White Lace and Promises

by Natasha Blackthorne

He flinched. Then, eyes still closed, he nodded. “Yes, yes, I deserved that. But don’t let your righteous anger towards me make you deaf to the things I must tell you. Things you should know.”

  “Just shut up, you manipulative jackass.”

  “Beth, you know you’re making a terrible mistake. Sexton is not the man for you. He’s a cold, calculating man of business.”

  “He isn’t afraid to marry me.” She couldn’t keep the scorn out of her voice.

  Joshua flinched and paled a shade more. “Yes, he is a decisive man, but that can cut both ways, Beth.”

  That sounded ominous. Ice entered her blood. “Go on.” “He was married before, Beth. When he was a very young man.”

  “Yes, I know. He told me.” She took the end of her gown’s satin sash and plucked at several silken threads. Juliana de Lange. Her name sounded so elegant, so refined. It brought to mind a tall, willowy lady with patrician features and always cool and polite, even in bed. Beth paused and studied the sash and frowned. The end was hopelessly frayed.

  Joshua chuckled. The sound echoed soft and too deliberate for her to believe. “I doubt he told you all, any more than you have told him all.”

  She dropped the sash and jerked her gaze to his. “Just come out with it.”

  “Grey Sexton put his first wife out of his house. Sent her back to her father, and there she lived until she died, unable to have her husband and forbidden to take another.”

  “No, he didn’t. He would never do something like that.”

  “I am afraid he did. It caused a terrible scandal. All the sympathy went with her. She was the sweetest person imaginable.” He paused, watching intently for her reaction.

  She swallowed tightly and shook her head. “No, it can’t be true.”

  “Aye, that’s how cold he is. He had his freedom, took several mistresses. But she wasn’t free. Three years after he put her out, he maimed that man in the duel because they were fucking. You see, men like him—they must own everything and everyone in their lives. Even when they are done with them. And they grow bored so quickly. Tossing one wife to the street would make sending the second one that much easier, should he decide he’s tired of you or you don’t fit with his life. So don’t be too torn up when this beautiful dream of yours falls apart.”

  His sneering tone made her remember exactly who was bearing this unbelievable tale.

  “You dog-in-the-manger jackass,” she hissed. “You’re repeating nothing but gossip and lies.”

  He stood and collected his hat. “Time shall tell, my seductress, which one of us is correct.”

  He bowed, then turned and left.

  She watched him stride away through the garden. Heard the gate that separated Mrs Hazelwood’s yard from his clink closed. He was leaving her to go home to his wife. His wife.

  She remembered his wedding day. She’d spent the day all smiles on the outside, while the pain crushed her inside, breaking her young heart to pieces. Her chest burnt now just thinking about it and she took a deep, ragged breath. She loved Grey utterly and completely, with a depth she hadn’t known with Joshua. It was too late to protect her heart now. Yet she knew she couldn’t break like that again. Not without dying.

  Joshua was wrong. She could—and she would—find a way to fit into Grey’s world. Things had to work out with Grey. They just had to.

  * * * *

  “This is your last chance to reconsider, Mr Sexton.”

  In Mrs Hazelwood’s study, under her sharp stare, Grey shifted in his chair. What the devil did she mean, reconsider? Did she honestly think he was the kind of gentleman who would reconsider a sacred commitment once made? That he wouldn’t have thought of all the counterpoints before committing? With her advanced age and gender in mind, he bit back a sharp retort and fixed her with a level gaze. “I assure you, I have no desire to reconsider.”

  And he truly didn’t. With the heat of anger drained from his blood, he knew that he and Beth needed only to get through this night. To stay on target with their original goal and not let their heated emotions get the better of them. Beth would feel more secure with things made official between them. She’d settle back down. “It is her extraordinary beauty that draws you, I know.”

  “Yes, she is beautiful—exquisitely so,” Grey replied. He’d be damned if he’d explain himself to the woman. The aged blue eyes flickered coldly with a hint of superior contempt. An eerie echo of the sneering contempt in Beth’s eyes when she spoke of her own beauty or appeal to men. “She’s bastard-born. The child of my servant.”

