Regency 02 - Betrayal (6 page)

“A whore? Yes, I am. It is a fact I must
contend with for the present.”

There was a thread of self-loathing in her
voice that Bri could understand very well. Circumstances and
desperation had caused her to make some decisions of which she was
not proud. But she was raised to believe that a young lady does not
do certain things. What was this actress taught that made her
unaccepting of her role in life?

“You need to rest.”

Adam stood in the doorway, leaning against
the frame. A lock of black hair lay across his brow just begging to
be brushed away. He had a look of relief and amusement on his
handsome face but his eyes were concerned. She realized the concern
was all for her and felt a warm glow deep inside. She smiled at
him.

“I’m a little hungry, actually.”

Raven glanced at Adam and he gave an almost
imperceptible nod. The actress disappeared through the doorway.

Adam sauntered into the room and sat on the
bed, facing Bri. “Does she know who you are?”

“No.”

“Did she tell you who she is?”

“She did. And her tone said far more than her
words.” There was censure in her tone. “Why do you keep her as your
mistress when she clearly does not want to sell her body?”

Unsure how to respond to this revelation, he
retorted lamely, “She is an actress.”

The countess cocked one delicately arched
brow at him. “Indeed?” was all she said.

He refused to be drawn. He could tell she was
very quickly regaining her fighting spirit and he had no desire to
be her first victim.

“How are you feeling?” he asked instead.

“I feel tired, hungry, and restless. I’m
bored, Mr. Prestwich. And I like Miss Emerson. Or is it Mrs.
Emerson? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care if she pleasures every man
she comes across. I like her.”

He was absurdly glad that Bri liked Raven. It
made no sense. “Good, because you will be spending the next few
weeks with Raven at your beck and call. And it’s
Miss
Emerson.”

“Why have you hired an actress as my
nurse?”

“Truthfully, I didn’t,” he answered. “Con did
so against my better judgment and she accepted.”

Bri gave him a speaking glance. “You were
reluctant to bring her here. Why? Were you worried over my
sensibilities? I am speechless with shock.”

“Doubtful,” Adam muttered sarcastically. He
studied her for a moment while she fidgeted with the coverlet.

“So,” Bri finally said more to end the
silence than in any true desire to know, “why has she agreed to
play the part of my nurse?”

“She is doing more than playing a part. She
has experience nursing the sick. And for the time being, we are
keeping your presence a secret,” he added reluctantly.

“You haven’t contacted my family?” Her tone
was frankly incredulous.

“No. I felt it would be best to make sure you
are healthy before I take you there.”

Bri closed her eyes and sighed. “And to think
I had believed you almost human.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You’re still taking me back. Do you have any
idea to what you are turning me over?”

He relaxed. “Tell me,” he requested
gently.

“Maybe later,” she replied without opening
her eyes.

Raven entered the room then. She smiled at
Adam and said, teasingly, “Would you like to do the honors,
Adam?”

He grimaced. “No, thank you, my dear. I will
leave the nursing to the professionals.” He stood and moved towards
the door.

As he passed Raven, she whispered, “I thought
you were doing quite well, sir. She loves you, you know.”

That stopped him. “She…
what
?” He
turned hard pale eyes on her.

Raven smiled at him, her black eyes twinkling
with secret mirth. “And you are in love with her.”

Connor checked his patient for the last time
the following day. He pronounced her to be well on the road to
recovery. Provided she continued to hold down the little that she
managed to eat, she would be fit as a fiddle in no time at all.
Then he had smiled, kissed her affectionately on the cheek, wished
her well, and took his leave.

Adam had watched the whole impassively until
his friend had leaned down to kiss her cheek. He knew it was the
most innocent gesture imaginable since Connor loved his wife and
was completely faithful to her. But Adam could not stop the stab of
unreasoning jealousy that caused thoughts of cheerfully strangling
his best friend to leap into his mind.

He squashed the urge and was able to bid the
other man a civil goodbye. Connor seemed to think something in his
salutation was quite funny. He was still laughing as he mounted his
horse and rode away.

