by Susan Ward
~~~
Lucien Merrick stared at his table. “Why are we breakfasting alone?”
“Philip and Kate took off riding early this morning. Merry is breakfasting in her room. Varian is no doubt still abed after being kept awake half the night listening to your nonsense. Really, Lucien, your lectures are becoming quite absurd. His Grace is a grown man.” She gave her husband an amused look. “And I asked Andrew not to join us this day.”
His stern expression melted with concern. “Why did Merry not join us? Her presence at our table gives me great joy.”
“I’m sure I don’t know, my dear. Who can say why Merry does anything?”
After a thoughtful pause, Lucien asked, “Why did you ask Andrew not to join us? There are times I cannot make reason of you.”
Rhea smiled and reached out to gently squeeze her husband’s hand. “I wanted to discuss privately with you the issue of settlement contracts for Merry.”
Red faced, he turned his astonished gaze upon his wife. “Have you gone mad, Rhea? I will not settle a sum upon that man after his disreputable behavior with my daughter. Especially since I am not all certain yet to let this marriage stand.”
“This marriage will stand, your will or not, Lucien. It would benefit none of us for you to annul it. And to delay in settling what’s proper on Merry will only add to the scandal brewing. It is expected and it will be done today.”
Lucien’s eyes glittered. “You will not order me, Rhea.”
Rhea motioned for a footman to ease back her chair. “I am not ordering, my love. I am merely reminding you of your duty as Merry’s father.”
“Don’t try to manage me. Not on this issue.”
She pressed a parting kiss onto her husband’s check. “Never, Lucien.”
~~~
A week later Lucien Merrick sent for his brother. Before Andrew could take his seat, Lucien announced, “Rhea has informed me it is time I discuss with Varian settlement contracts.”
Andrew Merrick’s eyes rounded. “You’ve got to be joking. We’ve almost secured enough support to petition for an annulment of the marriage.”
“I wish I were joking Andrew. But you know Rhea. There will be no peace until she has her way.”
Andrew studied his brother. Lucien was the most stubborn man he’d ever known. He’d bent in his will. What was truly happening here? “Are you telling me you’re agreeable to this match?”
“Of course not. It occurred to me that in pleasing Rhea, we have an opportunity to question Varian without him knowing why. Negotiations of settlement take time and require disclosure by both parties. Perhaps it is her fortune. Perhaps that’s why he absconded with my daughter and married her. As I recall his finances were a shambles when he fled England.”
“So you think he married Merry for her money?”
“What I think is it is prudent we learn quickly all we can about this man. My instinct tells me much is not right here. I will not bend in my will and give my blessing to this ungodly union, Rhea or not, until I can make reason of Windmere and know for certain my daughter is safe.”
He handed to Andrew the document he had labored over with his solicitor.
“It is quite a rich purse,” Lucien announced as his brother made a careful study of the neatly penned document.
“She is after all a Merrick and your daughter.”
Lucien took the contracts back, laying them on his desk and sighed. “If I must swallow my pride, may it at least be a useful endeavor, Andrew.”
Andrew nodded as Lucien ordered Moffat to retrieve His Grace. A few minutes passed before Varian joined them. When the door closed behind Moffat, Lucien gestured toward a chair and arched a brow.
Varian forced an amiable smile and said, “You wished to see me, Lucien?”
Lucien’s sharp gaze fixed on him sternly. “You were abed rather late today. It is my hope you are in good health.”
Varian laughed. “Excellent health. You need have no worry there.”
Lucien’s icy blue eyes sat in a face of straining tolerance. “Rhea has made me aware I have been remiss in settling Merry’s dowry.” He picked up the contracts with a reluctance you could almost taste. “It is considerable, as you will see.”
Varian knew better than to take this discussion as an indication Lucien’s opinion of the marriage had changed. He was using it as a ploy to question him. Nothing more. Varian ignored the documents in Lucien’s hand. It confused both the Merricks, so he followed it by saying nothing.
