Suzanne Robinson (27 page)

She was the one who’d been spying on him, spying on him all along. For weeks he’d been worried about whether they felt love or lust, whether they would suit. For weeks he’d not dared to admit to himself how frightened he was, frightened that he—with his soiled past, his desecrated body—that he didn’t deserve her. God in heaven, when he’d found those papers, that drawing, and realized how she’d
tricked him, he’d wanted to die, just as he’d wanted to die when Yale …

Bloody hell. She’d made him feel the shame all over again. She’d plunged him into hell when he’d spent years climbing out of it. Liza and Yale, there was little to choose between them. He’d trusted both of them, and they’d each used him. Was there nothing for him in this life but betrayal?

The Pennant’s people were gone. He had to regain the advantage. He remembered some advice he’d gotten from an old drunk in San Antonio—never let a man see you flinch; never let a woman know how much you care about her. Liza Elliot would see neither.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled. “Spooked you real good, didn’t I, honey?”

Liza’s satisfied look vanished. “You’re going to persecute babies?”

“Won’t need to.”

“Why not?”

“Once we’re married, I’ll have Pennant’s reinstated, you might say. Once we’re married.”

He walked around her to stand at her back. Leaning over her, he said quietly near her ear, “That’s what this show was about, wasn’t it? A mighty good bluff. You’re here to surrender, but since it sticks in your gullet to admit I’ve won, you’re trying to kick sand in my eyes.”

She moved away from him. Peacock blue skirts rustled, and he gritted his teeth to keep from allowing the sound to eat away at his rage. Removing her gloves, she rubbed her hands over the clasp of her reticule. They were white with cold, yet the room was warm. Jocelin smiled. He could tell she wanted to
kick him in the belly and was furious that she couldn’t.

“If I agree, you’ll restore Pennant’s reputation?”

“Yep.”

She threw up her hands. “Will you please stop that?”

“What?”

“You’re doing it again. You sound like a ruffian, and I hate that lazy drawl. You sound like you’re half asleep, when all the time I expect you to draw that horrible silver gun.”

“My Colt?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“What drawl, honey?”

“Stop!”

Jocelin laughed and noted the way she gave him a skittish look and dropped her gaze to his hips. He unbuttoned his coat and swept it back from his hips.

“Not wearing it.”

Her gaze remained on his hips, and he forgot the gun. Hate didn’t matter. Blackmail didn’t matter when she looked at him like that. He went to her and touched her cheek.

“Maybe you got other reasons for marrying I didn’t think about. Maybe you like what I do to you. I sure like what you do to me.”

She slapped his hand away with a cry. “You stay away from me.”

He ignored her and, encircling her with his arms, gave her a hard squeeze. “Come on, honey. What’ll it be—the streets or me?”

Liza jabbed him in the ribs. He grimaced and released her. She scuttled out of reach, clutched at her bonnet, and held out her free hand to ward him off.

“You stay where you are. All right, all right, I’ll do it.”

“Say it, Liza. Say I’ve won.”

Some of his grand wrath drained away as he watched her struggle with her pride and her desire to punch him in the face.

“What did you say?” he asked innocently. “I can’t hear well since those little animals of yours came screaming into my sitting room like pallid Comanches.”

“I said, you’ve won. I’ll marry you, but only to save Pennant’s and Toby and the rest. I can’t let them be destroyed because of me. I couldn’t bear it.”

“I don’t care why you’re doing it. I only care that you’ll do it. And you will, at once.”

“At once!” Liza shook her head. “I can’t. I have to find out what really happened to my brother. Perhaps you don’t care, but I’m convinced all these deaths in your regiment can’t be coincidence.”

Jocelin’s mind felt as if it were burning. His skull ached, and he felt pain just looking at her. The effort of will it took to fight the anguish left no room for contemplation of her unlikely theories.

“We’ll talk about your brother later.”

He reached out to take her hand, She slapped at his arm. Swearing, he grabbed her wrist and forced himself to speak politely.

“I won’t discuss the subject, Liza. Right now I’m concerned with a much more urgent matter, one that won’t wait. Your father won’t wait. If you’re a good girl, I’ll consider making inquiries of the police on your behalf. Later. At the moment, we’ve our wedding to attend. Loveday will have already sent for everyone, the vicar, my witnesses, the carriages, everything.”

