Two Wrongs Make a Marriage

by Christine Merrill

  rosettes framed by clusters of diamonds, matching earrings, a tiara and a suspiciously blank space that must have contained a ring.

  She touched the ring on her hand nervously and found it hard to take the next breath. ‘I have been wearing that ring?’

  He smiled. ‘You have heard of it, then?’

  ‘Everyone has heard of the Spayne emeralds. They were a gift from Henry VII. A heavy girdle of stones, with matching clips, buckles and stomacher. They were lost briefly under Cromwell’s rule, found, restored, reset...’ She ticked off what she could remember of their history on her fingers. ‘Unlike most stones with a long and storied provenance, they are thought to be lucky. They are more famous than the earl who was entrusted with them. But the current Spayne said nothing about them when we visited.’

  ‘Well, he must have been thinking of it,’ Jack said with a shrug. ‘He brought the lot of them down from the lock rooms in Essex when he came to town yesterday. Said we would have need of them if we truly wished to play at lord and lady.’

  She gave the actor an incredulous look, for he was speaking of the famous treasures as though they were nothing more than costume pieces. She looked down at her hand. ‘When you gave this to me, you did nothing to indicate that this was that ring. You said it belonged to your mother.’

  Jack shrugged. ‘I said all kinds of nonsense when I was eager to get you into bed.’ He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her, so that he could better reach her throat. She felt the warm touch of his fingers at her nape. ‘I did not expect you would remember. And that was almost accurate, if I had actually been Kenton. Spayne said his wife did quite like wearing the ring. She complained the rest was too heavy.’

  As he adorned her with it, Thea could sympathise with the late Lady Spayne. ‘They are.’ If his hands had not been there to steady her, she would likely have fainted from the shock of wearing them, for she certainly did not deserve it. If he was not Kenton, then she had no right at all to touch them. ‘They are also the showpiece of the entail. They are a symbol of the family. Even when I thought I was marrying Kenton, I did not think to see the ring on my finger every day, even as a joke.’

  ‘Tonight, you must wear every last stone, no matter how much they weigh.’ He pulled her body close to his, her back against his chest, his arms around her waist. And for just this once, she would allow it, if only to steal a little of his irrational self-confidence. ‘We want everyone to know that you are the symbolic vessel of the future Earl of Spayne.’ His hands were on her belly and the gentle pat on her stomach raised butterflies in it. He was talking of her womb, full with his child, and her mind drifted nervously to the activities that would make it so.

  ‘We especially want to impress de Warde. If his goal was to force the earl to disgrace and suicide, it will infuriate him to see how far afield his plan has gone. I expect it will bother him even more so when you tell him that your mother is pregnant.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘When I what?’

  His arms were suddenly empty as she jerked away from them. It was a shame because he had been quite enjoying the round, soft, full feeling of holding her. Now she was turned to face him, all cold chill and sharp corners again.

  He smiled, trying to lull her back to what she had been. Then he set the tiara on her head so that it rested crookedly in a nest of curls. ‘Tonight you will tell my esteemed uncle that your mother is most blessed with fecundity, due to the idol he has given your father.’

  ‘But my mother is not pregnant. Even if she was, I would not be so vulgar as to announce it at a public gathering to a gentleman.’ Her hand was fluttering at her throat as though she might choke on the outrage.

  He watched the fingers for a moment, toying with the chained emeralds dangling at the delicious hollow of her breast. ‘That is not important,’ Jack said, pulling his eyes away and trying to focus on the matter at hand. ‘You will be telling him that she is. And you will insist that I have told you it is a boy, using arcane skills I picked up in the mysterious East.’

  ‘But that would be lying.’ She was staring at him with her beautiful green eyes and a worried expression, as though it mattered in the slightest what happened to de Warde, as long as they succeeded. Had her mother taught her nothing about dissembling?

  Then he remembered how easily he had fallen for her tricks and looked at her, eyes narrowed to see the schemer before him and not the tasty package that held it. ‘When did you discover such morals? You lied to trap me and it did not bother you then.’

