As if to illustrate how she felt, she covered her face with her hands. He could feel, from the convulsive movements of her shoulders, that she was crying again.
But at least when he hugged her to himself, she leaned into him. He could almost revel in the fact that, finally, his independent little wife needed to feel his arms about her.
Only he could not stand to see her this upset.
‘God,’ he groaned, ‘if only I had made you tell me where you’d got that money from when I first found it. I could have stopped the Dowager in her tracks.’
She jerked in his arms. Looked up at him in shock. ‘You knew about it? Why did you not … when …?’ Understanding dawned on her. ‘That is why you would not sleep with me again. Why you always let me dress and undress in private after that first time.’
He nodded. ‘Forgive me? I was so afraid of what you might have done. It was not until today, when I thought I had lost you, that I realised you would never willingly commit a crime.’
She bit down on her lower lip, worrying at it with her teeth. Then, with a sigh, she said, ‘I wanted to tell you about it so many times, but I was so afraid of having to tell you.’
‘And I made it even harder for you than it already was.’ He kissed her brow tenderly, and tucked her hair behind her ears. She blinked up at him, her expression wary.
‘What woman could have spoken freely about such a sordid incident, orchestrated by her own father? It must have shattered you. Ah, Aimée, Aimée, I am sorry I made you feel you had to keep your past concealed from me. You see, from the start, I had thought you were too good to be true, and when I saw the money, I thought I had unearthed your one flaw. You were a thief. And perhaps you were keeping that money hidden, so that you could run away at a moment’s notice, just like you did today.’
She looked appalled.
‘What kind of woman do you think I am?’
‘The kind that could not possibly love me,’ he said urgently. ‘What gently bred woman could love this?’ He indicated the scarring on his face with a grimace.
‘I could,’ she declared. Then she took a deep breath, flung up her chin, and said, ‘I do. Septimus, I have met genuinely ugly men in the past. Men who did not have any scars on the outside at all. You are, without doubt, the most handsome man I have ever met!’
His great frame shuddered. ‘I have wanted you so badly. But from the first moment I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful that you must surely flinch from a wreck like me. That night, when you ran away, I feared it was because you could not stomach me …’
‘Septimus, no!’ She reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘It does not matter. It has never mattered to me. This …’ she ran her fingers gently over his eyepatch ‘… is only on the outside of you. It is not what you are.’ Briefly, her face hardened. ‘That Miranda person has a lot to answer for!’
‘She does,’ he agreed. ‘When she left me, to live openly as another man’s mistress, I had to rely on my men to nurse me through all the fevers and the pain that followed. And I thought, only men know what loyalty means. At least, men who have lived and fought on board ship together. But women.’ He shook his head ruefully.
‘I do not deserve you,’ he continued. ‘I kidnapped you, seduced you, forced you to put up with my abominable relatives, spoke not two kind words together to you. Still, you would have sacrificed yourself today, in order to salvage the remnants of my own reputation. That is real loyalty. You …’ His voice lowered to little more than an incredulous whisper. ‘You have shown me today that you really do love me. Don’t you?’
Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I have often wished I did not, but.’
‘Ah, Aimée,’ he growled, hauling her up against his chest so hard that she could scarcely draw breath. ‘I know. I did not want to love you, either. It hurts so much. Love. Doesn’t it?’
And then he kissed her with such passion, she felt it right down to her toes. He was still clutching her so hard it was painful to breathe. But she did not care.
She tore her mouth free. ‘It does not hurt any more, Septimus. Not now I know you love me too.’
For a few moments they just stood there, searching each other’s faces, to see if it could really be true. And then, as it dawned on each of them that all their behaviour made complete sense, they moved into each other’s arms again and clung together. The moment was too poignant to kiss. They just stood there, rocking gently, breathing hard.
At length, Septimus said, ‘We have both made mistakes. Misjudged each other. Because we married whilst we were still strangers. And because both of us had learned, through the vilest sorts of betrayal, to distrust the opposite sex. But, Aimée, we have the rest of our lives to learn each other.’
‘Yes.’ She sighed, but then pulled back far enough so that she could gaze up into his face. She looked worried.
‘Septimus, what are we going to do about that man who is waiting for us back at the hall?’ A frown pleated her brow. ‘It might not be Lord Matthison himself. It might be someone to arrest me over the money I made off with. Or those forged references …’
He grinned. ‘You don’t know how good it is to hear you say us, like that.’ He gripped her round the waist and twirled her round, laughing aloud.
‘No, Septimus, put me down. We have to be serious for a minute.’
‘I am serious,’ he grumbled, but he did set her on her feet. ‘Stop worrying about those references, sweetheart,’ he said, kissing the tip of her nose. ‘Nobody but you and I, and Mr Jago, know aught of them, anyway.’
‘And Hincksey,’ she pointed out. ‘And whoever forged them. And whichever lad hopped in through an open study window and stole the sheet of headed, embossed notepaper …’
He reached down to smooth away the deep creases between her brows. ‘Nobody can start any kind of action against you if I burn the wretched things. And deny all knowledge of them.’
