The Baron's Betrayal (3 page)

Drake seemed to garner no relief from having told her. Confused at his manner, she gripped her fingers so tightly it amazed her they didn’t break. She nodded slightly. “Go on.”

Flushed and agitated, he rose and placed his hands behind his back. “The reports we received from the Navy were correct—to a point. Your husband was, indeed, injured in an explosion on his ship. However, he was thrown into the ocean where he received some type of a head injury that caused him a few months of amnesia.”

“A few months are not more than two years, brother.”

“I know.” He shifted from one foot to the next, hesitating at his next words. “It seems when he remembered who he was, he took it into his mind to ‘relieve’ you of the burden of a blind husband, and that is why he never contacted you.”

“That is it?”

“Yes. That is his story.”

Relief flooded through her and she grinned with happiness. She laughed out loud as Drake glanced at Penelope, who shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, eyebrows raised.

Didn’t they understand? Her two years of mourning were over. Tristan was alive, and while perhaps not exactly well, he was all in one piece and only a short distance from her. “That is it? All he was concerned about was being blind?” Marion wiped tears from her eyes. Then she sobered. “What about the woman?”

“Mrs. Gibbons is apparently the mother of a man who Tristan knew in the hospital. The lad died a few weeks after his mother arrived, and she and Tunstall formed a friendship. Once he was released from the hospital, she traveled with him back to England where she has been acting as his companion.”

“They are not…?”

Drake shook his head. “No. She is like a mother to him.”

Marion expelled a huge breath, then hopped up, wiping the moisture from her cheeks. “Well. Thank goodness that is taken care of.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Let’s see. I will need Maguire to pack my clothing. Actually, perhaps only a few changes of clothing for now, then I can send for everything else later.”

Drake reached out and snagged her skirt to stop her as she scurried past him. “Wait. Sit back down, Marion. There is more.”

“There is nothing more I need to hear, darling brother. My wonderful husband has returned to me. Now I must get ready to join him.” She spun in a circle, her arms wide. “I’m so happy.”

“Marion, please. You must sit down and let me tell you the rest of it.”

“I don’t know why you are wasting time, Drake. I need to go to him as quickly as possible.”

Drake took both of her hands in his, and led her to the settee. “Sit.”

She sat at the edge of the chair, anxious to pack and leave. Her thoughts raced at all she had yet to do.

He bent his knees and crouched in front of her. “There is more to the story.”

“Yes?”

“Tristan feels his blindness makes him unfit to be a husband or father.”

Marion waved her hand in dismissal. “Of course not.”

“I understand. But
he
thinks that.”

Why was he wasting precious time telling her things that didn’t matter? Didn’t he understand how excited she was to join her husband?

“What I need to tell you is Tristan
really
doesn’t think he can be a husband.”

“That is preposterous. Of course he can be a husband. He is
my
husband. We love each other, and I must join him immediately.

“Just slow down for a minute, my dear. There are issues involved.”

She frowned “What issues?”

“Your husband is confused right now. He hadn’t planned on ever letting you know he was still alive.”

The first stirrings of unease crept into her, tensing her muscles. She stiffened, fearful at her brother’s somber expression. Why wouldn’t Tristan want her to know he was alive?

“What are you trying to say?”

“After all he’s been through, Tristan finds it much easier to reject than to be rejected.” Drake cast her an uneasy glance.

“Now you’re downright scaring me, Drake. Out with it. What is the problem?”

Drake sighed. “He intends to divorce you.”

Chapter Three

Tristan edged back from the heat of the fire. Even the warmth from the hearth had the ability to unnerve him and bring back unwanted memories. When the back of his knees hit the corner of the settee, he sat and stared morosely at nothing. This was to be his life. Wandering from room to room, living off the investments he’d made with the comfortable inheritance from Everard Gibbons. Growing old. Dying.

He’d made the correct decision. A blind man was no man at all. He couldn’t protect those he loved; he himself needed to depend on others to get through his day. He shook his head and mumbled to himself. The devil take it, he was becoming an aged, odd man already.

About a half hour had passed since Drake had left him. No doubt he’d be speaking with Marion right now. Telling her their marriage was over. Would she be happy? Relieved? Sad? Whatever her reaction, she could move on with her life. Meet someone else, have a family. Something she had been quite anxious about. Even in the short time they’d been married, she’d been disappointed no child had resulted.

He pulled himself away from his meanderings when a slight knock on the door drew him. “Enter.”

“I have just now returned from town. Mason tells me your brother-in-law has come and gone.” Lorelei’s melodious voice no longer had the power to soothe him as it once had. After this morning’s interview, he doubted anything would ever assuage his ennui again.

“Yes. Manchester departed a while ago.”

“Do you wish to talk?”

Tristan shook his head. “There is nothing to discuss.”

Her voice grew closer. “Hopefully, you did not send him away with the notion that your marriage to his sister has ended.”

“That is precisely what I related to him. We’ve spoken of this before, madam. I will not subject my wife to an existence with a helpless man.”

