The Invisible Husband (13 page)

Her relief at
not finding her husband dead on the floor was forgotten in the heat
of indignation. “What are you doing in here? Lord Latham doesn’t
pay you to sit on his bed and moan like a sick dog. Did you think
you’d pocket a few valuables and then disappear? Empty your pockets
at once and then pack your bags. I don’t wonder you can’t keep
employment if this is your idea of working.” The man’s only
response was another heavy sigh. “Did you hear me? Empty your
pockets!” Eve suddenly realised she was alone with a strange man
who might be mentally unsound. “If you don’t leave immediately
I’ll…I’ll scream…” Her panic was now for her safety as her thoughts
filled with horror at being attacked again in her own home, but
this time with her husband out of earshot. Her limbs felt cold as
she started backing into the dark passage. “…and you’d better not
touch me or Lord Latham will whip you like a dog.” The man muttered
something under his breath before abruptly turning his whole face
in her direction. He didn’t have to introduce himself. The
beautiful face had a large puckered scar slashing across his face
through the remains of his left eye. Her mouth fell open in
disbelief as the gaze of his right eye caused the familiar tingling
and waves of sweet relief. “Adam?”

“Eve.”

She felt her
face burn as the familiar whisper confirmed he was her demon-lover.
She sighed in relief and then shivered in dread as conflicting
emotions left her confused. He was so beautiful…he was so hideous.
He was a complete stranger…he was so intimately familiar. His right
eye was so green…his left eye was so white. Her heart ordered her
to run into his arms…her mind said run away. How could knowing what
a man looked like make him more frightening? Her throat ached with
the unspeakable request that he put on his black cloak and cover
that frightening face.

The demon was
safer, less complicated than this expressive face filled with pain
and longing. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to
say? She couldn’t tell him that she liked his face; she’d never be
able to lie with enough conviction. She clenched her fists and
refused her legs any movement. This was her husband? This was the
man she’d impulsively decided to remain married to? This was the
man she ached to kiss? The thought made her blush with horror. Her
eyes darted around the room in-between quick glances at the white
eye. “You frightened me; I thought you were a deranged footman. I
heard you moaning; are you ill? Shall I fetch the housekeeper?” She
tried not to look at the white fleshy ball, but her eyes kept
swirling back to stare at it in gruesome fascination. She could
understand why he hadn’t wanted her to see him in candlelight. He’d
be a living nightmare.

“The cure for
my ailment can’t be found in an apothecary’s box.” The soft words
were filled with bitterness.

Eve moved her
legs toward the bed and awkwardly sat down beside the green eye.
She tried to stare at the floor, but her attention was riveted by
handsome legs in taut silk. She’d touched those legs; how had she
found the nerve to do something so wanton? Her heart moaned with
longing, ‘Touch his leg, tell him he owns me! Tell him…tell
him…tell him…’ Her tongue was lead; her throat felt swollen and
tight. “I’ve seen you before.”

“Last night
when you fell asleep in my arms.”

The whispered
words were filled with irony. Did he want her to remember clutching
him for comfort and craving his kisses? Could he see in her face
that she was having difficulty imagining herself being intimate
with him? “No, I’ve seen you; I dropped my umbrella, you picked it
up. You wore a broad brimmed black hat tipped low over your left
eye. I used to see you everywhere; in the park, out shopping, after
church. I wondered who you were. I’d feel like I was being watched
and when I looked I’d see you…turning away. I wondered why I never
saw your whole face, why you were always turning away.”

“Now you know.”
Eve didn’t know what else to say so she said nothing feeling
ashamed of her reaction. A clock cheerfully ticked away the minutes
as if the two people on the bed weren’t miserable. Eve quickly
glanced at Adam and was relieved to see the ugly half of his face
was hidden in his left hand. She stared at his profile in
disbelief; he must have once been the most beautiful boy in
England. “You find me repulsive…” He paused obviously hoping she’d
deny it, but she couldn’t. “…I’ll write to the archbishop and
request an annulment. He knows what I look like. I’m sure he’ll
understand why you can’t…be my wife.”

Eve flinched as
her heart screamed in horror. The thought of never kissing her
demon-lord again caused her heart to slump in its cage and sob in
despair. “I don’t want an annulment.”

