Virtue and Vice (14 page)

“How dare I? Did you just ask
me
that question? How dare
you
comport yourself the way you’ve done these last weeks when a betrothal contract was signed and witnessed in good faith?”

“By whom, you?” she snorted. “You couldn’t be bothered to come in person for the betrothal! Who are you to judge my behavior? In what way have I conducted myself that somehow gives you that right, my lord Royston?” Unsuppressed rage glittered in her eyes.

“You’ve conducted yourself like a whore, Isabelle. Like a whore.” He released her arms and thrust her away. She stumbled back, coming to rest against the desk again. “That gives me the right!” He’d be damned if he allowed her to make him feel even a moment of guilt by her accusation of neglect. Not in light of her behavior! Nor did he value himself so highly that he believed for a moment his presence at the betrothal signing would have changed her mind about extricating herself from this marriage.

She glared at him, her face now flushed with anger, her breasts heaving from the force of her fury. Even knowing what he knew now, he couldn’t help but admire how magnificent she was in a full-blown rage.

“’Tis a good thing you discovered this about me ere we were chained together in the unholy bonds of matrimony for the rest of our lives then, isn’t it,
Julian
?”

He was still going to marry her.

The irony almost sent him to his knees. He wanted nothing to do with women of his mother’s ilk, yet this one had stirred his passions to unknown heights and snuck into his affections with her well-practiced portrayal of innocence and untouched sweetness. He’d begun to love her! So even now, knowing the truth, he would marry her, because she was like an unquenchable thirst, a hunger in his blood. Though it was madness to even consider it, he couldn’t bear to deprive himself just as he was so close to having her. All the hopes kindled these last wonderful, deceitful weeks died a quick, vicious death. Now, only lust would be the foundation for his marriage to a scheming witch.

The relief in her eyes as she spat her statement made it a fait accompli. She wanted to be free of this marriage, of him, and he’d be damned if he let her walk away, congratulating herself on a game well-played, free to go back to her precious Paul. Oh no. If he had to damn himself for the rest of his life or even for all eternity, he’d make sure she was damned too.

He could never be complacent with her, as his father had been with his mother. Ram would keep a tight rein on his bride and she’d soon come to know that he alone was her master. It was the only way to gain what he wanted most.

“I think not, Isabelle.”

“What do you mean?” she snapped.

“What I mean is, you’ll take a few minutes to compose yourself and then you and I will leave this room together and find your father and tell him the good tidings. The wedding shall go forth as planned.”

“I’ll not marry you now! Are you daft?” Vehemence tinged her voice, making it shrill.

“You need to think that decision my dear. There’s a quite legal contract signed that states otherwise”.

“But everything has changed now!” Her composure slipped a notch. “Contracts are broken all the time! I don’t want to marry you.”

“Think you I care even a whit? The reasons upon which this match was conceived still exist. My father needs the political connections and royal goodwill marriage to you will bring. You’ll marry me, Isabelle, or your father will lose his precious land and all the money my father agreed to pay for you. Frankly, you should be grateful. Your father is getting the better end of this bargain.”

She gasped. “That’s blackmail!”

“It isn’t blackmail to hold you to a contract legally signed and witnessed. Besides, you’ve no other choice. If you don’t marry me, where will you go? Have you so quickly forgotten your father’s last words to you? Your family will no longer have you, Isabelle. Indeed, you’re lucky I will. Truthfully, you should be on your knees
begging
me to marry you!”

The words halted her and he watched with savage satisfaction as a wave of pain crossed her face.

“You’ve no other choice, Isabelle.”

“Stop calling me that! My name is Izzy!”

There was a sharp stab of pain in the general vicinity of his heart. Izzy would forever be the sweet girl on the riverbank, the innocent who’d entrusted her body to him, the woman for whom he yearned in the deepest, darkest hours of the night. Not this hissing, spitting she-cat.

“Your time is up
Isabelle
. What’s your decision?”

