The Skilled Seduction (38 page)

Based upon his wife’s reaction tonight, she must indeed abhor him. The fact that Victoria had taken the carriage and returned to Ainsley without him was a sure sign if ever he saw one.

Tristan stood, rooted in the very spot where he had once been beaten by a hot poker as a child, just one of his many scars. No child should ever have to suffer the horrors that he did. Every time his resolve wavered, every time he wanted to confess the truth to his wife, all he had to do was reach out and touch the raised, deadened tissue on his back.
 

It was enough to persuade him against any admissions.

Sighing, he rubbed his chin now rough with stubble as he glanced at the terrace doors. His wife was just beyond them, past the study and through the connecting doors to the bedroom suite they shared.
 

So close, yet so far from his reach.

Fatigue, a weight the likes of which Tristan had never before known swathed his heart, cloaking it in a heavy gloom. He didn’t relish the thought of returning to his suite for yet another confrontation with his wife. Victoria would never understand that the child was safer away from him. But she was.
 

How could he get his compassionate wife to accept the inconceivable?

The life that he once crafted with precision had unraveled and his past was catching up with him. He should have prepared for it. But he was too wrapped up in marrying Victoria and saving her from the scandal that their elopement would cause that he never expected Lady Markham would strike so quickly or viciously tonight.
 

Damn that woman and her big mouth!
   

He raked his hands through his hair. The notion of calling out the old bat was quite appealing. Pistols at dawn would do nicely. So would a bloody duel. Even though she was tough, there was no doubt in Tristan’s mind that he would best her. But, even if he had the satisfaction of silencing the damned gossip, his biggest regret remained that Victoria had learned the worst of his secrets and would never again see him in the same light.

Will she ever forgive me?
 

He’d been asking himself the same question ever since his conversation with Gwen. Then he overheard Lady Markham in the ballroom bragging that Victoria had been seen fleeing the powder room upon learning that the groom had an illegitimate child. It took all his strength not to confront the gossipmonger and cause a scene. It was no wonder Victoria had avoided him for the rest of the evening.

This, the night of their wedding celebration ball, had begun with such promise, with his wife openly flirting with him, smiling at him, her serene beauty and quick wit all but mesmerizing him. Yet now it ended with him wondering if Victoria would remain his bride or try to run as far and as fast as she possibly could.
 

In truth, he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

“Is it true?” Victoria’s voice, a husky whisper, sliced through the cool night air.

Squinting in the darkness, his eyes found her bathed in a sliver of moonlight, leaning against the stone balustrade. She no longer wore her crimson gown, he noted. Instead she wore a heavy velvet robe tied at her waist with a satin sash. Her robe was violet, Tristan suspected, judging the way the moonlight illuminated the fabric.

“What?” he asked, bridging the distance between them. He still hadn’t heard her speak the words.

Victoria remained silent until he reached her, scrutinizing him. “Do you have a child?”

He couldn’t answer truthfully, so he chose to remain silent.

“Let’s try another question, shall we? Did you marry me to save your reputation?”

“No,” on this topic he was adamant as he gently brushed a stray curl from her face before tucking it behind her ear. “Think what you will about me, Victoria, but I did not marry you to enhance my reputation.”

Judging by her harsh expression, Victoria remained unconvinced. “Lady Markham believes that you did as do many others in the
ton
.”

“When did Lady Markham become a beacon of truth?” he snapped at her, his tone much more scornful than he had meant it to be. In an attempt to soften his statement, he tipped her chin up, locking his gaze with hers. “Had my reputation been of any concern to me, I could have married a myriad of women. Most of whom I wouldn’t have had to abduct.”

He paused, allowing his last quip to sink in before assuring his wife, “I married you because I wanted to.”

“Prove it,” she beseeched him. “Be honest with me about the child. Is she yours?”

It would have been so easy to confess the truth. No one deserved it more than his wife. Hell, she deserved so much more. But Tristan had vowed never to tell anyone. He had already broken his promise once tonight with his twin but at least Gwen was far away from the danger. Victoria would return to London with him and be in the thick of it. No, this was a secret he would take to his grave if it meant protecting Victoria.

“I can’t do as you ask.” Of course his bride would assume the child was his, just as everyone else in polite society had done.

He couldn’t help that.

There was too much at stake.

His wife pulled away from him, crossing to the edge of the terrace, staring at the lawns, her curvy silhouette illuminated by the opaque light of the crescent moon hanging high in the night sky.

Oh, how he wanted this woman and he would want her until the end of time.

“So these were the truths, to which you referred earlier, before the ball?” Her voice became small and raspy. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He strode towards her, placing his hand on the small of her back. “I wanted to.”

“Instead, Lady Markham holds the distinction of revealing all,” Victoria’s words were laced with anguish as she stared into the muted shadows of the garden shrubbery.

Rubbing his wife’s back in small, circular motions, Tristan placed his chin on her shoulder.

“You promised to protect me from the vultures and instead offered me to them on a silver platter.”

Tristan turned her to face him. “That was never my intention.”

“Your sister knows about your child … I will refer to the little girl as yours, even though you have yet to confirm or deny those rumors. It was an intentional slight, I’m sure.”

His wife was sharp as a blade. What in God’s name ever possessed him to think that he should spend the rest of his life with any other woman? It had been absolute madness.

