The Desires of a Countess (32 page)

With that she turned on her heel and stalked toward
the door. There she turned and looked at him. Her face was the same
icy mask she’d worn when they first met. The anger in her eyes was
the most honest emotion he’d seen on her face since she’d come into
the room.

“Do you understand?” she whispered.

His nostrils flared and he barely resisted the urge
to howl out his pain. “I understand you perfectly well, madam.
You’ve made yourself more than clear.” He accentuated each word in
a quiet voice he was surprised he could control.

She dropped her gaze. “Then the matter is closed.
Good evening.”

Turning, she left the room. As he heard the front
door close, he barely kept himself from sinking to his knees and
letting out a scream of anguish.

***

Ginny lay across the carriage seat sobbing. They
weren’t dainty, lady-like sobs, either, but hard, hysterical
weeping. She hadn’t cried like this since the first time Henry’s
hand had smashed across her face. Then she’d cried for the life she
once thought she’d have. Now she wept for the life she knew she’d
lost.

And for the pain she’d caused Simon.

Judging from the betrayal that had flickered in his
eyes, his anguish rivaled the excruciating ache in her heart. It
killed her to cause him such hurt. To take away that loving light
that had been in his eyes when she arrived at his door.

Seeing it there had nearly undone her. She’d very
nearly allowed him take her into her arms, told him that she loved
him more than she’d ever loved anyone. Her innermost heart had
wanted to ask him to protect her from her demons and keep her by
his side no matter what happened.

But before she’d done any of those foolish things,
she had remembered just who her demon was. Robert Dennison. And if
she told Simon any of the things she wanted to say, she would free
herself, but condemn the man she loved to a terrible fate. Not to
mention, doom her son to a life with Cordelia, who had more than
proven she wasn’t capable of raising boys into decent men.

With a shiver, she bit back her last sob. She had no
other choice but to say the hateful things she said. Better a
prison for herself than for the two people she loved most.

Now she had to go and face the man who had put her
in this position.

As if in answer to her thought, the carriage pulled
to a stop at her front door. As the carriage rocked and Thomas got
down, she steeled herself to what was yet to come. Robert could
already be in the house waiting for her. Perhaps if she handled him
properly, she could negotiate with him. After all, she had done
what he’d asked of her so far. What more could he want?

She shivered at the possibilities. The miscreant had
already admitted to watching her. There was little doubt to what
else he desired.

“My lady?”

She started when she realized Thomas stood at the
door, offering her a hand. “I’m sorry, Thomas. Just
woolgathering.”

“Of course.” She grasped his hand but when her feet
touched the ground, he gave it an uncharacteristic squeeze. “Is
there anything I can do, Lady Westdale? Anything at all?”

She smiled at the older man who’d
served her husband’s family for years. He’d always been kind to
her. All the servants had been, even when some learned the truth
about Henry’s death. How she wished they
could
help her now.

“No, Thomas.”

“I-I couldn’t help but hear you crying in the
coach.” The man dropped his eyes with a blush. “Normally I wouldn’t
say nothing, but if you want me to go back and give that Webber a
roughing up, I’m sure some of the boys would be happy to help. We
all hate to see you hurt. W-We always have.”

A swell of gratitude washed through Ginny at the
man’s words. Despite the impropriety, she reached out to brush his
hand. “No, Thomas. I’m afraid I’m the one who hurt Mr. Webber. And
myself in the process. No roughing up is necessary. Have a good
evening.”

The man looked at her with confusion, then shrugged.
“Good night, my lady.”

At the door, she nodded to her London butler,
Jenkins. Though she didn’t know him as well as she knew Ingram, he
seemed kind enough and looked at her carefully as she came in. She
was well-aware of how obvious her tears were.

“Is there anyone here to see me, Jenkins?” she asked
with trepidation.

“No, madam. No callers this evening.”

Relief filled her. Robert wasn’t there. Perhaps he
wouldn’t come to tell her of his further requirements until
tomorrow. She could use a night to recover from her encounter with
Simon. Not that she believed one night or even a thousand nights
would ever heal the pain inside her. They would only solidify how
much she’d lost.

