The Invisible Husband (2 page)

After secretly
trailing his adored Eve around town for months, he decided to
gamble everything and offer for her. He had to hope that she’d fill
his home with her laughter and dreams. It was completely mad, but
once his mind was made up there was nothing anyone could say to
dissuade him. As long as Eve assented then he’d marry her and there
would be no debating his choice. His mother, who he’d forbidden to
communicate with or meet the girl, had lectured him daily for two
months. When he refused to consider any other bride, she ordered
him to see sense and at least introduce himself to the girl. No, he
refused to risk a meeting. If he called, Eve would insist on seeing
his face and then she’d refuse to marry him. Meeting his bride
before they married was out of the question. When he’d reluctantly
revealed his wedding plans to his mother she’d thrown up her hands
in exasperation. He brushed aside her protests that he’d frighten
the girl out of her wits and insisted it had to take place in the
middle of the night. He’d debated various times and places, but he
knew his cloak and mask would have been far more ghoulish at
midday. He didn’t mind if Eve thought him mad, but he couldn’t bear
her to think him hideous. Thankfully, his mother had refused to
disturb her sleep to attend what she termed an abomination. Adam
was relieved he wouldn’t have to listen to her sighing loudly in
disappointment that he wasn’t marrying one of the young ladies from
her list of wealthy suitable options.

Glancing at the
woman eating a few yards away, a sweet ache enveloped his insides
as he imagined his bride responding to his kisses. His lonely years
were almost over; once his wife fell in love with him he’d wake up
bathed in sunlight beside his own Eve. He wouldn’t have to pay
another bored harlot to pleasure him in the dark. He’d be able to
look into smiling eyes and share his feelings, if he won her heart.
If he failed to win her heart he’d have to make love to his wife in
the dark like a demon lover; she wouldn’t want to hear his husky
love sick whispers or return his kisses. The thought turned the
sweet ache into a painful knot. If he failed to win Eve’s heart his
life would be hell.

Adam listened
to her finish scraping her plate and pulled his watch out of his
pocket. It was time to go. He walked back to her side and held out
the watch. She looked up at his hood with red tired eyes and nodded
that she understood. He held out his arm and waited until she
reluctantly gave him her hand before leading her back out into the
cold night air to a small carriage waiting a short distance away.
The carriage lamps turned his youngest brother and two cloaked
friends already saddled into black demonic shadows. He smiled in
amusement. His wife was right. His wedding was a gothic melodrama,
but once they were home he’d be able to reassure her that he was no
heartless devil.

Eve accepted
the strong black leather glove and allowed the silent demon to help
her into the carriage. She watched in fascinated fear as the
cloaked man attentively arranged hot bricks under her feet, tucked
a thick wool blanket around her shoulders followed by a rose
scented fur rug for her legs. There was no sign of a carriage
warmer or even a hand warmer. Her demon-husband was probably
paranoid that his new bride might catch fire. He might be mad, but
at least he didn’t want her to die…yet.

Finishing, the
silent demon jumped down and firmly closed the door. She had no
idea where she was going. Her trunks were secured on the back and a
few of her personal items were sitting next to her on the seat. She
might be heading for Russia, India, or the colonies, but she was
too tired to care. All she wanted was a warm bed, but what would be
warming her bed; hot water bottles or a demon? The thought made her
shiver with dread.

They lurched
into motion rushing into the darkness; the two carriage lamps
illuminating only enough wet muddy highway for the horses to see
their next ten gallops. Horse’s hooves thundered in time with her
beating heart as she wondered over and over if the fourth outrider
was her husband. Was he so hideous that he didn’t dare show his
face? If he was, why hadn’t he tried to speak to her? Could he even
speak? Even if he was hideous and mute surely he could have written
her letters, introduced himself and explained why he wished to
marry her. The thought slipped away into the darkness as she curled
into the warmth of her cocoon and fell into dreams of a black
cloaked man pinning her to a gigantic bed laughing manically in
between disgusting kisses, his rotten teeth emitting the pleasant
smell of heated calfskin and rose scented fur.

