Virtue and Vice (29 page)

“Your wife’s friend doesn’t understand that when a lady says no, that’s not an invitation to maul her until she changes her mind.” Ram was surprised to see a flash of very real anger on Lucien’s face, and the tightening of his jaw. “You’ll be happy to know I gave him a taste of his own medicine.”

It was so sad it was almost laughable. “My wife loves a man who loves no one but himself, and nothing anyone says will make her see reason.”

“Perhaps if I recount to her what happened last evening?”

“I appreciate your willingness to help, Lucien. But I don’t want Izzy to stay with me because she has no other option. If she wants Huntley, I’m not going to stand in her way.”

“Even though you care very much for her?”

“
Because
I care so very much for her.”

Lucien sighed. “This is why I don’t allow any lady in my life for more than a few nights.”

Ram grimaced. “You can rest assured I’ll once again be living by those same rules. You’ve certainly never found yourself tangled in such a mess.”

The butler knocked on the door again, and then coughed discretely.

“Yes, Dexter?”

“You have another caller, my lord.”

He frowned. Who else could possibly wish to see him? “Who is it?”

“A Sir Paul Huntley.”

Ram’s hand tightened around his empty tumbler. “Show him in, Dex.”

Lucien sucked in a sharp breath.

“Aye, my lord.”

Lucien exploded the moment Dexter left. “He
dares
to show his face here? And you are going to
entertain
the man? Ramsay, there is a fine line between nobility and foolishness.”

“I’m curious to know what business he thinks he has here.”

“Shall I go then?”

He looked to his friend. Ram was no coward, but he didn’t relish facing the man his wife preferred, alone. “I’d appreciate your opinion on whatever he thinks he has to say to me.”

Dexter led Huntley into the room. The man froze like a rabbit when he clapped eyes on Lucien, but recovered his composure enough to move before Ram’s desk.

They were beyond politeness at this point. “State your business, Huntley.”

The blonde man stiffened in affront. But then a smug look crawled over his face, and he seemed to relax. “I’ve a confidential matter to discuss with you, Maitland.” His glance flickered toward Lucien. “This might be better said in private.”

Ram deliberately didn’t offer any courtesies. “Lord Lucien will hear whatever it is you have to say.”

Huntley frowned. “As you wish.” He ambled to the paneled wall and leaned against, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve been ruminating upon a most enlightening
conversation
I recently had with your lady wife.”

Ram tensed. What had the little idiot done now?

“She told me about your involvement with the Royalist cause during the wars. Very intriguing, that. And noble, too. Any man would be proud to have such a brave son. Oh! But your father threw in his lot with Cromwell early on, didn’t he? How do you suppose your father would feel if he ever learned of such disloyalty taken against him by his only son?”

Fury sliced through Ram, bringing along a rage he’d never before felt in his life. It wasn’t enough his wife threatened to blackmail him with this information, but she engaged her would-be lover to aid her in her blackmail too? Did her perfidy know any bounds? He’d kill her with his own hands!

Leaping to his feet, Ram let out a snarl, prepared to charge Huntley. Only by Lucien putting himself bodily between him and his quarry was he stopped. Instead, Lucien turned to the man while Ram seethed at his back. “And I suppose you would use that information to secure an annulment for Lady Royston?”

Paul started, true surprise flashing across his face, but it cleared when he laughed. “Good God, nay. I would use the information to gain funds.”

Ram calmed a little bit. “You want me to pay you to keep your silence?”

“I do.”

Ram glared at the man for a moment. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Perhaps you’d care to rethink-“

“
Get out!”
Ram shouted.

Huntley fled. “I’ll give you time to think on my offer,” he called from the hall.

Silence reigned for a few moments, as Ram panted heavily, lamenting the lack of Huntley’s throat between his hands. His mourning had ended sooner than he anticipated. Black rage and hatred consumed him.

“What will you do?” Lucien finally asked.

“They are welcome to each other.” Ram snarled.

***

The carriage couldn’t take Izzy home nearly as fast as she desired, even if it suddenly sprouted wings and flew. She wanted nothing more than to be home, so she could throw herself into Ram’s arms, declare her love for him, and then spend the afternoon and the evening, and the rest of her life making love to him. Making everything up to him.

