"Go on, dear. You can tell me."
She glanced right and left, saw their companions in the distance, but not close enough to hear. She took his hand then and walked on.
"I don't feel disgust when I'm with you, but I'm sure it's only natural to be fearful."
"Yes, I just said so."
"But there is more to it than simple virginal insecurity."
"It's not simple at all, my dear," he said firmly, with a sympathetic look that made her want to hug him for being so understanding. "But go on."
"The truth is I like and admire you, but to, well, er, engage in conjugal relations is a most intimate act. A giving of oneself that I have never experienced. I fear my own nature, and I fear we might not be compatible in that way. I'm concerned about trusting someone so completely with my fate as I must, of necessity, trust you as my husband. Must trust a man with my whole fate, a being more powerful than me both physically, and politically. I have seen too many unequal, and unhappy marriages, to not have qualms."
She paused before confiding in a low tone, "I know my parents did not have a happy marriage. It may not have been for that reason, though. I cannot tell. I know she had miscarriages and some babes born who died shortly thereafter. I know that is the nature of things, but it left them very sad. I'm sure she was terrified of pregnancy and childbirth. They argued at times, though I could not hear about what. Then Mother died, and I went to live with Aunt Agatha, who was never married, and was not exactly a warm and doting parental figure.
"So what I am saying is, I'm afraid I don't know how to love. I've never had to please anyone but myself. You're trusting your happiness to an eighteen-year-old girl who has been foisted upon you by circumstances and your own desire to rescue her. But I would not have you be my white knight upon a charger if you're going to be miserable for the rest of your life with a woman who cannot give you all you need."
He took her hand and kissed it. "I admit our relationship has begun unconventionally, but you are what I want, now and for always."
She gazed up at him. "How can you be so sure?"
"Because I've never felt anything like this for any woman before," he said truthfully. He stroked her hand in both his own. "My regard for you grows every day. I won't rush you, but--"
"Then why must we marry so quickly? Can we not have time to get to know each other, to make certain we are doing the right thing?"
He sighed. "No. I'm afraid not."
"Why not?"
He did not reply, but turned away to look around him for a time, and then nodded at the fox Henry pointed out, which was peering at them through the hedge which separated the garden from the open fields.
"Why not?" she demanded.
He turned to face her head on. There was no beating about the bush any longer. "The truth is, I do not trust your half-brother Gerald with your welfare. He is selfish and immoderate, and has been going from bad to worse. I know he has told you all sorts of dreadful things about me. Or at least he did before he suddenly lost you at cards. I suspected all those years ago that he was unkind to you, made your life a misery. I cannot think that the nightmares you had at Dr. Gold's were unrelated to us discussing childhood matters and you having returned to the district."
"But nightmares are just figments of--"
He shook his head. "I am not accusing you of anything. And there is no need to be embarrassed. But you might as well admit the truth to me. Your own home fills you with misgivings, doesn't it? I will not have you going back to Hawkesworth House after you nearly died there."
"But--"
"You can't go back to your Aunt Agatha's. Nor do I trust your ambitious cousins. You can't stay here indefinitely. You can visit with the Bransons for a time, but I would prefer to have you properly settled in your future home. That leaves marriage to me as quickly as possible so that I can protect you. Then all of this uncertainty and most of my fears for your safety will be put to rest."
Vanessa stared at him in horror. "You are blaming Gerald for my illness, aren't you!" she gasped. "Aren't you!"
"All right, yes, I am. No, don't turn away! Listen to me!" He took her by the shoulders firmly. "I know I have no real proof, but just think for a moment. He fed you dinner, poured you coffee, gave instructions for the whole house to be shut up as tightly as a drum, so no one could get in, or out. The servants said he had never given orders like that before, not even with the band of highwaymen on the loose for the past few months. What other conclusions can I draw?"
Vanessa shook herself free, turned on her heel, and began to head back to the house. Clifford wanted to go after her, but he knew it would be useless, if not outright counterproductive, to press his case further.
Henry shot his brother a confused look, and went running after Vanessa to escort her back to the house, leaving Clifford to bring up the rear with Josephine.
"Oh no, not your first lover's quarrel."
Clifford shrugged. "She is shocked, of course, and naturally loyal to her brother. I could perhaps have discussed my suspicions with her a little bit better. I just pray she'll find out what Gerald is before it is too late."
Josephine cautioned, "It may well drag her down, you know. And your children in the future."
"It is not her fault. She has not even seen him in years."
"I know you have no proof, but even if it isn't Gerald, I don't trust their cousins one jot. And her aunt is off in another world half the time. With such an unhappy family history, it's no wonder that they are said to be mad."
Clifford stared at Josephine. "Do you think she's mad? Give me your honest opinion."
