by Anne Herries
It was true that he had promised Henrietta he would consider the idea of marriage, but to ask for the hand of a woman—he would not call her a lady, for she was an adventuress—he had only just met was ridiculous.
Nicolas had at first refused when Sir Charles Stanton had offered him his daughter as payment for the gambling debt. However, after a night of reflection, he had decided that one woman was as good as another. His memory of being ridiculed by Elizabeth when he declared his love had made him determined never to offer his heart again. Therefore Sir Charles’s offer was a convenient way of solving his problem. Clarice had been brought up as a lady, of that he had no doubt—but he had not known when he’d agreed to the deal that her morals were those of an alley cat.
It was on the night after he had signed the contract Sir Charles had hastily had drawn up with their joint lawyers that Nicolas discovered his mistake. One of Nicolas’s friends had been visiting Paris and they had gone out to a gaming club together, both of them drinking more than usual. Ralph Thurlstone had been three sheets to the wind and Nicolas rather more drunk than was sensible when he discovered his friend in a back room of the club. Ralph was lying senseless on the bed while a very pretty young woman with long spun-gold curls emptied his pockets of what money he had left. From the look of her hair and crumpled gown, he suspected that she had been on the bed with Ralph prior to robbing him.
‘What the hell do you imagine you are doing?’ Nicolas enquired dangerously.
‘Taking what belongs to me,’ the woman replied, her green eyes flashing with temper. ‘He owes me and this is scarcely recompense for what he took.’
‘Are you telling me you were a virgin before this evening?’
‘Would you believe me?’
‘No.’
‘Then I shall tell you nothing,’ the woman said and passed him, going out of the room.
Nicolas had let her go. In truth, he was still stunned by what he had seen. Returning to the main rooms a little later, he discovered Sir Charles at the tables, and standing at his back was the young woman he had seen going through Ralph’s pockets moments earlier. Nicolas had thought he must have been mistaken, but there was no mistake. Clarice Stanton, his bartered bride-to-be, had robbed his friend while he lay in a drunken stupor.
‘Ah, Rothsay,’ Sir Charles said, looking up. ‘Sit down and join us, won’t you? Clarice is bringing me luck tonight. I was down to my last guinea but she brought me ten more and I have won the pot of two hundred.’
Which he would no doubt lose before he rose from the tables, Nicolas thought.
Nicolas looked the young woman in the eyes and saw her flush. Until this evening, he had not met Stanton’s daughter, not bothering to propose to her but leaving it to the father to tell her of their arrangement. He supposed that he had intended to speak to her in his own good time. When he recklessly signed the marriage contract, he had been acting on impulse. He had heard on the rumour mill that Stanton’s daughter was pretty, but as he was engaged to her already, sight unseen, her looks were not his primary concern. He had thought only that she was available and would give him the heir everyone said he needed.
To his horror, he had contracted himself to marry a thief and a wanton. What a damned fool he had been!
Henrietta had begged him to marry for the sake of the family. He hardly dared to contemplate what she would say if she knew the truth.
He must find a way to withdraw—but how could it be done? Anger smouldered inside him as he saw the young woman continue to encourage her profligate father at the tables. When Stanton rose a winner of some two thousand pounds or more, she flashed him a look of triumph, as if daring him to expose her to the world.
Needless to say, Nicolas had kept his mouth closed. It would have exposed him to ridicule, as well as Ralph, whom he knew to be newly engaged to a respectable English girl. His friend had been feeling a little hedge-bound, because his mother-in-law to be was demanding he dance attention on her daughter the whole time. Ralph had escaped to Paris for a last fling, and would never know that he had not spent all his guineas at the tables. The loss was one he could afford, but Nicolas was affronted by the idea that he had agreed to marry a woman of such low morals.
Nicolas had left Paris the next day, sending his would-be father-in-law a sharp note dictating that he take his daughter back to England to await his further instructions.
