Once an Heiress (28 page)

“Do not touch me!” she screeched. “I told you not to touch me. I told you not to use my name. I reassert those demands right now! I’ll not be sullied by a tongue that lavishes endearments upon two women in one night, or by hands that would rather touch a whore.”

Ethan’s mood plummeted dangerously. His instinct to protect Vanessa roared at the slander. “Don’t speak of her that way, Lily. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scorn emanated from every fiber of her being as she cast a look of disdain upon him. “And so you have done it again. Not a second after I tell you not to, you have once again abused my Christian name.” Drawing herself up, she lifted her chin at a haughty angle. “As you refuse to capitulate with my desires regarding a detached marriage, I shall have to press the issue. I’m leaving, my lord. Once I’m gone, you may ‘Lily’ me all you like, for I shan’t be around to hear it. Bring your wretched mistress here, for all I care.” Her shoulders stooped a fraction as sadness swept over her eyes. “I wish you’d married her instead of me, my lord. How much happier we’d all have been.”

“I wish I could have,” he snapped, “as Vanessa has never once cast aspersions upon my character the way you do.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed.

“And yet that would be altogether impossible, as you would understand if you would only listen, Lily.”

“Do not speak her name and mine in the same breath! How
dare
you, sir?”

She started toward the door and Ethan cursed. Grabbing her from behind, he clamped his arms around her in a punishing embrace and pulled her back against his chest. Bending his neck, he spoke into her ear in a low voice. “Stop this, Lily, just stop. You don’t know what you’re doing. I need you to believe me — ”

“I shall never believe another word that passes between your lips, my lord.” He had to strain to hear the near-whisper. As he leaned closer, his lips and cheek brushed against her hair — a silken, sweet-smelling torment tempting him even as frustration and anger continued to mount between them. “You are a cad of the highest degree, a libertine, degenerate, lying, amoral — ”

“Your point is made.” He released her, stepped back, and crossed his arms, grasping his elbows. “So this is your opinion of me, Lily? You won’t give me the benefit of the doubt, even after last night?”

She turned, but did not raise her eyes to meet his. “Yes, my lord, this is my true opinion, as it has been since I was forced into this marriage. Last night was a mistake.”

Despair unlike any he’d ever known snared him around the middle and pulled him down until he felt his heart crashing through the floorboards.

With arms stiff at her sides, Lily departed and went upstairs. A moment later, he heard the soft click of the lock on her bedchamber door sliding home.

Ethan turned back to his desk, his eyes sweeping disconsolately over the madness piled before him. His life was a disaster, he thought as he stooped to retrieve Vanessa’s crumpled letter from the floor. His finances were ruined, with no hope of ever recovering. He was caretaker to and elderly woman with an infirm mind, and his marriage —

Guilt swamped him as he slumped into his chair. The only good thing in his life had been demolished by half-truths and omissions. Ethan had managed to follow in his parents’ footsteps and create a colossal ruin of his marriage. Staring at Nessa’s letter, he cursed himself. If there was anyone in the world he could trust with Vanessa’s secret, it was Lily. Maybe, when she’d had time to calm down, she would let him explain.

He heard a knock at the front door downstairs and frowned. “Too early for callers,” he mused. The Bachman servants were competent; whomever had shown up at this unseemly hour would be sent on their way.

Putting the caller out of mind, Ethan resumed his glum perusal of the letters Lily had collected. Each one read like heartfelt words from a mistress to her lover. Ethan knew them to be the recollections of a mind lost in itself, able to detail and relive events of years past, but no longer capable of retaining information pertaining to the present. Nessa’s infirmity was the most tragic thing he’d ever beheld; losing her through the gradual degradation of her mind was horrid.

And now I’ve lost Lily, too
, he thought.

In a way, he reflected, he was as lost in the past as Nessa — held hostage by debts that forbade him any kind of freedom until he could put them to rest. If only there was someone he could talk to who could give him some sound advice …

“Oh, you blind beggar!” He shot to his feet. Did he not have a financial genius for a father-in-law? Ethan hadn’t been able to look past the man’s monumental fortune to consider how he — a man of humble beginnings — had built his wealth. Perhaps Mr. Bachman could offer some guidance in the matter.

