by Robyn Carr
“Marriage is decent. This is idiotic.”
He touched her hand, looking up at her with his warm brown eyes aglow. “You should have told me you didn’t want to come.”
“I believe I did,” she said, anger still ringing in her voice. She remembered the morning quite clearly. They had been left in the parlor, and the moment the door had closed, they had come together in a heated rush. His lips were hot and insistent, lingering on her neck, shoulder, ear...begging, wanting, complaining of the constant ache in his heart, and other unmentionable areas, caused by ceaseless desire without so much as a private moment. The lack of privacy and her father’s resistance were driving him crazy. And her voice was continually chanting no, no, no...I cannot, while she clung to him in the same fever.
Then, as on every occasion they had stolen to be alone, the parlor door had opened. This morning it had been her older brother, Paul, who had deemed it time for them to be chaperoned. It was when she saw Andrew to the door that she relented, to his passionate relief, and said that she would meet him.
“It was only because I felt so sorry for you this morning that I gave in imprudently.”
“That isn’t what I wanted, Vieve,” he said in a slightly injured voice. “I thought you wanted to be with me as well.”
“Oh, Andrew,” she sighed. “Just take me home before we’re in so much trouble that Papa won’t let us even speak, much less marry.”
Andrew left her to mount his own horse, and they rode single file down the path to the Chappington road. Then, when they were side by side on the road, they conversed again. “Your father is no closer to letting me have you than he ever was. The size of my purse does not suit him.”
“It isn’t that, Andrew. He is just not quite ready, that’s all.”
“You’re seventeen. What is he waiting for, if not a better offer?”
“He’ll come around,” she said quietly, looking straight ahead.
“There’s a way to hurry him along,” Andrew suggested, his voice low and grave.
She felt the swell of tears in her eyes, and her vision clouded. She would not respond to him. She rode beside him, silent and hurt. It was not the first time he had so spoken, but it was the first time that the suggestion tore at her heart.
“No one would know. I wouldn’t get you caught with child. I know what I’m doing.”
She laughed ruefully. “How lucky I am that you are so experienced.”
“I am not a child, Vieve, but a man who has been about this world a few years longer than you. We want each other, and all that stands in our way is a stubborn old man. With a word from you, we could be as one now, and he would have little choice.”
“He could shoot you instead of gifting you with a bride.”
Andrew chuckled. “I may be a trifle light of coin, but I am not without some influence in this country. Mine is an old and respected name. And I do love you; you cannot doubt that.”
Strangely, she doubted it this night for the very first time. She hurried Tristan a bit. Home, with her father’s surly mood, her older brother’s concerned presence, her maid’s fussing—all seemed to be a better place for her right now.
“Dear Andrew, I would perhaps hold you in higher regard if you wished to prove your concern for my welfare rather than your great experience in lovemaking. I intend to be a pure bride with my father’s blessing, and if you pressure me again, I shall have to believe that you do not love me at all.”
“Vieve, I love you desperately.”
“Good. Then we are agreed: you will try harder to show it.”
“But Vieve, I—”
She did not hear what more he had to say. She slowed Tristan to a stop and listened. By the sound of galloping horse hooves, she knew she was not the only person to ride at an unsuitable pace for these dark country roads. It never occurred to her to try to flee from the person who ventured down the road, but after her near collision with the Yankee, she cautioned Andrew to clear the path. They withdrew to the edge of the road, and she recognized the horse and rider. “Paul,” she called.
Her brother slowed his horse with a little difficulty, leaving the poor beast to prance a bit, and Paul closely considered the twosome. His frown bore down on them both as if they were little more than naughty children. Paul and Andrew were the same age, close in size, and had been friends for a long while. But the friendship, by the look in Paul’s eyes, might be ended here.
“I will see that my sister gets home safely, Andrew.”
“Paul, I...”
“The less you say, the better, Andrew. Come along, Vieve.”
