Say You Love Me (12 page)

“Not to worry.” Anthony grinned. “Ros likes my face just the way it is. Claims your fists ain’t healthy for it. By the by, what was Derek chewing your ear off about?”

James shrugged. “Said he needed some advice, but this wasn’t the place to discuss it.”

“You think he’s got himself into some kind of trouble?” Anthony speculated. “Wouldn’t be surprised, with him following in our footsteps.”

“And dragging Jeremy down the same path,” James grumbled.

Anthony hooted. “That’s rich. That youngun of yours was out wenching with your crew when he was but sixteen, prob’ly sooner. If Derek’s doing anything, he’s teaching him the proper way to go about it.”

“Or Jeremy’s teaching him the improper way—bloody hell, now you’ve got me spouting that drivel. There
ain’t
no such thing as an improper way to go about wenching.”

14

Across the room, Lady Frances approached her husband
. She was so nervous she was nearly trembling, but she didn’t hesitate. She’d made the decision, with her dear Oscar’s help, to finally make a full confession to Jason—or, at least, fess up to what he hadn’t already guessed on his own.

It was high time their farce of a marriage came to an end. She had never wanted to marry him to begin with, had been horrified at the very idea of it, and originally had flatly refused. He was a great bull of a man, after all, austere, hot-tempered, disgustingly physical—frightening. And she’d known very well they wouldn’t suit. But her father had forced her to marry him anyway. He’d wanted the connection with the Malorys, then he hadn’t lived long enough to enjoy it.

It had been intolerable though, the eighteen years of their marriage, just as she’d known it would be. Whenever Frances was around her husband, she lived in a constant state of apprehension. Not that he’d ever physically hurt
her. It was just that she knew how capable of violence he was, that he was actually prone to it, and that was enough to keep her nerves raw. And he was always blustering about something that had displeased him, whether it was one of his brothers, or some political issue he didn’t agree with, or just the weather. Little wonder she’d invented excuses to avoid him.

Her main excuse had been ill health, which had led Jason to believe she was sickly. In fact, his whole family thought so. That she was on the thin side helped, as did the color of her very fair skin, which could easily be mistaken for paleness. But in actuality, she enjoyed perfect health. You could even go so far as to say she had the constitution of a horse. She’d just never let Jason know that.

But she was done with hiding the truth. She was tired of being married to a man she couldn’t tolerate, especially now that she’d found one whom she could.

Oscar Adams was the exact opposite of Jason Malory. He wasn’t very tall—was short, actually—and he wasn’t the least bit muscular. He was a dear, sweet, soft-spoken man who enjoyed scholarly pursuits rather than things of a physical nature.

They had so very much in common, and they had discovered their love for each other nearly three years before. It had taken that long for Frances to finally gather the nerve to face Jason with that truth. And what better time to end a bad marriage than on the very
day that another, happier marriage was just beginning?

“Jason?”

He hadn’t noticed her arrival, was talking with his son, Derek. They both turned to her, both smiled as they offered her a greeting. Derek’s smile was genuine. She had little doubt that Jason’s was not. In fact, she had no doubt at all that he desired her company about as much as she did his. He ought to be damned pleased with what she’d come here to tell him. And she wasn’t going to put it off with idle chitchat first.

“Might I have a word with you, Jason—in private?”

“Certainly, Frances. Will Edward’s study do?”

She nodded and allowed him to escort her from the room. Her nervousness increased. Actually, that had been a foolish suggestion on her part. She should have just asked him to step aside. They could have discussed the matter in whispers. No one would have been the wiser, and at least others would have been about, to keep Jason from losing his temper.

But it was too late now. He was already closing the door to his brother’s study. The best Frances could do was hurry across the room and put one of the large stuffed chairs between them. However, when she faced him, the words stuck in her throat because he was lifting a sardonic brow. And although he
ought
to be pleased by what she was going to say,
Jason Malory’s reactions were never predictable.