Once he had a plan in place for repaying his debts, Lily might look on him with a little more kindness. Even if she didn’t, he would do this for himself, to prove he was a man who could take charge of his responsibilities.

He opened the study door and nearly collided with the footman who had raised a hand to knock.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” the servant said, hopping back.

“Not at all.” Ethan aimed for his bedchamber to finish dressing. “Who called, by the way?”

“I called,” said a voice.

Ethan skidded to a halt and noticed a small man hovering a few steps down the stairwell, his lips turned up in a far-too-satisfied smile. “Mr. Laramie, is it?”

The bailiff rose to the landing and bent in a slight bow. “Indeed it is, my lord.”

Ethan huffed. “What is your business, sir? Are your brutes with you? I’ve nothing left for you to haul away — ”

“I’m sorry, my lord, but it’s much more serious this time.” The bailiff reached into his coat and withdrew a document. Unease gripped Ethan when he noticed a wax seal affixed at the bottom. This was very official, and very bad.

Mr. Laramie cleared his throat and read: “On behalf of Dunraven Bank, Complainant, and by order of the Court, Ethan Faraman Helling, Viscount Thorburn, is hereby placed under arrest for failure to satisfy repayment of funds as contractually obligated to the afore-named Complainant. Ethan Faraman Helling, Viscount Thorburn, is hereby summoned to Fleet Prison, there to remain incarcerated until such a time as the Court determines resolution satisfactory to the Complainant. Issued and sealed this day,
et cetera
, signed by … Well, you get the gist.”

A muffled sound from above caught Ethan’s attention. He glanced up to see a wide-eyed Lily leaning over the second floor railing, all the color drained from her face. Their gazes locked, and he felt misery compounding misery that he was causing her this new grief.

Mr. Laramie cleared his throat. Ethan swallowed hard and watched the bailiff refold the arrest warrant and return it to his coat pocket. “Come along, my lord,” he said with that mean little smile of his, “it’s debtor’s prison for you.”

Lily straightened, unable to tear her eyes from her husband. He spoke to the bailiff in a low voice. With her heart hammering against her ribs, Lily drew a deep breath, and then another.

So now he’s to add debtor’s prison to his list of deficiencies, right behind keeping a mistress with a penchant for the epistolary,
she thought, forcing herself to think dispassionately on the matter.
I am to watch my husband led away to gaol — just what every bride hopes for.
She squeezed her lips tight as a cry threatened to escape.

Now was not the time for tears. Now was the time to distance herself from this man, to leave him to the fate he’d made for himself through his debauches and excesses.

Below, the bailiff nodded once. “Very well,” she heard him say, “but if you’ve not presented yourself at Fleet by noon, it will be much worse for you. Evading arrest shall be added to the charges.”

“I understand.” Ethan reached out to grasp Mr. Laramie’s hand. “I shall be there. Thank you.”

Mr. Laramie started at the handshake, then turned to depart. He glanced up and caught sight of Lily. “My lady.” He bowed.

She clutched her dressing gown and drew back, listening as the bailiff descended the stairs and the door closed behind him. A moment later, Ethan appeared at the top of the stairs. He paused when he saw her, his eyes brimming with anguish.

Good
. She lifted her chin, determined not to show that her heart lay in pieces inside her chest, that his having a mistress had hurt her more than she could ever begin to express.

His lips twisted. “It would appear you’re getting that separation you wanted.”

She could not find humor in the dark joke as the enormity of the situation began to settle on her shoulders. “Arrested,” she hissed. “You’re going to prison, Ethan! All because you didn’t pay your bloody debts! What is the matter with you? How could you be so reckless?”

His mouth worked for a moment before he shrugged and looked dispassionately over the banister.

“Was it worth it?” she persisted. “The boots, or hats, or wines, or whatever it was you didn’t pay for?”

“It was the mortgage, actually.” His eyes — which had taken on a flat appearance — slid to her face and then away once more.

Lily sputtered, aghast. “Mortgage? You mortgaged the house? What happened to the ten thousand pounds my father gave you?”

“I gave it to Quillan,” Ethan explained, his tone as flat as his eyes.

Her throat constricted and she felt herself quivering with anger all over. “Quillan!” she strangled out, her hands balling at her sides. “You gave that boorish lout ten thousand pounds but left the bank waiting?”

