The Baron's Betrayal Page 3

  “I have just now returned from town. Mason tells me your brother-in-law has come and gone.” Lorelei’s melodious voice no longer had the power to soothe him as it once had. After this morning’s interview, he doubted anything would ever assuage his ennui again.

  “Yes. Manchester departed a while ago.”

  “Do you wish to talk?”

  Tristan shook his head. “There is nothing to discuss.”

  Her voice grew closer. “Hopefully, you did not send him away with the notion that your marriage to his sister has ended.”

  “That is precisely what I related to him. We’ve spoken of this before, madam. I will not subject my wife to an existence with a helpless man.”

  “You are not helpless.”

  “Enough!” He thumped his cane on the floor. “You will not speak of this again. In fact, please inform the staff we will be packing to return to London immediately. There remains no reason to continue to hide.”

  She drew in a shocked gasp. “So you will turn tail and run?”

  “Lorelei, please. Just do as I ask.” Only the sound of the grandfather clock ticking away filled the silence as his words faded, then died.

  “As you wish.” Her voice bore all the frustration he was attempting to quell within himself.

  “Thank you.”

  An hour after the door latch had snapped closed, Tristan leaned over the specially made chessboard and fingered the ivory knight as he played a game by himself. Most evenings he and Mrs. Gibbons would square off, but with the woman busy supervising the staff, he felt the need to challenge himself.

  Beyond the door, the sound of servants scurrying about to close up the house broke the silence. He’d shoved to the back of his mind the promise he’d made to Manchester to stay put. They would certainly not be ready to leave until tomorrow, so if Marion wanted to talk to him, to make the final arrangements for the divorce, it had better be today.

  He jerked, and his heart almost galloped into his throat at the sound of the front door knocker. Surely she would not have arrived so swiftly? Anxious to be rid of him, it appeared.

  His ear cocked in the direction of the door. Within minutes, his mouth dried up when he sensed the presence of Mason.

  “Your lordship, Lady Tunstall has arrived.”

  “Send her in. Thank you. And please do not allow anyone to disturb us.”

  “As you wish.”

  He did not need eyes, nor the butler’s announcement, to know that Marion had entered the room. Her soft steps and, more precisely, her unique scent, arrived with her. While other women preferred a more floral essence, his Marion had always prepared her own blend of rosemary and chamomile. He would know her anywhere.

  “My lord.”

  He rose, his mouth working as he tried desperately to respond, but the huge lump wedged in his throat kept him from answering. The muscles in his neck continued to tighten, and he turned his head away from her voice, fearful she would see his tears. “Marion.” Her name came out raspy, somewhere between a groan and a plea.

  Then, almost knocked off his feet by her enthusiastic embrace, he inhaled her smell, her softness, her love. Holding his arms out to his sides, he quickly surrendered to his desires and encircled her slim body. For one precious moment he imagined her always being here in his arms. His palms slid upward, his fingers tangling in the silkiness of her hair. He leaned his cheek against her head and moaned with longing.

  Then the reality of his situation reared its ugly head, and he grasped her shoulders, setting her from him. “Please, Marion. This is not a good idea.”

  “Don’t b-b-be ridiculous. I l-l-love you.”

  Her words were like a knife to his heart. But he steeled himself, knowing he was doing the right thing. “You must not say that. We cannot resume the life we once had. You need to have a full marriage, a man who can provide for you, protect you, give you children.” The last few words almost brought him to his knees. The idea of his Marion lying with another man, holding his babe to her breast, made him reel.

  “Can we sit and talk, please?” Marion touched his arm.

  He snatched his elbow from her grasp. He needed to put distance between them. Needed to erect a higher and stronger wall around his heart. Reluctantly, he used his cane to make his way to the settee.

  “Come here by the warmth,” she urged.

  “No. Not so close. This is fine.” He eased onto the settee.

  Marion joined him. Even though he could not feel her body against his, her heat and scent surrounded him, teased and tantalized his senses. He had to get this interview over with quickly so he could concentrate on his journey on the morrow.

  “What is it you wish to say to me, madam?”

  “Oh, Tristan. Please, don’t withdraw from me. May I tell you how happy I am that you’re alive? I am so very grateful to have you once more.”

  He stiffened. “Did Manchester not inform you of our meeting earlier today?”

  “If you mean did he tell me you were foolish enough to suggest a divorce, then, yes. He did tell me that, but I have no intention of allowing you to divorce me. And furthermore, you cannot. Unless you wish to accuse me of having an affair.”

  Tristan sucked in a breath. “Of course I would not divorce you on those grounds. You would never recover from the scandal.”

  “Then a divorce is not possible.”

  “There must be a way. You need a full life, Marion. Someone who can care for you.”

  “You mean, marry again?”

  “Precisely.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “No. I will not accept someone else. I am quite capable of caring for myself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He felt the cushions move as Marion stood, could hear her gown whipping around her ankles as she paced in front of him.

  “I will not permit you to keep us apart.” She grabbed his hands as she fell to her knees. “Do you not understand, my love? Your blindness does not matter to me.”

