by Brenda Hiatt
Peter’s brows rose, though he appeared more amused than censorious. “It’s past three, old chap. But come. We can discuss it in the library.”
He led the way to the same room Harry had quitted in a temper last night. Harry flung himself into the best chair, his mood not improved in the least by the reminder. Before taking a seat himself, Peter went to the sideboard.
“Would you care for a glass of something first?”
Harry scowled, sure now that Pete was trying to soften him up for another assault. “Thanks, but no. Stomach’s a bit tetchy just now.”
He was still in that post-binge state of swearing off drink forever. The resolve never seemed to last much past dinner time, but at the moment it was still in force.
Though Peter was undoubtedly well aware of Harry’s reason for refusing, he made no comment before taking the chair opposite. “I’ll get right to my proposition, then.”
Harry regarded him suspiciously. “Another proposition? Your last landed me squarely on the wrong side of the law—though I won’t claim I’m not enjoying it. What’s this one?”
“That you do what I suggested last night: give your newly-discovered marriage a chance of success. No, let me finish,” Peter added quickly when Harry made an impatient motion to get to his feet. “I’ve already spoken with your wife, and she is willing to give it a trial if you are.”
Slumping back into his chair, Harry stared at his friend in disbelief. “You’ve done what? Why—? How—? You had no right!”
“Concern for the welfare of a good friend gave me the right. After some discussion, she agreed it would be foolish to leave London without at least attempting to discover whether the two of you might rub along comfortably together. If nothing else, it may spare her the speculation and gossip that will inevitably arise once word gets out that the two of you were married.”
“And why should word get out?” It was obvious from Peter’s very nonchalance that he was not revealing all.
“Did you ask Wellington not to bruit it about?”
Damn. “Of course not. There were others by, and such a request would have required too much in the way of awkward explanation.”
“By your account, he seems to believe being married will prove an asset, leaving you that much freer to pursue your usual, ah, variety of women. Given that, I believe it’s fair to assume he won’t hesitate to mention it, should occasion arise.”
Didn’t Peter ever tire of being right? Still, Harry attempted to mimic his unconcern.
“No matter if he does. Once back in Yorkshire, Xena will be safe enough from Town gossip. Doubt many of the locals there read the London rags. Can’t believe she’d worry about such things, in any case.” Certainly the Xena of seven years ago wouldn’t have.
Peter regarded him from under furrowed brows. “And what of you? Can you honestly say it would not bother you to hear your wife’s name bandied about? Have her caricaturized on storefronts?”
The thought made Harry’s bile rise, but he strove to conceal it. “She’s been guilty of nothing but wishing to live her own life. No fault to her for not wanting her name linked with mine. Who would?”
“Did you not hear what I said at the outset?” Peter’s tone was irritatingly patient. “She told me she is willing to give your marriage a chance if you are. Given that, it would be ungallant in the extreme for you to refuse. Or perhaps the vaunted Miss Maxwell has a greater measure of courage than you do?” Peter leaned back in his chair while his words penetrated.
Though he could scarce believe Xena had agreed to any such thing, Harry couldn’t see what Pete might gain by making such a claim if it were untrue. Was it conceivable she was as beset by old memories as he, after their first encounter in more than seven years? Or…
He now recalled her final encounter with Wellington last night, during which it had appeared the Duke was trying to persuade her to something. If they’d reached some sort of arrangement, that might account for her new willingness to remain in London.
Harry shook his head, striving to banish the unpalatable thought. “Impossible. How would we even manage such a thing? Have her come to live with me in Seven Dials? My flat on Swallow Street has already been let—not that it was much better.”
If Harry expected that detail to be a stumper for Peter, he was disappointed.
“Of course not. That neighborhood is rather too rough for a lady, even one rumored to have shooting and fencing skills. As it happens, Marcus and his wife left Town two days since for their estate in Hertfordshire and that new school they’re establishing, leaving the Northrup Town house empty. I make you and your bride free of it.”
There were other difficulties, however, and Pete had to know it.
“How do you suggest I account for my sudden acquisition of a wife? Will that not cause as much gossip as Xena returning to Yorkshire?”
Peter smiled. “I’ve given that some thought, as well. We’ll simply tell the truth, or a slightly censored version of it. Claim you were both too overcome by surprise and confusion last night at Wellington’s do to mention it to anyone. Once you’re seen amicably attending functions together, any early speculations will no doubt fade away.”
Harry took leave to doubt that, but he was rapidly running out of arguments. Nor could he deny that the idea of living for a time in close quarters with Xena, who was even more bewitching than he remembered, held an insidious appeal. Not that he could allow Peter to guess that.
“Still sounds a mad scheme to me, and one more of your making than Xena’s. What did you have to offer to get her to agree?”
“Offer? I promised no money, I assure you.” He noticed Peter did not quite meet his eye, however, instead carefully adjusting the lace edging on one sleeve. “I won’t claim she leapt at the idea when I first put it to her, but I eventually convinced her it was worth a trial.”
“How long a trial?” Harry continued to watch his friend closely, hoping for more clues.
Peter continued to fiddle with his sleeve. “She, ah, suggested you give it until the first of the year. By then you and she should be able to determine whether or not my little experiment was a success.”
