The Earl Claims His Wife (24 page)

They made sweet, lingering love. He whispered in her ear how lovely she was, how much she pleased him—and she knew that if he was here with her now, he wasn’t with another.

However, the next morning he was as distant as ever.

His actions made Gillian furious. Her anger kept her from crossing the divide between them. She considered leaving him again, and then realized she couldn’t.

She loved Brian. It was as simple as that.

The truth was, if he was in bed with her, he was not with Jess. That was a victory of sorts. And after he accompanied her to church on Sunday, after he stood with her through the service and here and there placed a hand at the small of her back, she realized she was not willing to give up on her marriage. She’d seen the man he was. It was still there when he picked up Anthony and held him.

She wanted that man for the father of her children…for the father of the child she felt she already did carry.

She wasn’t certain yet, but she would be soon. For right now, her suspicion was nothing more than a woman’s instinct.

But matters could not continue the way they were. Especially with Fiona calling upon her or sending a note every day to express her concern.

So Gillian was pleased when the evening arrived for their dinner with Lord and Lady Liverpool. They were delightful guests. Holburn and Fiona were also in attendance along with Lord and Lady Canning. Gillian thought she and Brian presented themselves and their cozy home very well. Lord Liverpool showed a decided favoritism toward her husband. Later, she overheard the cabinet minister remark to Lord Canning, “Do you see why we like him? Wellington says there isn’t anything he can’t do.”

“Do you believe that is true?” Lord Canning drawled, sounding jaded.

“Yes. I believe he is the man we want for the position.”

Gillian couldn’t wait to relay this bit of conversation to Brian. Over a glass of wine, they discussed the evening before retiring and it all seemed to have been everything he wanted.

He took her hand. “Thank you, Gillian.”

“For what?”

“For your help with all this.” He waved his hand to encompass the sitting room where they enjoyed their drinks. “For settling Anthony. For being the person you are.”

His comment deeply touched her, and gave her the courage to ask the question that had been so much on her mind.

“Brian, what has happened to us?”

Immediately, his face became shuttered. “What do you mean, Gillian?”

She regretted bringing up the subject. A hard lump formed in her chest. She’d carried it with her for days and now, she wanted to be done with it. “We were doing better,” she said. “I thought you liked me.”

He leaned back in his chair. “I admire you very much.”

“Admire?” Gillian shook her head. “What does that mean, Brian? I don’t know if I want to be admired.”

“What would you rather have?”

Your love.

All she had to do was say the words and there she would be, completely vulnerable.

So, she chose silence.

Brian leaned forward, took her hand in his, laced their fingers together—

Gillian pulled it away. “I believe I’m best for bed. Are you coming?” It was an invitation. She kept her voice very neutral.

He didn’t take it as such, and that was more humiliating. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

Upstairs, Gillian undressed in silence, wondering how long this would go on. Or had Wright decided he didn’t need her?

She checked on the baby and then climbed into bed.

Her husband came up several minutes later. This night, instead of waiting for him to make the first move, Gillian rolled toward him and put her arms around him. “I don’t like the way things are between us,” she whispered.

“How would you rather they be?” he asked.

“Like it was.”

He came over on his back to face her. He combed her hair out of her face. “And how was it, Gillian?

Have we really ever trusted each other?”

He didn’t expect an answer. She wouldn’t have given one. She would hate to admit to her jealousies.

So she did what seemed to suit them best. She made love to him. It was passionate, soul satisfying, and yet oddly distant. It was because she was afraid of what was in her heart.

She might love Brian, but she didn’t trust him and she was discovering love couldn’t exist without trust.

Fiona had insisted Gillian accompany her to interview an artist about her having her portrait done.

The artist, rumored to be one of the best in London, was a petite man who smelled of oil paints and body odor and who wanted to dress Fiona up as a Scottish kelpie.

“And what does a Scottish kelpie wear?” Fiona asked.

“Very little,” was the reply.

Fiona’s eyes met Gillian’s and they both burst out laughing. The artist was offended and all but threw them out of his studio. They could barely wait to climb into Fiona’s coach before they doubled over into laughter.

