Why did she return?
William Braxton paced the green and gold Aubusson carpet in the parlor, hands clenched into fists. Where was Mrs. Braxton? What was taking her so long? Rather than cooling off as he should since they arrived home, his anger intensified.
Usually an understanding man, he couldn’t forgive her this time for leaving without a word, amongst the other crimes she’d committed since their wedding. For the past few months, his life had hung by a thread, and any more catastrophes could send him to his doom.
He wouldn’t surrender without a fight. His wife held secrets, he just didn’t know exactly how many. If he weren’t so worried about it, he’d have let her run away. But keeping a close eye on her was crucial at this point. Soon, he’d go through Parliament and get the annulment they both wanted, no matter how it tarnished his name.
Grumbling, he raked his fingers through his hair. What had he been thinking marrying a woman who he’d never met before? His friend had told William of a man who had a daughter he was trying to settle with a good husband. William should have heard the warning bells when he realized how desperate Mr. Connelly was to have a quick wedding and hand his daughter over to William. Then again, William had been searching for a mother for his children, and had been in hopes of marrying a woman who would make him proud as his wife.
Neither which had happened.
Now, at this moment, two questions swam through his head; why had she returned, and what would he do with her now she was back?
Swishing skirts sounded outside the door, and he turned. His wife entered, appearing as regal as the first day they’d met at her father’s house. Her jet-black hair was upswept into a tight knot at the top of her head, with a few soft curls brushing near her ears. The dark gray dress had a high collar, long sleeves, and was snug enough to complement her slender figure. A cameo clasped at her throat was her only jewelry.
He pursed his mouth. Why had she dressed this way? She was neither a servant, nor in mourning. Seeing her attired thus reminded him why he’d agreed to marry her in the first place. Next to the constant echo of his dying first wife’s wish rushing through his head at that time, find another wife who could be a mother to our children. Kat had put on a façade of innocence and he wanted to believe with all his heart such a woman existed.
Now something different glimmered from the depths of her green eyes. A steady, thoughtful regard had replaced the haughty glances.
Would she tell him where she’d been all this time and why? No doubt whatever scheme she’d pursued had gone awry, and she’d returned for the financial support she’d craved from the start. Despite her changes in dress and demeanor, Hell would turn to icicles before he’d trust her again. He’d quickly learned what a fine performer his wife could be, and he’d not lower his guard for even an instant.
He stepped forward. “Have you misplaced all your other dresses, Mrs. Braxton?”
“I don’t quite understand your question, Sir.”
He rolled his eyes heavenward then strode to her. He gestured with his hand to her covered neck. “Planning to seduce a Puritan?”
She grabbed her modest neckline, her eyes wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“And well you should, but I fear your apologies come too late.”
“You do not approve of my dress?”
“I prefer to see the package wrapped in something more fitting to your true self. In that manner, I would be well-reminded of the true woman I married.”
She gasped and her cheeks blotched with red spots. “Are you insinuating that I—”
“Kat, cease playing innocent. It is unbefitting of your true character.” He breathed a deep sigh. “Now, tell me where you have been, and what in heaven’s name possessed you to come back?”
She clasped her hands against her stomach. “As I told you before, I went to care for my ill sister.”
“Why did you return?”
Her brows drew together. “Because I’m your wife and this is where I belong.”
He snorted as he walked in front of her. “When did you decide that?”
“William,” she said, touching his sleeve, “I really had no intentions of worrying you.”
He caught his breath and glared at her. “What did you call me?”
“William.” Her face paled.
Hearing his name roll from her lips made his stomach churn. “What are you playing at now? You have never called me by my Christian name.”
She clutched her hands together again, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t know why I called you that.” She shrugged. “I suppose I’m trying to show you I have changed.”
He studied her forest-green eyes, trying to find the cold woman he’d married almost two years ago, but only saw a frightened rabbit. “Now I know something is wrong. Why would you want to change?”
She stood straight and lifted her chin. Ah, now there’s the woman I married.
“I’m well aware you have not been pleased with my actions of late, but I’m changing. If I’m going to live with you for the remainder of my life, I might as well make it as happy as I can.”
A low chuckle escaped his throat and he shook his head. “By your actions thus far in our marriage, I thought you were living only for yourself, gaining pleasure anyway you could. I thought marriage was a hindrance to your overall happiness.” He shrugged off her wide-eyed stare. “What are your plans now?”
She licked her lips. “Um... I thought I would continue on with what I have been doing.”
“I knew you would not change,” he snapped, then marched out of the room, knowing if he stayed another moment, he would wring her lovely neck.
