The Skilled Seduction (46 page)

“I’m glad I could be your second choice,” Oliver tossed her cape onto an empty chair then sat in the chaise opposite her. “So, what made you decide to adopt that little cherub, the one entertaining my maid as we speak?”

“Shortly after we married, I discovered that Tristan was suspected of fathering his former mistress’s child. He wouldn’t confirm or deny it—”

“Why would your husband not answer the claim?” Oliver asked.
 

She should have expected that her friend would want all the appalling details. Now that the danger had passed, Victoria was free to explain and she did so, ending with “my husband behaved nobly, sacrificing his reputation to save the child and her mother from an abusive aristocrat.”

“Bloody hell,” her friend cursed as he shook his head. “I dare say this news may cause me to reconsider my dislike of the man.”

Victoria arched her brow.

“In all seriousness, how did you adopt the supposed product of said liaison?” he asked.

“I purchased her,” she admitted without apology.
 

“Look at you! Ever the defiant wife and advocate for the less fortunate.” He crossed his arms over his chest and reclined in the overstuffed chair. “I take it your husband was angry with you?”

 
She considered Tristan’s initial reaction, then his support in front of the
ton
. “No, he was proud of me.”

“Why exactly did you leave him?”

What a simple question that led to an extremely complicated answer. Victoria left because she couldn’t protect the life growing inside of her. Because she awoke without her husband by her side. Because she failed him. Because she lost their child and she was overcome with grief and fear … terrified that Tristan would never again love her, never again kiss her forehead in that act of gentle possession she had grown accustomed to, never hold her in his tight embrace. The overwhelming anguish that came with the knowledge that she might have lost his devotion, along with their child, was too much to process.

“I didn’t
leave him
as much as I needed time alone, to adjust to losing the baby. We both wanted that child, Ollie,” Victoria lay on her side, resting her head against the velvet pillow of the sofa. “Dr. Danbury said there is a possibility I may never give birth and ever since I heard my prognosis, I can’t stop my feelings from reeling. What if I am barren? Will Tristan still love me then?”

“Dearest, I think you are far too emotional right now to be entertaining any of these thoughts, especially without your husband to answer you.”

Victoria again remembered with a sharp pain of remorse the fact that Tristan wasn’t at her side when she awoke. A piece of her died within her each time she remembered.
 

What if Tristan ceased loving her because of their loss?

“I
am
emotional, far too much so and I’m not thinking clearly. Tristan wants a family, an heir. What if I can’t give him one? I can’t lose him, too. Not after the baby.”

Their baby. God how she missed that precious life growing within her.

“I know how much you want a family, as well.” Oliver’s tone was brimming with compassion.
 

Victoria was certain that not even her dear friend could understand the magnitude of her loss, of her emptiness.

In a society where women can’t vote nor own property, the one task Victoria was given – to bear her husband an heir – is the same task at which she failed miserably. Her own body failed to protect their child and the grief she felt was too much to endure.

Oliver patted her back. She hadn’t heard him approach, let alone lean beside her. “I am truly sorry, Tori.”

Again her eyes blurred with previously unshed tears. She mourned her child, the possibly that her marriage might be next to suffer and for the loss of all of her dreams of a large family with Tristan.
 

Her heart shattered, one piece at a time, with each tear shed. Selfishly, Victoria couldn’t stop herself. She would pick up the pieces tomorrow.

Tonight she would allow herself to feel.

Victoria loved Tristan and would do so until the day she died. Did he still feel the same about her?

She feared the answer and was desperate to avoid the inevitable until she felt strong enough to face her future.

* * *

Tristan hadn’t slept, searching for his wife and daughter to no avail all night. After being sedated for days, Victoria had awakened when Tristan was at church. From what he discerned, his wife had conversed with Dr. Danbury then took Sophie without a word to anyone, including Meg. The fact that she left Molly behind heightened his fear for her as Victoria would never have done so with a clear mind.

Meg assumed Victoria’s erratic emotions were caused by a combination of the miscarriage and the fact that she may not be able to carry other children. “Loss makes people behave irrationally,” Meg had told Tristan as he read the missive Victoria left for him:
 

I’m so sorry about our baby, Tristan. It’s
 

my fault. My body was supposed to protect that fragile little life growing inside of me. The fact that I didn’t is too much for me to endure.

So many of our hopes and dreams rested on that precious child we created and the loss is suffocating me. As is the fact that I may never again be able to carry your child.

Don’t worry about me or Sophie. I just need some time to grieve. Please take care of Molly for me.

I love you.

Victoria

Victoria being overly emotional is what concerned him the most – she wasn’t acting rationally and he feared for her safety and Sophie’s.
 

In addition to searching all of London last night, he’d written to Victoria’s brothers to receive replies this morning that she wasn’t with Gwen and Sebastian. He then learned that Colin and Eve had arrived in London this morning.

Tristan entered their brownstone in time to find them at the breakfast table. Exhausted and worried beyond reason, his nerves were stretched taut like muslin about to rip in two.

Though it wasn’t easy humbling himself by admitting that Victoria had left, he found himself praying that Victoria was with one of their families. The thought of not finding her was too painful to consider.
 

Weeks ago, he hadn’t prayed nor would he. Now, he found himself praying to God continually for Victoria’s health. With each day that she was unconscious, he went to that church, begging for a miracle. In response, his wife awoke and promptly disappeared.

If that weren’t divine intervention or some sort of biblical retribution for his sins, he didn’t know what was.