  He winced at the term and shook off her grip. “You say that now because you are happy to see me. But once you realize what life with a blind person is like, you will change your mind and grow to hate me.”

  “If I wasn’t a lady, I would slap your face right now.” She pushed on the seat of the settee and rose. “Do you think so little of me that I would care that you can no longer see? We have been best friends, lovers, and husband and wife. And in all that time, did you ever assume my love so shallow that if something about you changed, I would withdraw?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You don’t understand.”

  “Then make me understand, Tristan. Please. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”

  “My dear, I no longer wish to continue this conversation. My mind is made up.” With a sigh he stood. His cane moving back and forth in front of him, he started toward the door. “I will consult with my solicitors when I return to London to see how we can legally free you. Mason will see you out. I have much to accomplish today.”

  …

  Shocked silence followed the closing of the library door. Marion wavered between agony and anger. How dare the man dismiss her! If she didn’t love him so much, she would shoot him. Gathering the shreds of her pride around her, she straightened her shoulders and left the room. Nodding briefly at Mason as he helped her into her pelisse, she sailed out the front door and hurried to her carriage.

  Her anger slowly dissipated as she rode closer to home. How could he so easily insist on ending their marriage? Did he no longer feel the love they once knew? A shroud of melancholy wrapped around her, and she shivered, despite the warmth of the sun pouring through the window.

  She’d loved that man from the time she was six years old. Tristan had always been her knight in shining armor. Even though she had been surrounded by a brother and sisters, whom she loved dearly, it was Tristan, and his family visits, that had brightened her childhood. When they hadn’t been playing games together,
she had followed him about, and he had never become irritated with her as had her brother and his friends.

  He had been the one with the patience to teach her to fish, to climb a tree without killing herself, and the trick for skipping smooth pebbles over the top of the water. She shook off her wandering thoughts as the carriage came to a halt in front of the manor. As much as she loved her family home, this was not where she wanted to be. A home of her own, a beloved husband, and children were her dreams. At one time she had had the home and husband, and then lost them. Now it appeared they had vanished once again.

  “Thank you,” she answered absently as their butler, Everleigh, helped her remove her pelisse.

  “The dowager duchess requests your presence in the drawing room, my lady.”

  Slowly, she climbed the stairs, still confused and hurt. The sound of female chattering greeted her as she opened the door. Her mother and Penelope sat across from each other, a tea tray between them. So involved in their conversation, neither noticed her enter the room. Marion took the opportunity to study the two women.

  In the beginning of his search for a wife, Drake had sought a much different type of woman as his duchess. Of course, the fact that he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Penelope, which had led to their impromptu engagement, had served him well. With her American upbringing, Penelope brought just enough spontaneity to her brother’s stiffness. Something he had desperately needed. After her brother had admitted Penelope was the center of his life, he’d done a complete about-face with regard to his wife’s odd ways.

  “Oh, there you are.” Mother returned the tea cup to the tray and regarded her over her shoulder. “We have been waiting for your return.”

  Marion dragged her feet to the settee and slumped onto the seat. “It did not go well, I’m afraid.”

  Both women eyed her speculatively.

  “Tristan insists on a divorce.”

  “That is impossible! What must the man be thinking?” A bright red hue crept up her mother’s face.

  “I don’t believe he is thinking at all. I told him it was not something he could even obtain. And furthermore, I had no desire to divorce him.”

  Penelope reached over and grasped her hand. “Perhaps you need to give him some time. He needs to adjust his thinking. I’m sure once he realizes how wrong such a move would be, he will come around.”

  “Except his butler informed me they were preparing the house to return to London.”

  “My dear, I sincerely hope you do not plan to give up?” The dowager’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline. “I did not raise my children to succumb so easily to such foolishness.”

  “Frankly, I don’t know what to do. He feels very strongly that a blind man cannot be a proper husband—and father.” She blushed at the last. “I don’t understand him. It is almost as if he’s forgotten our wedding ceremony. I can still hear Mr. Shaw. Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health?” She clasped her hands to her chest, eyes closed.

  “You’ve memorized the vows?” Penelope gasped.

  Marion opened her eyes and smiled softly at her sister-in-law. “Yes. I’ve memorized everything about my husband and our time together.”

  “So what will you do now, dear?” the dowager duchess asked.

  Marion took several minutes to circle the room, touching various things that brought back so many memories of times with her mother—when she’d been happy or dispirited, and sometimes merely longing for companionship. The familiar scent of lavender, her mother’s favorite, permeated the room.

  How simple life had seemed when she was a young girl at her mother’s knee, learning stitching, being forced to tear it out and begin again. So many lessons she’d learned here, in this house, this room. One of the primary lessons was to fight for what she wanted.

  But Mother could no longer make things right for her. Now the battle was hers.

  She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. “I will instruct Maguire to pack my bags. I am moving into my husband’s home. Where I belong.”

  Marion strode from the room, glancing back to see Penelope and her mother grinning at each other.

