Sins and Scandals Collection: Whisper of Scandal / One Wicked Sin / Mistress by Midnight / Notorious / Desired / Forbidden

Merryn made a little hiccupping sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I wanted him,” she said. She closed her eyes. “I had no idea I could feel like that, Jo. I was desperate to have him and it was so exciting and unbelievably pleasurable. I had no notion! But then—” a tear squeezed past her closed lids “—afterward I could not believe what I had done, and I felt cheapened and sick and I despise myself for it. Such weakness—”

“You are too hard on yourself.” Merryn heard a rustle of silk and then Joanna had come back to sit beside her. She felt her sister put her arms about her. Merryn could not believe it, could not believe that Joanna could forgive her when she was unable to forgive herself. It felt such an enormous comfort. She leaned in to Joanna’s arms and sobbed.

“Extreme fear and indeed extreme relief can cause us all to do strange things,” Joanna continued. She was stroking Merryn’s hair now, cradling her like a child. “And you are not to be blamed if you have discovered something you enjoy more than academic study.” There was a thread of laughter in Joanna’s voice now. “Physical pleasure can indeed sweep you away.”

“And yet I cannot bear to feel that for Garrick Farne,” Merryn said wretchedly. She pulled away, sat up. “Farne, Joanna!” She sniffed, rubbing her wet, sore eyes. “He ruined all our lives! How could I do such a thing? How can I bear it? I hate him! And yet—” She stopped. “I also care for him,” she said forlornly. “I cannot deny it. There is something between us that I do not understand …” She shivered. “I am so confused, Jo.”

“Yes,” Joanna said. “I understand you might feel like that.” She paused. “I suspect that you are right. You do not hate Farne, Merryn. You may hate what he did to Stephen, but you do not necessarily hate Garrick Farne himself. Quite the contrary, I suspect.”

Merryn rubbed her brow. Her forehead felt hot and her head ached. Her eyes were stinging and prickled with unshed tears.

“I don’t understand the difference,” she said. “All I know is that it feels wrong. I feel as though it is pulling me apart.”

“Maybe you will see it clearly in time,” Joanna said.

“I understand that you might hate me for it,” Merryn said bitterly.

Joanna shook her head swiftly. “Merryn dearest.” There was a little catch in her voice. “We all make mistakes.”

“Not ones of such monstrous proportions,” Merryn sniffed.

“Once again you see things too starkly,” Joanna corrected. “You met a man who roused a passionate response from you. The fact that it is Garrick Farne is—” She stopped, shrugged. “Complicated, perhaps. One might even say unfortunate. It is like fate playing a trick on you.”

“I cannot marry him, Jo,” Merryn said wretchedly. “It feels like a most appalling betrayal of everything I have believed for the past twelve years.”

Joanna was silent for a moment. “I won’t seek to persuade you,” she said. “If you feel you cannot wed Garrick then I will give you all the support that you require.”

“But what if there is a child?” Merryn clutched Joanna’s hands convulsively, at last giving voice to the deepest fear that had stalked her through the night. She had told herself that there would not be a child, that it would not happen, but the truth was that she did not know. Oh, she understood the principles; she had read all about procreation in many different books, fiction and nonfiction, but when it came to the reality she had only just started to understand how woefully ignorant she was. She felt afraid. The fear started as a tiny pattering in her stomach and swelled to a huge panic that threatened to swallow her whole.

“I’m afraid, Joanna,” she burst out. “When will I know if I am pregnant?”

She saw a shadow touch Joanna’s eyes and castigated herself for her insensitivity. Joanna had spent years and years of her first marriage desperately hoping for a child and believing she was barren. Merryn had seen—but not understood then—the anguish that her infertility had caused her. Yet here she was now asking for her sister’s love and support when she might have carelessly, wantonly conceived a child out of wedlock under such appalling circumstances. And yet still, it seemed, Joanna had the strength and the love to be there for her.

“It depends,” her sister was saying carefully, “on where you are with your courses.”

Merryn had never paid much attention to them. She struggled to remember. “I think … I believe about the middle of the second week,” she ventured.

She saw Joanna pull a face. “Then that might be dangerous. It is impossible to tell. You will know in a few weeks, perhaps, or maybe a little more.”

Merryn felt frighteningly adrift, as though there were suddenly no certainty left in the world. “Then I could perhaps wait and see—” She started to say, and once again saw the shadow in Joanna’s eyes, and thought of all the months Joanna must have waited and been desperately disappointed. It seemed vicious and cruel that Joanna had been disillusioned each month when she had failed to conceive whereas she would be desperately waiting and hoping that there would be no child.

“I’m sorry, Jo,” she said brokenly. “So sorry.”

Joanna shook her head. “Do not be. I have Shuna now, and Alex and I have the prospect of more children if we are fortunate. And if we are not so blessed, well … It is enough to have their love.” She loosed her sister. “I cannot tell you what to do, Merryn. You must try to make the right decision yourself. But I am always here if you need me.”

