Forbidden Lord (19 page)

‘Excuse me. My—husband is beckoning.'

William's eyes looked right through her, as if he didn't want to see her, and then he moved on.

Turning slightly, when Eleanor's gaze lighted on Richard Grey she caught a look of intense hatred on his face as he stared at William's retreating back. It was so virulent it stunned her. Then an instant later it was smoothed away and she wondered if it had been her imagination or even a trick of the light.

Having seen Eleanor exchange words with Lord Marston, Martin left his friends and his comfortable vantage point at the refreshment table, where he was able to supply himself with a never-ending amount of wine, and came to her. ‘You are acquainted with Lord Marston, Eleanor?'

‘You know I am, Martin,' she replied, her tone of voice one she would use to a tiresome child. ‘I stayed at his house with his family when I was in Yorkshire. I did tell you.'

‘Yes, of c-course. I do remember. Then would it not be p-polite to introduce me?'

‘I think not. Lord Marston has left.'

‘Then come. The Queen wishes me to present you to her.'

 

Tired of dancing and feeling she could stomach no more of the jollities and that she must have some fresh air, making the appropriate excuses Eleanor set her glass down and left quickly. She was not given a second glance by most of the courtiers—it was not uncommon to see someone leave to go outside, away from the closeness of the crowded and over-heated room. The corridor was empty and mercifully cool. Suddenly, to her left, a door, already ajar, was opened farther and a hand shot out and pulled her inside a small room.

‘At last,' a voice growled. ‘I was beginning to think you'd never leave the revelries.'

Her cheeks aflame with indignation, Eleanor spun round to see William closing the door. ‘William!' She stared at him in bewilderment, feeling strange and momentarily tongue-tied. He had clearly been waiting for an opportunity to confront her, but what could he have to say to her that wasn't unfavourable? A he towered over her his face was furious.

‘If you have anything further to say about Martin, then you might as well let me have it and have done. If you are annoyed by—'

‘Annoyed!' he roared, flinging his arms wide and restlessly beginning to pace the wooden floor, his boots resounding loudly. ‘God above, Eleanor, annoyed doesn't begin to describe what I am feeling. Will you tell me what in hell's name you were thinking of to marry that—that lame excuse for a man?'

Eleanor paled. ‘Have a care what you say, William.'

‘Have you no sense? I hadn't been gone from Staxton Hall two minutes before you left. Why in God's name did you do it?'

Her lips tightened. ‘Please don't blaspheme. I find it offensive.'

‘Blaspheme! Damn it all, Eleanor, you'd make an archbishop blaspheme. What the devil possessed you to marry Martin Taverner of all people?'

His unprovoked attack caught her on the raw. Her face went white but on each cheekbone was a vivid splash of scarlet. Her eyes glittered and narrowed like those of a cat and her anger increased to a madness as explosive as his.

‘And why shouldn't I? I have every right to do as I please. Since when did I need your permission to leave your house and return to London?'

‘When your uncle placed you under my authority.'

‘Your authority? You are not my keeper, William. You never were. My
husband
is. I am no longer your concern.'

Raising his brows slowly, tauntingly at her, a contemptuous curl to his lips, he said, ‘Had I a glass I would raise a toast to you. Your beguiling beauty and vulnerability had me fooled and quite undone for a time. When I left you at my home I truly thought you would be there when I returned.'

‘What? Waiting for you? You conceited beast. Did you really not stop to ask yourself why I returned to London?'

‘Tell me. I would like to know.'

‘There were several reasons—the main one being that I loathed myself for being so weak and stupid that I succumbed to your seduction. You of all people! My father's betrayer! I must have taken leave of my senses and you will never know how much I hated myself. Your mother told me I was welcome to stay at Staxton Hall indefinitely, but I could sense her disapproval of me. I considered that under the circumstances and to salvage something of my pride it was best that I left. You also knew Martin wanted to marry me, so it should not have come as such a surprise.'

