Destroyed & Restored - The Baron's Courageous Wife Page 9

  Stepping even closer, her father snarled into her face. “Then you’d better find another way to provide the funds you robbed me of, or I will ensure that your husband knows everything there is to know about you.”

  His words felt like a slap to the face, and Adelaide stared up at him in shock. He could not mean−? Surely, he did not know that−

  Adelaide’s mind reeled as for the first time in her life she held her father’s gaze, reading in his blood-shot eyes the very truth she had always feared. It was no bluff. No guess. No gamble. For once, he knew exactly what he spoke of. He meant to ruin her as she had ruined his plan. But how? How could he know? Had someone betrayed her? Only a handful of people knew her secret, and she had thought she could trust them with her life.

  After all, they loved her. They were her family. How could they have done this? Who?

  Closing her eyes, Adelaide felt all strength leave her body, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt how her father could have extracted the information from one of them. In all likelihood, it had been her mother. Never had she been strong enough to endure his raging anger. Always had she given in for fear of the consequences. Had he threatened her? But how had he known that there was something to know in the first place?

  “I will be back,” her father hissed before he strode toward the door. “Do not disappoint me again.”

  Then the door banged shut behind him, and Adelaide sank down onto the settee, her mind reeling with what to do. Ought she truly betray her new husband? Tell him she wished to refurnish her bedchamber and then give at least some of the money to her father? If she did so, would he not always come back and ask for more? Would she then not find herself forever locked in his threat?

  And what if she did not? Did her father truly know? And if he did tell her husband, what would he do? Would anger finally overrule kindness?

  Adelaide prayed that she would never find out. There had to be another solution. If only she could think of one.

  Chapter Fifteen – A Mother’s Honesty

  Sitting in his study, Matthew found himself unable to concentrate.

  Day after day passed, and he could not shake the look in his wife’s eyes. It rose in his mind whenever he closed his own, whenever his mind was unoccupied, whenever he drew breath. A look of sheer terror. And although his mind reasoned with him, tried to remind him of her past, his heart would not listen.

  Matthew knew that he was wallowing in self-pity, allowing it to conjure the greatest fear he had ever known. That she feared him not because she had learnt to fear men in general, but because she recognised something in him. Because her trained eyes could see that deep down he was slowly turning into his father.

  Was it not his anger that frightened her beyond anything else?

  Matthew knew that he must never allow it to escape his tight control, fearing what he might do if that should ever happen. Only when he stood up with an opponent for a boxing match did he allow himself to inflict physical pain, and even then he held his anger under tight control. Never would he wish to truly wound someone. But the exercise−even when it was accompanied by an occasional jolt of pain−eased the strain in his muscles. Afterwards, he felt more like himself, almost free of the shadow that hung over him.

  Again, Matthew recalled the moment he had entered her chamber. How could he not have seen it from the first? He had helped her into her robe, stoked the fire and attempted to draw her into a friendly conversation, and all the while his wife had been terrified of him. Had she feared that he would strike her? Force himself on her?

  How could he not have seen this? Most certainly, he was the greatest fool to ever walk the earth! And blind at that!

  A knock on his door jarred Matthew from his thoughts, which immediately conjured an image of his wife’s gentle features. He all but shot to his feet and they carried him toward the door with quick efficiency. His hand reached out, all but yanking the door open.

  His heart fell.

  “You expected someone else,” his mother observed, a gentle smile on her face as she stepped forward, brushing a hand down his arm. Her eyes held his until he nodded. Then she inhaled a deep breath and stepped into the room.

  “Is something wrong?” Matthew asked, concern encroaching on his heart as he took note of the slight tension creasing her forehead. “Are you all right? Is Lady Adelaide all right?”

  The hint of a grin came to his mother’s face. “Lady Adelaide?” she asked as he realised his mistake. “Is she not your Lady Whitworth now?”

  Gritting his teeth, Matthew hung his head as he walked across the room, focusing his gaze out the window and away from his mother’s watchful eyes. Although he wished he could, he did not yet dare think of her as his. Not in that way. His to protect, certainly. His to care for, possibly. But his to claim? To love?

  Soft footsteps echoed closer. “I never meant to meddle in your marriage,” his mother said, her voice tentative as though she was not certain whether or not to speak.

  Matthew hated the hesitation in her voice. It always reminded him of his father, of the way she had spoken to him, always weighing her words, hoping not to offend him, to anger him.

  “However, I cannot in good conscience remain silent,” she continued, “when I see two people so miserable. You’ve been avoiding each other for days, and I cannot help but fear for your future.” She sighed, “I remember when you came home and told me you would marry her. I remember the way your eyes lit up. I remember how you tried your best to keep at bay the joy that wanted to break forth.” Stepping around him, his mother looked up into his face. “I know very well that yours was not a love match. And yet, I can see as plain as day that you care for her.”

  Matthew gritted his teeth, hearing the question in her tone. “I do,” he finally admitted, his jaw aching painfully.

  “Then why do you hold back?” his mother asked. “Please talk to me. I am your mother. Allow me to help you.”