“It is a sizeable fortune,” Andrew said. “As I recall, your finances were not…”
An arched brow. A low voice. “…Oh my, you do dive straight into the heart of things, don’t you, Andrew,” Varian interrupted abruptly. “I have always admired your directness. So allow me to be direct as well. I will accept no payment for taking Merry as my wife. There will be no jointure. No negotiations. No contracts. Any fortune settled upon her should be settled in trust for my wife’s benefit. I want no part of it.” He took the contract, scanned it in a single dismissing glance and tossed it back on the desk. He stood up. Uncertainty was providence in certain circumstances. He could almost hear the wheels turning in Lucien’s head. Hopefully it sent Lucien in the right direction. “I will consider this matter resolved and my wishes adhered to, Lucien.”
“You may consider whatever you wish, Varian,” Lucien replied coldly.
Without ceremony, Windmere left the study.
Once alone with his brother, Lucien sat back in his chair and stared at the empty space where Varian had been. “His reaction was odd and I know not what to make of it. It is a considerable fortune. It is expected. I would have thought he’d pounce on it if his intentions were for the marriage to stand. It would have been a victory for him, if we had reached settlement.”
Andrew shrugged. “He is a proud man, Lucien. I imagine it would be as hard for him to accept settlement from you as it is for you to give it.”
“There is pride and then there is foolishness.” Lucien stared at the tally on the contract. Not many men would readily dismiss so grand of fortune. “Varian Deverell is many things, but he is not a foolish man. Go to London, Andrew. Find out what you can. Find out why he has no concern for money.”
~~~
The Earl of Camden made ready his departure the next day. Varian walked with him to the carriage. It was the first moment they’d had alone to speak since their arrival at Bramble Hill.
Camden shook his graying head. “If you had any sense at all, you’d take your wife and leave at once.”
“Lucien is not ready to permit me to leave with Merry. Insulting, but a rather good turn of events. I could not have planned this better if I planned it myself.”
Camden was worried and not bothering to hide it. “It is madness for you to stay here with the Merricks. The hen does not choose to live with the fox. You are the hen, Varian, in case you are unaware.”
“I want Merry safe within the shelter of her family. Lucien would not permit harm to come to her if things do not work out well for me.”
Camden climbed into his waiting coach, grateful that at long last Lucien Merrick had permitted him to leave Bramble Hill.
“It is madness for you to refuse Merry’s dowry. If Lucien’s hand is being forced by Rhea to make settlement with you, it would have locked your marriage in place. Refusing the bride’s fortune will only stir greater his suspicion over you.”
Varian smiled. “That is why I refused it and did so in a manner insulting to Lucien. Hopefully it will send them in the direction I want them to go. Make sure Andrew Merrick discovers every detail of my finances.”
Camden’s eye flashed. “Lucien is a cunning man. He is not a man to toy with and he is not a man to miss one nuance of the web you are weaving. There is much we cannot explain about your fortune and much in how we’ve used it that will not bare scrutiny. Have you considered that?”
“It is my hope they take notice of each and every oddity,” Varian announced enigmatica
lly.
Camden shook his head, not certain what to make of that.
“I have planned this long, Brian,” Varian said. “All things considered, our endeavor is progressing better than I anticipated. You know what to do in London. See that Andrew Merrick finds all he hopes for, and deliver the first installment of the documents as I have instructed. Do it quickly and do it well.”
“I will do it cautiously or I will do it not at all,” Camden countered grimly.
An arched brow. “The stage must be well set before we travel to London next month.”
Camden shook his head. Finally, he said, “Your arrogance is galling at times. How the devil will you get to London with both your wife and Lucien Merrick in tow?”
Varian handed Camden a letter. “Take this to Margaret.”
“The Dowager Duchess of Dorset? Now I know you’ve lost your wits.”
“Even the largest mastiff in the yard has a master. Lucien Merrick is no different.”
