Leslie LaFoy (32 page)

“You shouldn't have to take care of yourself.”

In a perfect world, she would be loved and cherished and protected. In a perfect world, all the people that had ever mattered to her would still be alive. She swallowed back the threat of tears and raised her chin. “Circumstances frequently require adaptations, Devon. Remember?”

“And the secret is to accept the changes with grace,” he added, nodding somberly as he came to stand in front of her. Gently resting his hands on her shoulders, he said softly, firmly, “Our circumstances have changed, Claire. And yes, you're probably correct in assuming that your uncle's much too preoccupied to worry about how long our marriage lasts. But I won't sign my name to a petition for annulment until I'm certain that you have another course on which you can be safe, secure, and happy. Until then, I'm your husband. There will be no immediate annulment. There won't be an annulment until after your duty to the King's court is done.”

Stunned, she retorted, “You can't summarily make pronouncements like that.”

“Yes, I can. The law allows it as my right. Accept it with grace, Claire.”

She stared up at him, her mind reeling. “You promised,” she whispered. “You said that we'd—”

“Circumstances, Claire,” he interrupted, giving her the tiniest of impatient shakes. “The circumstances have changed. I didn't want to marry you any more than you wanted to marry me. But I'm not stupid and I'm not blind. Rosewind has never had a better mistress. It seems to me that if I can swallow enough of my pride to confess my appreciation and need, you could do the same so that we could come to an amicable compromise.”

“Amicable?” she sputtered, her mind reeling anew. “You want us to be friends?”

“No, that's not what I want at all,” he countered, giving her a rueful smile. Lifting his right hand, he trailed his fingertips over her cheek and whispered, “Right this moment, my sweet Claire, I want nothing more in the world than to lay you down on this bed and lose myself in you. Over and over and over again. I want it so badly I ache.”

She couldn't breathe and her blood was wildly, thrillingly afire. Her heart begged her to surrender. Reason screamed of the price. “But if…”

“Yes,” he said, releasing her and taking a single, very deliberate step back. He squared his shoulders and there was an edge of hard-won control in his voice when he continued, “It's the path of no return for both of us. If we travel it, there can be no annulment. That bit of reality is the tether holding me in check. I'll keep you here and safe until you can choose your own way, yes. But I won't hold you here against your will forever. And just as importantly, I won't let desire put me in the position of being a rebel with a loyalist wife in his bed.”

Feeling alone, empty, and storm battered, her knees too weak to hold her, Claire sank down on the bed. “You didn't mention earlier that my adoption of your political beliefs was a condition of returning to Rosewind.”

He sighed and shrugged. “I thought I'd see which way the wind was blowing first.”

“I don't think it's blowing at all, Devon,” she confessed, staring at the far wall and trying to swallow down the thickening lump in her throat. “I can't live a lie for you. And I won't live waiting for the day they hang you for treason.”
I couldn't bear to lose any more of my heart.

“Then it would appear that we have nothing further to talk about. I bid you a good night, Claire.”

She nodded, unable to speak, consumed by the effort to collect her scattered thoughts and emotions. Vaguely, she heard the door close and she couldn't keep from sagging in relief. How had life become so complicated without her noticing? When had her desires and feelings become so entwined with Devon's?

There were no ready, easy answers to be found, and so Claire shook her head to dispel the troubling thoughts. As she did, her gaze fell into her lap and onto the letter clutched absently in her hand. She perused it again, noting the date on which it had been penned. The fourth of March, just two days after she'd left England. If only she'd known then the set of circumstances unfolding behind her. By the time she'd reached Williamsburg… She needn't have married Devon at all.

Except, Claire silently admitted, she didn't feel trapped, as she had that day. That feeling had passed, and now she felt… Claire frowned, trying once again to define the various elements of her tangled emotions.

Devon was a good and decent man trying his best to salvage what he could of the wreckage his father had left behind. He worked hard and genuinely appreciated the effort others made to do the same. He dared to explore
new directions, and while he wasn't quite accepting of her determination to blaze new trails in feminine fashion, he at least had the grace to silently endure. For the most part.

Claire smiled softly. And patience; Devon might not have an inexhaustible well of it, but he had far more than other men in his circumstances would be able to summon. Which testified to the fact that, beneath his baronial manner, Devon Rivard was really a very kind man with a generous heart. How many men blackmailed into marriage would surrender their chance for freedom to offer the unwanted wife a haven when she had no other?

Of course, Claire ruefully admitted, Devon didn't want anything more than a mistress and a capable housekeeper. The former he could find easily; he was handsome enough that he could have any woman he desired. As for his wanting
her…
she was here and not altogether unwilling—a convenient and easy conquest for Devon and nothing more. A housekeeper, though… a housekeeper would cost him money and so was beyond his immediate attainment. That was where her true value to him lay.

