They Sought love Read online

  “Are you daring to suggest that I wrote that letter on purpose? It was meant only for your mother’s eyes.”

  “But you knew I would see it, didn’t you?”

  That much was certainly true, but not for the reason he thought. Horrified, she turned away, pressing her hands to her cheeks to hide her sudden blushes.

  “Do not turn away from me,” he snapped, pulling her round to face him. “It is time we had a talk.”

  “What’s the point?” she cried. “You only want to hear what suits you.”

  “And you will only say what suits you,” he sneered. “You are right. There is no point in talking. The deed is done and it is too late to undo it now.”

  “But it isn’t,” she answered with spirit. “If you feel you were tricked into marriage, then clearly we must seek an immediate annulment.”

  He whirled on her and she flinched away from the murder in his eyes.

  “Annulment?” he raged in a soft, venomous voice. “Are you insane to suggest such an idea? Do you think I am going to reveal to the world that I was tricked by a pair of women? Shall I make myself a buffoon for the neighbourhood to laugh at? If you think that, you much misunderstand me, madam.”

  “I don’t – ”

  “Listen to me,” he said fiercely. “I said that what is done is done. We are married and we will have to stay married, however painful such a marriage will be for both of us.”

  “But why does it have to be painful?” she cried.

  “Because I will not allow you to gloat over me, madam. You will find the fruits of your ‘victory’ will turn to ashes.”

  She could not bear this torture a moment longer. The fury in his eyes seemed to tear into her and she turned aside, desperate to run away from him.

  But he seized her, his hands on both shoulders.

  “Stay here and listen to me,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

  “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say while you are like this,” she screamed. “For pity’s sake leave it until tomorrow, when we will both be calmer and – ”

  “Calmer? I shall never be calm again. Outside, I shall observe all the husbandly proprieties, but inside me there will be a hatred that you will never understand.”

  “Then let us end it with an annulment,” she repeated bitterly.

  “I have told you, no. You have made your bed and now you must lie on it – an apt phrase, since this is our wedding night.”

  She read the intention in his eyes and tried to pull away in horror but his hands were hurting her shoulders.

  “Let me go,” she gasped.

  “And deprive you of your victory? This is your moment of success, when I will truly become your husband and no power on earth can separate us again.”

  He pulled her close and the next moment his lips were forced onto hers, fierce, crushing, cruel.

  She had dreamed of this moment, when he would embrace her in the first kiss of their married life, then carry her to bed for the flowering of passion.

  But now the moment was here, she was in his arms while he smothered her with kisses and all she could feel was anger and revulsion.

  Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that her husband would make love to her with loathing and contempt.

  Now it was happening and she could not bear it.

  “No,” she howled frantically. “Not like this.”

  She tried to push him away, but there was a burning light in his eyes that she had never seen before. Suddenly he was a stranger.

  “You are my wife, madam,” he said harshly. “This is no time to be coy.”

  “I am not your wife,” she responded in a hoarse whisper. “Nor shall I ever be. You are not the only one who can hate.”

  She could barely say the last word. His lips were on hers again, silencing her cries, while his arms held her in a merciless grip.

  If only the moment had been different, this would be divinely wonderful. Even now she could feel the thrill in her blood at his nearness, the hot, masculine smell of him with its promise of passion.

  But this was not passion. He was embracing her with scorn and if she did not fight him they would both regret it all their days. Whatever happened between them, it must not be like this.

  In a last desperate struggle she managed to wrench herself free of him. But he was not to be deterred. She saw him reach for her again, and in that split second she drew back her hand and slapped him across the face with all her strength.

  The shock checked him. He stood regarding her, breathing hard.

  “Don’t come any nearer!” she cried. “I mean it.”

  His mouth twisted into a bitter grin.

  “A little melodramatic, madam,” he grated. “A man is expected to make love to his bride.”

  “Not when he has just insulted her. You think that I am so grateful to bear your name that I will settle for any treatment? You will discover that you are wrong.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Now, I would like you to leave.”

  He gave a crackle of laughter.

  “You cannot be serious.”

  “I am completely serious. This is my room and I wish to retire for the night. Kindly leave.”

  She spoke with all the chilly dignity that she could muster, but inwardly she was trembling. She could not force him to leave and if he defied her, she was helpless.

  He was staring at her.

  “You are serious?”

  “Completely serious.”

  “By Heaven, you have the cheek of the devil.”

  “No, sir, I am not the devil, merely a woman who will not allow herself to be abused.”

  “You are my wife!”

  It took all her courage to say quietly,

  “No, I am not. Nor do I ever wish to be.”

  His eyes narrowed and for a dreadful moment she thought that he was going to force the issue. But then he shrugged and gave a sharp angry grunt.

  “This matter is not over, madam.”

  “Goodnight, sir.”

  He turned and walked away through the door that connected their rooms. At once she ran after him and turned the key in the lock, before hurrying to secure the outer door as well.