How could she have been so foolish not to see what was before her all this time? Right from the beginning, when he was only Julian James to her, she’d been so drawn to him. He’d become an addiction. Like the stories she’d heard of soldiers who couldn’t get by without their laudanum, she’d gotten through her days with small doses of Ram, never realizing how she’d come to depend on him. How silly and childish she’d been to cling to the old dream of Paul.

It almost ruined her marriage.

But now, now, she would make sure everything was all right. They would put Paul behind them, and she would never speak his name again, for the sake of her beloved husband.

The carriage began to slow.

Finally
!

She didn’t wait for the driver to come round to help her down. She hopped out of the carriage and stumbled, but somehow managed to remain upright. She held back her laughter at the shocked expression on both the driver’s and the footman’s faces. Nothing could ruin her wonderful mood!

She tore open the front door, lacking the patience to even wait for Dexter to open the door as would have been decorous. All was still and silent in the house. She ran up the stairs, hoping to find Ram in his bedchamber.

When she stepped into her bedchamber, though, the hairs on her neck stood at attention. Moving towards the center of the room, she sought the cause. Something was very, very wrong.

She looked around slowly, in disbelief. All of her personal belongings were gone. The wardrobe stood empty. The book she’d left on the nightstand was absent. The dressing table held no bottle of perfume, no cosmetics.

Where were all of her possessions?

Fear curled in her gut.

Running through the door that adjoined her chamber to Ram’s she froze, perplexed. All of his belongings were still neatly in their place.

Tearing back into the hallway, she called for Dexter as she ran down the stairs. And came up short as she nearly plowed into Ram’s massive chest as she cleared the landing.

He reached for her, but not to steady her on her feet. Rather, he grabbed her around the upper arm and hauled her down the hall and into the study. Once inside he thrust her down, hard, into an empty chair.

A chill crawled over her when she read the raw fury in his eyes.

Surely, he couldn’t still be upset about what she’d done last night?

“Ram?” she whispered. Her stomach began to cartwheel as she waited. Part of her wanted to shout out that she loved him, but the other part of her was too terrified to say a word. Too scared to know why her possessions were missing from her chamber. Too frightened to know why he was looking at her like that.

And then she noticed they weren’t alone. Ram’s awful friend from the evening before sat on a bench near the window. She met his gaze and saw only frost there.

What was happening?

“Ram? What’s amiss? You’re scaring me.”

“You should be scared, Isabelle.”

She flinched at the use of her full name. That never boded well. The ominous words were spat in her general direction, though he didn’t make eye contact.

Looking around, she was frantic to find the source of the problem. “What’s happened?”

“Your
friend
Paul came round earlier for a chat.”

Her eyes widened, her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She could only stare at her husband’s beloved face, wondering what Paul had done on her behalf.

Ram seemed to be in no rush to tell her, as he slowly paced back and forth before the seat she sat upon. He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. Yet she knew him well enough to know he was struggling to keep his temper in check. Whatever had occurred between the two men must have been terrible indeed.

“So you told him of my Royalist sympathies, did you?”

She could feel the blood leave her face.
Oh, Paul, Nay! What have you done?

“You had no success with blackmail on your own, so perhaps you thought your lover might have better luck?”

Blackmail? “Oh no…” Oh, dear, dear Paul had sought to help her secure the annulment he thought she still wanted so very badly.

“Oh aye, Isabelle, and you have betrayed me for the last time.”

Every muscle in his face was clenched tight. His features blurred before her as her eyes filled with tears. She hurt because she had hurt him so. She stood on shaking legs and tried to put a hand to his cheek, but he knocked her arm away so hard she cried out and stumbled back.

“
Do not
touch me. Not if you want to survive the next few minutes in one piece, Isabelle.”

Staring in shock, she cradled her arm, knowing she would bruise from the force he just exerted against her.

“I-I didn’t know he would do this, Ram. And he’s not my lover. I only spoke with him about the circumstances because I needed a friend, and some advice.”

“You spoke to him of this because you needed an annulment.” His voice was flat.

She shook her head in denial.

“You’ve finally succeeded, Isabelle. You’re going to get what you most desire. Huntley is welcome to you, for I sure as hell don’t want you. He can take my leavings with my blessing, and I truly hope you get everything you deserve with him.

