Silent Revenge (13 page)

Ira and James both followed him to the door. “Yes,” James said from behind him. “Melinda has gone with Jessica to make sure everything is packed. I sent a small army with them. They will be safe.”

“Good.”

Simon fastened the buttons of his topcoat, then settled the black cape Sanjay threw across his chilled shoulders. There was another reason he was marrying Jessica. One he would not reveal to anyone. And it was the most important reason. Revenge.

Taking the inheritance Tanhill would steal from his stepsister was only the first step in his plan to destroy Baron Tanhill and make him pay for what he’d done to him.

And to Sarai.

Jessica smoothed the skirt of her simple ivory satin gown and stared at the three small chests that contained everything in the world she could take with her.

“Why don’t you sit for a while, Jess,” Melinda said, pulling back one of the protective covers that had been draped over the sofa. “James should be here with Simon shortly, and you can relax until they arrive.”

“Relax?” Jessica smothered a shrill laugh. In just a few minutes she would leave her home for the last time and take a total stranger as her husband. A stranger who had made a point of telling her that the only reason he was marrying her was because he was as desperate for her money as she was for his name—and his protection. A stranger who had taken every opportunity to instruct her not to expect anything more from their union than the safety his name could offer.

Jessica paced the length of the room again, stopping only when Melinda grasped her shoulders. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Jess? It’s not too late to change your mind. Perhaps James could arrange—”

“No,” Jessica said, not wanting to hear anything more. “I am doing the right thing. Marriage is my only choice.”

She could not let herself think she had another option. She was too close to jumping at anything that might keep her from marrying the Earl of Northcote. She took a shaky breath. “I should check with Mrs. Goodson. I want to make sure—”

“Everything is done, Jess. We’ve already checked twice. Hodgekiss gave all the leftover food to the poor like you instructed. Every fire in the house is extinguished, and every piece of furniture is covered to protect it.”

Jessica sank down on the sofa and let her weary shoulders drop. “He doesn’t want me, Mel. Every look he gives me and every word he speaks tells me how disgusted he is to take me as his wife.” Jessica brought her hands to her lips and covered the soft cry that wanted to escape. She turned her face away from her friend in case her eyes mirrored the hurt in her heart.

“When I was young, after my fever, I used to dream about getting married,” Jessica said without facing her friend. “Of finding a knight in shining armor who would fall at my feet in adoration. Silly of me, wasn’t it? Of course, in my dreams I wasn’t deaf, nor was I plain and ordinary. I was always quite lovely. The belle of society.”

Mel turned her by the shoulders. “You are not plain and ordinary, Jess. You are one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. Much braver than I could ever hope to be.”

Jessica shook her head and tried to breathe in deeply. “Have you noticed how domineering he is? He needs to control. I can’t surrender that much of myself to him, Mel. I won’t. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. I have had only myself to rely upon.”

“What about your designs, Jess? How will you keep what you do from him? What if he will not allow it?”

The muscles in Jessica’s entire body tensed with conviction. “Nothing will change, Mel. I doubt he will care enough one way or another. As long as society doesn’t find out, I can’t see where it will matter. I doubt that what I do with my time will be of any interest to him. I certainly will not let his opinion matter. I cannot trust him enough to allow him that much control over me.”

“Give him time, Jess. Someday perhaps you will see his dominance as a strength, as a comforting support for you to lean upon.”

Jessica lowered her gaze to the floor. She sincerely doubted it. “It doesn’t matter, Mel. I am not what the Earl of Northcote wanted for his wife. What if society discovers I’m deaf? What if I cannot hide it? How will the earl ever survive the humiliation of society finding out?”

Jessica bolted from the sofa and walked to the two doors that led to the terrace. Beyond it was a lovely garden filled with flowers just coming to bloom. She stopped before exiting the room and placed her fingers on the small oval table that stood against the wall nearby. She gently lifted the dustcover that protected special items that had always been a part of her life and picked up the tiny miniature of a woman in a beautifully carved oak rocker holding a small baby in her arms. The baby was she. The woman was her mother.

She stared at the picture and let the heartache and longing swell within her. Her mother looked so happy. She had a husband who adored her and a baby to love. A future Jessica had only dreamed of having.

She knew Mel watched her, and she looked away, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. She’d said good-bye to so many special memories during the last two days. How could she ever give up more? She was afraid she would shatter when she had to leave behind one more reminder of the only life she’d ever known. Even if that reminder was nothing more than the faded likeness of a woman who was at times little more than a distant memory.

The picture in the miniature swam before her, and she swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay as she held the picture to her breast. “Perhaps I could just take…”

Her words lodged in her throat when a shadow moved to her right. Her gaze locked onto the large figure darkening the doorway.

The Earl of Northcote took a few steps into the room, then halted.

The look in his eyes made him appear weary and tired. The expression on his face seemed frighteningly serious. It was evident he regretted this even more than she.