  Only when she felt safe did she throw herself onto her bed and sob her heart out.

  This was her wedding night.

  *

  Celina had expected to lie awake all night, but she was finally overcome with exhaustion and sank into a deep sleep. At dawn she awoke and lay for a moment wondering where she was.

  Then she remembered.

  She wanted to weep again with despair at the crushing of her dream, but she refused to yield to weakness. She could not spend her life in weeping.

  She became aware that someone was knocking at her door and hurried over. But she did not open it.

  “Who is it?” she asked cautiously.

  “Nora, my Lady,” came a soft voice.

  Celina opened the door and found the maid outside, looking anxious.

  “Shall I bring your Ladyship some tea?” she asked.

  “Thank you, I should like some tea.”

  “Then your dresser will come to help you select what you wish to wear today.”

  “My dresser?”

  “Mrs. Ragley.”

  “But is she not Lady Torrington’s dresser?”

  Nora looked at her as though she was mad.

  “But you are Lady Torrington,” she declared.

  “Oh, yes, so I am.”

  It seemed that, as a Countess, she could not make do with a mere maid. Only a dresser would do.

  From then on Celina felt as though she had been caught up in a machine that dealt with her in stages and passed her on to the next section.

  Her tea arrived, followed by two under-maids, bearing jugs of hot water which they poured into a hip bath and then returned to the kitchen for more.

  When Nora was satisfied that the bath water was perfect, she stood aside and indicated that Celina s
hould get in. She did so and was thoroughly sponged by her efficient maid.

  Only when she had been dried off did Mrs. Ragley appear to pronounce on Celina’s clothes, such as they were. They had been sent over from her house the day before the wedding and Celina guessed that the awesome dresser had already inspected them thoroughly.

  “Has your Ladyship decided how to spend today?” she enquired.

  Lost in her strange situation, Celina had made no plans and said the first thing that came into her head.

  “I think I should like to go riding.”

  Mrs. Ragley took her riding dress from the wardrobe and laid it out. She spoke not a word, but she managed to convey her view that the garment was a temporary affair, soon to be replaced with one more suitable for the Countess of Torrington.

  But even she gave a brief nod of satisfaction at the sight of the new Countess in the dark green costume that emphasised her excellent shape, especially her tiny waist. She curtsied and left the room.

  Breakfast would be waiting for her in the morning room, downstairs. But where was Robin?

  Then she glanced out of the window and saw him riding under the trees. There was no other possible course. She must go down and face him.

  To her relief the morning room was empty, except for Crale, the butler, waiting to serve her from the luxurious spread set out on long tables. Celina had been afraid that the Dowager might be there and she would not have known what to say to her.

  A major battle was approaching, even bigger than the duel of the previous night. She was going to need all her strength to stand up to him.

  ‘And stand up to him is something I simply must do,’ she told herself. ‘Otherwise there is no hope.’

  But hope for what, she wondered.

  Hope for his love? For a happy marriage?

  They were impossible now. The best that might be secured was a conflict of equals, in which neither yielded but neither gained.

  It was a bleak prospect.

  At last she saw his shadow outside the tall French windows that opened onto the terrace and the next moment he had entered the morning room.

  “Good morning, madam,” he said, speaking with cool propriety in front of the butler.

  She returned his greeting in the same manner and waited while he accepted a cup of coffee, before indicating to Crale to depart. With a low bow, he closed the doors behind him.

  Silence. Each was waiting for the other to speak.

  Celina gave him a brief glance. Very faintly on his face she could see the mark that her hand had left last night and it shocked her to realise how hard she must have struck him.

  She looked away, but not before he had seen her glance and thought that he understood it.

  “Relishing your victory, madam?” he asked in a cold voice that was almost a sneer.

  “Not at all,” she replied, determined to remain calm. “I do not regard it as a victory.”

  “Very wise of you, for matters cannot be allowed to remain as they are.”

  “I agree. The sooner we put matters to rights the better.”

  “And your idea of putting matters right is – ?”

  “I told you last night. We must separate and untie the knot as soon as possible.”

  “And I told you that it’s impossible.”

  “Why should it be? Neither of us likes the other or wants remain married. Do you think I want to be your wife after the way you have accused and insulted me?”

  “I had some reason for my suspicions, I think.”

  “You had none. Your mother deceived me as she deceived you and if you had thought about it for a moment you would have realised that.”

  “It just seemed a little too much of a coincidence.

  have been the prey of scheming females for years.”

  Celina turned on him.

  “So that means I am a scheming female? Your conceit is beyond all bounds. I planned the whole escapade, did I? No doubt I also arranged for Lord Delaine to propose to me in London and pursue me when I refused him. Then you walked into my home and found him seizing me in his arms, forcing his ring on my finger. How brilliant I must be to have planned all that!”

  She waited to see if he could answer her barrage, but he remained silent, watching her through narrowed eyes.

