Rogue's Mistress (24 page)

He lay awake long afterward,
staring at her shattered face, his throat aching with sorrow.

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The next morning, two tense
strangers disembarked from the
New Orleans Princess
. The humidity of New Orleans hit Mercy like the oppressive cloud that had already fallen over her marriage.

Henrí met the newlyweds at the
noisy, cluttered docks. He loaded their trunks into the boot of Julian’s coach,
then drove them back to the Quarter.

Mercy and Julian sat across from
each other, each staring out opposite windows. Mercy couldn’t help but recall
the last time they were in a coach together, how he’d hauled her into his lap
and made love to her with such raw hunger. The memory mocked her now. For with
just a few cruel words last night Julian had shattered their marriage. They’d
moved through their morning ritual like two zombies, not even looking at each
other.

At last, Mercy dared to break the
silence. She turned to the handsome, remote stranger sitting across from her
and somehow managed to begin speaking without anger. “Julian, I implore you to
take me back to the convent.”

His angry gaze slammed into hers.
“That’s out of the question.”

“How can you think I can ever
trust you again after what you told me last night?”

“Would you prefer that I kept on
withholding the truth from you?”

“The only way you could have
redeemed yourself was to have told me the truth before we were married,” she
put in heatedly.

He crossed his arms over his
chest. “In which case you never would have wed me, so this entire discussion
becomes moot.”

“You’re saying that it was
acceptable for you to stoop to any trick to marry me? That the end justifies
the means?”

“I was determined to wed you,
yes,” he said stubbornly.

“Why?”

“I think we both have a pretty
good idea by now.”

Mercy felt tempted to spring
across the carriage and claw his eyes out, but knew that such a rash move would
get her nowhere. Instead, she clenched her fists in her lap and took a moment
to gather her fraying patience. “Julian, we made a mistake. Perhaps it’s not
too late to—”

“On the contrary, it’s much too
late.”

“I want an annulment,” she
blurted, her green eyes meeting his hot gaze unflinchingly. “I’m sure the
Church will cooperate, since you were less than honest with me when we wed. And
the timing will be good, since there’s no child.”

“Try to hide your delight!” he
snapped.

“I . . .” She almost admitted that
she wasn’t delighted, not at all, but realized in the nick of time that such an
admission would only defeat her purpose. Instead, she lifted her chin and said
proudly, “Let’s end it now, while we still can.”

An explosive silence fell in the
wake of her words. Mercy watched her husband’s face darken with fury as he
pulled out a cheroot. She noted with satisfaction that his fingers trembled as
he lit the match and held it to his face. He blew out the match, tossed it out
the window, and took a deep draw.

At last his brilliant gaze impaled
hers, and his charged voice lanced her ears. “Mercy, do you actually think I’d
bring my wife home from our honeymoon, then let her turn up her nose at me and
run off to a convent? I could never hold up my head in this town again.”

“Then you’re hanging on to me
rather than lose face with your friends?” she cried.

“I’ll not have it known that I’ve
lost charge of my own wife.”

“So we’re to continue with this
sham of a marriage for the sake of appearances?” she asked incredulously. “But
then, that’s why you married me in the first place, isn’t it? To make good your
investment in me—and to cover up your tawdry affair with—that woman!”

A vein jumped in Julian’s temple
at her words. “Damn it, Mercy, if you’re trying to goad me into getting your
way, forget it.”

“I’ll fight you, Julian,” she
vowed.

“And I’ll defeat you,” he
countered just as fiercely. “Listen carefully, my dear. Even though there is no
child, the marriage has been consummated. If you are so foolish as to try to
pursue an annulment, I will subject you to some very public embarrassment.” He
leaned back in his seat, taking another savage draw on his cheroot. “Know this,
as well. Whether or not there is a child now, there will be one—soon.”

Mercy was so furious, she could only
jerk her gaze away from his. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.

***

As the two swept through the
fragrant courtyard of Julian’s town house, Mercy made one last attempt to reach
him. Grasping his sleeve, she said in a firm undertone, “I want separate
bedrooms.”

