by Donna Hatch
Alicia stared at her hands twisting in her lap and wondered if she would 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.
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.
"Alicia! Wake up!"
A pair of arms scooped her up and carried her through a haze. Alicia coughed. Her room seemed terribly warm. 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, but could only cough. Wondering why she found it so hard to draw a deep breath, she did not resist when another pair of arms led her to a chair. She heard the sound of a window being opened. She continued to cough and had to fight to keep her eyes open. A cold breeze blew across her face, helping clear her head. A blanket wrapped around her body. Her coughing abated, and her eyesight cleared.
"That's done it, my lord,” a male voice called.
"Here, madame, drink this.” Monique pressed a cup into 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 harmed?"
"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 all right?"
Alicia nodded. “I owe you my thanks."
He reached out as if to touch her and then drew back. “I'm only grateful you are unharmed."
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?
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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 at him.
His smile 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,’ 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."
She did not want to hear this. “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."
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 for a moment. “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. Armand attended places Alicia did not, such as a gentleman's club.
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 their 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. Robert was his."
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. And I'd issued the challenge. It would have followed me if I'd rescinded it. 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 sighed heavily. “I went to check on him a few days later and they told me he was only grazed and the bleeding had stopped. He 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. “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. All 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 affect 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 tortured blue eyes.
* * * *
Slowly enough for her husband to keep up, Alicia walked in the gardens. All around them, the gardeners worked quietly. In Andromeda's gardens nearest the house, water tripped over the edge of their fountains and into the pools below with soft tinkling sounds like tiny silver bells. Alicia walked in silence next to her husband, each lost in thought.
"Alicia,” he began in his low muffled voice. “Are you happy here?"
"Yes."
"Do not answer too quickly. I need to know the truth. Do you feel comfortable here? Do you feel that this is your home?"
"Yes, I do. It's beautiful here and I have everything I could possibly want."
There was another moment of silence. Finally, he turned to her. “Do you still fear me?"
She considered. He seemed less intimidating than he had at first. He had been a perfect gentleman in every way since she had met him. She realized that she had grown fond of him, of his gentle mannerisms, his wit.
But the thought of allowing him to touch her, the humiliation, the fear and degradation that accompanied such touches, turned her cold.
Knowing he awaited an answer, she moistened her lips. “Not as much, my lord."
He nodded but said nothing more and remained quiet all evening. Since that day he showed her the maze, he made no further attempt to touch her except to press chaste kisses to her cheek.
Late that night, Alicia sat up to finish a novel. As she read the last page and set the book down, hunger niggled at her. She donned a robe and slippers, picked up a taper to light her way, and slipped out of her room down the darkened hallway toward the kitchen. Lord Amesbury's bedroom door stood ajar, revealing a dying fire in the darkened room. He sat in a large arm chair drawn up to the fire, hunched over with his head in his hands as if desperately sad.
A pang of remorse shot through her. They had been married for weeks, yet she still failed to welcome him into her bed. Alicia knew she was being terribly selfish, that she should submit herself to him as was his right. After all, he'd been kind and patient. He deserved a wife who respected him enough to offer him the comfort of her body.
But whenever she imagined herself lying next to him with his hands on her skin the way Mr. Braxton had touched her, her stomach clenched until she felt ill. She went back into her room and closed the door. Her appetite had disappeared.
That night, she dreamed of lying in Cole's strong, gentle arms. Then he began tearing her bodice. Cole's face twisted and transformed into Mr. Braxton. She struggled to free herself as his hands pawed at her body, but his face changed again and he wore her husband's mask. His leather gloves felt cold and lifeless on her skin.
"Alicia."
She cried out, bolting upright and whirling toward the disconnected voice in the darkness.
"Are you all right?” The baron's voice cut through her fear, its soothing tones quieting her panic.
"Yes,” she managed. Cold sweat drenched her nightgown.
"You were dreaming."
"Yes."
"You were begging me to stop."
She pressed the heels of her hands into her wet eyes.
"Do you still fear me so much?"
She had no reply.
Soundlessly, he left the room and closed the door firmly behind him. Alicia laid her head down and wept.
* * * *
On the morning of her one month anniversary, the butler informed Alicia that a visitor by the name of Lady Edenburgh had come to call. Pleased that a neighbor had chosen to pay a visit, Alicia smoothed her hair and greeted her caller.
Lady Edenburgh met her with a warm smile. The lady was perhaps ten years her senior, with a lovely face and bright, lively eyes. She wore a tastefully simple, yet fashionable gown.
"Lady Amesbury,” she said with a charming accent Alicia could not quite place. “I am so happy to make your acquaintance. When I learned that a lady had come to live here, so near my own home, I waited impatiently until after you'd been married a month so I could come welcome her."