I’ll seek the King, and beg his support in obtaining an annulment. In the meantime, all your belongings have been moved to a guest chamber, but I suggest you remove yourself to your father’s townhouse, if he’ll even take you when he learns you cost him everything your family needed. He finally looked directly at her. “Keep the hell out of my sight until I’m legally rid of you. Do I make myself clear?”

Hatred blazed in his eyes and Izzy recoiled.

She stared back, horrified. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a nightmare. He couldn’t be telling her that
now
he wanted to annul their marriage, not when she’d finally realized how much she loved him. She broke eye contact and stared at her feet, wondering what she could possibly do or say to make him understand.

His fingers bit into her flesh as he grabbed her chin and forced her head up. She whimpered, but not from the cruel grasp. She couldn’t bear the loathing for her writ so clear across his face. No one had ever looked at her that way, and coming from him it brought an ache to her chest so acute, she couldn’t breathe.

“Do you understand me?”

“Oh, Ramsay, nay,” her eyes blurred; tears spilled onto her cheeks. “I don’t want”-

His arm rose with fist clenched.

“Ram!” Lucien snapped.

With a vile oath, Ram released his painful grip and stepped back. “I don’t
care
what you want, Isabelle. I’m done with you.” His voice was clipped, angry. “I should have listened to you from the beginning. This
is
a marriage made in hell.” He turned his back. “And I’ll dance to the tune of this devil no longer,” he shot over his shoulder, before he strode from the room.

Chapter 26

Izzy watched Ram storm away, helpless to stop him from leaving. Holding her shoulders stiffly, she prayed he might change his mind and come back. The front door slammed with a crash so loud it reverberated throughout the house, shaking the walls. Wincing at the jarring sound, she slumped back against his desk, wrapping her arms about her middle in abject misery.

What have I done?

Covering her face with shaking hands, the tears flowed freely. There was a time—was it really only yesterday?—when she would have given anything to hear him say the words he’d just uttered. She’d prayed he’d come to his senses and grant her an annulment. She would have come to regret it, she knew that now.

“Don’t you think you should save the histrionics for when Ram can see them, thus rendering them all the more effective?”

The callous and indifferent words came from the corner of the room, and she swiped at her wet face with open palms, furious for forgetting she wasn’t alone and perversely furious at Lord Lucien for having witnessed her encounter with Ram. Turning, she glared in the general direction of Ram’s friend.

“I don’t believe this is any of your business, sir.” Her voice dripped heavy with disdain. She desperately hoped he would take the hint and leave her to her misery.

“Perhaps not,” he sauntered in her direction, his emerald green eyes taking her measure from head to toe. “But perhaps I simply enjoy seeing the woman who hurt my closest friend receive her comeuppance?” With a flourish, he produced a snowy linen handkerchief from his waistcoat, presenting it to her- an action that belied his cruel words.

She took the offering, dabbing at her leaking eyes. When she returned her gaze to his, he was studying her as if trying to read her innermost thoughts.

“But perhaps my friend’s unrequited love is not so unrequited?” His tone softened and his eyebrow rose in a quizzical manner, indicating his was not a rhetorical question.

She absorbed the full impact of his words. “Are you saying Ram loves me?” Tears threatened all over again. “If he loves me, how could he walk out of here like that? How could he be so cruel?”
How can he hate me so very much?

Lucien’s features hardened. “You are a shallow and daft woman if you don’t realize the depths of Ram’s feelings for you.”

“But I love him, too.” Her voice was all but a whisper.

Lucien snorted. “You have one hell of a strange manner of showing it.”

Her grip tightened upon the handkerchief so strongly her knuckles whitened. “I only just realized it,” she answered dejectedly, but even to her own ears, the explanation sounded lame.

“And would you care to enlighten me as to why it took you so long to realize that Paul Huntley isn’t half the man your husband is?”

She took umbrage at his denigration of Paul. “He means well. Truly he does. Paul only thought to aid me-” She stopped short as Lucien took a step back against the desk, a look of horror crossing his face.

“Are you
defending
Huntley’s actions to me? I was
here
when he called upon your husband.”

“Nay. I mean, Paul wasn’t trying to create trouble, he only meant to help.”

