In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) (6 page)

He
lifted his shoulders irritably, shifting in his seat. He had never
been comfortable with tears.

“There’s
no need for that, Manda. Take hold of yourself. You behave as though
we’ve had a disaster.” He stood from his chair, barreling
out from behind the desk. “You have a life to get on with. I’m
going to leave you to it.”

Just
like that he was dismissing her, abandoning her to sort out a muddle
that was not of her making. She swung around as he passed her on his
way to the door.

“What
are you saying?” she asked.

“I’m
saying, you have a new husband who is waiting for you.”

“You’re
leaving?”

“I
promised you and James the townhouse for tonight. Yes, I’m
leaving.”

“You
needn’t bother,” Amanda replied coolly. She supposed he
would understand her meaning.

He
did. Her father advanced back into the room, for the first time
appearing angry. “Amanda, it’s time you grew up. You’re
spoiled, used to having things your way. You have ahead of you a life
most young women only dream of. Know when to be grateful.”

“I
should feel grateful for being deceived by that man?”

He
shook his head, disappointment radiating from his black eyes. “I
don’t propose to tell you how to feel, my dear. But understand
what you are discarding before you discard it.” He turned
toward the door again, this time stopping at the threshold. “Manda?”

She
stared at him dully, unable to respond.

“I
approached the earl,” he said, “asked him to meet my
daughter. I wanted you to marry well, Manda. Don’t blame James
for my machinations.” The door clicked softly behind him.

On
a sob, Amanda slipped to the floor, her green satin gown pooling
around her. Surely, her father’s last words were meant to
absolve James from any blame, but his confession had had the reverse
effect. She pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing against the
sudden bile that rose in her throat.

James
had known from the beginning, had agreed to meet her with the
intention of wooing her regardless of his own feelings. In fact,
feelings evidently had not been a part of the equation, only the need
to mend his circumstances.

What
an actor he was, and she a fool, believing he could care for her. How
he must have laughed at her provincial pride. Unfortunately, she had
none of that pride to sustain her at the second, for she had freely
exposed her emotions to him. To her humiliation, she loved James and
even now wanted him.

What
was she to do? Papa would not support her if she forced an annulment.
And that gave her few options indeed. Was she to follow James to
Lonsdale like a whipped puppy, tail between her legs? Was she to be
his wife in all ways despite his treachery?

This
last caused her the most anguish of all, because she could not
imagine lying with him when she felt his interest was only aroused by
obligation and the aristocratic need to produce an heir. Not when her
heart was painfully attached, not when she wanted so much more.

And
what of Papa? she wondered, stricken to the core. The one person she
had always counted on for protection had conspired against her, used
her like a pawn. Amanda doubted she could ever forgive him.

It
took a few moments of grappling with nausea before she was able to
regain her feet. She stood reeling in the middle of the library,
unsure what to do next. The happiest day of her life had become a
nightmare.

She
could hear the last of the guests leaving, knew that soon it would be
only James and she in the townhouse. Amanda wanted to flee rather
than face him but was surprised to discover at least some of her
pride remained. Avoiding him was cowardly, and she had never been a
coward. She would confront her new husband, head held high, and
proceed from there.

If
only she knew where “there” was.

***

“How
in God’s name could you have let this happen?”

Archibald
Campbell, sequestered with his son-in-law in the drawing room, strode
the length of the floor and back again, hands gripped behind him, his
wrath filling the air like a noxious mist. The tirade had gone on for
some minutes, and James had remained mute, waiting for an opening.

The
old man paused in his pacing, leveling on James an icy stare. “Well?”
he barked.

Unprepared
for the sudden attack, James looked back, disconcerted. “It was
unintentional, sir, I swear. I had no idea my cousin would do such a
spiteful thing.” He hesitated, ashamed that he was forced to
explain himself like a wayward school lad. “Derrick placed a
rather nasty implication on the affair. I can hardly blame Amanda for
being offended.”

“Damned
right. I warned you that my daughter would not take well to our
scheming.”

