One Wicked Winter Page 13

  Edward rolled his eyes.

  “For God’s sake, Charlie. Do something useful, and go and get some cards. I’m in the mood to win back that twenty pounds.”

  “Good luck with that, my lord,” Charlie replied, smirking and avoiding Edward’s eyes.

  “Did you fuzz the cards, you tricky bastard?” Edward demanded in outrage.

  Charlie looked back at him with an expression of deep reproach, and laid a hand over his heart. “‘Ow could ye, my lord! As if I would?”

  Edward grunted.

  “‘Sides, don’t need to,” Charlie muttered under his breath with a grin, which broadened further as the marquess scowled at him. “‘Ere, shouldn’t you be goin’ down and doin’ the pretty with your betrothed tonight? If you start playin’ cards, ye won’t stop afore the early hours a tomorrow, I know.” He frowned at Edward, shaking his head. “You might at least ‘ave a few kind words for the young lady the day before ye wed ‘er.”

  Edward didn’t look up but continued to work his way through the beef. “Go get the cards, Charlie.

  Charlie sighed. “Very well, my lord.”

  ***

  Belle had succumbed to the tray in her room after all, but she knew she couldn’t hide herself away forever. She could hardly spend all evening in her room, too. Sooner or later, she must face everyone, and Winterbourne. God help her.

  He’d truly frightened her this afternoon, but yet, after she had slammed the door on him, she realised he had been as horrified by his actions as she had, and to be fair, she had struck him first. He hadn’t actually hurt her, either; it had been more of a shock, a shock which had been reflected in his eyes. He had meant to intimidate and frighten her, for sure, and had succeeded, but not, she thought, to actually do her any harm. Even the warning which followed, gruff and angry as it had been, had held a note of apology, as though he didn’t trust himself.

  But there was no getting away from the fact that the man had a horrible temper and he didn’t know how to control it. Belle decided she had best do everything she could to understand the man, and fast. She was not about to spend the rest of her days in fear of her husband, so she would need to figure out a way to manage him. With that in mind, she decided she’d best speak to his sister.

  As if she had conjured her up, there was a soft knock at the door, and Belle opened it to find Violette waiting for her, a sympathetic smile on her face.

  “I thought perhaps you might like some company?” she asked as Belle returned her smile and gestured for her to come in.

  “I would, thank you,” Belle admitted, closing the door behind her. She took a breath and decided to address the elephant in the room. “Also, I need to thank you, so much, for saving me last night. If you hadn’t ... hadn’t ...” Belle stopped, flushing as she remembered exactly what Violette would have witnessed.

  The lovely young woman just grinned at her. “Do you know, I tried to ruin myself so that Aubrey would be forced to marry me, but I didn’t do it half so well.”

  Belle gaped at her, torn between chagrin and astonishment. “B-but I didn’t ... I never meant to ...”

  Violette waved an airy hand and settled herself down in a chair, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet up beneath her. “Oh, I know you meant to have Lord Nibley,” she said, giving Belle an apologetic smile, as she must look increasingly appalled. “It was quite obvious, you know,” she added, though not unkindly. “But really, you are just what Edward needs, and it simply seemed like the best solution all around.”

  Belle sat down before her legs gave out. “It did? I do?” she croaked, not entirely sure she had the questions the right way around, but too startled to figure it out.

  “Oh, yes,” Violette nodded. “You see, now you and Miss Lucretia are secure, and I already know that we get on famously, so I’m thrilled to have you both for sisters.” This was said with such enthusiasm that Belle couldn’t doubt the sincerity of her words. “And poor Edward.” She gave a heavy sigh and shook her head. “He was such a jovial, happy fellow before he went away. Never took anything seriously. Used to drive me mad, actually,” she added with a sad smile. “But now ... well, you’ve seen.”

  Belle nodded. Indeed, she had.

  “He needs a strong hand, Belle. May I call you Belle?”

  “I wish you will,” Belle replied with a smile that faltered a little. “I’m afraid we had a dreadful row earlier,” she admitted. “And ... actually, he rather frightened me.”

