The Earl’s Intended Wife

by Louise Allen

  Alex suddenly hunkered down beside her, his face on a level with hers. ‘Then I will do what I have to do to ensure that you do as I say.’

  ‘What can you do? This is not the Middle Ages. Do you intend to ride off with me over your saddle bow?’

  ‘No, nothing so melodramatic. I shall wait here until your aunt and uncle return and then I shall tell them, in detail, exactly why you have to marry me.’

  ‘They cannot make me, I shall refuse.’

  ‘Then I shall write to Sir Richard and to your mother, and tell them. Can you imagine how that will make them feel, to know what has happened to you when they are too far away to be with you?’

  ‘That is blackmail!’ Hebe protested hotly. ‘How could you do that to Mama?’

  ‘Yes, it is blackmail, and I have no intention of doing anything to cause your mama distress unless you force me to. And ask yourself, what she would prefer to happen now.’

  Hebe dropped her eyes from his angry gaze. ‘Very well,’ she muttered.

  ‘Hebe, I warn you, do not even think about trying to run away. You may think you can outwit Bow Street Runners, but I promise you, you cannot escape from me.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘Hebe, I need hardly tell you this, I am sure, but believe me when I say that I swear I will not touch you in any way.’

  He got stiffly to his feet, and Hebe remembered that he had ridden through the night, and had done so directly after his brother’s funeral. She swallowed back a small sob and said, ‘I am sorry, Alex. I promise I will not run away.’ The import of his last words were lost on her, other than to think it was considerate of him to acknowledge that she was unwell. ‘What will you do now?’

  ‘Go to the Clarendon Hotel, where I keep some clothes in case I have to come up to Town unexpectedly. I will sleep for a few hours, change and call upon your uncle this afternoon.’

  He unlocked the door with a suddenness that propelled Anna into the room. She ran to Hebe’s side. ‘Hebe, querida, are you all right?’

  ‘I have not ravished her, Anna, if that is what you mean,’ Alex said savagely, striding out on to the landing where Peter was waiting. ‘Come along, lad, you can throw me out now.’

  Hebe indulged in a good weep on Anna’s shoulder and then lay trying to think what to say about Alex to her aunt and uncle. What on earth would Peter say to them about the incident when they got home?

  Finally she got up, bathed in the slipper bath that Anna nagged a panting boot boy to lug up from the basement, and got dressed. Slowly she went downstairs and found the front salon where she sat and waited for the family’s return.

  They arrived within minutes of each other. Firstly the girls, delighted to find their cousin up and dressed, Joanna excitedly pulling all her new pairs of slippers out of their boxes to show Hebe. Then Uncle Hubert, beaming with pleasure, stooping to kiss her and remaining by her side, patting her hand and telling her how worried he had been about her. And finally Aunt Emily with William in tow. William, the tear streaks on his apple cheeks now disregarded, was inclined to be boastful about his courage in the face of the dreaded dentist and sent his sisters screaming from the room by producing a gory molar from his pocket to show off.

  His nice new cousin, however, was made of sterner stuff, and even invited him to open his mouth and show her the gaping hole—surely the largest any boy had ever had—from whence the tooth had been wrenched. Aunt Emily soon packed him off to get his books ready for when his tutor called that afternoon. His voice could be heard vanishing in the direction of the green baize door. ‘Peter, I say, Peter, look at my tooth…’

  ‘Wretched boy,’ Emily said fondly, turning back to her niece. ‘You look so much better, my dear. You have colour in your cheeks.’

  Hebe decided she had better tell her uncle and aunt something of the morning’s excitements before Peter did so. ‘I am afraid I had a caller this morning, Aunt Emily.’

  ‘Afraid? Why, my dear, any of your friends may call at any time, you must treat this house as your own.’

  ‘It was the Earl of Tasborough, Aunt, and I am afraid he upset Peter.’ They were looking at her blankly, so she stumbled on. ‘You know the old Earl died in a carriage accident?’ They nodded. ‘He was succeeded by his elder son, but he too had been hurt in the accident and died suddenly four days ago. He was succeeded by Major Beresford, the younger son, who was a friend of ours on Malta.

