To Wed A Viscount (13 page)

“Out? Where? 'Tis the middle of the night.”

“I don't know. I need time to think, time to decide.” He cast her a look of pure disgust. “I need time alone, away from you.”

After delivering those scathing words, Griffin made for the door, turned the handle, and vanished into the night.

Faith spent the remainder of the night in total misery. Tears seemed a useless commodity, though she shed them copiously, until it felt as if there were none left within her soul. The coming dawn brought little comfort. She lay alone in the massive bed, cold and heart sore, her ears straining in the half-light of morning.

There were no sounds emanating from the connecting sitting room, and her heart ached with misery, wondering where Griffin had spent the remainder of the night.

Finally, as the late-morning sunshine flooded the room, Faith's maid appeared.

“Good morning, my lady.” The maid came close to the bed and dipped a small curtsy. “I've brought hot water, scented soap, and fresh towels. Are you ready to begin your morning toilet?”

The servant's cheerful voice implied that she found nothing amiss, but Faith knew she was an intelligent woman. Surely she had to be wondering why the bridegroom had so completely disappeared. Or perhaps the servant had already seen him downstairs in the taproom?

The thought made Faith shiver, but at least offered the hope that he had not left the inn and returned either to London or gone home. Without her.

Gingerly Faith sat up in bed. Pushing aside her embarrassment she asked softly, “Have you spoken with Lord Dewhurst this morning?”

The maid looked confused. “No, my lady. I have not seen him, nor his valet. Do you want a message delivered to his lordship?”

“N-no, thank you.” Feeling more foolish than ever, Faith sank back down among the pillows. In truth, she wished she could curl into a tiny ball, bury herself beneath the thick coverlet, and simply disappear.

“They don't have a proper bathing tub or else I would have insisted on a hot bath,” the maid informed her. “I hope this warm sponge bath will do.”

“ 'Tis fine,” Faith said with a grimace. With difficulty, she managed to drag herself out of bed, deciding it was probably better not to have a steaming tub filled with water awaiting her. She might be tempted to drown herself.

Faith allowed the maid to sponge her from head to toe with a wet cloth, then dry her briskly. Normally she would be embarrassed to have such a personal task performed by a servant, but considering the great mess that her life had suddenly become, this event ranked very low on the list of concerns.

“Would you like to wear the same traveling ensemble from yesterday or shall I press a fresh gown from your trunk?”

“It doesn't matter,” Faith said. She heaved a listless sigh. “You decide.”

The maid nodded. She brushed the gown Faith had worn the previous day, gathered clean undergarments from the trunk, and helped her dress.

“Shall I have your breakfast brought into the sitting room, my lady?” the maid inquired, as she caught the thick mass of hair at the nape of Faith's neck, lifted it, and twisted it into a knot.

The thought of food made her stomach turn. Who could possibly eat at a time like this? Faith glanced in the mirror, watching solemnly as the maid set the knot of hair in the middle of her head and added pins to the handiwork to keep it from tumbling down.

She sighed again, remembering how Griffin had specifically asked that her hair be left unbraided last night. It seemed to please him, and he had stroked the silky tresses lovingly, repeatedly running the strands through his fingers like they were grains of sand.

“Breakfast?” the maid asked again.

“The sitting room will do nicely for breakfast,” Faith replied.

She doubted she would be able to swallow a bite, but at least it would get her out of the bedchamber. The bedchamber that held so many intense memories. Of unfounded joy and ecstasy. And helpless fear and regret.

All too soon, Faith found herself seated at the cozy sitting-room table, with a veritable feast spread before her. Insisting she could serve herself, she dismissed the innkeeper's minions. Needing something to occupy her hands, she poured a steaming cup of hot chocolate and let it sit untouched in the cup until it grew tepid.

Where is he?
Idly, Faith twisted the fine gold and ruby-studded band she now wore around and around her finger.
Is he ever coming back? Or does he just plan to leave me here? Alone?

