Trust Me (32 page)

God, he had been at
that dinner party at Eastwood Place.

Her heart began to
pound. Hard. Would he recognize her? Yes, she’d been masked that night, but still
the fear that someone would at some point realize she’d been there haunted her.

He stared back at her
mildly. “Lady Ruel, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

She let go her breath
and her body went weak with relief. Thank goodness. He didn’t recognize her.

Mr Graves wouldn’t
meet her eyes for long but kept glancing away. Had he recognized her after all,
and was he ashamed to think she would recognize him as well? No, in her
experience gentlemen were most often shameless about their carnal affaires. Had
William ever been ashamed upon her discovery of his indiscretions? Had her
father ever hid his other interests from Mama?

Mr Graves took a long
sideways glance at her. It struck her that he was curious. Friendly. But when
she turned her full regard on him, he turned away again. A slight flush covered
his face.

A realization swept
over her. Why, he was intimidated by her. By her grand title. Sympathy warmed
her heart. She certainly knew what it was like to be intimidated in company.
Granted, he had not been so shy that night at Eastwood Place, but then, they
had all been drunk on Mr Kean’s punch with its special herbs.

The next time Mr
Graves looked up, she smiled at him. Warmly, she hoped, though still standing
so near to Cherry Scott, she felt very cold inside. “So nice to meet you, Mr
Graves.”

Mr Graves looked at
her, blinking rapidly. “Lady Ruel.” His voice seemed to shake but his gaze
remained steady. “Your husband, Lord Ruel, he has that magnificent black
horse.”

His words held the
awkwardness of any shy, anxious person who says the first silly thing that pops
into his mind. She felt an affinity with the young man and forgot about Maria
and Cherry and all the other little insecurities of the evening. Her smile
widened. “Yes, you mean Jon’s warhorse.”

Mr Graves grinned.
“Yes, exactly. My, what a fearsome animal.”

“Hades really can be
quite gentle, especially if one has an apple for him.”

Interest electrified
Mr Graves’ eyes. “Do you mean to say you’ve actually been close enough to that
magnificent beast to give him an apple?”

She couldn’t help
smiling. Gentlemen were really all the same, weren’t they? Mention horses or
dogs and they were all ears.

“But I heard you were
afraid of carriages and horses… Oh.” He placed his hand to his mouth and
glanced at Maria.

Cherry laughed
meanly.

Mr Graves began to
look uneasy once more.

Anne hated to see
that. She wanted to see his openness continue. She rushed to reassure him. “It
is quite all right. I was once afraid of horses; carriages too. Lord Ruel
helped me overcome it.”

Mr Graves’ handsome
face scrunched as if in sympathy. “How vexing it must have been, not to mention
inconvenient, to be afraid of both horses and carriages.”

He no longer sounded
so awkward.

“Yes, it was quite an
imposition. Very hard to get around.”

“And Lord Ruel has
already cured you of this? Married such a short time?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say
I was cured. Vastly improved, but not cured.”

“What they say is
true, isn’t it?“ Cherry’s cold tone cut into the moment.

Anne jerked her gaze
to her direction.

The older woman’s
eyes narrowed to blue slits. “You were with William, in the accident, weren’t
you?”

Anne’s heartbeat
froze. She blinked several times, suddenly unable to collect her thoughts.

Cherry leant forward.
“They said you weren’t with him. But you saw it all, didn’t you?”

“I-I… I don’t wish to
speak of this.” Sweat began to pour from Anne’s body.

“How did it happen?
Did the horse really strike him?”

A panorama of scenes
whirled through Anne’s mind.
The crack in the carriage wall, a zigzag of yellow
lantern light. The water drizzling down the interior all. The flash of white
fetlock, the glint of iron.

She closed her eyes.

The heat grazing
her cheek. That terrible, hollow knocking sound.

The wet warmth
splashing her face…

A moan escaped her. Acid
rose in her throat, rushing up. She put a hand to her neck and pressed, whilst
swallowing.

“Oh my God, it is
true. You did see—” Cherry’s voice trailed off.

Anne couldn’t speak.
She watched as Cherry’s eyes widened and their surface became glossed. Tears.
Tears for William, the man she had loved. Cherry had a heart after all.

Cherry stepped back,
clutching her clasped hands to her bosom. “You saw it. Dear God… What did he
say? What were his last words?”

 
Maria’s soft laugh echoed jarringly. “Of
course, Cherry, Cranfield’s dying words were for you. Only you.”

The angry yet somehow
sexually charged energy cracking between the two women transfixed Anne. She had
never perceived such an intense yet negative emotion between ladies.

Cherry’s face
scrunched up. “Oh, you’re so cruel! You unnatural bitch.” She hissed the words
low. “You don’t know what it is like to be a woman who loves a man.”

Maria arched a brow.
“You’re pathetic. He was never coming back to you.”

Cherry’s lower lip
quivered. “He
adored
me.”

Maria laughed with
deadly softness.

“Adored me!” Cherry’s
voice cracked with its stridency. Her fists were balled at her sides.

Maria shook her head,
a hateful sort of pity shining in her eyes. “You’ll never accept that you lost
William Bourchier because you never had him. The whole time he was with you, he
was in love with his own wife.”

“No! It’s just not
true.”

“You pushed and
pushed him, trying to prove to yourself that he didn’t love her. And finally
you pushed him to return to her.”

“He wasn’t returning
to her. He had to visit his estate. To see to his affairs.”

