Chapter 23

CHAPTER23

“It’s true,” Tilly said, not even hesitating. She said it repeatedly, clearly determined to be heard. “It’s true, in every way. You can see as my son grows just how like his father he is. The same blue eyes, the same dark hair.”

Xander was barely listening to her now. He stared at Violet as she stared back at him, tears welling up in her eyes. Her face turned pink, on the brink of letting those tears fall.

Go to her. Embrace her. Comfort her!

Despite his inner voice shouting such things at him, he did not move. His head told him it would be dangerous to do so with Tilly watching them.

“Do you deny it?” Violet asked in the smallest of voices.

“Of course, he cannot deny it!” Tilly said rather violently.

She rounded the desk and tried to stand in front of Xander, but he stood and moved away from her. Rather than going to Violet, as his pounding heart urged him to do, he chose an empty space in the study, trying to think it through.

Could it be true?

An image flashed in his mind of a party before their wedding day. It had been held in his house to celebrate their betrothal. He could remember getting so drunk, and one memory morphed into the next. He recalled kissing Tilly. They had indulged that far, but he’d always been certain that was as far as it went.

Now, he could not be so sure. He did recall waking up the next morning, his mind fuzzy, with blank spots in his memory. He’d drunk that much brandy that he hadn’t been able to remember the whole night.

Was it possible he and Tilly had crossed a line, after all? Had they actually shared themselves with one another?

“Xander?” Violet murmured again.

He looked at her, thinking of the last time she had moaned his name when they were alone in his chamber. The passion, the heat, the warmth, it was all gone from her face now. There was just pure sadness.

“It’s all true,” Tilly said again, rounding on Violet. “If you’re in any doubt of your position here, Lady… Lady… What did you say your name was?”

Yet, no one answered her. Violet and Xander just continued to stare at each other, the question hanging in the air between them.

“Well, whatever your name is, rest assured that had I not left. You can be certain Xander never would have looked at you. Never considered you for a bride. It must have been desperation to have someone warm his bed while I was gone.”

“Oh.” Violet let out a pained sound as Xander stepped forward.

“Enough!” he barked loudly.

“Yes, I have indeed heard enough,” Violet said in a small but firm voice. There was an anger in her gaze, a hardness not seen before, and then she turned and left.

Mrs. Winters ran after her down the corridor, their footsteps echoing through the house.

“Well, at least that has gotten rid of the little mouse.” Tilly stepped forward, hurrying to close the door again. She leaned against it with a heavy sigh.

Bring her back. I want her back here now!

Xander kept his feet rooted to the floor, though, knowing he had to protect Violet.

“I owe you nothing,” he said coolly, thinking it through. “I do not remember you and I sharing a night together.”

“Even if you do not remember it, it does not mean it didn’t happen.”

“Enough!” he barked again. “When you walked out of my house, turned your back on our betrothal, you made it very plain you wanted nothing to do with me, and didn’t want anything from me either. You chose another.”

“Even if you feel no responsibility toward me, surely you feel it for your son.” Tilly stepped away from the door, moving toward him again. He backed up, determined not to let her anywhere near him.

It turned into a strange cat-and-mouse game around the room, but Xander was too fast to possibly be caught by Tilly, especially when she was in such a wild humor.

“You owe him. If you think you owe me nothing, you owe him!”

“No more lies.” He halted on the other side of the desk as she got herself into difficulty, nearly falling over one of the chairs. She gripped the back and stood tall, now nearly as red in the face as Violet had been a few minutes before. “You say you leave your husband now because he beats you. You show me your arms, Tilly, but there are no marks on them.”

She pushed up her sleeves, looking at her arms, but clearly saw what he did. She nodded, very slowly. “There are no bruises.”

“No,” he said firmly. “He never raised a hand to you, did he?” He racked his brain, thinking back to the young man who had once worked as his stable boy.

Xander recalled a handsome face and dark blonde hair, a little long and frequently hanging down over his eyes. Those eyes had been dark, as brown as the chestnut coats of the horses he cared for.

Every time Xander remembered him, he saw a smiling man. He was a man who had caught Helena when she had fallen off her horse. He was also a man who had waded through the river on the estate to assist his mother when she had gotten into difficulty on her own horse.

I remember a kind man.

“I cannot imagine that man harming anyone. People change, I know that, but… could he change that far?” Xander asked, his voice low and serious.

Slowly, Tilly pulled down her sleeves again. “No. Maybe that was a small lie. He never hurt me.”

