Читать книгу: «Tall, Dark & Irresistible: The Rogue's Disgraced Lady», страница 2

Her breasts were as full as ever, and they spilled creamily against pale grey lace, but her waist and hips appeared more willowy than when he had last seen her across that crowded ballroom, and the skin at the swell of her breasts, throat and arms was as translucently pale as the pearls in her hair.

‘I advise that you close your mouth, Sebastian—before the drool threatens to spoil the perfection of your cravat!’ Dolly whispered beside him in soft mockery, bringing a dark scowl to Sebastian’s face as he realised Dolly had a point. He had been staring intently at Lady Boyd for several minutes.

Had anyone else but Dolly noticed his marked interest? he wondered, disgusted with himself. A quick glance at his fellow guests assured him that their interest was as engaged on the lady as his own had been.

‘It is time for us to go into dinner,’ Dolly informed him as she received a nod from her butler, where he stood discreetly in the doorway. ‘Bancroft will be escorting his mother, the Dowager Countess, of course. Might I suggest, as the two of you are sitting together, that you offer your own arm to the Countess of Crestwood?’

Having been staring so intently at Juliet Boyd, Sebastian now found himself momentarily disconcerted by Dolly’s suggestion. But only momentarily. Was he not the rich and eligible Lord Sebastian St Claire, brother of a Duke? Moreover, at the age of seven and twenty, had he not been considered by all the female members of the ton—debutantes and matrons alike—as the foremost catch of the Season, since both of his brothers had proved themselves unavailable by taking a wife?

More importantly, meeting Juliet was the only reason he had come here—so what was he waiting for …?

Despite the Earl of Banford’s presence at her side, Juliet’s appearance in the drawing room had been as dramatic as she had feared it might.

Following that initial stunned silence a muted conversation had been resumed by the female guests, at least, as they gossiped in whispers behind their spread fans. The male guests had been less quick to hide their surprise at her appearance here, and for the main part had just continued to openly stare at her.

One man in particular …

An arrogantly handsome man, dressed in the height of fashion in tailored black evening clothes, a grey waistcoat and snowy white linen. The same man with whom Dolly Bancroft had endeavoured to make conversation when Juliet first entered the drawing room.

The very same man who had made absolutely no effort to disguise his inattentiveness to that conversation as he’d continued to stare at Juliet with narrowed, enigmatic eyes. Rather beautiful long-lashed eyes, the colour of the mellow whisky her father had once favoured, Juliet couldn’t help noticing admiringly.

She had expected the frosty disdain of the ton this evening. Had been prepared for that reaction. To find herself being regarded so familiarly by a man she did not even know, and who was obviously nothing more than a fashionable rake, did not sit well with her. It did not sit well at all!

Juliet’s already ruffled calm deserted her totally as she saw Dolly take a firm hold of the man’s arm and push him slightly in her direction. Was her intention to have him cross the room and offer to escort Juliet into dinner? An intention, for all the previous familiarity of the man’s gaze, that he surely could not welcome!

Juliet snapped her fan open in front of her before she turned her back on the pair to engage the Earl in conversation. ‘It seems that we have succeeded in creating something of a stir amongst your other guests despite your efforts, My Lord,’ she bit out tartly. The humiliation of having a man forced to escort her into dinner burned beneath the surface of her emotions.

No matter how kindly meant Dolly Bancroft’s invitation had been, Juliet knew she should not have allowed herself to be persuaded into coming here! She should not have exposed herself to—

‘Would you care to introduce me, My Lord?’

Juliet felt a quiver down the length of her spine at the first sound of the man’s smoothly cultured voice. That quiver turned to a shiver as she turned to find that Dolly’s rakishly handsome companion had acceded to her urgings and was now standing in front of Juliet, looking down the length of his arrogant nose at her, the expression in those whisky-coloured eyes hidden behind narrowed lids ….

Only Juliet did not need to see the expression in those beautiful eyes to know that this man felt the same contempt towards her as every other person here. Nor did she care to guess what leverage Dolly had exerted to persuade this man into doing her bidding ….

