The Girl with the Pearl Pin

by Lynne Connolly

  “I know, but I never thought you would agree…”

  He nodded. “We are in agreement. We worked out the marriage contract then, and we will sign it when we return to London. You will be a wealthy woman, my dear. But that has not crossed your mind, has it?”

  She shook her head.

  “I thought not. Nevertheless, it will happen.” One by one, he kissed her fingers, then dipped their conjoined hands in the water.

  “It cannot! I cannot allow you to…”

  His smile stopped her. “Answer me truly, Phoebe. Is the idea of marriage to me so repugnant? Do you not like me enough to contemplate spending the rest of your life with me?”

  “I would love—”

  He touched his fingers to her lips, stilling her response. “Not that. I have seen love tear holes in people’s lives. I want us to be sure of our friendship, of the pleasure we take in one another, before we commit to this. But not love. Don’t talk about love. You, Phoebe, are a delight. You have just proved how well we combine in bed, and our letters have revealed a side of you I admire. Your intelligence, your compassion, they all call to me. We are friends, and that is so much more than love.”

  As if he’d pierced her to the core, pain sliced through her side. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried.

  But he hadn’t finished. “Once we are married, you will have a measure of protection against the accusations of theft. The Duchess of Leomore is someone who commands respect.”

  “So you are doing it to p-protect me?” She couldn’t bear that, to be married out of pity or expedience.

  “Partly.” The corner of his mouth tilted in a wry smile. “But not entirely. We could have extricated ourselves from this crisis a different way. But I chose not to. You do not deserve the fate of the unmarried spinster, Phoebe, and I will not allow it. You have too many gifts to let them go to waste. I should tell you that my grandmother will be shocked by the speed of our union, and people will suspect we have anticipated our vows, but we will show the world how devoted we are to each other. We do not have to live in each other’s pockets forever, never fear. But by the end of the season people will become used to seeing you. During the summer they will meet you at one or other of the estates I own. You will belong, I promise you.”

  “But my family, my s-sister…”

  His smile turned into a grim line. “Indeed. Lucinda. Your father rescued me from that fate. Not that I would have taken it, but she could have created more trouble for you.”

  “My f-father did?” Phoebe hadn’t seen her father act so decisively for years in the domestic matters he left to her mother. But then, he hadn’t had to. So much easier to allow her mother to take the brunt of the decisions, and the blame for them. Her father liked to be liked, and this way he was a popular man.

  “Yes he did. He told your mother and sister to pack and return home. Now, sweetheart, climb out of that water and let me dry you. Then get into bed and wait for me.”

  “Oh!” Her cheeks heated with anticipation of what would come.

  He tapped her lips. “No, not that. Enough for one night. When I take you, it will be as your husband.” He gave a wry smile. “Although if I had to wait longer than a day, I don’t know if I would keep my resolve.”

  Chapter 18

  If he had slept in that bed, Leo would have taken her. But he wanted to do this properly. Marrying this woman gave them a life together, and he wanted it to start as a marriage should. His parents had demonstrated the wrong way to do almost everything, including Leo being a “premature baby.”

  Enough irregularities were happening already. He did not wish for more.

  So he found a clean shift for Phoebe from the pile of clean clothes left by the maid and gave it to her before sliding in with her and drawing her close. She was exhausted; he felt the heaviness as she rested her head on his shoulder. She felt right. She hadn’t protested his decision very much, which was not like her. “Married,” she muttered just before she dropped off. Unfortunately she said it with a derision indicating she didn’t believe him. Not entirely.

  At least she wasn’t trying to run.

  When he judged the time safe, he slid out of bed. Even then she moaned when he eased her out of his arms. His erection was already raging. It would have to wait.

  Instead of a bath to ease the aches of a day on horseback, he made do with a thorough wash in hot water. He could not remain here and not make love to her.

  He snatched up his shirt and threw it over his head, thrusting his arms through the sleeves with a vigor the action didn’t deserve.

