This was the third time she had experienced the same premonition in the last three weeks. She didn’t know what to make of it. She’d never had her visions come to her so frequently and so strongly before. And never, ever, had she had the same vision repeated once, let alone twice. The urgency of it frightened her.
It was bad enough she had experienced one in front of Foster, but at least he would keep her secret. Now she feared what Uncle Jeffrey would do.
Once again she opened her eyes, facing him.
“Are you all right?” he asked, guiding her to sit on a nearby chair.
“I’m fine,” Mara said, but she knew he didn’t believe her because she wasn’t fine. She was still trembling as she sat down.
Uncle Jeffrey gazed at her. “Are you ill?”
She shook her head. “No, it was just a dizzy spell. I get them from time to time.”
“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t just a dizzy spell, Mara.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a doctor, but you seemed to be having some sort of attack or seizure of some kind. Have you seen a doctor?”
“I don’t need a doctor,” she said, feeling a bit panicked. The last thing she needed was for Uncle Jeffrey to make a great fuss over what just happened, and tell her parents and everyone else that Mara was ill and call for a doctor. She would be confined to bed and made to rest and everybody would worry and she would have to miss her visit with Foster tomorrow. She wasn’t having that. There was only one other choice.
She had to tell him the truth. “It’s just that sometimes these things happen to me.”
“What things? What was that?” His brows drew together in confusion.
“Once in a while, I can’t explain how or why, and I cannot control when these visions come to me, but I can see things.” She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
“You have visions?” Oddly enough, he didn’t sound appalled, just intrigued.
“Sometimes I can see things that will happen in the future.”
Uncle Jeffrey stared at her for a long moment, as if carefully considering his words. She was infinitely grateful that he didn’t overreact and treat her as if she was crazy, even though she was.
He asked, “What did you see just now?”
“I saw myself almost die in a fire.”
Uncle Jeffrey let out a long, low whistle, surprising her. “That’s a loaded vision, my dear.”
“It’s not a memory, if that is what you’re thinking, Uncle Jeffrey. The fire in my vision is very different from the fire that killed my mother,” she said softly.
“I believe you.”
“It’s not as if these visions come to me all the time. I’ve experienced them my whole life, and everything I have foreseen has come to pass. I saw that Aunt Yvette would have three daughters even before Violet was born. I saw Sara marrying Christopher Townsend. Those are the kinds of visions I’ve had.”
“You saw that I would have three daughters?” He seemed quite impressed by this development. “That’s quite remarkable. Anything else?”
“Nothing important.” She gave a little shrug.
“It’s happened your whole life?”
“Yes, since I was a little girl, but I’ve never told anyone about it. Not even my parents.”
“Why not?” he asked gently.
“I didn’t want them to ever worry about me.”
He eyed her closely as if assessing her. “Do your visions scare you?”
“No. Not at all.” At least not until this latest one. But she kept that bit of information to herself.
Beaming at her, Uncle Jeffrey smiled broadly. “And that’s a perfect example of what I meant when I said that no one gives you enough credit, Mara. Visions would terrify most people. But you’ve taken them in stride, since you were a small child no less, and never told a soul, because you didn’t wish for anyone to worry about you. You, Lady Mara Kathleen Reeves, are a marvel.”
She felt her cheeks grow warm at his compliment.
He paused before asking, “Would you like to talk to someone about your visions?”
Her heart raced with sudden fear and dread. Not doctors! She hated doctors. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, sweet girl, that I can see that these visions cause you to worry, even though you say otherwise. But I believe you may have a tremendous gift,” he explained calmly. “I can make some discreet inquiries and see if I can find an expert in the field, whom you can use as a resource. Someone who knows more about the subject than you or I do. Someone who can answer the questions you must have about your visions.”
“No.” She quickly shook her head. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“Are you quite certain?”
“Yes, and will you promise that you won’t tell anyone about me?” she asked.
Mara didn’t want anyone to know what was going on in her head. Especially her parents. They would be heartbroken to discover that she had inherited her mother’s madness. One day, when Mara could no longer contain the symptoms, they would learn the terrible truth, but she hoped to postpone the inevitable for as long as she could. And that included being questioned, poked, and prodded by doctors. She had had enough of that when she was a child.
“I promise not to breathe a word to anyone.” Uncle Jeffrey moved to place his hand on her cheek. “And you must promise me that you will let me know if you feel you are in difficulties or if you need help, or change your mind and want to learn more about your amazing gift. Do you promise me that?”
So touched by his concern for her and fearing she might cry, she could barely speak. “Thank you, Uncle Jeffrey. I promise.”
He removed his hand. “You are a very loved and cherished member of this family, Mara.”
“So are you,” she whispered.
He grinned wickedly. “I’m a rogue, that’s why they love me. Now. I think it’s time we headed downstairs. Are you ready?” He held out his hand to her.
Feeling terribly guilty, Mara rose from her chair and took Uncle Jeffrey’s arm as he escorted her from the schoolroom.
