true gentleman. The others my uncle wished me to consider would not have treated me with such courtesy.”
“Every wife should be treated with courtesy.”
She smiled at his endearing sense of honor.
They sat in companionable silence before the baron spoke again. “Do you still wish to go to France?”
She brightened. “Yes. Someday.”
“Next spring.”
“Truly? I’d like that very much.”
“Then we shall plan on it.”
She smiled and managed to look at the masked face for a moment longer than normal before letting her gaze drop.
“Alicia, I know it makes you uncomfortable when I escort you to your room. You feel as if I’m pressing you to let me in. I admit that I desire you. And I have developed feelings for you. But I will not come to you. When you are ready, come to me.” His muffled voice hushed. “I hope you decide to come to me soon.”
Alicia stared at her hands twisting in her lap. Would she ever find the courage to willingly go to him and subject herself to his touch?
After preparing for bed that night, she picked up a book, knowing sleep would not easily come. But she must have fallen asleep reading, for rough hands shook her awake. Groggy, she blinked through a fog and tried to focus on the insistent voice. She struggled to breathe and could only cough. Her lungs burned.
“Alicia! Wake up!”
A pair of arms scooped her up and carried her through a haze. Heat blistered her skin. Was that smoke? She pushed weakly against the steely arms that held her. She was set on her feet but she sank weakly to the floor. Voices shouted. She tried to speak, collapsed into coughing. A window scraped open. She continued to cough and had to fight to keep her eyes open. A cold breeze blew across her face, helping clear her head. Someone draped a blanket around her body. Her coughing abated, and her eyesight sharpened.
“That’s done it, my lord,” a male voice called.
“Here, madame, drink this.” Monique pressed a cup into her hands.
“What happened?” she asked the maid.
“The candle by your bed must have fallen over, madame. My lord smelled smoke and discovered a fire in your room.”
“Fire? How awful. Was anyone hurt?”
“No, my lady. But you would have perished if my lord had not awakened.”
The baron appeared then.
“I can’t understand how the candle fell over,” mused Monique. “It was resting in a candleholder with a wide base. And how did it fall against the bed curtains?”
Her husband paused at Monique’s words, then came to Alicia. “Are you harmed?”
Alicia shook her head. “No. I owe you my thanks.”
He reached out as if to touch her and then drew back. “I’m only grateful you are well.”
She wished she could see the expression on his face. Tentatively, she reached out a hand to him. He took it and squeezed her hand briefly. Oddly disappointed he hadn’t held her, and surprised that she’d wanted him to, she watched him leave. She wondered if he would ever trust her with his face.
Did she really want to see it, or would it only repulse her?
CHAPTER 19
Alicia’s comfortable life was disrupted by Cole Amesbury again. Wearing that maddeningly self-assured smile, he strolled languidly into the library, a great, hungry predator on the prowl.
She leapt to her feet.
“Dearest cousin.” He planted a kiss on her cheek.
She glared.
His smile never faded. “Fear not, I have not come to harass you. Is Nicholas at home?”
She blinked. She never thought of her husband as Nicholas. She always called him ‘husband’ or ‘my lord’ or ‘the baron’ even in her thoughts. “I haven’t seen him all morning. I’ll send a servant to look for him.”
“Never mind. I’ll wait for him. Please, sit with me. I’d also hoped to speak with you.”
Alicia hesitated but sank to a chair.
Cole paced the floor, going to the window, to the fireplace and then to the sofa. Then he went to the bookcase and leaned upon it.
“Shall I ring for tea?” she offered.
He shook his head. His careless façade slipped away and he appeared so distraught that Alicia actually felt sympathy for him.
He turned to her. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Which of the many wrongs are you begging forgiveness for, now? Trying to tempt me to abandon my husband, or something else?” She expected his wry grin.
Instead, his brilliant blue eyes fixed upon her face, gravely serious. “For shooting Armand.”
She gripped the arms of her chair.
“All I ask is that you allow me to tell you what happened.”
“My cousin Robert told me what happened. He was there, remember?” she managed through clenched teeth.
“I need to explain what led up to it.”
Alicia leaned back, folded her arms, and forced herself to look at him. Why must he reopen this wound now? “Nothing you say will change what you did.”
