Becoming Countess Dumont (4 page)

“There you are, Alexander!” a shrill, familiar voice rings out. “I have been waiting at the inn for hours.”

The whore. I’ve used her on many occasions because she sucks cock really fucking well. But tonight I don’t want her. I want something new.

I want Edith, my wife.

But Edith has sobered in my arms and is pushing herself away from me. “Your lover is here,” she spits out in disgust as she retreats.

I gape after her as she stumbles toward the door in her haste to leave. A man steadies her near the door and I see the interest he has for her in his eyes.

“Do you want me to suck you off in the alley or in your room?” the whore questions as she reaches me and slips her arms around my neck.

My eyes are still on Edith. She glances once at me and then smiles at the man on her arm. Together, they stroll out of the pub toward the inn.

I could go after her.

Stake claim on my wife.

Or, I could count my blessings at having avoided what could have been a huge mistake.

“The room will be perfect, dear,” I murmur to the whore. My lips connect with hers but my eyes are on the dark-haired woman I can still see through the window.

Edith rolls over in my arms so that our chests touch, jerking me from my thoughts, and I stare at her. Even asleep, she manages to intrigue me. I want to know what it is that she thinks about all day. Do I ever cross her mind? Does she ever wonder what it would be like to make love to me?

I slide a palm up to her cheek and stroke her gently. This shouldn’t feel so comfortable. However, I find myself relaxing and losing consciousness as I hold this woman.

My wife.

When did things change?

MY ROOM IS DARK BUT
I sense that it is morning. Every bone in my body aches and the memories of yesterday flood me. I curl into a ball on my bed, seeking warmth further under my covers.

In a happy marriage, a husband would comfort his wife. However, in my marriage, I comfort myself apparently. For once, I simply want to be held by someone that loves me. It would seem that my punishment in this life for what I did to Elisabeth will always prevent me from having what I desire most.

To be loved.

“Edith,” Alexander’s deep voice calls from the doorway.

I pretend to still be sleeping. I’m not ready to deal with him today. Yesterday, he valiantly rescued me from Victor. For a moment, I assumed maybe he cared for me. But then, he sulked in the corner and stewed about the entire ordeal. Never once did he ask me to talk about what happened. I was left to manage on my own.

The floor creaks as he steps into the room and strides over to my bedside. The bed squeaks when he sits beside me. My heart flutters at his proximity and I desperately attempt to calm it down.

“Edith, dear, we’re leaving.”

This certainly gets my attention and I twist to face him. His brows are furrowed but I can still see them in the room that is becoming less dark by the second as the sun rises. I try not to notice how handsome he looks with his dark hair styled in a floppy way on his head. He has dressed fancier than his usual attire and it reminds me of our wedding.

To keep from staring at him all morning, I draw my attention from him and over to the window.

“Where are we going?” I rasp out. My throat is still sore at the abuse I suffered at the hand of Victor.

I startle when he swipes a finger over my forehead and pushes my hair aside. “Havering. It’s time, Edith. I’m ready to present you to my family as my wife.”

We never discussed leaving today so I’m slightly alarmed at his proclamation. “When?”

“In two hours. That should allow you enough time to have breakfast with me and pack a suitcase.”

I’m still reeling from his plan to take me to Havering. I cannot argue though for the simple fact that I agreed to this. Six months ago, I assured him I could be his partner in this unusual scheme.

“I shall hurry, Alexander. Can you see to it that I get some tea?”

He smiles at me. “It will be ready upon your arrival to the dining room.”

A small grin tugs at my lips. When this husband of mine is nice, I sort of lose my head and become mesmerized by all that is him. He grows more handsome and it is in those moments that I crave for him to kiss me.

It was just last week that I had to physically refrain from throwing myself into his arms during one of those rare moments he had me swooning for him.

Ouch!

I found myself sidestepping to avoid the cat that lives in the inn and tripped over my dress. One moment I was in mid-sentence greeting Alexander for dinner, and the next I was on my hands and knees.

“Edith!” Alexander shouts and I hear the scrape of the chair as he gets up from the table and makes his way over to me. “Are you okay, darling?”

I roll over to sit on my bottom and stare up into his concerned eyes. My chin quivers but I hold it up bravely. “I’m fine. I just bruised my knees.”