  Inhaling a deep breath, Matthew said, “She fears me.” Despite the turmoil of the past few days, Matthew was surprised at the pain he felt when these three simple words left his lips. Instantly, he wished he could take them back.

  “No, she does not,” his mother objected, her head going from side to side as her eyes held his.

  “She does,” Matthew forced out. “You don’t know what happened. You didn’t see the terror in her eyes when I entered her chamber. I…”

  Reaching up, his mother grasped his chin, turning his gaze back to her. “She does not fear you,” she said, and Matthew wished he felt the same conviction in his heart that he heard ring in her voice. “She fears that you might be the same kind of man like your father, like hers. She does not know you.”

  Frowning, Matthew took a step back, his eyes gliding over his mother’s face. “What do you know of her father?”

  His mother shrugged. “Only what everybody does. He’s a drunkard and a gambler.”

  “There’s more,” Matthew pressed, seeing the way his mother’s gaze dropped from his.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes for a long moment before her gaze returned to his. “People don’t speak of it, the same as they didn’t speak of your father and me. And yet, they know…and they whisper.” Again, she sighed, and Matthew wished he had been there when she had needed him. Never had he seen his father strike her or harm her in a physical way, but he had seen her fear and wondered where it had come from. Yet, he had never dared to take a closer look. “More than that though, I know how to spot men like your father.” An apologetic look came to her eyes as she reached for his hands. “I’m sorry to speak of him thus. I never meant to speak ill of him, least of all to you. He was your father.”

  Matthew scoffed, “Why would you not? After all, it is the truth. There is no falsehood in what you say, and why should you not speak the truth now that he is dead. We should have spoken truthfully long ago. He deserved no less. We deserved no less.” Turning his gaze back toward the window, Matthew crossed his arms in front of his chest, knowing o
nly too well that he had failed his mother. He ought to have realised the truth sooner. He ought to have seen it. Instead, he had allowed his father to terrorise his mother for years. Not only his cousins Tristan and Henrietta had suffered, but also his own mother.

  Only because Matthew had not dared look at what had been right in front of him. Just as he had not seen his wife’s fear…because he had not wanted to see it. He had allowed himself to live in an illusion. An illusion that was now slowly crumbling around him, burying him under the rubble of a wasted life.

  “Look at me,” his mother urged as her hands came to rest on his arms, pulling him toward her. “I know that you fear becoming like your father.”

  Matthew swallowed, shocked to hear her say so. Then he nodded, reminding himself that if nothing else he could give her the truth. He owed her that much…at the very least.

  “I’ve always known,” his mother said, guilt suddenly clouding her voice, “and yet, I’ve never done anything to convince you otherwise. I saw the way you always looked at him, the longing to be accepted as a worthy son and I hated him for not giving it to you.” Briefly, she clamped her mouth shut as though shocked by her own words.

  Then his mother inhaled a deep breath, and her gaze seemed to clear. “I’ve thought about this, my life, our lives a lot lately. In a different way than before. More honestly, I suppose, and while I’ve always believed or rather told myself that if I had been a better wife to your father, he would have treated me better. I now know that the fault did not lie with me, but with him. It was a realisation a long time coming, and it changed how I saw the world in general. I know now what is right and wrong. Now, I can say that what he did to us was wrong and that we are not to blame. It was him. No matter what, he would never have changed. He saw no need to. He did not care for us, not the way a man is supposed to care for his family.” The look in her eyes focused, and once again, she smiled up at him, her left hand reaching out to cup his cheek. “But you care. As much as you’ve tried to live up to your father’s expectations, you have never been able not to care. I always saw your turmoil, and it pained me greatly that I could not help you. But I can now.” Nodding her head, she held his gaze, her own growing in intensity. “I can tell you the truth. I can make you believe it as well.”

  Matthew swallowed. The truth? He thought. Always had it been a fickle subject. Never had he been able to tell what was true and what not. Did truth not lie in the eye of the beholder? If that was so, then there was no universal truth, was there? Only each person’s subjective view of the world? Could one even speak of truth in such a case?

  “You, my son, you care,” his mother repeated as though trying to drill these words into his mind until he truly would believe them. “That is what matters. That is what sets you apart from your father. You care. He did not.” Her hand squeezed his. “Go and talk to her. She is a sweet girl, but she seems to have lived a life where she was never taught to stand tall.” A sad smile flitted across his mother’s face. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger, when I was a young bride. Only I did not grow up with a father like hers. I only learnt how to be afraid from my husband.”

  Matthew gritted his teeth. Never had his mother spoken so openly to him. Never had she revealed so much about how she felt, about how she had suffered. And although he felt the pain of her words like a stab to his heart, her words also warmed him for they meant that he held her trust. Indeed, if he were like his father, would his mother dare speak to him thus? Would she not also fear him? The fact that she did not, did it mean that her words were true? Could be true?

  Heaving a long sigh, his mother met his gaze once more, a soft smile coming to her lips, bright and hopeful. “Your father taught me how to be afraid,” she said, her voice strangely uplifting for such a dark statement. “Now, you need to teach your wife how not to be afraid, how to stand tall, how to raise her chin and meet the world without fear. For only when you’re equals, when she sees herself as your equal in every way, will she be able to stand up to you, to refuse you, to speak honestly. And only then will you be able to win her heart.”

