Promise of Pleasure (30 page)

He turned and left.

Cassandra and Victoria stood in place, watching him go. Then Victoria marched off without forcing Cassandra to endure a lecture on low morals.

As she dawdled in the quiet, it dawned on her that this had been her farewell to Paxton Adair. She would never talk to him again. She would never see him again.

It was the most dismal realization she’d ever had, and the lonely days without him stretched ahead like the road to Hades.

 

“VICTORIA,” Mary said, entering the library, “Felicity told me you wanted to speak with me.”

“Yes, Mary, come in.”

Victoria was behind her desk, Jordan seated across from her, and Mary tamped down any indication of surprise.

Since his fight with his father, she’d been searching for him, knowing that he’d be distraught.

Why was he with Victoria?

Mary’s heart pounded with anticipation. He’d sworn that they would find a way to wed. Had he already notified Victoria of his decision?

He must have!

Inside, she reeled with joy, but she couldn’t let it show.

She walked over and sat next to Jordan. She was trembling, but she couldn’t help it. She was so very, very glad.

“What is it?” she inquired.

“Lord Redvers has something he would like to say to you.”

“All right.”

Mary shifted to face him, conveying a silent, visual message of encouragement. She’d tied her hair with the red ribbon he’d bought her. She tipped her head slightly so he’d see it, so he’d remember he wasn’t alone, that she was his partner and would stand by him in the pending tumult they were about to cause.

“Mary,” he cautiously started, “I’m ... I’m sorry.”

She scowled, the remark confusing her.

“Sorry for what?”

“I know you heard the quarrel with my father.”

“Yes, but he didn’t mean what he said. I’m sure of it. You were both angry, but it will pass. You’ll see.”

“No, he meant it. He always means it, so my financial situation is even more dire than it’s been.”

He looked miserable. Dejected and sad and regretful.

She rippled with dread.

“What is it?” she asked. “Just say it.”

“I have confessed our indiscretion to your stepmother.”

The way he pronounced the word
indiscretion
rattled her. He made their relationship sound sordid and wrong, as if he was ashamed.

“You did?”

“Yes, and she wants me to clarify a few things for you.”

“What
things?”

“Well, from the liaison I pursued with you, I might have given you a false impression.”

“About what?”

“Ah ... you might have been hoping we’d end up together.”

“Yes, I was. You were, too.”

He sighed, then mumbled, “It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“I could never follow through, and though I knew better, I pursued you anyway.”

“Mary,” Victoria interjected, “you’ve had no experience with amour, so you aren’t cognizant of what often transpires in an illicit romance. What Lord Redvers is trying to explain is that a man might whisper comments—in the heat of passion—that are a lie.”

Mary’s world crumbled as her faith in everything she’d ever believed was shattered. The very air in the sky had vanished. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

“But you promised me,” she said to Jordan. “You promised!”

“Yes, I did, and for that, I most humbly apologize.”

“Tell her the rest,” Victoria urged. “Get it over with.”

“I’ve decided to marry Felicity,” he announced.

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. She shook her head, feeling as if her ears were plugged, and she needed to clear them.

“What?”

“I’ve proposed to Felicity, and we’re to be married tomorrow morning.”

“You ... proposed? When?”

“Just a few minutes ago.”

If what he’d claimed was true, he’d sneaked out of her bed, had fought with his father, then marched into Victoria’s library and arranged his wedding.

Could any man be that cruel? That shallow? That dishonest?

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Don’t do this to me. Please! Don’t do this to yourself.”

“It’s already finished. There’s no going back.”

“Last night, you told me that you wanted to change my life. You wanted to change yours. You were happy about it.”

“Last night, I wasn’t very sober.”

If he’d stabbed her with a knife, he couldn’t have wounded her any more grievously.

He and Victoria were both very calm, very composed, and she supposed she should have attempted to match them in poise and dignity, but she was devastated.

She began to weep, a flood of tears dripping down her cheeks. She couldn’t hold them in, and she didn’t even try.

