The Baron's Betrayal (4 page)

“Good afternoon, Lady Tunstall. Shall I announce you to his lordship?”

“No need. Would you please ask Mrs. Gibbons to join me in the drawing room?”

He nodded and took her cape.

“And please have Cook send in a tea tray.” She handed him her hat and gloves. “I would also appreciate someone seeing that my things are brought in from my carriage. I’m afraid there is quite a bit.”

“Yes, my lady. I will have our housekeeper, Mrs. Downs, prepare a room for you.”

“Thank you.”

Marion strode down the corridor with determination in her every step. All around her, servants stopped their work and stared in fascination. Marion nodded and continued on her way.

She’d only been in the drawing room for a few minutes when the woman she remembered from the assembly knocked softly, then peeked around the door after Marion bid her enter.

“Good afternoon, Lady Tunstall. I am Mrs. Gibbons, his lordship’s companion.” She moved farther into the room, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.

“How do you do?” Marion settled on the settee and waved toward the chair facing her. “Won’t you please join me? Cook will be sending in tea.”

“Thank you.” After adjusting her skirts, the woman placed her hands in her lap, presenting a serenity her stiff posture belied.

“I assume you are surprised to see me here?” Marion eyed Mrs. Gibbons coolly. If she was to accomplish what she’d set out to do this afternoon, there would be no shilly-shallying about.

A smile broke out on the woman’s face. “Yes. I must admit that I am a bit perplexed. His lordship informed me earlier today we were to prepare to remove ourselves to the London house tomorrow.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. But may I tell you how happy I am that you have arrived? Am I to assume that you intend to stay and are not merely visiting?”

Marion waved to the footman who carried the tea tray. “Set it here, please.”

“You are correct, Mrs. Gibbons. I have come to stay. If his lordship continues in his desire to remove himself to London, I will be right there with him.”

Gales of laughter spewed from Mrs. Gibbons’s mouth. Marion found herself going from a slight smile to a full-blown grin as she watched Mrs. Gibbons wipe tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Well done, your ladyship. Well done.”

Both women jumped when the library door flew open, slamming against the wall. Tristan stood in the entry, glowering in her direction. Her heart took a sudden leap to her throat. How handsome he looked. His blond hair was mussed as if he’d been running his fingers through it. A hastily fashioned cravat drooped on his chest.

But nothing could take away from his massive build. His shoulders filled the doorway, his muscled thighs straining the fabric of his snug pantaloons. Despite an inability to see, he must have found a way to maintain his athletic body.

What drew her the most, however, were his eyes. The crystal blue orbs that had always held her, still did so now.

“Good afternoon, my lord. Would you care to join us for tea?”

He walked farther into the room. “What are you about, Marion?”

“I don’t understand, my lord. Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, I have instructed my staff to prepare to move to London.”

Marion clapped her hands. “Wonderful. I believe I would love to visit London.”

“You, madam, are not going.”

“I, sir, am indeed going.”

“No, you are not.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Mrs. Gibbons, please leave us,” Tristan growled.

“No. Mrs. Gibbons, please remain. I have invited you to partake of tea, and that is what you will do.”

Mrs. Gibbons glanced between the two gearing up for battle and slowly stood. “I believe I will decline your kind invitation after all, my lady. I have things that need my attention elsewhere.”

Once the door closed, Tristan drew himself up to his full height and glared in her direction. “Now, madam, you will explain yourself.”

Chapter Four

Tristan tried unsuccessfully to unlock his jaw. With stiff movements, he walked to a chair near a floor-to-ceiling window. In the short time he’d been in the house, he had managed to maneuver his way around the drawing room, his bedroom, the dining room, and the library. He still stumbled on occasion while moving from room to room, but spent most of his time sitting in the library.

Lorelei had walked with him a few times, but her constant chattering, telling him what he was missing, rubbed his nerves. As fond as he was of his companion, there were times when all he wanted was peace and quiet. The most pleasant times for him were the evenings when they would sit in the library and play a game of chess, or she would read to him. However, since Lorelei disliked reading aloud, that entertainment remained limited.

Now his original plan to remain unknown to his wife so she could have the life she deserved had been undermined by his companion.

“So, my lord. Shall we plan on a trip to London or remain here in the country? I can be prepared for either event.”

“Marion.” He fought with himself to keep his tone even, not wanting to show the emotions flooding him at just having her near. “I have already determined that this marriage will not continue. Please don’t make it hard on both of us by continuing in this folly.”

“I disagree. Our marriage is not a folly, and I intend to remain your wife. Now if you do not wish to acknowledge that situation, then we are at a stalemate.”

“A stalemate, indeed.” He pounded his thigh with his fist. “I demand you return to your home.”

“
This
is my home, my lord,” she countered.

Tristan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I refuse to have Mason remove you.”

“I thank you so very much for your generosity, my lord.”

“But this game you’re playing will not end well.”

“I am not playing a game. I am your wife. And it is my concern as to how it will end. Right now I shall retire to the room Mrs. Downs has prepared for me, and see about having a maid assist me to unpack.”

