The Invisible Husband (5 page)

“Adam…” Luke
bravely thrust himself in his older brother’s way and grabbed his
arm. “You can’t send her home! They forced her to marry you. If you
send her back they might hurt her…” Adam clenched his teeth as he
felt the blow. He’d caused his Eve harm. He stared past his brother
as tears dripped down his cheek and prayed his brother would
disappear. “…but she doesn’t appear to mind being your wife. You’re
not going to kill yourself are you? You know Jonah hates farming.
He’d rather join the Navy than be a Lord and you know he’s
terrified of being eaten by a whale.”

“You’re right;
it would be cruel to make Jonah a Lord and force him to worry over
next year’s harvest. I shall face eternal heartbreak with stalwart
bravado for Jonah!”

“Don’t sneer
Adam, you know we’d all be miserable without you.”

“Yes, who’d
bail you out when you got into another scrape?”

“Give me your
word of honour that you won’t hurt yourself or I’ll tell Lady
Latham her Lord was just watching her eat through a peep hole.”
Adam gave his brother the evil eye before pressing past and moving
mindlessly toward his room. Even the first time he’d looked in a
mirror after losing his eye hadn’t made him feel so wretched. The
woman he longed to hold thought him as mad as the rest of his
family. “Adam, promise me you won’t kill yourself…”

“Of course I’m
not going to kill myself…” The younger man sighed in relief as he
ran after his brother. “…I’m a coward. If I can’t face my bride,
I’m hardly going to find the nerve to face death…”

“I’ve never
known anyone who was less of a coward…remember that time…”

Adam paused
outside his room and hissed, “I don’t want to remember anything!”
Slamming his door he locked it and tore off his eye patch. Throwing
it on the floor he cursed his impetuous heart. He’d have to face
her…he’d wait till dark. Numbly falling face first onto his bed he
lay there listening to the clock tisking in contempt at his
cowardice as the day wore on. He’d never been afraid of anything or
anyone until his heart resolved to rest in the arms of Miss Eve
Venables. He sighed into his coverlet as the image of Eve sitting
at his table swirled through his brain. She was the perfect Lady
Latham. He should have kicked his brother out the front door and
faced his fear, but it was too late for should haves.

He had three
options; keep his wife whether she hated him or not, annul the
marriage or give her a choice. His heart insisted he choose the
first option, but his heart’s inane demands had landed him in the
mess to begin with. He was going to listen to his head for once and
let his wife choose. Whatever she decided his silly romantic heart
would have to accept. His heart blanched at the possibility of
losing her. He could feel it writhing in his chest, but for once it
was going to be ignored. It would have to suffer ‘til nightfall
before learning its fate.

As winter
twilight faded into early darkness Eve returned to her chamber and
had her maid help her undress. “I’ll wear my dressing gown over my
chemise until my Lord sends word that he’s ordered dinner.”

“Very good my
Lady…but…”

“Yes?”

“When his
Lordship remains all day in his room he normally orders a supper
tray.”

“Then I shall
have one as well. Does he often remain all day in his room?”

“No my Lady;
only when he’s…upset.”

“And what
usually upsets his Lordship?”

“I couldn’t say
my Lady.”

“Yes you
could.”

The maid
glanced towards the hidden communicating door and lowered her
voice. “His family often upset him with their helpful schemes. His
Mother is particularly helpful.”

“I look forward
to meeting her.”

“She’s a good
woman. She loves her sons.”

Eve looked into
the maid’s eyes and understood the silent admission. The mad Mother
hadn’t wanted her son to marry her. Perhaps the woman wasn’t mad.
“You may comb out my hair. I’ll remain in my room the rest of the
evening. I’ll have a dinner tray at six and pot of hot chocolate at
eight with two cups.”

“Very good my
Lady.”

Eve waited
until the door closed on the chamber maid before stretching with a
loud yawn. Her feet were sore from hours spent wandering around her
new home. Thankfully the fussy decorative clutter in the dining
room hadn’t spread to the rest of the house. There seemed an
endless number of pleasant rooms hinting at her husband’s
habits.

