No Sweeter Heaven: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 2 (6 page)

Her husband climbed into the carriage beside her, and they started off.

Despite all the days that Lily had had to contemplate the future and, worse, the nights when she had lain awake on her hard cot, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, her hands clutching the thin blanket, she had not gone so far as to imagine this. She had worked out, of course, why the wretch had gone so quietly to his fate. No doubt he was congratulating himself on his good fortune—a duke’s daughter and an enormous dowry, as well as husband to a future duchess or potential father to a duke.

Oh, yes, Lily had made sense out of everything. But she had never, ever believed that her father would be so heartless as to force her into a marriage with the very man who had attempted to defile her.

Everything that Lily had assumed about her world, everything that involved trust and honesty and truth had been wrenched away from her. The entire fabric of her life had been altered so that she no longer recognized it, or even herself. She watched Sutherby disappear, and she felt nothing at all.

“Elizabeth?”

It had been an hour since they had begun traveling. Lily had no idea where they were going, as the wretch had not seen fit to tell her.

Lily turned her head to look at the man who was now, by law, her husband.

“It’s been a long day,” he said. “I thought we would stop at an inn this evening.”

“Whatever you wish. I have been instructed to obey you.”

He considered that. “Have you? How fortunate for me. In that case, we’ll stop.”

Lily looked back out the window.

There was a momentary silence, and then he gently touched her elbow. “Elizabeth, look at me. This will not do. I no more asked to be married to you than you did to me, but by a series of profoundly unfortunate circumstances we are permanently joined. Conversation would be a useful device, don’t you think?”

Lily pulled her arm away. “You don’t
have
any conversation that I’ve ever noticed. It seems you simply use force or wiles to get your way.”

“And you have a tongue in your head that will bring you to grief,” he said. “It’s already brought you to grief, not to mention myself. Haven’t you learned anything?”

“I have learned a very great deal, Mr. LaMartine, most of which I wish I hadn’t. You, on the other hand, have taken a very fine advantage of the situation.”

He frowned. “I can’t help but wonder what you mean by that.”

“I mean that you are a scheming devil. From the moment you discovered my identity, you realized the possibilities in it for you.”

“I did, yes, although why you should construe that as scheming, I can’t imagine.”

“And furthermore, you pretended no knowledge of English in the hope of gleaning even more facts about the benefits you might gain by marriage to me.”

“I see. Yes, I think I finally see where this is leading.”

“That’s good, for I’m tired of these games. Tell me, to which of my estates are we driving? When is it that you plan to take over my affairs? Tomorrow, the day after? You will be a man of very great consequence—surely you’ll wish to impress that fact upon the world as quickly as possible, given your humble beginnings.”

He gave her a hard look but said nothing.

“I expect you will give me a small allowance from my marriage portion; that would only be fair. Even my father gave me an allowance. I suppose then you’ll go directly to London for the remainder of the Season.”

She stared out of the window, but all she saw was what her life was about to become—she, helpless and alone, locked away in the country somewhere, while the wretch went happily about the business of whoring and whatever other pleasures dissolute men usually indulged in.

“Oh, yes,” she said, turning to look at his handsome face, her heart filled with bitterness. “Once the marriage announcement appears in the paper you will be an instant curiosity—a celebrity, the man who managed to steal the hand of the Catholic heiress. I am sure you will have a fine time squandering all my money in the brothels and gaming hells of London.”

The wretch leaned back against the cushions and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re quite unbelievable. You truly are beyond anything I have ever come across before.”

“And you are the most self-serving, despicable man I have ever, ever met, and I have met many!”

“No doubt. You have a tendency to bring out the very worst in people.”

Lily’s hand flew out to strike him, but she found it caught in a tight grip. “Impertinent brute! Wretch!” she cried, struggling to pull away.

“Elizabeth. Listen to me carefully.”

He released her, and she rubbed her wrist, thinking she’d forgotten to add physical abuse to the list of things he would subject her to. “I’m not interested in anything you have to say,” she said coldly.

