Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  She had rejoined the dinner party, but Nash’s coolness and the other guests’ curiosity had made for an unpleasant finish to the event. Maybe things might have ended differently had he supported her decision.

  Nash stood at the window, his back to her, sipping on a glass of brandy.

  “Quinn asked that I join you?” She moved farther into the room.

  He turned to face her. “Please close the door.”

  Raising her chin, she did as he bid. Once the door was closed, he studied her for a minute, his hands on his hips. “Arabella, this has to stop.”

  “What?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ever since we married, my life has been in turmoil.” He raised his hand as she began to speak. “Please hear me out. I have dealt rather fairly, I believe, with your animal nonsense.”

  A hard lump descended in Arabella’s stomach. Nash looked very serious, and his lowered voice was more reason for concern than if he’d been shouting at her.

  “We currently house numerous dogs in the kennel out back that you keep telling me you will find a good home for—soon. Three more animals in various stages of recovery take up one of the bedchambers. At this rate, there will not be room for us to even live in this house.”

  “I know this seems odd—”

  “Stop.” He walked in a circle, his head down, and then came to stand in front of her, his hands on her shoulders. “I want this all to stop. No more taking in animals. No more surgery. I want you to behave in a manner more fitting of a countess. We need to take our place in Society, and to do that we cannot host dinner parties where the hostess disappears to perform animal surgery. It is your duty as my wife to see to the running of the household and do wife-type things.”

  “Wife-type things?”

  “Yes. Accept afternoon calls. Go on visits yourself. Take a ride in Hyde Park in the afternoon. Go shopping, paint watercolors, embroider things, play the pianoforte. I know you are familiar with the routine of ladies.”

  “Yes. And I have always hated the routine of ladies.” She swept her hand toward the window. “Those ladies hate me. I have never been a darling of the ton, but since the entire ton believes I snatched you from Lady Grace’s clutches, I have become a pariah.”

  She wiped a tear from her eye. “The one time I enjoyed myself at a ball, we ended up arguing with each other. At the soiree, I fainted, which I am sure has made the rounds of gossips.” She threw her hands out. “Why can’t you see I don’t belong here?”

  …

  Nash stared at her, finally realizing with a sinking feeling that this marriage would never work. He had a position to maintain. Already, word was spreading that his wife was less than a proper countess, and he’d been forced to ignore snide remarks in the halls of Parliament about him running an animal welfare home. In fact, much to his horror, his credibility on a bill he was sponsoring had been questioned.

  He’d spent all his life doing the proper thing. Not for him had been the wild life of a young noble. Once finished with University, he’d been discreet with his mistresses, never dallied with a married woman, gambled very little, avoided reckless races in the park at dawn, and rarely drank to excess.

  He’d wanted a wife who would do all the things he’d just laid out. And do them with joy. Instead, he had a wife who despised Society, had no intention of taking her place among them, and was only happy when she was up to her elbows in animal blood and chaos. They were too far apart in their way of thinking.

  “Then it appears we are at a standstill, my dear,” his tone mirrored the sadness in his heart.

  She picked up on his tone and echoed it. “So it seems.”

  The silence was overwhelming. And sad. Hopefully, the child she carried was a male child, and once the heir was born, they could live their separate lives. His heart twisted with the picture he had of his life. Lonely, frustrating, and empty. Despite a separation, he would not break his marriage vows. But how could he continue his life with the constant barrage of turmoil and the humiliation of his wife’s behavior? It did not suit him.

  “If you wish to retire to the country, I will arrange to have the staff at Clarendon Manor notified of your arrival.” He choked on the words.

  “My arrival?” The surprise in her voice told him she did not understand what he meant.

  “Yes, sweeting. As I’ve explained to you numerous times, it is necessary for me to be in London, at least until Parliament recesses. It is probably best if you and your animals take up residence at the Manor.”

  She grew pale, and for a moment he thought she would swoon. But she straightened her shoulders and gave him a half smile. “And you will join us once Parliament recesses?”

  Tension hung in the air as he studied her before responding. “I think not. ’Tis for the best if we separate.”

  Her eyes grew wide, and she placed her hand on her stomach. “I am with child, my lord.”

  Ah, so now she decided to tell him. Was her revelation a way to make him feel guilty? To reconsider his decision? Arabella was so very different from every other woman he knew in the ton. She cared for none of the things most women of her station cared about. He’d spent the last few months trying to figure her out and had reluctantly come to the realization that they were very unsuited to each other. Something she had tried to tell him from the start.

  “I know.”

  Arabella sat, her mouth open. “You know?”

  “Yes. I can count.” He walked across the room and stared out the window, his hands behind his back. “I was just waiting for you to tell me.”

  “I only just realized myself a few weeks ago. It appears I am not as good at counting as you are.” She offered him a crooked smile.

  He shrugged. “I will, of course, attend you when the babe is due. Just send word.”

  She nodded. “I see.” Arabella stood and shook out her skirts. “Then I guess I will inform Sophia to see to the packing.”

  “I will send word immediately for the staff to expect you.”

  Without another word, she turned and headed to the door.

  “Arabella.” He held his hand out.

