Libertine's Wife (5 page)

“
How old are you, girl?”
Garret asked in disgust. “You look like a woman grown under all
those stupid ruffles, but looks can deceive.”

“
I am nearly eighteen.” She
saw him cringe, rolling his eyes heavenward.

“
That damned young? I
wouldn’t have guessed it by your actions. You’re nearly a blasted
child,” he taunted unmercifully. “Have you had any formal training?
Do you have any idea what’s expected of you as the Marchioness of
Ravensford?” She bit her lip in dismay. He cursed fluently and
shook his head in disgust. “I can see you don’t have the first
damned clue of what your duties are. It’s lucky for us I never
intend to present you to society. You’d likely embarrass us both
with your ill-bred manners. For a fortune hunter, you have much to
learn, my dear. If you seek so high, be sure you can carry it
off!”

“
I learned deportment from
Lady Vale as a child,” Arianne snapped in heated response. “I can
assure you that I’m quite housebroke, my lord.”

Garret chuckled at her spirited reply,
a cruel light in his gaze. “Lady Vale can be commended for her
efforts to turn a sow’s ear into a silk purse. A pity she didn’t
succeed at it. You are obviously no real lady at all, my dear. Real
ladies don’t do what you did to me, now do they? I would say the
countess failed miserably with you.”

“
You are quite cruel,”
Arianne choked out, longing to slap him for his insults. She was
suddenly self conscious under his sardonic gaze.

“
I merely point out the
obvious.” He smirked at her, folding his arms across his chest.
“Would a real lady allow herself to be ruined without the benefit
of marriage? And then pin it upon an innocent man as you have done
to me? I would guess the answer to that question is a resounding—
no! There we are, my dear. You are not a lady at all.”

No, a real lady certainly
wouldn’t have done as I did
, she thought in
agreement. A tremendous wave of unworthiness assailed her. Arianne
felt tears spring to her eyes as he insulted her.

She never felt more gauche, fidgeting
under his condescending gaze. His look spoke volumes of what he
thought of her. Her lips trembled, but she refused to cry. She
wouldn’t allow him to see how he wounded her. A part of her
accepted his unkind treatment, knowing she deserved far worse than
insults.

But he was wrong of one thing. She’d
known better than to get herself into such a disgraceful position.
Falling in love allowed her to dismiss propriety. Arianne would
have never lain with Julian if she hadn’t believed with all her
heart they would marry. She allowed herself to be swept away. Even
a lady could be swept away, she reasoned without any
regret.

No, she had no such recriminations. She
loved Julian with every bit of her heart, clung to his perfect
image, if only to get through her marriage to this cruel,
contemptible man.

Her husband just wanted to belittle
her, she knew. Arianne refused to think she couldn’t hold her own
in any social situation. Lady Vale assured her none would ever know
she’d never attended an elite finishing school when she finished
her training. The lady must have taken pity on her years before, or
perhaps she was bored in her own life. Julian’s father was always
in London, leaving his wife alone at Vale House.

Arianne recalled how shocked she was
when Julian began courting her last year. Deep down, she never felt
good enough for him. Julian knew her all her life. He didn’t care
if she had no dowry. The girlish dreams she had of him all her life
became a reality then.

Then, she was overwhelmed with feelings
she wasn’t worthy of him, not fit to be his wife. It worsened when
Edmund died and he became the Earl of Vale. She panicked to think
of being his countess, having not a clue what it
entailed.

Her husband knew her a scant second and
honed in on all those insecurities like a fly to jam, picking her
apart, and dissecting her until she was nothing. She was unable to
form a retort, too humiliated to meet his gaze.

There were never any funds available
for such things. Because of her brother’s gambling, there were
rarely enough funds to pay the few servants they employed. Eustace
grudgingly paid for a tutor years ago, but her education was quite
limited. She could read quite well, write a fine hand, and do
simple sums. It seemed enough until now.

She felt worthless in her husband’s
eyes. Dejected, her blurred gaze clung to the floorboards of the
coach for a time. The silence was awkward as it stretched between
them.

Seeing the mocking censure in his
handsome face made her realize just how outclassed they were. Her
husband was a wealthy marquis who probably went to the finest
schools. His lofty position entitled him to all the benefits of his
station. He had a lifetime of training behind him, begun early on
as a child. Her confidence plummeted under his disparaging
assessment of her.

She was the orphaned daughter of a
modest baronet. Compared to him, she had no remarkable background
at all. The fact she wasn’t suitable to be his wife was obvious to
her. Taken off guard, she stared numbly out the window, unable to
bear his hateful amusement at her expense. Ravensford promptly
ignored her then, looking out the window too.

Arianne felt nauseated by what she’d
done to them. The thought of enduring his unrelenting looks of
displeasure for the rest of her life made her tremble. She sought
sleep to escape him, leaning against the far side of the swaying
conveyance.

Her gloves fell to the floorboards as
she slept. He bent and retrieved the tiny cream-colored gloves and
tucked them at her side. His eyes fell upon her face, flushed in
sleep. Seeing how young she looked in repose made his expression
soften somewhat.

Garret could see his words hit their
intended mark. He recoiled at his own nastiness. He was immediately
ashamed for pointing out such snobbish observances just to hurt her
feelings. He grew angry at himself for even caring.

The bloody chit didn’t deserve any
civility from him after what she’d done! Still, when had he ever
stooped so low to feel better about anything? He, out of both of
them, was raised to know better.

Garret’s father died when he was ten in
a hunting accident. Geoffrey Spencer was a loud, abusive drunkard
who never failed to find some cause to take his frustrations out on
his wife and only child. He fell from his horse during a fox hunt,
breaking his neck instantly. Not a heroic end for his noble sire,
but an end, just the same.