Until this moment Juliet had believed Dolly to be totally devoted to the Earl of Banford, but it would have taken more than a simple request from their hostess to persuade this young rake into committing possible social ruination by showing a preference for the notorious Countess of Crestwood. It led Juliet to wonder, with inner distaste, if this young man were possibly the Countess of Banford’s current lover …

‘Lady Boyd, may I present Lord Sebastian St Claire?’ the Earl said, doing as requested and dutifully making the introductions. ‘Lord St Claire—Lady Juliet Boyd, Countess of Crestwood.’

Sebastian knew by the gleam of interest in the Earl’s eyes as he made the introductions that Dolly must have confided to her husband Sebastian’s intentions towards the Countess. His mouth tightened in displeasure at the breach of confidence even as he gave her an abrupt bow. ‘My Lady.’

‘My Lord.’ The Countess made a graceful curtsey, but made no effort to extend to him her gloved hand.

Sebastian scowled at the omission. ‘Will you grant me the honour of escorting you into dinner, Lady Boyd?’

‘“Honour”, My Lord?’ She raised dark, mocking brows.

He inclined his head. ‘I would consider it so, yes.’

Her laughter was light and derisive. ‘Then you are singular in your preference, My Lord.’

Damn it—this first conversation with Juliet Boyd was not going at all as Sebastian had hoped it might!

In his imaginings she had been as instantly taken with Sebastian as he already was with her. To such an extent that he had envisaged them talking alone together. Walking alone together. Sitting alone together. Most definitely being alone when they made love together …!

A muscle flickered in Sebastian’s tightly clenched jaw as he imagined first removing the pearls from her hair, before releasing the glossy curls so that they tumbled down the length of her slender spine. Next he would remove her gown, turning her so that he might unfasten—slowly—the row of tiny buttons from her nape down to her bottom, lingering, after releasing each button, to kiss the smoothness of the silky skin he had just exposed. When the last button had been unfastened he would then allow the gown to fall about her ankles, leaving her wearing only her chemise and stockings, with the fullness of her breasts pouting temptingly beneath the thin material, her nipples a dark delight that Sebastian would taste and possess until he’d had his fill …

‘It would appear we are the last to go into dinner, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet prompted sharply. He seemed lost in thought. Perhaps contemplating that social ruination, if the pained expression on his face was any indication!

He drew his thoughts back to his surroundings with an obvious effort. ‘I apologise for my preoccupation, Lady Boyd,’ he murmured huskily as he extended his arm to her.

‘Do not give it another thought, Lord St Claire,’ Juliet assured him as she placed her gloved hand lightly upon his sleeve. She was aware of the muscled strength beneath her fingertips. ‘After all, it is not every day that you are asked to act as escort to the notorious Black Widow!’ she added waspishly.

‘I—What did you call yourself?’ he exclaimed.

Her smile was completely lacking in humour. ‘I assure you I am well aware of the unflattering names I have acquired since … since the death of my husband,’ she told him. ‘Do not fear—you will have done your duty to our hostess once I am seated. I will not be in the least offended if you then ignore me for the rest of the evening.’ Rather, she would prefer it!

Juliet now recognised Lord Sebastian St Claire as being the youngest brother of the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge. A young lord, moreover, who had long been considered by the ton to be one of their most eligible—and elusive—bachelors. As such, his presence here was attracting as much attention as her own, making their belated entrance to the dining room together all the more sensational.

A puzzled frown marked his brow. ‘Why should you imagine I might wish to ignore you?’

Juliet smiled slightly. ‘To save yourself from further awkwardness, perhaps …?’

For the first time Sebastian considered that perhaps it had not been kind on Dolly’s part—or indeed his own!—to invite Juliet Boyd to Banford Park for these two weeks. That after all the talk and speculation this past year and a half, concerning her husband’s unexpected death, this woman would obviously be uncomfortable at making her first public appearance in some time.

Just as she was obviously aware of the unkind things that had been said about her following Crestwood’s death—cruel and malicious gossip, for the most part, which, even if it were true, could not have been at all pleasant for the lady to hear ….

He fleetingly touched the hand that rested on his arm. ‘I assure you I feel no awkwardness whatsoever at being seen in your company, Lady Boyd.’

Her glance was scathing now. ‘And I am just as sure, as the Duke of Stourbridge’s youngest brother, you would consider it impolite to admit to such an emotion even if you did.’

‘On the contrary, My Lady,’ Sebastian countered. ‘If you know anything of the St Claire family at all, then you must know that we prefer—in fact, go out of our way—not to bow to the dictates of Society.’