"Very sad, and frighteningly intelligent for many men and women, but mad?" She shook her head. "No, not at all."
"Thank you."
Josephine patted his arm. "I wish you every happiness, but your road will be a long one."
He sighed heavily. "I've reached the fork in the road, Josephine, and know not which path to take. They all look winding and difficult."
She patted his shoulder. "Then follow your heart, Clifford."
He sighed heavily. "I intend to. I just hope for all our sakes I'm not leading us straight into Hell."
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Clifford was restless to see Vanessa and explain his suspicions. He longed to discuss his recollections of when she had been a child, and also the recent events which had led him to believe that Gerald was a dangerous man. However, he forced himself to be patient and just wait. He knew she needed time to absorb what he had said thus far. Their newfound trust was a very shaky thing, and he would not do anything at this juncture to disturb that.
He felt like a caged lion, pacing to and fro in his chamber. To alleviate his feelings, he asked Henry and Malcolm to join him in his room, and recounted in a low voice what he remembered about the bruises he had seen on Vanessa's arms and face when she had fled the house once many years before. About her weeping over the neck of her horse on occasion when he had secretly gone to see her fabulous riding tricks.
"I never thought about it then," he said with a sigh. "At that age, how could I be expected to understand such insidious cruelty? Even if I had, I would have assumed her parents protected her, and that a brother could never behave so unnaturally. Now I know I have underestimated his evil."
"Unless of course it was her parents? Or cousins?" Henry suggested.
Clifford shook his head. "Her mother adored her. Her father too, I would say, and she has never indicated any unease so far as either of them were concerned. She is not overly warm to her cousins. They were most certainly in a position to taunt her. Even Paul, the youngest, though they're pretty much of an age."
Malcolm said, "I must admit, though I'm appalled to say it, that you could well be correct about the cruelty she suffered. It was dismissed as brain fever, was it not? Well, what if all she said was actually true? These nightmares. Maybe they are not bad dreams, but recollections dredged up now that she has returned to Somerset after so many years?"
"That is my guess."
"So he has been systematically cruel to her for years. And he has been greedy and desperate. Perhaps even desperate enough to commit robbery. Then her aunt died and he saw an entirely different means of alleviating his difficulties. Vanessa."
"Aye. Her marriage, or her death."
Malcolm drummed his fingers on the desk impatiently. "So not only must Gerald be one of the highwaymen, but mayhap even his cousins as well. It may have started out as a lark, or an easy way to get money, but the Widow Marsters and her daughters, that was sheer insanity. One can only pray that they were already dead when the cottage was set alight."
"Though knowing Gerald, I wouldn't have been at all surprised if he had enjoyed listening to them scream," Clifford remarked with a shake of his head.
"Wasn't he sent away to a military school for a time after Vanessa's mother died?" Henry recalled suddenly.
Clifford nodded and flung himself into the window seat with a sigh. "My memory may be imperfect, but I seem to recall that he was expelled from several of those institutions as utterly ungovernable. I know because Gerald's father came to my father to ask his advice. I remember Father saying to me afterwards that he was a most fortunate man in having two sons who were sober and industrious, and not put on this earth to plague all who knew him."
"I remember Father saying that to me as well," Henry confirmed. "Despite me being a bit of a wag." He and his brother shared a warm smile. "And I had heard rumors, of course. Father also made it perfectly clear that he did not want me to associate with Gerald in any way. Now that we are on the subject, I must also reveal that I had a so-called hunting accident once when I was out shooting grouse. A bullet winged me. You remember, Clifford."
"I do indeed. You had a new part in your hair after that."
Henry showed Malcolm the old scar, which ran about three inches from the front to the back of his left ear. "I always thought it was a poacher. But with our land adjoining Hawkesworth House, it could have been Gerald."
"Oh my." Malcolm looked truly horrified.
"The trouble is, all we have are recollections, rumors, and a series of unsolved crimes without any substantial clues, any evidence left behind which could point to the guilty party."
"My father is doing the best he can, and the regiment Samuel Jerome is serving in. We can only hope some will come to light soon," Malcolm prayed.
The two Stone brothers fervently echoed his wish.
A few miles away, on the outskirts of the village of Willesden, at the northernmost edge of Millcote Forest, the tall dark young man lay pale and still as death.
The old woman and her daughter still wondered at the miracle that had led their cow to break its fence and wander off their property and down the road into the woods. There they had found him. The young man had been lying under a tree, a noose around his neck, his hands fastened behind his back so tightly she had barely been able to untie him. Susan had loosened the noose, checked he was still breathing, and run for her mother and younger brother in a panic.