With a resigned sigh, she urged Tristan onto the road and went along quietly beside her brother. Even a spirited and determined lass knows when to forgo comment; she did not bid Andrew good night, part with a kiss, or even offer him a wave. She heard his departure behind her as he rode in the opposite direction. And her brother’s furious silence was oppressive. He held his tongue for so long that when he did speak, she jumped in surprise.
“You little idiot. What the devil were you thinking of?”
She winced, but the darkness concealed her flaming cheeks. “I trust this means that the Yankee guest gave me away?”
“I don’t know how you managed to fool Captain Gervais, but he took me aside before going into the study with Father to ask me if I was aware that my sister’s maid had left the manor and was sighted along the road on her way to an appointment with her lover.” He shook his head irritably. “I immediately doubted that your maid was capable of such foolishness. The captain said simply that he thought it better to let you go on than to force you to ride to Chappington with him and face your master’s fury. He suggested I might send someone out to find you before you got into worse trouble.” He cleared his throat. “I assured him I would do that.”
Vieve felt a surge of relief. Paul’s anger was easy enough to bear. Even though he often nagged her, her brother’s loyalty was unquestionable.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said quietly. “I won’t do anything like this again, I promise.”
“I don’t think you know the half of it. You and your damned nitwit ideas about what you want seem to get in the way of any good sense. Look, Andrew seems to be a decent man, all things considered, but there is much more at stake here than some love poem or romantic moonlight meeting.”
“Papa would be upset, but...”
“Upset? Ha.” Paul stopped his horse suddenly. “You’ve been so concerned with petting in the garden with your young stag that you haven’t listened to anything that’s been said around you for the past two years. Why do you think Father has not consented to this betrothal? Do you think he dislikes your young man? Or wishes you unhappiness? Andrew is dead broke, Vieve. He has a little money for ale and gambling. How the hell do you think he’s going to take care of you?”
Vieve stared at her brother, her mouth agape. “But... but Father has ships…”
Paul laughed bitterly. “Aye, the ships. Since the estate has failed, the merchantmen were intended to bolster our family funds. But we have had two warehouse fires this year and lost a hundred-and-fifty-ton frigate in a storm last year. We owe more for our cargo than we’ve collected in ten years. I can work until I drop, but all you can do is marry. And I doubt we’re rich enough to take on the support of another family member.”
“Isn’t there...surely there is someone who would...I don’t know...help?”
“Aye, we have a standing offer of loans from Uncle Charles, who wants nothing more than Father’s entire estate in return, stricken as it is.”
Vieve said nothing more. The strained relationship between her father and his younger half-brother was a matter of fact. Each seemed to want most what the other had. Lord Boris Ridgley had titled land and a position in government, but his financial troubles were many. Charles Latimer hungered for prestige and importance in the realm, but had somehow managed to gather an impressive fortune. Their differences had produced a constant undercurrent of je
alousy and antagonism since childhood.
“Only Uncle Charles?” she asked softly.
Paul urged his horse to resume the ride to Chappington. “Perhaps it is too much to expect a young girl to worry herself with management affairs. Perhaps the color of your dress and the location of your next interlude with Andrew should take precedence. If so, Vieve, I can ask only one thing of you. Try to control your hot-blooded tendencies and allow Father to salvage his pride, if not his fortune. At least do not lose your virtue before he has had an opportunity to approve your husband. We are not so rich as it appears.”
“But Andrew’s family name is of some major influence in England...”
Paul laughed suddenly. “Good God, you actually believe that, do you? Aye, he has plenty of name, but how in the world do you imagine he’s going to turn it into money? A man has to have property as well, and Andrew’s estate is a total ruin, providing almost no income. Do you take your name to the clothier and buy dresses? Does the jeweler exchange a name for a diamond pendant?” He laughed again. “Name. Good God. That Yankee merchant’s name would likely be spit on in England, the way everyone feels about Americans, but you can be damned sure he can afford the finest linen to wipe away the insult. Name.”