Her uncle seemed proud of her and wished to help and protect her. He offered advice and did not seem appalled by her visions. He promised to keep her secret and reminded her that she was loved by her family. He thought she possessed a gift.
Mara blinked back tears of shame.
He did not know that her supposed gift was actually a curse.
Today certainly seemed to be her day for family declarations of love.
That afternoon she’d had the conversation with Aunt Colette about carrying on the family tradition of running the bookshops, and now with Uncle Jeffrey . . .
Well, Aunt Colette and Uncle Jeffrey and everyone else in her family would not be so proud of her, or continue to love her, if they knew that she had willingly begun an affair with a married man . . .
And didn’t that hopeless and insane act in and of itself prove that Mara was afflicted with madness, just as her mother was?
13
Obstructions
Foster surprised her. She was not expecting his arrival, so he had the element of surprise on his side. Just as she had when she’d gone to his townhouse in London unannounced last month.
“Good afternoon, Rose,” he said as he stood in the doorway of one of the smaller parlors at Sterling Hall, which she had adopted as her own private retreat.
There was no denying the shock on her face, and for the slightest moment he thought she was happy to see him. “Foster!” she cried. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Rose looked a mess, worse than he recalled ever seeing her before. As she sat rocking in a chair near the fireplace, she looked like someone’s grandmother, certainly not a twenty-eight-year-old woman.
“Can’t a husband come home and visit his lovely wife?” It was a sarcastic retort and he knew it. But he hadn’t come all the way home to Yorkshire because he wanted to visit Rose. He had some serious business to attend to.
Her
face fell and that brief glimpse of a welcoming Rose vanished. Her usual bitter façade took its place instantaneously. He regretted his words as soon as he said them. But it was too late. The tone had been set.
“What do you want?” she flung at him before resuming her rocking, a woolen shawl draped around her thin shoulders.
“Are you ill?” he asked. He’d never seen her like this before.
“I have a headache, not that you would care.” She kept her eyes averted. “You still haven’t told me the reason I’m graced with your company this afternoon.”
He took a seat on a gilt-edged chair near her. It was odd to think he married this woman ten years ago and she was still a complete and utter stranger to him. By law, Rose was his wife. Yet she had never really been his wife in any sense of the word. Not in the least.
Again, he marveled at the drastic change in her appearance. She looked worse than she had when he had seen her in London a few short weeks ago. That was the very same night he met Mara for the first time.
Lady Mara Reeves. She was the real reason for this visit.
Ever since Mara had spent the night with him, Foster knew what he must do. He had to release himself from Rose in any way that he could so he would be free to marry Mara. There was no other option. He was in love with Mara, plain and simple. He could not relegate her to the role of his mistress when she was so much more than that to him. She deserved more than that from him.
He wanted Mara to be his wife. He wanted a life with her, a home, and a family. There was only one obstacle to his happiness, and to Mara’s happiness, and to a hope for a real life together. And that obstacle sat in front of him now, glaring at him.
“I don’t see the point in beating around the bush, Rose. So I shall come right out and say what I came here for.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve come to tell you that I want to dissolve our marriage.”
After a sharp intake of breath, Rose stilled and did not say a word. A heavy silence grew between them.
“Rose?”
She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and looked at him, her blue eyes filled with anger. “Why now?”
“There are many reasons.” He was not going to tell her about Mara. “The primary one being that we are miserable together and do not share a life or a home or anything together for that matter.”
“And the others?”
“To be frank, I would like to have the chance to have children.” He waited, letting his words sink in. It was the truth. Even she could not deny that she had deprived him of that opportunity.
Rose began rocking slowly again, back and forth, as she stared at the fire blazing in the fireplace. She would not look at him.
“Listen, Rose,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “We both know this marriage was a mistake from the start. You didn’t want to marry me and I didn’t want to marry you. This was our parents’ doing and none of them are still living. After all this time, you and I haven’t been able to make it work or find a common ground. We have wasted ten years of our lives. Let’s stop punishing each other for something neither of us ever wanted, and set each other free.”
She scoffed sarcastically, “Free to do what?”
How could she not understand? He wanted to scream at her, but he held himself in check. “We could set each other free from this eternal bitterness. Free to find happiness. Free to find love.”
Rose turned sharply and stared at him. Slowly, a scornful smile spread across her haggard face, and she laughed. It was a brittle-sounding cackle, dripping with derision. “So that’s it. That’s the real reason you came here. Foster Sheridan is finally in love.”
Normally he would become angered by Rose’s petty taunts. This time he did not feel angry. He simply felt sorry for her. He pitied her inability to love. Rose was so swept up in nursing whatever desperate wounds had scarred her, she would never understand his feelings for Mara or why he needed a different life, and he wasn’t about to explain it to her.
“You’re not denying it, so it must be true! Who is she? Some bright-eyed debutante in her first Season? A true, highborn lady? An earl or a duke’s daughter, perhaps? Has a little blond china doll caught your fancy, Lord Sterling? Being your mistress isn’t good enough for this one, is it?” Her words dripped with cynicism.
