The Penniless Bride

by Nicola Cornick

  Their gazes locked. ‘Could I?’ Jemima asked.

  Rob leaned back against the plaster wall and stretched out his legs. He looked extremely elegant in the squalor of the Hoop and Grapes, but also, to Jemima’s surprise, rather tough. In such surroundings he could hold his own.

  ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘I have drunk in far worse places than this when I was on campaign.’

  Jemima nodded. ‘I imagine so. I did not think that you scared easily, Lord Selborne, not even if I told you that the fellow in the corner is a scamp—that is, a highwayman.’

  ‘Is he?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Ned Macaine. He works the Great North Road.’

  Rob’s lips twitched. ‘He seems to like the look of you, Miss Jewell.’

  It was true. The highwayman, a strikingly handsome young man, raised his glass to her. Jemima, sensing the opportunity for revenge, smiled back sweetly.

  Rob laughed. ‘So. We are all square, I believe. But you did not answer me. Do you come here often?’

  Jemima shook her head. ‘Not any more. This is Jack’s favourite tavern, which was why I knew we would be safe here.’

  ‘Your father does not drink here?’

  ‘No.’ Jemima laughed. ‘Father is far too proud to frequent the Hoop these days. He thinks himself too good for places like this.’ She looked around. ‘Those gentlemen over there—the ones with the clay pipes, playing the game of cribbage—they are master sweeps. Do not worry. They will not give us away.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ Rob said. He poured some of the ale into her tankard. ‘I am sure that you will protect me from all comers, Miss Jewell.’

  ‘I am sure that you can look after yourself,’ Jemima said truthfully. She took a mouthful of ale. ‘So, what is there for us to discuss?’

  ‘The wedding, for one thing,’ Rob said. ‘It is fixed for ten o’clock in three days’ time, at the church of St Saviour.’

  ‘At Borough?’

  ‘I am afraid so.’ Rob scowled into his glass. ‘In the interests of discretion…’

  ‘I understand. And do not worry—I have walked around worse neighbourhoods than the Borough.’

  ‘I dare say.’ Rob flashed another glance around the tavern. He looked moody. ‘It is not that I do not think you can stomach it, Miss Jewell, it is that I feel it is not good enough for you.’

  Jemima felt an errant tug of emotion. ‘You are very kind, but I assure you it will do very well. It is only a means to an end, after all.’

  It seemed the wrong thing to say, ungracious, somehow. Rob’s scowl deepened. ‘I suppose that your brother will be accompanying you?’

  ‘Yes, he will.’

  ‘No doubt I should be glad.’

  Jemima sighed. ‘You do not like each other, do you?’

  Rob’s expression eased slightly. ‘It is more that I believe your brother does not trust me and I understand why.’

  ‘So do I.’ It was Jemima’s turn to frown. ‘I still think the pair of you are very annoying.’

  Rob laughed. ‘I beg your pardon. By the way, I shall also be bringing a wedding guest. My cousin Ferdie is to be my groomsman.’

  Jemima drained her tankard of ale. ‘Have you told him everything?’

  ‘I have. And sworn him to secrecy.’

  There was a silence between them.

  ‘Do we go back now?’ Jemima asked. ‘Now that that is all decided?’

  ‘Not yet,’ Rob said. ‘I am enjoying myself far too much.’

  Jemima looked him over thoughtfully. He did indeed look entirely at ease as he lounged on the settle, one shoulder propped against the wall, the folds of his coat falling open to reveal the buff pantaloons and plain navy jacket beneath. Every inch of him spoke of quality, from the linen of his shirt to the high polish on his boots. No wonder the serving girls were positively panting after him.

  ‘I hope that your brother will be able to keep an eye on you when you go to live in Twickenham,’ Rob said. ‘Although Churchward, my man of business, will attend to anything that you wish, it will be comforting to know that you have other people to call on.’

  ‘Oh, I shall still see Jack,’ Jemima agreed. She felt slightly guilty. She had resolved not to tell Rob of any of her plans for a school, thinking that he might cut up rough at the thought of her working for a living. She might be the Countess of Selborne in name only, soon to be Countess no more, but in the interim he would probably expect her to live quietly.

  ‘So, what do you intend to do with your time when you are there?’ Rob asked.