“I have been so stupid, Jo,” Merryn said. “I thought that I was clever—far cleverer than you—but you are wise and kind and far more generous than I.”

Joanna smiled and squeezed her hands before letting her go and standing. “If you are to refuse Farne,” she said, “at least do him the courtesy of telling him to his face. You owe him that, Merryn. I will send your maid to help you dress.”

“I can’t marry him,” Merryn said wretchedly. “Jo, you know I cannot.”

Joanna did not reply at once. “I know how attached you are to Stephen’s memory,” she said. “Probably more than either Tess or I because you were younger and he was a hero to you.” She smoothed her skirts thoughtfully, as though she was choosing her words with equal care. “Stephen was very kind to you,” she added, after a moment. “It surprised me, because he was not, as a rule, a kind person. Oh, he could be charming and attentive and make any woman think she was the center of his world. But—” She stopped.

“I know that Stephen could be very bad,” Merryn said. “But that does not mean that he deserved to die.”

“No,” Joanna said. “Of course not.” She shook her head. “He should never have seduced Kitty Farne, though.”

“They loved each other,” Merryn said defiantly. “She was unhappy in her marriage.”

“Stephen seduced her long before she wed,” Joanna said, and for a second she sounded very cold. “And I am not sure that he did love her. Certainly he never loved anyone as much as he loved himself.”

Merryn stared. “But he must have done!” she burst out. Her thoughts were tripping over themselves, shock mingling with resentment at the abrupt way that her sister had wrenched her memories apart and set them in a different frame. “I saw them together,” she protested. “He adored her! Why else would he—” She stopped.

“Why else would he take her from Garrick Farne?” Joanna finished for her. “He did it for fun, Merryn,” she said gently. “He did it because he could.”

“No,” Merryn said. Her heart gave a little flutter of fear. If Stephen had not loved Kitty then everything that she had believed in was based on a lie. It was not possible. She could not accept it.

“I don’t believe it,” she said stubbornly. “I saw them, Jo! They loved each other! They were meant to be together.”

Joanna shrugged. “Perhaps you are right and I am wrong,” she said.

“You must be,” Merryn said. She drew the bedclothes about her and held them tight. “You must be,” she repeated, half to herself.

“I remember when you were in your teens you had quite a tendre for Garrick Farne.” Joanna paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Oh, we all thought he was handsome but you …” She smiled. “You were quite bowled over, were you not?”

Merryn looked up, startled. “I did not think anyone knew about that,” she said involuntarily, the color flooding her face.

Joanna laughed. “It was very clear, Merryn,” she said gently, “even if Garrick himself never knew.” She went out and closed the door softly behind her.

Merryn let the bedclothes slip through her fingers. So everyone had known about her tendre for Garrick Farne. How naive she had been to think it a secret. But in one respect Joanna had been quite wrong. She had thought Merryn’s feelings had been a childish infatuation, no more, when in fact they had been so forceful and passionate, so dangerous, that they had almost consumed her.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHEN MERRYN ENTERED the library, Garrick was standing by the window looking out over the gardens. He did not turn immediately at her entrance. She was not even sure he had heard her. She stood for a moment and looked at him, while her heart beat a violent tattoo against her ribs.

This was the man who was responsible for her brother’s death yet when she looked at him all she could remember was his kiss, his touch on her skin, the broken endearments he had whispered to her as he had made love to her with such searing thoroughness and delight. In some ways she barely knew him and yet in others she knew him so intimately that the knowledge made her tremble. And it was not simply that she had so strong a physical awareness of him. Honesty prompted her to admit that something bound her to Garrick Farne so deeply that she could neither explain it nor escape it. It had been so from the start.

She saw that Garrick had done her the honor of dressing immaculately. His broad shoulders were encased in a coat of brown superfine. Buff pantaloons molded his thighs and his boots had a high polish. He had shaved closely. The stubble was gone. The thought that Garrick had done this because he was intent on proposing to her gave Merryn the oddest lump in her throat. And then he turned, and she saw that his face was pale with a livid bruise on the temple and a cut down one cheek, she saw the bandage at his wrist, and she remembered the darkness and the terror of their imprisonment and the intimacy it had forced them into, and she wanted to run.

Instead of fleeing she came forward into the room, drawing on all the strength and courage she could muster.

“Lady Merryn,” he said. His voice was very deep. “You are well?”

He had taken her hands in his. Heat and awareness enveloped her instantly. She felt the abrasions of his raw skin against her fingers. Instantly she was back in the tumbled ruins of the beer flood with Garrick’s body shielding hers from the falling masonry. He had defended her against all peril. Misery twisted within her. Impossible choices …

“I am … tolerably well, I thank you, your grace,” Merryn said.

She saw a spark of amusement light his eyes at her formality. No wonder, when the last time they had met she had been naked in his arms while he took the most outrageous liberties with her willing body. The thought made her feel faint. She wanted to pretend it had never happened. She wanted to do it all over again. She did not know what she wanted but she felt as though she was being torn apart.