Hold Your Breath 02 - Unmasking the Marquess (5 page)

Killian stared at the glass of brandy before him, an ancient Egyptian flint knife flipping casually in his hand, as he debated whether or not he would down the amber liquid. The decanter was near empty and brandy had already cost him too much last night. He wasn’t about to repeat that mistake. Especially not with the girl still around.

He turned his chair around and looked out the large pane of glass that ran the expanse of his study. Precise, manicured lawns rolled down the sloping hill before him, the bright morning sun and vibrant greenery of early summer doing nothing to lighten his mood. Birds chirped off in the distance, madcap conversations that only grated on his nerves.

He had slept for a few hours and woken up early, just as the first rays of light crested the horizon. Woken up disgusted with himself. Woken up disgusted at the slip of a girl beside him.

He had been down in his study since. Hours passed as he drank and contemplated what the fate of the girl tucked into his bed would be.

It was a battle he wasn’t keen on having. A battle with himself over some very disturbing truths that he wasn’t even attempting to lie to himself about. He had wanted, enjoyed—hell—
lost
himself with her last night. Something disturbing had happened that he couldn’t describe and didn’t want to think about. The other truth, and the fact that made the first so heinous, was that she was still the daughter of the man he was committed to destroying.

He didn’t want her, didn’t need anything like her in his life, and the whole loving fiancé farce he had produced over the past three months had grated on him. He had needed to consummate the marriage to make sure no annulment could be fought for, and now, she had served her purpose, and he was done with her.

He had originally planned to allow her to live in London, or here at Curplan. As long as their lives were in no way mingled. An occasional passing would have been tolerable, but Killian had planned to resume his pre-engagement lifestyle, including resurrecting several of the mistresses that he had begrudgingly set loose in the name of a scandal-free engagement.

But after last night. Hell. He wanted her nowhere near him.

Nowhere that he could possibly be reminded of all that he had betrayed last night when he had lost control in her arms. He had never felt so damn much in his life, and he wasn’t about to again, especially not with the daughter of that bastard. Killian had betrayed his mission, his parents’ memories, and his quest to honor the family name, all for one—a few hours—of pleasure.

So nowhere had to mean far, far away from London and Curplan. He could not, would not, afford such a night again.

Killian turned his chair back to the wide desk, fingertip balancing the flint knife upright on the wood, when a thought struck him. Something he had never considered.

Was it even possible that he was the one being duped? Could she have been sent to him by her father in order to fleece him? Did the bastard finally figure out it had been Killian all along who had ruined him? And then sent his daughter to prostitute herself in order to gain back what was lost?

The thought invaded his mind so quickly and fully, that the wood on the desk ripped up as he slammed the knife down. He hadn’t even realized he had dug it into his desk.

A soft knock on the study door drew his attention across the room. He was not surprised when Reanna meekly poked her head in, obviously not wanting to disturb him.