“Good.” It was
a word devoid of hope. “Thank you for sparing me the public
humiliation of being repudiated.” The words sharp with sarcasm. “In
future, when my foolish heart desires an audience with its
mistress, I’ll wait until after dark. I’ll send a note to give you
time to drink enough sherry to numb the horror of my touch.”

“Adam…I’m…”

“I wish to be
alone.”

Eve flinched as
his icy command made her shiver with the pain of rejection. “As you
wish my Lord.” It was several more minutes before her rubbery legs
obeyed, lifting her off the bed and carrying her back down the
secret passage into her room. Her spine tingled as he followed a
few steps behind. What was he doing? The secret door silently
closed behind her answering her unspoken question.

Sunlight poured
into the room sneering at her misery. She viciously slammed the
shutters and pulled the curtains closed causing a comfortable
darkness. She’d told him he could demand his conjugal rights after
she’d seen his face. The thought of being naked with the man in the
next room made her shudder with longing and dread. Slumped at her
dressing table holding her shawl tightly around her, she stared at
the reflection of her bed in the mirror. If only she hadn’t opened
that door.

She’d partaken
of the forbidden fruit; she’d seen his face, his beautiful
repulsive face. If only she could rewind the hands of the clock and
choose not to open that door. She’d leave the discovery of his
features to some far future date. She’d never doubt his word that
he was hideous.

This morning he
adored her more than life. He now probably wished he’d never
attended the ball where she’d unwittingly captivated him. Would he
smother his feelings? Would he punish his heart for loving a woman
who was no different to the unkind ladies who refused to dance with
him? She moaned in pain as her wailing heart cracked with grief.
Resting her head on her arms she sat there listening for forgiving
footsteps in the secret passage, but the only footsteps were those
of servants hurrying to and from the Master’s chamber. What was he
doing?

Adam paced his
chamber wiping away blinding tears until a servant answered his
bell. “Bring me twelve uncorked bottles of claret and don’t bother
to decant them. I don’t need a pretty glass jug; I’ll be pouring
the wine straight down my gullet.”

He’d never
asked for more than one. “Don’t you mean two bottles my Lord?”

“I want a dozen
and I want them now.” The maid looked at the angry green eye
shimmering with rage and ran. Half an hour later six frightened
servants unhappily delivered his wine. He snatched the first bottle
and threw the loosened cork into the fire. Turning his back on his
servants he tipped the contents down his throat. Other than
shooting himself in the head it seemed the most immediate way to
muffle his wailing heart. His hope of being loved had evaporated
with one look of revulsion. He’d never wake up, pull his wife into
his arms and make love to her in morning sunlight. He’d be visiting
his wife in the dark till he died, like an illicit lover sneaking
in the window to taste happiness that would never be his.

Clutching a
second bottle to his chest he hid his face in his sleeve as the
servants closed the door praying their master would pass out before
accidentally drowning himself. None of them wanted his fastidious
brother Jonah as a master. Life was so much easier serving the
quiet easy going incumbent.

Three hours
later Adam was still conscious of the pain as the sixth bottle fell
from his hand and rolled away spilling a trail of light red liquid
over his Abusson carpet. Having filled his chamber pot a second
time he couldn’t bother to button his unmentionables or his trouser
flap. Tucking his male member back into his smalls seemed
sufficient modesty. His knees buckled forcing him to sit on the
edge of his bed. He wavered before safely falling back onto the
mattress. Moaning for Eve, he stared at the green silk canopy of
his lonely bed as a door opened. It was the door to his heart or
the door to hell. No it was the door to heaven. He’d drunk himself
to death and the angels were coming for him. It had to be the
angels; they were closing the door quietly with care unlike his
thoughtless servants. “Ready… …take me…heaven…”

The mattress
moved making him feel seasick as someone climbed onto the bed
beside him. “Adam?”

An angel Eve
had come to take him away; she’d love him and think him handsome.
“Eve…heaven!”

“Mrs Good is
hysterical. She says you’re trying to drink yourself to death. I
don’t want you to die!”

“Good…death…heaven!” He could hear the angel crying as a
handkerchief lovingly skimmed over his chest wiping off sick.
“Heaven!” Why was the angel buttoning his trouser flap? He didn’t
need trousers in heaven…he was going to make love to Eve forever
and she’d love him.

