The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Vanessa presented a stiff black satin-covered back to him. "Not as long and painful as my life will be married to a man I fear, a man I could never esteem, respect or love."

  "But what of the gossip? You'll be ruined."

  She spun to face him again. "You gambled me! I've done nothing to be ashamed of! And you should have thought of that gossip before you made the Devil's own bargain.

  "I'm sure no one at the table proposed such a monstrous arrangement. It was all the product of your greedy little mind. I know we are only half-brother and sister and weren't really raised together. I can't blame you entirely for a lack of appropriate feeling toward me. But I can't believe you would think so little of me that you could have attempted to deal with my entire future in so high-handed and cavalier a manner."

  "Please, Vanessa. I want only the best for you, and there did not appear to be any harm. I would be more than happy to see you wed to any one of my friends, or either of our cousins, Peter or Toby. Any of the men who played would have been a good match. Clifford was the worst of them," he fibbed, "and sadly, he won. But you could do worse too in terms of material goods. Stone Court is a magnificent estate, and as chatelaine there you will have more status than you ever dreamt of."

  She stared. "But you told me he was financially desperate enough to want me for my money--"

  "And there can be no false expectations, for it is all up front and above board. He is marrying you for your fortune, plain and simple. Better to know that now than to get all sorts of fustian notions of romance in your head. Marriage is a business arrangement, plain and simple. You would have been in the Mart now looking for a good match had your dear aunt not died in her sleep, God rest her."

  Vanessa froze in front of the hearth, as tense as a cobra about to strike. At the mention of her aunt she sniffed, and flung herself down on the ragged footstool next to her.

  "I know I have been raised quietly in Dorset with my books and stable and the estate affairs, and am not quite as fly to the time of day as you are, Brother. It is true, the Marriage Mart is as you say. But I had hoped to escape it for some time yet. I was hoping to enjoy some freedom, my intellectual and charitable activities, with you as my escort."

  "Bah," Gerald said dismissively. "I'm a horse and hounds sort of a chap. I'd rather have my teeth pulled than attend one of your bluestockings' soirees. Clifford isn't a complete dolt. He did go to Eton and Oxford, after all. He would do well enough for you in that department. And there will be few restrictions upon you as a married woman so long as you observe the proprieties."

  Vanessa shook her head. "I have little enough freedom as a spinster in a man's world. As a wife I would have even less if my husband proved a tyrant. I'm sorry, Gerald. It's out of the question."

  "My dear girl, please reconsider," he began to wheedle. "I know it's an enormous sacrifice to have to make. If there were any other way to save our family home, I would do it gladly. I need that money to help offset the mortgage on Hawkesworth House." He gave a tragic smile for dramatic effect. "Our father would turn in his grave if he found out that Clifford Stone had taken over our ancestral home, had tricked and duped us."

  "If he cheated at cards, forced you to bet me, we can complain to the authorities!" Vanessa insisted, seeing a glimmer of hope in this grim muddle.

  "No, it was nothing like that," he conceded.

  Vanessa shrugged and toyed with her pearl necklace, which peeped above the modest neckline of her black silk gown. She folded her hands in her lap and said primly, "In that case, all of this is your fault, and has nothing to do with me. I shall go back to my aunt's, or to London, until this matter is resolved. I have offered you and Mr. Stone a way to settle this amicably. If you tell me what is owed, I shall call upon Mason and Rogers as soon as I'm in Town and--"

  "No, you won't." Gerald barked. "I've given my word as a gentleman!" He rose from his chair to dash some brandy into a glass, which he downed in one gulp. He splashed in a second measure, and slammed the decanter down so hard she was sure it would shatter. Then he stood by her in front of the cold, empty grate, sipping with a disapproving air.

  He was evidently trying to intimidate her by standing over her in such a manner, but this matter was far too important to back down so easily.

  Vanessa's eyes narrowed. "But I have not given my word, Gerald! In the marriage ceremony, people are afforded the opportunity to object, as you may recall. We can end this farce right now, and it will be just a tempest in a teacup. A bit of juicy gossip readily forgotten in a day or two. Or we can end this absurd situation in a week or two in front of the entire County when I declare my objections loud and clear at the altar for everyone to hear."

  "And I tell you, you're passing up a golden opportunity."

  She tossed her auburn locks in disgust. "A golden opportunity for what, pray tell? To tie myself irrevocably to a loutish gambler who commits criminal acts with impunity?"

  Gerald knelt before her and replied in his most cajoling tone, "This marriage would actually be a way of gaining retribution for all he has done. Do you not see? If you two were ever to have a child, it would inherit both estates, and the County would once more be at peace."

  Vanessa looked at him skeptically. "That is a very big if. For one thing, we might not be able to abide each other. I for one am not willing to take the risk. I'd rather be single for the rest of my life than wed someone I couldn't respect. The whole thing is ridiculous, and this, er, discussion is at an end."

