Dancing With A Devil (27 page)

Sutherland shrugged. “Sorry, Davenport. I told them we ought to stay out of your affairs.”

Gillian nudged past Whitney’s husband and came to stand by Whitney. “I told you,” she said, looking directly at her sister.

“
Told you what?” Trent demanded, not liking the fact that his cousins were discussing him and his life as if he weren’t here. Their plotting and scheming would invariably wreak havoc for him.

Whitney sighed. “She told me you were just like all other men, but I defended you. I argued that certainly you were not a blooming idiot as most men are when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“
Now see here,” Sutherland protested.

“
Sorry, darling.” Whitney blew Sutherland a kiss. “You’re an exception now. Not before we were married, though.”

“
Enough,” Trent snapped. “I need sleep.”

Whitney shook her head. “What you need is a smack on your wounded arm to get your attention. How is it you failed to mention to us in all the time you’ve been home that you were, or rather possibly still are, married?”

Gillian sat close to his other side. Trent felt caged. Two females who cared for your welfare could be infinitely more dangerous than a hundred who didn’t.

Gillian touched his arm. “Can you tell us why it is you don’t know for certain if you’re married still? Was this the reason you didn’t say anything about the marriage in the first place?”

“
Yes and no.” He refused to say more. The sharing had become ridiculous and relentless.

Gillian’s brows puckered together. “Which is which?”

Damn it all. He needed peace. And time to think. Or maybe not, as the only thought in his head was for Audrey. That couldn’t be good. He focused on his cousins. “I didn’t mention my marriage because I bloody well didn’t want to. And I thought my wife was dead. Now it seems she’s miraculously resurrected.”

“
How can that be?” Whitney demanded.

How, indeed. Hadn’t he asked himself that same question, but for different reasons. How come he’d been blind and stupid? He took a breath. “I cannot tell you much. Suffice to say I had very good reason to think she was dead. I’m ashamed to admit her loss didn’t sadden me.”

“
Trent,” Whitney whispered.

“
I know. I feel the weight of my words even as I sit here, but the guilt doesn’t make them less true.”

“
What an unexpected and odd situation,” Whitney said, her voice raising a hitch.

“
Exactly,” he replied. It was like old times. Say something but nothing at all. Sometimes he thought he missed being a spy, but now he was positive he didn’t. The life had been exhausting. Never making connections or contacts. Never growing close. Never allowing anyone to truly know you. Maybe that had been the problem? He and Gwyneth had never really known each other. He discerned more about Audrey than he ever had about Gwyneth, and despite the fact that Audrey didn’t realize he had been a spy, she comprehended more about him, his likes and dislikes, than Gwyneth ever had. The realization sent an ache through his chest.

Gillian nudged him. “What else will you say?”

“
Not much.” It was as if he were back in prison, but without the beatings. He frowned, trying to recall if since becoming a spy he’d had a conversation with his family where he uttered more than two nondescript words about his past. No, he didn’t think he had.

She gave him a faint smile. “Will you say for example what your wife did to make you hate her so?”

“
No,” he replied as he caught Whitney’s gaze.

Gillian glowered. “Will you explain at another time?”

“
Certainly not.”

Whitney leaned closer. “Will you tell us anything?”

“
Yes.” He jostled them both so that they almost fell off their perch on the bed. Across the room, Sutherland chuckled and Trent shot him a grateful smile. “I’m tired and I wish to go to bed.

“
How can you sleep at a time like this?” both women cried as one.

“
A time like what?” he demanded, his irritation getting the better of his self-control.

“
Trent Loxley Rutherford,” Whitney huffed, reminding him exactly of how his mother spoke to him when she was angry with him. Even now at four and thirty. It was ridiculous. Truly.

“
Yes?” He struggled to regain his cool and manage an even and calm tone.

“
How can you retire knowing you’ve ruined Audrey’s life?”

Every muscle in his body tensed at Whitney’s accusation. “She told me in no uncertain terms she would have scores of suitors lined up to marry her who worshipped and loved her.” The moment the words left his mouth, his jaw dropped open. She had hurt him with that comment, and he hadn’t even known it until this second. That she already had the ability to wound him bothered him. If they did marry, he would have to be vigilant in guarding against weakness.

Whitney’s eyes rounded with sympathy and her hand came to rest gently on his arm. “What do you plan to do now?”

The tension in his shoulders unknotted at the easier question. “As soon as I recover I plan to go to France and learn the truth of my wife.”

Whitney nodded. “That’s exactly what I’d do.”

“
I’m so glad you approve.” What if Gwyneth wasn’t alive? What if Audrey was still not betrothed when he came home and he could convince her a marriage of convenience would truly be best for her? Even now, surrounded by his cousins, he could feel Audrey’s soft skin under his fingertips, smell the honeysuckle scent that lingered on her and hear her tinkling laughter that warmed his heart.

He blinked and realized Whitney was staring steadily at him, her annoyance obvious in the way she tried unsuccessfully not to frown. “It’s awful to say this, but I too hope you no longer have a wife.”

Shame washed over him. He couldn’t chastise Whitney when he’d just had a thought similar in nature. He firmly shut his eyes, praying to God everyone would leave. Silence filled the room, followed by his cousins each leaning in and pecking him on the cheek.

“
Good night,” Whitney whispered.

“
Sweet dreams,” Gillian followed in his other ear.

