Читать книгу Regency Affairs Part 1: Books 1-6 Of 12 - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 25

‘His Grace has asked me to extend his apologies, your Grace, and advises that you start dinner without him.’ An uncomfortable-looking Pendleton stood outside in the hallway when Pandora answered his knock on the bedchamber door some half an hour later. A bedchamber she had been pacing restlessly this past ten minutes or more as, having dressed, she impatiently awaited Rupert’s return.

She stilled. ‘And where is his Grace?’

The butler’s gaze avoided meeting hers. ‘I believe he had reason to step out for a while, your Grace.’

Her eyes widened. ‘His Grace is no longer at home?’

‘No, your Grace.’

Pandora was appalled, stunned, that Rupert could have chosen to go out on their wedding night. With the ‘insistent lady’ who had been waiting for him downstairs? Someone from his past, perhaps?

Was that not a big leap to have taken in her thought processes? Pandora questioned with a frown. After all, Rupert had seemed equally as surprised earlier by his visitor. Except … he had now left Stratton House without even taking the time to come back to their bedchamber to tell her himself of his departure. ‘Is there anything amiss, Pendleton?’ she asked the elderly man.

‘Not that I am aware, your Grace.’

She sighed her frustration. ‘The Duke did not state the reasons for his sudden departure?’

‘No, milady.’ Again Pendleton’s expression and tone revealed nothing of his own thoughts on the subject. ‘He merely instructed me, before he left, to inform you not to delay dinner on his behalf.’

The thoughts of eating dinner, alone, and unaware of where Rupert had gone with his female visitor, held absolutely no appeal for Pandora. In truth, she felt slightly ill, nauseous, at the abruptness of her bridegroom’s desertion.

She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. ‘And did … did my husband leave at the same time as his female visitor?’

‘I believe he did, your Grace, yes.’

Pandora felt something inside of her die, as if a fist had dealt a mortal blow to her chest. Robbing her of breath. Of all thought. Except to know that Rupert had left her side on their wedding night in the company of another woman.

The humiliation, the irony, of having not one, but two husbands desert her on her wedding night, was not lost on her. Indeed, if that knowledge was not so painful, Pandora knew she might even have laughed at her own folly, in believing, hoping, that this second marriage to Rupert had any hopes of being any more successful than her first.

She straightened her shoulders proudly. ‘I believe I will not bother with dinner either, thank you, Pendleton. If you will offer Cook my apologies …?’ No doubt the poor woman, believing the Duke of Stratton to be celebrating his wedding today, had prepared a special meal for the two of them this evening. A special meal which would go as untouched as Pandora herself.

‘Of course, your Grace.’ The butler gave a slight bow. ‘Would you care for some refreshment to be brought up to you here instead?’

‘No. Thank you.’ Pandora dismissed the servant, determinedly maintaining that dignity until after Pendleton had quietly left the bedchamber.

The rest of the household staff must also be aware by now that her husband had abandoned her on their wedding night and no doubt pitied her because of it. A pity which now caused hot and scalding tears to fall unchecked down the coolness of her cheeks.

She had believed that there could be no deeper humiliation than that she had suffered on her wedding night four years ago, but surely this—Rupert having left her alone and bereft on their wedding night in the company of another woman, and without so much as a word of explanation, after making love with her so passionately—was worse even than that other humiliation?

She had been so naïve and trusting when she married Barnaby, in love with love rather than the man who had become her husband— how could she have been in love with Barnaby, when she had not really known him, and he had done absolutely nothing to encourage that emotion after their wedding?

These past four years, three of them spent as an unwanted and undesired wife, had succeeded in bringing maturity to both Pandora and her emotions.

Now she knew exactly what love was.

It was a man with the face and blond curls of a fallen angel.

It was a man called Devil …

It was two o’clock in the morning, the house eerily silent as Rupert made his way stealthily up the wide staircase two steps at a time, turning to the right when he reached the top and padding down the long hallway. He quietly opened the door of the bedchamber and slipped inside, closing it behind him and looking at the woman bathed in moonlight as she lay sleeping atop the bedcovers.

He moved silently as he stepped closer to the bed so that he might look down at her.

She wore the same cream gown she had been married in, that single string of pearls about her throat, the gold of her hair allowed to fall down about her shoulders and appearing almost silver in the moonlight, the long fan of her lashes soft against pale ivory cheeks. A frown appeared on her brow even as the fullness of her lips parted slightly and she sighed in her sleep.