“Where is your lady’s maid? We have none here.”

“At Manchester Manor I shared a lady’s maid with my sisters. So, I shall need to hire one. For now I can make do by myself.”

“Perhaps there are no funds to hire another maid.”

“Are there not?”

He could hear her breathing and sense her presence, but he remained stubbornly silent. After a few minutes, soft footsteps padded across the room, then he released the breath he held at the sound of the door opening.

“Shall I have my bags remain packed if we are to leave for London in the morning?”

“There is no reason to remove ourselves to London if you are coming with us.”

“Oh, so you
were
trying to escape me?” He could hear the mirth in her voice.

When he didn’t answer, she added, “It won’t work, Tristan. I am here to stay. Here, or there, it matters not.” The door latch clicked, leaving him in silent contemplation.

How the devil would he hold her off if she resided in the same house with him? Ate meals at his table, slept in a bed under his roof?

His groin tightened at this last. He’d not had the comfort of a woman’s body since he’d left Marion to return to the sea. Despite his desire to end their marriage, he’d had no intention of ignoring his wedding vows. Indeed, no intention of ever affording himself the luxury of the warmth and pleasure found in a woman’s arms.

Even if he did desire such, no other woman would satisfy him as well as his wife. Their lovemaking had always been something magical, spiritual, if you will. The joining of two hearts and two souls.

But that had come to an end. He was a blind man, with nothing to offer a woman. That was to be his lot in life, and his wife attempting to change that was useless. Furthermore, he could not let her try.

…

Marion went in search of Mrs. Downs. Before she was able to locate the housekeeper, a young maid of about nineteen years descended the stairs.

“My lady, if you will follow me, I will direct you to the room prepared for you.”

Marion followed her up the stairs and down a narrow corridor. They entered a room that could only be described as perfect. Cream and pale rose striped wallpaper brought out the warmth of the space. Her feet sunk into the thick carpet as she took in the generous windows allowing the pale sunlight to illuminate the area. A brightly burning fireplace in one corner added to the comfort. Her spirits rose.

“And where is his lordship’s room?” Marion asked as she surveyed her new quarters.

“Why, right next to this room, my lady. Through there.” The girl nodded in the direction of a carved oak door. “This room is where Mrs. Downs insisted we put your things.” Completing a quick bob, she added, “May I assist you with your unpacking, my lady?”

“Do you have other duties to see to right now?”

“No. Mrs. Downs asked me to help until she can hire a lady’s maid for you.”

Apparently the staff already knew she intended to be a permanent resident. Interesting, that the plans to relocate to London seemed to have been halted by the staff without word from Tristan. Perhaps that was Mrs. Gibbons’s doing. “Well, thank you very much. And what is your name?”

“Jane, my lady. My mum’s Mrs. Downs.”

“Well, perhaps you can be my lady’s maid.” She liked the young girl, who was sweet and eager. Marion’s mother oftentimes raised girls from parlor maids to lady’s maids. The dowager duchess had also been known to educate some of their maids so they were able to secure positions as governesses.

The young girl’s eyes grew wide in her freckled face. “Oh, no, my lady. I have no training to be a lady’s maid. My mum will be hiring someone for you.”

“No. I think not. I would prefer that you fill the position.”

She frowned. “My lady?”

Marion smiled at the young girl’s confusion. “That means I would like you to be my lady’s maid.”

The girl blushed furiously and cupped her cheeks with her palms. “Thank you, my lady. I will try my best.”

“Good. Now run off and tell your mum that I have my lady’s maid, and then hurry back here so we can unpack.”

Still quite red in the face, Jane hurried from the room.

Marion hummed as she began to sort through the items in the trunks the footmen had lugged up to her room. Jane would work nicely as her maid. Marion felt no need for fancy, town hair dressings. Jane seemed a pleasant girl, and that meant more to her than experience.

She eyed the door adjoining her room to Tristan’s. After minutes of glancing back and forth at it while she draped clothing over the bed, she threw down the gown she held and strode across the room. Very carefully, she released the latch and eased the door open. Tears sprang to her eyes as the essence of her husband wafted over her. The familiar scent of his soap, his cologne, and his body, made her heart thump and her knees weak.

How she’d missed him! She came to stand beside his bed, gazing at the place where he rested his body. Where she intended to rest her body as well. With his stubbornness, it would probably not be any time soon. But she, too, could be stubborn. He was all she had ever wanted her entire life, and something as minor as blindness was not going to take him from her. She would fight the blindness and fight him. In the end she would prevail.

She dragged her fingers over his wardrobe and dresser. Smiled at his shaving things and hairbrush lined up perfectly next to the wash basin. He had a wonderful view from his window, a view he would never see. For the first time since she’d received the news from her brother, she wondered what it would be like to suddenly lose her eyesight. She shuddered at the thought of never seeing another sunset or viewing summer flowers in full bloom.

Most of all, the idea of never gazing on her beloved Tristan’s face again explained some of her husband’s anguish. She drifted closer to the window, her arms wrapped around her waist. More determined than ever, she would convince him their marriage could work.

