Trust Me (36 page)

She watched him walk
to his desk. He opened a box and took out a cigar then walked to the hearth and
lit it. He put it to his mouth and began to draw upon it.

“
Jon?
” she
asked again, unable to keep the anguish from her voice.

“I appreciate your
coming here. I appreciate your concern.”

How carefully he
phrased those words. And of course, she had come here just as soon as she had
heard from Maria Waterbury that his wife had left him. Left him for Saxby.

“I’ll have Toby see
you home.”

“I don’t understand.”

He laughed, in that
cold, cynical way he often did. He reached into his coat pocket. Then he held
out his hand. A locket lay in his palm. She approached him and took a closer
glance. Her heart crumpled, the walls came crashing in upon themselves.

The black hair. The
dark eyes and rich olive skin.

She knew him very,
very well. Knew his tastes.

This woman was
created to catch his eye. To suit his fancy.

He would have no
defences against such a creature.

“This is why I can’t
and why you have to leave now,” he said.

“But she has her own
lover.”

“So she does. I still
can’t.” He chuckled, cold and self-mocking yet again.

Her crushed, crumpled
heart twisted with pain. She loved him.

God help her, she had
always loved him.

“Jon, I can help
you.” She lowered her eyes. “I can help you forget her.”

“But
I don’t want to forget. That’s my problem.”

She
looked up again. “You will. When that time comes, you should call for me.”

He
shook his head. “I won’t.”

His
voice resonated with pain.

Rebecca
could feel his pain right down to her bones.

****

 
“Jon!”

Jon looked up from the political pamphlet
he held.

From the open doorway to the
drawing room, Grandmother glared at him, violent colour flaming across her high
cheekbones. “Who was that-that common
creature
who just left here, bold
as day in the carriage?”

He returned his attention the pamphlet.
“No one you would know.”

Grandmother rapped her cane on
the marble floor of the hall and the sound echoed loudly. “Do not mock me! I
will not have you bringing your fancy pieces here.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look up. “You
have chased my wife off to the country. I sleep in a cold bed. You leave me
little choice.”

Her forehead wrinkled deeply. “I
wish you would consider returning to live at your townhouse.”

“I let it for rent. I shan’t be
able to reclaim it for the Season.”

“But you could rent something else
for yourself. Temporarily.”

“I could, that’s true. However, I
have no wish to do so.” He glanced up and made a motion with his hand. “I have
come to appreciate all the grandeur of Lloyd House.”

“You’re refusing just to be
difficult. Just to vex me!” She glared at him again. Were her eyes a trifle
glassy?

“Careful now, Grandmother, you’re
oversetting yourself,” he said.

Anne was gone. The fault for
sending Grandmother away would rest solely at his feet. The time had come to
inform the old dragon of his decision. “I think you should retire to the
country and take up residence in the dowager house. I am also reducing your
allowance to that which will maintain you in such modest circumstances.”

She went completely pale. Her
mouth fell open.

Satisfaction surged through him.
She had once sent his mother from this house. She had chased Anne away as well.

Now she would taste what it was
like to be completely powerless.

“
The dowager house
?” She
spoke as though such a thing were wholly incomprehensible.

“Yes. Because if I can convince
my wife to return home, I don’t want you here.”

She rapped her cane on the floor
several more times. “I will not have it! I will not have it!”

Her body began to shake, her eyes
glazed and her mouth went slack. He watched in fascination as the cane came
down again and went sideways.

Grandmother collapsed into a heap
of silk and velvet upon the marble tiles of the floor.

****

“Anne,
there’s a Mrs Howland here to see you.”

Sebastian’s
words startled Anne. Not quite believing her ears, she looked up from her book.
“Mrs
Howland
?”

Sebastian
frowned as though confused. “Is she a relation of yours? I have never heard of
her.”

Anne
didn’t wish to discuss the matter. Her mind spun. What could the woman possibly
want? How dare she show herself here!

She
was the absolute last person Anne would ever want to see.

Yet
Anne found herself compelled to find out what the woman wanted.

“Send
her up,” she said in a cool tone.

“Anne,
the very mention of her name made your face go pale. I don’t think you need to
see anyone who provokes such a visceral reaction in you.”

“I
will see her,” Anne reasserted firmly.

Sebastian
did not look pleased but he turned and left nonetheless.

Anne
looked up from her book. “I have no objections.”

A
petite, thin woman came in to the drawing room.

She
was quite pretty, in an understated way, with sky–blue eyes and light-brown
hair interwoven with gold highlights. Her skin was pale, almost translucently
so. Her heart-shaped face bore delicate features.

She
seemed ill at ease.

“Won’t
you sit?” Anne asked.

The
woman shook her head. “I am here because Lord Ruel asked me to come and have a
look at you.”

“My
husband asked you to come here.”

The
woman nodded. She stood closer to the windows now and the midday sun blanched her
skin, revealing fine lines and slight weathering.

“My
name is Rebecca Howland and I was his laundress in the Dragoons.”

“Yes,
of course you were,” Anne said woodenly.

Why
had Jon sent his mistress here? Of all people!

Yet
Anne found herself fascinated. Rebecca Howland was very different from what she
had imagined. She’d pictured a very basic, selfish sort of woman. Like Maria
Waterbury but a common version.

