Lady Beauchamp's Proposal (31 page)

Rothsburgh placed his fingers over her lips.
“Hush now. I know you don’t have it, Beth. I’ve seen you, all of
you remember.” He tried not to smile when her blush deepened. “But
more than that, I know who you are inside, regardless of the name
you bear. And you are not that sort of woman. Just as I am not that
sort of man.”

He brushed her cheek with his fingers, his
heart swelling with tenderness, wanting to reassure her that he was
a different man to her husband. That she could trust him. “I don’t
have the pox either.”

“Thank you for telling me that. And
believing in me,” she said on a shaky breath, as if she had only
just started to breathe again. “After all of the lies I’ve told,
that you would still trust my word, even just a little…well, it
means a lot to me.”

“You only lied to protect yourself, Beth. I
could never condemn you for that,” he said gravely. “We’ve both
been betrayed by the people we loved.”

“Yes, it seems we have.” Beth suddenly shook
her head. “It’s seems so bizarre though. I still don’t understand
how you know all this? How can you be sure that it was Hugh that
gave your wife syphilis? I mean, I don’t want to defend my husband,
far from it. He’s had mistresses aplenty. But what you are telling
me…It’s…incredible.”

Rothsburgh sighed and ran a hand down his
face. Beth was right. It was indeed incredible. And he’d never
wanted to believe any of it either. But he’d lived with Isabelle’s
faithlessness for such a long time, and he’d seen things—things
he’d much rather forget—that proved beyond any doubt the truth of
the matter. Beth’s husband had indeed infected Isabelle with
syphilis. And syphilis was the reason Isabelle had died.

Rothsburgh carefully clasped Beth’s hands
between his. “Believe me. I know. It defies belief. But I will
attempt to explain the truth as far as I know it. If you want me
to. I will warn you though. There are things that I will disclose
that will…shock you...more than you have been shocked already.”

Beth squeezed his hands, and her grey gaze
was clear and steady as she regarded him. “Tell me everything.”

Rothsburgh took a steadying breath. He could
do this—tell Beth what she needed to know because she had asked him
to, and he would do anything for her. But where to start with this
whole sad and sordid tale that had affected both of them so
profoundly?

Damn
. This was going to be harder
than he thought.

It wasn’t long before Beth prompted him with
her own question, saving him from his agonized musings. “How…how
exactly did you find out that Isabelle had syphilis? And that my
husband had given it to her?” she asked quietly. “Did she tell
you?”

“Yes, she did,” he said, not able to
suppress the note of grim weariness in his tone. “But… not
directly…I didn’t find out until I returned from the Continent.
After she had died.”

Beth’s usually smooth brow dipped into a
confused frown as she tried to make sense of what he’d just said,
but she didn’t comment. She simply watched his face and waited for
him to continue.

Rothsburgh dragged in another fortifying
breath, mentally preparing himself to reopen old wounds. “Forgive
me. I’m not being very clear. I don’t think I’ve told you this, but
Isabelle had been in Belgium with me during the campaign. That’s
when she contracted the pox from Hugh. But as said, I didn’t find
out then. As you know, I was wounded at Waterloo and Isabelle…well,
she left shortly after the battle was over and returned to Eilean
Tor. The last time I saw her was at the Duchess of Richmond’s ball,
the evening before the Battle of Quatre-Bras.”

“Oh, James. She left you there? Without
seeing you when you were wounded?” Beth’s grey eyes suddenly
glimmered with tears. He was deeply touched by her grief for him.
It was a sign she still cared. And it was the first time she had
uttered his Christian name again. It felt like a blessing to hear
her say his name—like water in the desert for a dying man.

“It’s of no consequence, Beth. My injuries
weren’t that bad. And to be honest, I didn’t want to see her.
Isabelle and I, we weren’t on the best of terms then. In fact, we
hadn’t been for a long time, as you already know.”

Beth’s expression was puzzled again. “Then
if you never saw her, or spoke to her…How did you find out about
her and Hugh, and the pox?”

“Isabelle left me a letter—on my desk in the
library at Eilean Tor—confessing all to me; that Hugh had given her
the pox after she had…been with him in Brussels. And that she was
sorry for not being the mother she should have been. I suspect that
writing that letter was probably one of the last things she ever
did, Beth—before she went down to the causeway when the tide was
coming in.”

