Maybe This Time, page 33
She turned again toward her father, calling up an indignant scowl. “Did Kevan snatch me from Innes’s side? Did he drag me? Well, did he? Or did he hold out his hand to welcome me, if I chose to come to him? Well? Will you admit the truth or continue to lie?”
He said nothing, but his face flushed an angry red. Alyssa deliberately softened her tone. “I went willingly, Father. And it was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
She prayed for forgiveness for the Banbury tale she was about to use to embellish the truth, then turned to the guard. “Before I entered the church, I knew Innes, the disreputable cur, had wagered me. Fortunately for me, Kevan won. I should die before wedding Innes, and to that my father can testify,” she paused to spare her father a glance, “should he choose to speak the truth once this night.”
“You knew this before entering the church?”
Alyssa avoided a direct response to the guard’s question. “Kevan informed me of the wager and offered to marry me. We staged the abduction together. I’m sure you understand now, sir. My husband did not abduct me. He rescued me from Innes and from the ton.”
The guard gave her a puzzled look. “The ton, milady?”
Alyssa smiled. “Being sold and wagered is not socially polite, sir. The earl thought that creating a romantic intrigue would whet the interest of the ton. And he was right. He knew that it is every woman’s secret desire to be whisked away by a handsome rake. The ton’s condemnation turned to envy. Surely you can see the value of such an intrigue now, sir.”
The old guard scratched his head. “I suppose so.”
“No. No, no, no.” Lord Cameron insisted. “He kidnapped her and forced her to wed.”
“Sir, if you would please observe,” Kevan said to the guard. He turned to Alyssa. She saw his intent in his eyes and stepped into his embrace. He kissed her breathless, then turned to the guard. “Is the affection you just witnessed the type a woman kidnapped and forced to wed would give to a husband she did not want?”
The guard’s eyes were glazed. “No, milord. I can’t say that it—”
“Don’t you dare believe that trickery.” Lord Cameron interrupted. “She was a virgin. Of course, she’s suscept—”
“Lord Cameron, I insist you use more discretion in your comments, and refrain from raising your voice in the presence of a lady,” the guard coldly insisted. “It appears to me that this is a love match.”
“Utterly ridiculous,” Cameron muttered. “This is a sham, I’m telling you.”
The truth struck Alyssa like a blow. He wanted her marriage set aside. Her father still harbored hopes of forcing her to wed Innes. Even now, knowing her wed and bedded, her father intended to use her to settle his debts! She chilled to ice. She half-expected her voice to frost the air. “You are mistaken.”
He shot her a look of pure hatred. Kevan’s arm at her waist tightened around her, and she leaned heavily against him. She’d been right all along. Her father did hate her.
“Sir,” she addressed the guard, her voice a ragged whisper. “You must forgive my father’s false accusations. I’m sure they were not intentional, but, you see, the day I was to wed Innes, my father was cup-shot. He’d been out all night the evening before and, that morning, when he informed me that I was to wed, he was still in his altitudes.”
She swallowed back tears, ignored the pain constricting her chest. “I’d been ill with the fever for nearly a month. While I was abed, he posted the banns. He did everything that needed doing to see me wed to Innes. When I protested the match, he commanded me to it. Even after—” she bowed her head, swallowed, then looked up, “—even after I vowed suicide.”
“Alyssa.”
It was Kevan who protested now. She turned her face up to look at him. “I’m—I’m sorry to shock you, milord, but I must speak the truth. I’ll not have your character maligned and his go untainted. He has caused this muddle with his manipulations. He has committed the crimes.” She fought the upheaval in her stomach, threatening her disgrace. “I mean no disrespect, milord, but my father’s condition that day did alter his perception of the events that occurred. The truth must be told.”
“Darling, I’m so sorry,” Kevan whispered so only she could hear.
“You officially deny the charges then, milady?” The guard spoke softly.
