Ruined by the Earl (Marriage by Deceit Book 3)

by Ruth Ann Nordin

  “If you were younger, I’d let you have him.” Melissa turned her back toward Deb, so she could unfasten the buttons on her gown. “You would think he’d be appalled by this dress I wore. But he wasn’t. He applauded me for it. Applauded me! There’s no dissuading him.”

  “Seems like he has a good sense of humor. That’s a good trait in a husband.”

  Why was it that everyone except for Malcolm seemed to be won over by Logan? How did he do it? He couldn’t have paid them. He had no money. Was he really that charming? She rubbed her temples. If she wasn’t careful, all this stress was going to give her a headache.

  “It’ll work out, my lady,” Deb assured her, offering her a reassuring pat on the shoulders. “Sometimes it takes time to adjust to a marriage, especially when it doesn’t begin under ideal circumstances.”

  “I wish he’d found someone else to kiss that night,” Melissa replied. “Lord Waxman is a good gentleman. He would have treated me well.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Sensing Deb wanted to say more, Melissa lowered her hands and turned to look at her. “What?”

  “Nothing, my lady.”

  “There is something. I’ve known you far too long for you to hide the truth. I can see it in your eyes. What is it?”

  Deb smiled kindly at her. “I’m not your mother, but I’ve often thought of you as one of my children. I’ve seen my two daughters marry polite and kind gentlemen who were a lot like Lord Waxman. And they have been good husbands, just as you’d guess they’d be. But they are,” she shrugged, “boring. They are like the color gray. They don’t have much more to them than what you see the first time you meet them. Your husband, however, has layers to him. He’s like a mystery, something you have to figure out. I don’t think you’ll ever be bored with him around.”

  Unfortunately, Deb was probably right. She didn’t really know Logan. All she knew so far was that he was incredibly irksome and manipulative. He’d do anything for money, and lucky her, she happened to be the one he needed in order to acquire it. If only it’d been some other wealthy lady who was getting into the carriage that night at Lord Roderick’s ball. Then she wouldn’t have had to give up Lord Waxman.

  She sniffled as Deb helped her out of the dress.

  “Do you need a handkerchief?” Deb asked.

  “Yes, please.” She didn’t want to cry, really she didn’t, but Logan had a way of bringing out the worst in her. She accepted the handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I know it’s hard to believe now,” Deb began as she opened one of Melissa’s trunks, “but things will get better.”

  Deb was right. Melissa didn’t believe it. But there was little she could do to change her situation. She was married. For better or worse, she was tied to Logan until death parted them. If only he was old and ill…

  After Melissa took off her dress, Deb pulled out a light blue dress with a pretty yellow design etched into it. “Would you like to wear this, or are you in the mood for something else?”

  “That will be fine,” Melissa said.

  Deb offered her a comforting pat on her shoulder. “Perhaps if you concentrate on things you enjoy, things will look better.”

  Her lady’s maid was probably right. She stepped into the dress. She liked wearing pretty dresses and gowns. This one was far more attractive than the black one she’d been wearing. She felt a little better. Not a lot, but enough to stop crying.

  Beyond the clothes she owned, however, she couldn’t think of what else she enjoyed, except for things she did with her family. She sensed Deb meant more than that, however. She wanted her to think on things that made her happy apart from her parents and brother. And for the life of her, her mind drew a blank, a fact which surprised her.

  “What do you enjoy?” she asked Deb.

  “Oh, I enjoy many things. A nice walk in the park, a good book, a conversation with a good friend, taking time to sit and reflect on the day, seeing my grandchildren…” She smiled. “I also like to sew when time permits. It’s a soothing activity.”

  Melissa wondered if she should envy Deb since the lady had an easy time expressing her interests.

  Deb motioned for her to sit at the vanity, and Melissa obeyed. While Deb brushed her hair, Melissa decided she’d have to pay close attention to what she enjoyed and didn’t—apart from her family—in the days to come.

  Chapter Twelve

  “You look stunning,” Logan told Melissa as she descended the staircase twenty minutes later. “I am grateful you chose to marry me.”

  She looked at him as if he’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

  “Well, you didn’t run away.”

  “I wasn’t aware that was an option.”

  “Oh, that was always an option. One I’m glad you chose not to take.”

  “No, it wasn’t an option. Despite what you think, I didn’t have a choice.” She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him, hands on her hips, something that made her particularly adorable. “You won over my parents. They would never have let me out of the marriage.”

  “I don’t know why you’d let their wishes stop you. If I were in Lord Waxman’s position, I would have asked you to elope with me to Gretna Green.” After a moment, he asked, “Out of curiosity, if Lord Waxman had asked you to run off with him, would you have done it?”

  “Of course, I would’ve.”

  “Even if it would have scandalized your family and made you a social outcast?”

  “What benefit is a good social standing if I’m miserable?”

  “And yet, he didn’t ask.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you getting at?”