Chapter 13

              Izzy’s gut churned with nausea.

How had everything spun so completely out of control? Izzy stared in stupefied silence at the man before her, panic rising steadily in her chest that made breathing difficult.

What should I do?

How could he still want to marry when he was so very angry? And rightly so, if she were honest with herself, especially after he’d overheard the confession to her father, though surely he would recognize the desperate lie when he calmed. She was furious with him, too, and justified in her anger over his deception, but she was not so much of a hypocrite she didn’t recognize his right to be furious as well.

But where had the tenderness Julian displayed so often gone? If he would just show her the smallest hint of it now, she’d take his hand and willingly do as he and her father wished. In light of Papa’s threat, she had no other choice. She was terrified of losing Papa’s love, losing her family. Perhaps if she went through with the wedding Papa would find it in his heart to forgive her.

And yet, despite her intimate knowledge of his body, the man before her was a complete stranger. He was Julian, yet he wasn’t. This man possessed the bearing of nobility. From his aquiline nose down to his expensive cavalier boots, he reeked of self-confidence and authority. And she liked it not one bit.

Anger at his deception overrode common sense. “I’ll see you in He-”

“
Don’t
say it, Isabelle. You’re mere seconds away from becoming a homeless street urchin with nothing to her name. Though I think it’s safe to say you’ll make one hell of a courtesan should that come to pass.”

His words were like tiny daggers stabbing at her heart.

It hurt that he thought so lowly of her and it hurt that Papa had cast her out as he had.

Will Papa truly stand by his words if I don’t go through with this madness?

She wasn’t sure. One of her brothers would take her in, surely they’d never leave her homeless, would they? But if she didn’t marry the Viscount, her brothers would lose so much. Perhaps they’d be too angry to want to help her.

But dear God! To go forth with a marriage this way seemed a recipe for disaster. Could she overcome her anger over his deception? Would he overcome his fury over hers?

She’d have to find out, for there was no other choice. Paul was lost to her now, whether she married the viscount or not. Backing out of marriage on her wedding day and the shame of being disowned by her family would destroy her reputation. No one would have her now. She’d made this bed for herself, now it was time to lie in it. She only hoped that later tonight, after the vows were exchanged, she and Julian—Ramsay—could have an open, honest discussion, and smooth away all the misunderstandings between them. She had only make it through the day and then everything would be all right. Bridegrooms had to treat their new brides with tenderness and patience on their first night as husband and wife. She would make everything right tonight. She’d confess her lie, explain why she misled her father, and perhaps they might even laugh about it. And then he’d hold her in his arms like he had in the crofter’s cottage and make her feel safe and cherished. Though she’d die before admitting it to anyone else at this precise moment, nothing about this marriage seemed so terrible on second thought. Once he knew the truth they would begin anew.

She’d grieve in private for the life she wouldn’t have with Paul.

Swallowing her fear, she raised her eyes to Ramsay’s and nodded. Perhaps once they wed he’d soften and cease his mockery.

“Wise choice, Isabelle. Shall we find your father and share our joyous tidings?”

She bit her lip, praying she hadn’t just made the worst mistake of her life.

***

It all happened so fast it couldn’t possibly be real! But the unfamiliar weight of the wedding band on Izzy’s ring finger brought everything into sharp focus.
I’m married!

The realization brought no surge of exhilaration, dismay, or even fear. There was only a kind of numb acceptance.
How peculiar.

When she and Ram left the study together, Papa had accepted the announcement of their impending nuptials with some surprise and a great amount of relief. It hurt her terribly that he was so eager to give her away. Yet despite her capitulation to his wishes, he’d not spared her a single tender glance and she’d ached at his neglect. She yearned for just one smile from him, one kindly spoken word- anything that would set her mind at ease that she hadn’t lost his love forever. More than anything, she’d wished to confess her deceit to him before the nuptials, but whenever she drew near his face became closed and forbidding.

