Chapter 41

Chapter Forty-One

" E mily, wait!" Alex shouted after his wife, but she would not be stopped. The paper that flittered to the floor in her wake caught his eye, and Alex leaned over to pick it up. He had never read a gossip paper before, but he was no stranger to them. He knew his mother loved things just like this, but perhaps she wouldn't any longer if what it held destroyed her own family.

He skimmed the contents, his anger increasing with every passing second. He could not judge the baron and his wife, for he did not know their details and he did not need to. But he could not allow the damage that would be done to his family, to his wife, unjustly.

And whoever wielded the pen behind Lady Whetstone was a cruel mistress, indeed.

Alex wanted to crush the paper in his hand, but he inhaled deeply before turning to face the Grishams again.

"I am sorry you had to find out the truth like this, my dear," Mrs. Grisham spoke in false sympathy. "Instead of enduring the rest of the night on her arm."

"It sounds as if you're inferring something, Mrs. Grisham, and if so, I would much prefer that you speak clearly," Alex spoke through gritted teeth.

"There is no need to infer, Mr. Westcott, for the truth of the matter is printed right there in your hand." She motioned toward the gossip sheet he held.

"This?" Alex held it up with barely held rage. "Mrs. Grisham, it is unfortunate to learn that you take gossip columns as solid truth, when they are obviously only partially perceived notions, published on a whim to entertain the weak-minded."

Mrs. Grisham gasped. "You dare to be so rude to a family friend? Return my things to me at once. You let your woman mistreat the belongings of others without a care in the world."

"And yet, you run your tongue without a care about whom you hurt or the damage you do." Alex retorted, holding it out for her.

"I am not responsible for the damage that someone else reveals," Mrs. Grisham spat, reaching for the pamphlet, but Alex could not help snatching it from her reach.

He would be unable to help his sister now. The connection was about to be lost forever because he could not be saddled with this villain of a woman as an in-law.

"You cannot claim to care about family connections, Mrs. Grisham, and then expect me to remain silent while you intentionally malign my wife."

"She is the one who has done you wrong! I have protected you!" The woman was nearly shouting now.

Alex shook his head, taking a step toward the side table that held a candle. "Allow me to explain the real truth. Mrs. Westcott is not having an affair. We met with Mr. Evans on various occasions, which resulted in my selling him a stud horse for his family's breeding plans. So you can see where Lady Whetstone is in the wrong on that count. Shall I continue? "

Thankfully, Mrs. Grisham had no response, and her husband remained silent as well.

"As for my wife's parentage, considering she was brought up in a boarding school with very little official documentation to the facts, perhaps the world will never know the truth of it, and anything this Lady Whetstone spouts can be counted as speculation. But that is none of your business or anyone else's. My wife may very well be an illegitimate child, castoff and unwanted, whose parents may already be dead. But would you place shame on a woman who had no say in how she was brought into this world?" Alex turned his glare from Mrs. Grisham to the candle, where he held the pamphlet above it. "That you take joy in belittling and degrading people, both behind their backs and to their face, says more ill of you than it does of her."

When the pamphlet finally caught a flame, Alex let it fall to the ground and shrivel on the carpet while Mrs. Grisham protested.

"You're a terrible man to speak to me so! You are no different from your father."

Alex rolled his eyes. "On the contrary. Of the two of us, it seems you are the one who is behaving similar to my father. I was ashamed of him, and now it seems fair that I am equally ashamed of you."

"What goes on here, Mr. Westcott?" Lady Hartfield approached, standing between Alex and the Grishams. "Your wife rushed out the door, causing a fuss. And it appears now you are disturbing my guests."

"Mr. Westcott is unable to accept the truth about his lowly-born wife, and has retaliated against me rather cruelly, my dear," Mrs. Grisham pouted, determined to make herself the victim.

Alex shook his head. "I am taking my leave, Lady Hartfield, but one might question the quality of your friendships if you allow such a venomous viper into your midst."

