He tossed off another brandy and walked to the safe behind the portrait of his great-grandfather, the sixth marquess of Everleigh and restorer of the family fortune. Blake moved the portrait aside and spun the dial of the hidden safe. He pulled down firmly on the handle and the door of the safe swung open to reveal its contents.
The necklace lay nestled in a box lined with soft black velvet and alongside of it lay a matching bracelet and a pair of drop earrings. Blake had recognized the necklace the moment he'd held it in his hand. He had designed it himself and had it made for his bride. His bride. Meredith. His beautiful, faithless bride.
Blake rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers as the memory of his impetuous courtship and marriage returned to haunt him.
Meredith Brownlee had been the darling of Sussex. A spoiled, beautiful girl with an adventurous streak and a flair for riding to the hounds. Being the youngest of five children and the only daughter of an impoverished squire had left its mark. She was pampered, willful, and absolutely ruthless in obtaining her heart's desire. And despite her family's lack of wealth, she was the envy of every young girl in the village, the desire of every young man who was fortunate enough to glimpse her riding across the meadows dressed in a blue velvet habit with her long, ebony-black hair whipping in the wind.
Blake had seen her that way. He was home from Oxford and preparing to take up his post in Vienna when he caught sight of Meredith flying across the fields on a roan horse with all the fury of a modern-day Joan of Arc. His heart had pounded at the sight. And he'd decided then and there to have her for his very own.
The courtship was fast, furious, and so intense, Blake paid no attention to second thoughts. He was too enthralled by the breathtaking beauty of Meredith--too caught up in the dream of having her. He had never once paused to ask himself if Meredith returned his affections. He never wondered why she agreed to the courtship though she barely responded to his kisses. Blake didn't want to know why she agreed. He only cared that she had. He told himself she was shy, that she would learn to love him because he couldn't stand to think that she might not. He couldn't stand to think that his wealth might be more of an attraction for Meredith than he was. So he never asked. He never delved too deeply. He simply pursued her with single-minded determination to have what he wanted. And he won.
His four-week holiday flew by and at the end of the month, the little village of Everleigh was dazzled by the marriage of Meredith Brownlee to Blake Ashford, the ninth earl of Lawrence. The groom's father, Lord Everleigh, the marquess of Everleigh, had spared no expense for the wedding of his only son and the result was every young girl's dream of a wedding.
The bride was a vision of loveliness in her cream-colored satin gown, her black hair braided with sprays of orange blossoms. The groom, equally resplendent in an elegant, striped morning suit, stood tall and handsome beside his bride in the village church.
They made a handsome couple.
Everyone agreed. They were perfectly matched. Blake thought so, too, until he kissed his bride.
Their first exchange as husband and wife had been revealing. Too revealing. It was a greedy kiss, grasping and desperate, but devoid of love or tenderness. It was passionless. It was disgusting. It was faked. Meredith pretended overwhelming passion but she shuddered with disgust and a barely concealed tolerance of his touch.
It was as if a veil had been lifted from Blake's eyes. He had been so blinded by her beauty that he hadn't been able to see what was clearly visible. She didn't want him.
Nigel had seen it as had Beth, Nigel's wife, and his own parents. They had all tried to caution him not to be too hasty, but he hadn't listened to them.
Marry in haste, repent in leisure. The idle phrase ran through Blake's mind as he stared down at the emerald creation that had triggered the Pandora's box of his memories. He had repented and repented and repented. He had repented for six bloody years--until mercifully, the farce had ended.
Blake jabbed his fingers through his hair. Had there ever been a bigger farce than his wedding? He remembered brooding all through the reception following the wedding. He had stood in the midst of the celebration and gaiety accepting congratulations, and wondering how he would cope with the ugly realization that his wife--his bride--didn't return his affections, until Meredith interrupted him.
"Darling, I'm going upstairs to change."
"I'll go with you," Blake suggested.
"No." Her objection was hasty. Too hasty. She tried again, softer this time. "No, stay and enjoy the reception a while longer. I need a few minutes alone. To get ready." The words rolled off her tongue convincingly, but Blake was aware only of the fact that his wife was stalling--delaying her wedding night.