As soon as he had set foot in town, Nicolas visited his family lawyer to discover if the contract was watertight, and apparently it was. Nicolas could of course withdraw and compensate the girl for breach of promise. He would no doubt have to pay through the nose to be free of her. His mouth drew into a thin line as he contemplated the scandal.
No, better that he find a way of forcing the woman to withdraw. He would be ridiculed in the clubs whichever way it went, but if Miss Stanton withdrew it could all be settled by a payment for her bruised pride—if she had any—and there would be less scandal.
It was his own fault for giving in to a wild impulse. He could not blame Henrietta, who would certainly not have advised such a reckless affair. Nicolas smiled wryly. The irony of it was that such a marriage would have suited him had the woman not been a thief and a cheat. She was certainly pretty enough, and, if compliant, might have had her own house and done much as she pleased once she had given him a couple of heirs.
So for now, it seemed that he must go through with the formal arrangements. Henrietta must be told of his impending marriage and in due course an announcement must be made in The Times. Yet he would hold back on the announcement for a while; there was still a chance he might be able to persuade the young woman to withdraw. He must post down to his country house and put some work in hand. Nicolas seldom bothered to pay more than a flying visit to his family home; it would certainly need some changes if his wife were to live there.
His wife… Nicolas felt as if a knife had struck at his heart. There had once been someone he hoped to make his wife, but Elizabeth had laughed in his face and married an older, richer man. For years he had allowed his hurt pride to eat away at him, but it was time to put it aside. When this fiasco was over, he must look for a suitable wife in earnest.
‘I shall not marry him. I told Papa in Paris that I would not. He refused to tell the marquis that the contract must be broken. I know there is a debt, but he won a little before we left Paris, after I wrote to you. I dare say if we sold this house he could pay the debt.’
Lottie looked at her sister’s flushed face and wondered how Clarice could be so selfish. Did her twin never give a thought to anyone else’s comfort but her own?
‘What about Aunt Beth and me?’ she asked. ‘Where should we go if the house were sold? Aunt Beth has little enough income as it is—and I have nothing at all.’
‘I will find a rich husband and rescue you both.’ Clarice flashed a beguiling smile at her sister.
‘Surely the marquis is rich enough? Papa said he was rolling in the blunt.’
‘Well, I dare say he is, but I do not like him. He is arrogant and cold—and I shall not marry him.’
Clarice took up Lottie’s hairbrush and began to brush her twin’s hair.
‘I hate him, Lottie. Papa is mean to say I must marry him. I would rather die—besides, there is someone I really like. I met him in Paris and I think he is in love with me.’
‘Oh, Clarice…’ Lottie sighed. ‘If the marquis is that horrible, I should not want you to marry him. Is he very old, dearest?’
‘Oh, middle-aged, I should say…thirty or more.’
‘That is not old.’ Lottie frowned at her. ‘Is he ugly?’
‘No, not ugly…stern, I suppose.’ Clarice put down the brush. ‘You must agree with me or Papa will make me marry him.’
‘If he is presentable and rich…’ Lottie looked thoughtful. ‘It would be the answer to Papa’s troubles, Clarice. Could you not marry him for his sake and ours?’
Clarice made a face at her in the mirror. ‘If you think he sounds presenta
ble, you marry him. He would never know the difference…’ Clarice stared at her in the mirror and her expression became one of excitement. ‘Why not? Why do you not wed him in my place? You could be certain that Aunt Beth had a decent home and Papa could come to you whenever he was in trouble.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Clarice.’ While it was true that they were almost identical in looks, apart from a mole on Lottie’s right breast that Clarice did not have, they were very different in character. ‘Surely he would know the difference? I know that many people cannot tell us apart but he must know you better than most.’
‘We have only met once—and he does not know me at all, though he may think he does.’
‘What does that mean?’
Clarice shrugged. ‘He is so arrogant. I suppose I cannot expect you to marry him, Lottie. Yet I shall not. I would rather run away.’
‘You will not change your mind?’
