The Stranger She Married (16 page)

They left town and headed down the highway. The trees lining the road had grown so large, that in places, they met overhead like a great canopy.

"My parents are both gone,” he said, “but I have two elder sisters. Perhaps you will meet them some day."

Somehow, the thought of the inhuman shape across from her having sisters seemed too absurd to be true.

A headache pounded between her eyes and she felt a bit faint.

The coach turned off the highway and followed a smaller road. They fell silent as the coach rode smoothly over the rutted road. Visions of living with a monster swam before her eyes and she had to call upon all her courage to prevent herself from opening the door and throwing herself out of the moving carriage.

Before nightfall, they stopped in front of a quaint inn. Her husband slowly and cautiously exited the carriage. Once outside, he held a gloved hand out to her. She barely touched it as she climbed down. Once on her feet, she swayed in dizziness, but when he put a steadying arm around her, she shrank away from him.

The innkeeper ushered them inside to a snug parlor where a meal waited for them. Even though the smells were tempting, the knot in her stomach forbad food. After only a few bites, she feared she would not be able to keep it down. She noticed that her husband was not eating either. Though tempted to ask him, she remained silent. Perhaps he did not eat in front of her because of the mask. Perhaps he was anxious for the wedding night.

She choked. The wedding night. The horror of being trapped by Mr. Braxton's attack at the ball burst into her mind.

A tremor began deep in the pit of her stomach.

As if sensing her rising terror, he took her hand. “Alicia. You need not fear me. I will never force you to do anything that would seem frightening or distasteful. I don't believe a man should be his wife's absolute master."

She glanced at him sharply. Was the baron speaking in general terms, or did he mean specifically that intimate act between man and woman? She wondered if he would show her his face in private, or remain masked. A slow horror built as she realized only moments from now, she would have to allow the kind of humiliating experience Mr. Braxton had tried to wrench from her.

The innkeeper appeared and cleared away the table. “I'll show ye to yer room, milady, if yer ready."

Alicia rose on unsteady legs. She stumbled on the stairs and had to keep a white-knuckled grip on the banister. Spots danced before her eyes and the pounding in her head became torturous. To her surprise, the baron stopped outside the door to her room.

"I'll be with you after you've had a few moments to change.” He bowed and left.

Inside the room, Monique stared at her in concern. “Are you unwell,
madame
?"

"My head."

"Have you eaten today?"

"Not much."

Monique mixed a small amount of something in a glass and handed it to her. “This will help."

Alicia gulped it down and coughed at the strong flavor. “What is that?"

"A little laudanum and brandy."

Alicia sat on the edge of the bed while Monique busied about the room. Gradually, the throbbing pain numbed and her shoulder muscles unclenched. Monique dug through an enormous chest sitting in the middle of the room and pulled out toilette items. Gowns and underclothes of every description lay inside.

Monique pulled out a nightgown of gossamer white silk with the same tiny white ribbon roses that had been on her wedding gown and helped her change into it. The nightgown clung sensuously to Alicia's body and showed just enough cleavage to be tantalizing. She wanted to be anything but tantalizing.

Monique handed her a toothbrush, already sprinkled with powder. After she finished brushing her teeth, Alicia sat while Monique brushed her hair. It fell in soft waves down her back past her waist.

"You are beautiful,
madame
.” Monique blew out several candles and lamps so that the lighting was soft.

Alicia stared unseeing back at her own reflection. Would he be rough and brutal? Would he hurt her? Tears stung her eyes. She realized Monique had left and her husband was entering the room.

Her husband. What kind of man was he really? She dried her cheeks and turned slowly to face him.

He locked the door and leaned against it without making a move toward her. “Alicia. You are lovely.” He sounded as if he truly meant it.

With such effort fighting back the tears, she had no voice to reply. He came closer, leaning heavily on his cane. She sucked in her breath. One giant gloved hand reached for her. She closed her eyes and bit her trembling lower lip.

"Alicia,” he whispered. “I won't hurt you.” He touched her shoulder with his gloved hand.

