A Masked Deception

Chapter 16

Margaret was sitting at her dressing table, dressed in her white nightgown, high at the neck and long sleeved. Kitty was unpinning her braids in preparation for brushing them out and replaiting them for the night.

She had been so looking forward to Richard's return home, had missed him so much in his few days of absence. And now Lottie's stupid behavior had spoiled everything. Oh, it was most vexing! Margaret had been perfectly aware that it was not quite the thing for her to ride to Portsmouth in a closed carriage with Devin Northcott, but really, given what they had believed, there had been no choice. Devin himself had seen that, and there was no more high stickler than he. Surely Richard would have understood, too.

Margaret remembered with an inward shudder the look on his face when he had entered the parlor and spoken to Devin, and she remembered his words to her. She could not understand why he had behaved that way. Apparently there had been some misunderstanding with his mother, so that he had ridden all the way to Portsmouth believing that she had run away with Devin. But surely, once he had realized the truth, he should have changed toward her. He had begged pardon of Devin. Yet to her he had been coldly formal ever since. He had hardly looked at her since their return home and had talked to her only when strictly necessary. She could understand that he must be embarrassed by his own mistake, but surely he owed her some sort of apology.

She realized that this evening had not been an easy time for him. Charles had done a mad thing to keep secret his betrothal and then to bring his fiancée to England to spring quite unexpectedly on his family. Juana's arrival at Brampton Court would have been a trying ordeal at any time, but under the circumstances, it had been a very exhausting evening. The dowager had, predictably, swooned quite away when first presented with her future daughter-in-law. It had taken the combined efforts of Margaret, Charlotte, Betty, and Juana's duenna to restore her to her senses.

After that the evening had proceeded as well as could be expected. In fact, the dowager showed every sign of taking a liking to the very handsome Spanish girl. She even remarked that Juana was just the sort of girl Charles needed, someone to keep him on his toes, so to speak. The young lovers had had yet another quarrel during the evening when Charles-with very obvious intentions-wanted to show her the family picture gallery, and she preferred to stay and talk to his mother, with him as translator.

Richard had been very busy trying to cope with the situation. He had conversed with the second cousin and with Juana herself in the Spanish he had acquired during an assignment with the Foreign Office. Margaret realized that he had not had the leisure to make things right with her, even if he had wanted to.

She consoled herself with that thought. Perhaps he would come to her tonight and they would talk. He would say he was sorry for the harsh words he had spoken; she would tell him about the baby. Then he would come to her bed for a precious few minutes before retiring to his own room.

The connecting door to the dressing room opened after the briefest of taps and Richard stood there, still dressed in shirt and breeches. He had removed his coat and neckcloth. Margaret's eyes met his in the mirror. He had never come this soon after her retiring. He had never come to her before she was in bed. She felt a little shiver of fright. His eyes were as cold a blue as they had been that afternoon.

"You may leave, Kitty," he said, holding out his hand for the brush she was using. "I shall finish that."

Kitty looked inquiringly at her mistress.

"Yes, it is all right, Kitty," she said with practiced calm. "Good night."

"Good night, my lady," Kitty said, "my lord." She handed over the brush and bobbed a curtsy.

Brampton drew the brush through the full length of his wife's hair. Margaret sat very stiff and still, unable to understand her husband's mood.

"I always wondered what color it was," he murmured, half to himself, it seemed.

Margaret looked puzzled. "You mean, how long it was, Richard?"

He looked briefly but deeply into her eyes in the mirror.

"No, I knew that it waved to your waist," he said deliberately.

Margaret lowered her eyes. He was talking in riddles. He continued to brush her hair, gently at first, but with firmer strokes as the silence stretched. Finally she winced away from him.

"Richard, you are hurting me," she said.

"Am I?" He tossed the brush with a loud clatter onto the dressing table and pulled her to her feet with one hand on her upper arm. "Let us try this instead."

He jerked her around to face him and crushed her body hard against his with one ungentle arm while the other hand held the back of her head. His mouth came down to cover hers, open and demanding. Margaret surged against him, her arms encircling his neck. She responded eagerly until it became very clear that the embrace was meant to be punishing, insulting. His tongue played with hers until he had lured it inside his lips; then he sucked it into his mouth and bit down on it, until Margaret was pushing wildly against his chest, in a panic of pain and bewilderment.

She was sobbing in fright when he raised his head and looked down at her, a bitter smile raising one corner of his mouth. "Richard, what have I done?" she wailed. "Was it so wrong of me to go with Mr. Northcott this afternoon?"

He laughed. "You travel about London alone; why not about the countryside, angel?"

Her eyes widened in horror as she stood, still imprisoned by his hands. "Oh," she whispered, "you know!"

