The Seduction (45 page)

Margaret had no answer for that. She knew guilt weighed heavy on Cornelia's shoulders and that she desperately wanted to be absolved. But, just now, Margaret could not oblige her. She felt as Caesar must have felt when he looked into the faces of those who had stabbed him.

What she felt must have shown in her face. Cornelia burst into tears and fled.

Betrayal. Margaret walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers, feeling as if she were a puppet and everyone else had been pulling her strings. She had been manipulated and betrayed by everyone she loved.

She turned off the lamp beside the bed, then crawled beneath the covers. She lay in the dark, trying to sleep, but she could not help remembering the night before, when she had not slept in this bed alone. A sob of renewed heartache and pain broke from her throat, and she realized she'd been wrong. She thought she'd cried all the tears she could, but it seemed there were plenty more left. Grabbing her pillow, she hugged it tight, burying her tear-stained face against the cool linen pillowcase.

She could feel herself fracturing into pieces. She curled into a ball around her pillow and did something she had not done since she was a chubby sixteen-year-old debutante whose party no one wanted to attend. She cried herself to sleep.

Margaret woke the following morning feeling quite different from when she had fallen asleep. The discovery of Trevor's deceit had destroyed her illusions and broken her heart, but all her anger and pain had somehow fused during sleep into cool and calm resolve. Her family's participation in her husband's schemes, she knew, stemmed from their love for her. But Trevor's motives could not be dismissed or forgiven so easily. He did not love her and never had. Because of that, she knew exactly how to proceed.

She asked for a full breakfast to accompany the tea a maid had already brought to her room, and she ate every bite. When Molly, her own maid, came in a few minutes later to help her dress, Margaret was sorting through the stacks of mail that had come during the hectic days before the wedding and for which she'd spared only a cursory glance. But now she went through them slowly, searching for one letter in particular—the one from Pelham &
Smythe
, the family's London attorneys.

"Oh, ma'am!" Molly cried, seeing her sorting through the mail as if she hadn't a care in the world. "You've no time for that this morning!"

Margaret serenely continued her task. "There's no rush, Molly, I assure you."

"
Beggin
' your pardon, my lady, but I'm to get you dressed as quick as possible
so's
the upstairs maids can start packing your things for the journey to Kent. We've no time to dawdle."

"Ah, here it is," Margaret exclaimed, pulling out the letter she'd been searching for. She opened it and scanned the contents. It gave the customary congratulations on her approaching wedding, but there'd been one line she distinctly remembered. Yes, there it was.

The marital agreements have been handled, of course, but if there is anything further we can do to assist you in the matter of your marriage, please call upon us.

She tapped the letter thoughtfully against her palm, then gave a decisive nod. "Yes, Mr. Pelham, I think I will need some further assistance," she murmured to herself.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught Margaret's attention, and she glanced up to find Molly still standing by the bed, wringing her hands and looking quite distressed. "Molly, I'm not going to Kent today. So you see, there's no rush to be off."

"Not going? But I heard Lord Ashton say he wants to be on his way by nine thirty so you don't miss the train, and it's almost eight now."

She dismissed Trevor's wishes with an airy wave of the letter in her hand. "Lord Ashton is perfectly free to leave any time he wants to, Molly. But I am not going anywhere." She jumped off the bed, unmindful of the stacks of letters that went scattering in all directions. She ran to her
secretaire
and pulled out a sheet of her stationery. After opening the inkwell, she grabbed a pen and scribbled a note. She blotted it, folded it, and placed it in an envelope, which she addressed directly to Mr. Pelham. "I want you to take this down to the second footman—Albert, isn't it?— and have him deliver it immediately." She handed the letter to the maid. "It's very important."

Molly took the letter with a resigned sigh. "But what am I to tell his lordship?"

"Tell him just what I said. He can leave when he pleases, but I'm remaining in London."

"Oh, no, ma'am, I couldn't!" Molly stared at her in horror. "He's my new master. If I tell him that, he'll give me the sack, sure and he will."

"He will not. You have my word on that. Now, go on."

Molly swallowed hard and turned toward the door. "He's not going to like it, my lady," she warned as she departed. "Lords are used to having things their own way, ma'am, and that's a fact. He's not going to be happy."

Trevor definitely was not happy. He stopped eating his breakfast and stared at the maid in disbelief and anger as she told him what her mistress had said. His expression must have conveyed something of what he felt, for when he rose slowly to his feet, the girl took a step back and said, "If you please, sir, I'm only telling you what she said."

