A Countess of Convenience

by Sarah Winn

  As he looked down at her tear-streaked face, his gut knotted in agony. Was this why she'd responded to his kisses so readily? Why she'd been so sweet and willing? Had she set out from the very beginning to win his affections so he'd save her brother? He jerked his arm free from her pathetic grip. “What can you possibly do that will be worth five thousand pounds?”

  She gasped and stepped back, swaying as though she might swoon. If she did, her brother would have to catch her, for he damn sure wouldn't.

  “Don't take this out on Pru,” Weathersby said. “She didn't know how bad my debts were.”

  “Of course not,” Malvern said with a sneer. “She's as innocent as a newborn.”

  He heard her gasp again, but forced himself not to look at her.

  Weathersby's back stiffened. “You have every right to be angry with me, but face the fact that we are now connected. What will people say if the rich Earl of Malvern lets his wife's brother rot in debtors’ prison?”

  “That fact is the only reason I haven't called the footmen to throw you out.” Malvern couldn't resist emphasizing his words with jabs of his index finger. “I'll pay your debts, but I won't give you the money. You'll work for it.”

  Weathersby's instant look of relief turned into a frown on hearing the word “work.” He stared at Malvern open-mouthed.

  “I've been thinking of rebuilding the breeding stock on my Yorkshire estate. You've spent so much time at the race track, you must know something about horses, so you can go there and see to my stables.”

  “Yorkshire?” Weathersby's face grew as pale as his sister's. “I've heard you say your estate there is in the middle of nothing.”

  “Exactly,” Malvern said with growing satisfaction. “That's the only way to keep you from running up more debt.”

  Weathersby reached out and braced himself on the back of an armchair. “How—how long will I have to stay?”

  Malvern smugly gave the question a long moment's thought. “I couldn't possibly pay a stable master more than a thousand pounds a year.”

  With his eyebrows arched in horror, Neil wailed, “Five years!”

  Prudence roused herself enough to say, “Don't argue, Neil. Think of the alternative.” Then she turned tear-sparkling eyes on Malvern with a small smile of gratitude.

  He had no intention of letting her work her wiles on him again. “So you won't be lonely, your devoted sister will go with you.”

  She staggered back as though he had physically struck her and sank weakly onto the sofa. He had no pity for her.

  He turned back to Weathersby. “My man Walton will draw up a promissory note for you to sign. I'll not pay a dime until you do. If you don't follow through on the terms, I'll put you in prison, myself.”

  He turned back to his crumpled wife. “I'll send word to my bailiff at Aysbeck Manor to expect you and instruct Walton to issue you an allowance. Please vacate this house as soon as possible. I'll stay at my club until you do.”

  She looked up at him and malice flashed from her eyes. He told himself he was finally seeing her true nature and left the room with a feeling of self-righteous disgust.

  Prudence stared after her stiff-necked husband as he stalked out of the room, the perfect image of an outraged aristocrat. What madness had caused her to think the Earl of Malvern might come to love her or to take their marriage seriously? Without a moment's hesitation, he had turned on her and cast her away for no sin of her own.

  “Go after him, Prudence. Persuade him to reconsider,” Neil demanded.

  She looked at her brother—half-brother—and saw him clearly for the first time. His fine manners, elegant clothing, and high opinion of himself had masked his weak, selfish core. Even his professed brotherly love was false. He'd used her to save himself and thereby ruined any chance she might have had for a normal relationship with her husband, and still he expected her to help him. “You'd better go pack any possessions you've managed to hang onto. I have to vacate this house as soon as possible.”

  He dropped heavily into a chair. “You can't mean to comply with his demands! You're a countess. Assert yourself.”

  She huffed in disgust. “I'm a countess only because I'm a wife, and wives must obey their husbands.”

  Neil raised his hand imploringly. “When he calms down, he'll listen. He must have developed tender feelings for you. After all, he brought you to London. Remind him of—”

  A surge of anger brought her to her feet. “Enough! I'm trapped in a loveless marriage because of you. Don't expect anything more from me.”