Mentally Faith began to calculate the amount of coin on her person. She had no idea of the cost of these fine accommodations and worried that the meager sum she carried would not be enough. Of course, Griffin might have already settled the bill. Even without that burden to contend with, Faith knew she did not have enough funds to hire a carriage to return her to Mayfair Manor.

There might be enough to pay for passage on the mail coach, but the notion of spending hours cramped inside a stuffy vehicle with strangers left Faith feeling queasy. She supposed as a last resort word could be sent to Merry for help, for London was not a great distance away.

Yet Faith resisted that final, ultimate admission of failure. For now.

The sound of a creaking door interrupted her gloomy musings. It swung open abruptly, and Faith froze at the sight of an elegant, polished boot crossing the threshold.

Griffin Sainthill, Viscount Dewhurst swaggered into the room as if he owned it. He was freshly shaven and wore an immaculate ensemble of clothing, complete with a costly morning coat of deep blue that Faith had never seen.

From the delicate loop of his white cravat to the gleaming shine of his Hessian boots, Griffin presented a picture of polished elegance. Yet this fashionable demeanor was very much at odds with the raw virility emanating from his every step.

Faith's breath caught in her lungs.
He has returned!
Perhaps only briefly, perhaps just to tell her that he was leaving her permanently, yet the practical side of Faith's nature was relieved to see him. At least now she would not be left to wonder and worry and speculate. She would finally know her fate.

Faith drew a breath. There was so much to say, so much to explain. But where to begin? She licked her lips and gathered her courage, yet one quick glance at her husband's closed expression left her caught in a strangling sense of panic.

The silence between them lengthened, becoming so complete it was terrifying. Griffin crossed the room to stand beside the table. Faith tilted her neck up to stare at him and tried valiantly to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I see that breakfast has been served.” He flashed a wide smile, then snatched a piece of crispy bacon from the platter resting in the center of the table and popped it into his mouth. “I hope you have saved some of the choice dishes for me. Or have you greedily consumed them all?”

Faith smiled wanly, not knowing what to make of his strange mood. He was teasing her, with that wicked grin and flirting banter, but there was no merriment in his eyes, no mischief on his handsome face.

After chomping down on his bacon, Griffin took the seat opposite hers. He filled a plate and proceeded to consume a hearty breakfast. For perhaps the first time in her life, Faith felt stricken to silence. The awful quiet ensued, though Griffin gave no outward indication that it concerned him.

She noted with some degree of envy that he took seconds of several dishes. When the viscount finally ceased eating, he exhaled with blatant satisfaction and sat back in his chair.

“Shall I ring for more food?” Faith asked. “I'm sure the innkeeper would be flattered to see the justice you have done to the meal.”

“Justice?” Griffin raised an eyebrow. “Ah, so now you are concerned about justice. How interesting.”

Immediately Faith realized her mistake. She felt the remnants of her slight smile fade away. She had been deluding herself, assuming because he had no difficulty eating he was in a congenial frame of mind. In her nervousness, she had completely underestimated the degree of his anger.

Even with the barrier of a solid wood table between them, she could now sense the tightly coiled impatience inside him. Nervously, Faith lifted her cup, but the pungent odor of chocolate made her stomach heave. She returned it to the table without taking even a small sip.

“Is there something you wish to say to me, Griffin?” she finally asked, breaking the tension she could no longer tolerate.

“There is much I have to say, my lady wife.” His smoky eyes were suddenly ablaze. “Yet first, I believe that you have some explaining to do.”

Faith felt the tremor snake through her body. The brilliant sunshine that heated the room brought her no ease. She felt horribly cold, chilled to the very bone, for this cold came from deep inside her.

She stared at him. For a moment she was too afraid to think, let alone speak. She noticed, for the first time, the icy coldness behind his silvery eyes, the harsh set of his mouth, the steel in his voice.

She closed her eyes tightly, briefly, then looked directly at him. “I had meant to tell you the truth once I realized that you believed Neville had compromised me.”