“You are not helpless.”

“Enough!” He thumped his cane on the floor. “You will not speak of this again. In fact, please inform the staff we will be packing to return to London immediately. There remains no reason to continue to hide.”

She drew in a shocked gasp. “So you will turn tail and run?”

“Lorelei, please. Just do as I ask.” Only the sound of the grandfather clock ticking away filled the silence as his words faded, then died.

“As you wish.” Her voice bore all the frustration he was attempting to quell within himself.

“Thank you.”

An hour after the door latch had snapped closed, Tristan leaned over the specially made chessboard and fingered the ivory knight as he played a game by himself. Most evenings he and Mrs. Gibbons would square off, but with the woman busy supervising the staff, he felt the need to challenge himself.

Beyond the door, the sound of servants scurrying about to close up the house broke the silence. He’d shoved to the back of his mind the promise he’d made to Manchester to stay put. They would certainly not be ready to leave until tomorrow, so if Marion wanted to talk to him, to make the final arrangements for the divorce, it had better be today.

He jerked, and his heart almost galloped into his throat at the sound of the front door knocker. Surely she would not have arrived so swiftly? Anxious to be rid of him, it appeared.

His ear cocked in the direction of the door. Within minutes, his mouth dried up when he sensed the presence of Mason.

“Your lordship, Lady Tunstall has arrived.”

“Send her in. Thank you. And please do not allow anyone to disturb us.”

“As you wish.”

He did not need eyes, nor the butler’s announcement, to know that Marion had entered the room. Her soft steps and, more precisely, her unique scent, arrived with her. While other women preferred a more floral essence, his Marion had always prepared her own blend of rosemary and chamomile. He would know her anywhere.

“My lord.”

He rose, his mouth working as he tried desperately to respond, but the huge lump wedged in his throat kept him from answering. The muscles in his neck continued to tighten, and he turned his head away from her voice, fearful she would see his tears. “Marion.” Her name came out raspy, somewhere between a groan and a plea.

Then, almost knocked off his feet by her enthusiastic embrace, he inhaled her smell, her softness, her love. Holding his arms out to his sides, he quickly surrendered to his desires and encircled her slim body. For one precious moment he imagined her always being here in his arms. His palms slid upward, his fingers tangling in the silkiness of her hair. He leaned his cheek against her head and moaned with longing.

Then the reality of his situation reared its ugly head, and he grasped her shoulders, setting her from him. “Please, Marion. This is not a good idea.”

“Don’t b-b-be ridiculous. I l-l-love you.”

Her words were like a knife to his heart. But he steeled himself, knowing he was doing the right thing. “You must not say that. We cannot resume the life we once had. You need to have a full marriage, a man who can provide for you, protect you, give you children.” The last few words almost brought him to his knees. The idea of his Marion lying with another man, holding his babe to her breast, made him reel.

“Can we sit and talk, please?” Marion touched his arm.

He snatched his elbow from her grasp. He needed to put distance between them. Needed to erect a higher and stronger wall around his heart. Reluctantly, he used his cane to make his way to the settee.

“Come here by the warmth,” she urged.

“No. Not so close. This is fine.” He eased onto the settee.

Marion joined him. Even though he could not feel her body against his, her heat and scent surrounded him, teased and tantalized his senses. He had to get this interview over with quickly so he could concentrate on his journey on the morrow.

“What is it you wish to say to me, madam?”

“Oh, Tristan. Please, don’t withdraw from me. May I tell you how happy I am that you’re alive? I am so very grateful to have you once more.”

He stiffened. “Did Manchester not inform you of our meeting earlier today?”

“If you mean did he tell me you were foolish enough to suggest a divorce, then, yes. He did tell me that, but I have no intention of allowing you to divorce me. And furthermore, you cannot. Unless you wish to accuse me of having an affair.”

Tristan sucked in a breath. “Of course I would not divorce you on those grounds. You would never recover from the scandal.”

“Then a divorce is not possible.”

“There must be a way. You need a full life, Marion. Someone who can care for you.”

“You mean, marry again?”

“Precisely.”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No. I will not accept someone else. I am quite capable of caring for myself.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He felt the cushions move as Marion stood, could hear her gown whipping around her ankles as she paced in front of him.

“I will not permit you to keep us apart.” She grabbed his hands as she fell to her knees. “Do you not understand, my love? Your blindness does not matter to me.”

He winced at the term and shook off her grip. “You say that now because you are happy to see me. But once you realize what life with a blind person is like, you will change your mind and grow to hate me.”

“If I wasn’t a lady, I would slap your face right now.” She pushed on the seat of the settee and rose. “Do you think so little of me that I would care that you can no longer see? We have been best friends, lovers, and husband and wife.
And in all that time, did you ever assume my love so shallow that if something about you changed, I would withdraw?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand, Tristan. Please. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”

“My dear, I no longer wish to continue this conversation. My mind is made up.” With a sigh he stood. His cane moving back and forth in front of him, he started toward the door. “I will consult with my solicitors when I return to London to see how we can legally free you. Mason will see you out. I have much to accomplish today.”