He raved on and she listened to his tirade, hearing him for the first time. Her mother had died two years ago. Her own grief, her father’s pain, and her ripening age, along with Andrew’s hot pursuit, had distorted the situation her family faced. Since nothing much had ever changed, she never considered that it would. They still lived in a richly furnished country mansion, though it needed refurbishing. They employed many servants. There were fewer horses and parties...but she assumed that was because they had been grieving Lady Ridgley’s death. She had understood their worry over two warehouse fires in London, but she had not thought the damage that devastating.
“Is it as bad as all that?” she hesitantly asked him.
“Vieve,” he said with a long, exasperated sigh. “Father is proud. His estate appears richer than it is, but if I were you, I wouldn’t count on your inheritance to keep you in parties and fancy gowns. When you do marry, you had best be sure that it is to a man who can support you. If Andrew cared one whit about you, he would put as much energy toward building his fortune as seducing you. For now, at least, refrain from such stupid adventures.”
Vieve felt her throat constrict, and her eyes began to tear. She shook her head in disbelief; she did not know whether she had been completely selfish or whether her father and brother had neglected to explain their almost desperate situation. True, she had not paid close attention to dinner conversation. She had not eavesdropped when they closeted themselves with their accounting ledgers. There had been little change in her father’s grim expression since the death of his wife, but she had not thought his problems with money any worse than usual.
“I suppose you can’t help it if you’re in love with him,” Paul said in a softened tone. “Look, Vieve, I’m sorry to go on so sourly about Andrew’s lack of wealth, as if it’s the only consideration. Even if he wasn’t a friend, I’d be the last person to ask you to sacrifice your life for the sake of money. But on your own behalf, understand Father’s position and lend him obedience, if nothing else. You must not let Andrew convince you that there is any wisdom in these secret meetings.” Paul’s expression was full of pained sympathy. “Please do not worsen Father’s dilemma by going to the priest with a round belly.”
“I would not, Paul,” she said meekly.
“As much as I like Andrew Shelby,” he went on as if he had not heard her, “I know him quite well. He has quite a hand with the wenches, and the smooth-tongued devil might sound very convincing. I’m certain his intentions are good, but...”
“I said I would not, Paul.”
“Yes, well, if you go on with these passionate little displays, you may find you have tempted him to the breaking point. Marry a paupered aristocrat if you must, but at least get to the altar intact. I suggest you put some distance in your, ah, courtship.” He turned his head and looked at her through narrowed eyes. “If it is not too late.”
“It is not,” she said quietly. Her shame was so great that she trembled inside. She regretted that she had to be pushed to this degree to see her own insensitivity. She was chagrined, a spoiled and ignorant noble heiress, thinking her family wealthy beyond doubt since she was never denied new gowns. And her anxiety and embarrassment only heightened as she thought now of having to sneak into her house under cover of night. She did not look forward to facing her father or her servant, Harriet. “Please don’t tell Papa,” she asked.
“Don’t worry, minx. Even I do not want to see just how red his face can get.”
“And please don’t tell Captain Gervais that it was I. Let him think one of the servants was...”
“I doubt you or your ‘servant’ will come up in conversation. However, he is staying a day or two, and if he sees you, he will know whom he met and it will be out.”
“Oh,” she sighed. “I think I feel an attack of the ague coming on. I shall most certainly be confined for a day or two.”
“So long as there is not a ladder to your bedroom window, I believe that would be just as well. Perhaps you will take some time to consider your future.”
“I think,” she said very quietly, “that perhaps I should not see even Andrew for a few days.”
“Yes, well, take special care that you do not shock us all with an act of good sense. Father’s constitution may not be strong enough to bear the burden of surprise if you should suddenly behave with some maturity.”