  ‘I had intended to call on my way back from Portsmouth, but when I did I found that the new Earl had just died, and obviously I left as soon as I could. But then I was ill on the road, and mentioned it in my letter of condolence to Major…I mean, to the Earl. And he was very anxious about me and called this morning, and when Peter denied me, I am afraid he…well, he forced his way in.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Aunt Emily said faintly after absorbing her niece’s tumble of words. ‘The Earl of Tasborough, so anxious about you that he visits London especially to see you, despite a death in the family, and then forces his way in when you are denied?’

  Hebe, blushing rosily, nodded.

  ‘Exactly what are his intentions, my dear?’ Uncle Hubert enquired seriously.

  ‘Marriage,’ Hebe whispered, going redder. ‘He is going to call this afternoon, Uncle, in order to speak to you.’

  ‘But I am not your guardian! What will your mama expect me to say to the man?’

  ‘Erm…Mr Fulgrave, my dear.’ Aunt Emily put a hand on his sleeve. ‘Do you not recall the letters from dear Sara?’

  ‘You mean he is that young man?’

  ‘Which young man?’ Hebe demanded, thoroughly confused.

  ‘Your mama wrote of a Major Beresford in several letters, saying what hopes she had that he would make you an offer. Then she said she had been disappointed in him because he was engaged to another young lady.’

  ‘That was a mistake,’ Hebe said, trying not to feel resentful that her love life was apparently the subject of a lengthy family correspondence. ‘Lady Cl…I mean, the young lady in question, realised they would not suit and called it off.’

  ‘Well, in that case, I see no reason why I cannot act in loco parentis.’ Mr Fulgrave looked earnestly at Hebe. ‘What do you want me to say to him, my dear?’

  ‘Yes,’ Hebe said bluntly.

  ‘It is wonderful news, dearest,’ Emily said, still sounding faintly stunned. ‘And I am so happy for you, only I cannot help feeling selfishly sorry that I will not have the pleasure of bringing you out.’

  ‘But, Mrs Fulgrave, consider, the Earl is in mourning. Surely the betrothal cannot be announced yet. If it were to be, Hebe would have to go into mourning, too. As it is, I would imagine no announcement will be made for at least six months, if not longer, so Hebe will be able to enjoy at least part of her first Season.’

  ‘Why, yes!’ Aunt Emily brightened up. ‘The best of both worlds, indeed.’

  This aspect of the matter had not occurred to Hebe. With no official announcement for six months, surely she would find some way to turn Alex from a course which, despite her heart, her head told her was bound for disaster?

  Aunt Emily, Grace and Hebe spent the early part of the afternoon in a state of high tension, sitting in the front salon in their best afternoon gowns, attempting severally to read Pride and Prejudice, write to a series of aged aunts and sew a ribbon on a new bonnet. Anna, confessing to an attack of nerves about the whole thing, went to her room, and Mr Fulgrave retired to his study to digest his luncheon and to get himself into a paternal mood for the expected interview.

  At last, at the very correct hour of three o’clock, the knocker sounded and all three ladies jumped. Hebe heard a familiar, cool, deep voice in the hall and Peter’s nervous tones answering him. Then the visitor was led away in the direction of Uncle Hubert’s study and the ladies sat back again.

  ‘He has a wonderful voice,’ Grace remarked. ‘So…masterful. It sends shivers down my spine.’

  ‘Grace!’ her mother reproved. ‘What would Sir Frederick say? Sir Frederick Willington is
Grace’s fiancé,’ she explained to Hebe. ‘I am planning a little dinner party soon so you can meet him.’

  Hebe began to ask Grace about Sir Frederick, who sounded nice, but somewhat dull. She was surprised that the vivacious Grace would be attracted to a man of such uniform temperament and stolid virtues as Sir Frederick appeared to be, but perhaps it was an attraction of opposites. She smiled wryly. Here she was, plain, ordinary Hebe, attracted to a man who was handsome, dashing, sardonic and who lived a life of adventure.

  As nothing was heard from the study, tension began to mount again until finally there was the sound of voices outside. All three ladies returned to their occupations with an unconvincing air of preoccupation and all pretended surprise when Mr Fulgrave opened the door.

