Part 35 (1/2)

”What do you mean? What kind of-”

”Never mind now. Do I have your word?” she asked sharply. Lifting her head, she looked into his eyes. ”It is the only way I will explain.”

His brows were drawn tight, contradictory emotions warring across his face as his need to know wrestled against his suspicions, his better judgment.

”Very well,” he agreed. ”My word. Now tell me.”

”I need to sit down first.”

”Of course.”

He moved to lead her to the bed, but she refused, going out into her sitting room instead. The less intimate atmosphere would give her strength-she hoped.

Leo sat beside her on the sofa, but didn't try to hold her, intuitively understanding that she needed to do this on her own.

”Gordon and I were never a love match, but we got on amiably enough at first,” she began. ”He was t.i.tled and influential, charming when he put himself to the trouble to be. He was everything my mother wanted for me. For him, I had the proper lineage and the suitable dowry he required in a wife. The fact that I was that Season's Incomparable didn't hurt either. I was eighteen and pitifully naive.”

She gave a hollow laugh.

”The first few months pa.s.sed well enough and he was ecstatic when I found myself with child. Then I miscarried. He tried to put a good face on it, but I could tell how disappointed he was. As for myself, I was shattered.

”But we tried again. And again. Each time I lost another baby, he grew colder. Angrier and more distant. He blamed me, said I must be doing something wrong, that I must not truly want . . . a child.”

She gulped down a hard breath, her ribs throbbing. Leo reached out, but she pulled her hand away, curling it into a fist.

”He started to drink and our . . . relations took on a rather unpleasant cast. He began hurting me, in small ways at first, then rougher, more deliberate. It wasn't long before he was. .h.i.tting me, humiliating me.”

”He. Hit. You?” Leo said on a near growl, punctuating each word. His knuckles popped as he fisted his hands.

She looked up, not liking what she saw on his face.

”Go on,” he told her in a low, almost emotionless tone.

A dangerous tone.

Suddenly she didn't want to continue, afraid of what she might have unleashed in spite of Leo's promise. But she'd gone this far-what did it matter if she told him the rest?

”One night, that final time, he came home to share the news that one of his mistresses had given birth to a son. An illegitimate son, who could never be his heir. He'd been drinking, of course, and kept on drinking. He grew more and more belligerent. Yelling at me. Berating me. He hit me, as he often did when he was foxed. It had been months since we'd had relations, but that night he came at me, intending to force me into his bed.”

The ache intensified in her chest, along with the cold, her fingers like ice.

”But I couldn't allow it,” she said. ”I had a secret, you see. Something I hadn't shared for fear that it would turn out to be another tragedy. I was with child again, only this time the pregnancy was sound. I was nearly six months along and the doctor thought everything was progressing nicely. Only that morning, he had told me there was no reason why I would not finally deliver a healthy child. I was overjoyed, but still cautious. I'd been through so much heartbreak. Years of it.”

Gazing down, she stared at her hands. But instead of her linked fingers, she saw Gordon, saw the way he'd been that night, his eyes wild with drink and rage.

”I was carrying small,” she went on, whispering now, ”so I had been able to hide my condition. I had been planning to tell him soon, but he started ranting and I was afraid. Even when I did try to explain that I was carrying his baby, he wouldn't listen. He said I was lying. He hit me, so hard, so many times, I feared for my life. I grabbed a poker from the fireplace and struck him with it. But it only made him madder. That's when I ran. . . .”

Blood oozed in a wet smear from the cut on her temple, dripping onto the once pristine ecru silk of her evening gown. She squinted out of one eye, her other swollen shut, her cheek and lip hot and stinging where he'd slapped her. Her head throbbed, her ribs and back aching where he'd pummeled her with blows. But somehow she was still standing even as she'd curled in on herself trying to protect the precious child in her womb.

She trembled and screamed as he drew his arm back for another blow, his eyes wheeling with rage. And she knew she couldn't let him hit her again, that if she fell, she might never get up again.

The poker she'd used to hold him off dropped from her hand as she spun and ran. Ran as fast as her feet would carry her. If she could just make it upstairs to her bedroom and lock the door, she would be safe. Safe enough that it would give him time to calm down, time to sleep off enough of his drunken state that he could be reasoned with.

