Page 42 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

“Perhaps no one chose to mention it to you, ma’am, but Susan received two letters accusing her of misconduct with him.

I let the first pass, accepting her assurance that there was no truth in it, but we had all been guests at a large house party where, as you know, any number of things might have happened of which I was unaware, and thus, the second letter was more than I could bear.

I lost my temper, and if I was rougher than I’d meant to be, I doubt I did more than any angry husband would.

It was no cause for Susan to run away, and surely none to complain to you of abusive treatment.

I give you my word, I have never been so cruel to her before.

Have I, Susan?” he added, looking directly at his wife.

“Come now, it is time for the truth, my dear.”

Susan seemed frozen where she stood, her only movements a darting of her tongue to wet her lips and a flickering of her eyes as she glanced first at Deverill, then back at Lady Ophelia, as if she were measuring their reactions to his words.

Sir Geoffrey said gently, “Come, come, love. You cannot want dear Lady Ophelia to think so ill of me as she does now.”

“N-no,” she said, her voice catching on a sob.

Lady Ophelia said, “Tell the truth, Susan, whatever it is.”

“Yes,” Seacourt said. “This is no time for more lies, my dear. Tell everyone the truth.”

Daintry cried, “Can’t you see that he is terrifying her? She knows she must go with him afterward. She dare not speak!”

Seacourt smiled ruefully at her. “I had not realized you despised me so, little sister. What have I done to draw such ire? Had you more experience of this world of ours, you would understand that husbands and wives—the people who care most for one another—frequently say dreadful things that they do not mean in the least when they are angry, only to hurt each other and cause trouble. I think Susan was as angry with me as I was with her, for similar reason. Has not some wicked person suggested an illicit relationship between me and my poor widowed cousin?”

Susan gasped.

Lady Ophelia said, “You know that accusation has been made, for you heard it yourself. Do you deny any such relationship?”

“Of course I deny it,” Seacourt said indignantly.

“I did at the time, and good God, ma’am, would I be so cruel as to keep my mistress under my own roof, to flaunt our relationship before my wife’s very eyes?

Of course not. Indeed, who but an insanely jealous wife could believe such a thing of any man?

But some wicked person put the notion in her head, no doubt a person as cruel as the one who wrote letters accusing her of misconduct, knowing that, like anyone else, I read all letters addressed to those living under my protection.

Perhaps it was even the same person, for now that I see them together, I find it difficult to believe Susan could encourage advances from a man like Deverill. ”

“Much obliged to you,” Deverill said dryly.

“No doubt,” Sir Geoffrey went on earnestly, “that very same person wrote similar accusations about me to Susan, or else in her own imaginings … Was that it, my dear?”

Susan said, “But you—”

“What you thought about me is not the truth, love. I swear it to you before these witnesses. Now, can you forgive me for being so angry when similar accusations were made against you?”

Susan flushed, glancing away from him to the others, looking as guilty as a child caught in mischief. When no one else said anything, she turned back to her husband and said in a small voice, “Are you still angry with me?”

“You deserve that I should be,” he said, “for putting us all through this dreadful ordeal, but if you will come home with me now and promise to think better of me, I promise not to be angry. Come, my love,” he added, holding out his hand again.

This time Susan put hers in it at once, and he drew her close and kissed her gently on the forehead. “That’s my good girl.” Over her head he said to Lady Ophelia, “I’d take it kindly if you will arrange to send my daughter home tomorrow.”

Daintry, who was growing more wrathful by the moment, had opened her mouth to protest when a large hand clamped like a vise on her arm.

She turned indignantly, and Deverill shook his head at her, the look in his eyes warning her in no uncertain terms to keep silent.

Before she could tell him what she thought of his interference, or warn her aunt not to agree to Geoffrey’s demand, Lady Ophelia said, “Your arguments are persuasive, Geoffrey, but they do not altogether convince me. I shall escort Melissa home myself, and I shall expect to see Susan looking the picture of domestic tranquility when we arrive.”

“That is precisely what you will see,” he replied, looking lovingly at Susan.

“I have missed her very much, and as to your fortune, you may leave it as you please, in trust or not. I hope yet to have sons as well as a daughter, you know, and the more secure Melissa’s future can be made, the better I shall like it. ”

“There is no need to alter anything just yet, I think.”