He told himself it was natural for a bride to be nervous, to dread the unknown, but a seed of doubt had been planted. He wondered about his wedding night. And, as he wondered, he ceased to look forward to it. He dreaded what he would find. A stone-cold wife. A wife who hated his touch. He prayed he'd be wrong, prayed he'd misread the situation. He hoped he was mistaken, hoped he'd find passion and love.
Blake had waited an hour, then half an hour more before he made his way up the stairs. He paused outside his bedroom then tapped on the door. He knew what he would find as soon as he heard the voices, the urgent, unmistakable murmurs of lovers. Still he had waited, delaying the inevitable, listening through his bedroom door like a thief or a spy--or a betrayed husband.
The jewelry box slipped out of his grasp and dropped to the tabletop and Blake squeezed his eyes shut, hoping for a brief moment that he could finally blot out the ugly image burned in his memory. When he opened his eyes again, he fixed his sight on the mantel, then walked over and poured himself another brandy, waiting for the pain to begin--waiting for the vivid, wrenching knife of betrayal to turn in his gut at the remembered sight. A snort of self-contempt for the boy he'd been escaped him. He had wanted so desperately to find Meredith consumed by passion. And he had.
She was so consumed by passion she'd risked discovery on her wedding night. The memory of that night and the voices assailed him.
"Goddammit, Meri, this was a stupid idea! He could walk in at any minute." The man snarled at her between grunts and groans. "Did you even bother to lock the door?"
"Of course not." She laughed. "The thrill of discovery has always lent a certain edge to the fun."
"You're crazy," he muttered.
"I always have been. About you. For as long as I can remember." She gasped in pleasure and a series of whimpers escaped her.
"If he walks ... in ... everything ... is ... ruined."
"Not necessarily." She paused to kiss her lover. "He might enjoy watching. Or even participating. A threesome might be enjoyable. I might even be able to bear his touch if you were here helping."
"The way you help with the serving girls?" They shared a laugh. A secret lover's laugh. And, on the other side of the door, Blake had clenched his fists in anguished impotence. He knew that voice. That laugh. He'd heard it many times before. He struggled to maintain control, agonizing between the need to see for himself and the desire to remain in the bliss of comparative ignorance.
"I can't help it." Meredith purred, "I'm so jealous of them. You've spoiled me for other men. I don't like it when you take other women."
"They're just a substitute for you. For when it's too dangerous for us to be together," he groaned.
"Truly?"
"Truly," he promised.
"What about your wife?" Meredith asked.
"She means nothing to me," he avowed. "Now open up, my beauty. Spread your legs for me. Let me in."
"Oh, God! Oh, Jack!" In the moment of supreme pleasure, Meredith cried out her lover's name.
And Blake quietly opened the door.
She lay on the huge bed, the bodice of her wedding gown open, her lush breasts exposed and glistening with the wetness of Jack's mouth. Her ski
rts were crushed about her waist, the satin crinkling in rhythm to the man pumping between her legs. Jack. Her lover.
His first cousin.
Blake fought to keep from retching at the sight of his bride with his cousin. The man who had always been as close as a brother was sprawled between Meredith's thighs. For the first time in his life, Blake wanted to kill. Both of them. "Get off." His voice was calm, his actions clearly restrained as he grabbed Jack by the back of his collar, pulled him from the bed, and flung him into the opposite wall. Jack howled as his nose smashed forcefully into the wall.
"Cover yourself!" he ordered Meredith, ignoring Jack's cry.
She ignored him. She continued to lie with the bodice of her wedding gown open and her skirts bunched up around her waist as the mark of his cousin's possession seeped down her inner thighs.
"Isn't this what you wanted? To be discovered. Isn't that why you didn't bother to lock the door?" Blake spoke in a harsh whisper. "You were hoping I'd walk in."
She smiled at him. "Of course."
"Am I the only one who rates a private performance of wedding day adultery or should I shout down the stairs and invite all of our wedding guests to come up and witness this?"
"Why don't you?" Meredith countered.
Jack paled. "Have you lost your mind, girl?" he demanded hoarsely. "My wife is downstairs. What if he does it?"
