But what of Geoffrey’s anger? She’d never been so frightened in all of her life. He’d looked at her with disgust, so sure of her betrayal. How could he think so little of her?
Heartbroken, she changed out of her gown and readied herself for bed. After waiting up for her husband for nearly two hours, she climbed into the big, lonely bed. Hugging her pillow, she fell into a fitful sleep.
Some time later, she awoke with a start. Her lids fluttered open, but her eyes were slow to adjust to the gloom in the chamber. The drapes were open, letting in a slice of moonlight. She looked toward the window. There, in silhouette, stood Geoffrey.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Geoffrey?”
He lit a candle, dispelling some of the shadows. Becca took in his appearance. He wore only his breeches, his feet bare. She brought her gaze up to his face. The expression she saw there was unsettling.
“Get out of my bed,” he ordered, his words a bit slurred.
She blinked up at him, certain that she’d misunderstood him. “What are you—”
“I said, get out!”
Becca scrambled to do as he asked, tears blurring her vision. She reached for her wrapper to cover herself, but his hands reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. He ran his gaze over her as his fingers dug into her flesh and she felt a chill to her soul. He looked like a stranger to her.
She cried out, “You’re hurting me!”
Geoffrey stared at her for a moment longer. Finally, he let her go. He turned away and raked his hands through his hair, muttering incoherently under his breath. She began to walk past him, but one word stopped her.
“Why?” he asked.
“What?”
“Why did you let him touch you?”
His eyes met hers then, ablaze with anger. Her breath caught as he stepped closer to her. “You’re mine, Becca,” he growled. “Mine.”
He grabbed at her shoulders once more, tugging at her nightgown. The thin fabric gave way with a harsh tearing sound. His gaze ran over her from head to toe. She read the raw desire in their blue depths a split second before he grabbed her roughly and crushed his mouth to hers.
She whimpered and the kiss changed. His tongue swept through her mouth, teasing her. She caught his passion, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair. He held her tightly, grinding himself against her.
He all but threw her on the bed, staring down at her as he unbuttoned his breeches. He came down on top of her, nearly crushing her with his weight. Her eyes fluttered open, her pulse quickening at the hot glare in his. This was so unlike him, this anger mixed with lust. She trembled in his grasp.
“You’re mine, Becca,” he ground out. “Say it!”
“Don’t do this, please.” She gasped. “Not like this.”
He froze and grasped her chin and tilted her head up. His eyes met hers, his gaze steady. “Mine.”
This was not like the careful attention he’d paid her since declaring his love. No, this was a possessiveness that was frightening. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt hot tears trickle from them. “I’m yours,” she whispered brokenly.
His hold eased and he lifted himself away from her. “Forgive me,” he muttered.
He rolled away from her. Becca’s mind reeled as the chill from his sudden withdrawal bit into her. His passion had stunned her, his quick desertion just as startling. Yet, she needed more from him: a tender word or soft caress to assure her of his love.
His snores told her he’d fallen asleep. She slowly climbed out of bed and picked her nightgown up off of the floor. It was torn beyond repair. With a sigh, she retrieved her wrapper and donned it, tying it tightly around her waist. She curled up against her husband’s back and fell asleep.
Sunlight streamed through the window, rousing Becca. She stretched, feeling a bit sore. Suddenly, the memory of the night before came back to her. She looked over at Geoffrey’s side of the bed, not surprised to find it vacant. He’d been so angry last night, she’d briefly worried about her safety. But he hadn’t hurt her. In the end, he hadn’t hurt her.
Geoffrey strode out of his dressing room just then. He froze when he saw her, finally shrugging into his jacket. She smiled faintly at him in greeting.
“Good morning, Becca,” he said stiffly.
He seemed distant, cold.
“Where are you off to so early?”
He adjusted his cravat in the cheval mirror. “I’m leaving for London after breakfast.”
“London?” She sat upright. “Why do you have to go to London?”
He turned back to her, an indefinable look crossing his features. “I have business to attend to.”
She lowered her gaze, knowing full well that he wouldn’t share this with her.
He crossed to the bed and sat down on the edge. “Becca, about last night ….”
She could only stare at him.
He took a breath and continued. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened with Roberts.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her relief was short-lived, however.
“I never should have left your side,” he added. “If you hadn’t been given the opportunity to stray, this never would have happened.”
She gasped. She couldn’t believe that the man she loved, the man she thought loved her, had such a low opinion of her.
“Geoffrey, h-how can you …?”
He stood. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek and turned to leave. He paused at the door, opening his mouth to say something more to her. Instead, he nodded curtly and took his leave. She watched him go, stunned. After a while, she rose and readied herself for the day. Dressed in a gown of somber gray, she went down to breakfast.
Lady Margaret greeted her warmly. “Good morning, Rebecca. I hear my son has taken himself off to London?”
“Yes, Lady Margaret. He has business to attend to.”
Patricia caught Becca’s eye. The older girl smiled slyly, as if she held a delicious secret.
“Hmm,” she started. “It seems that Viscount Roberts has also left our company this morning. I wonder, Rebecca, if that’s merely a coincidence?”
