Page 44 of A Whisper of Desire
“He kept me prisoner for a week, until Maitland rescued me. He repeatedly raped me, ensuring that Maitland could never have me.”
Marisa’s heart clenched and she ached for Priscilla. No one deserved to be treated that way. She reached for Priscilla’s hand and took it in her own. Priscilla smiled through welling tears. “Maitland would still have married you. Why did you not let him?”
“It bodes well that you know his character. I declined him, but to protect my reputation, I insisted his father marry me. Maitland was incensed. He only stood aside and let me marry a monster because I would not marry him instead, and he knew I was ruined. You don’t realize what that cost him,” she whispered.
“I would have thought you would remember Branton’s advice to think of your own happiness.”
The hand she held in hers squeezed tight. “The late duke was riddled with syphilis.”
Marisa’s eyes widened. Even she had heard of the terrible French disease.
“At the time, I couldn’t risk that I’d been affected. It turns out I was right to be cautious, as I developed some symptoms just after Penelope was born. Luckily, it looks like I have not passed the disease onto my daughter, but I’m living a death sentence. I never know when more symptoms will appear, but Maitland has promised he will not throw me into an insane asylum, should the worst happen.”
Tears trickled down Marisa’s face and her stomach clenched in anger for this brave woman. “You can’t marry Maitland because you can’t give him a son. You can’t sleep with him because you have the disease.” It was the most heartbreaking story she’d ever heard.
“I couldn’t do that to him, or any future children. I spoke with the doctors and sometimes the children are born hideously deformed, merely to die relatively quickly, yet painfully. The risk was too great.” She took back her hand. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. I have two beautiful children and I live on the most beautiful estate in all of England. As I said, I am content.”
Marisa was humbled that Priscilla trusted her enough to tell her story. So much of Maitland’s behavior now made sense. He was obviously still in love with Priscilla and the guilt he must feel at moving on with his life, wanting a son, and taking a wife…That is what kept him from her bed. No wonder he was in no rush to take her to The Vyne—that was his haven with Priscilla. Many women would feel pleased to know their husband would never sleep with their lover, but it still felt like the sharp knife of betrayal to know she would always come second in his heart.
“I swear I’m not here to make trouble for you and Maitland. I honestly needed to meet you as soon as possible. I had to see what type of woman you were. I’m in a precarious position, and now you have the power to make my life unbearable.”
“You risked much telling me this story.”
“I like you, but more important, Maitland spoke very highly of your character.”
That rankled. They had discussed her. She looked at the woman sitting like an angel, the sun almost creating a halo upon her head. She should hate Priscilla, but all she saw was a woman who, through no fault of her own, had had her dreams ripped heinously from her. “It’s a sad tale. I can’t help but feel sorry for both of you. Rest assured, your secret is safe with me. I hope we will be friends, but at the moment it is a lot for me to hear.”
Priscilla grimaced. “I’m sorry too. Thank you for listening and not hating me. It is more than I had hoped for. I intend to take the girls back to The Vyne at the end of the week. I never meant to intrude on the beginning of your marriage, but you can understand my fear.”
Marisa nodded and stood. “I need to get ready for tonight. The clothing Agatha has made should do the trick.” She walked to the door. “With this madwoman about, it would be safer for you all in Hampshire, but don’t rush off on my account. I’m sure the girls would like to see something of London before you leave.”
“I think it best we leave at the end of the week. I have promised the girls a few days in London. Perhaps you might join us on Thursday for a day at the museum?”
“I’ll see. The late-evening visits to the Top Hat may mean I’m too tired.” She opened the door. “I must see to my hair. Susan believes she has a way to conceal it. I’d hate to cut it off, but if I have to I will. Wish me luck.”
Priscilla stood and raced to hug her. “Stay safe.”
“I intend to.”
—
When Marisa reached her room she was walking as if in a dream. Priscilla’s story swirled in her head and her stomach churned. Why hadn’t Sebastian told her? It suddenly struck her that Sebastian likely didn’t know the full story.
A serene calmness washed over her. At least now she understood what she was dealing with. She understood why Maitland kept her at arm’s length. What she didn’t understand was how she felt about this situation. She surprised herself, because she really wasn’t angry. How could she be angry in the face of Priscilla’s situation? Maitland would never have forced Marisa to marry him if it hadn’t been for the villainess, so she couldn’t hate him either.
Warmth spread through her limbs as she thought about her virile husband. No. She definitely didn’t hate Maitland.
Speaking of desire, the door to their adjoining rooms opened and in walked Maitland. He wore his deep burgundy velvet robe. She glimpsed his bare chest and heat flushed her body; however, he had his trousers and boots on underneath.
“It occurred to me that you and Susan might need my help dressing. Your attire will need to be perfect to fool everyone. A dandy is very specific about his dress.”
“Susan is still pressing my shirt. I’ll need to borrow a cravat; Priscilla doesn’t have one.”
He moved to stand in front of where she still sat at the end of her bed, and looked at her studiously. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No.”
He reached and stroked a finger down her cheek, and she closed her eyes at his touch. “You look sad.” She also looked pale. It was too much to ask of her. To expose her to this club…what was he thinking?
