Silent Revenge (19 page)

The countess leveled Simon a most derisive glare, then lifted her lips, her smile as venomous as the kiss of death. It was obvious to Jessica that all the players except she knew the rules to the game they were playing. At that moment she was as angry with Simon as she’d ever been.

Lady Milebanke turned her attention back to Simon. “Although most of your peers understand your…rush to take a wife, my lord, none of us were even aware you and the lady were acquainted.”

“Then I feel complimented,” Simon said, patting the hand that rested on his arm. “You cannot imagine how gratifying it is to know I was able to court my wife in private without all of society wagering on the outcome at White’s. I consider discretion of the utmost importance.”

Lady Milebanke snapped open the delicate lace fan in her hand and thoughtfully fingered the intricate design. “Some thought that when you returned, you would look to more familiar quarters for a wife.” A forced smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “You surprised us all. Especially your dear stepmother. She is extremely interested in your happiness, as you know.”

The countess’s eyes glazed cold and taunting, even hateful, and Jessica felt Simon’s muscles tighten beneath her hand.

“I doubt my…
stepmother
has ever been interested in anyone’s happiness except her own. You forget, no one knows her better than I.”

The countess looked adequately shocked by Simon’s words, as did Jessica. Even the earl shifted uncomfortably in his seat before filling the gap in the conversation with inoffensive trivia.

“Since you and your new bride are out and about, may we assume you are ready to make the social rounds?”

“You may,” Simon answered. “We have already accepted an invitation for next week.”

“Excellent. We are hosting a ball this Friday evening,” the earl commented. “Perhaps you and your wife would care to attend?”

Jessica watched Lady Milebanke bristle with discomfort. Her words confirmed it.

“I’m sure it is far too soon for Lady Northcote to feel comfortable in public. Perhaps—”

Simon held up his hand. “Nonsense. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Perfect,” the earl answered, oblivious to his wife’s irritation. “I demand a dance, my lady,” he said, smiling at Jessica. “I am especially fond of the waltz.”

“As is my wife,” Simon encouraged. “She will look forward to the evening. And the dance.”

“Good. Good. Well, congratulations again, Lady Northcote,” Milebanke said, issuing the order for his driver to go.

Jessica kept the smile on her face and her eyes focused on the unfriendly glare on Lady Milebanke’s face until the couple was out of sight.

With a decided jerk, she faced her husband with enough anger to start a war. She attempted to speak, but couldn’t at first. Her whole body was numb with terror. What had he done to her?

In the span of a few short hours, he’d disrupted her life more than she could handle. He had charmed her, cajoled her, and said words that left her dizzy with wanting. The minute she let down her guard, he turned on her with lightning speed, putting her in situations he knew she could not handle.

A lump formed deep in her throat. He’d used her. She knew it now as blatantly as if he admitted it. That was why they were here. That was why he’d taken her out for a ride. He’d used her to gain an invitation to Lady Milebanke’s ball without a care one way or another if she would suffer in the end. He only cared that he got what he wanted.

She slid as far away from him as she could, the smug grin on his face painful to see. “I would like to go home now.”

“Yes. We can go now.”

Jessica refused to drop her gaze from his face. The look in his eyes revealed more than she’d seen before. It was determined and possessive and ruthless. A man obsessed, and nothing would stop him. Especially a woman. Even his wife.

“I hope you are satisfied, my lord.”

He leaned back in his seat, the vengeful look on his face obvious. “Yes, wife. I am very satisfied.”

Chapter 11

J
essica paced her bedroom and let her anger heighten to the boiling point. How could Simon display her so to the public? How could he risk her meeting his peers where someone would find out what she’d been keeping secret since she was a child? How could he expect her to play the role of his wife when they both knew she was not? How typically arrogant of him.

Jessica pulled her wrapper closer around her shoulders and paced from one side of the room to the other another time. Why on earth was he forcing her do this? Didn’t he know she could never become involved in society? Didn’t he know she only ever attended a ball for a very brief time, then left? Didn’t he realize that while she was there she never spoke to anyone except Mel?

Heaven help her. He expected her to dance a waltz with the Earl of Milebanke.

Jessica fisted her hands at her sides and marched the length of the room. She couldn’t do it. She
wouldn’t
do it. She wanted to be left alone with her creations and her designs. She didn’t care what he said or how angry he became, she would not allow him to take such control of her life.

The taper on the bedside stand flickered, and her hands shook as she lit another candle to replace it. She needed light. Lots of light. It was bad enough she couldn’t hear. She couldn’t abide not being able to see either. She lit another candle and thought about the ball he expected her to attend.

If
she went, she would go as she always had. Alone. She would sit off to the side and wait for the women who wore her creations to arrive. Then she would go home. Let society think what they wished. Let her husband say what he would. If he were here right now she would…

But he was not here.

Simon had not come to her bed again tonight.

Jessica picked up a pillow and hugged it to her breast. She tried not to let his absence bother her, but it hurt to know he did not want her. It hurt even more to know she cared.

Why couldn’t he have stayed distant and unapproachable? Instead, he’d showed her a different side to his personality this afternoon. He’d been charming and witty and irresistible. He’d stirred a thousand emotions inside her she thought no one would ever make her feel. The way he looked at her, talked to her, and held her close to him caused an ache she could not explain.