  ‘That was merely a deception. Evasion. Halftruths in the moonlight. Certain latitudes must be taken if one wishes to catch the attention of a man. But this...’

  ‘Is to trick de Warde,’ he said, frustrated. ‘He is your enemy, is he not?’

  ‘It does not matter who he is. I cannot say such a thing.’

  ‘Do you want him to go unpunished?’

  ‘I do not wish to sink so low as to discuss my mother’s...’ She gave him a helpless look. ‘Not even to see justice done.’

  ‘Yet you were willing to marry a stranger to repair your family’s fortune,’ he reminded her. ‘And that would have required far more than discussion.’

  ‘Of course,’ she replied, ‘because the stranger was a viscount. How else would I have helped my family? Taken in washing?’

  As though a little manual labour was the worst fate that could befall a woman with financial difficulties. Jack could think of at least one career for such a voluptuous female that could have netted a pretty penny. ‘And see how well that worked for you. Next you will tell me that it is more honourable to give yourself to de Warde, like some kind of martyr.’

  There was a hint of desperation in her expression, as though she might actually consider it. Then she shook her head. ‘That would be totally different. We were married. Mr de Warde could not marry me, as he already had a wife.’

  Jack clenched his fists at his sides to keep from pulling out his own hair. Her combination of wide-eyed innocence and cold-blooded social climbing was maddening. ‘Perhaps you are right and I do not understand people of your class. There is nothing particularly intelligent about taking the honourable course as the nobility do. It is littered with male suicides and ruined women. Do you have no sense of self-preservation at all?’

  She was still looking at him as though he was talking gibberish. If he was smart, he’d have turned and run at that moment. Since there was no saving her, he would be better to save himself.

  There was the faintest twinkle in her eye, caused by a single unshed tear. She was not stupid, for his own vanity insisted that no stupid woman could have caught him. And the trick she had used was a clever one, he had to admit.

  But she had been unlucky enough to have the rest of the sense trained out of her to make her acceptable to society. It was as if someone had taken a diamond, then forced it into an inferior setting. He had but to pry it out again and set it right.

  He took a deep breath and schooled himself to patience. Hard experience had taught him the lessons needed to stay alive. The current circumstances would force this woman to fight unarmed against a man who did not share her high ideals. She needed to learn life’s true lessons all at once, and he must be her teacher.

  ‘What you are saying, that you do not wish to lie and cheat to get what you want, is an honourable and worthy thing,’ he began. ‘It is cruel of me to taunt you for it. But you must have realised by now that de Warde is no gentleman, no matter his birth. He has shown no respect for you, for your family or for your honour.’

  ‘And now I will be forced to sink to his level.’

  ‘Only long enough to beat him at his own game,’ he promised. ‘We will use his greed against him. It is only in grasping at things that do not belong to him that he will overbalance and fall.’

  ‘You are saying that, if he were a proper gentleman, we would not be able to defeat him with lies?’ she said hopefully.

  Her own father had been brought low by them qu
ick enough. It was a spurious argument, but it seemed to console her. If Jack lied now, it was a small white one that would save her fragile pride. ‘Indeed. For all his good birth, my dear Uncle Henry is as base a villain as any I have met. That will be his weakness in the end. But I will need you to help me if we are to prevail.’

  She sighed. ‘Even if it goes against my nature.’

  ‘It is nothing worse than a little play-acting,’ he coaxed.

  ‘And that is just the trouble with it. I have tried so very hard not to be like...’ She bit her lip.

  Jack had little experience with sincerity. It was a shame that she was not acting, for he’d have found it even more appealing had it been on stage. As she nibbled her lower lip it pouted, full and lusciously kissable. He could not tear his eyes from it, nor keep his mind focused on the urgency of the situation. But it proved again why his reaction to her had been so sudden and so irresistible. After seeing Antonia, he had been waiting all his life to meet a woman very like her. When one appeared before him and beckoned him towards the garden, what chance did he have? Now he could not seem to help himself and reached out to clasp her hand. ‘To be like who, Cyn?’