Becca flushed, lowering her gaze. Patricia laughed softly to herself.
It seemed that with the earl’s taking himself off to London, the guests realized that they were very nearly overstaying their welcome. Lady Margaret and Becca saw them off that afternoon, accepting their thanks graciously.
Thomas bowed to the ladies, taking his daughter’s hand. “Girl, I had a splendid time. I only wish I could have thanked Kane myself.”
“Perhaps he’ll stop at the inn on his return, Father.”
Thomas brightened at that. He took his leave then, and Becca and her mother-in-law stood alone in the cavernous entryway.
Lady Margaret looked at Becca closely. “Rebecca, are you feeling all right? You look a bit pale.”
“Yes, of course,” Becca answered. “I’m just tired, I suppose.”
The ladies went into the parlor, picking up on the pastimes they had abandoned with the arrival of the guests nearly a week earlier. Becca was grateful to have the fire screen to work on, concentrating all of her attention on the intricate details of the floral design she painted instead of her distrustful husband currently running as far away from her as possible.
Chapter 23
Geoffrey sat brooding in his carriage, reviewing the events of the past evening in his mind. When he’d found Becca with Roberts in the library, it had taken all of his control not to throw the man out the window. Her hands had been on his shoulders, pulling him closer. Or had she been pushing him away?
He recalled nothing of what happened after he’d sent Becca away from him. Nothing, that was, until he’d gone up to their sleeping chamber. He’d tried to get her out of the room, to spare her from the rage he’d felt so close to the surface. But in the end, he’d had to have her. At the last moment, he’d
come to his senses and let her alone. No doubt he’d terrified her nonetheless.
Shame washed over him. He closed his eyes and settled back against the seat as the carriage rolled on to his London townhouse.
The next afternoon, Miles met him at the door with obvious surprise. “My lord!” the butler exclaimed. “We were not expecting you.”
“See to my bags, Miles,” Geoffrey said in a flat voice.
The butler looked behind his master, at the carriage on the street and turned back to Geoffrey. “Isn’t Lady Kanewood with you, my lord?”
He walked toward his study. “She remains at Kanewood.”
Geoffrey began to drown his sorrows, and his conscience, in brandy. Miles had insisted that he eat something later that evening and Geoffrey finally relented, choking down some soup and bread. Very late that night, he took himself upstairs to the room he’d so recently shared with Becca. She was safer at Kanewood, from the danger aimed at him and from him. It wasn’t only the matter of the missing funds and attempts to do harm that had him worried. He didn’t trust himself around her after his behavior two nights past. With a ragged sigh, he crawled into bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Geoffrey was kept busy over the next few days, accompanying Leed and Chester on their investigations. One afternoon, the gentlemen went to White’s, one of the larger gaming houses in town. Several of the notes had come directly from White’s to Geoffrey’s solicitors. As Leed had stated earlier, no one could say who had passed the notes, only that they weren’t usual patrons of the establishment. The afternoon wore into the evening as Geoffrey began drinking again. Leed and Chester joined him for a round at a public house and soon Geoffrey began to unburden himself to his friends.
“I’m the worst kind of fool, my friends,” he said.
“Kane,” Chester began, “what are you talking about?”
“I learned a long time ago to never trust a woman. And now look where my trust has gotten me.”
Chester nodded to Leed who took a breath and spoke. “Kane, what exactly happened at Kanewood?”
Geoffrey’s head shot up. “Ah, Leed. I can’t speak of it.”
“I think you should,” Chester insisted.
Geoffrey looked from one man to the other. Finally, he nodded slowly. “She betrayed me.”
“What?” Chester asked. “I don’t believe that Rebecca would ever cuckhold you.”
“No,” Geoffrey said. “She merely strayed. I put the blame on myself.”
“And none on Roberts?” Leed asked.
Geoffrey looked at him sharply. “You knew?”
The other men nodded.
“We’ve long suspected Roberts’s infatuation with your wife,” Chester said gently.
Geoffrey studied the liquor in his glass, silent.
“Kane, tell us what happened.”
Geoffrey took a big swallow of his drink. “I found them in the library.” He paused to take another swallow of his drink, letting the liquid burn a path down his throat. “Roberts was touching her,” he went on. “His lips on her skin ….”
“What was Rebecca doing?” Leed asked softly.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “She was holding him,” he whispered hoarsely. “Or pushing him away. I couldn’t tell.”
“Then perhaps she’s innocent in this,” Chester offered.
Geoffrey shrugged and looked at Chester. “She shouldn’t have been alone with him.”
“I think you’re forgetting Roberts’s remarkable charm with the ladies, Kane,” Chester went on. “He can be very persuasive.”
“Perhaps he took advantage of Rebecca’s trusting nature,” Leed added.
Geoffrey raked his fingers through his hair. His friends’ words muddled his mind.
He pushed away from the table and stood. “I won’t speak of this any longer.”
Blessedly, his friends let him have his way for the time being.
“I believe you should forgo accompanying us to the gambling dens,” Chester said.
“Why? I’m eager to put this business behind me,” Geoffrey countered.
Leed shook his head. “Someone is using your name. Your money. This may be connected to the carriage accident, as well.”
