The Rebel Wife: Book Four in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  She chewed on her lip, debating how to pursue the matter. “Alex… I thought you only returned for the land.”

  He placed one hand gently on her chin, turning her head until she had no choice but to look directly into his eyes.

  “I knew I would like the way you said my name,” he murmured, his words causing a pleasant shiver to run through her. “And yes, I was fool enough to return only for the land. The thing is, Kate, the longer I spend with you, the more I find reasons that require me to stay at your side.”

  Kate swallowed down a tiny sob and, with no regard at all for their surroundings, leant in to kiss him. He stiffened for just a moment as their lips connected, but before she could pull away and apologise she found herself wrapped tightly in his arms, his mouth meeting hers with equal pressure.

  “Well, really!”

  They pulled away suddenly as an old lady huffed her disgust at their conduct.

  Alex, his cheeks burning as much as hers, gave a little laugh. “Perhaps you are prone to courting a little scandal, Kate!”

  Kate forced her matching smile to remain in place as she thought of Bella, of Abby and the shooting competition she longed to join.

  “Perhaps I am,” was all she could think of to say in response.

  Eight

  Eugenia was not amused.

  It had taken far more effort than it should have for her mother to secure them invitations to the Shropshire’s picnic at Merton, and even more for Eugenia to cajole Arthur into accepting his. The company was, on the whole, of an exceptional calibre, with only one or two individuals – Beatrix Manning, for example – who brought the tone of the trip down somewhat.

  Since the Duchess was travelling with Helena, the Dowager Duchess and Lexborough in their barouche, she had allowed Arthur to take her high-perch phaeton and matched black horses out for the day. Naturally Eugenia, upon seeing him in such a fashionable get up, had insisted upon being taken up beside him rather than riding in the curricle with her mother.

  Arthur had taken one look at her new pelisse and shuddered.

  “No, my dear Lady Eugenia, even for you I cannot abandon my sensibilities. What on earth possessed you to pair aramanthus velvet with blue brocade? It offends my eyes! It offends my hearing!”

  Her mother, never one to appear anything but poised while in public, had smothered a laugh behind her glove.

  “Your levity is unbecoming, Lord Arthur,” Eugenia responded in biting accents, “and your sense of style is perhaps behind the times. Did not Lady Gloucester wear a similar matching upon her spencer only last week?”

  “My poor girl,” said Arthur with a tragic sigh, “did no one tell you? Lady Gloucester lost a bet at the embroidery circle and was forced to wear that get up as penance. I almost feel sorry for you – but not sorry enough to invite you to drive with me! Now, pray excuse me, for Lady Cordelia has already agreed to keep me company on the way to Merton.”

  He sauntered away as though she was a mere acquaintance, his attention all for the footman who held the reigns of the high-perch phaeton on his behalf.

  “Your faith in marrying that boy is foolish, my dear,” said her mother, a smug grin on her lips, “and I have told you repeatedly that you are wasting your time. And that your sense of fashion needs work if you are not to be considered an Eccentric.”

  Eugenia sat back in the cushions and scowled. “He is the heir to the Duke of Lexborough – or had you forgotten?”

  “No, I had not,” replied her mother with a pointed look over at the Duke’s barouche. “But you are dreaming of windmills, my foolish girl. The Duchess, if she has half the sense I credit her with, shall produce an heir within the year, mark my words. Better to set your cap at a more obtainable goal, Eugenia. Lord Standish, for example, or Dagenham, or Rothman. Even Lord Snowley is not contemptible, now that Pocklington and Colbourne have taken the boy under their wing.”

  “None of them have a hope of becoming Dukes,” she muttered.

  “Neither does Lord Arthur,” replied her mother, “but apparently, you are the only one who fails to see that.”

  Eugenia had then turned a cold shoulder on her mother, resolute in her determination to ignore her for the rest of the drive. Unfortunately, her mother seemed perfectly content about this turn of events, and may even have dozed for the rest of the journey while Eugenia was forced to watch Lady Cordelia giggling and joking away with Arthur – who even dared to hand her the ribbons for part of the drive!

