A Scandalous Marriage (25 page)

he ordered. “Partridge, pour some of that wine over there. There’s a Spanish one. Pour a glass of it for Mrs. Carrollton.”

Her mother’s lips parted in surprise.
“Gracias,”
she murmured as she took a seat on the striped settee.

The marquess glanced at Leah’s father, who still stood apart from the rest of them. “Wills, you and the servants leave us now,” he said to the butler.

The servants obeyed him immediately. Lord Kirkeby waited until the door closed, the catch clicking in place. He fixed her father with a hard stare. “I have only one question for you, Carrollton. It is one I’ve never asked. Perhaps I should have.”

“What is that?”

“Did you break the lynchpin on my son’s phaeton the day of the race?”

“No.”

“Why should I believe you?”

For a moment Leah feared her father would not answer from a sense of outraged pride. But then he said, “Because he was my friend.” He stepped into the circle around Lord Kirkeby. “Neither one of us wanted anything to do with the feud. I would never have harmed him. Someone tampered with his equipment. Your accusation was not wrong, my lord, but misplaced.”

The marquess studied him a moment and then slowly released his breath, seeming to shrink a bit in the chair. “I may have been wrong to blame you.”

It was a moving admission.

Leah was so proud of her father. She glanced to her mother, wanting to share the moment, but her mother stared at a point in the distance, silent tears running down her cheeks.

Leah slipped over to sit next to her. She understood her mother’s feelings, but she was a little nonplused when her mother didn’t acknowledge her comfort with a small smile. It was almost as if she were lost in a world of her own.

“Then we may never know,” Lord Kirkeby said sadly.

“Someday perhaps, the truth will come out,” Devon answered. “Who knows what twists and tangles life will bring us?” Leah met his gaze in understanding.

Lord Kirkeby sat up in the chair, coming to grips with this new information. “I owe you a debt, Carrollton.”

“You owe me nothing,” Leah’s father answered.

“I will give you a marriage settlement,” the marquess responded.

“I will take care of that,” Devon said.

“No,” his grandfather said firmly. “You set your house in order. This will be my wedding gift, a joining of two families. Arrie would have insisted upon it, and I can afford it.”

“I’m not a pauper,” Devon said.

Lord Kirkeby chuckled. “I’m aware of that.” At Devon’s look of surprise, he said, “What? You thought you could quietly do anything in your life and I would not know? I’ve been following your business fortunes for years, Huxhold. At first I was amused. Now, I am amazed. Don’t worry, Carrollton, my grandson can take good care of your daughter.”

“Then that is all I ask,” her father said, but her mother had a different opinion.

“That and a marriage settlement,” she interjected smoothly. She caught Leah’s eye and added, “A woman must be practical.” And her mother always considered the financial aspects.

Ben looked up at the sound of his grandmother’s voice, apparently agreeing.

“Come see me on the morrow,” Lord Kirkeby told her father. “I will have my man of business and secretary here. You will find me to be very generous. I have much to account for.”

“My lord—” her father started to protest, but her mother cut him off.

“We are grateful.”

A looked passed between them, and then her father smiled.

Ben started crying, demonstrating his healthy set of lungs. Her mother handed the baby back, while Leah excused herself from the room.

“Yes, go on,” the marquess said. “We’ll discuss plans for the christening. The party will be here, of course.”

Devon offered to escort Leah back to the room, leaving the plans for the religious ceremony to the grandparents.

Upstairs, he waited for her until she’d nursed the baby and put him down. “Well, are you happy? I told you it would all work out, and it did.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Of course, I understand what you mean about his autocratic ways. But I am happy to let him make any plans he wishes in return for what he has done for my father.”

Devon nodded, obviously well pleased with himself, but Leah wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. Had he really thought she wouldn’t have noticed? “We do have one problem,” she said. “Your grandfather looks very healthy.”

“Well, he’s still weak,” Devon hurriedly corrected her.

“Yes, but he looks much better than he did last night. And you didn’t seem worried about him this morning.”

