No Decent Gentleman (30 page)

Facing the east, Adam knelt on the carpet. His forehead touched the floor, and his lips moved in a silent prayer.

Shock made her momentarily speechless. Then she found her voice, asking in a frightened voice, "What are you doing?"

Adam whirled around. His expression mirrored his surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded in an angry voice. "I told you never to enter the east wing."

"Who are you?" Sabrina asked, backing away from his angry tone.

"I am your husband," Adam said, almost wearily, standing to face her.

"You deceived me. You are not who you said," she accused him. She looked around at the exotically decorated chamber, adding, "You are someone else."

"I am Adam St. Aubyn, the Marquess of Stonehurst, heir to the Duke of Kingston," he said.

"No more lies," Sabrina said, meeting his gaze unwaveringly. "I want the whole truth now."

"Let us sit on the pillows over there," Adam said, inclining his head. He offered her his hand, but she refused to take it.

Instead, Sabrina turned her back, crossed the chamber to sit on the pillow beside a small table, and folded her hands on top of it. If she didn't hold on to herself tightly, he would see her hands trembling.

"What would you like to know?" Adam asked, sitting down across the table from her.

"The truth would be nice for once."

"Sarcasm does not become you," Adam said. "My real name is Karim Osmanli. I am a Moslem prince of the Ottoman Empire."

"A heathen?" she exclaimed.

"In my land, you are heathen," he said.

"You made me your wife under false pretenses," Sabrina accused him. "You lied when you promised never to lie to me again."

"Forgive me, Princess. Lying to you was wrong," Adam said with anguish in his voice and his eyes. He reached across the table to place his hand on top of hers, but she dropped her hands to her lap.

"Your apology means nothing, merely empty words," Sabrina said, steeling herself against the unmasked pain in his gaze.

"Will you listen to my explanation?" he asked.

She answered with a nod. No matter what he said, though, she would never forgive him for this. If she absolved him of these lies, tomorrow there would be more.

"First of all, Princess, I feared that you would never accept me as your husband, and I didn't want to lose you," Adam began. "You British are not generally known for your tolerance of other cultures."

"You are British," she countered. "Or are you?"

"Yes, but my Britishness is tempered by the fact that I also have ingrained in me the beliefs of another culture," he replied. "I follow the practices of both Islam and Christianity. I worship in my Islamic religion whenever I enjoy the privacy of Stonehurst, but I follow the Church of England because I am an English aristocrat and expected to adhere to that religion."

"I wouldn't have cared if you were druid if only you had refrained from lying about it," Sabrina said coldly, insulted that he didn't trust her.

"Princess, I apologize for not trusting you to accept this aspect of me," Adam said. "However, I had other factors to consider. If my real identity became common knowledge, my life would be endangered."

"Before you tell me what that means," Sabrina said, holding her hand up in a gesture for him to stop speaking, "I need to know if my father knew your real identity."

"Yes, Princess, both your adoptive father and your natural father knew about my origins," he answered.

That piece of information surprised her. She would never have thought that her wonderful father could give her in marriage to a stranger from a strange land. What had possessed him to do it?

Sabrina stared him straight in the eye and asked, "Does Aunt Tess know who you are?"

"As I said a moment ago, my life could be forfeit if my identity became known," he answered. "Your aunt knows me only as the Marquess of Stonehurst."

"You may continue with your explanations," she said.

"My mother is Charles St. Aubyn's sister—"

"
Is or was
?"

"
Is
... My mother was the second wife of the Grand Turk himself, who happens to be my late father," Adam told her. "Twenty-seven years ago, my mother became betrothed to an aristocrat from the south of France. On her ocean voyage to his home in order to be married, she was abducted by pirates and ultimately given as a gift to Sultan Abdul Hamid, my father. Upon his passing, my older brother became sultan. My mother sent me to England, and I assumed a new identity because the custom in my country placed me in danger."

"What custom?"

"When a new sultan begins his reign, he locks his brothers up in the Golden Cage," Adam explained.

Horrified, Sabrina could only stare at him.