Raven was still in residence, of course, but
Adam had successfully avoided her since she had voiced her
henwitted opinion on something about which she knew absolutely
nothing.

He most certainly did not love the Countess
of Rothsmere!

He found her to be irritating, headstrong,
willful, and a royal pain. He was NOT in love with her.

And she wasn’t even pretty, he thought
maliciously in an attempt to dissolve the image of her he had
stored in the back of his mind when searching for her. She was too
thin, and too wispy, and too pale, and her hair too dull to be
pretty. He diligently ignored the voice of logic in his head
reminding him that up until about a week ago she had been starving
to death.

Raven noticed the intense look in Adam’s eyes
and asked Mrs. Campion to help her with something. The two women
exited the room, leaving Adam alone with Bri.

“That was very elegantly done, was it
not?”

There was a smile in the countess’s voice as
she said this and Adam found he had to suppress an answering
grin.

“Whatever do you mean?” he asked
benignly.

Bri just smiled at him. “What would you like
to know first, my dear Mr. Prestwich?” she asked. “It would be a
shame to waste this opportunity for you to pick my brain.”

Adam sat in the hard chair by the bed—and
wondered why he hadn’t had the blasted thing replaced with
something more comfortable. He shook away the thought and
concentrated on his unwilling guest.

“So talk,” he commanded curtly after a few
moments of tense silence on his part and amused silence on
hers.

“So talk?” she repeated, drawing out the two
words in a horrible drawl worthy of Brummell himself. “I am
suddenly very fatigued,” she said softly as she lay back on the
pillows and feigned weariness. She peeked at him through
half-lowered lids and was amused to see his annoyance writ plain on
his attractive face.

Attractive? Where had that traitorous thought
come from?

“Cut line, brat,” Adam retorted rudely. “Tell
me what the devil possessed you to run away from the safety and
protection of your family with nothing more than the clothes on
your back.”

Bri stared at him with something akin to
contempt. Her emerald eyes flashed with dislike, anger, and…fear?
No, not fear. Adam refused to believe Bri would fear anything. She
was too intrepid, too brave, too stubborn and too damned…well,
mean, for lack of a better word, to be afraid of anything.

And yet, just days ago she had admitted that
she was scared.

Adam pushed this uncomfortable thought aside
and concentrated on getting Lady Rothsmere to talk.

“Do you really want to know, Adam?” she asked
scathingly. “Do you want to hear the story in its entirety? Or do
you want to hear that I was just bored and looking for a lark
which, unfortunately, when found went horribly wrong? Do you want
the truth or what you believe to be true?”

He felt an unaccountable urge to fidget at
the words that were almost exactly the same as he had uttered to
Connor at White’s recently.

He noticed her hands were clenched painfully
tight in her lap, the knuckles white. Her eyes were as hard as the
jewels they so closely resembled. He was right, she wasn’t scared.
She was angry. Then he saw her lower lip tremble pathetically and
wondered if she would use tears to manipulate him as all women
did.

Bri didn’t give in to the tears that
threatened. She would die before she’d cry in front of this man.
But she wanted to make him feel remorse for the thinly veiled
insult on her intelligence.

Lifting her chin a notch, Bri met Adam’s
gray-green eyes and said vehemently, but quietly, “I ran away, Mr.
Prestwich, because I wasn’t ready to die!”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” Bri sneered. “Do you not
understand the King’s English? I didn’t want to die. It is a
reasonable thing to wish for when you haven’t even reach your
eighteenth year.”

“You exaggerate, my lady, surely. Who would
want you dead?”

His tone was as disbelieving as could be
although his face was carefully blank. He may as well call her a
liar to her face and end their conversation. She could tell he
wouldn’t believe a word she had to say.

“Talking to you is pointless, Adam,” she
replied wearily, suddenly tired of fighting with him or trying to
get him to understand. “You won’t believe a word I tell you if you
even listen at all.”