“Ah, yes, the blushing bride.” He waved his hand dramatically. “Do come in and have a seat.”

~~~

She had been happy to find Killian so quickly, but as Reanna opened the door and stepped into the study, she looked quizzically at her new husband. His words had been said with a snap, and possibly even a little slurred. From her father, she knew well enough to step lightly around a man that was drunk. Slowly, she approached Killian and spied a near-empty decanter and full glass sitting at the edge of his desk.

Shock registered on her face. “Killian, are you drunk?”

“Drunk?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I hardly see how that should matter to you. Sit.”

Hesitant, staring at him in confusion, she sat down on the edge of an uncomfortable, smoothly leathered chair. His voice sounded biting, even malicious, and it seemed to be directed at her. That had to be her imagination. “Killian, is everything all right?”

“To the nines, or it will be an hour from now.” He leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on the desk and clasping his hands in front of his chin. “What do you know of your father?”

Reanna blinked at the sudden change in topics, then couldn’t stop the fear that gripped her at mention of her father. She couldn’t let Killian see. She forced her voice light. “I am afraid not much. My father did spend more time at our home in Suffolk when my mother was alive. After she passed, he was rarely around. I have only recently come to know him more since he moved to Suffolk last year. He is a good man. He has always treated me well.” She treaded carefully. “But I do know that he left London in some kind of scandal.”

“Do you know what the scandal was?”

Her chest tightened. This conversation was too odd. “No. He never mentioned it, and about six months after father returned I was sent to Aunt Maureen in London. She alluded several times to his disgrace, but never expanded on the subject in front me.”

Hands clasped tight in her lap, Reanna paused. She didn’t want to ask the next question, but she forced the words to come out past her pounding heart. “I believed you knew about the…the situation. I would not want anything he may have done to mar your name. If under false pretenses, you must annul—”

“I will never hear the word ‘annulment’ from your mouth again. We are married, and it will remain thus. Do you understand?”

Reanna relaxed, relieved. She emphatically nodded, her previous happiness flooding her once more.

Yet something in his posture was off. Was there something else about her father that was bothering him? She wanted to ask the words, but couldn’t bring herself to push the topic of her family’s shame. Or what she guessed was her family’s shame. If only someone had told her what had happened.

Her relief quickly shifted to apprehension as Killian continued to stare at her with his sharp brown eyes. He looked more serious than she had ever seen him, as though he were weighing something of enormous consequence.

With a sigh, he casually leaned back in his chair, his hands cupped beneath his chin. He contemplated her for a long moment, and Reanna tried to hide her need to fidget away her anxiety at his odd stare.

“You will be leaving within the hour. The coach will be ready, do not be late.”

She smiled at the surprise, for she had hoped Killian had planned a bridal tour. Of course he had wanted to surprise her. He was always so thoughtful. “Where are we going?”

“I am not going anywhere. You are going to Holloton.”

“What do you mean?” Confusion filled her face. “You will be joining me in a few days, then?”

“No. I will not.” Hands still under his chin, he didn’t move.

“But Holloton…that is your estate in Northhamptonshire? Is that not days away?”

“It is.”

“And you will not be joining me?” A deep fear began to ferment in the pit of her stomach, but Reanna ignored it. This was Killian she was talking to, after all. She must not understand something.

“No.”

“Ever?” Her voice escaped meek.

“No.”

Obviously, there was some reason he needed her away from here. “How long will I need to be up there?”

“I have not decided.”

The fear that pitted in her stomach began to spread throughout her body. “But Killian, I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to.” His clasped hands went to his lap, but his countenance didn’t change. His face was an emotionless mask. A mask that gave Reanna no clues as to what he was thinking.

“What? I don’t need to?” She couldn’t stop her voice from taking on a high pitch. “You are sending me away and you will not even tell me why? Just tell me why, maybe I can—”

“You can do nothing.”

“But is this something I did?”

“What you can do is leave quietly.”

“Quietly? What…” Her hand reached out at him, grasping the edge of the desk. “But after what happened last night.”

“What happened last night was nothing more than what happens in a thousand brothels, a thousand times a day.”

His words cut into her, cut straight into her chest and began to smother the very breaths she took. She recoiled, gasping, her body trying to remain erect. Tears welled in her eyes. “But I thought…I thought it was…I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did, but it was nothing compared to what I can get at any street corner.”

“No, no—I won’t accept this—you love me.”

“I do nothing of the kind, my lady. I think it is time that you remove yourself from the study and begin preparations for your journey.”

She leaned forward again, both hands gripping the desk, desperation making her movements jerky. Tears streamed down her face. “No, Killian, you cannot mean what you’re saying. You’re drunk, or something has happened, tell me—you are not yourself—”

“I am more myself today than you have ever known of me, my lady. Now remove yourself from my sight.”

Reanna sank to her knees, hands still wrapped on the smooth edge of the desk. Tears blurred her vision, dropping onto her chest and soaking into her muslin dress. The salty bitterness drowned her lips, but her voice still managed to be solid. “Killian, please…please, you cannot mean what you say.”

His eyes followed her drop to the position before him without so much as a flinch. “I do mean what I say, and this pathetic display only embarrasses you. You will leave this room immediately.”

“But Killian,” her voice cracked, “there must be something I could—”

“As I said, there is nothing. Kindly remove yourself from this disgusting debacle.”

Every cruel word he had hurled at her since she came into the study hit Reanna all at once. She doubled back from the pain in her stomach, her legs no longer supporting her kneeling position. Her arms gripped her stomach as she crumbled into a heap and began to sway, attempting to rock all the hurt out of her body. Silent sobs racked her body.

Killian’s voice, if possible, managed an even icier level. “I will not repeat myself again. Remove yourself from this room.”

The words sliced into Reanna, and finally, some last, very slim shred of dignity latched onto his words.

Slowly, she rose from the wood floor, still unable to control the silent sobs. Without looking at the man who had just destroyed every piece of her, she turned and picked up her lead feet.

In the long walk to the door of the study, she forced herself at every step to not turn around and plead, beg, at Killian’s feet for forgiveness for whatever she had done. She would have done just that, had she even the slightest shred of hope that her begging would work.

She reached the door and paused.

In a hard fought battle between love, and a pride she didn’t even know she had, she turned the knob and managed to walk out the door.