He crossed the room, his demeanor resolved and determined. He towered before her, as magnificently handsome as he had been the first night she’d seen him standing on the top step of the Stratmore ballroom. His broad shoulders filled out the perfectly tailored black tailcoat to perfection, and the white shirt and cravat glistened against his bronzed skin. His dark eyes pinned her with a penetrating glare, and she couldn’t take her gaze from him as he loomed before her.

Jessica clutched the picture tighter for one more moment and then gave it up to his outstretched hand. His fingers touched hers, and he hesitated as if plagued with a twinge of regret.

He looked at the picture, then placed it back on the table. “You will take nothing but your clothes and the items that belong to you alone. We cannot give your stepbrother one excuse to cause trouble. The will states that everything in the house belongs to him. It’s the way it must be.”

Jessica swallowed hard and looked away. Sometimes the most difficult part of being deaf was staring into his face, reading the harshness and regret she saw in his eyes. She wondered if he realized how far into his soul she could see and how much of his hidden feelings were laid bare by just the look in his eyes? How much of the strength he’d honed to guard his emotions she could see? How much of the fear he tried to disguise as anger? She saw it all. She doubted he knew or he would have erected another barricade to defend himself. Another wall to separate himself from her.

She wondered how long he would keep her at bay, refusing to acknowledge or accept their relationship. Perhaps only a short time. Perhaps a lifetime.

He placed his hand on her arm, bringing her out of her daydream. His hand felt warm against her skin. Feverish.

Her heart jumped in her throat. The unique feel of fevered flesh sent a wave of panic rushing through her. Jessica lifted her gaze to his face. His face seemed flushed. His eyes were glazed with a hint of illness she hadn’t noticed before. She placed her fingers against his hand again to make sure. Warm. Too warm. Then she moved to place her hand on his face.

Before she could touch him, he stepped out of her reach. He separated himself from her as if her touch was repulsive to him.

“It’s time to leave. Are you ready?”

Jessica swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord. I am ready.”

He extended his arm. She hesitated, then placed her hand upon his muscled forearm. She prayed he didn’t notice how violently her fingers trembled when she touched him. If he did, he didn’t show it. He kept her close as they followed the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth from the room.

She’d promised herself she would be brave. That she would walk away without a backward glance. But before they took their final step over the threshold, Jessica turned to look at her home one last time. The home where she’d been born. Where she and her mother and father had talked and laughed and been happy. Where she could remember a time when she had still been a complete person.

The home where a raging fever had taken her mother from her. The home where she’d known the happiest days of her life. And the saddest. Where she’d learned what it was like to belong and be loved. Where she’d learned what it was like to be alone with no one to love.

The breath caught in her throat when the door closed behind her. She held on to the Earl of Northcote’s arm and prayed she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.

Without flourish or fanfare, they were married in a quiet country church on the outskirts of London. With the queen’s bishop and two high-ranking clergy of the church officiating, Jessica walked down the narrow aisle on legs that barely supported her. With Melinda at her side and Ira close by, she went through the motions, said the right words, smiled an adequate smile, and made the appropriate gestures to convince everyone she was willing to take the earl as her husband.

She stood before the legion of church and government officials Northcote had brought as witnesses and promised to love, honor, and obey a man who struck terror in her heart.

She knelt before the ornately carved wooden altar and vowed to trust completely a man who had yet to say his first kind word of greeting.

She held out her hand as he slipped onto her finger the ring symbolizing their union, then promised to submit to him in all things. To trust her life as well as her future to a man who had yet to grace her with his first smile.

With her hand nestled in his, she let his intense strength pour into every fiber of her body, then released a shuddering gasp when a strange molten fire surged to every part of her being, heating her with a warmth she couldn’t understand.

Only once did he show any sign of tenderness. Of concern. Before he repeated his vows, he lifted his hand, and with his finger beneath her chin, he turned her head so she would face him. He held her gaze with unflinching steadiness and repeated the promise to protect her for all time. She imagined she had never seen a more somber look of commitment.

Then, the bishop pronounced them man and wife.

She felt the slight pressure as his fingers tightened around her hand and she lifted her gaze. If she lived to be a hundred years old she would never forget the uncertainty in his answering gaze. The look that said he questioned—doubted—his sanity for marrying her.

And then he kissed her. Despite the almost unnatural heat of his face, his kiss was the coldest, most unemotional kiss imaginable.

If only he had never kissed her before. If only she hadn’t experienced the heat and fire of that other kiss as a comparison. Then she would not have known how lacking and unfeeling the slight pressure of his lips on hers truly was.

Then it was over.

Moments later they were seated in Northcote’s coach on their way to her new home. Jessica leaned back against the maroon leather seat of the stylish black carriage and turned her head to stare out the window. She absently fingered the beautiful opal ring on her third finger and tried to squash the rising fears that ate away at her insides.

Four matching blacks pulled the carriage down one unfamiliar street after another as they wound their way through the quiet London residential district. She was now the Countess of Northcote and the man sitting beside her, legs outstretched, eyes staring blankly ahead, was her husband. Never had she felt more alone in her whole life.