She flinched at the touch and took a tremulous breath, her whole body shaking. A tear ran down her cheek.

His hand dropped and he regarded her silently. “Alicia. I'm not a savage beast that would force myself upon any woman, least of all my wife. I will not demand you to consummate our marriage before you are ready. I only ask that you give me a chance to earn your trust."

She nodded, hardly daring to believe her ears, and eyed him warily. He leaned in. She braced herself, but he only kissed her cheek through the mask and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

Her husband. A crippled, scarred man who never showed his face. There might never be enough time to learn to become accustomed to such a frightening-looking man.

Or the act he would one day demand when his patience ran out.

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As Cole walked, his thoughts skittered chaotically out of reach. Doubts teased, taunted.

Had he done the right thing?

At the top of a rise, he paused to look out over the valley bathed in moonlight. He continued down the other side, stepping carefully over the rocky ground. At the time, having his cousin Nicholas marry Alicia seemed the best possible alternative. Now he wasn't so sure.

He came upon a stream and followed it until it pooled, mirroring the moonlight. He picked up a flat stone, and with a quick flick of his wrist, sent one skipping across the stream where it fell with a clunk among the rocks at the far bank.

Uncle Andrew and Aunt Livy had been attentive hosts, but a vague anticipation settled on him at the thought of going home and escaping the weary parade of hopeful ladies and their overzealous mothers. He hadn't been home for more than a handful of days since the war, but now he had interests there.

Horses, for one. He had searched all over Ireland and found a promising new thoroughbred he hoped to enter in the next derby. Since then, he had only visited home long enough to check on the stallion's progress and consult with the trainer and jockey. The emptiness of his childhood home, once so full of joy and love, mocked him, and he always quickly left again, preferring London, or the homes of his numerous relatives. But this time, home beckoned to him.

If only Alicia had agreed to marry him.

The future lurked, uncertain. He had watched Alicia, unbeknownst to her, as she married a masked stranger. She stood white-faced and trembling in fear, trying so hard to be brave. How he longed to comfort her, to reassure her!

But she had rejected him on every level.

He left the pool and followed the stream through a thickening stand of trees, wondering if he would ever rid himself of this mad, burning desire for the girl with soft, gold-brown eyes who hated him no matter how hard he tried to win her affection. The night he found her fleeing Mr. Braxton, she had cried in his arms and snuggled against his chest before she remembered herself and pushed away. Having her in his arms, however briefly, stirred an unfamiliar sense of belonging. He ached to hold her again.

A taunting dream.

But there were moments when she seemed to have forgiven him, or at least forgotten her abhorrence. At the race course, she chatted with him amiably and laughed with abandon. There were other times that she looked at him with shy, innocent desire. At first, he thought he had merely imagined those moments, but they continued to happen with some regularity.

Although there had been no question of her feelings when she'd soundly refused his proposal. He did not entertain any delusions that Alicia's rejection stemmed from a fear of social ramifications a scandalous elopement would bring. No. It came from her hatred of her brother's killer. When faced with a masked, scarred cripple as her only alternative, still, she had rejected Cole.

He wasn't surprised. But it hurt. Deeply. Much more than he had expected.

He didn't blame her. He couldn't. Anyone astute enough to see beneath his pleasing façade would see the monster lurking below and shrink in fear. Shooting Armand had only been one in a long list of sins.

Her new husband would never hurt her, and even if she didn't know it, she was safe.

But was Cole safe?

He desperately hoped that this would not prove to be the gravest mistake of his life.

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Alicia and her husband traveled slowly, stopping to eat and stay at inns along the way. They spoke occasionally, and though their conversation was forced and awkward, he treated her with courtesy, his voice soft and muffled by the mask. Each night, the baron escorted her to her room, kissed her cheek and left her alone.

As they traveled through the heart of Northumbria, the baron straightened in the seat across from her. “We're home."