When the time came for the wedding to begin, Izzy had discovered Papa no longer wanted the honor of giving her to Ram. She’d never, ever imagined her wedding without Papa, but he no longer wanted her. And he couldn’t even be bothered to be the one to hand her off to the next man who didn’t truly want her. Anguish had snatched her breath, her bottom lip trembled, and it had taken every ounce of willpower she possessed to hold back desperate tears before an assembly of wedding guests.

It had fallen to Tyrone, her eldest brother, to place her hand in Ram’s in their father’s stead. Surely it was the least auspicious beginning to any wedding, ever, for her father was ashamed of her and her groom seemed to despise her. Izzy was almost in tears before the ceremony even started.

As her brother gave her to her future husband, she’d searched Ramsay’s eyes, seeking any sign of tenderness. Instead, she’d seen only steely resolve when he took her arm and turned to the vicar.

Mrs. Smith had attended wearing a smug smile as if she’d played a hand in the day’s events. If only the vicar’s wife knew all that occurred since that day in the study when she’d wielded the switch, the woman would probably keel over in a dead faint.

Izzy had repeated the words required of her, barely aware of what she’d said, only noting the mocking look in Ram’s eyes as she vowed to be faithful unto him.

Then he’d slipped a ring onto her finger and followed it with a chaste kiss.

Now they were man and wife, and it was time to face her third ordeal of the day.

They greeted the guests as a newly married couple, accepting the congratulations and best wishes from the small gathering. In a blur, Izzy met Ram’s father, the Earl, and Juliana, Ram’s young sister. Izzy barely had time to form an opinion of the pretty girl before her mother and then Belinda descended upon her. Her cousin threw her arms around Izzy’s neck, hugging her close.

“Congratulations, Izzy. You’re the most beautiful bride ever.”

Izzy’s composure slipped and she struggled not to burst into tears. Hugging Belinda back, Izzy held onto her as though her cousin was her only security in the world. As much as she wanted to, Izzy couldn’t unburden herself to her cousin, for Belinda would only fret. There was no reason to upset her when Izzy could very well worry enough for the both of them.

“Come.” Ramsay took her arm in a tight grasp. “’Tis time to go to the house for the
festive
meal”.

She couldn’t bear his cutting sarcasm.

Surely, she was only in the grip of a terrible nightmare, one she couldn’t awaken from no matter how she tried, but a nightmare nonetheless and therefore destined to end? After all, they couldn’t go on like this forever.

And yet, she wasn’t buoyed by hope. She was married to a man whom, by all indication, despised her, and now they were to celebrate their sham of a marriage before a roomful of people, pretending happiness at their union.

Ramsay set a fast pace as they walked to the house. Trying her best to keep up, she stumbled, but he merely tightened his hold and dragged her along behind him, like a recalcitrant child about to receive a chastisement. She bit back a plea for mercy, knowing he had none to spare. Her spirits sank even lower, when she didn’t believe it possible to feel worse than she already did. The fact that she was now his wife hadn’t changed a thing. By the time they reached the manor, Izzy was panting from exertion.

Her mother had overseen the preparation of an intimate reception, with delicious food and other luxuries provided to all, but everything Izzy put in her mouth tasted like sawdust and so she finally gave up trying to eat. Worry over how she would break through Ramsay’s anger long enough to explain the truth when they retired to Chesworth House gnawed at her. His father, the Earl, was leaving for London with Juliana in order to give Ram and Izzy a few weeks of privacy. The idea of being alone with her new husband in a strange house almost sent her into hysterics.

When the meal finished, Ramsay left his place at the table without a word, apparently not willing to even pay lip service to the usual wedding traditions. When Izzy next caught sight of him he stood across the room talking with Tyrone. Izzy watched as they conversed with ease, saw Ramsay smile at something her brother said, and experienced a pang of true dismay. If only he’d smile at her like that just once, she would know some relief, at least. As it was, he’d not bothered to spare a single look in her direction. She was a bride abandoned by her groom at her own wedding. She stared straight ahead, pretending not to notice, fighting an overwhelming urge to flee.

