The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) (10 page)

He smiled coolly at her and sat down in a chair by the fire, beckoning her to take the seat opposite him. He forbore from telling her that if she were to betray him, she wouldn’t live long enough to either enjoy or regret the fruits of it, as every one of the fifty or so clansmen who called him their chief would make it their life’s work to kill her.

Beth stayed where she was, reasoning that the further away from this disturbing man she was, the more clearly she would be able to think.

“So,” she continued after a moment, “do I assume rightly then that the only reason you married me was to give me my freedom, and to obtain twenty thousand pounds, which, judging from your circumstances,” she took in the opulent room with a glance, “you have no need of?”

“No,” Alex replied. “When I proposed to you, I told you that my marriage would stop eager parents of prospective brides looking in depth into my background, which you’ll now appreciate is risky for me. As for your dowry, you’re wrong on both counts. I do have need of your twenty thousand pounds. What you see, and Sir Anthony’s fine clothes, carriage, everything, dinna belong to me, but to my sponsor. Having said that, I have no intention of using it.”

Beth was flabbergasted.

“What
do
you then intend?” she asked, finally coming to the crux of the matter.

“I intend for us to separate, immediately,” he said, matter-of-factly. “That’s why I behaved so badly towards you yesterday, ignoring you, reciting hurtful poetry, and although I didna intend it, giving ye a nasty-looking bruise on your jaw, which you can say I inflicted on you whilst I was beating you terribly after we arrived home. Ye can then retire to set up house in the country, or wherever ye choose. Even after Richard’s commission is paid for, you’ll still be able to live verra comfortably on what remains of your dowry. No one will dispute the validity of the marriage, and no one will look into Sir Anthony’s dubious background again, as he’s no longer an eligible bachelor. That is what I intend. Sir Anthony meantime, will proceed with his tour of Europe, in an attempt to restore his shattered nerves. He has business there.”

She stared at him from her place at the dining table.

“I don’t believe you,” she said flatly. “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt since I’ve been in London, it’s that no one does anything for nothing, or for such little gain. What other reason did you have for marrying me?”

This time he was the first to break eye contact, under the pretence of leaning over to throw another log on the fire, but in that moment she had seen his gaze shift, and knew he was hiding something from her.

There was a perfunctory tap on the door, after which it opened, and Angus’s face appeared.

“I’ve come tae fetch the dishes, if it’s all right,” he said, smiling at his brother and then at Beth. He had the same blue eyes as Alex, she noted, but whereas his were currently bubbling with merriment and not a little curiosity as to how matters were going, his brother’s were carefully shielded, revealing nothing. Without waiting for an answer, Angus moved to the table, and began piling the dishes. Alex continued talking as though he wasn’t there.

“It’s of great gain to me that I know Sir Anthony’s identity is safe,” he said.

“I’m sure it is,” she retorted, following her husband’s example with regard to Angus. “But there’s another reason, isn’t there? You said you would answer my questions truthfully. What are you hiding?”

“What I said,” Alex reminded her, his voice testy, “was that I would answer ye truthfully, or not at all. Any other reasons I have for marrying ye are none of your concern.”

The arrogance of his tone left her speechless for a moment, and she felt the familiar tingle of her temper rising.

”Dh’innis thu dhomh gu bheil gaol agad oirre,”
Angus put in cheerfully from the corner of the room.
“Nach do dh’innis thu dhi?”

Alex’s sudden stillness told Angus immediately that he’d made a terrible mistake. In a split second he registered the fact that Beth had somehow understood his words, and that Alex was about to explode. Knowing his brother well, and being possessed of a strong survival instinct, he abandoned the dishes and ran.

He was almost through the door, twisting his body sideways to make himself less of a target, when the chunk of wood flew past him, catching his arm as it went, and causing him to lose his balance and stagger forwards for a few steps before landing on his knees in the hall. Thanking God that Alex had had no more lethal weapon to hand than a piece of wood, he scrambled to his feet and disappeared.