  Violette looked at her with regret and nodded. “I’m so sorry. But Edward would never hurt you, physically, at least, I’m certain of that much. He just doesn’t have it in him. Though I wouldn’t put it past him to go out and pick a fight. He’s not past punishing himself, you see. It’s quite likely you’ll find him coming back bloodied and bruised on occasion.” Belle gasped at the idea and Violette shrugged, implying she didn’t understand it in the least either. “But he won’t physically hurt you. Not ever,” she continued. “I’m afraid I cannot speak for his tongue, though. He ... he has it in him to be rather cruel.”

  “I have discovered,” Belle replied with a grim smile.

  Violette looked pained and Belle felt guilty for some reason she couldn’t fathom. Only that Violette had done so much and been so kind, and she seemed to be placing her hopes in Belle returning Winterbourne to the man he’d once been. It seemed too unlikely to be plausible.

  “I will try,” she said, her voice gentle. “I will do my best to be a good wife to him and not ... not to anger him too much.”

  “Oh no!” Violette cried, looking genuinely appalled. “That’s what everyone does! It simply doesn’t work. If no one challenges him, he gets away with being rude and odious, and it just gets worse. No, no, Belle, I beg of you. Whatever you do, do not allow him to bully you! Don’t placate him, whatever you do.”

  Belle let go of a breath of relief, because she never had been able to keep her tongue between her teeth, and heaven knew the marquess brought out the worst in her. But could she really stand up to that angry, rude man, day after day? Well, she’d just have to grow a backbone, she supposed, because she would not spend the rest of her days cowering in her room.

  “I’ll do my best,” she said with a smile.

  Violette beamed at her and reached out to take her hand. “I know that you will,” she said, giving her fingers a squeeze.

  “Has Crecy read her way through the library yet?” Belle asked, eager to change the subject to safer ground, but Violette looked puzzled.

  “Oh, I haven’t seen her since this morning,” she replied with a frown. “I assumed she was in her room. Have you not seen her?”

  “No,” Belle said, her voice faint. “She went out riding hours ago.”

  Crecy would not have come upstairs without calling in on her. Belle had simply assumed she’d found a good book and forgotten the time. To be truthful, she’d been so consumed by her own problems that she hadn’t really given Crecy much thought. Guilt burned and her heart gave an uneven thump as she looked out at the skies, it was almost dark now, and it looked like it might snow again. She turned to Violette, too frightened to speak.

  Violette leapt to her feet, her tone brusque. “Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s here, we’ve just not seen her. Come along, let’s go and track her down.”

  Belle nodded, but with her heart in her throat, and hurried down the stairs in search of her sister.

  Chapter 16

  “Wherein a ceremony ...”

  Crecy had not been seen since she’d left the house this morning in the company of a groom. The groom had returned about an hour after they’d left, having been given the slip. Belle was informed in no uncertain terms that her sister was a bruising rider, and whilst Crecy might have glowed with pleasure from the man’s accolades, Belle felt rather differently. All she could imagine was her sister, lying in a ditch as the temperature plummeted.

  She stifled a sob and was about to demand a search party be mounted immediately when Crecy strolled t
hrough the front door.

  Her face was flushed with the cold and her hair all awry, but other than that, her eyes were sparkling and she looked perfectly lovely and full of life.

  Belle wanted to strangle her.

  “Crecy!” she exclaimed with relief, still not sure if she wanted to hug her sister or throttle her. “Where on earth have you been?”

  “Sorry, Belle, Mrs Russell,” she said, looking a little sheepish as she saw the groom she’d abandoned and various other members of staff gathered around and clearly discussing her whereabouts. “I got lost.”

  “And no wonder!” Belle threw back at her. “What were you thinking, going off without a groom or anyone to chaperone you? How could you? Anything could have happened.”

  Crecy blushed and put up her chin a little. “Well, it didn’t, Belle, and I said I’m sorry already. I am cold however, and famished. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and dress for dinner.”