  Jemima jumped. It seemed that he could add an ability to read her mind to his other attributes.

  ‘Do?’ She knew she sounded evasive. ‘I understood that ladies did not “do” anything. I have been looking forward to doing nothing at all.’

  Rob grinned. His hand covered hers, vital and warm. Jemima jumped again, for a different reason.

  ‘Try telling me the truth, Jemima,’ he said. ‘You don’t strike me as the sort of lady who would be content to sit about doing nothing. So what are you planning?’

  Blue eyes met brown. There was a distinctly quizzical twinkle in Rob’s own. Jemima capitulated.

  ‘Oh, very well! If you must know, I intend to open a school.’ She saw his expression and hurried on. ‘Do not worry—I was not going to use my own name! No one will know! But I should run mad if I had nothing to do with myself all day. Besides, the good wives of Twickenham would have smoked me out within days. Genteel females have a way of weighing up newcomers amongst them.’

  Rob looked slightly startled. ‘Whatever do you mean?’

  Jemima laughed. ‘Why, merely that a mysterious lady who appears from nowhere and has no visible means of support is quickly designated as being of shady virtue. It would cause a monstrous amount of gossip. Whereas a teacher of music is pegged as an indigent gentlewoman and everyone allows her to get on with her business, whilst pitying her a little, of course.’

  Rob shook his head ruefully. ‘Jemima, you are a dreadful cynic!’

  Jemima shrugged. ‘Doubtless I have seen more of the world than other ladies of your acquaintance. I know for a fact that the ladies of Twickenham would consider me either a dangerous widow out to snatch their husbands, or a retired courtesan pretending to respectability. This way they will know that I am nothing more than a schoolteacher and we may all be comfortable.’ She looked at him. ‘You do not object, I hope?’

  ‘Would it matter if I did?’

  ‘Well, of course! You hold the purse strings!’

  Rob laughed again, but there was bitterness in it. ‘Damn it all, Jemima, is that all that it means to you?’

  Jemima blushed. She did not wish Rob to think her mercenary, but on the other hand she had sworn to herself that sentiment had no place in this match. She was not about to make matters more difficult that they needed to be.

  ‘I thought that we had a business arrangement, my lord?’ she queried lightly. ‘How else would you like it to be?’

  She realised her mistake when Rob’s hand came up to brush a strand of hair back from her cheek. His touch was gentle. His gaze held hers. ‘Did you never wish to marry for love?’

  Jemima shifted uncomfortably on the bench, looking away. ‘Not particularly. Marriage and love do not generally go together, do they, my lord? For your class as well as mine, marriages are made in the bank and not in heaven.’

  ‘You did not love the man to whom you were betrothed?’

  Jemima had almost forgotten Jim Veale. ‘Jim? No! He was pleasant, but that is all. The marriage was intended to be a dynastic one.’

  ‘So—no love.’

  ‘Love is lust dressed up in pretty clothes,’ Jemima said. ‘No more, no less. It always ends in tears.’

  Rob was frowning a little now. ‘Has somebody hurt you, Jemima? Is that what this is about?’

  Jemima rested her chin on her hand. ‘Not in the way that you mean.’ Her gaze sought Rob’s, begging for understanding. ‘There were girls who climbed chi
mneys with me as children and now they are in the Haymarket, selling themselves.’ She shrugged. ‘Talk of love seems dishonest to me. Sex is a counter people play to gain what they want—power, money, privileges, or simply to survive. And love is just the name they give it to make it seem more acceptable.’

  Rob grimaced. ‘It is usually the male of the species who is cynical about love.’

  ‘Then what about you?’ Jemima challenged. ‘Have you ever been in love, my lord?’

  Rob gave her a long, slow smile. It did strange things to Jemima’s equilibrium. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I have never been in love. But I would never rule it out.’

  The sounds of the alehouse faded then as he captured and held her gaze with his. The heat flooded Jemima’s body at the expression in his eyes. His leg brushed against hers under the rickety table and suddenly she felt acutely aware of him. She shifted on the seat, wanting to escape yet somehow pinned to the spot. Then from above them a voice spoke.

  ‘Want to throw the swell over and come with me instead, darling?’

  Jemima tore her gaze from Rob and looked up into the admiring face of the highwayman Ned Macaine. She smiled sweetly.