Rupert felt a tightness in his chest at the underlying sadness he heard in that weary sigh. He bent to tenderly kiss the frown from her brow, allowing his lips to travel gently from that brow to her cheek, drawing back slightly as he tasted the saltiness of tears against his lips.

Tears he had caused Pandora to shed because of his abandonment of her on their wedding night?

The tightness in his chest deepened as he removed his jacket before slowly, carefully, stretching out on the bed beside her, not wishing to wake her as he smoothed the curls from her temples with gentle fingers, gladly enfolding her in his arms as she turned instinctively towards him for comfort, her head now against his shoulder, one of her hands resting trustingly upon his chest.

At peace at last, Rupert closed his eyes and fell asleep beside her.

Morning would be soon enough to tell Pandora why he had left her so suddenly the evening before …

Pandora was having the most wonderful dream as she snuggled more deeply into the arms that held her close, a dream so beautiful, so comforting, that she resisted being woken by the morning sunlight shining across the bed.

In her dream it was Rupert holding her close. Rupert’s reassuring shoulder upon which her head lay. Rupert’s muscled chest beneath her fingers.

Which told her more clearly than anything else might have done that she was indeed dreaming. Because Rupert wasn’t here. He hadn’t returned at all the evening before. He hadn’t come home at all last night.

Their wedding night.

Once again she felt the hot sting of tears beneath her tightly closed lids, knowing a moment’s surprise she had any tears left to cry after all the tears she had shed the evening. It was—

‘I know you’re awake, Pandora.’

She stilled, stiffened in disbelief, hearing Rupert’s husky words at the same time as she felt the rumble of his chest against her cheek.

‘Open your eyes and look at me, love.’

She could not. Dared not. Had no wish to see, to know the truth of his desertion of her the night before, as she would surely do if she once looked into his compelling grey eyes.

‘Pandora?’ he coaxed gently.

‘Go away!’ She kept her eyes tightly closed, refusing to respond to that gentleness.

‘I have no wish to leave you, love.’

‘You managed it with ease last night,’ she reminded him dully.

Rupert’s breath caught in his throat as he heard the pain in her voice. ‘I no more wanted to leave you last night than I do now.’

She gave a fierce shake of her head. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Why not?’

Her lids rose above accusing violets-in-springtime eyes as she glared at him, tears shimmering on the long length of her lashes. ‘Possibly because you spent our wedding night in the arms of another woman!’

‘No, love.’

‘Yes, love!’ Two bright spots of angry colour entered her ivory cheeks. ‘Even Barnaby was not so cruel as to—’ She broke off with a pained gasp.

‘Yes?’ Rupert prompted as his arms tightened about her.

Her gaze avoided his as she pushed away from his chest. ‘Release me, please.’

His mouth firmed. ‘I’ve said no.’

Pandora scowled at him, at once aware of his tousled blond hair, the weariness about his eyes evidence of his lack of sleep the night before, of the fact that he was still fully dressed apart from his superfine, the shadow that covered his jaw and top lip showing that he had not shaved as yet this morning.

That he had come to her bed this morning from the arms of another woman!

Her lips trembled. ‘You are despicable. A man utterly without morals of any kind. The sort of man who beds a woman who is not your wife on your wedding night.’ She managed to wrench free of his hold and scoot over to the side of the bed before standing up to move in front of the window, as far away from Rupert as it was possible to be in the confines of the bedchamber. Rupert’s own bedchamber, not hers. A bedchamber she had no intention of sharing with him ever again.

She gave a choked laugh as she acknowledged that her first husband had not liked women at all, and her second liked them far too much!

Rupert sat up on the side of the bed to look across the room at her beneath hooded lids. At his wife. The wife whose disgusted expression said she no longer liked him, let alone trusted him. ‘I didn’t spend any part of last night in the arms of another woman, Pandora,’ he insisted wearily, a weariness certainly not caused by a night of debauchery.

‘That is a lie—‘

‘I will never lie to you.’

She snorted. ‘You are lying to me now.’

‘It was two o’clock this morning when I returned to you, to our bed.’

‘Don’t use semantics on me, Rupert!’ Her eyes flashed in warning. ‘Whatever time you returned, it was from the arms of another woman!’

‘No, love.’ He grimaced. ‘Unless you wish to count Henley as “another woman”,’ he added ruefully. ‘And I assure you, I went nowhere near that lady’s arms.’