“Why? Because you had the incredible foolishness to fling yourself off an extremely private wall and land virtually at my feet?”

“Because you’re a liar and a reprobate,” she shot back. “Because you may have fooled everyone else with your glib tongue, but you haven’t fooled me, even if I am unfortunate enough to be married to you—and against my will, no matter what I said in that dreadful chapel, for I didn’t mean a word of it. I will not honor you, nor any of those other things, even if I am forced by law to obey. And I probably won’t do that very well either, so it’s no good trying to force me—or beat me. It won’t make any difference.”

He looked her up and down with that cool look, the one that made her feel objectionable and somehow inferior. “At first I thought you completely deranged, but I quickly came to realize that it’s not your sanity that’s in question. However, I’m not sure that I can go through the rest of my life dealing with a spoiled child.”

“A—a spoiled
child
?” she said, staring at him. “How dare you speak to me like that, you … you disgraceful lout!”

“A spoiled child,” he repeated. “And until the day you’re prepared to behave as a mature person, I refuse to treat you as one. Think it over.”

“I’m not the least interested in what you think of me. In fact, you’re extremely presumptuous to think anything at all.” She turned her head away.

“I can see you gave the matter a great deal of consideration,” he said dryly. “Very well, Elizabeth, be stubborn. It’s your choice, although you might let me know should you change your mind.”

“I will
never
change my mind,” she said, turning back to glare at him. “I
hate
you! I will hate you for all eternity—I swear it on my soul!”

“You’ve more than proved my point,” he said, appearing not the least distressed by her heated vow. “Very well, so be it. It’s a shame that you don’t have more sense, though. There are certain advantages to behaving one’s age, such as being treated with respect.”

“You’re not my father,” she said, stung. “I’m not obliged to listen to this.”

“You’re right, I am not your father, nor anything like him. Nor have I anything in common with Father Mallet, save for a religion, and that commonality is questionable. Don’t make the mistake of comparing me to either of them.”

“Comparing
you?” Lily said with contempt. “You’re not only a rake, you’re a conceited jackass. You think I would ever compare
you
to a duke? Or to a priest, for that matter? You’re insane.”

He rubbed a finger over his full lower lip, back and forth, back and forth, his thumb resting on his square chin.

Lily found the gesture extremely unnerving. She pulled her gaze away, looking at the floor, the ceiling, the window—anywhere but his mouth.

“Elizabeth,” he finally said, “I want to make something very clear. I’m neither the rake nor the molester you’ve made me out to be, and now that we’re married I would appreciate your giving up the fiction, for it has no further use.”

Lily gave a most unladylike snort. “You can’t be serious. The only thing that has changed is that now when you molest me it’s acceptable. According to Father Mallet, you may do whatever you wish to me, and God will applaud.”

Two spots of color flamed high in his cheeks, and Lily saw that she had hit her mark—perhaps too accurately, for he reached out and grabbed her arms none too gently, abruptly pulling her around to face him.

“I’ve tried to be tolerant in the face of what has happened, and I’ve tried to be sympathetic toward you, but you push me too far! Has it once occurred to you that you’re not the only one trapped in a miserable situation?” He gave her a hard shake. “Has it ever occurred in that spoiled, stubborn little head that because of your misguided actions and accusations my life has also been irrevocably turned upside down? You’re so certain of my lecherous past that you haven’t taken the time to consider any other possibilities!”

Lily, truly frightened by the rage she saw on his face, tried to pull away, but he held her in a viselike grip.

“Did you hear me say I wished to do anything at all to you?” he continued furiously. “It may come as a surprise, but that’s the last thing in the world I wish. Why would I want to go to bed with someone I don’t even know, let alone like?” He let her go as abruptly as he’d seized her, as if he were shaking off something disgusting. “It’s a blasted duty, Elizabeth, and one I would just as soon forgo.”

“Then forgo it,” she cried, wanting to curl up into a little ball, but refusing to show him that he’d humiliated her. “I wish nothing to do with you—ever!”