He laughed again into her face before flinging her from him so that she staggered against the stool. "Yes, I know," he said. "You should have burned the evidence, my dear, if the game was over. But perhaps the game was over only for me? Have you found someone else for whom to masquerade?"

"Richard, please!"

"I must admit, ma'am, it was a beautiful scheme. You could have devised a better plan for showing me how much you hate and despise me. What a fool you made of me!"

Margaret moved toward him, one trembling hand stretched out to touch his arm. He flinched away. "Richard, it was not like that," she said. "Please let me explain."

"Your behavior needs no explanation, ma'am," he said. "It is all too painfully obvious. I might as well wear a motley suit and bells! I certainly made a ludicrous picture, did I not, creeping out of the house in disguise to meet my own wife, bedding her in a friend's house, parting before dawn? You should be an actress, my dear. That final parting scene was most affecting. You made me cry, did you know that? And did you cry with laughter on the way home?"

Margaret had her face hidden behind her hands. Her shoulders were shaking. "Let me explain," she sobbed.

"I loved you, Meg," he said harshly. "I thought you were perfection. I thought myself unworthy of you."

She looked up at him with huge, tear-filled eyes.

"And all the time you were a scheming little slut," he sneered. "Was it not exciting enough to ask your husband to give you pleasure in your marriage bed? Did you have to get your thrills by pretending to have a grand and passionate affair?" His eyes narrowed. "Would you be excited if I took you now, angel, when you know that I hate and despise you as much as you did me?"

Margaret backed away from him until her back was against a wall. She had one hand pressed to her mouth to try to muffle her convulsive sobs.

He stopped a short distance away from her, the sneer still on his face. "Relax, angel," he said soothingly. "I did not come here to bed you. I came to beat you."

Margaret shook her head.

"I will not tolerate a wife whom I cannot trust," he said, his eyes narrowed again, the sneer gone.

They stood and stared at each other for timeless moments.

Margaret took her hand away from her mouth. Her face had hardened, Brampton noticed.

"If you are going to beat me, Richard," she said, her eyes on his chin, "you had better make sure that you hurt only me and not our child."

He looked searchingly at her. "You cannot bluff your way out of this, my dear."

She looked directly into his eyes, her own suddenly blazing. "You are going to beat me," she said with scorn. "What a wronged and righteous husband you are, my lord." She pushed herself away from the wall and brushed past him. In his surprise, he let her go.

"You are so indignant because I kept up a deception and met you in the way I did?" she said, turning and glaring at him. "I am a slut, my lord? Then what does that make you? At least I knew it was my own husband I was creeping away to meet. I have never been unfaithful to you, even for one moment, even in my thoughts. But you! You lied to me and stole away to meet a women you thought to be a stranger and made love to her. You were unfaithful to me, Richard. But that does not matter, does it? Men are permitted such lapses. You are a hypocrite, my lord. You live by a double standard."

"Meg," Brampton said, trying to stop this angry tirade, which he could not quite believe was coming from his wife.

"No, I have been quiet too long," she said, her eyes flashing at him. "Have I made a fool of you, my lord? Maybe I could be forgiven, even if that had been my intention. Could anything be more humiliating than the way you have treated me? I knew you made a marriage of convenience with me. I did not expect love. But you did not show any feeling for me at all. On our wedding night, you knew I was an innocent, you must have known that I was frightened. And yet you just-you just used me. It was horrible, my lord, humiliating. I felt like a thing!"

"Meg," he said, moving toward her and reaching out his hands. "Please! I never meant-"

"Well, now you can go ahead and beat me," she said with bitter defiance. "I don't care anymore. Are you going to use your bare hands, my lord, or do you have to return to your room for your whip? If your child survives, Richard, I shall have done my duty, at least. And that is all you ever wanted of me, is it not?"

"Meg, my dear," he begged, putting his hands firmly on her shoulders, "please stop this. Stop hurting yourself." His eyes, she noticed in some surprise, were brimming with tears. One spilled over and rolled down his cheek as she watched. Without thinking, she reached out a hand and brushed it away.

"Richard," she whispered.

They stared at each other, eyes wide with tears. Brampton pulled her against him and held her head against his shoulder.

"Meg, my sweet," he whispered against her hair, "have I wronged you so much? I had no idea you felt so strongly, my love."

"No, most people do not," she mumbled into his shirt.

He kissed her temple gently; she turned her head until their lips met.

"Richard, love me, please love me," she begged against his mouth.

And then she could say no more. His mouth opened over her to block out more words and his tongue was plunging deeply over hers. He crushed her body against his. Heat rose between them as her arms went up to twine around his neck.

