Jemima’s blood was beating quickly and hard. The tone of his voice stirred something in her that she had not experienced before. She could not deny that she was drawn to him. It complicated matters; confused her. She could not look at him.
‘When I proposed our original arrangement I did not know you very well, Jemima,’ Rob went on. His voice was very gentle. ‘I thought that all I wanted was to gain my inheritance so that I might restore Delaval. The marriage was to be a means to an end.’ He put a hand on hers. ‘Please look at me, Jemima. I do not wish there to be any misunderstandings when I tell you this.’
Jemima looked up. The intensity of his gaze almost burned her and she fought the urge to look away again.
‘There is no one whom I would prefer to be Countess of Selborne,’ Rob said, very slowly. ‘You are my wife, Jemima, and I am proud of that.’
Jemima freed herself and got to her feet. She took a few steps away from the bench, seeking the shade of a nearby oak tree. She felt terribly torn. She put her hands up to her head in a gesture of despair.
‘This was not supposed to happen,’ she said.
Rob had followed her. He turned her gently to face him now, and touched her cheek, a featherlight touch. ‘If you truly feel that you cannot go through with it I shall explain the situation to all my family. It is my fault that we are in this position and there is no reason why you should suffer, my dear. I shall honour our agreement.’
Jemima’s shoulders slumped. It was the only logical outcome, it was the conclusion that she had argued for and yet now it did not feel right at all. She looked at Rob. His face was set and expressionless but somehow she could tell that he was disappointed. The knowledge made her feel unhappy. She felt as though she had let him down. And a small corner of her heart felt excited and pleased that he should want her with him. It was dreadfully confusing.
‘I would not be a conformable wife,’ she began, and saw Rob’s face break into a grin as he realised that she had capitulated.
‘I would rather have the sort of wife who can help me restore Delaval than a fine lady who cannot bear to get her hands dirty.’
Jemima felt an answering smile starting. They looked at one another. Rob drew her deeper into the shade of the spreading oak. His expression was suddenly serious.
‘So you will come to Delaval with me?’
Jemima felt a tug of something inside her, something that felt like apprehension and excitement. ‘Yes, I will.’
‘I am very glad,’ Rob said quietly.
Jemima felt the colour wash into her face. She seldom blushed but Rob Selborne seemed to have the power to make her do so simply by looking at her. And there was one thought that made her feel more nervous still. She cleared her throat.
‘About the pretend love match…’
‘Yes?’ Rob was smiling slightly.
‘I…’ Jemima floundered a little, uncharacteristically shy. ‘I…am anxious that we are clear that it is a pretence. I mean—this is still a marriage in name only…’
Rob’s smile deepened. Jemima’s blood fizzed with champagne and something else, something hot. ‘Of course,’ he said.
Jemima looked at him. In her experience, gentlemen were rather more persistent in gaining what they wanted and Rob’s casual attitude made her deeply suspicious. He had already kissed her, so she knew that he was attracted to her. It was in every gesture, every look he gave her, which made his apparent lack of interest in consummating their marriage even harder to understand.
‘I am concerned that we are clear on this,’ she said again. She took a deep breath. ‘I would like a celibate marriage.’
Now Rob was positively laughing. ‘So would I. At least for the time being.’
Jemima frowned. ‘You would? But—why?’
Rob raised his brows. ‘Are you trying to persuade me to change my mind?’
‘No, of course not! I barely know you and I am not in the habit of propositioning gentlemen.’ Jemima could feel herself growing flustered and fought for composure. ‘It is simply that the gentlemen themselves…In my experience…’
‘Yes? Are you very experienced when it comes to gentlemen?’
Rob had taken her hand again and was rubbing his fingers over the pulse point at her wrist. It was distracting. Her skin prickled beneath his touch and her pulse jumped.
‘No, I am not. I have told you my opinion of love before, and despite my background I have no knowledge of…of amorous affairs. I am used to gentlemen pursuing me, but—’
Jemima cast a despairing look at him. She felt very embarrassed.