Beth gasped and gripped his hands so tightly
it hurt. “Oh my God. You mean…It sounds like her death...It wasn’t
an accident.”

“No. I don’t think it was.”

“Oh, James.”

“She wrote that she couldn’t bear the shame
of having the pox. Dr. Addison—the physician from Blackhaven who
visited you—he confirmed that Isabelle had been suffering from the
most virulent form of second stage syphilis he’d ever seen. He’d
attended her sick bed at Eilean Tor the day before she…went down to
the causeway—and he told me that aside from having a terrible
fever, her body had been covered in a red rash, and wart-like
sores. Apparently her hair had also started to fall out in large
clumps. Isabelle would have hated that. She’d always been so proud
of her looks.”

“Anyway, I suspect that what Isabelle told
me in her letter was true—that Hugh had only just recently
contracted the pox, and that neither of them knew he had it when
they—” He almost said
fucked,
but clamped his jaw shut for
an instant; he didn’t want to utter that profanity in front of
Beth. “When they coupled. And that may have been the case. The
surgeon attached to my Regiment informed our Commanding Officer
shortly after our arrival in mid-May, that some of the local
prostitutes were spreading the pox to the soldiers. And by all
reports it was also quite a nasty strain. Colonel Cameron ordered
our men not to fraternize with the women, but perhaps not
everyone—the men from the other Regiments—knew that.”

Beth shrugged. “Perhaps. But I suspect that
even if Hugh heard the rumors he would have dismissed them. He has
always been reckless and arrogant, thinking he knows better than
everyone else. And as humiliating as it is to admit to you, James,
I know my husband has not only kept a mistress from time to time,
but that he also has a penchant for prostitutes. It doesn’t
surprise me at all that he would have taken up with one of
them.”

She glanced down at her hands, still clasped
in his. “He didn’t want me to go with him to Belgium as I knew some
of the other officer’s wives were doing,” she said quietly. “Not to
keep me safe. It was because—and this is hard to say—he just didn’t
want me…at all, for anything. And that has been a Godsend in a
way…after considering everything that has happened.” She raised her
eyes again. “Given what you’ve told me about your relationship with
Isabelle, I’m surprised she went with you.”

Rothsburgh grimaced. “She didn’t accompany
me at my invitation, Beth. When the orders came for the Regiment to
join Wellington, I was in London and I asked Isabelle to return
home to be with Annabelle at Eilean Tor. Looking back, that was
stupid of me to do. Isabelle always hated the place—claimed it was
no more than a pile of rocks. I should have known that she’d do
exactly as she pleased, which was often the exact opposite to what
I had suggested. From what I understand, after I’d departed for the
Continent with the Regiment in early May, she joined the Duke and
Duchess of Richmond’s entourage and travelled with them to
Brussels. I had no idea what she was planning until she arrived on
the doorstep of my billet. I was angry with her of course, but
being angry with Isabelle was always a useless enterprise. She
didn’t give a damned fig about what I thought. Or what her daughter
needed.”

“But that was always her way. She craved
drama, danger even. And she’d grown bored of London. All the
interesting crowd was now on the Continent she told me, when she
turned up.” He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten at the memory of
her self-centered flippancy. “It was as if she was attending the
ton’s
latest form of entertainment. It was a novelty for
her, a grand adventure. It didn’t enter into her head at all that
this was a war against the French. That men were about go to their
deaths, or at the very least get horrifically maimed.”

“Like you.” Beth placed a hand on the side
of his damaged thigh and her touch seared him as though his leg was
bare. Blood immediately began to throb toward his cock, and he
shifted slightly to ease the building ache in his balls. Sweet
Jesus, how could she so effortlessly arouse him? But now was not
the time to explore if anything could still exist between them.
Perhaps later when all their revelations had been made, their
secrets shared. If Beth still wanted him…God help him, he prayed
that she did, because he still wanted her, married or not.

With an effort, he forced himself to ignore
the effects of her incendiary touch in order to respond to her
comment. “’Twas no more than a scratch—a sizeable one to be
certain, but not all that bad, all things considered. I sustained
it during the second battle—Waterloo—when things were nearly over.
And it didn’t put me out of commission for too long—only a week or
two. I’m a tough old war horse.”