‘Damn you, Eleanor,' he growled, ‘it was. I never thought you would do something so stupid. You might as well have sold your soul to the devil when you married him. You know what he is and because of it he will drag you down to his level—the gutter.'

Eleanor drew back in the face of his harsh attack on Martin. ‘I—I know he prefers the company of men to that of women—as do many other gentlemen at Court it would seem—but he is kind and generous to me.'

‘Like hell he is.' A murderous glint appeared in William's eyes. ‘But why the rush to marry him? Why not wait for a better offer?'

‘From whom? You? And what could you offer me, William, tell me that? Married to Catherine, it would certainly not be anything decent. Your whore. That's what I would be, and condemned because of it.'

William's face showed his astonishment. ‘What the hell are you talking about? And what has Catherine got to do with any of this?'

‘Oh, stop it, William,' she flared, beside herself with anger. ‘Stop it. Don't pretend you don't know.'

‘Believe me, I don't. It would seem you are accusing me of something that is quite beyond me for the moment.'

‘Then why don't you tell me the real reason why you left Staxton Hall in such a hurry?'

William's eyes narrowed. His anger that had diminished a moment before resurrected itself and he glowered down at her upturned, furious face. He was not a man to be taken to task about anything, and though he wanted this woman and knew he always would, he was not about to let her throw her weight about like a Billingsgate fishwife.

‘I seem to recall telling you that it was personal. When I want to tell you more, I will—though why you should feel it is any concern of yours, I cannot imagine.' His voice was icy and his lean face darkened ominously, as though daring her to question this statement.

‘You're right. It doesn't matter to me. Nothing that concerns you matters to me anymore—just as it shouldn't matter to you why I left Staxton Hall to live with Aunt Matilda.'

‘You told me you didn't want to live with her, implying that she was a tyrant. What changed?'

‘You did. I've given you one good reason why I went to my aunt, and another was when you left me and refused to tell me the true reason. I believed you were an honest man, not a liar and a cheat,' she accused harshly—and though she did but know it, unfairly.

William's hands shot out and gripped her upper arms with such force she swore she would have bruises tomorrow. ‘Is that so?' His eyes were slate-grey, his voice cracked with outrage and ugly with menace. ‘And what of Martin Taverner? Is he not a liar and a cheat? Did you marry him in good faith, blind to his sexuality—nothing that could be called decent?' he snarled, repeating her own words. ‘Or did he reveal all?' Seeing her wince, his expression hardened. ‘I thought not. But now you do know and because of your reckless stupidity you have a lifetime of regret—unless, of course, you apply for an annulment.'

‘An annulment?' She stared at him in absolute disbelief. ‘I cannot believe you said that. Is your memory really that short, William, that you forget it could not be proved that Martin and I have not shared a bed in our entire marriage? It is thanks to you that I am not as pure as driven snow, but used goods. To his credit, Martin was honest with me. To my shame I could not bring myself to be honest with him.'

‘And had your husband been so inclined to take you to his bed on your wedding night, he would have known you are too innocent and inexperienced and not clever enough to simulate a virgin's first night. How would you have explained that?'

‘Unfamiliar with the kind of world you inhabit, I really have no idea.'

Eleanor wrenched herself free of his grip so furiously she
almost fell over. Nevertheless she lifted her head imperiously and William Marston felt the blood flow hot in his veins and the heat of it warm his belly with wanting. She was as dear to him now as she had ever been. When he had first been told that she had married Martin Taverner, the shock of it had hit him right between the eyes like a physical blow. He had thought that with the passing of time he could put her out of his mind, and yet he had come here to Court with no other reason than to see her once more, unable to stay away.

Already he was tired of the tedium and the extremes of Court appearance, but with unfinished business to take care of and not wishing to be too far away from Eleanor, he would not return to Yorkshire just yet.

Eleanor's small chin squared up to him and her eyes, a clear shade of transparent amber, warned him to keep away from her. ‘Whatever happens in my marriage is my concern, not yours.'