She might be a dreamer, but she wasn't fool enough to trade her future for a handful of breathless interludes that, in the end, would lead to nothing more than a lifetime of domestic servitude. No, she'd been right earlier. His pity, obligation, and lust and her desperation weren't enough on which to build a life together as husband and wife. And while she and Devon might have reached a point where they could concede a certain degree of admiration and respect for each other, there wasn't much more than that between them. There certainly wasn't any love.

Claire blinked back a sudden, unexpected spring of tears. Love, she silently chided as she blindly folded the letter, didn't matter. Men of Devon's social class didn't
marry for love; they married for money—which Devon desperately needed and could never hope to acquire if he remained married to her.

Laying the court summons on the bedside table, she blew out the light and slipped under the covers. In the darkness a truth stole over her. If she had wealth, she'd willingly offer every farthing to Devon in exchange for the hope that maybe, someday, he might grow to love her as much as she was foolishly growing to love him.

EVON.LEANED FORWARD
in the chair and handed the legal notice across the desk to his attorney, saying, “It looks sufficient. Thank you.”

Edmund nodded, laid it aside, and picked up his teacup. “Is Wyndom aware that he's being cut off?”

“If he was listening, he is,” Devon replied, settling back with a weak smile. “One's never quite sure with Wyndom.”

“You do know that there's a distinct possibility that he'll end up in debtor's prison, don't you?”

Devon nodded. “But, given a choice between either going in his stead or letting him suffer the consequences of his own actions, I don't see that I really have much of a choice at all. If I go to prison for debts, Rosewind and Mother will be left in his care. He'd gamble them both away within a week.”

“If it would take him that long,” Edmund observed with a sad shake of his head. “I'll make copies of the notice
and send them out on the first available dispatch. They should be published well inside thirty days.”

“Thank you.” Pushing himself up out of the chair, Devon clasped his hands behind his back and began to slowly pace the solicitor's office. “There's another matter I'd like for you to take care of as well. Claire has been summoned by the Chancery Court to testify against her uncle.”

“In person?” Edmund quickly asked. “Before the bench?”

Devon nodded. “A grand jury. She's to surrender herself to General Gage in Boston the first week in June, then be transported under military escort.”

“June?” Edmund pursed his lips and stared off into the distance. After a moment, he relaxed with a shrug. “You're not likely to have the paperwork necessary to have the marriage annulled by then.”

“That's all right. I've decided to postpone the proceeding for a while.”

The lawyer started visibly, then cocked a brow and smiled. “Whenever you're ready to expand on that rather startling pronouncement, I'm more than willing to hear it.”

Devon went on pacing, his mind carefully tracing through the maze of his plan. “She intends to petition the court for her family's estate in Herefordshire. It seems to me that she'd have a far better chance of having it granted if she were to have the request phrased by an officer of the court. I'd like for you to draft the petition for her so that she has it in hand when she sets out for Boston.”

“But, if I'm understanding correctly,” Edmund countered, “she'll be in England and still your wife. Do you intend to have the marriage annulled in absentia?”

His throat tightened. “If that's what Claire chooses.”

“You'd prefer to have her come back, wouldn't you?”

The clear notes of amusement in the other man's voice rankled. “Rosewind has never had a more capable mistress,” Devon replied crisply. “Of course I want her to return. Only a fool would willingly give up decent food and a clean house.”

Stroking his chin, Edmund softly said, “Just out of curiosity, Devon, do you have any personal feelings toward her at all?”

The question, though lightly posed, struck hard, inexplicably taking the air from his lungs and sending his heart into his throat. Unable to unravel or define the jumble of thoughts and emotions suddenly overwhelming him, Devon retrieved his hat from the wall peg, saying, “It's only been a short while. Gratitude is the only sentiment that can possibly grow in such a brief span of time.”

Settling the hat on his head, Devon smiled at his lawyer and set about extracting himself from the gentle inquisition. “Thank you for seeing to the legal notice, Edmund. And there's no hurry on the petition as long as it's done by the time she has to sail for Boston.”

Edmund rose and extended his hand. Devon politely shook it while thinking that he'd like nothing more at the moment than to wipe the smirk off his friend's face. Forcing a congenial smile, Devon left the office, his anger swelling with every step he took.

Feelings for Claire? How dare Edmund presume to even ask the question. It was entirely too personal. And answering it honestly would have cast him in a very poor light. Yanking the reins of his mount from the ring, Devon swung up into the saddle and set out for Rosewind, his teeth clenched and the likely conversation playing out in his mind.

Why yes, Edmund. I do care for Claire in some respects. She has a narrow waist, beautifully curved hips and delightfully full breasts. Simply looking at her
makes me hard. Oh, and have I mentioned that she's cleaned Rosewind from top to bottom and that the Lee brothers think she's a charming and delightful hostess?