Helen Dickson

by When Marrying a Duke. . .

  ‘Did you have to make a total spectacle of yourself, Nadine? Everybody was watching.’ Max’s mood was mocking, cruel and angry as he addressed his wife.

  ‘Why should I care?’ she asked.

  ‘Why? Because it’s embarrassing that’s why. I’m your husband, in the same room, and you were making a degrading spectacle of yourself.’

  His voice was sharp and Nadine recoiled from the coldness in him. He saw the tautness return to her face along with the ice-cold politeness, which was the sum and substance of their marriage.

  ‘What’s wrong, Max? Are you jealous?’

  ‘Jealous? No. Just humiliated. What you do in private is your business. What you do in public, when I’m present, involves me, too.’

  ‘What about you?’ Nadine asked quietly. ‘What about what you get up to?’

  ‘I don’t embarrass you in public.’

  ‘No? Then it’s all right for you to spend almost the entire evening on a lantern-lit veranda alone with a woman?’

  His look became one of scorn. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. If it is to Miss Westwood you are referring, she is seventeen—hardly out of the schoolroom—a juvenile. You’ve got a very suspicious nature, Nadine.’

  ‘I’m your wife.’

  ‘And I’ve heard it all before. You have a weakness. You can’t help yourself.’

  ‘What do you want, Max? Little did I know when I married you that the position I thought honourable would become my own special prison.’

  Max paused a moment and gazed at her coldly. ‘A prison of your own making, Nadine. You do well out of it. And you needn’t worry about me in that respect. I won’t be cutting off my nose to spite my face. You’re only one woman among many, and for a man it’s easy to find relief for his baser needs.’

  ‘Nothing would please me more,’ she replied, equally as cold.

  ‘I’m sure that’s true—but be warned. Don’t tempt my temper too far. Tread carefully and perhaps you will survive.’

  In the silence that followed, the conversation Marietta had overheard hung in the air like the acrid smell of smoke that lingered after a fire. Her cheeks burned with mortification as she stared at the open doorway through which they had just disappeared, her mind a blank. How could Lady Trevellyan think that she...and her husband! Oh, the very idea was too awful, too embarrassing to contemplate. The evening suddenly felt bleak and black and her earlier high spirits had been dented. Everything was well and truly ruined.

  * * *

  The following day Marietta’s father became very ill, the worry of it driving all thoughts of returning Lady Trevellyan’s fan from her mind. She had been in the breakfast room when Yang Ling came to tell her. Marietta sprang to her feet, her face blanching in sudden terror.

  ‘It’s your father, Miss Marietta. He’s had some sort of attack. The doctor has been sent for.’

  Her father was in bed propped up against the pillows, the mosquito net having been turned back. Fighting for breath, he turned his eyes to his daughter as she stumbled across the bedroom.

  ‘Father—what—what has happened?’

  She sank to her knees beside the bed and took hold of one of his hands, which rested on the snow-white sheet, and into her head came the fragmented thought that this was the first time she had seen her father ill in bed. Despite her worries concerning his health of late, he had always been about his business. The thought that he might die terrified her and she clung to him as a child clings to its mother in a childish nightmare.

  ‘What is it, Father? Tell me? Oh dear, where is the doctor?’

  ‘Calm down, Marietta. It’s only a bit of a turn.’ His voice was a thread, but his blue-tinted lips turned up in a small smile.

  ‘I know, I know, but we can’t be too careful.’

  The doctor came—old Dr White, who attended her father on a regular basis. He was a tall, angular man, dressed from head to toe in black except for a stiff white collar trapped beneath his jawbone. He took his patient’s wrist and placed his ear to his chest and whispered to Marietta that he didn’t like the sound of it, but to keep him warm and feed him nourishing broth and custard.

  ‘Give him this draught to help him sleep and I’ll call again tomorrow.’ It was laudanum. ‘If you should need me, Miss Westwood, send one of the servants and I will come at once.’

