Two Wrongs Make a Marriage

by Christine Merrill

‘I have no idea what you mean to accomplish by this,’ she said. ‘It is broad daylight. We are in a hired conveyance and I am covered from head to foot.’

  ‘Where you hear a caution, I hear a challenge,’ he said with a smile and pulled off his gloves. Then he ran a finger along the front of her cloak where she held it tightly together. ‘You are sitting there like a wrapped sweet and telling me that it is not time for dessert. But I have never been good at waiting.’ He plunged a hand beneath the cloak and wrapped it about her waist, pulling her body towards his. Then he kissed her again.

  Perhaps it was the suddenness. Or perhaps she did not believe he could get up to much mischief in such surroundings. But she did not resist his touch and so he grew more daring, allowing both hands to travel freely over her body, touching breasts and belly through her gown, pressing down into her lap and imagining the soft place waiting for him there.

  And as she did each time he kissed her, she melted for him, throwing back her head and exposing her bare throat for attention. He obliged, tonguing into the hollow at the base of it, manoeuvring her breasts so that they crested over the neckline of her bodice, resting there like strawberries, waiting for his mouth. Then he buried his face in the opening at the front of the cloak, letting the cloth shield him as he tasted her. The wool muffled her sighs as she pressed herself into the carriage seat, arching her back, giving him space to cup her bottom with his hands, thrusting one into the pocket slit on the seam of her skirt.

  He heard a little rip as he fumbled inside her gown and another as he fought with the petticoat. Then he was touching skin, following the crease of her leg to the centre of her and pushing deep inside her.

  She froze in shock at the touch, then relaxed and arched again, her own hand stealing beneath the cloak to stroke his hair as he nibbled on her breasts, thinking of all the other bits of her he wished to find and suck.

  And she was thinking of them as well, adjusting her hips so that he might go deeper and pressing her body against his thumb before giving a long silent shudder and collapsing back into the seat.

  He withdrew then, leaving her breasts exposed inside the cloak, before pulling his gloves back on.

  Her eyelids fluttered for a moment, as though she might swoon, and then she muttered, ‘Wicked man.’ But it was said with more amazement than annoyance. ‘You took advantage of me.’

  ‘Not nearly as much as I’d have liked to,’ he said. ‘You’d best keep your cloak closed tight. If I catch clear sight of those breasts, I’ll have you flat on your back on the carriage seat and prove just how wicked I am.’

  He had not time to do more, for they were coming very near to Covent Garden and the man he sought. So he took himself back to the other side of the carriage to be out of the way of temptation and admired the results of his efforts.

  If possible, she was even more ripe and luscious when satisfied than she had been when cross with him. He could see her hands, moving under the cloak, trying to right the damage he had done to her dress, and noted each slight widening of her eyes as she touched her own sensitive flesh. ‘I do not know what Polly will say about this gown, for I am sure you have quite ruined it.’

  ‘As if a bit of torn muslin is your greatest worry,’ he said with a grin. ‘More like I have ruined you for other men.’

  ‘Do not flatter yourself,’ she said and turned away from him to look out the window.

  * * *

  I have ruined you...

  The gall of the man. He had pawned her ring, then used his apology as an excuse to abuse her. Worst of all, he was thoroughly right to brag about it. As she tried to tuck her breasts back into her gown she could feel echoes of the discord he had created in the rest of her—her body was still damp from where his fingers had thrust.

  If the feelings he’d engendered were a sample of what might occur if he bedded her, then she could understand her mother’s recommendation to take advantage of the convenience.

  It was wrong, of course. But so was lying and stealing money, even if one was stealing it from a thief. This, at least, had been more pleasurable than talking to de Warde. And it was sanctioned by church, state and both families. If she had enquired of Miss Pennyworth what her responsibilities were when it came to her husband’s needs and desires, she would have been informed that anything less than total and complete surrender was a failing.

  Surrender. And there was another troublesome shudder, starting in the womb and spreading a luxurious glow from head to toe.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Jack gave her another self-

  satisfied grin.

  ‘A chill. Nothing more.’

  ‘Best keep your cloak fastened, then.’

  As if she had any choice. Her dress was in no state to be seen.

  The carriage had stopped in front of a tavern and he helped her to the street with a word of assurance. ‘The place is frequented by actors. If we are to find the man I am looking for, it will be either here or in bed.’

