The men entered and Eliza looked up at her husband and said gaily, “You’ll never believe what we’ve just discovered.”
Marcus sat beside Corinna. She looked up at him with a broad smile. Words tripped over her tongue and she couldn’t get out a coherent sentence.
“Corinna is your, um, second cousin, I think,” Eliza was telling Trent. “Her grandmother was Aunt Marian’s favorite topic of conversation.”
“You don’t say?” Trent turned questioning gray eyes in her direction and she could feel the blood rising in her face.
Eliza also turned to Corinna to explain. “Trent’s Aunt Marian has been trying to trace her sister for years, but with no success.”
“Oh,” was all Corinna could think to say. She was still trying to absorb the knowledge that she had found her grandmother’s family.
“I wish we had found you sooner,” Eliza said, “but it doesn’t matter now. Aunt Marian will be in alt.” Turning to Marcus, she said, “You’ll have to bring Corinna to London before the season starts to give her a chance to meet the rest of the family.”
Corinna was still awash in wonder as she climbed the staircase to her room sometime later. It just didn’t seem possible that it had been so easy. Her mind was still cataloguing all the details Eliza revealed about the family of the earls of Barrington.
Her grandmother had been the youngest of five children, of which Aunt Marian was the only one still left. Trent’s father, Trevor, had been the oldest, followed by a sister, Susannah, who married a Scottish earl. Griffin had been next, followed by Marian, then Constance.
Three years older than her younger sister, Marian had doted on Constance and was devastated by her apparent death. When the deception had been discovered after their mother’s death, she had immediately tried to find her sister, but had been thwarted by her father. It wasn’t until her father died five years later that she had been able to renew her efforts. By then, the trail, if there had ever been one, was completely lost.
Allowing Irma to help her get ready for bed, Corinna wandered into the sitting room after the maid left to wait for Marcus. Curling up in a chair before the fireplace, she contemplated the empty grate while she wondered when Marcus would join her.
Marcus stared moodily out of the window of the library. He was thinking about the conversation in the drawing room. Douglas and Trent had actually met—once. It was pointless speculation, but he could not help thinking that if Douglas had known, Corinna’s life would have been very different.
Eliza and Trent were open and generous to a fault. If they had known of Corinna’s relationship, they would not have hesitated to take her in after her parents’ deaths. And Trent would have ensured she received not only her season, but whatever her father had left her. She should also have received Douglas’s portion. Having ascertained that Douglas died nearly three weeks after his mother, Marcus knew Corinna was his only heir.
Finishing off the remainder of his brandy, he set down the glass on the sideboard, picked up a book from his desk, and left the room. Striding down the hall toward the master suite, he was aware of a sense of anticipation. Corinna would be waiting for him in the sitting room. It had become their nightly ritual, and she waited every night for him to kiss her goodnight. Unfortunately, that ritual was becoming exceedingly frustrating.
It was not a bad thing to desire one’s wife, but the last week had tested his limits severely. He was making inroads, he knew, as their kisses each night had become more involved and more passionate as the week progressed. He could wait a little longer, he told himself.
Their guests were leaving in another week, then he and Corinna would have the remainder of the summer to get to know each other better before braving London in the fall. He had been initially dreading their first appearance in the city, wondering how her family would react. Now, however, he was looking forward to a confrontation with Gregory. He had the feeling it would not be pleasant, but he admitted to himself that he relished informing Gregory and his uncle that their assessment of Corinna’s mother had been wrong.
He was also sure Corinna’s father had left her a sizeable inheritance and Gregory had misappropriated it. Not that he needed a dowry for her, but she needed to know she hadn’t been forgotten and left to the mercy of a brother her father knew would do nothing for her. She had confided in him she would like to retrieve her mother’s jewelry, some of which, he speculated, had probably come from the Barrington vaults. In particular, there was a spectacular diamond-and-ruby necklace and earring set that had been handed down from her great-grandmother. It would look dazzling on Corinna.
Additionally, he needed to put Douglas’s affairs in order. He knew Douglas’s bank account would still be in existence and it was substantial. His stepfather had treated Douglas as if he were his own son, providing him with a substantial quarterly allowance even while he was in India. Further, empty though it was, Douglas had held a minor title. The baronetcy no longer had lands attached because Camden Chase hadn’t been entailed and Douglas’s father had gambled it away. Douglas had dreamed of buying it back someday, but now that wasn’t to be. Absently he wondered if there was a new Baron Camden out there somewhere or if the title died with Douglas. He would have a solicitor look into it.
Entering his bedroom, he quickly shed his clothes and shrugged into the wine-velvet dressing gown Barnes left out for him. Crossing to the door on the other side of the room, he entered the sitting room, only to be stopped in his tracks at the sight of Corinna asleep in a chair before the fireplace.
He smiled to himself as he took in the slumbering figure swathed in russet silk. Curled up in the depths of a wingbacked chair, he was reminded of how small and defenseless she looked. True, she was taller than she had been that long-ago night, but there was still a vulnerability about her that brought out the protective instincts in him. Eight years ago he had pledged to love, honor, cherish and protect her. He might never love her, but he would honor, cherish and protect her come what may.
