At last his brilliant gaze impaled hers, and his charged voice lanced her ears. “Mercy, do you actually think I’d bring my wife home from our honeymoon, then let her turn up her nose at me and run off to a convent? I could never hold up my head in this town again.”
“Then you’re hanging on to me rather than lose face with your friends?” she cried.
“I’ll not have it known that I’ve lost charge of my own wife.”
“So we’re to continue with this sham of a marriage for the sake of appearances?” she asked incredulously. “But then, that’s why you married me in the first place, isn’t it? To make good your investment in me—and to cover up your tawdry affair with—that woman!”
A vein jumped in Julian’s temple at her words. “Damn it, Mercy, if you’re trying to goad me into getting your way, forget it.”
“I’ll fight you, Julian,” she vowed.
“And I’ll defeat you,” he countered just as fiercely. “Listen carefully, my dear. Even though there is no child, the marriage has been consummated. If you are so foolish as to try to pursue an annulment, I will subject you to some very public embarrassment.” He leaned back in his seat, taking another savage draw on his cheroot. “Know this, as well. Whether or not there is a child now, there will be one—soon.”
Mercy was so furious, she could only jerk her gaze away from his. She bit her lip until she tasted blood.
***
As the two swept through the fragrant courtyard of Julian’s town house, Mercy made one last attempt to reach him. Grasping his sleeve, she said in a firm undertone, “I want separate bedrooms.”
He turned, raising an eyebrow at her. “No.” Taking her arm, he tugged her toward the corner stairway. She seethed in silent outrage.
Upstairs in their large, sunny room, Mercy continued the argument as soon as Henrí had deposited their trunks. With hands on hips, she faced her husband. “Julian, I’m not going to sleep with you. ”
“There will be no suspension of bedroom privileges in this marriage.”
“Then you’ll have to rape me.”
“No,” he countered obdurately, “I won’t.”
She turned away to hide her own mortified face, not trusting herself to comment.
His hoarse, strained voice drifted over to her. “I must leave now, go by the Exchange, check on Mother—”
She whirled to face him with eyes blazing. “And go see your mistress?”
His features whitened, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “I will visit my son, yes.”
“Don’t bother to come back!” she flung at him.
Muttering a curse, Julian strode to his trunk. Kneeling on his haunches, be unlocked it and flung back the lid. He removed the small, wrapped gift they’d bought for his mother in St. Louis, and stuffed the tiny package in his breast pocket. Then he took out the larger package containing the cast-iron toy train set, which they’d also purchased on their honeymoon.
Staring at the wrapped bundle in his hands, Mercy gasped in horrified realization. “You bought that train set for him, your love child, didn’t you? It was never intended for the son of a friend! You lied to me!”
With the package tucked under one arm, Julian straightened to face his wife. Awkwardly, he said, “I wanted to wait for the right moment—”
“To make sure you could hang on to your wife and your mistress?” she finished spitefully.
“Mercy, for the last tine, Justine is no longer my mistress. You, however, are my wife, and I will not release you from that obligation.” He gestured toward the fabulous Mallard bed with its gold velvet hangings and wispy moustiquaire. His voice took on a steely determination. “You will be in that bed tonight and you will be willing.”
“Go to hell!”
Julian turned on his heel and strode from the room. Mercy threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. She wanted so badly to hate Julian, yet somehow she couldn’t; he had betrayed her, yet he had also bewitched her. Indeed, when she’d seen him taking the present for his son out of his trunk, she had been consumed with a jealousy so insane, she’d practically gone mad on the spot. It was not the child she blamed, of course, for she certainly held Julian’s son blameless; it was knowing that he had conceived this child with another woman.
What hurt even more was knowing that he had spoken the truth—he wouldn’t have to rape her, the evil, conniving cad! She wanted him terribly, even as he was breaking her heart.
***
As Julian was driven away from his town house by Henrí, his thoughts were also tortured. He hated himself for the things he’d said to Mercy. He knew he had hurt her, but she had also wounded him by giving up so quickly on their marriage. Her threat to leave him had scared him to death, making him utterly ruthless. He loved her desperately, and he could not lose her. He simply could not. Cutting off his own arm would be much easier.