  “What?” She looked at him over her shoulder, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I just wish…”

  She took in a deep breath. “As do I.”

  …

  Nash entered White’s on a cold and rainy early evening. Arabella and the menagerie had all left for the country two weeks before. He’d thought of nothing else all day, every day, but Arabella. Her smile, her laugh. How her eyes lit up when she talked about her animals.

  No matter how hard he tried, he could not sleep without her next to him. Considering he’d slept alone for years, and with her for only a few months, the entire situation was ludicrous. He’d even taken to having warm milk before he retired, certainly a reason to have him banned from his clubs. But, instead of sleeping, he lay on his back, his hands tucked behind his head, staring at nothing, and remembering.

  When it became apparent he was not going to enjoy a night’s sleep, he would throw off the covers and pace. Pulling on a banyan, he would tie the belt tightly and descend the stairs to the library where he would attempt to read. Books hadn’t helped. Brandy hadn’t helped. Staring at the flames in the fireplace hadn’t helped.

  Nash handed his wet greatcoat and hat to Duncan, the longtime butler at the club door. Duncan bowed slightly, and Nash entered the main room. Nearing dinnertime, the club was full with men seeking company, coffee, whiskey, cards, and food. Nash refused to eat one more meal alone. Cook had taken to making several dishes he despised. The way she sniffed when he questioned her on it told him exactly how she felt about Arabella and her circus leaving. He thought to remind her who paid her wages, but feeling uncomfortable himself, he had finally decided to seek his dinner elsewhere.

  He took a chair near the back wall and signaled a footman to bring him a brandy. He would have one or two drinks and then make his way to the dining room. He was perusi
ng the evening newspaper when a deep voice interrupted him. “Evening, Clarendon. I haven’t seen you in an age.”

  The Duke of Manchester settled himself across from Nash. He’d always liked the duke and found him to be friendly, but definitely not one to cross. He had five sisters he’d seen married off and was known to be completely, and unabashedly, besotted with his duchess. A duchess who was an acknowledged and respected botanist. Perhaps His Grace was just the person with whom to speak.

  “’Tis true, Your Grace. How does your family fare?”

  Manchester leaned back and signaled a footman. “Quite well, thank you. Her Grace and I welcomed our new daughter, Lady Bernice, the September past.” He pointed to Nash’s drink, which the footman noted and returned with a glass of brandy for each of them.

  “That is now, what, two daughters and a son?”

  “Precisely. I seem to be following in my father’s footsteps. One son and the rest daughters. Robert, Marquess of Stratford, Lady Esther, and now Lady Bernice.” The pride in the man’s voice, and face, had Nash’s stomach clenching. If only he and Arabella had come together, he might one day show the same pride in his offspring. The way things looked now, there might be only one.

  He pushed the sad thought away. “And Her Grace? She is well?”

  “Indeed, and as busy as ever. Since no nurse or governess seems to suit her for long, she spends a great deal of time with our children, but any free minutes in her day are devoted to her science.” Manchester placed his glass on the small table next to him. “How goes your new marriage?”

  Nash pasted a fake smile on his face. “Fine. Just fine.”

  Manchester’s raised eyebrows told him he hadn’t fooled the duke. “I have heard rumors that Lady Clarendon has retired to the country, yet you remain here.”

  “Parliament.”

  The duke continued to stare at him, and Nash blurted out, “How do you accept Her Grace’s delving into science? Her a duchess?”

  “Ah. Does your wife have some offending hobbies? Have little interest in the usual pursuits of ladies of her station?”

  Nash blew out a breath. He needed someone to talk to, and apparently speaking with a man who had dealt with a similar issue might help. “She collects injured animals. Then brings them home and nurses them back to health. My life and home are in chaos.”

  “So it seems.” The duke took a sip of his drink. “Much like my life, it would appear.”

  Nash relaxed when the duke continued. “I was very upset when my wife and I first married. I thought she showed none of the skills, nor the desire to learn them, that a duchess must possess.”

  He snorted. “I certainly understand.”

  Manchester studied the brandy in his glass as he swirled the liquid. “The most difficult moment was when I discovered that against my explicit orders, she had been submitting scientific papers under a man’s name to the Linnean Society.”

  Nash tried very hard not to laugh, but the idea of the meek, easygoing Duchess of Manchester defying the duke was hilarious.

  Thinking of his dinner party, he asked, “Did anyone ever find out?”

  Manchester threw his head back and laughed. “She was nominated for an award that all of London knew about, and she asked me to accept it for her.”

  “Lie?” Nash was appalled.

  “Oh yes.”

  He leaned forward, loving the story. “What did you do?”

  “After much thought, I agreed to accept the award for her.”

  Nash shook his head. The story got more interesting. “And what happened?”

  “I stood before the entire Linnean Society and told them I was a fake. That my lovely, talented, brilliant wife had duped them all.”

  He sat back, his mouth agape. “You didn’t.”

  “I did.” He grinned. “You see, Her Grace is adored by our staff, and our children are free to climb upon her, sticky hands and all. She has been known to commiserate with a maid over the loss of a beau and help a footman count the silver if the poor man is behind in his duties.