Yes, Juliet had heard that the St Claires were something of a law unto themselves. Even the head of that illustrious family, the aristocratic Duke of Stourbridge.

After years of being considered the biggest catch any marriage-minded mama could make for her daughter, the Duke had caused something of a sensation almost a year ago by choosing to woo and marry a young woman the ton had had no previous knowledge of.

Juliet moved to sit in the chair Lord St Claire drew back for her. ‘Be assured, My Lord, in this circumstance you are in the company of one guaranteed to help you succeed in doing exactly that!’

She had been so busy settling herself into her seat that for a moment she had not realised he had taken the chair beside her.

‘Oh, dear,’ she said now, as she looked up and found herself between the Earl of Banford, seated at the head of the table, and Lord St Claire to her right. ‘Have you succeeded in inciting Lady Bancroft’s ire in some way, Lord St Claire?’ she asked.

He raised brows the same unusual teak and gold colour as his hair, laughter gleaming in those whisky-coloured eyes. ‘On the contrary. Lady Bancroft—Dolly—and I have always been the best of friends.’

Juliet continued to look at him for several long seconds. ‘Indeed,’ she finally murmured enigmatically, before turning away to indicate, she hoped, a complete lack of interest in the subject.

Sebastian would have liked to pursue the conversation further, to know the reason for that enigmatic glance, but he was prevented from doing so as his first course was served to him—by which time Lord Bancroft had drawn the Countess into conversation, giving Sebastian no further opportunity to talk, but every chance to study Juliet Boyd from between narrowed lids.

For all that she must know she was still attracting more attention from their fellow guests than was polite, the Countess of Crestwood stoically ignored that interest as she continued to converse and smile graciously with their host between sips of her soup.

Did she have any idea, Sebastian wondered, how enticing her mouth was, with its top lip slightly fuller than the bottom? How seductive the deep green of her eyes? How the translucent paleness of her skin begged to be touched?

Sebastian longed to feel the slender coolness of her hands upon his own heated flesh ….

To Juliet’s dismay, her discomfort had only increased once she was seated at the dinner table, and she felt her every move being avidly watched by her fellow guests. No doubt with the intention of gossip and comments later. Nor was she as unaware of the man seated on her right as she would have wished to be!

Lord Sebastian St Claire was without a doubt one of the most handsome men she had ever seen. A few years younger than her, of course. With that dark, unusual-coloured hair and the mellow flirtation of those whisky-coloured eyes. A sensual mouth that could either smile with derisive humour or curl back in contempt. A square and firm jaw that spoke of a determination of character that was only to be expected from the brother of the arrogant Duke of Stourbridge.

More disturbing, perhaps, his black evening clothes had been tailored perfectly to display the width of his shoulders, his tapered waist, the strength of his muscled thighs and his long, long legs.

Juliet had been out for barely one Season before her husband had offered for her, but even so she could appreciate that Lord St Claire was that most dangerous of men—a rake and a libertine. A man, she felt sure, who felt absolutely no qualms in availing himself of a woman’s charms. All women, of any age. Whilst remaining free of any emotional entanglement himself.

After years in a miserable marriage, Juliet could only envy such an emotionally carefree existence as Sebastian St Claire’s.

Envy, but never emulate.

She was aware that many widowed ladies her age took advantage of their freedom from the encumbrance of a husband and marriage to indulge in affairs that gave them either satisfaction in the bedchamber or the heart. After being the wife of Lord Edward Boyd, a cold and merciless man, Juliet had no desire for either!

‘… care to go boating with me on the lake tomorrow, My Lady?’

Her eyes were wide as she turned to St Claire. ‘I beg your pardon?’

He smiled in satisfaction at her obvious surprise. ‘I enquired if you would care to go boating on the lake here with me tomorrow?’

Exactly what Juliet thought he had said!

Chapter Two

‘Or perhaps,’ Sebastian amended smoothly as he saw the way the Countess’s eyes had widened incredulously at his suggestion, ‘you would prefer it if we were simply to stroll in the gardens?’

Those green eyes narrowed now, and the tension in her body was almost palpable. ‘I have no idea what incentive Dolly has offered you in exchange for your being pleasant to me, Lord St Claire,’ she hissed beneath her breath, so that neither their host—or the other guests should overhear, ‘but I assure you most strongly that I do not appreciate such attentions!’