Devon frowned, and she knew she’d caught him. Then he grinned. “I meant to say something to you, but I was distracted.”

“Because you distracted me. Devon Marshall, I’d wager you had me wash your back on purpose.”

He laughed. “Of course, but the purpose wasn’t what you thought it was.” There was so much heat in his gaze when he said that that she immediately pictured him gloriously naked and dripping with water.

His hand slipped around her waist. His mouth brushed her ear. “I enjoyed this morning. I want you to wash my back every morning.”

She caught his face in both her hands. “You are tempting me, but it’s not going to work this time. Devon, what are we going to do? I don’t want your grandfather to suffer a setback, and yet we must tell him the truth. Already, the story is growing. My father believes you to be Ben’s father.”

“So, now you have a reason to continue the story.”

“I hate doing it.”

“I don’t mind at all,” he whispered before he kissed her. It was a pleasant kiss, full of hope and promise.

“Oh, Devon, when you kiss me, I lose all common sense.”

He murmured, “See? Everything is fine.”

“I have to worry about Ben and the future.”

“No,
you
don’t have to worry. I’ll take care of it, Leah. I’ll always take care of you.”

Suddenly, Leah was tired of doubts and worries. She loved Devon. She had no choice but to follow his lead and trust him.

Fiona, her maid, interrupted them to say that the Carrolltons were staying for luncheon and would Leah and Devon join them? “I’ll watch the baby, my lady.”

Downstairs, they found everyone assembled in the dining room. Lord Kirkeby was starting to pale a bit, but he seemed determined to sit with them through the meal. Leah was surprised that Venetia joined them.

Her disapproval was obvious, but she did not make a scene. Considering her behavior the night before, Leah found it strange that she would even deign to eat with the Carrolltons.

Of course, when Devon suggested that the marquess host a ball to announce that the feud was over between the two families, Venetia’s face paled considerably. But she did not protest.

Lord Kirkeby agreed that it was a good idea. “We’ll be the first ball of the Season. When should that be?”

Her mother said something about six weeks.

“Good, plenty of time for planning.” Lord Kirkeby looked to his daughter. “You plan it, Venetia. Spare no expense. I want this ball to be the talk of the town for years.”

“I will see what I can do,” was Venetia’s tight-lipped reply. Leah found herself wondering why the woman hadn’t refused outright—and what it could mean.

Over the next few weeks, Madame Nola designed an exquisite wardrobe for Leah. Devon urged the dressmaker to spare no expense. She used the silks that he supplied. The jewel-bright colors were perfect for Leah’s coloring.

They asked Fiona to be Ben’s nanny. The young maid was happy to have such an important role. At Devon’s urging, Leah then hired a lady’s maid.

“It feels silly,” she told him. “You don’t have a valet.” So, he hired a valet, completely dumbfounding his wife.

“Why after all this time?” she asked.

“Because everyone is watching us,” Devon answered. “I want them to see that married life suits me.”

And it did. He’d never been happier.

Leah grew lovelier every day. He hadn’t thought it possible, but the transformation was amazing. The hollowness left her eyes. Her skin took on a happy glow. Her hair was glossier and shinier than ever before.

He’d catch sight of the sway of her hips as she moved past him, and he couldn’t think of anything else for the rest of the day. Or she would wet her lips, and he’d practically fall all over himself to be close to her.

He loved the graceful movement of her hands. They were always busy soothing, encouraging, nurturing.

Touching. She touched him often. Little pats, a hand on the shoulder, a brush against his thigh, a light kiss coming and going—which always led to something deeper, needier…

Devon felt very needy, even though she no longer hugged her side of the bed but let him pull her into his protective arms.

She made it part of her morning routine to always wash his back, which led to more touching, more kissing… but she was also careful to hide her nakedness from him. Her reserve more than anything else signaled to him that she was not ready for intimacy, and without intimacy did they really have a marriage?

He was almost mad with frustration. He ached with the wanting of her. Another woman would not do.

He’d learned that lesson during their year apart. He wanted Leah. Leah, Leah, Leah.