  ‘We have a visitor, my dear.’ They stood up, setting down bonnet, quill and book, and both the young ladies bobbed curtsies in response to the Earl’s bow. Mrs Fulgrave inclined her head graciously. ‘My lord, please, allow me to introduce you to my elder daughter Grace. I believe you know my niece, Miss Carlton.’

  ‘Mrs Fulgrave, Miss Fulgrave, Miss Carlton. Good afternoon. I am happy to see you are a little recovered, Miss Carlton.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord, yes.’

  ‘Please, do sit down, my lord.’ Mrs Fulgrave had no intention of leaving her niece unchaperoned yet. ‘I believe I must express my deepest condolences on your recent very tragic loss. It has been a most sad homecoming for you after what I believe has been a long period on duty abroad.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am. Your sympathy is much appreciated. Yes, it has come as a great loss, and also a considerable change in my circumstances. While I am in London I will have to go to Horse Guards and arrange to sell out.’

  ‘And you have seen much service in the Mediterranean, I believe?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Greece, Malta, Spain. Occasionally I have set foot in France.’

  Mrs Fulgrave kept the conversation going along rigidly conventional lines until, after ten minutes, she caught her husband’s eye. He rose to his feet, announcing, ‘I must bid you goodbye, my lord, for the present. I have an appointment at Brooks’s. Grace, did you not wish me to drop you off at your friend Miss James’s house?’

  Alex rose politely as they left, then sat again, with the air of a man prepared to endure polite chitchat for the requisite half-hour and then depart. However, Aunt Emily had obviously decided she had done enough to establish her watchful chaperonage and she too got to her feet. ‘I have just remembered I have to send a message…I hope you will excuse me for a few moments, my lord.’ She bowed graciously and swept out to the hall where Anna was waiting anxiously.

  ‘What has happened, ma’am?’

  ‘Nothing yet, Mrs Wilkins. Oh dear, I feel all of a flutter. Let us go and sit in the breakfast parlour for ten minutes.’

  Hebe, left alone with Alex, regarded her hands studiously. Now she had had time to consider the question of mourning and the consequent delay she felt more relaxed, less under pressure.

  ‘You know why I called, Hebe.’ It was not a question.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your uncle has given me his permission to address you.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Damn it, Hebe, will you look at me!’

  It was a very fierce saint indeed who was glaring at her. Hebe tried to suppress the memory of Maria’s apposite description and failed. The corner of her mouth must have twitched for Alex’s brows drew together thunderously.

  ‘What are you laughing about?’

  ‘I was remembering my maid Maria, who said that you looked like a beautiful, fierce saint. You are looking very fierce now.’

  ‘Do I understand from that remark that you are feeling somewhat better?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. My spirits are uneven, but I am sure I will improve with time,’ Hebe responded tranquilly, realising that her very composure was aggravating him, and somehow not caring that this was so.

  ‘Hebe: will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  It was the least lover-like of declarations. Hebe looked into his face and said, ‘Yes, I will.’ There was relief, and some other emotion she could not read, in his eyes, but that soon vanished as she added, ‘I do appreciate that in your present state of deep mourning an announcement cannot be made for at least six months.’

  ‘Oh, no, Hebe, that was a very good try, but I told you, you could not run away from me.’ Alex walked up to her and stood very close, looking down into her face. ‘Because I am in mourning there will indeed be no announcements before the event. We will be married, very quietly, by special licence in St George’s, Hanover Square, tomorrow, and we will return in the afternoon to Tasborough Hall.’

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘No!’ Hebe gasped, just as the door opened and her aunt returned, attempting not to look as though she had fully expected to find the young lovers clasped in each other’s arms.

  ‘No?’ Emily echoed. ‘You mean you have turned his lordship down?’ She looked from one set face to the other, her large grey eyes wide with distress.

  ‘I have accepted his lordship’s proposal, Aunt,’ Hebe said, managing to smile in what she hoped was a suitably happy but modest manner. ‘But he wishes us to be married by special licence tomorrow.’

  ‘Out of the question,’ Mrs Fulgrave responded robustly. ‘My lord, your eagerness to marry my dear niece is understandable, and I quite appreciate that in your present state of distress the thought of her being by your side must be something you greatly desire, but consider Hebe’s position. To marry her now, out of hand, will mean that she too is plunged into mourning when her mama has entrusted her to me for the purpose of bringing her out into Society.’

