A Perfect Secret (11 page)

It wouldn’t last, but she’d revel in it while she could. He carried her through open French doors into the back parlor. Lord and Lady Tarrington waited inside. Worry showed clear in Lady Tarrington’s eyes but Lord Tarrington remained impassive as a block of marble.

“Jenny,” Lady Tarrington cried. “I was so concerned. Are you well?”

Her face heated with embarrassment that she’d caused such a scene. She nodded. “Forgive me for worrying you.”

Christian carefully lowered her to a settee. “She ran when she learned Wickburgh had come looking for her.”

Genevieve gave a start, her gaze flying to Christian. Had he revealed her secret?

Lady Tarrington leaned forward. “You didn’t think we’d turn you over to him when it was so obviously against your will?”

Genevieve stared at the floor. Lord Tarrington must have guessed the truth when Wickburgh arrived asking about her. She’d been selfish to expect Christian to lie to his family and foolish to think they wouldn’t figure out she was the missing Lady Wickburgh.

“I’m his wife,” she said softly. “He owns me.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Lady Tarrington said.

Christian lifted her bleeding foot to examine it. He frowned. “Alicia, ring for a servant, please.”

The countess tugged on a pull at her elbow then sat calmly, smiling in sympathy at Genevieve. Christian sat back on his haunches and looked up at her.

Silent and grim, Tarrington stood beside his wife. “Your husband wants you back, Lady Wickburgh.”

Genevieve’s heart began an erratic staccato. She briefly entertained the idea of bolting, but Christian could out run her. And he’d proven she could trust him so she had no reason to flee again. Besides, she had nowhere to go. She swallowed against a choking lump, feeling very small, and folded trembling hands together. “Yes, I know he wants me back.”

A footman arrived. “You rang?”

Christian replied, “Bring me a bowl of water and some towels.”

The footman bowed and left.

The earl continued, “Lord Wickburgh is telling people you suffered a collapse after you lost your unborn child and that you’re insane.”

At that, she lifted her head. “Do I appear insane?”

The earl’s sapphire gaze probed her. “You did try to take your own life.”

“Cole,” Lady Tarrington gently admonished him.

Genevieve raised her chin a notch higher and stared him down. “Yes. Clearly I was not in my right mind then. It was an act I sincerely regret and am not inclined to repeat.”

“As his wife, it is your duty to return to him.” Did she imagine the challenging glint?

Christian leaped up and faced Lord Tarrington. “She needs no reminder of her duty.”

“The courts would tell her the same thing,” Tarrington said evenly.

Christian took a step closer to his brother and folded his arms. “I’ve given her my word I won’t tell him where she is. And neither will you.”

Genevieve stared at Christian’s transformation. Brothers stood inches apart, glaring with enough heat to melt ice. Of similar height and build, they stood unmoving, nose to nose, Christian with clenched fists, his face set in hard lines. The earl stared back calmly. If he felt surprise at his brother’s passionate outburst, he failed to reveal it.

“We have no right to interfere,” the earl said. “She is married, therefore she owes her husband the truth.”

“She owes that snake nothing.”

“She owes him—”

“Cole, don’t be a bully,” Lady Tarrington interjected. “It’s most un-chivalrous of you.” Humor tinged the firm rebuff while calm, golden-brown eyes fixed on the earl.

Lady Tarrington stood and approached the men, moving with surprising agility for a woman who would soon be in confinement. Without a pause at the challenging stance between her husband and his brother, Lady Tarrington stepped unflinching between the men.

Genevieve gasped and leapt to her feet, prepared to throw herself into the fray to protect the gentle countess from such angry men. They dwarfed Lady Tarrington, those muscular, powerful men, who could so easily hurt her, but without a qualm she placed a hand on each broad chest.

“Boys. Do behave yourselves. Only Lady Wickburgh should decide what’s to be done.” She patted their cheeks until they broke their gaze and turned their eyes to her. With equal contrition, they backed away.

Genevieve let out her breath in relief, her knees weakening, and sat back down. Christian shot a last challenging, defiant glare at his brother. Amusement lifted one corner of Tarrington’s mouth, softening his hard stare. Christian’s eyes narrowed and their crystal blue turned to steel.

“Christian,” Lady Tarrington said in warning.