He frowns at me as he squats before me and brushes a hair out of my face. “You must be more careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I smile at him. His words are genuine and I believe that he truly cares for me. Oftentimes I wonder if I’m simply a business partner to him. Other times, I know in my heart that he feels some sort of affection for me.

“I will survive, Alexander. It was a simple fall,” I giggle.

His eyes light up and he grins mischievously at me. “Let me be sure that you are not hurt. May I?”

My eyes widen when he takes hold of the end of my dress and inches it up my legs. Our smiles are gone as he holds my gaze every agonizing step of the way. I’m not feeling any pain from my fall because all I can feel is my knickers as they become drenched. His thumbs drag along the inside of my legs, transferring his blazing heat onto my flesh, as he pushes up the dress causing me to nearly go insane. I’ve had many lovers since I married Alexander but not one has made me nearly orgasm from such a simple touch.

“Alexander,” I whine when my dress slips over my knees and stops at my thighs.

“Yes?” he murmurs.

“What are you doing?”

He dips his mouth to my knee and brushes a soft kiss on it. My eyes roll back and I stifle a moan that threatens to rip from me. Why must he tease me so?

His lips press against my other knee and I gasp.

When he lifts back up to face me, I see that he’s suddenly angry. “Your scent . . .”

His lips are pursed together and he’s scowling. “I need to leave. I cannot have dinner with you tonight,” he blurts out abruptly.

Confusion washes over me while he rises hastily to his feet. Tears brim in my eyes as I sit on the floor and listen to him stomp out of the dining room.

What is wrong with my scent?

“Lord and Lady Thomas will be joining us.”

His words draw me from my memory and I gape at him. “But she hates me, Alexander. You don’t understand.”

“That isn’t any of my concern. What is of my concern is convincing Father that we are married—and happily so. We shall require Jasper’s assistance in that quest. It is already decided and they will meet us at the train station in two hours.”

I swallow down my emotion but nod. It hurts that he is being so brisk but I have no other choice. I’ve promised to do this with him and I won’t break that promise.

“Would it be possible that we board at a later time?” I ask hopefully. “So that I don’t have to unnecessarily encounter her?”

His eyes drop to my lips and he seems momentarily dazed. “Of course. Now make haste.”

As he stalks out of the bedroom, I stare after him and admire the view. He may frustrate and confuse me but I never tire of looking at him, especially when he wears trousers that hug his muscled frame so neatly. His arse is one I wouldn’t mind seeing in its bare form. Perhaps when we make it to Havering, I will have that opportunity.

I lick my lips and groan.

Good heavens, I need a cold bath now.

MY FISTS ARE STILL BRUISED
, and each knuckle is busted from having beaten that idiot to within an inch of his life last night. I’d simply gone mad—much like during the secret cellar fights I used to have with the guys back in Havering. The fights where I would lose control and my fists would guide the destructive path until someone pulled me off my bloody opponent.

To let loose and have the rage flood through me—rage I’d been pretty schooled at containing—was invigorating. Had it been under any other circumstance, I would have felt drugged from the pleasure of the release.

However, it was not under any other circumstance.

No, it was to protect what belonged to me.

Edith.

At first, I was pissed when I heard the noises coming from her room. I wanted to make my whore—
whatever the hell her name was
—scream out my name in ecstasy just to rile Edith up.

But the moment I heard her scream my name in terror followed by the brutal banging against the wall, I saw red.

Bloody fucking red.

The prick was smashing my wife’s head into the wall like it was his God-given right. So help me, had I not seen her crying and looking so vulnerable, I would have killed him with my fists. But she needed me. She was broken like never before. I wanted to protect her.

Now?

My eyes skim over her appearance from across the table. Her normal prissy attitude has been replaced by that of a sadder one. One that concludes she’s been made aware of her fragility being that she’s a woman. Her bottom lip is swollen, and just seeing it causes rage to flare through me.

Now? I
still
want to protect her.

“You’re quiet this morning,” I say gruffly.

She’s peering out the window, watching the scenery flash by. We boarded the train a short while ago and settled into our private sleeping quarters of the car. I paid an outlandish amount to reserve this car for us. I also reserved the one beside us for Jasper and Elisabeth. Upon Edith’s wishes, we boarded after them to avoid a confrontation between her and her sister.

“Not much to say,” she whispers with her eyes trained on the window.