‘Y-yes,’ she agreed shakily, ‘but what about the money I took from Lord Matthison? I spent quite a bit of it, clearing the worst of Papa’s debts, and renting rooms, and getting those references forged, not to mention paying for food and clothes …’ she said, her fingers kneading at his shirt.
‘Have you completely forgotten that you are married to a rich man? Whatever sum he demands, I can easily pay.’
‘I still have quite a bit of it.’ Her expression cleared. ‘We can manage it between us. Oh,’ she breathed, ‘you have no idea how good it will feel to be able to fling it all back in his face!’
‘That’s my girl!’ he said, then kissed her. Another of those toe-curling kisses that left her breathless, and shaken, but feeling, oh, so very happy.
‘Now,’ he said, taking her hand in his, ‘let us return, and face the music together!’
She hung back for a moment. ‘A-are you quite sure? It is all very well talking about flinging his money in his face, but if we go back now, it will all come out. Every sordid detail. Of my father’s vile bargain, and our arrangement, and how you put an advertisement in the papers for a governess so that you would not get saddled with a society miss for a wife …’
‘So?’
‘B-but you cannot want it all to come out! What will people say? What will people think? You have a position in society now …’
‘Aimée, so long as I have your love, I do not care what anyone else may think. I only kept quiet about you answering that advertisement because I thought you might not like people to know how low you had been brought. Also because I suspected there was something in your past you needed to keep concealed.’
‘And I only went along with that silly story about meeting years ago, and never forgetting each other, because I thought you did not want Lady Fenella upset!’
In trying so hard to please each other, they had only succeeded in bolstering the sense of mistrust each had for the opposite sex.
‘I do not give a rap what Lady Fenella may think about our marriage. Nor anyone else
, either. I am the Earl of Bowdon now, and there is nothing anyone can do to alter that. If they do not like the way I am going to run my life, and my estates, they can go hang! And if they do not approve of my choice in wife, they can. well, I won’t pollute your ears with what I was about to say.’ He laughed.
‘God, I love you!’ he said, crushing her to his chest, and burying his face in her hair. ‘And your feelings, and your happiness, mean more to me than anything else in this world. If things get a bit unpleasant here after we have faced down the Dowager’s mysterious visitor, we never need to come back. I have estates and smaller properties all over the place. Probably all equally run down, and in need of attention. I have been planning to visit them all and assess the situation. You shall come with me and tell me which of them you like best, and we can settle there.’
‘Oh,’ she said very quietly. If only he had said that yesterday. How much hurt he could have spared her!
And how much hurt she could have spared them both, if she had been able to trust him, to begin with. He had said he had fought loving her, but in her turn, had she not distrusted the feelings he evoked, as well? Though she had spoken to him of love, she had done no better than him, not really.
When he would have stood by her, dealt with her problems, lifted her burden of guilt.
Solemnly, she placed her hand in his. Finally, she knew she had found a man she could trust. She had not thought such a person existed. But here he was. And knowing it brought peace, something she had never known before, settling over her like a mantle.
‘I am ready to go back now,’ she said. ‘And deal with whatever we may find waiting for us there. Together.’
A lump came to his throat.
‘I won’t let you down again, Aimée,’ he vowed.
She smiled again. ‘I know. I trust you.’
And he could see it in her face. She did.
Hand in hand, they left the shelter of the trees.
The horse had long since grown tired of standing about with nothing to do and had trotted back to its stable where it knew the long-overdue food and water were to be found.
So they walked back to Bowdon Manor. Pausing every now and then to kiss. Or to hug. Or to just simply stand there, looking at each other.
As if they could still not quite believe how fortunate they were.
Chapter Thirteen
Aimée had sneaked out of one of the back doors of Bowdon Manor, head down, in floods of tears.
Now she was climbing up the steps to the front door, hand in hand with her husband, and her heart was singing with joy.
Septimus handed her satchel, which he had been carrying, to the supercilious upper footman who had smoothly opened the door just as they had reached the top step.
‘Take this up to her ladyship’s room, would you?’ he said. ‘She will not be needing it again today.’
‘Not ever,’ she confirmed, squeezing Septimus’s arm, and rubbing her cheek affectionately against his shoulder.
Far from rebuffing her, as he had been wont to do until now when she attempted to be demonstrative, he hauled her into his arms, and kissed her full, and lingeringly, on the lips.
The scandalised footman cleared his throat. ‘Begging your pardon,’ he said in a repressive tone, ‘but the Dowager Countess has asked me to inform you there is a visitor for you, my lady. They are waiting for you in the gold sitting room.’
Aimée’s stomach lurched uncomfortably. She knew that whoever, and whatever, awaited her in the Dowager’s lair, Septimus would not let her down. But it was not going to be a pleasant business. The Dowager would gloat. Septimus would be shamed by association with her. And as for poor Lady Fenella … how was she going to feel upon learning that the woman she had befriended out of the goodness of her heart, had narrowly escaped degradation only by consorting with criminals and fleeing with her ill-gotten gains?
‘Septimus,’ she said as they began to mount the stairs, ‘are you sure we need to meet whoever it is? Could we not just—?’