Beth’s lovely mouth quirked into a gentle
smile. “Thirty is not old at all. And you can’t fool me. I know you
try to hide your battle scars by making light of all you endured.
But I know they’re still there, James. You are too noble and
stalwart for your own good.” Her smile suddenly changed, grew
rueful and her grey eyes hardened. “My husband has never been the
noble sort. He may have fought with honor on the battlefield, but
that is probably as far as it goes. He certainly never behaved in
an honorable way toward me during our marriage.”

Her forehead suddenly creased into a frown
again. “But now I’m wondering, James…When did Hugh and your wife
begin their
affaire
? Did Isabelle say in her letter?”

Rothsburgh sighed, rallying the will to
continue. His next secret was going to be one of the hardest to
reveal, as it was a disclosure that would strike Beth deeply. He
sought her gaze and held it steadily. “Beth, I knew my wife was
unfaithful to me long before she made her confession. And as hard
as this is to admit, the reason I didn’t want to see Isabelle after
I was wounded was that I actually saw her…with your husband…at the
Duchess of Richmond’s ball.”

Beth’s eyes widened and her cheeks flamed.
“You saw Hugh and Isabelle…together? Do you mean that they
were—”

“Yes, Beth. I caught them
in flagrante
delicto
during the ball. They were outside, in the yard behind
the stables. I’d had a bit too much brandy, and I’d gone to get
some fresh air.” He closed his eyes briefly as the obscene image of
Hugh fucking his wife from behind as she leant over a pile of
crates—like she was some common whore—intruded into his mind. If it
hadn’t been for the tumultuous arrival of the messenger bringing
word to Wellington of Bonaparte’s advancement across the
French-Belgian border, Rothsburgh was certain that he would’ve run
the bastard through with his short sword on the spot.

“Oh, heavens…” Beth’s fingers bit into his.
“I’ve heard many a story of the Duchess of Richmond’s ball. How
grand it was before it came to such an abrupt end when all the
troops and officers were called away.” She shook her head. “I can
scarcely believe that Hugh and your wife would do something like
that, in such a public place, with the
ton
all around them.
It’s depraved. And you were there…You must have been so angry. How
utterly shocking that you had to go into battle, after having seen
something like that.”

Rothsburgh shrugged. “I was angry, yes,
which ironically always helps when you are in the thick of things
on the battlefield. But now, I just feel…saddened. It was the last
time I ever saw Isabelle alive. Sometime during the week I was
recovering from my wound, she decamped back to England. I like to
think she felt ashamed and sorry for what she had done, but I’m not
sure. She never apologized in her letter. She only admitted that
Hugh had infected her…and that she couldn’t live with it.”

He paused for a moment and blew out a
breath, willing himself to continue. Now to deliver the next series
of blows. “Beth, even when I saw Isabelle and Hugh together, I
wasn’t surprised.”

Beth frowned in apparent confusion. “What do
you mean? I know you’ve told me that you and Isabelle had grown
apart. But to actually discover your wife—in the act of betraying
you—how could you not be surprised…or even shocked? Unless…” Her
eyes widened with dawning horror.

Rothsburgh inclined his head as his mouth
twisted into a wry smile. “Unless I already knew that Isabelle was
unfaithful to me? That’s right, Beth. My wife had never been true
to me at any time throughout our six year marriage. In fact,
Isabelle and Hugh were lovers before she and I even met. I believe
she took up with Hugh sometime during her first Season in London.
But although Hugh wouldn’t marry her back then, it seems neither of
them could give the other up, even after they both married. Their
affair went on in secret for years.”

Beth gasped. “That’s… appalling. I had no
idea. At all.” She shook her head, her voice now trembling with
deep emotion—outrage and shock he guessed. The same acrid feelings
that had coursed through his veins when Isabelle had first flaunted
her grand
affaire
in his face all those years ago.

“I always thought it was me—that there was
something wrong with me—and that’s why Hugh couldn’t love me,” Beth
continued, her voice shaking. “I knew he had lovers, mistresses,
whores aplenty. But I never considered that he might actually love
another.”