The Sinner (19 page)

Hughe silently cursed.
What did she know?
"I told you. I went for a ride with Monk. We stopped at both Coleclough Farm and Stoneleigh. What did you do today?"

"I spoke to the grooms in the stables. According to one of them, you rode to Larkham."

Hell and damnation. "We did reach that far. It's not the most pleasant—"

"I haven't finished telling you about my day."

He cleared his throat. "Go on, my dear little Cat."

"Don't use that tone with me," she snapped. "Leave the fop out of this conversation. Leave him out of everything. I don't want to see him ever again."

He swallowed and lowered his hand to take hers, but she balled them into fists. His breath quickened. He couldn't think what to do next. He, a man who was never lost for words, couldn't think of a bloody thing to say.

"Elizabeth and I visited Susanna and Lucy at Stoneleigh this morning," she went on. "You'll be pleased to learn that none of them gave away your secrets, although I knew they were keeping something from me. By the way, I don't think it's fair to involve them in your lies. They're clearly uncomfortable. This afternoon, we went to the village. I bought some pretty lace to make into a collar and some herbs from the wise woman. Then I bought you a gift from the chandler. They're on your bed."

"I, uh, thank you." He wasn't deceived by her emotionless retelling of her day. He braced himself. "Anything else?"

"I learned that Cole killed someone in Larkham."

He waited. If that's all she'd learned, it might not be so bad. "A nasty fellow," he told her. "So I heard."

"I heard that too. It would seem Cole is to be applauded for ridding the world of such a man." She cocked her head to the side and frowned harder. "But what no one can tell me, is
why
he did it? Why did Cole take it upon himself to kill a stranger when he didn't know the man's victims? What's more, how did he learn of this Renny fellow in the first place?"

Hughe lifted one shoulder. "Perhaps one of the affected families told him. Or the man's wife may have mentioned it."

"Ah, yes, the widow. I hear she's pretty and quite well off. The problem is, nobody seems to know where her income comes from."

"Sometimes villagers take care of their own."

"Not this village. By all accounts, the Larkham people want to take out their anger on her sons. If that were so, why give their mother coin to support them?"

"Perhaps she has another source of income." He knew where this was heading. He was tumbling downhill, right into a bloody mess, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Are
you
that source of income, Hughe?"

It was time for the truth. Or part of it at least. "I am." He held up his hands before she could ram him with accusations and more questions. "When I learned of her predicament, I decided to help. My friend had just killed her husband. The villagers didn't want to support her. I felt a sense of duty toward her."

"How noble of you. Did you visit her today?"

Hughe hesitated, quickly weighing up how much more of the truth he could get away with. "I did. I wanted to see if she needed anything further."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" She smiled. There wasn't an ounce of happiness or relief in it. "We could have avoided these awkward questions."

"I didn't think you needed to know about the whole affair. It's unpleasant."

The smile vanished. "Don't lie, Hughe."

His heart ground to a halt in his chest and turned to a lump of heavy coal. "I'm not."

"You are. For one thing, you would have divulged where you were going today if everything you just said was the truth and there was nothing else to it. There would be no need to pretend to be out riding, yet that's what you led me to believe. And secondly, you play the fool when clearly you're not. Why?"

"It's just the way I am."

"Stop it," she hissed. She tried to get up, but he was still sitting on her skirt. She yanked it out from under him, tearing the hem. "Stop these lies, stop the foppish facade. I hate that fop.
Hate
him," she snarled, baring her teeth. Her chest rose and fell with her seething temper.

His sweet, gentle Cat had been replaced by a ferocious woman he didn't recognize. And he had no one but himself to blame.

"Cat, please." He had to keep on trying. Had to win her over again. He stood and reached for her, but she slapped his hand away. "I'm not lying," he tried.

"Don't. I know you are. I know the signs."

Signs? He had no signs. He gave nothing away. In fact, he was a bloody good liar. How could a woman who'd known him mere months not be fooled, when everyone else was? He didn't dare ask. She looked like a ferocious she-wolf.

Her nostrils flared. Tears welled in her eyes. "I know I cannot ask you to give her up."