  Belle watched her go in mute astonishment and could only echo Lady Russell’s words as the old lady leaned close and whispered in her ear. “Keep an eye on that one, Miss Holbrook, she’s full of secrets.”

  Belle experienced a chill of foreboding as she knew only too well that Lady Russell was right. She didn’t believe for a moment Crecy had been lost. Which begged the question, where the devil had she been?

  ***

  Belle did not manage to get anything further from Crecy, who was adamant she’d been lost and nothing more. With her own future a more immediate concern, Belle had to let it rest, for now, at least. For now, she stood before the looking glass in her best blue gown as she prepared to go downstairs and marry the Marquess of Winterbourne.

  “You look lovely, Belle,” Crecy whispered, slipping her fingers into Belle’s and squeezing. Belle returned the gesture, but found her face was too frozen to attempt anything resembling a smile.

  “Thank you, Crecy,” she replied, sounding rather faint and unlike herself. She hadn’t seen Winterbourne again since their row, and somehow the man had become a monster in her mind in the intervening hours. She tried to cling to Violette’s words and prayed he might not be as unreasonable as she had painted him during the long, anxious hours of a sleepless night. But the idea that she would have to share a bed with the man tonight ...

  She was assailed with so many conflicting emotions at that idea that she didn’t know which one to grab for first. The idea of being intimate with the bullying brute who had been so odiously rude to her the previous day was nothing short of horrific. Yet if she allowed her mind to drift back to the evening in the library, with those soft lips tracing a path across her skin ... a flush of heat assailed her, at least putting a little colour in her otherwise wan complexion.

  “Are you ready, Belle? It’s time to go.” Belle nodded and turned and saw Crecy watching her with such anxiety that she knew she must do a better job at putting a brave face on. After all, it wasn’t so bad. Longwold would be her home, the beautiful gardens she had already come to love would be hers to discover and walk as she wished. She would be the Marchioness Winterbourne, with position, money, more than she had ever dreamed of at her fingertips, and most of all, a future for Crecy. A future where her sister could be allowed the time to fall in love with a man who loved her in return. Something Belle would likely never know. But neither would she starve, nor be forced to live a life outside of polite society in an effort to put food on the table and a roof over her head.

  It could be so much worse.

  So, she forced her unwilling face to move into something resembling a smile and her voice when she spoke was even and did not tremble. “I am,” she said, giving Crecy a quick hug before picking up the pretty little bouquet that had been sent to her room. Anemones from the estate’s hothouse tied into a sweet little posy. Violette’s doing, no doubt. Anemones, if she recalled correctly, meant love ever steadfast. She choked back the bitter laughter that accompanied that idea. Somehow, she couldn’t see Lord Winterbourne choosing something that made such a bold declaration. Belle wondered idly if there were a flower for can barely stand to be in the same room with, or maybe trapped into marriage. She did laugh, then, and had to feign a coughing fit as Crecy ran to fetch her a glass of water.

  Well, no use in delaying now. Winterbourne would be waiting, though she doubted he’d linger after the formalities were done. She’d be lucky if he waited to attend the wedding breakfast before disappearing, if past experience was anything to go on.

  ***

  Belle didn’t remember too much of what happened next, which was perhaps a blessing. They were married in the ancient little chapel on the estate, and all she could really remember was being frozen to the core. It was icy inside, their breath clouding around their faces as they spoke their vows.

  She might have thought her new husband desperately handsome, if she’d dared to more than glance at him. He didn’t so much as look her way after an initial and formal greeting.

  Belle stared down at her plate and tried to shut out the sound of her aunt’s conversation. Lady Russell had quelled her a number of times already, but now that her niece was a marchioness, the wretched woman was harder than ever to shut up. She would have to do something about that.

  The estate’s cook, to whom Violette was keen to introduce her, was a marvel indeed. Mrs Puddleton, or Puddy, as Violette referred to her, had provided a surprisingly simple but sumptuous meal which Belle had barely touched. Her throat was so tight with stress she could barely swallow, and the very idea of putting food in her stomach was enough to make her retch.

