Libertine's Wife (6 page)

Thomas Helms sought to council him
about such delicate matters after that, embarrassed to direct him
to the attentions of prostitutes and such, to avoid such scandalous
proceedings again. It set the tone for much of their dealings from
then on, encouraging Garret to engage in his own pleasures with
little hesitation.

It wasn’t long before he was once more
sued for licentious behavior, this time by a prostitute named,
Collette Dermot.

The whore claimed he beat her in a
sadistic fury before having unnatural sexual relations with her.
They were all lies, of course. Collette had no issue with his doing
anything to her as long as he paid her for it. The trouble began
when he grew bored with her and moved on.

Her pimp then beat her black and blue.
She went to the authorities with her absurd tales. He wasn’t
arrested, just forced to pay restitution for her injuries and lost
wages.

Helms managed to keep all quiet. He
became very good at dodging such matters from then on. After dozens
of scrapes with the fairer sex which were highly publicized, his
man-of-affairs gave up trying to get the young marquis to tow the
line. Helms’ goal from then on was to get his young client out of
trouble, and keep him out of it.

The man soon had a knack for
recognizing unpleasantness. Helms saw it coming down the road long
before Garret did then. It used to amuse Garret to see the little
man move in for the kill if he saw an undesirable situation
unfolding for his employer.

Despite his short stature, Helms
wielded a mighty quill in the courts. He grew to be known as
‘Ravensford’s mean little dog’; protecting his noble employer from
opportunists who would seek to take advantage of the young marquis’
lofty position. The means in which he protected Garret from wily
ladies was often speculated to be unethical and oft times ruthless.
Any of his former mistresses could confirm that a visit from Helms
signified an end to the relationship.

After many more scrapes that incurred
undue gossip and legal suits, Garret soon kept his sexual
proclivities a secret he shared with only high-priced, seasoned
prostitutes who were well-versed in such arts. Those early foibles
followed him for years, even as careful as he was.

Finally, he met up with Lord Cosgrove
that last year at Eton. Smaller than the other boys, Martin Devere
was made fun of and picked on in school. Garret took him under his
wing. The two became the unlikeliest best friends. He reasoned it
was envy now, looking back.

Martin had an innocence he’d never had.
Unlike him, Martin also had two loving parents. He went with his
friend to his estate for holidays, seeing firsthand how it should
be with a man and a woman. Lord and Lady Cosgrove adored one
another.

That was when he felt the bitterness to
know he was unloved. That was when he knew he was incapable of love
himself. If not for Helms righting everything in his path and
Martin’s grounding influence, he might have been consumed by his
own destructive compulsions in his youth.

Yes, even this unsophisticated young
woman had a better childhood than him. Seeing her slumber now to
avoid his continued jibes made him feel a twinge of guilt, knowing
how young and inept she was.

Hadn’t he made his own share of
mistakes at her age? He gripped the velvet seat to recall those to
be too numerable to count. It was his pride that was hurt over her
accusations. Now all he wished to do was punish her for her part in
it.

Truthfully, he’d underestimated her
brother, thinking him amusing and harmless. The fault wasn’t just
hers. He’d let his guard down. Eustace was charming and amicable;
deceiving those around him he had any agenda in mind.

Even as Garret tried to understand why
the girl felt compelled to help her brother, he couldn’t get past
the lies she told of him. He’d never had to rape a woman in his
life. The accusations that he forced himself on her infuriated
him.

Garret rolled his eyes to
think of how she began to cry after her ridiculous tale the morning
after. If his young wife had any idea how many women he had to
literally push out of his bed over the years, she might have
rethought her story.
Rape! Bloody
absurd!

When they arrived at Ravensford Hall,
Arianne was awake. She was in awe as she shielded her gaze and
looked out the window. The house was incredibly large, with dozens
of windows and gleaming whitewashed pillars. The monstrous house in
the distance brought with it the reality of her situation. Her
heart was beating like a drum of impending doom the closer they got
to the estate.

Ravensford sprawled against the seat
cushions, wearing blue-tinted spectacles to ward off the bright
sunlight, obscuring the direction of his gaze. In those few
minutes, he explained his background to her.

The marquis told her he was an only
child. His parents were long dead. He told her all of this as the
coach turned down a winding lane and grew closer to the house. He
spoke as if she were a stranger and not his wife, pointing out the
history of the house in the few minutes before their
arrival.

“
You will be pleased with
the staff here. They are exceptional and quite efficient,” he
informed in an impersonal tone as the coach rolled down the
endless, manicured drive. “The steward, Mr. Phillips, takes care of
the estate in my absence. Any requests for funds should go to
him.”

“
You plan to leave tomorrow,
my lord?” Arianne queried in relief, though a sense of panic filled
her to be left alone here.

“
Yes, at first light. Are
you so eager for me to leave, my sweet? And you did go to such
trouble to have me all to yourself.”

His mocking laughter made her stiffen
in anger. Arianne refused to pick up where they left off, unwilling
to let him rile her. She ignored him then. She knew this was where
Ravensford intended to leave her. Any complaint she might have had
seemed ludicrous after what she’d done to him.

The coach stopped in a circular,
cobbled drive. Liveried footmen and servants poured out. Arianne
was helped down. She endured the introductions to her new staff
with gritted teeth and false smiles, aware by their dumbfounded
expressions they were shocked to learn of their employer’s sudden
marriage. No, shocked was too mild a word, some just gaped with
dumbfounded amazement.

Garret Spencer, the eighth Marquis of
Ravensford, was very tall. He was well over six feet. He was
frightening in both size and demeanor as he towered at her side.
Julian was lean and hard muscled, but this man was all brawn. She
felt small and frail despite her five foot six-inch height. His
hands were large and quite capable. She had no doubt he earned his
reputation as a brawler over the years.