“Marion. What are you doing in my room?”

She whirled around, amazed she hadn’t heard the door open or Tristan enter the room.

“How did you know—”

“That you are here? When you lose one of your senses, my dear, I’ve discovered that the others grow to compensate for the loss. I could smell your lovely scent as soon as I opened the door.”

He moved farther into the room and headed directly toward her, almost as if his eyesight had miraculously returned. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to intrude, but I was unpacking, and the door linking us drew me, so I—”

“Decided to breach my privacy?”

She shook her head. “No. I… Tristan, can’t we at least be friends?”

“No.” He turned from her and sat on the edge of the bed. “I will not be your friend. I love you too much for that.” He held up his hand as she began to speak. “Let me finish. It is because I love you as much as I do that I must set you free.”

Marion dropped to her knees and gripped his hands. “No, please. I don’t want to be set free. Can’t you understand?”

He reached out as if to smooth her hair, then drew his hand back. “You must reconcile yourself to my decision. I will not change my mind.”

She laid her forehead on his knee. “And I will not change mine, Tristan. I will fight you on this.”

“My lady?” Marion started at Jane’s greeting from the other side of the door.

She rose and headed to her room. “I must go, but please be assured I will be joining you for dinner.”

…

Two days later, determined to free his mind from the constant thoughts of Marion, Tristan was helped into his tailcoat by his valet, Ellis, then he headed downstairs and out the back door to enjoy a morning stroll in the garden.

He breathed deeply of the cool, crisp air. Times like this he could be at peace with himself. Perhaps not reconciled, but at least accepting of his blindness. That is, until Marion had invaded his home and took over his life. Now all the initial panic, frustration, and anger that had accompanied his early recovery had resurfaced.

How he wished to throw caution to the wind and take his wife to bed. Even if he were to do something so foolish, the possible result of their joining had him breaking into a sweat. By what means could he ever protect those he loved? Initially, a baby needed love and devotion from his parents, but as he grew, security was paramount. A child would never feel secure with a father who couldn’t see.

The strong scent of apples reached him, alerting him that he neared the orchard. He waved his cane to find the turn in the path that would direct him to the pond at the rear of his property. As he continued on, he tilted his head, raising his face to enjoy the warmth from the early autumn sun.

He smiled at how his instructions to prepare for a journey to his London house had been blithely ignored once Marion had wrestled command from Mrs. Gibbons. He wondered briefly what Lorelei would make of that. Although she had started them down this path with her interference, hadn’t she?

Within minutes he discerned the lap of water and the smell of mud and fresh grass that grew around the pond. He frowned when the scent of rosemary and chamomile infused itself. “Marion?”

“Yes, Tristan. I am here by the water’s edge.”

“I thought you and Mrs. Downs were busy with household matters.”

“We finished. I thought to take a stroll before luncheon since the weather is nice and clear.”

He moved closer to her. “Tell me what you see. I bought this property only recently. However, I thought it was far away in the country, not in Donridge Heath.”

She slipped her arm through his. “The area is quite lovely. The pond is about the size of the one at the Manor that you and I used to swim in. Do you remember that?”

He nodded, the warmth of those memories rushing through him. Pictures flashed of a young Marion looking at him with adoration as he held her firmly in the water, encouraging her to float. Pushing them aside, he asked, “Is there a folly?”

“Yes, there is a lovely one. It’s quite large, actually. We would have to proceed around the pond to go there. Did you want to walk that way?”

“Not today. Tell me about the trees. Are the leaves beginning to change their color? Are there many surrounding the pond?”

For the next few minutes, Marion described what he could only hear and smell. She laughed when she detailed squirrels hurrying past them, up into hiding places in the trees to stash their winter stores.

The sound of her voice and the sweet laughter should have put him off. After all, she was here against his wishes. But instead, he found himself grinning as she related such a complete description that he could see the entire area in his mind, as if an artist’s brush had created it for him alone.

He picked up the aroma of nearby smoke. His initial jolt of panic at the scent receded when Marion mentioned his gardener was burning leaves on the other side of the apple orchard. Had she mentioned that because of his anxiety? Not only was he blind, but after his family’s death and his experience on the ship, his fear of fire crippled him.

“My dear, I believe we should return to the house for luncheon. Cook is put out if her wonderful meals have to be held.”

“She is a delight, Tristan.” Marion turned him and they strolled together toward the house. “And did you know Mrs. Downs has a lovely daughter, Jane, whom I have hired for my lady’s maid?”

“Indeed? And who authorized the hiring of maids?”

“I did. I am your wife, and here to stay. The staff knows it, and you must accustom yourself to the idea.”

His lips twitched. “When did you become a termagant, madam?”

“It became necessary when my husband decided, without my consent, to dissolve our marriage.”

“Despite this lively exchange, I have not changed my mind.”

“Neither have I, my lord.”

He felt the sun dip behind a cloud, warning him that his life was as it would always be. Whenever he grew carefree and happy, the reality of his situation reminded him, somewhat abruptly at times, that his would never be a normal life.