A bit over a month, then. A month to become reacquainted with the woman Xena had become. A month to… No. Thinking along those lines would only drive him mad while making an already awkward situation more so.
“And what of my other pursuit, the one you persuaded me to only two weeks since?”
“Probably best if you curtail those activities for the duration. I am prepared to offer you five hundred pounds to offset any losses, however, which you may use as you see fit.”
Harry regarded his friend through narrowed eyes. Clearly this experiment meant a lot to Peter if he was willing to offer such a sum in addition to his other arguments.
Though it chafed to accept what was essentially a bribe, Harry couldn’t deny the plan held a certain appeal, apart from the money. In fact, a month of living in Xena’s pocket might be the very thing to drive her from his mind once and for all.
“Very well. I’ll attempt it…so as not to insult her. But on your head be it if she and I end up murdering each other.”
CHAPTER 10
WHEN XENA had received no further communication from Lord Peter by that evening, she began to breathe easier. Clearly Harry had refused to go along with that ridiculous scheme, just as she had predicted. Though much relieved to be spared Lord Peter’s “trial,” she was nonetheless aware of a tiny thread of disappointment. It seemed Harry had been able to put her from his mind rather more easily than she’d been able to put him from hers.
That her dreams again prominently featured Harry did not help matters at all. To turn her mind to other paths, immediately after breakfast she set about preparing Theo’s lessons for the upcoming week. Yamini was an excellent tutor, instructing him in the rudiments of Greek, Latin, French and mathematics, but Xena herself taught him history and geography as well as planning his courses of study. Back in Yorkshire she had
also begun teaching him the basic principles of fencing, but that was scarcely possible here.
She had just written out Theo’s mathematics curriculum when a tap came at the door. Glancing up as Gretchen answered, she saw one of Mrs. Henderson’s housemaids. After a few exchanged words, Gretchen turned to her excitedly.
“There’s a gentleman below asking for you, mum, like as not the same one who come calling yesterday. You’re sure and certain he’s already married?”
Xena’s breath caught. Perhaps Lord Peter had merely come to release her from her bargain? She could but hope.
“Quite certain, Gretchen, so no spinning of romantic fancies, if you please. He likely brings more news of old comrades.”
Bringing the more discreet Yamini along for propriety, she went down to Mrs. Henderson’s tiny parlor, where her caller’s delighted smile instantly banished her hopeful theory.
“How nice to see you again, Lord Peter,” she lied.
He stood and bowed. “I am relieved to hear you say so, madam, as I come with what I consider excellent news.”
“Oh?” She tried not to let her tension show.
“Indeed. As I predicted, Harry has agreed to my proposal. I would have sent word last night but thought it better to inform you in person.”
For fear she might take Theo and flee London before morning? “Given how you obtained my agreement, I can’t help but wonder at the means you used to secure Harry’s.”
“Once I told him you were willing, he was not so very hard to convince,” Lord Peter assured her, flicking a speck of dust from his sleeve. “You will not, I hope, renege on our bargain?”
“Blackmail scarcely counts as a bargain in my view, but I never go back on my given word. Now we’ve both agreed, I presume you will begin working out how this experiment of yours is to proceed?” Though somewhat reassured by the possibility that Harry actually wanted to give their marriage this trial, she was curious about the logistics.
“On the contrary, my dear Mrs. Thatcher, everything is already arranged—another reason for my small delay in calling upon you.”
Xena listened with growing dismay as Lord Peter outlined his scheme, both startled and grudgingly impressed by how many details he had worked out in only a day. He had even secured a house for them, to fulfill his conditions.
“Of course you need not spend all of your time there. You may go about whatever activities you like, so long as you both sleep in the house each night—though the more activities you share, the more likely this effort will be to succeed.”
Did she want it to succeed? ’Twould be a good thing—for Theo’s sake—if it prompted Harry to pursue a less licentious lifestyle, she supposed. Still… “You will not, I hope, require us to share a bedroom?”
Lord Peter looked startled. “Ah, no. I rather hope that in time you might choose such an arrangement, but that seems a bit much to insist upon before you have had a chance to become reacquainted.”
That worry, at least, was allayed. Unless this house he spoke of was extremely small, it might be possible for them to share it without encountering each other at all, except in passing.
As though divining her thought, Lord Peter added, “I do, however, think it fair to insist that you dine together on those evenings you have no other engagements, as well as taking breakfast together each morning. That should provide ample opportunity for you to mutually determine how you wish to proceed as your time together progresses.”
Xena wanted to argue that condition but something in his face told her that, despite his colorful dress and almost foppish appearance, Lord Peter was not a man to be easily swayed from a course he believed was right—as he clearly believed himself to be in this case.
“Very well. Two meals each day, whenever possible. When do you wish this experiment of yours to commence?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, if you can make arrangements to relocate by then.”
“Tomorrow! I’m sorry, my lord, but I don’t see how I can possibly—”
Yamini’s soft voice interrupted her. “Begging your pardon, mum, I’ve taken the liberty of making all necessary preparations, save the packing of your personal effects.”
