The Desires of a Countess (31 page)

“What are you talking about?” she whispered as she
recoiled in horror.

One by one, he was killing her dreams, her hopes for
the future. And she could do nothing but watch until everything was
revealed. Only then could she formulate some kind of plan.

“Your family connections may be able to shield you
from the consequences even of murder, but would they and could they
protect Mr. Webber if he, too, were implicated in such a
crime?”

“Simon had nothing to do with Henry’s death,” she
protested. “I didn’t even meet him until months later.”

Again, the smug smile crossed Robert’s face. “Oh,
but you see I’ve found evidence to the contrary. I found several
letters from Mr. Webber in your personal items when I made a search
of your home during my investigation. Letters that prove you two
had an affair for months before Henry’s death. Letters that show
that together you and he planned the murder and the cover-up.” He
produced a packet of papers from his pocket. “Would you like to see
them?”

She snatched the packet away and tore the string
that bound them. When she opened the first letter, she was stunned
at how much it did look like Simon’s handwriting. And the words,
the awful, vulgar words. They weren’t anything he’d ever say to
her, but they incriminated him in a scheme neither one had ever
planned.

Slowly she looked up at Robert with a look of shock.
“How did you do this?”

Grinning, he leaned forward to blow hot breath on
her neck. She flinched away.

“When one is in my line of work, one comes across
some interesting characters. Some of them are wonderful at forgery
and will do a free job in trade for not bringing them to justice.
This one was particularly good, I thought.”

“You’re a monster,” she said as she tore the letters
in pieces.

“Go ahead and destroy those.” He smiled. “I have
identical copies in a safe place.” The taunting light left his eyes
and was replaced by business-like coldness. “No one ever has to see
those letters implicating your lover if you do as I ask.”

She shut her eyes as she tried to think of an
alternative. None came.

“What do you want?”

Dennison’s smile was instant. “You will go to
Webber’s tonight just as you planned. But instead of making some
kind of silly confession of the killing, you’ll tell him you won’t
marry him. Come up with something that will sting so badly that he
won’t question your motives or pursue you.”

She ached as she listened to him silently.

“Then you will return to Westdale with me. Within
the month, you’ll announce that you’ve fallen in love and we are to
marry.”

“Oh God,” Ginny gasped. She tasted vomit in her
throat.

He ignored her. “If you do this, I’ll never reveal
what I know about you and what I can prove about Webber. Your
secret will be safe with me.” He drew her hand to him and placed a
wet kiss on her knuckles. Her stomach lurched again. “Your
husband.”

“What about my son?” she asked, thinking of Jack and
the life he would lead under this man.

“Little Jack?” he asked. “I see no
reason to bring him harm unless I feel threatened in some way. I’ll
certainly never turn any violence on him like his father tried to
do. Unless you
force
me to do so.”

His cold green eyes met hers with a clear message
and sent a pang of terror straight to her heart.

“And what if I refuse?” she whispered with a hateful
tremble to her voice.

He smiled. “Then you and your lover will be
implicated in the premeditated murder of Henry Blanchard. I assume
you may get some clemency because of your family connections. But
Webber will likely be hanged, or at best transported. And I’ll make
a very strong case that your son should be raised by the
Blanchards.” He shook his head. “But don’t force me to do that to
you, Ginny. I really do love you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

She blanched at his use of the word love. Just a few
hours before Simon had professed the same emotion and no different
could two men be. While Simon had always protected her best
interest and cared for her, this man used love as a bargaining
chip. Something that could be stolen if it wasn’t given freely.

And yet she could think of no alternative to his
proposal. There was no one to consult. Harriet was gone and no one
else knew the truth. She was utterly alone. Utterly at this man’s
mercy.

“What will you do, Virginia?
Ginny
,” he added with a
cruel smile.

She winced as Simon’s nickname for her came from his
vile lips. “Don’t call me that. Never call me that and I-I will do
as you ask.” She choked on tears as she said the words.