The accusation caused a stir amongst the nearby guests eavesdropping, and Lady Hartfield lifted her chin. "I will not support such flagrant display of disrespect in my own home, Mr. Westcott," the elderly woman said with indignation in her eyes. "And you can be certain you will never receive such an invitation ever again."

"Thank God," Alex said through gritted teeth, then he turned toward the exit. He was sorry to lose this chance for his sister with the Grishams, but they would figure out something else, find someone else that would be a better match. And he would not miss the connection to Lady Hartfield, though he would have to apologize to his mother.

Once on the crowded street again, he had the carriage summoned, worried that he did not see Emily anywhere. He could only imagine where she had gone, but if she wasn't at home, he would have to check the Barrington's. He only prayed that he wasn't too late.

The evening had slowly faded into the darkness of night, and he traveled in agitated silence with the light of streetlamps passing by every so often, as if counting the townhomes before finally reaching his own.

When the carriage stopped, he didn't wait for the door to be opened. He rushed out, through the front door, and up the stairs to Emily's bedroom.

Of course, the door would be locked.

Alex huffed a few heavy breaths before banging lightly on the door. "Emily? Please tell me you're in there."

He listened as three painful heartbeats went by. Then she graciously responded. "Go away, Alex."

But her voice held the same agony he felt. He could tell she was hurt and scared. And he needed to fix it.

"Please let me in, Emily. "

This time, she did not respond.

Suddenly, it was not anger that surged in Alex's chest; it was concern for his wife. He had to get to her. Desperately.

So instead he went through his own bedchambers and faced the door that Emily swore she would never use.

Only she did. On multiple occasions. So he felt no guilt in using it himself this once.

And when he pulled the door open, he found Emily standing at the foot of her bed, her traveling trunk open and full of clothes. When she turned to face him, the sight broke his heart.

The pins in her hair had been removed, allowing the long blonde locks to collect around her shoulders. The ballgown had been removed, leaving her in her shift and petticoats, covered with a robe, but there was a traveling dress that had been prepared and laid across the bed. Her eyes narrowed at him, and he did not miss the streaks of tears on her cheeks.

"Would you care to explain yourself?" he asked through his teeth.

It seemed her jaw was also clenched as she tossed more clothes in her trunk. "My apologies if my reaction to having my life ruined disturbed your social standing."

"What are you… you mean the ballroom? I don't give a damn about that." He dared to step forward, motioning to her trunk and her bed. "I want to know what the hell is all this!"

Her shoulders sank, and Alex recognized the sign of defeat. He hadn't seen Emily openly cry since the night of their wedding and seeing her weaken so might actually kill him. Her blue eyes had spilled over, and now tears were streaming down her cheeks. He pulled the handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to her, which she took, but seemed unable to wipe her tears away, so the white fabric remained fisted in her grasp. She was also unable to release the teeth biting her lip, as if the one final dam keeping the words in .

"I'm leaving. I told you before this would never work. I told you that I would ruin everything. Now your family reputation will never recover, because of me. Your chances of winning over the Grishams have been destroyed, because of me. And likely your mother and sister will never forgive me, never want to see me again." Her voice went higher into an octave where she had little control. "So I will go to Wynnwood Park, just like I planned. And we can live the rest of our lives as best we can apart."

Alex shook his head. "No. I refuse to accept that is our only solution."

"Just go, Alex! Please, let me be."

He folded his arms across his chest. "Where would I go? You are my wife. My place is with you."

Emily marched passed him, moving toward their connecting door. But he would not let her retreat again.

She had her hand on the handle, but before she could escape, he slammed the door shut, resting his arms on either side of her.

"Damn it, Emily. Be reasonable for once. We cannot keep doing this." His heart pounded inside his chest, the smell of her jasmine perfume now intoxicating as he stood so close to her. "Do not shut me out again. The problem will not be solved by avoiding each other. Talk to me, please."