Alyssa knew he already had her answer, but he needed this particular question answered specifically for his report to the Prince Regent. “Most emphatically, sir.” Alyssa swallowed hard and set out to destroy the last remnants of doubt—should any exist—in the guard’s mind. “I will neither permit nor assist in this unjust persecution, sir. I love my husband, and, if this travesty is pursued, I will not hesitate to seek the aid of the Prince Regent. Being a romantic man by nature, I am sure that, once given the circumstances, he would support my cause.”
The guard stammered. “I—I’m sure that won’t be necessary, milady.”
“You refuse to arrest him, then?” Cameron asked.
“Without the lady’s testimony, Lord Buchannan cannot be convicted of any wrong done against his wife. And she denies that a crime has been committed.”
“I will never testify against my husband.”
The guard nodded. “I apologize for the intrusion. Good night, milady. Milord.”
The guard left the room and stood waiting in the hall for Lord Cameron to join him.
Her father glared at her. “You are an ungrateful and selfish child, Alyssa Kathleen. I’m glad your sainted mother cannot see how disreputable you’ve become. I will never forgive you for your lack of loyalty—nor will Innes. This is not over.”
“Do not threaten my wife, Cameron.” Kevan’s tone held a lethal warning. “I’ve granted you liberties tonight that I will not allow you in future. I should hate to kill the father of my wife, but if you inflict yourself upon her again, I will. Have I made myself clear?”
Her father turned and strode to the door. “It is well she is someone’s wife. For this night she’s become no man’s daughter.”
Twenty-two
RUBBING HIS NECK, Kevan paced Alyssa’s chamber. She sat perched on the edge of her little vanity stool, stiff-spined and fingering her hairpins scattered on a gold tray. Forcing his hand to his side, he paused behind her. “Why did you tell them about the wager?”
She lifted her brush and avoided his eyes. Her fingers tightened around the handle until her knuckles bleached white, but her voice sounded whisper-soft. “Because you refused to tell them.”
That much he’d assumed. What he wanted to know was why she’d told them. “Alyssa, will you look at me?”
Her gaze met his in the looking glass; clouded, shielding. “We agreed not to disclose that information,” he reminded her.
“I know, and given a choice I wouldn’t have. But the guard was not convinced, Kevan, and I—I—”
He forced his tone gentle. “You what, love?”
“Blast and damn.” She stiffened, ground her teeth. “Why must you grow tender when I am most weak? Why can’t you scream at me, or shout, or do something angry—oh . . . oh, for pity’s sake,” she finished on a groan.
Tears brimmed in her eyes. Pretending not to notice them, he took the brush from her hand and worked it through the long silver strands spilling down her back. The scent of roses, clinging to her hair, filled the air between them. “Should I feel anger?” He rested the back of his hand against her warm nape. “I don’t know what to feel, or what to think, for that matter. Why did you confess our circumstance?”
She looked at him in the glass. Resigned. Accepting. “I had no choice. The guard had to be told,” she said, muffling a tiny sniffle. “You—you don’t know my father. He doesn’t issue idle threats.”
A tight knot formed in his chest. Her father had, by God, disowned her. Yet she accepted her loss, and feared for her husband’s safety. Kevan stepped to her side and set her brush back on the gold tray. Squatting down beside her, he cupped her face. Her delicate chin quivered in his hands, tightening the knot in his chest. Tears clung to her silver-tipped lashes, and he swept her soft cheeks with gentle strokes of his thumbs, secretly wishing he had killed the man who had caused her tears, knowing that if he had, he would cause her to shed yet more tears. “Are you afraid of him, darling?”
She worried her lower lip with her teeth and again avoided his eyes.
“Answer me, love.” He forced his voice calm and coaxing. “What has he done to you?”
She stiffened, shuddered. “Nothin—”
He slid his hands down her throat to her shoulders. “Do not lie to your husband, love.”
She met his gaze, her eyes pleading, and Kevan felt his heart twist, the knot in his chest grow to the size of his fist. “Alyssa, please. Talk to me.”
“He wasn’t always like this,” she stammered. “Before my mother died, he was all anyone could want in a father.” She paused to swallow and her trembling grew to shudders. “Then he began drinking. Not much at first. But, in time he grew worse. The episodes became more and more frequent.”