  ‘No, thank you, Mr Macaine, but I am flattered by your offer.’

  The highwayman shrugged. ‘Can’t blame a man for trying.’

  Rob straightened. ‘No, indeed,’ he said, ‘but the lady is already spoken for.’

  Macaine gave him a comprehensive look that lasted fully five seconds, then he nodded and slapped him on the back. ‘Lucky man,’ he said. He bowed to Jemima. ‘If you change your mind, darling…’

  Jemima laughed and got to her feet. ‘We had better be going, my lord, before one or other of us is carried off!’

  Rob took her hand and tucked it through his arm as they walked out of the taproom. ‘You will find Twickenham so dull after this,’ he observed. ‘I do not know how you shall bear it.’

  Twickenham. Jemima felt a chill touch her. She had completely forgotten that she was to go her own way and Rob his. That was the agreement. There was nothing that she could do about it.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Fetching little thing, ain’t she?’ Ferdie Selborne said in Rob’s ear as together they watched Miss Jemima Jewell making her way up the aisle of St Saviour’s Church off Borough High Street. ‘Don’t follow your logic in doing this, Rob, but I can’t fault your taste.’

  Rob gritted his teeth. He would far rather have asked one of his other friends to be his groomsman, but most of them were hopelessly indiscreet and this was a situation that demanded the utmost secrecy. At least Ferdie could be relied on to hold his tongue about the wedding, even if he would probably try to seduce the bride from under Rob’s nose.

  The Church of St Saviour was tucked away down an alley in the unsavoury part of town that had once housed the notorious prisons of the Clink and the Marshalsea. It was an insalubrious and downright dangerous area, and Rob was ashamed to have chosen it. He had done so because it was a place where nobody asked any questions. The priest had glanced at the special licence with absolutely no interest whatsoever but had brightened considerably when Rob had pressed a fat purse of money into his hand. Rob had been happy with the arrangements until he had met with Jemima a few days before, and then he had felt ashamed. This simply was not good enough for her.

  Rob felt this keenly as he watched Jemima walk towards him on her brother’s arm. Jack Jewell was looking grim. In fact, he looked as though he wanted to knock Rob to the ground.

  Jemima, in comparison, looked quite serene. Loosening his neckcloth, which suddenly felt intolerably tight, Rob wished that he could match her apparent composure. He felt tense and unsure.

  Jemima was wearing a simple dress of mauve figured silk, and a straw hat with matching ribbons that framed her piquant little face. The sun, striking through the dusty glass windows, touched her face with a luminous light. Rob caught his breath.

  She reached his side and glanced up at him. Her gaze seemed a little shy. For a second Rob saw an echo of his own nervousness in her eyes. He took her hand in his own and felt her fingers cling briefly to his.

  The marriage service passed in a blur. He heard himself making the responses and Jemima’s voice, quiet but sure. In a strange way her presence steadied him. She spoke with dignity, as though she had every intention of honouring her wedding vows. Rob felt wretched when he thought of the planned annulment. He was making promises which he had no intention of keeping. His parents had not always been in accord, but they had stayed with their marriage through thick and thin. What he was doing did not feel right, but now it was too late. He must simply concentrate on Delaval and remind himself that he now had the means to restore it.

  ‘You may now kiss the bride.’

  Jemima tilted her face up to his and for a brief second their lips met. Then she stepped back.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment after the service had finished, then Rob offered the bride his arm and they moved towards their guests. As in Great Portland Street, Rob offered his hand to Jack Jewell and after a long pause Jack shook it. Both of them understood without words that Jack was only doing it for Jemima’s sake. Rob suppressed a smile. Jack Jewell did not like him and he could hardly blame the man.

  ‘How do you do, Jewell?’ he said politely.

  ‘How do you do, Selborne?’ Jack responded, blank faced.

  Rob turned to Ferdie. ‘May I introduce my cousin, Ferdinand Selborne?’

  Ferdie bowed. ‘Lady Selborne. Mr Jewell.’

  Rob saw Jemima’s eyes widen to be addressed by her married name, as though the reality of the situation was only just becoming plain to her. She coloured prettily and Rob felt a rush of unexpected pleasure, tempered by a certain exasperation with himself. On reflection it had probably been a big mistake to propose a marriage of convenience with a lady to whom he was so strongly attracted.