"Meg, my little angel," he groaned, hot lips against her neck and her throat, hands twining in her thick hair.

And then he was pulling at her nightgown, tearing off some buttons in his haste to remove it. Margaret gasped and came against his length again, naked this time. He bent and lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. He leaned over her, drinking in the sight of her, from her passion-filled eyes and parted lips, over the perfect breasts and tiny waist, wrapped in her own hair, over the slightly rounded stomach and soft thighs, down to her tiny feet.

"God, you are so beautiful," he said unsteadily, standing to remove his own clothes.

Margaret shivered at the sight of his hard-muscled body and at the touch of his hands when he joined her on the bed, gentle at first, but seeking out unerringly the places that would make her body hum with passion. He took her hand in his, watching her through half-closed lids, and placed it against his chest. And for the first time, she began a slow and shy exploration of his body, gradually emboldened by his gasps of desire.

Thoroughly aroused by her touch, he rose up and toppled her onto her back and came down hard on top of her. Control snapped for the moment, he crashed into her, calling her name and continuing to caress her with his hands.

Margaret too cried out and arched her hips upward in order to receive him more deeply. He moved firm hands to her shoulders-a familiar gesture-as he taught her his rhythm. But there was nothing purely businesslike about this lovemaking. He began with slow, shallow strokes that teased her hips into grinding rhythmically into his, which had her panting and pleading for more.

The depth and the tempo of his thrusts increased gradually to answer her need. When he finally felt her muscles tighten and strain against him in mute appeal for release, Brampton lifted his head and gazed down at her until she opened her eyes.

"This is all for you, Meg, my wife," he said, and he thrust and held deep inside her until he felt her shudder into release and saw a look of surprise and wonder glaze her eyes. He withdrew and thrust once more, his face in the hollow of her neck, and descended with her into a world of total peace.

They clung together damply while their hearts slowed to normal beat, and then Brampton rolled to one side of her, his arms still circling her warm little body. They lay with eyes closed for several minutes.

"Tell me now, Meg," he said finally, brushing her lips with his and tightening his hold on her shoulder. "Tell me about it, my little angel."

"I loved you," she said. "I loved you so much for six years. When I used to see you and you did not notice me, I thought I could not bear it. But when I did not see you, it was even worse. And when you came to Papa and asked me to marry you. I told myself that you did not love me, that you just needed a wife and an heir. I told myself and told myself, but it still broke my heart, Richard, when I knew for certain."

He held her very close and laid his cheek on her head while her hair cascaded over his arms.

"And then I couldn't stand it anymore and I told Charlotte. And she persuaded me to dress up again as I had when we first met. I knew it was madness, Richard, but I just once wanted to see you look at me as you did when I was eighteen. Just once I wanted to know that you wanted me."

"Meg, my sweet love, why did you not just tell me?" he asked.

"How could I, my lord? I might have ended up looking very foolish, and embarrassing both myself and you."

"Oh, my little darling!"

"And then, after that first time, I couldn't stop," she said. "I wanted you so badly, Richard. You are a man. You could turn to a woman whenever you wanted. But I am a woman. I lived with dreams for six years and then I lived with disappointment. I did not mean to make you feel foolish, my lord, indeed I did not. I came to you only because I wanted you and needed you. And when you said good-bye, Richard, it was as painful for me as it was for you. I thought I would never know you in that way again." She buried her face against his shoulder.

"Meg, will you forgive me?" he whispered into her hair.

One arm crept around his neck and he had his answer.

"Is it true about the baby, little one?"

She nodded against his shoulder.

Suddenly Brampton leapt out of the bed and reached down to lift her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked against his neck.

"I am taking my wife to my bed," he said decisively. "And that is where she belongs every night and all night for the rest of our lives."

He carried her through to his bedchamber and set her down on his bed, where she had never been before. He looked down at her, a smile in his eyes as he got in beside her.

"I thought I knew you, Meg," he said. "And I thought I loved my sweet, quiet little wife. I think I am going to love the little fireball just as well."

"Do you truly love me, Richard?" she asked wistfully.

"What words will convince you?" he asked, propping himself on one elbow and cupping her face with his other hand. "I love you, my darling, my love, my sweetheart, my angel."

She smiled her rare smile. "That's nice," she said.

"I think I am ready to show you my feelings again," he said, and grinned. "Actions speak much louder than words sometimes, do you not agree?"

"I would never disagree with my husband," she said demurely.

He chuckled. "I shall remind you of that, ma'am, next time you are yelling at me and looking as if you are ready to throw things."

"Ah, but we must make sure there is no next time, monsieur, n'est-ce pas?" she said huskily before his mouth silenced her again and his hands went to work on her.