“No. And I’m not asking for forgiveness. I only hope if you hear the whole story, you will find some measure of peace.”
Sadness welled up inside her and again that horrible, consuming loss. Fighting tears, Alicia made no comment.
Cole began pacing again. “There was a girl named Vivian. She was the Season’s sensation. More than beautiful, she was intoxicating. The ton obsessed over her.”
Alicia nodded. She remembered seeing the beautiful, elegant Vivian from afar, and noticed how the gentlemen stumbled all over themselves in their desire to catch her eye. Her beauty had outshone even Catherine’s. Armand, like every other gentleman in London, was smitten with Vivian, but Papa had said there was something about her he didn’t trust.
“She had a way of making men forget all reason. Something about her drove a man wild with desire and yet she always stayed just out of reach, leaving men desperate for one more smile, one more dance, one more kiss. She seemed to prefer Armand and me over the others. I liked Armand well enough, but he seemed to dislike me. Told me once that he found me insufferably arrogant. I suppose I was.” His voice hushed. He rested his arm on the mantel and hung his head. “She pitted us against each other. Played us both for the ridiculous fools we were. She said she favored me and that she might choose me, except for Armand. Apparently, she told Armand the same thing. His actions can be excused as the folly of youth. I’m not a green young buck. I should have seen through her.”
Alicia marveled that she had never seen the charismatic Cole Amesbury in London, especially since he knew her brother. Perhaps he was one of those men who avoided balls and musicales and preferred gentleman’s clubs instead.
Cole moved to the window and stood staring out before he spoke again. “I went to meet Vivian in the park and came upon them in his coach. Their clothing and hair were mussed and I knew he’d compromised her. Armand grinned at me and told me I had lost. Vivian insisted that I defend her honor. We had words. Vivian demanded justice. I challenged him and we chose our seconds.”
Alicia’s heart turned to ice.
“By the time we met, my temper had cooled. After all I witnessed during the war, the last thing I wanted was the blood of an innocent man on my hands. I should have backed down.”
“Why didn’t you?” she gasped.
Cole’s body sagged against the window, his head bowed, eyes squeezed shut, pain rippling through him and permeating the room. “I felt I must defend Vivian’s honor. So I aimed carefully for his arm—the left, so there would be no chance that his fencing and shooting arm would be maimed.” He swallowed hard. “I went to check on him the following day and they told me he was only grazed and the bleeding had stopped. H
e seemed to have a strong constitution. They thought he would recover without complication. I had no idea he’d grown ill.”
Silence weighed heavily. Alicia stirred herself and realized her face was streaming with tears. Without bothering to search for a handkerchief, she used her hands to dry her cheeks.
Cole faced her, anguish lancing his features; his eyes were tortured. “I would do anything to go back and change what I did. Pay any price.” His voice broke. “I’m sorry. I truly am.” He stood, clenching and unclenching his fists, looking utterly lost. He did not wear the mien of a cold-blooded murderer. With startling clarity, she realized he never had.
He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Alicia alone with her grief. After sobbing until her tears were spent, she lay weakly against the sofa. She remembered Armand’s easy smile, his contagious laugh, his willingness to listen even late at night when she wanted to talk. He could always cheer her when she felt sad. He teased her mercilessly, but could always chase away the monsters under her bed. She thought of her parents; Maman, gracious, gentle, always with a story and a soft caress, Papa, quiet, solemn, kind, both snatched from her by the whims of fate. Or the whims of a vain and lecherous woman who did not deserve the men who fought for her.
Robert blamed himself for not stopping that foolish duel. And Cole clearly suffered. Somehow, seeing him thus as he relayed the events had a healing effect on her. He was not the monster she thought he was. He had been rash, charmed by a deceitful woman. And now he lived with a grief and guilt that she would never understand. But she was beginning to.
Forgiveness chipped away at the ice in her heart and she wept again, this time for a man with tormented blue eyes.
****
Alicia matched her husband’s careful pace as they strolled in Andromeda’s garden nearest the house. Water tripped over the edge of their fountains and into the pools below with soft tinkling sounds while birds twittered and flirted in the trees.