Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (32 page)

“I doubt he shall miss me,” Bethlyn said bitingly. “He’s in good company and even warmer hands.”

Molly lifted an eyebrow in puzzlement, but said nothing. Bethlyn closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cushioned seat. She was so angry and hurt, emotions she hated to admit she felt. She wouldn’t allow Ian Briston to hurt her again, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she knew about him and Lady Cynthia. Her eyes smarted, but she refused to believe she wanted to cry.

15

Bethlyn felt like a ninny for running away.

The next morning she cursed herself for her foolishness, convincing herself that she felt nothing for her womanizing husband. Even when she joined Ian and Molly in the dining room for breakfast, she felt thoroughly certain that Ian’s dalliance with Lady Cynthia didn’t bother her a bit.

She flashed both of them a charming smile and looked quite pretty in a dark blue velvet gown with tightly laced bodice. A spray of pink silk roses at the neckline added a very feminine appearance.

“How do you feel today?” Molly’s concern was evident on her sweet face.

“Much better,” Bethlyn responded, and laid her napkin on her lap, not missing her husband’s scrutinizing gaze.

Ian poured coffee from a silver urn, the strong aroma wafting through the room. Sipping the brew, he leveled Bethlyn with a steady look. “You seem in the best of health to me. I had no idea you were ill last night. Why didn’t you say something? I’d have escorted you home.”

Bethlyn’s brow rose up a fraction of an inch. “You were occupied elsewhere, and I didn’t wish to intrude upon your conversation.”

“Next time, come fetch me when you’re ill.”

“I shall,” she replied sweetly like a dutiful wife, but she wished to slice his hypocritical face with the butter knife.

Molly pushed her plate aside. “Shall we go shopping today, Bethlyn? I saw the most adorable hat in a shop window and simply must have it.”

Cutting into a sausage, Bethlyn shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have other plans. I’m going to the office today with Ian.”

“You are?” both Ian and Molly chorused.

Bethlyn smiled an innocent and demure smile. “Yes. I was there a few days ago and saw Mr. Gibbons. I’m surprised that he didn’t mention my visit to you. I’d like to see the books, to know all there is to know about Briston Shipping. Unless there’s something about the company which you don’t want me to know.” Her eyes were on Ian, pleased to note by his sudden speechlessness she had flustered him.

“I have no secrets from you,” he said at length, throwing down his napkin and standing up. She expected him to balk, waiting for him to warn her away from the office, but in truth she could discern nothing which might indicate any upset that she wished to peruse the books. “When you’ve finished your breakfast we can leave. I’ll be in the library waiting for you.” His voice held a tone of bored indifference, and that was one thing Bethlyn wouldn’t accept from Ian any longer. He might not want her as his wife, but she’d be damned if he intended to ignore her, or worse yet, mollify her by seeming to go along with her request to see the books and brief her on her father’s company.

When the late afternoon sun streamed into Ian’s office, and Mr. Eakins tiptoed into the room to inquire if Bethlyn needed any other account books before he left for the day, Ian answered she had all she needed and sent Mr. Eakins on his way.

Bethlyn had been so involved in the books that she barely heard the door shut behind Mr. Eakins. It was only when Ian stood and closed the book before her did she glance up.

“Closing time,” he told her and smiled. “You’ve gone over so many figures that it’s a wonder your eyes aren’t crossed. I must compliment you on your diligence. I had expected that you’d have gone home long ago.”

“I know you did,” Bethlyn confessed. “And I would have except I feel I should take an interest in Briston Shipping.” She leaned back in her chair, feeling bone weary. “I must pay you a compliment. Your books are in impeccable order.”

“Ah, so now you’re convinced that I’m not absconding with company funds.”

“Quite satisfied and convinced.”

Golden sunlight spilled onto his handsome face, and Bethlyn caught her breath. She’d been so engrossed in the account books all afternoon that she’d barely paid any attention to Ian, who had sat beside her, explaining any questions she might have. That morning he’d escorted her to the docks to see to the building of a new ship, and Bethlyn had been suitably impressed with the ship itself and Ian’s knowledge of shipbuilding. Their jaunt and subsequent luncheon had passed in pleasant camaraderie. Now, she was all too aware of him as a man, her husband, and she hated feeling this way. Too many delicious memories surfaced. Memories better left forgotten, considering that Lady Cynthia was the woman who possessed his black heart.

“Time to be getting home,” she said curtly and began to rise, but a crick in her neck caused her to moan in pain.

“That’s what happens when you keep your head bent in the same position all day,” Ian rebuked her when he realized her problem. “Sit back down. I have just the cure.”

He pushed her back into the chair before she had time to protest, and his warm, sure hands clamped behind her neck.

“What are you doing, Ian?” She wasn’t certain she wanted his hands upon her, but they felt so wonderful.

“I gather you’ve never been massaged before. You’re quite tense, just relax.”

It seemed she had no other alternative. Ian took control of her, and his fingers seemed to drain the day’s tension from her. Her head lolled to the side, and she’d have gladly stayed in that position forever. When she felt Ian place a kiss on the side of her neck exposed to him, her eyes flew open and widened. Without realizing, she bolted from the chair and stared him down.

“How dare you take liberties with me! I’m not a whore or, or your mistress.” She thought of Cynthia Connors in Ian’s embrace and sneered.

“And you aren’t a very pretty sight with such a look on your face,” he countered. “I kissed you. So? I’ve done more than that to you in the past, and you never seemed to mind.”