Beth looked at her husband with astonishment. The transformation from calm and peaceful to enraged and violent had been instantaneous. The man standing by the hearth, fists clenched and clearly torn between staying in an attempt to explain what his brother had unwittingly revealed, and going after him to tear him limb from limb, was as far removed from Sir Anthony as it was possible to be. Here was the formidable Highland warrior her mother had told her about on dark winter nights, quick to anger and to violence. As she debated what to do, he took a step in the direction of the door.

Hoping her mother had also been right when she’d said that the Highlander’s temper subsided as quickly as it flared, and that they generally abhorred hitting women, Beth also stood, the movement drawing Alex’s attention.

“I assume by your reaction that your brother spoke true?” she said.

He stared at her unseeing for a moment, then he scrubbed his hand violently through his hair and the coiled spring of tension relaxed a little. He did not make any further move to follow Angus.

“He had no right tae say that,” Alex growled through his teeth.

“He didn’t know I would understand him though, did he?” Beth reasoned.

“No, I havena told him that ye ken the Gaelic.” He rubbed his hand through his hair again, but less violently this time. Beth relaxed a little. The crisis seemed past.

“But you have told him that you love me, which it seems to me is indeed of concern to me, in spite of what you might think. Is that then the other reason why you married me?”

There was a silence, during which Beth wondered whether he would explode again to avoid having to admit it, or would come up with some plausible reason why he’d told his brother such a falsehood.

In the end, he did neither, instead keeping his promise to tell her the truth.

“Aye, it is,” he said. He threw himself down in the chair again, and this time Beth came and sat opposite him. “But it’s no’ the sort of thing a man would want everyone to know.”

“But I’m not everyone,” she pointed out. “I’m your wife. This changes everything.”

“You’re Sir Anthony’s wife,” Alex replied logically. “And whatever I may feel for you, it doesna change the fact that you and I are going to separate, and you are going to go off and live in the country somewhere, while I go to Europe.”

For a moment she contemplated what would happen if she fell in with his plans. She could retire to the country, live a quiet life, bring Graeme, Jane, Thomas and Grace to live with her. She was free of her brother, she could be free of the endless stultifying society round, could ride her horse bareback whenever she wanted, could…could what? What meaning would her life have? As appealing as the idea of an eventless existence seemed at this moment, she knew herself well enough to be certain that in time she would find it as stultifying as the London life. She couldn’t marry again and have children, as long as Alex/Sir Anthony lived, and interesting adventures are hard to come by in country villages, as are tall handsome men who love you, even if they are reluctant to admit it, and a bit frightening into the bargain.

“No, I’m not,” she said. “You promised me that if I married you you’d give me adventure, and I’m going to hold you to it. I’m coming to Europe with you.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“No. Absolutely not,” Alex replied, his tone brooking no argument.

“I’ve never been to Europe. Never been anywhere, for that matter, apart from Manchester and London, of course. It would be wonderful to travel,” said Beth, pointedly ignoring both his declaration and the tone it was delivered in.

“I’m no’ stopping ye from travelling. If you want to go travelling, that’s fine by me. I’m giving ye your freedom.”

“Good,” Beth replied. “So where are we going first?”

“
I,
” said Alex, with great emphasis on the singular pronoun, “am going to Calais, and then to Rome as quickly as possible.
You
can go wherever you wish, but no’ with me.”

“But why not?” Beth asked. “Surely I’d be safer travelling in company with my husband than alone? I believe Europe can be very dangerous.”

“I certainly wouldna advise ye to go alone. But I’m sure you can find other people who’d be willing to go with you. Isabella for one, or Clarissa, perhaps.”

Beth shot him a withering look.

“I hardly think I’m likely to get the adventure you promised me, or to meet intelligent and interesting people, as you also promised, if Clarissa and Isabella accompany me,” she said scathingly. “I assume you’re off to Rome to meet King James. Well, now I know which king you were referring to, I
do
want to meet him. And I can’t do
that
with Isabella or Clarissa. No, I’m coming with you.” She sat back, her face determined.