Under Lady Tarrington’s soft reprimand, Christian returned to the settee and sank in the cushion on the opposite end from Genevieve. The earl raised a brow and exchanged amused glances with Lady Tarrington. The countess touched his arm in a most familiar manner, intimate and affectionate. The last of Genevieve’s alarm faded. Her year with Wickburgh had shaken her faith in humanity, even those clearly worthy of trust.

Lady Tarrington sat between Genevieve and Christian on the sofa, and took Genevieve’s hand in hers. She clung to the countess, drawing strength from the offered friendship and that aura of serenity that accompanied her.

“Now then,” said Lady Tarrington, “what’s to be done? Cole, what are her options?”

Tarrington sat in an armchair opposite the settee and rested an ankle on the opposite knee. “She has many options. For one, she can go home and request to live apart from her husband in a legal separation.”

Annoyance flared and Genevieve spoke without thinking, her voice lowered to a tone that bordered on insolence. “Please do not speak about me as if I am not present. Or not of sound mind.”

The earl inclined his head and looked her in the eye with a piercing gaze. “My apologies, Lady Wickburgh.”

Genevieve met his gaze. “It’s Genevieve. And I will not ever go back to Wickburgh.”

The earl looked her in the eye. “You could arrange a meeting with your husband and your solicitor, and write up an agreement for a legal separation which states where you wish to live and the conditions, as long as they don’t conflict with your original marriage settlement.”

Genevieve said, “He would never agree to it.” He wanted to control her. And he couldn’t do that if they lived apart. Even bringing up the subject would merely invite a fresh round of horrible games.

Tarrington rested his arm on the back of the divan behind Lady Tarrington and turned to Genevieve. “You could also take your husband to court and sue for divorce. But Parliament seldom grants them to women.”

Genevieve shook her head. “Suing for divorce is not an option I care to attempt, for a number of reasons.” She picked up a pillow on the divan and hugged it.

Lady Tarrington shook her head as tears brightened her eyes. “You poor dear. What has he done to you?”

Genevieve clamped her mouth shut, unable to speak of any of it.

Tarrington said, “If you remain wed to him, even if you leave, you will never be free to remarry.”

She shook her head. “No, I will never remarry.”

Christian shifted. “Where you will go?”

The footman returned, bringing a bowl of water and some clean cloths, and slipped away. Christian picked up the bowl, knelt in front of Genevieve and carefully bathed her foot, his mouth pressed together in sympathy. Genevieve froze, surprised that he’d attend to a task normally left to the servants, especially considering how deeply she’d hurt him. Perhaps she truly had gained a measure of forgiveness.

The towels and water turned pink as he carefully cleaned her damaged foot in a surprisingly intimate manner. The touch of hands, both gentle and firm, sent spirals of pleasure through her. She should stop him. Enjoying his touch was wrong for a number of reasons. Yet she seemed powerless to speak. She chided herself for running from this gentle man moments ago and sat spell-bound as he cared for her with a softer touch than she’d imagined.

With his lowered head so close, she almost reached out and touched his hair shimmering gold in the lamplight. She curled her hand into a fist. No doubt he would believe her both faithless and wanton if she made her desire for him known. Desire. She paused. She hadn’t experienced desire in so long, she’d almost forgotten how it felt. Sorrow edged against her like the lapping of waves that she’d had to give up such a wonderful man.

“I’m glad you weren’t here to hear the things he said about you,” Alicia said, “the way he tried to discredit you and paint you as a mad woman. It made me ill.”

Tarrington lifted a brow. “You were listening?”

Alicia said without shame, “The door was open and I couldn’t help but hear.”

Christian said grimly, “He knows full well you jumped into the river, Jen. I think he believes you perished and is merely making a big show of playing the concerned husband before deciding what to announce.”

Genevieve let out a long, slow breath. “Leaving him with the disgrace of having a wife who killed herself was my one revenge against him, and now he’s removed even that.” She should have known he’d find a way to escape unscathed. He must have bullied or bribed whoever found her clothes. “And even if the truth ever comes out that I drowned myself intentionally—or at least attempted to—he’s made sure everyone believed I was out of my mind with grief, which would garner sympathy for him instead of creating scandal.”

Alicia tightened her hand on Genevieve’s.