And through it all was a fear that she didn’t want him. He was sensual. What if his wife was not?

Devon told himself that he should be content But the contradictions in their relationship nagged at him.

He felt closer to her than to any other woman he’d known. And also more distant. Each day they became closer—discussing the household, Ben—even his business dealings. But he couldn’t talk about this important facet of their marriage.

Sometimes, he would catch her with an expression so sad that it was painful to see. He’d ask her what she was thinking, but she wouldn’t answer. One time, though, she’d whispered, “I wish I could be whole for you.”

He had long since come to terms with Draycutt. The man had been a ham-handed lover. He was confident he could banish his memory from her mind.

Given a chance.

“You haven’t touched the money I put in an account for you,” he observed. He and Leah had just gone to bed. They often talked quietly at this time of day. Ben slept in the nursery now that Fiona was there to guard him.

“No, I haven’t,” Leah answered.

Devon rolled over on his stomach. “Is it because you don’t know what to spend it on?”

“No.”

He considered her answer a moment and then asked, “Will you tell me when you do?”

She didn’t answer.

He assumed she had fallen asleep, but he was awake for a long time after that, thinking of reasons why she would want money and not touch it. He did not like the answers.

The next day, he decided to visit Baroness Charlotte de Severin-Fortier before he drove himself to madness with suspicions about his wife.

Charlotte greeted him effusively. “It has been too long,
cher,
and look at you.” She stepped back to admire the shine of his boots, the cut of his new coat. “You look most handsome. Marriage agrees with you. And everywhere I go, I hear people sing the praises of your new wife’s beauty. And you are a
papa!
That news was very much a surprise to me.”

They stood in the walled garden of her town house, away from prying eyes. It was the beginning of April. The sun was shining, and Devon remembered a day much like this a year ago that boasted blue skies, a mild wind, and a young woman walking to church with her maid.

He came to the point. “Charlotte, I need a woman’s opinion.”

She sank gracefully onto one of the wrought iron benches in the center of the garden. “About your wife?”

“Yes.”

Charlotte frowned, shaking her head. “I don’t think this is wise.”

“Why not? If I had a business question, I would go find an answer from someone who might know.

Now I have a, um, wife question. I need to talk to someone who understands the female nature.”

“Women are not like your precious silks and spices, Devon. We are not all alike.”

He sat down on the chair across from her, his elbows on his thighs. “I know that. But she’s a riddle I can’t solve, and I must.”

“Then ask
her
the questions,” Charlotte advised.

“I do, and I don’t get answers.” He sat back in the chair, stretching his long legs in front of him. “For example, she asked me for her own money. I assumed it was pin money, you know, to buy the things women like. I started having money put aside in an account, a generous amount, every week.”

“What did she spend it on?”

“She hasn’t spent it. She hasn’t touched it. In fact, she’s the most undemanding woman I’ve ever met.”

Charlotte smiled. “This is not something most men complain about, Devon.”

“Most men don’t pay attention to what their wives do or think.”

“True.” She shrugged. “But why do her actions bother you?”

Devon released his breath in exasperation. “It’s a feeling I have.” He decided to tell Charlotte of their secret trysts, the duel, the parting, and discovering Leah pregnant, but he let her believe Ben was his.

After all, he had turned to Charlotte in the beginning.

She listened to his story, her arms crossed, her face expressionless.

“Well?” he said. “Is there something I am missing? Some reason she would want money and not spend it?”

“It is not the money that troubles you, Devon.”

He hunkered down in the chair. “What is it then?” he asked reluctantly.

“Let me ask you a question first. Do you love her?”

“I married her.”

Charlotte’s laughter rang in the air. “You of all people know that love is the last reason people marry.

From your story, it sounds as if you had no other choice but to wed.”

“But I did have a choice,” he said without thinking. “I could have walked away.”

“From your own child?” She frowned. “That would not be in your character, Devon.”

Apparently it hadn’t been in his character to walk away even when the child wasn’t his. He immediately recoiled from such a thought. He couldn’t imagine his life without his son—or without Leah.