Trust Me (18 page)

“It is just some
talk.” He laced his hands with hers.

She attempted to
withdraw her hands from his. He held her firm, giving her a stern look.

“You said you
wouldn’t keep secrets from me.”

“I didn’t want you to
be self-conscious—or to worry.”

“I shall be twice as
anxious not knowing.”

“It’s best we discuss
this in the privacy of our chambers.”

The graveness of his
tone, the utter sympathy in his expression, sent her heart pounding. Her
stomach cramped.

He squeezed her
hands. “Come, let’s retire to your chamber and get you some warmed wine. You’ll
feel better.”

*****

In her chamber, Jon
stared at his wife’s face, noting the sallow tone and the faint purple shadows
around her eyes. She was pretending to be strong. What she needed was a few
hours’ sleep.

Damn Maria, for
pressing this issue today of all days.

He couldn’t put it
off any longer or he would lose Anne’s trust. He took a deep breath. A deep,
long, heavy-in-his-heart breath.

Her eyes widened. “My
God, is it that bad?”

“There was something
more serious to all that talk of scandal than simply that you drank too much at
dinner and fluttered your lashes at me.”

“Yes, how stupid of
me not to have guessed.” Her voice was brittle, her posture rigid as a
statue’s.

Damn it. She was
angry with him over this. She would be even angrier once he’d told her, and
with good reason and every right. He ought to have told her before.

No, he had made a
sound judgement. For her sake, he’d been right not to tell her until she could
have a few public appearances and become better adjusted to Society again.

It was not like him
to second-guess a decision. Love was making him weak.

“Tell me.” Her tone
was strained.

“People are saying
that the accident—what happened to Cranfield—left you mentally unstable.”

She simply stared at
him, her face expressionless. Then she laughed sharply. Bitterly. “Well, isn’t
that true?”

“God damn it, no, it
is not true.”

She arched an
eyebrow. “No?”

“No. You know it’s
not true, and I know it’s not true. That’s what matters most.”

Her composure crumbled.

“I want to go home.”
Her shoulders sank. “But I don’t have any home to go back to now.”

“What nonsense.”

She jerked her head
up to meet his gaze. He’d spoken more sharply than he’d intended. He made an
effort to gentle his words. “Your home is with me, wherever we are.”

“I don’t want to stay
here another day.”

 
“We cannot leave yet.” His heart began to
race with the fear that she might actually leave. Because he did not know how
he would feel about her running and hiding from this. Because he must stay and
serve in Parliament.

Because he couldn’t
bear it if she left…

If she left now, with
this tension between them, this level of distrust, it might allow distance to
develop between them.

Distance that might
never be overcome.

“No one could
possibly know what it was like to be in that carriage with William.” She curled
on her side and hugged the pillow.

She looked so
forlorn, so lost…it tore at his heart.

He left off
undressing and went to lay behind her. He moved close to her and touched her
shoulder. “I wouldn’t think you’d want to give them the satisfaction of seeing
you run away.”

“I don’t care what
Society thinks. I have no desire to remain another day in Mayfair. I want to be
in the country again. I want to be that lady of the manor.”

“I have said I admire
that about you. It made me take a second look at my requirements in a wife. But
you are overlooking your duty now.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you have a duty
to face this scandal. For the sake of our children and the estate. If our
children are said to have a mother who is less than sane, they will not be able
to contract the best marriages. They will not be able to do the best they can
for Ruel.”

“Of course you are
right. I was just engaging in wishful thinking. Oh, how I wish this were all
over.”

He pulled her more
snugly into his arms and pressed his face into the dark silken mass of her
hair, inhaling her lavender-and-rose fragrance. Relief washed over him. If she
had given in to her fear, if she had decided foolishly, irresponsibly. he would
have lost respect for her. He didn’t know how he would have reacted to that.
Thankfully, she been sensible, acknowledging that there was no other acceptable
course for her—indeed, for
them
—but
to remain in Mayfair and deal with the situation rather than run from it.

****

The next evening,
Anne sat at her dressing table, holding herself as still as possible while
Nellie unpinned her hair. Tonight, at a supper party, she had faced the
speculative stares of Society and pretended to be haughty. Pretended to feel
nothing. Making all the proper, polite talk with those who mattered most.

Nellie reached for
the hairbrush. Anne put up her hand. “Do not bother.”

Nellie frowned at her
in the mirror. “Shall I get your nightgown then, my lady?”

“Don’t bother with
that either.”

Nellie’s frown
deepened. “But surely you do not expect his lordship to visit you. It is so
late.”

“You may go to bed.”

“But my lady, your
hair—”

“You may leave,
Nellie.” She made her voice firm.

“Very well, my lady.”
Nellie folded her arms over her chest and backed away from the dressing table.
Then she turned and hurried towards the open door with her eyes downcast.

Anne glanced away and
studied her hands in her lap. She had not meant to hurt her loyal servant but
she couldn’t abide Nellie’s fussing another moment. Nellie had been with her
since she was a young girl. It was very much like having one’s mother in the
bedchamber. However, she could never retire the faithful abigail. She’d already
broached the subject. Nellie had been hurt.

A soft gasp startled
her. She looked up to see Nellie backing away from Jon as he stood in the
doorway.