“A gentleman repays his debts to gentlemen first,” he said in an even tone. “That’s how it’s done.” He brushed past her to go into his own room.

She cursed under her breath before following him. Why was he so calm all of a sudden? It would be so much easier to maintain righteous indignation if he would yell back. Instead, he accepted the arrest with grim dignity — an arrest which had come about, she hated to admit, because of his adherence to a gentleman’s code of honor, misguided though it was.

For all his many faults, Ethan seemed to be striving to do the right thing. Her heart constricted, reminding her of the bruised love she held for this man.

He emerged from his dressing room with a dark waistcoat and coat. He buttoned the coat as he crossed to a trunk against the wall, from which he retrieved a bag. Ethan cast a few glimpses in her direction as he packed some clean shirts and toiletries into the case.

Panic clawed at her gut as she watched him. This was really happening. Her husband was going to gaol. Lily’s breaths came faster as an overwhelming sense of loss crashed over her. She sank onto a chair — one much better suited to her frame, she noted with despair — and dropped her head into her hand.

Then she was in his arms, scooped up and crushed against his chest. “It’s all right,” he murmured against her temple.

Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. “How can you say that?” she wailed. “You’re going to prison, leaving me … ”

He rubbed her back with soothing motions. “I never wanted to leave you.”

The gentleness of his words broke her heart all over again. She had to stop this! “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. “Please don’t go.”

Ethan’s hands clutched her hair, pulling her closer. “I have to. But it won’t be for long. The bank is just trying to scare me into paying — as if I wouldn’t have already, if I had the money. If I don’t pay soon, they’ll seize the house and that’ll be that. One way or another, I won’t be there long.”

Lily pushed back in his arms and looked into his face. His expression was somber as he brushed her cheek, wiping away hot tears as though it were the most important task in the world.

At that instant, Lily put aside her hurt at his having a mistress. That wasn’t the most pressing matter now. With a firm nod of resolve, she cleared her throat. “I’m going to my father right away. I’ll tell him to sign over the dowry, and he will give me enough to pay the bank so you don’t have to go to that dreadful — ”

His fingers against her lips silenced her. “Don’t do that, Lily.”

Confusion tangled her thoughts. She could fix this! “But — ” she started.

“No.” His eyes hardened in resolve. “I’ve not been good enough for you.” She started to protest, but he forestalled her once again. “I’m sorry, Lily. Truly sorry for not being the husband you needed me to be. I promised your father I would make you a happy woman before I took your dowry, and I intend to do just that. I
will
make you happy, princess.”

“It would make me happy if you didn’t go to gaol!” she insisted.

He smiled ruefully and rested his forehead against hers. “I’ll figure it out, Lily. Before I go, I only want to swear to you that Vanessa is not my mistress. You must believe that.” Lily flushed at the mention of the other woman. Her lips parted; Ethan shushed her with a quick kiss. “There’s not time now to explain, but I will do so when I return. And return I shall, princess, and soon.”

He took her face in his hands and kissed her properly, then broke away. Lifting the valise from the bed, he gave her hand a final squeeze before slipping out the door and down the stairs.

Lily stood in stunned silence as she heard the steady beat of his boots against the stairs and crossing the entry hall.

“Wait!” she cried, just as the front door slammed home behind him. She ran to the window and ripped the drapes aside in time to see him step into a hackney.

As the hired coach pulled away from the curb, Lily slapped her hand on the glass to catch his attention. He was already out of sight, shut inside the shabby carriage. “Wait,” she whispered hoarsely. “Don’t leave me. I love you.” She rested her head on the glass, watching until the hackney disappeared around a corner.

Lily’s mind whirred. No matter what he said, she had to do something. Lily Bachman — Helling, she corrected herself — would not stand idly by while her husband was held in debtor’s prison. Not when she could save him.

She flew to her chamber as if the devil was on her heels, yelling for Moira to attend her, and for a footman to summon a hack. Lily dressed in haste, forgoing any attention to her hair in favor of getting out the door as quickly as possible. Snatching up her reticule, she bounded down the stairs, her loose hair streaming behind her, only to discover that the carriage had not yet arrived.