Silent Revenge Page 10

  Jessica clutched the picture tighter for one more moment and then gave it up to his outstretched hand. His fingers touched hers, and he hesitated as if plagued with a twinge of regret.

  He looked at the picture, then placed it back on the table. “You will take nothing but your clothes and the items that belong to you alone. We cannot give your stepbrother one excuse to cause trouble. The will states that everything in the house belongs to him. It’s the way it must be.”

  Jessica swallowed hard and looked away. Sometimes the most difficult part of being deaf was staring into his face, reading the harshness and regret she saw in his eyes. She wondered if he realized how far into his soul she could see and how much of his hidden feelings were laid bare by just the look in his eyes? How much of the strength he’d honed to guard his emotions she could see? How much of the fear he tried to disguise as anger? She saw it all. She doubted he knew or he would have erected another barricade to defend himself. Another wall to separate himself from her.

  She wondered how long he would keep her at bay, refusing to acknowledge or accept their relationship. Perhaps only a short time. Perhaps a lifetime.

  He placed his hand on her arm, bringing her out of her daydream. His hand felt warm against her skin. Feverish.

  Her heart jumped in her throat. The unique feel of fevered flesh sent a wave of panic rushing through her. Jessica lifted her gaze to his face. His face seemed flushed. His eyes were glazed with a hint of illness she hadn’t noticed before. She placed her fingers against his hand again to make sure. Warm. Too warm. Then she moved to place her hand on his face.

  Before she could touch him, he stepped out of her reach. He separated himself from her as if her touch was repulsive to him.

  “It’s time to leave. Are you ready?”

  Jessica swallowed hard. “Yes, my lord. I am ready.”

  He extended his arm. She hesitated, then placed her hand upon his muscled forearm. She prayed he didn’t notice how violently her fingers trembled when she touched him. If he did, he didn’t show it. He kept her close as they followed the Duke and Duchess of Collingsworth from the room.

  She’d promised herself she would be brave. That she would walk away without a backward glance. But before they took their final step over the threshold, Jessica turned to look at her home one last time. The home where she’d been born. Where she and her mother and father had talked and laughed and been happy. Where she could remember a time when she had still been a complete person.

  The home where a raging fever had taken her mother from her. The home where she’d known the happiest days of her life. And the saddest. Where she’d learned what it was like to belong and be loved. Where she’d learned what it was like to be alone with no one to love.

  The breath caught in her throat when the door closed behind her. She held on to the Earl of Northcote’s arm and prayed she hadn’t made the biggest mistake of her life.

  Without flourish or fanfare, they were married in a quiet country church on the outskirts of London. With the queen’s bishop and two high-ranking clergy of the church officiating, Jessica walked down the narrow aisle on legs that barely supported her. With Melinda at her side and Ira close by, she went through the motions, said the right words, smiled an adequate smile, and made the appropriate gestures to convince everyone she was willing to take the earl as her husband.

  She stood before the legion of church and government officials Northcote had brought as witnesses and promised to love, honor, and obey a man who struck terror in her heart.

  She knelt before the ornately carved wooden altar and vowed to trust completely a man who had yet to say his first kind word of greeting.

  She held out her hand as he slipped onto her finger the ring symbolizing their union, then promised to submit to him in all things. To trust her life as well as her future to a man who had yet to grace her with his first smile.

  With her hand nestled in his, she let his intense strength pour into every fiber of her body, then released a shuddering gasp when a strange molten fire surged to every part of her being, heating her with a warmth she couldn’t understand.

  Only once did he show any sign of tenderness. Of concern. Before he repeated his vows, he lifted his hand, and with his finger beneath her chin, he turned her head so she would face him. He held her gaze with unflinching steadiness and repeated the promise to protect her for all time. She imagined she had never seen a more somber look of commitment.

  Then, the bishop pronounced them man and wife.

  She felt the slight pressure as his fingers tightened around her hand and she lifted her gaze. If she lived to be a hundred years old she would never forget the uncertainty in his answering gaze. The look that said he questioned—doubted—his sanity for marrying her.

  And then he kissed her. Despite the almost unnatural heat of his face, his kiss was the coldest, most unemotional kiss imaginable.

  If only he had never kissed her before. If only she hadn’t experienced the heat and fire of that other kiss as a comparison. Then she would not have known how lacking and unfeeling the slight pressure of his lips on hers truly was.

  Then it was over.

  Moments later they were seated in Northcote’s coach on their way to her new home. Jessica leaned back against the maroon leather seat of the stylish black carriage and turned her head to stare out the window. She absently fingered the beautiful opal ring on her third finger and tried to squash the rising fears that ate away at her insides.

  Four matching blacks pulled the carriage down one unfamiliar street after another as they wound their way through the quiet London residential district. She was now the Countess of Northcote and the man sitting beside her, legs outstretched, eyes staring blankly ahead, was her husband. Never had she felt more alone in her whole life.

