Captivated By Her Convenient Husband. Bronwyn Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ her even. But not once had he written back. Now, he might never write. He might be gone for good, despite the Treshams’ latest sliver of hope that he’d resurfaced in the Crimea. They’d sent his best friend and fellow officer, Major Camden Lithgow haring back to Sevastopol to vouch for the man who’d walked out of the pine forest claiming Fortis’s name.

      Avaline wasn’t sure how she felt about that. To have Fortis back would solve her current problems, but it would also certainly create others. How did two people pick up the pieces of a marriage that had hardly existed, after all this time? Still, they might have an indifferent marriage, but she didn’t wish him dead for it. She hardly knew the man who had so briefly been in her bed, in her life.

      That was a new sort of guilt she carried these days. While the Treshams hoped desperately for the possible return of their third son, she couldn’t remember what he looked like. The picture she carried of him in her mind had begun to blur years ago. She remembered dark hair, blue eyes, a broad-shouldered physique, a handsome visage, a man pleasing to the eye. Was she exaggerating these features now? Was he as broad-shouldered as she recalled? Was he as tall? As handsome? As callow? He’d not been the most attentive of husbands, or had that been her fault? Would he have been more attentive if she’d somehow been different? Would it matter if she did remember it all aright? Did those memories of seven years ago still represent the man who might come home to her? War changed any man and this one had been lost for a year. How might war and this unaccounted year have changed him? Who knew what sort of man had walked out of the forest?

      Avaline’s more practical side argued that it hardly mattered what he looked like or what he’d become as long as it protected her from Tobin Hayworth’s avarice. Fortis’s name was all that was safeguarding her now and its shield was wearing thin. A body to go with the name would take care of Hayworth for good.

      There was a sharp, impatient rap on the carriage door. ‘My dear, you must come in before you catch a chill.’ The door opened without her permission. It seemed the knock was not a request for entrance, but a warning of intrusion. Such officiousness could only mean one thing. Hayworth had found her.

      He stood outside, framed in the carriage doorway, resplendently dressed in dark evening clothes, pristine white stock impeccably tied, blue silk waistcoat severely tailored, grey eyes like steel. The man was the epitome of ice and control. Just looking at him made Avaline cold. He held out his hand without the slightest qualm that he’d be refused. He was a man who was obeyed. Always. ‘I cannot leave my mother alone in the receiving line for long, so I must ask you to hurry.’ His tone implied hurrying would not have been necessary if she had come in with the Treshams upon arrival. ‘I was concerned when I saw you were not with Cowden and the Duchess.’

      ‘I needed a moment alone to gather myself,’ Avaline replied coolly. She might be required to take his hand, to go in and put on a show, but he needed to remember she was not his to command. ‘Today has been difficult for me. I was tempted to beg off this evening and not come at all.’ She would have done just that if she hadn’t feared him coming after her and having to face him alone at Blandford. Far better to confront him here, surrounded by people and with the Treshams for support. There was safety in numbers. ‘I may not stay long,’ Avaline warned him as she stepped down. ‘I am not sure it’s appropriate to be out revelling on such a day.’ She did not bother to keep the scold from her voice.

      Disapproval flickered flinty and hard in his gaze. Hayworth had made his opinion on harbouring hope that Fortis be found alive plain several months ago. ‘The heights of feminine fancy and womanly foolishness,’ he’d called it.

      ‘Has there been news, then? Is it official that he is lost for good?’ Any concern one might detect in the enquiry extended only as far as how the news would affect him and his plans.

      ‘No, there’s been no news.’ She knew the response would needle him. As long as there wasn’t news one way or the other, Hayworth could do nothing. She still had some power, some control.

      Hayworth patted her arm. ‘Your loyalty does you credit in theory only. But it does not serve you in practice. As I have pointed out before, your estate needs a firm hand, as do your finances. You cannot lean on Cowden’s benevolence for ever, any more than you can go on pretending your husband is out there, somewhere. It’s been seven years with no direct word from him and now there is this issue of “being lost”. To be blunt, this does not sound like a man who wants to come home and he is dragging you down with him. We can handle this as abandonment, push it through court and free you so your life can start again. We needn’t wait any longer.’

      We. He made it sound as if this was something she wanted done when nothing could be further from the truth. Hayworth was wasting no time this evening. Usually, he made his appeal towards evening’s end. But why wait? Now that the case had been made, why pretend towards subtlety? It was no secret he wanted to be that firm hand on her family estate, on her finances, and on her, if they were being blunt. He sought nothing short of marriage—an audacious claim considering she already had a husband.

      Inside Indigo Hall, the opulence of Hayworth’s East India Company fortune was on full display, a reminder to all in attendance that his star was in the ascendancy. Tobin Hayworth didn’t have a title yet, but it was only a matter of time before the Crown recognised him with a knighthood. Avaline understood marriage to a baron’s daughter such as herself would certainly smooth that path for him and, in exchange, he would smooth her financial hardships. Blandford would be restored. That message was on display everywhere she looked tonight. He led her up a wide, curving staircase done in the same polished marble of the floors and the strong, thick columns in the entrance hall. Enormous cut-crystal vases brimmed with expensive hothouse bouquets from discreetly carved niches while footmen abounded, waiting to assist with any trivial detail, dressed in autumnal velvet livery for the express purpose of this harvest ball.

      ‘All this could be yours to command, my dear. Luxury at your fingertips, your cares erased. You’d want for nothing,’ Hayworth murmured the temptation at her ear. ‘Make no mistake, tonight I am laying my world out for you so you can make an informed decision.’ He gave away his antecedents with such flagrant talk of money. The inherent subtlety of a gentleman eluded him and always would. No matter how well dressed or how wealthy he was, Tobin Hayworth would always be nouveau riche, a nabob to the bone.

      ‘I don’t think there’s any decision to make,’ Avaline responded with a bluntness of her own. ‘I am married, Mr Hayworth.’

      He chuckled affably at her rebuke, his mouth at her ear. Anyone watching them ascend the stairs would think this was a flirtation, not a coercion. ‘Are you? You don’t really know, but you should. I would think marriage is not something that possesses an in between. Either one is married or one is not. You cling only to technicalities now, to your detriment, when you should be preparing yourself for the worst and accept you may very well have been a widow for over a year. If you’d accepted that a year ago, you’d be out of mourning by now and this whole ordeal would be past us.’

      ‘You dare too much, Mr Hayworth.’ Avaline felt a chill move through her. The depths of his roguery were revealed increasingly to her each time they met, a sign of how confident he grew with each passing day. In truth, she could not argue with his facts. Her position on all fronts, including her continued defence of her marriage, was weak indeed and growing weaker each day there was no word about Fortis.

      ‘Don’t look so glum, my dear. You are about to be rescued,’ Hayworth said through gritted teeth before breaking into a smile as the Duchess of Cowden approached. ‘Ah, Your Grace, what a pleasure to see you.’

      The Duchess of Cowden met them at the top of the stairs, elegant and cool in lilac silk. ‘Mr Hayworth, what a splendid little party. There you are, Avaline. Come, there are people to meet.’ Without further preface, СКАЧАТЬ