~~~

She had been gone for hours.

Left the house quietly.

There was no more pleading, no crying.

He had not meant it to go that badly, but it had, and he was no force to change it now. Gut rolling, he cringed at his own reaction—his own harshness.

He hadn’t imagined she would fight it like she did. Aggie had said Reanna loved him, but he had never imagined it could produce a scene such as that. What the hell did he know about love? What the hell did he know about the consequences of it?

The whole of it—her tears, her begging—had cornered him—caught him off-guard, and he had not known how to react.

But he needed her gone. She couldn’t be in the same house as he. Not where he could see her. Touch her.

No. He needed her far, far away. He could afford no softening. Not for what he needed to do.

Plus, he reasoned, she would be better off without him. He would do nothing but bring her more heartache. And he wasn’t worth it.

Killian leaned back in the chair he hadn’t moved from since the earlier scene.

His plan had worked. He had never doubted that it would. Never doubted that he could get Reanna to marry him. And now, to complete the plan, all he needed was patience.

Patience, and fortitude against going after Reanna.

Her father would come out of exile soon enough, and when he did, Killian would be ready.

It took two long days to travel to Holloton. Two days that were a blur to Reanna. A silent, tear-sodden blur.

Had it not been for Miss Melby, the lady’s maid her aunt had hired for her that had agreed to stay on with Reanna after the wedding, Reanna would not have eaten or moved from the carriage the entire journey.

What did break through into Reanna’s consciousness was the moment they pulled through the heavy iron gates marking the entrance to Holloton. Miss Melby drew back the curtains, and they were greeted with the sight of blackened skies and a torrential downpour. It was thick enough that Reanna vaguely wondered how the coachman could find his way up the drive. But fitting that the weather at her arrival reflected her very soul.

Escorted into the large foyer under an umbrella, Reanna did not look up at her surroundings. The house steward, Ruperton, and the head butler, Evans, introduced themselves with proper, but eager decorum, for as they explained, the marquess hadn’t been to Holloton in years. Even if they weren’t to see his lordship, they were delighted to have the marchioness in residence. Reanna barely heard a word they said, and quickly asked to be shown to her new rooms.

The chambers she entered were pleasant, if not stale from lack of use, and the fleeting question of who was the last to use these rooms crossed her mind. But the draw of the peach silk-canopied bed became her mind’s one objective, and she crossed to it, collapsing, weary and beaten.

“Come now, my lady. My heart breaks time and again seeing you so distraught. I have not a way to ease your pain, but me mum would have told me that now that we be here, we best to make the most of it.” Miss Melby went over to one of the trunks just brought in, and flung it open, busying herself with unpacking her mistress’s items. She sighed as she began shaking dresses out. “It just won’t do, these constant tears. I worry for your health.”

No reply came from Reanna, save the silent weeping that had begun again.

“Everything will be all right in the end—you wait and see, my lady. His lordship will come to his senses and demand to have you back by his side in no time at all.”

Reanna’s head lifted from the now wet peach coverlet. “You…you don’t know that. Everything will not be all right. You do not know what he said to me. You did not see how he looked. How he hated me. How he just wanted me to leave his sight.”

“But his lordship, he loves you, anyone with two eyes could see—”

“Stop it!” Reanna sat up on the bed. “You do not know. You do not know a thing. Nothing is all right. And nothing you can say can make it any better. I have done something terrible, and I do not even know what it is. He hates me, and things are not going to get better. Do you not see that?”

Miss Melby stepped back, head down. “I am sorry, my lady. I spoke out of turn.” Her head tilted up slightly, eyeing her mistress. “But you are a beautiful woman, my lady, and I may be simple, but I wish more for you. I wish for you to find a way to make the marriage with his lordship work. I saw how happy you were. How you glowed. I wish for you to be happy again.”

