He lifted her chin, and for one moment her heart cried out in elation. He was going to kiss her. “Let me make this right between us. Give me a chance.”
Caught off guard by the vibrancy in his words, Claire waited for his lips to meet hers; then reason came to the rescue and she turned her head. The jangle of a bridle broke the spell between them. Charles sat on his horse, holding Hermes’s reins. The young man must have had ample time to witness the exchange. With a bright red face, he dismounted without looking at either of them.
Alex found his voice first. “Have a care. Do not leave the marchioness’s side while she’s in town. Help her mount.”
Then he leaned toward her and whispered in her ear, “This will not stand, my lady wife.”
With assistance from Charles, Claire took her seat. Her double-crossing heart faltered in admiration as Alex swung into the saddle with a refined skill that few men possessed.
With a single nudge, she fled the park as if Cerberus, the hound from the netherworld, was nipping at her heels. She never looked back.
* * *
Claire caught the sweet scent of roses that hung heavy in the air. Pitts guarded the entry with a large arrangement of at least fifty roses with blooms a riot of pink and red.
Aunt Ginny didn’t hide her admiration. “My word, Pitts, I’ve never seen so many different hues. Is that for Lady Emma?”
“No, Your Grace. This arrangement is Lady Pembrooke’s, along with this parcel.” Pitts handed the box and card directly into Claire’s hands. “Delivered with the arrangement, my lady.”
The card bore her title, written in Alex’s masculine signature. She took a deep breath of the roses’ sweet fragrance and tucked the memory away for later. “Pitts, would you have a footman deliver them to my room? Thank you.”
He nodded and headed below stairs to see the task carried out.
Claire looked at the roses for several moments. They were spectacular, potent with fragrance and deep in color. The bouquet’s colors spoke of passion, desire, and admiration. At least, she hoped it was not her imagination galloping away.
Her aunt whispered, “Take the box upstairs to open it. There’s no need to upset Sebastian again. Later, you mustn’t forget to tell me what’s in it. I won’t ask about the card.” An understanding grin tugged at the corners of her mouth.
Claire ran to her bedroom. After the roses arrived, she locked the door. Taking one more smell of the fragrant bouquet, she sat at the window ledge. She opened the card, and her heart skipped a beat. His scent surrounded her when she pulled the note out of the envelope.
Forgive me. A
Instead of opening the small box immediately, she felt the weight of it in her hands. Slowly, she untied the ribbon that held it closed and opened the top. Inside was a dark blue velvet bag. She tipped the contents and gasped when a beautiful thistle brooch made of pink sapphires and diamonds set in gold fell into her hands. The fire from the gems made the entire room sparkle.
With reverence, she replaced the pin in its velvet case. Claire turned the events over in her mind and kept coming back to the same question. Why was he doing this? His actions toward Lord Paul and his insistence she return to Pemhill were not what she had expected. If he thought a bouquet and a piece of jewelry would erase the pain he’d caused her, he was more arrogant than she thought.
Her treacherous heart kept its steady beat, coaxing her to examine his actions more closely. Could she dare hope he might truly want her? Perhaps he realized the truth of her words that he needed to make amends. She fought the argument pounding for attention.
If their marriage had any chance of success, she’d be the one to take all the risk.
* * *
Claire grew tired of living in a permanent fog of misery. She needed a day trip, a short jaunt to see the countryside and smell the fresh air. It held the possibility of alleviating her mood, or at least putting some distance from her troubles.
She squinted at the bright sun in the sky as Charles assisted her into the curricle. A gentle, cooling breeze caught the bonnet ribbons tied under her chin and made them dance.
“Are you ready, my lady?” Charles played with the reins and sat on the edge of the seat.
The excitement of seeing an old friend made her anxious to start. “Yes. I’m ready.” A sharp tug from the horses, and the vehicle lurched forward.
After an hour, she arrived at a small but well-kept cottage close to the outskirts of Leyton. Claire studied the pastoral setting with its beautiful gardens and green fields. She breathed the fresh scent of the country and immediately missed the tranquility of Pemhill.