  “To put it simply, Lord Waxman didn’t ask you to elope with him. He gave you a good-bye kiss and left. My dear flower,” he shot her a pointed look, “if it’d been me, I would have done whatever it took to be with you, including eloping and risking social disgrace for the rest of my life.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, and he could tell she was struggling to come up with a clever retort. But since he had an excellent point, she undoubtedly couldn’t come up with anything. And, that being the case, she was at a loss for words.

  He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the front door. “You should count your good fortune. You married the better gentleman.”

  She huffed under her breath but didn’t say anything.

  Once they were in the carriage, he settled back, mindful to give her enough space so she wouldn’t feel the need to constantly fight him. The battle of wills up to now had been entertaining, but it was time to work on an heir, something he couldn’t very well do if they kept bickering. He would do everything in his power to give her a pleasant day. Then, perhaps, she’d be in a good mood this evening. It would make things go much easier if she was.

  “Do you have a particular seamstress in mind?” he asked Melissa as the carriage moved forward.

  Melissa stared out the window, her expression downcast.

  He shifted so he could get a better look at her. “Don’t you enjoy getting new dresses?”

  “I don’t want to talk to you,” she replied, still not looking at him.

  “But you are.”

  She, however, wasn’t won over by his playful teasing. Her gaze remained on the window.

  “If you prefer,” he began, “we can do something else. The weather’s nice. Would you like to go for a stroll in the park? I, for one, wouldn’t mind showing you off to everyone.”

  She grimaced.

  “All right. No stroll then.” He tapped his fingers on his legs then said, “I know. We could get some jewelry. All ladies like jewelry. They’re the antidote to many of life’s sorrows.”

  Her eyes finally met his, and he detected the underlying pain in them. “You really think Lord Waxman never loved me?”

  Not expecting this, he hesitated to answer. After an awkward moment, he ventured, “I’m sure he care
d. He was upset that I kissed you.”

  “But he didn’t care enough to ask me to run off with him.”

  “Maybe it didn’t occur to him he could ask. He’s quite stuffy. Maybe he thought you’d say no.”

  “I wouldn’t have. I would have said yes.” Her gaze went back to the window. “If he’d known me well enough, he would have known that. At the very least, he should have taken the risk.”

  He noted the tears in her voice and winced. This wasn’t going in the direction he had hoped. He much preferred it when she was angry. With great reluctance, he pulled out one of his favorite handkerchiefs and handed it to her. “You shouldn’t let it bother you. I was merely pointing out that I’m not entirely bad. I have my good moments. In time, you might even grow to be content with me.”

  “But I wanted him.”

  And then she was crying. Full out, in all sincerity, sobbing. He shifted in the seat and tried not to notice how many tears were soiling his handkerchief. “Come now, Melissa, it’s not all bad.” Then, because his words hadn’t soothed her, he patted her shoulder. “As my mother always says, things will be better tomorrow.”

  She only cried louder and—to his horror—turned toward him and buried her face in his shoulder. This wasn’t exactly the nice, relaxing afternoon he had in mind. And who knew if the coachman or footman could hear her? Would they think he was a brute? He certainly hoped not. He could be called many things, and rightfully so, but a brute wasn’t one of them.

  “It would have been so romantic if he’d asked me to elope,” she wailed.

  Oh, this was awkward. Very much so indeed. He wasn’t good at comforting ladies. But he had to do something. Not only could the footman assume the worst if he opened the door, but she was starting to get hysterical.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and brought her in for a hug. “He cared. Of course, he cared. He was going to marry you before I came along and ruined everything.” Yes! That was a good way to go about it. Remind her why he was a cad. “He was going to ask your father for your hand. Then I came along and kissed you and destroyed all of it. It’s my fault.”

  “Granted, you are a horrible person,” she consented.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “But if it had been true love, if he had cared enough, Lord Waxman would had given up everything to be with me,” she continued. “As much as I’d like to believe it, it’s not all your fault. All you did was come along and show me the truth. At the slightest inconvenience, he gave up on me.”

  He’d like to argue this one, but he couldn’t. She was right. Lord Waxman would have done whatever it took to be with her if he’d loved her more than anything else. “Well, you don’t need him,” he said. “In fact, you’re better off without him.” Inspired, he added, “And you know what would show him you don’t need him? Act like you’re happy.”

  Sniffing, she lifted her head and looked at him. “Act like I’m happy?”

  “Yes. And you know what he’ll think? He’ll think you moved on to better things. The best revenge you can have is to be happy without him in your life.”

  “But I’m not happy.”

  “He doesn’t have to know it. He can’t read your mind. All he can do is see what you’re doing. All you need to do is pretend you’re happy.” Yes! Perfect! He had no idea where all this great advice was coming from, but he hoped it kept coming. “And if he’s not at the market today, someone will tell him about how happy you are. Then he’ll feel like a fool for the way he acted.”

  “I don’t know if I can pretend to be happy when I’m not.”

  “Of course you can. Just smile and laugh. It’s easy. Go on. Try it.”

  She sniffed again and nodded. “All right.”

  To her credit, she did try. He could tell she was giving it her best effort. But as she smiled, tears welled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

  “You’ll have to stop crying,” he told her.