Mercedes furrowed her eyebrows. Why did that inconsiderate man question her attire? Studying her image in the fancy glass on the mirrored sidebar, she wiped her moist palms down her skirt. Nothing was wrong with her dress. It was certainly more proper than the gowns she’d found hanging in her sister’s closets.Her thoughts quickly came to a halt and her heart sank. Realization turned her blood cold. She’d have to dress in the same manner her sister had. Kat never once dressed modestly when she lived at home, so why would she change after marriage? Why hadn’t Mercedes thought of this before she decided to play her twin?
Staring at herself in the full-length mirror, Mercedes groaned and twisted her mouth in distaste. The indecent rusty-red evening gown trimmed with black lace looked horrid on her. Besides exposing a lot of her shoulders and bosom, it was much too tight. The stays nearly squeezed the breath right out of her. Several times she struggled to lift the shoulders so they wouldn’t drop down her arms so far, but they refused to go the way she wanted. No way would she be seen like this. She couldn’t even look at herself without blushing. How would she react when others rested their eyes on her?“Beth? Could you choose another gown for me?”
A new dawn crept through the partially opened drapes of William’s room, touching and stirring him from the depths of a dream he didn’t want to remember. Last night’s events had kept his mind awake into the wee hours of the morning. Despite his sluggish body, he pulled himself from his exhausted state and climbed out of bed. The refreshingly cool air stroked his skin, awakening him even more. With half-closed eyes he reached for his robe, wrapping the silk garment around his body before ringing for his manservant. A cool bath would bring him alert to the new day.His servant carried up buckets of water and filled the copper tub. Once relaxed in the liquid comfort, William’s foggy memory of the previous evening claim
Mercedes placed a shaky hand over the erratic beat of her heart. Once the door slammed, announcing William’s departure, she breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, she hadn’t humiliated herself in front of him by crying. He thinks I’m Kat, she tried to reason, but her trembling body would not listen to rationale. Changing his mind was most important. If he couldn’t trust her, he wouldn’t allow her into his life so she could spy on him.A nudge of guilt stemmed in her heart for the deception, yet when she remembered the way Kat had pleaded…begged for Mercedes to make William pay for ruining her twin’s life, Mercedes hardened her heart once more. Kat had been a loving woman at one time unti
It had been several hours since the sun had lowered in the western horizon. William rubbed his eyes, trying to decide what time it was. His guess; three in the morning. Maybe four. He climbed out of bed after tossing and turning for some time and walked to the window. A sheath of black cloaked the land, lightning flashed in the distance, followed by a low rumble of thunder. Storms had always soothed him, and he was content to sit and watch.He parted the curtain just enough to witness the slashes of light in the sky and made himself comfortable in a heavily cushioned chair. The storm advanced in slow degrees, rumbling and stamping its way across the peaceful landscape. Several times his body relaxed, but the persistent roar of thunder jol
Mercedes rode the horse hard toward the next town, not stopping to give the animal a breath or even take a rest herself. The cool breeze from last night’s storm stung her cheeks, dried her lips, and unraveled the ringlets in her hair. She didn’t care. This was her only form of release. She couldn’t let William see how his nearness affected her. For that matter, she couldn’t let anyone see.When she pictured William’s wounded face, guilt gnawed at her conscience. It seemed he’d been the person truly wronged. But he wasn’t the one who had gone mad and died, either. She must remember her sister above all else.
Mercedes hesitated to leave her bath of luxury that evening, but the cold water threatened to turn her skin to prunes. Towel drying herself, the lilac-scented soap assailed her senses, reminding her of home. Right after her father’s death, she’d boarded up his cottage on the outskirts of Bristol, and prayed all would be fine when she returned. She missed the neighboring cottages and yearned for the closeness she had with the families living nearby—families she considered part of her life.She pushed away the disheartening thoughts and changed into an evening dress. Although no guests had been invited to the supper meal, she wanted to look her best. Of course, the selection of dresses in her sister’s closet didn&rsq
Angry voices woke Mercedes from a most pleasurable dream. As her mind slowly came alert, she still experienced the tingling of William’s lips on hers, and his fingers across her neck. In her dream their kiss hadn’t been interrupted, and he’d caressed her neck, her shoulders, and down her bosom. In her dream, his lips had followed the trail of his hands. Now awake, she scolded herself for becoming so infatuated with her sister’s husband.Mercedes’ mind argued, reminding her Kat was dead. But she countered back, telling herself Kat would be turning in her grave if she knew what th