  Other than the vows he’d repeated that had bound them as husband and wife, the Earl of Northcote had not said another word to her. He’d protected her, buffering her from unexpected questions or comments spoken behind her back where she could not see the speaker’s lips. He’d placed his arm around her shoulder and casually turned her to face anyone offering their congratulations as if he’d done so for years. But he had not spoken those same words of acknowledgment.

  The Duke of Collingsworth had also hovered nearby. Watching. Keeping a wary eye focused on the bride and groom. Especially the groom. Jessica doubted if anyone besides herself noticed, but His Grace’s concern was obvious. Something was not right with her husband.

  He moved on the seat in the carriage. Straightened, then opened his eyes to look at her. “I know this day is probably not how you always dreamed your wedding day would be.”

  “I have never entertained dreams of my wedding day, my lord. I never thought I would marry.”

  “So, you are not disappointed?”

  “No. I am not disappointed. You’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain. I have the protection of your name. I expect no more.”

  “Every woman expects more.” He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. “Can you see to read my lips?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “The name is Simon. Simon Warland, twelfth Earl of Northcote. You are now Lady Northcote. Countess of Northcote.” He took in a deep breath and held it. Jessica thought she noticed his face grimace in pain.

  “Are you all right, my lord?”

  He lifted his head and focused his gaze on her. There was a glassy look to his eyes, and Jessica wasn’t sure he really saw her.

  “The name is Simon.”

  “Are you feeling well, Simon?”

  “It’s nothing that need concern you.”

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes again, shutting her out. It was obvious he intended nothing about him to be her concern.

  “Everything should be ready when we arrive. Your rooms have been prepared and your staff is in place. I have taken the liberty of furnishing your home. It was quite bare as you probably remember, and Her Grace informed me you are no
t accustomed to haggling with shopkeepers. It was amazing how eager the merchants were to advance me credit on my forthcoming marriage. If something is not to your liking, talk to Sanjay. He will take care of anything you need.”

  “You will not be there?”

  “If you need something, talk to Sanjay.”

  “I’m sure everything will be in order,” she answered, clutching her fingers in her lap. “What about you, my lord? Are you disappointed in your wedding day?”

  “Don’t worry about me. Your part of the bargain has also been fulfilled. I have your money and can now pay my father’s debts and save my inheritance. What more could any two people ask from a marriage?”

  Jessica felt as if a knife had been thrust through her heart.

  As the carriage slowed to a halt she said a silent prayer of thanks. For the first time in her life, she was thankful for her deafness. At least she was spared hearing the bitterness she knew had been in her husband’s voice.

  When they reached the earl’s town house, the door to the carriage opened and a small, dark-skinned man with a turban on his head greeted them. He bent over in the lowest bow Jessica had ever seen, and when he straightened his body, his face opened to a wide grin. Laughing black eyes looked up at her and held her captive. Jessica couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Come, missy,” he said, helping her out of the carriage. “Sanjay will show you to your new home.”

  Before he spoke again, he turned to face her. Obviously, he’d been informed about her deafness.

  “All your people are already settled and waiting for you to come. Hurry. Even your excellent cook is busy baking a cake to celebrate this happy day.”

  “Thank you, Sanjay.” She turned around to see if Northcote was following.

  “The master will come, missy,” he said, turning his face close to hers. “Hurry. They are all waiting.”

  Jessica followed the exuberant servant up the walk and into the house. Hodgekiss opened the door for them.

  “Welcome, my lady,” he said, bowing formally.

  Martha and Beatrice and Mrs. Goodson all stood in a line to congratulate the new bride, and even Mrs. Graves rushed out from the kitchen to join in the festivities. When Simon walked through the door they stood even taller, like little toy soldiers aiming to impress their new master.

  Simon stopped before the short line of smiling faces. He graced them with a curt nod, then turned on his heel and marched up the winding staircase. His grip on the railing turned his knuckles white. She wondered if she and Sanjay were the only ones who noticed.

  Jessica turned back to face her loyal servants and saw their looks of disappointment. A strong wave of protectiveness washed over her. She vowed she would become the buffer between her staff and her new husband. He would never intimidate them or make them feel unworthy.

  Suddenly, every head turned to face him. He must have yelled for Sanjay to follow him because the small man bowed half a dozen times, then made his way up the stairs.

  Jessica waited until her husband and his servant were out of sight, then painted a bright smile on her face and turned back to her friends. “Are you all settled in?” she asked, keeping her voice light.

  “Yes, mistress,” Hodgekiss answered for everyone. “Everything is perfect. ’Tis a fine house we’ve come to. A fine house, indeed.”

  “And such a beautiful suite of rooms for you, my lady,” Beatrice added, twisting the ends of her starched white apron. Her attempt to cover their master’s abrupt departure was obvious.

  “Good,” Jessica answered, blinking past the tears that stung the back of her eyes. “You wouldn’t have a cup of tea ready, would you, Mrs. Graves?”

  “Oh yes, my lady. And I’ve a pan of buttered scones just come out of the oven.”