"He won't." Meredith was confident. She stared at Blake, daring him to invite the cream of London society to share, to witness--her wedding gift to him. Daring him to carry out his threat and expose his family, friends, and colleagues to scandal on the day of his wedding.
He wanted to. He wanted to call the guests to come see his adulterous wife. He wanted someone else to witness the unspeakable. His wife involved with his cousin. His married cousin. But that was the rub.
Meredith Brownlee was now his wife and any scandal that linked her with his cousin would hurt other people. Innocent people. Jack had a wife and two adorable children. A scandal would taint them as much as it tainted Jack.
Blake wouldn't risk the scandal. And Meredith knew it. He was too honorable, too ambitious, and too full of youthful idealistic pride.
The bedroom door was open. Blake waited until Jack crawled toward it, then slammed the door shut, turned the key in the lock, and pocketed it.
"Sensible, very sensible." Meredith leisurely fastened the bodice of her gown.
"What do you want?" Blake ground the words through his clenched teeth. He had been set up from the beginning. Neatly snared, like an unsuspecting rabbit.
"I have what I want." Meredith smiled at Jack. "We have what we want."
"And that is ..." Blake gripped the bedpost as Jack fastened his trousers, wiped his bloodied nose, and moved to sit next to Meredith.
"Respectability. Land, position, servants, wealth. A mansion in London. I wanted a way out of Everleigh and a ticket into the cream of London society. And now I have it. I have what I've wanted all my life. Everything you took for granted. I'm the countess of Lawrence and one day, I'll be the marchioness of Everleigh. Nothing can change that."
"Except an annulment. Your tenure as countess will be the shortest in Lawrence history," Blake sneered. "I'll start proceedings in the morning."
"Too late," Meredith purred, placing a hand on Jack's crotch. "If all goes well, I should present you with the Lawrence heir nine months from today." She looked up at Blake. "As all good and faithful wives should do."
"Well, well." Jack smiled approvingly at Meredith. "And I thought you wanted to give me a farewell tumble. I should have known. You are a clever puss."
"Goddamn you!" Blake took a step forward, his fingers itched to curl themselves around her throat. "Any abomination--"
"Abomination! I take exception to that, Blake," Jack interrupted. "You're talking about a cousin fathered by me and I happen to make beautiful babies."
Blake ignored him. "Any abomination you deliver nine months from today won't be the Lawrence heir."
"Prove it. Prove it, Blake. Prove it in a court of law. Tell the world that I betrayed you. Deny your loving wife, deny your heir."
"I haven't touched you," Blake said.
"Can you prove that?" Jack echoed his lover.
Blake focused his attention on Meredith. "If you value his life, you'll keep him quiet." Then, he looked at Jack. "One more comment out of you and you'll be swallowing your teeth and holding your groin."
"I'm not a virgin. Any decent doctor can tell that. How will you explain my condition? Will you admit to being cuckolded in court?"
"That shouldn't be too hard to do," Blake retorted cynically. "Half the men in the village will probably admit to being your lover."
"But you're my husband. It will be your word against mine and I'll swear it's yours. I'll even swear you seduced me before the wedding."
"You'd be lying. No one would believe you."
"Oh yes, they would. I can be very convincing when I want to be and it's common knowledge around the village that you could hardly keep your hands off me whenever we were together. Then there is this hurried marriage. People are already whispering that I'm with child. I'll tell everyone I am. I'll confess to my parents and name you the father. I married you for your money and your position and I intend to keep both. You aren't going to cheat me out of what's rightfully mine without a huge scandal, the likes of which you've never seen. And think what a scandal like that would do to your diplomatic career and to your family name. Not to mention your mother's weak heart."
"You plan to blackmail me." Blake said. "What makes you think I'll allow it?"
"It's in your best interest." Meredith told him triumphantly. "You have pride, Blake. Too much pride. You're arrogant and ambitious. You would never do anything to bring scandal to your family or to hurt your promising career."
"An annulment of my brief marriage would not cause scandal," Blake reminded her.
"Maybe not," Meredith agreed. "But a divorce would and I'll make certain you're denied an annulment."