‘No, not for the world,’ Clarice declared. ‘I am sorry if the house must be sold, but I dare say Aunt Beth can find a little cottage to rent.’
‘Is that all you care—after she looked after us for so many years?’
‘Well, I should not like her to be homeless, but I refuse to marry him. If you are so concerned, Lottie, you may marry him yourself. I do think you could for it would be better than being stuck here in the country the whole time.’
‘Do not be so ridiculous. It is you he wants—how could I marry him?’
‘You could pretend to be me.’
‘No, no, that would be cheating him. It is a foolish idea, Clarice. I cannot consider it.’
‘Then Papa will have to tell him the wedding is off,’ Clarice said and looked mutinous. ‘I shall not marry him and that is an end to it.’
‘Have you seen your sister this morning?’ Aunt Beth asked when Lottie came back from her walk the next morning. ‘Your father wanted to speak to her, because the marquis has written to him, but she was not in her room. I knocked, but she did not answer’
‘I expect she is sulking,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ll go up and speak to her at once.’
Taking off her pelisse and bonnet, Lottie went to her own room first. She was thoughtful as she walked along the hall to her sister’s room. She had been thinking about Clarice’s suggestion that she marry Rothsay in her place ever since their argument the previous day. It was a mad idea that they should change places, yet if Clarice truly dug her heels in, what was the alternative?
Lottie knew her sister well enough to be sure that Clarice would never marry to oblige her family. She must dislike the marquis very much, which meant that he was probably a most unpleasant man. Yet if Clarice refused, their father would lose everything.
Knocking at her sister’s door, Lottie waited for a moment, then opened it and went in. The room was empty; by the look of things, Clarice had left it in a hurry. She had clothes strewn everywhere, an odd shoe dropped on the floor—and all her silver combs, brushes and perfume bottles were missing from the dressing chest.
Feeling cold all over, Lottie went to investigate. Looking in the drawers of the tallboy, she saw that some of them were empty of all but Clarice’s oldest things.
As she glanced at the bed, she saw a letter lying on a pillow. It was addressed to her. Tearing it open, her worst fears were soon confirmed.
Clarice had run away.
Tell Papa not to try to find me. I shall never come back and he may as well sell the house because I do not wish to marry that awful man.
‘Oh, Clarice,’ Lottie sighed. ‘What have you done now?’
As a child Clarice had always been selfish and thoughtless, and, because most people could not tell them apart, she had formed a habit of making people think it was Lottie who had broken their vase or knocked over her milk or put a stone through a window.
Glancing at the letter again, Lottie saw the postscript.
Why not do as we discussed and marry him yourself, Lottie? He will never know the difference. He doesn’t care two hoots for me, so what harm can it do?
Lottie took the letter and went back downstairs. She met her father as he emerged from his study. He was looking tired and worried and her heart caught with pain.
‘Father—is something the matter?’
‘Your sister has informed me once again that she will not marry the marquis and I’m damned if I know what to do. I suppose I shall have no choice but to sell the house.’
‘Perhaps not…’
‘What do you mean? Has she changed her mind?’
‘You had better read this, Papa.’ Lottie handed him her twin’s letter. ‘I have no idea where she has gone, but she has taken most of her things—including the silver that belonged to Mama.’
Sir Charles read it through and cursed. ‘She is a thoughtless minx. Well, that settles it. I must sell—and if the marquis sues for breach of promise, I shall probably end up in the Fleet.’
‘Papa! He wouldn’t sue?’
‘He might,’ Sir Charles said. ‘Rothsay will not take this well.’
‘Supposing I did what Clarice suggested?’
He stared at her. ‘Take her place, you mean?’
‘Yes. She says the marquis doesn’t love her.’
‘They only met twice to my knowledge.’ Lottie’s father looked at her with dawning relief in his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t do it—would you?’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Lottie blurted unthinkingly, desperate not to see her father suffer any more distress. She almost denied it instantly, but the look of relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from turning back. ‘Clarice told me that all Rothsay wants from his wife is an heir—and that it was always to be more of a marriage of convenience.’