“I’ll
make her understand.”

“Bah!”
Campbell waved his hand in disgust. “If you think this will die
in a day, my lord, you are in for a disappointment. Manda does not
like to be manipulated. And she hates subterfuge. We’ll be
fortunate if she ever forgives either one of us.”

All
at once the man looked deflated, his face gray with upset. He resumed
his pacing, now silent.

“I
was never comfortable with the way we began this thing,” James
stated. “Amanda should have been given a choice.”

“If
we had done it any other way, she would have had nothing to do with
you. I did what I had to do.”

Feeling
his own anger emerge, James said, “Then it should not have been
done at all, Campbell. We’ve not been fair, you or I. But at
least I have the excuse that I did not know your daughter.”

“Want
to clarify your meaning?” Archie rapped out.

“Damnation!”
James plunked himself on the red brocaded sofa, bouncing on the
springs as he did so. “This bickering is getting us nowhere.
Neither of us is without blame. My only concern is mending this
appalling rift with Amanda.”

“Are
you sorry you married her?”

James
looked up into the watchful eyes of his father-in-law and was aware
that the wrong words spoken now would seal his doom.

His
mind drifted back a few hours to that scene on Amanda’s bed,
and he found himself unable to meet Archie’s probing gaze. It
was all too complicated and fraught with sexual overtones to explain
honestly. Sorry? The only thing he was regretting right now was that
he was having a mighty uncomfortable talk with the bride’s
father instead of being secluded upstairs with the bride.

“I
married Amanda because I wanted to. If I had found her
unsatisfactory, all the ‘enticement’ in the world would
not have brought me to the altar.”

Archie
beamed at him. “If you are sincere, my lord, then I have hope.”

“Right,”
James muttered. “Want to tell me how I should go about
persuading Amanda that I’m sincere?”

“You’ve
your work cut out for you, that’s for certain.” The old
man sounded almost cheerful now. “I’m on my way. If
there’s any fighting to be done, don’t let that
temperamental gel of mine break the good china.”

James
stood abruptly. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to tell
me what to do?”

“A
bleedin’ gentleman man-of-the-world asking a toad like me how
to woo a woman?” Archie laughed, shaking his head. “Love
her, my lord. She’ll forgive you anything if you can convince
her of that.”

Ten
minutes later, a large brandy burning a pleasant hole in his belly,
James tapped on Amanda’s bedchamber door. Silence echoed from
within, and he wondered if he had misjudged where he would find her.
He waited for several moments, deciding finally to leave, when the
door eased open.

His
lungs turned to stone, breathing impossible.

Amanda
stood on the threshold, face ghostly white against her black hair,
hair that hung loose in a cascade of satin down her back. Her dark
eyes glittered in the half-light cast by a candle from inside the
room, and her full lips were parted ever so slightly. She wore a
white cambric nightdress, buttoned to the throat. She was beautiful,
so beautiful, words failed him.

Unfortunately,
she chose not to speak as well. They stared at one another until the
silence became a tangible thing between them. He licked his lips at
last, calling on the brandy for courage.

“Amanda—”

“Not
tonight, James,” she whispered in a tight voice. “I need
to think before we…talk.”

Only
then did he notice that her chin trembled, that the brightness in her
eyes came from unshed tears. She was hurt, devastated, and in the
face of her anguish, he was as devastated as she.

“Manda,
please let me explain,” he said gently. “It’s not
the way it appears.”

When
she did not reply, he reached out to cup her face. Her eyes fluttered
shut, expression drawn as though his very touch pained her, but she
did not flinch away from him as he feared she might. He caressed her
cheek with his thumb and, since she remained immobile, he began to
hope. Until she looked at him again. The bleakness in her gaze was
like a blow.

“Perhaps
tomorrow would be better,” he murmured.

She
nodded, her relief palpable, which did nothing to either ease his
conscience or salve his pride. In that moment, James knew he had a
difficult road ahead of him. She might forgive—might—but
forgetting would be a different matter altogether. He let his hand
drop to his side.