  Amazed, Matthew stared down at his mother, wondering how it was possible that he had never seen the wisdom that now rested in her eyes. All her life, she had hidden it away out of fear to anger his father. What would the man have done if he had known the true strength of the woman he had married? Matthew was glad he never had to find out.

  “Thank you,” he finally whispered, his heart feeling a thousand pounds lighter.

  Nodding in understanding, his mother smiled at him, and her eyes glowed as she saw the hope that returned to his heart. “I never thought I’d ever say such a thing, and yet, I need to say how glad I am that he is finally gone from our lives so that we can be ourselves again. So, you can be the man I always knew you were.”

  Hugging his mother tightly, Matthew sighed, wondering what his wife would look like with her head held high, her shoulders squared and a look of determination in her eyes. She would be even more radiant than she already was. He was certain of it.

  Now, he had to find a way to speak to her without instilling fear. It would not be an easy feat, but he had to try for if he did not, he would become a bitter, hateful old man like his father.

  And he would never let that happen.

  His mother deserved better than that.

  His wife deserved better than that.

  And deep down, Matthew thought that he himself deserved better than that as well.

  Chapter Sixteen – A Father’s Visit

  Bundled up against the cold of early spring, Adelaide strolled through the garden of her new home, a mournful sigh flying from her lips. In the house, she was constantly fighting to avoid her husband, not knowing what to say to him, while out here, she could not help but picture little Tillie chasing across the lawn and playing hide-and-go-seek behind the evergreen bushes. These days, no matter where Adelaide went, her heart ached. Fear and loss were her constant companions, and she was beginning to wonder if that would ever change.

  Nights found her restless, tossing and turning, until her body succumbed to exhaustion and she cried herself to sleep. In the mornings, her heart and soul ached with a deep longing to be with her family and she wished she could simply go to see them. Still, the fear of encountering her father held her back. Was he the reason they did not come to see her? Was he keeping them away in order to isolate her? So, she would give in to his demands?

  That thought only served to remind Adelaide that she still did not know what to do about her father. What would she tell him when he came to call on her next time?

  Hearing the gravel crunch under her feet, Adelaide strolled onward, her eyes unseeing to the soft greens that poked their heads out of the dirt here and there. Although her husband made her uncomfortable, she had to admit that he did not instil the same fear in her as did her father. And yet−or perhaps because of it−she could not bring herself to ask him for money. Money she would then hand over to her father, who in turn would gamble it away, no doubt coming back to demand more sooner rather than later.

  Adelaide sighed, stopping in her tracks. Lifting her face to the brilliant blue sky, she closed her eyes. “What am I to do?” she mumbled, hopelessness falling over her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

  Hearing her name called, Adelaide flinched. Then she turned back toward the house and found her mother-in-law walking toward her. Relief chased away the dread that had gripped her heart when she had feared it might have been her husband.

  “Are you all right, dear?” her mother-in-law asked, her soft eyes lingering on Adelaide’s face as though she truly cared to know. “You seem a bit forlorn.”

  Returning the woman’s greeting, Adelaide smiled as best she could. “I’m fine,” she replied, turning away and allowing her gaze to sweep across the garden. “I simply thought to take a short walk as the weather is so promising today.”

  “It is indeed,” her mother-in-law agreed, and yet, there was something in her voice that ma
de Adelaide think that she was not merely referring to the weather.

  A hand settled on Adelaide’s arm, and when she turned to look, her mother-in-law met her gaze with an enquiring one of her own. “Are you all right, dear?” she asked once again. “I know it must be hard to be away from your family and to start over with people you hardly know.” A soft smile came to the woman’s lips, and Adelaide felt tears form in her eyes. “I know that everything was a bit rushed and overwhelming, but I simply wanted to welcome you into this house and into this family. You’ll always have a home here, and we will always be here for you. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to come to me.”

  Blinking her lids rapidly, Adelaide felt an honest smile tugging on the corners of her mouth. “Thank you,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. Always had she guarded what lived in her heart, and the thought to share it with someone she hardly knew would never have occurred to her.

  “Call me Clara, will you?”

  Smiling, Adelaide nodded, feeling a sudden warmth sooth her aching heart. Although she had always been afraid, she had never been lonely, and the last fortnight had shown her how miserable she was when separated from her family. Why would they not call on her?

  “My son is a good man,” her mother-in-law suddenly said, and Adelaide could not prevent the slight jerk that went through her at the mention of him.

  The almost imperceptible narrowing of her mother-in-law’s eyes told her that she had noticed, and Adelaide could only hope that the woman would not come to think of her as lacking as her son’s wife. Almost desperately, Adelaide wished for someone who was kind to her in this house. Someone who might come to care for her…even if only a little.

  Stepping forward, Clara reached out to place a gentle hand on Adelaide’s arm. “He is a good man,” she repeated as though saying it again would make it true. “I know you have reason to doubt him, but I am urging you to give him a chance. Try to see him as he is, not as you fear he might be. I assure you you will not be disappointed.”