The Wyndham Legacy (12 page)

He said then, in a voice she recognized as the eye of the storm, “I will kill you, Duchess. After breakfast.”

“But you don't yet know why or if you would still want to.”

“I'll want to. It doesn't matter, it—”

“I'm your wife.”

She watched his hand holding a butter knife become perfectly still. He had a brioche halfway to his mouth. It remained halfway. He shook his head, then winced from the pain it brought him in his ribs. He looked over at her, then shook his head again.

He said very politely, “I beg your pardon?”

“I'm your wife. We're married.”

Still he couldn't take it in, he couldn't make the words take on sense. She thrust out her hand toward him. He stared at it, bewildered, then watched her waggle her third finger.

He saw the plain gold band.

He said, still staring at that finger with its ring, “You said that you're my wife?”

“Yes, Marcus. I can explain everything if you will allow me to.”

“Oh yes, I will allow that. Then I will kill you.”

“We drugged you. I insisted because I knew you would never agree. You're much too proud, too stubborn. You would have never listened to reason.”

“Spears assisted you.”

“Yes, as did Badger. I hope you won't blame either of them. They believed strongly in what we did. They didn't want to see you lose your inheritance because of—”

“Yes, Duchess? Because of?”

“Because you're such a stubborn sod. And because you somehow imagine that this punishes my father, who is dead and doesn't know a thing. And because you dislike me so very much.”

“I see. So first, Spears tried to drug me, but he didn't know that I wanted sex with Lisette more than his lukewarm tea, and didn't drink it. Thus I heard the intruders break into my lodgings. I should probably have shot all of you.”

“We had only until June sixteenth, Marcus. Otherwise the American Wyndhams would have inherited everything. I couldn't allow that to happen. Surely you must see that.”

“May I ask how long you've been planning this?”

“Since the morning you ran away.”

“I didn't run away. I left an intolerable situation.” He stopped, leaning back in his chair. He looked at his fingertips tapping rhythmically on the tabletop. “I didn't want to ever see Chase Park again, you know.”

“You don't have to, but you own it. You now have no more worries. There will be no more allowances, no asking Mr. Wicks for permission to do this or to do that. Everything is in your control now, Marcus. Everything.”

“And the only price to pay is having you for my wife.”

He'd said it calmly, quietly, but she felt herself stiffen nonetheless. There would be more, she could practically hear the words forming on his tongue. She didn't have long to wait after she said, “I hope, I pray, that having me as your wife isn't too heinous a prospect.”

It was as if she were purposefully asking for insult, she thought, and wondered what he would say. He said, “It is a prospect that I am still unable to credit. Yesterday, I was a single man with his very charming mistress, content with his two-hundred-pound quarterly allowance. This morning, I awaken to find myself back in the earl's boots. I had thrown those boots away, Duchess. I didn't want them back.”

“Then why did you fight the man who called you the Dispossessed Earl?”

He roared to his feet, nearly toppling the table. One coffee cup fell to its side. She watched the coffee drip onto the table and run in a thin quick line to the edge and then to the floor.

“How the hell do you know about that, damn you? Ah, it was that bloody Spears! I'll kill him after I've seen to you. Good God, have all of you been planning this?”

His face was white, his hands tight fists. If his ribs hurt, she doubted he felt it. He was finally furious. He was finally over the edge. Very slowly, she rose to face him. She splayed her fingers on the table. “Marcus, you don't have to keep me as a wife. Indeed, I had intended to go back to London at the end of the week to spare you the sight of me. What I wanted to happen has happened. Everything is as it should have been. Surely you can forgive me, or at least forget me without too much anger.”

“You damned sacrificed female goat! I won't have it, Duchess. You have tricked me, manipulated my valet, drugged me, all to give me back what I didn't want. Don't you remember what I told Mr. Wicks? I don't want it, none of it. That damned pederast, Trevor, will become the next earl.” He paused and rubbed his fingers over his jaw. “Well, that can still happen, can't it? My thinking processes aren't quite sharpened yet this morning, doubtless because of the dose of laudanum you forced down my throat.

