Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (65 page)

She decided then and there that if he ever came near her again, she’d kill him — which was a threat she proved in earnest after she’d recovered. The swine had tried to touch her and she stabbed him. After that, Perkins stayed away from her, and she believed he thought she was crazy.

“Only a little crazy,” she muttered to herself, and smiled down at the sleeping baby.

But she hated Thomas more than Perkins — more than anybody. She had loved him and suffered his betrayal. Now he was at Woodsley again, and since his return, she’d climbed into his bed and pleasured him. Her pleasure came not from the love act but from the ways of torture she invented in her mind for Thomas. Sometimes when he’d place himself into her hands, she ached to reach for the sharp paring knife on the bedside table and with one swift, sure swipe…

Grace’s eyes glittered at the thought, but then she sighed because the timing wasn’t right, and she’d learned from Perkins that in such activities, timing was everything.

Continuing to gently rock the baby, her mind was fixed on a distant date in the future.

“Not yet,” she promised. “Not yet, dear Thomas. But soon.”

~ ~ ~

 “I don’t understand any of this, not a single thing you’ve said makes sense.” Jeremy paced the length of the parlor, his hands clasped behind his back as he gave thought to the astounding news he’d just heard from Augustus Stanhope.

“That is what Bethlyn told me, Jeremy.” Augustus, seated on the divan, took a long puff on his cheroot. “Evidently she felt the need to marry Eversley since she is expecting his child. I suppose the alliance was also a necessary evil, so to speak, since Eversley works so closely with the earl. Strange about that, too, however.”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow and stopped pacing. “What?”

“As often as I’ve been to Woodsley the last year for … my visits—” Augustus looked uncomfortable, knowing how much Jeremy didn’t approve of his gambling and whoring, and cleared his throat, “in all that time I’ve never seen the earl. I heard he is quite ill, but I find it odd that he would be prone to allow such behavior in his home.”

“Hmph! Such debauchery at Woodsley is unfathomable, and I promise not to chide you on this, Augustus, but Woodsley was the epitome of elegance and beauty. But now, well, I can’t imagine why you insist on going there at all. You do have a reputation to uphold, and if Madeline or Grandmama ever discovered this I hate to think how they’d be hurt.” Jeremy threw up his hands and waved away the comment which nearly burst from Augustus’s lips. “Be that as it may, I won’t say another word about your personal life, however, I am quite worried about Bethlyn. This marriage to Eversley is appalling, and for her to actually be living at Woodsley with all of this lewd behavior going on right under her very nose is more than baffling.”

Jeremy fell silent and gazed out of the window at the tranquil scene in St. James’s Park, but he felt less than calm. The last time he’d seen Bethlyn she was very much in love with Ian Briston and he with her. Had Briston’s death unhinged her mind so much that she’d married Thomas Eversley, a man she’d never particularly liked, because she’d turned to him for comfort and gotten herself with child, or had she felt she needed him because of the shipping enterprise? No matter the reasons, Jeremy wondered why she hadn’t contacted him or his grandmother by now.

“Why do you suppose Bethlyn was wandering around the estate at night? She is carrying a child,” Jeremy reminded Augustus, turning to face him.

His brother-in-law shrugged. “That was never explained, and I didn’t ask. Eversley looked ready to explode and, before I could adequately converse with Bethlyn, he’d steered her upstairs like she was a naughty tot. Oh, she did tell me to relay a message to you, however. I almost forgot it until now. She said that when she is recovered from childbirth she will visit you and insists she be allowed to ride a black horse named Fancy Lady who was her favorite.”

Jeremy blinked. “Fancy … Lady? Is that what she said? Are you sure?”

“Of course. Wait, where are you going?” Augustus jumped up as Jeremy ran from the room.

“I’m going to Woodsley ,” he cried over his shoulder and rushed into the hallway to retrieve his cloak, Augustus following after him. “I have no horse named Fancy Lady and Bethlyn damn well knows that. She always rode a white stallion called Lancelot.”

“So? Perhaps she made a mistake. I see no reason to rush away like…”

“God, you’re a mutton-headed dolt sometimes. She lied to you, knowing you’d relay the message to me and that I’d know something is wrong at Woodsley. This was her way of signaling her distress. When was that you saw her?”

“Almost a month ago. I’d have told you sooner, but you and Madeline only just returned from Paris,” Augustus explained, his voice nearly drowned out by Jeremy’s harsh curse.

“I hope to God that I’m not too late!” Jeremy slammed the door behind him.

~ ~ ~

 “Is there anything I may get for you, Mrs. Eversley?” Bethlyn heard Grace ask.

You may help me to escape this monster I married
, Bethlyn started to say, but thought better of it. She wasn’t certain she could trust Grace. Granted, the woman was considerate to her, having nursed her back to health these last weeks when she had wanted to die, to be lost in a netherworld where one felt nothing. She could also find no fault with her care of her infant son whom she’d named Nathaniel Matthew, after her father and Ian’s. She’d longed to call the dark-haired perfectly formed baby, Ian, but she feared Thomas’s wrath if she did. He resented her innocent baby enough without drawing further attention to the man who’d fathered him. Even months after Ian’s death, Thomas still clearly hated him, and Bethlyn didn’t want her son to suffer because of it.

Her dream was to elude Grace and that horrid man, Perkins, and find Tessie. They’d flee Woodsley and head straight to London where she’d go to Aunt Penny’s and seek out Jeremy. Yes, Jeremy would help her, but she couldn’t escape now. Perkins or some other male servant, loyal to Thomas, always guarded her door. If only she could smuggle a note to Tessie, the woman could send it on its way to Jeremy, but she hadn’t seen Tessie since the night of their attempted escape, and she was growing fearful that something may have happened to her.