  …

  What had seemed like a wonderful idea a few hours ago now had butterflies dancing lively steps in Marion’s stomach. She watched the scenery change as the carriage approached Tristan’s spacious cottage. The dark green leaves of late summer trees gave way to a clearing where his home sat.

  Fashioned of local limestone with an ashlar finish, the stones had been carefully rubbed to provide a smooth surface. The low-pitched roof gave it a boxy feel, with a wide terrace surrounding the abode. It was a home she could be happy in. She envisioned children playing outdoors, a swing hanging from the tall oak tree alongside the house.

  A footman approached the carriage and, extending his hand, helped her down. As she approached the front door, Mason stood at attention. Drawing closer, she noticed a slight twitch to his lips, almost as if the well-trained butler was trying to hide a smile. Encouraged by his welcome, she nodded.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Tunstall. Shall I announce you to his lordship?”

  “No need. Would you please ask Mrs. Gibbons to join me in the drawing room?”

  He nodded and took her cape.

  “And please have Cook send in a tea tray.” She handed him her hat and gloves. “I would also appreciate someone seeing that my things are brought in from my carriage. I’m afraid there is quite a bit.”

  “Yes, my lady. I will have our housekeeper, Mrs. Downs, prepare a room for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Marion strode down the corridor with determination in her every step. All around her, servants stopped their work and stared in fascination. Marion nodded and continued on her way.

  She’d only been in the drawing room for a few minutes when the woman she remembered from the assembly knocked softly, then peeked around the door after Marion bid her enter.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Tunstall. I am Mrs. Gibbons, his lordship’s companion.” She moved farther into the room, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.

  “How do you do?” Marion settled on the settee and waved toward the chair facing her. “Won’t you please join me? Cook will be sending in tea.”

  “Thank you.” After adjusting her skirts, the woman placed her hands in her lap, presenting a serenity her stiff posture belied.

  “I assume you are surprised to see me here?” Marion eyed Mrs. Gibbons coolly. If she was to accomplish what she’d set out to do this afternoon, there would be no shilly-shallying about.

  A smile broke out on the woman’s face. “Yes. I must admit that I am a bit perplexed. His lordship informed me earlier today we were to prepare to remove ourselves to the London house tomorrow.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Yes. But may I tell you how happy I am that you have arrived? Am I to assume that you intend to stay and are not merely visiting?”

  Marion waved to the footman who carried the tea tray. “Set it here, please.”

  “You are correct, Mrs. Gibbons. I have come to stay. If his lordship continues in his desire to remove himself to London, I will be right there with him.”

  Gales of laughter spewed from Mrs. Gibbons’s mouth. Marion found herself going from a slight smile to a full-blown grin as she watched Mrs. Gibbons wipe tears of mirth from her eyes.

  “Well done, your ladyship. Well done.”

  Both women jumped when the library door flew open, slamming against the wall. Tristan stood in the entry, glowering in her direction. Her heart took a sudden leap to her throat. How handsome he looked. His blond hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. A hastily fashioned cravat drooped on his chest.

  But nothing could take away from his massive build. His shoulders filled the doorway, his muscled thighs straining the fabric of his snug pantaloons. Despite an inability to see, he must have found a way to maintain his athletic body.

  Wh
at drew her the most, however, were his eyes. The crystal blue orbs that had always held her, still did so now.

  “Good afternoon, my lord. Would you care to join us for tea?”

  He walked farther into the room. “What are you about, Marion?”

  “I don’t understand, my lord. Whatever do you mean?”

  “I mean, I have instructed my staff to prepare to move to London.”

  Marion clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I believe I would love to visit London.”

  “You, madam, are not going.”

  “I, sir, am indeed going.”

  “No, you are not.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Mrs. Gibbons, please leave us,” Tristan growled.

  “No. Mrs. Gibbons, please remain. I have invited you to partake of tea, and that is what you will do.”

  Mrs. Gibbons glanced between the two gearing up for battle and slowly stood. “I believe I will decline your kind invitation after all, my lady. I have things that need my attention elsewhere.”

  Once the door closed, Tristan drew himself up to his full height and glared in her direction. “Now, madam, you will explain yourself.”

  Chapter Four

  Tristan tried unsuccessfully to unlock his jaw. With stiff movements, he walked to a chair near a floor-to-ceiling window. In the short time he’d been in the house, he had managed to maneuver his way around the drawing room, his bedroom, the dining room, and the library. He still stumbled on occasion while moving from room to room, but spent most of his time sitting in the library.

  Lorelei had walked with him a few times, but her constant chattering, telling him what he was missing, rubbed his nerves. As fond as he was of his companion, there were times when all he wanted was peace and quiet. The most pleasant times for him were the evenings when they would sit in the library and play a game of chess, or she would read to him. However, since Lorelei disliked reading aloud, that entertainment remained limited.

  Now his original plan to remain unknown to his wife so she could have the life she deserved had been undermined by his companion.

  “So, my lord. Shall we plan on a trip to London or remain here in the country? I can be prepared for either event.”