Trevor realized that he was alarming the girl, who was very young and obviously afraid of getting fired. It had been a long time since he'd dealt with servants, and he'd forgotten how easily they could be intimidated. He spoke gently to the maid. "It's quite all right, Molly. I will handle this."

She relaxed with relief. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Bobbing a curtsy, she left the dining room.

Edward chuckled and shot Trevor a grin across the table. "Dutiful wife, eh?"

Trevor ignored him. He took a step toward the door intending to go upstairs and make the situation clear to his wife, but Henry spoke.

"Let me talk to her. I might be able to persuade her, reason with her."

Trevor wanted to say that persuasion was irrelevant and reason futile, but he refrained. He nodded and sat back down. "Try, by all means."

Henry departed, but by the time he finished his breakfast, Trevor knew that he'd been right. So much for persuasion and reason. It was time for more effective measures.

He set down his fork and rose. He turned to Cornelia.

"Would you please make certain that the carriage will be ready to leave as planned? We must not miss our train. And instruct the maids to be ready to pack Lady Ashton's things. We will be leaving at nine-thirty."

She hesitated a moment, then gave him a reluctant nod. "Of course."

"Thank you." Trevor strode out of the dining room and went upstairs. He could hear Henry's booming voice before he reached the top of the stairs.

"Damn it, Maggie! It wasn't like that! I've never heard anything so ridiculous."

When Trevor reached her room, he paused in the doorway and glanced from Henry, who was red-faced and pacing, to Margaret, who stood in her nightgown, arms folded across her breasts and her jaw set in that stubborn way he knew so well. Neither of them noticed him.

"Ridiculous? He hired men to abduct me, and you say it's ridiculous?"

"Ashton already explained all that to me. He had his reasons."

"And you can condone it?"

"Of course not. But it serves no purpose to dwell on it now. No harm was done."

She stared at her father as if unable to believe what she was hearing. "No harm?" she repeated. "You arranged this marriage like a business deal, then after he abducts me and carts me around the Italian countryside for a fortnight, you say no harm was done?"

"There was no damage done to your reputation. Ashton saw to that."

"There's more at stake here than my reputation!" she cried. "We're talking about how the two of you have arranged the rest of my life. How could you do this to me?"

Henry stopped pacing and looked at her. "I only did what I thought was best for you."

"Next time you want to do what is best for me, you might consult with me first, Papa."

Father and daughter stared at each other for a moment without speaking, and Trevor took advantage of the moment. "Enough," he said, his voice cutting like a whiplash through the silence. "Mr. Van Alden, I'd like to speak with my wife privately now."

"Ashton," Henry began, but Trevor sensed what was coming and cut him off.

"With all due respect, sir, I will handle this. It is a matter between husband and wife, and does not require your intervention. Besides, if you do interfere, she'll be turning to you for sympathy every time she and I disagree about something."

Henry pressed his lips together, and the eyes of the two men met in mutual understanding. He gave Trevor a curt nod and walked out of the room without another word.

"Papa!" she cried, but he closed the door behind him without a backward glance. She turned on Trevor. "I hate you."

It was a childish thing to say, and Trevor ignored it. "We are leaving for Kent shortly. I suggest you put on something more suitable for travel."

"I'm not going to Ashton Park, today or any other day. This morning, I will be meeting with my family solicitor. To discuss filing a petition for an annulment."

"It's a little late for that. Or have you forgotten about the other night?"

"Don't you dare be glib about that!" she cried. "I'm sure it was only another conquest for you, but it was very important to me!" Catching back a sob, she turned away.

He watched her for a moment, noting the way she was shaking and how she wrapped her arms around her ribs as if making the effort to contain it. He could appreciate that she was still angry and hurt, but he would not allow himself to be influenced by tears or manipulated by guilt.

"It was important to me, too, Maggie," he said quietly. "I wish you could believe that and have a bit of trust in me."

"Trust you? After all the things you've done? I'd just as soon trust a snake."

"You trusted me enough to marry me."

"Well, it was a foolish thing for me to do, and I fully intend to rectify my mistake." She turned toward him and lifted her chin. "If I cannot gain an annulment, I will file for divorce."

"You must be joking. On what grounds?"

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at him, but the smile was a bitter one. "Kidnapping your future wife is not sufficient? Well, given your reputation, I'm sure I can accuse you of something legitimate."