The Mask Revealed (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 2) by Julia Brannan Read Free Book Online Page A

cousin, but at this moment he did. From his seat three rows behind her he could not see her face, but the back of her neck was burning with shame and probably, he thought with a shudder, rage. Anxious to prevent an outburst of violence from her, he stood and almost ran to admit the musicians, who now took their places.
    He need not have worried. Beth had no intention of losing her temper, of giving her husband the satisfaction of knowing how he had wounded her. She now knew with absolute clarity what manner of man he was. No, he was not violent. But he was cruel, and he was showing her now how he intended to subdue her; not with blows, but using far subtler methods, lulling her into a false sense of security by his private acts of kindness and consideration, before plunging the knife of contempt and disdain into her in public. She would not react! By an enormous effort of will, she turned and smiled at him.
    “That was most illuminating, Anthony,” she said. “It must have taken you days to compose.”
    “Me, compose? Oh no, my dear. I have no facility for such invention. The poem was penned by Sir John Suckling. It was merely the only thing I could remember at a pinch. Not very good, I own. But anything was better than an endless catalogue of our monarch’s triumphs, do you not think?”
    No, she didn’t. He was too clever not to know how his words would be taken by the company, and how that would reflect on their fledgling marriage. Well, she thought, as the musicians struck up their first piece, Vivaldi’s Concerto for two mandolins , I will not allow him to destroy me in this way, make me an object of pity and contempt.
    Beth loved music, especially when played by such skilled musicians as these were, but the evocative beauty of the mandolins and the rapt silence of the audience barely registered with her as she sat, outwardly composed, a vacuous smile pasted on her face, while she fought the utter despair that weaved its web around her heart, telling her that she had merely escaped one prison for another, that she would have done better to hold out somehow until she was thirty and could claim her dowry for herself. But the deed was done. She could not undo it, especially as, thanks to Sir Anthony’s trick with the sheets, no one would believe that the marriage was unconsummated, rendering an annulment impossible. No, her dowry was lost, irretrievably so, but she would lose nothing else to this hateful, manipulative man.
    Vivaldi gave place to Albinoni, and then to Handel, and Beth clapped politely between pieces. By the interval she had come to her decision. She would not give him the ‘fair weather’ to ‘love three more’ days. Tomorrow she would rise early, no matter how tired she was, and at the first opportunity she would make use of the leaving present her friends in Didsbury had given her, slip out of his house, and ride post back to them. She could not bear to be alone any more, and the loss of Sarah’s company was the final straw. She knew how close she had come to the edge in the past weeks; she would break down completely if she had to continue living in this way. Despite his words, Sir Anthony had no intention of being her friend. He had made that very clear during the course of the day.
    As soon as the musicians stood to make their bows, she rose and moved as far away from Sir Anthony as she could, ignoring Richard, who was smiling broadly, overjoyed by the fact that although he no longer had any power over his sister, Sir Anthony looked set on taming her by more subtle means. He hardly seemed to be aware that his wife had left his side, and turned immediately to his neighbour to exchange views on the performance so far.
    Many members of the audience got up to stretch their legs, accepting glasses of wine from hovering footmen with trays, and then congregating into groups to discuss the performance so far. Sir Anthony remained where he was. Beth wanted nothing more than to go to bed and sleep.