They pulled off the main road onto a long driveway lined with towering trees. The trees parted, revealing an enormous castle, situated upon a slight rise, commanding an impressive view. They drove across a bridge spanning a murmuring creek and pulled up in front of the castle.

As they alit from the carriage, Alicia caught herself staring at the castle that graced the countryside. This would be her home?

The baron tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her slowly up the stairs. She looked down at his feet and his cane, wondered if walking up stairs hurt him.

They paused inside. The baron's estate was a far grander place than even Catherine's home. The wide, main hallway boasted marble columns and floors that had been scrubbed to a mirror-like luster. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and crystal sconces lined the room. Tapestries and paintings hung from the walls, and a mural of angels and cherubs frolicking among the clouds adorned the ceiling. Two grand, sweeping staircases led upstairs on either side of the curved entry way. Elegant, intricately carved and richly upholstered furniture promised comfort. The splendor took her breath away.

"It's magnificent,” she breathed.

"I'd hoped you would be pleased."

Servants lined the entryway, and her husband introduced her to the head housekeeper, Mrs. Hodges.

After Alicia had met all the other servants, Mrs. Hodges beckoned to her. “Come, my lady, I will show you to your room. You must be most fatigued by your long journey."

The baron bowed to Alicia. “I will leave you to become settled."

Alicia followed Mrs. Hodges up the staircase as it curved around to the second floor, stepping on lush, thick carpet, and holding on to a banister as intricately carved as the pillars and molding. All the tall, sparkling clean windows had their draperies firmly pulled back to let in the bright afternoon sunlight. Magnificent portraits lined the hallways.

Mrs. Hodges showed her to a room near the end of the hall and motioned to the door next to it. “That room belongs to the baron. Here is yours."

She opened the door, revealing an enormous boudoir with an adjoining sitting room. Through another door Alicia found the dressing room. The furniture and wallpaper had a subtle French flavor in soft greens. It felt serene and restful. Everything had been scrupulously cleaned and polished. Even the wood shone like glass.

"It's beautiful,” she said in awe.

Mrs. Hodges looked pleased. “We will be happy to redecorate it or refurnish it to suit your taste. Lord Amesbury ordered me to spare no expense making you feel at home. I'll send in your abigail to help you change."

Two footmen lugged in her chest and set it near an enormous clothes press in her dressing room. They bowed to her and retreated. Mrs. Hodges left Alicia to look over her new surroundings. A beautiful watercolor painting of a landscape hung from one wall signed ‘Christian Amesbury.’ A relative, perhaps? On the opposite wall, tall windows framed a view of breathtaking gardens extending to the horizon.

"
Madame
? Are you ready to change?” asked Monique in French as she stepped inside the open doorway. Because Alicia had grown up speaking French with her mother, she and Monique often conversed in that language.

"
Oui
, Monique,
merci
."

Monique opened the clothes press. Inside were several gowns.

"For you,
madame
,” Monique beamed. “A whole new wardrobe. And look.” She opened a jewelry case lined in black velvet. Several pieces of fine jewelry lay inside, clearly precious family heirlooms. Alicia lifted a diamond and ruby brooch, admired it, and then on a whim, turned it over. On the back was an inscription,
"To my beloved Anne. Bound forever by love."

Overwhelmed, Alicia folded both hands over the brooch and hugged it to her chest. She'd dreamed of one day finding a love such as this. That dream had faded.

"Ah!
Magnifique
!” Monique exclaimed, admiring the jewels still lying inside the case. “You are most fortunate,
madame
, that your husband is so generous."

"Yes, he certainly is generous."

Her husband had already proved to be more kind and thoughtful than she ever anticipated. In many ways. She hung her head. And she had repaid him with fear and rejection.

"Come, we must prepare you for dinner."

Alicia bathed, changed and sat at a dressing table while Monique arranged her hair. Mrs. Hodges announced that dinner was ready and that Lord Amesbury would be with her shortly thereafter. The tightness in Alicia's chest, which had eased as she explored her new boudoir, returned at the mention of her husband. She fidgeted with her wedding ring.