After his conversation with Gwen, it became apparent to him just how much he loved his wife. The fact that Tristan had admitted the truth aloud to his sister, freed his once guarded and lackluster spirit.

Victoria tensed as he slid his hands around her waist, as if she had felt the same jolt that he had the moment they touched.
   

“Gwen told me,” he clarified, his heart pounding in his temples at her close proximity. “She also admitted that she wanted to strangle me.”

“Ah, smart woman,” she tipped her chin, leaning against the stone balustrade he knew was behind her. “Pray tell, what prevented her from doing so?”

He bridged the small gap between them, now leaning against her. “The fact that I’m her twin grants me immunity.”

“Shame,” Victoria retorted.
 

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She leaned into him, resting her cheek against his chest as Tristan wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her within the protection of his warm embrace.

“What are you thinking?” he spoke into her auburn curls, kissing the top of her head. She was quiet, too quiet. What he wouldn’t give for his wife to yell at him, slap him, fight him. An odd request, he knew, but it was far better than this unusual apathy that had settled within her.

A tight knot of panic wrapped settled within his abdomen, seizing his organs until he felt physical pain.

“Please talk to me, Victoria,” he beseeched her.

“All of my fears came to fruition tonight,” she whispered against his chest. “You promised to protect me yet Lady Markham publicly announced that I am a ‘
naïve, unsuspecting girl
’ whom you married to save your reputation.”

Tristan held her tighter, as if he could protect her now, as if it weren’t already too late. “I am sorry, Victoria.”

“I can’t speak any more tonight,” her ragged cadence warned him that her steely façade was beginning to crack.

His wife had fought for him, for what she believed to be right, for so long. She had remained strong through all of their battles, all of their challenges yet, on this night, her brave persona threatened to crumble.

They stood, bathed in moonlight, as Victoria squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to silence her mind, which had been recalling Lady Markham’s shrill admissions ever since she had heard them.
 

Tristan held her, kissing the top of her head, promising her that everything would be all right.
   

She found little solace in his reassurances.

Victoria knew what she must do next, of course, having come to the realization several hours ago though she couldn’t confide in her husband yet. No, he would find out soon enough, once they returned to London.

Wrapping her hands around her arms, she shivered. Whether from the cold or the confrontation that would assuredly follow her actions, she knew not.
   

“Let us go inside,” Tristan led her into their suite.

Victoria longed for a quick resolution but was well aware that none existed, the realization leaving her weak. Tristan must have read her thoughts because he again kissed her head. “It will be all right,” he assured her as Victoria climbed onto the bed. He then lifted the cool sheets over her shoulders, tucking her underneath the heavy coverlet.
 

His actions were so tender, the expression in his rich gaze brimming with understanding. How could this man who showed her so much compassion be capable of abandoning his own child? Confusion muddled her train of thought. It was as if she were walking through a thick fog, powerless to discern what shadows were real or imaginary in the heavy mist.

None of what she heard tonight made any sense. A man who would protect his sister wouldn’t discard his own child no matter how scandalous. Nor would he abandon his career when he had successfully helped his grandfather turn around his dwindling estates and make a large fortune.

A part of her didn’t believe the accusations, yet Tristan refused to refute them. Where did that leave her?

Victoria might have cried at any other time but not now, for she no longer possessed any tears to shed. Instead, a surprising numbness had settled within the deep crevices of her core.

Since Tristan had sent his valet away this evening, he crossed to his side of the four-poster, removing his vest before tossing it onto a nearby chaise. He then removed his shoes and climbed under the covers with her.
         

“Come here,” he whispered, holding out his arm.
   

Victoria complied, resting her head in the crook of his neck as he again wrapped his arms around her.

Her hand rested against his chest and she could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, through the fine fabric of his shirt. She concentrated on the rhythm, hoping it would steady her turbulent emotions.
   

“What would have happened if you loved me first?”
 

Tristan caressed her shoulder in a smooth, circular motion as he replied in a husky whisper, “I would have been the luckiest man in the world.”

He had fought his feelings for too long, always rebuffing the possibility that he did love Victoria until tonight.

He could no longer deny it, no longer run from it. It was terrifying beyond belief but it was the truth and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would lose his wife if he didn’t confess his feelings.

 
“I love you, now,” his heartfelt admission hovered in the silence that engulfed them.

Victoria remained still. “Thank you for saying so but enough lies and secrets have been revealed tonight. I don’t want to add another half-truth to the mix nor do I possess the energy to pretend.”

The realization that his wife didn’t believe him hit Tristan like a blunt object. Unable to convince her with words, he was determined to express his love in his embrace, in his every caress.
 

He continued to hold his wife long after Victoria had succumbed to slumber. All the while, he considered their future.

Tristan had much work to do. He must repair his marriage, make Victoria believe in him again. Then there were his career and his reputation, both of which were in tatters. He would salvage both for his wife. Because he wanted nothing more than to be the man she once believed him to be, the man he once was.

I love you –
three little words that meant so much and couldn’t be more heartfelt.
I love you
– a truth he would no longer deny.
I love you
– his soul’s dearest gift.

I love you.

And I won’t rest until you believe me.

* * *

Victoria and Tristan returned to London the following morning, their carriage shrouded in silence.