Pandora stilled. ‘Henley? My Henley?’

‘Well, she’s certainly not mine,’ Rupert retorted.

Pandora looked confused. ‘I don’t understand.’

Rupert sighed deeply as he ran a weary hand through his hair, knowing that his appearance—tousled locks, shadows of sleeplessness beneath his eyes, his jaw unshaven, clothes crumpled and in disarray—must make him look every inch the adulterer Pandora believed him to be. ‘Henley was the woman who came here and insisted upon speaking with me yesterday evening,’ he explained heavily.

Her eyes widened. ‘My Henley?’

‘You really must stop repeating yourself, love,’ he drawled. ‘And I certainly did not spend our wedding night—or, indeed, any other night—in that particular lady’s bed,’ he added firmly.

Pandora swallowed before speaking, her hand trembling slightly as she pushed her golden curls over her shoulder. ‘Why did Henley come here yesterday evening and ask to speak to you rather than me?’

‘Ah …’ Rupert sighed appreciatively. ‘How reassuring it is, Pandora, to know your intelligence has at last won out over your emotions.’

She winced at his obvious sarcasm. ‘What has happened? What reason did Henley have to speak with you rather than me?’ she prompted insistently as he made no immediate reply.

Rupert frowned. ‘Someone broke into Highbury House again yesterday evening.’

‘Oh, dear Lord.’ Pandora paled as she put out a hand to grasp the back of the chair in front of the dressing table. ‘Someone was hurt.’ Her gaze sharpened in fear.

Rupert nodded approval of the quickness of her mind. ‘Unfortunately, Bentley received a severe blow to the head—’

‘I must go to Highbury House at once!’

‘He isn’t there, love,’ Rupert told her.

‘Not there?’ Her eyes widened, darkened, and she seemed to sway slightly. ‘Oh, God, is he—?’ She swallowed hard, her cheeks as deathly pale as she obviously believed Bentley’s to be.

Rupert crossed the room in two long strides and took Pandora into his arms as she looked in danger of collapsing completely. ‘Forgive me, love, I’m tired and handling this badly.’ He rested his head on top of her silky curls as her fingers clung on to his waistcoat.

‘Bentley isn’t dead,’ he assured her. ‘He is likely suffering a severe headache this morning, but he’s alive.’

Pandora collapsed against him weakly. ‘Oh, thank God! I could not have borne it if anything had happened to him.’ She lifted her head to look up at Rupert. ‘But if he isn’t at Highbury House then where is he?’

‘My estate in Cambridgeshire,’ Rupert said. ‘As are all your household servants. Seeing to their safe removal is the reason I did not return to you until almost two o’clock this morning. Smythe has had the good sense to discreetly place two of his men on guard near Highbury House, but I still thought it best to remove Bentley and the others from harm’s way, until this situation has been settled. To have allowed you to speak with Henley yesterday evening would only have caused you more suffering, when she was, as usual, in the throes of hysteria. For which I am this time willing to forgive her, as she did have the foresight to ask to relay the bad news to me rather than you,’ he added with satisfaction.

‘Thank you, Rupert. I—’ Pandora trembled slightly in his arms before glancing at him uncertainly. ‘I have accused you unfairly.’

‘Yes.’ His jaw tightened. ‘And, I believe, cried needless tears over it.’

‘Because I thought—believed—’

‘You have made it more than clear what you think of me, and my morals, Pandora,’ Rupert said grimly.

‘I was—it was just so reminiscent of—’ She shook her head, those violet eyes once again awash with tears. ‘I’m truly sorry, Rupert. I should not have— I had no reason to think …’ She chewed on the fullness of her bottom lip as she stuttered to a halt.

His expression softened. ‘Pandora, isn’t it time that we talked of your marriage to Maybury?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Barnaby? But—’ She frowned. ‘What does my first marriage have to do with any of this?’

In Rupert’s opinion, everything! Although he was still in the dark as to exactly how or why …

After settling matters at Highbury House, Rupert had rousted Benedict from his bed in the early hours of this morning, demanding to know what, if anything, the other man’s minions had learnt of the life Maybury had led at Highbury House during his years of marriage to Pandora.

He had heard that Maybury had owned Highbury House for some years before his marriage to Pandora. And questioning the owners of the neighbouring houses had revealed the names of trades people who had called at the house with deliveries, the presence of his valet, of the visits from Maybury’s man of business and his lawyer, along with some of his political cronies. None of which had been of the least help in solving the mystery of whom his mistress might have been.