  Good Lord, anyone would think he was a tyro fresh from the schoolroom, impatient to carve a swathe through Europe. That was the reason every parent who could afford it sent their sons on a long tour of the continent. They could sow their wild oats out of sight of society. Sadly, the theory didn’t always work. Instead, the young men returned from Europe not only rampant, but practiced. Rome had some extremely skilled whores.

  Leo climbed into his breeches, taking care when he fastened the fall because his erection had already developed to near-painful. What on earth did this woman do to him, and why? She was lovely, true, and he had a simpatico with her so rare he couldn’t remember experiencing it before, even with his friends. She had upended his life to a point where he was ready to commit himself to one woman.

  For the rest of his life?

  He had no way of knowing for sure, but at present that was the way he felt. It couldn’t be love; he wouldn’t allow the distress that caused into his life. A glance to where Phoebe slept caught her sprawled on her stomach, head turned to one side, hair tumbled over the pillow, arm outstretched as if she was reaching for him even in her sleep. Nothing would please him better than to join her. But he would not. He had too many things to do. And a taproom to explore.

  Normally the notion would give him some pleasurable anticipation, but not tonight. All his anticipation was elsewhere. Picking up his coat, he put it on and checked his pocket for the license. He checked his pocket watch. It was after midnight, because today was his wedding day.

  He would go downstairs, order a pitcher of beer and a meat pie, and stand vigil. Nobody was coming close to her while he was around.

  Perhaps he’d send a few instructions to London. He’d already left his factotum several instructions, but he wanted more. Everything had to be perfect for the woman he was making his bride.

  Planning would see him through this long night.

  * * * *

  Leo sent the maid to rouse Phoebe at seven, with a tray piled high with food and a large pot of tea. When she returned, the woman reported that she was already up. Leo longed to go up to Phoebe, but he should give her some peace. He drummed his fingers on the scarred table before him until she appeared half an hour later. She wore the simple costume the landlady of the inn had provided, but to Leo’s gaze she’d never looked so beautiful.

  As she looked around, he rose, came forward to take her hand, and lifted it to his lips. Even the touch of her aroused him, so innocent and everyday. The sooner he got her into bed, the better. Last night was only a taste of what was to come, and he couldn’t wait.

  He’d hired a carriage from the inn to take them to her home, and it waited outside. He’d sent a servant from the inn to London, to collect his traveling coach, deliver the necessary messages to their families and generally prepare the way.

  The landlord addressed him as “Your Grace” as they left the inn. He saw no reason to hide his identity, and it got him better service.

  After he’d tenderly helped her into the vehicle, Phoebe faced him. “So you are t-trapping me into m-marriage by leaving this place in d-ducal splendor? They’ll all know now. There’ll be gossip a-plenty.”

  Leaning back against the squabs and repressing his sigh of relief, to ease his muscles against something that was actually comfortable, Leo addresse
d his betrothed. “I spent most of the night downstairs. The taproom was rarely empty, and I ensured people knew I was there. Besides, once Linton let slip one “Your Grace,” the cat was out of the bag. And we are to marry today, in case you have forgotten.”

  “I still don’t understand how you c-can expect to do that. Our v-vicar is an honest man. He won’t be bribed.”

  “This is your parish, is it not, the place you reside?”

  She nodded.

  “Then we may wed. This license entitles me to dispose of the banns, although we must marry in the church where one of us resides. I see no problem. I sent Linton with a note to the vicar, warning him of the eventuality, and just before you came downstairs I had his reply. He will be pleased to marry us half an hour before noon.”

  Her jaw dropped. Leaning forward, he tucked his finger under her chin, and pushed it closed. The trouble in her eyes concerned him, but she spoke first. “I cannot m-marry you. You m-must know that. You did not b-b-b—”

  For once he stopped her finishing her sentence. He kissed her, drawing her close, savoring her and giving her a taste of what was to come. She was panting when they parted. “No more of that. I am set on you, and I know you want me. Don’t even try to deny it. No self-sacrifice, no foolish talk.” He pressed another kiss to her lips. “If you really feel you cannot marry me, if I repel you so much, then say it now.”

