Anything but Love (The Putney Brothers Book 1)

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  Charles Putney was without doubt the most infuriating man she had ever met, and the only one whom she had any wish to marry.

  She might not be in love, and there was still no sign of lightning striking her heart when they were together, but the comfort she found in his presence, even when she was irritated with him, was undeniable, and she had finally accepted that she would never meet a man who exceeded him in anything she considered essential in a spouse. Well, anything but love, she supposed, but that seemed an increasingly unimportant criterion.

  Unfortunately, Charles had done nothing to reassure her that a marriage between them was something he found tolerable, let alone desirable.

  "It's not fair," she complained to Patience during their daily walk about the grounds. "He acts like an ogre whenever my cousin is mentioned, but then is the sweetest, most amusing companion if we talk about anything else. He cuts my embroidery thread to the perfect length without needing to be asked, threads my needles with an expert hand, and fetches me refreshments just as I think I might like some tea to drink. He suggests that marriage would be an agreeable solution to my problems one moment, but then in the next assures me that becoming a tenant for life is an abhorrent concept - especially if I am the one he must wed!"

  "Have you considered that he is afraid that it is you who are appalled by the idea of marrying him?" her new friend asked, seeming far more amused by the situation that decorum should allow.

  "Ridiculous," she scoffed in return. "I might not be in love with Charles Putney, but that doesn't mean he's not my first choice for a husband."

  "Perhaps he wants more than that," suggested Patience, and Marianne could not help the withering look she threw at her new friend.

  "Charlie has known me since I was still in the schoolroom, and had never so much as looked twice in my direction before he rushed to my rescue," said Marianne. "You would think he would be glad to put me in the way of other eligible gentlemen if he were so against marriage, but no. He dislikes me talking to anyone who is not married already, and even glared at poor Thomas Trow when we were dancing one evening. What did he expect me to do, when his mother had explicitly invited a few guests so I could practice my steps before the ball? I can hardly dance exclusively with Putney men!"

  "Did you, by any chance, make a sarcastic comment about marrying someone in the neighbourhood?" asked Patience, looking bemused.

  Marianne rubbed at the back of her neck where the lace trim of her cap was tickling her skin. She nodded a greeting at Jeremiah Bellan, the gardener who had gifted her the horseshoe broach on behalf of his grandmother. He paused in his work to greet them both as they passed.

  "You seem popular with the staff," said Patience.

  "Jeremiah is a dear," she replied, "they all are, truth be told. Phillips has told them all to take extra care of me, and they've taken the duty seriously."

  "And that doesn't bother you?" asked her friend. "That they are all acting as your prison guards?"

  "I know what you are trying to do, Patience Swancoat, and I take leave to inform you that it is not the same thing at all," she snapped even as her companion laughed. "None of them are trying to talk me into marriage at the same time as refusing to let me leave their property. Honestly, between Cuthbert and Charles, I feel like the only way I'll ever be wed is if I'm locked in a tower, like Rapunzel, first!"

  "That was the witch."

  "Aunt Headley makes an excellent witch," muttered Marianne. "Godmama is more of a vengeful queen, who would strike down anyone who tried to steal me without her permission."

  "And Lady Putney one of the fairy folk, who brings you cakes and gifts if you are good and do your embroidery," added Patience.

  "Like a bwbach!" said Marianne, and they both fell into a peal of laughter.

  "Oh my dear Marianne, I am so sorry for your discomfort, but the indulgent, selfish truth is that I'm so very glad you are being held captive at Putney Manor," said Patience as they intertwined their arms. "I have enjoyed walking with you so very much, and not just to escape my family, as you will most likely claim!"

  "It's because you find the Putney men as infuriating as I do," said Marianne.

  "Well, not Harry," said Patience. "He's as uncomplicated as they come, and a complete dear. He's offered to marry me several times just to help out with the problems at Swancoat Hall, but he would likely die of fright if I ever took him up on the offer!"

  "The cad," replied Marianne without any malice. "He offered to marry me as well, even if it means he has to be a poet and eat nothing but vinegar and dry crackers."

