Rowena cringed at the
words. She remembered clearly her berating of Alaric for his failure to tell
her the whole truth.
"I wished to
prove to Malcolm that you are innocent," she tried to explain. "He
still believes you to be guilty of killing Ingram."
"And how long
have you been in touch with Malcolm?" Alaric's voice was very quiet, but
Rowena could hear the anger behind it. "Since before we were married?"
"Of course not! He
arrived in London only recently. I saw him last night for the first time."
"In the
garden...." Alaric's voice trailed off. "So you lied when you said
you were alone."
"I didn't want
to upset you," said Rowena desperately. "I knew you would be furious."
"So that is
another untruth," murmured Alaric, seeming not to hear her. "How can
I believe anything you tell me, Rowena, when I catch you in lie after lie? How
do I know that you haven't been plotting this with Malcolm for months, or even
years? Perhaps it was not I who seduced you, but you who seduced me."
"That is
ridiculous," snapped Rowena. "I saw Malcolm for the first time in
twelve years last night. I didn't even know he was alive until recently. He
asked me to help him and I told him that I would prove your innocence to him. I
hoped that the two of you could work together to clear your names."
"What a
charmingly naive proposal." Alaric's voice cut at Rowena like a knife. "I
cannot think how you might have imagined that I would wish to ever see your
foolish brother again. Have I not made if sufficiently clear how I feel about
him? And now you expect me to believe that you are searching my safe in order
to prove my innocence to a man who thinks I am the devil? No, it will not do,
Rowena. You will have to think of a more plausible explanation."
"It is the
truth!" Rowena clenched her hands into fists of frustration. "He may
be anything you say, but he is still my brother! I wish you to be reconciled,
and I thought that if Malcolm could be convinced, then you could be as well. I
know you are not always so inflexible, Alaric."
"And how did you
mean to convince me? In the same way you convinced me to give you the
combination to the safe? Did you mean to manipulate me with your kisses again
and again until I gave you everything you wanted?" Alaric leaned towards
her, and Rowena took a step backwards, frightened by the harshness in his face.
"Of course not! I
would never do that to you! I made no conditions last night when I asked you
for the combination." Rowena wondered frantically how she could convince
Alaric of her good intentions. He seemed determined to misunderstand her every
action.
"No, you made no
conditions. But you waited until I was at ease before you wheedled what you
needed from me. You must have laughed to see me so easily manipulated."
"No, it wasn't
like that. I only meant to prove to Malcolm that you needed to work together to
find Ingram's killer." Her voice trailed off as she realized how weak her
arguments must sound.
"I am amazed I
didn't see it before now. This has all been an act to you, hasn't it? You meant
to prove me a murderer, and the only way to do it was to marry me. I hope your
brother appreciates you sacrificing your body in his cause."
"You must
believe me, Alaric. I am telling you the truth," pleaded Rowena. "When
I married you I had never talked to Malcolm. Later I was afraid that if I told
you he was in London you would do something rash. I meant only to bring us all
together. Can you not understand that I wish to reunite my family?" She
reached out and tried to touch his arm, but he snatched it away with a muttered
oath.
"You betrayed me
like this in order to help me?" Alaric gave a sour chuckle. "I am not
a young man, Rowena, and I am not stupid. I have dealt with much more
sophisticated conspirators than you. But I was never so blind before, and now I
am paying for it. I married you, God help me."
Rowena hung her head.
"What can I do to convince you that I am telling the truth?" Her
voice was barely above a whisper.
"Nothing. Nothing
at all."
Rowena shook her head
in despair. "How did you know I would be here? You were waiting for me,
weren't you?"
Alaric took a piece
of paper from his pocket and Rowena recognized it as the one he had been holding
when she had entered his room the night before. Rowena looked at in in
surprise.
"This was
waiting for me last night when we returned home. It is from Marguerite. She
informed me that Malcolm was in London and that the two of you had been
plotting against me for years. She said Malcolm had boasted to her of his
intention to have me hung, and that you were planning to help him by finding
the Pearl of Sirsi in my safe to use as evidence."
"It is a lie!"
said Rowena.
"When I read the
note all my old imaginings returned to me. But when you came into my room last
night I couldn't believe that you were not sincere, that you could lie so
sweetly in my arms one night and turn on me the next day. I told myself that
Lady Bingham was simply a malicious woman intent on ruining my marriage."
"You were right,"
said Rowena urgently. "You must not believe her. Have you not told me
yourself that Lady Bingham is a mischief maker who will stop at nothing to ruin
our marriage?"