“But I'm thinking now. Yes, Trevor could easily be the next earl. After all, I would have to force myself to bed you, probably many times, to get you with child. And what if it were a girl you birthed? Then I would have to force myself to take you again and again for the male child.” He stopped again this time because he saw that her face was perfectly white. But it didn't matter. He didn't care. “To bring myself to seek out your bed would require more than I have, Duchess. It is true what I said to Mr. Wicks. Whispering love words to a bloody inert woman would shrivel me into oblivion. Is your flesh as cold as you are, Duchess? Would you perhaps sob softly whilst I
had my filthy way with you? No answer. Well, what did I expect? How did you bring yourself to say your vows during our eminently forgettable marriage ceremony? Yes, just look at you, all tight and stiff and cold.

“I would have to lay Lisette there beside you so that I could look at her while I took you, hear her laugh and moan and scream so that I could force myself to even touch you.” He was doing it again, he thought vaguely, hurling insults at her again, insults that had to cut deep. But this time she'd done it, she'd gone too far—drugged him for God's sake—and he refused to take them back or apologize. Besides, it was possible that what he said was true.

Oddly, although she knew intense pain at his words, she felt no anger. She said then over his harsh breathing, “You don't know that, Marcus.”

“Don't know what, curse you?”

“If you would need your mistress there to stimulate you.”

He shook his head, his right hand lightly stroking over his ribs. But the pain dulled, oh yes, dulled to practically nothing when he looked at her perfidious face again. “I don't believe this, any of it. I will spend the day determining if I wish to strangle you. Send me Spears. I have a meeting with Wellington and have no wish to miss it.”

She merely nodded and left him.

B
ADGER LOOKED CLOSELY
at her, not saying anything for the longest time, waiting for her to speak, but, of course, she didn't. She was the most self-contained individual he'd ever met in his life. He'd always believed her inviolate—that's what her mother had always said—but now he wasn't so sure. The thought of her with Marcus Wyndham, the thought of that man as her husband, a man who was outrageous in his speech, who said, in fact, anything it pleased him to say, who gave way to rage and anger with the speed and precision of a battlefield surgeon, worried him profoundly. But then the young earl got over it, and cleanly, realizing of course that he'd strewn insults and hurtful words in his wake, but not knowing the power of them. Badger shook his head and said finally, “Duchess, I heard him yelling.”

“Oh yes, his yelling. He is quite good at it, but for the most part, he was fairly quiet. Then he saw me again when he was on the point of leaving.” She drew in her breath. She'd meant to stay out of his way once she'd left him to his breakfast, but she was worried about his injuries, and thus had returned to his bedchamber. Her hand was raised to knock on the door just as he'd opened it. He looked like a banged-up demon, she thought, with his black eye, the swelling in his jaw.

“You're a little late, Duchess,” he'd said in that sneering
voice of his that made her wonder who this man was, for surely Marcus wouldn't sneer like that. “I'm not naked anymore. Indeed, I am leaving this house. I assume it is yours?”

“Yes, I rented it before I came to Paris. You may remain here, if you like, Marcus.”

“Why? Do you mean you told my landlord that I had been shot and was no longer in Paris? Did that bastard Spears bring all my clothes over here?”

“I don't know.”

“ ‘I don't know,' ” he repeated, his voice thick with sarcasm. “This was all your plan, wasn't it? What the hell do you mean, ‘I don't know'?”

“If Spears did bring all your clothes here, then don't you think you'd like to remain here? Perhaps you would like to dine with me this evening?”

He looked down at her from the intimidating height he'd attained during the past five years. She realized with a start that she came only to his jaw. “Have dinner with my wife? That's a novel idea. A wife, a commodity I hadn't ever considered. Well, yes, I did, didn't I, for all of five seconds when dear Mr. Wicks gave me my ultimatum. It sounded damnable to me then and now it makes me want to puke. No, I believe I will be spending the evening with my mistress.”

“I wish you wouldn't, Marcus. I ask that you come back here and let us speak about the future.”

“The future? You think you have changed everything, don't you, Duchess? Well, I don't know what I'm going to do, but whatever it is, it won't include you. Good day, madam.”

He stomped down the corridor, stopped, wheeled about, and shouted, “Don't wait up for me, will you. God knows, Lisette is a greedy puss, and in her bed I intend to forget you and all you've done to me.”

Hurtful words, she thought. Marcus had never learned brakes for his tongue.

She now said aloud to Badger, “For the most part, he preferred to stomp this time rather than waste his breath. Though when he does yell, the neighborhood must enjoy the drama.” She sat down in a window seat, her hands folded quietly in her lap. “I imagine that everyone in the house heard him slam out of the front door.”

