White Lace and Promises (34 page)

Chapter Twenty

Beth sat in the parlour, inhaling the fruity steam from her cup of honeyed tea. The hot fluid was doing little to soothe her increasingly raw throat. To distract herself, she allowed her eyes to devour Grey once again. All dressed in immaculate dark evening clothes and ready to leave for yet another all-male dinner party, he was devastatingly handsome. The sight of his tall, broad-shouldered frame displayed so appealingly made her heart beat faster, heating her blood in a way that took her mind from the pain in her throat. But in her heart there was also coldness at the prospect of another night in his grand house, surrounded by every luxury, with servants to wait upon her every whim yet totally alone.

They needed to talk. However, he must soon leave. He’d been distant ever since he’d come down here. She felt feverish and not up to fighting for his attention. Their long-delayed, badly needed talk would have to wait. She longed for her bed, but it would have been nice to have had his strong, warm body next to hers.

But never mind. He was set to go out and Lord above knew no one could change his mind on that. Resentment burnt through her.

He didn’t seem in a hurry to leave, though. Instead, he was lingering with her in the parlour, sitting beside her with his long legs stretched out in front of him. The skin pulled tight over his angular cheekbones and he tapped his thigh with his fingertips.

She reached and put her hand over his, stilling his fingers. He looked at her, his silver eyes piercing into her, as if trying to peer at her very bones.

He looked…accusing.

Her scalp prickled and her mouth went dry. But why? There was no reason for him to accuse her of anything. “Something is bothering you?”

His mouth tensed. She pulled her hand away from his. He leaned away from her.

“You were seen on Madison Avenue, near Beekman’s pond.”

There was a timbre to his voice that made her heart stop. She felt unaccountably guilty. Hunted. Caught. “I took Ruth’s girls skating.”

A small, somehow cynical smile curved his lips and he nodded slowly. “You were also seen in close conversation with a tall, slender, redheaded man. He kissed your hand.” He paused as his dark brows drew fiercely together. “You touched his cheek.” He sounded incredulous. “Dare I suppose this redheaded man was Dr Wade?”

“Yes, it was.” Was that truly her halting voice?

Oh, dear God.

“And here I thought we were done with him.”

His dry, too-light tone made her heart leap into a series of almost painful pangs. Oh, he was truly overset about this—more so than he was letting on. “Who told you this?”

“Jenna Watson saw you and Thomas couldn’t wait to rush to my office and tell me.”

Heavens, Watson’s silly daughter—of all the bad luck. “I see, and you naturally believe the worst.”

“No, but I would like to hear your version.”

“I told you.”

“Humour me—tell me again.”

Her stomach quavered and she took a deep breath. “I took Ruth’s girls out skating and Joshua followed us.”

“You must have given him some kind of encouragement to stay and talk to you.”

 
“He is my cousin—I can’t completely cut him.”

 
“For God’s sake, you
touched
his face.”

“It was nothing.” Her words echoed with a defensive tone. She winced. How could three little words manage to sound so incriminating? Emotion flared in his eyes, frightfully like hurt. Deep, irreparable damage between them. She gulped.

“Ah, and dare I ask what provoked such a gesture?” he said with deadly softness.

Under his steady gaze, she gulped a deep breath. She had to say something plausible, something to make him believe her meeting with Joshua was as innocent as it was. Nothing came to mind. Her heart pounded in her ears like a drumbeat.

Think, think, think.

She searched harder for the right thing to say. “I—I… He says I look unhappy. I was trying to assure him that I am not.”

His jaw tensed.

Oh, that hadn’t been the right thing to say. From his darkening eyes, she knew it was the very worst thing she could have said. She held her breath, waiting for his response.

“You look
unhappy
,” Grey said.

“So he said. But what does Joshua know?” She gave a nervous little laugh and smoothed her skirt. “He’s always had a very active imagination. It was nothing, Grey, nothing.”

“Unhappy?” he repeated, as if he’d hadn’t even been listening to her. He jumped to his feet, then stared down at her. The hurt in his eyes made her suck in her breath quickly.

She didn’t know what to say. Apprehension tickled around her navel. Something was happening. Something terrible. Like a ball of twine rolling downhill, unravelling. She shivered and hugged her shoulders. “It’s just what he said—it means nothing.”

“Yes, well, the man doesn’t lie, does he, Beth? You
are
unhappy now—always unhappy.”

She shook her head. “No, no, that’s not true. You know it is not. The other night—last night—”

“Those were anomalies. You’ve changed. I scarcely recognise you anymore. I never wanted this,” he said with such flat finality that her blood went cold.

“Our marriage?” She barely whispered the words.

“No, this. Your changes.” His voice boomed in the chamber as he gestured up and down her body with a sweep of his hand. “I never expected you, of all women, to fall into this unnatural, idle way of living. I bought you the school so you’d have something of your own to work at and you turned it over to a business manager. Now you spend your days in useless melancholia, consumed only with shopping or sleeping the days away. I never wanted this.”

“Now wait just a moment—”

“No. I have kept quiet long enough. I never wanted to dictate how you must live but I thought you were different from the other women I knew. The vain, useless women I have known. I thought you had ideals, dreams, visions of what you wanted to create in the world. I thought you had the drive to bring those dreams into reality. It has been an ice-cold shock to find you are really the same as the rest. Content to be idle and isolated from the real world.”

“That’s not fair. I have done nothing but try to please you and fit into your world.”

“God damn it, where is the girl I met in Philadelphia? She’s the one I want.”

“You froze her out with your distance, both physical and emotional.”

He compressed his lips. “It is the war. You must be patient. Life will settle out.”

