At the Earl's Convenience

by Maggi Andersen

  His eyes narrowed. “I may be in a weakened state, madam, but you can only push me so far. I will tell you what I choose when I choose to.”

  “As you wish, my lord.” Furious, Selina dropped into a curtsey fit for a king and walked to the door.

  “Selina?”

  She turned. “My lord?”

  “When you return from Bath, you and I shall begin life as man and wife. I require an heir.”

  Still no explanation or apology. He was so sure of her. “How do you know I will return?”

  He frowned. “If you’re not back here by the end of the month, I’ll come and get you.”

  “What? And drag me home by my hair?”

  He gave a thin smile. “If I have to.”

  Selina went to her chamber to organize the packing. She trembled with a surfeit of emotions: anger and disappointment that he didn’t love or trust her enough with the truth and, to her great annoyance, an overriding desire for him to beg her not to go or, at the very least, come to fetch her away from Bath and make passionate love to her.

  She was fighting to protect her heart. If only she didn’t love him, she could live with him in quiet contentment. Even endure the prospect of him seeing other women, a practice common amongst the ton. But she hadn’t been born an aristocrat and was cursed with the morals of the gentry. Such a betrayal would eat her up. Was she fighting a battle that was impossible to win?

  The morning dawned fine. Against her wishes, Devereux insisted on coming downstairs to see her leave. He took her by the shoulders and kissed her, a brief touch of their lips. She wanted to throw her arms around him and hug him tight but drew away with the pretense of fastening her bonnet. Was there regret darkening his blue eyes? Perhaps a trick of the light.

  “Have a safe journey.”

  “Take care of yourself. I shall be back before you’ve even noticed I’ve gone.”

  He shook his head, managing a woeful expression. “Who will play chess with me every evening?”

  “You always win, anyway.” She forced a smile while a huge lump blocked her throat.

  An appreciative gleam warmed his eyes. “Not for long, I suspect.”

  He must now experience the long, dull evenings she had endured before he came, but she didn’t wish him to suffer. It was tempting to stay with Anne a little longer just to see if he would come for her. She wouldn’t. She wasn’t good at playing games of that sort. And in the deep recesses of her mind, she feared he wouldn’t miss her, just merely go on living the life he’d grown used to before she came into it.

  Chapter Eleven

  Giles firmed his jaw as he watched the carriage roll away down the drive. This dashed illness! No chance of an heir now. He’d refused to use her for breeding like cattle. When they made love, it would be because there was desire on both sides. It would be damnably dull without Selina, but she’d be safe in Bath. Without her infernal fretting, he’d work at regaining his strength. It was worrying how quickly a man came to enjoy a woman fussing over him. The beggars would have killed him if he hadn’t escaped when he did, and then the influenza nearly finished the job. But in a few days, if the weather held, he’d ride the stallion, Firefly. Best way to build up muscles. Be seen to do some fly-fishing while he took a good look around the estate. He must clean his pistols. Whomever it was lurking about might have gone, but they’d be back. And he wasn’t about to welcome them with open arms. Not until he was certain of what they’d come for.

  ****

  When the carriage stopped in the drive, Anne, Harry, and the children rushed out to greet her. Selina fumbled for her handkerchief to hide her tears. She was determined to conceal the disturbing state of her marriage, but the sight of her beloved sister made it difficult. She dried her eyes and fortified herself with the conviction that, when she returned to Halcrow Hall, things would be better. She planned to make it so. On the way here, she’d realized how tired she was. She’d thought of little but Devereux since she’d agreed to marry him.

  Anne piled the small bundle into Selina’s arms. “Meet Benne.”

  Selina peeled back the blanket to expose the snowy-haired cherub, sleeping peacefully, his tiny fingers curled against his velvet cheek. “He has his papa’s strong chin, I see. I can’t wait to see his eyes when he wakes.”

  “They’ll turn green, like Mama’s and yours,” Anne said with a proud smile.

  Conscious of her growing hunger for a child of her own, Selina settled the baby back into his mother’s arms. Brother-in-law, Harry, kissed her cheek.