  Chapter Three

  After days of watching her father’s health deteriorate and becoming extremely despondent, Marietta went into the garden to collect her thoughts, sitting on the circular bench beneath the tree. She felt as if the peace and security of her world was somehow threatened by her father’s illness, as if she were being plunged from the secure haven of childhood into a cold and terrifying reality.

  A shadow fell over her. Resentful of the intrusion, she continued to stare straight ahead.

  ‘I thought I would find you here,’ Teddy said softly, moving to stand beside her. ‘You’re upset about your father, I can see.’

  ‘Yes, it—it’s just so sudden, that’s all.’ She cast him a sideways glance. He was smoking a cigarette and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought he was slightly drunk. ‘He’s been ill for a long time and I should have expected this—only I—I suppose I didn’t want to face it.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t. Neither did he, but it had to come. You have always been his main concern. He didn’t want to worry you. When the time comes, nothing will be able to alleviate the pain of losing him. It’s a deprivation which cannot but raise compassion in any person of feeling. But as some small consolation to your grief, I humbly offer my best services I can provide.’

  ‘Thank you, Teddy. Like you say—when anything happens... All my father’s things, the house—what am I to do with them?’

  ‘I’ll take care of everything. Anything you wish to keep, set aside.’

  ‘Where the business is concerned, as you know I know very little about that side of things. I do know that the trade in tea and cotton is not what it was, but apart from that I am quite ignorant. Of course when Father—’ She bit her lip, finding it extremely hard to contemplate being without him. ‘When anything happens, I think I would like to learn more about the business.’

  Something of her desperation communicated itself to Teddy. Although he sympathised, when Monty died it would not be conducive to him for Marietta to suddenly show an interest in the business and he would do his utmost to keep her out of it.

  ‘It’s true that business isn’t what it was, but we do well enough. If it’s agreeable to you, Marietta, I will continue to manage the business as before—which I know is what your father wants me to do.’

  ‘Yes, yes, that’s true, and I can’t tell you what a relief it is to me. You have always been amazingly good at it so I will be quite happy to leave you to run things as before for the time being.’

  ‘Of course, if you find it all too much, I am willing to buy your share of the business. As you know your father and I are equal partners. We could get the lawyers to draw up a settlement.’

  Marietta stared at him, unable to comprehend his meaning at first, then it hit home. ‘Sell the business? Oh, no, Teddy. The business will be all that I have left of my father.’

  ‘Why not? It’s a sensible proposition.’

  ‘You mean to own the company outright?’

  ‘That is what I mean.’

  She frowned. ‘It’s an interesting proposition,’ she said slowly, ‘but of course I’m in no position to decide such a major issue without speaking to Father’s lawyers. It would have to be considered very carefully, although I’m not sure that I shall want to sell it. I might even wish to become involved myself eventually.’

  ‘I’m not trying to push you into anything. It was simply an idle thought. There is another way. You are no longer a child, Marietta.’ He turned and faced her. ‘The time is fast approaching when you will have to think of marrying.’

  ‘I suppose it is natural in all young women to think of marriage. But I have no doubt that any who asked for my
hand in marriage might well have his thoughts on my inheritance. I do know that my father is a very rich man.’

  ‘All the more reason to consider marrying someone you know, someone you can trust.’

  She looked at him, a little smile of amusement playing on her lips. ‘Teddy, are you by any chance proposing?’

  ‘I am. If you consent, you will make me the happiest of men. You are a woman already. You should not delay your enjoyment of womanhood. Do not reject me without consideration, Marietta. I do believe most sincerely that it is what your father wants. He would not object to a union between us. I know that he wants to see you under the protection of one he can trust—and who better than his friend and business partner? For these are troublesome times in which we live.’

  ‘But—marriage! My father is not even dead, yet you are already making plans. If I were to become your wife, then you would have it all since a woman’s property becomes her husband’s when they marry.’ He looked at her, smiling, but Marietta knew she had put into words the idea fermenting in his head. Perhaps Teddy was like the jackal who was biding his time, waiting for the moment when he could come in for the kill. ‘You are an ambitious man, Teddy. I always thought so.’