Camden gave Varian a hard stare and then sighed heavily. “I will see you in London next month, then?”
Varian snapped the carriage door shut. “Next month, my friend. And send me Christina.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The days began to run together for Merry. Her life at Bramble Hill had returned to the routine it had been before her kidnapping. Only now the cherished rituals felt strange and the peaceful laziness of her days left her melancholy.
Each night she was taunted by memories. In the darkness hours she fought against going to Varian. The restlessness of her flesh kept her from the sleep she desperately needed. The want to pretend it could be as it once was between them on ship and that this lie they lived was true was nearly overpowering.
As terrible as the nights were, her days were worse. Each morning she woke to some function forced upon her by her family. An afternoon tea. Supper at a neighbor’s. Card parties and country balls. Meaningless social gatherings she half suspected were designed to keep her apart from Varian.
Even as busy as each day was, she could not keep Varian from her mind. She could not ease the ache around her heart. She could not escape the taunts in her thoughts as too often she replayed those dreadful words Varian had spoken the night they had married.
She could forgive him each and every cut he delivered that night, except that one, those quietly spoken words which haunted her waking hours. He loved Ann. He had never said those words to her. Just once, if he told her he loved her, maybe she could find a way to move past her hurt.
On this day, three weeks after their arrival at Bramble Hill, Merry was in the yard behind the modest brick cottage of Jane Coleman, wife to the Merrick’s under-coachman. They were making candles, as they had done often as girls, only now they were surrounded by Jane’s children. The mild fall afternoon was alive with the laughter of children at play and women pleasantly at work, curling smoke of the fire pits and the spicy fragrances they had stirred into the wax.
Brushing her damp brow with the skirt of the apron she’d borrowed from Jane, Merry began to fill the molds with the blend of wax and scents, and struggled to keep from her mind her husband.
She rarely saw Varian and in fact knew little of how he passed his hours at Bramble Hill. He came and went as he pleased, with no explanation to her. During their infrequent moments together in the presence, always, of her watching family, she maintained a carefully icy manner toward him. They were speculated upon, and her father’s never waning scrutiny only increased her distress. Her greatest fear was that somehow her father would discover her husband was the infamous pirate Morgan.
There was too much danger in Cornwall for Varian. It would be foolish to believe he would stay much longer. While she knew not the specifics of his intrigue against Rensdale, she was certain his vengeance had commenced and those endeavors a large part of what occupied his mysterious days away. It had been the focus of his life for nearly a decade, a careful and patient pursuit he had devoted himself to. His devotion to Ann would not permit him another delay.
Merry rubbed her cheek against her sleeve, recalling the time she had offered herself to Varian if he would but leave his past behind and live out his days with her in Virginia. He had refused all she offered him that day. His heart would not permit him to fail Ann, while the very same heart permitted him to fail her frequently.
Putting the tapers in the wax, Merry wondered if the desperate agony in her body would ever end so again she might know a small measure of peace. She hated Varian. She loved him. A brutal paradox that failed her at every turn. There were times she wanted to curl in his arms and beg him to love her. There were times when her love brought the suffering to her soul in such force she feared she would break. There were no times he did not consume her thoughts.
When the perfect comes the partial will pass away. What Merry had not known on that long ago day when Varian had spoken those words to her was that love dissects you into parts, for she was indeed in parts. The woman who loved him, and the woman who hated him. And both women helplessly trapped in her flesh by a desire that refused to wane.
She twirled her wedding band on her slim finger. It was a heavy ring, too heavy for her dainty hand, and there were times it felt the weight of the world was there. It was a symbol of all things she’d done wrong in the past year. A symbol of her disgrace. A reminder of her unhappiness, and the mark of her foolishness over a man.
Jane’s sweet voice pulled Merry from her thoughts. “You are very quiet, Your Grace. What is wrong?”
“Please don’t call me that, Jane. We are friends. We will always be.”
“All right, Merry,” Jane said, though she was ill at ease and it showed. “It warms my heart you cherish our friendship as I do. If I am your friend, let me be your friend. Why are you so sad?”