"But then you
asked me for the combination to my safe." Alaric's voice was very sad. "There
was no reason for you ask for it except to search the safe, as Marguerite said
you meant to. You were discovered by another woman as deceitful as you are,
Rowena. And she could not resist the chance to let me know she was aware of my
humiliation. You are not as clever as you thought you were."
"I didn't think
I was being clever," declared Rowena. "I was only attempting to
prevent the very things that are happening now. Alaric, you must trust me. It
is important that you believe me. I meant only to help."
"You meant to
help Malcolm, certainly. But now you have done neither. Your brother cannot
prove that I killed Ingram, and our marriage is ruined. I have only to decide
now what it is I will do about that."
"About our
marriage?" asked Rowena.
"Exactly." Alaric's
eyes raked over her, contempt in their depths. "You cannot be gotten rid
of as easily as a painting I have grown tired of. We are married, Rowena, and I
expect you to remember that. You will not run off to Malcolm's protection. You
are mine and will remain so, at least until I have a child from you."
Rowena shivered at
the icy look in Alaric's eyes. He had never looked at her like that before, as
though she was no more than a nuisance he needed to dispose of. "You
cannot mean that!"
"I mean exactly
what I say. Now get out of here. And do not try to contact your brother. You
will not be able to go to him."
"Please Alaric,
you must listen to me--"
"I told you to
leave. You had best listen to me from now on, Rowena. You will no longer wrap
me around your little finger."
Rowena took one last
look at his harsh face and realized that there was no reasoning with him now. Slowly
she turned away and walked to the door, hoping that perhaps with a little time
to think he would realize that she would never deliberately hurt him. She
paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder, hoping to see some
softening in his stance. Surely he could not mean what he had said, she
thought. There must be some way she could convince him of the truth. Alaric's
face was expressionless as he stood there, the rope of pearls still clasped in
his hand.
"I forgot
something," he said abruptly. Rowena took a step towards him, hope rising
in her heart.
"I bought these
pearls for you yesterday. I meant to give them to you on the one-month
anniversary of our wedding. You might as well have them now. I would not want
anybody to say the Countess of Brayleigh was not suitably ornamented."
He reached out
abruptly and seized her arm, thrusting the necklace into her hand. Her fingers
closed over them automatically, feeling the cool silkiness of them against her
skin.
"Now get out."
The words were steely.
Rowena walked slowly
out of the gallery, but when she reached the hall she raced blindly for the
bedroom and threw herself onto the lacy coverlet, finally breaking into the
great sobs that had been threatening her since Alaric had first discovered her
in the gallery. She cried for a long time, until she was completely exhausted. Then
she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the canopy arching over her
head. She realized with a pang of disgust that the pearls were still clutched
in her hand. She threw them angrily across the room, listening with
satisfaction to the tiny crash they made as they hit the wall and fell to the
floor.
She wondered
frantically what she could do to repair the damage she had caused. Alaric had
not only caught her searching his safe, but Lady Bingham had convinced him that
she had been plotting to do this since before she had met him. There had to be
some way to convince him that she had meant well, that she had never thought he
was guilty. The situation was in more of a tangle than ever, because Malcolm
would surely be furious if she didn't show up the next day to meet him. Rowena
could only imagine what he might decide to do about that.
Hours passed as
Rowena tried to unravel the knot her life had become. The small hope she had
that Alaric might come to talk to her died as the afternoon passed, and when
Lawson came to dress her for dinner, she told the maid to tell Lord Brayleigh
she was unwell. The evening stretched into night and still Rowena had no
solution to her problem. Her thoughts ran in a wretched circle; it was
necessary to convince Alaric that she had never thought he was guilty, and
therefore it was necessary to bring him together with Malcolm. But the two
hated each other, and Lady Bingham would surely find a way to twist events
against her. It seemed to be an utterly hopeless case.
When it was very late
she finally rose and, without ringing for Lawson, dressed herself in her
nightgown and climbed into the huge bed. She knew she would be unable to sleep,
but also that she couldn't sit on the bed all night in her morning dress. She
burrowed down into the covers, hoping for some relief from the tormenting
thoughts that continued to race through her brain.
She sat up with a
start when she heard the door to Alaric's bedroom open. In the dim light his
figure was silhouetted against the doorway, and she watched in amazement as he
walked calmly over to her bed and stood looking down at her, a brooding
expression on his face. He was dressed only in his black silk dressing gown
and, despite her anxiety, Rowena couldn't help admiring the breadth of his
shoulders beneath the flowing material. He was so beautiful, she thought
miserably. She had given her heart up to him so quickly, and now she had
destroyed everything.