Sebastian was so taken aback by the accusation in her tone that for a moment he could make no reply. She actually believed that he and Dolly were lovers!

His own gaze narrowed to steely slits, his jaw rigid in his displeasure. ‘And I assure you, Lady Boyd, that you are mistaken in your assumption concerning my friendship with Dolly.’

She adamantly refused to back down from his disapproval. ‘Mistaken or not, your—your forced attentions to me are most unwelcome.’

No, this evening was not proceeding at all as Sebastian had hoped it would!

Neither was he accustomed to having his temper roused in this way. The St Claire family always maintained control over their emotions, whether it be boredom, amusement or anger. Not so for Sebastian, it appeared, when it came to Lady Juliet Boyd.

Sebastian suddenly realised what she’d said, and removed the tension from his body and the anger from his gaze. ‘Forced attentions?’ he repeated quietly.

‘Of course they are forced,’ she said scornfully. ‘Do you imagine I did not see the look of distaste on your face earlier when I entered the drawing room?’

Distaste? Sebastian remembered being dazzled by her exceptional beauty. But distaste? Never!

He shook his head. ‘I believe you are mistaken, My Lady.’

‘I do not think so,’ she maintained stubbornly.

‘You are calling me a liar?’ His voice was dangerously soft.

‘I am merely stating what I saw,’ she retorted.

‘What you think you saw,’ he corrected firmly. ‘Am I to infer from these remarks that you would prefer not to stroll in the gardens with me tomorrow?’ he asked dryly.

The Countess glanced at him quizzically, a frown between those mesmerising green eyes. ‘My preference, My Lord, is for you to leave me in peace,’ she finally murmured. ‘Coming here at all was a serious error of judgement on my part. In fact, I am seriously thinking of making my excuses and leaving in the morning.’

Sebastian had only subjected himself to the tiresomeness of this house party because he was intent on seducing this woman—he certainly had no intention of allowing her to escape so easily!

‘Are you not being a little over-hasty, Lady Boyd?’ His tone was pleasantly cajoling now. ‘I believe Dolly told me that this is your first venture back into Society since your time of mourning came to an end. Is that so?’

After the awkwardness of this evening it was likely to be Juliet’s last venture into Society, too!

She liked Dolly immensely, and had always found the other woman a complete antidote to the formality of the stuffy rules that so often abounded at any occasion attended by the ton. But if Dolly believed she was doing Juliet a kindness by casting one of her own lovers into Juliet’s path, then she was under a serious misapprehension. The attentions of a man such as Sebastian St Claire—a renowned rake and a flirt, and moreover several years her junior—was the last thing Juliet needed to complicate her life. Now or at any other time.

‘I do not consider my decision any of your business, My Lord.’

‘No?’ He quirked mocking brows. ‘You do not think it would cause embarrassment for Dolly if you were to leave so soon after your arrival?’

Juliet raised a cool eyebrow of her own. ‘On the contrary, My Lord, I believe I will be saving Dolly from further embarrassment by removing myself from her home at the earliest opportunity.’

‘So your intention is to run back to the safety of your estate in Shropshire at the first hint of opposition?’ Sebastian needled.

Juliet gasped. ‘You go too far, sir!’

He appeared completely unruffled by her anger. Instead he leant forward to place his hand on her gloved one as it rested on the tabletop, his lips a mere whisper away from the pearl-adorned lobe of her ear as he whispered, ‘My dear Countess, I have not even begun to go too far where you are concerned!’

Juliet felt the colour come into and then as quickly fade from her cheeks as she looked up and saw the flirtatious intent in that whisky-coloured gaze. How dared he talk to her in this familiar way?

‘You are causing a scene, sir,’ she snapped as she deftly extricated her hand from beneath his. ‘I believe it might be better, for both our sakes, if you were to refrain from talking to me for the rest of the evening.’

He gave a wicked smile. ‘Will that not look a little strange, when we have seemed to be getting along so well together?’

‘Seemed is the correct word, sir,’ Juliet assured him frostily. ‘This conversation is now at an end.’ She moved slightly in her seat, so that her shoulder was firmly turned against him, and began to converse with her host about the expectations of the weather for the forthcoming week.