Ignoring how close to the mark her words actually were, Foster allowed her to vent her anger. It was the least he could do. He wasn’t going to engage in a sparring match with her, because if it came down to it, he would win. He could afford to be kind to her because the marriage was over, whether Rose liked it or not. He’d already met with his solicitor about how to proceed. The only thing that remained to be decided was whether to divorce her or annul the marriage.
But being a gentleman, he would allow her to choose.
“You didn’t think I knew about your mistresses, did you, Foster?”
Again he didn’t rise to her petty bait. She was only guessing anyway. He said nothing.
“Let’s see,” Rose began, making a show of counting on her fingers. “There was Sally Winters, the dancer from Whitechapel. You were with her the longest, I believe. Three years, wasn’t it? Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, Foster.” She waved her hand airily, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
Foster remained silent.
Rose continued counting on her fingers. “But Sally wasn’t the first and certainly not the last of them. Then there was Daisy Bradshaw, the domestic from Sussex. You dipped quite low with that one. Really, Foster, a parlor maid?” She gave him a look of utter contempt. “And let’s not forget Lady Penelope Barrington! The fetching widow who spent a year or so visiting your bed after her husband died from pneumonia, before she married that wealthy American banker. And what is the name of your most recent one, the buxom little actress with the dark hair? The one from the Imperial Theater? Oh, yes, Annie Blake, that is it! There were others, but let’s not get into them. They are not worth mentioning. Have I left out any of the truly significant mistresses?” A vicious smile played across her gaunt face.
Foster had to admit he was surprised, stunned in fact, by just how much Rose knew. All these years he thought he had been quite discreet while he carried on his affairs in London and Rose lived over a hundred miles away in Yorkshire. He had not realized that she’d been so aware of what he’d been doing or how he spent his time. Not that it mattered in the end either way. Rose had left him no choice.
Smug and self-satisfied with her knowledge of intimate details of his life, Rose gloated at his shock. “You see, Foster, I’m not as oblivious as you thought I was. I have had you watched and followed all these years. I know all about the so-called ‘ladies’ you entertained and then bought extravagant gifts in exchange for services rendered. And in some cases, you even paid them in the form of real estate. Sally Winters and Daisy Bradshaw warranted elegant houses in London when you were through with them. Oh, they must have been quite talented indeed! But all of them were rewarded most handsomely. Such a gentleman my husband is . . . I am so very proud.”
He still had not uttered a word. He had no reason to defend himself. What he did was none of Rose’s business. When she turned him out of her bed, she gave up all expectations of him to be a faithful husband, as far as he was concerned.
Foster was not ashamed of any of the women he spent time with over the years. They had all been quite lovely and pleasant. He had, however, just ended his most recent relationship with Annie Blake, an actress he’d been seeing for the last year or so. He concluded that affair the day after Mara spent the night with him. Annie had been great fun, but since he met Mara, Foster had no desire to be with any other woman. He doubted he would be with anyone but Mara ever again. Just before he left for Yorkshire, he’d instructed his solicitor to purchase a house for Annie Blake as a token of his affection.
“What do I get as my parting gift, darling?” Rose’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Now that you’re finished with me, do I get a new house too?”
&
nbsp; “Finished with you?” Foster scoffed. “We never had anything to start with, let alone finish.”
“That’s not my fault!” she cried.
“Isn’t it?” He folded his arms across his chest, pleased that she had played right into his next move. “You know, Rose, I don’t need your permission to divorce you.”
“You have no grounds to divorce me.”
Foster smiled smoothly. “You do recall the necessity for all my mistresses, don’t you, Rose?”
Saying not a word, she pulled her shawl tighter around her, her nose in the air.
“Our marriage was never consummated,” he said in a cool tone. “I could seek an annulment. Something I should have done ten years ago.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Of course I can. We have no children. And you know perfectly well the truth of our marriage bed. Or lack thereof.”
She rose suddenly from the rocking chair, leaving it swaying wildly without her. “I refuse to let you disgrace and humiliate my family and me like this.”
“What family? Your parents are dead. My parents are dead. There is no one left to disgrace or humiliate,” Foster railed. “And if anyone should be humiliated, it should be me for allowing this ridiculous farce of a marriage to continue for ten long years.”
“Exactly!” she cried. “It’s been ten years! If it was so terrible, you would have left at the start. And you can’t divorce me, you’ve no grounds! I’ve been a model wife, while you’ve been off in London entertaining all those loose women. I’ve kept up Sterling Hall. I’ve done my part. And you can’t possibly get an annulment after all these years, no one would believe you.”
“Oh, I will. Watch me. I have the grounds and the power to go through with either. I’m the Earl of Sterling.”
She flinched. “I won’t have it. You can’t do this to me. I am your wife.”
“No,” he pointed out. “You are not my wife and you never have been. You don’t even know the meaning of the word wife.”
The color rose on her cheeks as she grew angrier. “You cannot do this, Foster. I am your wife. My whole life was ruined because of my marriage to you. I never got to marry whom I wanted to marry and live the life I wanted. My punishment was marrying you. You married me and I will die as your wife.”
The Irish Heiress Page 14