“Yes. Did he agree to, well, anything?”

She gave him a ghost of a smile. “Do you mean is he delighted that I am his wife?”

“I shouldn't go that far yet with a man like the earl.”

“No you shouldn't. I believe, actually, that he informed me that he would be spending the evening and night with his mistress. You know, Badger, the one who has the pretty name and isn't, according to Spears, a harpy.”

“He wouldn't! That's . . . why that's—”

“He is quite remarkably upset with me. As for your part and Spears's part, I believe that will blow over. I am beginning to realize that his lordship is like a short-lived typhoon. Quick to rage and quick to a smile.”

Badger wasn't so sure about that, but he just shrugged, saying, “Do you believe he will return here tonight?”

“I doubt it. I told him I would be leaving for London on Friday.”

“Will he be willing to accept your gift to him?”

She said nothing, merely turned and lifted the heavy gold brocade drapery and gazed out onto the street. “He has no choice; at least I could do that much for him. But he doesn't appear to see it that way. He just kept saying that he didn't want the damned earldom.”

“That could present a problem, Duchess.”

“Oh? Whatever do you mean, Badger?”

“Annulment.”

She looked puzzled, then her brow cleared. “I understand. Forgive me for being so slow. I read about it in the
London Gazette,
a certain Lord Havering annulled the marriage of his daughter to a Major Bradley.”

“Do you know what it means, Duchess?”

“It means that Marcus can cancel out our marriage? That it can all be undone?”

“That's what it means, but it isn't possible if he, well, if you and he consummate your marriage.”

No betraying flush rose on her cheeks. Her expression remained contained. She said only, “Oh, dear. That could present a problem, couldn't it?”

“Aye, if his lordship thinks about it, if he realizes he can annul the marriage, both Spears and I fear he would act before he realized what he was doing. Men who feel betrayed will do stupid things. Actually, with his lordship, I should say he can't stand not to be in control. So for him this is beyond betrayal since it hits at the heart of what he sees himself to be.”

“Oh dear,” she said again. “You are doubtless right, Badger. Oh dear.” She rose and shook out her skirts of pale yellow muslin. “Another plan then. But first things first, Badger. You know where Lisette lives?”

“Yes,” Badger said, eyeing her closely. “Her full name is Lisette DuPlessis.”

“Good,” the Duchess said and left the drawing room.

 

The narrow building set in a lovely residential neighborhood on the Rue Varenne looked inviting, the Duchess thought. At least it must look very inviting to Marcus, and inviting enough to Lisette since she agreed to let Marcus have her live there. Since it was early summer, the trees were thick and full, shading the street. She nodded to Badger, saw that he would argue, and repeated, “No, you will remain here. Stand under that oak tree yon and look French.”

He blinked, saw that elusive smile of hers, and stepped back to lean against the tree trunk.

A very homely young maid answered her knock. She believed I would be a gentleman, probably Marcus, the Duchess thought, as she nodded and held out her visiting card.

“I would like to see your mistress, please,” she said.
Mistress,
she thought, smiling inside,
how very apt language was upon occasion.

The young woman gave a mighty frown, eyed the Duchess carefully, then tossed a head of remarkably fine blond hair. She left the Duchess standing on the doorstep.

She stepped inside a small entrance hall, closing the door behind her. The maid didn't look back. In front of her a narrow staircase rose to the second floor, then wound up to a third. She heard women's voices speaking rapid French. She sat down on a single chair in the entrance hall and folded her hands in her lap, and waited, something she was very good at doing.

Five more minutes passed. She heard more conversation, something about changing clothing. The Duchess wondered if Lisette were wearing something very alluring. She trusted Marcus wouldn't show up on the doorstep while she was here.

Lisette was more or less what she expected. She was young, quite well formed in the bosom, appeared to have a waist the size of two male fists pressed together, and didn't boast all that many inches in height. The impression was one of innocence and the knowledge of Eve, surely a potent combination. The Duchess then saw the wary look in her dark eyes.

“
Oui?
” she said, coming slowly down the stairs. She was wearing a frock that didn't shout her profession, at least to the Duchess's eye. It was a soft dark blue muslin, banded with a lighter blue ribbon beneath her breasts.

The Duchess rose and smiled and said in passable French, “My name is Josephina Wyndham, Lady Chase. May I speak to you for a moment?”