  She turned to go, but Gerald grabbed her by the wrist and squeezed. The pain shot up her arm, but she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.

  He shook her for a second like a terrier with a juicy mouse in his mouth. "If you don't do this, the bailiffs will come and take everything away, and there will be an end of the Hawkesworth family. We'll never be able to hold up our heads in decent society ever again. Everyone will cut us, forsake us! I'll be reduced to a pauper living on your charity. I might even have to go to debtor's prison if Clifford chooses to pursue the matter fully."

  She furiously jerked away from his bruising grasp, tearing the sleeve of her black silk gown and detaching her lace cuff in the process. She noted with horror the purple bruises already forming on her arm. "Just give him back the money and it will all be over."

  "I can't. I applied it toward the mortgage already, first thing this morning," he lied.

  Vanessa shrugged. "That's good. So all we need is some time, Gerald, just until my aunt's estate is settled, for me to pay him back."

  Gerald shook his head and said bitterly, "Let us state the plain truth, shall we? We both know that your Aunt Agatha never trusted me. The solicitors have been instructed that you never be allowed to give me any money. As soon as they make inquiries as to the reason for your request for so large a sum, they'll discover that it's damned low water with me, and that will be the end of my life and yours."

  "I can speak to them, try to persuade--"

  He ignored her entreaties. "Even if I don't end up in debtors' prison, I'll be a homeless beggar. You will be taken into their custodianship and forced to live with a strict chaperone who will never give you the freedoms you enjoyed with your aunt. A married woman has status, a spinster none. Once you wed, your money will be all your own to do with as you choose. Clifford can't force you to give it all to him. I am sure your lawyers are canny enough to work out a favorable pre-nuptial agreement which will give you all you've ever dreamt of, and more. You could wed him and keep-"

  "No!" she argued, stamping her foot for emphasis. "It's dishonest enough marrying a man I detest and fear, without cheating him for your sake too."

  His beady eyes glittered as his mind ran away with his plans. "But the solicitors won't be able to object to you giving me a stipend. After all, you'll be married to Clifford, a wealthy man with an impressive array of lands and family heirlooms purported to be worth a pretty penny. As his wife you will have material goods, status and freedom."

  Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"What freedom? Most women are treated as china dolls or puppets. Once I'm wed, I am my husband's chattel, to do with as he will. You know yourself Joseph Marchant beat his wife to death for supposedly committing adultery with their steward, and never spent one day in jail."

  "Then you shall have to control your desires. Or, if you can't, make certain you don't get caught," Gerald said casually.

  Vanessa stared at him open-mouthed. She waited for a smile or mocking wink, but there was none. With dawning horror she realized he was in earnest.

  "Gerald, those may be your morals, but they're not mine. I've been brought up by my aunt to be decent and God-fearing. I am no light-skirt, sir."

  Gerald simply shrugged. "In that case, you need not worry about the wrath of your husband."

  "Some husbands need no excuse for cruelty."

  She began to pace in front of the empty hearth, wishing their stringent economies didn't have to include rarely having a fire. She rubbed her sore arm and wondered why she suddenly felt chilled to the bone.

  A vague memory flashed in the back of her mind, a sudden impression of a woman in blue, with red spatters on it, and a green carpet...

  Gerald waved his hand in front of her face. He smiled inwardly, now getting inspiration for his next gambit.

  "While he may be a thief and a liar, and overly-fond of the company of ladies, Clifford has not got the reputation for being a complete scoundrel."

  "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that," she said, her tone biting.

  Gerald had all to do to restrain his smirk. "And in view of your own less than sterling reputation hereabouts, I would suggest that you act a bit more grateful, and seize this opportunity with both hands. After all, a woman in your position can't afford to be too particular, now can she?"

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Vanessa stiffened at the unspoken implications of what her half-brother had just said, and replied stiffly, "That was a long time ago, and--"

  "Yes, I know my dear," Gerald said in his most sympathetic tone. "I am well aware that you were ill. A devastating bout of brain fever, no more. But people here in the country have long memories. So little to do with their time, don't you know. They gossip worse than in London."

  Vanessa felt the familiar choking sensation of terror, the darkness encroaching once more. If only she could remember... "If I am to be gossiped about and only serve to make our family situation worse by returning here, then I shall go to London--"

  "You can't run from yourself."

  Vanessa reeled back as though she had been slapped. "I was only a child," she said again, more feebly, hating herself for the whine she heard in her tone.

  Gerald had scored his points, and smiled in satisfaction. Rather than press his advantage with a heavy hand, he appealed to her better nature once more.

  "Please, Sister, I'm begging you. This is a superb opportunity for both of us. Don't let me be cast out into the road like a pauper. Sign this paper stating you will marry him and discharge the debts upon this estate, and only those debts, and the rest of your fortune shall be yours. Plus Clifford's money and family home besides. And you will have a husband, when most likely you would never have secured one, no matter your wealth, once the old tabbies of the Ton got their claws into you and raked up your past."