It was clear now that she would never love him, clearer still that he’d destroyed their future together through his own dishonesty. They would now both be trapped in an empty, loveless marriage. Damn! Perhaps ’twould have been better had he not told her about Justine at all.
But the damage was done, and there was no way he could retract his disastrous admissions. How could he convince Mercy that he was no longer sleeping with his former mistress, that it was her alone he wanted? Perhaps his mother might shed some light on the situation. Julian wasn’t accustomed to asking Madelaine’s advice in matters of the heart, but she was another female, and he was desperate.
***
“You told your wife about your mistress?” Madelaine asked, aghast. “Son, have you lost your mind?”
“So it appears,” Julian said dryly.
He sat across from his mother in her stylish parlor, both of them sipping tea. After making the usual queries regarding Madelaine’s health, he had awkwardly explained to her that he’d told Mercy about Justine and Arnaud, and that his wife was now demanding an annulment.
“Well, I can’t blame the girl,” Madelaine said, setting down her teacup.
“I told her that my relationship with Justine is now platonic.”
Madelaine laughed incredulously. “And you expected her to believe that?”
“Naive of me, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, Julian!” Madelaine rolled her eyes. “If you were so determined to continue with that woman, why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?”
“Hindsight is not of much value at this point,” Julian pointed out irritably. With a fierce sigh, he leaned back in his chair. “Any suggestions, Mama?”
“Of course. You know exactly what my feelings are. Get rid of the woman.”
“You know that’s out of the question,” he snapped.
“I realize you’re fond of the boy,” Madelaine continued, ignoring his show of temper. “As I am. Still, perhaps with the right incentive, the woman can be convinced to relinquish him—”
Julian shot to his feet. “I can’t believe you’re suggesting this again! Just what kind of monster do you think Justine is? She would never give up her own child—never! Nor will I ever ask her to commit such treason.”
Madelaine waved him off. “Very well then, son. Sit down, pray. We’ll just have to put our heads together and figure out something else.”
With an explosive sigh, Julian took his seat. “Well?”
“You must apologize to Mercy,” Madelaine stated with a thoughtful frown. “Send her flowers, take her out to dinner—”
He laughed dryly. “She’d smash the flowers over my head, and the only way she’ll go out to dinner with me now is in chains.”
“You must try, anyway. And get her with child, for heaven’s sake. As soon as possible. A baby will take her mind off her jealousy. ”
Julian’s head shot up. “Jealousy? What jealousy?”
Madelaine rolled her eyes. “Son, have you gone completely daft? Of course your young wife is insanely jealous of this Begué woman, and especially of the child you have with her.”
Julian’s face went blank. It had never occurred to him that Mercy might be jealous. He knew she felt angry, hurt, betrayed—but jealous? Such an emotion would be impossible unless he meant something to her. A desperate hope sprang to life in his heart.
He turned to Madelaine. “Are you sure? I thought I’d just hurt her pride.”
“Why are you men always so blind? Certainly you’ve hurt Mercy’s pride, but it’s also patently obvious that the girl is out of her mind with jealousy.” She leaned forward intently and touched his sleeve. “I will speak with her as soon as possible and see if I can help smooth things over. But you must fight for her, Julian, and fight fiercely. Otherwise, you’re going to lose her.”
He nodded grimly. “I know.”
The mother and son chatted for a while longer, catching up on events of the intervening weeks. Belatedly, Julian pulled out the present he and Mercy had bought in St. Louis. Madelaine unwrapped the two jeweled, mother-of-pearl combs and exclaimed over the lovely present. She then mentioned that Robert Townsend had at last returned to New York and that she might be seeing him again in the spring, when she planned to travel East with friends. Julian chuckled and teased, “Perhaps I’ll be receiving one of those newfangled telegrams telling me you’ve married the man?” Madelaine laughed and shrugged him off, but she didn’t deny the possibility. Soon thereafter, Julian thanked his mother for her advice, kissed her cheek, and left.