“Small lie?” Xander repeated in bemusement.

Accusing a man of beating her was no small thing. It was disgusting. It was also an insult to any woman who ever had been struck by her husband. She could not know what it was like, yet she was using it to manipulate Xander now.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I want to leave. I want to come back.” She started walking toward him again. “You owe your son.”

I do not know if he is my son or not.

He balled his hands into his fists, feeling his stomach knotting in anger. He had been so close to perfect happiness with Violet, and then Tilly had to come back and explode between them like a cannonball.

“We’ll be a family again,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes returning to the darting and frantic manner from earlier. “We can be a family. Maybe we cannot even marry in a church, but we can be a family, in this house, can we not? We can live together as man and wife, with our son.”

“This is mad.” He said the word, at last.

Something creased her brow, but it was just for a moment before it settled, and she continued as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “We can be a family.”

“I will not entertain your madness.”

Now, he had gone too far. She frowned, her eyes darkening and zeroing in on him. She couldn’t pretend she had not heard him this time.

“Then you will lose your little wife.”

She turned, crossing the room to where she had put down her reticule. With frantic movements, she delved into the bag and pulled out a small glass bottle. She crossed the room and thrust it toward him.

“What’s this?” He reached out to take it, but she didn’t quite let him and jerked it back instead.

“I take it. I have to.” She looked down at the bottle, something twitching in her face. “It helps me.”

“Helps you… how?” Xander watched her with increasing wariness.

Was this wildness of manner, this confusion of thoughts, not new? Was it possible her husband had procured medicine for her, something which he hoped would help her?

“I take it,” she said again. “But I’ve been told not to take too much at a single time. It’s dangerous. So, if you do not do this, Xander.” Her eyes flashed with sudden anger. “If you do not oust her. If you do not agree to be a family with me—” She paused, her breath hitching, holding back tears. “I’ll… I’ll make sure she takes this. Then you’ll lose your wife for good.”

Xander nearly snatched the bottle from her at once, wrestled it free from her grasp in order to break it on the nearest wall. She stuffed it back into her bag fast, and there was such wickedness in her gaze that Xander knew at once that even if he retrieved that bottle, she’d find another way to carry out her threat.

“We’ll be together, Xander. Together, as we should have always been.”

* * *

“Your Grace, please, sit down.”

Mrs. Winters stood calmly in the chamber as Violet marched up and down, pacing constantly, unable to settle. With her hands on her hips, her gaze pinned to one spot and then the other, she supposed she made a fierce picture. It clearly upset Mrs. Winters very much, who watched her, with her hands constantly fidgeting.

“Can I get something for you? Tea? Wine?”

“At this time?” Violet said with a small laugh.

“Well, I’ve heard the physicians always prescribe brandy for shock. Perhaps that?”

Violet was tempted to take her up on the offer, anything to dull this pain. She could constantly hear the pounding of her heart in her ears, and it was starting to frighten her. She would do anything to be done with it, but she couldn’t. It kept thudding there repeatedly.

“Thank you, but no,” Violet murmured, pacing the other way back across her chamber. “I just need to speak to Xander. I need to find out exactly what is happening here.”

“Very well. As soon as he’s free, shall I tell him to come to you?”

“Yes, please.” Violet managed to stop pacing at last as Mrs. Winters turned to leave. “Wait, Mrs. Winters, may I ask you something?”

“Of course.” Mrs. Winters turned back to face her, with what appeared to be a sorry smile on her face.

Violet realized the housekeeper was pained, too. Perhaps she thought all this trouble was in the past and was just as upset to have the past dredged up again.

“You knew Lady Tilly before, did you not?” Violet spoke carefully.

“Yes, I did.” Mrs. Winters nodded and then looked down at the floor, the fidgeting of her hands suddenly ceasing.

“Was she anything like she was today? There was something in her manner, something quite wild,” Violet murmured. “I do not know what to make of it.”

“She was different.” Mrs. Winters lifted her head. “The young lady I knew before was very elegant and constantly aware of the way she looked. Right down to the way she picked up a cup or held herself. I suppose that was the pressure from her parents. They were very focused on the idea of their daughter making a good match.”

“Ah, I see.” Violet felt pity for Lady Tilly, though it was just momentary. “So, what happened to her?”

“It’s hard to know for sure, but I overheard the master talking to Lady Tilly’s brother about it once. He said something about her loving another.” Mrs. Winters reached for a handkerchief in her sleeve and lifted it to her cheeks, dabbing her eyes as she held back tears. “The morning after Lady Tilly left, she was not the only one to vanish.”