  ‘Whom,’ she said, softly. ‘It is more properly said whom, I think.’

  ‘And while correct, it does not answer my question.’ Although he was sure he knew the answer. ‘Who do you fear to emulate?’

  ‘My mother, of course.’

  ‘But if the great Antonia is your mother, then you have no need to fear this little charade. You have the ability to beguile bred deep in the bone. We have but to bring it out of you.’

  ‘That is exactly what I fear,’ she said with a wail. ‘I do not want to be an actress. I have seen what they are like. Flighty, mercurial, altogether inappropriate for society.’

  ‘Is your mother cruel to you?’ he asked, praying that it was not so. After so many years, it would be a shame to discover that his idol was less than worthy.

  ‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘She loves me well enough, in her own way. But she was not the sort of person likely to marry a man like my father. She was quite far below him in birth. In fact, I doubt she even knows the identity of my grandfather.’

  ‘Then you do not love her,’ Jack guessed. Her vehemence surprised him, for at the wedding she’d seemed quite fond of her mother.

  ‘That is not true, either. She is my mother. How could I not love her?’ Her eyes were gloriously round, deep and green, and as he stared at them, he felt his mind wandering again. ‘I simply do not like being her daughter.’

  ‘Eh?’ Apparently, this was another of Thea’s subtle distinctions that he could not follow.

  ‘She is rather a force of nature,’ Thea explained. ‘There is no changing her, any more than it is possible to erase her past. People like her well enough. But even when she tries, she cannot manage to behave as the mothers of the other girls I know.’ Thea gave a helpless wave of her hands. ‘She is altogether too...too...too everything. She laughs too much, talks too often about things that are best left unsaid and is altogether too visible.’ Thea frowned. ‘I am not like that. I favour Father, I think. That is why we decided that it would be better if I were educated away from home to bring out the qualities that would most please Grandfather.’ She smiled fondly at the thought. ‘I attended Miss Pennyworth’s Seminary for the Education of Young Ladies.’

  ‘It sounds dreadful,’ Jack supplied.

  ‘It was not.’ She gave a sigh of relief. ‘It was so much easier. There was order. Peace. The other girls were quiet and well behaved.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Jack arched his eyebrow.

  A slight flush crept up the graceful column of her throat. ‘Well, they should have been. It was most vexing to the teachers when they were not. I sought to be a good example and followed the instructions of the mistresses to the letter.’

  ‘I suspect you did.’

  ‘And no one told me stories of—’ her lips pursed in disapproval as she whispered ‘—things no young lady should know.’

  ‘What sorts of things are those?’

  ‘My mother sometimes... It is just that...’ She blushed scarlet. ‘She and my father, after so many years, are most ardently affectionate to each other.’

  ‘Your father is a most fortunate man,’ Jack agreed.

  ‘But if he is, I should not know of it. Nor should I know if he is not. I should not know anything at all about that part of life. And I especially should not know about that part of marriage.’

  Jack smothered a smile. ‘I should think it would be a comfort not to live in ignorance.’

  ‘But the other girls all were,’ Thea said. ‘They knew nothing about anything. And they seemed far more content than I was. Miss Pennyworth did not say a word on the subject. We were given educating tracts, scripture, sermons and all necessary skills. But nothing was said about...’

  It was a horrifying prospect. Innocent girls married to the sort of worldly gentlemen he knew inhabited the ton, going to their marriage beds in terror. ‘Did you take it upon yourself to question her? Did you demand to know the truth?’

  ‘Certainly not. Nor did I enlighten the others with what I knew. If we needed such information, then surely someone would have given it to us.’

  Of all the things he had expected, when making the offer to the passionate creature who had caught him, it had never occurred to him that his lady would be a self-righteous prig. Her response on that night had been more than ardent. And with her heritage considered, he’d have used words like ‘temptress’ to describe her. ‘But your mother told you everything, of course.’

