In their bedroom, Giles searched through his trunks to find the photograph that Venia had sent to him as a reminder of their affair. The image showed a darkly beautiful, voluptuously figured lady dressed in the height of fashion. Once, he had believed her to be the most sensually arousing woman he’d ever known, yet the image did nothing for him now. He only had eyes for Louisa, who was the perfect package of looks, intelligence, daring, and heart.
Giles did not bother to compare the two women, for therewasno comparison between them. Venia had been his first lover, but Louisa would be his true love, his forever love, even if this confession meant the end of their marriage.
She might very well leave him after this.
He handed the photograph of his mistress over to his wife.
Louisa studied the image curiously. “She’s lovely.” Turning the picture in the lamplight, she read the signature at the bottom of the card,“ ‘Lady Venia Herbert.’ ”
He waited while her clever mind worked out the shameful details—Venia was the name he’d uttered when he’d been drunk, and Herbert was the man to whom he’d owed a fortune.
“You’re entangled with these people…”
Giles nodded, for that was an understatement if ever he’d heard one. “Venia was my boyhood playmate. There was a time when I hoped to marry her, but my parents’ recklessness ensured that could never happen. I’d been too poor to keep proof over Venia’s head, and she rightly wanted better for herself.” He slumped against the bedpost, explaining, “Lady Venia Herbert is my lover, and I am so sorry for the other night. I did not mean to call you by her name.”
Such a slip of the tongue was unforgivable.
That drunken night, Louisa had accused him of engaging in an affair, though she’d wrongly assumed that it was Madame de Roubernon who’d captured his lust. In truth, the sin went much deeper than that.
“Venia is the only woman I’d ever been with,” he confessed,” aside from you, of course. She is a married lady with three small children. Her husband, Herbert, is very rich and fully aware of my relationship with his wife. I suspect he bought my debts to secure my fidelity, for he will do anything to keep her happy. To preserve the status quo, so to speak.”
Louisa frowned at this knowledge. An English upper-class wife mightn’t bat an eye at such amenage,yet a young and idealistic American girl must be horrified to learn of her husband’s infidelity—and the willful infidelity of his lover, and his lover’s husband.
Bed-hopping was a national sport in Britain when in London where morality was lax and in the countryside where there was nothing much better to do.
“Do you think of her,” asked Louisa at last, “when you’re with me?”
“No,” he answered honestly and emphatically. He had not fantasized about Venia when he was coupling with Louisa. His wife commanded his full attention and he had provided it.
She returned the photograph to him. Her voice was careful and even when she said, “I’m sorry that you had to give up the woman you loved.”
“I never intended to give her up. I was supposed to reunite with her in London as soon as you were confined in the country. The goal was to get my heir on you and keep you busy so that Venia and I could carry on together as we have done for almost the whole of our lives.”
He watched Louisa blink back tears. Her bottom lip trembled as she wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself. “Did you ever intend to make a go of this, our marriage?”
“Honestly, no,” Giles said, hating himself. How dared he hurt this innocent, trusting woman? “But that was before I knew you—truly knew you. I meant every word I said to you earlier. I want to make a life with you, Louisa.” His words sounded empty and hollow, though he was earnest in his promise. Suddenly, he remembered this morning’s task. “Here, read this letter, and then you’ll see.”
He fetched the letter he’d penned to Venia and offered it to his wife. She extended one shaking hand to lift the sheet of stationery to her gaze. She read his words, learning how he had struggled with his disloyalty towardher, his wife.
Louisa had been the wronged party, kept ignorant throughout the six months of his courtship scheme. She could not have discovered the true nature of their marriage until they were back in England and she was probably pregnant and could be trapped at Granborough to birth his heir.
But Giles had lost his nerve.
He’d fallen in love.
“I adore you, Louisa. I never counted on falling for you, but once I held you, I knew I couldn’t let you go. You have made me appreciate my vows in a way I’d never considered before. I wasn’t merely pledging myself to an heiress, and you weren’t only selling yourself for a title. There are hearts and happiness at state, and yours has become so very precious to me. Please trust in me to make you happy, Louisa. You’ll see I want nothing more in this world.”
Trust was the most dangerous part of a marriage, he realized. Placing one’s faith in another imperfect person, praying they stood by and supported you through the easy days and the hard. With Louisa, the choice was simple, for he already knew she would fight for their marriage. Giles took his strength from her, swearing never to forget how she transformed a broken-hearted, mercenary, non-believer of love into the most ardent, steadfast,lovingspouse.
There was no one else in the world for him.
Now, he faced the panic of losing her.
“I don’t want Venia,” he said. “I want you. I don’t want to lose you, for you’re the most important person in the world to me. I love you, Louisa, and I beg you not to allow the old me to destroy that which the new me cherishes.”
She handed him the letter. “Will you be posting this when we land in Liverpool?”
“Yes,” he said.