“Good,” he snapped. “Because I have no intention of coming anywhere near your bed. But make no mistake. I will be your husband in every way but that—there will be no annulment, if that is what you were hoping. You will not put either of us, or our respective families, through that scandal, not when the sole reason I married you was to avoid one.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath, rubbing his palms back and forth on his thighs, his head bent.

Lily stared at him, so taken aback she did not know what to say at first. A mass of conflicting emotions—relief, anger, confusion—raged through her. “You can’t be serious,” she finally choked.

“I’m very serious,” he said more calmly, but his eyes still flamed. “I would have been prepared to consummate this marriage had I been dealing with a willing, cooperative adult. But since I no more molest children than I do women, that’s out of the question.”

“But—but what about heirs?” she stammered.

“Let some other poor fool beget your blasted heirs,” he said coldly. “I want no part of it. You’ve made it clear that you have no wish to listen to me, nor to make any sort of peace between us. There seems little point for me to continue to try.”

“Try?
Try?
Are you completely deluded? You’ve been nothing but foul and despicable to me from the first miserable moment we met, intent on ruining my life! Well, you’ve succeeded, and now you have what you want, haven’t you?”

“I have the very last thing I want,” he said flatly. “You have no idea how little I want this. You’re too damned selfish to see anything but your own misery.”

“I don’t believe you,” she said. “I don’t believe you for a moment. You gained every advantage by this marriage. Money, land, social distinction. You may not want me, but don’t try to tell me that you don’t want what came along with me.”

He shook his head, then rubbed his eyes with one hand. “Very well,” he said, looking over at her. “Insist on misjudging me; that’s your prerogative. But let me set you straight on one vital point. Your estates, your money, and the London Season can go hang for all I care.”

Lily looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

“As I said. I’ll appoint someone to look after your business concerns, since I have no interest in them, and you are certainly too immature to be trusted with anything.” He regarded her with those dark eyes, his face coldly set in such a way that she could no longer decipher anything from his expression.

“You don’t want my money?” Lily felt as if she’d just been submerged in a tub of cold water.

“I don’t want anything that belongs to you, no.”

“I—but …” Lily blinked rapidly. “But then where are we going to live?
How
are we going to live?”

“We’ll live on what I can afford. As for where, I don’t know yet. We’re going to my home until I decide what to do next. Obviously I’ll have to find employment.”

“Home? What kind of home?” she asked with true alarm.

“It’s not Sutherby, but it’s certainly livable. Don’t worry, Elizabeth, I’m not taking you to live in the sewers of Paris.”

Lily flushed. “I didn’t know at the time that you understood,” she muttered, hot with embarrassment.

“No doubt. I’m sure you thought Brother Julien didn’t understand either, although he understands English very well even if he can’t speak it—that, by the way, is because of a brutal injury to his tongue five years ago. But that’s another story. Suffice it to say he is a mute.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling very small.

Pascal looked down at his hands. “In any case, he’s a good and worthy man, and I can only hope that his English didn’t extend to some of your more colorful vocabulary, for whatever you might think of me, Brother Julien wasn’t deserving of it.” He flicked her a cool glance.

“Oh …” Lily said again, even more mortified. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It was not my impression that you were giving much thought to anything but your own aggrieved self.”

Lily very much wanted to go for his throat in that moment, but instead she clenched her hands together, vowing vengeance. “Where is it that you live?” she asked, thinking that once in France she could run away from the wretch, straight to Saint-Simon. Jean-Jacques would protect her, she was sure of it. It was just a matter of getting there.

“In Sussex,” he answered, dashing the small shred of hope that had arisen. “It’s not so far from here.”

“Sussex? You are from Sussex? But you cannot be—you’re French!”

“Did no one tell you anything at all about me?”

“They told me only that I had to marry you and go away with you.”

He ran a hand through his dark hair, then released a deep breath. “This is absurd. I explained it all to your father and his priest in exhaustive detail.”

“Well, neither said a word to me about you. Not that I care,” she hastened to add, even though curiosity burned in her, “but I think I should know something about the man I’ve been forced to marry.”