Her eyes appeared brighter, glowing with emotion she did not bother to hide. “You showed me kindness that evening at the Kirkwood ball, and I do not think it was as rare as you would have me believe, Lord Searle. Believe me when I say, I understand better than anyone the need to show everyone around you one face while hiding your true face for only yourself. I have lived nearly all my life with the repercussions of youthful folly, and I have been met with more pity and disgust than most. But I have never allowed anyone to see how much that pity and disgust could break me.”
There she went again, playing the angel to his devil. Hell, she even resembled an angel with her white-blonde hair and the silver tones of her gown. She was the loveliest woman he had ever seen, in a way that did not fail to make his breath still whenever he saw her.
But neither her beauty nor her innate benevolence would distract him from his true purpose. He was destined to be the mayhem in this woman’s world. To ravage and shake and tear everything she thought she knew apart. Most of all, he was meant to tear apart the Earl of Rayne, limb by limb, bone by bone, sinew by sinew, until nothing remained.
And he would do it all with a smile until the day he faced Rayne on the field of honor and ended him.
The same smile he pinned upon his lips now. “Believe me when I say I am the last man you ought to feel sorry for, my lady. But please, do get yourself settled. As I said, I have other obligations requiring my attention. I shall return in a few hours.”
He bowed, and then without waiting for her to protest, spun on his heel and left her behind as fast as he damn well could.
*
Leonora jolted fromsleep, blinking and disoriented.
For a moment, she expected the familiar canopy of her bed at Riverford House above her instead of the plaster, rose medallion staring down at her from the shadows. And that was when she recalled she would never again wake in her chamber at Riverford House. That she was no longer Lady Leonora Forsythe but instead, the Marchioness of Searle.
Leonora shivered and blinked, her gaze scanning her surroundings. The remnants of a fire crackled in the grate, for it was unseasonably cold even by London’s late spring standards. Her chamber here at Linley House was decorated sparsely. Mrs. Arbuthnot had kindly informed her that his lordship wished for her to outfit the chamber to her liking.
If onlyhis lordshipcould have seen fit to relay that information himself, it would have made settling into her new home far easier. Instead, her husband had continued the trend of cold remoteness he had exhibited to her in the last few weeks of their madcap courtship, following what had happened at Freddy’s ball. He had left her alone with his servants, disappearing with the promise of return.
Only he had not returned.
Not for dinner.
Not for the two hours following dinner she had spent in tedious frustration, reading a book and working herself into a dudgeon. Not as she readied for bed. And not as she had lain awake, staring at the same rose medallion until it had seemed to swirl before her eyes and come to life as a roaring dragon threatening to burn her alive.
She could not say his defection surprised her, for in the abbreviated amount of time she had known the Marquess of Searle, he had taught her to expect nothing from him. It almost seemed he had expended the only kindness he possessed when he had followed her to the salon and kneaded her tight muscles to ease her pain.
But his defection had hurt her. And infuriated her.
A knock stole through the silence of her chamber then, interrupting the pleasant cracklings of her fire. Firm and abrupt, the knock left her without question of who had come to pay her a call at this time of the evening…perhaps even early morning.
The Marquess of Searle had recalled he had a wife after all.
She frowned, a fresh surge of irritation rising within her, supplanting all else. Because she did not wish to remain abed in her nightclothes, waiting for him to come to her, she threw back her coverlets and rose. Her troublesome leg was extra stiff from all the time she had spent upon her feet during the course of the day, but she was determined. She found her discarded dressing gown, then thrust her arms into the sleeves before catching the belt around her waist and knotting it snugly.
If he wanted her, he would have to fight for her, she decided.
Mama had given her a stern talk about the grim realities awaiting her in the marriage bed.It will give you pain the first time and the next few times as well. You must recall it is your duty. Close your eyes and think of the babes you will have to bless you after suffering your husband’s attentions.
Leonora made her painstaking way toward the door joining her chamber to Searle’s. Her mother’s words still filled her with trepidation, even though Freddy had reassured her she had nothing to fear in the marriage bed. Indeed, her dear friend had, with scarlet cheeks, confided she ought to find it…pleasurable.
She opened the latch on the door, pulling it toward her, and there he stood, the enigma she had married that morning. He was dressed in only a linen shirt and breeches, devoid of stockings and shoes, cravat and coat. His hair was mussed, his expression intent. The Marquess of Searle was every bit as much a stranger to her now as he had been the day he danced the minuet with her.
Nothing had changed.
And yet, everything had.
She was staring at her husband.
He gazed back at her, breaking the silence first. “I thought you were asleep, my lady.”
It was not what she had expected him to say. “Why did you knock if you thought I was asleep?”
His expression remained unreadable, his countenance formed of ice. “Perhaps I hoped to wake you.”
How insincere he sounded. How unfeeling and impenetrable. She longed to shake him. To tear him free of the inner bower he had retreated to from the moment he had asked her to become his wife. For a man who had faced untold depravities and horrors at war, he was certainly cowardly when it came to facing the woman he had married.
