Becoming Countess Dumont (6 page)

“I asked you where you were going.”

The desire to the slap him is overwhelming, but instead, I throw myself into character. I thread my fingers in his hair and nearly laugh aloud when his eyes widen in surprise. Leaning forward, I kiss him as if he were the sweetest lover in all of the land. I kiss him as if he were the love of my life. I kiss him as if he were to be gone tomorrow.

He is erect beneath my spread legs, and I wonder what it would feel like to make love to him. I’m sure he would be the same overbearing arse in the bedroom that he is outside of it. But would he touch me in ways no other has? Would he be there for me afterwards to hold me? Before I can allow myself to give into the hope of something more, I squash it. These men are all the same.

Just as he really gets into the kiss and rotates my hips so that he can control how I rub against him, I pull away.

“Dear husband,” I purr, taking satisfaction in the way his eyes darken at my tone, “this act we’re engaging in is quite enjoyable.”

“Yes,” he agrees before he attempts to kiss me again. His efforts are in vain, because I tug away and pin him with a firm stare.

“It’s an act and nothing more. You can count on me to put on a stellar performance in front of your family, but behind closed doors, you can shove your officious attitude up your arse. I know how this ends if you make love to me,” I tell him in a matter-of-fact way. “I will fall in some sort of infatuation with you and then you’ll discard me for another whore. I’m far too much of a jealous woman to handle that. In fact, I can’t be held responsible for my actions if that were to happen. So, if you want to keep up the feint, then I suggest we keep this strictly business like our original agreement.”

His jaw works as he listens to my words. I become mesmerized by his lips for a moment before shaking away the weakness.

“Understand?” I throw his word back at him.

After shoving me off his lap, he rises and stalks over to the door. Before he leaves, he spits out his response. “Understood.”

“There it is.” Jasper grins as he points through the small coach window.

The ride from the train station to Alexander’s family estate has taken longer than I imagined it would. Being in close quarters with Elisabeth, who hates me, and Alexander, who is angry with me, has only made the journey seem even longer. Poor Jasper has filled the silence, rambling on about God only knows what—I wasn’t listening. Instead, I thought about how thrilled I felt at having made Alexander cross with me. The man believes that, because he’s rich and powerful, he’ll always wield the upper hand. This afternoon, I showed him that he was sorely wrong in that thinking.

Peering out the window, I catch a glimpse of the estate Jasper pointed at. The enormous home sits proudly on a hilltop, surrounded mostly by trees. It’s quite possibly one of the largest homes I’ve ever seen, and a ripple of excitement shudders through me as I realize that this will be my new home.

When we climb out of the coach, I stretch my legs and inhale the countryside air. It reminds me a lot of home, and I prefer it here over London already.

“I’m rather exhausted from our travels and wish to rest before supper,” Elisabeth murmurs to Jasper. That’s when I happen to gaze over at them and watch as he strokes her belly.

“Lissa, are you pregnant?” I blurt out.

Her green eyes lift to mine, and she lifts her chin in defiance, as if I’ll try to take this away from her too. “I am.”

Happiness washes over at me, and before I know it, I’ve thrown my arms around her. “I’m going to be an aunt. This is wonderful news. Congratulations,” I babble out.

She doesn’t hug me back as she mutters her thanks. I realize she must feel uneasy with me touching her, so I retreat. I’m once again reminded how I selfishly chose my own wants and desires over that of my younger sister. When I was supposed to look after her, I took from her instead. A bitter memory of what I took floods my mind.

He pushes the door closed and prowls over to me with a look that normally brings me to my knees quite literally. However, tonight I am not interested. Last time we were together, I discovered a letter from Lissa that had fallen from his pocket. While he cleaned himself up from our sexual encounter, I read it without his knowing.

And I was gutted.

She missed him incredibly so. It was a moment of clarity for me. I was able to take a step back and actually witness what I was doing—how I was hurting her and she didn’t even know it. The revelation had nearly crippled me. It was so easy to live in the moment while we were at university but the reality was that he had my sister counting down the days until he came back to her. The desire to steal off back to the farm and confess everything to her was overwhelming. That evening, I decided it would happen no more.

But when William came back into the bedroom, he gathered his things and left without a backwards glance. I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him until now.

“Good evening, William,” I greet brusquely. My arms are crossed over my breasts and I hold my chin up bravely.

“I need you, Edith.” His voice is a growl that works its way through my body. Tonight I am strong though. I’m no longer the weak woman that I was from before. I’ll do this for her.

“No more, William,” I tell him with a clip in my voice.

He halts his step forward and places both hands on his hips. “Excuse me?”

His tone is harsh even though his mouth is quirked into a lopsided grin. It’s apparent that he believes I am teasing him.

“I’m done with you. What we did to Lissa was despicable. In fact, I’m going to tell her everything—”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” he snarls, his smile long gone. “She mustn’t ever know. You will never tell her.”

I gape at the man, who even though he’s pledged himself to my sister, still chooses to see me each weekend to find his release.

“How I ever imagined I was in love with you is beyond me. You’re a bastard, William Benedict.”

He roars with obnoxious, hateful laughter. “Love? You? You’re a foolish woman, Edith. Did I ever kiss you? No. That, dear girl, is because I could never love you. You have always been a way to fulfill a need, nothing more.”

The tears well in my eyes and I bite my lip. “Please leave.”

His demeanor changes and his shoulders relax. “Edith, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”

I swallow down a sob and drop my gaze to the floor. When he envelops me in a hug, I sag against him and allow the tears to win over. He runs his fingers through my hair and whispers soft assurances that comfort me. I hate that I’m letting him hold me.

