Chapter Five
Four Months Later…
I sit in the armchair in our bedroom and stare out the window. The leaves on the trees are beginning to turn vibrant shades of red and orange, while the sharp wind attempts to steal them from their branches. Typically, September is warm, but this day is chilly.
Having been alone, aside from the company of Hugh and the servants, I spend a lot of time in this chair overlooking the city. I feel as if I am queen in my own silent world. And at times, I pretend that my husband was killed in some heroic battle leaving me a lonely widower.
Unfortunately, he didn’t leave me because death had stolen him away. He left me to tend to business. I’m left bitter, wishing he had taken me with him. Instead, he left me to reign over our kingdom all alone.
A soft knock on the door startles me and I gather the expensive silk on my dress and stand. Eloise, a woman close to my age, is my favorite servant. Oftentimes, she brings the linens into my room to fold so that she can keep me company. I adore her and think of her as a friend.
Affixing a smile, I jerk open the door and prepare myself to hug the slight woman. When my eyes land on the leering, dark eyes of Hugh, I shudder.
I cannot stand Emmett’s father.
At first, he seemed jovial and similar to my own father.
But, oh, how I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I see the lust that swims in his eyes whenever I dine with him each night. Some evenings, he sips his wine and stares at me, wordlessly. It’s come to the point that I’m sickened to be anywhere near him. I detest that I feel as though I’m a rabbit that he’s waiting for to step in his trap.
“Can I help you, sir?” I clip out.
His eyes drop to my chest, like always, and he grins before dragging his eyes upward. “I received a letter from Emmett.”
My disgust dissipates as hope surges through me. Perhaps he will finally come home to me. I reach my palm out for him to hand me the letter that he’s tugging from his breast pocket. But instead of giving it to me, he takes my hand with his and winks at me. I begin to pull it from his grasp, but he jerks me forward into his arms.
“You poor, lonely woman,” he murmurs, his grasp on my hand crushing.
“Mr. Claxton! You’re hurting me,” I hiss through my clenched teeth.
When his eyes flicker over to the bed and his arousal presses against me, horror floods through me.
“I could keep you company, you know. Our little secret.”
“Get your hands off of me!” I shriek and attempt to wriggle from his grasp.
The letter falls from his grip as he mauls me with his greedy hands. “Cora, if you want to read the letter then…”
I spit in his face and he finally releases me.
“Don’t you dare ever put your hands on me—”
He slaps me across the face and I’m blinded by the pain and shock of the act. Tears spill over my cheeks and I gape at him.
“That’ll be enough, Father,” a voice thunders from behind him.
Emmett!
The voice is familiar, yet different.
But I miss it nonetheless.
Pushing past the monster, I rush right into the arms of my husband.
His strong arms collect me and he inhales sharply. I catch a whiff of his scent and it’s different. Gone is the scent of lingering tobacco and liquor. Mint and cloves fill my nostrils. Perhaps things are different on the coast.
Something about him is most definitely different.
“If I knew this welcome awaited me, I’d have come home much sooner.”
The hands that are stroking my back suddenly don’t seem familiar at all. Jerking my head up, I find myself staring into the palest brown eyes I have ever seen. A man with similar facial features to that of my husband is the one holding me. Caressing me. Inhaling me.
“Oh, my,” I squeak out and wriggle from his embrace. “I am so sorry.”
Hugh storms past me, clipping my shoulder with his as he passes, and I’m once again in the handsome man’s arms.
“Oliver. My study. Now.”
Hugh doesn’t wait for a response and stalks away, leaving me shaken up and confused.
This time, I don’t free myself from his grasp and instead stare into his beautiful eyes. His amber colored hair is slightly longer than Emmett’s and hangs in his face. My fingers twitch to brush it away. His mouth quirks up into a half smile and my skin flushes.
“I’m sorry. Um, thank you for, uh, stepping in with your er father. He was awfully presumptuous, that I, a married woman, would willingly let him bed me.”
Oliver’s brows furrow at my words and a frown plays at his lips. I find myself fixated on his mouth.
“Well bloody hell. Here I’d thought I had found me an angel. Turns out, she’s already spoken for by the Devil.”
His words have a clipped, menacing throb behind them and I tug away from him to pin him with a firm stare.
“Emmett is a fine man and my husband. Certainly not the Devil. The Devil is the one that has summoned you to his study,” I snap.
His lips draw up into a broad smile and I force myself to look away from him.