  By the time they arrived at the Shropshire’s property in Merton, Eugenia was in a foul temper. Every glance in her direction seemed to be followed by a snigger, and the odd comments on her outfit that she would normally have taken to be a compliment could now be read as a cut on her sense of style.

  Even when Arthur deigned to sit with her for the luncheon, his refusal to look at her even during conversation was enough to make her want to scream. Nevertheless, she forced herself to remain dignified and to recall her future husband to more pressing matters than the colour of her brocade.

  “I think you should announce our betrothal, Arthur,” she said, cutting in on his monologue about a fruitless search for white-spotted ostrich feathers. “There can be no objection to our union, and I am tired of waiting.”

  Arthur speared a delicate piece of thinly sliced ham with his fork, but his eyes were on the nearby string quartet. “I am not yet in control of my fortune, Eugenia.”

  “But it is not long until you do, so I see no reason why your brother would not let you have your happiness.”

  “You don’t know Alex,” he replied before shoving the ham into his mouth with all the finesse of a provincial.

  “He will probably be delighted,” said Eugenia, struggling to keep her irritation in check. “Not only because I am the daughter of a Marquess, but because it naturally frees him up to follow his passions in the antiquaries.”

  Arthur stared at her in blank incomprehension. “I don’t follow.”

  Eugenia closed her eyes and counted to ten before responding. “You are his heir, Arthur. If you are married with a son of your own, why, there is no pressure on your brother any longer, and he may return to Italy knowing that the future of the Lexborough name is in good hands.”

  Arthur continued to stare at her for such a long time that she raised a hand to her face, just to be sure there was no food upon it.

  “Eugenia… do you mean to say that you really believe I will inherit the title?”

  She leant over and patted him on the knee. “Of course I do, my dearest Arthur. It is my fondest wish for you! Anyone with any understanding recognises that your brother only came home out of a misplaced sense of duty. It’s not as though there is any love lost between your brother and his wife, as all the world knows!”

  She laughed at her little joke, but Arthur looked thoughtful rather than amused.

  “I’m not sure where you’ve gained the opinion that Alex regards being home as a tiresome burden, but I can tell you that he’s becoming as dashed fond of Katie as the rest of us are.”

  “That only demonstrates his commitment to his true passion,” she said with a triumphant smile. “Do you not remember that Colbourne is bribing him with the Northumberland property?”

  “That has nothing to do with anything of import,” said Arthur, scowling. “He’s been won over by Katie, and that’s all there is to it.”

  “My darling Arthur, always wanting to see the best in people,” she said, favouring him with a smile she usually reserved for small children. “Do you not think that the Ton has noticed that the Duchess is less… assertive than normal? If your brother has fallen for her, he is doomed to disappointment. And as for his regard for her, well, I stand by my original assessment in the matter.”

  “You do not think much of people, do you,” said Arthur with a dark look.

  Eugenia raised her eyebrows. “On the contrary, I find people often behave exactly as I suspect. But that matters little in terms of our marriage. We could always live i
n a wing at Darlington Park if you wish, but I believe the Exeter property to be superior – and closer to my own family.”

  She could have sworn he rolled his eyes. “I am not going to live in one of my brother’s properties, Eugenia, for I have no hope in inheriting any of them – nor would I wish it!”

  She gave a little laugh. “Arthur, as though you haven’t been living on your expectations of inheritance all these years!”

  He reacted as though she had physically slapped him. “Good God, I thought you were joking last time you said that. Is that what you really think?”

  “How else have you funded your lifestyle?”

  He shook his head in apparent bewilderment. “Other than the odd loan from Katie, I’ve lived off the expectations of the land bequeathed to me in my father’s will. I’m worth three thousand a year, give or take.”

  Eugenia sniffed. “Not contemptible, but nothing compared to the cache of being a Duke!”

