Forever Mine (7 page)

“Oh…I didn’t…I am sorry, Nicholas.” Anna’s face took on a pained expression, and Sebastian leaned forward in his chair to squeeze his wife’s hand.

Nicholas watched the loving exchange with envy. Such intimacy was out of his reach. Like him, Vickie had no desire for children, but he’d hoped for a marriage of mutual respect and affection. He had no one to blame but himself. His jaw clenched as he swallowed the bitter pill of what lust for a woman and his need for Brentwood Park had brought him.

“As I said, Vickie knows how to be discreet, while still finding a way to make me look a fool. Although, her association with Darby would have gone unnoticed if the damned fool hadn’t caused a scene in the Marlborough Club. The Prince was far from pleased with the man’s belligerent behavior.”

“So you really have no idea why she vanished?” Anna probed.

“None. I’ve had plenty of time to consider the possibilities, but nothing seems to fit.”

“Well, either she’s attempting to play you for a fool or she truly has lost her memory.” Anna arched her eyebrows at him. “You could always remind her that as your wife there are certain…duties she must perform. It might help you solve your dilemma.”

“The devil take it, Anna,” his friend growled softly.

Meeting her husband’s disapproving frown with a matter-of-fact expression, Anna didn’t flinch beneath the viscount’s dark scowl. Her gaze turned back to Nicholas, and he chuckled at her pragmatic expression. He could just imagined what Vickie’s response would be to his sudden demand she let him into her bed.

“It’s quite all right Sebastian,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s no secret my marriage is far from idyllic, and Anna’s suggestion is one I’ve already considered.”

The idea that he demand his conjugal rights had been simmering in the back of his mind since Vickie had first started this game. There was little love lost between them, but something deep inside made him reluctant to outline his expectations to her.

Vickie would reject him outright, but if the woman upstairs was telling him the truth, she would reject him as well. It was far from the ideal tactic to use in getting to the heart of the matter. Without warning, his body grew hot at the memory of his wife pressed close to his back as they returned to Brentwood Park.

Desire for his wife. It was a foreign sensation. Lust had always driven him where Vickie was concerned, but today had been different. His reaction to her had been more than just a raw, primal instinct. There had been a connection to her that he couldn’t describe. It was a link he didn’t know how to break, and the thought scared the hell out of him.

V
ictoria sneezed from the heavy, exotic scent that filled the opulent bedroom Jamieson had shown her to. She scrunched up her face in distaste at the personal domain of her double. The Countess of Guildford’s room was dark, almost sinister. Maroon drapes blocked out the sunlight, which did nothing to dispel the dark intimidation of the room.

With a grimace, she stood at the foot of the bed noting how the huge, dark wardrobe and dressing table only added to the room’s oppressive atmosphere. One item of furniture served as a misfit in the dark, exotically forbidding room. Delicate and fragile looking, a secretaire stood near the window, a thin ray of light streaking across the desktop. Drawn to the dainty piece of furniture, she circled the desk. Ivory parchment lay on the wood surface as if someone was preparing to write a letter.

Brushing her fingers across the soft sheen of wood, she saw the ink well and the fountain pen with its fine-tipped nib at the top of the secretaire. Curiosity prompted her to pick up the writing instrument. The moment her fingers wrapped around the elegant pen, the dark images she’d seen before swept through her head.

This time she heard voices. Men arguing. The sound of a shovel slicing into dirt was followed by earth sliding off the spade onto a body. Fear made her recoil from the desk as she dropped the pen back onto the wood surface.

Blindly, she stumbled her way out of the room. The door closed behind her with a thud, and she pressed one hand on the wall to steady herself. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she swallowed hard as fear held her muscles tight with tension. She was in the past, and suddenly she’d developed psychic abilities. If she didn’t know better, she’d say she was insane. The way things were going, she was closely considering the possibility.

Victoria glanced back at the countess’ bedroom door. There was no way in hell she was going back into that room, let alone sleep there. Not even Lord Guildford could make her do that. She’d sleep in the stables first. The sudden jingling of keys made her turn toward the sound. Small in stature, a woman approached, her face pinched with an emotion Victoria recognized as fear.

“Welcome home, my lady.” The woman’s voice quavered, and she kept her eyes downcast as she halted in front of Victoria. “Did you not find your room in satisfactory condition?”

“Are you Mrs. Beechum?”

“Yes, my lady.” The woman eyed her with a cautious expression. “You don’t remember me, my lady?”

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Beechum, and I have a small problem.” Victoria said as she nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t like my bedroom.”

“My lady?” Mrs. Beechum stared at Victoria in amazement.

“It’s a mausoleum in there. I’m not sure how the count…I slept there. It’s far too dark and depressing. I was wondering if there was a different bedroom I could use. Something cheerful and bright.”

“Of course…my lady. If you like…I can show you the Queen’s room.” Clearly still bewildered, the housekeeper nodded.

“Any room will be preferable to this one, Mrs. Beechum,” Victoria said with a nod toward the countess’ bedroom door.

“Yes, my lady.”

The housekeeper gave her a strange look before turning around and leading her away from the countess’ room. They passed the main staircase and walked the length of the manor to stop at a door almost at the end of the corridor. With her head bowed, the petite woman opened the door and stepped aside so Victoria could enter the room.

Victoria drew in a sharp breath of pleasure as she moved deeper into the room. The sun-filled bedroom was larger than any she’d ever seen. Curtains of the palest yellow tint covered the ceiling-high windows. A lounge sofa at one of the windows was angled for maximum usage of light when reading. The bedspread was a lemon-striped pattern that complemented the sofa’s pale green upholstery.