Approaching the chair, he bent and lifted her in his arms. Carrying her into her room, thankful she had left the door open, he laid her gently on the bed and pulled the coverlet up over her still form. She sighed and snuggled deeper into the pillow as he did so, and he smiled. Dropping a light kiss on her forehead, he left her to her dreams, closing the door softly behind him as he exited the room.
Chapter Fourteen
The evidence against him was quite real, however, as it had been his Countess who was orchestrating the campaign, through her family in France.
John, Duke of Warringham, in a letter to his son, Bertrand, Marquess of Lofton, October 1861
Alone at last!
Marcus decided he liked the sound of those three little words as he watched the last of the coaches carrying his brother, sister and their families roll down the drive.
One month.
That’s how long he and Corinna had before his sister and sister-in-law expected them to appear at Waring House in London. He would have been happy to remain at St. Ayers, but he knew Corinna was looking forward to her first taste of London. Until then, however, he intended to get to know his wife very well. Starting tonight.
Turning, he looked down at Corinna and noticed her hands clasped tightly together. She seemed to do that when she was worried or uncertain. He wondered if her nervousness now stemmed from the fact that they were finally alone.
A sigh escaped her as she looked up at him.
“I will miss them,” she said slowly, “but I’m looking forward to some peace and quiet.”
Marcus nearly shouted with relief. “And here I thought you were worried about being alone with me,” he quipped.
She colored. “I might have, but Eliza told me…” Her voice trailed off and the pink in her cheeks deepened to red.
“Told you what?” he asked curiously.
She descended the steps, turning in the direction of the flower garden. A light breeze stirred her curls and fluttered the yellow ribbon wound thro
ugh them. Marcus followed, unable to keep his eyes from admiring the slim figure encased in green and yellow muslin, and the sway of her hips as she walked.
She turned and peeked up at him from under her lashes. “About being married,” she said simply, then turned away again, but not before Marcus noticed that the blush had spread to the roots of her hair.
He nearly laughed out loud, but refrained so as not to cause her further embarrassment. And to think, he told himself, he wished Eliza had waited for them to appear in London. He didn’t know what Eliza said, but he was certain she hadn’t minced words. Eliza rarely spoke around a subject that could be addressed directly.
Corinna entered the garden, thankful for the light breeze that sprang up. She needed it to cool her face. What had possessed her to tell Marcus about Eliza? Had she wanted to set his mind at ease? Perhaps she wanted to let him know she knew what was expected. Whatever impulse had prompted her to tell him, she was glad he didn’t know what she was thinking.
She acknowledged to herself that she was thankful Eliza had, after learning of the circumstances surrounding their marriage, realized she had no one to stand in her mother’s place and was, therefore, woefully ignorant of the physical side of marriage. Although Eliza’s description sounded awkward and uncomfortable, Marcus’s sister assured her she would not find it so.
All that aside, Eliza’s explanation had aroused her curiosity and she had been impatient for their guests to leave. Instinctively she knew Marcus was waiting for them to be alone before consummating their marriage. And, thanks to Eliza, she was actually looking forward to it.
Marcus followed her into the garden. His presence, even behind her, provided her with a confidence she’d long lacked. She’d told herself before that she was a coward, but with Marcus she did not feel timid or afraid. As a child, she’d been forced to be brash and dauntless. Her siblings had allowed her no peace and any sign of fear or timidity was often met with teasing and provocation.
The tangy sea breeze reminded her just how far she’d come from Houghton Hall. Her family would never find her here. Neither would Vincent.
“How about a visit to Mrs. Cotter?” Marcus’s voice interrupted her wayward thoughts as they entered the house from the side door. “The last time I checked on the mine, I stopped in to meet her, but since she wasn’t up to visitors that time, I promised to come back soon.”
Corinna turned back to him. “That would be wonderful,” she replied brightly. “I’ll ask cook to prepare a basket to take to her.” It would also, she acknowledged, keep her mind off of the evening possibilities.
“She was duped by her own family,” Mrs. Cotter told them.
Seated in her small, but neat, parlor, Mrs. Cotter was telling Marcus what she knew.
“And that snake, Lord Rearden.” She pronounced the name ridden, but it was clear Marcus understood who she was talking about.
“How so?” he asked the little old woman who peered up at him out of faded blue eyes.
“He was chasin’ after my Emili,” she answered him in a soft voice. “But she didn’t want nothin’ to do with him, and told him so. Then her brother came to visit. We was surprised the first time he came, because we all knowed her family had turned her off when she married Master Edward. She was so happy to see him she never saw he was usin’ her.”
“Her family turned her out?” Marcus asked in surprise.
Mrs. Cotter’s white head bobbed. “Master Edward was injured while in France, and she nursed him back to health. She done so in secret an’ hid him from her family. When he was well enough to travel, he married her an’ brought her back with him. The folks ’round here never really took a likin’ to her, but she was real nice to me.
“My ma was the housekeeper at the time, an’ I was just one of the maids. But she took a shine to me an’ I became her lady’s maid.”