An unholy fear clawed at Kevan’s stomach, but he knew not to interrupt. This disclosure embarrassed and hurt his wife. If he so much as breathed too harshly, he knew she’d reveal no more. He felt her emotional struggle; the war between her loyalty to her dead mother, to her family’s name, and her desire to be honest, to not break her vow to honor her husband. And, forcing himself to wait, to not coerce her into a decision to trust him, he silently cursed the father for the harm he’d caused the daughter.
She turned toward him on the little stool. “Last October thirteenth, my father didn’t come home. He’d—he’d stayed out before, but, somehow, I knew this time was different.” She took in a sharp breath. “I sent Burns to look for him, but he could not be found.”
She tried to veil her despair, but Kevan saw it in her eyes, heard it in her quivering voice. Whatever she had suffered then, she suffered again now in reliving the incident.
Her head bowed, her shoulders slumped, Alyssa let out a shuddering breath. “It was late the following afternoon before he returned to the house. His clothes were . . . bloodied, and he was cup-shot. He—he swore he couldn’t recall where he’d been, or what he’d done.”
“He’d no idea?” Kevan asked, before he caught himself.
“None.” She twisted away from him. “Please, milord. I—I must stand.”
Kevan rose, and Alyssa stood up. She walked to the window and stared out into the moonless night. He lifted her needlework from a chair near the fireplace and sat down, his gaze settling on her back.
“Did you know that Innes was once married, milord?”
A cold shiver slithered down Kevan’s spine. Seeing where this conversation was leading, he began praying he was wrong. “No, love I didn’t.”
“I’m not surprised.” She tapped the glass pane with her spread fingertips. “You spend so little time in London.” She stiffened. Her fingers slid down the glass to the window sill, then curled around the ledge. “She was a German duchess. Hedwig was her name. She was very wealthy, very beautiful . . .” A strangled noise gurgled in Alyssa’s throat, and she sucked in a great breath that heaved her shoulders. “She is dead now.”
Kevan’s blood chilled to ice. “How—” His voice failed. He cleared his throat, then tried again. “How did she die?”
Alyssa turned toward him, her expression wooden, her eyes dull and empty. “She was murdered, milord. Stabbed repeatedly in the chest.”
“Dear God.” Kevan stifled a gasp. “And you think your father had something—”
“He was with Innes that night,” she interrupted. “They were seen together at White’s.”
“But that doesn’t mean—”
“He was also seen leaving White’s with Innes.”
Kevan’s scalp tingled, his muscles grew taut. “And he returned home in bloodied clothes.” She nodded.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Were their activities that night investigated?”
“Yes. This is not easy for me to admit, Kevan, but I believe they lied to protect each other.”
“Then why in the name of God were you going to marry Innes?”
“I had no choice. My father told me he was done up.” She scrunched the folds of her skirt in her hands. “I knew that he meant not only bankrupt. You see, I’d heard those words before.”
“When?” Kevan’s lungs clamored for air. Alyssa, usually warm and passionate, appeared so detached and remote.
Her gaze slid to the floor. “A scant week before Hedwig’s murder, Innes spoke them to my father.” She looked up at Kevan, her words tumbling, rushing out. “If I had refused to wed Innes, my father would have been charged with murder—or killed.”
Kevan’s head reeled. He gripped the chair arms. “Did he murder the woman?”
“I—I don’t know. Sober, he would never do such a thing. But foxed? I just . . . don’t know.” She rubbed her forehead and sighed. “In my heart, I believe Innes responsible. I overheard him tell my father that his wife’s wealth was in some sort of trust. I’m ill-read in such matters. But Innes did say Hedwig had refused to grant him control of her blunt. Unless she died, he said, he would be done up.”
“Dear God.”
Alyssa’s eyes stretched wide, terror invaded their emerald depths. “This is not over, Kevan. I left the church with you believing my prayers had been answered. I’d prayed so hard for intervention. I—I didn’t think—” Her voice broke and she sobbed. “But now, Oh God, now I fear my not telling you of this first has put you at risk, too.” Tears coursed her cheeks. “I am so sorry.”