  He flinched, finding the sound of the word ‘bastard’ spoken in reference to Beth a very ugly thing. And what the devil sort of conversation was this, anyhow? The woman was supposed to be Beth’s advocate. “I know—both you and Beth have impressed this fact on me repeatedly.”

  “Then why must you do this to her?” Mrs Hazelwood leant forward, her ice-blue gaze seeming to pierce into his very soul. She sighed and clapped her hands softly together. “Ah, but you will not relent in your quest to possess such beauty. Not even when she has neither the breeding nor the temperament to fit into your world. You do not know her as I do. She can be impulsive, driven by emotion—”

  “I think you have said enough.” He compressed his lips.

  Mrs Hazelwood held up one hand. “No, you only know half the story. Let me tell you about the parts we covered over. How her mother grew wild. How that cunning, common little harlot cozened all that money out of us for Beth’s care. How we found Beth neglected and ill with fever in her cradle. We took Beth from Alice. She didn’t fight us. She had a new protector. She wasn’t particularly pretty but she was petite and well made. Such a quiet, meek thing she was.” Mrs Hazelwood arched a brow. “I believe I am of an age where I may speak frankly to a gentleman.”

  He nodded curtly, shifting in his seat.

  “I did not realise it when I hired Alice but she was a siren tempting men to sin. She had a certain carnal, animal way about her. Her appetites appeared to know no bounds.” Mrs Hazelwood’s eyes had gone flinty, not even blinking. “However, this new gentleman soon grew weary of her, as gentlemen will do. By then he had ruined her with use of opiates and other intoxicants. She was unbalanced. She threw herself from the roof of his mansion along the Schuylkill—to her death.”

  Grey sat back and took a deep breath. Dear God. It was an incredibly ugly story. One he’d pay any price to keep Beth from hearing. Ever.

  “So now you understand her bloodlines. The girl is going to shame you. She has no sense of personal dignity. She went about in rags, though I gave her plenty of money for better over the years. She gave it all to her good-for-nothing brother and his ever-failing shop.”

  “Yes, I know,” he said tightly.

  “I care for that wild girl and I’ll hate to see her hurt by your vain belief you can mould her to suit your fancy.”

  He studied the woman’s cool, patrician countenance. How the hell could she be so unfeeling to Beth, keeping her at a distance all these years, yet claim to care about her?

  “You won’t tell her? Ever, I mean, about her father and her mother?”

  “Of course I won’t. How could I? It would hurt her too much.”

  “Hurt her?” Mrs Hazelwood’s thin, white brows drew together. “Yes, I suppose it might. But for certain it would only confuse the poor girl. I did what I felt I had to do at the time. There was no fixing matters.” Her frail looking shoulders rose and fell as she sighed. “I have tried to do my best by that girl but she is so stubborn, so spirited. Surely you understand why she could never—should never know.”

  No, the best had not been done for Beth. But what good would it do to confront an old woman now when it was too late? “Let’s just get the announcement over with.”

  * * * *

  In the ballroom, Grey tried to pay attention to the conversation between two of his business associates, but it was a losing battle. The announcement was of necessity delayed, for there was no sign of Beth. Where t
he hell was she? And who was she with?

  But then he knew, didn’t he?

  He wanted nothing more than to go and find them and set that pale-faced, bespectacled doctor back on his heels. Then he would demand that Beth explain exactly what she was playing at. Inwardly, he laughed at himself. Life had taught him better than this, yet here he was. Right back to being a nineteen-year-old, newly-wed husband. Waiting and wondering where Juliana was and whom she was with. Learning with bitter affect that the woman he’d married was nothing more than a vain, selfish, spoilt flirt.

  On a late winter’s day, she had lain on the old, rickety, dusty bed—naked—and held her arms out to him.

  “I have waited for you. Only for you.”

  Her words, whispered against his ear, had seemed like a long-held dream come true—a dream he hadn’t even known he’d been wishing for. And he had fallen for her. Of course he had. She had been pretty, petite, delicately made with long, glossy, dark-brown hair and large brown eyes in a porcelain face. More than that, she’d been bright, happy and socially facile. He’d been all of nineteen, recently graduated from Harvard and wholly awkward around females. A virgin.