"Alaric?"
she said tentatively.
He continued to stare
at her, one hand rising to knife through his dark hair. She wondered what he
was thinking, for his eyes betrayed no emotions, only glittering at her
enigmatically from under their heavy lids.
"Did you want to
talk?" she asked.
Alaric gave a harsh
laugh. "Not at all. There is no need for any discussion tonight."
Rowena looked
perplexed. "What do you mean?"
He did not say
anything, but sat on the edge of the bed next to her and took her into his
arms. His lips locked onto hers in a fierce, demanding kiss that held nothing
of gentleness in it. Rowena pulled away, startled.
"Alaric, what
are you doing? Surely you cannot mean to make love to me tonight." She
paused as a flicker of hope flared in her. "Or have you forgiven me? Do
you believe what I told you earlier?"
Alaric stared at her.
"I have not grown more stupid in the last hours, Rowena. You may have
married me only to betray me, but I own you, and you will still give me a son."
After he was gone,
Rowena cried herself to sleep, too exhausted for even her worries to keep her
awake.
The next morning
Alaric sat at the breakfast table, the food on his plate untouched, his face
blank of emotion. Ferguson cast him an uneasy glance. This was the way the Earl
had looked before his marriage, cold and detached, his mind concentrated on his
collection and other pleasures. Since Lady Brayleigh had joined the household,
it had seemed to the servants that there had been a visible thawing in their
master, that he smiled more often and more easily and took a greater interest
in the simpler joys of life. Now it seemed something was seriously amiss.
"Is there
anything else you require, my lord?" he asked formally.
"What? No, thank
you, Ferguson." Alaric seemed to look through the butler, as though the
other man's presence was barely noticeable. He stared down at his hands as the
butler bowed and left the room. He still could not believe what had happened
the day before, the way a few short hours had changed the entire course of his
life. Rowena, the one woman he had thought he could trust, the exception to his
universal wariness of her sex, had betrayed him. Her loyalty was with her
brother, and their marriage was a masquerade on her part, designed only to
serve the purpose of destroying him.
He shook his head. He
despised himself for letting Rowena manipulate him. To think that he had
trusted her, listened to her advice, shared his life with her in a way that he
had never done with a woman before. He had dreamt of a life with her and their
children, had given up his relentless pursuit of valuable objects because she
occupied his thoughts at all times. He had almost come to love her.
He hastily pushed the
thought out of his mind. Love was not an emotion he cared for. He had never
loved Rowena, he told himself, but he had esteemed her, respected her, and cared
for her. And she had repaid him in false coin. Malcolm was probably laughing at
him now. Perhaps Alaric had thwarted his enemy's attempts to turn him over to
the magistrates for murder, but Arlingby had punished him in a much more
effective manner. His life had been torn to pieces before his very eyes as he
watched Rowena sift through the contents of his safe. He wondered if the two of
them had planned that he should suffer so. He could picture them in the garden
at the Burlington ball, their blonde heads close together, laughing at the
near-fulfillment of their plans.
Alaric's hands
clenched into fists at the thought. Perhaps they thought they had won, but he
would prove to them that their victory was not complete. Rowena was his now, he
thought angrily. He had taken her as his wife, and a wife she would be to him.
She would pay for her treatment of him.
The door to the
dining room flew open and Rowena stood in the doorway. Alaric noted with grim
satisfaction that she looked tired and that the usual faint glow of pink was
absent from her cheeks. Perhaps she was beginning to understand what she had
gotten herself into, he thought with satisfaction. He would never allow her to
leave him. The world would never know of this betrayal. It was horrible enough
to think of Malcolm, Rowena, and Marguerite laughing at him, but he would stop
them from turning him into a public laughingstock.
"Good morning,"
she said breathlessly. She had half-hoped that she might arrive before Alaric,
but now he sat before her, the same closed look on his face that had been there
the night before. Her eyes hastily scanned the table and she noted that
Ferguson had not yet brought in the morning's letters. She breathed a silent
sigh of relief. Perhaps it would still be possible to keep Alaric from learning
that she meant to meet Malcolm today.
Alaric inclined his
head coldly and watched as Rowena seated herself. She gave him a sidelong
glance from her wide violet eyes but did not attempt further conversation. She
would simply have to prove to Alaric by her actions that she was worthy of his
trust, she thought. Sooner or later she would be able to reach him, when he was
not so terrifyingly angry. The dark, unreadable man who sat at the head of the
table was almost unrecognizable to her. Even at his most forbidding, she had
sensed a compatibility of spirit with Alaric. But this man, and the man who had
come to her bed last night, was a complete stranger to her.
