Silent Revenge (27 page)

“I have not changed in the least,” he said, rubbing his hand over his smooth jaw. “I just don’t want her altered. And I don’t want her to be put through any more than she already has been. Attending the ball tonight will demand enough from her.”

Simon did not wait for his friend to comment. He walked to the far window and looked out onto the terrace and the garden beyond. “I have not seen a lot of kindness in my life. My mother died too soon for me to remember much of a female’s tenderness. Very seldom could Father tear himself away from his gaming and carousing and endless round of parties and balls to show me much more interest than he showed the butler or his valet.”

Simon locked his hands behind his back and filled his lungs with a deep breath. “I would be lying if I told you I didn’t resent him and the way he lived. At times I even hated him. Especially after Rosalind.”

Simon turned. “That’s why tonight is so important. It’s important that I face the
ton
and stand proudly before them as I was unable to do the whole time while my father was alive.” Simon fisted his hands. “But I know how terrified Jessica is. She’s only doing this because I’m forcing her. She’s terrified that someone will find out she cannot hear and she’ll be labeled the freak she thinks she is.”

Simon sat in the chair opposite James. “You’ve known her for some time, James. She went to the balls, did she not?”

“Yes. But she didn’t stay long. She sat off to the side, well out of the way, and never talked to anyone but Melinda. She stayed only until most of the guests had arrived, then quietly exited a side door. Usually, most in attendance didn’t even realize she was there.”

“Why did she go? It wasn’t to meet people. It wasn’t because she felt the need to belong. And heaven only knows, it wasn’t to have someplace to wear her fancy gowns. Until now, she didn’t own a gown worth wearing in public.”

His Grace smiled at that. “No. It wasn’t because of her gowns.”

Simon lifted his gaze. “Why, James? Why did she go, when facing people terrifies her so?”

“I don’t know. I’ve often asked Melinda that same question, but she never gives me an answer. Perhaps she went only to see the people. To see who danced with whom, and how the women wore their hair, and their beautiful gowns. And pretend.”

“Pretend?” Simon asked.

“Yes, pretend. Pretend that she was the one in the pretty gown, dancing in the arms of a handsome man. I don’t know. Far be it from me to try to understand women. Even my wife still confuses me.”

Simon smiled at Collingsworth’s honesty, then leaned his head against the back of the chair. “Something happened the day Jessica went with Melinda to see Madame Lamont.”

“I know. Melinda said Farley, Reddington, and Chitwood were sitting on a bench outside Madame Lamont’s shop. Jessica was totally absorbed in their conversation.”

“Is that who it was?” Simon said, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eye. “I asked Sanjay what had happened, and he only knew she’d watched three men talk.”

“Melinda said after they left, your wife was clearly upset, but she wouldn’t talk about it. Did she tell you what they’d said?”

Simon fought to breathe past the knot that hammered in his chest. “She asked me about Rosalind.”

A lingering silence hung in the room, and finally Collingsworth released a long breath that hissed through his teeth. “What did you say?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t handle it well at all. In the first place, her question took me totally by surprise. I didn’t think she knew about Rosalind. And I was not in the best of moods, as you probably remember. This happened right after my meeting with you and Ira. The more I pored over the papers Ira had left, the angrier I became. I’m afraid I didn’t need much of a spark to set me off, and nothing sets me off faster than being reminded of Rosalind.”

“So, what did you tell her?”

Simon shoved himself out of the chair and gripped the cushions at the back. “I told her Rosalind did not matter and that I never wanted her name mentioned again.”

His Grace leaned back in the chair and stared at Simon. “Did she understand?”

“What do you think? You are married. Would Melinda have understood?”

“Not a chance,” His Grace answered on a humorless laugh.

“Well, neither did Jessica. I don’t know what the three men said, but I can only guess. I was hoping I could be the one to tell my wife about my…stepmother.” Simon could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Perhaps she feels threatened by Rosalind? You were engaged to marry her, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Simon said. “But I don’t think Rosalind is the only person by whom she feels threatened.”

“Then who?”

Simon stared at his refection in the mirror on the wall. “Me. I’m the one forcing her to face every one of her worst nightmares while I’m getting everything I always dreamed of having. More money than I ever thought to have at my disposal, my rightful place in society, and the assurance that the Northcote name will never be outcast. What has she gained from our marriage?”

The Duke of Collingsworth sat straight in his chair. “Protection from Tanhill.”

Simon steadied his gaze until it locked with James’s serious expression. “Do you know what she asked from me when she returned from Madame Lamont’s?”

James shook his head.

“She asked for a house of her own. A safe haven where she could go should she ever need to escape from…” Simon paused. “From whom, James? From Colin? Or from me?”

“Surely she doesn’t think she needs protection from you, Simon?”

“No.” Simon lowered his head to his hands and breathed a heavy sigh. “Surely not me.” A stab of guilt punched him in the gut. Since the day he’d realized who Jessica was and how much she was worth, every move he’d made had been calculated with one goal in mind.

To destroy Tanhill.

He had not married Jessica just to protect her from her stepbrother. Or to save his inheritance. He’d married her to take possession of the money Tanhill would steal from her as soon as he locked her away in an asylum. Money that would give his enemy more power than he or the rest of England could afford to let him have.

Simon leaned his head back against the cushion. He’d tried to convince himself that, in part, his actions were necessary to accomplish a greater cause—to save the vast Northcote estate. And to a point that was true.

The money had been necessary to pay his debts, necessary to rebuild his inheritance. But he’d resigned himself to losing everything before Jessica came with her offer. Marriage to her meant he could have everything—the money necessary to protect what was rightfully his, the level of respect and position of distinction he’d enjoyed before his father had ruined them, the ability to use the power associated with the Northcote name.