“Oh, your lordship...
pardon me.” From the side view, Nellie’s face was flaming. Whether from
colliding with him bodily or because he was clad in his banyan, Anne couldn’t be
sure.

“It is quite all
right.” Jon met Anne’s eyes over the woman’s head and he winked. “You may find
your bed, Nellie, we shan’t be needing you.”

Nellie glanced back
at Anne and then to the door, so flustered that she appeared frozen in her
tracks, as if she’d forgotten that she needed to put one foot before the other
in order to leave her lady’s quarters.

Jon put his hands on
her shoulders and gave the abigail a gentle nudge towards the doorway.

“Goodnight, Nellie.”
His tone was dryly amused, tolerant.

The servant came to
herself and quickly exited.

He closed the door.
He turned to Anne, his eyes lit with amusement. “Are you keeping the upper hand
with her?”

His question
surprised her. What place had he to insert himself in between herself and her
personal servant? She straightened and lifted her chin. “I am—why would you
ask?”

His expression
softened as he drew close. He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Because you
looked very strained when I came in.”

“I am just tired,
ready for bed.”

He walked to the
sideboard. “Would you like some claret?”

She shook her head.
“I don’t need it now.”

“Did you enjoy being
the object of attention from your circle of admirers?” Jon’s breath was warm
against her ear. She stood in her stockings and garters.

That statement was so
incompatible with the image she’d always held of herself, it struck her as
ludicrous. She laughed softly.

“I told you that you
would be fashionable and sought after.” He kissed her neck.

“I am sure Sebastian
was simply being kind to a member of his family.”

“And
I
am sure he was intent upon trying to
look down your bodice.” Jon cupped her breasts.

She laughed. “Don’t
jest with me.”

“I am not jesting. I
thought his eyes would pop from their sockets.”

“He was simply kind;
he knows of my shyness. It was very helpful of you to suggest philosophy as a
topic. I had thought horses and dogs would suffice, but philosophy gave us far
more to talk about. He was more open than I have ever seen him.”

“I suggested philosophy
to put you at ease, not Saxby. Once you turned that dazzling smile on him, he
would have chatted eagerly about bonnets or ribbons or moonbeams and rainbows,
or whatever.”

“I daresay my smile
is not that dazzling.”

“As I told you with
Mr Riley, you must be aware of your effect upon men. You are a beautiful woman,
Anne, and you must accept it. You must also learn when and how to use your
beauty to your advantage. And when to play it down.” He gripped her neck. “Your
muscles feel tense.”

“Perhaps I will have
some claret after all.” He went, poured her some wine and brought it back to
her. She tilted the glass to her lips and took a sip.

“You must keep the
upper hand with the servants. Even your own personal maids.”

“I don’t think I need
to be cold.”

“You do need to
maintain a certain amount of distance. You must remain in charge in order to
command their respect.”

“It is very hard,
Jon. She has been with me since I was a girl.”

“Which is precisely
why we should retire her and get a new abigail.”

His words shocked
her. “You have no right to suggest something so—”

“I am your husband
and I am master of this household.” He took her hand by the wrist. “Which
brings me to another matter.”

“Yes?”

“The matter of your
stays being laced too tightly. We still have unfinished business between us
over that.”

She caught her
breath. From the determined look in his eye, she knew he would truly punish her
this time.

He sat on the bed and
soon she laid herself across his lap and submitted to him in that way.

“This is to teach you
respect. If you can’t respect your own body and its health, then you can at
least respect it as my possession and take proper care of yourself.” He ran a
caressing hand over buttocks. “Shall I begin, Nan?”

“Yes.”

He brushed her
nightgown up and then his hand came down. The sting followed. He struck her
again and again, working slowly, firmly and thoroughly, as he always did during
a punishment.

When he was done, he
transferred her to her bed.

“You should sleep
now.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left her.

***

A whine sounded. Then
scratching. Tiberia was outside the door. The whining became louder, more
high-pitched.

Anne’s chamber door
came open. She stopped and stood I the doorway, pulling her wrapper tighter
whilst staring at him. Her eyes glistened in the semi-darkness.

He made a motion
towards himself. “Leave the dog. Come here.”

The dog’s scratching
intensified. Anne glanced to the door.

“Come here,” he
repeated more firmly.

She dropped her gaze,
then padded over to him.

He took the edges of
her robe and jerked the garment off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. She
was still in her shift. He hooked his hands into the neckline. The fragile
fabric tore as easily as paper. He worked the torn neckline until it rested
beneath her bared bosom.

Her breasts seemed to
explode from the torn bodice. Her large, rose-brown nipples appeared so
delectable, so enticing. His cock sprang into a full, throbbing erection.

He touched her
breast. Squeezed it, handled it roughly.

She stood passive.
Accepting. Her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly.

With her eyes
downcast, her head slightly bent, she looked so soft. Feminine.

She dropped to her
knees and put her forehead on his leg. “Let me please you.”

Her voice quavered
with emotion. He put a hand on her head, caressing the blue-black tresses that
so fascinated him.

Only in carnal ways
would she submit completely. He had to break through her resistance to him in
other areas. To break through them again and again until the last of her resistance
was gone, replaced by total submission.