Silk and Shadows (44 page)

Her words only inflamed him further. His fingers tightened on her left hand. "Wantons always say that," he said pleasantly. "It sounds better than admitting to promiscuity.''

Sara's face flamed, but she did not try to defend herself.

Deciding that it was time to get down to business, Weldon said, "You know, the first time I met Prince Peregrine, I thought that he looked familiar. It's those green eyes. Quite striking. Unique, in fact. Don't you agree?"

Reluctantly she nodded.

"But while the eyes were familiar, I had trouble placing him," Weldon continued. "It has been so many years and miles that I did not make the connection. Then earlier this evening we talked, and I remembered."

He had caught Sara's unwilling attention, and she watched him intently as he guided them out of the path of another couple. "He hates me. Did you know that, my dear?"

"I know that there is something between you two," she said slowly. "But I don't know what."

"No, he would not want to admit it," Weldon said. "We met in North Africa, in Tripoli. I was making my Grand Tour. He was not called Peregrine then. God knows where he picked up that name—he's probably had a hundred names."

"He said that Peregrine is merely a translation of what he is called in Kafiristan," Sara said defensively.

"Perhaps, though he is not Kafiri, and he is a liar if he claims otherwise." He smiled down at Sara and pulled her into another turn. "Your husband is such a superb liar that anyone can be forgiven for believing him."

Sara's eyes flashed. "You go too far," she said as she tried to tug away from him. "I will not stay here to listen to you insult my husband."

"But you will stay to learn more about him, won't you, my dear?" Weldon said with an undertone of viciousness, keeping a firm grip so that she could not escape.

Sara quieted, wary but watchful.

Reminiscently Weldon said, "He was such a pretty lad, and so amiable at first. We were on our way to being great friends. Our falling out was all my fault, I fear."

"Charles, will you get to the point?" Sara said sharply. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am explaining why your husband hates me, darling Sara." Enjoying himself, Weldon spun the moment out. "You see, he was a whore, and he has never forgiven me for kicking him out of my bed."

Stunned by Charles's accusation, Sara felt the blood drain from her face. A fortnight before, she would not have understood what he meant, but Jenny's lecture had been very enlightening.

Her former betrothed gave her an ironic glance. "Do you know what that means, my dear, or do I have to explain?"

"I know what you mean," she said in a soft, furious undertone, "and I don't believe a word of it. My husband said that you are evil, and he was right. You do yourself no credit by spreading such lies."

For a moment Sara experienced an unnerving sense of deja vu, for the scene reminded her of when Mikahl had tried to convince her of Charles's wickedness. She thrust the thought aside, to be dealt with later. Doggedly she said, "You are speaking from drunkenness—I can smell the liquor on your breath."

"Of course you don't want to believe me, Sara," Charles purred, "but that does not mean I'm lying. Did you ever notice the scar on his left hip?"

Sara tensed. "He has a number of scars."

"This one is shaped like an irregular
M
. Quite distinctive. He cut it himself with a stiletto as a proof of how much he adored me, or so he said. Personally I thought he was a little deranged."

Though Sara tried to conceal her shock of recognition, Weldon saw her flinch. He continued, "M for Master. He claimed that he wanted to return to England with me as my slave of love." Weldon's eyes grew dreamy. "I was rather tempted, but of course I couldn't bring him back to England. For me, your husband was just a passing experiment, a local North African custom that I felt like trying. Still, he was a lovely youth, much better-looking than he is now, and so passionate. Surely you have noticed how passionate he is?"

"You are disgusting," Sara said furiously as she tried to jerk her hand free. But Charles held her hand and waist too tightly for her to escape without making a major scene. "The fact that you know of a scar is not proof."

"Proof is hard to come by after so many years," he conceded. "A pity that I didn't keep his love letters, for you would have found them quite convincing. Almost illiterate, of course, but rather touching in their intensity and very explicit about what he wanted me to do to him. Shall I tell you more?"

Without waiting for Sara to reply, he proceeded to recite several examples, using gutter language that she barely understood. Dizzy with agitation, she stumbled on her bad leg and almost fell.

Weldon's cruel grip held her upright. "Don't faint on me, Sara," he said sharply. "Use that fine logical brain of yours. The way he hates me—haven't you ever heard that hell has no fury like a lover scorned? He used to say that I was the love of his life. I thought that was just boyish enthusiasm and would soon be forgotten, but apparently he has spent years stalking me. And now, like a lover scorned, he wants to destroy me."