Adam regretted making his disbelief so
obvious. He strove for a conciliatory tone when he said gently, “I
apologize, Bri, if I seemed less than believing. But if you think
about it, it does seem a trifle farfetched. One of the leading
families in England tries to kill off their heiress? In the hopes
of getting her title and inheritance, I assume. It is your family
you are accusing, is it not?”

She nodded and watched him closely. He was
being very careful with his expression, she noted. He revealed
nothing more than polite interest. Except his eyes. Bri realized
with a start that Adam, for some reason, was not masking his
emotions from his eyes. She saw contempt, derision, and cynicism
mingling in the gray-green depths. And there, in the farthest
reaches, beyond all the negative emotions, she saw concern.

It was the concern that made her talk
although she wasn’t foolish enough to totally discount the
derogatory feelings he held in check.

Her face and voice were devoid of emotion as
she spoke. Adam wondered how much of her tale was truth and how
much was calculated to manipulate his nobler feelings of
protectiveness and sympathy.

“I grew up knowing that I would one day
inherit my father’s title and vast wealth. I was the only child of
my parents’ union and mama died when I was five. Papa’s title was
one that could pass to a daughter as well as a son. He died when I
was nearly seventeen and I became the Countess of Rothsmere.

“I was left in the care of my mother’s
brother and his wife, the Duke and Duchess of Corning, my father’s
sister and her husband, the Earl and Countess of Fenton, and my
father’s brother, the Duke of Westbury. They were all ecstatic when
they discovered they had complete control over my money and me
until the day I turn twenty-five. I was ordered to marry the man of
their choice.”

Adam smiled despite his doubt in the veracity
of her story. “And you rebelled, I would guess.”

“At first,” she replied complacently. “Until
I met him. He was everything I ever dreamed of in a husband.”

Adam experienced a sick feeling in his
stomach at her confession. There was a wistful note in her voice
that suggested that she still had feelings for this man, whoever he
was.

He opened his mouth to tell her tersely to
continue but found himself saying instead, “Who was he?”

Bri turned her head and regarded Adam in
surprise. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he
sounded jealous. She smiled slowly. “It doesn’t matter. It didn’t
work out.”

Prestwich grunted and told her gruffly to
continue her tale. She stifled a smirk and complied.

“Things did not work out as I wanted. I
thought myself in love with the gentleman chosen for me. Until I
overheard a conversation between him and Corning. Once my betrothed
was my husband and gained control of my money, he was to give half
to the duke and certain secrets about the gentleman, and I use the
term loosely, would not be revealed to the
ton
. After the
marriage was consummated, he could go his own way.

“I decided he could go his own way a bit
earlier than expected. I marched right into the room and announced
to the men attempting to ruin my life that I would die rather than
marry the bastard.” She suddenly laughed. Her eyes twinkled merrily
as she regarded Adam. “I used that word when I confronted them,
Adam. I didn’t know that
that
was the big secret.”

Adam stared at her in shock then smiled, as
her laughter was infectious. He could imagine what sort of
commotion ensued after such a declaration.

He realized he was being manipulated into
relaxing his guard against her feminine wiles and he resolutely
hardened his heart. His smile was replaced with a frown and he
ordered her to continue.

The smile in her eyes died and the smile on
her face turned cynical and mocking. “Don’t let my obvious
enjoyment of the situation color your views, my dear sir. I would
hate for you to be disappointed lest I confirm your idea that women
are the very devil.”

“So you ran away to avoid marriage to a man
obviously not worthy of you and decided that whoring on the streets
was infinitely better?” His own voice was mocking and he watched
her closely.

“I would have been much better off as some
man’s whore than that man’s wife, I do assure you. At least a whore
has the right to leave should she wish. A wife is little better
than a slave to her husband’s whims and freakish starts,” she
retorted bitterly. Her tone softened only slightly as she
continued. “But no, I did not run away for that reason. I did and
still do feel that anything is better than spending my life with a
man who has betrayed me. But the real reason I ran away was the
ultimatum put upon me. I was to marry Lord—” She glanced at him
sharply. His eyes were narrowed suspiciously. She had almost let
the name slip. “Let’s call him Lord Nobody, shall we?”