He frowned. "Pardon?"

She placed her hand to her stomacher. Her breathing calmed a little, but her eyes were still filled with angry tears. "I know you had mistresses long before you wed me, and I know you'll continue to have them."

"No. You're wrong."

Her lower lip wobbled until she bit it so hard he worried she'd draw blood. "But I had hoped you would wait until you stopped sharing my bed before you ran back to one of them!" She spun around and ran to her bedchamber.

But Hughe ran faster. He caught her round the waist and held her against him, her back to his chest. She kicked out and struggled, but he wasn't letting her go. Not yet. Not when so much was at stake.

"Shhh, Cat. Calm yourself."

"I. Will. Not." She clawed at his hand and it stung worse than a thousand wasp stings. But he didn't let go. If he let her go now, he might not get her back.

"Listen," he said in a tone he hoped she knew to be serious. "Listen to me. Please. Let me explain."

She stopped fighting him, and went still in his arms. But he wasn't fooled. He didn't loosen his grip. She must be able to feel his heart hammering into her back. It beat furiously, as if it would break out of its cage.

"There are no others, Cat." He heard the desperation in his voice and didn't care. He had to make her understand. "You are the only woman. My only one. You always will be now, I promise you." He felt like he'd just sliced his chest down the center and exposed more of the real Hughe than he'd shown to any woman. If she didn't believe him when he opened himself to her like that, there was no hope of winning back her trust.

"How do I know you're telling the truth," she whispered, "when all you've fed me are lies?"

Not all, he wanted to tell her. But that would mean admitting that he had lied about some things. And no matter what happened, revealing those things would cause an even bigger mess. One he could never claw his way out of. As it stood now, he still had a chance to prove to her that she was the only woman for him.

"You have to believe me on this. Please, Cat. I can't give you up." Everything inside him felt tight, fragile. With one elbow to the ribs, he might shatter. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. Her scent filled him, made his head dizzy like the strongest wine. He loosened his grip so she could turn around and face him.

But instead she pulled free and ran to her bedchamber. He did not chase her, but watched her go with a heavy heart.

She stood by the door and fixed her tearful gaze on him. "I know I cannot stop you from having them, but I need time to adjust and—"

"There are none, Cat. I can swear to that on every Bible."

After a very long moment, she inclined her head. "I'm glad to hear it."

He approached her slowly, carefully, so as not to alarm her. "Then will you come here and kiss me?"

She put her hand out to stop him drawing closer. "I'm tired tonight. I'm going to bed."

She shut the door and slid the bolt home. He stood there and stared at the solid wood and wondered where this strong-willed, jealous woman had come from. He thought the lady he'd married was demure and amiable. In truth, in the beginning, he thought he could keep her at Oxley House and his mistresses elsewhere, and have the best of both worlds. It was, after all, what all noblemen did, many with the blessing of their wives.

Now he knew that she would never give her blessing. He smiled, despite everything. He was glad of it; more glad than he could ever have imagined mere weeks ago. He didn't want a mistress; he wanted his clever, spirited wife. Now all he had to do was win her back. It would take time to earn her trust again, but he would not give up.

Just as long as she never found out about his
other
lie.

***

Cat didn't want to be a jealous shrew of a wife. She hated ranting and raging at her husband, but she couldn't help it. Her emotions were spilling forth and she couldn't keep them in check.

For years she'd turned a blind eye to Stephen's indiscretions, but she couldn't do that with Hughe, even if she’d previously thought she could. Not once had she felt as bereft then as she did now. Her heart clenched in pain and she couldn't stop the cascading waterfall of tears.

Despite Hughe's assurances that he kept no mistresses, she didn't believe him. He was lying. She knew that as surely as she knew she loved him. He sounded so convincing, however, with his gentle yet insistent voice assuring her she was the only one. And then when he wrapped his powerful arms around her and held her as if he didn't want to let her go, she could almost believe that he loved her.

But then came the lies again and she knew it was all a game for him.