He turned, raising an eyebrow at
her. “No.” Taking her arm, he tugged her toward the corner stairway. She
seethed in silent outrage.

Upstairs in their large, sunny
room, Mercy continued the argument as soon as Henrí had deposited their trunks.
With hands on hips, she faced her husband. “Julian, I’m not going to sleep with
you. ”

“There will be no suspension of
bedroom privileges in this marriage.”

“Then you’ll have to rape me.”

“No,” he countered obdurately, “I
won’t.”

She turned away to hide her own
mortified face, not trusting herself to comment.

His hoarse, strained voice drifted
over to her. “I must leave now, go by the Exchange, check on Mother—”

She whirled to face him with eyes
blazing. “And go see your mistress?”

His features whitened, and a
muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will visit my son, yes.”

“Don’t bother to come back!” she
flung at him.

Muttering a curse, Julian strode
to his trunk. Kneeling on his haunches, be unlocked it and flung back the lid.
He removed the small, wrapped gift they’d bought for his mother in St. Louis, and stuffed the tiny package in his breast pocket. Then he took out the larger
package containing the cast-iron toy train set, which they’d also purchased on
their honeymoon.

Staring at the wrapped bundle in his
hands, Mercy gasped in horrified realization. “You bought that train set for
him, your love child, didn’t you? It was never intended for the son of a
friend! You lied to me!”

With the package tucked under one
arm, Julian straightened to face his wife. Awkwardly, he said, “I wanted to
wait for the right moment—”

“To make sure you could hang on to
your wife and your mistress?” she finished spitefully.

“Mercy, for the last tine, Justine
is no longer my mistress. You, however, are my wife, and I will not release you
from that obligation.” He gestured toward the fabulous Mallard bed with its
gold velvet hangings and wispy
moustiquaire
. His voice took on a steely
determination. “You will be in that bed tonight and you will be willing.”

“Go to hell!”

Julian turned on his heel and
strode from the room. Mercy threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. She
wanted so badly to hate Julian, yet somehow she couldn’t; he had betrayed her,
yet he had also bewitched her. Indeed, when she’d seen him taking the present
for his son out of his trunk, she had been consumed with a jealousy so insane,
she’d practically gone mad on the spot. It was not the child she blamed, of
course, for she certainly held Julian’s son blameless; it was knowing that he
had conceived this child with another woman.

What hurt even more was knowing
that he had spoken the truth—he wouldn’t have to rape her, the evil, conniving
cad! She wanted him terribly, even as he was breaking her heart.

***

As Julian was driven away from his
town house by Henrí, his thoughts were also tortured. He hated himself for the
things he’d said to Mercy. He knew he had hurt her, but she had also wounded
him by giving up so quickly on their marriage. Her threat to leave him had
scared him to death, making him utterly ruthless. He loved her desperately, and
he could not lose her. He simply could not. Cutting off his own arm would be
much easier.

It was clear now that she would
never love him, clearer still that he’d destroyed their future together through
his own dishonesty. They would now both be trapped in an empty, loveless
marriage. Damn! Perhaps ’twould have been better had he not told her about
Justine at all.

But the damage was done, and there
was no way he could retract his disastrous admissions. How could he convince
Mercy that he was no longer sleeping with his former mistress, that it was her
alone he wanted? Perhaps his mother might shed some light on the situation.
Julian wasn’t accustomed to asking Madelaine’s advice in matters of the heart,
but she was another female, and he was desperate.

***

“You
told
your wife about
your mistress?” Madelaine asked, aghast. “Son, have you lost your mind?”

“So it appears,” Julian said
dryly.

He sat across from his mother in
her stylish parlor, both of them sipping tea. After making the usual queries
regarding Madelaine’s health, he had awkwardly explained to her that he’d told
Mercy about Justine and Arnaud, and that his wife was now demanding an
annulment.

“Well, I can’t blame the girl,”
Madelaine said, setting down her teacup.

“I told her that my relationship
with Justine is now platonic.”

Madelaine laughed incredulously.
“And you expected her to believe that?”

“Naive of me, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, Julian!” Madelaine rolled her
eyes. “If you were so determined to continue with that woman, why couldn’t you
have just kept your mouth shut?”