"We are done, Alex. That way we won't hurt each other anymore."

"I don't care what society says or thinks. You will only hurt me by leaving." Alex leaned down closer to her face, nearly seething, desperate for her to understand. "And I have done my damndest not to hurt you."

Her eyes were dancing hot like a blue flame. "Didn't you say you would never fall in love with me? That hurt me, Alex. That is why I have to leave. I cannot live married to a man who does not love me. That is why— "

Alex silenced her with a kiss, hand capturing her at the back of her neck. She melted under his scathing pressure, and in the next moment, she returned his every gesture. There was no gentle ease or building crescendo. The both of them snapped from barely restrained tension for far too long. Too many near incidents, too many mornings waking with her by his side, but still not close enough.

Emily reached her arm around him, pulling him closer and losing her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Alex tightened his grip around her waist, needing to eliminate any amount of space that separated them. As he ravaged her mouth, his other hand traveled from her neck and down her arm, then the length of her torso, and he hoped she understood the reality of what she was facing. A man wildly and hopelessly in love with her.

He wrenched his face away, unable to go a moment longer without confirming the truth.

"I told you I regretted those words, didn't I?" he breathed. "I never should have said them, because the only thing I care about is you."

Her hardened breaths escaped through parted lips, pink from his attentions. Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers. "Can we put down our armor, please? No more swords and shields, no more war of words, just honesty. Please."

She did not answer, she did not move. She closed her mouth and took steadying breaths through her nose, but she did not say anything. Her stubbornness had never left her, but her brow eased, which gave him leave to reach up and let his fingers caress the side of her face. Her devastating blue eyes lifted to his, searching in desperation.

"You truly are the most infuriating woman I have ever met," he said in a sigh, watching as the reaction trickled across her face. "And I love you, Emily. "

Her lips parted in a gasp.

"I know our beginning was not everything you hoped it would be, and we took a long road getting here, but I don't want to live separate lives. All I want is you."

With every word he spoke, she seemed to soften in his arms, and the corners of her lips curved into a siren's smile. "Truly?"

Alex nodded. "I know the prospect of us seemed impossible from the beginning, wasn't it? The worst possible match we could imagine. But I cannot give you up now. We will figure everything out together, and I promise that I will do all I can to make you happy for the rest of my life."

She placed her palm on the side of his face. "Do you really mean it, Alex?"

"I do. You might think that you don't belong anywhere, but I will tell you that you belong with me. You will never have to wonder such things again because you are my wife."

His arm tightened around her waist, pressing her firmly against the door.

"You are mine," he whispered fiercely, and he burned with satisfaction when she nodded. He pulled her hand up and placed it flat on his chest. "And I am yours. This heart is utterly and completely yours."

When his mouth sought hers again, Alex no longer held the concerns he'd harbored for so long. His lips sealed over hers in slow, languid kisses that a woman like his wife deserved. She ought to be adored and worshiped the rest of her life after all the doubt and mistreatment she'd suffered, albeit some of which was by his hand. But he would be making it up to her forever, his solemn vow as her husband.

He conquered her mouth over and over again, slanting for further access, which she readily gave. When he deepened the kiss, she whimpered in a way that put him in mind of the couple they discovered on the beach. He found his hands fisted in the fabric of her robe, which he pulled from her arms, and instinctively helped her shed it to the floor. She pressed her hands against his chest, and he pulled back for breath, but only long enough for his lips to travel down the curve of her neck. No secrets lingered between them, and no distance need ever separate them again.

"All of me is yours, Alex," Emily said breathlessly. She reached blindly behind her to find the handle of the door, the one she said she would never use, then tugged on his cravat to pull him in.

Instantly she returned to his embrace, and his mouth found hers again, repeatedly, craving and desperate. They stumbled back toward his bed, until they both descended into a euphoria, a love, that they had both been longing for their entire lives.