But those benefits were secondary when faced with the knowledge that Jessica’s wealth gave him the capability to destroy Tanhill. Financially. Then, physically.

And what had he given his wife in return? Nothing except the promise of his name, which she now doubted he would use to protect her, a notoriety she did not want, and a dependence on him she refused to accept. And he was forcing her to risk exposing her deafness.

“Excuse me, Your Grace. My lord,” Melinda interrupted from the doorway, “but I have come in search of two gallant and noble young gentlemen who would like to escort two charming and enchanting ladies to a ball.”

The Duke of Collingsworth stood and executed a very low bow. “You happen to be in luck, Your Grace. It just so happens that my friend and I have gotten dressed for just such an occasion and are in need of two ravishingly beautiful females. And you, my dear, just happen to complete the order to perfection.”

“Oh, how fortunate,” Melinda said, accepting her husband’s most improper embrace with no sign of embarrassment.

Simon turned to the doorway. His wife was nowhere in sight. “Did Lady Northcote come down with you?”

“No. I came down first to give her a moment to herself. She’s nervous, as you might well imagine.”

Simon walked to the door. Perhaps it would be best if he had a word with her before they left. He hadn’t been able to see her all day. Twice he’d tried to breach the barrage of servants attending his wife, but Madame Lamont had taken over the role of commander in chief, and would not let him near her.

“Lord Northcote?”

He turned back to Melinda. She was still nestled in her husband’s arms. “She will be all right, won’t she? I mean, no one will find out that she cannot hear, will they?”

“No.” Simon shook his head. “No one will find out she cannot hear.”

The duchess nodded rapidly, then brought her folded hands up to her mouth. “I pray they won’t. She is so proud.”

Simon turned on his heel and walked out of the room. When he reached the center of the large foyer, he lifted his gaze upward.

The breath caught in his throat. Jessica stood on the balcony above wearing the gown Madame Lamont had promised would steal his breath.

The dressmaker had lied. Her description did not come close to preparing him for such a stunning sight.

A scattering of tiny pearls covered the wide overskirt, giving the gown the distinction of simple elegance. Her thick, coffee-rich hair was gathered upward on the crown of her head, allowing the mass of loose ringlets to tumble in layers away from her face and down her back. Only the faintest wisps of curls outlined her face, accented by thin apricot velvet ribbons the hairdresser had threaded in and out among the tendrils. The style was ever so simple, yet ever so elegant.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Simon moved to the bottom of the stairs and waited. His heart pounded in his ears as he watched her descend the stairs, one hand resting on the railing, the other clutching a delicate lace handkerchief that matched the apricot of her gown.

Her gaze locked with his, not moving, not wavering. It was as if the approval she saw in his eyes and the look of appreciation on his face gave her strength.

When she neared, he reached out his hand. Only when her warm flesh touched his did he remember to breathe.

He held both her hands in his for a moment, then brought them to his lips. “You, my dear,” he said, lifting his head so she would not miss his words, “will, without a doubt, be the most beautiful woman at the ball tonight.”

“I will not embarrass you?”

Simon touched his fingers to her cheeks. There was no thick, heavy powder on her face. No bright, gaudy colors on her cheeks and lips. “I should be the one worried that you will be embarrassed to be seen in the company of someone so ordinary looking as myself.”

She shook her head and gave him a shy smile. Simon placed a finger beneath her chin and raised her gaze until she could see him. “Nothing will happen, Jesse. I will make certain that nothing happens.”

She nodded, and Simon leaned down and kissed her forehead softly. “You are truly beautiful, Countess,” he said, looking at her again. “Not one woman at the ball will be half so lovely.”

When they turned around, the look he saw on the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth’s faces confirmed his opinion. His wife was perfect.

He wanted this night to be perfect, too. He didn’t care what it took, he would make sure it was.

Tonight he would take the first step to bringing about everything he’d dreamed of accomplishing. He would introduce his wife into society and face his stepmother for the first time since his father’s death. His blood raced at the thought of seeing Rosalind again.

Jessica clutched the glass of punch Simon handed her and prayed she could hold it steady when she brought it to her lips. She lifted it to her mouth and managed to take only a small, delicate sip instead of downing the entire glass to quench her dry throat.

Somehow, she had survived thus far.

How often had she dreamed of standing on the top of the stairs and having her name read aloud as she entered a brightly lit, beautifully decorated ballroom? How often had she fantasized about walking through a crowd of society’s finest on the arm of the most handsome man in London? How often had she imagined herself standing in the midst of a crowd of people as if she belonged? Tonight it had actually happened.

She knew the exact moment their name was announced. The whole room turned in unison to stare at Simon and her, the looks of curiosity obvious. Simon stood at the top of the stairs with his hand covering hers and did not make a move. For the longest time, he let the
ton
drink its fill, evaluate the two of them. Then, he gently squeezed her hand, a signal for her to look at him. When she turned her head, the slow, seductive smile on his face warmed her to her very core.

She could not help but return his smile. Before they took their first step down the stairs to meet their host and hostess, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. It was like a dream come true, and she indeed felt like a fairy princess on the arm of her Prince Charming.

Meeting the Earl and Countess of Milebanke had been a puzzling experience. The earl seemed pleased at their presence, but the countess greeted Simon with a chilly demeanor. The underlying glint in Lady Milebanke’s eyes almost seemed malicious. Perhaps she and Simon had not always been on the best of terms? Perhaps she thought his presence would cause a catastrophe that would affect the success of her ball? Perhaps to have as her guests the couple foremost on the lips of society’s greatest gossips was not worth the risk? Whatever the reason, Simon seemed to revel in the discomfort he caused.