But she heard him pounding after her out of the drawing room, his heavy footsteps echoing menacingly off the polished black-and-white tiles in the main hall.

”Come back here, you little b.i.t.c.h!” he shouted.

She kept running, breath burning in her abused lungs.

Fletcher appeared, an expression of horror on his gentle face. He strode quickly forward, stepping between them as he rushed toward Gordon with his arms outstretched. ”No, my lord. Stop. I beg of you.”

”Get out of my way!” Gordon roared.

She heard a scuffle behind her, a grunt and a thud.

Her hand touched the stair rail and she hurried up, racing, racing with every ounce of speed and strength she possessed. She was nearly at the top, nearly on the landing that would lead her to her bedchamber, when a hard hand grabbed her shoulder. Her feet slipped as she tried to wrench herself free.

Then she was falling, her screams reverberating like thunder in her ears as she bounced and tumbled. Finally she stopped, pain blossoming through every inch of her body as she lay insensible at the base of the stairs. She heard footsteps and gasps, cries of alarm and hands reaching out.

Moments after, she knew nothing more, the world around her turning black.

”I lost the baby three days later,” she told Leo in a dead voice. ”A boy. They said he was perfect but too little to survive on his own. I named him David, after my father. He was buried in the family plot, but I was too weak to attend the service. I didn't leave my room for the next two months. I refused to see my friends, even though they called, not realizing more than that I'd lost another baby. That was the story Gordon told everyone. That I was ill. I suppose he was right.”

She sighed. ”I don't remember a great deal of that time. I slept quite a bit, barely ate or spoke. I apparently attacked Gordon the one time he came near, raking my nails down his face so badly he was afraid to return. There were whispers that perhaps I'd gone mad. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier.

”But finally I came back to the land of the living with Jane and Mathilda's help. They saw to everything and they held me when the doctor broke the news that he did not believe I would ever conceive again. The fall had caused too much damage. Apparently, I nearly died, though I didn't realize that at the time.”

Without a word, Leo reached out and pulled her into his arms. He kissed her forehead. ”I'm sorry. So sorry.”

She lay against him, only then aware of the wetness dampening her cheeks. With the backs of his fingers, he brushed the tears away.

”I didn't let Gordon touch me again for three years,” she said. ”We lived in the house as strangers. He was remorseful at first, but as time went on, he became bitter, angry. He blamed me for not telling him that last time that I was with child. He grew to hate me as I already hated him. But he started talking again about needing an heir, told me it was my duty to provide him with a son. So I agreed to try one last time though his very touch made me recoil. But there was no baby and it was useless to hope there ever would be. That's when he decided to permanently remove me from his life.”

Leo's arm tightened. ”By instigating the divorce, you mean?”

She drew a shaking breath, blowing it slowly back out. ”Exactly. He very skillfully arranged matters, as I have already told you, so that it would look as if I had been unfaithful to him. So that he would have the legal grounds to seek a divorce. I suppose I should be grateful he chose not to kill me, but I was too well liked at the time. Too much in the eye of Society and my friends for him to easily put me in a grave. Not without raising questions. So instead he chose to put my good name and reputation in one.”

Leo rubbed his hand over her shoulder in soothing strokes. ”He's the one who will be in a grave, because I'm going to put him there.”

She sat up and looked into his eyes. ”No, you are not. You gave me your word-”

His eyes widened, incredulous. ”But that was before-”

”Your word,” she said in an implacable tone. ”You promised me that you would not act based on what I told you and I am holding you to that promise.”

He raked a hand through his hair, then jumped to his feet, pacing. ”Surely you cannot expect me to do nothing? Not after what he did to you? The man is a blackhearted fiend and deserves to pay for his crimes.”

”It was a long time ago and nothing good can be served by resurrecting it now.”

”Vengeance can be served. Justifiable retribution.” He flung out an arm. ”Or don't you care that he beat and abused you? Murdered your unborn baby? Robbed you of your friends and good name? Then tossed you onto the streets without a cent like some doxy he'd used and discarded? And don't forget remarrying. He's keeping you from that as well.”