Lord Latham’s
library had given the most solid evidence of the man’s personality.
His desk according to a brass plaque on the front of it had been
made from the timbers of some shipwreck. A large globe on the desk
was worn from handling. Three large map books on the floor were
open to various countries as if waiting to take a bored mind away
from England. His desk was a mountain of untidy piles of papers and
books. A man’s lorgnette for the opera and what looked like an
ordinary rock were being used as a paper weights. Seven open novels
in various stages of being read looked like they’d been thrown face
down, one on top of the other, as if the man couldn’t decide which
one to read and so decided he wouldn’t read any of them. An ancient
black and red Grecian dish contained an assortment of boiled
sweets. She sampled one as she opened a large book on Grecian
history and found the black ribbon marker was really an eye patch.
Closing the book she wondered how he could work in chaos. A white
feather flagged the location of the inkwell hidden behind several
black cravats and an emerald silk waistcoat that had been dropped
in disdain. Did he often work in his shirt sleeves?

The desk drawer
told a similar tale. Untidy bills and crumpled letters all
addressed to ‘the honourable Earl of Latham’ floated freely among
piles of coins that must have been tossed into the drawer. She was
about to close the drawer when she noticed a stack of ladies
fashion magazines tucked away in the corner almost hidden under a
carefully arranged cravat. Why did her husband keep ladies
magazines hidden in his desk? The library shelves were equally
untidy with half read books shoved in-between souvenirs of life and
the odd article of clothing. Clearly the servants did nothing but
dust in the library. The view opposite the desk, out the large
floor to ceiling window, framed the prettiest part of the garden
like a living painting. It was difficult to imagine the owner of
such a room being evil. She’d appropriated the ladies magazines and
the bowl of boiled sweets and had them sent up to her room. If the
man loved her he wouldn’t care if she ate all his sweets. Her
rational fears swept from her mind, she decided she’d be quite
content to be Lady Latham and relaxed. She certainly couldn’t
imagine being bored.

When the clock
chimed five-thirty she was sitting on the bed, her bare feet
resting on a silk wrapped hot water bottle. A lemon sweet taunted
her empty stomach with thoughts of her dinner tray as she perused
the fashion magazines. How much did her husband love her? Would he
buy her a new wardrobe? Her Mother’s dictated trousseau was filled
with uncomfortably low cut dresses. Eve paused as she heard what
sounded like a muffled sneeze. She leaned over and looked at the
wall. No it was still closed. She’d just sat back against the
pillows when three soft taps gave her warning. Her heart drummed a
cadence of suspense as she took a deep calming breath and told
herself to expect anything. Hopefully she’d get to eat before he
claimed his conjugal rights. “Come!” There was a poignant pause
before the secret door slid open and floorboards creaked toward the
bed. The half drawn bed curtain rustled. He’d come. “Good evening
my Lord.” She resisted the temptation to look and blindly chose
another sweet from the Grecian dish sitting beside her and popped
it in her mouth. She knew he was standing near the headboard so he
could hide and watch her with his right eye. “Would you like a
boiled sweet?”

“No.”

“I found them
in your study. You had a pile of ladies fashion magazines in your
desk. I didn’t think you’d mind if I took some.”

“No.”

“You’re not as
talkative as your brother.”

“No.”

“I’m glad; he
gave me a headache.” She held the fashion magazine open so he could
see it. “What do you think of this dress? Do you think it would
suit me?”

“Yes. In pink.
You look lovely in pink.”

Eve felt her
cheeks turn pink with pleasure. The simple whispered words were
spoken with feeling. “Thank you. It’s my favourite colour.”

“I know.”

Eve felt her
pink cheeks darken as she wondered how much he knew. “And what is
your favourite colour my Lord?”

“Pink.”

The absurd
answer made her laugh out loud. “How long have you loved the
colour?”

“Since the
first time I saw you.”

Eve shivered as
the compliment somehow breezed over the back of her neck causing
pleasurable tingles. “When was that?”

“Six months ago
at my cousin, Lady Harold’s, ball. She screened off a corner so I
could watch the dancers unseen. You came and sat down on the chairs
in front of the screen with a friend. You were so amusing…” His
soft sigh punctuated the words with a poignant sadness. Eve felt
her eyes mist over. The man must have spent the last seventeen
years watching life whirl by wanting to join in, but fearing
rejection.

