Karla Darcy - [Sweet Deception Regency 04] (19 page)

"Perhaps there's a full moon tonight, my dear." Nell placed a comforting arm around the bewildered girl and guided her up the staircase. "It's times like this I bless my widowed state. Trying to stay in a husband's good graces is more taxing than breaking in a new lover. And usually far less rewarding." She enfolded Leslie into a lavender-scented hug and kissed her pale cheek. "It'll blow over, dear."

As Leslie entered her own room, she smiled wanly at the faithful Polly. The abigail sensed her mistress' upset and refrained from her usual friendly chatter, hurrying to remove the ball gown and slip a soft whisper of blue silk over the unhappy Duchess' head and wrap her in the matching robe. As Leslie sat at the dressing table, Polly removed her hairpins and began to brush the riot of chestnut curls.

Sadly Leslie stared into the mirror. After her confession to Fitz in the garden she had felt immeasurably better but now her brain was almost unable to take in the utter turnaround of the evening.

Thick carpeting could not muffle Pax's storming progress along the hallway, and the two young women froze as the door to the room next door slammed against the frame. Their eyes met in the mirror, reflecting myriad emotions. Uneasiness, fear, puzzlement and resentment were all present in varying degrees. Although Polly once more began to brush Leslie's hair, their attention was concentrated on the miscellaneous sounds from the adjoining room. It was almost with relief that they heard the angry footsteps approach the door between the two rooms. Their eyes shifted away from the mirror to Pax standing in the doorframe.

"Get out!"

Leslie winced as Polly pulled the brush away from her hair. In her haste, the flustered abigail dropped the brush and stood staring at it in stupefaction.

"Leave it!" came the abrupt command and Polly awkwardly bobbed a curtsy and fled the room.

Pax started across the floor and Leslie's pulse leaped in terror. She did not know what had happened to upset Pax so thoroughly, but just looking at his face she realized that he was in a towering rage. And in total bewilderment she sensed that his fury was directed at her. Leslie jerked to her feet, bent on escape. She had only taken a few steps before Pax's hand snaked out and captured her wrist in a band of iron. He jerked her back and she slammed against his chest, pushing against the unyielding surface in her fear.

Moistening her dry lips she forced herself to speak. "What do you want, Pax?"

"My marital rights," he answered bluntly.

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. She stared into his face searching for some sign of passion but she could see nothing but anger. Leslie's voice was a hoarse whisper. "No, Pax. Not like this."

"I was a fool not to have sampled the delights of my own wife. My wife. The beautiful Duchess who has set the hearts of so many men aflame?" Pax's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "I've watched as every dandy in town has paid court to you. They've been constantly underfoot, taking you for rides and walks and sipping interminable cups of tea. I was amused for awhile but thought it was all a harmless game." Pax's tone was deceptively gentle but Leslie was aware of the thinly veiled violent edge.

"You thought you could have it all, Leslie. A docile husband and all the lovers in town."

"What are you talking about?"

"Cecily Cleavon was delighted to pass on a tidbit of gossip. Though normally I am prone to find the woman mutton headed, she always knows the pertinent facts of those in society. She told me with decided relish how much she enjoyed watching Captain Fitzhue pick out a beautiful bracelet for you. I would have thought emeralds were a touch garish with your coloring."

Leslie's mouth opened in stunned disbelief that Pax should have accepted Cecily's explanation of her outing with Fitz. To Pax, in his distraught condition, the sudden whitening of her complexion appeared like guilt. Once more a murderous rage built up inside him and a cruel gleam lit his black eyes.

"So it's time, my dear, to pay the piper. You have not earned the name of Duchess of Ruhaven. Surely I ought to be repaid for the gowns and jewels I have provided." He grinned down at Leslie, although there was no humor in his flashing eyes. "I'm quite willing to make love to you. Eager in fact. After all I ought to be able to sample some of the leavings of the rest of the
ton
."

"I can't believe you would do this," Leslie answered, her voice breaking in horror.

"Then let me prove it to you."

