He found her despicable.
"I've sent away my maid,
amore mio
, so we can be alone."
"I'm here only to serve my sister's best interest." He stepped into the dark chamber and slammed the door behind him. "What the devil is it you want, Angelina?"
"You will never be able to deny that you and I belong in each other's arms."
How could he ever have thought he belonged in this woman's arms? "There is only one woman's arms I want to be in, and she awaits me at Aldridge House."
"It is very noble of you, English duke, to try to be so devoted a husband. Only one who knows you as do I knows that an icy English woman can never satisfy a passionate man like you in the same way I can. We were put on this earth to love each other."
"You're talking like a mad woman." He knew he should have held his tongue. This woman had the power to destroy his family.
Her dark eyes glittered menacingly. "And you'll be quite the mad man when I reveal your sister's ugly secrets to the English newspapers."
His smoldering anger seared. She must know about Sarah's shame. "How could you possibly know something scandalous about my sister?"
"Viscount Morton was my lover before you. I tossed him aside when he bragged to me about the ruination of your sister. He was an evil man." Her voice softened. "You know I am not evil. I don't want to hurt your sister. All I want is to love you."
"Why would you even want a man who loves another?"
"You are newly married. Affairs of the heart always burn brightest at the beginning, then they die. Then,
amore mio,
you will want me—not that girl you've wed. It is me and only me who is truly meant to be with you."
He shook his head. "You cannot force someone to love you, Angelina."
"I don't believe I'll have to. I think if you will allow yourself to be with me, here in your city, you will come to love me again. I know I cannot be your wife, but I will be content to be your lover. As we were."
"It's over, Angelina."
Anger flashed in her dark eyes. "I did not come to your frigid country to be turned away. I ask only to be allowed to spend time with you. Then, I know I can win back your heart."
He knew if he slept with her now he could placate her demands, but the very thought of lying with her repulsed him.
Her mind was so twisted he had difficulty understanding what it was she was asking of him. "Tell me what you want."
"I want you to drive with me in Hyde Park. I want you to dance with me at Lady Wentworths’ ball next week. I want all of London to believe we are still lovers."
"Why? Why does it matter to you what people in London think?"
"It doesn't. But once all of London believe we're lovers, word will reach your fair duchess." Her dark eyes glittered with pure evil. "I mean to destroy your marriage."
A swift, hot wave of anger rolled over him. How he hated this woman! She wanted to destroy the thing that mattered most to him.
He forced himself to speak calmly. "What you ask of me is impossible. My duties at the War Office and in Parliament keep me from ever being with my own wife." He stopped and eyed her with unmasked hatred. "I know of no peer in all of England who drives in the park with his mistress. That is not our way in this country. We do not publicly humiliate our wives."
"A pity. Though it's apparently not the way with English maidens. Your sister Sarah most certainly defied propriety when she allowed Viscount Morton to get her with child."
Rage exploded within him. If Morton were in this room right now, Philip would happily send him to the fires of hell where he belonged.
These past five years Philip had thought that ugly affair had been put to rest. He would forever be grateful to the devoted Tremayne, who'd excused Sarah's serious indiscretion and wed her after Morton cast her aside. Thank God she'd come to love the good man who was her husband. Theirs had become an exceedingly happy marriage.
Philip would not let these monsters destroy Sarah and Tremayne's family. He must think of a way to get rid of the Contessa while preserving Sarah's good name. For now, he needed to appease the Contessa.
He drew in a deep breath. "Since what you want is for my wife to believe you and I are lovers, I have a proposal that I think might satisfy you."
She raised a brow.
"Move into the Pulteney and start mingling in Society. I will make certain that every day the coach bearing the Duke of Aldridge's crest will be parked in front of the Pulteney."
Her eyes narrowed. "An excellent plan. I will get to be with you every day!"
"I never said I would be at the Pulteney," he snapped venomously.
"But. . ."
"Within a week, my wife will have heard that we are lovers. Is that not what you want?" God but this was painful. Less than two hours earlier he was excitedly planning an assault to win his wife's love.
Now he was burying every hope of ever securing it.
He stormed to the Contessa's chamber door and left.
* * *
When Haverstock entered his office at the War Department the following morning, he woke up Philip, who'd fallen asleep at his own desk in the wee hours of the morning. "What the devil?" Haverstock boomed. "Do not tell me you slept here!"
Philip opened a single eye. He winced and slowly raised his head to peer at his oldest friend. No one knew him better than Haverstock, but not even Haverstock could know about Sarah's shame. Philip would carry her secret to his grave.
"Should you like me to send for your valet?"
Philip's first thought was that he should send a note around to his wife. She might think he'd been set upon by cutthroats. Then he slumped back. It was better to keep her in the dark. In order for the wretched Contessa to be satisfied, Elizabeth must believe Philip and the Italian woman were lovers.
He had spent the first two hours after leaving the Contessa's trying to devise a plan to extricate himself from the evil woman's trap, but no solution had presented itself.
For some peculiar reason, he had thought to come here last night to elucidate the undecipherable French code. "Yes, do send someone around to summon my valet. He can bring fresh clothing—and be sure to ask him to bring shaving implements."
Haverstock rang for a clerk, and when the young man arrived, sent him to Aldridge House with Philip's instructions. Then he faced Philip, frowning. "How in the bloody hell did you get in here last night?"
"The night porter let me in. Then we had to round up candles to aid me in . . . " Philip pulled himself erect and scanned the top of his desk where copies of the Pyrenees Code were strewn. "Examining our mystery cipher."
Haverstock frowned at him. "You could have done that from Aldridge House. You know every word in that document as well as you know the names of each of your siblings."
Philip nodded dejectedly. "So I do."
Haverstock's expression softened. "Did you and my sister have a disagreement? You two looked so happy last night. In fact Anna commented on how much in love the two of you appeared."