  When he had first had the idea of marrying Jemima it had seemed perfect, a marriage in name only that would enable him to fulfil the terms of both wills in one fell swoop. Their marriage would meet his father’s requirement, but because Jemima would not be living with him, he need never disclose the terms of his grandmother’s will to her. He could achieve his bride and his celibacy in one simple move. Best of all, he could devote himself to restoring Delaval and go some small way to assuaging the guilt he felt at neglecting his home and family.

  Yet the reality seemed to be less simple. Already he was starting to care rather too much for Jemima. When he had left her ten days ago at her father’s house, it had been one of the most difficult things that he had ever had to do. The compulsion to take her with him, to tell her that she must accompany him, had been incredibly strong. And when he had seen her again, his feelings had simply strengthened each time. He was aware that he barely knew her, that she was no sheltered débutante in need of his protection, and yet the urge to defend her was overwhelming. He had never experienced a feeling like it. It seemed he could not help himself.

  Ferdie had struck up an easy conversation with Jemima now and was at his most urbane. ‘If you require anything whilst Rob is out of town, you must not hesitate to approach me, Lady Selborne,’ he was saying, in a manner that set Rob’s teeth on edge. ‘I should be delighted to visit you at Twickenham.’

  Rob felt Jack Jewell stiffen beside him. For another brief moment they were united in the same cause. Jack gave Rob a meaningful look. Rob intervened.

  ‘There will be no need for that, Ferdie,’ he said sharply. ‘Churchward may attend to any matters of business for Lady Selborne, and I am sure that Mr Jewell will be on hand if my wife requires any help whilst I am out of town.’

  He felt Jack Jewell’s dark gaze rest on him mockingly and met his eyes very directly. ‘Will you not, Jewell?’

  After a moment Jack bowed slightly. ‘Of course, Selborne.’

  Rob took Jemima’s arm. ‘If you gentleman would excuse us for a moment…’

  Both Ferdie and Jack looked surprised, as thoug
h Rob could not possibly have anything he wished to say to his bride. After a moment they moved aside a little, awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes and conspicuously not speaking. Rob drew Jemima into the shelter of a pillar and took a letter out of his pocket.

  ‘I did not think that we would have much opportunity to talk on the journey to Churchward’s chambers as I assumed you would wish your brother to accompany us. I have written everything down for you. If you need anything in future, send for Churchward. He will come to you at once. He is a good man and is to be relied upon. I have written his direction here, along with all the other information you need, but you will see where to find his chambers shortly.’

  Jemima nodded. She was biting her bottom lip and for a moment looked a little apprehensive. Rob tapped the letter for a moment, then handed it over to her with a sigh. Although he had done his best to think of everything that she might need, his letter, like everything else on this curious wedding day, seemed inadequate.

  ‘Churchward will escort you to the house at Twickenham on the morrow. Only attend him in his chambers whenever you wish to go.’

  Jemima nodded again. Her eyes were very wide and dark. Rob wished he could read her expression and know what she was thinking.

  ‘And for God’s sake do not ask Ferdie for any help, nor tolerate his company if he should seek you out.’

  A spark of humour lit Jemima’s eyes. ‘Have no fear, my lord. I am not such a fool as that. I know exactly the sort of gentleman your cousin is.’

  Once again Rob was reminded that he was not dealing with a naïve young girl. ‘Yes, of course. I do not wish him to importune you, that is all.’

  He saw her brows lift very slightly. ‘He is your cousin, my lord. I must still be civil.’

  Rob smiled. ‘Ferdie is indeed my cousin, which is how I know him so well. I would not trust him with my sister, let alone my wife. If you need to be uncivil, do not let it trouble you for a moment.’

  Jemima gave him a glimmer of a smile in return. ‘I shall remember that. Do you then have a sister, my lord?’

  ‘I do. Camilla. She is married to a naval captain and is living in the Indies at present. I told you that my close relatives would not trouble us. I will tell you all about Camilla one day—’ He broke off, thinking that if all went as they had planned it then he would not have the opportunity to speak to Jemima very much, let alone chat about his family. He would secure his inheritance, pay her off, meet the condition of the hundred days celibacy and have his marriage annulled…And that would be that. The Countess of Selborne would disappear as though she had never been.