  Patience heaved a dramatic sigh. "I take it back; he's as infuriating as his brothers after all."

  They looked at each other and giggled once again. Some of the gardeners - at least half of whom were the men Phillips had brought in to help keep watch - watched them with indulgent smiles and greeted them politely as the girls passed by.

  Phillips himself wandered idly a respectful distance behind them. Not so close that he could hear their conversation, but near enough to rescue her should someone attempt to snatch her away.

  In broad daylight.

  In the middle of the flower garden.

  Marianne's bad mood began to return. Sir Joseph had not yet returned from London, and she was restless for news from him. She held hope that he would uncover good news, perhaps not of Gordon's return, but that they had all over-estimated the villainy of her cousin, and her chains would be relaxed as a result.

  It was impossible to sort out her feelings for Charles until that happened. No matter how much she was enjoying their time together during the day, her restriction was chafing at her spirit, and she could not help blaming him for that. Marriage would solve the problem, but not if it meant he began to resent her. A husband, after all, had complete power over his wife, and while his actions right now were designed to protect her, she knew from bitter experience how quickly they could be turned into a weapon that would break her spirit.

  Not that he would do such a thing. Her logical mind understood that the restrictions upon her right now were purely for her safety, and that everyone else in the Manor, even Godmama, was complicit in her caging, but if Charles ever showed the least inclination to play the tyrant, his own family would turn on him to keep her safe. Not that he would do so; if she was sure of anything, it was that at worst, he would be an indifferent husband and never a cruel one. It did not matter. Her wrath was squarely aimed at the eldest Putney brother for no particular reason other than he infuriated her, and a good deal of her anger towards Cuthbert and her aunt was mixed up with it.

  "It's not fair," she said suddenly, her shoulders slumping.

  Patience wrapped one arm about Marianne's shoulders.

  "I know, my dear. It's not."

  "If I understood why he kept changing his mind it would be so much easier," she continued, knowing that Patience understood she was talking about Charles without the need to explicitly name him.

  "Perhaps it's a family thing," her companion muttered, and Marianne knew that John was bothering her friend's heart just as much as his brother was interfering with her own.

  “At first I thought his offers of marriage were just out of loyalty to my brother, or a sense of duty perhaps. Only now he seeks me out at every opportunity, and even reads from the Tales of Taliesin while I complete my embroidery. I wish he were not so talented a reader, Patience! He could be on the stage, the amount of talent he possesses. I can quite understand why he is a favourite with your sister, and Theodosia Aldburn, for he can be such an entertaining companion, and funny, and kind, and he makes you feel like you're the most important creature in the world - right up until he reluctantly offers marriage, and leaves you convinced that he would rather dine on his own boots than submit to wedlock."

  "Ursula is not a fan of Charles," said Patience, almost absentmindedly. "She had never forgiven him for taking away the puppies and finding them good homes with the tenants. Never mind that another gentleman would have drowned the
poor things, or that we could hardly afford another five mouths to feed when we already have three dogs. She blames him for taking away her little darlings."

  "Your sister is not the best example," muttered Marianne. "My point is that Charles is confusing and seems to swing from tender to indifferent with the direction of the wind."

  "He's only trying to keep you safe, dearest," said Patience with a reassuring tone. "Have you told them about the man you think you saw on the avenue that night?"

  Marianne quickly looked over her shoulder to make sure that Phillips was too far away to have heard them.

  "No, and you must not, either, or they'll stop me walking in the grounds without an honour guard surrounding me."

  "You need to tell them," Patience insisted. "Or at least Phillips!"

  "I did tell Phillips," she replied.

  "You told Phillips that Lizzie had seen a pwca," Patience reminded her, and Marianne rolled her eyes.

  "Phillips isn't a fool - he'll know a light in the woods meant a person may have been there, and if he doesn't think it worth investigating then I am not about to worry my hosts."