On seeing them, he looked stricken.

“Oh, Mary, don’t cry. You know I can’t bear it when you’re sad.”

He reached out as if he might take her hand, and Victoria snapped, “Lord Redvers! You forget yourself!”

He eased away, appearing abashed, which should have provided some measure of solace, but it didn’t.

She shouldn’t have trusted him, and she’d never forgive herself for being so gullible. She would never forgive him for his cold disregard.

“You were going to change my life,” she stupidly repeated.

Of all the sins he’d committed against her, this was the worst one. She’d naively assumed he would do what he’d vowed. It had never occurred to her that he wouldn’t.

She’d never been more humiliated.

“You’re upset now,” he said, “but in the future, when you reflect on this episode, you’ll see that this was for the best. I would have been a terrible husband. I would have made you so miserable.”

“No. I loved you. You could never have made me unhappy.”

The remark fell into the room like a boulder dropped on gravel, a final nail in her coffin of woe.

He and Victoria stiffened—as with offense—and Victoria gestured for him to hurry.

Hadn’t he said plenty? What could possibly be left?

“We have some plans in place for you,” he declared.

She might have inquired as to what they were, but she couldn’t speak. Mute and dumbfounded, she simply gaped at him. He had bargained with Victoria over her fate, and she thought it took some gall for them to haggle without her being aware of the stakes.

“We need to learn if there’s a babe,” he advised her, “so you’ll stay with Victoria’s cousin for a bit. Then Victoria has agreed to a marvelous resolution.”

He seemed downright eager to share their news, to have her relish it, too.

“Victoria will dower you,” he excitedly proclaimed, “so you can marry. She’ll help you find a husband, so you’ll wind up with what you’ve always craved: a family, a home of your own—”

“Stop it,” she managed to gasp. “Stop!”

She’d wanted Jordan Winthrop as her husband. Instead, Lord Redvers was throwing her a bone, giving her a nameless, faceless spouse as a consolation prize.

It was the most spiteful, most malicious deed that had ever been done to her.

She peered at Victoria.

“Could you ask him to go?”

She would have liked to be the one to rise and stomp out, but she couldn’t move.

Victoria glared at Redvers. “I’ll deal with her from here on out. It’s obvious she understands what’s expected of her.”

He rose and gazed down at Mary.

“I know you don’t believe me at the moment,” he said, “but I did this for you.”

She didn’t reply, and he paused, waiting—as if on tenterhooks—for her to thank him.

“I’ll be a member of the family now,” he practically boasted, “so if you ever need anything, promise me that you’ll—”

“Lord Redvers!” Victoria barked. “That’s enough!”

He lingered for an eternity, apparently hoping for a reaction from Mary, and when he didn’t receive it, he sighed and departed.

A frightening silence descended.

Mary stared at Victoria, and Victoria stared back.

“You are not to see him privately ever again,” Victoria said. “Swear to me that you will not.”

When Mary couldn’t respond, Victoria shouted, “Swear it to me!”

“I swear,” Mary muttered.

“Of all the things you might have attempted, I would never have predicted
this.
What have you to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to disrespect you. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Really? What about Felicity? She is your sister, and he will be her husband. Yet you can sit there and tell me that you didn’t mean to
hurt
anyone?”

When the affair had started, it had seemed so wonderful. She’d never looked down the road to this horrid day, to the rough conclusion where she was ruined and completely dishonored.

“I hadn’t thought about Felicity.”

“No, you hadn’t.” Victoria snorted with disgust. “Viscount Redvers presumes that I will resolve this scandal by marrying you off, but I have no intention of doing that.”

The notion of Victoria picking her husband was nauseating.

“I wouldn’t want you to.”

“You can’t remain here, though. Especially if you might be increasing. I won’t have you flaunting his bastard child at Felicity.”

“Are you ordering me to leave Barnes Manor?”