“Anne was with him in
the accident, Cherry; he was bringing her to London. To be with him, at his
side, in his bed.”

Cherry sobbed once,
twice and then turned and ran out of the box.

William. William.
William.

His name rang in
Anne’s mind. Her heart seemed to go hollow and then sadness filled the void.
She pressed her fist to her mouth. Poor, slaughtered William. Dead too early.

Pain seared her
heart.

That last night, she
had forced him to rage, to insensibility. She had killed him as surely as the
horse had…

A moan escaped her.

She turned and ran
from the box—and ran straight into Jon. He gripped her arms and held her
firmly. The very strength of his grip broke through the flood of thoughts and feelings
that had held her transfixed. She looked up into his fearsome face. The face of
the man she loved above all people.

She didn’t deserve
his love.

She had rejected the
first man who’d offered her love.

William had wanted
her. Yes, he had wanted her very badly that night. He ordered her to bed.

His beautiful grass
green eyes had glittered with fiery lust.

He had been so
determined. Her normally kind and feckless young husband had suddenly become
the picture of a resolute husband.

And for the first time
in their marriage, Anne had almost…oh, the faithless jackanapes! How dare he
come home from his frolicking with his other women in London and demand her
response!

She couldn’t allow
it.

She wouldn’t.

She had bit her lip
and withheld her body’s natural response and the feeling of triumph over him
had been more satisfying than any climax could ever be.

Afterwards, he had
been so angry!

He had practically
dragged her down the stairs, down the steps to the waiting carriage. He forced
them to travel despite the ferocious storm.

Oh God, what a
heartless wretch she had been! She had made him so furious with her that they
must right away, leave in such a rush— with their attendants and the other
carriages and carts left behind.

It was her fault. All
her fault!

She had killed her
first husband!

Jon looked down at
his wife and tried to hold on to her but she tugged against his hold like a
frightened wild bird. Her eyes were dark, like bleeding holes of pain in a face
gone sallow with shock.

He released her and
she fled in flash of crimson velvet and gold lace. A feeling of impotence and
rage surged within him and made his blood boil over.

This was the kind of
thing Maria did so well. At one time, he’d admired her cruel streak, taking it
as evidence of her strength. How ever had he been so mistaken?

Now, he whirled on
her.

She paled and stepped
several paces back.

 
“What the devil, Maria?”

Her chest rose and
fell rapidly and she blinked several times. Then she stuck out her chin and
leant forward. “It’s the truth. If Anne can’t accept it—”

 
Christ. What had she said to Anne?

He glowered at Maria
even as a powerful growl vibrated in his chest. “Damn you to blackest hell.” He
cut Cherry another glare. “The both of you.“

Jon turned on his
heel and hurried after his wife.

He caught up to her
at the entrance to the lobby.

She was leaning
against the wall, her face flushed and glossed with sweat. Her eyes seemed
huge, too bright and red-rimmed, as though more tears might spill at any
moment.

People in the corridor
were staring at her. At them.

It definitely
qualified as a spectacle.

Well, so much for
impressing Society with her stability tonight. Damn Maria, damn Cherry.

And damn himself for
leaving her alone.

She looked up as he
approached, her eyes wide and dark and filled with pain that reached deep
inside him and seized his heart.

“William.” She licked
her lips. Her eyes were glassy, transfixed. “William, duck down!”

The image of
Cranfield’s boyish face, the echo of his ever ready, carefree chuckle flickered
into Jon’s mind. Pure antipathy seethed through his guts like rancid wine.

If Cranfield hadn’t
lost his temper, hadn’t insisted on forcing his wife into a carriage and
travelling in a thunderstorm, at night, Anne wouldn’t have been traumatized.

In fact, if Anne
hadn’t wed Cranfield, he’d never have been able to hurt her at all.

God, he hated
Cranfield. Hated the fact that Anne still grieved for the foolish, feckless
boy.

And he hated himself
for feeling jealous of a ghost.

“I-I must… leave.”
Anne’s voice resounded with anguish.

He took a deep breath
and swallowed his own selfish feelings. “I know.”

“No, immediately,”
she whispered She began to breathe more rapidly and put a hand to her
collarbone. “It is too hot in here… I can’t breathe.”

He was looking
directly at her but he could sense every eye upon them, every ear straining to
hear their private words.

He didn’t give a
damn.

He stroked his hand
over the cool, glossy curls on her nape. She was trembling.

“We have to walk
through the lobby to leave. You cannot come apart. Not yet.”

Her throat worked up
and down. Her chest went still for a moment. Then she seemed to get control
over her breathing. Somewhat. She offered a weak, tremulous smile.

He returned her
smile. “That’s my good girl.”

He pulled a flask out
of his coat pocket.

She made a sound
halfway between a gasp and a laugh. “Wh-what have you there?”

“Scotch-whisky.” He
unscrewed the cap.

“I hate
Scotch-whisky.”

“You must make do.”
He handed the flask to her. “Three swallows, my lady.”

With a dubious
expression, she lifted the flask to her lips. She choked and gasped then
grimaced. “It burns.”

“Three swallows.”

She took two more
swallows, far more gingerly, her throat working slowly. She sagged against the
wall and sighed. Already some natural colour seemed to have returned to her
face.

“Why would Maria say
William loved me? He did not.”

“My love, this isn’t
the time or the place for deep discussions.” He caressed her cheek with the backs
of his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch.

“That’s my good
girl.”

****