  ‘And I spent two years at boarding school, doing my best to unlearn it. I was not about to be brought up in such a way. I hoped that Father’s father would approve of my efforts,’ she said earnestly. ‘If I could manage to persuade him that my mother’s influence had done me no harm, then perhaps he would relent on the matter of Father’s inheritance.’ She sighed. ‘And when I came back...’ She gave another helpless wave of her hands. ‘Chaos. Just as I feared. Just as it always is when I am home.’ She stared into his eyes, worried.

  Jack could not help the feeling creeping up his spine to help, to protect, as though nerves and sinews stood ready, despite the healthy scepticism in his brain, to rush to the aid and comfort of the poor girl who needed him. Ginger hair and a fine bosom, he reminded himself firmly and stayed his hand. They had tricked him before.

  ‘I want to be just the opposite of my mother. Honest, polite and exactly what I appear to be. And I have succeeded. Until now.’ She pointed a dire finger in his direction. ‘Until you.’

  So he was the fault, was he? He thought in disgust of what would have happened to her had she been wed and bedded by a spurious gentleman like de Warde. It would be no less than she deserved. ‘As soon as I am gone, you can go back to being just as you were,’ he assured her. Ignorant and silly. ‘In just a few short weeks, we will have finished with Uncle Henry. It is the best I can offer you, really.’ And good riddance. ‘A small sacrifice on your part will mean success for your parents, and for Lord Spayne as well.’

  ‘If there is no other way...’ He watched her bosom rise and fall in a huge and very theatrical sigh that would have done her mother proud. ‘Tell me what I must do.’

  ‘It will be simple. You have but to do as I tell you and say what I ask you to say. There is really nothing to acting but remembering words in the right order. If you were good in school, you will be good at this. Pretend it is poetry. I suspect you’ve memorised your fair share of that.’

  ‘But how will I make people believe the lies?’

  Jack tore his gaze from the swelling breast and the pouting lips. ‘People will believe you, I am sure. Men, particularly. De Warde especially. He has but to look into your eyes...’ And then he realised he was doing just that and thinking of things that had nothing to do with the matter at hand. He cleared his throat and cleared his head. ‘Where was I? Acting lessons. Yes. When the story is sad, you t
hink of a sad thing. When it is happy, think of the moments that have brought you joy. Let your mind go to memory as your mouth speaks the words. Can you do that?’

  ‘I will try.’ She gave him another worried look, and he felt his heart melting.

  With enough tutelage she would be every bit as convincing as her mother had been. But tonight would be a difficult evening. ‘Remember, you are not doing any of this for personal gain. You are helping others by it.’

  ‘That is true,’ she said, brightening a little.

  ‘Think of poor Lord Spayne, at the mercy of his brother.’

  ‘That is quite awful,’ she agreed.

  ‘And your parents, unfairly persecuted by him.’

  ‘The man is truly a villain,’ she agreed.

  ‘And think of what will happen to me if you fail.’

  She looked as though she’d come back to earth with a bone-jarring thump. ‘Nothing less than you deserve. You are as great a trickster as he is.’

  ‘Then do not think of me,’ Jack corrected, annoyed that his lovely wife had not an ounce of sympathy in her for his poor neck. ‘Help the others. Help yourself. When you meet de Warde at the ball, tell him the story I shall teach you, just as I give it to you. Think of it as the first step in being rid of me.’

  She gave a resolute nod and he began his instruction, irked to know that an end to their marriage seemed almost as desirable to her as regaining her father’s money.

  Chapter Ten

  Jack had sometimes thought of Kenton’s London digs as if they were a person: old, venerable and dignified. Perhaps the town house was not the first stare of fashion, for there had been no viscount in residence since Spayne had been a young man, but at that time he had appointed it with care. The place still looked expensive, but it had a comfortable shabbiness that put Jack at his ease.

  But now that there was a Lady Kenton, such seediness was not to be allowed. Thea had changed a curtain here, a painting there, making a host of subtle alterations to the whole house to bring it up to date, and then going hammer and tongs at the ballroom, adding festoons of fresh flowers, champagne fountains and music. When dressed for company, the town house was splendid, and the ballroom even more so.