  "Phillips also believes in the Y Tylwyth Teg, so I wouldn't be so sure," said Patience. "Think about it, dearest; you were nearly abducted in the middle of the day at Braddoc's Well, and when Charles brought you back from your time with the Headleys you were nothing but skin and bone and startled by everything. Can you blame the Putney’s for wanting to keep you safe from your cousin's clutches?"

  "But it wasn't Cuthbert," she sighed in response. "The man who tried to abduct me was older and much more unkempt. My cousin is a horrible excuse for a gentleman, but nothing in the world would convince him to wear a dirty cloak that smelled like horse manure. Besides, he does not smoke a pipe, so it could not have been him I saw in the darkness. Perhaps it really was a pwca."

  "It may not have been Mr Headley himself, but there's no reason to suppose he didn't hire someone to do the deed for him," Patience insisted. "Besides, you've thought that someone was following you before this, remember? You saw a man in a blue greatcoat several times before he tried to abduct you, assuming it was the same man."

  Marianne turned her head to study her new friend. "Did John tell you about that? I wish he would not have, for it will only feed the rumours about me!"

  "It was John," Patience admitted, "but don't be angry at him! He felt awful about not believing you that day in the rose garden, and is determined to make up for it! Besides, the man who attacked you escaped on horseback, and no vagrant would have access to a mount, now would they?"

  "Is that why you agreed to walk with me every day?" said Marianne, struggling not to feel cross about the whole situation. She untangled her arm from Patience, knowing it was petty but not much caring. "Do you know how it feels to not be able to do anything on your own? I had more freedom in London of all places, and there really are ruffians on every corner in the city!"

  "You can't blame the Putney’s for that," said Patience in a soothing tone. "You were almost stolen away under their watch, after all, and after what your cousin and aunt did to you..."

  Marianne took a deep breath before blowing it out through her nostrils. "I know, I know! And it is awfully sweet of them to be taking such care of me, it's just that I feel..."

  "Caged?" supplied Patience with a sad smile.

  "Exactly," she replied, the word dragged out in a sigh. "I could not leave the Headley's home without their permission, and they only allowed me to walk to the vicarage because the entire path could be seen from the front parlour. Sometimes I just want to be outside by myself, alone in nature and just... just existing."

  "But instead you are once again tied to a house where others dictate the rhythm of your life," said Patience. She slipped her arm through Marianne's again, and gave it a little squeeze. "I might not be in the same situation as you, but the outcome is very similar. With my father the way he is, and my sister being, well, Ursula, I understand the sensation of being caged."

  They walked in silence for a while, the white gravel of the garden path crunching under their feet. They paused regularly to look at and admire the flowers, earning more satisfied smiles from the actual gardeners, while Phillips' men leaned on the handles of their shovels and forks, not even trying to pretend they were there for any other reason than to keep an eye on Marianne. Phillips himself had moved a little further away from her than normal, and was deep in conversation with a farmworker who had appeared at the edge of the grounds.

  He was probably reporting back to Phillips, and thus the Putney brothers, that there was no sign on anything untoward on the estates, and that no one had seen anything, or anyone of note. Honestly, had she not felt the dirty hand of the man in the greatcoat pressed over her lips, she might have doubted his existence altogether.

  There had been a light by the avenue, of that she was sure, and the unease she felt was real, even if Phillips was calm about the whole thing.

  Maybe it had been a pwca she'd seen.

  From there, her mind wandered back to the Tales of Taliesin, and the stories Charles shared from his old Welsh nanny, who had terrified him as a child by telling him what the fairies would do to naughty boys who didn't eat their supper.

  "I wish I did not enjoy Charlie reading to me half as much as I do," Marianne said into the silence between herself and Patience. "I feel so selfish, and guilty about being selfish. It's enough to make me wish to beat him with a poker."

  "In your defence, my dearest friend, I rather suspect that's the effect all Putney men have on the women strong enough to marry them."

  They resumed their slow walk, circling around the flower garden and strolling across the front of the Manor and back towards the lawn.

  Marianne felt her lips tug into a smile "John?"