“I thought you were the housekeeper?” Marcus asked.
“That wasn’t till later, after they was all gone,” she said slowly.
Corinna watched Marcus struggle to follow Mrs. Cotter’s narration. She tended to jump from subject to subject, going off on a tangent during portions of her recital when she was just about to reveal a piece of information Corinna could tell Marcus particularly wanted to know.
Despite the uneven telling, Corinna listened to a tragic story of family betrayal that would astound many—including her with her checkered family history.
“Master Edward came back from France in ’04, I think it was. With the two countries bein’ at war, it wasn’t safe once Miss Emili’s family found out he was there. They was strong supporters of the emperor, you see. His lordship, the earl, wasn’t none too happy to see him either.”
“Why?” Marcus asked.
“’Cause of his wife. The earl didn’t have no likin’ for the Frenchies. At least his brother was happy to see him, though.”
“Brother? What brother?” This was obviously the first Marcus had heard of any other possible family members, but she suddenly remembered one of the unexplained pictures in the gallery. She’d meant to ask him about it, but forgot the last time he’d found her there.
“Master Henry,” Mrs. Cotter answered. “He was the elder, the heir, but when Master Edward returned, barely able to walk, Master Henry turned over the running of the estate to him and went off to war himself.”
“What happened to him?”
Mrs. Cotter shook her head sadly. “He was killed in Spain. Broke the old earl’s heart it did. He died a year later and Master Edward became the new earl. He was a good man and treated everyone well. He and her ladyship doted on each other and their little girl, Em. Everythin’ would have been jes’ fine if’n her ladyship’s brother hadn’t become a regular visitor and that Lord Rearden woulda stayed away.”
“So, what happened?” Marcus asked. “My father thought my grandmother was helping her family in France. That she was actually the guilty party.”
“She didn’t figure it out till it was too late.” The sadness in her voice was almost tangible. “Her brother would sneak over here from France and ask her to send letters for him. To friends, he said. And she would do it, and use the earl’s frank to send ’em.
“When she finally figured it out, after the soldiers came and took his lordship away, she tried to go to London to tell them what she knew, but she couldn’t get anyone to listen to her. She told me the whole story when she came back. She was near beside herself, but she came back to make sure that we was all taken care of.”
“Who was taken care of?”
“The staff,” she answered. “She knew’d there was gonna be a new owner, but she wanted us to know she hadn’t forgotten us. She paid all our wages, then told us we could stay on if’n we wanted to, but she wasn’t sure if’n the new owner would keep us. Most everybody left, ’ceptin’ Mr. Cotter an’ me. That’s how I became the housekeeper. I birthed all my babies in the big house.”
Corinna could see Marcus still had more questions, but it was obvious Mrs. Cotter was beginning to tire. A few minutes later, during a lull in the conversation, her twelve-year-old great-granddaughter came in to tell her it was time for her to rest.
“And what do ya think I been doin’ while I’m sittin’ and talkin’ to his lordship?” she asked the young girl. Unfazed by the question, the girl did not answer back. Instead she shook her head and “tut-tutted” when her great-grandmother sent her off to another room to find something.
Nan, they learned the young girl was called, returned with the requested box and set it in the old woman’s lap as Marcus rose to his feet.
“We have troubled you enough for one day, ma’am,” he began, but was cut off by a wave of a hand.
“No, you haven’t,” she stated, “but I’ll let you go all the same.” She pulled a fat envelope out of the box and held it out to him. “You’ll be wantin’ this,” she told him.
Marcus took the envelope. Corinna could see faded writing on the front. “What is it?”
“�
�Tis a letter from her ladyship,” was the reply. “She gave it to me before she left. Said I was to decide who to give it to. She said it would explain everythin’, if’n anyone really wanted to know. I’m guessin’ you would be the right person to read it.”
As they were leaving, she called out, “Don’t forget to open the bottom of her ladyship’s wardrobe. They’ll all be there.”
Corinna could tell Marcus wanted to ask her what she meant, but they could come back another day to find out. He was probably in a hurry to get home and read the letter.
They left the village in silence, Corinna remaining so because she knew Marcus was still digesting all he had learned. She had, for the most part, been a bystander today. Mrs. Cotter had been happy to meet her, but it was Marcus who she primarily spoke to.
She was still amazed at what Mrs. Cotter had revealed. Despite the picture in the gallery, the Countess had been a warm and loving person to those who accepted her. She had adored her husband and daughter and devoted herself to making a comfortable and happy home for them until her brother turned up.
She shook her head. So much unnecessary tragedy. But all’s fair in love and war—so the saying went. And England and France had been at war. It was too easy to point fingers back then, to assume that just because she was French, she was the enemy. It was very likely the reason no one listened to her in London was because she was French. And it was the very reason the locals around St. Ayers had shut her out.
Perhaps the letter would shed more light on why circumstances played out the way they did. Why she did not suspect what her brother was up to. And why she could not get anyone to listen to her when she attempted to tell them the truth.
It was time for luncheon when they reached the house and, after a light meal, she went off to confer with the cook about something special for dinner while Marcus adjourned to the library.
Family Scandals Page 19
