Take My Heart (Heroic Rogues Series) (4 page)

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Where is the argument?”

“Argument?”

“Cease playing the innocent victim, Mrs. Braxton. You know very well what I refer to.” He sneered. “Your only form of communication is to argue, so why have you suddenly changed?”

She scolded herself for forgetting her role. Kat did possess the talent to argue. Mercedes must try to remember this henceforth, but it would be difficult. Whereas Kat had a love for verbal sparring, Mercedes avoided confrontation at all cost.

She arched a brow. “Perhaps I am also waiting until we get home.”

She studied his face closely for a reaction and it wasn’t long in coming. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly and hinted at a smile. If not for the coldness in his gaze, she would have relaxed.

“Very well.” He nodded once.

After a short time, they rode into the drive. A three-storied mansion with a massive chimney on each side loomed before her. Her breath caught in her throat. Two dormer windows accented the third floor while the other windows were in the Palladian style. On the surface, her sister appeared to have been the most fortunate woman in the world, even more so than Mercedes, who had married an Earl. Yet it was this house, and the very man who lifted her off the horse, that had caused Kat’s melancholy and eventually her death. Mercedes wished Kat had told her how Mr. Braxton amassed his fortune.

After the wagon stopped, Gabe jumped from the seat and walked toward the back. Timothy followed. In one fluid sweep, Gabe lifted her heavy trunk, resting it on his shoulder while Timothy carried her satchel.

“Timothy, please let me carry that.” She stepped toward her servant.

Braxton’s bark of laughter made her stop to give him a confounded stare.

Her sister’s husband scratched his head. “Mrs. Braxton, you are full of surprises today. But Gabe can take it to your room.”

Realization dawned and she decided it best to comply with the man’s instructions. After all, how else would she find her sister’s bedroom? She gaped at the house’s magnificent façade, once again amazed at the grand place where Kat had lived.

“What about Timothy?” she asked.

“I will make certain he is assigned to work an area around the house that best suits him.”

“Thank you.” She gave her sister’s husband a curt nod and followed behind Gabe. Although dressed in a similar style, Mr. Braxton’s servant didn’t fill out his clothes as well.

Quickly, she admonished herself. Although William Braxton had been blessed with the most favorable attributes—mesmerizing hazel eyes, smooth lips, hair a woman would love to run her fingers through—he was still an ogre on the inside. He cared about nothing but his precious money.

Silence reigned until she reached the bedroom on the second floor. She followed behind Gabe as he walked in and set her trunk down, then turned to look at her with distrust darkening his brown eyes. The more he watched her, the more his expression sharpened, causing her heart to hammer against her ribs. He stood too close for a mere servant, almost threatening.

She stepped back. “Thank you for helping me, Gabe.”

He took another step closer and she retreated further.

“Do you need anything else, Mrs. Braxton?” he asked.

Folding her hands together, she held them firmly against her stomach, trying to stop from shaking. “Thank you again, but that is not necessary. You may leave now.”

The man stopped directly in front of her. Unease turned to fear and her stomach wrenched. His glare was meant to frighten, but she would not cower.

“Good day, then.”

She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he walked away, then she emptied her lungs in one big whoosh. What was that all about?

Stepping further into her sister’s room, she scanned the area from top to bottom, tilting her head, admiring the pearly white ceilings and walls. She moved to the green and yellow drapes on the window, pulled the cord to let the brightness from outside lighten the spacious room. A large marble fireplace ran alongside one wall. She walked to it, knelt, and peered inside, running her hand along the sandstone in awe.

On the other side of the room stood a hand painted silk screen depicting delicate birds perched on thin vines with a waterfall in the background. She stood and rushed behind it. She gasped at the copper bathing tub with brass clawed feet. Even though Lord Maxwell had had many expensive possessions while they were married, he had never owned a tub this size.

At the armoire, Mercedes swung open the polished cherry-wood doors. The delicate scent of lavender swirled around her. Her hand fluttered to her mouth. This couldn’t be correct. This wasn’t the prison Kat had described.

She reached out and grasped the scarlet material nearest to her. Smoothing the velvet between her finger and thumb, she closed her eyes. She’d always loved the feel of velvet, always loved the way it caressed her skin when she’d worn it. She tugged down the fur-lined muff, noticing the matching cloak. There wasn’t just one fur-cloak, but several.

Kat had said William wouldn’t buy her anything, and yet this closet looked as though it belonged to the Queen.

Concern washed over Mercedes like hot molasses. Her sister had lied. Why? Quickly, she pushed the negative thought out. Her sister hadn’t been in her right mind before she died. Something…or someone had caused it, and it had been in this house!

William Braxton was at fault, and Mercedes was determined now more than ever to get the information needed to bring charges against him.

Sighing, Mercedes plopped down on the enormous bed decorated with the most beautiful quilts and pillows she’d ever seen. Where did William get all of his money? And would his income have anything to do with his traitorous deals? There was only one way to find out, but unfortunately, she had to settle in her new place – and role – before she could spy on him. She couldn’t have him suspecting her true identity yet.

* * * *

That woman will ruin my life.

William Braxton paced the green and gold
Aubusson
carpet in the parlor, hands clenched into fists. Where was Mrs. Braxton? What was taking her so long? Rather than cooling off as he should since they arrived home, his anger intensified.

Usually an understanding man, he couldn’t forgive her this time for leaving without a word, amongst the other crimes she’d committed since their wedding. For the past few months, his life had hung by a thread, and any more catastrophes could send him to his doom.

