A Promise of More (21 page)

When they got to the room, Sebastian sank into a chair by the fire and Adele
moved to pour him a drink. She handed it to him with a tentative smile. “It does not appear that your heart is in the mood for pleasure tonight,” she whispered softly. “Shall I put on a show for you, my lord?”

He nodded, wishing he could leave, but if he left now, Dunmire would take his place simply to spite him, and Adele did not deserve to be caught in their game.

Adele crawled onto the bed and turned to face him, legs spread wide, running her hand provocatively down between her thighs. She began to move, her hips lifting as she fingered herself. She used one hand to spread her nether lips wide, and the other hand’s fingers disappeared inside her.

Soon she was moaning, her breasts were heaving, her eyes were closed, and her hips were gyrating wildly, lifting off the bed, as her fingers disappeared between her wet, glistening folds. She was emitting soft cries of passion, and for the first time in his life, Sebastian was not aroused.

She came with one final scream and slumped back against the bed, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Goddamn himself to hell, he couldn’t hide from the truth: he, a renowned rake, was not in the mood for a woman … other than his wife.

So he shook his head, feigning regret. “You’re right, sweeting, my mind is not on pleasure tonight.”

“It isn’t me, is it?” she asked with trepidation.

He shook his head and walked to the bed. He bent and kissed her chastely on her forehead. “No. That was a beautiful, erotic display. It’s simply I find I want only one woman. I wish I didn’t, but the truth must be faced.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Your wife? What is so bad in only wanting your wife?”

He stood looking down at her, his mind blank. “Because if she knows I want only her, she’ll have the power to hurt me.”

“If you want only her, why would she want to hurt you? If one man wanted me above all others, I’d worship him until the end of my days.”

Perhaps Adele was right. His blood heated with the idea of Beatrice worshiping him.

“It’s late. I’m tired. I have to go but I’ll pay for you for the rest of the night so Dunmire can’t have you.”

She rose up off the bed and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. Your wife is a
lucky woman.”

“I hope she feels that way when I get home.” As he made his way down the stairs, he very much doubted it.

When he got home, he made his way to Beatrice’s bedchamber to apologize, but when he entered her room her bed was empty. Fear gripped him. Where was she? Had she run from him?

Just then he heard a noise at their adjoining door and he turned to see her standing looking at him with hurt in her big green eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I behaved poorly.”

She crossed the room and sat on her bed. She looked at the clock. “Where have you been?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “At my club. With Hadley,” he added.

“Doing what?”

He swallowed. “Playing cards.”

“And?”

“Don’t do this, Beatrice. There is no need to browbeat me. I’ve already apologized.”

“I can smell her on you.”

“I came home to you. I left her before …”

She looked at him with fire burning in her eyes. “So, now you want me, is that it? You felt guilty at wanting another woman, so you come home to do penance and duty by bedding your wife and getting an heir.”

Anger simmered. What did she want from him? He was not a saint. He had given up fucking another woman to come home to her. He wanted only her.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I came home because I wanted only you.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why? You’re my wife.”

“That didn’t seem to mean anything to you earlier in the ballroom, where you all but said you’d do anything you wanted in this marriage, and I was lucky you married me.”

“I was angry—”

“You made it clear what our arrangement meant.” With that, she stood up, undid the sash on her robe, and let it fall to the floor. Then she pulled her night rail over her head and dropped it at her feet. She stood staring at him, hurt and pride and defiance gleaming within her eyes, before climbing up on the bed, lying on her back, opening her legs, and saying, “I’m ready. I’m upholding my end of our deal. I’ll let you use my body whenever you require, but unless you engage me”—she beat her chest—“unless you take the time to know me, to respect me, I will no longer participate.”

His heart cracked as he saw a single tear trace down her pale cheek. He’d reduced what had started as a partnership of equals into some kind of cruel, master-slave relationship and he’d never hated himself more.

“Stop it. Don’t do this.”

Beatrice kept her voice even. “Do what? Do what you asked of me? Keep our feelings and emotions out of our marriage? I’m only doing what you requested.”

With a growl he moved onto the bed. “What do you want from me?” he yelled, frustration and guilt eating at him. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” He dropped his head into his hands and swore. “I’m sorry. Dunmire’s hands—”

“What has Dunmire to do with this?” she asked in a steady voice.

“He put his hands on you and you didn’t seem to object.”

“You were jealous? Of Dunmire? I despise the man. He means nothing to me.”

“I didn’t like the way seeing you with him made me feel. It felt too much like what my father must have felt with my mother. I simply lashed out.”

“You’ll have to work on that. I can’t bear it if every time I disappoint you, you try to hurt me by turning to another.”

“That’s unlikely to happen. It appears I don’t want any other woman.”

She smiled for the first time that night.

“I wouldn’t smile. With that comes all the badness.”

She frowned. “How can being true to your wedding vows be bad?”

“This is how my father and mother’s marriage started. Happiness, joy, them against the world, but then my father’s behavior and my mother’s jealousy turned their relationship into a battleground. It would appear we Coldhursts are a jealous lot. What if I’m like my father and can’t help but be unfaithful? The rage I felt this
evening scared me. I wanted to hurt you for making me feel this weakness.”

“I did nothing wrong. I did not encourage Lord Dunmire.”

He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I know that, but at the time I couldn’t stop the anger. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. It’s a new feeling, one I didn’t like. I’ll have to get used to it, I guess.”