  “And just why do you suggest I did it?” she resumed.

  She had managed to overcome her anger and assumed an air of amusement.

  “Was I anxious to marry for a great title? If so, why did I not marry Lord Delaine, whose title is greater than yours? Why would any woman settle for a mere Earl when she could wed a Marquis?”

  “That would depend on the Marquis,” he growled. “I doubt if even Delaine’s title could make him acceptable to a woman of sensibility.”

  “So now I am a woman of sensibility?” she asked with a touch of mockery. “Last night, according to you, I was a scheming harpy, so desperate to marry that I would conspire to trap you. The accusation is preposterous, but you have never minded talking nonsense.”

  “Delaine is a fool,” he snapped.

  “Yes, he is a fool. But he is a kindly man and he adores me. A woman could be very happy with a husband like him. Choose you over him? You must have windmills in your head.”

  “And yet you did choose me over him.”

  “For the sake of your mother, whom I believed to be dying. I too was deceived. Had I known the truth, nothing on earth could have prevailed on me to make such a sacrifice.”

  “Be careful, madam. You will go too far.”

  Her blood was up and she faced him with reckless courage.

  “Too far?” she echoed defiantly. “In our present situation, my Lord, what exactly would you define as too far?”

  He drew breath to reply but, with perfect timing, she interrupted, saying,

  “Never mind. I shall speak as I please.”

  “You always have, as I recall. I had forgotten what a sharp-tongued witch you can be.”

  “And now that you have remembered, you will be as glad to be rid of me as I will be of you.”

  “That is impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible if you really want it and I am very sure that we both desire an end to this mockery of a marriage.”

  “Do we? As I said last night, I am not eager to expose myself to the County’s derision by splitting from my wife the morning after our wedding. Are you? Have you thought about how it will look if you drive back home now?

  “What will people say about you, Celina? That you were rejected by your husband. You can tell them the truth until kingdom come, but nobody will believe you. Some of them will laugh at you, some will pity you, but nobody will ever take you seriously again.”

  It was all true, she realised. Surely anything was better than being an object of scorn in the district for the rest of her life?

  Robin heard his own words with astonishment. This was not what he had meant to say to her. He had come with the fixed intention of telling her to forget her foolish ideas about an annulment, because he had decided otherwise. If she protested he would inform her that he was the master and she would obey him.

  Instead he was arguing with her, actually trying to persuade her, as though her opinion mattered.

  Worst of all, he actually found himself saying, “I suggest you think it over before coming to a hasty decision.”

  “Or having a decision forced on me,” she threw at him.

  He had the grace to redden, which made the mark on his face even more noticeable.

  His voice became stiff and formal.

  “Let me assure you, madam, that there will be no repetition of that unfortunate incident.”

  She faced him.

  “There had better not be,” she said quietly. “Because if there is, I shall leave at once and you can tell the world whatever you please.”

  It was safe to say that nobody had spoken to his Lordship in such a way since he became a man.

  But he checked the furious response that ros
e to his lips. He was caught and he knew it, because he feared derision and she, apparently, did not.

  What could a man do with such a woman? How could he control her?

  He couldn’t. That was the answer.

  And a wise man would admit it now, cut his losses and be rid of her.

  But even as he pondered the idea, the thought came to him that this was a woman like no other, and that their battle would be more interesting than any encounter with the easy ladies who cost him so much and bored him so easily.

  “You have my word as a gentleman, madam. But do not take too long in making up your mind.”

  “I shall take as long as I need. You have, after all, given your word.”

  “Certainly, but – ”

  “If you intend to break your word, it would be the shortest promise on record, even for you.”

  “May I ask what you mean by that?”

  “Come, come, your habits are well known. Don’t be so modest.”

  “If you mean what I think you do, then this is a most improper conversation,” he said furiously.

  “You are right, talking is a waste of time,” she stated with a calm that was calculated to infuriate him. “I intend to go for a ride, if you do have a suitable horse in your stables.”

  “I doubt that you will have any fault to find with my horses,” he responded stiffly.

  “Exactly. They are your horses. I don’t suppose there is one suitable for me.”

  “I shall escort you out to the stables and prove you wrong. Shall we go, madam?”

  “Certainly, my Lord.”

  In the stables he introduced her to Frank, a stocky middle-aged man whom, he informed her, would be her personal groom.

  “Her Ladyship needs a horse to ride.”

  “Just as I thought,” Frank said gleefully. “I have two for her Ladyship’s inspection.”

  “Only two?” Robin demanded. “That’s rather meagre for the Torrington stables.”

  “But there has been so little demand for a lady’s riding horse,” Frank explained. “Your esteemed Mama only uses the carriage.”

  “True. Well, let’s have a look at what you have.”

  The two animals in question were excellent beasts in their way but undistinguished. Celina chose one for the day’s ride, but Robin looked displeased.