Unveiling Love (13 page)

A wince crossed Barrington's bruised cheek as he attempted to stand. "Charleton, we will settle this score later. Amora, stop."

"Mr. Charleton, Mr. Norton, enjoy the rest of the party. I'm sure you both can find other entertainment. Or go beat one another senseless. I'll have a footman escort me."

Lifting her head, she followed the lighted path back into the house. No more fighting for this marriage or her sanity, neither was worth the trouble.

It took an hour and a half for James to get the carriage out of the traffic. Being early to the ball didn't bode well for trying to leave and chase after his wife.
 

She came. Why?

The side of Barrington's face throbbed from the bone beneath his eye to his jaw. Charleton looked well pleased, taunting him. And he threw a vicious punch like old times. What would be the ramifications for darkening the rake's daylights?

He couldn't think about that, just Amora and Charleton. Blast it. Cynthia's gossip had to be true. Charleton must be the man who seduced Amora. But if that was so, why wasn't she terrified of him now? Would the end of their relationship cause nightmares? None of this made sense. Tonight, he'd get answers.
 

Arriving at Mayfair, James opened the carriage door. "A gentle, steady hand catches more fish than one raging."

Barrington stared into his dark eyes. "Not this time."
 

The sky was light. The sun would be out soon. It was time for the truth to rise as well. He pounded into the townhome and charged the steps. Turning the knob of her chamber, he found it locked.
 

He moved his palm above the threshold and found the housekeeper's screw resting on the upper trim. Unlocking it, he tossed the door open. The room felt cold. No fire in her mantle and the window lay open, allowing a breeze. He stepped inside and stopped. His mouth dropped open.

Amora wasn't at her vanity or in bed. She lay asleep on the floor, all balled up as if that would hide her. Her fingers curled around a heavy Dresden figurine of a rhinoceros.
 

His heart crushed a little more. Did she think he'd hit her? Didn't she know him?
 

He'd never been violent with her. He'd prosecuted men for harming women. A little unsteady, he used all of his energy to scoop her up and carried her to the bed. She opened one eye, then wrapped her arms about his neck. "You've come to save me."
 

Sucking in a breath, he set her onto the mattress. Hip pulsing with pain, he dropped beside her. "I've come for answers. Why did you come to the Dowager's? You were to stay home."

Her lips curled to a frown as her eyes darted left and right. "I thought I could show you I could be supportive. I don't want to be fragile."
 

Her fingers scalloped the bruises on his cheek. The delicate touch tortured and tingled. "But only rumors will fly now."

He couldn't think of that. He closed his eyes. "Did you run off with Charleton while I was at war?"

"No."

"Admit you ran off with someone." He tugged at his wilted cravat and tried to be calm. He failed miserably.
 

"I did not."

"Amora, you went willingly. It was a seduction, but you made up the story so your mother wouldn't be judgmental."

"No, but she didn't believe me either. Not at first." She answered in clear, strong tones. "No one did."
 

He couldn't accept her answer, not after witnessing Charleton about to kiss her. "Just say the words. I need to hear the truth."
 

She pulled away and swept a blanket onto her legs. "Is that the excuse you need to justify taking a mistress?"

"Nonsense. You're trying to distract from my line of questioning." He was the one deceived, not her. Bounding up, he scooped up a chair and pulled it near. He sank into it adjusting his weight, taking pressure off his hip. Not ready to ease up on the witness, he lowered his voice and took a new tact. "Tell me what made Mrs. Tomàs believe your story?"
 

She opened her mouth then closed it. "Does it matter? You've already convicted me. Please leave."

"My wife, the woman whom I believed loved me and waited faithfully for my return, just gave up. An innocent person fights, yells out."

"A tired person waits for things to end." Her tone sounded flat, not the vigor of the woman who'd stomped away from Charleton and him.

"Then we need to go ask Mrs. Tomàs." He stood and hobbled to the door. "Get dressed. We go to Clanville within the hour."

He'd know everything by the day's end. Then he'd figure out how to fix what remained of his marriage.

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Episode II of Unveiling Love

Length: 8 Chapters (28,000 words)
 

Summary: The Ungodly Truth

Barrington Norton has always despised lies and has formed his life upon a foundation of truth. Yet, discovering the truth of Amora's past sends him to the breaking point. How can he ever make amends for not believing her? Will she ever love him as she once did?

Amora Norton is tired, tired of fighting for her marriage and her sanity. Now that she understands how fleeting Barrington's love is, she wants none of it. It may be better off being alone than living with pity. Having lost all, can she find herself?

Nonetheless, a serial abductor is at large, awakening to existence of the one that got away. Only a united couple can put an end to his reign of terror.

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Rain splashed against the glass of the carriage as it rumbled down the road. Amora sat on her hands across from Barrington. Barely a word exchanged between them since their harrowing flight from London at dawn.

He'd caught her asleep on the floor, but his anger at the fight at his patroness's home must've made him forget. Good. He'd have a lot more to understand once they arrived at Tomàs Manor.

In another hour or so, Mother would give him answers he'd never expect. Sleeping on the floor wouldn't seem so bad, but would Barrington understand? Could a man ever fully understand being made a victim, knowing other victims? Could he ever accept be so low and helpless? Never. Not Barrington.

She glanced at him again. His bruised countenance bobbled as his head zigged and zagged along the seatback. His snow-white cravat fluttered with each short snore.