“Will you require anything further?”

She jumped at the butler’s question. She’d almost
forgotten he was there.

“Was there any word from Harriet?” she asked. How
she needed her best friend now.

“No, my lady, I’m afraid not.”

She sighed. “Well, if there is any, be sure to bring
it to me immediately.” She began to ascend the stairs when she
stopped. “Oh, and Jenkins?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“If Mr. Webber comes to the house, I don’t wish to
see him. But don’t let anyone, er, rough him up.” She smiled at the
man’s shocked face. Somehow she couldn’t imagine the starched
butler allowing that. Ingram might, but not this man. “Tell Nora I
won’t need her assistance tonight. I want to be alone.”

“Very good, my lady.”

She hardly heard him as she trudged up the stairs on
lead feet. Her whole body seemed heavy with grief, disappointment
and fear. Together they were enough to weigh down the strongest of
souls.

She sighed as she closed her bedroom door. One by
one she slid the buttons from the front of her torn dress. She’d
burn it if she thought it would allow her to forget what had
happened that night. But it wouldn’t. She’d never forget the words
she’d said or Simon’s flashing eyes.

She had the gown half-undone before she turned.
Robert Dennison leaned on the doorway between her dressing room and
bedchamber. He stared at her with lusty green eyes and his blond
hair was tousled. With a quiet screech, Ginny pulled her dress
closed.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“Hush,” he said as he stepped closer. His eyes never
left her half-exposed breasts. “You don’t want to bring the whole
house down.”

Ginny briefly considered her options. No, she didn’t
want the reprisal that would come if she screamed, but the way
Robert looked at her made it abundantly clear he wanted her. And
he’d already proven he’d take what wasn’t given to him freely.

She backed up until she was nearly flat against the
wall. “If you touch me, I’ll cry out.”

“And risk what I could tell the world?” he asked
with a smug smirk, but he stopped advancing on her. “Never mind.
I’ll have plenty of time to look and touch to my heart’s content
later. Eventually you may even come to enjoy it.”

Revulsion twisted her face, but she resisted the
urge to tell him she would be disgusted by his touch for as long as
she lived. There was no use angering him when he had agreed… in
some small way… to leave her be.

“Did you do it?” he asked with another thin smile as
he sat down at her dressing table.

The bottles and items seemed to catch his attention
and he began to fiddle with them. He smelled her perfume and rubbed
his hands over her things in a way that made her ill.

She narrowed her eyes and did nothing to keep her
hatred from her voice. “Yes, it’s done.”

“Very good.” Robert put down a bottle of perfume
water to watch her refasten her gown. “And Webber won’t come
around?”

A flash of Simon’s angry, pain-filled face invaded
her mind. “No,” she choked out in a voice no more than a whisper.
How she wished he would.

Robert rubbed his hands together with a pleased
chuckle. “Excellent. Absolutely perfect.” His eyes came back to
her. “And now onto the next step. I need you to write a few
letters.”

Her eyes narrowed. This didn’t sound good. “To
whom?”

He smiled. “You’ll see. And if you’re thinking of
refusing, please don’t forget how much you have to lose.”

With a mute nod, Ginny sank down into a chair. She’d
already lost everything, what did a few more losses matter?

Chapter Twenty-Four

Simon lifted his head from the parlor floor with a
groan. Again he heard that voice, that horrible voice that pierced
through his numbing haze.

“Sir?”

“Go away,” he slurred as he stumbled from his prone
position to his knees. Through blurred vision he saw a concerned
butler and footman staring at him from the doorway. “Make
yourselves useful and get me some more brandy.”

“It’s eight-thirty in the morning, sir,” the footman
offered with a nervous smile.

“Then get me scotch,” Simon roared. “I don’t
care!”

“But you have a visitor.”

“That’s it!” This voice was familiar and made
Simon’s stomach lurch. “I’m not waiting any longer.”

Noah Jordan came through the door in a few long
strides, pushing both servants aside with little effort or fanfare.
Simon found himself being grabbed by his collar and hauled up to
his feet, then pushed back until he hit the wall with enough force
to knock the wind from his lungs.