‘But you have not succumbed?’ Rob suggested. She saw him smile. ‘I dare say that I should not be so predictable, but I find that rather pleasing.’
Jemima fiddled with the rim of her straw hat. It felt very personal to be discussing such matters with Rob. She had always been a rather private person and now it felt like giving a bit of herself away.
‘My experience or lack of it is not the point,’ she said, trying to get the conversation back on course. ‘We were speaking of our supposed love match. It must be understood that whatever the impression we give the outside world, our marriage is in name only.’ Jemima pressed her hands together nervously. ‘I do not know you well, Rob, and I should not feel comfortable with an intimate relationship.’
Rob put up a gentle hand and brushed the stray strands of hair from her face. ‘I understand, Jemima. I understand your scruples from the things that you have said to me before. It would be remarkable indeed if you were to feel comfortable with me when we have known each other so short a time. But despite your reservations I would like to think that there might be a chance for some stronger feeling to grow between us.’
Jemima was feeling exceedingly hot and bothered. She had always thought of physical attraction as a dangerous trap, and of love as something that made one as vulnerable to heartbreak as Jack had been when he had fallen in love with Beth Rosser. She had avoided both on principle. Yet now this man—her husband—could undermine her certainties with a single touch and it frightened her. She sought reassurance.
‘You have said yourself that you were content to have a marriage in name only,’ she reminded him. ‘If that is not what you truly wish, then I think you should say so now. It is important to be honest.’
Rob sighed and drove his hands into his pockets. ‘I said that I was content to have a celibate marriage for the time being. That is the operative phrase here, Jemima.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘My instinct and necessity are in conflict, I am afraid.’
Jemima’s interest was well and truly piqued. Instinct she could understand. Necessity was another thing entirely. ‘Necessity? Whatever do you mean, my lord?’
To her surprise, Rob took her hand and drew her as far into the deep shadow as they could go. He sat down on the dry grass and pulled her down beside him.
‘There is something that I have to tell you.’ His expression was serious. ‘Except that I find that I do not want to tell you at all.’
Jemima raised her brows and waited. Rob gave a sigh and leaned back against the tree trunk. There was a little silence. Rob frowned.
‘Perhaps I could guess,’ Jemima said, after a moment, ‘since you seem to be finding this unconscionably difficult, my lord.’
‘You could guess all day but not come up with the correct answer.’ Rob turned his head against the tree trunk and looked at her. He took a deep breath.
‘You will recall the terms of my father’s will,’ he said.
Jemima nodded. ‘Of course. Why else would we be here?’
‘Indeed. Well, my grandmother was carried off by the same epidemic that killed my parents.’ Rob hesitated, looking awkward. ‘She was somewhat eccentric. She left me her fortune of forty thousand pounds, but on one condition.’
Jemima frowned. ‘It seems to be a habit in your family.’
‘It is. And it is one that I could do well without,’ Rob said feelingly.
‘So what was the condition
?’
Rob traced circles in the parched grass. He did not look at her.
‘She required that I should remain celibate for one hundred days in order to be worthy of inheriting her fortune.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Are you laughing?’
Jemima was indeed feeling the irrepressible laughter well up inside her. She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Of course not, Rob.’
‘You are!’ Rob seized her shoulders. ‘Jemima—’
‘I am sorry,’ Jemima said, bursting into giggles, ‘but it is funny, Rob! Did your father and your grandmother not know what the other was doing?’
‘I hope not,’ Rob said feelingly, ‘or I would consider them unwarrantably cruel.’
Jemima looked at him, her eyes still brimming with laughter. ‘No wonder you wished to marry a stranger and to part again on your wedding day. To have married someone you already knew and then be obliged to disclose these conditions would be most embarrassing!’
Rob gave her a speaking look. ‘Thank you for pointing that out. I am aware. It is quite embarrassing enough as it is.’
Jemima smothered another giggle. ‘And no doubt if you had married a lady of your acquaintance you would have found the abstinence a most shocking strain!’