“Yes. Redvers is like a rutting dog, so he won’t halt his pursuit of you. I can’t have him visiting over the Christmas holidays, only to catch him lifting your skirt again. If he hasn’t already impregnated you, he certainly could in the future. I won’t court disaster.”

“But . . . leave?”

“Yes.”

“This was my father’s home,” Mary indignantly reminded her.

“Yes, it was, and if he could see how you’ve disgraced yourself, he would be so ashamed.”

At the blunt insult, Mary blanched, but she was undeterred in her argument. “I belong here as much as Felicity or Cassandra. What right have you to throw me out?”

“I have the right, because as you mentioned this was your father’s home, but it is mine now. I decide what is permitted under my roof. I decide who resides with me and who doesn’t. You can’t strut about the neighborhood with your belly swelling out to here”—she gestured rudely with her hands—“and no wedding ring on your finger. Were you imagining there would be no consequences?”

Mary wanted to complain, wanted to fight or weep, but what was the point? Her conduct guaranteed that she couldn’t carry on as she had in the past, and Barnes Manor was Victoria’s property. As she had always made abundantly clear, Mary stayed because Victoria allowed her to stay.

“Where shall I go?” Mary asked. “What shall I do?”

“I shall give you twenty pounds and coach fare to London. It is sufficient to pay a few months’ accommodation at a boardinghouse. You’ll be safe and fed while you hunt for a job. It’s probably what I should have done years ago. There’s never been anything for you here.”

“But a boardinghouse!” Mary was sick with fury. “I am Charles Barnes’s oldest daughter.”

“Yes, and look where it’s gotten you. You’re lucky I’ve offered you twenty pounds. I could just kick you out on the lane to fend for yourself.”

Mary was about to retort when the door flung open and Felicity hurried in. Cassandra was behind her.

“Mother,” Felicity said, “we saw Lord Redvers storming up the stairs. He was extremely angry. What’s happened? I’m not a child, so don’t treat me like one. I demand to know what’s going on.”

Victoria stood, and she was very grim, as if she was a judge passing a death sentence. “Mary is leaving us today. She won’t ever be back.”

“What?” Cassandra gasped.

“Why?” Felicity queried. She swaggered over, approaching till she was directly in front of Mary. “It’s Redvers, isn’t it? She’s done something awful to my fiancé.”

“Yes,” Victoria admitted. “I won’t have you and Cassandra speculating or feeling sorry for her. Mary, rise to your feet and inform them of your treachery.”

In light of how Felicity would react, it was a very cruel command. And why should Felicity be apprised? It would only hurt her, would only wreck the beginning of her marriage to Lord Redvers.

“She doesn’t need to hear it,” Mary insisted.

“Yes, she does. She’s marrying him in the morning; she should have no illusions about him. Down the road, it will save her an enormous amount of heartache.”

Victoria paused, and when Mary didn’t leap up to proceed, Victoria bellowed, “Stand and tell her! At once!”

On shaky legs, Mary stumbled up, and she stared into her half sister’s blue eyes. Mary saw no kindness, no cordiality, no hint of warmth.

What on earth was Mary supposed to say? How was she to confess the truth?

“During Lord Redvers’s ... ah ... visit to Barnes Manor,” Mary stammered, “he and I have ... grown very close.”

Felicity frowned. “You’re talking in riddles.”

When Mary couldn’t explain, Victoria did it for her. “She and Redvers were having an affair. They’ve been doing physical things together that a man should only do with his wife, things that you will learn about on your wedding night.”

“Oh no,” Cassandra breathed.

Felicity’s response was more potent. Her cheeks mottled with rage.

“You were dallying with my betrothed?”

“Yes.”

“You deceitful, disloyal witch!”

Felicity slapped Mary as hard as she could. Mary hadn’t been expecting the blow, and she staggered, lurching to regain her balance lest she fall to the floor. Felicity loomed nearer, as if she would strike Mary again, but Cassandra jumped between them.

“Felicity!” Cassandra scolded. “Stop it! Redvers isn’t worth this sort of quarrel.”

“Get out of my way!” Felicity seethed.