"I'm so glad you did."
"I've been here for three years, yet I still sometimes feel as if I am a newcomer."
"You have such a lovely accent. Where are you from?"
Lady Edenburgh smiled. “I grew up in Ireland. My parents and tutors were all English, but when everyone else speaks with an Irish accent, one picks it up."
They chatted comfortably, and Lady Edenburgh filled her in on the latest gossip. She spoke briefly of her husband. “Unfortunately, a year after we were wed, he suffered an apoplexy and is a near invalid."
"Oh, how terrible for you both."
"We have learned to cope."
Emboldened by her guest's forthright manner, Alicia said, “Pray tell me, have you ever met my husband?"
"No. Lord Amesbury has been either absent, or reclusive for as long as I can remember."
"Then he seldom attends any social functions?"
"None that I'm aware of."
Poor man. He kept himself shut away from the world. No wonder he was willing to go to such measures to find a wife. His alternative was to live his entire life in solitude.
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CHAPTER 20
On the day of the ball, Monique arranged Alicia's hair with all the care of a sculptor. Alicia sat looking somberly in the mirror wishing she felt more excitement. Before events put her into mourning, she had anticipated a ball with eagerness. There was little she loved to do as much as dance, to feel completely carried away by the music. Tonight, however, a sense of foreboding dampened her enthusiasm.
Alicia worried that she and her husband would create a sensation when they arrived. She knew he seldom attended social functions.
She wondered if their every move would be discussed and analyzed. Some might look upon her with sympathy, others, with scorn. Perhaps they'd view him as a curiosity, or as the source of apprehension, ridicule, or fear.
By the time Monique slipped her gown over her head, Alicia was tempted to cry off.
"And this one, I think, would be perfect.” Monique retrieved a pearl and diamond necklace from the jewelry case and held it up.
Alicia hesitated. She seldom removed her mother's locket, yet the baron might feel slighted if she failed to wear any of the family jewelry he'd so generously given her. She removed her locket, set it carefully in the jewelry case, and allowed Monique to fasten the pearls around her neck.
As she pulled on her gloves, Lord Amesbury knocked respectfully and entered at her bidding. She turned to face him, her dress making a slight rustle.
"You look exquisite, my darling. The dress is lovely, don't you agree?"
The dress had arrived the day before from Paris, a pale green silk with a darker green sash. The hemline pulled up in little flounces held with tiny green ribbons. The wide neckline showed off her smooth white shoulders. She almost felt beautiful.
"It's lovely, my lord."
"And the jewels are perfect.” He drew closer. “You look like a queen."
"I think I will be afraid all night that I might lose them,” she confessed.
"I hope you will enjoy yourself tonight, Alicia. Do not hurry back. I will see you at dinner tomorrow night."
Her eyes opened wide.
"I am not going with you, my darling. You are a rare beauty and you should not be seen with a frightening creature like me.
Our neighbor, Lady Edenburgh, has agreed to attend with you."
Alicia nodded. She looked forward to spending more time with her nearest neighbor.
"And my cousin Cole has agreed to attend. He normally dislikes balls, he calls them marriage marts, but he has promised to watch over you this evening."
Alicia stared. “My lord—"
"I understand your feelings, but I want to make sure you are safe. Cole is the only man I'd trust to protect you as I would if I were present."
He kissed her cheek in that muffled way that had become familiar to her, and left before she could argue further.
Monique fussed over her several more minutes while Alicia fought the rising tremor that leapt to her throat at the mention of Cole's name. After Monique was satisfied that she appeared picture-perfect, Alicia picked up her reticule and left her room. Her husband's door was closed. She paused before it, but then moved on.
Lady Edenburgh's coach waited outside. The night had cooled and the trees glistened silver in the moonlight.
Alicia chatted happily with Lady Edenburgh and asked about the nearby residents. In her charming Irish accent, Lady Edenburgh gleefully repeated the local gossip.
Although the journey took nearly an hour, time passed quickly and they soon arrived at the duke's home.
When the major-domo announced her, an excited hush rippled through the crowd. Alicia keenly felt the eyes of everyone in attendance upon her, as if wondering about the bride of the crippled Baron Amesbury. Desiring to reflect well upon her husband, she tried to move gracefully as she entered the ballroom. Her gown and jewels, she knew, were perfect and she caught smiles of approval, and even one or two of envy.
The host and hostess greeted her warmly and she made her apologies for her husband. They did not seem surprised that he had chosen to remain behind. She turned and halted.
Cole stood within arm's reach, smugly handsome, dressed in impeccable blue superfine that showed his broad form to its full advantage. A sapphire the exact color of his eyes glittered from his snowy cravat.