But I desperately want to be held.

Once my tears have dried, he leans back and lifts my chin so that we’re staring at each other. I get lost in his crystal blue eyes that mesmerize me often.

“I love this,” he murmurs, “Our moments together. Can’t that be enough? For now?”

My heart clenches painfully in my chest. “I love this too. I love you, William. But Lissa will be heartbroken.”

His brows furrow and I see indecision behind his eyes. Finally, he steels his features and dips his head to mine. My eyelids flutter closed when I feel his warm breath upon my lips for the first time. Mint and lemon invade me.

The kiss is soft and without tongue but it holds promise.

“What about Lissa?” I try again with a slight whine to my voice. Maybe if he breaks it off with her, we can stop seeing one another in secret. He’ll fall in love with me and we’ll marry instead.

“Right now, Edith, I want you. I want to be inside of you, on top of you. I want to kiss you while I fuck you.”

Tears shimmer in my eyes as I bask in his words.

“Let me love your body, darling,” he murmurs before capturing my lips again. This time he kisses me with his tongue. This time, I don’t protest when he pushes my dress down and over my shoulders.

When our bodies connect physically, he kisses me urgently with each thrust. It fulfils a missing part deep inside of me. This is love.

“I love you, William,” I tell him over and over.

The tears are partly from joy and partly from the pain I am causing my sister. William loves me and not her. It’s me that he has chosen.

I cry out when he pulls out of me and spurts his orgasm all over my belly. I haven’t found my own release but I don’t care. I’m happy to have made progress in our relationship.

“Are you going to sleep over tonight?” I question as he slides off of me. The hope in my voice is evident. It would be the first time to spend the entire night with him. With him holding me. Touching me. Loving me.

He wrenches himself away and tucks his dripping cock back into his trousers. “Edith, I tried. I thought that maybe we could work. That I could forget her.”

I sit up quickly and watch in horror as he strides toward the door, buttoning his shirt along the way. “Don’t leave,” I choke out in protest.

“I cannot throw away what I have with her. I am sorry, Edith. We’re done here. I won’t bother you again to fulfil my needs. We shall soon be leaving university and surely I can wait for my Lissa. It will make it all the more worthwhile.”

“William,” I call out to him, “Please stay with me.”

My chin wobbles as tears roll down my cheeks.

He doesn’t provide me with an answer and instead slips out the door without so much as a goodbye.

Love is an illusion.

The memory feels fresh and I can feel tears brimming in my eyes. Batting my eyes, I turn away from my sister whose heart I broke for him. William. The man that only used me until he could have her. My God, I was such a stupid woman.

“Come. Let’s get this over with,” Alexander grumbles as he begins striding toward the front door of the home.

I shake off the sickening memories of William and grab hold of my frock to hurry after him. “Alexander, wait for me,” I hiss as I struggle to catch up to him.

His demeanor has changed; he seems more rigid. Anxious, even. The first time we see his parents as a married couple, we should at least seem in love—not like he’s trying to run away from me.

He doesn’t wait for me and bounds up the steps. Right as he reaches for the door, it flies open and a man steps out.

A gorgeous man.

“Alcott,” Alexander practically snarls as he comes to a halt in front of his brother.

Instead of greeting him back, Alcott looks past him at me. His eyebrows quirk up in surprise. “Where’d you get this one?”

I gape at him as I reach the porch and stand beside Alexander.

“She’s my wife,” Alexander snaps at him. “Show a little respect.”

Alcott blatantly scrutinizes me, and I want to squirm. But I don’t. Instead, I thread my fingers with Alexander’s and meet Alcott’s narrowed, brown eyes.

“A little on the plain side. Not usually your
type,
” Alcott laughs.

Alexander tenses beside me, but I squeeze his hand to calm him.

“Apparently, his
type
can’t satisfy him long enough in his bed to keep him for more than one night. It would appear that this ‘plain’ woman has more than entertained him both in and out of bed for nearly six months. It would seem”—I smirk—“that I’m exactly the
type
he needs.”

He works his jaw, clearly thinking of some brilliant reply, I’m sure, but then Jasper clears his throat behind us.

“Baby brother, can you show us to our room?” Jasper asks from behind us. “My wife isn’t feeling well and needs to lie down.”

Alcott winces at the juvenile name but nods and turns to go into the house. As he crosses the threshold, he snaps his head back toward Alexander.

Ten seconds.

The man isn’t a quick witted individual.

I can see by the nasty look in his eye that he’s finally thought of something to say back to me.

“That’s an unpleasant cut there on your lip, Countess,” Alcott sneers. “It would seem that you’re the
type
of woman a man has to put in her place. My brother always preferred to get his way by means of his fists. Can’t say I blame him in your case.”

I’m shocked by his words, but Alexander seems to have expected them. He roars as he charges his brother and tackles him onto the marble floors of the exquisite entryway. Before anyone can stop them, they roll around, each one trying to get the upper hand to do damage to the other.

“Boys, that’s enough,” a stiff, regal voice echoes through the room.

As if someone has grabbed both of them by the collars of their shirts and yanked them up, the two men rise quickly to their feet but manage to shoot evil glares at one another.

“Father,” they greet in unison.

My eyes find a tall, older version of Alexander. His hair is white instead of the warm, brown hues my husband has.

“Sir, I would like for you to meet my—” Alexander waves toward me. Before he can finish, Alcott interrupts, gesturing to me the same way as his brother.

“
That
is his wife.”