Provocative in Pearls (27 page)

“I hope you will never deceive me like that again, Verity.”

“They would have never agreed to meet me if you were with me.”

“
I don’t give a damn
. As I said back there, you are worthless to them, so their information is worthless to you.”

Her head bowed. He wasn’t fooled. He waited for it, and she did not disappoint him.

“It was not supposed to be this way.”

“No, it was not. You were supposed to marry one of them. It is why you were taught the secret.”

“Not one of them. Not necessarily. But, yes, as I have said, my father expected my husband to be in control of the works.”

“Did he decree it should be this Michael, about whom you have been so concerned?” For all his annoyance, he faltered on the question, and waited for the answer with a peculiar sort of dread.

“Michael and I were children when my father died. My concern has been for Katy, and I ask about her son because I think my cousin did Michael harm.”

“I think it was more than that. I want the truth now. I want you to swear it. Did you—?”

“If you need me to swear, do you trust my word enough to believe my sworn oath?”

“I don’t know, damn it. It is the best I can get, though, and will have to do.” He approached his question differently, so she would see how it did not come out of pique alone. “When Katy first saw you at her door, there was shock, then grief.”

“Not grief. Tears, yes, but not grief.”

“I have seen her in my head many times since, and it was grief, I am sure. I saw her face during that embrace. You did not. Her words to you, about her child—I thought she spoke to you, but now I think not.”

“Then who—”

“Her son. Her poor child. She thought he was
with you
these two years, Verity. She thought he had left, to join you when you ran away. She never thought you were dead, but instead somewhere with her son. Your arrival here proved that was not so. Her worry and grieving did not end when she opened that door. It began.”

She scoffed at his view of it, but he could tell she was seeing that afternoon again in her own head.

“Did you also expect him to run away to join you, Verity?”

Again that insidious dread, heavy and visceral. Too much like grief. Too much like fear. He hated it, and the weakness it implied, and drew on the rumbling anger to obscure it.

“I have wondered since I found you alive whether that was the real reason you left. Now, as you worry so for him, and try to learn his fate, I think that his failure to join you is the reason you are so sure ill has befallen him.”

“It was not like that between Michael and me.”

“Wasn’t it? When you slipped away to see Katy, you also saw him. The friend of your childhood became the friend of the girl.” He glared, as another memory came to him. “That first kiss. It was him, damn it.
Wasn’t it?
”

She looked away, but her rising color said he was right. A new emotion grew within his fury. An unexpected one, which fulfilled the dread and gave it meaning. Disappointment. Disappointment so intense that even the anger could not hide it.

She had loved this young man, and still did. She had expected to marry him. She had agreed to another marriage to save him, and had run away to be with him. Her current marriage and station and husband were parts of a life she never wanted and would never want.
It is not supposed to be this way
.

He turned away as the fullness of it settled on him. He laughed at himself inwardly. Hell, she had told him, hadn’t she? Point by point, she had explained most of it, and offered him a way to be free of her. So why this . . . dismay, and sense of loss? None of this really mattered, after all.

“I did not leave because of a pact to join him, or he me. I swear this. On my father’s name. I left for the reasons I told you. I have been concerned for Michael because it was he whom Bertram promised to harm, and whom Nancy said had been harmed anyway, and I need to know what became of him.”

“So you married me to protect
him
?”

“He is Katy’s son. Her family. Her breadwinner. I have known him my whole life.
Of course
I did what I had to in order to protect him. For all the good it did.”

He stepped toward her, to speak his mind clearly without fifteen feet separating them. As soon as he moved, she stiffened and backed up, to keep that gulf as broad as possible.

Fear again. In her eyes and pose. Of him. Of the anger she had seen on the road near Katy’s house. Of whatever she saw in him now.

She was not lying, but not being truthful either. She was putting a better face on it because she feared him, and feared what he would do if she admitted that she loved this young man.

His mind turned to that other suspicion that had become more certain when he entered this chamber.

“Verity, when you said you were coerced, before the threat to this man and Katy, what did you mean?”

The change in topic confused her. She did not answer at once. Her big eyes watched him, but that closed blankness entered them.

“Did your cousin beat you, Verity?”

She shrugged. “It is common with children. Were you spared?”

“Tutors and schoolmasters used canes, that is true, but I did not live in eternal fear of it. Did you, those years with Bertram?”

She stood abruptly. “I do not want to talk about this. It is long in the past.”

“Is it? You looked like a woman who assumed I was going to hit her when I walked in this door. I have given you no cause to think that.”

“That man. You said that you almost—”

“I was drunk, he insulted me, and he was a man. And it was wrong. I ask you again, Verity. Did your cousin ever raise a hand to you?”

“Why do you ask this now? It was years ago. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I think it has much to do with me. Tell me.”

His insistence distressed her. She would not look at him. Her gaze darted around. Her expression twitched and her eyes carried flashes of anger and fear and . . . loathing.

“He did not do it often. He let Nancy do it for him.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “She hated that he had not received more in the legacy. He hated that I existed. I could not please them. I could not—”

A sob choked the words. She covered her eyes and turned away. “God forgive me, I wanted to kill them toward the end. I still do when I see them. They took pleasure in my suffering.” She managed the furious words between gasps for composure. “I barely dared to breathe in that house. I could not permit myself any joy. I was within view of all that I knew, in a house that was mine, yet separated from who I had been.”

His anger had hardly disappeared, but there was little left for her now. He expected some would return soon enough, when he contemplated what he had learned today about Michael, but her distress made it insignificant at the moment.

He went to her and turned her into his embrace. She broke, and sobbed with strangled, frantic sounds, as if the tears alone could not relieve what was inside her.

He held her while it poured out, trying hard not to picture a younger Verity hiding her nature and burying her presence and hoping there would be no whipping or beating this day.