Lucien advanced upon her. She tried to hold her ground, but faced with his towering height, the width of his shoulders and his scowling features, she took a step backwards. Good Lord, the man could be as intimidating as her husband. No wonder they were such good friends.

“You are twice the fool I took you for, my lady, and I do believe Ram will be far better off without you.”

“Nay!” At his harsh words, the tears she’d struggled so hard to bring under control burst forth, this time in a torrent. “Nay. He needs me. And- and I love him.” Her words were punctuated with small, pathetic hiccups. “I can’t lose him. Not now, when I’ve only just realized how much I need him, too.”

Sobbing in earnest, she felt like the biggest fool in the world for taking so long to recognize her true feelings, and for blubbering about them to Lord Lucien, when she should be having this discussion with her husband.

“Please,” she whispered when she regained control of her voice. “I’d very much like to be alone now.”

When she found the courage to meet his gaze, she was almost undone by the compassion shining from Lucien’s emerald eyes.

“Perhaps you ought give him time, until he’s not so furious, and then attempt a more civil conversation. I’ve known Ram a very long time. His anger will burn itself out quickly enough.” His voice was almost kind.

She nodded, confused by his shift in manner. When she tried to hand back his handkerchief, he waved her motion away. “Keep it.”

She scarce noticed when he left the study, closing the door behind him gently. She slumped back against the desk.

What am I to do now?

Her head dropped back into her hands, but all of her tears had been used up. Wasted. Just like the brief time she’d had with Ram. She’d wasted it on silly schemes and childish infatuation.

Now, there were only two options left to her. She could stay and fight for what she wanted, or she could flee back home, throw herself on the mercy of her father, and find a safe place to lick her wounds. If her father would even accept her back into his home, that is.

Well, that couldn’t be a deciding factor. She would stay and fight for Ram because she loved and needed him, not because she simply might have nowhere left to go.

With mind made up and shoulders squared, Izzy left the study. But she didn’t call for Dexter. She wouldn’t be going anywhere, and she certainly wouldn’t be removing her belongings to her father’s townhouse.

On quiet feet, she slipped up the stairs, her destination Ram’s bedchamber. She would wait there for him for as long as she must. When she faced her husband again, it would be in the volatile territory of the bedchamber, where they had raged at each other, known the heights of passion together, and ultimately fallen in love with one another.

There she would make her stand to win her heart’s desire.

***

Lord Lucien De Vere was no romantic at heart. In his nine and twenty years, he’d seen naught but misery come from relations between the opposite sexes when it came to that state of so called wedded bliss. Beginning with the tragedy that was his parents’ ultimately loving marriage, to the eye-opening and sobering reality of what a woman would willingly put herself through to find a husband, he held no high regard for the holy state of matrimony. He thanked his maker daily that he’d not been born the eldest son, never more so as he’d watched the vapid and money hungry debutantes who had thrown themselves at his older brother, Max. The young women had seen nothing but an ancient family name, the future marquisate Max would someday inherit, and the fortune that went along with it- not caring a whit for the man beneath it all. His brother had done his duty, for as the heir it was imperative he marry and continue the noble family line, and for his troubles he’d ended up with a shrew for a wife. Granted, she was an extraordinarily beautiful shrew, but she made Max miserable most of the time. And to add insult to injury, she’d not yet even managed to breed that all important heir after nearly three years of marriage.

Lucien intended to remain unmarried until his dying day. Perpetual bachelorhood was a state he embraced whole-heartedly. But if the day ever came when he had to take a wife for some reason or another, he most certainly wouldn’t choose a beautiful wife. Oh sure, his mistresses were reputed to be some of the most desirable women in the country. But then, there was a vast difference between a mistress and a wife, wasn’t there? Beautiful women were nothing but trouble when it came to marriage. Just look at Ram’s wife. She was a damned beautiful woman, a woman any man with eyes in his head would want beneath him. Yet barely married a handful of weeks and already she was leading him a merry chase.

But there was something about the way she’d looked when Ram had stormed out of the study. He’d seen the devastation in her eyes, the slump of defeat in her shoulders, and something about the dejection on her face had rung true.

Looking up at the darkening sky, he knew they were in for a late summer deluge. Hastening his pace, he swung himself up into his carriage.

Who was he trying to fool?