She had never before met a man such as Sebastian St Claire. A man so forthright in his manner. A man who refused to listen to or accept the word no.

Juliet had always accompanied Edward to London in spring for the Season, attending such parties and balls with him as he had deemed necessary, and giving a ball herself towards the end of the Season, to which all suitable members of the ton had been invited. Lord Sebastian St Claire had not been amongst her guests.

St Claire’s eldest brother, the haughty Duke of Stourbridge, had several times been invited to dine privately with them, and Juliet could see a certain resemblance between the two brothers in colouring, and in that inborn air of arrogance. But young rakes such as Sebastian St Claire had not entered into Edward’s lofty circle of acquaintances, nor consequently, Juliet’s own.

Even as she continued to talk to the Earl of Banford, their conversation soon including his mother, the Dowager Countess, Juliet found her attention wandering as she wondered what Edward would have made of the young Lord St Claire.

He would not have approved of him.

No, he was too young. Too irresponsible. Too rakish. Too everything that Edward had disapproved of.

Suddenly that realisation was enough for Juliet to want to make a friend of St Claire, in spite of her own reservations!

The candle was still alight in Juliet Boyd’s bedchamber when Sebastian stepped out onto his balcony to enjoy a last cigar before retiring to his bed, but the lace curtains once again made it impossible for him to see the occupant of the room, and whether or not she was already abed.

It had certainly been an interesting evening, if a frustrating one. That frank, almost intimate conversation with the Countess had been enjoyable, but it had been followed by the irritation of having her completely ignore him for the rest of the meal—as she had stated she intended doing. Even more frustrating, she had disappeared completely by the time the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, after enjoying several glasses of excellent port.

Would she carry out her threat to leave in the morning?

Sebastian had come to realise this evening that in her acceptance of Dolly’s invitation, and by placing herself at the very centre of Society, which had judged and condemned her a year and a half ago, Juliet Boyd was being an exceptionally brave woman—but he had not expected her to be quite such a stubborn one, too!

Yet, if anything, that stubbornness—the way the sting of her anger had brought the colour to her cheeks and given her eyes the appearance of glittering emeralds—had only succeeded in deepening Sebastian’s interest in her ….

Dolly would have to talk to her, somehow persuade her into staying ….

The faint click of a door catch warned Sebastian that he would soon cease to be alone. He dropped his cigar and ground it beneath his shoe, then moved back into the shadows mere seconds before the doors of the Countess’s bedchamber opened and she stepped out onto her balcony.

Sebastian’s breath caught and held in his throat as she moved forward to stand next to the balustrade and look up at the bright starlit sky.

This venture out onto her balcony before retiring had been one of pure impulse, Sebastian had no doubt. She was prepared for bed: her hair—those glorious dark curls that he had earlier imagined cascading over her creamy shoulders and down her back when it was released—actually reached the whole length of her spine to rest against her shapely bottom. It was stunning—so thick and dark, and bathed with silver by the moon shining overhead. She wore a robe of pale green silk over a matching nightgown, but with the moonlight shining down so brightly even the two items together could not disguise the fullness of her unconfined breasts beneath, nor the gentle curve of her waist and temptingly rounded bottom above long and slender legs.

She was desire incarnate.

A goddess …

‘Who is there?’

Sebastian had no idea what he had done to give himself away. Drawn in an unconscious breath at the sight of her beauty? Or perhaps made a movement forward towards the temptation she offered so innocently?

Whatever it had been, it had alerted Juliet Boyd to his presence, and she turned in the moonlight to look at the exact spot where Sebastian stood so silently, watching her from the shadows of the house behind him.

Knowing further concealment was now ridiculous, Sebastian stepped forward to make her an adroit bow. ‘My Lady.’

Juliet gave a gasp, and raised a startled hand to her throat as she easily recognised the man standing so large and formidable on the balcony. ‘What are you doing here?’ She sounded breathless.

And indeed Juliet was breathless! She had already had cause to remark upon this man’s audacity once this evening, but even so she had never suspected that he would later attempt to enter her bedchamber uninvited!

She stiffened in outrage. ‘How dare you presume to invade my balcony in this way, My Lord?’

He gave every appearance of being completely unruffled by her displeasure as he drawled nonchalantly, ‘You are mistaken, My Lady.’