  “But, Prudence,” he said in a weak voice. “How can we endure Yorkshire?”

  “Frankly, I'll be glad to be back in the country. I only wish I could leave all the false-hearted men in my life behind. Unfortunately, you're coming with me.” With a swish of her skirt, she marched from the room.

  Neil sprawled in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm of it and his chin in his hand. How had everything gone so wrong? He'd planned to approach Malvern man-to-man at his country home and explain the situation in such a way as to prevent the appearance of underhandedness. But then Malvern and Pru had disappeared to some hunting lodge and Lady Caroline had kindly arranged for Neil's return to London.

  He had spent a week hiding from constables, and then gone back to Malvern Manor on a borrowed horse only to discover that Malvern had returned to London and taken Prudence with him. Neil had naturally assumed this meant Malvern's feelings for his sister had greatly increased. So it seemed only sensible to have Prudence intercede for him. He had never expected Malvern to turn so harshly against both of them.

  Why was the man being so pinch penny? Five thousand pounds would hardly beggar him, and with an earl for a brother-in-law and his debts retired, Neil could surely marry an heiress and pay Malvern back. He found it hard to believe that his former comrade could be so shortsighted.

  And now his own sister had turned against him. How unfair was that? He'd secured her future before he'd made a move to save himself. He'd known her to be naive, but now he wondered if her basic intelligence was limited. She had obviously touched Malvern's emotions; why did she refuse to use her power?

  Yorkshire! He shivered at the thought. It would be worse than Manchester. At least there were wealthy tradesmen's daughters in Manchester. Yorkshire was full of nothing but sheep. How could he find his heiress there? If he hadn't sold his dueling pistols, he'd be sorely tempted to put a ball in his brain.

  The butler appeared in the doorway and, with disapproving frown, stared at Neil's dusty boots that extended out into the middle of the carpet. “Is there something you require, sir?”

  With a huge sigh of resignation, Neil slowly got to his feet. “My hat and gloves, if you please. I have packing to attend to.”

  Two days later, Prudence left her husband's London home in an early morning drizzle. The earl had kept his word and not returned to the house while she was there. His man of affairs had brought the paper for Neil to sign, tickets, and travel money. She told herself she was glad to be leaving; still, as the coach pulled away from the house, she blinked back tears. Neil sat silently beside her with the air of a Christian martyr.

  Her anger at him had hardened into a cold acceptance that Neil was what he was, and she could do nothing to change him. In fact, she could do very little about anything. Her husband had cast her out, and so she must retire to the country and wait for him to remember his need for an heir. What if she were already with child? Perhaps he'd never come to her bed again.

  So much the better if he didn't. She had allowed physical pleasure to sweep her away on a tide of mawkish emotion, believing herself and Malvern in love. She would not make that mistake again. Love was just a myth men had invented to further enslave women.

  The footmen saw to their luggage when they arrived at the railway station. A first-class, private carriage had been reserved for them, but Prudence dreaded the daylong journey ahead of her. Since her maid, Janie, had preferred to lose her position rather tha
n move so far from her family, Neil would be her only traveling companion, and his conversation consisted mainly of long, mournful sighs.

  That night they stopped at a hotel near the railway station in York. The next morning, Neil rented a post-chaise and they set out for Aysbeck.

  It was nearly dark when the carriage crossed a small river over a humpbacked bridge and moved toward a three-story house built of gray native stone. The place looked old and deserted. Yews formed a semicircle around the front door, probably intended to serve as a windbreak, but now so overgrown that they appeared to be sentinels blocking entry.

  Neil pounded on the front door of the dark house for several minutes before an elderly man, carrying a lantern, finally appeared. “Wot ye disturbin’ me dinner fer?” he asked belligerently.

  Neil pulled himself into an indignant stance. “I'm Neil Weathersby. I've brought the Countess of Malvern.”

  “Countess?” The old man stuck the lantern out the door and blinked at Prudence.

  “Weren't you informed of our arrival? Where's the bailiff? The other servants?” Neil demanded.