“The police didn’t believe me. I have to inquire for myself or—”

“I said I would handle the matter after we’re married.” He heard his own voice grow distant. “You really must accustom yourself to my rule, Liza. Ah, I see you hadn’t thought of that when you planned your dirty little trap. Think of it now, while you’re waiting. Your blasted father and I have already signed the marriage settlement. Once we’re married, I’ll have control of your funds, and of you. My one piece of luck in this whole mess is that your dear papa isn’t so mad as to believe a woman should be left in control of her fortune.”

She tugged her wrist. “I don’t care about his money. I didn’t need it to start Pennant’s. I don’t need it now. What I need is to find out who among your friends killed my brother. And if you would only listen, I could explain so much.”

Jocelin closed his eyes for a moment. “Stop.”

“But—”

“Bloody hell!” He tightened his grip on her wrist, but quickly loosened it when she winced. “If you’re wise,” he said through his teeth, “you won’t broach that subject again.”

Breathing rapidly, his pulse thudding in his ears, he glared at Liza. “We’ll speak about murders and killers when I’ve have my inquiry agent investigate your brother’s death and the others. I agree there may be something going on, but it may have nothing to do with my friends. Right now we’ve other business to accomplish. You’ll leave Pennant’s for that man Toby to deal with from now on. You’re coming with me to Kent, where you’ll learn to conduct yourself with propriety as my wife.”

“I’ll marry you, but that’s all.”

“You’re making a point of some kind?”

She tried to pry his fingers from her wrist. “You’re not to touch me.”

He understood her, and threw her wrist from him in disgust. Stalking her, he crowded her so that she backed away from him.

“Your father may have forced me into this marriage, but by God you’ll not presume to give orders to me. In a short time, my dear Miss Elliot, I’m going to own you.”

Liza retreated until her back hit the desk.

“You will not, and you’re to keep away from me.”

He bent over her, scouring her face with his gaze. “Listen to me. Every single time I’ve wanted you, I’ve had you, in one way or another. It took little effort. Indeed, I marveled at how easily you opened yourself to me.” He rubbed his thumb over her lips. “Think about it, honey. You might as well have begged me.”

He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, and she nipped at it. Yelping, he jerked free.

She stood there glaring at him and breathing rapidly, tears in her eyes. “I wish it had been your—your—”

“Damn you!” He grabbed her and crushed her against his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.” He stopped and laughed. “I’ve just thought of an appropriate punishment. When I have the time, I’ll make you fulfill that wish, but in a way that gives me pleasure. No doubt you’ll balk at first, but in the end, you’re going to like it, Liza. That I promise.”

“You’re evil, and I won’t touch you.”

He clicked his tongue again and began guiding
Liza toward the bedroom. When she realized their destination, she began to fight him.

“You needn’t make this difficult,” he said as he stopped and picked her up.

She kicked her legs and writhed in his arms, but he tossed her on the bed before she could escape. While he locked the connecting door to his bathing chamber, she struggled beneath a mountain of petticoats and skirts. She shot off the bed as he reached the door to the sitting room. Skidding to a halt, she eyed him with apprehension as he touched the knob.

“I’ll kill you first,” she said.

“I don’t think you’re fast enough.”

With a gloating smirk, he slipped through the door, closed and locked it. There was a pause, then the sound of light, running steps. The door shook as she pounded it. He chuckled.

“I’m just beginning to realize the consolations I may take for enduring marriage to you. Did I tell you the other condition your father put on our agreement? Oh, perhaps I forgot. You see, dear Papa wants the promise of a grandchild within six months. I had thought never to touch you again as a punishment, but it seems I’m going to have to touch you a lot, and frequently. Think about it, Liza. Think about what I’m going to do to you while I get a child on you.”

The pounding stopped. He listened for a moment, but no sound came from his bedroom. As he waited, he began to notice his body. It was cold, as if he’d jumped in a stream during a blizzard. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. Balling them into fists, he stuck them behind his back. Taking a deep breath, he let it out unsteadily. He had to control himself a while longer, no matter the lowering
thought of a future bound to a woman who had betrayed him.