With a vicious smile, Robert cupped the back of her
head and pulled her close for a hard, insistent kiss. He plunged
his tongue between her teeth and made her gag on the taste of
ale.

“Very good, my love,” he panted as he pulled away.
It was obvious that touching her aroused him. He adjusted his pants
to make it less apparent. “You run along to Webber. But I warn you,
if you do anything to make him aware of my plans, I’ll follow
through on my threats. And you’ll suffer all the more for it.”

She nodded mutely as she extracted herself from his
grip. “What should I do after I tell him?”

“Return to your townhouse. I’ll be waiting for
you.”

She shut her eyes with a short nod. “Very well.”

“Good evening, Virginia.” He grinned. “And do try to
have a bit of fun. You’d be surprised how amusing breaking a man’s
heart can be.”

Without answering, she turned away and moved blindly
through the tavern, oblivious to the catcalls and lewd suggestions
levied by the patrons. Once outside, she climbed into her carriage.
Thomas looked at her with worry.

“Is anything amiss, my lady? You look very
pale.”

“I’m fine, Thomas. Just take me to Simon Webber’s
townhouse.” When he had moved away from the window and the carriage
began to roll forward, Ginny covered her head with her hands. But
no tears would come. She was too heartbroken for tears.

How was she to look at the one man she’d loved and
rip his heart out? But she had to do it or she would condemn him to
a far worse fate than a life lived apart.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Simon couldn’t help but smile at Ginny’s obvious
shock when he opened his own door. He’d given his servants the
night off. He needed no interruptions if Ginny was going to tell
him what he thought she would. And if they decided to celebrate
their love together in his bed, that was a private matter.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, dropping her eyes from
his gaze. “I didn’t expect you to be there.”

“Yes.” He opened the door wider so she could come
in. “Everyone’s gone tonight.”

She swallowed hard and nodded, though she didn’t
seem as pleased by that news as he would have liked. In fact, she
looked pale and cold without a shawl. But beautiful. Her eyes stood
out like sapphires thanks to the deep blue of her gown. Her red
hair was slightly mussed by the night breeze and little tendrils
curled around her neck.

“Come in,” he finally said when he was able to snap
himself out of his haze. “You can warm up by the fire.”

He held out his arm as he motioned to the parlor,
but she passed him by as if she didn’t see his offer. Wrinkling his
brow, he followed her into the room and watched her cross to the
roaring blaze to warm her bare arms.

“Is something wrong? Your shoulders are
trembling.”

“Nothing,” she said in a sharp tone that belied her
words. “Just chilly.”

Covering a smile, he sat down. She was nervous. It
would certainly explain her attitude. But he was in no rush. He had
all night to hear what she had to say, then show her that he felt
the same way. Afterward, they could plan their life together. He
hadn’t allowed himself a real life for so long that the idea of it
was foreign. And amazingly wonderful.

“Did you know that Harriet and Adam ran off to
elope?” she asked, though she didn’t turn to face him.

Simon counted himself lucky he hadn’t taken a drink,
because he surely would have spit it across the room. “Excuse
me?”

“Yes, she gave me a note.” Ginny turned slowly and
dug into her pocket. Two letters fell out and she gathered them
both up with flaming cheeks. After checking the contents, she gave
him one and stuffed the other deep inside her gown pocket.

Simon read the note twice and couldn’t help the
smile that turned up his lips. “Well, I’ll be. No wonder Adam was
acting strangely. He was never around, and always so odd when he
was. I meant to ask him but I was, well caught up in other things.”
He stood up and came a step closer to her. “Caught up in you.”

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, the look in
her eyes almost painful. But why? She already knew he loved her,
why was telling him the same so terrifying? Except for her unhappy
past with Henry.

That had to be it. The last man she’d shared her
love with had hurt her, and she resisted a new love now.

“Simon,” she began with a slow shake of her head.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about us.”

He grinned. “So have I. What would
you say about taking a sail for our wedding trip? We could
take
The Keeper
and a very small crew and go where our hearts took us for a
month or two. I’m sure your family would love to have Jack for a
while. And we could have a little time to ourselves before settling
into married life at home.”