Suddenly aware of a presence, Izzy turned to find Belinda hovering nearby, her eyes searching.

“Are you well, Izzy?”

Izzy forced a smile. “I’m fine,” she lied.

Her cousin sighed with relief and took the seat vacated by Ramsay earlier. “So you weren’t furious when you discovered that Julian is really your viscount?”

Izzy gasped. Surely she hadn’t heard Belinda correctly! “You knew?”

Belinda’s eyes widened in alarm and she stuttered, “I-I assumed he told you when he revealed the truth to you.”

Belinda’s betrayal, and it
was
a betrayal, on top of everything else Izzy had suffered that day nearly broke her. Her hands began to shake, and then her arms, until she trembled from head to toe. “You knew who he was all this time and you didn’t tell me?” Izzy heard the rising pitch of her own voice and clamped her mouth shut, afraid she would open it, and nothing but a scream would emerge. This all could have so easily been avoided if only Belinda had told her the truth! “You deliberately let me make a fool of myself?”

“I-I promised him I wouldn’t disclose his identity to you.”

Izzy narrowed her eyes. “And a promise to him was worth more than a lifetime of friendship?”

“I truly thought it for the best. You seemed to like Julian so well. I couldn’t help but feel that when you discovered the truth you’d be well pleased, regardless of your feelings for Paul.”

Izzy tried to gain hold of her spiraling anger, but it was too much on top of the day’s other revelations. “Tell me, Belinda, how long have you wanted Paul for yourself? Or is it only that you couldn’t stand it that two men wanted to marry me, when you have no prospects of your own? For I can see no other reason why you betrayed me and sabotaged my only chance at happiness!”

Belinda’s face paled and her eyes filled with tears. “You think I did this on purpose to hurt you? Do you truly believe that?” she cried.

Izzy stared back in stony silence.

“Everything I’ve ever done has been for you, Izzy. Everything. My entire life I’ve put your needs ahead of my own so you might be happy. And you truly think me capable of such vile deception for my own selfish purposes? Do you?”

When Izzy didn’t answer, Belinda stood. “You could be happy with Ramsay if you tried. Do you know how lucky you are that you desired one another ere either of you knew you were even betrothed? If you can’t find happiness under those circumstances you’ll never find happiness, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

Belinda pushed her chair violently from the table. “From now on I’m putting my own needs first. It’s now your husband’s responsibility to make sacrifices for your happiness, not mine. I only hope you show him more gratitude than you’ve shown me.”

Izzy turned away so Belinda wouldn’t see her tears. She wanted to take back her words, for they were cruel and untrue, but if she tried to speak she’d lose her composure completely. To the two people she loved most, Papa and Belinda, she’d been an unwanted burden and never knew it. And now, for reasons she didn’t understand, she’d become Ramsay’s unwanted burden. Only Izzy held no delusions her husband would ever worry unduly about her happiness, let alone sacrifice for it.

She flinched when she heard the rustle of Belinda’s skirts as she stalked away.

Deep seated loneliness and grief pierced her. Her father was ashamed of her, Belinda had betrayed her, and her husband despised her.

And somehow, though her intention was never to hurt anyone, she’d brought it all on herself. That simple truth made it all the harder to bear. She had no right to self-pity.

Could there be anything worse than this?

***

Worse arrived not long after Izzy’s argument with Belinda, when Ramsay finally returned to her side, only to take her arm in a ruthless grip, signaling the end of one ordeal and the beginning of another. To the casual observer it might have seemed only the possessive touch of a newly married man with his wife, but Izzy could feel the anger bubbling barely below the surface in the bite of his fingers into her skin. She tried to pull away but he hissed through clenched teeth low enough so only she could hear, “be still” in an authoritative voice. Then, he turned to the few guests who still milled about and smiled.