Blake had been neatly trapped by his own weakness and he knew it. He was tempted to throw everything away to be free again, but he knew deep down inside he would never be happy if he gave up the career he loved and had worked so hard to attain. A career that could be over before it had really begun. And he couldn't allow Meredith to hurt the people he cared about. He no longer gave a damn about Jack, but that didn't mean he was willing to stand by and allow Meredith and Jack to ruin the lives of Jack's wife and children. They were innocent. Blake shook his head. He'd been the fool. A blind, impulsive, stubborn, lusty fool and now he was about to suffer the consequences. "Suppose I agree to this idiotic farce ... what do I get in return for not causing a scandal?"
"What you wanted to begin with. The perfect wife, of course. I'll take care of your households and be the perfect companion and complement to you and the perfect hostess for your friends and associates. And you'll have the right to do what you've been itching to do since we met."
Jack groaned aloud and Meredith gifted him with a brilliant smile before she reached over and patted his cheek. "It's only fair, Jack. You sleep with your wife. Why shouldn't Blake sleep with his?" She turned back to Blake. "You'll have the right to possess my body whenever you like and in return I'll give you your heir and a spare."
"I already have that right," Blake said bitterly. "The law and the church just granted it to me."
"And I won't object to your using it. I know you want children."
"Mine or Jack's?"
"Does it matter?" Meredith asked with a shrug. "As long as we keep it in the family."
"You expect me to accept Jack's leavings?"
"I prefer to think of it as sharing Jack's bounty," she smiled. "And I have no objection if you take a mistress. As long as you respect my position as Lady Lawrence, I'll gladly turn a blind eye to your infidelitie
s."
"If I agree to overlook yours?" Blake responded sarcastically.
"Of course. That's the way the game is played, Blake."
"That's not the way this game is played, Meredith," Blake said coldly. "I don't care who you dally with from now on. As long as it's not him," he nodded toward Jack. "If I catch him in my house with you like this again, I'll kill him and sue you for divorce. And be well within my rights to do so. Adultery is grounds for divorce."
Blake meant it. And Meredith knew he meant it. "You thought of everything except one tiny little detail," he continued. "You've played me for a fool. I know that. And I admit that where you're concerned, I've been a fool. But no more. I may be a fool, but unfortunately for you, I'm a principled one. So, Meredith, you had better pray to whatever gods you hold dear that you are with child. Because if you aren't, there will never be a Lawrence heir and you'll be cheated out of part of the countess of Lawrence's rightful inheritance. Lawrence House, that London mansion you want so much, is entailed."
"She knows that," Jack snapped. "It's been in the family for centuries."
"Does she know how it's entailed, Jack? Is that why she's so eager to have your child and pass it off as mine? Did you tell her that Lawrence House was originally given to the countess of Lawrence by Charles the Second? He had it built for her, his mistress, because her husband, my ancestor, had threatened to throw her out on the streets when he found out the younger children she'd been passing off as his belonged to the king. Charles, kind and generous lover that he was, threatened to throw the earl of Lawrence in prison instead, but he eventually realized that imprisoning one of his noblemen for his unwillingness to be cuckolded--even by a king--could result in the kind of anger and retaliation by the House of Lords that had cost his father his head. After all, sleeping with the king's wife is an act of high treason. So Charles decided a wiser, and perhaps more fitting, course of action was to grant Lady Lawrence a separation from her husband, build her a house of own, and gift her with a tidy fortune that would belong solely to the countess of Lawrence, so long as she has borne the earl of Lawrence a recognized heir. Her fortune is to remain separate and apart from the monies and holdings of the earl of Lawrence for as long as the monarchy stands. The earl may add to the wealth, but he can't take anything away from it. The house is tied to the title, but the earl has no right to it or say over its administration. If there is no living countess or dowager countess or female heirs, ownership of Lawrence House reverts to the crown and the fortune is placed in trust until such time as there shall be a living countess, dowager countess or female heir. It cannot be appropriated by the crown or sold by the earl or his male heirs. It belongs to the mother of the heir. Unless you become the mother of the recognized heir, Lawrence House and the money that goes with it will remain in my mother's possession."
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