“Ma’am,” he chuckles. “I was only saying so in jest. Emmett is my favorite brother. I’m happy to have learned about his marriage to such a spectacular and fierce woman.”
My guard drops and I lift my eyes to his. “Oh, I see. Well then, I’m Cora. Pleased to meet you.”
He takes my gloved hand in his and draws it to his lips, his honeyed eyes never leaving mine, and presses a kiss to the back.
“You smell lovely, Cora.”
I gape at him and jerk my hand back. “You’re an odd fellow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to collect myself before supper.”
With a wicked flash of a grin that reminds me so much of Emmett, he winks and struts down the hallway. I stare at him, noticing his lean, muscled legs stretching the fabric of his trousers and his broad shoulders that stretch his topcoat with every movement.
Why am I even noticing such things about the brother of my husband?
My heart aches at the thought of Emmett. I miss him and it kills me to know what was in that letter. He hasn’t written, not once, and I grow more and more upset about the fact that I have not seen him in months each day.
With a sigh, I close the bedroom door and collapse on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I do pray he comes home soon.
When I enter the dining room a little while later, both Hugh and Oliver stand upon my arrival. Even though I hate the man of this house, I can’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. A few years ago, he lost his wife to illness. Emmett, nor Hugh, never spoke of Oliver, nor did they display any portraits of him anywhere. There was one room in the house that Eloise told me they kept locked up with storage items, but now I discover this must have been Oliver’s room.
His sudden arrival. The lack of pictures. The locked up room. It all smells of something peculiar.
“Please sit. Catherine has cooked up a special meal fitting for my son’s return. Fricando veal and harrico,” Hugh smiles as if he didn’t attempt to maul me earlier. “And I even hear she whipped up some transparent pudding. I’m especially looking forward to that one.”
I shudder at hearing him speak to me as I take my seat and give him a slight nod. Then, I affix my eyes on our guest. After four months of dinner with only that of the disgusting Mr. Claxton, I’m eager to have someone else to talk to and look at.
“I don’t mean to be impolite, but your father never spoke of you,” I blurt out before I talk myself out of it.
Hugh huffs and Oliver nearly chokes on his wine.
“My, my,” Oliver finally chuckles. “You are a lively one.”
I shrug my shoulders and sip the wine that has been placed before me. “Simply speak my mind is all.”
“It will do you some good for Emmett to return. A woman should know her place in a man’s world,” Hugh grits out.
I ignore his offensive statement and raise a brow to Oliver.
“Well, Mrs. Claxton,” he drawls out my married name. “My family and I had a falling out some time ago. It was in my best interest to pursue some other endeavors. However, my father and I are able to put the past behind us. Therefore, it would seem that you shall now see quite a bit of me.”
His lips quirk up into a half smile and I drop my gaze to my empty plate. “I see. Well then, it should be nice to have another person to converse with. As of late, supper around here has been quite a dull affair.”
The jab at Hugh is a bold one. His exhalation of breath is enough to satisfy me. I don’t need to see his red, angry face to know that I infuriated him.
“Cora, dear,” Hugh grumbles. “Your mouth may get you into much trouble one of these days. It isn’t unheard of for the man of the house to put another man’s wife in her place while he is away.”
Oliver chuckles and I glance up at him.
“Father, she’s only trying to goad you. The woman is harmless. Leave her be.”
I flash him a thankful smile to which he winks in return before launching into talk of the recent successes of the factories. When he speaks, he’s all smiles and twinkling eyes. I find myself staring at him. Watching his lips move. Noticing the way his hands gesture in a spirited way. He’s quite a mesmerizing person to watch.
Dinner drones on and I keep quiet, counting down the minutes until I may retreat back into my lonely room. Oliver has certainly drawn Hugh’s attention away from me while we eat, which is a lovely change, but I still cannot wait to leave the vulgar, old man’s presence.
When dinner is over, I make haste out of the room and scurry down the hallways. I hear someone stalking after me and as they draw closer, I snatch the nearest thing—a candlestick—prepared to defend myself.
Oliver’s eyes widen at seeing me wield the long, heavy piece of metal as a weapon.
“Dear Lord, has he been bothering you to a degree that you must feel you need to protect yourself? The old man’s always had a penchant for young, beautiful women but I never thought they had a reason to fear him.”
I sigh and set the candlestick down. “No disrespect, but your father is an animal. I can assure you, Emmett will learn as much when he returns.”