She hadn’t glimpsed that side of him again after they came back from their ride this afternoon. Even though he’d held her hand so possessively and smiled at her with such affection while they were in public, his endearments had all been for show, to dupe all of society into thinking he cared for his new wife.

He went to his study immediately after they returned home, with a package that had come from Ira. For the rest of the day he’d closeted himself with the papers, coming out only to eat. He stayed at the dining table long enough to be polite, then shut himself away with his papers again. For all she knew, he was still downstairs.

Well, let him stay there. She wanted nothing to do with him. He could rot down there for all she cared.

He’d done nothing but issue orders and make decisions for her since he’d recovered from his illness.
He
had decided they’d go for a ride in the park.
He
had decided they’d attend the Covingsworths’ dinner party.
He
had decided they’d go to the Milebankes’ ball Friday night.

He had made every decision, but she was the one who would have to take all the risks. Well, she would see about that.

Jessica wadded the pillow in her arms and threw it across the room. She missed the bed by a yard but hit a gilt-framed painting on the wall—a very ornate, expensive-looking painting. The picture fell to the floor, the frame splintering into fragmented pieces. Jessica covered her mouth with her fist and stifled a groan. What had she done?

She stared at the shattered pieces. This was all his fault. Oh, how she wished the pillow had hit her husband instead of the beautiful painting. He deserved it. He was the one who’d created such chaos in her life.

Jessica rushed over to the painting, bent down, and touched the splintered pieces lying on the floor. The canvas itself was still in one piece, but the frame wasn’t. Maybe it wasn’t a valuable painting. Maybe he would never notice she’d ruined it.

She had to pick up the pieces. She rose to find something in which to put the shattered frame and stopped.

Her husband stood in the open doorway with his arms folded across his chest and one booted foot crossed over the other. His shoulder rested against the doorframe, his tall, massive figure blocking the entrance in a casual pose.

“I…” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I…it broke.”

“So I see.”

He pushed himself away from the doorway and took several calculated steps across the room until he stood beside her, staring down at the broken picture frame.

He slowly turned his head until he faced her. “You disliked the painting that much?”

She gasped. “No. It was very beautiful, but…”

He tilted his head to the side to get a better view of the skewed piece of canvas and then returned his gaze to her. “Did you really think it was beautiful?”

“Well, perhaps not beautiful, but it was a nice painting.”

“I suppose so. I’m afraid I had never really noticed before.” He picked up the limp canvas and looked at it. Then looked at her. “Perhaps it was only because my grandmother painted it that I never evaluated it too critically.”

A tiny gasp escaped her mouth. “Oh,” she moaned. “Your grandmother.” Jessica knelt down and picked up a few of the larger pieces of the frame. She handed them to him with the greatest care. “I didn’t mean to break it. Truly. It just…happened.”

He laid the pieces on a nearby table and leaned down to pick up the crumpled pillow. He held it out to her. “Is this what caused the accident?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Can I assume that if it was not the painting you were trying to break, then there was something else you intended to hit? Something that upset you?”

Jessica turned her face away from him. This was all his fault. If he had not insisted she go for a ride in the park, then they would not have met the Milebankes. And if she had not met the Milebankes, then she would not be expected to go to a ball Friday night.

Every muscle in her body stiffened when he placed his finger beneath her chin and turned her gaze back to him.

“Could it be you were thinking about
someone
when you threw the pillow? Someone in particular?”

His dark eyebrows arched high, and the tilt to his head said he was waiting for her answer.

Jessica folded her arms across her middle and stepped away from him.

He was too close. Every place he touched tingled and grew warm. Every time she stood so close to him, a thousand butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She had to get away. She had to put a halt to these feelings before it was too late.

“Has something upset you, Jessica?”

She took a deep breath. Of course she was upset. Did he think she was the type who threw things for no apparent reason? What kind of woman did he think he’d married? “You ask me that after what happened today?” She twisted away from him and paced the length of the room. She stopped and looked him straight in the eyes. “I am angry.”

“Why?”

“Why?” She couldn’t believe it. He didn’t even realize what he was doing to her. How unreasonable he was. What he expected of her. The risks he expected her to take. “Since the moment I met you, you have done nothing but turn my life inside out.”

“And how have I done that?”

He walked across the room and closed the door. Her heart skipped a beat. “Why did you close the door?”

He came closer, standing before her so she couldn’t miss one word. “Because you are screaming like a harpy, wife, and I do not care to have the servants hear our conversation, let alone every neighbor on Old Cherry Lane.”

Jessica pursed her mouth shut and stomped her bare foot. How dare he! “I doubt very much if I’m screaming like a harpy,
husband
, and if I am, you deserve it.”

He leaned against the tall bedpost and stared at her. He looked so casual and relaxed she wanted to hit him.

“Would you mind explaining why I deserve to be the object of your tirade?” he said.

“Because of everything you have done today.”

“And that would be?”

“First, you insisted I go for a ride.”

“Which I thought turned out to be a very pleasant experience.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then, you deliberately risked both our futures by stopping to talk to the Marquess and Marchioness of Covingsworth.”

“Which I thought went very well.”

“But you didn’t know it would when you stopped.”

“Didn’t I?”

Jessica glared at the smug expression on his face. He was so sure of himself. “Next, you used me to get an invitation to a ball Friday evening, even though you know I cannot go.”

“I know no such thing, Jessica.”

“You cannot make me, Simon. I’m not ready to take that chance.”

“You will be fine. I promise I will not leave your side for one moment.”