The angel
rolled off the bed making him momentarily seasick. “Don’t
move…”

“Can’t…” The
angel’s loving tone was a soothing balm. At last he could draw
breath without wanting to die. He was safe in heaven. The angel Eve
would take care of him. He’d never be alone again. A few minutes
later angel footmen lifted him off the bed, removed his coat and
cravat and laid him back down so his head was resting on his
pillow. He watched the blurry angel Eve remove his shoes and throw
them over her shoulder. He winced as they landed with two noisy
thumps. He didn’t notice the footmen clearing the room of his
chamber pot, and remaining bottles; his bleary eye was fixed on the
angel Eve. Her hair was escaping the braid wrapped around her head
forming a golden brown halo. He’d never seen anything so lovely.
“Eve…” He groaned in dismay as she stretched out beside his blind
eye. With his remaining strength he turned onto his side and smiled
as she came back into view. “Heaven…” The angel put her hand on his
face causing his heart to purr with pleasure.

“Heaven is off
limits for at least forty years my Lord.”

“I’m not
forty!”

“No, you’re
drunk.”

“I’m half
beautiful…half better than ugly…hates me.”

The angel Eve
was lovingly caressing his cheek; he was definitely in heaven. “I
don’t hate you.”

“I’m ugly…can’t
love me…” His eyes filled with tears as he choked on his words.
“Hurts…”

“You’re only
half ugly, but it doesn’t matter. Adam I should have told you last
night…”

“Last night…in
my arms.”

“Yes, and I’d
sleep in your arms tonight, but you stink.”

“Hates me…”

“Adam you’re
hideous, but my heart doesn’t care. I admit it’ll take me a while
to get used to the scar and your white eye, but I think my heart
loves you. Do you understand? I think I love you and I don’t want
you to drink yourself to death.”

The bleary
green eye tried to find her face but couldn’t rise above the charms
spilling out of her bodice. “Heaven…” He pressed his face against
warm naked flesh and closed his eyes. This was the way to die; with
his right hand possessing warm soft curves and his heart purring in
contentment as adoring fingers combed through his hair kneading him
into sweet oblivion.

Eve woke up in
her own bed, her eyes red and sore from crying in her sleep.
Sitting up she looked for a note, but there was nothing pinned to
her pillow or bed curtains. Without proof of forgiveness she
started to fret. What if he was still upset with her? Her heart
rudely insisted that she throw her shawl over her nightdress and go
find the man. There was no point in arguing; her heart was chanting
for its master. She had to deliver it into his arms.

Wrapping the
Indian shawl around her shoulders, she slipped on a pair of shoes.
Stepping out into the hall she hurried to his door and blushed as
she knocked. Facing a sober Adam was daunting; he was no longer a
comfortable shadow whose pleasurable kisses made her heart sing. He
was flesh and blood; a beautiful hideous dangerous stranger. She
shivered in fear as her heart sneered in contempt, ‘Who cares what
he looks like, find my master before I die…die…die…’

The door was
opened by a chambermaid holding a wet cloth in her hand. Eve could
see by her wet knees she’d been cleaning the carpet. “Beg pardon ma
Lady…”

Eve tried to
pretend she wasn’t deeply embarrassed. “His Lordship…?”

“I believe he’s
in the dining room my Lady…shall I fetch His Lordship?”

“No…thank you…”
Eve clutched the shawl tighter around her shoulders and turned back
towards her room, but her feet carried her past her door and down
the stairs. Lost in thoughts of Adam she didn’t see the quiet
servants at their morning chores stop and stare in shock as she
walked by. Pausing outside the dining room, she slowly peeked
around the open door. He was reading a broadsheet; the large
newspaper shielding him from curious eyes. He appeared to be little
more than two well shaped legs sprawled under the table. She pulled
back as her heart started dancing and singing for joy at his
nearness. She tried to catch her breath, but the singing only got
louder, ‘He’s so lovely and his mine…mine…mine… He’ll smile and
kiss me and be kind…kind…kind…’ Eve scowled at her chest and
tried to fortify her quaking nerves. The fact he was eating in the
dining room had to mean he was waiting for her to wake up so he
could demand his conjugal rights. Her knees trembled as her heart
was momentarily silenced with awestruck longing; he’d hold her in
his arms and kiss away her fears.