The door opened again
and Ferguson entered, bearing a pile of letters and invitations on a silver
tray. He placed it on the table at Alaric's elbow and then paused for a moment,
surveying the scene. His lordship still looked furious, and the Countess
appeared to be subdued. He breathed a silent sigh. It would have been too much
to expect the good humor of the past weeks to continue. Society marriages were
seldom happy.
"Will there be
anything else, my lord?"
Alaric shook his
head. Ferguson left the room, and Rowena leaned towards the tray, attempting
not to appear too eager.
"Is there anything
for me?" she asked.
Alaric gave her an
inquiring glance. Apparently she was not so upset by their situation that she
intended to abandon the social whirl. His contempt for her rose a bit higher. How
could she think of entertainments when she had just ruined his life? He shoved
the tray towards her with a snort.
"Look for
yourself."
Rowena gave him an
apprehensive glance and then began to sort through the little pile of
envelopes, quickly separating out those addressed to her. She easily located a
note addressed in the same hand as the one she had received the day before, and
with a quick movement slid it under an invitation.
Alaric gave her a
shrewd look. She bent her head and took a sip of tea.
"Aren't you
going to eat?" he asked.
She shook her head
silently. The thought of food made her stomach turn.
"You'll need to
keep your strength up," said Alaric softly. He watched with a hint of
malicious pleasure as she colored.
"No, thank you,"
she said in as composed a voice as she could muster.
There was a moment of
silence and then Alaric nodded towards the little pile of paper at her elbow. "You
were quite eager to receive your mail. Aren't you going to open it?"
"I can do that
later," answered Rowena.
"You usually
open the letters while you eat breakfast," observed Alaric. "Is today
somehow different?"
Rowena shrugged. "Very
well, if you insist." She picked up the first envelope with ill grace and
opened it with a knife. An invitation card for a soiree the following week fell
out. Alaric reached across and picked it up, looking at it idly.
"Will you
attend?" he asked.
"Will you let
me?" she shot back.
Alaric's eyebrows
rose. "You are not a prisoner, Rowena. You may come and go as you please,
although I presume you will no longer expect me to dance attendance on you. However,
I do not recommend attempting to see your brother. I would surely find out
about it."
Rowena froze at his
words. There was an ominous sound to them. "Are you having me followed?"
she demanded.
Alaric shrugged,
pleased at having disturbed her composure. "I wouldn't test me, if I were
you, Rowena."
Rowena tossed her
head and picked up the next envelope. It was a note from Lady Belmont, asking
her to stop by sometime soon. She had the most delightful gossip to relate to
her beloved niece. Rowena put the piece of paper down, feeling slightly dizzy. These
notes and invitations seemed to come from another world, one in which
everything worked in a logical manner. Her life had become decidedly less tidy
in the past day.
"You haven't opened
everything," observed Alaric, nodding at the neatly folded paper that
still lay by her plate. She had attempted to tuck it partially under her
napkin, but Alaric had apparently been watching her carefully.
"Haven't I?"
She looked about curiously, and Alaric pointed at the note, an unpleasant smile
on his face. Rowena picked it up reluctantly and held it gingerly in her hands.
"Don't let me
disturb you," said Alaric, picking up his knife and fork and attacking his
breakfast.
Rowena wondered how
he could eat when her own stomach was tied in knots. She carefully slit the
letter open and scanned its contents, keeping one eye anxiously on her husband.
My dear Rowena,
I am looking forward
to our meeting today and your confirmation that Brayleigh does indeed have the
pearl in his possession. I cannot possibly express my gratitude to you and my
eagerness to put this unpleasant business behind us. Soon I will take my place
in Society and you will be relieved of the burden of your husband. Meet me at
the Queen's Walk in Green Park at two-o-clock this afternoon. Wait there and I
will come to you.
Malcolm
Rowena noticed her
hand was shaking and hastily folded the note and tucked it among her other
missives. Alaric looked up from his breakfast.
"Not bad news, I
hope?"
"Not at all. My
friend Miss Battleby simply wished to apprise me of the amorous adventures of
one of our friends. I gather she might soon be married." Rowena stared at
her plate as she spoke, willing herself not to flush.
"With your
recent experience, you might recommend that she not rush into anything,"
said Alaric dryly.