‘Yes, he was clear that was all he wanted.’ Sir Charles seemed to have shed ten years in an instant. ‘If you could bear it, Lottie—it would be an end to my problems.’
‘Yes, of course I can.’ Lottie forced a smile. ‘Most girls marry for money or position, so why shouldn’t I?’
What else could she do in the circumstances? If she did not take her sister’s place, Aunt Beth would be left homeless, her father might end in a debtor’s prison; though he had given the family nothing but trouble over the years, Lottie remained devoted to her father. No, she couldn’t bear for her family to suffer if there was something she could do to prevent it.
Chapter Two
‘Are you certain you wish to go through with this, Lottie?’ Her father reached for her hand, which was trembling slightly as the carriage horses began to slow to a steady walk. In another few minutes they would arrive at the marquis’s country house and it would be too late to run back. ‘I can tell him you are unwilling and ask him to give me time to pay.’
‘How can you pay, Papa?’ Lottie turned her lovely green eyes on him with a hint of reproach. ‘I have thought long and hard about my decision. Clarice will not marry him. She’s run away and we’ve none of us any idea where she is; besides, Aunt Beth is terrified of losing her home with you. How could she live on fifty pounds a year? I should have to find work to help support us both.’
‘I am ashamed to have brought you to this,’ Sir Charles said. ‘I know well that your sister is selfish,’ he added and looked rueful. ‘She takes after me, while you have your mother’s giving nature. I would not have minded that devil being married to Clarice, for I know she would have given as good as she got—but you may be hurt, Lottie.’
‘I am stronger than you imagine, and, as I’ve said, there is no choice.’ Lottie smiled at him. ‘Now, Papa, you must be careful when calling me Lottie.’
‘Rothsay knows nothing of you. He will merely think it a pet name, which of course it is, Charlotte.’
‘Well, we must be careful all the same.’ Lottie took his hand. ‘As I told you, Papa—I shall see if his lordship will release us from the debt without marriage, but if he will not I shall become his wife. It is perhaps my only chance of marriage and I know I should like to have children, so it will not be so very hard for me.’
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‘Will it not, truly?’
Lottie dropped her eyes. She did not wish her father to know that it was the end of her naïve dreams of finding love and happiness. Clarice had told her the marquis was a terrible rake. Clearly, she could not expect to find happiness with her husband, but at least her aunt would have a home—and she might find content in her children.
‘No, Father. I believe I shall be quite content—unless the marquis is good enough to relent.’
‘I do not think he is likely to change his mind,’ her father said and sighed. ‘I fear you will just have to make up your mind to marry him.’
Lottie did not reply. The carriage had just now drawn to a halt before a grand and imposing house built at some time in the last century, and her heart was beating so fast that she could not have spoken if her life depended on it.
‘The gentleman and young lady have arrived, sir.’ Nicolas turned his head as his butler spoke. ‘I have shown them into the green drawing room, as you requested. Shall I ask Mrs Mann to take in some refreshment?’
‘Yes, you may bring it in ten minutes,’ Nicolas said. ‘I shall greet my guests.’
He was unsmiling as he walked briskly towards the green drawing room at the back of the house. He had waited for some protest, some inkling that the lady wished to withdraw, but none had been forthcoming. He could only hope that the young woman might give him some reason to request an end to this impossible arrangement.
‘Yes, Father, it is very beautiful,’ he heard the young woman’s clear voice as he stood outside the door. ‘I was just thinking how much Aunt Beth would love to live here. I wonder—’
The young woman broke off, turning to look at him with wide eyes as he entered, a faint flush in her cheeks. She was wearing a bonnet of chip straw tied with emerald ribbons, her carriage gown skilfully fashioned of velvet of a similar hue, and he was surprised. In Paris she had worn a gown that was, to say the least, bold, but this morning she looked a modest and very respectable young lady.