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Selina. Your calm good sense has been sorely missed in this unruly household.”

  The children had grown in the short time she’d been away. Six-year-old Lucy was determined to bring Selina up to date on the fate of her pets. A pet frog had passed away, and Selina must come and see the grave in the orchard. One of the cats, the poorly named Rupert, had performed a miracle, producing a litter of kittens. Aunt Selina must take the cutest of them home with her, the black kitten with the dainty white paws.

  “Not all at once, Lucy.” Anne laughed. “Let Aunt Selina come inside. I’m sure she’s dying for a good strong cup of tea.”

  In her old chamber, Selina washed off the travel dust, changed from her carriage gown, and went downstairs to the morning room. This had been her home since her father’s mansion had been sold after his death. The comfortable room was untidy, strewn with the children’s toys, Anne’s silks, her tapestry, the romping dogs, and a basket of tiny, mewling kittens. It all seemed so normal that she felt bruised and emotionally exhausted.

  “Many of our friends want to see you,” Anne said. “And others want to meet the new Countess of Halcrow. We’ve having a party on Saturday evening.”

  “How lovely,” Selina said with a silent groan. She dreaded the questions she couldn’t answer. The first of them came before she’d finished her tea. “Why didn’t you go to London as planned, dearest?” Anne’s delicate brows met in a puzzled frown.

  Selina knew that her sister was already on full alert to detect any sign of unhappiness. “I wanted to see my new home.”

  “What is Halcrow Hall like?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Selina said. “The layout of the gardens is truly masterful. I can’t wait for spring. Just imagine, Anne, acres of bluebells in the wood, daffodils and daisies strewn over the meadows. There’s a rhododendron walk and banks of azaleas. It rivals Bath in autumn, with chestnuts, oaks, birches, and maples…” she rushed on. “The house is huge; I’ve barely entered all of the rooms. My favorite is the well-stocked library. I wish I had more time to read, but Devereux and I have been busy with the restoration. We have great plans for it…”

  “Enough, dearest.” Anne laughed. “Drink your tea. You have four whole weeks to tell us.”

  Harry winked, but his eyes looked uneasy. “Why didn’t the earl accompany you?”

  “He’s not been well,” she said. “The influenza. Devereux is recuperating and sends his blessings.”

  The following weeks were crammed with soirees, picnics, rides in the country, and dances at the assembly rooms, but for Selina, the time crawled by. She was uneasy about leaving Devereux. The doctor had assured her he was close to a full recovery, but she still worried. When she closed her eyes at night, she saw his beloved face, and her restless dreams were about him. She wanted to rush home but for Anne, who was so happy to have her with them again. She tamped down her impatience while clinging to the hope that he might miss her.

  Her closest friend, Elsbeth Millichamp, the only one she could confide in, had been away in London. When she walked up the path, Selina rushed out to hug her. “How wonderful to see you, Elsbeth.”

  “Oh, Selina, I’ve missed you.” Elsbeth looked pretty and animated in a russet-colored pelisse, primrose ribbons on her poke bonnet.

  “Come into the parlor. The family is away for the afternoon, visiting Harry’s mother.”

  As soon as they’d sat on the sofa, Elsbeth took Selina’s
hands in hers. “I have such news. You’ll never guess.”

  Selina laughed. “Then you shall have to tell me.”

  “Fredrick Goodwin and I are to be married.”

  “That’s hardly a surprise,” Selina said, delighted for her friend. “But it’s excellent news. Tell me all about it.”

  As Elsbeth exuberantly went into details, Selina decided not to mention her own problems.

  “But what about you, Selina?” Elsbeth said when she’d paused for breath. “You must be deliriously happy with that handsome husband of yours. Where is he?”

  “We have been very happy. He came down with a heavy cold and has stayed at home.”

  “Oh, then I shan’t see him. I am sorry. Tell me more about the house. It is said to be very grand but not in the best repair.”

  When Elsbeth departed, promising to send them an invitation to the wedding, Selina was glad that she hadn’t been tempted to unburden herself.