Alex held on to his temper with difficulty. He should have foreseen this, knowing how spirited she was. But he had thought her first wish on discovering who he was would be to get as far away from him as possible. For his peace of mind, he
needed
her as far away from him as possible.

“Beth,” he said, slowly and reasonably. “I married ye to free ye from danger. From the danger of being forced into a marriage against your will by your brother. From the danger of his violence if you refused to do as he wished. If I agree to you coming with me, I will be putting you in greater danger than you could ever be from your family, d’ye no’ understand that? If we separate now, and I am later caught or betrayed, ye can claim that ye had no idea I was anyone other than Sir Anthony Peters, court fop extraordinaire. It would be a whole different matter if we were to stay together. No one would then believe you were innocent. I can trust you to act the part of surprised estranged wife, to ensure your own safety. It’s a completely different thing to act a part day in and day out, aware all the time that one wrong move could betray ye. Now do you see why it’s impossible for you to come with me? Ye’d endanger not only yourself, but me as well.”

“You’re not giving me a chance,” she replied hotly. “I’ve been acting a part for the last eight months.”

“Aye, and look how many mistakes ye’ve made in that time,” he responded, his voice rising a little. “The rosary, the outburst at the table, to say nothing of telling your brother your intention to declare for the Pretender and kill George. If your family and their friends were no’ so arrogant as to believe it impossible that anyone of their acquaintance could favour the Stuarts, they’d have known ye for a Jacobite long since!”

“That was different. I’ve changed since then,” she said, leaning forward in her seat.

“In what way? Your circumstances have changed, that’s all.”

“You’re wrong,” she said. “Yesterday I had nothing to live for. I was living a life I hated, with no prospect of it ever ending. I had no true friends here, no one who cared for me as I really am. I couldn’t care less whether I was found out for a Jacobite or not. More than once I’ve contemplated taking my own life, especially because I knew if I did, my brother would not get my dowry. I married you because I hoped that you were kind, that at some point you would allow me to retire from society, to return to Manchester and free my servants from their dependence on Richard.”

He looked at her incredulously.

“Well, what’s the problem, then? I
am
kind, and I
am
allowing you to retire from society.”

“Yes, but I now know that you married me not to get your hands on my dowry, or my body for that matter, but purely because you loved me. Loved me enough, in fact, to throw away twenty thousand pounds that you have need of, and to take the risk that I might betray you anyway.
That’s
what changes everything, what changes me, not my freedom! Can’t you see that?” Unbidden, her eyes filled with tears, and she looked away from him, searching in her pocket for a handkerchief.

He stared at her, frozen. He wanted to strangle her. He wanted to throw her down on the hearthrug and take her now, brutally. He wanted to cradle her on his lap and kiss away the tears she was trying so manfully to swallow back, not wanting him to pity her. He could not do any of those things. Instead, in desperation, he did the only thing he could do, without giving in to her.

“Christ, woman, have ye gone daft?” he shouted, losing his temper. “It’s no’ a game I’m playing. If I’m caught, I’ll be tortured until I betray my friends. Then I’ll suffer a traitor’s death. D’ye ken what that is, lassie?” Before she could open her mouth to answer, he continued, scrubbing his hand viciously through his hair. “First I’ll be paraded through the streets on a hurdle, for people to spit and throw shit and stones at me. Then I’ll be allowed to make a brave speech for the entertainment of the crowd, while I try to hold on to my bowels so as no’ to disgrace myself. For I’ll be terrified, knowing what’s going tae happen next, and knowing there’ll be no escape from it. Then I’ll be hung, not long enough tae die, ye ken, just long enough to suffer, badly. After that I’ll be cut down and have my private parts cut off, before being disembowelled slowly, and my heart thrown on the fire. And I’ll be alive and feeling for every endless minute of it. That’s what I’m risking. And I can expect no mercy, because I’ll hae made a fool o’ the king, and of half the aristocracy of the country. And by Christ, they’ll make sure I suffer for it!” He glared at her. Her eyes were huge in her white face. He had frightened her. Good. He stood up, towering over her, and passed his hand through his hair again.