Hard as this might be on Pandora, difficult as she might find it to relate the details of her admittedly unhappy marriage, she now appeared to be the only person who might be able to shed some light on that particular subject.

Rupert cupped her cheeks as he looked down at her intently. ‘Pandora, Maybury owned Highbury House for almost ten years before leaving it to you in his will.’

She looked puzzled. ‘Yes, so?’

Rupert breathed in deeply. ‘There really is no easy way to say this …’ He shook his head. ‘It is my considered opinion that Maybury bought the house in order that he might have secret assignations with his mistress—’

‘No.’

Rupert frowned at the flat finality of her tone. ‘I realise this must be painful subject for you, Pandora, but—’ He broke off as she pulled free from his hands before turning away from him, her arms wrapped about her own waist, as if to ward off a blow. ‘I have no wish to hurt you any more than you have been already.’ He sighed, realising he was doing exactly that, whether he wished it or not. ‘But Maybury—’

‘Did not have a mistress,’ Pandora assured him without turning.

‘You cannot possibly know that with any certainty, love.’

‘Oh, but I can.’ She turned back to face him, her eyes haunted purple smudges in the ivory pallor of her face. ‘Indeed, I can state without hesitation that Barnaby did not have a mistress, either before or after our marriage.’

Rupert studied her for several moments before slowly speaking again. ‘Was he impotent?’

Pandora’s smile lacked humour. ‘I don’t believe so, no.’

‘What exactly do you mean by that? You don’t believe so?’

‘I fail to see what relevance whether or not he had a mistress has to the fact that someone has repeatedly broken into Highbury House during the past year.’ Pandora abruptly changed the subject, finding that she didn’t have the courage to tell Rupert all the sordid details of her disastrous first marriage.

Especially as she seemed to be making as much of a disaster of her second one!

It hadn’t occurred to Pandora that Henley might have been the ‘insistent lady’ wishing to speak to Rupert yesterday evening. How could it, when she had no knowledge of this latest attempt to break into Highbury House?

Even so, she had severely misjudged Rupert and had accused him of being unfaithful to her on their wedding night. Something for which she believed he would find it hard to forgive her, especially now that she knew where he had actually been, of how he had been taking care of her household staff during those hours he had spent away from her the night before!

He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I believe that the circumstances of Maybury’s death may have resulted in some incriminating evidence revealing the identity of his mistress to have been left at Highbury House. Personal items, perhaps. Or maybe even letters.’

‘I instructed Bentley to see that all of Barnaby’s personal items were packed into a trunk and placed in the attic before I moved into Highbury House.’ Pandora pursed her lips at the thought of Barnaby and his lover together in what had been her own home for the past year.

Had Barnaby really been that cruel, that he could have dealt the wife he had never wanted nor liked, this final humiliation even after his death? There had been a viciousness in his manner towards her on occasion, as if he somehow held her to blame for the necessity of having to marry her at all. Enough that he had seen it as one last vicious joke to leave Pandora the house in which he and his lover had met in secret?

Yes, she acknowledged heavily, she could believe even that of the spiteful man she had come to know during her marriage to him. The sooner she accepted the offer for Highbury House, which Anthony Jessop had put forwards on behalf of his uncle, the better.

‘Pandora, for pity’s sake, talk to me!’ Rupert looked at her pleadingly.

Could she now tell Rupert the truth of her marriage to Barnaby? At least reveal to him the secret she had kept from everyone this past four years? Would he understand, both her humiliation during her marriage, and her need for silence even after Barnaby’s death, in order that she might protect Clara Stanley and her two children?

How could she not tell him all now that he had already learnt so much already of that situation?

‘Pandora …?’ Rupert’s voice was gentle as he held his impatience firmly in check, having watched the play of emotions across her face these past few minutes. The pain. The disillusionment, followed by dignified resolve as she now raised her chin and set her shoulders before looking across at him with determination.

That resolve seemed to waver slightly as she nervously moistened her lips before speaking. ‘If Barnaby had someone in his life—and I am certain that he did,’ she added, ‘then it was not a mistress but … a master!’

Rupert looked across at her uncomprehendingly. What did Pandora mean by that? It made no sense, except— ‘Good Lord, are you saying that Maybury was involved with another man?’

