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Ravenwood was nothing like Percy. No two men could have been more disparate in nature. Percy would never have forced her to marry him. Persuade, yes; coerce, no. Ravenwood had purchased the vessel, but he would not have what it contained. He’d have none of her heart, her spirit, her soul. No touch from her, no kind word, no look of tenderness. Not ever.
Not that she believed he cared for such things. No man who could do what he’d done gave a damn about love or anything even resembling it. She’d endure her marriage bed because she had to, but she would never respond to him with anything but revulsion. He’d have legal access to her body, but he might as well make love to a corpse.
Though she’d premeditated her sin and was willfully planning to continue living in a fallen state, still she sent a prayer heavenward. Please, let me get with child quickly, provide him an heir, and be done with him.
With child…
Her step faltered and she stopped, one hand on the railing, the other clutching at a throat suddenly constricted. The fear that had been planted inside her germinated, its roots gripping her, binding her in a horrible embrace. Quiet terror filled her at the thought of what Ravenwood would do if she came into the marriage bearing Percy’s child.
It would be another two weeks before she would know. The wedding was in just days. She could not postpone her nuptials or make her lawful husband wait to consummate their vows without raising suspicion.
There was no choice. She would have to go through with it and hope she was not already pregnant. If she missed her menses immediately following the wedding, the only way to know who the father of her child was would depend on how strongly it resembled the father.
Oh God. It would be nine months of agonized guessing. If she were already pregnant, she prayed for the child’s sake nobody would be able to tell who’d sired it. Better that than for it to be called a cuckoo and be reviled. She would love her babe no matter who his or her father was, but the rest of the world…
Her eyes stung as she ducked into her room and leaned against the closed door. How has it come to this? How has my life been turned so completely upside down? In a matter of months, she’d gone from being the adored and spoiled belle of Lancashire to bargaining chip and fallen woman. Innocence was a thing of the past now. Henceforth, she would live in a state of sin, torn between hatred, covetousness, and lust.
If only I had accepted Percy when I had the chance. We could have eloped. It would have left her family in a state of shame, but Percy was right. She would have been his marchioness, and society would have eventually forgiven her. He would have discreetly bailed her family out of financial ruin. She would have been happy.
Instead everything had gone wrong because she’d feared to seize the moment. Some of the fault was hers. Some belonged to others. Papa had initiated this downward spiral into woe. Catherine had sped her along it. Had fate itself turned against her? Was this her destiny?
Locking the door, she threw herself on the bed, buried her face in a pillow, and succumbed to tears. Emotion bled from her heart as from a knife wound. Hope gushed out along with it, leaving her in despair.
Only one chance remained of any happiness. Percy hadn’t declined her offer. She would have some part of him, if only for a little while. And perhaps, if she now bore his babe, she might have more.
A tiny, selfish part of her longed to have his child. Even if no one else could tell who the father was, she was confident she would somehow know. There would be some defining trait, some hint only she would recognize. If the babe were his, she’d never tell a soul, not even him.
It was even reasonable to think there might be more than one child born of their lovemaking, provided their association remained intact over the next several years and they were careful. Would Ravenwood even care if she maintained an affair with his rival? The man wanted to marry her enough to hold her family hostage, but she was certain he didn’t desire her.
Again, the question nagging in the back of her mind popped to the fore. Why does he want me? Surely not only because of Percy’s attentions?
Suspicion snaked its way through her thoughts, coloring everything she knew of Ravenwood, every interaction they’d had up to this point. The man had chosen her out of all the available women in England. Her stepmother’s interference aside, what motive did he have to single her out?
Thanks to Papa, she had no dowry to speak of. Ravenwood was in fact paying for his bride. A bride he did not desire. A bride who openly wanted someone else. Had Ravenwood some sort of vendetta against Percy? She’d never heard of any conflict between them. In fact, Ravenwood had given every impression of idolizing him.
An urgent need for more information galvanized her, launching her into action. Genevieve would know something. Even if she didn’t, she would find out quickly enough if given the right questions to ask. Going to her window, Eden opened the curtains and put her candlestick on the sill.
…
Percy slumped against the cushions of his favorite chair at White’s, fighting an urge to have another brandy. He needed his wits intact. Sir Geoffrey might send for him at any moment, and the last thing he needed was to show up on the man’s doorstep inebriated. He was flanked by Montgomery and Hogarth, both of whom felt no such need for restraint. They were already on their second glass.
“By the bye, Tavistoke,” said Hogarth. “I’ve been meaning to thank you for your intervention. Two days ago Morris sent a man with my fee and a formal apology.”
A grin split Percy’s face. Any good news was a welcome distraction. “My friends at Westminster were happy to oblige. Perhaps Morris will now think twice before trying to cheat an honest man.”
“Indeed, I believe he will.” Hogarth shook his head sadly. “Speaking of work, I don’t suppose you’ll want my portrait of the girl now she’s to marry another. Pity. I’ve finished it. It’s one of my finest pieces yet—in my opinion, at least.”
“Of course I want it,” Percy said, frowning. “You don’t actually think I’ve given up, do you?”
At this, Montgomery sat up and eyed him. “You cannot abduct her, not without it resulting in a duel.”
Percy snorted. “Oh, I don’t mind facing the blackguard with a blade or pistol, if that’s what is required.” He’d fought more duels than he could count, and dismissed the prospect with a negligent wave. “Truth be told, I would relish the opportunity to teach the arrogant puppy a lesson. But it’s more complicated than it appears. There is something else going on here. Something I must fathom before taking action, lest I worsen the situation.”
“You suspect foul play?” asked Montgomery.
“I suspect—” He broke off as another gentleman passed by their table. “On second thought, this is probably a matter better discussed in private.”
The manservant attending them stooped to murmur, “Pardon me, my lord, but I believe the Amber Room is currently unoccupied.”