‘Thinking of running again?’ he said, with a disapproving frown.
‘N-not really, it is just that …’
He paused on the landing, gently took her by the shoulders and turned her so that she was facing him.
‘I know this is not going to be easy for you. But once it is settled, you will be free of the shadow that has been hanging over you ever since … we first met,’ he finished, conscious that the footman was still within hearing.
‘And then we can leave, if you do not think you can bear to stay within the Dowager’s orbit. In fact, I shall not be sorry to see the back of this place.’ He raised his head, scanning the long corridor off which numerous doors led to the many reception rooms, all of which were showing signs of decay through disuse. ‘It would take an army of staff to refurbish and run this place, and even then, it will never make a comfortable home.’ Then, suddenly, a wicked grin lit up his face. ‘I tell you what, though—it would make a wonderful asylum for crippled sailors. Just think how many we could house on this floor alone!’
The footman came to an abrupt halt and swung round to stare at them. The expression on his face was so appalled that, in spite of her best efforts, Aimée could not help giggling. The servants here had not accepted her as their new mistress, thanks to the Dowager’s lack of discretion. They probably all believed she was an impostor, who was about to be ousted.
And so it was that when they entered the faded glory of the Dowager’s sitting room, she was not clinging to her husband’s arm like a frightened criminal brought up before her judge, but flushed from his kisses and giggling.
The look of utter disgust on the Dowager’s face sobered her, though. Suddenly Aimée was very conscious that she had abandoned her bonnet somewhere in the woods, and her hair was half-up and half-down. Since she had been crying, and wiping her tears away with her gloved hands, her face was probably quite dirty. Her boots were muddy, the hem of her skirts was damp, and there was a rent where she had braved the edge of the bramble patch to rescue one of her treasured pressed flowers.
She flung up her chin. Yes, she might look a bit dishevelled, but a kinder woman would have asked if some mishap had befallen her. The Dowager was always ready to judge, but never to forgive. It was a miracle she had managed to produce a daughter as gentle as Lady Fenella.
Instinctively, she glanced up at Septimus for reassurance. And it occurred to her that he looked no better than she did. In his shirtsleeves, breeches and riding boots, with his windswept tawny hair, the eyepatch and the grim expression, he looked for all the world like a pirate!
A pirate and a hoyden. A well-matched pair!
Yes, she thought, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze, at last she could believe that they truly belonged together.
He did not care about her past. So nothing could blight their future. Nothing!
No, it was the Dowager who would suffer the most as a result of the hornet’s nest she had stirred up. The story that was about to come to light today was the stuff that would keep gossip buzzing for a very long time. This would not bother either her, or Septimus, since neither of them had ever moved in that kind of society. But the Dowager would hate it. She would not be able to show her face anywhere for some considerable time.
And if Septimus truly did turn this house into a refuge for sailors, then she would be obliged to remove to the Dower House. She would spend the rest of her life almost afraid to go out of doors, lest she run into one of the rescued seamen walking about the grounds she considered belonged to her. In some ways, it would be a just punishment for her spite.
But how would poor Lady Fenella bear it?
She took a half-step towards her, hand outstretched. ‘Please, madam, will you not reconsider …?’
The Dowager’s eyes flashed with malevolent triumph.
‘You may well beg me for mercy! But I have one here who will expose you for the cheating hussy that you are!’
She pointed to a chair to the right of the doo
r, upon which an elderly man was sitting, one leg crossed over the other. He placed the teacup he had been holding in his slender fingers upon a conveniently placed side table, and got to his feet. He was looking at her so intently that Aimée got the impression he must have had his eyes fixed upon her from the moment she entered the room.
Like a hawk, preparing to swoop down on its prey.
She drew a little closer to the solid strength of her husband’s body. Even though she knew this man could do her no real harm, it helped to remind herself that she was not going to have to face him alone.
Whoever he was. For she felt positive this was not Lord Matthison at all. From what she had heard, he was quite a young man. Besides, Septimus had already convinced her that he was too preoccupied with clearing his own name to bother with her.
Then who could he be? The Dowager had boasted that he had come to expose her as a hussy. There were only four men who could say with any degree of certainty what had happened at that card table in the Restoration. Lord Matthison she had already ruled out. Mr Carpenter she knew by sight. Besides, in spite of the way he had deserted her, she was sure he would never willingly denounce her. The only other man at that table, apart from her father, had been one Lord Sandiford.
In fact, now she came to reflect, it had been that very Lord Sandiford, a man Mr Carpenter had described as an ageing lecher, steeped in vice, who had first put the idea of staking her virginity into her father’s drinkaddled mind. And, although he looked like a perfectly respectable gentleman, she knew just how deceptive appearances could be and decided this man had to be Lord Sandiford.
Her lip curled with contempt. What kind of man egged another on to sell his own daughter’s virginity, then strolled into a respectable household, and looked upon his potential victim with open hunger?
‘I believe you wished me to meet this person, my lady?’ she said coldly. ‘Though I cannot imagine how such a man has the nerve to show his face in polite society. Or openly admit to the events he set in train.’
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