His Perfect Game (11 page)

“His opinion of me might be difficult for me to change. Our first encounter didn’t end favorably.” Greyson refused to relay to his friends how he’d lost control with a woman, especially in such a public place.

“I see. You met him over the card table.” Richard smiled, feeding Greyson’s ego.

His friend’s complete faith in his ability at cards always gave Greyson a sense of pride. Although the pastime wasn’t approved by many, he could not help but be pleased at the level of skill he’d obtained over the years.

“No, but I did manage to anger him.” Glancing back to Hauney, Greyson saw his opportunity. “Please excuse me. I think it’s a good time to speak with the marquis now.”

“Good luck,” Richard called out.

“Yes. I do believe he will need it.” Jonathan’s laughter followed him as he crossed the room. It didn’t discourage him. His friend always managed to find amusement in any situation, even if there was none.

“Hauney, may I have a word with you?”

“Certainly. I have been meaning to speak with you as well.” The man eyed him as if sizing him up.

“We can go to the library.”

At Hauney’s nod, Greyson led the way. The library sat close to the drawing room, but Greyson had no intention of allowing their conversation to be overheard. If Hauney determined to malign his name, he would have to do it when Greyson wasn’t present.

As he pushed open the door, he saw the lights had already been lit. A book lay open in a chair as if the reader quickly vacated the room. It was either a servant taking a break or Richard had been hiding from his wife and the preparations for the evening. The sight of their domestic bliss brought out a longing in him. Clearing his mind, he reminded himself the state wasn’t for everyone.

“Care to have a seat?” Greyson offered after the door closed.

“I’m fine standing. What did you wish to talk about?” Hauney crossed his arms and tilted his head.

“As I am to be your brother-in-law, I decided it would be a good idea to further our acquaintance. I understand you have some reservations about me, and I’m prepared to settle any of your concerns.”

“My problems with you can’t easily be solved. Father told me how your betrothal came about.”

“Did he also tell you how pleased he was with the arrangement? After we agreed upon the particulars, he thanked me profusely. He also told me, while laughing I must add, how I lost in the whole matter.”

“Don’t insult my father’s character. He would never treat my sister like that, like a possession. You coerced him. He had no choice.”

“Yes, I did force the issue.”

“Why?”

His bewildered tone enraged Greyson. How could Lady Willimena’s own brother not see her worth? Over the years, men had attempted many underhanded feats in order to win a lady’s hand. He’d acted no differently. Lady Willimena was worth the trouble.

“You belittle your sister’s value.” Greyson let his words portray his anger. “I will not stand here and allow you to act with such disregard.”

“I mean no disrespect toward my sister. I only want to understand your motivations.” Hauney smiled. “Now I know.”

“Know what?” Greyson demanded.

“Only that I’m pleased to welcome you into the family as a brother. My sister could not have found a better choice.”

“Your opinion is easily changed.” Suspicion infused his words. Somehow he’d missed a major part of the conversation.

Hauney stood there, smiling like a fool and not explaining his sudden change of feelings.

Greyson bristled. For some reason, everyone deemed it necessary to leave him out of the amusement this evening, and the exclusion irritated him.

“Do you know where Stonemede keeps his brandy? I’m in need of a drink.” Hauney settled into a chair and watched him expectantly.

As Greyson collected the glasses and Richard’s private reserve, he wondered at Hauney’s strange transformation. Had he believed
he
would harm Lady Willimena and now was satisfied of her safety? Though he wanted to, he knew asking would not result in the desired answer.

He handed Hauney a glass before sitting on the sofa. His mind once again thought back to the duke as well as Lady Willimena’s appeal at the Arctic ball. If something untoward had occurred with them, Hauney would know. Taking a long drink of his brandy, Greyson formed his question.

“Are you glad to be back in London? I understand you live on your estate.”

“I’m always pleased to be in town. London is amusing, and of course, I enjoy seeing my family.” Hauney’s smile was indulgent. “It will not be the same with my sister gone, though.”

“I imagine not. Do you suppose she is happy to be leaving?”