  She shook her head, both tempted and terrified. And feeling very much put upon by her sibling. "I can't just sign my entire life away without giving the matter far more thought. It's unreasonable for you to ask it. But then, all of your actions have been unreasonable. Certainly not those of an elder brother who should be introducing me into society and looking after my welfare. Not threatening me and practically twisting my arm off when I gainsay him."

  Gerald colored at the accusation, though she had not uttered the words harshly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know my own strength. I beg your pardon for hurting your arm and tearing your frock. You have to believe that I'm trying to help you. In my own way I am being protective. It will be a good match for you, and you'll be free to pursue your, er, hobbies and um, eccentricities, which I understand are very important to you."

  Vanessa groaned. Even without his reminder of her childhood difficulties and fears, she could feel the walls closing in on her. It was apparent from his words that though she had been there only a short time, the servants had already been gossiping about her studying and writing at all hours of the day and night. The servants at her aunt's house had thought her strange, indeed, even called her mad, just as they had done at Hawkesworth House after her mother and later her father had died.

  Grief took people in all sorts of ways, she knew. She was certain she was not mad, but her nightmares, her sudden attacks of forgetfulness or panic, her strange visions of a lady in blue, had been witnessed by enough people in the past to have got her talked about here in Somerset.

  While the English were known throughout Europe for their harmless if dotty people, the specter of the asylum always loomed large. Nightmares and odd reveries were one thing, but no woman was supposed to be so avidly curious or well-educated as she had become, taking refuge from the real world in the realm of books. Praying that the visions she saw in her mind's eye would never come true...

  She sighed, wishing more than anything that her Aunt Agatha were here. Could tell her what to do. But of course, if Aunt were still alive, she thought with a sniff, she certainly would never be in the predicament she was now. The pang of grief which welled up was every bit as acute as the day she had lost her.

  It had been so sudden. And the loss was one that could never be made up for. Her aunt had been a rare lady in every sense of the word, an exceptionally intelligent woman whose parents had fostered her inquiring mind. Vanessa knew only too well how much she owed her. And how much she had come to love her.

  When her father had become a widower, and Vanessa had become what was labeled difficult, her mother's sister Agatha had raised the little eight-year old girl the only way she had known how, taking her mind off her odd fits and starts by teaching her all she had learned. It had been a never-ending source of pride to Agatha that her niece had not only surpassed her in learning, but also mastered all the accomplishments so fashionable for ladies of quality in society. She had been sure her young charge would certainly turn more than a few heads if she were ever to leave her self-imposed isolation, but Vanessa had been a homebody despite having developed into a great beauty, the talk of Dorset.

  What were balls and soirees compared with consols and selective breeding? Vanessa had rejected the fashion papers in favor of the Farmer's Almanac, and shown remarkable aptitude for running an estate.

  Using all the knowledge she had gleaned from her books, she had set up experiments in farming which had been successful as well. Rotating crops, animal husbandry, these had seemed unusual ideas at first, but bumper yields and the best horses and cattle in the shire had proven Vanessa to be an astute farmer and manager.

  Yet now that she had returned here, she was once more being labeled eccentric, which so far as she was concerned, was just a polite word for mad.

  She thought of her old home with an acute stab of regret. It had been a pity that Aunt Agatha's estate was to be sold, though it would certainly fetch a pretty penny, prosperous as it was.

  Why, oh why, could she not be allowed to live there and manage it by herself? What had Agatha been thinking to force her hand, making her come back to this terrible, gloomy old place after all of her wondrous freedom in Dorset?

  But Society frowned upon unmarried women, and her reputation would have been in tatters had she sought to go against convention. There were also huge disadvantages to being considered a bluestocking.

  Even worse, as long as she remained unmarried and unprotected, she would be the prey of every fortune hunter in the County, if not all of England and Scotland, such was the fame of her small-holding.

  But the instructions in Aunt Agatha's will had been clear: Vanessa was to sell the property and move back home to her family estate with Gerald as h
er chaperon. Her two solicitors would oversee the sale and the administration of her considerable fortune. Surely they would not...

  "Please sign the paper, and the marriage will take place by the end of the month," Gerald urged again.

  Vanessa clung onto her last thought with eager desperation. "My solicitors will have to be informed at once. I can do nothing without their approval until I'm twenty-one. Even when I reach the age of majority, they will still insist on an appropriately drawn up marriage settlement."

  "You know they'll raise objections, and we have little time. Tell them you are marrying, and that you must do it soon."

  She shook her head. "I can't get them to agree just like that. There are settlements, papers to sign, negotiations. Even if I were willing to say I wanted to marry Clifford tomorrow, and be party to the dealings between the solicitors as to my dowry, I still fail to see the reason for such haste. Can we not speak to Mr. Stone, tell him--"