  He forced himself to draw back.

  She watched him, her face pale, but her lips reddened from his kisses. He gave her the time she needed, but after five minutes, when his patience was running thin, she gave him her answer. “Then yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He couldn’t resist another kiss, and this time he didn’t release her but settled her head on his shoulder.

  “I am to marry at home. I could not have wished for anything better.”

  He settled their linked hands on his thigh. “I will donate a tidy sum of money to the bell fund. Or the window fund or whatever the vicar prefers. There will be no scandal, I swear. I wanted you comfortable.”

  She waved her free arm, indicating the splendor of a well-sprung carriage and comfortable leather seats. “How could I not be? So what are your p-plans now?”

  He smiled, not missing the sarcastic tones. “We’ll go to your home and marry from there. Then leave for London in the morning. I fear we must bear the good wishes of our friends as well as we are able. We will show society how well matched we are, then, if you wish, leave for the country. My grandmother will want to see you.”

  “Sh-she won’t be p-pleased,” Phoebe observed sagely.

  Leo was forced to agree. “She will not, but she will come around. She approves of you, dearest, so she will accustom herself to the speed of our union. After all, her main purpose in getting me to marry is to fill my nursery. I trust you are not averse to that?”

  He was slipping. His bored duke act only raised a smile from her. A delightful blush spread from her neatly folded fichu to the top of her forehead, her cheeks rosy flags he longed to taste and kiss. But no, he would not have his Phoebe arriving at her family home in that state, even if the only people waiting for them were servants. The new Duchess of Leomore would be gracious and happy, not flushed with desire.

  That would come later.

  The fifteen miles between the inn and her home passed in less than two hours, and soon they were drawing up outside a comfortably sized manor, which reminded Leo strongly of his hunting box in Leicestershire. Since Sir Frederick found great enjoyment in riding to hounds, that comparison seemed entirely appropriate.

  The front door opened, and a wizened male face peered out. A small man came through, careful to close the door behind him, but at the sight of the occupants of the carriage, a broad smile cracked his face.

  Linton jumped down and smartly opened the carriage door, letting down the steps. Leo went down first and gave her his hand. He could have sworn she was preparing to jump down on her own.

  Her attention was all for the small man who waited to greet her. “Robson! It s-seems an age s-since I last saw you! So much has h-happened!” She clasped his hands warmly before turning to address Leo, who stood by, smiling. He had family retainers too, but most of them remained in the country, except for the Lintons, who accompanied him everywhere.

  Robson would not do as well in town. His black wool coat, shiny and too big for him, spoke of long use, and the way he met Phoebe’s gaze directly spoke of long acquaintance. “Your mother and your sister arrived late last night,” he said.

  Damn. Perhaps they could marry and get back to town by nightfall, instead of staying the night. But Leo had to regretfully abandon that scheme. Town was a full day away. He could not rush Phoebe back to town and staying anywhere else would give rise to damaging gossip for the Norths.

  Even so, he was tempted.

  Phoebe turned to him, her expression mirroring his dismay. “Oh, I had no idea they would be back so soon. They must have hurried.”

  Leo smiled grimly. “Yes, they must.” No doubt to encourage Phoebe’s union with Sir Marcus. He glanced at Robson but felt sure he could trust the man.

  He wasn’t imagining the satisfied smile touching Robson’s thin lips. “They said they had tired of the city, sir, and they had left Sir Frederick to finish his business there.”

  Leo humphed. “They would say that, would they not? However, it is because of my pursuit of the lovely lady here. Robson, Miss North has done me the greatest honor of accepting my hand in marriage. We are to wed today, so I would prefer her to be taken to a room where she may make herself ready.”