“I’m sure she will be very pleased to be Viscountess Merrick. Don’t concern yourself.”

Greyson set his glass down and steepled his hands over his knees. Either his questions had come across too subtle, or his imagination had created the whole thing. One last question remained. One that would give him the answer he sought and put his concerns to rest.

“What about your mother? How will she fare to not have you or her daughter home any longer? Do you suspect she will be content living with just her and the duke alone in the house?”

“It will take some adjustment, but yes. I do believe she will be pleased to see her children gone and prospering.”

Greyson leaned back, feeling relief in the knowledge. No hesitation sounded in Hauney’s voice, and his eyes remained open and without guile. Greyson nodded. He had nothing to worry about. Once Lady Willimena and he wed, the duchess would have no problems, save those of her own making.

After exchanging a few other pleasant words, Greyson led the way back to the drawing room. Seeing Richard standing beside his wife, Greyson knew this was his opportunity to seek out Lady Willimena.

For some unknown reason, he wanted to be by her side. She stood away from the other gathered guests, speaking to her father. From the man’s stance, he wasn’t pleased. Curious, Greyson edged closer to the two.

“I will not tolerate your lies, nor will I hear another word. You will be married whether you wish it or not. If I hear another word of complaint from your brother, it will not bode well for you. Do you understand?” the duke spat.

“Yes, Father.” Lady Willimena’s whisper was barely audible.

At that moment, Greyson felt a ripping in his chest. His hopes and desires faded. She didn’t want to marry him. He foolishly thought they had progressed past this, and that she’d found contentment with her future. He had deceived himself.

His body straightened as his deliberate cold façade finally returned to him. Emotions only caused trouble, and he’d been ignorant to think otherwise. From now on, he would return to being a detached man, one who knew how to survive in this world.

Abigail dragged her bruised and bleeding body up the stairs and into her bedchamber. This was to be her last night in her father’s house, so she should not have been surprised to receive one last beating from him. After tonight, the right to beat her would belong to her husband.

As soon as she closed the door, Mary stood, waiting to assist her. Without a word, she helped Abigail out of her ruined dress and began applying the salve to her skin. Although the pressure caused pain, she knew eventually relief would come.

“I have packed a jar of the ointment for you, and I placed a note in your trunk detailing what to request if you need more. Just give the paper to your maid, and she can get it for you.”

Fresh tears sprang to her eyes to realize Mary would not be there for her any longer. Turning, Abigail put her arms around her maid and squeezed as tightly as she could manage. In all her years, Mary remained the only one who understood, the only one willing to help.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Abigail managed to say between sobs.

“Me, too, my lady. Now don’t cry. You would not wish for your eyes to be puffy and red for your wedding, would you?”

Abigail drew in a shaky breath as she allowed Mary to continue applying the cream. Mary was right. Her wedding could be the beginning of something grand. Lord Merrick could offer an end to her suffering. That is, if he proved to be a man of his word.

This next chapter of her life filled her with trepidation and uncertainty. The present was familiar but dreadful, whereas the future was unknown and frightening. Tomorrow she would embrace her future, and she hoped it would turn out better for her than she expected.

Chapter 6

Abigail could not stop her hands from trembling nor could she stop the rapid beating of her heart. As a child she had dreamed of her wedding and how wonderful the experience would be. Then, after she learned of man’s true nature, she had hoped this day would never arrive.

The schedule for the day was to be extravagant. The guests were to be served luncheon before the wedding, then dinner afterward. Finally, her father had planned a ball for the evening. Exhaustion overwhelmed her simply by thinking of it all.

Her betrothed wanted this to be the event of the Season. Almost every person in London had been invited, and, much to her surprise, the confirmations of guests attending reached an extremely high number. She had no idea how so many people would be accommodated, but her mother had assured her everything would be managed to satisfaction.

“How is she doing?” her mother asked from the doorway to Abigail’s nearly empty bedchamber.

“She is almost done, Your Grace. I only have to reapply the hair powder where it wore away when I styled her hair.” Mary grabbed the jar of powder as if to emphasize her words.