“I am very resistant to having a portrait done at this point in my life,” Fiona confessed. “I want babies in my picture and animals like my dog Tad.” Tad was a gigantic wolfhound who lorded over Huntleigh now that his owner was mistress of the estate. “I know dressing up as some forgotten Greek is the fashion but I think it fussy and silly.”

“And what does Holburn think of the idea?” Gillian asked.

“He thinks it is wonderful. He wants to see me as Aphrodite.”

“You are beautiful enough to be so,” Gillian said.

Fiona colored prettily. “You are talking nonsense like my husband. I don’t want to wear draperies in my portrait.”

“What would you wear?”

“The Lachlan plaid, of course. I wonder if I could coerce my husband into a kilt.”

“For a portrait?” Gillian asked.

“And because I think he’d do a kilt justice,” Fiona replied, wicked laughter in her eyes.

“Would he do it for you?”

“It would be worth the try to convince him.”

“I’m certain he’ll do it,” Gillian assured her, “if you wear the Aphrodite garb. I can see the picture of the two of you now.”

Both women laughed at the image they’d conjured and took some time for shopping at the small shops comprising the Exeter Exchange. Fiona happily linked her arm in Gillian’s and for a moment, all Gillian’s doubts and worries seemed to fall away until her friend brought her head close and said,

“It is so good to hear you laugh. I’ve been worried about you. Is everything all right between yourself and Wright?”

Gillian pulled up short. What could she say? What should she say?

The truth would be a betrayal to her husband and a lie would betray a friendship.

“Matters are as they should be,” she replied, hoping she sounded serene.

Fiona studied her a moment, her mouth tight, and Gillian knew she didn’t believe her. However, instead of more prying, Fiona said, “My husband has secured a box at the Royal Theatre tonight for a party. I have a friend who is performing The Quaker and we want to support her.”

“You have a friend who is a singer?”

“She started off as a dancer. Grace MacEachin and I came to London together from Scotland. This is a golden opportunity for her. Holburn and I want to give her every ounce of support. So, if you join us this evening, after Grace sings, and I believe it is a very small part, you must join us in cheering and stamping our feet. Then she will receive much notice and move on to larger parts.”

“I would be happy to do so,” Gillian agreed. “It’s unusual for a duchess and an opera singer to be such fast friends.”

“In this day and age, it seems we can be anything we wish if we are bold enough to try for it—which is one of the reasons I want you to be completely happy,” Fiona said.

Tears stung Gillian’s eyes. It would be so easy to completely confide all of her troubles in Fiona.

Instead, she said, “I shall speak to my husband and see if we have plans this evening. If we don’t, I’m certain we would both enjoy being a part of your company and cheering and stamping our feet for your friend.”

Before Fiona could answer, they heard someone shout her name.

They both turned and saw Holburn approaching. He waved as he dodged his way past other shoppers toward them.

He was also not alone.

Andres Ramigio accompanied him.

To his credit, Holburn hadn’t realized Gillian was with Fiona. However, once he laid eyes on her, his step slowed. He glanced at Andres…but it was too late. Gillian and the Spaniard had seen each other.

Andres appeared thinner than she remembered, but just as handsome.

There was hurt in the depths of his quicksilver eyes, a hurt she had caused. He offered her a short, somber bow of acknowledgment.

In return, she felt her face flush with heat. She wanted to run. She chose not to. This was a difficult meeting but it had to be seen through.

She sensed rather than saw Fiona and Holburn exchange worried glances. So for them, she put on a smile and held out her hand. “Barón, it is a pleasure to meet you again.”

Andres didn’t make a move for her offered hand. His gaze slid away from hers. Her heart ached in the presence of his sadness.

“Lady Wright and I have finished our shopping,” Fiona said in a too bright voice as she took Gillian’s arm. “Here, my dear, let me walk you to the coach. Holburn, you and the barón wait here until I return and we shall go for tea.”