It was as if a rapier were twisting in his heart. The memory was still palpable of watching his adored wife last night and of the soaring realization of how potently he loved her. He would give everything he possessed to be able to hold Elizabeth in his arms, to have the opportunity to earn her love. But such pleasure must be denied as long as Angelina was wielding her demands like a deranged general.
If he did not satisfy Angelina Savatini, the lives of Sarah, Tremayne, and their innocent children would be destroyed.
This was perhaps the only time in his life Philip could not be honest with Haverstock. Better to let him think Philip and Elizabeth had argued. It might help to explain the estrangement all of London was sure to know about within the next week. He shrugged.
Haverstock's gaze flitted to the pile of crumbled papers with scratched-out French words. "Any luck last night with the Pyrenees Code?"
Frowning, Philip shook his head.
"At least last night's dinner was successful. Very successful, I would say."
Funny, a week earlier, even a day earlier, he would have said his duty was the most important thing in his life. The greater good. Now the bloody tax increase and the greater good meant nothing without the woman he loved. If only he had been able to let Elizabeth know how much she meant to him, how deeply he loved her.
Now those bonds were being destroyed to satisfy a mad woman.
Nothing in his life seemed important any longer. Nothing except Elizabeth.
Once she came to believe he and Angelina were lovers, would she turn to Captain Smythe?
* * *
This was the day she was to go to Trent House. Was there anything she could do that would help eradicate the worst sort of melancholy? She did not feel as if she were capable of putting one foot in front of another.
Philip had spent the entire night with his Contessa.
She sank even further when the clerk showed up at Aldridge House to fetch Lawford. Her husband had no intentions of returning to his own home. It was with a heavy heart she watched Lawford leave with clean clothes for her husband.
During her long, sleepless night she had pondered her marriage. How she wished she could start over. She would never have spent those afternoons at the park with Richie. She would have insisted that she and Philip make the effort to establish their marriage as a
real
marriage from the day of their wedding. She would have brushed aside pride and coyness and revealed to him the affection that was in her heart.
But now it was too late.
It seemed as if her life were over even though she was only one and twenty.
Then many hours later, she realized that in Trent Square she did have something to live for, and after the war in working toward the widows' pensions.
Once she understood that her husband was not going to come home, she knew she would not be able to discuss with him the situation with Abraham. She had been wanting to ask his permission to allow the capable footman to move to Trent Square and expand his duties there. That would mean he would have to be replaced at Aldridge House. She did not feel right about making such a decision without consulting her husband.
Then the situation clarified itself to her.
I am the Duchess of Aldridge
. As duchess, she would thereafter be responsible for decisions involving the household staff.
Once she dressed for the day, she went downstairs and addressed Abraham, who was in the entry corridor. "May I have a private word with you?"
His green eyes widened. "Of course, your grace."
She went to the library. He followed, then she shut the door. "I have decided—if you do not object—that you need to take up permanent residence at Number 7 Trent Square. A man of many talents is what is needed, and I think you're that man. But if you don't- - -"
He interrupted. "I would be honored to go there. Do you really think I 'ave many talents?"
She nodded. "First, I should like Barrow to train you in the various duties one must undertake when one is responsible for the running of a house."
His brows elevated. "You mean I could be like an upper servant?" He was unable to suppress a smile.
"After Barrow trains you."
"I will do everything in my power, your grace, to demonstrate that I am deserving of your confidence."
"I'll speak to Barrow, and you can start working with him after we return from Trent Square this afternoon."
* * *
Later that day as she and her sisters were returning from Trent Square, Clair commented on what a fair day it was. "We will be riding in the park later with Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley, will we not?"
"Actually, I sent around a note telling him I wouldn't be able to ride today."
Clair's brows lowered. "You have made other plans?"
"No." She did not want to tell Clair why she was no longer going to be riding in the park with her cousin. After coming to understand how unhappy it would make her for Philip to ride in the park every day with a female cousin, Elizabeth knew she could no longer so openly be with Richie. Even if it mattered not to Philip.
"I shall be disappointed," Clair said. "I'd reread Paine with the intention of discussing it with him today."
"Would you like me to ask him to drive you today?"
Colour rose in Clair cheeks. "Pray, do not do that! It would look as if I were foisting myself upon him. I am sure a handsome, powerful man like Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley has a bevy of admirers. Women much lovelier than me."
"I really wouldn't know." Elizabeth was so distracted by her own morose situation she did not at first realize that Clair must be falling in love with Richie. She eyed her sister. She had made a good effort to dress beautifully, and her hair was styled most becomingly. Could Richie be responsible for this transformation which had come over her? Elizabeth wanted to ask but decided such a question would only embarrass Clair, who had no prior experience with flirtations.
Then it occurred to Elizabeth that she did have advice to give Clair. "I know it is not my concern to delve into your affections, my dear Clair, but I have learned a most painful lesson I would wish for you to avoid."
Clair raised a brow. "What is that?"
"When you care about someone, you should let them know. Don't worry that you'll humiliate yourself if your feelings are not reciprocated. All you risk by disclosure is the embarrassment of a single moment with a single man. If, though, he feels the same, you've gained everything your heart could ever desire. Is that not worth any risk?" Her gaze met Clair's.
The two women stared at each other for several seconds. "You think I am in love with your cousin?"
"Quite possibly."
"I have no experience in such matters, but I assure you there is no way I could ever declare such feelings to Mr. Rothcomb-Smedley."
"Just remember that he may be reluctant to show affection for you because you're a duke's daughter with an attractive dowry, and he's a younger son with no title and little money. He may very well think you're above his touch."
"Oh, dear! Surely he couldn't think that. Why, he's . . . " Clair's voice softened. "He's deserving of a princess."