She grimaced at the slur. She had thought that her family had refused to consider her desires, not that she had been childish in her behavior. She said not another word, and Paul silently took the horses to be stabled. She tiptoed up the back stairs and noiselessly entered her bedroom. She had doffed her cloak before she noticed that the quilt was pulled down, exposing the rolled blankets she had hoped would be taken for her sleeping form. And in the far corner sat the generous silhouette of Harriet, arms crossed over her ample chest and her foot tapping.
“Aha,” was all the woman said.
Vieve, in a gesture of impatience that would do credit to any four-year-old, placed her hands over her ears and flounced down on her bed. “I don’t even want to hear it. I’m in enough trouble.”
“Not yet, ye’re not,” the stout woman said, rising from her chair and walking around to pull off her mistress’s boots. “But sure ye will be soon.” And true to her word, it was a long while before Harriet felt that Vieve had had enough of her scolding.
Chapter Three
A few days of feigned ague and bed rest accomplished exactly what Vieve had intended: she was out of sight. But the time dragged as she took her meals in her room and suffered Harriet’s ever-reproving tongue. “Ague, is it? And a wonder it’s not a good deal more, what with the sneakin’ about and carryin’ on. Humph!”
“I am not sick,” Vieve said slowly, emphasizing each word. “I am simply making myself scarce.”
“Make yerself behave, and ye’ve done a day’s work,” the old woman advised.
Andrew visited the manor and Vieve sent her regrets. Lord Ridgley went to his daughter’s rooms and mistook her flushed cheeks and docile temperament for symptoms of fever. Paul checked on her now and again, frowning with his eyes and smiling with his mouth. And four very long, very boring days passed. But the Yankee sea captain did not depart.
“What the devil does he want here?” Vieve demanded of her brother. “Has he decided to move in permanently?”
Paul laughed at her impatience, finding it justice, indeed, that she had to suffer through a melodrama of her own creation. It was the very least she deserved. Some of her behavior might be juvenile and impetuous, but it was the driving force of womanhood that was edging her toward trouble. Until forced to dash out into the night to her rescue, Paul had never suspected their romance was so serious and now hoped it was not too late for Viev
e to still claim her virginity on her wedding day. Paul had not considered the desire that Andrew must have stimulated in her.
Paul knew it would be best if Vieve did not have to wait much longer to be wed. Vieve’s eagerness to be a bride was almost alarming. And by way of an older brother’s wisdom, he decided that to forbid them to see each other at all might do more harm than good.
“You might as well recover, Vieve, and join us for dinner, unless you intend to lie abed all summer.”
“Good Lord, will he never leave?” she moaned.
“He has found some common topics of conversation with Father, and the two of them are quite enjoying themselves. There may even be a business venture in this.”
“I had always heard that colonials were not equipped with manners. He must be a boorish clod.”
“He’s quite mannerly, actually.”
“Doesn’t Papa hate even to be in the same room with him? After all, they fought against each other.”
“In a manner of speaking, they did. Of course, they avoid the issue very cleverly, both of them, and I have only heard it mentioned once, and that was to agree that now that it’s over, ambitious traders must find a common objective in making money, regardless of politics.” He smiled down at her. “Don’t pout so, Vieve, you’ll wrinkle early. And be glad that Father is pleased for once.”
On the fifth day she realized there was little point in suffering through such loneliness and boredom any longer. Obviously, the Yankee merchant was not inclined toward common courtesies, since he did not limit his visit to an appropriate length of time. And Andrew had been invited to dinner to meet their guest.
The gown she chose was fashioned of a rich lavender silk, and silver braid trimmed the provocatively low neckline. She didn’t worry that the spring chill, quite common for early May, might be uncomfortable. The important thing was the way the gown hugged her slim waist and emphasized her developed bosom. She turned and posed before her mirror, twisting a blond curl around her finger. She had no intention of being alone with Andrew for even a moment. She hoped he would faint in a misery of longing. And as that final thought came, she giggled.