  “Hell and damnation, Eugenia, three thousand is more than half the peers in the country can lay claim to! Aye, and I’m grateful for it, even though it lacks the coronet you so desire. Let me make it clear to you: my brother’s fondness for his wife grows daily, and she has loved him all her life. I welcome a nursery full of my future nephews, if only because I want nothing to do with the title or the responsibilities that come with it. You will find a very poor husband in me, Eugenia, if you seek to advance your station in life. When it comes to ambition, I have not the least bit!”

  “Then I shall have to be ambitious for us both,” she replied. “I expect you to announce our wedding forthwith, Arthur, or are you reneging on your written promise to me?”

  She had not wanted to force his hand, nor to see the anger building up inside of him, but really, he had left her no choice. No doubt he would see, over time, that she had been right, and thank her for her forward thinking.

  “You still want to marry me, even after I have explicitly explained that no peerage would be in our future?”

  Eugenia decided it was not worth arguing that point any further. She reached out and squeezed his hand. “You are just the kind of man I like, Arthur; fashionable, dependable, and of course well bred. I can think of no other who I would like to wed.”

  “I’m not that dependable,” he replied. “Only last month I laid over a monkey that a horse would win, only to be bested by a pigeon.”

  “No doubt that is Lord Snowley’s influence,” she replied, confident that she could break that friendship once they were married. “You are not the sort to bet your property on the fall of a raindrop, for example! You show no such unsteadiness of character.”

  “Your faith in me is undeserved,” he said, looking almost bitter about it. “Now if you will excuse me, I think Helena is trying to catch my attention.”

  “But we have not agreed on a date to announce our nuptials!”

  “I will speak to your father, I suppose,” he said as he clambered to his feet. “No need to announce anything until after my brother’s ball at any rate.”

  “Don’t you think that would be the perfect occasion to tell the world?” she said, feeling irritated.

  “Perhaps. Ask your mother,” he said with a careless shrug and walked away without so much as taking his leave of her.

  Eugenia prided herself on her even temperament, but truly her patience had been tested to the limit. She knew full well that Arthur did not have romantic attachment toward her, and would likely have thought less of him if he had, since love amongst their class was modern nonsense anyway. But the mere fact that he could not see how a marriage between them would benefit both parties was quite beyond her.

  She stabbed at the final slice of ham on her plate, angry at everyone, and not even able to take solace in being dressed in the first stare of fashion.

  *

  “Oh dear, I think Arthur has quarrelled with Eugenia,” said Kate, watching that lady drive her fork into her ham as though it was the face of her mortal enemy. “Should I go over to her?”

  Alex, lounging beside her on the picnic blanket and looking more relaxed than she had ever seen him, turned his head to look up at her. “Why would you do that? Stay here, enjoy the music.”

  “Because she’s obviously upset,” said Kate. “She might need someone to talk to.”

  “Then let Lady Shropshire deal with it, or Lady Eugenia’s mother. Odds are that Arthur said something cutting about her spencer, that’s all.”

  “But,” began Kate, and then stopped herself before she revealed the secret betrothal. No matter how much she thought Arthur should trust his brother with the truth, she would not betray his confidence.

  “But what?”

  She climbed to her feet. “But the Marquess of Flamborough is an old family friend; or at least, the old Marquess was, so we owe it to his memory to take care of his descendants.”

  Alex looked bemused by this pronouncement. He squinted up at her, the bright sunshine illuminating his face. “I thought the current Lord Flamborough inherited it from his cousin, who he’d barely ever spoken to?”

  “That is irrelevant,” she replied with dignified aplomb, and then walked away as quickly as possible, lest he ask her to explain why.

  Providence had shone down on the Marquess and Marchioness of Shropshire and blessed their picnic with glorious sunshine and clear skies. Their guests, seated on the lawn of their Merton property on a scattering of blankets, were treated to glasses of champagne and plates of fine food delivered by expert staff as they listened to the string quartet, joined in the impromptu game of cricket, cheered on the players, or simply conversed with their friends and enjoyed the weather. Kate nodded at a few acquaintances as she wove her way through the blankets, pausing only to collect two glasses of champagne from a passing footman, before finally reaching her destination.

