It was almost too horrible to conceive of such a frightening end for an innocent young woman. The grief visited upon the family was doubly understandable under these circumstances.
And what of the striking similarity of these bruises to Lavinia’s? In the anguish and grief over his wife’s death nearly eight years ago, had he somehow missed an important clue? Was it even possible to consider that Lavinia’s sudden, shocking death had not been an accident, but rather a deliberate act of murder?
Yet perhaps the most chilling aspect was young Harold’s mention of two other women who had recently come to a similar end. If there were truly a connection between the deaths of these young shop girls, would more now follow?
“John Coachman wishes to know if you want to return to the house or if you prefer to be dropped at your club.” Meredith’s gentle voice cut through the marquess’s musings.
“I have no specific plans for the day.” Trevor frowned. “Is there anywhere you wish to go? Bond Street, perhaps, for some shopping?”
Meredith sighed. “After the morning we have had, I am hardly in the mood for something as frivolous as shopping.”
Trevor rapped on the roof and the coach slowed. He lowered the window and bellowed up to the driver, “Take us out to the park. Her ladyship and I would enjoy a slow turn around the paths.” Trevor glanced over at Meredith. “Unless you object?”
“This is a most unfashionably early hour to be driving in the park, my lord.”
“You should know by now that I never like to follow the dictates of fashion.” Trevor watched his wife for a moment. “Therefore I would very much appreciate if you would please address me by my Christian name. You are so formal at times I half expect you to start curtsying when I enter a room.”
Meredith’s eyes flared and Trevor felt a jolt of satisfaction. Good. At least he had managed to wedge a crack in her infernal composure. It was starting to get on his nerves.
“I was under the impression you preferred formality between us. Your behavior,Trevor,since our marriage has certainly told me you wish to have as little to do with me as possible. I was merely following your wishes.”
“You have rarely, if ever, followed the dictates of any man,” the marquess replied. “You do it to annoy me. Or garner my attention?”
She almost leaped across the coach in protest. “Balderdash! I own that I can be stubborn and foolhardy at times, but I would never stoop to such unsavory tactics and push myself on a man who does not want me. You proved that point most admirably last night in your bedchamber.”
“I would like to explain about last night, Meredith.”
“That is hardly necessary.” Her eyes became slits of blue outrage. “You did not wish me in your bed. I understood that very clearly.”
“You were mistaken.”
She shook her head and gazed steadily into his face. “Since our marriage you have treated me with nothing but apathy and disinterest. Or do you deny you have shown more deference to the servants than to me?”
“I had my reasons,” he said.
She looked caught off guard by his admission. “They must be fascinating.”
Trevor smiled wryly. Even while he was trying to distance himself from her, his admiration for her spirit and strength grew. Most women had been taught from the cradle to placate a man. Apparently this was a lesson Meredith never took to, for she showed not a bit of apprehension at challenging him.
It only furthered his opinion that she deserved far more than he could give her. It was time for him to be blunt.
“Sex between a man and a woman can often be a physical release for one or both of them. Nothing more. It is not, as the poets suggest, woven together in an unbreakable bond with love.”
Meredith had ceased squirming in her seat and was now regarding him with a look akin to amazement. Encouraged, Trevor continued.
“And yet there is a sort of madness connected with sexual desire and fulfillment that can lead a person to forget everything that matters, everything they hold dear within themselves. They reach a point where they would say anything, do anything, risk anything to please and pleasure their partner.”
“Is that not love?”
“No,” he answered vehemently. “Many often confuse it with love, and therein lies the tragedy. This sexual obsession is a momentary flash. It burns fierce and bright and menacingly hot and then fades and fizzles just as quickly, leaving behind hurt feelings, anguish, even heartbreak for one partner.”
“Me?” she whispered.
“I fear so,” he replied, though in the back of his mind the voice of truth shouted,Liar. You are just as susceptible to this heartbreak as she.
“If you find I have been distant and cautious these last weeks, ’tis because I fear if we let passion rule, you and I will find ourselves in this hopeless situation.”
“If you knew this to be the predicament, why did you marry me?” she asked.