Pandora’s gaze now refused to meet Rupert’s incredulous one. ‘I believe it’s not unheard of amongst the gentlemen of the ton.’

No, it wasn’t unheard of, amongst gentlemen of the ton or otherwise. And, although Rupert did not share those preferences, he had no fault to find with them. Indeed, several of his male acquaintances in the army had been of that persuasion, and it made not the slightest difference to Rupert’s feelings of friendship towards them.

But, to his knowledge, none of those gentlemen had married a woman as beautiful and desirable as Pandora, as it appeared Maybury had, in order to hide those preferences from society …

Pandora turned away to look sightlessly out at the square below, no longer able to meet his compelling silver gaze. ‘Barnaby wished to further his political career,’ she spoke evenly. ‘Something he didn’t believe would be possible if it ever came to light that he—that he—’

‘Preferred the company of men to women,’ Rupert put in helpfully.

‘Yes.’ Pandora trembled slightly. ‘He explained the situation to me quite candidly after we were married. Of how he would provide for me, act as my escort during the Season, ensure that my life was a comfortable one, that I would want for nothing, but that he had no intention of ever becoming my husband in a … in a physical sense. That the mere idea of physical intimacy with me, with any woman, sickened him.’

‘And he expected you to meekly accept those terms?’ Rupert exclaimed with horror.

‘No,’ she murmured, ‘he did not expect it, he ensured that I had no choice but to accept those terms, when he paid off all my father’s debts, and warned that he would immediately demand the return of that fortune if I dared to leave or expose him.’

Rupert knew that there were plenty of marriages amongst the ton that were far from ideal, political and socially arranged marriages, in which both parties chose to find solace in the arms of others once the wife had provided the ‘heir and the spare’. Indeed, his own parents’ arranged marriage had been far from happy.

But for a man to deliberately mislead the woman he married, for him to callously and deliberately marry a woman as young and beautiful as Pandora, knowing he had no intention of ever truly becoming her husband, was beyond belief.

Or not …

If one thought about it logically, then Maybury had been extremely clever in his choice of wife. Pandora had been exceedingly young and trusting, and therefore malleable. A malleability Maybury had ensured would continue even after she knew the truth of it, by paying off her father’s debts and therefore making the whole family beholden to him.

Knowing her as he did, Rupert realised that it was the latter which had maintained Pandora’s silence on the subject; she was completely selfless when it came to the welfare of others, as proven by the group of unemployable misfits she had surrounded herself with at Highbury House. A selflessness she had proved included Rupert, when she had stood so steadfast at his side during that last confrontation with Patricia yesterday.

He shook his head. ‘Did no one else ever guess?’ Admittedly, Rupert had never heard so much as a word spoken on the subject in society, but then he did not trouble himself with gossip, and he had been away in the army for six years, only back in society for two, when the gossips had been full of the behaviour of Pandora, rather than that of the Duke.

She gave a rueful smile. ‘I learnt after Barnaby’s death that his valet knew the truth of it, too.’

Rupert frowned. ‘Maybury’s valet? How did you manage to keep him quiet?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Is he the reason you have no jewellery but your mother’s pearls?’

‘How very astute of you, Rupert.’ She looked up at him admiringly. ‘I could not give him the Maybury emeralds, of course, but, yes, the despicable little man demanded my personal jewels in return for his silence on the subject.’ She shrugged. ‘I didn’t want anything that Barnaby had given me, so it was not such a terrible hardship. Rupert, what’s wrong?’ Pandora looked at him in alarm as he began to swear profusely.

He controlled himself with effort. ‘Do you think it possible this valet could also be the one responsible for breaking into Highbury House this last year?’

Pandora gave the idea some thought. ‘I don’t think so … I had no reason to like the man, but I don’t believe him to have been—to have been Barnaby’s lover.’ She looked at Rupert anxiously. ‘I— Does the … circumstance of my previous marriage disgust you?’

Disgust him? It infuriated him! And Pandora’s suffering all these years enraged him. To the extent that he sincerely wished Maybury were not already dead, just so that he might have the pleasure of personally dispatching the man himself.

Was it any wonder, married to such a man, that Pandora had eventually fallen victim to the flattering attentions of other men? Men who had undoubtedly given her the warmth and comfort which her husband had so completely denied her?