  “Mr. Snavely's gone to market,” the old man said. “Went two days back. Nobody ‘ere but me. I'm t'caretaker.”

  Prudence stepped up to the doorway. “Doesn't Mr. Snavely live here?”

  The man shook his grizzled head. “'E's got ‘is own cottage. This is t'earl's ‘ouse, but ‘e don't live ‘ere.”

  “Well, I'm the Countess of Malvern and my brother and I have come to live here. Apparently we've arrived before the message announcing us. Can you supply us with some sort of shelter for the night?”

  He looked back and forth between Prudence and Neil, his brow knotted with indecision. Finally he stepped back from the doorway, making room for them to enter. “'Ouse ain't made up.”

  “I'm sure we can make—” Her words died in her throat as she saw the ghostly outline of shrouded furniture and sniffed dust-laden air.

  The coachman called that he needed help with the trunks. Neil looked at the old man and then with a sigh of resignation went himself.

  “What is your name?” Prudence asked.

  “Elias, my lady. ‘Ave you really come to live ‘ere?”

  “Yes, Elias. Do you have anything we can eat for supper?”

  “Nothin’ but wot I eat. That ain't good enough fer quality folk.”

  “When there's nothing else, it will be good enough.” She saw a candelabra on a nearby table, lit one of the candles from Elias's lantern and used that to light the others. More light did not improve the situation.

  Their arrival had obviously stunned the old caretaker, so Prudence took charge. Once the luggage was unloaded into the hallway and the coachman paid off, she found bedrooms upstairs that would be appropriate for Neil and herself. Elias showed her the linen chest, and she made the beds while Neil watched and grumbled about their miserable accommodations.

  Finally she found the kitchen at the back of the house and dined on a meal of hard cheese, stale bread and tea. Of course, Neil complained bitterly about the fare, but Prudence thought it complimented their welcome perfectly.

  She went to bed choking back tears, lest she break into full-blown sobs that Neil might hear. Was this how Malvern intended to keep his promise to provide for her?

  The next morning, as she neared the kitchen, she heard pounding on the back door and then the high-pitched voice of an agitated man telling Elias that he'd just returned from market and found a message from the earl saying his wife and brother-in-law were coming to Aysbeck.

  “They got ‘ere last night,” Elias said.

  “What?” Mr. Snavely fairly shrieked. “Have these people no consideration for others? How am I to get this place ready with no notice?”

  Prudence chose this moment to enter the kitchen. “Mr. Snavely? I'm Lady Malvern. Elias explained that you've been away, but I'm wondering if there are any local women you can hire to clean this house?”

  Snavely was just a little taller than Prudence, had a receding hairline, and wore spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He looked more like a clerk than the manager of an estate. Bobbing his head up and down, he said, “Welcome to Aysbeck, my lady. I'm sorry things weren't prepared for you, but the earl hasn't been up here in more than two years so I didn't see the sense of keeping the house staffed. But one of our tenants has two nearly grown daughters. I'm sure he'll be glad to find some work for them. Of course, they ain't trained as proper housemaids.”

  “I'm sure they can manage dusting and sweeping. That's what's needed most, that and stocking the pantry and hiring a cook. Perhaps you can find someone in the nearby village?”

  Mr. Snavely shifted from on foot to the other. “A cook might not be easy to find. Womenfolk in the village have their own families to tend. I expect the Bailey sisters can put together meals for the time being.”

  Prudence wanted to tell him that two “nearly grown” girls wouldn't be able to do all the cleaning this house needed and prepare meals, but he knew more about local conditions than she, so she didn't bother.

  He cleared his throat. “The earl's letter said your brother would be with you.”

  “Yes, he is, but I haven't seen him this morning.”

  Elias spoke up. “The gentleman came through ‘ere just a bit ago. Asked where t'stables be.”

  This information seemed to alarm Mr. Snavely. “I'd better go show him around. And I'll send for the Bailey girls right away, Lady Malvern.”

  She thanked him as he hurried for the door. Then she turned back to Elias. “What can we have for breakfast? More cheese?”