  Eugenia still sat alone in the shade of a large oak, the parties on the blankets either side of hers making no effort to draw her into their conversation. Despite everything, Kate felt a pang of sympathy. She remembered feeling left out and alone at gatherings in the early days after her marriage, and would not wish that feeling of abandonment on her worst enemy.

  “Lady Eugenia? I thought you looked in need of some refreshment. May I join you?”

  Eugenia looked up in surprise. A range of emotions ran across her face in the moments before she very properly inclined her head and motioned for Kate to join her.

  “Naturally, your Grace. Thank you for the champagne. Arthur had just gone to fetch me a glass, but you know how forgetful he can be. No doubt he is joining in the cricket match.”

  Kate laughed. “Lord, I would give a monkey to see that! He’s never been much for the sporting life.”

  “As I am not one for making wagers,” retorted Eugenia, before taking a delicate sip of the champagne.

  Kate swallowed a set-down, reminding herself that she had come over to be nice to Eugenia, not to cause the girl further grief.

  “Would you like to take a turn alongside the river with me?” she said, trying to think of a way to engage the girl. “It’s such a lovely day.”

  “No thank you, it is too hot for my tastes, and besides, I would not wish to become hideously freckled.”

  Kate bit down on her lip for a moment.

  “And how go the plans for your mother’s upcoming ball? You must be quite excited.”

  “I find that one ball is much like any other,” declared Eugenia with a world-weary sigh of fashionable ennui. “I suppose it shall be amusing, and at least I will know that the catering is of sufficient quality.”

  How on earth Arthur had ever fancied himself in love with this tiresome chit was beyond Kate. Less than two minutes in Eugenia’s company, and already Kate was calculating how quickly she could end the conversation without being rude.

  “For myself, I quite like balls,” said Kate, deciding to attempt a different tack. “One never knows who one will meet, for there are always so many more people invited than to a rout or par
ty. And naturally the dancing! Where else is there such a wonderful range of talented partners for the quadrille, or the cotillion, or even a waltz.”

  “I only waltz with Arthur,” said Eugenia.

  “He is an excellent dancer,” said Kate, thinking it surprisingly romantic of Eugenia to save the slightly scandalous dance for Arthur.

  “I suppose,” said Eugenia with a sniff. “Mother and I both consider the dance to be quite decadent, but considering the understanding between Arthur and myself, it is permissible. I could not imagine dancing the waltz with anyone other than one I quite wished to spend my life with.”

  It was difficult to tell whether Eugenia’s comment was simply thoughtless, or deliberately barbed. She was certainly stabbing viciously at a rogue spear of asparagus.

  “Commendable I’m sure, but for myself, I would not have missed out on learning to waltz simply because his Grace chose to pursue his antiquaries abroad,” Kate said lightly, trying to guide Eugenia into realising the cutting nature of her previous comment.

  “You must be glad he is back,” was all she said.

  Kate frowned, wondering if her dislike for Eugenia was making her read more into the girl’s tone than was intended.

  “Of course, it is good to have my whole family so close.”

  There was no mistaking it: Eugenia smirked. “It must be nice to have a brother who feels the same way.”

  Kate cocked her head to the side, regarding Eugenia closely. The girl was definitely upset, but there was anger there as well. What any of that had to do with Duncan, she had no idea.

  “I’m afraid that I don’t understand.”

  Eugenia gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Everyone knows about your brother’s interference with the Northumberland purchase, your Grace. It was very clever of you to ask your brother to find a way to keep your husband in London since you have failed to do so yourself this past ten years.”

  Kate felt as though the world around her melted into blackness, the only pinpoint of focus that of her handsome husband, lounging on the picnic blanket some fifty feet away from her, laughing and joking as though he had never been happier in all his days. The sounds of her fellow peers, of the river, of the string quartet all disappeared, drowned out by a sound reminiscent of a waterfall threatening to drown her.