Gratefully, Gillian started to leave with Fiona but Andres suddenly moved into their path. He shook his head as if coming to his senses. “Please, Gillian, I need a moment with you.”

The shoppers, Holburn and Fiona, everyone and everything seemed to come to a halt. She struggled for common sense. “Now is not the time.”

“When will there be a better one? Or a more innocent opportunity? Perhaps you wish to sneak around your husband?”

The disdain in his voice struck like a lash. “I said everything in the letter, Andres. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen—to you or to me.” She didn’t wait for his response but turned and hurried away knowing her maid Ruby would follow…knowing Ruby was a witness to everything.

Of course, the problem was she didn’t have a vehicle of her own. She realized it the moment she reached the street. She turned to request the beadle guarding the entrance to hail a hack when Holburn caught up with her.

“What are you doing?” her cousin demanded.

“Running,” she confessed, shooting a glance at the wide-eyed Ruby who waited no more than three feet from them.

Holburn took her arm. “First, you will take my coach.” He looked to Ruby. “It is over there. You know where. Go wait for Lady Wright inside.”

Ruby bobbed a curtsey and went flying.

“There will be rumors amongst the servants,” Gillian muttered. Why hadn’t she asked Kate to accompany her? Kate would have kept her silence.

“Not if you keep your wits about you.” He drew her away from the crowds of shoppers going about their business. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you were with Fiona, I wouldn’t have brought him here.”

“You have done nothing wrong. Nor has he.” She looked up at the handsome cousin who had been her champion when she’d left Brian. “I hate that I involved him in this. I am ashamed I acted dishonorably. To both him and my husband.”

“Ah, Gillian, you were confused. Andres understands.”

“Does he?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I really did care for him…but my bonds to Brian are stronger. I don’t know why, especially since lately, he has not been the easiest person to live with.”

“I never thought you rubbed each other well,” Holburn said. “I assumed that’s why you left him.”

“You assumed wrong. Indeed, you will believe I am a perfect ninny when I confess I love him.”

“You do?”

“With all my heart.”

Holburn’s initial shock changed into a broad smile. “Then you have no problems.”

“Why is it that men seem to think everything is so simple? He doesn’t love me, Nick. But he needs me, and perhaps that is enough for him. Perhaps it must be enough for me.”

“Perhaps you aren’t being fair to Wright,” her cousin said.

Fair? Gillian shook her head. “Are you hinting that I am suffering from some sort of wounded female sensibilities?”

Holburn’s expression grew guarded as if he sensed he’d overstepped his bounds. He raised a conciliatory hand. “Gillian, I am not accusing you of anything. Or taking sides—”

She shook her head, not wanting him to back away from the question. “Since you have been in London, have you noticed anything in my husband’s behavior that would tell you, another man, that he cared deeply for me?”

“He has set up a household with you,” Holburn answered.

Gillian had to raise her eyes heavenward for patience at all he was ignoring. “I want more, Holburn. I want it all—lover, friend, confidant. Someone who cares about me, the real me. But the terribly confusing thing is, I want it from only him. And for some reason I don’t understand, everything has gone horribly wrong between us.” Dear Lord, tears were forming in her eyes. She took a swipe at this with her gloved hands. “I’m sorry. Seeing Andres, knowing what I did to him, I—”

She broke off. There were no words to describe the quagmire her life had become.

“Gillian,” Holburn said comfortingly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself…or Wright.” He would have placed an arm around her but when he moved, she saw Andres standing there. He’d probably heard everything.

Shame washed through her. She seemed determined to bludgeon Andres with her fickle emotions—and she hated herself for having involved him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him and turned on her heel to run for the coach.

But Andres wouldn’t let her leave. She hadn’t gone far when he caught up with her. Taking her arm, he forced her to face him. They were five feet from the coach and Gillian was very aware that Ruby could see them. “I can’t talk now,” she said.

“When can you talk?” Andres demanded.

“I mustn’t—”

“Please, Gillian. I need to know you are happy. That’s all.”

“And you won’t take my word now?”

“Not after what I’ve overheard.”

“Andres—” she started, pleading her case again but he cut her off.