  ‘Ambitious men frequently get what they set their hearts on.’

  ‘In business maybe. No one can ever achieve the impossible.’

  Marietta had risen. Teddy was a clever man and an asset to the business, but he somehow repelled her. Her heart was pounding and she felt afraid—and she could not tell why the sudden desire to run should have come to her. She was in the peaceful garden with a man she had known all her life, a man who was like family to her, a man her father thought highly of, yet she experienced a sudden revulsion.

  Teddy’s eyes were warm, alert and golden-brown and his hair had a reddish tinge. His face was quite handsome and when he leaned close and the lines seen so close, she thought it resembled a wolf’s mask. She knew in that moment that she was afraid.

  ‘When my father dies I shall make my own choices, Teddy, and be advised by my father’s lawyers. But whatever happens, I will not marry you. Now please excuse me. I have been away from my father’s bedside too long.’ She turned and left him, glad to get out of the garden.

  * * *

  Over the following days Marietta stayed close by her father’s side. When he fell into a coma Dr White told her he could do no more. He might survive the week, but he doubted it. She sat in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand, willing her own tenacious strength into his body. The days came and went.

  Emma sent her a note reminding her of a forthcoming picnic. She didn’t feel much like socialising, but she had promised Emma she would go and she didn’t want to disappoint her. Besides, Emma was to leave Hong Kong for England shortly, on the same vessel as Oliver and Julian, and it would be the last time the four of them would be together.

  Relieved to be away from the confines of the sickroom for however short a time, Marietta joined the picnic party. Ahead of her a colourful spectacle of people were being carried up the steep path of the Peak in chairs by coolies, along with large hampers of food, while some of the fitter younger members of the group preferred to walk. Marietta was one of them. In no hurry she kept stopping to take a look at the view of the busy harbour below and the surrounding hills, breathing deep of the air, fresh and fragrant with the scents of jasmine and eucalyptus.

  ‘Come along, slowcoach. You’re lagging,’ Emma called as she tried to keep up with Julian’s long strides.

  ‘You go on,’ Marietta called to her. ‘I’ll catch you up.’

  She paused to take an appreciative look at the magnificent scenery spread out before her, the warm breeze caressing her face. Her gaze spanned the Kowloon Peninsula, the vast country of China and the South China Sea dotted with islands. The harbour was a scene of great activity. Junks and sampans and sailing ships were all crowded together, bobbing and shifting on the water as if they were moving to some music only they could hear. Shining from a clear blue sky, the sun was strong and diamonds of light played upon the surface of the sea.

  All thoughts of her father’s sickroom were swept from her mind in the pleasure of the moment. She pushed her bonnet to the back of her head, allowing it to fall down her back between her shoulder blades on its ribbons. The sun lit her freshly washed hair to the warm polished sheen of mahogany and put a light in her eyes. Her pleasure was painted in a rosy hue on her cheeks.

  Aware of someone coming to stand beside her, she whirled sharply, her heart tripping a beat when she found herself looking into a pair of silver-grey eyes.

  ‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Max said quietly, his gaze doing a slow sweep of the panoramic view.

  ‘I think so.’ He was lost in the view so Marietta took the opportunity to study him. She thought he looked very handsome, his cool linen suit setting off his dark skin, which emphasised his silver-grey eyes. In a relaxed pose with his hands behind his back, his hair, stirred by the breeze, dipped over his brow. She saw how the sunlight turned it to polished ebony. She saw the way his smile softened the hard planes of his face and turned his eyes to liquid silver. ‘I love to come up here. It’s a hard climb, but the invigorating air and the view are well worth the effort.’

  ‘Not forgetting the monkeys and the snakes,’ he teased, tearing his gaze from the view and settling on her upturned face.