  He grinned shyly. “No, ma'am. Ah gathered eggs and got a crock o’ milk from t'dairy.”

  The thought of a decent breakfast brought a smile to her face. “Good work, Elias. If you have the dry ingredients, I might whip up a batch of scones.”

  He looked shocked. “Surely, a fine lady like yerself don't bake.”

  “Stir up the fire, and I'll show you.”

  Sitting at the desk in his library, Malvern looked up from the report he was reading and sighed in satisfaction. How pleasant it was to be back in the peace and quiet of his home. What if the drapes were faded and the carpets worn? That just added to his comfort, that and the knowledge that there were no women about to destroy his peaceful domain.

  He'd been stupid to even think of allowing Prudence to live with him, stupid and besotted. But he had his head straight now. He supposed he should be grateful to Weathersby for reminding him of what devious creatures women could be and prompting him to get Prudence out of his hair before she got any further under his skin.

  His sense of well-being was destroyed by a loud, feminine voice. “Get out of my way, you stupid man. I don't need to be announced to my own son.”

  The library door flew open and the dowager Countess of Malvern sailed into the room with all flags flying. “Lindley tells me Prudence has gone to Yorkshire. Why?”

  Malvern forced a smile to his lips. “Hello, Mother. What are you doing back in London?”

  She marched up to the desk and glared down at him. “I thought Prudence might need advice on the redecorating. Why isn't she here?”

  He nodded a dismissal at Lindley, who hovered in the doorway with an apologetic look on his face. Then Malvern turned back to his mother and gestured toward the chair beside his desk. “Won't you have a seat? Or would you prefer that we move over to the sofa?”

  She continued to stand over him. “If you didn't want her here, why didn't you send her back to Malvern Hall?”

  “She's gone to be with her brother, who is to be the new stable master at Aysbeck.”

  “Stable master? What qualifies him for that position?”

  “Actually, that's just an excuse to get him out of London before he bankrupts me.”

  Her expression became more confused than angry. “Why are you financially responsible for him?”

  Trying to maintain his nonchalant pose, he shrugged. “How would it look if a member of the
family, even an in-law, went to debtors’ prison? Besides, my dear wife pleaded so prettily for him.”

  “And you sent her away for that?”

  He felt his poise slipping. “There was more to it—a great deal more.”

  She moved to the chair he had indicated. Her agitation made her sit with something less than her usual studied grace. “Well, do you intend to make me guess?”

  He sighed with irritation. “This is my affair, Mother.”

  “Not entirely. You haven't produced an heir yet.”

  “I'll get an heir, but those two made a fool of me, and I need a bit of time for my pride to heal.”

  “Why do you blame them? Weathersby may have dangled his sister before you, but you willingly swallowed the hook.”

  Anger overcame his resolve to remain calm and tell her nothing. “It was a bit more than a dangle—if you must know. He told me his sister had ruined herself in an affair with a married man and was in London seeking a protector. I thought I was auditioning a mistress.”

  He was gratified to see Lady Caroline's hand fly up to her mouth until laughter erupted from behind it. “You didn't actually believe Prudence a jade? I know eighteen-year-old debutants who are far more sophisticated than she.”

  He drew himself up haughtily. “You forget that I've had a good deal of experience with actresses. I know women can appear to be what they are not.”

  She stopped laughing and sniffed with distain. “Too bad all your experience hasn't taught you to tell the true from the false. I don't doubt that scoundrel, Weathersby, set out to entrap you, but I'm sure Prudence did not know his intentions.”

  “If you'd seen them as I did—with their heads together plotting against me—you wouldn't say that.”

  “When did you see them like that?”

  “The day we returned from Malvern Hall. Right after I learned that Weathersby's creditors were besieging Walton.”

  She uncharacteristically allowed her brow to wrinkle as she considered his words. “Weathersby came to Malvern that day asking for you. When I told him both you and Prudence had returned to London, he raced out of the house—must have been quite desperate to return to London so quickly.”