She opened her mouth, but Simon kept on talking.
“I’d love to show you some of the places I’ve seen. Islands where
the sun is warm every day. Places where the native women wear less
than your underclothes.” He swallowed at the image his words had
created in his mind. “I’d love to see you in those places.”

“Simon, I don’t love you,” she choked out with no
fanfare or warning.

Her words stopped him in his tracks and he stared at
her. He must have misunderstood.

“Ginny?”

“I don’t love you, Simon.” She dipped her head so he
couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.”

Simon reeled back a few steps. “This isn’t a funny
joke.”

“Oh God, I’m not trying to be funny,” she said in a
broken whisper as she finally looked at him again. Her eyes
lingered over his face. “I should have said something this
afternoon, but Noah interrupted before I could find the words to
break the news.”

Slowly her words began to sink in,
and the pain they left in their wake was almost unbearable.
“That
wasn’t
what
you were going to say this afternoon.”

Her blue eyes widened and for a moment she seemed to
be at a loss for words. Finally, she jerked out a nod. “Yes it
was.”

“No, you wanted to tell me something about
Henry.”

He realized the level of his voice was going up, but
at the moment, he couldn’t seem to control it. Just as he couldn’t
control the wild beating of his heart or the anguish that ripped
through him like wildfire.

Ginny winced and turned her head like she’d been
slapped. “Henry. Yes. I wanted to tell you that I loved Henry and I
couldn’t love you.”

“You hated Henry.” He took another step toward her
and was surprised when she skittered back. “Are you afraid I’ll
hurt you? I’d never put a hand on you in violence. What’s really
happening here? Why are you saying things you don’t mean?”

Her eyes shifted as she grasped for an explanation
for her behavior. She looked like game ensnared in a trap and that
same wild, frightened look he’d seen when he’d first met her was on
her face now.

With her voice trembling, she said, “If you must
know… it’s your background that keeps me from ever being able to
marry you. You aren’t of Society as Henry was, and I don’t want my
son being raised by just a tradesman.”

Simon winced. Just a tradesman.

“It would lower me and my child. And I just won’t do
it.” He could tell she was clenching her teeth. “Bedding you was a
great deal of fun, and I enjoyed our affair immensely. But I cannot
marry you. Now that I’ve had time to get over the shock of us being
caught in such a compromising position, I realize that.”

Though Simon felt an overwhelming urge to turn away
from her words, he forced himself to look at her. Something in him
told him this was wrong, and it wasn’t just the pain she seemed to
be purposefully causing him.

She couldn’t meet his eyes for long. “I married one
man because my family asked me to. I can’t do it again. Not with
you.”

“You had a week from the time we were caught and
today to decide that. Why do this now? Just as early as this
afternoon you were picking out a dress for the ceremony.”

Taking great care not to frighten her, Simon clasped
his hands around her upper arms. Just touching her sent heat and
longing through him despite everything.

“Please let me go,” she whispered, but he heard
desire in her voice along with desperation.

“Tell me you don’t care for me. Look in my eyes and
tell me,” he ordered as he stared down into her face and looked for
the truth beneath her words.

“No, let me go!” she insisted and began to struggle
in his arms. As Simon dropped his hands to release her, his fingers
caught on her pocket. When she pulled back, the fabric tore.

She didn’t seem to notice as she almost ran to the
other side of the room. He dropped the piece of jagged silk, along
with the paper that had fallen from the pocket when it tore and
watched her back away.

“I don’t love you. I don’t want you. I don’t… need
you.” She was nearly hysterical as she spat out each ugly, hateful
word. “I want you to leave me alone. Don’t come to see me, don’t
interact with my son. If you must manage the estate, do it from
London. Do it from your ship. But you aren’t welcome in Westdale.”
Squaring her shoulders, she looked him in the eyes. “Hear me. I
don’t want to marry you. I don’t ever want to see you again.”