His hands plunged into her shining curls and he dragged her against his body. His mouth crushed hers in a bruising kiss that left her gasping for air. She strained against him in fear, but his arms held her fast, and his hands roamed familiarly down her silken-clad back. At the touch of his fingers, Leslie groaned, a deep mewling sound that sent a tremor beneath her skin. Her legs trembled and she leaned into his embrace, fighting to control the rising passion within her traitorous body.

In her ears she could hear Pax's rasping breathing in syncopation with her own. His impatient tongue pushed between her lips, ravaging the tender recesses of her mouth. There was no gentleness now, only unleashed passion. His strong hands massaged her soft body with an urgency that frightened Leslie. She pushed against his chest, frantic to be free of his assault.

His grasp shifted and Leslie shoved him, breaking away from his embrace. She turned to run but his fingers clutched at her robe, spinning her against the bedpost, where she stood gasping for breath. The sudden motion sent her senses reeling, and she clung to the post as the room blurred. Fear, disbelief and a sense of unreality combined to drain her. Blackness threatened to engulf her, and she felt her knees give way. But as she looked across the room at her husband, her own rage pulled her upright and the shimmering waves before her eyes cleared. Leslie fought against her overriding temper. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she tried to control her fury. In that moment she was majestic, a pillar of ice blue crowned by a tumble of chestnut curls.

Pax caught his breath at the exotic picture she made framed by the russet velvet bed hangings. His rough handling of Leslie had ripped the bitter resentment from him in a rush of self-loathing at his own behavior. No matter what she had done he could not believe that he had behaved so crudely. He was appalled that his least action could have hurt her either physically or mentally. He knew without question that he loved Leslie and though it killed him he would see her happy.

"Are you in love?" Pax blurted out. Although his voice was quiet, each syllable was bitten off as though the words themselves were painful.

There was total silence in the room as though the walls themselves waited for the answer. Leslie blinked in confusion at the unexpected question. For a moment she wondered if Pax had lost his mind. That at least would explain his outrageous accusations. One part of her mind warred with the difficulty of framing a civil answer after his ruthless treatment. However a saner portion of her wished an end to the travesty of their lives. She suspected without total honesty Pax could not begin to understand the kind of person she was. And without that understanding they would never be able to build a lasting relationship. Her pride had kept her from admitting she loved him and it had gained her nothing but an empty marriage.

Leslie stared into Pax's eyes, wondering what thoughts were uppermost in his mind. She knew he was furious believing that she had been unfaithful. It was still hard for her to understand how he could have accepted Cecily's story as the basis for such a ridiculous accusation. She was hurt that he could even entertain the thought that she could betray her vows. But no matter what, his fury was only a matter of misinformation. They must talk about their relationship in order to end his confusion and begin to make their marriage viable.

"Are you in love, Leslie?" Pax repeated.

Leslie swallowed a lump of fear in her throat, knowing that once she risked confession there would be no turning back. She spoke hesitantly, stumbling over her words. "Yes, Pax. But I---you must understand---."

Pax's face was a shuttered mask, his body ramrod straight as he faced her. "You need explain nothing to me. I saw you tonight on the terrace in the arms of your lover. I heard of your plans to run away together only as a last resort. I was privy to your sighs and kisses."

"No! It's not true!" Leslie cried, terrified at the total misinterpretation he had placed on her conversation with Fitz. She stepped toward him her arm outstretched in supplication, but he cut her off with a raised hand before she could approach him.

"Hear me well, Leslie." His voice was a lifeless monotone, belying the snapped steel of his words. "Contrary to what Captain Fitzhue believes, I am not a reasonable man. Tomorrow morning you will leave for Windhaven and I will begin divorce proceedings."

Leslie was horrified by his words. "Pax, you must listen to me!"

"Listen to you, madam? I have heard as much tonight as I ever want to hear again!" Turning, he stood framed in the doorway to his room, his voice quiet but each word enunciated with deadly precision. "I did not want to marry you, Leslie. I did not love you and I thought I never would. You are an irresponsible child, a millstone. Once I am rid of you I can return to a life where I might find some happiness."