He certainly wanted his oldest friend to be happy. But he was no matchmaker. Meddling in his friend’s marital nightmare was the perfect opportunity to call upon Izzy’s cousin, Miss Spencer, whose name he’d discovered was Belinda. He’d not been able to get that chit out of his mind since they’d shared that scorching kiss on the balcony last night. That kiss in itself was puzzling; for she was not at all what one would describe an incredible beauty, as were the kind of women he usually pursued for dalliance and such. Yet something about her intrigued him. Perhaps it had been her outrage at his forwardness, or her sweet and tentative response to his kiss. Whatever it was, a strong desire to see her again fueled him, and what better excuse, than to lend aid to their friends’ fractured marriage?

To that end, he instructed his carriage driver to take him to the Beaumont residence, where discreet inquiries earlier in the day had yielded the information of Belinda’s whereabouts whilst she resided in London.

Now he only had to decide what to say to her. A thoroughly unique position to find himself, for glib words usually flew from his tongue without thought when dealing with the fairer sex. Yet he sensed Belinda wasn’t like most women. In fact, he feared she might prove to be impervious to the charm that worked so well on other women.

His carriage drew to a halt outside an elegant three-story town home. Leaping from the platform, he bounded up the front steps, using his walking stick to knock against the door.

An ancient and owl-eyed butler appeared, blinking as though he couldn’t quite see straight.

“Is Miss Spencer in?”

The butler appeared taken aback for a moment, before quickly recovering his decorum. “Who may I say is calling, sir?”

“Tell her it is a gentleman who made her acquaintance last evening and was quite taken with her.”

The butler didn’t miss a beat. “Very good, sir. If you’ll just wait here but a moment, I will see if Miss Spencer is in.”

The staid butler shuffled away, and Lucien couldn’t help but wonder at his surprise. Belatedly he realized he’d come empty handed, and wished he’d had the foresight to bring along a gift of some sort. A peace offering if you will.

He leaned against the door, studying his surroundings as he waited. He stood inside an elegantly decorated foyer, though with a faint musty odor that still clung, as though the house had only recently been reopened and aired.

And then he heard her voice, as she approached the foyer from the direction of the back of the house. “Thomas, you must be mistaken. You know I never receive gentlemen callers. Are you sure it’s not a gentleman come looking for Izzy?” Her voice was hushed.

“I’m not mistaken, little miss. My eyesight might be shot, but I still have my hearing, despite what the missus would tell you.”

The butler’s words might be construed as extremely insubordinate, if the note of affection in the tone wasn’t so clear. A smile pulled at Lucien’s lips. It said much about a woman who held the loyalty of her staff. And also solved the mystery of the old man’s surprise. So, Miss Spencer didn’t often receive gentlemen callers? Interesting.

“I’m telling you, Thomas-” her voice trailed off abruptly as she clapped eyes upon him standing in the foyer. “You!”

Lucien couldn’t prevent a grin from slipping out as he straightened himself from the wall. Not one for formalities was his Belinda, apparently.

His Belinda?
Hell, where had that thought come from?

“It’s a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Spencer.” He bowed slightly, using the opportunity as he righted himself to study her. She looked much different than she had at court where she’d been done up in all her finery. Mousy wasn’t quite the word he’d choose to describe her. Nondescript seemed more apt, the way she stood before him now, with her dark blonde hair pulled back severely, and a book held loosely in her hand, as if she’d meant only to come to the door to prove the caller wasn’t for her, then return to her reading. Her prim, pale blue day gown covered her from neck to ankle, leaving everything to the imagination.

But he’d held her in his arms for the briefest of moments on that terrace, and his imagination needed no urging to supply him with the memory of the curves hidden beneath her plain clothing.

She was frowning. From his observance last evening and the two minutes he’d been in her presence today, she did that a lot. It brought out an urge in him to make her smile.

Which was all so very intriguing. Frowning,
nondescript
women were not the type to attract his notice.

“Tsk tsk, Miss Spencer. If this is the way you treat all your visitors, it’s no wonder you receive so few.”

Her cheeks pinkened as it dawned on her he’d overheard her comment to her butler. Amused, he watched her struggle to bring her ire under control. Ah, she was so much fun to tease!

“What is it I can do for you, Lord Lucien?”

He nodded toward a parlor situated off the foyer. “May we speak for a moment?”