Whirlwind Wedding (29 page)

He somehow found his voice. "You just said you didn't."

"No. I said I cannot have children with
you . .
. but I could with someone else. It was my child with
you
who died."

Everything inside him went rigid. Surely he'd heard her incorrectly.

"Elizabeth, you don't know what you're saying. You cannot possibly mean —"

"I know exactly what I'm saying." Lifting her chin a notch, she regarded him with uncharacteristic coolness. "While I fancied being a duchess, I never dreamed that the title would cost me having children. It's not a price I'm willing to pay."

"What the hell are you talking about?" he bit out. "You had no wish to become a duchess."

She raised her brows. "I'm not a fool, Austin. What woman wouldn't want to be a duchess?"

Her words settled on him like a blanket of ice, freezing him to the bone.

He didn't want to believe what she was saying, but she was clearly serious.

He was stunned. Numb. Bringing his hand to his chest, he rubbed where his heart should be. And felt nothing. All his newfound hopes and dreams slipped away, blowing like ashes in the wind. She didn't love him. Didn't want him. Didn't want his children. Or their marriage. She wanted to share her life with someone else . . .
anyone
else. Just not him.

The numbness suddenly fled and warring emotions pummeled him.

Disillusionment. Anger. And a hurt that cut so deep he felt sliced in two.

Jesus. What a fool I've been.

He forced himself to push the hurt aside, to concentrate on the anger, letting it pump through him, heating his frozen veins.

"I believe I'm beginning to understand" he said in a voice so raw he barely recognized it. "In spite of your protestations to the contrary, you actually had designs on gaining a title. Now you wish to end our marriage, seemingly out of concern for me, but in truth
you
want to be free to marry someone else so you can bear children.
His
children."

Her face paled at his tone, but her gaze remained steady on his. "Yes. I want our marriage annulled."

Fury and gut-wrenching hurt collided in him, rocking his foundation.

God damn it, what a superb actress his wife was! Her concern, her caring . .

. it was all a facade. All this time he'd thought her sincere and trustworthy, innocent and guileless, and most laughable of all, unselfish. She was no better than the fortune-hunting females who had dogged his heels for years. He could not believe she had the nerve, the
gall,
to stand in front of him and claim she wanted to end their marriage for
his
happiness when what she really wanted was another husband for
herself.

But what fueled his rage to the boiling point was the thought of her with another man. That image filled him with such violence, he nearly choked.

Yet he welcomed the rage, for without it, the raw hurt would simply overwhelm him.

"Look at me," he ordered in a voice that dripped ice.

When she continued to stare toward the window, he grabbed her chin and forced her head around. "Look at me, damn it." She met his gaze with a cool detachment that infuriated him. There was nothing in her expression to indicate she was the woman he'd made love with only hours ago. How had she hidden this side of herself from him? How the hell had she fooled him so completely? It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to shake her.

"You missed your calling, my dear. You could have been superb on the stage. You certainly had me convinced that you were all things good and decent. But clearly you are nothing more than a common schemer and accomplished liar. Your refusal to be a proper wife to me is certainly ample grounds for me to rid myself of you." He dropped her chin as if she'd scorched him.

Her face turned to chalk. "You'll agree to an annulment?"

"No, Elizabeth. I shall
demand
an annulment—as soon as I've ascertained that you are not already carrying my child. For the next two months you shall reside at my estate just outside London. That should be sufficient time to determine if you are pregnant or not."

Stark fear slashed across her features. She obviously hadn't considered that the damage might have already been done. "And if I'm not?"

"Then our marriage will end."

"What if I am . . . with child?"

"Then we'll be forced to endure this sham marriage. Whether you choose to stay or leave after the baby's birth—"

"I could never abandon my child."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "Really? You're certainly willing to abandon your commitment to our marriage. Given that fact, I'm not sure what you are capable of."

Something flashed in her eyes, and for a moment he thought she meant to argue, but she merely pressed her lips together.

"One more thing," he said. "I shall expect you to behave with the utmost propriety during the next two months. You will speak of this to no one and you will do
nothing
to bring shame upon me or my family. Do you understand? I'll not have my wife bearing some other man's child."

Again he thought he detected a flash of raw pain in her eyes, but she merely lifted her chin and said "I will not be unfaithful."

"You're damned right, you won't. And now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get dressed. I'll make the necessary arrangements for your stay in the country."

"What about me helping you find William?"

"If you see anything else, send me a message. I shall conduct my own investigation from here. Without you."

Striding across the room, he opened the adjoining door to her bedchamber. She stood still for several heartbeats, her gaze riveted on his, her expression unreadable. Then she swiftly crossed the room and walked into her chamber. Austin closed the door after her and very deliberately turned the lock into place. The click reverberated through the sudden silence.

Alone in his chamber, he braced his fists against the door and closed his eyes against the emotions battling inside him, stabbing him, consuming him, overwhelming him until he wanted to scream. Half of him was furious. Coldly, darkly furious.

The other half of him hurt so badly he nearly fell to his knees. There was an empty hole in his chest where his heart had beaten only minutes before.

Before Elizabeth had torn it out with her bare hands and sliced it in two.

Before he'd met her, he'd been only half a man, existing yet not living.

She'd made him whole with her sweetness and innocence, laughter and love . . . but they didn't really exist. He'd never thought a woman would want him for himself, but he'd believed Elizabeth had. He'd never thought he'd fall in love, but he had with a heart and soul he'd thought gone forever.

Walking to the window, he pulled the curtain aside, and looked with unseeing eyes out the window at a world suddenly gone bleak.

