The Price of Deception (24 page)

Monsieur Leroy stood in the foyer speaking quietly to
a housemaid. Undoubtedly, they had heard the ruckus upstairs. He
felt no disgrace over his behavior and glanced away from Leroy’s
stare. Philippe walked through the door into his study and turned
to close it. To his surprise, Leroy followed. He cleared his throat
as if he wished to speak.

“I don’t care to talk about family matters with the
staff,” Philippe addressed his butler, with a gruff warning. “Leave
me alone.”

“I understand Monsieur Moreau, however, I thought
that you would want an accounting of the household upon your
return.”

Philippe looked at his butler’s obvious need to
perform his dutiful role and relented. “Fine, come in, and close
the door. Make it quick, though, as I have other matters to attend
to.”

He sat briskly in his chair behind the desk and
looked up at his butler. “Well, then, give your accounting. Take a
seat if you wish.” Leroy didn’t budge, so Philippe continued. “I
suppose I should take this opportunity to thank you for watching
over my household, wife, and children during my absence. I had no
idea it would take so long.”

“That’s quite all right, sir.” Leroy glanced at the
chair, but hesitated to make himself comfortable. “I prefer to
stand.”

“Very well, then,” replied Philippe. He leaned back
into the soft leather and folded his arms. “The house looks well
kept.”

“Yes, I took the liberty to make sure the maids were
supervised in their duties. I oversaw the expenses of the food
purchases and did make a change as to where your cook procures your
meat. I believe it will lead to savings on the household’s behalf,
without sacrificing quality.”

Philippe’s brow rose as he listened to his butler
droll on about his money-saving accomplishments. He had to admit,
Leroy impressed him with his ability to supervise everything during
his absence. Definitely an asset, Philippe decided to speak to him
about a long-term tenure. Before he could do so, the conversation
took a disturbing turn.

“I also took the liberty of watching over Madame
Moreau and her welfare. She seemed to be much more secure with the
presence of a male in the household to such an extent that she took
numerous outings on her own during your absence, sir.”

“Outings? What do you mean by outings? Are you
speaking of her visits to Père Lachaise?”

“Well, no, Monsieur Moreau,” he replied, with a smug
look upon his face. “Your wife did make her visits, however, there
were other absences where a private carriage would arrive to pick
her up. She would leave for a few hours and then return.”

Philippe could not believe his ears. Where on earth
could she have been going? “I’m a bit confused, Leroy. You mean to
tell me a carriage came here to pick her up?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I must say that as the frequency
continued, I did find it odd. Since you had given me the task to
oversee your household, I had some concern as to your wife’s
whereabouts and safety.” He looked away from his employer and
glanced at the floor. “Forgive me if I have overstepped my
boundaries, but I arranged to follow her in a hired cab on one
occasion.”

Philippe jumped to his feet and walked around the
front of his desk and stood in front of Leroy. His heart pounded in
his chest. He didn’t know whether to thank the man or fire him on
the spot for his impertinence. He abhorred the idea of his staff
involved in his personal affairs. The look in Leroy’s eyes,
however, spoke of information that he needed to hear.

“To where did you follow my wife, Leroy? A friend’s
home perhaps?”

“I do not know who owns the residence, Monsieur, so I
merely wrote down the address. Perhaps you recognize the household
and its occupants by the location.”

Leroy reached inside his vest pocket and pulled out a
small piece of paper and handed it to Philippe. He snatched it from
his butler’s hand, opened the folded note, and read the address.
Immediately, his hands shook from the icy hatred that flowed
through his veins.

“It appears you recognize the residence,” Leroy
concluded, after observing his reaction. “Shall I take my
leave?”

Philippe refolded the note and slipped it into his
trouser pocket.

“Yes—yes, you may take your leave.”

Leroy said nothing else and turned toward the door.
Philippe stopped him.

“You’ve done well. I appreciate you taking the
initiative to check on my wife’s welfare.”

“Very well, sir. I’m glad to have been of
assistance.”