“Charles, why don’t you go to the inn for lunch? You may come back at three to collect me.”
“Very good, my lady.” He waited for Claire to receive an answer to her knock.
Before the cottage door fully opened, Lucy Porter’s face beamed with joy. “Oh, my goodness, Lady Claire! You’re a sight for sore eyes, you are. Come in.” The petite woman called into the small house, “Uncle Roger, you’ll never guess who’s here to pay a visit!” When she realized she’d left Claire standing, Lucy exclaimed, “Come in this instant. Oh, my lady, if I’d known you were coming, I’d have made tea.”
Claire gave the woman a big hug. “Lucy, I’m not intruding, am I? I wanted to escape from the city for a day.”
Lucy’s eyes glowed with laughter. “Uncle Roger will be delighted to keep you to himself.”
After a quick nod to Charles that signaled he was free to go, Claire entered and took off her bonnet. She carried a basket she’d brought from Langham Hall and placed it on the table. “Here are some things Cook gathered for Mr. Jordon. His favorites, including those cheese scones he’d sneak to me if I turned up my nose at dinner.”
A voice called from another room, “Lucy, is that Lady Claire come to visit? Bring her in!”
Claire hurried into the study, not waiting for Lucy. Her old friend stood before her. He tilted his head in an attempt to locate her approach. Claire extended her hand and squeezed his.
“Mr. Jordon, here I am.” Claire finally felt some peace as she greeted her family’s retired butler. Roger Jordon had held the position for three of the Dukes of Langham. He had served for forty-eight years before his failing eyesight forced him to retire. He received a solid retirement from the Cavensham family for loyal service, but Claire supplemented his income.
“My lady, please sit. I got a letter from Pitts that announced you’d married. I want to hear the news.” Jordon’s deep baritone still brought a smile to Claire’s face.
Lucy came in with a small tray with tea and the fresh cheese scones. “My lady, will you pour? I’m late for an appointment at the village. I’m tempted to stay with you, but I hate to cancel on the dressmaker. I may never get another frock if she takes offense.”
“Go ahead, and take your time. We’ll be right here when you return.”
“Uncle Roger, be on your best behavior. I’ll return soon.” Lucy’s voice stayed in the air as she rushed out the door.
Claire turned to her friend, and the warm feelings of nostalgia rushed forward. “How are you?”
His eyes were bright, and he still held a butler’s posture. However, his movements were stiff when he sat. He’d aged quite a bit over the last year. It took a few minutes for him to settle. “I’m well and happy. I enjoy my life and especially enjoy the visits from you.” His warm smile brightened the room and her mood. He’d always been a true friend when she needed one the most.
Claire spent the next four hours telling him about her family and the details of their lives. She spoke of her marriage to Alex but left out their estrangement. There was no use upsetting the gentle man. She shared everything that had occurred during her visit to Wrenwood. He clasped both of her hands when she told the tale, giving her strength to share the experience.
A slow catharsis built from their conversation. She owed him everything. The visits did more for her than she imagined they did for him. Before
she realized how much time had passed, Charles knocked at the door. Claire said her good-byes and promised to return soon.
On their way out of town, Claire stopped at the solicitor’s office. The firm of Fitzsimmons and Walters handled her affairs for Mr. Jordon. She asked Mr. Fitzsimmons to keep a watchful eye on Mr. Jordon and Lucy. If their needs exceeded the yearly allowance, Claire wanted to know immediately. She could never repay the man for staying by her side after the accident. If Claire had it within her power, she would make certain he never wanted for a thing.
Chapter Fourteen
At the crack of dawn, Alex received a missive from Macalester. Brief, it contained the address and name of the man Claire had visited in Leyton. A former housekeeper named Lucy Porter owned the cottage. Retired from a position in the Duke of Southart’s household, she would have been well acquainted with Southart’s second son, Lord Paul. The housekeeper’s elderly uncle, Roger Jordon, lived with her. He was the connection to his wife, as Jordon had served as butler for the previous Duke of Langham, Claire’s father.