She had enough time in the coach to
study her new husband. He was really quite handsome, if not a bit
brooding. He dripped with worldly sophistication. Known as a
womanizer of the worst sort, she imagined Ravensford was quite
outraged to be trapped into marriage by a mere girl.

After being set upon by London’s most
conniving ladies over the years; he’d managed to avoid marriage.
Her husband hadn’t a bit of slouch or softness about him. She
glimpsed a set of straight white teeth beyond his sneering lips,
wondering how he would look should he smile with real
amusement.

He was neither soft nor yielding as he
grasped her elbow and hurried her inside the large house. Just
seeing that large heavy hand clamped upon her arm with the
glittering diamond signet ring made her shiver with
unease.

Arianne’s eyes widened to see the
luxury within. Even in its glory days, the neighboring Vale House
didn’t aspire to such glaring opulence. The foyer was huge with
marbled tile that shone under her slippers.

The old butler smiled at her kindly,
introduced as Samuels. He bowed to her as they passed.

A huge crystal chandelier hovered
overhead, each tear drop that dangled catching the light from the
many windows, sending a pattern of glitter about the interior. The
wide stairs that lead to the upper level were made of the finest
mahogany and gleamed with recent polish. Portraits lined the walls
there of Ravensford’s unsmiling, dour-faced ancestors.

Ravensford’s home boasted four wings
with a total of twenty-four bedchambers, thirty sitting rooms, a
billiard room, a ballroom, huge kitchens, a library, a study, a
conservatory, a solar, a sun room, and a wine cellar.

Also on the ground floor were a formal
and informal salon, a huge dining room, and endless corridors that
would take her weeks to learn and navigate. The procession of maids
and servants that curtseyed and greeted her encouraged her those
few minutes she entered her new home.

Garret made it clear he was returning
to his residence in London the next morning. He said he intended to
forget he had a wife. Arianne knew she had no right to expect any
kindness from him. After what she helped Eustace do to him, she was
shocked the man was civil. Then there was an awkward silence that
prevailed throughout the journey.

What had she expected from him? Should
he have tried to act charming in those moments? Like her trapping
him wasn’t as despicable as it was? He was hardly appreciative to
be bailing Eustace out of his financial woes.

The money lenders descended like hungry
sharks upon Ravensford after learning he was paying his
brother-in-law’s debts. For that alone, his contempt of her was
tenfold. She had more than earned Ravensford’s spite, in an unseen
way as well.

As much as she would like Ravensford to
leave at once, he insulted the both by demanding they consummate
their marriage. He knew they tricked him the night he was drugged.
He didn’t believe he ever touched her. It was her shame to know she
would have to go that far. He was her husband now. She couldn’t
refuse him. She knew he did it just to punish her for what she’d
done to him.

Julian’s unforgiving look before he
left her that night came to mind. He would hate her if he knew the
truth. She could have spoken up and put a stop to all of this.
Recalling Lady Adeline’s warnings that day in the gardens proved
the need for such silence.

It was too late to undo what was set in
motion as soon as she arrived in London. She forced back the tears.
The heavy doors shut behind her, blocking out the sun and freedom.
Ravensford looked down at her. His lip curled when he noticed her
fear.

“
Put your mind at ease, Lady
Ravensford,” Garret whispered under his breath. “You have but one
night to endure me. That should no doubt please you.”

Arianne glared at his back. He stalked
away, leaving the housekeeper, Mrs. Greeves, to show her to her
rooms. The housekeeper chattered all the way up the endless stairs.
She didn’t have time to dwell upon her husband’s harsh, veiled
words.

She was shown into a room that made her
gasp from its sheer beauty. The housekeeper smiled as she went in
ahead and drew open the heavy ivory velvet drapes.

The room was huge with ivory and pink
damask trappings. The bed was large and had four oak posters and a
daunting canopy with rose silk bed hangings and matching throw
pillows. The fireplace was gilt-edged and surrounded by an
overstuffed chair and a leather divan. Her gleaming oak dressing
table was a treasure trove of drawers and cupboards that delighted
her eye. The oval mirror above reflected her surprise.

“
I’ll leave ye to settle in,
Lady Ravensford,” Mrs. Greeves said with a cheerful smile on her
round, friendly face. “I’ll have one of the maids bring ye up some
tea. Ye look a bit peaked, my lady. My, what a pretty little thing
ye are too. Welcome to Ravensford Hall, my lady. It be a pleasure
to serve you.”

Arianne mumbled her thanks. When the
door shut, she slid to the edge of the divan. The enormity of what
she’d done finally assailed her. She had to live with what she did
now, recalling Julian’s furious words when he tried to talk her out
of this. Thinking of all the reasons for why she went through with
it made her tense.

Giving into Julian seemed like the most
natural thing in the world, confidant they would marry soon. The
night he snuck into her room and took her virginity with aching
tenderness was etched upon her memory. Thoughts of him made her
eyes grow soft and dreamy to recall how he wooed her, wearing down
her protestations they should wait until after they
married.

They met in secret a few times after
that night at the hunting lodge behind Vale House. She blushed to
recall those hours they lay abed, making plans they had no right to
make. Reality raised its ugly head when Edmund St. Ives was found
dead at his home in London.

Julian learned quickly his family was
impoverished. Lady Vale found the means to rectify the matter
within the month. She learned from an acquaintance in town the rich
merchant Silas Penworthy sought a title for his daughter, willing
to buy one, if need be.

The dowager paid her a visit prior to
her leaving for London. The lady informed her in no mincing words
of Julian’s obligation to wed the rich merchant’s daughter. Lady
Adeline St. Ives was a force to be reckoned with. Her flashing dark
eyes missed nothing. She leapt upon every weakness she could find
to get Arianne to relinquish Julian.