  Finally, the day came for her return to Halcrow Hall. She hugged a tearful Anne, who promised to visit when Benne was a little older.

  When the carriage entered Halcrow Hall’s ornate gates, the butterflies battering Selina’s stomach quieted. She was home. Her tiny kitten mewed from the basket. “This is your new home, Bitsy.” Selina scooped the kitten into her arms, and the warm body throbbed with a raspy purr. She stroked the soft fur as the carriage drove past workmen in the woods. A cart stood loaded with firewood, and a huge pile had been set alight, sending smoke billowing into the lowering sky.

  A blanket of sludge covered the ground, the clouds threatening snow. She threw off the carriage rug as they approached the house, hoping to see Devereux standing waiting for her. He wasn’t.

  Joseph stood in the drive with Frobisher at the open door. She hadn’t received a reply to her letter, but that hadn’t concerned her. It was just a short note filled with Bath news, which didn’t require an answer. Surely, his condition hadn’t worsened while she was gone. Accusing herself of being foolish and overly dramatic, she was out of the carriage as soon as Joseph put down the step.

  “Where is his lordship?” she asked Frobisher as he helped her off with her pelisse.

  “Gone. A week ago, my lady.”

  For a moment, her heart seemed to stop. “Gone? Where?”

  “His lordship went in a hired carriage to London.”

  Her heart sank to somewhere in the region of her half-boots. She blinked back tears, unable to hide her dismay. “Did he give you notice of when he would return, Frobisher?”

  “Lord Halcrow didn’t say, my lady.” Concern darkened the butler’s grey eyes. “After his lordship received a letter, he left the next day.”

  “And…he was well?”

  “Quite fit, my lady. He’d begun to ride again.”

  There was that at least. Selina went upstairs to her chamber, where the maid had begun to unpack her trunk. She rushed to the mantel where a note was propped against the gilt clock. Her fingers trembled as she read it. There were only two words scrawled on the page.

  I’m sorry.

  She couldn’t deny the evidence any longer. He did not want her. “Leave that until later, please, Sarah. I’d like to be alone.”

  When the maid left the room, Selina lay on the bed and buried her face in the pillows. Her tears dampened the linen. Devereux didn’t care one jot for her, beyond the necessity for a dutiful wife to fulfil his needs. Had she been so foolish to forget? He respected her so little that he didn’t see the need to explain his absence or write her in Bath to advise her of his plans. She took a shuddering sigh and pounded her fist into the pillow. Was there a woman drawing him back to the metropolis? Not just one but probably several.

  Her stubborn mind flooded with questions. Had she been wrong to leave him? Would her presence have kept him here, or did he find the country too lacking in company? She couldn’t be sure of anything. Her sister’s cool assessment of love came back to her. You can fall out of love just as easily as fall into it. Why didn’t she believe that of herself?

  Chapter Twelve

  Christmas came to Halcrow Hall, and Selina had never felt so lonely. There was little need to dress the drawing room with pine and holly, nor have cook prepare a goose, but she still gave the order for the staff’s sake. She joined them in the servant’s quarters for a glass of sherry, and attended church amongst the villagers taking her place in the family pew. After the Christmas period passed, the weather turned bad. It snowed for three weeks and cut Halcrow Hall off from the village. As soon as the carriageway was shoveled clear of snow, more heavy falls blocked the road again.

  On waking, Selina hurried to the window to find a blinding blanket of white covering the landscape. Devereux couldn’t return even if he wished to. Selina felt like screaming. She hated being shut in and was too unsettled to pass the time reading. She and Mrs. Lark opened more bedchambers. They assessed what needed to be replaced while the servants cleaned. Heating the reception rooms just for Selina became impractical, and she took to wearing mittens while spending any time in them. The coziest room was the library with its windows facing south. A fire was lit there first thing every the morning, and she took her luncheon there. Bitsy played with a ball of wool while Selina wrote up her accounts at the oak desk by the window, the view over the park still shrouded in white.