Leaving the doorway, he went downstairs. His already desperate mood blackened further as he descended.

Unknown to him, a wish had remained concealed within the tangled and dry underbrush of his soul—a desire for something different than what he’d had. He didn’t like to think of that desire, for it seemed weak and rather trite to hanker after a loving wife and family, a home. Yet there it was, that fancy. He wanted what his life should have been like with his parents, what he’d glimpsed in his love for Mother and Georgiana. No use pining after it now. No use at all.

He gained the entrance hall and noticed that Choke and Loveday had carried out his instructions. Upon observing Liza’s presence, they had begun preparations for closing the house. Maids were throwing dust sheets over the furniture. Footmen were carrying trunks and boxes to a waiting coach. The vicar and his friends would be here soon, but not soon enough to distract him from this anguish. He had wanted Liza as his wife, but she’d betrayed him. Now he’d be satisfied if she would just behave as a wife should. How had Tennyson put it?

He shut himself in the library. All else confusion. That’s where the danger lay in women like Miss
Elizabeth Maud Elliot. They, with their lack of principles and mannish behavior, they couldn’t be trusted.

He glanced around him, beset with wrath and frustration. Like the rest of the house, the library was shrouded in dust sheets, and the curtains were drawn, shutting out the late afternoon sun. He cursed and went to the liquor cabinet. Pouring himself a whiskey, he gulped it down in one try, poured again and made the liquid disappear in two gulps, poured again. This time he sank into a chair and stared at the blackened fireplace as the minutes passed. He had finished that glass and poured another when Loveday knocked and entered.

“Mr. Fox and Mr. Ross, my lord.”

“Yeah,” Jocelin muttered.

He loosened his necktie and opened his shirt as Asher and Nick came in. They hesitated upon seeing him, then moved together to hover over him.

Chin resting on his chest, Jocelin glanced up at them without smiling. “Where’re the others?”

Exchanging glances with Nick, Asher responded. “You’re foxed.”

“Accurate, old man.” Jocelin took another drink from his glass. “I’m foxed, Mr. Fox.”

Asher snatched Jocelin’s glass. “But why? And why this sneaking and scurrying to be married? You shouldn’t be doing this at all. The girl’s unsuitable, as I’ve told you over and over. No breeding, no family, and you’ve no need of her money. Why, Jos?”

Jocelin shrugged and snatched his glass back from Asher. Nick was too quick for him, and plucked the vessel from his fingers as he brought it to his lips.

Asher peered at Jocelin’s face. “You can’t marry in this condition. Marriage vows are for life, and you can’t take them when you’re drunk and look as if
you’d like to throw yourself into the gullet of a volcano.”

Speaking for the first time, Nick folded his arms and joined Asher in staring at Jocelin. “No use, Fox old chap. I’ve tried to dissuade him for days and days. He’s going to do it. Odd how after the dinner he suddenly developed a distaste for Miss Elliot and yet couldn’t wait to marry her.”

Jocelin snorted and slumped in his chair. Nick met Asher’s gaze. They communicated silently, then turned their stares on Jocelin again. He had buried his chin deeper in his chest and cast a resentful look at the two.

“No interference from either of you,” he said, taking care to enunciate clearly.

“How did they run you to ground?” Asher asked.

Jocelin looked at the liquor cabinet and half rose in his chair. Nick put a hand on his chest and shoved. Jocelin’s feet slipped out from under him, and he plopped back down with a curse. He listened to Nick’s swearing retort, too miserable to realize his friend had slipped back into his natural accent.

“Coo! You’re right tipsy, you are, old love.”

“Dear God,” Asher whispered as he gawked at Nick.

“Don’t whimper like a pup,” Nick said to Asher. “You knew about me, and we got no time for niceties. Jos listens better when I’m meself.”

Jocelin launched out of his chair and thrust past his friends to aim for the liquor cabinet. “I should have known. Loveday told you about it, didn’t he?”

“His words were, ‘We are not ourselves this evening, and we have locked our fiancée in our bedroom,’ ” Asher said. “And since I’m not accustomed to having servants appeal to me in such a
manner, especially not Loveday, I understood the gravity of your circumstances.”