“May I at least have a look at myself?” Abigail asked. She had been trying to catch a glimpse of her reflection since she put on her opulent yellow gown, but Mary had refused.

Abigail fingered the delicate silk again. The smooth texture felt magnificent and made her wonder how luxurious it would feel without all the padding she wore underneath. The gown had taken the seamstress over three weeks to construct. Peering down at the pearls and intricate patterns created with lace, she didn’t doubt they’d used the time wisely.

“Yes. You are ready now.”

As she stood, she winced against the pain. Her body throbbed from the wounds she had received last night as well as the immense weight of the dress. Attempting to move as gracefully as possible, she glided toward the mirror.

The dress combined with the pearls adorning her hair provided a stunning effect. Although the dress was gorgeous, the shade of yellow didn’t work well with her light-toned skin, but her father had insisted upon the color. No doubt in another attempt to control her.

Her dull hair created another imperfection adding to the overall dowdy effect. She’d never lamented the lack of shine as much as she had this last month. Forcing her mind from things beyond her control, she grabbed her hideous glasses and shoved them onto her face. The only benefit they provided was hiding her sallow complexion.

“You look marvelous, my dear.” Her mother took Abigail’s hands and held them out.

“I agree,” Mary added. “This dress is breathtaking.”

“Thank you both. I’m not sure how I will carry this weight around all day, but I do feel beautiful.”

“As it’s only one day, I’m sure you will manage.” Her mother turned to Mary. “Please give us a moment.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Mary bowed then left them.

Her mother drew her to sit on the edge of the bed. Although Abigail had no idea what this talk would consist of, she enjoyed the opportunity to spend a quiet moment with her mother before the insanity of the day began.

“It’s customary for the married females in the family to instruct the bride on what is to be expected the night of her wedding, but I believe it would be better for me to tell you alone. Besides, from my memory, many of those women had the wrong idea of it.”

Abigail’s face heated at the topic, but her curiosity kept her immobile. She’d heard mention of wifely duties without knowing
exactly
what they entailed. The idea of a group of women gathering to discuss such a sensitive matter sounded odd, but traditions didn’t always make sense to her.

Although embarrassed, Abigail nodded for her to continue.

“As the subject is . . . uncomfortable, I will not delve into full detail.” She cleared her throat as red colored her cheeks. “Tonight your husband will wish to be in your bed, and the act to follow does not require clothes for either party.”

“Am I to go to bed unclothed?” Shock resounded in her words.

“You may, or your nightdress can be removed once he arrives. He may touch you in places you would not expect, but don’t fear, simply lie still and allow him.” Her mother sighed deeply as if reluctant to continue.

“That does not sound as dreadful as I anticipated.” Abigail smiled, hoping to ease some of her mother’s distress. “Although awkward, I can’t imagine a touch causing too much discomfort.”

“Sometimes, but I haven’t told you the whole of it.” Her mother wrung her hands. “He will lie on top of you and, well, you shall see. Once again, I urge you to lie still. The pain is more bearable if you don’t move. Then when it’s over, he will leave.”

Abigail stared at her mother, speechless. The whole ordeal sounded dreadfully embarrassing and, judging by the pained expression on her mother’s face, undesirable.

After hearing the account, she wondered why some women would seek men out to engage in the activity knowing of the terrible outcome. Perhaps her mother had the wrong of it.

“Are you certain?” Abigail tried to keep the hope out of her voice.

“Yes.” Her mother shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have never told anyone this, but your father isn’t the only man I have experienced in bed.”

Abigail’s mouth fell open as astonishment raced through her body. “What are you saying? You have a lover?”

“No, nothing like that. I was fifteen and imagined myself to be in love. He charmed me and convinced me we would run away and marry. It was horrible. Afterward, I ran back home and never saw him again. Three years later, I married your father.”

Blood pounded in Abigail’s head. How could her mother engage in
that
activity with another man? The very thought was preposterous. And how could she keep such a secret for all these years? Abigail took a deep breath and forced her shaking fingers to still.