The
door closed as quietly as it had opened, and James found himself
alone in the corridor. He turned his back to the wall and sagged
against it, letting his head fall backward. For several long moments
he stood there, wishing with all his heart he was on the other side
of that wall.

Derrick
had done well tonight. No matter what the future brought, he and
Amanda would have this ruined wedding day between them. There was
nothing he could do to salvage what was lost, for despite what he had
told her, it was exactly as it appeared. Amanda was no fool. She knew
that. All he could hope for was a second chance to prove himself, to
prove what had begun as one thing was now something else entirely.

He
pushed away from the wall and sauntered to the stairs. Might as well
have another of Campbell’s fine brandies, he thought morosely.
It was going to be a long night.

***

Amanda
put the last piece of her clothing, a silk chemise, in the
portmanteau and shut the lid. Placing her hands on the case, she
surveyed her bedchamber as though seeing it for the first time. It
was late morning, and gray light that heralded a rainy day leaked
into the room, as depressing as the pall on her spirits.

A
week ago the prospect of leaving here, embarking on a new life, was
an adventure that left her breathless with excitement. Now she felt
nothing, overcome by a numbness she could not dispel.

She
had been married less than forty-eight hours and, despite her aim to
attack the situation directly, she had avoided talking to James about
anything of substance. Yesterday had been quiet, all politeness and
unspoken anguish. They had eaten together, discussed their trip to
Lonsdale, spent the evening playing cards. And slept in separate
rooms.

Papa
had arrived downstairs a short while ago. She had put off going down,
not yet ready to speak with him. She wondered if she would ever be
ready.

A
soft rap at the door and Betty entered the chamber. “The
carriage is here, my lady.”

All
at once Amanda panicked. She was on the verge of a journey that would
change her life irretrievably. Why had she decided to follow through
with an arrangement that left her feeling cheapened and exploited?
Could it be that James leaving without her was even more painful than
the terrible blow she had suffered to her pride—her heart?

Pathetic,
she thought miserably, yearning after a man who cared for her only
marginally. She did give James that much credit. His lust for her was
most likely real. But it sickened her to think that he would use her
in such a tawdry way, marriage or no marriage.

Well,
that was one thing that wasn’t going to happen—at least,
not the way he thought it would. Though she had kept her thoughts to
herself since the wedding, she had been doing some planning of her
own. She was going to Lonsdale, was going to adhere to her part of
the bridal contract. However, her cooperation came with a few
stipulations. She suspected James would acquiesce. After all, he
stood to lose a lot of money if he did not, money he clearly needed.

Amanda
glanced up to see Betty still waiting for a reply. “Tell them I
will be down shortly.”

She
snapped the clasps shut on the portmanteau.

***

“Come,
Manda, tell the old man goodbye,” Archie said.

The
entry was filled with servants, along with Papa and James, all of
them waiting for her to do the daughterly thing. Amanda could not
refuse her father’s request without appearing ungracious. The
need for good manners did not make it any easier.

She
gave her father a stiff hug, ending it almost immediately. She
stepped back, unable to meet his gaze.

“I’m
not forgiven, am I, love?”

There
was a wistfulness in his voice that made her look at him.

“I
need time, Papa,” she said in hushed tones. “Your
scheming took more than a day, and it will take more than a day for
me to come to terms with it.”

“I
wanted what was best for you.”

“Really?
Have you ever held a beautiful diamond in your hand, so beautiful it
took your breath away, only to realize it was made of paste?”

“Sweetheart—”
He coughed suddenly, a loud, deep-chested explosion. He coughed again
and then again, until his face was red and sweating.

James
clapped him on the back. “Are you all right, sir?”

A
diversion, Amanda thought cynically, to change the awkward subject.
Just as well, for she was uncomfortably aware of the proximity of the
earl during her private moment with her father. The coughing fit
finally eased, and the old man escorted the couple out to the
carriage.