Bethlyn flushed and brushed past him, pulling her cloak from the hook on the wall. “I was stupid, that’s my only defense. But I’m not a silly little girl any longer.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a hardheaded female. You know, I think I miss that innocent child you used to be.”

“Hah! You were never around when I was a child, and thanks to you I lost my innocence. I can do very well without you, thank you. And don’t forget, Ian, we made a bargain.”

He appeared nonplussed by her outrage, yet a flicker of bafflement crossed his face. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I refuse to be screamed at. All I did was kiss you.” Reaching for his cloak, he then threw it over his broad shoulders and opened the door for her. “The carriage awaits outside.”

In a huff she sailed out of the room, but once she settled herself in the carriage, she wasn’t even certain why she’d exploded like that. She felt unaccountably foolish. The words of apology sprang to her lips, but were left unsaid when Ian closed the carriage door, not bothering to get inside. He stood by the window and spoke to her.

“Tell Molly that I won’t be home for supper. And, Bethlyn, don’t start playing the part of an outraged wife by waiting up for me. I doubt I’ll be home until quite late.”

Then he turned and walked away, and the driver spurred the horses into action. Huge tears gathered in her eyes, but she refused to shed them. It seemed that all she wanted to do lately was cry, and she wouldn’t cry over Ian Briston. But she couldn’t suppress the stray tear which coursed down her cheek at what Ian had said. Or rather, what he had left unspoken. He might not return home at all that night, and she knew who he’d be with until dawn colored the sky.

~ ~ ~

Ian finished the sumptuous meal and, following Cynthia into the parlor, he smiled at her as she poured him a whiskey. “You look like you need to drink something strong tonight, Ian.”

“Let it never be said that you don’t cater to my moods, love.”

Cynthia took a place beside him on the Chippendale style sofa and placed the decanter on the tea table beside it. A long russet curl draped provocatively across one of her lush breasts to rest against the peach satin bodice of her gown.

“Quite true, Ian. We know each other very well. Tell me what’s troubling you, or need I ask? I’d say your problem is your beautiful young wife.”

“When is a wife not a problem? My father seemed to always have problems with my mother, and now I am cursed as well. I never wanted to marry her, you know.”

Cynthia’s clear blue eyes took in the handsome and fashionably dressed man she’d known so well the last ten years. They’d been lovers for nine of those ten years, but Ian hadn’t approached her since before leaving Philadelphia on a business excursion some months ago. She’d gotten used to his mysterious disappearances, but she had never gotten used to sleeping alone. Her dear husband had died a decade earlier, and she’d vowed never to marry again, though taking lovers had come quite naturally. She often wondered what her answer would have been had Ian Briston offered to make an honest woman of her.

Now, she’d never know, and not only because a wife had unexpectedly turned up. Ian, she deduced, had never loved her enough to marry her and never had she seen him quite so upset over a woman. Her woman’s intuition told her that Ian Briston was in love with his wife but wouldn’t admit it — not as long as he could bend her ready ear with his tales of marital woe. That was one situation she decided to remedy.

Ian reached out to her and pulled Cynthia into his arms.

“Do you love the girl?” she asked and let him cushion her against his chest.

He groaned. “Don’t you women ever think of anything else but love? I’m surprised at you, of all people, for asking such a question.” Tilting her chin, he gazed down into her pert and pretty face. “Let’s forget all of this nonsense and retire to the bedroom. I want to make love to you. I fear I’ve neglected you these last months.”

Cynthia sighed and extricated herself from his arms. “You haven’t been the most ardent suitor, Ian. However, I don’t want to fall into bed with you, not now. Your lovemaking wouldn’t be for me. Granted, I’d have your body but not your heart. You don’t love me and never have. You’re such a large, wonderful idiot and don’t even realize the truth. You’re in love with your wife.” She pirouetted and sat on a sofa opposite from him. “Besides, you won’t have me to come to in the future with your marital problems, or for anything else. I’m to be married next month.”

“You? Married?” Ian sounded so disbelieving that Cynthia laughed.

“Yes, do wish me well. Did you truly think that I’d never marry again? Perhaps I did give that impression over the years. But, my darling, you never wanted to marry me and deep down I knew you didn’t love me, that we’d never be entirely happy together. I’ve met and fallen in love with the most divine man. Have you met Major Benjamin Fallows?” At Ian’s nod, she continued. “Then you know how handsome he is and how very gallant. He recently arrived from England, and we met at Lord Montague’s birthday celebration last month. “Not to be unkind to you, but from the moment I saw Benjamin I knew I wanted to marry him. We loved each other instantly. Please, Ian, wish me every happiness. I want so much for our parting to be amicable.”

Ian stood and went to Cynthia. He kissed the top of her golden-red head and smiled. “I hope you shall be the happiest of women, and that your Benjamin makes you a fine husband and good father to your children.”

Cynthia took his hand and squeezed it. Her eyes held a gentleness. “Thank you, my love. I wish the same happiness for you. Go home to your wife, tell her you love her.”

“I never admitted to love, Cynthia.”

“Certainly you have, but you just don’t realize it.” Standing up, Cynthia escorted Ian to the door. “I shall never forget you,” she declared, and pushed the buttons on his cloak through the loops. “But return to your Bethlyn and the warmth of her love. The nights can be so lonely and bitterly cold without love.”

“You’re an unusual woman.” His compliment was laced with respect.

‘‘I’m glad you think so. Shall I meet your wife at the Shippens’s soiree on Saturday? I do look forward to it.”