She calmed. Her breathing returned to normal. He patted her head and spoke before he released her. “Did he know? Was Bertram aware of his wife’s treatment of you?”

She nodded. “When she was trying to force me to agree to the marriage, he would hand her the cane.”

He kissed her head. “I must go now. I will end this conversation as I began it, Verity. Please do not leave this property without me.”

 

 

T
he grooms had not finished unsaddling his horse, so it was quick work to make him ready again. Hawkeswell swung up and headed toward Oldbury at a gallop.

Dusk was falling when he presented himself at the house on the hill overlooking the ironworks. The servant took his card away, then hurried back to escort him to the master.

The Thompsons had posed themselves in their drawing room. Verity’s drawing room, if one wanted to be accurate. Hawkeswell gave them both a good look while they expressed delight with his call, peculiar though the hour might be.

“I learned something very shocking today, Thompson. I am hoping you can shed some light on it,” Hawkeswell said, setting aside his hat and whip.

“I would be honored to light any path for you, sir.”

“I learned from Verity today that in the course of trying to convince her to accept my proposal, your wife beat her with a cane many times, and that you not only permitted it, but encouraged it.”

Nancy’s face fell in shock. Bertram gaped at the accusation.

“She is vile to say such a thing,” Nancy said.

“Are you saying it is a lie?”

“She was willful and stubborn, Lord Hawkeswell, simply for the sake of it. She had no true objection to the marriage. What young lady could?”

“You still have not said whether it is a lie, Mrs. Thompson. Did you, or did you not, use a cane on Verity when she lived under your husband’s protection?”

“Only when she was disobedient.”

“For example, when she would not obey the command to marry me?”

Silence rang in response.

Bertram sputtered. His heavy eyelids actually rose to reveal his anger. “See here, Lord Hawkeswell, I do not like the way—”

“Mrs. Thompson, it would be a good idea for you to leave your husband and me alone now.”

Head high and expression haughty, she swept a dramatic turn and left the drawing room.

Bertram stuck his hand in his waistcoat and puffed up his chest. “I do not take well your coming here and speaking thus to my wife, sir.”

“I only asked her some questions about a matter much on my mind.”

“A little late, don’t you think, to be worrying about my cousin’s state of mind in accepting you? You did not care much about it then, so why should it prey on your mind now?”

“I had no idea that you had beaten her into it then.”

“You hardly cared to find out one way or another. Let us be plain, sir. Her fortune was all that mattered to you, and it was not in your interest to know the particulars regarding how that money found its way into your purse. You left that to me, and I saw to it.”

Hawkeswell’s temper had not been in the best form for hours now. Mrs. Thompson’s demeanor, and now Bertram’s accusations, opened the lock that held back what had become a rather deep flow with many currents. That Bertram touched on more truth than Hawkeswell liked did not encourage restraint.

“It is in my interest to know now, Thompson. Your cousin is my wife and responsibility, however badly that came about.”

“Don’t be blaming us that she has given you trouble from the first day. We had no difficulty handling her.”

“With the threat of the lash or your hand or fist? That is not handling. That is breaking. You were her guardian. You were supposed to protect her. Not misuse her.”

Bertram’s face twisted in a sneer. “I broke no law. She was fed and clothed and lived in this house. I had to be reminded of Joshua’s betrayal every day by her presence in our family. I have nothing to apologize for regarding her, and I’ll not be upbraided by
you
because of a belatedly awakened sentimentality. I delivered her fortune to you as promised, so you have no complaints.”

Hawkeswell reached out, grabbed Bertram by his coat, and pulled him close. “You are a scoundrel,” he snarled into Bertram’s astonished face. “You hit a defenseless girl. What kind of man are you?”

“I did not often! Ask her!”

“Once was too often, you coward, and you allowed your bitch of a wife to beat her regularly.”

“I was within my rights. She was rebellious and disobedient. I was her guardian. There is naught you can do about it.”

“You are wrong there. I can do
this
.” He swung his fist and slammed it into Bertram’s face. Bertram’s head snapped back. His legs buckled.

“You are mad! Insane!” Bertram held his face and staggered, trying to stay on his feet. “I heard about you, about you being quick to engage in fisticuffs and being of a violent temper. Well, I won’t stand for it. I will—”

“You heard about me?” He thought he might really go mad now. “You believed me to be a violent brute, and you still gave her to me?
Damn you to hell
.”

Bertram cowered and held up his arms to protect his face. Then his gaze slid sideways. He lunged, and grabbed Hawkeswell’s horsewhip. An instant later the sting of the whip landed on Hawkeswell’s shoulders and arms. Sneering with hateful victory, Bertram swung the whip again.

Hawkeswell grabbed the whip’s lash as it fell and jerked it out of Bertram’s grasp. Furious now, terrified beyond sense, Bertram flailed with his fists and landed a blow.

Hawkeswell’s head roared in a way it had not in years. He defended himself, but every time he hit Bertram, it was really Verity for whom he evened the score.

K
nocks and calls woke Verity. Someone was pounding on a door, yelling Hawkeswell’s name, demanding his attention. A woman.

Verity rose and peeked out her own door. Colleen stood in the narrow corridor, her white undressing gown all that was visible.

She pounded again and called his name in a furious voice.

Verity slipped out of her room and watched. Hawkeswell’s door opened. Enough light flooded out to indicate a lamp still burned. He had not been sleeping.

The door stood open and Colleen strode in.

Verity walked the twenty paces to his door and looked in. Hawkeswell was still clothed in trousers and shirt. Colleen faced him, hands on hips, face distorted with emotion.

“Have you gone mad?” Anger stressed her voice so it sounded almost like a hiss. “Is it your goal to be known in these parts as a man without good judgment, who must be avoided by decent people?”