"It is not actually a cage," he added. "It is simply house arrest, which is kind when compared with what they used to do. The new sultan's brothers, potential political rivals, were executed."

"One brother kills another brother?" Sabrina exclaimed in horror.

"We Ottomans believe there can be only one sultan," Adam told her. "To ascend to the sultanate without restraining the other male heirs can only lead to civil war. Look at your own country, for example. Many wars have been fought and lives lost because one prince coveted another prince's right to wear the crown."

"I see," Sabrina said. Now she understood the reasons for so many lies, but she wasn't certain those reasons made a difference in how she felt.

He had lied too many times, Sabrina thought. How could she ever trust him again? She should have had the right to know in advance the identity of the man she was supposed to marry. This whole situation was almost too much for her to endure. She didn't give a fig where he came from, but if she forgave him this lie, two months from now she would catch him in another.

"I am leaving in the morning for London," Sabrina said, steeling herself against the pain in his blue eyes. "I need time alone to think."

"You cannot leave," Adam told her.

"Am I your prisoner?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then I am leaving you in the morning," she said.

"You are my wife, my princess," Adam told her, his gaze holding hers captive. "There can be no annulment, and there will be no divorce. You made the choice when you came here. Our fates are sealed together."

"The devil fiddle your fate," Sabrina cried, rising from the pillow. "Either I leave in the morning, or you will need to lock me in that chamber for the rest of my life."

Adam stood and stared at her for a long time. Finally, he inclined his head and said, "I will make the necessary arrangements."

"I wish to travel by land this time to delay seeing my relatives," Sabrina said, uncertain if she felt relieved or disappointed. "I will leave you to ... whatever you were doing." At that, she turned away and marched across the chamber toward the stairs.

"Sabrina?"

She turned around. "Yes?"

"Where are you going now?" he asked.

"To the kitchens."

A ghost of his devastating smile appeared on his lips. "I thought so," he said.

Without bothering to reply, Sabrina turned away and climbed the stairs. She suffered the heart-wrenching feeling that the "French sunshine" in her life had been blocked by the clouds of distrust.

Chapter 15

"Winston, we're home." Sabrina reached out to pat the wolfhound, asleep on the seat opposite her.

For the past six days, Sabrina had ridden alone in the coach on their journey to London because Tilly preferred Abdul's company to Winston's. She couldn't imagine why the silly girl feared so gentle a creature as Winston, but in the end she'd been glad the girl preferred riding up above. The heaviness in her heart precluded polite conversation. Winston, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the long, pregnant silences and the deep, heartfelt sighs.

For the hundredth time, Sabrina wondered if she'd taken the right action in leaving Adam. She loved him with all of her heart, but how could she live with a man who'd lied to her at every turn. That he was a foreigner with a different religion and customs didn't trouble her in the least. What mattered was his constant lack of honesty. Annulment and divorce were out of the question. If they separated for a time, perhaps Adam would—

The coach door swung open. "Princess, we have arrived," Abdul informed her.

Sabrina nodded. "You must remember to call me
my lady
."

"Yes, Princess." Abdul helped her down from the coach.

"Come, Winston," Sabrina called.

The wolfhound leaped out of the coach and bounded up the stairs to the Grosvenor Square town house. Tilly followed behind them.

"Welcome home, my lady," Baxter greeted her.

"Thank you, Baxter," Sabrina said, walking into the foyer. "Forbes, this is Tilly, my maid. Please show her to my chamber so she can settle in and unpack my belongings."

Both majordomos hesitated. Sabrina was unable to read the look that passed between them.

"We'll take care of everything," Forbes assured her.

"The other ladies are in the drawing room," Baxter added.

"Come, Winston," Sabrina called, and started up the stairs to the second-floor drawing room. Barging into the room, she startled them by announcing in a loud voice, "I've separated from my husband."

"Darling, I'm so sorry to hear that," Belladonna drawled. "Sit here and let us commiserate with you."

Sabrina crossed the drawing room toward them. They didn't seem the least surprised that she'd abandoned her husband. Now, why was that? she wondered, beginning to become suspicious.