  "Who else has the ability to infuriate me?" said Patience, scowling at the entire world before her.

  Marianne gave a wry laugh and shook her head in resignation.

  "I'm sorry, Patience. You're quite right about everything, and complaining about the situation will not resolve anything. How was Mr Swancoat this morning? Any better?"

  "Better than he has been for a while," her friend replied, the false brightness of her smile not fooling Marianne for a moment. "Ursula has been reading that new novel that's all the rage to him, which keeps him distracted from more stressful matters and has the added benefit of keeping her out of trouble, too."

  "The Pirate King?" she asked, and Patience nodded.

  "Yes, for John was good enough to lend us his mother's copy. I promise we will finish with it soon so that you may read it as well."

  "It must be nice to be able to just buy books," said Marianne thoughtfully. "I used the subscription libraries in London, for purchasing is shockingly expensive. Sir Joseph and Lady Putney have the most glorious collection here, but not just for show; every volume that I've taken from the shelves is well-thumbed."

  "I sometimes think how lovely it would be to stock the old library at home," said Patience, her expression dreamy. "Can you imagine a whole room of your favourite novels, and a comfortable chair in front of a roaring fire?"

  "So long as none of the stories involve the attempted kidnapping of a young heiress, then it sounds delightful," said Marianne, and Patience gave an appreciative laugh.

  "Very true, but you must not be angry at the locals for finding your story as intriguing as one of Mrs Ratcliffe's novels. Nothing of interest has happened in the parish for years."

  "Not since Old Man Waldo built Fool's Errand," said Marianne, before both of them began to giggle.

  "Oh dear, has everyone been telling you that?"

  "More times than I care to remember - and to add insult to injury, I have not even been up to see the Folly yet! None of the brothers have had the opportunity to take me, although all three of them have promised most faithfully that they will. Eventually. Tell me though - is it really a working lighthouse?"

  "Father said it still worked when he was a boy, bu
t I don't think Sir Joseph cares much for it, so no light has shone in my lifetime. I suspect he would like to knock it down, like Father did to the Swancoat Castle folly, but Lady Putney adores the thing," said Patience. She stopped in her tracks, jerking Marianne's arm in the process. "If I help you have a little taste of freedom, do you promise me faithfully that you won't wander off on your own?"

  Marianne narrowed her eyes. "What are you suggesting?"

  "Nothing unless you promise," said Patience, crossing her arms over her chest. "While I understand your need to be free, there's no challenging the fact that someone did try to kidnap you, and I will not be responsible for you being carried off by an ogre!"

  Marianne thought about the glow of the pipe she'd seen only a few nights earlier, suddenly convinced it was not a pwca at all, but most definitely the man in the blue greatcoat.

  "Will we go near the avenue?" she asked with a frown.

  "The opposite direction completely, I promise, and to an area that very few people know their way through, thanks to the overgrown woodland."

  Just the knowledge that there would be few, if any, people on this surprise was enough to convince her to try. Besides, if Patience did lead her a little too close to the Avenue, it would be easy enough to turn back, and so long as she kept close to her friend, there could be no real danger.

  "Very well, I promise I will remain at your side for the whole day if it means I can have a few moments of peace," said Marianne, intrigued by the smile on Patience's lips. "Now, what have you planned?"

  "Come with me, and act natural," said her companion, taking hold of her hand. "We must go around to the back of the hothouses, behind the Pinery Vinery."

  "But there are gardeners there," said Marianne, even as she allowed herself to be pulled along. "And Phillips is following us."

  "Not for long," said Patience cheerfully, before suddenly raising up her voice. "Marianne, look at that butterfly! let's see if we can catch it!"

  She began to run, giving Marianne no choice but to do the same. They both began giggling as they raced along the path after an imaginary butterfly, Patience leading them through the kitchen gardens and across to where the four hothouses stood on the boundary between the landscaped grounds and the wooded hill beyond. Several of the gardeners paused to tip their hats to the ladies, who shouted out greetings without slowing their pace.