She must have fallen asleep because she woke up to the sounds of her maids moving around the chamber and sunlight peeking around the edges of the shutters. They eyed her with sympathy and kept eerily silent. For two chattering girls, that was quite a feat.

Cat was in no mood to speak to them. She was in no mood to speak to anyone. She kept to her bedchamber, not even venturing into the sitting room she shared with Hughe. He was the last person she wanted to encounter.

So when he knocked on her bedchamber door and asked to see her, she had one of her maids tell him she was unwell. Cat heard him ask if he could fetch the wise woman, but the maid said she just needed to rest for the day. He left with a promise that he would return later.

Elizabeth came to visit in the afternoon. Cat allowed her to enter. She hadn't cried all morning, perhaps because she'd used up all her tears the night before, so her eyes wouldn't be too swollen.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth knew Cat wasn't ill the moment she saw her. Elizabeth sat on the bed and drew her into an embrace. Cat's eyes banked with tears once more.

"If it makes you feel any better, Hughe is miserable too," Elizabeth said, drawing away but holding Cat by the shoulders.

It didn't make her feel better. It only served to confuse her. Perhaps he had been telling the truth. Then what was he hiding, if not his mistresses?

"Pass me the comb," Elizabeth said to one of the maids. The girl did as she was bid then left when Elizabeth dismissed them both. "I'm going to fix your hair."

"I don't want my hair fixed," Cat said.

"Then do it for me. I used to comb my sister's hair all the time, and I find the activity soothing."

Cat shifted down the bed to allow Elizabeth to settle behind her.

"You have lovely hair," Elizabeth said, running the comb through.

"It's a dull brown shade and dead straight." Not like Lady Crewe's glossy locks.

"It reminds me of wood worn smooth over time."

Wood? That was the best she could do? After hearing how plain she was, first from her parents and then Stephen, she knew she was no beauty. No amount of flattery could make her believe she was anything but ordinary.

Elizabeth stroked the comb through her hair then arranged it into a style. Cat allowed her to do it, mostly because Elizabeth had fallen blessedly silent. She didn't want to hear any more about how miserable Hughe was.

Well, perhaps a little bit.

"Has he gone back to Larkham?" Cat asked.

Elizabeth's hands stilled. Cat held her breath as she waited for an answer. "No."

"Is he still here?"

"He and Edward are out."

"Where have they gone?"

"I don't know."

Lies, lies and more lies. "Elizabeth, what are you all hiding from me?"

Elizabeth was saved from answering by one of the maids re-entering. "M'lady, a Lord Slade has arrived."

Cat spun around to face her, bumping Elizabeth's arm. "Slade! What's he doing here?"

The maid gave her a blank look. It would seem that was a question only Slade could answer.

"Is that your brother-in-law?" Elizabeth asked.

Cat nodded. It was very odd. Had Slade come all the way to see her? Whatever for? She'd not expected to see him ever again, and now this, at a time when she was feeling too fragile to face anyone.

Elizabeth closed her hand around Cat's arm and gave her an encouraging smile. "Shall we see him together?"

"It's kind of you to offer. Thank you."

Elizabeth helped her dress in a rust-colored gown with a fine lace ruff and heavily embroidered forepart. She was determined to look every bit the countess and show him how far she'd risen. He could not injure her now.

They found Slade with Lord Lynden in the summer parlor, making polite yet stilted conversation about crops and sheep. No doubt Lynden was enjoying telling his poorer guest how many head he kept, if his puffed chest was any indication. Hislop was nowhere in sight, thank goodness. Hopefully he hadn't even come.

"There you are," Slade said, rising. He bowed, but not deeply. "Dear sister-in-law."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. It may have been blunt but she was in no mood for idle chatter with Slade. He was quite possibly the last person she wanted to see.

Lynden shifted in his chair and looked embarrassed by her bald question, but Slade showed no signs of discomfort. "I wanted to see my sister-in-law again. I've missed you."

"Nonsense."

He cleared his throat. "Lord Oxley's people told me you came here together, so I decided to continue on. It's only another day's ride from Oxley House and I'd already come so far." His smile was as oily as his hair. Cat didn't trust it.