The Bride Sale (28 page)

Her head still reeling from the effects of his kiss, Verity sought out the landlord and set about arranging for the transfer of her trunk and hiring a second bedchamber for the night.

She then returned to the private parlor and ordered a pot of tea. Though she had been warmed by James's insistence that she make her own decisions, Verity was quite sure he and Gilbert were upstairs making some decisions that involved her. She had no idea what James could possibly have to say to Gilbert that did not involve her. She had given her word, however, and would therefore allow them a few moments alone. But only a few moments.

 

James knew he ought not to have kissed Verity, but he could not have stopped himself if he tried. And he did not regret it. If Russell cooperated, James would ultimately do more than merely kiss her.

Refusing to dwell on that, James opened the door to the private parlor where he'd left Russell and walked in. The young man had taken Verity's seat at the table and sat with his head bowed in an attitude of total dejection. James could almost feel sorry for him, but he was resolved to do this.

Russell looked up at James's entrance but said nothing. James removed his greatcoat and tossed it on a settle near the window, and then did the same with his gloves. He sat down at the table opposite Russell, pulled over an empty plate, and speared a slice of ham from a serving platter.

“You will forgive me, Russell, but I find I am famished.”

Russell shrugged his indifference. James took a bite of ham and then continued. “Tell me, what made you come for her? A pang of conscience after all these months?”

Russell eyed James warily. “My conscience has plagued me for some time now, especially since I learned I had sold her to a wife murderer.”

“Ah.” James sliced off a large portion of bread from the fat loaf on the table. “So if I had been the slovenly blacksmith, Will Sykes, you would not have returned for her?”

“I would have returned.”

“Why? Why now?” James placed a thick slice of ham on the bread and took a large bite.

Russell's response was a long time coming. “I have come in line for a minor government post, if you must know. I need this position. I need the money it pays.” He expelled a breath through puffed cheeks. “Questions were asked about my wife.”

“I see. And you were not prepared to announce that you'd sold her for two hundred pounds.”

Russell bowed his head and said nothing. His cheeks colored slightly.

“You hoped to take her to London and parade her about as your wife, in the most ordinary fashion.”

Russell still did not speak.

“The strange thing is,” James continued as he sliced off another piece of ham, “that Verity never really was a wife to you in the ordinary fashion, was she?”

Russell's head jerked up and his eyes widened
with what looked like fear. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know very well what I am talking about. Your marriage was never consummated.”

Russell's face turned crimson. “And how would you know that?”

James raised his brows in a look of mock incredulity.

“You bastard!”

James shrugged and reached for an apple. He began to cut it into sections with the ham knife. “You sold her, Russell. What did you think would happen?”

Russell rose so abruptly his chair went crashing to the floor. James had struck a chord of some kind. He just might get that fight he'd been spoiling for earlier, though it was not at all what he wanted now. “I knew she had not been safe with you,” Russell said. “I swear I could kill you.”

James dismissed his threat with a careless wave of the knife. “Sit down, Russell,” he said, pointing to the overturned chair with the blade. “If you will but listen, I think you will see how you can use this situation to your advantage.”

“What? What do you mean, ‘my advantage'?”

“Sit down and I shall tell you.”

He glared at James for another moment, then righted his chair and sat back down. “Well?”

James took one last bite of apple, then laid down the knife and pushed the plate away. “It is obvious that you never wanted this marriage to Verity. You never consummated it, then sold her like a prime bit
of horseflesh. Clearly, you have no interest in her and in fact wish to be rid of her. I suggest that you do so, legally this time. I think you should file a divorce action against her.”

“What! You must be joking.”

“I'm perfectly serious. You have grounds for a Crim Con action. You can accuse her of adultery. With me.”

Russell looked thoroughly dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“It would be a simple, uncontested suit,” James said. “Lengthy and expensive, but much less complex than a contested action.”

Russell frowned and appeared to consider the matter. “I don't know…”

“Of course, if you prefer, I could assist Verity in filing an action against you. I have no doubt we could find witnesses to your own infidelities.”

“No!” The word exploded from Russell. All color drained from his face.

“I am certain we could find witnesses who would attest to one or another of your own liaisons. I doubt you have spent these last few years in complete celibacy.”

“No! No, please, you cannot.”

“Are you so afraid of making public your own affairs, then? I guarantee you, Russell. I have the money to track them down and—”

“No!”

“—see to it that each and every one of them is published.”

“No. No. Please, no.” To James's utter astonish
ment, the man covered his face with his hands and began to cry. “You c-can't do this to m-me. Oh, God, pl-please. No.”

James was thunderstruck. What the devil was this all about? “Give over, Russell. What is the problem? Every man in London has his paramours. Some are more discreet about it than others, but—”

“You do n-not understand.”

“No, indeed, I do not.”

“I tell you I would rather die than have any of my…my liaisons made public.”

James snorted. “A rather dramatic threat, don't you think?”

“No.” He sniffed and made a visible effort to regain his composure. “Not so dramatic, actually. I would likely lose my life in any case, if any of it became public.”

“What are you—” James sucked in his breath. Dear God. Suddenly it all made sense. “Your lovers are…men?”

Russell leapt from his chair, turned his back to James, and braced himself against the fireplace mantel with both hands. “Don't you see?” he said. “I could be hanged if the truth came out. And others as well.”

“Good God.” James studied the young man's back and began to understand his misery. British society and British law were severe in the public treatment of homosexuality, though heaven knew it was widespread enough in private. No boy could go to school nor a young man go to war without some exposure to men who preferred men. It was not spoken of, of course, and men who followed that path did so in the
greatest secrecy. The penalty for conviction on a charge of sodomy was death.