Kevan felt her pain, her fear. “Don’t, Alyssa. Please. Never regret coming to me. The risk doesn’t matter. What does matter to me is that you trusted me enough to tell me this now. I need not be reminded that you had little cause to trust me earlier, my lady. I kidnapped you and forced you to choose between becoming my wife or my mistress.” His eyes grew tender. “And still you lied to protect me. You mourn not your own loss; fear not for your own safety, but for mine.” He grunted. “By God, you’re a true treasure.”
“I’m not, milord. But I thank you for saying so. In truth, I mourned losing my father long ago.” She dipped her chin, entwined her hands. “Do not forgive me too easily. I vowed to honor, then deceived you. You are my husband now. But before I wedded you, I should have told you the truth.” Her teeth raked her lower lip and she looked up at him. “I pray my insult hasn’t altered your perception of our marriage from our blessing to your curse.”
His heart shattered. Losing her mother during her tender years and in a very real way, her father, too, Alyssa had little reason to trust anyone. Yet she’d come to trust the stranger she’d wed, and he knew—perhaps better than she did herself—the value of the risk she had taken willingly. “You’ve told me now, love.” He opened his arms to her. “Come.”
With a whimper that tore at his heart, Alyssa flew to him and crawled into his lap. He cuddled her to his chest, stroked her warm scalp, and massaged the tension knotting her neck, her shoulders. His head lolled back against the chair and he closed his eyes, offered her comfort until her deep sobs ebbed.
“Enough, milady,” he whispered, his throat thick, his own eyes misty. “I can’t bear to see you shed another tear. We will resolve these difficulties.”
Alyssa looked up at him, biting her lip to halt her chin’s quivering. “How? Oh, God, Kevan, please don’t set me aside.”
“Set you aside?” How could she consider such an absurdity?
She nodded. A glistening tear fell from her lash, rolled down her cheek, and dripped onto his fingertip. A surge of tenderness suffused him. She cried—for him. His arms cinched around her, drew her closer, and his voice choked. “No, love. Nothing will part us. You have my vow.”
Her arms curled around his neck, and she buried her face at his neck. “I was so afraid that once you knew, you’d hate me for deceiving you. I feared you’d seek a . . . a . . . a divorce.”
“Never,” he vowed in a harsh whisper. “You are mine.”
“Yes,” she whispered back. “And you are mine.”
Contentment washed through him. He let her hold him, relished being held by her, then separated their chests so he could see her eyes. “The difficulties I mean to resolve aren’t between us, love. I mean to see that you’re protected. And, considering all you’ve told me, I think we’d be wise to do a bit of investigating ourselves.”
“No, Kevan, please.” Her voice shook, her fingers dug into his shoulders. “I should die if my father is a—a—”
She couldn’t say the word. Nor would he force her to hear it. Not yet. Not unless it proved true. He pressed his fingertip against her lips. “Shh, listen to me, love. It’s ignorance we must fear. We must know our enemy. Trust me in this.”
She nodded. “All right. I will follow your lead.”
He gave her a tender smile. “Thank you, love.”
THREE TORTUROUSLY long days passed without incident, and Alyssa began to relax. She convinced herself that her father had spoken in anger, that he had descended from his altitudes and realized that Kevan wouldn’t sit idly and watch his marriage destroyed or his wife harmed.
She looked down the long length of the breakfast table to where Kevan sat reading the newspaper. He’d been livid with her father for insulting her. And had her husband not wanted to protect her tender feelings, she strongly suspected her father would have suffered Kevan’s wrath that very night. Her heart wrenched in her chest. Her husband was huge, a massive man, yet beyond doubt her gentle knight. She cocked her head. Had his size truly once frightened her? Had she truly once doubted his goodness, feared him, and thought him a demon? How outrageous those thoughts seemed now. How utterly ridiculous.
He smiled at her over the top of his newspaper. Caught staring, she felt her heart flutter embarrassment, but her lips curved upward. “What has amused you, milord?”