Whirling, Pax closed the door, the soft click of the latch more damning than a loud slam. For a long moment Leslie remained standing as though each hateful word had nailed her feet to the floor. Then slowly she crawled onto the bed, curling her body into a protective ball of misery.

Chapter Eleven

"You don't need to pack the entire household, Polly!" Leslie sputtered, staring furiously around the disordered room. It looked as though looters had turned out the drawers, leaving half-filled trunks and boxes strewn across the carpeting. "Just pack my riding boots and let the rest go to perdition!"

"But your Grace," Polly sniffed, close to tears. "You told me you would be at Windhaven for a long stay."

"Don't tell me what I said!" Aghast at the shrillness of her own voice, Leslie bit off her infuriated words. She patted her abigail's arm soothingly, ashamed of shouting at the poor girl. "Forget what I said, Polly. Just do what you can so we can leave here before nuncheon. I want to get to Windhaven before nightfall."

Receiving a watery smile from Polly, Leslie sat in the window seat trying to recover her composure. She knew her maid was dying to know why they were leaving London so abruptly, but for the moment her questions would remain unanswered. Leslie pressed her temples which throbbed with a headache after her sleepless night. Although she had cried when Pax left her, she had spent the rest of the night pacing furiously.

At first she had been beside herself with frustrated bitterness. How dare that arrogant, self-righteous, insufferable man believe that she was so lacking in honor that she would betray her wedding vows! She couldn't wait to see the expression on his face when he realized that he had accused her so basely. For awhile she was buoyed up by the glorious feeling of justice triumphant. She rehearsed several scathing speeches that would indicate her contempt for one who would accuse another without concrete evidence. It was in the lightening dawn hours that Leslie realized that Pax's accusations and threats were not the central issue.

Pax's final hateful words of the night before had finally woken Leslie to the true facts of her situation. He had been forced to marry her and could not love her. No matter what she might like to believe, his words held the unvarnished ring of truth. She had been living in a dream world for the last three months and it was a rude awakening. When she married Pax, she thought eventually he would come to regard her. She still loved him with a depth and maturity that amazed her. But after last night's disaster she could no longer hope for his love.

No matter that Pax would eventually know the truth of her suspected affair. Leslie could never resume their marriage. It would only be a travesty of the kind of relationship she had longed for. Her love would be a burden to Pax. She knew him well enough to know that he would feel guilty that he could not reciprocate her feelings. He would avoid her and spend more time away from her. He would never be happy in the marriage. And above all Leslie wanted Pax to be happy even if it meant giving him up entirely.

She must escape from Pax. He was sending her to exile, but she had already decided that she would not remain there to be further humiliated. He would divorce her and then she would be out of his life. She, Jacko and Manji would leave Windhaven and find someplace else to begin a new life.

She had never lost the habit of saving her money. Most of the generous allowance Pax had given her had been added to her already sizable nest egg. She, Jacko, and Manji would be able to survive comfortably if not graciously, until Leslie was old enough to claim her own inheritance. She knew that Pax would not begrudge her the money. It was rightfully hers, and he would not want any further reminders of her when he resumed his life again. She wondered if his future life would include Cecily Cleavon whose spiteful tongue had precipitated this final disaster. She fervently hoped not, because she was convinced, as she had been the first day that she had seen Cecily, that the woman would never make Pax happy.

Pax sat in front of the fireplace, staring blindly at the leaping flames. He had been there most of the day, behind closed doors, trying to come to grips with the chaos of his life. It had been a day of soul searching, and still there were more questions than he had answers.

He had been there at noon when he heard the bustle of Leslie's departure for Windhaven. He had refused to leave the room, refused to see her for fear his resolve to banish her would weaken. He had tried to anesthetize himself with brandy to block out the sounds of departure. Scurrying servants, the thump of luggage and the horses' hooves striking the cobblestones combined to sound the death knell to his marriage. Alternately he paced the room or sat immobile, staring out the windows or at the bare walls. In his present mood it really didn't matter what was before his eyes, because his whole focus was inward as he struggled with an agony of emotions and feelings. Leslie's face appeared continually before his eyes. Her voice was constantly in his ears. She had become a part of him, yet he had sent her away.