“Hindsight is not of much value at
this point,” Julian pointed out irritably. With a fierce sigh, he leaned back
in his chair. “Any suggestions, Mama?”

“Of course. You know exactly what
my feelings are. Get rid of the woman.”

“You know that’s out of the
question,” he snapped.

“I realize you’re fond of the
boy,” Madelaine continued, ignoring his show of temper. “As I am. Still,
perhaps with the right incentive, the woman can be convinced to relinquish
him—”

Julian shot to his feet. “I can’t
believe you’re suggesting this again! Just what kind of monster do you think
Justine is? She would never give up her own child—never! Nor will I ever ask
her to commit such treason.”

Madelaine waved him off. “Very
well then, son. Sit down, pray. We’ll just have to put our heads together and
figure out something else.”

With an explosive sigh, Julian
took his seat. “Well?”

“You must apologize to Mercy,”
Madelaine stated with a thoughtful frown. “Send her flowers, take her out to
dinner—”

He laughed dryly. “She’d smash the
flowers over my head, and the only way she’ll go out to dinner with me now is
in chains.”

“You must try, anyway. And get her
with child, for heaven’s sake. As soon as possible. A baby will take her mind off
her jealousy. ”

Julian’s head shot up. “Jealousy?
What jealousy?”

Madelaine rolled her eyes. “Son,
have you gone completely daft? Of course your young wife is insanely jealous of
this Begué woman, and especially of the child you have with her.”

Julian’s face went blank. It had
never occurred to him that Mercy might be jealous. He knew she felt angry,
hurt, betrayed—but jealous? Such an emotion would be impossible unless he meant
something to her. A desperate hope sprang to life in his heart.

He turned to Madelaine. “Are you
sure? I thought I’d just hurt her pride.”

“Why are you men always so blind?
Certainly you’ve hurt Mercy’s pride, but it’s also patently obvious that the
girl is out of her mind with jealousy.” She leaned forward intently and touched
his sleeve. “I will speak with her as soon as possible and see if I can help
smooth things over. But you must fight for her, Julian, and fight fiercely.
Otherwise, you’re going to lose her.”

He nodded grimly. “I know.”

The mother and son chatted for a
while longer, catching up on events of the intervening weeks. Belatedly, Julian
pulled out the present he and Mercy had bought in St. Louis. Madelaine
unwrapped the two jeweled, mother-of-pearl combs and exclaimed over the lovely
present. She then mentioned that Robert Townsend had at last returned to New
York and that she might be seeing him again in the spring, when she planned to
travel East with friends. Julian chuckled and teased, “Perhaps I’ll be
receiving one of those newfangled telegrams telling me you’ve married the man?”
Madelaine laughed and shrugged him off, but she didn’t deny the possibility.
Soon thereafter, Julian thanked his mother for her advice, kissed her cheek,
and left.

Once her son was gone, Madelaine
Devereux paced her parlor, feeling deeply troubled. She hadn’t admitted to
Julian something she had done recently, and now she felt hellishly guilty.

Weeks past, when Madelaine had
first taken Mercy around to meet her prominent friends, there had been a few
snide whisperings concerning the girl’s humble background. Privately, Madelaine
had felt outraged, and she had been determined to put the gossips in their
place. Thus, right before Julian and Mercy had married, she had written to a
dowager friend of hers in Natchez, Mississippi, asking Beatrice to look up the
Dubois family there and tell them about Mercy. She had thought of inviting the
Dubois down at some point, so she might flaunt her daughter-in-law’s society
background to her friends.

Now, she feared she might have
made a fatal error. If Mercy’s grandparents were still living, they might come
forward to claim her. And, given the current impasse in her son’s marriage, it
would not do for Mercy to have anything to fall back on right now.

***

Justine’s advice to Julian was
similar to Madelaine’s.

Julian presented Arnaud with the
cast-iron train set he’d bought him in St. Louis. The boy went into ecstasies
over his treat, and father and son played happily with the train for over an
hour. Afterward, while Arnaud napped, Julian and Justine sat together on the
settee and chatted.