"Courtney, go upstairs to your chamber," Aunt Tess ordered, turning to her sister. "Belladonna and I want to advise your sister."

A mulish expression appeared on Courtney's face. "I am old enough to—"

"You are an innocent maiden," Aunt Tess interrupted in a voice that brooked no disobedience.

Courtney rose from her chair. She left the drawing room, mumbling to herself, "I always have to leave the room at the most interesting times."

"Now, darling, what is the problem with your husband?" Belladonna asked.

"Adam lied to me about our betrothal and our marriage," Sabrina said. "No sooner had he promised never to lie again when I caught him in a lie about his—" She stopped speaking, unwilling to betray her husband's secret in front of her aunt.

"Darling, don't worry about Tess," Belladonna said with a smile. "I had to whisper the truth about your husband in her ear, but she's vowed to take his secret to the grave. Now then, Adam is who he said he is."

"He conveniently omitted to tell me the whole truth," Sabrina replied. "Omission is a silent lie."

The two older women looked at each other and smiled. Sabrina had no idea what they found amusing. Separating from one's husband was not a laughing matter.

"How delightfully naive she is," Belladonna said.

Tess nodded in agreement and then asked her niece, "Would you have trusted the marquess with your life before you came to know him better?"

Sabrina shrugged. "What about afterward?" she argued. "He could have told me when I was at Stonehurst."

"Darling, sometimes men behave like boys," Belladonna told her. "Once my nephew had promised never to lie to you, he probably feared telling you the truth. Confessing a sin to his wife puts a man at a disadvantage, and my nephew always insists on having the upper hand."

"The problem is, you allowed the marquess to gain the upper hand with you in the first place," Aunt Tess told her.

"I remember the first argument my late beloved Francis and I had," Belladonna said. "On our wedding night Francis threw his trousers at me and ordered, 'Put these on.'

" 'I can't wear them,' I protested. "They're too big.'

"Francis looked me straight in the eyes and warned, 'Remember, wife. I wear the pants in this family.' "

"What did you do?" Sabrina asked.

Belladonna gave her a feline smile. "I tossed my underdrawers at him and said, 'Put these on.'

"Francis held them up, saying, 'I can't get into these.'

"I warned, 'Remember, husband. If you don't adjust your attitude, you won't get into them.' "

Aunt Tess burst out laughing. Even Sabrina managed a smile.

"And what did your Francis do?" she asked.

"What else could he do?" Belladonna replied. "He adjusted his attitude and apologized."

"If you forgive the marquess," Aunt Tess told her, "you will never catch him in another lie."

"My nephew will have adjusted his attitude," Belladonna said.

Sabrina gave them a mulish look. "I cannot forgive him."

"Your marriage has been consummated," Belladonna said. "Your place is with your husband."

"And if I choose not to return to him?" Sabrina countered.

"That would be very foolish," Aunt Tess said.

"Darling, guilt is such a lucrative emotion in a man," Belladonna told her. "A wise woman would forgive and reap the rewards of her forgiveness. If you make him wait, he'll make you pay for hurting his feelings."

"I think not," Sabrina said. "My husband cannot expect me to ride all the way to Stonehurst when I've just arrived in London. I'll send him a note and take a few weeks to think the situation through."

The two older women looked at each other and smiled.

"She's so innocent," Belladonna drawled.

"Innocence can be a powerful aphrodisiac," Tess reminded her.

Belladonna nodded. "Quite true."

"What are you talking about?" Sabrina asked.

"Your husband returned to London several days ago," Tess informed her.

"What did you say?"

"You heard correctly, darling," Belladonna said with a feline smile. "While you took a week to travel overland, your husband sailed home on one of his ships. Adam moved all of your belongings to Park Lane."

"He's stolen my property?" Sabrina cried, bolting out of the chair. Whirling away, she marched toward the door, muttering to herself, "He can't get away with this. I'll have him arrested."

Ignoring the older women's laughter, Sabrina hurried down the corridor to the stairs. Excited, Winston ran ahead of her. She retrieved her cloak when she reached the foyer below and yanked the door open.