He wouldn’t surrender without a fight. His wife held secrets, he just didn’t know exactly how many. If he weren’t so worried about it, he’d have let her run away. But keeping a close eye on her was crucial at this point. Soon, he’d go through Parliament and get the annulment they both wanted, no matter how it tarnished his name.

Grumbling, he raked his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking marrying a woman from England who he’d never met before? His friend had told William of a man who had a daughter he was trying to settle with a good husband. William should have heard the warning bells when he realized how desperate Mr. Connolly was to have a quick wedding and hand his daughter over to William. Then again, William had been searching for a mother for his children—and more importantly, a woman from England who loved and dedicated herself to her mother-land.

Now, at this moment, two questions swam through his head; why had she returned, and what would he do with her now she was back?

Swishing skirts sounded outside the door, and he turned. His wife entered, appearing as regal as the first day they’d met at her father’s house. Her jet-black hair was upswept into a tight knot at the top of her head, with a few soft curls brushing near her ears. The dark gray dress had a high collar, long sleeves, and was snug enough to complement her slender figure. A cameo clasped at her throat was her only jewelry.

He tightened his mouth. Why had she dressed this way? She was neither a servant, nor in mourning. Seeing her attired thus reminded him why he’d agreed to marry her in the first place. Next to the constant echo of his dying first wife’s wish rushing through his head at that time,
find another wife who could be a mother to our children
, Kat had put on a façade of innocence and he wanted to believe with all his heart such a woman existed.

Now something different glimmered from the depths of her green eyes. A steady, thoughtful regard had replaced the haughty glances.

Would she tell him where she’d been all this time and why? No doubt whatever scheme she’d pursued had gone awry, and she’d returned for the financial support she’d craved from the start. Despite her changes in dress and demeanor, Hell would turn to icicles before he’d trust her again. He’d quickly learned what a fine performer his wife could be, and he’d not lower his guard for even an instant.

He stepped forward. “Have you misplaced all your other dresses, Mrs. Braxton?”

Her forehead creased. “I do not quite understand your question, sir.”

He rolled his eyes heavenward then strode to her. He gestured with his hand to her covered neck. “Planning to tempt a Puritan?”

She grabbed her modest neckline, her eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?”

“And well you should, but I fear your apologies come too late.”

“You do not approve of my dress?”

“I prefer to see the package wrapped in something more fitting to your true self. In that manner, I would be well-reminded of the true woman I married.”

She gasped and her cheeks blotched with red spots. “Are you insinuating that I—”

“Kat, cease playing innocent. It is unbefitting of your true character.” He breathed a deep sigh. “Now, tell me where you have been, and what in heaven’s name possessed you to come back?”

She clasped her hands against her stomach. “As I told you before, I went to care for my ill sister.”

“Why did you return?”

Her brows drew together. “Because I am your wife and this is where I belong.”

He snorted as he walked in front of her. “When did you decide that?”

“William,” she said, touching his sleeve, “I really had no intentions of worrying you.”

His caught his breath and glared at her. “What did you call me?”

“William.” Her face paled.

Hearing his name roll from her lips made his stomach churn. “What are you playing at now? You have never called me by my Christian name.”

She clutched her hands together again, her knuckles turning white. “I do not know why I called you that.” She shrugged. “I suppose I am trying to show you I have changed.”

He studied her forest-green eyes, trying to find the cold woman he’d married two years ago, but only saw a frightened rabbit. “Now I know something is wrong. Why would you want to change?”

She stood straight and lifted her chin.
Ah, now there’s the woman I married,
he thought
.

“I am well aware you have not been pleased with my actions of late, but I am changing. If I am going to live with you for the remainder of my life, I might as well make it as happy as I can.”

A low chuckle escaped his throat and he shook his head. “By your actions thus far in our marriage, I thought you were living only for yourself, gaining pleasure anyway you could. I thought marriage a hindrance to your overall happiness.” He shrugged off her wide-eyed stare. “What are your plans now?”

She licked her lips. “Um... I thought I would continue on with what I have been doing.”

“I knew you would not change,” he snapped, then marched out of the room, knowing if he stayed another moment, he would wring her lovely neck.

Chapter Three

Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows. Why did that inconsiderate man question her attire? Studying her image in the fancy glass on the mirrored sidebar, she wiped her moist palms down her skirt. Nothing was wrong with her dress. It was certainly more proper than the gowns she’d found hanging in her sister’s closets.

Her thoughts quickly came to a halt and her heart sank. Realization turned her blood cold. She’d have to dress in the same manner her sister had. Kat never once dressed modestly when she lived at home, so why would she change after marriage? Why hadn’t Mercedes thought of this before she decided to play her twin?

Her heart skipped in an erratic beat with the mere thought of having to wear something so improper. Could she actually adorn herself in such a manner? Why, it was absolutely scandalous. Her hand flew to her bosom. She’d never shown that much skin, not even while wearing her nightgown.

A sinking feeling told her she already knew the answer. Portraying her sister, she had no other choice but to wear Kat’s clothes.

The closing of the front door drew her attention to the hallway. She stepped to the doorway of the parlor and saw two small children tiptoe up the grand stairs. The lad, probably in his sixth year, looked exactly like William, chestnut hair and oval face, but the little girl looked entirely opposite. Her brilliant blonde hair curled around her heart-shaped face. The adorable little angel, probably around four years, held onto her brother’s hand as she limped behind him.

“Good day,” Mercedes greeted.