Assistance indeed
, thought Philippe, as he
watched his butler close the door behind him. He pulled out the
note and read the address again. He wasn’t hallucinating—Robert
Holland’s Parisian townhouse sat at that location.

A knife sliced his heart in two over the possible
return of the Duke and his visits with his wife. Had she been
secretly meeting her old lover during his absence? The veins in
Philippe’s neck protruded when he thought of the rogue that once
possessed her body.

Treachery
.

No other word could describe their actions. His
jealous thoughts envisioned what possibly could have occurred
between the two while he was away. It fueled his unrelenting
loathing of Robert Holland.

Visions spun around Philippe’s mind like a whirlpool
in the ocean. He staggered over to his chair and sat back down
attempting to suppress the urge to run upstairs and confront his
wife. Had his beautiful Suzette, who he had won back years ago,
returned to the mire from which she came? The thought sickened
him.

Bide your time
, he thought, as he seized hold
of the edge of the desk. His nails dug into the wood.
Bide your
time.

A moment later, he released his grip from the desk’s
edge. Philippe leaned back, closed his eyes, and fantasized choking
the life out of Robert Holland.

Chapter Nineteen

“Who’s the whore?”

Jacquelyn confronted him angrily, stepping toward him
as he entered the room.

Robert looked at Dorcas, who attended his wife by
unloading her trunks. “Dorcas, a moment of privacy, if you please.
Close the door on the way out.”

Dorcas curtsied and bowed her head in response,
before swiftly leaving. “Yes, Duke, of course.”

Robert watched her cast a glance at Jacquelyn that
spoke of empathy. His wife had probably painted him as the villain
in their marriage. The door shut, and Jacquelyn wasted no time with
her assault.

“
Bastard,” she spit. She strode
closer to Robert and lifted her hand to strike him on the
cheek.

Robert clamped his fingers around her wrist and
stopped her midway before her palm landed upon his face, already
flushed with anger.

“No need to get physical,” he warned his wife, while
he hastily pushed her wrist downward and held it tight.

“You’re hurting me. Let go!” she protested, as she
wiggled her hand back and forth to break his grip.

“Not until you promise to control yourself,
Jacquelyn.” He squeezed her wrist slightly tighter until she
winced.

“All right, all right!” she relented. She squirmed
once more.

Robert released her and stepped back at the same time
to put distance between them.

Jacquelyn rubbed her wrist, glaring at him with eyes
full of vile hatred. “I don’t appreciate you manhandling me,” she
complained. “You deserve my hand across your face, just like the
whore I struck earlier.”

Again, she heaved her question like a dagger in
Robert’s direction. “Who is she?”

Robert narrowed his eyes and debated how to answer
her question. Choosing the exact words were crucial to his future.
As he looked at the woman he had married, painful regret choked his
heart. He could only think of Suzette and the life he wished to
build with her and his son. The words he would speak would
undoubtedly strip bare his relationship with Jacquelyn from this
day forward.

“She’s my former mistress from five years ago. We
have a son together, and I love her.”

Robert watched Jacquelyn’s cheeks turn bright red.
Her eyes turned into a wild glare.

“I want a divorce,” he said with authority. “You can
divorce me for adultery, if you wish, and feign any lie of abuse
you care to choose. As long as I am free of this bondage with you,
I am free to marry the woman I love.”

Robert hated being so cruel, but he had never coveted
another woman as much as he did Suzette.

Covet
.

As he stood looking into Jacquelyn’s eyes filled with
hurt and rage, he remembered a heavenly commandment
. Thou shall
not covet thy neighbor’s wife.
He should have felt shame. None
existed. Robert could not resist the temptation. His need for
Suzette coursed so deeply through his soul, that he knew he’d pay
the price of eternal damnation to make her his wife.

“I will return to you the value of your dowry,” he
finally spoke, in a softer tone to lessen the consequences of
divorce. “However, your title as Duchess Holland will be given to
another.”

“You son-of-a-bitch! Do you think I’d divorce you
after this? I’ll go to my grave married to you, Robert Holland,
before I give you a divorce. You can suffer the rest of your life
separated from your French whore and your bastard son until they
put you in a box and nail the coffin shut.”