Slender bedposts at each corner of the bed stretched upward, their dark wood draped with a delicate white fabric. The fragile looking material drifted downward from the elegant canopy above. To the left of the bed, there were two doors. One in each corner of the room. On the wall opposite the bed was a chifforobe and dressing table.

“The bath is in here, my lady.”

The housekeeper crossed the room to the far corner and opened the door. Warily, Victoria followed the woman to peek into the room. A moment later, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. Tap water and a flush toilet. Although the plumbing looked like antiques, at least she wouldn’t have to forego
all
modern conveniences. She moved back into the bedroom, and for the first time since her nightmare had begun a sense of peace enveloped her. There was something familiar and comforting about the room. She looked over her shoulder at the housekeeper and smiled.

“It’s perfect, Mrs. Beechum.”

“Very well, my lady,” the housekeeper murmured, her eyes filled with confusion.

“I’d like to take a bath, are there towels?”

“They’re in the cabinet behind the door, my lady. I’ll have Molly run your bath for you.”

“That’s not necessary, but would it be possible for you to provide me with something different to wear?” Victoria looked down with distaste at the large mud stains covering her dress.

“Of course, my lady. I can have your dresses moved right away.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m afraid Mrs. Stonner is no longer with us, my lady. Would you like Molly to assist you until you have time to secure the services of another lady’s maid?”

For a brief moment, Victoria almost rejected the offer. She’d been dressing herself since she was a child. The last thing she need was a maid. The memory of Bessie tying up her corset in the back made her rethink her position. Dressing might be more of a problem than she realized.

“I’m sure Molly will be a big help.” Victoria nodded. “Thank you.”

Victoria eyed the woman with amused empathy as she waited for the housekeeper to lose her dazed expression. The poor woman looked almost as bewildered as Victoria felt. Mrs. Beechum straightened her shoulders as if aware she’d been staring and sent Victoria a timid smile.

“Then if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ll see to everything,” Mrs. Beechum said as she bustled out of the room.

When the woman closed the door behind her, Victoria went to the bathroom to run a hot bath. While water slowly filled the claw-foot bathtub, she took a moment to wander about the bedroom enjoying the sensation of warm wood beneath her fingertips as she caressed pieces of furniture here and there. From the moment she’d entered the room, she’d sensed something special about it. She knew it was impossible, but it was as if she’d been here before. It was a sense of familiarity she couldn’t dismiss.

A beautifully made secretaire stood between one of the windows and the fireplace. It was exquisite. Everything she saw was beautiful, the room, the house, the earl. The man was more than beautiful. He was as hot as they came. She froze. That kind of thinking could get her into trouble. The man was married. Married to her, a sly voice in the back of her mind murmured. Her gaze drifted to the large fireplace with its intricate mantle carvings. Moving closer she ran her hand over the beautiful detail of roses and thorns sculpted into the wood. The carvings wove their way up the sides of the fireplace until they met in the center of the mantle in a bouquet of roses. She’d never seen anything so lovely.

Turning away from the fireplace, she remembered her bath and hurried back to shut off the spigot. She dipped her hand into the water and sighed with pleasure. Perfect. Eager to wash off the dried grime of her earlier ordeal, Victoria reached behind her to undo her dress. It was a struggle to undo the small buttons, and she’d managed to undo the dress almost to the waist when she heard the bedroom door crash open. Startled by the noise, she whirled around to see the earl standing in the bathroom doorway.

“What hell do you think you’re doing?” he snarled. His anger was almost as furious as it had been at the cottage, but this time she wasn’t afraid of him.

“Getting ready to take a bath?” she said sarcastically.

“This game of yours has gone far enough, madam. I demand to know why you aren’t in your usual bedchamber.”

“It’s a mausoleum, and I asked Mrs. Beechum for a different room.

“And you selected this room out of all the other bedrooms in the house.” The icy pond she’d plunged into earlier could not have felt colder on her skin as the earl’s green eyes pinned his harsh gaze on her. Victoria shook her head in confusion.

“I liked the room. It’s warm and cozy. I feel safe here.”

“You expect me to believe you had no other reason for selecting this particular room?” Despite his outrage, she saw puzzlement darken his gaze.

“What other reason would I have?”

At her reply, he limped forward and caught her by the arm then half dragged her out of the bathroom. With a vicious jerk, he opened the door she’d not opened and pointed to the opposite end of the short corridor.

“This hallway, madam, leads to my bedchamber.”

His words were ice chips scattering through the air. She shrugged, and one of the sleeves of her gown slipped off her shoulder. Frustrated, she tugged it back into place.

“You’re upset because I picked a room that happens to be next to
yours
?”

Arms folded across his chest, the earl remained silent, his expression indicating he expected some sort of explanation from her. Completely at a loss as to what he wanted her to say, Victoria shrugged again. This time she was forced to pull both sleeves back up to her shoulders. She returned his glare, irritated they were arguing about what room she should be sleeping in when she could be soaking in a hot tub.

“What?” she snapped. Dark eyebrows arched in a disdainful sneer, Nicholas pointedly slashed his gaze toward her bed then returned his derisive look to her face.

“I have no intention of sleeping in your bed after all the lies between us, madam.” His cold declaration made Victoria’s mouth fall open before she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Of all the arrogant, egotistical…I didn’t have any idea this room was next to yours. Not that I care, because I have
no
intention of sleeping with you either,” she snapped as her own anger flared. The man was crazy if he thought she was interested in sleeping with him. In the back of her mind she heard a cackling laugh. She ignored it.

“Now
this
is the Vickie I’m accustomed to seeing.”

Smug satisfaction crossed his face as he mocked her. Infuriated by his condescending tone, Victoria fought back the urge to respond with a scathing retort. If she got angry, she might say something that would get her locked up in that asylum. She whirled around to stalk back to the bathroom, stumbling over the hem of her gown as she did so.