Oliver takes a step closer to me and my heart rate quickens at his closeness. “Darling, I shall protect you until my brother returns. It would be my honor.”
Relief surges through me at the prospect of having someone keeping that disgusting man away from me.
“Oh, my, that is a generous offer. As much as I would like to deny it, I will not. It would please me greatly if you could look after me, Oliver.”
His eyes fall on my lips when I say his name and he smiles. “I will live to please you then, Cora.”
The underlying meaning in his words isn’t missed by me and my cheeks blaze in response. I’m about to bid him good evening when he reaches for me.
“Come to the sitting room with me and have a drink. I am quite bored in this big house and would love to hear more about you.”
I stare at his hand as if it is a viper. But, the lure of having someone to converse with, besides myself, is tempting. This is why I find myself reaching for his hand. When our hands connect, a heat floods through me. I’m unsure if it is from embarrassment or something altogether sinful.
He gives it a squeeze before guiding me back down the hallways to the windowless room where I first accepted Emmett’s notion of marriage. Once he pushes through the door, a chill of air gusts out and chills my flesh. I wait until he’s lit one of the gaslights before following him inside the cool room that I haven’t visited in four long months.
“Could I interest you in a drink?” he questions with his back to me.
I flit my eyes over to the sofa where not long ago Emmett dazzled me with his romantic words and sweet caresses. I’d fallen for him so easily, only to learn later that he could switch moods easily and not be anything near the gentle, beautiful man from before. The reminder sours my stomach and I have the urge to swipe the decanter of liquor right from a nearby table—to hear the glass break like my heart did on the evening of our wedding.
“I’ll have something hot,” I say with a shiver.
Oliver peers over his shoulder at me and his lips quirk up into a half-grin that sends another chill down my spine.
“Would you like me to light the fireplace? Or would you rather me keep you warm in my arms?” His honey-colored eyes darken as his smile grows.
The Claxton men are all so bold.
“A fire would be nice,” I clip out.
He chuckles, the sound doing its part to warm me, as he saunters over to the small brick fireplace I hadn’t noticed last time. I take a seat on the soft couch while he kneels to get the fire started. His trousers hug his muscular thighs and I can’t help but appreciate the lovely things it does for his form. The man is incredibly handsome, which is exactly why I need to look away from him. I have my own handsome husband—his brother no less.
Once the fire is blazing, I smile as warmth makes it my way. Oliver sets to pouring some drinks and I frown when he hands me a tumbler filled with an amber liquid that nearly matches his eyes.
“I wanted tea,” I tell him, a slight pout in my voice.
He reaches forward and pushes a curl out of my eyes. “There are a lot of things I want, darling. But sometimes we have to work with what was given to us.”
I swallow at his words and drop my eyes to the glass in my hands. It feels wrong being in here with him. Alone. And yet, I’m strangely drawn to him and his affections. As of late, I’ve only had the attention of Hugh and that makes me want to expel my dinner all over my exquisite dress. Having this man beside me tease and converse with me is nice. It is most definitely a nice break from the loneliness of the past four months.
“I can see you miss my brother,” he says in a gentle tone. “He’s lucky to have you.”
I take a sip of the whiskey and wince when it burns my throat. “I do miss him. And he is certainly lucky, especially how he behaved after our first night together. He is lucky I’m still here.”
My eyes find the widened ones of Oliver. He drains his glass and swallows before regarding me with a scowl. “Why do you stay then, Mrs. Claxton?”
The way he drawls out my name causes me to stiffen my spine. “Because I agreed to this union. We only had a short period together before he whisked away for business. And despite the way he left so abruptly, I won’t give up on him. At least not until we’ve had time to properly test to see if this marriage will work out or not.”
He pours more of the whiskey into his glass before his eyes drag back over to mine. I sip some more from my tumbler and enjoy the warmth it instills within me.
“And if it doesn’t,” he questions with a heated gaze, “work itself out? What shall you do then, Mrs. Claxton?”
My heart beats loudly in my chest and I can almost hear it in my ears. “I would tarnish my name and carry on back to the countryside to live out the rest of my years as a spinster.”
His laughter bellows from him and it startles me. When he doesn’t quit laughing, I glare at him.
“Something you find clever?”
He downs the rest of his second glass without as much as a flinch. “You, my darling, are the clever one. However, you must be daft if you don’t think you’d have a flock of would-be suitors tugging at the hem of your dress all the way to the country,” he says in a husky voice. “Including myself.”