“Tristan, are you all right?” Colin asked as Tristan bounded into the dining room.

Fiona gasped before adding, “Tristan dear, you look terrible.”

Tristan scanned the room, his shoulders slumping when there was no sign of Victoria or Sophie. “They’re not here.”

“No, darling, they’re not,” Fiona said in her angelic voice, gray curls bobbing about her heart-shaped face. She then reached for a plate, offering it to him. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast? We have plenty of bacon and bacon always makes me feel better.”

Blame it on the lack of sleep, but a nervous laugh escaped his throat.

“Bacon?” he repeated, plopping into the chair next to Fiona. “I have loved my wife long before she ever consented to marry me. Hell, I’ve loved her all along. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved, no offense to you, Eve,” he turned to Eve and she offered him a slight smile. “But, I was too bloody cowardly to admit that to Victoria. When I finally did admit it, she didn’t believe me. I admitted it again and she did believe me. I thought our lives were charmed but now she’s run off because she blames herself for the loss of our child. But, I have bacon.”

Fiona patted his hand. “And porridge.”

Tristan blinked, attempting to follow the kind woman’s logic as he turned to Colin. “Please, tell me you know where Victoria is.”

“Grandmamma,” Eve placed her napkin on the table. “Would you mind checking on Abigail? She is upstairs with Nanny.”

“Of course, darling,” Fiona rose, patting Tristan’s hand again. “It’s always darkest before the dawn,” the Dowager Viscountess whispered as she exited the room.

Tristan rubbed his eyes, aware that he was now being preached platitudes about darkness and dawn by a sweet, gray-haired woman resembling a cherub.
 

“We arrived in London early this morning,” Eve explained. “Victoria is not here, nor have we seen her but we have received word that she is safe.”

“Where is she?”

Eve turned to Colin. Tristan followed her line of sight. “Colin, tell me where my wife is.”

“Keep in mind that she’s extremely emotional, Tristan.” Colin’s tone was tinged with regret.

“How can she not be? We lost our unborn child.” Tristan managed in a raspy whisper.

His emotion must have been too raw, for Eve averted her eyes before tracing a seam in the snowy white tablecloth before her.

Colin sat beside his brother, placing his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Tori explained that she requires some time alone.”

“No, she needs me. Please, tell me where she is,” Tristan couldn’t believe he was groveling.

Well aware that Colin was contemplating what to say next, Tristan began to speak and could no longer prevent the torrent of confessions.

“I’m living for Victoria, now. I’ve even begun speaking to God again, something I haven’t done in years. I went to church the night she lost our child and prayed for him to spare Victoria. I have been going to that church every day since. If that doesn’t prove to you how much I’ve changed, how much I care for her …”

Tristan’s vision blurred. He blinked back the tears threatening to fall. Victoria wasn’t the only one feeling emotional from their loss. He had never cried, never knew he could until he almost lost Gwen. Then he and Victoria lost their child and he almost lost his wife.
 

He was no longer afraid to cry.

“Oh, Tristan,” Eve placed her hand over her mouth.

Colin squeezed his brother’s shoulder.

“I prayed for her because I love her and I can’t live without her,” Tristan whispered to his brother.
 

“Honestly, Tristan, we don’t know where she is,” Colin muttered.

It couldn’t be true.

“Victoria sent us a missive,” Eve admitted. “She didn’t reveal where she was. Just that she was in seclusion.”

Tristan studied Eve’s expression, it was one of compassion mixed with apprehension.

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.

Eve shot her husband a knowing glance. Colin nodded, as if to encourage her to speak the horrible truth.

 
“Grandmamma explained that Victoria’s letter was delivered by a coach emblazoned with the Wainright family crest.”

“We don’t know that they’re together, mind you,” Colin added. “Oliver may not even know where she is. Victoria didn’t mention him in her missive nor did she specify what aid he provided her. Fiona may have been mistaken.”

Anger, pure and primal, pumped through Tristan’s blood. His racing pulse hammered like an anvil against his temples. “That bastard.”

Tristan had gone to Wainright’s London townhome last evening. It was one of the first places he’d looked for his family. The staff was at a minimum. Had they lied? Or had he returned to London since then? He clenched his hand into a tight fist as he tried to control his mounting temper.
 

Wainright
 
knew where Victoria was, damn him. Worse yet, he was possibly hiding her from Tristan.
 

In a deliberate effort to remain calm, Tristan exhaled a deep breath. “Thank you for the information,” he said as he stood.

“Where are you going?” Colin asked.

Tristan clenched his jaw so tight that he could feel a vein begin to pulsate in his neck. “To find Wainright.”

“I’m coming with you,” Colin stood but Tristan shot him a murderous look. It stopped his brother dead in his tracks.

“This is something I must do myself,” Tristan’s tone was low and dangerous.

Concern etched in deep-set lines around Colin’s eyes. “Tristan—”

“The earl will tell me where he’s hiding my wife.” Tristan twisted his gloves until he thought they would pull apart at the seams.

Heaven help anyone who hides Tristan’s family from him.

Chapter 20

London’s usual morning bustle was in full swing by the time Tristan’s coach pulled to a stop in front of Wainright’s London townhome. He stared out the carriage window, at the throngs of pedestrians walking past in a blur, yet he failed to focus on them.
 

What could be worse than confronting an archrival who is hiding your wife?

Not finding her.

Fear coiled within Tristan’s chest. He couldn’t accept that she may be gone for good.
 

He wouldn’t.