  “However, in order to maintain her standing in Society, I will on occasion absolutely insist that we host a dinner party, or soiree. She then manages to rally the staff to do everything that needs to be done in time for the event.” He smiled. “She truly amazes me.”

  It did sound as though the duke’s life was as unconventional as Nash’s had become. Yet the man seemed happy.

  “You are happy?”

  His smile grew into a large grin. “Absolutely. I love my wife, and anything that makes her happy does the same for me.”

  I love my wife.

  Why did those words not trouble him as much as they had in the past?

  Nash leaned back and considered Manchester’s words. The duke took a final sip of his drink. “I am afraid I must leave you now. I see Redgrave across the room, and we are late for a meeting.”

  He watched Manchester greet his brother-in-law, another devoted husband, and the two of them chatted easily as they left the club. Nash called for another brandy, which he sipped while he considered the duke’s words.

  Chapter Twenty

  Arabella swayed back and forth on the swing hanging from the large oak tree on the south side of Clarendon Manor. She placed her hand on her belly, the slight swell a comfort. How much more she would enjoy the anticipation of a babe if Nash were here with her. She missed him a great deal. In fact, so much so it surprised her. His smile, the way he rubbed the back of his neck or ran his fingers through his hair when he was faced with a dilemma.

  Dilemmas that were mostly caused by her.

  Had she been selfish in her demands that she be allowed to drag home any number of injured and bleeding animals? Truth be known, she could very well have made some concessions. Had she honestly believed that everything should go her way in marriage? She’d watched her mother host dinner parties, soirees, and Arabella’s coming-out ball. It would not be so very difficult for her to do the same for Nash.

  He’d allowed her to bring home animals and treat them, commandeering his library, and taking up space in an empty bedchamber. Although she’d promised many times to search for good homes for them, she had been quite remiss in that endeavor.

  The only time she had honored his request to host a dinner party, she had humiliated him by leaving their guests to tend to an animal. Feeling guilty and not too proud of herself, Arabella stood and shook out her skirts. She needed a distraction, a way to forget some of the things she’d done to the man who had been honorable enough to marry her to save her reputation when she had no care for it.

  Perhaps a ride on her horse, Bessie, would be just the thing. She slowly climbed the stairs and entered her bedchamber. Before she pulled out her riding habit, she crossed the room and opened the door leading to Nash’s bedchamber. That was another thing that troubled her. She was having a most difficult time sleeping.

  She loved pushing her bottom up against Nash and having him wrap his strong arm around her middle and pulling her close. She’d felt secure and protected. Cared for. Two weeks away from Nash seemed like so much more. How could someone crawl into her heart so easily?

  Crawl into my heart?

  She moaned, knowing the truth of it. As she sat on her bed, she considered the situation. She was carrying a babe, and wanted—nay needed—her husband with her. To share in the joy of the first fluttering in her tummy, to talk about names, dream about their child, and argue over godparents. True, he’d banished her to the country, but it had been her choice to leave.

  Sighing, she stood and rang the bell for Sophia. Once she was outfitted in her riding habit, she strode from the house to the stables. Martin, the head stable master, pushed his cap back on his head and offered her a bright smile. “Will you be needing a groom to accompany you this morning, my lady?”

  “No. I won’t be leaving the property.”

  She placed her foot in his hand, and he hoisted her onto the horse. She had a moment’s dizziness, but then shook her head
to clear it.

  “Are you well, my lady?”

  “Yes. I am fine. Thank you.” She tapped Bessie and the mare took off. She gave the horse her head and enjoyed the wind whipping through her hair. Pretty soon, she would not be able to ride this way, but she did not have Nash here to order her about.

  Her hat flew from her head, and she laughed as it landed on a pile of leaves. She continued on, the fresh air in her lungs helping to clear the cobwebs from her head.

  When she returned from her ride, she would pen a note to Nash and inquire after his well-being. She hadn’t received any correspondence from him, but one of them had to make the first move. Her heart felt lighter, and for the first time in two weeks, some hope of future happiness filled her.

  One thing she could do while she waited for his response was to find homes for several of the dogs. It would hurt to give away some of them, but Nash was more important than animals. It was a shame it had taken her so long, and a separation, to realize that.

  She climbed a rise and slowed the horse to a trot, then a walk. From here she could see the entire estate, all the tenants’ cottages, and the village off to the east, smoke from the chimneys floating in the air. Nash’s new land steward had been doing a wonderful job of meeting with the tenants, discerning their needs, and assuring them Lord Clarendon was truly interested in their success. Probably the best news he’d granted them was an end to the rent increase Jones had put into place.

  The man still had not been found, but when she’d spoken with the new steward, Mr. Nelson, he had assured her he kept in touch with the magistrate to make sure Jones was still being sought.

  She continued to take in the view and inhaled a deep breath of the country air. As much as she loved it here, her place was with her husband. Instead of writing and waiting for a response, she would pack up and return to London. The animals could stay here, and as much as it would break her heart, she would ask the staff to find homes for them. Once in London, she would limit her walks in the park so she wasn’t confronted by so many injured animals. She would, however, at least still help those who wandered into her path.