“What the hell did you do to my sister?” Noah
growled in his face.

“Oh, go ahead,” Simon groaned back. Noah turned his
head away from his breath. “Kill me. Finish the job Ginny started.
I don’t even give a damn anymore. In fact, you’d be doing me a
favor.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Noah asked as
he crushed Simon against the wall again. “What did you do to
Ginny?”

Simon laughed, though even in a drunken fog none of
this seemed very funny. In fact, it stung like hell. Where was his
breakfast scotch when he needed it? Alcohol-induced unconsciousness
seemed the best option at present.

“You won’t laugh when I break your neck,” Noah
growled. “Now tell me.”

“What do you mean what did I do to
her?” he asked. “What about what
she
did to
me
?”

“Explain yourself,” Noah demanded without releasing
him.

Simon shook his head. “I didn’t do anything except
make a bloody fool out of myself telling her I loved her. But she
came here last night and told me she never wanted to see me
again.”

The anger that knitted Noah’s brow smoothed and he
slowly eased his grip on Simon’s collar. “She told you that?”

“Where’s my scotch?” Simon bellowed to no one in
particular since all his servants had seemingly scattered once Noah
barged into the room. Damn bunch of cowards, all of them.

“Focus, Webber,” Noah said as he scrubbed one hand
over his face. The other stayed firmly at Simon’s throat. “What did
my sister tell you, exactly?”

Simon laughed again. “Well, I’ve been meaning to
make a list. I figure if I keep it in my breast pocket-” he tried
to pat his chest, but ended up rubbing his stomach. Close enough.
“-then I’ll never make the mistake of loving any woman ever again.”
He hiccupped and all he’d drank threatened to come back up all over
Noah’s jacket, but he managed to keep it down. “What was your
question again?”

Noah cursed. “Ginny. What did she say?”

Even in his stupor, Simon could see he was
frustrating Woodbury. Served him right. If Simon was frustrated, he
wanted all the men in the world to be just as unhappy. But he liked
Noah. Or he thought he did. So he tried to focus.

“She told me she didn’t love me. Then she said she
loved Henry. And then,” he chuckled. “This one is my favorite.
You’ll like this one. She told me I was beneath her and she
wouldn’t marry me.”

He burst into loud laughter that didn’t sound happy
even to him.

Noah shut his eyes with a pained expression. “I’m
sorry, Simon. I didn’t know. But that doesn’t explain…”

“Explain what?” All the anger Simon had refused to
show Ginny, he now released against her brother. “What is there to
explain? She can’t stand me. She doesn’t want to see my lowly face
again.”

He reeled toward Noah, who sidestepped him and sent
him sprawling to the floor again. Simon considered just laying
there, but enough of his drunkenness was wearing off that he
decided to get up. A man had to be on his feet to get more
liquor.

“Innkeep!” he bellowed in the echoing room. “Where’s
my port? I’d like to take it in the West Drawing room.”

“I think you’ve had just about enough.” Noah caught
Simon’s arm to keep him from falling one more time. “I need you
sober if we’re going to figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” Simon asked though he let Noah
ease him into a chair. “What’s happening?”

Noah crouched down before him and snapped his
fingers in front of Simon’s eyes. Simon blinked.

“Hey, focus. Listen. Are you
listening?” Noah asked. Simon nodded. “Good. Because you need to
hear what I’m going to say. Ginny is in love with you. Anyone would
be a fool not to see it. The way she threw herself into preparing
for the wedding leaves no doubt in my mind she
wants
to marry you. So whatever she
told you was caused by something else that happened. Something that
sent her running.”

Simon stared at Noah, this man who shared Ginny’s
eyes. And in them he saw the truth.

“Do you understand me, Simon?” Noah asked,
accentuating each word slowly.

Simon nodded. “Perfectly. Franko, get me coffee.
Strong.”

This time, the butler appeared with a bow. “Yes sir.
And it’s Franklin.”

Simon waved the man off. “I’m still a bit
foggy.”