  The atmosphere had little of a celebration about it, despite the best efforts of everyone gathered - outside of the newlyweds, that was. Violette and the earl’s wife, Celeste, did all they could to make it a joyous occasion, and both of their husbands did what they could to help, but somehow that just made it all horribly worse. Seeing two such obviously happy marriages, two couples who shared such a deep accord displayed before her, just added insult to injury.

  I am lucky. This is fortunate. I will be content.

  Belle repeated the words over and over, as though she could will them to be true. But all she could remember was the fact that there had been no kiss to seal their marriage in the frigid atmosphere of the icy chapel. The man couldn’t even give her that much, when he’d been quite prepared to take so much more that night in the library. She felt a jolt of fury that he should humiliate her so. Perhaps this was his revenge for finding himself trapped in her snare. Yet he’d known it was a trap. If he hadn’t wanted to get caught, why hadn’t he simply warned Nibley and left well alone, or brought a chaperone or ... or ... No matter how she thought it through, she knew he could easily have escaped this situation, unless he’d meant simply to confront her and then been so caught up with desire that everything else had been forgotten.

  It was an intriguing idea.

  She stole a glance at the man beside her, and was surprised to note that he didn’t look so much angry, as puzzled. He, too, toyed with his food, and cast a leery eye upon the assembled company, clearly wishing them all at Jericho.

  Belle wondered at that fact. Violette had told her he had been a man who loved company and laughing, and was rarely serious before the war. Yet he had come back as one who could barely seem to stand himself, let alone others.

  Well, she could hardly hope him to change overnight. Whatever he had suffered had obviously had a profound effect on him, and she should do her best to understand him and the things that troubled him. It was her best hope to make something of this marriage, after all.

  “Perhaps,” she began, her voice low and tentative as he looked up in astonishment. She wondered if it were possible that he’d forgotten she was there at all. It didn’t seem beyond the realms of possibility. She cleared her throat, determined not to be put off by the suspicion in his eyes. “Perhaps we should cut the cake, and then ... then you can leave if ... if you would prefer some time alone? This has been a strange day, for me, certainly, so I imag
ine it must be for you also.”

  He frowned at her, the suspicious look deepening.

  “I can entertain our guests, I assure you,” she said, trying to find a smile or some expression of warmth to give him. “And ... and I can assure you, I will do everything I can not to cause you any ... distress.”

  Belle stared at him, finding that her hands were clasped tight in her lap. If only she could read him, could have any idea of the thoughts that were shuttered up behind those dark green eyes. She had never seen such a colour before, and it reminded her of a forest, thick and forbidding and full of hidden dangers.

  “Very well,” he replied, his tone gruff.

  True to her word, Belle organised everything, and didn’t even notice when her husband slipped away to leave her with her guests. He did not reappear for dinner, though thankfully she only had to face Violette, Aubrey, and Crecy and her dreadful aunt this time. Lady Russell had retired early with her sister, both of them pleading fatigue, though Belle suspected anything was better than a repeat of this morning’s ordeal, and found she could hardly blame them. The Earl and Countess of Falmouth had a previous engagement, and would be away for a week, at least, before returning for Christmas. After that, they and Lady Russell and Lady Sinclair would return to London.

  Belle arranged that Violette entertain Crecy that evening, thus ensuring a temporary escape from any awkward questions on her part, and after assuring her sister that all was well, retreated to her room.

  Except that now she had a new room, that belonging to the Marchioness of Winterbourne.

  Belle looked around the vast space in awe. It was lavish and opulent, and she wondered what her husband’s mother had been like. The bright red and gold paper was lush and exotic, and the furnishing beyond anything Belle had ever seen. Standing amongst such an obvious display of wealth and excess, Belle felt suddenly more alone than ever in her life before. Her dress seemed cheap and plain against the riches surrounding her, and Belle felt lost in a world that she did not know how to navigate.