She had to take a deep breath before she could get the words out. “I want a divorce.”

“A
what
?”

She stiffened. “Your hearing is excellent, Jason. Don’t make me repeat it just because I have managed to surprise you, though heaven knows you shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not as if we ever had a real marriage.”

“What we have, madam, is redundant. What I am feeling is not surprise, but pure disbelief that you would even suggest such a thing.”

At least he wasn’t shouting—yet. And his face was only slightly red.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” she told him, and braced herself for the fireworks. “It was a demand.”

She caught him off guard again. He just stared for a moment, incredulous. And then the frown came, the stern one that usually twisted her stomach into knots. This time was no different.

“You know as well as I that divorce is out of the question. You come from good family, Frances. You know bloody well that divorce is unheard of in our circle—”

“Not unheard of,” she corrected. “Merely scandalous. And scandal is nothing new to your family. Your younger brothers used to create one after another, year after year, when they first descended upon London. You even set the tongues wagging yourself when you
announced that your illegitimate son was going to be your heir.”

His face was now much redder. He didn’t take well to criticism about his family, he never had. And saying that the Malorys had been embroiled in so many scandals could be considered criticism.

“There will be no divorce, Frances. You may continue to hide yourself in Bath away from me, if that is your preference, but you will remain my wife.”

That infuriated her, because it was so typical of him. “You are the most inconsiderate brute I have ever had the misfortune of knowing, Jason Malory. I wish to get on with my life! But what do you care? You have your mistress living under your roof, a woman of low birth whom you couldn’t marry, even if you were free to do so, without causing an even bigger scandal than a divorce would. So it doesn’t matter to you if nothing changes…and what is that look for? Did you honestly think I didn’t know about Molly?”

“Did you expect me to remain celibate when you have never once shared my bed?”

Frances’s face was now glowing hotly, but she wasn’t going to let him put the blame for their disastrous marriage on her shoulders alone. “There’s no need for excuses, Jason. Molly was your mistress before you married me, and you had every intention of keeping her afterwards, which is just what you did. And that certainly never bothered me, if that is what you are thinking. Far from it. She was
more than welcome to you as far as I was concerned.”

“How generous of you, m’dear.”

“There’s no need for sarcasm either. I don’t love you. I never have. And you know that full well.”

“That was not an expectation or requirement of our arrangement.”

“No, of course it wasn’t,” she agreed. “And that’s all our marriage ever was to you, an arrangement. Well, I want out of it. I’ve met someone whom I do love and whom I wish to marry. And never mind asking who he is. Suffice it to say, he’s nothing like you.”

She’d managed to surprise him yet again. She wished she could have kept Oscar out of it, but mentioning him told Jason just how serious she was. He still didn’t look inclined to be reasonable. Of course, when was he ever, stubborn, bullheaded man that he was? And she did still have one piece of information left to sway him with. She’d really been hoping she wouldn’t have to use it. Blackmail was so unsavory, after all. But she should have known better. And she wanted out of this marriage bad enough to resort to any means—blackmail included.

“I have just given you an excellent reason to divorce me, Jason,” she pointed out reasonably.

“You haven’t been listening—”

“No!
You
haven’t been listening. I didn’t want to get nasty about this, but you force my hand. Give me a divorce—or Derek is going
to learn that his mother isn’t dead. He’ll learn that she’s very much alive and has been at Haverston all these years—and in your bed. Your well-kept secret will be known to all, Jason, if you won’t be reasonable about this. So which scandal do you find preferable?”

15

The town house was lovely, but Kelsey didn’t assume
it would be her new home. She was done with making assumptions. And if it was to be hers, the fact that it was very nice and tastefully furnished didn’t mollify her. She wasn’t sure anything could mollify her, after the horrid five days she had just endured.