“Do you ever go
out in public wearing an eye patch?”

“Yes, but I
look like a fool pirate from a Christmas pantomime; people laugh at
me. If I take it off they cross themselves as if I’m the devil.
When I was twenty my parents took me to London to introduce me into
society…” A long painful sigh conjured endless unpleasant images.
“…I foolishly insisted on attending a ball without my eye patch.
After the first five ladies felt too indisposed to dance with me I
kindly refrained from forcing any more to pretend to be too ill to
enjoy the evening and left.”

“A pox on rude
ladies; I’d have danced with you. It would have made me the talk of
the town. ‘Ooh did you see Miss Eve Venables dancing with the one
eyed Lord? She looked like she enjoyed his company, but then you
know how she’s always laughing to herself. I hear she spends her
winters in the attic bathing in asses’s milk; it gives her that
pallid complexion.’ I even danced with Lord Mulgrave once though I
admit I accidentally stepped on his toes every few minutes
in-between apologies and profuse declarations of admiration for his
sharp canine teeth.” The bed curtain rustled with almost inaudible
laughter. “I’m afraid he was insulted when I compared him to a
favourite pet rat I made up for his benefit and fortunately he lost
all interest in my charms.”

“He does look
like a rat.”

“He
is
a
rat. If I was his mother I’d have to wear a sign around my neck
that said, ‘I did not mate with a rodent.’ The curtain rustled
again with laughter. “I understand your reticence at calling on
ladies in pink my Lord, but you could have written to me
anonymously. You could have tormented me by feeding me clues to
your identity and then showed up sporting some sort of tell; a pink
and white striped cravat would have been appropriate. You could
have used some of the fabric left over from the bed hangings. I
would have found that highly amusing and terribly romantic.”

“I used a whole
bottle of ink and dozens of quills trying to write you a single
blasted letter. The best I could do was, ‘My dear Miss Venables, I
find you eminently worthy to be my Countess, but I’m so hideous I’m
afraid if I call on you I’ll frighten you; you may faint, hit your
head on a table and die of concussion. Will you marry me?’”

Eve shook with
laughter. “You’re right, that wouldn’t have inspired palpitations
of excitement my Lord.”

“I agonised
over what to do. I decided I’d make an offer for you and if you
married me then I’d introduce myself at home where I’d benefit
from…shadows.”

“And peep
holes? You were watching me in the dining room.”

The eye
disappeared as the curtain hissed curses on beautiful brothers
in-between soft moans of horror. After several long minutes the
curtain stilled and she felt that tingling sensation that told her
was watching her again. “My brother is an interfering wretch. I
told him not to say anything.”

“He didn’t…I
can feel when you’re watching me. I started noticing it six months
ago. At first I thought I was mad, but I’m not am I?”

“No.”

“I hope there
aren’t any peep holes into my bedchamber. Beware you don’t lose
your good eye as I poke at the wall trying to find it.”

“I wouldn’t…my
father walled it up after Grandfather killed himself.”

“Good! Come sit
on the bed. You can tell me what you think of these dresses.”

“I can’t. I
look like a monster in candlelight; I frighten myself.”

Eve snuffed out
the candle next to the bed and threw her magazine on the floor. The
light from the fire and the two small candle sconces either side of
her dressing table mirror threw the bed into deep shadow. “I’m
having a hard time hearing you all the way over there.” The curtain
rings slowly rattled towards the wall as the shadow pushed the
curtains back and gingerly climbed onto the mattress beside her.
“Here, have a sweet…”

“Ouch! That was
my good eye.”

“You will
insist on having tête a têtes in the dark my Lord…your feet must be
freezing. Here, you can share my hot water bottle… Those are my
feet.” She could feel the shadowy man looking at her, not that he
could see anything. “Have you eaten? My dinner tray is coming at
six.”

“I ate at five.
My Lady…Eve…I came to…”

“To kiss
me?”

Eve felt the
mattress move jostling her against the headboard. She felt the
shadow lean towards her and sigh against her cheek. “No, but…”