The carriage
pulled to an abrupt halt jerking Eve from the arms of the dream
demon and back into the power of the real one. Her sleepy mind
noted the bluish tint of the sky that hinted at the nearing
sunrise. The door was jerked open and her warm cocoon gently peeled
back allowing freezing air to gooseflesh her limbs. Black leather
gloves handed her belongings to someone behind him and then
extended towards her in a wordless command as quiet shadowy
servants carried her trunks into the house. She tried to convince
herself that she’d wake up in the morning and find her wedding an
amusing joke, but the insistent black glove lightly tapping her
knee made her heart shudder at the unknown.

Taking hold of
the black glove, she stepped down and stared in awe at the outline
of a vast house, black against the star studded sky. She’d be
surprised if it didn’t have three hundred rooms. Was this her home
or a temporary stop? She’d soon find out. The demon didn’t ask her
if she’d had a pleasant journey or if she was tired as he banished
the carriage with a wave of his hand. Inhaling a lungful of icy air
she tightened her grasp on the firm glove as it quickly led her
across a gravel drive towards the ground level door illuminated by
a single candle. She could hear the other three cloaked outriders
keeping step behind them. Were they there to keep her safe from the
night or ensure she didn’t escape? The four demons took post
outside of the front door where she was waved into the faintly lit
yellow entrance. Two long rows of shadowy servants dressed in their
best clothes were waiting to receive her, but there was no sign of
her mysterious husband. Eve had grown up with servants, but what
were all these people supposed to do? There had to be a separate
servant for every conceivable activity. Her parent’s household of
fifteen indoor servants couldn’t compare to the small village lined
up to meet her. Feeling overawed, her first action was to remove
her bonnet. She wanted to ensure they could all see the woman their
master had purchased. Exhausted she forced herself to smile and nod
as the housekeeper introduced herself and then named what seemed
like a thousand servants. At last she was led away up the stairs
into a small greenish blue reception room with a large fire and two
bracket candlesticks reflected in the mirror over the mantel.

The housekeeper
looked rather nervous as she leaned over to whisper, “His Lordship
wished you to wait here. He’ll be along shortly to show you to your
rooms.”

Eve’s eyebrows
knit together as she asked in a loud voice. “Tell me Mrs Good, why
is everyone whispering?”

Mrs Good looked
appalled at Eve’s booming voice. “His Lordship prefers a quiet
house my Lady. We all have strict orders to speak in soft
tones.”

“Have you
really?” Eve’s voice was even louder. “Would you be so good Mrs
Good to tell my husband that his wife wishes to see him
immediately?”

“As you wish my
Lady…” Mrs. Good rushed from the room looking perturbed. Lord
Latham had made it clear that his wife’s every whim be obeyed
quickly, but Mrs Good had never known his Lordship to react well to
imperious women. What had her master done?

Eve put her
cold feet on the fender and watched the hands of the clock on the
mantelpiece slowly tick; ten minutes, fifteen minutes, seventeen
minutes, nineteen minutes, forty minutes. She fought off sleep, but
after the hands of the clock told her she’d been waiting an hour
she decided she’d give her husband a piece of her mind as soon as
he arrived and fell fast asleep.

Adam was still
standing in front of his mirror. He’d changed into clean clothes;
his new bottle green coat and buff breeches fit to perfection. He
was wasting time agonising over his hated eye patch. He wanted her
to see him for the first time looking his best. His figure was
good, his wavy black hair was still free of grey, but the mirror
reflected a fool pirate straight off a pantomime stage, but without
the eye patch he was gruesome. Looking at his naked face in the
mirror made his own flesh crawl; there was no hope it wouldn’t make
his new bride shrink in horror. His once perfect left eye was now a
sightless fleshy white ball. The long puckered facial scars pointed
towards it from two directions as if onlookers needed several
reminders that he only had one eye. He hissed insults at the fool
pirate in the mirror. He was mad. Why did he expect his bride to
accept the situation without any explanation, to accept him with
open arms? He hadn’t yet contemplated the possibility of being
refused her bed, it was too awful. He’d never wanted any woman like
he wanted his wife.