Xena whirled to glare at the woman she’d always regarded as her closest ally. “Yamini! Why—? And what am I to tell Theo?”
“I have given thought to that as well, mum. An old acquaintance you met at the Duke of Wellington’s reception has invited you to a house party here in Town. Attending will allow us all to remain longer in London. Given Theo’s enthusiasm for city life, I doubt he will ask too many questions.”
Feeling utterly betrayed, she turned back to Lord Peter. “It appears I can indeed relocate on the morrow. Where is this house you have arranged for me—us—to stay?”
“On Grosvenor Street. It is a house that has been in my family for several generations but is currently unoccupied, except for the servants. Not terribly large, but in a most eligible location, just around the corner from Grosvenor Square.”
An eligible location indeed! The heart of Mayfair, in fact, where the very pinnacle of Society dwelt.
“Is there a particular time you would like me to arrive?” Despite herself, Xena could not suppress a tingle of eagerness. To see the house, of course. Not to see Harry again—especially in what would surely be an awkwardly intimate setting.
“As you will presumably have luggage, I will send a carriage for you. Shall we say three o’clock tomorrow?”
Xena swallowed. “I, ah, suppose that will be acceptable.”
Lord Peter smiled broadly. “Excellent. Oh, Sarah asked me to mention again how very much she should like to become better acquainted. She is particularly eager to share with you the sights and amusements of Town, as many are still novelties to her, as well. The theatre, for example. I hope you—and Harry—will accompany us sometime in the near future.”
That tingle of eagerness increased. Xena had always longed to attend a theatrical performance—perhaps to see one of Shakespeare’s works on the stage, rather than simply read aloud, as she and Yamini had been known to do for amusement, and for Theo’s benefit. She could even regale Theo with an account of the experience later…
“That might be pleasant, my lord. Thank you.”
“Sarah will be delighted.” Lord Peter stood. “And now, I’ll leave you to your preparations. I give you good day, Mrs. Thatcher. Ma’am.”
He bowed first to Xena, then to Yamini—a courtesy rarely offered to a servant, much less one of clearly foreign origin. Xena’s opinion of him rose accordingly. Surely, if this man was Harry’s closest friend, Harry could not be quite so debauched as those officers had implied?
She needn’t wonder for long, she realized. Living in close quarters with him for a month should give her ample opportunity to observe his character for herself. As the great military tactician Sun Tzu had said in his writings, one should know one’s enemies even better than one knew one’s friends.
If a small voice whispered that she did not wish Harry to be her enemy, she ignored it.
* * *
“Is everything ready, Gretchen?” Xena asked from near the window as a crested carriage drew up in front of the house the following afternoon.
Her nerves were stretched taut despite telling herself repeatedly that she had little to fear. At the worst, she and Harry would have a falling out this very day and declare the experiment a failure at its outset—or would that be the best?
“Yes, mum, as I already told you three times. Begging your pardon,” she added quickly when Xena shot her a frown.
Gretchen’s excitement about the “house party” made her even less guarded in her speech than usual. Xena had therefore decided not to confide the truth to her until they were on their way lest the girl let it slip to Theo, something she preferred not happen just yet.
For whatever Harry might hope to come out of this attempted reconciliation, her own goal was clear—to learn everything possible about her husband’s character and the state of hi
s finances. Only then could she decide what would truly be best—for all of them.
“The coach is here. Theo, you must behave yourself and do as Yamini tells you.”
He nodded, still half-pouting that he was not to go, too, though Yamini had promised to take him about to some of the sights of London while Xena was away.
“Now give me a kiss,” she said, bending down.
Though at the great age of six and a half he often declared himself too old for such caresses, now he threw his arms about her neck. “I shall miss you, Mother. Will you truly be gone a whole month and more?”
“Possibly, but not so very far from here. I will arrange with Yamini to visit with you as often as I can. Perhaps we will go to a park together.”
“Or the menagerie at the Tower?”
“We’ll see.” Giving her son another kiss, resisting the urge to clasp him to her again, she picked up her small valise and led Gretchen down to the waiting carriage.
The carriage driver strapped Xena’s trunk to the back, with the help of Mrs. Henderson’s man-servant, as she and Gretchen climbed inside. Lord Peter must be waiting for them at the townhouse he spoke of. At least, Xena hoped so. Her meeting with Harry might be a tiny bit less awkward that way.
“Gretchen, now we are private, I must tell you there is no house party—or, rather, the only guests will be myself and my husband, Harry Thatcher.”
The girl’s face fell at her first words, but then became a picture of blank astonishment. “Your…husband, mum? But he’s been dead this many a year, ain’t he? Or have you somehow gone and got yourself married over the past week?”
As the driver whipped up the horses, Xena briefly explained the double misunderstanding that had led to the current situation.
“Mind you, he knows nothing about Theo yet, so don’t mention him to any of the servants at the house. I wish to, ah, become reacquainted with my husband before springing such a surprise on him. Or on Theo.”
“I’ll not say nothing, then, mum,” Gretchen promised. “But lor’ what a romance, to be sure! Reunited after all these years thinking each other dead! Like something out of a penny novel it is.” Her brown eyes shone with renewed excitement.