William watched her spin round in anger and walk blindly away from him, her full skirt swaying defiantly. Opening the door, she turned and looked back at him.

‘Be sure to give Catherine my regards, won't you? You deserve each other.'

Before she could pass through the portal the door had slammed shut in her face.

‘Eleanor, do you mind explaining to me what you meant by that remark? What has Catherine to do with anything? I cannot understand your foolish reasoning that she is at the bottom of this tangled mystery you seem determined to weave and this temper you are in.'

Eleanor flung herself round to face him, unable to contain what was in her mind, and he was not to know that it had been simmering in her ever since she had read the contents of that letter.

‘Temper? Temper, you say?' Moving away from him, she stood in the centre of the room with her back to him, her
hands on her hips, her breathing deep and uneven. Then she turned and looked at him, her face expressionless.

William was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his broad chest. His mind and senses were bemused by her, by the way the sun's rays slanting through the window mingled in her bright hair curled at her temples, streaking the copper and gold. He felt a sudden puzzlement as to why all this had happened and why Eleanor had made it so complicated. Who gave a damn about Catherine, for God's sake? Catherine was in the past and meant nothing to either of them.

‘Has it not occurred to you what you have done to me?' she flared, glaring at him as he continued to lean casually against the door. His face was blank as he watched her, but in his eyes was a spark that said he was not as calm as he appeared. ‘How could you? And how long will it be before the two of you finish what you started all those years ago and get married?'

‘Married? What the hell are you talking about?'

She tossed back her head and William was alarmed to see not only anger, but what looked like a mixture of contempt—and was it, could it possibly be anguish?

‘I know that now Henry Wheeler is dead you, and Catherine are back together. Why—you couldn't leave Staxton Hall quick enough to be with her, could you, William? In fact, there was something quite distasteful about the way you hurried to her side.'

‘What?' Totally bemused, he unfolded his arms and his long lean body rose to its full height.

‘You heard. You're not deaf.' She laughed bitterly. ‘And there was I, simpleton that I am, thinking you no longer loved her, because if you did you would not have seduced me.'

‘That's enough,' William snapped, striding across the floor to stand ominously in front of her. ‘First, I did not seduce you and, second, I do not love Catherine, and, if you must know, I never did.'

‘No?' she scoffed. Drawing herself up straight, she thrust her chin out and met him eye to eye. ‘I do not believe you, for you were giving a fair imitation of it when I called at her home before I married Martin. I know you were there, William, cosily ensconced in her bed. I know. What were you doing—laughing at me—laughing harder together when I'd gone?' Her face was white now, and her eyes seemed huge and much darker in their setting of long, narrowed black lashes.

William shook his head in disbelief, his face showing his astonishment. ‘Unless you tell me what all this is about I cannot answer your accusations over what I know nothing about. I don't know where all this is coming from, Eleanor, but it appears to me that you have got things terribly wrong.'

‘You would say that. Next you will be telling me you weren't with Catherine when I called.'

‘I wasn't.'

‘Don't you even attempt to deny it, you—you louse. You were there. I know you were, hiding away in her bed.'

‘How?' he demanded. ‘How do you know it?'

‘Because I saw Godfrey's horse.'

William cocked his brows in bemusement. ‘Godfrey's horse?'

‘Yes.'

‘Where?'

‘A stable boy was leading him away.'

‘He was?'

‘Yes.'

‘And because you saw a horse you recognised as belonging to Godfrey, you assumed I was there too.'

‘You had to be.'

His face assumed a mixture of amazement and a certain tendency to smile, though the latter did not materialise since the look on her face told him he was swimming in stormy waters. ‘I did? Did Catherine say I was there?'

‘Well—no,' she replied, beginning to shift uncomfortably, ‘but she didn't have to.' William was so self-assured that she
was beginning to suspect that things were about to go dreadfully wrong and everything would fall down about her.

‘She didn't?'

‘No—she—she was—flushed and…' She gave him an exasperated look. ‘William! I am not naïve. I—I know what a woman looks like when…'