Lisette started to speak, then shook her head. “Come into the drawing room.”

The Duchess didn't hesitate. Only the truth would serve, and she spit it out quickly with no digressions, speaking as quickly as her French would allow, finishing finally,
“ . . . So you see, I must consummate my marriage with his lordship else he could annul it and then all would be lost, for him, that is. I was told that you were an honest woman, Mademoiselle DuPlessis, that you weren't out to . . . well . . . take all his money. Would you help me save him?”

Lisette could only stare at the beautiful young woman sitting so calmly opposite her. “You are truly married to him? You truly drugged him? All of this is true?”

The Duchess nodded. “It is true, all of it.”

“I can't imagine Marcus standing for it.
Mon Dieu!
A woman getting the better of him. It would not be a happy thought for him. It would wound his male dignity to eternity, I think. Ah, it is glorious what you did.” This brought out a wicked smile that the Duchess saw before Lisette lowered her eyes. “My Marcus, he must be truly enraged. He must be beside himself, you, a girl, outsmarting him. He is a man who must be in control. Is he even now tearing Paris apart with his bare hands?”

The Duchess smiled, she couldn't help herself. “I imagine he would if his ribs weren't so very sore. Perhaps he will after he has healed. However, I hope that by next week he will see more reason than not, and realize that what he now has he won't want to give up again.”

“And what would you like me to do?”

“I would like to give you ten thousand francs to change your lodging and not see Marcus again. I do not wish you to be hurt financially for your assistance in this matter, thus I willingly give you the francs so that you can find a new lodging and a new gentleman that you like.”

“I see,” Lisette said, her mind racing. Ten thousand francs! It was a great deal of money, surely enough to tide her over until she had a new protector, one of her choice, one like Marcus, not one she had to settle for. She wondered if she would find another man like Marcus, a man who was an excellent lover, a man who enjoyed a
woman's pleasure, a man who knew more ways to pleasure than even she, Lisette, had yet experienced. She looked over at Marcus's new wife, a young lady who really was quite lovely and quite nice, but there was such innocence about her, such an air of frankness and simplicity. Marcus would surely eat her for his breakfast. She had drugged him and married him? All to save him? It was all a very strange notion to Lisette. Then she sat back and thought about this entire strange interview. She found herself beginning to laugh. “I am sorry,” she said after a moment. “It's just that a wife coming to see a gentleman's mistress—it has never happened to me before. It is too much.” She wiped her eyes and smiled at the Duchess. “And you aren't jealous. If you don't approve of me, you hide it well. Don't you care anything about his lordship?”

“Oh yes,” the Duchess said, “but that isn't the point, don't you see?”

“Yes, perhaps I do see,” Lisette said slowly as she rose. “His lordship will be here in three hours. That is his normal time. I have much to do if I am to be gone before he arrives.”

The Duchess rose. She pulled a small slip of paper from her reticule. “Here is the address of a new lodging in the Faubourg Saint Honoré. There are many embassies there, many gentlemen of wealth and influence. The apartment is very close to the Elysée Palace, a center of power.”

Lisette walked to stand face-to-face with the Duchess. She said, “I have never met a lady like you before. You are too young to be as you are, so very understanding, so accepting of the fact that I have slept with the man you have married. I am fond of Marcus, but he is like a volcano. You appear to be more like Lake Como, all calm and clear, with no waves.”

The Duchess smiled. “Perhaps. However, what is important here is that Marcus not annul our marriage. I do thank
you for your help, Mademoiselle DuPlessis.”

Lisette said, “Next to the Elysée Palace, you say? Excellent, just excellent.” She paused, then very gently she laid her hand on the lady's sleeve. “Marcus is a good man. Don't let him hurt you, madame.”

“Because he is who he is, it is impossible for him not to hurt me.” With those confusing words, the Duchess left her husband's mistress, her husband's former mistress.

 

She left the door to the drawing room open. She heard him come in the front door, slam it and yell for Spears, then Badger, and when neither of those two very intelligent gentlemen responded, he stomped into the drawing room. He looked like a very handsome bandit in his officer's scarlet-and-white uniform, his sword strapped to his waist. Uniforms should be outlawed, she thought. It made men look too splendid. Just now Marcus looked dangerous and splendid, an unlikely combination, but it was true.