Secrets of the Heart by Candace Camp Page B

he despised her now, if he was disgusted by her.
    She told herself that of course he must be. She had hurt and humiliated him, yet he felt obliged to marry her in order to save his family’s good name from a scandal that she had created. How could he feel anything but dislike for her? It was simply that he was too much a gentleman to tell her so.
    â€œI see,” she responded inadequately.
    â€œI hope that you will not find the burden of marriage too onerous,” Michael went on in the same stiff voice. “However, I have one…stipulation, I suppose I should say. My family’s reputation is important to me, and I will not—I cannot —allow it to be besmirched.”
    Red stained Rachel’s cheeks, and she said in a low voice, “Please, my lord, I am so sorry. I promise you, I would not do anything to hurt your name or reputation. I realize that I have acted in such a way as to make you think that I am…irresponsible, even dissolute. But, please, believe me, it was an aberration.”
    â€œI do believe so. I know that you are a woman of honor. But, painful as it is for both of us, I must have your assurance that you will not see Mr. Birkshaw again.”
    Rachel’s head flew up, her face horrified. “No! I would not. Lord Westhampton, I will do nothing to harm your good name. I would not break our wedding vows. I swear it to you.”
    His face was unreadable, his jaw clenched tightly. “I believe you. But not even the faintest appearance of impropriety can—”
    â€œOf course not.” She rose, her fists clenched in determination. “I promise you—on whatever you like—that I will not see Mr. Birkshaw again. I will not talk to him or write to him. I know how kind you have been to me, how easily you could have left me to the contumely of the world. I would never repay you that way. I will never dishonor you. Or myself.”
    â€œThank you.” The smile Michael gave her was more a twisting of his lips than any genuine smile. He took a step backward. “Well, then. Until tomorrow.”
    Â 
    That had been the tone of their marriage ever since—formal, slightly awkward and distant. It had been a relief, of course, not to be expected to take her place in Michael’s bed. Her heart was broken, and she could not imagine how horrible it would have been to have had to pretend to be in love with her new husband, to let him have his way with her when the thought of even kissing someone besides Anthony turned her to ice inside. She had been grateful to Michael and remained so, but she could not help but feel sometimes as though she had missed out on the most important aspect of life. She had no children. She was not, in any real sense, a wife. Their marriage was such a sham that even the thought of spending the night in the same room with Michael was embarassing to them both.
    Rachel glanced back at the room she had just left and wished, not for the first time, that she had not been so foolish that night seven years ago.

6
    F or at least the tenth time that evening, Rachel glanced over at the graceful ormolu clock that adorned the mantel of the music room. It seemed as though its hands had sped up for the last few minutes, racing toward the time when everyone would decide to leave the room and retire. Her stomach had been a knot of nerves all through the evening, dreading the moment, and she had barely been able to enjoy the conversation with her family or the songs that Veronica and Gabriela had played for them. Indeed, she had felt only half there, the rest of her mind occupied with what she would do when she and Michael climbed the stairs to their room.
    She thought about the maid helping her to undress with Michael right there in the room with them, and she blushed at the idea. It would be completely humiliating, of course, and yet…something odd stirred low in her abdomen at the thought. She could not help but wonder how Michael