Sarcasm bit heavily into Reanna’s words. “And just what do you suggest I do?”

“I am not sure, my lady.” Miss Melby’s eyes flew around the room. “There, maybe there. There looks to be a sizable stack of stationary on that desk.”

She pointed across the room to a desk carefully positioned under one of the four large windows in the room. A tall stack of writing paper sat neatly in the corner atop the delicate rosewood desk. “Maybe you could start a correspondence with his lordship. Maybe that would help?”

Reanna eyed the desk from the bed. She looked at it, wary, as though it meant crossing a desert to reach the desk. She glanced back at Miss Melby, who held such hope in her eyes that Reanna didn’t think she could crush her hopes.

Slowly, stifling a sigh, she rose from the soft bed and crossed the room.

With one look back at Miss Melby for support, Reanna sat down at the desk, and picked up the top sheet from the stack of stationary. The Southfork seal was emblazoned at the top of the crisp cream vellum. Evidently, Killian’s mother’s, or even grandmother’s personal stationary, waiting for the day when there would be a marchioness in residence again. The exquisite paper was almost translucent in her fingers, so delicate was the vellum. She searched the desk and quickly found ink and a quill.

Reanna sat for a long time, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of her.

After a half hour, she swept her fingers across her face in effort to wipe the wetness away, in effort to see clearly, and picked up the quill. Slowly, meticulously, she put ink to paper.

Miss Melby scurried to and fro, and hours passed before she finished setting up the suite of rooms with all of Reanna’s belongings. She slipped out of the room, leaving Reanna still sitting at the desk, occasionally writing, but predominantly allowing silent sobs to rack her body.

~~~

Reanna looked at the final sheet of paper sitting before her. Six months ago, that stack of stationary had seemed bottomless. And she had requested it be replenished several times before she was ever near the bottom.

Now, one thin sheet sat squarely in front of her.

The quill in her hand was motionless, and she ignored the black splotch of ink that had stained her finger over the many months and hundreds of letters. Unseemly, but a small price to pay, she kept telling herself.

Minutes clicked by on the longcase clock that she had requested to be moved into her room months ago. Having never given time much thought, over the past six months she had become obsessed with the way time moved. Obsessed with seconds as she watched the clock steal away moment after moment.

It was hours before she had the words set, just so in her mind, to put pen to paper.

My husband,

I have begun to think that maybe your hatred of me is not my fault. Is not something that I did. But I will never know.

Maybe someday you will find it in your heart to forgive whatever my transgression was. But until then, I can no longer afford the tears that come daily, nor the way my heart aches every morning and every evening.

This is the last letter I will write. Please forgive me for not having more faith in what I thought was our love.

Yours forever,

Reanna

For six months she had tried to convince him. Convince him to forgive her. Forgive her of what, she was never sure. She had examined every moment of their time together. But she never found answers.

She had stared at that stack of paper six months ago, certain that within a few sheets, Killian would come for her. Halfway through the stack, she told herself that soon, soon he would at least send for her. But when she finally let the stack dwindle to a thin pile, Reanna forced herself to acknowledge the reality she had been trying desperately for six months to ignore.

Killian was not coming, and he was not going to send for her.

She caught Ruperton in the hallway and gave him the letter.

Within a half hour, Miss Melby bustled into her room without the pretense of knocking or privacy. “I heard Joe took a letter to be posted. That’s it then? That be the last one?”

Turning on her seat by the desk, words lodged into Reanna’s throat. She managed a nod.

“Well good. I’m sorry I ever encouraged you to start writing to his lordship in the first place. He done you a terrible wrong and the man will pay for it—if not here on earth, then may the devil take him.”

“No, Miss Melby, no. You will not say such things. He is still my husband.” Reanna turned to the desk and began neatly setting the ink and quill into the slim desk drawer.

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but that man is no more a husband to you than Freddie the coal boy is. I’m just relieved it be done with. It is done with, isn’t it?”

Reanna let Miss Melby’s impertinence slide. She never would have made it whole through the past six months without her. She turned back to her maid. “Yes, I believe it is over. We may as well settle in for good.”

Miss Melby smiled. “I done that three months ago, my lady—now it’s your turn. Why don’t you get outside for a change? It’s sunny and not too cold today. Maybe go down to the stables and see what you can do about learning to ride. The stable master, Ike, is his name, seems to be a good sort and willing to help out where he can. Seems to me like he’d be an excellent teacher.”

Reanna looked out the window to find it had turned into a beautiful day. A complete opposite to the grey snow that was falling when she had sat down to write the letter.

She took a deep breath and stared for a moment at the gleaming top of the desk, now bare. An errant thought that she should look for more of the fine vellum crossed her mind. But as she exhaled, she realized the truth of the situation. A trepid smile crossed her face as she rose from her chair.

“I think I will go out and meet this Ike you talked about.”