Rob gave her a look that quelled her laughter. ‘That, my dear Jemima, is already a problem. As I said, instinct and necessity are at war here.’
Their gazes locked. Jemima looked away and twisted a blade of grass between her fingers.
‘Perhaps we should reconsider the circumstances,’ she said slowly. ‘You must own that living with each other will be very difficult. Being in close proximity with a person does tend to lead to intimacy.’
‘Does it?’ Rob said. ‘Then we shall find out, shall we not?’
Jemima met his eyes and looked quickly away. ‘So where does that leave us?’ she asked hastily. ‘With a marriage in name only?’
‘Temporarily,’ Rob said. He moved a little closer. ‘Jemima, I have to be honest about this. I cannot envisage myself wanting a celibate marriage for any longer than the one hundred days. And even that will be torture.’
Jemima blushed. She liked Rob Selborne a great deal and was obliged to admit that she had enjoyed his kisses, but she did not want to tumble into unguarded love with him. Life, as Jemima knew, could be hard and cruel without making oneself even more vulnerable. She tried to match his honesty.
‘Thank you for telling me this, Rob,’ she said. She cleared her throat. ‘I cannot pretend that I am indifferent to you and I shall not try, for you could disprove my claims with a single kiss. But—’ she put out a hand as she saw his instinctive move towards her ‘—I still have my reservations…’
‘Of course.’ The look in Rob’s eyes made her feel quite dizzy. ‘I am aware that I shall have to earn your trust, Jemima.’ His fingers brushed the back of her hand. ‘I have eighty-five days in which to woo my own wife…’
A shiver went through Jemima. ‘Eighty-five days?’
Rob’s eyes were dark and amused. ‘Actually eighty-four days, ten hours and something in the region of thirty-five minutes. You might conclude that I am counting.’
Jemima caught her breath. ‘You mean…you are intending…’
Rob smiled at her. ‘I intend to seduce you, Jemima. By the end of my period of enforced abstinence I intend that both of us will want to seek the pleasures of our marriage bed. You have been warned.’
It was past midday as they left the Inns of Court Gardens and made their way down a sloping alleyway that led towards the river. Jemima had been very quiet since the discussion under the oak tree and Rob had no idea what she was thinking. She had not commented on his final statement and had merely told him composedly that she was hungry and that the champagne had gone to her head. Then she had taken his arm and steered him towards the waterfront. Rob hoped that they would not end up in another flash house. The thought of some ardent highwayman attempting to spirit his bride away on their wedding day was enough to arouse all the emotions that he was keeping under such careful control.
He had had no wish to frighten Jemima, but he thought it imperative that she should not take away the mistaken belief that this marriage, starting as it was in name only, would continue that way forever. When he had stated his intentions so clearly in the gardens she had not replied, but he had read a great deal in her face. Her eyes had widened with a mixture of apprehension and a shy interest she could not quite hide. Her lips had parted on a small gasp and Rob had found himself wanting to kiss her very much indeed. He had watched her struggle with the concept of his courtship, had seen the colour fluctuate in her face as she thought about it and had watched the final struggle in which Jemima’s common sense eventually triumphed over her wilder imaginings. It had been a close run thing and next time he spoke to her of love, Rob thought, there would be a different outcome. He was planning a slow campaign, but he had every intention of making a little progress each time.
But for now they had to eat.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
Jemima pointed. ‘To the oyster stall. They are fresh from the river. You can try some eels as well if you wish, my lord.’
Rob shuddered. ‘No, thank you. I detest eels.’ He flashed her a look. ‘As for the oysters—are they not rumoured to be an aphrodisiac?’
Their eyes met. He saw Jemima blush slightly. She looked away. ‘No oysters, then,’ she said brightly. ‘Perhaps we should go to the potato stand and you may wash it down with some of Mrs Miggin’s coffee. Jack assures me that it is the strongest in London, and death to passion! He says that they should give it to prisoners to calm their frustrated ardour!’