  Mrs. Goodson took a quick step forward. “I’ll have the tray ready before you’re even seated on one of those new sofas the master had brought in this morning,” she answered, following Mrs. Graves to the kitchen.

  Jessica watched her staff quickly depart, all except Martha. She waited until they were alone before she spoke. “Where are my designs, Martha? Are they safe?”

  “Yes, my lady. They are locked away in the last room at the end of the hall upstairs. Here is the key.”

  Martha reached in her pocket and handed Jessica a heavy brass key.

  “The room is perfect for you to work, my lady. Large and spacious, with big windows to let in fresh air and light. We found an old desk and a few tables in storage and put them in there for you.”

  Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. She turned the key over in her hand, holding it tight. Everything that was important to her was locked behind that door.

  “Thank you, Martha.” Jessica placed the key in her pocket where it would be safe. “Is everything truly all right?” Jessica asked, knowing she would receive an honest answer.

  “Yes, my lady. The master has seen to everything, and his manservant, Sanjay, has been more than helpful.”

  Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “Then perhaps we can tour our new home after I’ve had a cup of tea and something to eat,” she said, trying to sound more optimistic than she felt.

  “It would be my pleasure. It is a beautiful home.” Martha led the way to the drawing room with a broad smile on her face. She opened the door wide and stood back while Jessica entered.

  Jessica took one step into the large, spacious room and stopped short. A lump formed in her throat that she could not swallow past. The room was an exact picture of her drawing room at home. If there were any differences, Jessica didn’t see them. Not a misplaced chair or a missing table. It was as close a replica to the drawing room she had just left as Jessica had ever seen.

  Two matching sofas faced each other on one side of the room with a large oval rug on the floor between them. The pattern on the rug even looked the same.

  A cozy window seat nestled beneath the window that looked out onto the garden, and a small writing desk sat beside the double doors that led onto the terrace.

  Even the flowers were identical to the ones she had in her home and were placed in the same spots as if someone had followed a map of her room.

  “Who did this?” Jessica asked Martha.

  “The master, my lady. It was already arranged like this when we arrived. Sanjay said Lord Northcote wanted you to feel at home. He gave strict instructions for the room to be exactly as what you had left.”

  Jessica walked from one side of the room to the other. She was oddly touched by his kindness. It was perfect.

  “I’ll get the tea, my lady,” Martha said and quietly backed out of the room. Jessica was left alone with her thoughts.

  She sat in the window seat as she often had at home and stared out into the garden. Heaven help her but he was a contradiction. Distant and aloof, yet gentle and considerate. He was such a confusion she couldn’t figure him out. She didn’t want to.

  She knew there was a part of him calling to be understood. But she didn’t want his voice to be the only one she heard. She couldn’t let him become important. She would trust him to the extent she had to. She would rely on him to protect her from her stepbrother.

  Trusting him to any further degree was a weakness she could not afford.

  Chapter 8

  Jessica pulled the hood of her cape over her head and ran through the black night and the biting rain to her waiting carriage. Hodgekiss held the carriage door open for her, and she clutched the package of material samples close to her to keep it dry as she climbed into the carriage. With a sigh of relief, she sank onto the soft leather seat and nestled her treasured package and the reticule containing payment for the two designs she’d just sold Madame Lamont.

  The springtime weather had gone from a light mist to a torrential downpour since she’d entered the Black Boar Inn to meet with one of London’s most famous dress designers. But that didn’t matter. The inclement weather and the lateness of the hour made traveling even safer. The darkness cloaked her identity so she co
uld secretly conduct her business without being discovered.

  She closed her eyes and let her mind drift to all that had happened in the week since she’d first seen the Earl of Northcote standing at the entrance to the Stratmore ball. Her life had changed in ways she had never thought possible.

  She fingered the large opal ring on her third finger, her only proof that the wedding had actually taken place. The stone felt unnatural and burdensome. Confining.

  She tucked her hands into the folds of her gown. She didn’t want to face the ugly truth about her marriage. She’d used her wealth to blackmail the earl into giving her his name. And because he was desperate for her money, he’d accepted what she offered, even though he had no intention of ever accepting her as his wife.

  His aloofness after their wedding yesterday, plus the fact that he had yet to leave his third-floor sanctuary to seek her company, made his feelings perfectly clear.

  Her husband obviously could not come to terms with the fact that he’d taken a deaf woman as his wife.

  Jessica clenched her hand around her burgundy velvet reticule and thought of the two designs she’d sold tonight and the three new gowns she’d been commissioned to design. Her life would go on as it always had. She would have her designs and creations, freedom to attend the balls as she always had, opportunity to meet with Madame Lamont as she had tonight. And safety from her stepbrother.

  Her heart skipped a beat. She would not let the knowledge that her husband wanted nothing to do with her matter. They would be two separate people sharing the space beneath the same roof, taking special care to avoid each other as much as possible, and being satisfied with maintaining a life that did not involve the other.