“The perpetrator has had an easy time of it, until now. If you show your face, you show our hand. Let us go and see what can be learned in your absence.”
Geoffrey was forced to acknowledge the wisdom of their position.
“All right. I daresay I can find enough drink to keep me at the townhouse.”
* * * *
Becca was slow to awaken the next morning. After nearly a week of sleeping alone in the huge four-poster, she still wasn’t used to Geoffrey’s absence. All the previous night, she’d tossed and turned. But with the sunlight peeking in though the window, she saw no way out of getting up and facing yet another day without her husband. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She suddenly felt weak, her stomach queasy. Gripping the thick bedpost, she waited for the feeling to pass.
After a minute or two, she felt better. She crossed to the washstand and splashed some water on her face. Surely, the slight attack was due to the fact that she hadn’t been sleeping well. In addition, she’d merely picked at her food for the last few mealtimes.
She sat at the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. Frowning at the pale face staring back at her, she stood and went into her dressing room to don her chemise and petticoat. When she emerged, Mary was there to assist her with her stays.
“Good morning, Mary,” Becca greeted the girl with a small smile.
“Good morning, my lady,” Mary answered. “What dress would you like to wear this morning?”
“Just pick any one, I suppose.”
Mary simply nodded and went to do her bidding. She brought Becca a walking dress of creamy ivory, the smallest green leaves twining over the fabric. After helping her dress, Mary fixed Becca’s hair in a simple style and left her.
Finally ready to face the day, Becca went downstairs to the breakfast room. She was relieved to find that John and Patricia had already eaten. She greeted Lady Margaret and walked over to the sideboard. What had first smelled delicious to her when she walked into the room suddenly assailed her senses. Her stomach churned at the heady combination of eggs, ham, and kidneys. Choosing a single bread roll, she took her seat.
Lady Margaret arched a brow at her. “Is that all you’re eating this morning, Rebecca?”
“Yes, Lady Margaret. I’m afraid my stomach is a bit sensitive this morning.”
“I hope you’re not coming down with anything.”
“I don’t believe so,” Becca said, shaking her head.
The ladies discussed the correspondence that awaited them. It seemed that nearly all of the guests had quickly penned their letters of thanks. Now, it was left to Becca and Lady Margaret to respond to their missives.
When they finished their breakfast, they went into the library. Lady Margaret settled herself behind the writing desk, motioning to Becca to take the chair facing her. Becca froze in the doorway. She hadn’t been in the room since that awful night when Geoffrey had discovered her with Lord Roberts. It wasn’t the memory of the viscount’s actions that plagued her, but rather Geoffrey’s quick assumption of her guilt. With a sigh of resignation, she entered the room and sat down in front of the desk.
“I had the letters brought in here, Rebecca,” Lady Margaret said. “I find this room so pleasant in the mornings.”
“Indeed,” Becca said softly.
As she turned her attention to the rather sizable pile of letters on the desk, something suddenly occurred to her. She thumbed through the letters, looking for Geoffrey’s familiar handwriting. Becca sighed dejectedly, placing the letters back on the desktop.
“I’m sure that Geoffrey is simply too busy to write yet,” Lady Margaret offered kindly.
“Am I that transparent?”
The expression of concern on Lady Margaret’s f
ace did little to set aside Becca’s misery. She’d heard nothing from Geoffrey since the morning of his departure, and couldn’t help feeling hurt.
They hardly spoke as they performed their task. After they shared the nooning meal, with Becca once again picking at her food, Lady Margaret sent her upstairs to rest. Truly exhausted, Becca acquiesced. When tea time arrived, she prepared herself. Mary had chosen a lovely tea gown for her in a soft shade of blue. She nodded her thanks to Mary as the girl left her. Becca sat for a while, once again staring at her reflection. Suddenly, she straightened her shoulders. No more hiding. She was a grown woman, not a child. A countess, not an innkeeper’s daughter.
Downstairs in the parlor, Patricia sat, regaling her mother-in-law with more gossip about the guests that had so recently departed Kanewood.
“And did you see that silly Diane?” she went on. “Mooning over Lord Roberts like a pup.”
Lady Margaret bristled. “She did no such thing, Patricia. She simply found him charming, as I’m sure the other girls did.”
“Hmm, yes.” Patricia smiled at Becca. “Wouldn’t you say so, Rebecca?”
“What is that, Patricia?” Becca asked.
“Oh, just that Viscount Roberts is very charming.”
Becca’s eyes widened. “I …. Yes, I suppose he is.”
“You suppose?” Patricia laughed. “I daresay you found him a bit more than charming.”
“Patricia!” Lady Margaret admonished.
Patricia hid her smile, but Becca didn’t miss the triumph shining in her eyes.
Lady Margaret turned from her to Becca. “Did you have a nice rest, dear?”
“Yes, thank you,” Becca answered softly.
John came into the room just then. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said smoothly.
Becca looked up then. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek, poured himself a cup of tea, and sat beside Patricia. The speculation in his eyes as he gazed at Becca sent an unwelcome shiver down her spine.
“How are you faring, Rebecca?” he asked.
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