Thinking of what Mikahl had said about Weldon's first wife, Sara shook her head vehemently. "No, it's not just a personal feud. He has other reasons for hating you."

"Oh? Has he given you any proof of my wickedness?" He smiled as he read her expression. "I didn't think so. So it is my word against his. Have you ever heard anyone besides him impugn my reputation? Yet what is he but an adventurer that your cousin found somewhere in Asia? He used Lord Ross to gain entry to society, and now he is using you."

Not wanting to concede an inch, Sara said stubbornly, "If I must choose between you, I choose to believe my husband."

""Your husband," Charles sneered. "Why do you think he married you, Sara? Certainly not for your looks. Your fortune isn't reason enough for a man of his wealth."

"He married me because he loves me," Sara retorted. Though Mikahl had never said so, it was what she wanted to believe, and certainly he behaved like a man who cared greatly.

"Did he say that? Well, he's very good at telling people what they want to hear." Charles's mouth curled with contempt. "What an innocent you are. Listen closely, you foolish bitch. He married you because he couldn't have me, and you were the closest he could get. He hoped that stealing my future wife would hurt me. He was wrong, of course—losing you wounded only my pride. Still, I must give him credit for imagination."

"I knew that you were interested mostly in my birth and fortune," Sara said, trying to keep her voice and mind steady under Charles's stream of vitriol. "But Mikahl is not like you. He did not seduce me, nor did my father force him to marry me. In fact, he had trouble convincing me to accept him."

"So you had doubts even then? You should have listened to them and not tied yourself to a madman." Charles squeezed the fingers of her right hand until they hurt. "Did you know that he and I talked earlier this evening? He made a number of threats about what he would do if I would not become his lover again. When I denied him, he dragged you off into another room and worked his angry frustration off on you. How does it make you feel to know that you are the receptacle of his warped desires?"

Dear God, would the dance never end? Sara felt dizzy from the spinning, almost nauseated. Though she loved Mikahl, she did not feel that she knew him well, nor did she wholly trust him. Much as she wanted to dismiss Charles's charges as pure malice, she could not quite do so.

The fact that Charles knew of the M-shaped scar was hardly proof that they had been lovers, but it was unusual for a man to be so familiar with another man's body. And Mikahl's reaction to her discovery of the scar had been anguished and irrational. He had used Sara physically to drown the past on that occasion; he might have done so again tonight.

The very idea made her ill, but it was undeniably true that her husband had been in a strange, wild mood earlier in the evening. An encounter that had been passionate and loving was now unbearably tainted by Charles's accusations.

But what really undermined Sara's faith in her husband was Charles's evil, all-too-convincing explanation for why Mikahl had married her. Mikahl did not need her money, he cared little for her status, and had never said that he loved her. He did desire her, but lust was notJove.

Though she did not want to believe it, the way Mikahl had spoken of Charles could have been the obsessive hatred of a lover scorned. If there had once been love between the men, it was horridly possible that Mikahl had married her either for revenge or as a substitute for the person he really wanted. Perhaps both.

Charles had been watching her expression, and now gave a nod of satisfaction. "You are beginning to believe me, aren't you? Very good. Your intelligence is one of the things I always liked about you: when confronted with facts, you listen rather than have an attack of vapors. You may take comfort in the fact that your husband is undoubtedly a bigamist who will abandon you when he is ready to leave England. Then you will be free of him."

In the remote corner of her mind that was still capable of thought, Sara realized that Charles had an uncanny ability to trigger the hidden fears that her husband did not love her and would eventually leave her. But she would not admit that. "You have not given me facts, Charles," she said as evenly as she could. "Merely showed me what a vulgar mind you have."

He shook his head pityingly. "You will learn the truth, but it is already too late. By marrying him, you have ruined your life and reputation."

The music ended, and with a final flourish, he released her. After bending over her gloved hand for a mocking kiss, he said, "I would advise you not to rush home to discuss this with your dear husband—he is a dangerous man and might react very badly to your knowledge of his past. You would be wise to find excuses to spend as much time as possible away from him."

Then Charles turned and left her.

Sara stood very still and concentrated on her breathing. After a minute, her nausea began to subside. When she decided that she would be able to walk without falling, she began to make her way to the door where she was to meet Mikahl.

She would have given anything she owned not to have to face her husband until she had had time to think through what she had just been told. When Mikahl had tried to persuade her that Weldon was evil, she had not believed him. She had put the whole subject out of her mind once she and Mikahl became intimate, and had not thought about it since.