Merry forced a smile. “It should be no wonder why I am sad, Jane. I am a scandal and my family is in disgrace. The whispering in Falmouth is vicious and unending. All of society gossips about me. Gossips about my hole-in-the-corner marriage. Talks about my husband’s villainy. I have brought such shame to my family.”
Jane said nothing. She could not manage even a modest denial of Merry’s words, for they were true. “It will all be well in time, Merry. All things right with time.”
Merry made a busy show of her work.
Jane sank down onto the chair beside her. It was an impertinent question, but she asked it anyway. “What manner of man is His Grace?”
Merry’s face shot up, flushed with anger. “Give no credit to those vile rumors you’ve heard. They are untrue.”
Merry was quick to defend of her husband. It told Jane much. She smiled. “I often times suspect God created men as a curse for women in spite of the fact that the bible claims we were created from Adam’s rib.”
Jane smiled and went promptly back to work. There was such peacefulness to Jane’s life. At this moment, Merry envied Jane her life, and the certainty of her fate. A year ago she had set off on a foolhardy quest to avoid this very circumstance—marriage, the love of a man, children—and oddly the happiness of Jane’s world was the very thing Merry envied today.
Merry dragged out the afternoon, her hours with Jane a welcomed balm for her troubled heart. At dusk, Spencer Coleman entered the kitchen of his modest dwelling and froze in mid-step. Her Grace was sitting in a hard back chair, his daughter in her lap. Spencer stripped off his hat and gave a proper greeting as soon as he composed himself.
Jane crossed the kitchen to her husband. “We were late finishing our labors with the candles so supper will be late as well. Go wash and keep the children from my hair so we may eat before the morrow.”
Spencer was only too grateful to flee the kitchen.
Merry sipped a glass of cool apple cider and watched the swishing dance of Jane’s skirt as she moved about the kitchen in a flurry. “You have a rare hand with children, Merry, “Jane remarked, ladling soup into a bowl. “Cecilia is never quiet in the evening hours, but she is quiet with you.”
Merry touched her lips into Cecilia’s golden hair, breathing in that sweet scent only babies carried. She ran her cheek along the chubby skin of the baby’s arms, placing little kisses on her wrists and hands. She smiled as the baby laughed and tugged at a handful of her curls.
Looking up at her friend, Merry remarked, “Do you know, Jane, this is the first baby I’ve ever held. It is a remarkable feeling to have a baby in your arms.”
Jane lifted a brow. “You have returned from your year greatly changed.”
Merry pressed her cheek against the baby’s face. Her thoughts drifted to the child nestled in her womb. She would never regret this part of her history with Varian. This small part of Varian was hers, and always would be, whether he loved her or not. She collected the baby more closely into her, blowing airy patterns with her lips against the baby’s soft cheeks, noting that Cecilia was too drowsy to stir. She laughed.
A sound startled her. Looking up, Merry found Varian hovering beside Spencer in the kitchen. The cottage seemed to shrink from his towering presence. She had not seen him for several days. He had left yet again without explanation to her, and she was rapidly learning well how to be an injured wife. The last thing she had expected was for him to search her out in Jane Coleman’s cottage.
Varian was impeccably dressed in evening attire, an emerald coat over a white waist vest. His cravat was tied simply, a twist and a knot, but the lax fashion only complimented his perfection. His black eyes were sparking when they met hers and he let just enough hint of a smile touch his lips, giving every appearance he was pleased to see her. It was a flawless show on the heels of having been gone without warning or explanation. Every emotion inside Merry began to rapidly twirl with her foolish ache to step into the arm he held out to her. Instead, she performed an act of stillness on the chair.
Varian said, “It is getting late, Merry. I didn’t want you walking back to the house alone.”
Merry looked away, surprised Varian had even noticed her gone from the house and equally surprised he’d known where to find her. “There is no need to see me home.”