‘No, love.’ Rupert crossed the room to take her gently into his arms. ‘If I am angry with anyone it’s with Maybury, not you.’ He rested his head on top of her silky curls. ‘How you have suffered, love …’

Rupert’s understanding, his gentleness were Pandora’s undoing, a choked sob catching at the back of her throat as the scalding tears once again fell hotly down her cheeks.

She buried her face against the comforting solidity of Rupert’s chest, her arms moving about his waist as she clung to that strength.

‘I am so sorry for the things I said to you earlier,’ she sobbed brokenly. ‘I’ve had little reason to trust anyone these past four years, but I should not have misjudged you so cruelly, when you have shown me nothing but honesty and truth. It was only that last night seemed so reminiscent of how I had been abandoned and left alone on my first wedding night. I—I couldn’t believe that fate had been so cruel as to deal me the same blow twice!’

Rupert’s arms tightened about her. ‘I will never leave you alone again for a single night, Pandora,’ he vowed fiercely. ‘Indeed, I intend to keep you so busy and satisfied in our marriage bed,’ he added teasingly, ‘that you will never have reason to seek the comfort of other men— What is it, love?’ He frowned as Pandora pulled away from him.

Her chin rose determinedly, but she could not raise her agonised gaze any further than the top button of his waistcoat as she whispered, ‘There have been no other men, Rupert.’

‘But what about Stanley?’

‘Lies.’ She at last raised her gaze to meet his. ‘Sir Thomas Stanley was never my lover, Rupert.’

‘But the duel?’

Her mouth firmed. ‘Was not fought over me.’

Rupert looked stunned, a tightness forming in his chest as he recognised the courage in Pandora’s gaze even as her lower lip trembled. For fear he would not believe her?

If he’d learnt nothing else this past few days—and some of the things he had learnt this last few minutes he could have well done without ever knowing—then it was that Pandora could be trusted to tell the truth, always. And if she said that she had never been romantically involved with Sir Thomas Stanley, or any other man, then Rupert believed her. Unequivocally.

His gaze was gently encouraging. ‘Who was it fought over then?’

She shrugged. ‘I believe it must be the person—the man that both Barnaby and Sir Stanley were … involved with, and who has likely kept breaking into Highbury House.’

That was Rupert’s conclusion also. ‘Sir Thomas is another who wed to hide his sexual preferences?’

The slenderness of Pandora’s throat moved as she swallowed before answering him. ‘Yes.’

It was worse than frustrating for Rupert to wish for the death of two men who were already dead! ‘And you have remained silent in order to protect Stanley’s family,’ he guessed gruffly.

Pandora’s eyes were still wet with tears as she looked up at him appealingly. ‘Please understand, Rupert, I couldn’t bear for Lady Clara, and her two darling children, to be placed at the centre of the ridicule they would suffer if the truth were ever known.’

Of course she could not. She was soft-hearted Pandora, a woman who would rather take all the scorn and gossip upon herself rather than see it inflicted upon another innocent woman and her two children.

Pandora was, as far as he was concerned, a woman without equal. A soft-hearted and beautiful woman, who deserved to be spoilt, and petted, and loved for the rest of her life.

Loved …?

Dear God, what now?

Rupert turned towards the door of the bedchamber as a light knock sounded on its exterior. ‘What is it?’ he demanded impatiently.

‘A gentleman has brought a letter which he says is in need of your urgent attention, your Grace,’ Pendleton informed him apologetically. ‘The gentleman is waiting downstairs for your reply,’ he added before Rupert had opportunity to tell him to inform the ‘gentleman downstairs’ to take his damned letter and go to the devil.

‘It may be news from Constable Smythe, Rupert,’ Pandora said.

He drew in a deep and steadying breath, knowing that his usual control of a situation was not what it should be; in fact, he felt as if he had just been struck in the chest with a very large and heavy fist, his emotions all in disarray. Benedict had already accused him of liking Pandora, but what if—?

‘Your Grace?’

‘Yes, damn it!’ Rupert released his wife in order to cross the bedchamber and throw open the door, hardly sparing poor Pendleton a glance even as he took the letter from the silver tray the butler presented to him.

Pandora trembled as she watched Rupert break the seal on the letter and quickly read the contents, hardly able to contain her anxiety, her need to know if this nightmare was finally over. If she, and her household staff, were to be safe at last.

‘They have caught him, Pandora,’ Rupert confirmed flatly.

So it was indeed over. Just as she wondered if her marriage to Rupert, the man she loved with all her heart, and who must now feel nothing but pity for her, was to be over before it had even begun …