Lady Therese, his long-suffering
mother, skipped her year-long period of mourning to seek her own
entertainments in France. For years, she left him alone to be cared
for by servants while she went on with her own life. She died in
Paris when he was sixteen of influenza.

He recalled his lack of reaction when
he was called to the headmaster’s office at Eton with the news he
was an orphan. Thomas Helms was there, his father’s solicitor, and
now his. The man seemed to expect something from him then. He
couldn’t feel what he should have felt to know his mother was dead.
He’d never been able to since. He hardly knew her.

The woman who gave him life hardly paid
him any mind. She was a vain, cold woman who never wanted him near
her to crinkle her elaborate gowns. He was cast off upon servants
from the time he took his first breath, pushed away any time he
dared approach his mother. He could recall how she stared at him
with such resentment in her unfeeling blue eyes, as if she blamed
him for her unhappy life.

His father was a stern taskmaster who
drilled the fact he was his heir into him from the time he could
walk. He’d never been allowed to be a child. Recalling how his
father punished him severely if he made any minor slip made him
stiffen from those unpleasant memories. His father hit him more
often than he cared to recall.

Geoffrey Spencer was an ugly drunk,
often turning on his wife and son if they were within range during
one of his bouts. Garret learned to hide from his father when he
took to drinking. His mother wasn’t so lucky. But Lady Therese
never hid, as if daring her husband to lay his hands on her. He
liked to think his mother was brave then. Now he knew she just
looked for some excuse to leave his father.

He could remember hearing the bitter
arguments each night beyond the door of her room, then the
screaming; the sounds of things breaking inside, and finally, the
piteous sobs as his father demanded his due of her. He recalled her
shattered look that lasted for days after those altercations. She
would then wear that cold, detached look, retreating from them both
behind a wall of ice.

The marquis and his wife loathed each
other as far back as he could remember. The pair lived separate
lives from the time he was five. He was never quite sure what
caused his parents hatred of one another, clinging to a vague
memory of their shared laughter and soft glances. The few times a
year they were forced to playact as a family since then stuck in
his mind.

His father maintained outward
appearances, demanding his wife be there for all the expected
holidays. Lady Therese arrived from her separate residence in
London and took to locking her door at night. His father turned to
servants and village girls for consolation.

Garret remembered the whispers of
servants who talked about his mother’s daring bid for freedom when
he turned eight. She’d fallen for a married Austrian prince who was
on holiday in London, they’d all whispered. She ran away with the
man for nearly a year before his father forced her back. He
remembered how he envied her then, hoping she never returned to
Ravensford Hall, wishing she was happy at last.

When she returned with that cold mask
back in place, his hopes plummeted for them both. Lady Therese was
never the same after that, even more bitter to be forced back into
her marriage. She refused to speak to either of them then,
retreating into herself.

As a boy, Garret dreamed of running
away with the gypsies that camped on their lands from time to time,
to escape his unhappy life at home. He snuck out of his room often
to play at their camp with their children, begging them to take him
with them when they left.

He attributed that stringent early
upbringing for his penchant for living his life so freely now. When
he was able to make his own choices, nothing stood in the way of
his own wants and needs. He pursued his own desires to the very
limit, seeing firsthand how the denial destroyed his
mother.

That is, until this girl clipped his
flamboyant wings and he crashed back down to earth.

No, he had no right to disdain anyone’s
background or upbringing. Even hers had to be better than his. His
lips tightened to recall a childhood memory that explained much
about his unconventional philosophies.

Garret walked in his sleep when he was
as young as six. It was discovered by accident. After walking in on
his father and a chamber maid in bed; he was punished severely with
a switch. After that, he was tied up at night in his bed, unable to
move until his nurse unbound him in the morning.

The terror of that loss of control
shaped him somehow; changed him in ways he felt now as a man. He
recalled soiling himself in the night, crying out in humiliation,
unable to rise and seek the chamber pot. That went on for years
until the nurse took pity on him and refused to do it any longer,
calling it ‘their little secret’.

After that, he refused to ever allow
anyone to control him again. He was the one in control at all
times, never allowing emotion to color his reasoning or thoughts.
He donned his own mask from then on, much like his own
mother’s.

Even his first sexual experiences could
explain his present tastes toward the risqué. The lovely young
French governess who cared for him while his mother was away had a
dark side. Miriam took him to her bed when he was young. The
naughty governess introduced him to pleasures of the flesh far too
worldly for his years. In the darkest corner of his soul, he felt
the deepest shame for what was done to him.

Miriam taught him more than a little
about pleasing a woman. She made him whip her delicate derriere
with a little silk riding crop she kept hidden under her mattress.
He could still recall his elation and revulsion as she wiggled her
shapely backside while he struck her.

The affair continued until he was
fifteen. Those five years were impressionable ones. By the time she
left Ravensford Hall for her home in France, he’d already seduced
his own fair share in dark corners.

He corrupted his classmates before
long. All the boys were in awe of his prowess in getting young
ladies alone in the deserted gardens behind the school, divesting
them of both heart and virtue. They would watch him during these
demonstrations from the hedges; witnessing him seducing young women
to show them how it was done.

By the time Garret was sixteen, Helms
was handling his being sued by a girl’s family in one of the hedge
row incidents. The case was settled quietly out of court. The girl,
Lady Amelia Wrenfield, claimed he’d forced her. Garret refrained
from telling how he’d not been the only one who lured Lady Amelia
beyond the hedges and hiked her skirts. The girl’s family was paid
off handsomely for her loss of virtue.