  ‘The monkeys I don’t mind so much, but I have an aversion to the snakes. But on a day such as this, I am prepared to put up with them. I often come up here to pick small flowers—such beautiful flowers—especially the orchids, which I press in my scrapbook to carry forwards into another time and place. Wherever I am in the world I will cherish the memory of Hong Kong.’ She smiled up at him. ‘But all that is a long, long way away and I refuse to think of it on such a lovely day as this. Are you going to the picnic?’

  Thoroughly enchanted by her words, he shook his head. ‘No. I’m merely out for the walk.’

  ‘Lady Trevellyan is not with you? She is not ill, I hope.’

  His eyes hardened and he averted his face. ‘She is resting. Nadine is impatient to return to England. The heat of Hong Kong does not agree with her.’

  ‘I see, although today the weather is delightful—perfect for a picnic. Which reminds me. Your wife left her fan at the New Year’s Eve party. She must have dropped it when she left her table. I will see it is returned as soon as possible. How long do you expect to be in Hong Kong?’

  ‘My business will keep me here for two more months, then we will go back to England. Tonight I leave for Macau for a few days for trade negotiations, which Nadine finds tedious, so she will remain here at the hotel.’

  Marietta turned her face to the breeze blowing off the sea, which was as green as an emerald.

  ‘How is your father?’ Max asked, having heard that Monty Westwood was gravely ill.

  ‘He’s very sick. He—he’s fallen into a coma. He’s not expected to recover. He could go at any time.’

  ‘I’m sorry. This can’t be easy for you.’

  ‘No—no, it isn’t. I spend all my time with him. I know he doesn’t know I’m there, but then again he might, and if so I hope he takes comfort from knowing I’m close. I didn’t want to leave him, but Emma is going to England very soon, along with Oliver and Julian, and it will be the last time we can all be together.’

  Max stared at her stricken face, wishing he could say something that would ease her distress. He tried to think of the words to describe her. Brave, he decided, knowing she was on the picnic to please her friends and trying to keep her mind occupied rather than dwell on her grief. And compassionate, he thought, remembering how she had told him how she tried to console her sick father.

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I don’t know. I have no idea what will become of me. Father has always refused to discuss it. He has told me that everything is in hand and he expects me to do as he has written down. With that I have to be content, but I sincerely hope I don�
�t have to leave the island. I would like to become involved with the business in some way, but Father and Teddy are adamant that I do not.’

  ‘And you don’t understand why?’

  ‘No, I don’t. How is it that men think that women don’t have the brains men have, that they must be treated like Venetian glass, and want to wrap them up in fine linen?’ she demanded, her expression defiant. ‘They truly believe that women are too unintelligent to deal with matters of business, implying that youth and inexperience are synonymous with stupidity.’

  ‘That is an unfair assessment.’

  Marietta looked at him with curiosity. ‘Then you would value in a woman the capacity to form her own opinions and express them?’

  ‘Of course, if they are well informed.’

  ‘It’s a pity more men don’t think like that. As it is, women are taught how to run a house and manage household accounts, which on the whole they do admirably. I promise you, Lord Trevellyan, that any woman who can do that is quite capable of working in a man’s world with the fortitude of a soldier.’

  Max was surprised by the ferocity of her argument and conceded that she had a point. ‘It’s a fact that no one would take a woman seriously and the Chinese would refuse to deal with them in business matters. Convention would forbid a woman to have any direct contact with suppliers.’

  ‘Where business is concerned there is a good deal about which I am ignorant, but I am sure I can learn.’

  ‘I believe you would, and I am also certain you would make a formidable businesswoman, but here in Hong Kong the barriers are insurmountable. You would have more chance in England. Do you have relatives you can go to in Britain?’

  ‘My maternal grandmother is my only living relative that I know of. She lives in England.’

  ‘But you want to stay here.’

  ‘Yes, although I have not always lived on Hong Kong. Before I came here I lived in England, in Eastbourne. Not wishing to leave me and my mother so far away, my father brought us here to live.’ Casting her eyes down, hesitantly she stammered, ‘T-Teddy wants to marry me.’