  Later, when he’d discovered her true nature, when it was too late, after they were wed and had a child on the way, she’d admitted she had wanted him, had waited for him because he was the sole heir to Sexton Shipping.

  Was Beth any different?

  He’d thought she was different—so very different. Yet that was only his heart speaking. It had been no accident she’d been at the bookseller’s that first day. She knew who he was, how wealthy he was. And hadn’t she already shown a disquieting tendency to give large sums of his money to her family?

  He refused to go chasing after her like a jealous fiancé.

  But he was certainly going to have things out with her about her flight from the schoolroom and this disappearance. He’d make sure she understood that this was intolerable.

  Yet was that enough? Did he really want to live through another marriage like his first? Were all women such vain creatures that they must give cause for matter of honour to flatter their notions of their worth?

  It wasn’t too late to back out. They needn’t make the announcement.

  The thought came unbidden and unwanted, but it was there.

  An uneasy tingling around his navel interrupted his disloyal thoughts. He immediately turned and caught sight of Beth coming through the garden doors. Her eyes looked wild and her face was flushed.

  The diadem of roses on her head was skewed and several silver-gold tendrils curled around her face in disarray.

  She caught his gaze and the pain in her blue eyes stabbed him right in the heart. He fisted his hands.

  Oh fuck. If that bastard had dared hurt her—

  Chapter Four

  Grey held his breath as Beth swept towards him.

  She stopped inches in front of him and touched his arm. Gold light glinted on the pale lashes framing her eyes, deep and turbulent as the Black Sea. Raw emotional energy poured off her in waves, crashing into him. Rocking through his body.

  She grasped his arm with such ferocity that it propelled him forwards slightly. “Take me home. Now.”

  He balled his fists tighter to keep from reaching for her and pulling her hard against his body. “No.”

  She stepped back and searched his face. “You’re still vexed with me—I can’t blame you.”

  “We have to stay, for the announcement.” His voice sounded almost hoarse. It shocked him.

  “Yes, the announcement.” She traced her fingers over his arm in a sensual fashion. “But afterwards?”

  He captured her hand, clasped it. To touch her, even through his gloves, sent a pure sexual jolt through his body and it added to the charged energy flowing through his blood, demanding he do something about what had happened to her.

  “I thought you were staying here tonight. Mrs Hazelwood tells me the mantua-maker is coming in the morning to fit you for your wedding gown.”

  “Then I shall return in the morning.” She squeezed his hand. “I just can’t sleep in that chamber tonight.” Her voice broke and she bit her lip.

  “What the devil is the matter?”

  She looked down. “Please…don’t ask me, I can’t speak of it. Not tonight.”

  “He found you and he upset you.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” she repeated.

  “Did he insult you? Did he dare touch you?” He touched her shoulder and searched her eyes, trying to be gentle despite the heat rushing through his blood. “Tell me and I shall take care of it.”

  God, he’d relish the chance to settle the score. Finding nothing but pain in her eyes, his need to take action increased.

  He scanned the ballroom for the tall, slender doctor. No sign.

  Her fingers dug into his arm. He looked down. Her fragile features, the wilted circlet of flowers, the delicately accented gown with its little puffed sleeves—they all made her look girlish. It was easy to picture her as she must have been when that boy had first seduced her. Innocent, vulnerable, so easily led by her naturally strong sexuality.

  She shook her head vigorously, stray wisps of curling silver-blonde hair waving about. “Please, please, please don’t do anything.”

  Her eyes were wide, full of fear—for the hapless doctor. She still had soft feelings for the worthless bastard. The realisation cut into him like a gale of glass shards.

  “It’s my problem, my doing,” she said breathlessly.

  “Damn it, Beth. What concerns you concerns me, now.”

  “Please, don’t press me.” Her eyes glistened in the candlelight and she gripped his hand. “Not right now.”