Robert gawked in shock over her response. Jacquelyn’s
face turned evil as she balled her fists and approached him at full
speed, swinging her hands and arms like a maniac. Robert recoiled
and attempted to subdue her.

“You bastard!” she railed, while pounding him
wherever she could make contact with his body.

Robert attempted to grab her hands again, but
discovered he fought against the rage of a woman he had never
before confronted.

“You bastard!” she screeched, repeatedly.

Thump, thump
. Her fists beat him until Robert
finally restrained her fury.

“Dorcas!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. Her
lady’s maid burst through the door, and Robert pleaded for her
assistance.

“Call a physician at once,” he ordered. He detained
Jacquelyn in a tight hold, which she could not break. Dorcas ran
from the room and down the stairs. Robert wrestled with Jacquelyn
while she spit her venom, screaming obscenities at him until he
could bear no more.

He pulled her over to the bed and pushed her down
upon it. When he did so, she stopped thrashing her limbs and fell
limp.

“You bastard,” she sobbed. “I’ll ruin you! I’ll ruin
you, and you’ll damn the day you ever married me.”

Tears freely flowed in torrents down Jacquelyn’s
face. He released her and stepped away from the bed horrified over
his wife’s reaction. Certainly, he had expected that she would
verbally damn him; but her physical attacks and continued threats
were like thorns stripping his hope to shreds.

“I’ve sent for the physician,” he announced. “We
shall speak of it no more today.” Robert turned and left the room
and closed the door behind him. Jacquelyn wailed loudly as she lay
upon her bed.

No remorse or empathy filled Robert’s heart toward
his wife. He had been held in a prison of marriage, bound in a
loveless existence that he abhorred. Her physical rampage finally
confirmed her mental instability. The incident stripped away what
few remnants of emotion existed for Jacquelyn Spencer. Now nothing
remained.

His heart pounded as he trotted down the stairs. The
servants were opening the remaining portions of the townhouse, and
taking off the white covers from the furniture. She had apparently
engaged the entire staff in anticipation of her return to
Paris.

Finally, Dorcas returned with a physician. Robert
briefly explained the current state of affairs.

“My wife is in an unstable emotional condition,” he
explained. “She has become somewhat violent toward me and now lays
in a sobbing remorse. I’d appreciate it if you could attend her
physically. If you find it necessary, sedate her in some way, so
that she can rest.”

The physician looked curiously at Robert. “Yes, of
course. I shall examine her and see what I can do.”

Dorcas led the doctor upstairs to Jacquelyn’s suite.
Thirty minutes later, he returned downstairs to give his report to
Robert.

“I’m afraid your wife is in an extreme mental state
of anguish,” he reported. “I have found her to be in need of
sedation, which I’ve given to her. She should sleep the night
through.”

Robert sighed in relief that there would be no
further physical encounters with Jacquelyn that evening.

“I appreciate your help.”

“Might I ask you a question, Duke?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Upon my examination, I was concerned over your
wife’s mental state of mind. Her behavior was irrational,
incoherent, and intermingled with intermittent threats toward your
person.” The physician’s brow furrowed even further when he
continued. “Has this behavior been prevalent in the past, might I
ask?”

Stunned at his question, Robert paused momentarily.
He felt compelled to answer truthfully. “My wife has been prone to
moods of various degrees. She has been barren for five years now,
and I think she often grieves far too much over the situation. She
fantasizes about having a baby in her arms, and at times seems to
drift off into a place I cannot reach.”

“Anything else?”

“Today was the first time she became violent toward
me, though I’m sure she had her reasons.” Robert lowered his eyes.
“We are having marital problems.”

“Well, I do find it disconcerting. You may wish to
confer with a physician who deals with the mind and its emotions.
In addition, you may wish to consider a more advanced treatment of
hysteria and melancholic behavior in women, and have her ovaries
surgically removed. Once the organs are gone, it produces a calming
effect upon the emotions of a woman. If you need a referral for
either a psychiatrist or surgeon, I would be happy to
recommend.”