The news that there was a connection to Lord Paul burned more than if he’d been run through with a saber, but he refused to let the torment paralyze him. Too much was at stake to wallow in self-pity and doubts again. On his own in London, he’d had many occasions to think of Claire and Alice. He’d idealized his sister and thought her completely innocent, but he’d done the exact opposite with Claire. He’d allowed his doubts to dictate his actions.
Posthaste, Alex ordered Ares, mounted, and departed for Leyton.
His jaw set, he stood in front of the small, well-kept cottage and made a vow he’d not rest until he’d uncovered every secret hidden inside. More important, he’d not let Claire go without a fight. Mills had made him realize how much he loved her. He had to convince her and bring her home.
With a brisk knock, Alex waited until a maid answered. She made him wait outside while she ducked behind the door to confer with her employer. Alex couldn’t hear the conversation, but he heard a deep baritone voice rumble. The maid returned and escorted Alex to a closed door.
“My lord, Mr. Jordon is waiting in the study. If you need anything, please ring.”
A tall, elderly gentleman grasped the desk with his hands and cocked his head. His eyes were clear but didn’t rest on Alex. He looked out the window.
Alex crossed the room and stood in front of the desk. “I’m Lord Pembrooke. If you’d be so kind, I’d like a few minutes of your time.”
The man continued to look out the only window in the room without facing Alex. With a slight bow of his head, Mr. Jordon extended his hand. “My lord, please sit down. If I may be so bold, it took you long enough to find me. I believe you and I have a lot in common.”
When the old man continued to tilt his head without a direct look, Alex realized Jordon was blind. “You received a visit from my wife yesterday. I beg your pardon if I appear disrespectful, but I’m curious about your relationship and the reason for her visit.”
Mr. Jordon laughed with glee. “My lord, it would be my pleasure. I don’t get to extol the virtues of Lady Claire, I mean Lady Pembrooke, often enough. You have a remarkable and generous wife, a true Cavensham both in looks and, more importantly, in spirit and charity. If her father were alive today, I’m certain he’d be the proudest papa in all of England. No doubt he’s one of the proudest in heaven.” Reflecting for a moment, Jordon continued, “He loved that child, as did her mother. I was blessed to have been able to serve their family.”
Before Alex could comment, Jordon continued, “You’ll have to ask Lady Pembrooke why she came yesterday.”
The man’s arrogance was unexpected. Alex caught himself and refrained from answering with a cutting retort. Since Claire had come into his life, it seemed easier to get what he wanted if he stayed calm, though it was damned difficult sometimes. “Sir, help me understand. Who exactly are you?”
“I was the butler for the family when the fourth duke, Lady Pembrooke’s grandfather, was alive. After his passing, the fifth duke, Lady Pembrooke’s father, kept me on. I traveled with the family from estate to estate. Wrenwood became a favorite because of Lady Pembrooke’s mother. It’s where the duke and duchess met and fell in love.”
Alex relaxed. He’d share a little information with the old man and see what he got in return. “After Lady Pembrooke and I married, we arrived at Pemhill for a short visit. Wrenwood holds a lot of memories for her.” Alex believed there was no reason to tell the man how Claire fell apart.
Mr. Jordon looked directly into Alex’s face as if able to divine the truth.
Alex held firm without a word. He waited to see if the old man would share his secrets. He wouldn’t leave without answers.
The butler raised his nose in the air to take Alex’s measure, then nodded his head. “You’ll have to ask Lady Pembrooke your questions. I’ll not betray a friend’s confidences.”
“Is my wife in trouble? Why does she give you money?” Alex ran a hand through his hair, and the questions tumbled from his mouth. “Did the Langham family not settle enough funds at the end of your service?”
Jordon practically growled at Alex. “My lord, I was with your wife when her parents died. That is the connection. She comes to visit on occasion.”
Alex changed the tenor of the visit, as he was getting nothing from the conversation. “Mr. Jordon, please. I’m trying to help my wife.”
The old butler raised an eyebrow.