‘Just what I require,’ Rob said wryly.
In the end they partook of a cup of hot pea soup and a baked potato from the stall, eaten in a corner of King Street tucked away from the chill wind off the river. Rob, who would never normally have ventured down any of the narrow alleys by the river without first checking he had a pistol on him, was intrigued by the whole experience. The soup was good and hot, and as they sat there a score of urchins came slipping out of the dark alleys and gathered around them, rather as though they were a peep show. They all seemed to know Jemima, who chatted to them easily while she ate her food. Some she introduced as sweeps’ apprentices. Others were potboys from the inns, stable lads or children from the docks. All were barefoot and ragged, and the apprentice sweeps were black with soot from head to toe. All accepted Rob without comment. One even went so far as to lift his watch when he was not paying attention and was ordered sternly by Jemima to give it back. Rob ate, and watched his wife talking to the children, watched the breeze stirring her hair and the sunlight on her face, and felt proud and possessive.
When they got up to leave, the little crowd parted to let them through.
‘Who’s the swell?’ one of the urchins piped up.
Jemima smiled. ‘This is my husband,’ she said, taking Rob’s hand, and Rob felt ridiculously happy.
‘Cor,’ the urchin said, looking Rob up and down.
After lunch they wandered along by the river, hand in hand.
‘I am glad that you didn’t give the children any money,’ Jemima said, as they stood at the end of Blackfriars Bridge and watched the barges ease up the river. ‘Most gentlemen would have done, and would have thought that they were being kind in doing so.’
Rob turned to look at her. ‘I did think about it,’ he admitted, ‘but it seemed the wrong thing to do. Almost like giving money to a friend when they hadn’t asked for it.’
Jemima smiled. He watched the light reflect in her eyes. They were astonishingly blue, almost purple. The deep blue of cottage-garden lavender.
‘That is it exactly,’ she said softly. She folded her arms. ‘I must go home now. I told my mother that I was visiting a friend today, so I cannot be too late.’ She hesitated. ‘I thought to tell her tonight where I was going. Father is away on business, cleaning the Duke of Bedford’s chimneys and will not be back befor
e the morrow. If you wish, you may collect me as soon as you are ready in the morning…’
Rob tossed a pebble moodily into the river. It was only now, when the time was approaching for them to part, that he realised how little he wished to be apart from her. Even a few hours was too long.
‘It is our wedding night,’ he said.
‘So it is. And you will spend it at your lodgings and I will spend it at my home.’ Jemima smiled. ‘And you may go to sleep thinking about your grandmother’s forty thousand pounds, my lord. That should keep you warm.’
Chapter Nine
It was not the thought of forty thousand pounds that occupied Rob when he and his new Countess set off on their journey to Oxfordshire the following day, but more the thought of the eighty-three days to go before he had fulfilled the terms of his grandmother’s will. The more he tried not to think about the days of abstinence, the more he seemed unable to concentrate on anything else. The more he tried to distract himself from the thought of bedding his wife, the more he ached to do precisely that. He had been awake for almost the whole night and he had spent almost all of that time thinking about Jemima.
He could remember in perfect detail the way in which her lips had trembled beneath his when he had kissed her briefly at their wedding and, having kissed her before, he was burning to do it again. It was not the sort of experience one could forget or undo. Having taken such a step forward, it was impossible to retreat and Rob did not want to try. What he wanted was his wife.
He closed his eyes as the coach lurched through the countryside. Eighty-three days. The rest of August, all of September and October and the first part of November…A groan almost escaped him. He was going to have to take stern steps to avoid going mad with sexual frustration.
From the moment they had driven off from Great Portland Street that morning, it had seemed to Rob that he had been unable to focus on anything but his wife. Jemima had been looking delectable in a travelling dress of deep green that fitted every rounded contour of her body. He had appreciated her elegance and style, but he had wanted to take that dress off her as soon as he saw it.
The Penniless Bride Page 11