Derek’s driver had shown up bright and early that morning, just as Kelsey was about to leave for her daily walk to town. She’d thought he was bringing her word from Derek, but no, the man said he was there to take her back to London. No message from Derek. No explanation as to why she’d been left to fend for herself for five long days. And the driver had no other information to impart. He’d only been told to fetch her and where to take her.

She packed up quickly, everything, including the few essentials she’d been forced to buy herself, just in case where she was being taken was as spartan as the cottage had been. But she had the driver take her to Bridgewater first
so she could turn over the last of the dresses she’d contracted to sew, which she had fortunately finished late the night before.

She had finished the first five dresses in only three days, despite catching a miserable cold. She knew she wouldn’t be getting any more money until the dresses were done. But the seamstress had liked her work so well that she’d given her the rest of the lady’s order to complete, another three dresses for two more pounds.

So at least she wasn’t penniless now. She’d even bought her own lunch at the inn the driver stopped at around noon—and some extra food to take with her, just in case. After having experienced such panic that first day she’d been left alone, it was going to take a while for her to stop worrying about where her next meal was going to come from.

Derek Malory had a lot of explaining to do, and Kelsey hoped she could keep her temper under control long enough to listen to what he had to say for himself. But all the way to London she had simmered, and she had been so tense that by the time she arrived late that afternoon, her whole body ached. Added to the cold and the fever she was still running,
and
the fact that neither Derek nor anyone else was there to greet her, it just made her more irritable.

There was about an hour of daylight left for her to explore the town house. The driver had stayed long enough to get the fireplaces lit be
fore he departed. And there were ample lamps and candles about for the evening.

It wasn’t a large town house by lordly standards, though each of the seven rooms was a nice, comfortable size, and it was in a nice neighborhood with a small park in the center of the square. There was a separate kitchen with one bedroom for a servant or two next to it—it contained two narrow beds—a dining room with a table large enough to seat six, a parlor, a small study, and two bedrooms upstairs.

The fact that it was so completely furnished, even to having a wall of books in the study, finely framed paintings on the walls, knick-knacks on tables, ample bedding and linens, and basic long-lasting staples in the kitchen, led her to believe it was someone’s home. Many lords were in the habit of renting out their town houses for long periods of time while they were off on the Continent or firmly entrenched in their country estates. But she was assuming again, which she had told herself she wouldn’t do anymore.

There was a full modern bath off the larger bedroom, which Kelsey decided would be hers—if she was to stay there. As she ended her exploring she took a bath. The uncomfortable tub at the cottage—with barely warm water, since she’d had to heat and carry her own—had not been at all satisfying. This one was, though she didn’t linger, not knowing when Derek might show up.

There was no fresh food to be found in the
kitchen, so she made do with what she had brought along from the inn. She could have fixed up something from the staples, but she didn’t really feel like cooking, her fever having increased a few degrees, as it did each evening. She hoped she’d be able to shake the cold now that she was back in London. Those long walks to Bridgewater each day in the frigid air, once in the rain, hadn’t allowed her condition to improve.

It was the fever that put her to sleep on the couch in the parlor, that and the plentiful meal and hot bath, and the nice cozy fire. But when the front door opened she woke, giving her enough time to sit up before Derek was standing in the doorway. It didn’t give her enough time to look awake.

Her eyes were barely open; the pins had come loose from her hair, letting it spill over her shoulders; her nose had been running, as usual; and she was just giving it a loud blow into the hanky she kept constantly in hand when there he was. And good grief, she had forgotten how truly handsome he was, especially done up all formal as he was. Whatever gathering he’d just come from or was soon going to was a special one, to have him looking so fine.

“Hullo, Kelsey, m’dear,” he said with a tender smile. “It’s a bit early to be sleeping. Was the trip that tiring?”

She nodded, then shook her head. Damn, this was no time to have her mind muddled with sleep.

“I would’ve been here sooner,” he continued as he started forward. “But the wedding reception I just came from had all my family present, and it’s deuced hard getting away from family. By the by, what’s happened to your nose?”