Of late, his dreams had been of nothing but Audrey and it was sweet―torturously so. As the door creaked, he whipped his eyes open and called out, “Whitney, wait.”

She turned and hurried back into the room. “Do you have something you want to share?”

He chuckled at the eager anticipation on her face. “No. I have a request.”

“
Yes?”

“
Can you have your modiste make an entire new wardrobe for Audrey and make sure Audrey does not know it came from me?”

Whitney nodded. “I can, but it would be remiss of me if I didn’t point out men who simply care for women don’t commission secret wardrobes.”

“
Let it never be said you’re remiss.”

Whitney heaved a loud sigh. “All right. I’ll see it accomplished for you. Does this mean you think you won’t be back from France by the time Audrey emerges from mourning?”

“
I don’t know.” He did not want to reveal all of Audrey’s problems to Whitney. That was Audrey’s choice what to tell and when. As much as he did not want her to find a husband, he wanted her to have the best chance possible and he was the first to admit it was often the pretty picture that caught a man’s eye before he was smart enough to look deeper. Ridiculous but true. People of the
ton
would talk if she appeared in shabby gowns when she emerged from mourning, and it was going to be hard enough for her with her father dead and her brother possibly gone for good. He wanted to help her, even if it meant destroying his chance to marry her. As much as he wanted to deny the reality, it could take a long time to discover the truth about Gwyneth and then the truth might be that he was indeed still married.

Aware of his long silent pause, he said, “Sorry. Woolgathering.”

Whitney nodded, but her eyes held a gleam of disbelief.

“
I simply want to do what I can to help ease Audrey’s transition back into Society.”

“
Are you sure you should? If you help her look too lovely, she may find a husband that much quicker.” A frown pulled at Whitney’s mouth.

He nudged her chin as he used to do when they were young children. “My wife may still be alive, and it could very well take a long time to discover the truth. Should I ask Audrey to wait? I hardly think she will agree since she is determined to marry for love.”

“
Oh, Trent.” Whitney sniffed and leaned down to give him a tight hug.

He gently pushed her away. “One last favor?”

“
Of course.” She dabbed at her eyes.

“
Watch over her.”

Whitney tsked. “As if you need to ask me such a thing.”

“
That’s excellent.” Trent felt somewhat better about leaving Audrey to go to France, knowing she would have people looking out for her. “It’s all settled, then. Off to bed with you.”

Whitney stood. “Will you write me and tell me what you have learned?”

He would not write until he was coming home and only then if he was sure it was safe to do so. “I will,” he agreed, hating to add the necessary lie to the hundreds that already weighed him down.

Six Months Later

Kent, London

Audrey sat slumped in her brother’s study staring at the mounds of notes from creditors that had piled up since Richard’s disappearance. She nibbled on her lip as hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. However was she going to manage to pay off all the debt they owed? They had only survived this long because she had found a bag of blunt stashed in her father’s bureau. It had not been a great deal, but between Ms. Frompington’s unexpected but rather well-timed decision to retire and Audrey rationing the remaining food and going to market to only by what was on sell or already cheap, they had managed to get by. But the money was almost gone.

She pursed her lips. She now despised potatoes. And darkness. Going from room to room at night with one lone candle was frustrating but necessary. Bah, she had to quit wallowing in self-pity. Things could be worse. And soon. She had no practical job experience, and even if she had, no trade she could work at would make enough money to pay the current debt, keep the estate running at a bare minimum and feed and clothe herself and her aunt. She laid her head on her forearm and squeezed her eyes shut. If she didn’t do something soon they’d starve to death. She wished Richard would come back, so at least the burden of worrying about him would be lifted and they could work to fix things together, but she had not heard a word from him and had no extra money to hire someone to try to find him.

She might have lain there all day, but a knock at her study door forced her to rouse herself. “Come in,” she said, trying to force a note of cheerfulness into her voice. To her ears, she sounded strained and anything but cheerful but at least she was making an effort.

Aunt Hillie strolled into the room in such a shocking shade of orange Audrey felt her lower jaw drop open. Even for her aunt, the color was outrageous. Audrey swallowed and chose her words carefully as not to hurt her aunt’s feelings. “I see you’ve wasted no time disposing of your black silk mourning attire.”

“
Your father’s been dead six months and a day. The mourning period is over, and I say we’ve done his passing more than justice. You’ve not stepped foot outside of this house in all that time except to bicker at market nor have you let anyone besides that shifty-eyed fox Lord Thortonberry in here.”

Audrey frowned. “I don’t understand why you dislike Lord Thortonberry so much. He’s been nothing but kind to us. What has he done that’s gotten under your bonnet? Was it the sweet treats he brought? Or perhaps it was the freshly baked bread from his cook? Yes, that must be it. It wasn’t as warm as it should have been, was it?”

Her aunt snickered. “I admit he’s done several kind deeds. Of course,” her aunt said slowly. “Others―take for instance your three friends that tried to call on you numerous times―would have done kind things for us too, if you’d let them. Yet Lord Thortonberry was the only one you allowed past the front door. You turned everyone else away with paltry excuses that I’ve no doubt they all knew to be made up.”

Audrey stiffened. “You know I had to turn Whitney, Gillian and Sally away.”

“
I know no such thing.” Her aunt plopped in the chair on the other side of the desk and set something down with a clank.