She'd made him love her.

And it was all an illusion.

Until Elizabeth, he'd never carried around hopes and dreams for his future. He'd been consumed by the secrets he carried inside and had moved from one meaningless affair to another, from one club to the next, from one boring party to another.

But she'd changed him. She'd turned him from that cynical, detached lonely man into someone with hope for the future . . . a future filled with happiness, a loving wife, and fine, healthy children.

And now all his newly found hopes and dreams were gone. Vanished.

Shattered. She'd said she couldn't bear to lose someone else she loved—yet she was willing to lose him. And that left no doubt what her feelings toward him were.

God Almighty, if he didn't hurt so damn bad if he wasn't so racked with pain and anguish, he could almost laugh. The "incomparable, invulnerable"

Duke of Bradford brought to his knees by a woman . . . a woman he'd thought was the answer to all his dreams. Dreams he hadn't even known he had.

Instead she'd turned out to be his worst nightmare.

Elizabeth stared numbly at the door Austin had just closed and listened to the lock fall into place with a click that echoed in her mind like a death knell.

Just as she wondered if she'd ever feel anything again, pain ripped through her, exploding everywhere, searing her very skin. Clapping her hands over her mouth to contain a cry of anguish, she sank to her knees on the floor.

Never, ever, would she forget the look on his face, the gentle tenderness her words had turned into bitterness; the warmth changed into icy indifference; the caring into loathing.

Dear God she loved him so much. So much that she couldn't bear to give him a child who would die. She'd never make him understand that he would blame himself for their daughter's death, and that his guilt and anguish would destroy him. That he would never recover.

She'd paid with her soul to offer him his freedom. But the cost to her did not matter. An honorable man like Austin would balk at ending their union, would have consigned himself to enduring a lifetime with her and a childless marriage. A celibate marriage. He deserved happiness, a proper wife, children to love. She would have said anything to convince him. And she had.

A bitter laugh erupted from her throat as she recalled her words.
I
fancied
being a duchess . . . I cannot have children with you . . . but I could with someone
else. It was my child with
you
who died.

Those lies had cost her everything. The man she loved. Children. She could never,
would
never, be with any other man. She'd nearly choked on the words
I fancied being a duchess.
She'd said them as a last resort, when it became clear that he wasn't going to accept her decision unless she extinguished every bit of caring he had for her. And now he believed her to be nothing more than a scheming fortune hunter and a liar. The effort of keeping her anguish hidden, of making him believe she'd wanted a title, wanted a life without him, had nearly killed her.

But then he'd made it so much worse with his declaration of love.
I love
you, Elizabeth.
She couldn't contain the tortured sob that rose from her chest. How much more pain could she bear before she simply shattered?

To have longed for the precious gift of his love, to have been given that gift, then to have had to destroy it. . . to see that love fade from his eyes, replaced by hurt, then anger and disgust . . . Dear God how was she going to survive this?

And what if it was all for naught?

What if she were already pregnant?

Elizabeth snipped fragrant lilac blooms from a leafy bush along the perimeter of the formal garden at Wesley Manor, the country estate just outside London that had been her home for the past three weeks. She tried to concentrate on the task at hand so as not to cut her fingers, but it was nearly impossible.

Three weeks had passed since her confrontation with Austin.

Three weeks since he'd sent her here, sent her away from him with nothing more than a terse note:
You will send a message immediately should
you see something or when you know if yo 're with child.

But after three weeks she hadn't had a single vision . . . hadn't felt anything but heartache. And she still didn't know if she was with child.

Every night she lay in her lonely bed, filled with anxiety, her hands resting on her stomach, trying to sense if a child grew within her, but all she saw was darkness. Unrelenting darkness.

These had been the longest, loneliest three weeks of her life.

Yet the alternative, living in the same house as Austin, facing him every day, trying to hide her misery and live the lie she'd created would have proven impossible. She was much better off here.

Even so, the anguish that was her constant companion showed no signs of abating. She tried to keep herself busy, to keep her thoughts occupied so as not to torture herself wondering what he was doing. Or whom he was doing it with.

But no matter how many flowers she picked how much lilac water she distilled how many hours she spent reading or roaming the grounds, nothing eased the ache in her heart. She tried to console herself with the knowledge that her actions had spared Austin the torment of losing a child and the emptiness of a cold marriage bed but nothing could erase the agony that clawed at her every time she pictured his face.

A memory of him filled her mind and turned her blood cold. Him staring at her, as he had in those final moments, with loathing in his eyes.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes and she impatiently wiped at them with her gloved fingers. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't cry today.

How long would it take before she could make it through an entire day without crying? She almost laughed. Dear God how long before she could make it through an entire
hour
without crying?

"There you are," came Robert's jolly voice from behind her. "Caroline and I had nearly given you up for lost."

Dismay filled her and she quickly swiped at her eyes. Adopting what she hoped was a cheerful expression, she turned and smiled at her approaching brother-in-law.

Robert saw her face and his footsteps nearly faltered. By damn, she'd been crying again. In spite of her smile, there was no hiding the red-rimmed eyes that spoke so eloquently of sleepless nights and profound sadness.

A spurt of anger shot through him. What the devil was wrong with his brother? Couldn't Austin see how miserable she was? No, of course he couldn't—he was in London. Three weeks ago, Austin had asked him to accompany Elizabeth, Caroline, and their mother to Wesley Manor, explaining that he didn't want them to return to Bradford Hall until the case of the Runner's death was solved.