Christian’s voice softened and the lines of his face gentled. “I promise you, we will give him no reason to suspect the truth.”

The sincerity in his words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She did not doubt him. Perhaps he could never love her again—nor should he—but at last she’d gained his forgiveness. Moved to tears by the lifting of that burden, Genevieve could only nod, hoping her gratitude showed in her face.

“Do you have a plan?” Alicia asked.

Genevieve nodded. “I do, my lady.”

The countess smiled. “It’s Alicia, remember?”

“Alicia. I shall apply for a post as a governess somewhere far away, out of Lord Wickburgh’s reach. Perhaps Ireland or Scotland.”

“A governess?” Christian repeated.

“I’m qualified,” she said defensively. “I am well educated and can teach on almost any subject—even mathematics. My father has rather unusual views of appropriate education for young ladies.”

Alicia clucked. “I hate to see a lady forced into employment. Don’t you have family to whom you can go?”

Genevieve shook her head. “If I go to my parents, he’d hear of it. And I have no other family.”

Tarrington expression turned pensive. “Who are your parents?”

“William and Cecily Marshall.”

The earl blinked. “Captain Marshall? Of the HMS
Resolute
?”

She stared. “Yes. Do you know him?”

“Not well, but I had dealings with him while I served in the navy.” A light of admiration shone in Tarrington’s eyes. “He was a fine officer. A fine man.”

“Yes.” A fine man except for the mutiny. Bitterness frosted her heart.

Christian said, “I could take you to stay with Rachel.”

“Your sister Rachel?” Genevieve asked.

Thoughtfully, he nodded. “She lives in a little hamlet near the Scottish border.”

Alicia rubbed her rounded abdomen absently. “It’s quite a remote area. You would go unnoticed there.”

“I don’t wish to be a burden, nor beholden, either,” Genevieve added.

“She needs someone up there with her, believe me,” Tarrington said.

Christian leaned forward. “I’ve been worried about her up there all alone, except for a few servants. Though I’ve encouraged her to get a secretary to help her with her cataloging, she hasn’t yet. She needs someone up there with her. In fact, she needs someone to convince her to come home or travel abroad. Anything.”

“She’s a botanist, of sorts,” Alicia explained, “and is gathering research for a book she plans to publish on the subject.”

Tarrington let out a half laugh. “Honestly, it’s all an excuse to tromp around the moor all day and avoid society.” He rubbed his chin. “Can’t say as I blame her; I’d like to leave it all behind, at times.”

Genevieve nodded slowly. “I could serve as her secretary. Then it would be a position, and not merely relying on the kindness of strangers.”

“You could,” Christian said slowly. “She could probably use the help. But you don’t need to work. She’d be happy to have you as a guest.” His mouth turned down as if he couldn’t bear the thought of a gently bred lady forced to employment.

“I won’t be a burden.” She folded her arms.

Christian eyed her. “I’d hoped she would have grown weary of the isolation and come home, but except for a brief visit a few weeks, ago, she has no plans to return soon. If ever. Trust me, if you stayed with Rachel, you’d be doing our family a favor.”

“You might merely go for a visit, Genevieve,” Alicia told her, “and reserve judgment. After you become acquainted with Rachel, you can make a decision whether or not you wish to remain as her friend or companion or secretary.”

Christian looked at her with that intensely focused gaze of his. “You’ll love her, I know you will.”

Genevieve held her lower lip between her teeth. If she were near the Scottish border, and in a small village, she’d surely be safe there. “Very well. I’ll go. If she’ll have me, I’ll stay with her as her secretary or companion, whatever she chooses. I’ll leave as soon as I can arrange transportation on a stage or a mail coach.”

“Absolutely not. I’ll take you in the family coach,” Christian said.

Her gaze darted to him. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of imposing.”

“I was already planning on going for a visit to convince Rachel to go on a grand tour—anything to get her out of isolation. If you and I can get her to go to France or Italy, you can travel with her as her companion. Then, when she’s ready to come home, you can make more permanent arrangements for yourself on the continent.”

Genevieve considered traveling with Christian. That much time alone with him would remind her of what she had lost. But it would be the last time she’d see him and then she could at last bid him a final farewell and be sure she’d truly won his forgiveness.