Juliet drew herself up indignantly. ‘I cannot mistake the evidence of my own eyes, sir!’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘That was not the mistake I was referring to.’

She eyed him frowningly. ‘What, then?’

He shrugged those broad shoulders, instantly drawing Juliet’s attention to the fact that he appeared to have removed his black frock coat and cravat, revealing a silver brocaded waistcoat that was tailored to the flatness of his stomach. His billowing shirt was now unfastened at the throat, revealing a light dusting of dark hair upon his chest.

Juliet quickly averted her gaze from this glimpse of his bared flesh, even as she became aware of her own state of undress. Helena had come to Juliet’s bedchamber earlier, to remove the pins from her hair before helping her into her night attire—the pale green silk and lace gown and robe that were all Juliet was wearing now, as she engaged in conversation with the disreputable Sebastian St Claire!

Sebastian could almost see the panic of thoughts rushing through Juliet’s head as she gathered her robe about her and prepared herself for flight. ‘I merely meant to point out that the door behind me leads into my bedchamber, and therefore I am standing upon my own balcony rather than yours.’

She hesitated. ‘Your own balcony …?’ Her gaze moved to the open doors behind him, before lowering to the space between them, her eyes widening as she obviously saw the low ironwork that separated the two balconies but was concealed amongst the potted plants placed either side of it. Her throat moved convulsively. ‘It appears that I owe you an apology, Lord St Claire.’

‘Do not be over-hasty with that apology,’ Sebastian drawled, before stepping lithely over the ironwork that separated them. ‘There. You see. An apology is no longer necessary.’ He gave an unrepentant grin as he now stood only inches away from her.

Juliet trembled slightly. Despite being married for so long, she had little experience upon which she might draw in order to deal with this man’s outrageous behaviour!

St Claire had stared at her so boldly, so familiarly earlier this evening, when she’d first entered the drawing-room on the Earl’s arm. After their introduction he had chosen to bandy words with her, before proceeding to flirt with her during dinner—until Juliet had made a sharp end to it.

Finding herself alone with him now—on the balcony of her bedchamber, the hour late, the moonlight shining overhead, wearing only her night attire—could be considered scandalous!

No, it was scandalous, Juliet recognised with a sinking feeling—and it was exactly the sort of behaviour the ton were so avidly seeking in order that they might condemn her all over again.

She put out a shaking hand. ‘You must return to your own balcony this instant!’ she ordered.

‘Must I?’

He was suddenly standing much too close to her. So close that Juliet could smell the freshness of his cologne and the faint aroma of cigars that clung to his clothing. Worse, his eyes, those warm, whisky-coloured eyes, were gleaming down at her in the moonlight as he easily captured and held her gaze.

Nevertheless, she must stand firm against all temptations … ‘Yes, you most certainly must!’ Juliet averred firmly.

He gave her a considering look. ‘Why?’

‘Because we cannot be seen here alone together like this!’ she gasped.

‘That is hardly likely, now, is it, Juliet?’ He gave a pointed look at their surroundings, to indicate that no candles glowed in the other bedchambers to show that any of the other guests had yet retired to their rooms for the night.

No doubt they were all still downstairs in the drawing room, Juliet surmised impatiently, discussing the scandal that the presence of the notorious Countess of Crestwood in their midst represented!

‘I have not given permission for you to address me by name.’ Her chin rose challengingly. ‘And I trust you are aware, Lord St Claire, of the reason the ton labelled me the Black Widow?’

Sebastian frowned slightly at the mention of that name once again, discovering that he took serious exception to it. ‘For the main part, I choose to ignore malicious gossip.’

The Countess arched dark brows. ‘And what if on this occasion it is not merely malicious? What if it is true?’

His gaze became fixed on those clear, unblinking green eyes as she continued to meet his gaze in challenge. ‘Is it?’ he asked quietly.

She gave a humourless laugh. ‘I have no intention of answering such a question!’

‘I am glad of it,’ he replied simply. ‘It really does not signify what I or anyone else believes about your husband’s death.’

‘It—does—not signify?’ she repeated incredulously, those green eyes now flashing angrily.

‘No,’ Sebastian reiterated, and he reached out to lightly clasp the tops of her arms and pull her slowly, purposefully towards him. ‘As I have absolutely no interest in becoming your second husband, it is doubtful you will ever have a reason for wanting me dead.’