  The cold dampness of her bare hands bled through his glove. “God damn it, Beth—”

  “Please, lower your voice, you’ll make a scene.” Her urgent whisper poured cool sanity into his overheated brain. Yes, if he thrashed the doctor here, in the garden, it would create a terrible scene. It would also raise unwholesome speculation about Wade and Beth.

  “All right.”

  “Thank you.” Her trembling lips spread into a smile.

  He almost groaned with impotent anger. After the past few weeks, observing how Beth’s half-siblings treated her, how Mrs Hazelwood held her at a distance, had told him too much about how life had been for his young fiancée. And in the midst of all that, she’d been left out for a spoilt wolf pup to come and devour. Grey’s stomach turned sour.

  Damn it, he would completely sever Beth from this whole situation and take her to New York and spoil her with luxury and everything her heart desired. He would make her forget the past. Yes—better to focus on their future. Focus on making her happy. She was his now and that was all that mattered.

  Still, he’d be sure to pay a visit to the young doctor and make sure he understood to leave Beth alone.

  Her lower lip trembled. He fancied he could feel the effort she was making not to show her emotion. “Please, Grey, it doesn’t matter. I just need to get out of here as soon as possible.”

  At her soft, pleading tone, the last of his anger drained. God, he wanted to console her. Needed to hold her in his arms and be one with her. To show her his love in the most tangible way. Nothing else mattered. Not his pride or his need to be in control—nothing mattered but them being together.

  But they still had to get through that announcement. He took her bare hand into his own.

  “Where did you leave your gloves, Beth?”

  “My gloves?” She raised a hand to her face and stared at it. Her mouth dropped open.

  “You must have left them in the schoolroom. I’ll go and get them.”

  * * * *

  In the privacy of the closed carriage, she tore off her gloves and tossed them aside on the seat, then sighed as the air cooled her damp hands. The carriage lurched forward. Grey was a silent, dark shadow.

  What was he thinking now? Was he wishing he’d never started this whole business of courts
hip and marriage? Was he wondering how he’d explain the bastard-born city urchin to his respectable New York family? Was he comparing her to his first wife? Joshua had said the first Mrs Sexton had been the sweetest person imaginable. Heavens, if a model of feminine grace like Juliana de Lange couldn’t satisfy Grey, there was little hope for Beth.

  “Charlie doesn’t speak much with Mrs Hazelwood?” His deep voice startled her out of her thoughts.

  “Oh no, Charlie is quite in awe of her. He avoids her as much as he can.”

  “So if he thinks you are at Mrs Hazelwood’s house and she thinks you are at home…” He moved closer to her on the seat and put his arm about her shoulders, drawing her near. His scent was all citrus, spice and light masculine sweat from the heat of the crowded ballroom. Her heart fluttered. He touched her hair and began removing the pins. “Then there would be nothing risked if you spent the night with me?”

  For a moment, she thought she’d heard him wrong—all but for his tone, which was intimate and sensual. Warmth blossomed in her lower belly.

  She looked up. In the dim light, his eyes glittered lustily as he leaned closer to her. He gave her a grin, boyish and soul deep, right down to the man who had made her fall in love with him.

  Heat suffused her whole body. She put her hand on his leg and smiled. “No, nothing would be risked.”

  He took her hand and pulled it to his groin.

  “Goodness, Grey.”

  He touched his lips to hers and she closed her eyes and gripped his throbbing hardness. Oh, this was more like it.

  * * * *

  Behind the privacy of the high garden wall, Grey waited while Beth lingered by the Grecian-style fountain. Her hair glowed like the moonlight itself, rivalling the fountain’s white marble perfection. He held her hand, observing her face while she watched the brightly coloured fish swimming in the water. Her expression was positively girlish.

  She wasn’t the hardened young temptress she pretended to be. He knew her depths. She was actually very tender-hearted, capable of giving a deep, abiding loyalty even when it wasn’t deserved. She was, as Mrs Hazelwood had said, too emotional, too impulsive. And, he would add, too giving of herself to the wrong people—with Charlie and Mrs Hazelwood and that bastard Wade at the top of the list.