Looking down at the sleeping face of her son, his tiny rosebud mouth slack against her breast, she knew she couldn’t even try to run now. The weather was much too harsh, and she was still too weak from her illness after his birth. For now she must bide her time and appease Thomas — appease him in all ways until she could decide what to do.

She handed the baby to Grace. “I don’t need anything else now. Thank you for taking such fine care of Nathaniel for me.”

Grace smiled at Bethlyn’s heartfelt compliment and left the room to take the baby to the nursery.

When Bethlyn began to pull the laces of her gown together, she felt Thomas’s presence before she saw him. She glanced up to find his eyes resting lustfully upon her full breasts, and the bulge in his trousers was all too noticeable, making her more than uncomfortable.

“I envy your son’s good fortune, my lady, but soon I shall engage a wet nurse to tend to him.”

She decided this was his way of attempting to break the bond between her and her baby. “But, Thomas, I have a great deal of milk left, and I must feed…”

“And so you shall, my dear. I can’t think of a tastier feast.” His tongue rapaciously moved across his lips, and he squeezed one of her nipples, allowing a droplet of milk to spill onto the fleshy pad of his index finger before tasting it. He leered at her, seeing her complete repugnance when she understood what fate soon awaited her.

“Thomas, please don’t,” she croaked.

He bent down and whispered in her ear; his breath felt hot against her skin. “I will give you but one more month to recover, Bethlyn. And then you shall be mine. I have wanted you for years, and I’ve waited long enough. Touch me, see how much I want you. Touch me!”

She jumped and he grabbed her hand, bringing it to the telltale bulge which felt as hard as stone. “Now you know what pleasure awaits you,” he told her, and smirked, self-satisfaction in his eyes.

For a second she felt nausea rising within her and grew dizzy. She willed herself not to be sick, but she wasn’t certain she could control it until a knock sounded on the door and Thomas broke away with a curse. Swinging open the door, Thomas bellowed at a servant, Bethlyn heard the muffled voices and, to her surprise, Thomas immediately left the room.

Taking deep breaths, Bethlyn forced down the bile in her throat. God, what am I going to do? she worried. She couldn’t stand Thomas to touch her, deplored touching him. But somehow she had to do whatever he wanted to keep her child and herself safe until they could escape from here. But for how long could she live as a prisoner, Thomas’s virtual slave?

Would he ever trust her enough to allow her to come and go on her own? She must let him think she’d please him in every way possible to gain her freedom and take her father’s letter to the authorities. Thomas must never suspect that she knew he’d poisoned her father. If so, he might kill her and the baby, then she’d never gain her revenge upon him.

And had he killed Ian, too?

That was the worst thought of all. For even if she and the baby escaped and Thomas was arrested for his crimes, she’d still have to live life without the man she loved.

Suddenly she found herself unable to breathe in this stifling room and, throwing aside the bed covers, she got out of bed only to lean weakly upon the bedpost. Finally she made it to the window and drew aside the drapes. Finding the strength, she eased open the window and halted, stunned by the sight of a familiar figure emerging from the front of the house to enter a black phaeton.

Blinking back her disbelief, she thought she must be imagining that she saw Jeremy, but as the phaeton moved away she knew it was he.

Her voice came back to her in a straining rush. “Jeremy! Here, Jeremy! Jeremy! Je-re-my!”

But the clip-clopping sound of the wheels flying across the cobblestone drive drowned out her feeble voice like a deafening and ominous thunder.

~ ~ ~

Penelope Evans dozed in her chair, the book she’d been reading resting upon her stomach. A cold, bitter wind rushed through the usually warm bedroom from the open Palladian-style window and disturbed the crackling flames in the marble fireplace until, finally, the fire went out.

Stirring from the chill, Penelope woke to clasp her thin, veined hands around the edges of her shawl and to huddle more deeply into the depths of her chair. Suddenly she opened her eyes to find the window was open and started to lift the bell to summon her maid when what seemed from out of nowhere a hand materialized at her elbow and forestalled her.

“What in heavens!” Stunned and more than a little frightened, she glanced up to find a black-cloaked figure hovering over her. The room had grown dark and she couldn’t make out the face of the man, but for all his bulk and brawn, she sensed he wasn’t there to menace her, because surely if he meant to harm her he’d have had the perfect opportunity to do so while she slept Still, fear crept into her voice when she said, “Who the devil are you, and what are you doing in my room? Can’t an old lady be safe from molestation in these days and times?”

She heard him give a ragged sigh, and his voice was filled with pain when he spoke. “I … need … your help, Aunt Penny.”

Placing her lorgnette to her eye, she motioned him to come closer, not the least afraid of the man who she surmised was hurt and in need of some assistance. “Who the deuce are you, young man? Bring the candle closer so I can see you before I ring for my grandson and have you thrown out of here. But I assure you that if you’ve come here to rout an old bird like myself out of my fortune, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m not some silly woman, and I can attest to the fact that I no longer have a nephew.”

Following her orders, he moved the candle beside her chair and held it up to his face. Immediately she saw he was haggard in appearance, seeming to be in need of a good meal, yet his physique under the cloak was quite broad-shouldered. Blinking rapidly, Penny noticed that his eyes were dim, almost glassy, a sure sign that the man suffered a fever. Still, she didn’t recognize him, and there was no reason why she should have since she hadn’t seen him in a very long time.

“I suggest you leave the same way you got in here, you bounder; otherwise, I shall have the authorities on your head.”

“Please, please, help me, Aunt Penny,” he said, sounding ungodly weak and starting to sway. “Ring for Jeremy. Please.”

Before he fell onto Aunt Penny’s Persian carpet, he possessed the good sense to replace the candlestick.

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