  “I can show you to Mr. Freddie’s room, sir. I am sure he won’t object, and there is no sign of the young gentlemen.”

  “They’re kicking up their heels in the city. I appreciate the use of the room.”

  “We don’t have too many spare rooms.” Phoebe paused, biting her lip, and Leo wondered what she was about to say.

  “This way, sir,” Robson said, going back to the door.

  Phoebe moved closer to Leo. Just where he liked her to be. “He’s our family butler, but so much more than that. My father made him his land steward a few years ago, and he says he is excellent at his work.”

  “Thank you for that, ma’am,” Robson said without turning around. “My ears might be old, but they’re as sharp as ever.”

  Phoebe only laughed. Leo liked seeing her so at ease with a member of her father’s household. Her brothers were rips, but harmless; her sister was pure poison. Stupid poison at that. Her mother always took the side of her youngest child.

  Sibling relationships were a closed book to Leo, but he was learning fast.

  * * * *

  “There you are!” Lucinda stood in the room she shared with Phoebe, her hands propped on her hips. “You and the duke!” Her voice held a nasty, sneering tone.

  Phoebe went to the bed and began to strip off her borrowed clothes. Checking her clothes press, she found something suitable to wear. From the look of Lucinda’s clothes press on the other side of the room, her younger sister had availed herself of Phoebe’s London wardrobe. She would leave it for her sister, compensation for losing the prize she really wanted.

  Lucinda rounded the end of the bed. She was fit to burst with anger. “Did you stay with him at the inn? Did you seduce him? That is so like you, Phoebe, you always want what I have.”

  Strangely Phoebe wasn’t at all inclined to answer. There was no point. She found a clean shift and pair of stays. Plain cream cotton, but they would serve. Fortunately they were already laced, because she could expect no help from Lucinda. She lifted the garment over her head and reached around for the tapes, expertly pulling them tight and tying them around her waist.

  “I knew it! Mama agreed that he was for me, and when I told her that I’d given Marcus his heart’s desire, she congratulated me.”

  That part deserv
ed a response. Phoebe straightened and faced her sister, a fresh petticoat in her hands. “Your act d-did nothing but d-deprive you of a s-season in London. M-Maybe you should m-marry Marcus. I shall not.”

  Lucinda’s lips curled in a sneer. “He wouldn’t have you now. You’re spoiled goods.”

  Phoebe met her gaze steadily. “B-Beautifully spoiled. Utterly and c-completely spoiled.”

  Lucinda flinched. “Well, if you get with child, don’t come to me or Mama for help. Likely she’ll have Papa cast you out completely.”

  If she told Lucinda of their plans for the day, she wouldn’t give Phoebe any peace. Let her find out for herself. “I must ch-change. If you d-don’t want to help, then please leave.”

  Grumbling, Lucinda helped her tie her petticoat tapes, but she didn’t stop complaining. “It’s all your fault. I could have had a duke, Phoebe. I was born for the London life, you know that. Look at me! I’ve always been able to charm any man I wanted to.”

  “C-considering the only men you’ve charmed are F-Frederick and P-Papa, that’s n-not saying m-much.”

  But Lucinda had been balked of a season in London, one, moreover, at the center of society. She’d dreamed of it all her life, and an act of spite had deprived her of it. She was only eighteen, and a young eighteen at that. In a few years Phoebe would ask her back. But not yet. She had to establish herself yet, and it was that, rather than her upcoming wedding, that was turning her mouth dry and tightening her throat.

  “And don’t forget Marcus,” Lucinda said silkily.

  “He’s a f-fool. A handsome, stupid one. T-Take him if you w-want him. I d-don’t.” She could say that with a clear conscience. Although Marcus had abducted her, he’d done it at Lucinda’s bidding. Phoebe wasn’t sure that Marcus would have tried to take her forcibly. Knowing him as she did, she would say not. Marcus was thoughtless, not violent, and as self-important as they came. He would have assumed that Phoebe would be an easy conquest.