“If anyone should be jealous, it’s me. Every woman you meet wants you. Most have had you—”

“Not most, you exaggerate.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I don’t understand why you would be jealous of me, though. I’m plain Henpeck Hennessey. Before our marriage I was a twenty-five-year-old, on-the-shelf spinster. All of the
ton
know you only married me because of Doogie. You have nothing to ever be jealous of.”

“You’re not plain in my eyes. When you’re in my arms, you’re a goddess and I can’t get enough of you.” He did not add that he knew when a man was lusting after a woman, and Dunmire wanted Beatrice. That is what had set his rage roaring. He would have to watch the man.

He saw Beatrice shiver and said, “You’re cold. Get into bed.”

She gave him a tentative smile. “Will you join me?”

“It will be my pleasure. I’ll just get rid of these clothes and come to bed.”

As he made to leave, she drew him back and kissed him. “I’m glad we had this talk. I want our marriage to work.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So do I,” he said, and as he walked to his dressing room he realized he really meant it.

Chapter Eleven

Beatrice hated lying. After their frank talk the other night, lying made her ill.

However, she seemed to be doing it a lot lately. One small lie was galloping out of control, and she wasn’t strong enough to pull it back in.

The lie she had just told Marisa and Helen was a big one. “I’m going to visit a friend. She hasn’t been well and is not up to having more than one visitor, so I’m afraid I shall have to go alone. But you girls go and enjoy your day out.”

“We’ll drop you on the way,” Marisa said. “Then we need only take one carriage.”

Beatrice tried to keep the panic from showing on her face. She didn’t want them dropping her anywhere, because there was no friend to visit. She wanted to slip away and go and check on Henry. She had her pin money and knew what she had to do. She trusted the lady who was looking after Henry. She paid well for her services, but it didn’t hurt to drop in unannounced every now and then just to ensure he was being looked after properly.

“Where does your friend live?” Helen asked.

“She lives just around the corner from the British Museum.” Another lie. “I intend to visit her and then I might actually wander through the museum afterwards. I haven’t been in quite some time.”

Helen clapped her hands. “Oh, that’s a good idea. We could meet you there and go through the museum together. How long will you need to visit with your friend?”

Beatrice tried to do the calculations: If she got dropped at the British Museum and grabbed a hackney from there, it would take her a good half an hour to get to Old Kent Road. And she would want to be there for at least an hour to play with Henry, and then it would be another half an hour back. “I’m not really sure, it will depend on how well Sarah is. Why don’t we say two hours just to give us enough time, and if it’s earlier I will just wander around the museum and wait for you.”

“Well, that’s set then. We’ll drop you off at one o’clock and meet you on the steps of the British Museum at three o’clock. That gives us ample time to have a look through the museum and get home in time to get ready for Lady Dane’s ball tonight.
You are coming, aren’t you?”

Beatrice shrugged her shoulders. “I haven’t spoken to Sebastian today, so I’m not sure whether we are attending or not.”

“Regardless of whether Sebastian goes, you definitely should attend.”

“Why is that then?” Beatrice had no idea why Marisa insisted on dragging her to all these balls. She had very few friends and people still talked about her behind her back.

Marisa sighed. “It’s obvious. The more you are seen in our company, the more you are seen as part of our family, the more likely it is that the
ton
will begin to accept you and talk less about your marriage to Sebastian. Especially after the Wickham ball fiasco,” she added dryly.

Beatrice supposed Marisa was right. She did hate the way that the
ton
seemed to focus on her and Sebastian whenever they went anywhere.

However, another reason for not attending was she didn’t wish to run into Dunmire again. Sebastian seemed to have fixated on the man, hence why she felt she couldn’t share her secret just yet. She didn’t know how to tell him.

She certainly didn’t want to go to a ball if Sebastian was not at her side. Dunmire had sent a note to the house. Luckily, the servant had brought her the mail before Sebastian saw it. Soon Sebastian would get very suspicious about why Dunmire was pursuing her so. And she definitely didn’t want her husband to get the wrong idea. Dunmire might be obsessed with her, he might even try to use Henry against her, but she had not an ounce of interest in him.

Helen was chattering about her mare in foal as the carriage dropped Beatrice outside the British Museum, and the girls waved out the carriage window as they continued on to their modiste in Oxford Street. Beatrice pretended to walk round the corner from the British Museum, but as soon as the girls were out of sight she hailed a hackney.

Unfortunately, she didn’t see Hadley Fullerton coming out of his mistress’s house just two doors up, nor did she note the frown that flashed across his face at the sight of her, on her own, getting into a hackney. Due to the threat the assassin posed, they were supposed to be accompanied wherever they went.

Oblivious to the fact Hadley had seen her, she gave instructions to the driver to take her to Old Kent Road. Excitement built in her as it always did when she was going to visit Henry, Lizzy’s son. He was almost two years old and he was taking on
his own personality. When she’d sworn on pain of death to see to Henry’s care, Beatrice thought he would be the closest she’d ever come to having a child. Now the idea of children of her own warmed her. She had to find a way to have Henry as part of her family. She couldn’t give him up.

Her brother and mother had flatly refused to raise Lizzy’s bastard, so she’d kept secret the fact she was paying for Henry’s upkeep. They barely had enough money for themselves; if her family had known she was siphoning a small amount for Henry …

If Dunmire ever found Henry, she would be in his power. But now she had Sebastian. He would protect her. She couldn’t bear to think the child could fall into Dunmire’s hands.

Lizzy had endured tragedy in her short life. She would turn in her grave if Beatrice failed her and Henry.

Unfortunately, she still could not see much of Lizzy in Henry. He was all Dunmire and that is what scared her. If anyone saw Henry, they would know exactly who his father was.