  In the evenings, Selina searched for books, hoping to distract herself. An impressive array of well-thumbed editions of the classics lined the shelves. Had Devereux read many of them? She knew so little about him beyond the fact that he had been educated at Cambridge and liked Milton and Shakespeare. She picked up a book unopened on a table. He must have been reading it while she was away. Written in French, the subject looked of little interest. What was its attraction? As she leafed through it, a note fell to the floor. It was written in French. Ignoring the niggling thought that snoops never prospered, she took the letter over to the sofa and sat down to decipher it, her French rusty from neglect.

  My dear Lord Halcrow, you are in our thoughts, mon amie. I cannot thank you enough for saving Papa. He recovers well, and we have left Paris for a safer place. I shall not say where in case this falls into the wrong hands. I know you could not take me into your confidence about that which it is you both do. But you did it at great risk and were very brave. Papa and I shall remain forever in your debt. You have our undying love and gratitude.

  The note was signed Marie Delaunay.

  Her throat tight, Selina read every word over again with care. The letter was ambiguous, offering just enough for her imagination to run riot. What was it that Devereux had done for these French people? One thing was clear. He had acted bravely, if covertly. And it sounded as if he acted alone. She was unsure what it was Hussars did. While in Bath, she’d learned how dashing and brave they were, that they rode like demons and their swordplay was incomparable. Despite her interest in the mechanics of war, she admitted to being hopelessly ill informed. The skillful Hussars were of great use to Wellington. Or, indeed, Napoléon, if one turned traitor. Selina dropped the letter on the table as if it scalded her. Could Devereux be a French spy? She jumped to her feet and strode around the room, her skirts swishing about her. If she was honest, she knew very little about her husband, and he had treated her with a distressing lack of regard. But she could not believe him a traitor. Had his charm blinded her to his true nature? What about those bruises on his back, which he’d refused to explain. What lay behind his mumbled words when unconscious with fever? It was like a puzzle with missing pieces because there was so much he refused to tell her. Her brother-in-law, Harry, knew a good deal about the army. He would be familiar with the Hussar Regiment. She went to the desk and penned him a letter, with the excuse that she wanted to surprise Devereux with her knowledge.

  A few days later, the weather warmed, and the snow turned to sleet and then rain. As soon as the road to the village became passable, she sent off the letter. Then, disturbed, she roamed the house searching for answers. The library held
no more secrets. Frustrated, she studied each portrait in the gallery. Devereux had inherited his looks from both parents. His mother had been beautiful with lustrous dark hair. His father was fair, and his blue eyes held the same deceptively lazy glance as his son, but his lips were thinner and his high-bridged nose made him appear arrogant. There was a handsome family portrait, painted beside a huge oak tree in the garden. The earl leaned against the seat his wife sat on, a rifle propped beside him, a hunting dog at his feet. His dark-haired son, about three years old, stood at his father’s knee while baby Giles sat on his mother’s lap. Selina studied every detail, enchanted, but her frustration soon returned. There must be papers and letters somewhere in the house. She’d still foolishly hoped that Devereux would return and provide her with the answers, but as time went on, she lost hope.

  Selina removed Devereux’s blue hussar uniform from the mahogany armoire in his bedchamber. She raised the pelisse trimmed with silver braid and fur edging to her nose, hoping for a hint of his manly smell. The leather belt had a polished, silver buckle and curved honors scrolls, and the breeches had leather panels on the inside to prevent wear during long periods in the saddle. How dashing the Hussars were and how handsome Devereux would look in his shako and boots. A spy? She was ashamed to have considered such a thing. His sabre and a brace of pistols sat on the shelf below with one pistol missing. Irrational fear tightened her ribcage, even though she argued that there were perfectly logical reasons for the gun’s absence.

  When the rain eased, Selina left the house and rode across the meadows. The river had risen, and it was close to breaking its banks. Dark clouds churned on the horizon. She reined in Firefly and gazed down at the raging torrent, lapping the sides of the bridge. A moan of distress escaped her lips. She couldn’t endure the thought of Halcrow cut off from the outside world again. Her fear for Devereux grew stronger every day, and she was no longer so sure that nothing bad had happened to him.