Alex scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled loudly. “The truth is I need help.”
“I understand Lady Pembrooke visited Wrenwood alone. I hope you won’t allow that to happen again.” Jordon relaxed his posture and continued, “My lord, I assume she’s never told you what she went through when her parents died?”
The old man held Claire in high esteem. There was something dignified and chivalrous in his tone when he talked about her.
“No, not yet. She’s addressed the tragedy in general but not in detail.”
“I don’t know what troubles lie between you and Lady Claire, but the hesitation in your voices when you speak of the other tells me neither of you is comfortable in your marriage.”
Alex had no choice but to confide in the impertinent old man. Otherwise he would get nowhere. “Claire and I have not had what one would call a smooth start because of my actions and attitude. I want to make amends but need help to know how…” Alex exhaled. “I need to bring her home.”
“She’s a rare gift.” The butler waited, then laced his hands and placed them on the desk.
The old man surprised him. Jordon bowed his head and shook it before looking straight into Alex’s eyes. “What that child went through would cause a grown man to lose his mind. But it’s best if it comes from her.”
Alex stood. It was time to leave and gather his thoughts. “I won’t take up any more of your time, sir.”
“Wait, my lord. There’s a final issue to discuss. You’re correct about the money. Even though the Langham family was generous to me, your wife provides me with one hundred and fifty pounds a year. I’m not certain why she does it, but it’s appreciated.”
Alex raised his eyebrows. This was an unexpected confession. The man obviously suffered guilt from taking the money.
“I keep the money in an account. After I die, I’ve given instructions all moneys are to pass to Lady Claire’s children. I’ve never spent a shilling. If she believes she owes me something, she’s wrong. I’m the one that owes the debt to her.” The old man chuckled to himself. “She continues to provide me with her company and acts as if she enjoys visiting with an old man.”
Alex took Mr. Jordon’s hand in his own. “I’m pleased you feel that way. She is a gift. One I do not deserve. But one I’ll attempt to earn every day by my actions toward her.”
Mr. Jordon struggled as he stood, his bones creaking. “I want to see her happy.”
Emotion tightened around Alex’s throat like a garrote, but he continued. “As do I. Thank
you. I want you to have the annuity Claire started on your behalf. Only, I want to provide it. Think of it as one man’s payment of a debt to another. You kept my wife safe and sound until she went to live with her uncle, the Duke of Langham, and the duke, in turn, did the same for me. I can never repay either of you what I owe. Please keep the money.”
“I’m glad you understand.” Mr. Jordon bowed his head.
Something horrid had happened to his wife, and he was desperate to find out. Even though he was indignant with the elderly butler, he recognized loyalty. Jordon loved Claire and would protect her at all costs. Witnessing the hurt and devastation on Jordon’s face, he realized that the tragedy still haunted this man. If it haunted an elderly man, it would not be hard to imagine the magnitude of its impact on Claire.
Alex took his leave and made it back to his town house in record time. Nothing would stop him from seeing her tonight. He’d examined the paper and his invitations for any society events that might draw her interest. The only one was a mind-numbing musicale presentation at the Martins’ home. Alex was fairly confident Claire was at Langham Hall. The unknown was how he would reach her.
He instructed Jean-Claude to prepare a bath. He dressed in dark, comfortable clothes and a long black cloak perfect for a night when he wanted to stay hidden.
After a short walk to Langham Hall through the back alleys, Alex waited outside the mews until the house grew dark and its occupants settled for the evening. His need to see Claire overpowered any normal sense of propriety. As the night stilled, he studied the structure. At all costs, he had to avoid Pitts raising the alarm. One go-around with the Duke of Langham was enough for any man.
Claire’s room was on the second floor, close to the family wing. He noted the individual balconies that framed the windows. At the far end of the building, closest to the alley, a single window stood open. The ivy growing on the brick was thick and deep but wouldn’t hold his weight. Another solution was directly above him. An easily climbable oak tree stood guard over Claire’s quarters.
The Bad Luck Bride Page 25