“Oh?” Violet whispered, praying for more information.

For so long, there had been this huge mystery of what had happened to Lady Tilly, a mystery which had fueled the gossip about Xander having a hand in her disappearance.

“The stable boy was missing, too,” Mrs. Winters explained slowly. “He was a kind young man, soft of heart, gentle, too. I naturally assumed that the two of them had eloped.”

“Oh.” Violet sat down in the nearest chair, practically falling in her sudden surprise.

“When I made the suggestion to the master one day, he did nothing to persuade me otherwise, but he made it clear that what we did know, we had to keep to ourselves,” Mrs. Winters whispered, stepping forward in urgency. “I think, like Lady Tilly, he was sensible of her parents’ expectations, their focus on wealth and position. What would they have done for it to be known she had left them all for a stable boy?”

Violet sat forward, hanging her head in her hands. It was all too awful to bear. She could see quite easily how a young and happily in love woman would be willing to risk everything she knew for the heart of the man she loved. Yet, that woman in her mind did not equate to the Tilly she had seen today. It was as if the Tilly from the past and the one she had seen today were two entirely different women.

“Thank you, Mrs. Winters,” Violet said, lifting her face from her hands. “At least now I understand things a little better.”

Mrs. Winters nodded and offered another apologetic smile. “Ring the bell if there’s anything you need, Your Grace.” She pointed at the bell pull beside the door.

Violet thanked her again before she left.

In the silence that followed, Violet stared at the bed. It seemed a long time ago now that she and Xander were rolling together on the bedcovers in his bedchamber.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the pleasure that had overwhelmed her as he made love to her. She thought of his hands on her skin, possessive, in a way that thrilled her. She thought of his lips on her neck, how he bit her, marked her as his own, that possessiveness clear again.

Was he afraid of losing me?

A sound at the door urged her to open her eyes as she saw the door of her bedchamber swing open again. It was Xander, staring at her silently.

He seemed rather like the shadowy man she had often thought him to be. He stood in the shadows, not stepping into the sunlight that streamed through the windows behind her. He’d removed his tailcoat, and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, meaning she saw a flash of toned skin, those arms fixed in position and folded across his black waistcoat.

“Xander?” she whispered.

He stepped forward, but it was just a single stride, then closed the door behind him and leaned against it. In his silence, she felt the power in the room slipping toward him. As she often did, she waited for him to speak—praying for it, almost.

He holds too much power over me. He always has.

“Xander?” she said again, standing, refusing to be ignored this time. “Speak to me. Please.”

He walked toward her, the movement so sudden and fast that, startled, she backed up, colliding with the chair and nearly falling into it. He caught her in time, a hand on the curve of her waist, and pulled her forward. She fell into him as his lips collided with her own.

The kiss was fierce. There was no pre-emptive press of lips together, but he claimed her mouth and tongue.

Her heartbeat still thudded in her ears as she wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as much as possible. Heat shot between them, and they pressed their bodies together as much as they could.

Yes, this is here. He will not turn his back on me now. Surely?

Then, it was suddenly over. He pulled back, released her, and walked away across the room. She tottered on her feet, nearly falling over once again. Her body felt cold as he walked away. Just as before, he chose a shadowy corner of the room, rather than the illuminated spot where she stood.

Always in the darkness. He always has been, as if he is made of it.

“Is it true?” she asked into the silence. “Did the pair of you…”

“Vi.” He leaned on the mantelpiece, not quite looking at her. “You can hardly expect me to confess to being a saint before we were wed.”

“Saint? You? Never.” She had rather been attracted to the fact he promised danger. It was something she had always liked. “But this is different. You were betrothed to her, you were going to marry, and if you lay together before you were even wed—”

“I have never made her my wife as I made you,” he said firmly, cutting her off.

It was something of an enigmatic answer. It could have been his way of saying he had never shared her bed, but then Violet realized he could have just meant that they never had the ceremony.

“Then at least she can be sent away, can she not?” Violet asked slowly.

He stood straight, turning his back to the mantelpiece. His face was now colder than she had ever seen before. There was a sharpness that hadn’t even been there the night she had confessed to him that she was the writer of The Dark Duke series.

“She is right about one thing. She’s right that I have to stay with her.”

Violet felt as if the world turned sideways. The darkness that had always hung at his shoulders, an overwhelming shadow, now engulfed her, and she was dragged down into the pit.