  ‘I appreciate your concern, ma’am,’ Alex responded politely with the air of a man who had not the slightest intention of listening to arguments. ‘However, Miss Carlton can have her introduction to Society as my wife, in a few months. I am sure she will value your support and guidance then, as I have no close female relatives.’

  ‘All the more reason, my lord, to postpone the wedding.’ Aunt Emily was not going to give up that easily. ‘Hebe has not the slightest idea how to run a big house! To find herself a countess, and under such circumstances, with no one to tell her how to go on…’

  ‘I shall tell her.’ Alex, unused to the sort of opposition he was getting from the ladies of this household, was looking more and more like a functionary of the Spanish Inquisition. If he had realised it, he might have attempted to soften his expression, for Hebe could see it was making her aunt even more determined to put off the wedding.

  ‘A man is not the same,’ Aunt Emily retorted robustly.

  Not the hint of a smile touched Alex’s lips as he returned a slight bow as acknowledgement of this truism.

  ‘Then that is settled,’ she said, subsiding into a chair, looking, as Hebe told her afterwards, like a dove with ruffled feathers, settling in its nest after an alarm.

  ‘By no means, ma’am. Reluctant as I am to contradict a lady, I fully intend to marry Hebe tomorrow.’

  Fascinated by this duel of wills, Hebe watched quietly from the corner of the sofa where she was perched. It was her own future, her own happiness, that was being discussed, but she could not help but admire the fixity of purpose in Alex’s manner. He was fighting this most polite of duels with one hand tied behind his back, for he must retain his polite manner to his hostess at all times. But Hebe knew for him this was deadly serious: not only did he believe that he must do his duty by her, but he believed his own honour to be at stake here. Having read of, and seen, the things gentlemen felt obliged to do in the name of ‘Honour’, Hebe had a sinking feeling she knew which was the most important.

  Anna slipped quietly into the room, obviously expecting to be able to congratulate the happy couple. Mrs Fulgrave turned to this stalwart female supporter. ‘Mrs Wilkins, please help me convince the Earl that he simply cannot marry Hebe out of hand tomorrow!’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Anna
shot Alex a look that should have withered a less strong-willed man. ‘Impossible. Hebe is not well.’ She stared meaningfully at Mrs Fulgrave, who suddenly looked extremely thoughtful.

  ‘Yes, of course, thank you for reminding me, Mrs Wilkins. Yes, my lord. Hebe is still unwell, despite her being recovered enough to receive you this afternoon. She cannot possibly be married tomorrow.’

  Despite the hideous embarrassments of the situation, Hebe was hard pressed not to laugh, however bitterly. Alex knew exactly why she was indisposed, but could not reveal that he knew and had already promised not to insist on his marital rights while Hebe was recovering. Anna knew that he knew, but could not tell Mrs Fulgrave, and Aunt Emily thought she knew that Hebe was suffering from exactly the sort of female indisposition that one did not want on one’s wedding night. But, of course, she could not possibly explain that to a man!

  How are you going to deal with this, my lord? Hebe mused, watching the flicker of frustration in Alex’s eyes. Then a cold shiver went down her spine. The frustration was replaced by a look she had come to know very well on that nightmare walk over the mountains: sheer determination.

  ‘It may be, ma’am, that Miss Carlton has not explained to you the history of our courtship,’ he said evenly. ‘I am sure if she had done so you would understand how deeply I feel about this. Perhaps I should tell you everything.’ He did not once look at her, but Hebe knew it was a direct threat: give in, or I will tell your aunt about the night in the shepherd’s hut and what followed.

  ‘Perhaps three months?’ Hebe suggested hastily. She should have known that an officer would have mastered the art of strategic retreat.

  ‘That is certainly more acceptable, but still too long. Ten days.’

  ‘A month,’ Aunt Emily insisted, then, at a slight cough from Anna, thought better of that particular piece of timing and said, ‘No, six weeks.’

  ‘A fortnight,’ Alex countered. Hebe wondered somewhat hysterically if a sheep at market being haggled over felt quite so unimportant to the negotiators as she was feeling now.