~~~

Reanna sat atop the mare she had declared as her own, Ivy, and stared down at the vast estate that was Holloton. She had explored much of it over the past weeks, but this was always her favorite spot.

It was the highest point in the estate, offering unending vistas in every direction. She ended every ride here, not only for the quiet reflection this wide-open space afforded her, but because it was the starting point of the breakneck ride back down to the stables. A ride that had almost killed her a couple times. But she loved it.

Reanna stripped off her gloves and balanced them on Ivy’s white mane, and then noticed the tiniest spot of black ink on her forefinger. No matter how hard she had scrubbed it over the past month, she couldn’t completely get rid of it. A remnant of the six months she had pined away for Killian. And she was ready for it to be gone.

What was he doing right now, in that instant? The thought snuck into her head before she had a chance to squelch it. It didn’t matter. Not to her.

She shoved her gloves back on. Wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, was of no consequence to her. He had made that perfectly clear.

She turned Ivy toward the edge of the hill, aiming for the stables a distance off. Then, thinking the better of it, she turned to head back deeper into the far woods.

Apparently, a longer ride would do her good.

~~~

“I was just about to come looking for you, m’lady.” Weathered hands gripped the bridle of the panting horse. “Thought maybe you got yourself lost again.”

Reanna smiled down at the Holloton stable master. “Come now, Ike, that only happened twice. And that third time I was already set in the right direction before you found me. Besides, can you blame me for the size of this place?”

“No, no, I can’t m’lady. But you were out a wee bit longer than usual today.” He offered up his hand as Reanna lightly descended.

“Yes, well, it was such a beautiful day—cold, but the snow that fell last night just made the day come alive. It was a shame to leave it any earlier than I needed to.” She patted Ivy’s spotted white neck. The mare nudged Reanna’s shoulder, so she moved her hand to the horse’s nose. “And Ivy did not seem to mind one bit. I think she was happy to not be captured inside today, as well.”

“She loves you riding her, that’s for sure. You’ve been an excellent student, m’lady, most certainly the best female rider I’ve seen in a long time, even what with you just learning and all.”

“Ike, stop—no need to flatter me. There is still so much more I have to learn.”

“Actually, m’lady, there ain’t. The only thing you need now is practice, which you do too much of as it is.”

Reanna followed Ike as he led Ivy into the stables, and stopped at the third stall in to rub the nose of Thor, a young black stallion that was growing quickly and would eventually be a magnificent creature. He reveled in Reanna’s warm hand.

“Come now, I must have something more to learn from you. You have been an excellent teacher, and your patience astounds me.” Reanna winked at Ike, whose due blush looked odd on his lined, leathered face. “You could always teach me to ride astride.”

Ike laughed, the sound booming through the stables. “The devil in you, m’lady. I’ll not be the one to corrupt you. You’ll have to find that somewhere else. I wouldn’t even want to imagine his lordship’s face were he to learn you could ride astride.”

It slipped out between them, hanging in the air for a moment. It had been an unspoken rule amongst the staff at Holloton to not mention the marquess. She knew they did it out of respect for her, and she had been grateful for their kindness.

Ike’s face froze the second he realized who he had mentioned, not sure how to proceed.

Reanna forced a laugh. “Come now, I highly doubt Lord Southfork will be finding out anything of my activities for a long time.” Much less care, she added silently.

Ike gave an awkward smile, clearly thankful for Reanna’s transition past his gaffe. “Still, m’lady, you will remain uncorrupt if I have anything to say about it.”

“And you must stand by your convictions, I imagine.” The twinkle was back in Reanna’s eye. “Fine then, you may remain a gentleman.”

She curtseyed before him.

“Very kind, m’lady.”

Reanna started to exit the stables, then abruptly spun around. “Ike, I have been meaning to ask—does anyone on staff play chess?”