“And I am so afraid of disappointing you I dare not make a move without worrying over how it shall affect your reputation and standing.”

“So you turn yourself into a supplicant and me into a tyrant by doing so? Is that what you think I want?”

His voice rose with each word and she flinched, taking several steps back. “I try so hard to be the lady everyone—including you—expects me to be.”

“Do you honestly believe I expected this—this transformation from the most exciting, audacious girl I’d ever met into a joyless, idle caricature of her former self?” He frowned.

“How unfair! I have done everything just to please you.”

“Then stop—just stop it. I told you the other night. I have no wish for the shadow of Cornelia Hazelwood and her poison between us. If I wanted a vapid, colourless creature for a bride, I’d have married long ago.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “But this is deeper, isn’t it? You are unhappy in your life with me. Something has changed between us.”

Emotion trembled through her, tingled in her fingertips and toes. She feared the truth but she could no longer escape it. “I told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“I cannot respect a man who will not be a true father to his own son. I cannot respect a man who would use his money to bribe my own sister into keeping her distance from me. You think you have the right to control the lives of those around you. Even those closest to you, those who love you. You don’t know how to love us back. You throw your money at us and expect us to be satisfied. Well,
I
am
not
satisfied with that.”

His face went rigid and the very temperature in the room seemed to plummet. “So you don’t respect me now?”

The lethal-sounding note in his voice made her catch her breath.

At that telling catch, his jaw jutted arrogantly. “I want to hear you say it.”

All the blood suddenly drained from her head. She expected to drop to her knees. She wished the floor would open up and she could disappear. But neither happened. She kept standing there and he kept staring at her with that closed off, hard expression.

“I want to hear you say it, Beth.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. What could she say? She hadn’t wanted to openly admit it, but it was the truth—she didn’t respect him. Not any longer. She became aware that her lungs burnt and she released her breath all at once.

He uncrossed his arms and reached out a hand towards her. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up to his. She swallowed hard against a sudden rise of nausea.

“Say it, Beth, damn you—at least have the courage to say it openly.” He released her chin.

She tingled all over now. She didn’t want to admit it. But it must be said. “All right…” Her throat closed up as though her body was rebelling against what her mind was forcing her to say. She swallowed again. His measured, deep breaths sounded in the pause, heavy in the air, a tangible oppressive. Her stomach flipped in response and she laid a hand over it.

Out with it—just get it out and then it will be done.

“I don’t appreciate the way you treat me. As if I were a mistress whom you may bed and then expect to sit on a shelf until the next time your lusts need easing. I don’t respect the way you treat your son. I can’t have children with a man I don’t respect. I won’t tolerate being treated like a mistress in my own marriage.”

His jaw hardened and his eyes were like blades of silver flame. “And I will not tolerate a wife who thinks to govern my behaviour through this kind of emotional coercion.”

Her chest went very tight. Each breath grew harder and the room seemed to whirl about her. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be happening. But what else had she expected? Nausea rose again and she suppressed a groan.

“What shall we do now?”

Shoulders held stiff, he walked over to the hearth, took the poker, crouched down and gave the fire several jabs. “I don’t see how we can continue to live together under such circumstances.”

She nodded mutely. He had put one wife aside. He would have no trouble sending her back to her brother. “When would you expect me to…to leave?”

The ticking of the clock marked the long moments of silence between them. Then he put the poker back into the rack, stood and faced her. “You need a house of your own before you can live elsewhere. I think you’d find Long Island pleasant. You shall have a newly built mansion there.”

“I shall?” she asked, too stunned by this whole turn of events to say more.

“Yes. In the meantime, when I return from Philadelphia I will find quarters near my offices until your home can be occupied.”

Of course. When a gentleman put a mistress aside, she got a diamond bracelet. When he put a wife aside, she got a new-built mansion. However, she didn’t want his parting gift. She shook her head. “No, I can go back to Philadelphia.”

He stared at her for a moment, his jaw tightening, and her heart pounded in her ears in the silence.

“I prefer that you make New York your home.” His tone was implacable. Even in this, the insufferable man wanted to dictate to her.

But why? If they were apart, they were apart. She frowned.

“What should it matter to you so long as I am gone?”

Beth’s hopeless tone cut into Grey. But he couldn’t live with her lack of understanding and censure, her constant pressure for attention, any longer. They needed space, time apart. And yet… “You’re still my wife.”

He took a deep breath, trying to slow his pounding heart. This was not all that terrible. Some distance could be the start of a new, more tolerable marriage for them both. In time she would come to see that he had been right in his choice of action towards Jan. And they could continue their union, but with alterations. He would never again choose to live with her on an ongoing basis. He just wasn’t suited for that kind of daily, intense interaction with another person—even Beth. His life did not allow for it. And she’d be happier, too, having that kind of freedom. The break would hurt now—it would hurt them both. But in the long term it would be better for their marriage.

“I see. You want to keep up appearances for the sake of your reputation.” Her voice was hard, brittle.

He closed his eyes, struggling for the right way to handle her. He had lost his head, driven her too far. Now he must gentle her to this idea. “We need space between us for both of our sakes. Yours as well. However, there’s no need for the world to know of our differences.” His heart continued to pound against his chest wall and his mouth was drier than dust. He did
not
want her to leave New York. Could not let her do that. He must continue to provide for her, to shelter her under the protection of his name. He wanted her in his life, just not so ever present. He was simply tired of her pressure for him to be something he couldn’t be. Some distance, some control would be beneficial. But there was no need to sever their ties, either legal or emotional. Given some time, she could readjust her expectations and they could redefine the terms of their marriage. They could come to a sensible negotiation. But she was such an emotional woman, so impulsive—he must tread lightly now or risk losing her completely.