Treacherous Temptations(56)

Seeing her again had been akin to looking into a mirror, and he’d found it appalling in the extreme. It was then the epiphany had come upon him—his hunger could never be sated, the void never filled, because his soul was corrupt. The simple acceptance of this fact had allowed him to master his most destructive urges, and regain some control of his life. Yet he knew he lacked the strength of character to redeem himself.

Hadley pulled her back into his embrace, murmuring softly against her hair, “My dearest Mary, I once thought myself damned, but now we are as one—you will be my salvation.”

They made love once more, slowly, tenderly, after which a tranquility of spirit settled over him like a warm blanket. For the first time in a decade, Hadley began to believe contentment might be within reach. It was Mary alone who had begun to shake his cynicism, to restore his faith in the existence of good amidst the moral corruption that he had come to accept as the norm. Just being with her evoked a peace that he hadn’t known since his boyhood—a peace he had every intention of holding, of protecting.

As soon as Mary slept, Hadley left her bed. He crept to his chambers and left some brief instructions for his valet and then rode out of London by first light. It was thirty miles each way to Gravesend but he had no choice but to go himself, for there was no one he trusted implicitly, and arranging secret passage to France was now his most urgent priority.

…

Mary awoke hours later with an ineffable feeling of well-being. She had given herself body, heart, and soul, and found it wondrous. She had not wanted to love Hadley. She had fought it from the start. Like the unwanted primroses at Blanchard House, the seeds of it had implanted in her heart from the first meeting, refusing to be eradicated by force of will, or to wither from neglect. Contrary to circumstances or even reason, it had bloomed and grown roots that now bound her heart.

They had wed and had now shared a bed, and although Hadley had not told her that he loved her, he had betrayed himself with the tenderness of their lovemaking, with his gentle and reassuring caresses. He hadn’t rushed her, but had attended to her comfort, ensured her pleasure. With infinite patience, he had worshipped her body, and had taught her to adore his.

She realized how wrong she had been about coition being the ultimate demonstration of love between a man and a woman, for without speaking the words, Hadley had shown his love with his body. Mary knew she was more to him than he was yet prepared to confess, knowledge that made her feel like an overflowing fountain of bliss.

But now she was alone, the indentation of his head on the pillow and the stains and musky scent upon her sheets, the only evidence that it was not all just an erotic dream. He’d left without further explanation, even after she’d cajoled him in his moment of languor after lovemaking. She only knew he would return as promised and take her to France.

Mary rose from her bed at the sound of a key turning the tumblers, praying it was Hadley. She scrambled for her dressing gown, surprised by the tenderness between her thighs, a vivid reminder of last night. Her hopes crumpled when the door opened to Jenny carrying a breakfast tray.

“Oh, Miss! How happy I am that you be safely returned.” Jenny clapped a hand to her mouth with a look of utter dismay, and almost dropped her tray. “All your lovely hair!”

“It will grow back soon enough,” Mary insisted, even as she fought the burning behind her eyes.

Jenny set down the silver tray and then cocked her head to one side. “Mayhap ‘tis not so very bad. It does set off yer lovely eyes. A bit of ribbon and a comely lace cap could make all the difference. That woman is plain evil. ‘Tis no surprise ye run off after all they done! And now she has imprisoned ye, just like I said!”

“No doubt she and Sir Richard fear I will run off again,” Mary said.

“’Tis more than that. A jealous she-devil! That’s what she is!”

“Jealous? But why would you think that?” Mary asked. “What reason would Lady Blanchard ever have to be jealous of me?”

Jenny’s gaze narrowed. “It’s Lord Hadley. That’s what.”

“Jenny, you make no sense. You seem to forget that Lord Hadley is her stepson. If anything, she seems to have encouraged his attentions to me.”

“Aye, and there be sommat ye don’t know, miss. Sommat so very wicked that I almost durst not speak of it but I’m afeared for ye if I don’t.”

“What Jenny? What is so terribly wicked?”

“It’s sommat I heard last night about her ladyship and Lord Hadley.”

Mary’s gaze narrowed. “I thought you were above idle servant’s gossip, Jenny.”

“But miss, what I heard was no idle gossip. It came from a most trustworthy source.”

“Aye, and who might that be?” Mary made no effort to hide her skepticism.

Jenny looked away. “’Twas from his lordship’s man, James.”

“James?” Mary gave her another condemning look. “James was gossiping about Lord Hadley?”

“’Twas my concern over you what caused it to come out. When you ran off, James went wi’ his lordship to search for ye, but when he came back hours later wi’ no word I nigh fell to pieces. That was when he told me about her ladyship’s evildoing. He heard her talking to Lord Hadley in his chambers. She’s a bad one, the countess! A black-hearted bi—”