The
housekeeper’s message tightened the knot in his stomach as the
sight of his reflection made him snarl in irritation. How was his
Eve to fall in love with him when he looked like a fool and
couldn’t talk louder than a hoarse whisper? Smashing his fists onto
his dressing table, his spare eye patch and several scent bottles
flew off onto the floor unharmed mocking his rage.

Musing his
defects till sunrise wouldn’t endear him to his bride; without
another glance at the mirror he started the long walk to his
waiting wife. There was an audible click as he shut the door behind
him but there was no movement from the feet visible under the
chair. He reluctantly stepped over to the fire and looked down at
his bride. Her mouth was parted, her eyes closed in sleep. Choking
on the fear of rejection he forcibly conquered the impulse to step
back into the darkness and remained in the light. “Eve…Eve!” His
loudest gruff whisper did nothing but make him frustrated. “My
Lady, wake up!” She didn’t flinch.

Relaxing, he
sighed with pleasure at the closeness of soft curves draped in
ethereal pink. He didn’t care if he was mad; she was the woman he
wanted to hear trailing happiness through his home. Kneeling down,
he held his breath as he removed her pink slippers. After lightly
fingering them he set them aside and admired ankles sheathed in
pink silk stockings. Did he dare? He looked from her sleeping face
to her tiny feet and decided that it was best not to chance it. If
she woke up she might think him some sort of lecher and kick him in
the face. The thick scar across his throat throbbed painfully from
the heat rising under his cravat. Standing up, he propped open the
door into the hall before returning and carefully scooping his
bride into his arms. With his heart purring at her nearness he
retraced the long walk back to the master suit.

Her bedchamber
door was open, a large fire and numerous candles lit up the room.
He laid her gently onto the bed and untied her cloak. Shivering,
she turned over in her sleep and tucked her hands under her pillow.
Tucking the hot water bottle near her feet, he pulled the
bedclothes up over her shoulders. Closing the door, he absently
turned the key in the lock and turned back to his bride. Standing
next to the bed he watched her sleep wishing he could throw off his
irritating eye patch and slide in beside her. Impulsively he leaned
over and lightly kissed her cheek, “Pleasant dreams Eve.” Sighing
in disappointment he snuffed out the candles. Pushing a well
disguised button, he disappeared through a sudden opening into the
long secret passage that led to his own bedchamber.

Eve stretched
her legs as dim morning light reached in through half drawn
curtains and saved her from another faceless demon. Opening her
eyes she looked up to see pink and white striped silk lining the
canopy of a full tester bed. She turned her head to see more pink
and white striped bed curtains drawn back against the headboard.
Feeling oddly constrained she pushed back her pink coverlet to find
she was still dressed. Had her husband carried her up to bed?
Sitting up she found she’d been lying on her cloak. Someone had
removed her shoes, but not her stockings. She sighed in relief; the
thought of black leather gloves reaching up her skirts to untie her
garter ribbons made her feel ill. She yawned and looked around with
curious eyes. The seat of the chair at the dressing table, the
padded arm chair and footstool, the window dressing; they were all
covered in the same pink and white striped silk. She loved pink and
white stripes. Who’d told her demon-husband and where was he? The
fire was smouldering embers. Her trunks were stacked in one corner
of the room, but there was no sign of her shoes. Hopping out of bed
she approached the door. She was about to turn the handle when her
sleepy brain realised the key was in the lock. She swung back to
face her room in fear. There was no other door that she could see
and she could see he wasn’t under the bed. There was no way a man
could fit into the linen press; unless he was a dwarf. Was her
husband a dwarf? Was that why he married her by proxy? Even if he
was really short that still didn’t explain why he’d picked her or
why he refused to introduce himself. She opened her door and looked
out into the empty hall. She shivered as the oak floorboards
absorbed the heat from her feet. “Lord Latham! Where are you? Come
out and show yourself right…now!” Her angry shout bounced off the
farthest ends of the hall. She waited listening. “Lord Latham…!”
She suddenly heard running footsteps; someone was coming. Her
shoulders fell as the housekeeper appeared around the corner and
hastened towards her at an unladylike run, her silver châtelaine
dangling with keys and various useful tools clanging against her
skirts. The middle aged woman was out of breath when she reached
the open door.