He hadn't shaved. Not how he liked to start his day with light stubble edging his chin. At least he'd changed his clothes from his soiled evening pantaloons and coat.
 

Oh, that horrid party. His reputation must be in tatters. What would be the repercussions for a mulatto, a black, striking a member of the ton?

A sigh left her like a billow used to stoke flames, only she had none. Her fire was gone. He didn't believe her. The man she loved thought her wanton, just like mother.
 

And how could she forgive him constantly being with Cynthia? How strong of man could he be with a tart constantly trying to give him pie? Even a self-righteous man could get hungry.

She pushed at her brow, trying to remember what happiness was. It wasn't in the carriage, or London. Certainly not with Mother. Yet, did
 
happiness exist with Barrington, being with him, being married to him? She count the days on one pinky, the moments she didn't fret over his opinions, his wants, his desires.
 

With her middles stewing, she balled her fists, hiding the unnumbered fingers. When he discovered how wrong he was to believe Cynthia's lies, could Amora ever fully trust that he'd never have another moment in which doubts about her honor would win?
 

With a shake of her head, she turned to the window and the endless streams of water. Surely, that must be a bad omen. Yes, his god was still angry with her. Maybe mother's Isis, too.

"Gerald, no!" Barrington bolted up. His grey eyes were vacant, then beset with heavy blinks. He rubbed his face and peered out the window. "We are getting close. Pity to visit Mrs. Tomàs on such a wet day."

"Weeks away from yuletide, she'll probably be too busy with things. She'll not care, and she's used to me showing up looking like a drowned rat. If she tries to get us to stay, don't agree."
 

His lips thinned as he tugged at his lapel. "Rat? What does that mean and explain last night, too? Why did you come to the ball? And why were you alone with, Charleton?"

"That's a lot of questions. A famed Barrington Norton interrogation." She folded her arms about her cape. "Why don't you explain yourself? Why did you not want me to go, and why were you embracing Cynthia Miller? No, I forgot. The accused can't ask questions."

He leaned back as his frown lifted in a smirk. "Clever. Madam judge can ask questions of a barrister. I have nothing to hide. I do apologize for causing a scene. Simply lost my head when I saw you with a rake."

"No other explanations?" She tilted her head forward. Her heavy heart made her wobble a bit. "You touched a peer, an innocent one. The ramifications--"

"I'll deal with that. My short absence might be warranted, but I doubt Charleton will do anything of it, for it will expose him too and you. He's so fond of you."

She held inside her irritation at his lack of belief in her. "Well, Cynthia Miller will miss you. And don't deny it. I saw you two."

"What?" He rubbed his jaw. "So that's how Charleton tricked you, with jealousy. She's very emotional right now. Caught in some trouble, but my investigator will solve that."

Amora tried hard not to roll her eyes but the hope that she'd see something other than ridicule or stupidity on her insides was too great. "Always helping others. That jade won't bother Beakes. She finds reasons to be around you. Can't you see she's in love with you? That she'll use anything to twist you up, to compromise you?"

"Preposterous. She's Gerald Miller's little sister. I need to protect her. Miller saved my life. I owe it to him."

Barrington leaned forward. His smirk increased. "So out of jealousy, you went alone with a rake to the garden. Convenient of him being able to give you a tour."

 
"I thought… " She turned her head and tried to search for the right words to convince him, but the old spire of the priory came into view. A chill raced through her down to the boning of her corset. Images of it, the last thing she'd painted before her abduction plagued her mind. That horrible day - grabbed out of her slippers, beating on masculine arms that had to have been forged in iron - stuck in her head. One. Two. Hard to breathe.

Something caught her hand.
 

She jerked away, but only witnessed Barrington's concerned pout. He'd joined her on her seat. "We could go straight to Cornwall. A couple of notes at the next post off to Hessing, and we could start anew."
 

He put an arm about her back, toyed with a raven curl poking from her bonnet. "You just have a price to pay." Pulling closer to her ear, his whispered breaths kissed her lobe. "Just the truth, Amora."

How dare he?
 

How could he try to seduce her into a lie, because he couldn't accept the truth? She stiffened, tried to push away, but he crowded her. How ironic. She usually crowded him.
 

"Please, Amora."

His sweet strong voice made her want to curl up in his lap and retreat into the safety of his arms like last night. But, could she pay the price? She didn't have any more lies to give, just ugly truths.

She said no with a shake of her head and shoved on his chest. "Go back to your seat, Barr."
 

His grey eyes smoldered. He lifted her palm and put his lips to them. "Don't you want to start anew? Pay the piper. Own your lies, all of them."
 

Pulse rising, pounding in despair, she wrenched away. Hurt at his words and her terrible weakness for him. "Stop it. I'm not in the mood to be bedded and then dismissed again."
 

Barrington blinked and sat back. "Amora, I am ready to hear your side. I'll forgive anything. I just need the truth."
 

"Go to your seat. Take your suspicions with you."

Hands in the air, he lunged to his side of the carriage. "I'm trying to make this easier for you. There's vanity in falsehoods. It's best to own our mistakes."

"My own flesh and blood, the woman who birthed me didn't believe me. Why should the man I wed?"

She looked to her lap and folded her hands beneath the creamy wool of her stole. Only a stranger, Vicar Wilson, and perhaps, Mr. Charleton understood. She slumped against the window and counted tufts of white silk lining the carriage walls. "Mother will tell you what you want to know."