Page 27 of The Rebellious Countess
Seven
Darling,
Your treasured brooch was sold to a French nobleman who collects American pieces of jewelry. I must say I have never heard of such an interesting, if not especially valuable, type of collection. It is said that he has pieces made by the natives who saved the ignorant wretches from the Santa Maria from starvation. I’m quite certain the fools from the ship should have been showering their hosts with gifts for saving them, not the other way around, but perhaps I am missing something to the story.
To retrieve your brooch, I must travel farther than I had previously planned, since the gentleman in question has retired to the country for health purposes. I will send word once I have met with him and your beloved brooch is in my custody.
Until then darling,
Simon
—A coded letter to Sir Robert Williamson, War Office, London, England, from Simon Clark, Earl of Astley, secret agent of the Crown prior to his capture in the Bay of Biscay.
She’d awakened as soon as he’d slipped from the bed and out into the hall with nothing on but a bed sheet. Had she been that terrible? She’d thought he enjoyed it. He certainly seemed to enjoy it. She had been prepared for his release, had known from talks with her sister what exactly to expect when a man spilled his seed. If she hadn’t known, she would have jumped back with alarm—or worse—bitten him.
She shuddered at the thought. Educating women about bed sport prior to marriage would always rank highly in her opinion. Otherwise, she could have ruined it—ruinedhim. Another shudder shook her shoulders.
Except now she truly wondered if Elias had enjoyed it as much as he would have if they’d actually had intercourse. Why else would he leave their room with no clothing on? A sudden thought struck her and she sat up in bed.
“He wouldn’t,” she breathed, the air expelling from her nose in a rush, and she suddenly felt the anger a bull would feel if another male had stepped into his pasture.
Elias would not seek pleasure in the arms of another woman. If she hadn’t performed to his satisfaction then he would have to teach her otherwise. As long as they were married, he would not be stepping outside of their vows. Máira slipped from the sheets, her new night rail bunch up around her waist as if she had fought the linen garment for hours. She pulled a wrapper around herself, opened the door a crack and listened. Faint voices could be heard from the tavern below. She made her way into the hall, turned and slowly closed the door, leaving it the slightest bit ajar to allow herself a hasty retreat. As she descended the staircase, a floorboard creaked under her bare feet. Unable to hear the voices due her own heartbeat thundering through her thoughts, she froze and held her breath. When she finally did hear something, it was the joy in Hag’s laughter. She was laughing with Elias.
Had he really left their marriage bed to flirt with another woman? Pain, humiliation, and anger sliced her battered heart in threes. It dissected each section into minuscule pieces, leaving nothing to remain but irritation with herself for dreaming, hoping, seeing something that didn’t exist. She was a fool to think a man like Elias would want her. She’d known the moment she met his deep chocolate gaze that he was out of her league.
He was no different than the dowry hunters of theton. He said he didn’t care that she was bastard born. She supposed that was true enough. In the bedroom he wouldn’t touch her. He’d sworn he didn’t want to ruin her, yet he’d also confessed to being a liar.
What had she done? How had she been such a fool?
Her face heated at the memory of how she’d behaved while in the bath, and out. Tears prickled, but she refused to let them fall. She would not let anything more happen between them. She would make him take her home to Scotland and disappear to Caerlaverock. She suddenly understood why her sister saw it as a safe haven from the ton. Last season she had been in all the scandal rags as one of the six Blair By-blow Bitches attempting to climb their way back into society’s good graces. There had been a cartoon of five female hounds, teats engorged with milk, crossing the ancient drawbridge of Caerlaverock, with the Duke of Ross holding a pregnant bitch in his arms.
Iseabail had cried. Máira had laughed it off and said it was good to know what thetonreally thought, yet deep down it had stung. Her sister did not deserve their scorn. Their parents may not have been legally wed, but they had believed their marriage to be binding by the law and the church. It was certainly all-consuming within their hearts.
Lady Elizabeth Sinclair had disavowed her inheritance, her standing in theton, and her parents’ threats to disown her if she married a mere merchant. Their mother had left with DuncanBlair for love. They had run to the border and married with all haste, and settled down in a castle they had called home for twelve years. It was after the death of her mother during childbirth that their lives had fallen apart. Their father drank his troubles away and lost their family home to a gambling debt.Then he’d done the unthinkable and thrown himself off a bridge in despair.
That was when the six sisters had been declared bastards. After their parents’ deaths and proof of their marriage could not be found. Six young girls thrown from their home, and yet despite the scandal and their illegitimacy, Iseabail had married well.
She had thought she’d done the same. Love and a title were a rare combination, but now she knew her husband thought so little of their marriage and her that he would leave her bed to visit the bed of a tavern whore. Nothing had prepared her for this. She had incorrectly assumed Elias would remain true to their vows.
Determined to face the truth head-on, Máira crept down the remaining steps and stopped at the doorway to the tavern where she could hear their conversation.
“What do you want, Hag?”
“Elias, you wound me.”
There was humor in her tone, but Máira could sense the tension in the air.
“I don’t have the luxury of time to play games. What do you want?” Elias’s voice was hard and clipped. Maybe he wasn’t there to seduce the barkeep.
“I want my next shipment of Scotch for free.”
“That’s the talk of a crazy woman.”
“I’d say that’s the speech of a confident businesswoman holding every card in the deck.”
Silence lingered, and Máira pictured Elias facing off with Hag. Neither backing down as Hag faced him toe to toe, nose to nose.
Maybe he wasn’t there to cheat?—