Seacourt smiled. Then, tucking Susan’s hand into the crook of his arm, he turned to Deverill. “Is there a way out of this building other than through that courtroom? Susan will not want to create a further spectacle for the riffraff.”

Deverill had released Daintry’s arm as soon as Lady Ophelia had spoken, and he said now, “That door at the rear leads to a corridor, and another at the end leads outside. You can send one of the lads hanging about outside to fetch your carriage.”

“Obliged to you. Come, my love.”

Daintry scarcely waited until the door had shut behind them before glaring at Sir Lionel and Deverill in turn and saying, “I suppose you both believed that drivel Geoffrey was spouting!”

“His argument was plausible,” Deverill replied calmly.

Sir Lionel nodded his head. “It certainly was.”

Wildly, she looked at Lady Ophelia. “You did not believe him, did you, ma’am?

Oh, please, say you did not! In the first place, that business about the letters …

” But even as she said the words, she knew she could not explain, not without betraying Susan to Deverill, and that she could not do, not after he had proved so unworthy of the trust she had placed in him.

Lady Ophelia reached for her large reticule. “I have never known Susan to utter an untruthful word,” she said. “On the other hand, since one cannot doubt that husbands and wives do frequently hurt each other, Geoffrey’s argument was certainly plausible—most fortunately so, perhaps.”

“Not to me it wasn’t! He was lying in his teeth. I only hope he does not beat Susan senseless the moment they get home.”

“He will not do that,” Deverill said flatly.

His calm assumption of something she could not believe for a minute ignited her temper again, and she whirled on him, snapping, “What can you know about what he will do? How could you stand there and let him accuse you? Or did you, in fact, have nothing to say because you had done something to make her look to you—” She caught herself, adding hastily, “That is to say, to make someone accuse you of trifling? You certainly did nothing to protect her! I trusted you to help, and you just stood in that courtroom and let that horrid old man cite idiotic laws as cause to order her home with Geoffrey again.”

“I remind you that the horrid man you speak of is my father,” he said curtly. “As to the rest, it was out of my power to do anything even if I had wanted to.”

“There! I knew it. You didn’t want to.”

“Damn it, stop ripping up at me like a shrew. Your voice will carry into the courtroom and bring him down on us again if you’re not careful, and you won’t fare as well a second time, I promise you.

You’re damned lucky he didn’t clap you into jail for your outburst earlier.

He was extremely patient with you, uncharacteristically so, but press him further and—”

“Oh, do not talk to me!” Clapping her hands to her ears, she turned away from him, meaning to leave by the same door her sister and Seacourt had used.

Before she had taken a step, Deverill caught an arm and spun her around to face him.

Taking her hands from her ears, he held them tightly, saying, “If you do not want to be well shaken, you will stand still and listen to what I tell you. That’s better,” he added when she froze in fury.

“I made no attempt to influence my father, even when I knew you meant to fight the writ, because it would have done no good. Not only would he have refused to listen to me—and rightly, since I have no business interfering in matters coming before him for judgment—but it is likewise no business of mine to interfere in another man’s marriage.

I do not expect you to understand that, since women simply cannot know as much about matters of law as men do; however—”

In a single swift movement, Daintry snatched her right hand from his relaxing grip and flung it up to slap him as hard as she could, but he caught it a hair’s breadth from his cheek, his grasp so tight that she winced.

Grimly he said, “I do not deserve to be slapped for telling you the plain truth, and until I deserve it, you will not do it. As for what you deserve from me for that little exhibition—”

“Enough,” Lady Ophelia snapped, startling them both. “I have been plagued by enough histrionics this past fortnight to last me a lifetime. Unhand my niece, sir, and send for my carriage. I want to go home.”

Deverill released Daintry at once, leaving her to rub her sore wrist while he went to send for the carriages. Gazing resentfully after him, she said, “Men! How can any woman stomach the creatures?”

When there was no response, she turned to see that Lady Ophelia was regarding her with a quizzical, enigmatic expression on her countenance, and that Sir Lionel was still in the room.

Feeling warmth invade her cheeks, she said, “I beg your pardon, Sir Lionel, but why do you look at me so, Aunt Ophelia? Most men are dreadful.”

“To be sure they are, my dear, but some are occasionally less dreadful than others, you know.”