  “I don’t know how to do that when I’m unhappy.”

  Before she could see it coming, he leaned forward and kissed her, and for good measure, he let his lips linger on hers for a full five seconds. When he pulled away from her, he was relieved to see she’d stopped crying. That did the trick!

  “Try smiling now,” he encouraged.

  She closed her eyes, released her breath, then opened them and smiled. The smile could have been wider, but it’d do well enough.

  “There you go,” he cheered and rubbed her back. “You’re doing well.”

  “You’re not just saying that?”

  “Now, now, enchanting heart. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever said or done anything to make you believe I’d lie to you?”

  “Well…no. I suppose not.”

  “Good. So when I say something, you know it’s the truth.”

  He studied her, wondering if she was ready to be in public. It was one thing for her to wear black at the wedding, but he didn’t relish the idea of her crying in front of strangers. They would likely think she was crying because he was a bad husband. Not that he was the best husband. Granted, he did force her into the marriage. But he’d still like people to think everything was good between them.

  “Do you feel up to getting new clothes?” he asked.

  She wiped her cheeks with the handkerchief. Her eyes were a little puffy, and her cheeks were pinker than they should be. But overall, she didn’t look like she’d been sobbing hysterically just moments ago. He glanced at his shoulder. It was damp but someone would have to take a close look to see that. So really, this was very doable. People just might think she was a contented bride.

  She held the handkerchief out to him, and he shook his head. “Keep it. I have others.” There was no way he was going to touch a soiled handkerchief, no matter how much he liked it. “But you feel better now, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good. Sometimes a good cry is all a lady needs. But remember, right now we’re trying to impress upon Lord Waxman that you don’t need him to be happy.”

  “You really think he’ll care if I don’t need him?”

  “Most definitely. It’ll be a good slap in his face. He’ll regret not asking you to elope with him when he finds out you’re happy with me.”

  She dabbed her eyes once more with the handkerchief then put it aside. “At the very least, he shouldn’t think I’m spending all my time crying over him.”

  “There you go. That’s the spirit!” She was quick to catch on, and he had to admit he liked that about her. “There’s no sense in dwelling on the past. What’s done is done and cannot be undone.”

  She stared at him for a moment then said, “You’re right. No matter how much we might want to go back and redo something, we can’t.”

  The carriage came to a stop, and he rubbed her back. “Everything will work out. Don’t you worry. Take comfort in knowing you can buy whatever you want today. There’s nothing better than shopping to take your mind off your woes.”

  The footman opened the door. Logan waited until she was out before joining her. The market was a busy place. He congratulated himself on thinking to bring her here. Sure, the Tittletattle could report the scandalous activity at the wedding, but others would see them together at this place and see they weren’t as miserable as the Tittletattle made them out to be.

  “Where would you like to go first, my lady?” he asked her, being sure to smile as if they’d been enjoying each other’s company all along.

  He wasn’t sure if she’d return his smile or not, but fortunately, she did. She told him the shop she liked most, delighting him when she spoke in an upbeat manner. That was good. She would have no trouble playing her part. He’d have to give her a necklace or bracelet to express his gratitude. He’d do that before they returned to the townhouse.

  “Let’s not tarry,” he said. Then raising his voice while some people passed, he added, “We don’t want to spend all of our day among others when we could be alone.”

  A fli
cker of panic sparked in her eyes, but then she smiled and headed for the shop she mentioned. He noted the people who glanced his way and winked at them before he followed her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As soon as Melissa and Logan returned from the market, she went to her bedchamber and cried. She could tell Logan had no idea what to do with her. Most likely, he’d never had to soothe a lady mourning the loss of love, so she couldn’t fault him for being uncomfortable. In fact, considering how often he thought only of himself, he’d probably never comforted anyone regarding anything. The few pats he’d managed to give her shoulder and timid rubbing on her back were the best he could do.

  So, to spare him from having to struggle with extending more sympathy toward her, she kept quiet during the meal. She focused on her plate. She even tried to eat, but nothing tasted good. When she believed Lord Waxman loved her, it was easy to eat. All the foods seemed to burst with flavor. But now, she didn’t taste anything. Was this what heartache was like? Did a person truly feel as if their heart was splitting in two?

  “You don’t like steak?” Logan asked from across the table.

  She glanced up at him. “I do.” With a shrug, she said, “I’m just not hungry this evening.”

  “I suppose the wedding breakfast was more than what you’re used to.”

  If he wanted to think that, she’d let him. The truth was, she hadn’t managed to eat much then either, but why correct him? If he didn’t notice, it was because he was too wrapped up in himself to do so.

  She turned her gaze back to her plate and sighed. What was the point in trying to do this? She wasn’t out in public. She should be able to do whatever she wanted. She turned her attention back to him, surprised that he could eat with such gusto. One would swear he’d been hoping to marry her for years with the way he was eating.

  “Can I leave?” she asked.

  His eyebrow rose, and he stopped eating. “Do you mean you want to go back to your parents’ townhouse?”