With the help of some ropes, boards, and their donkey, they had dragged him home with them and hidden him in the barn. They were not sure if he was some criminal who had been subjected to rough and summary justice, but they did not hold with taking a life no matter what the crime. The man's clothes were far better than their own, and his face looked kind, at least so far as they could tell considering he had been beaten to beetroot. Whoever had done this to him had wanted to kill him. They could only nurse him, hide him, and try to get the poor man away to safety before someone returned to finish the job.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
On Monday morning, Vanessa found Samuel Jerome staring disconsolately at the pile of letters resting on the silver salver by the door.
"Good morning, Mr. Jerome."
"Good morning, Miss Hawkesworth."
"Expecting a letter?"
"I am indeed. My brother Martin, who serves in a regiment in the north, sent word to us that he was to come home on leave, and bring his new wife with him. They fell so very much in love that Father gave them permission to wed immediately. I'm very much looking forward to meeting this paragon of virtue who has turned my brother's head so utterly. My family in Barton were supposed to let me know when he arrived, and bring them over so she could meet this side of the family. We have been planning the festivities ever since we heard of their marriage. But as of yet, there has been no word. It's been several days since they should have arrived."
"With the war on, all sort of unexpected delays or changes of plans could have occurred. I'm sure they will be here soon. I look forward to meeting them when they do."
The young officer still stared at the salver pensively. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. I only hope Martin hasn't gone overseas ahead of me. We both have a wager as to which of us will get to face old Boney first. If you will excuse me, I shall just dash off a note to my parents, and then go find my youngest cousins. I've promised to take them riding. Would you care to join us?"
"I would love to, Mr. Jerome. But I'm afraid my day is engaged already with some pressing business matters, and a trip to Stone Court with Josephine."
"Another time, perhaps."
She smiled. "Indeed, I shall look forward to it."
He took her hand and bowed over it, before retiring to the study.
A movement behind her caused her to stiffen. She knew even without him speaking that it was Clifford. As always, he was dressed impeccably. This time he had on a somber-looking charcoal gray coat and breeches with a dark pinstriped waistcoat and pearl-gray cravat. He certainly knew how to dress for every occasion, she reflected with grudging admiration. She looked herself over in her dark print gown once more in the hall mirror by the cloakroom.
"Please, I don't want to quarrel with you in front of the others," she whispered as he drew alongside her.
"I don't wish to fight with you either, my dear. I simply wish to know if I have managed to alleviate your concerns regarding marrying me to permit the interview with our solicitors to proceed as intended."
She bit her lip and stared at the floor in confusion. She enjoyed being with Clifford, and had never felt so moved by a man. So alive and full of hope for the future. But it was hard for her to trust him, especially after the suspicions he had voiced concerning Gerald. Was he just trying to put her off the scent, make her doubt Gerald so thoroughly that she would just disregard all her half-brother had ever said about their neighbor? That Clifford was a rake, a man of loose morals, with dozens of side-slips to his credit.
Who could she trust? Who could she believe? She had always relied upon her own instincts. Now she felt completely lost in a swirling sea of emotions.
At the same time though, she knew her aunt would have told her to listen to her heart. And her own common sense told her to believe what she saw and heard for herself, rather than rely upon hearsay or gossip.
She had spent a great deal of time with Clifford and his family and friends. Never once had they caused her a moment's disquiet. He did not treat his female friends in a demeaning way. He had seemed candid about his past. He was certainly a political Radical, but not a degenerate. Gerald's friends, on the other hand...
Vanessa ventured to lift her head and gaze into Clifford's eyes searchingly. At length she offered him her hand. "We have much to settle. There will be time. If you give me your word not to press me about Gerald and about, well, starting a family, sharing my life with you completely as a wife should, I shall believe you."
He pressed her hand tightly, and placed it on his heart. "I give you my word. If you find marriage to me unbearable, it will come to an end, no matter how I might feel about it. I care enough about you to want you to be happy, even if it is with another man. But I think we can be very happy together, if only you will trust me."
Vanessa nodded. "I shall try to trust you. It will be hard, but I shall try."
He kissed her hand, and she ventured to stroke his thick blond locks.
&nbs
p; "Vanessa," he whispered as he straightened.
She stretched up to plant a sweet kiss upon his lips, but it soon became like wildfire as the light bristle of his chin rasped her tender flesh, sending shivers of delight up and down her spine. She wanted more than a simple chaste peck, oh, so much more. She opened her mouth under his, and allowed her tongue to dart between his lips, tasting him like a fine wine. He allowed her to explore, but as his desire mounted more furiously than ever, he pulled away.
"Friday. Not a day later. Promise me," he pleaded urgently.
She nodded, and said in a breathy whisper, "I will."
They sprang apart guiltily as their three solicitors arrived in the hall.
Vanessa blushed and ran to the breakfast room to get a cup of tea before the proceedings began.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 25