The
most striking thing about Mrs Howland was her air of humility. And her
softly-coloured eyes were kind.

“You
know, I served with him for years.” She held her hands out, using them to add
emphasis to her words. “I did
everything
.”

“You
did
everything
for him?” Anne couldn’t help the irony that crept into
her tone.

“Oh
well, yes, I did everything that was required of me by the regiment. That it is
for a woman who follows the drum. Men are sick and wounded. Women have their
troubles too. Everyone has to pitch in with their particular skills, yes?”

She
asked Anne as though Anne would know anything about war or following a solider
around Europe and America. Nevertheless, Anne nodded.

“But
sometimes people are wounded in their minds or their spirits, and we don’t know
how to help them.” Mrs Howland’s voice rose as though she were still reeling
from those situations, as though she were pleading for understanding, or mercy.

Or
forgiveness.

“But
we
tried
,
” Rebecca
Howland said.

“Of course you did.”
Anne felt a measure of sympathy for this woman, despite herself. It could not
have been easy for her to watch her husband sink into the despair of madness
and be unable to do anything to help him.

The woman shrugged.
She was so animated, like a tiny bird, flittering her hands, shifting her body.

God, she must be
nervous to be here, talking to Jon’s wife. His countess, no less. Anne found
enough tolerance to continue to listen.

“Jon thinks the
doctors must be wrong. He doesn’t want them treating you with purges and
plasters. He would have come himself but, as you must know, the dowager’s
sudden illness has occupied him over the past days.”

“The dowager is ill?”

“Yes, my lady.” She
drew her brows together. “Hadn’t you heard?”

“No.”

“Jon— Lord Ruel
didn’t send word?”

Anne felt her
features turn stony. She didn’t wish to discuss the current state of affairs
between herself and Jon with this woman.

Mrs Howland seemed to
take the hint. She looked away.

Uncomfortable silence
hung between them.

Then the woman turned
to her again. “My lady, may I have a look at you? And ask you some questions,
yes?”

“No, I don’t think so.”
Really, she had humoured this
 
stranger
long enough.

Mrs Howland took a
deep breath. “Have I offended you, my lady?”

“Please, just go back
to Jon and tell him I am fine and I require nothing from him at this time.”

Rebecca frowned. “Do
you have dreams at night? I mean frightening dreams about your accident?”

“I don’t wish to
discuss that subject.”

“All right, but no… I
need to know when those dreams began in earnest? When exactly did they become a
nightly occurrence?” She smiled kindly, though her girlish demeanour was
beginning to grate. “And perhaps these dreams trouble you by bleeding into your
daytime hours, so that sometimes it becomes hard to tell what is fantasy and
what is not?”

Anne’s blood turned
to ice. “I. Do. Not. Wish. To. Discuss. This.”

“I think know what
ails you, my lady. But I cannot be certain if you will not let me examine you
and you will not answer my questions.” She sighed and her shoulders sagged.

“I am mad. That’s
what is ailing me.” Anne couldn’t help the icy tone. She just wanted this
person gone.

Gone.

“You’re increasing.”

Anne frowned.
“Increasing?”

“Yes, but I cannot
say how far along you would be.” She looked uncomfortable. “But a little longer
than you’ve been wed, I think, for something like this to occur.”

“Something like
what?”

“An increase in the…
Oh, I don’t know how to say it. The incidences of terror and memories of the
accident. The sudden panics and sweats. Things of that sort. They are
temporary. I saw them in other women who had suffered, you know, agonies of terror
from witnessing their husbands killed in war or any horrific thing we
experienced. We had to be right in the thick of it with our men. Women can
become just as battle-weary as men.”

“I haven’t had my
courses in a couple of months, but I know I am not with child.”

Rebecca Howland
frowned and cocked her head to one side. “Why do you believe this?”

“My courses did end
for a while after the… the death of my first husband. When my dreams and waking
daydreams were at their worst. This is no different.”

“Well, my lady, I
think this time it
is
pregnancy. When a woman starts to increase, her
body humours can become unsettled, even unbalanced, and it can intensify any
pre-existing physical or emotional… well, you understand?”

Anne understood but
couldn’t accept.

It would be a
disaster if she were carrying the Ruel heir. It wouldn’t do for any earl to
have a mother who was known to have mad blood running in her veins.

Yes, her dreams had
been peaceful since she’d come to the country.

But those nightmares
could, and likely would, return at any time.

It would only take
the least trigger…

“My lady, may I make
a very impertinent suggestion?”

Anne gaped at her.
Make an impertinent suggestion? This whole visit had been impertinent!

“Your ability to
reason and make judgements and decisions may also be affected at this time. It
is, as I say, temporary. But you should keep in mind that you may not be
thinking rationally.”

“What exactly are you
trying to say?”

“Perhaps the decision
to leave Lord Ruel is a choice you would not have made if this pregnancy were
not affecting your powers of judgement?”

“I am
not
pregnant!” Anne exclaimed.

The petite woman
startled.

Anne took a deep
breath and tried to control her mounting ire. All this time she had been
waiting for Dr Smith to come and examine her. He would settle the question of
whether or not she was carrying a child. And Anne knew she was not. “I know my
own body. I think I would know if I were with child.”