“So that is why you never consummated your marriage,” James said. “Does Verity know?”

“No. At least, I do not believe she does.” He kept his back turned as though unable to face James. There was still a tremor in his voice, though he appeared to have checked the tears. “I tried, you see. I just…I could not do it.”

“What happened?”

He gave a soft groan. “It does not matter.”

“Yes,” James said, “it does. For Verity's sake. I care for her, Russell. A great deal. Tell me about the marriage.”

“It was arranged by our fathers,” Russell said, his voice flat and lifeless. “We met only briefly once or twice before the wedding. I knew I would never be…like other men, but I thought I could go through with it. Others like me do. She was a sweet enough girl, but I had never been with a woman. When I tried, on our wedding night, I was…disgusted. I tried to touch her, but it made me…I retched and retched until I thought I would die. I left her the next day, figuring she was better off without me.”

James tried to imagine the scene—this poor young man trying desperately to be something he was not, and Verity, not understanding, seeing only rejection and disgust.

Suddenly, he remembered once telling Verity that she could never know what it was like to live with pain and shame and guilt.
I can probably never understand the pain you have suffered.

Ah, Verity.

Other things she'd said suddenly began to make more sense as well. Earlier tonight she had made a comment about how no man could ever desire her. Not understanding Russell's revulsion, she must believe there was something wrong with her, something that made her sexually undesirable. His own actions during the botched attempt at lovemaking would have only further encouraged that absurd notion, the way he had cursed her and raged at her virginity.
It is my fault,
she had said.

Ah, Verity. Sweet, proud, beautiful, eminently desirable Verity. If only she knew how very wrong she was.

But there was more to this sorry tale. “What made you finally resort to selling her at auction?”

“Oh, God, I don't know,” Russell said. He pushed himself away from the mantel and began to pace the room. “I left her in my father's old house in Berkshire. Little more than a run down cottage. I'd planned to take care of her financially, even if I could never live with her as a husband. But I never did. I left her in that tumbledown house while I lived high in town. London is full of temptation, you know, and I got myself in a bad way. I'm ashamed to say I'd gone through her dowry and any other blunt I could get my hands on. I'd sold everything else I owned. Then one day I saw a small notice in the
Morning Post
. It told of a wife sale in Cornwall. I must have gone a little mad. I decided I had one more thing yet to sell.”

“God's teeth, I would love to wring your bloody neck for that, Russell. I don't gave a damn whom you prefer to sleep with, but treating your innocent wife
like that is simply beyond the pale. And you think
I
am a villain?”

Russell stopped pacing and looked down at James, brows raised in question. “I don't suppose it's true that you murdered your wife, is it? Else Verity would never have agreed to return with you.”

“I am not completely without blame in the matter of my wife's death,” James said. “But I am not a cold-blooded murderer, no.” It was the first time he had ever admitted it, even to himself.

“Then you are right,” Russell said. “I am the villain here.”

“Then I will ask again if you are willing to do the right thing by her and bring this sad marriage to an end, legally.”

“My God. You are in love with her, aren't you?”

“I am very much afraid I am.” James smiled. It was only today, when he'd found her gone, that he had finally admitted it to himself. He loved her.

“Now look, Russell. You have grounds against her. You need not reveal the details of your own personal life. I will admit that she committed adultery with me. Verity will offer no contest. It should be a fairly simple matter.”

“Simple and expensive and horribly scandalous. No. No, I'm afraid I cannot do it.”

“Why the devil not?”

“My prospective employer, Lord Beddingfield, is a high stickler. He would never abide the slightest impropriety.”

James arched a brow and Russell blushed scarlet. “I'm sorry, the scandal would be too much. Beddingfield would turn me out.”

“Bugger Beddingfield!” James immediately regretted his words.

Russell glared at him with such hostility the room fairly crackled with it. “No. I won't do it.”

“God's teeth!” James leapt from his chair as though shot from a cannon. “You
will
do it, Russell, or I swear we will file an action against
you
.”

“How dare you threaten me,” Russell said through his teeth, rising to face him.

“How dare I? How dare I? I'll tell you how. Because you have ruined the life of a perfectly innocent woman, a woman I happen to care about. If it takes airing your private peccadilloes to set her free, that and the fact that you illegally engaged in a wife sale, then by God, that is what I will do.”

“You wouldn't!”

“Oh, yes, I would. Just try me.”

“How could you be so cruel?”

“How could you condemn Verity to a life in limbo?”

“No wonder they call you Lord Heartless.”

James took firm hold of his temper. “Enough. This is getting us nowhere. There is one other possibility we have not considered.”

“What?” Gilbert asked.

“Annulment.”

 

“Annulment?” Verity's voice caused both men to look up sharply. She had waited fifteen minutes before returning, and heard the shouting as she approached. “Are you talking about annulling our marriage?” A bubble of hope swelled in her breast. “Is it possible?”

“I do not know,” James said, rising and offering her a seat. “I spoke with my solicitor about it, and it seems a difficult thing at best.”

He had spoken to his solicitor about it? How long had he been thinking of it? “How difficult?” she asked.

“Unfortunately, there are few grounds for annulment, and I'm not sure if any of them apply here. That is why I never mentioned it, Verity. I thought it was near impossible.”

Her heart swelled at the implications of his words. “What sort of grounds?”

“Frankly, I had hoped it could be a simple case of failure to consummate.”

Verity blushed at his words. So he really did know the truth after that one time.

“But only the inability to consummate can be used as grounds for annulment. Are you prepared to claim impotence, Russell?”

“No!” Gilbert exclaimed. “Dear God, no!”