…

Shocked silence followed the closing of the library door. Marion wavered between agony and anger. How dare the man dismiss her! If she didn’t love him so much, she would shoot him. Gathering the shreds of her pride around her, she straightened her shoulders and left the room. Nodding briefly at Mason as he helped her into her pelisse, she sailed out the front door and hurried to her carriage.

Her anger slowly dissipated as she rode closer to home. How could he so easily insist on ending their marriage? Did he no longer feel the love they once knew? A shroud of melancholy wrapped around her, and she shivered, despite the warmth of the sun pouring through the window.

She’d loved that man from the time she was six years old. Tristan had always been her knight in shining armor. Even though she had been surrounded by a brother and sisters, whom she loved dearly, it was Tristan, and his family visits, that had brightened her childhood. When they hadn’t been playing games together, she had followed him about, and he had never become irritated with her as had her brother and his friends.

He had been the one with the patience to teach her to fish, to climb a tree without killing herself, and the trick for skipping smooth pebbles over the top of the water. She shook off her wandering thoughts as the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. As much as she loved her family home, this was not where she wanted to be. A home of her own, a beloved husband, and children were her dreams. At one time she had had the home and husband, and then lost them. Now it appeared they had vanished once again.

“Thank you,” she answered absently as their butler, Everleigh, helped her remove her pelisse.

“The dowager duchess requests your presence in the drawing room, my lady.”

Slowly, she climbed the stairs, still confused and hurt. The sound of female chattering greeted her as she opened the door. Her mother and Penelope sat across from each other, a tea tray between them. So involved in their conversation, neither noticed her enter the room. Marion took the opportunity to study the two women.

In the beginning of his search for a wife, Drake had sought a much different type of woman as his duchess. Of course, the fact that he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Penelope, which had led to their impromptu engagement, had served him well. With her American upbringing, Penelope brought just enough spontaneity to her brother’s stiffness. Something he had desperately needed. After her brother had admitted Penelope was the center of his life, he’d done a complete about-face with regard to his wife’s odd ways.

“Oh, there you are.” Mother returned the tea cup to the tray and regarded her over her shoulder. “We have been waiting for your return.”

Marion dragged her feet to the settee and slumped onto the seat. “It did not go well, I’m afraid.”

Both women eyed her speculatively.

“Tristan insists on a divorce.”

“That is impossible! What must the man be thinking?” A bright red hue crept up her mother’s face.

“I don’t believe he is thinking at all. I told him it was not something he could even obtain. And furthermore, I had no desire to divorce him.”

Penelope reached over and grasped her hand. “Perhaps you need to give him some time. He needs to adjust his thinking. I’m sure once he realizes how wrong such a move would be, he will come around.”

“Except his butler informed me they were preparing the house to return to London.”

“My dear, I sincerely hope you do not plan to give up?” The dowager’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “I did not raise my children to succumb so easily to such foolishness.”

“Frankly, I don’t know what to do. He feels very strongly that a blind man cannot be a proper husband—and father.” She blushed at the last. “I don’t understand him. It is almost as if he’s forgotten our wedding ceremony. I can still hear Mr. Shaw
. Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health?”
She clasped her hands to her chest, eyes closed.

“You’ve memorized the vows?” Penelope gasped.

Marion opened her eyes and smiled softly at her sister-in-law. “Yes. I’ve memorized everything about my husband and our time together.”

“So what will you do now, dear?” the dowager duchess asked.

Marion took several minutes to circle the room, touching various things that brought back so many memories of times with her mother
—
when she’d been happy or dispirited, and sometimes merely longing for companionship. The familiar scent of lavender, her mother’s favorite, permeated the room.

How simple life had seemed when she was a young girl at her mother’s knee, learning stitching, being forced to tear it out and begin again. So many lessons she’d learned here, in this house, this room. One of the primary lessons was to fight for what she wanted.

But Mother could no longer make things right for her. Now the battle was hers.

She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “I will instruct Maguire to pack my bags. I am moving into my husband’s home. Where I belong.”

Marion strode from the room, glancing back to see Penelope and her mother grinning at each other.

…

What had seemed like a wonderful idea a few hours ago now had butterflies dancing lively steps in Marion’s stomach. She watched the scenery change as the carriage approached Tristan’s spacious cottage. The dark green leaves of late summer trees gave way to a clearing where his home sat.

Fashioned of local limestone with an ashlar finish, the stones had been carefully rubbed to provide a smooth surface. The low-pitched roof gave it a boxy feel, with a wide terrace surrounding the abode. It was a home she could be happy in. She envisioned children playing outdoors, a swing hanging from the tall oak tree alongside the house.

A footman approached the carriage and, extending his hand, helped her down. As she approached the front door, Mason stood at attention. Drawing closer, she noticed a slight twitch to his lips, almost as if the well-trained butler was trying to hide a smile. Encouraged by his welcome, she nodded.