“Oh, really?”

The scorn in his voice nearly caused her to flinch. Griffin's handsome, hard features blurred before her eyes. Faith felt the sting of emotion as tears threatened, but she would not let them fall. She knew how much he despised a woman's tears. The very least she owed him was to spare him that unsavory sight.

“I did try to tell you,” she blurted out loudly. His brow raised at her outburst. Faith took another breath. “I only realized a few hours before the ceremony why you had decided to marry me. I was shocked and confused, uncertain of what to do. Eventually I decided it would be best to have a private word with you the moment I arrived at the church.”

“Apparently you changed your mind,” he said dryly. “Why?”

Faith hung her head. “I lost my nerve, and by the time I regained it, the ceremony had begun. I found myself in a haze, lost in a strange dream. Before I knew fully what was happening, we had spoken our vows. I had pledged myself to you. The deed was done. You were smiling at me, seeming so pleased. Everyone was hugging and congratulating us, and then later at the wedding supper there was so much laughter and merriment. I suppose I could not bear to see it all end.”

“You did mention at supper that you needed to speak with me,” Griffin admitted grudgingly. He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Concerning this matter?”

“Yes.” Faith knew she had been utterly mad to give in to the temptation of waiting to say anything. But she had wanted this marriage so badly. “I also attempted to tell you in the coach on the way to the inn last night. But once again I could not find my voice.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you saying that you did not plan this from the first? You did not intentionally deceive me when I came to London in search of you?”

“Is that what you think?”

“How could I not?” He shrugged his shoulders expressively. “Your need was great. Without me for a husband you would lose your beloved Mayfair Manor. I cannot fault you for falling to temptation to make a fool of me when the opportunity arose, as much as I despise your treacherous methods.”

Faith crossed her arms protectively over her chest. True, she had been at fault. And she was willing to accept responsibility for her actions and face the consequences. But to be conceived as a thoroughly corrupt woman was a harsh accusation. And wholly unfair.

“I did not set out to trap you, nor deliberately deceive you.”

“I beg to differ, madame.”

“You are wrong.”

“No, madame, I was
wronged,”
he said with difficulty through nearly clenched teeth.

Faith's heart sank. Things were far worse than she had imagined. The look in his eyes was dark and unforgiving. She lifted her cup and took a sip of her now cold chocolate. It rolled around her tongue, leaving a bitter taste.

“What will you do?” she finally dared to ask.

He stared over the top of her head, gazing out the window for the longest moment. “I have few options. We can hardly annul the marriage after the bedsport we shared last night.”

Faith drew in a sharp breath. It took a moment to find her voice, for there was a heavy weight pressing on her chest that made speech nearly impossible.

“Then I suppose it must be a divorce,” she said slowly. “Will you petition or shall I?”

“Divorce!” His head spun around wildly.

“I see no other solution. I do not think I can live with a person who holds me in such contempt.”

“The hurt is raw, and I am angry, Faith.” Griffin passed a hand over his mouth. “Given time I should be able to forgive you.”

“And if you cannot? Then shall I find myself swiftly and firmly cast off?”

He drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. “I can make no promises nor predictions concerning my future feelings toward you.”

“That is not the sort of marriage I want.”

“Well, you should have thought about that before you deceived me.” Griffin's gray eyes flashed with anger.

“I am willing to take the lion's share of the blame, but 'tis not entirely my fault,” Faith responded. “If you had not mistakenly held my character in such low esteem, then you would not have proposed marriage in the first place.”

Griffin sat up and leaned over the table. “I asked you point-blank if my brother had ruined you, madame. And you replied that he had.”

“I spoke the truth. I was ruined, unfit for marriage in the eyes of nearly everyone I knew.” A grim, lopsided smile twisted on her face. “After being engaged for so many years without becoming a wife, there were many who wondered at my shortcomings, which surely must be vast and unbearable. When Neville died, I knew in my bones there would never be another opportunity for me to be married.