  ‘Drinking during the day?’ she said in surprise.

  ‘He works at night,’ Jack reminded her. He opened the door and there was a swell of song that was bawdy, but surprisingly tuneful for what she’d have expected from an inebriated crowd. Even more shocking, the company was mixed, both men and women, although the females present were not so obviously improper as she might have suspected. They dressed no more indecently than other ladies. Nor did they cling to the men as though they needed them for support, instead drinking and singing just as their male fellows did.

  ‘Actresses,’ she said, eyes round.

  ‘You say that as you might say whore,’ he said with a bit of reproof. ‘As if these ladies would waste their favours in that way. If they chose to sell themselves, they would do it to those who could afford them. If they share themselves here, it is from genuine affection and not with the intent of gaining some brief protection.’

  At least he did not cite her mother’s past as an example. Thea dreaded to think which category Antonia might fall into, or what unfortunate truths she might learn, should she enquire. Jack was scanning the faces for one he might recognize. His eyes focused on a table near the back of the crowded room and he raised a hand in greeting. ‘There he is. Just the man for the job I have in mind.’ He was pulling her towards a dark corner which held an equally dark man who would have seemed quite forbidding had it not been for the brilliant smile he gave them as they approached. His features marked him as an Indian, or perhaps some sort of half-caste son.

  ‘This is my friend, Danyl Fitzhugh.’ Jack was smiling broadly at the swarthy man at his side.

  ‘How do you do,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘Lady Kenton.’ He stood and bowed low over her hand.

  ‘You know.’ She shot Jack a worried look.

  ‘He knows everything. Or very nearly,’ Jack said with a nod.

  Fitzhugh laughed. ‘And now you are thinking, the dark stranger will be our undoing.’ Rather than be angry, he continued to smile, but dropped his tone to be discreet. ‘You have nothing to fear, my lady. Jack and I are as near to brothers as it is possible to be.’

  ‘We might even be brothers,’ Jack insisted. ‘Your father and my mother were quite close for a time.’

  ‘And you can see the obvious family resemblance,’ Danyl said with a cynical shrug. Even accounting for the difference in complexions, it was clear that they shared no common features between them. ‘Jack has always been eager to know his father. Although why he should want mine, I have no idea. He brought my mother back to England with him, then abandoned us both. But that is my lot and it has not been unhappy. If Jack has found himself a rich wife and a plum spot, even for a short time, I do not begrudge him it.’

  ‘And Danyl is the perfect man for the job,’ Jack said, in the same reassuring tone he used for almost all of the rash statements he made to her. ‘He will appear to be some friend I met on the exotic travels in the Orient.’

  Danyl laughed again. ‘You have never been farther east than Ipswi
ch.’

  ‘But Lord Kenton spent his life in the wilds of India,’ Jack said with a reproving glare. ‘And he met you there. You earned the fortune you possess in trade of just such items as Mr de Warde wishes to buy.’

  ‘Bully for me!’ Danyl said with enthusiasm. ‘I suppose my father was a Brahmin and my mother a seer.’

  ‘Your parents can be whomever you would like,’ Jack said.

  ‘How magnanimous of you,’ Danyl said with another deep bow.

  ‘Would that it were so easy,’ Thea said with a sigh. ‘My parents have always been just who they wished to be and have never given me a say in it.’

  ‘I have not told you of my most recent discovery,’ Jack said to his friend, leaning close over the table. ‘You are sharing a table with the daughter of Antonia Knowles. Although why I did not see it from the first I have no idea.’ Jack lifted her veil so that his friend might see her face. ‘Just look at her. Have you ever seen a lovelier woman?’

  Danyl’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘She is the very image of her mother. And it explains why I am unable to control my feelings for her.’

  ‘That will be enough, Danyl,’ Jack said with a warning. ‘Lady Kenton is married, after all.’

  ‘To you,’ Danyl laughed. ‘For now.’

  The shameless flattery and banter between the two men paled in significance, next to the information that Fitzhugh had divulged so casually. ‘You knew of my mother?’

  ‘Who did not?’ he said reverently.

  Only she, apparently. ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘I saw her as Cherry in Beaux Stratagem.’ Danyl rolled his eyes heavenwards.

  ‘You were barely a boy,’ Jack said with a grin.

  ‘But that day I wished I was a man. Saw her as Desdemona, too. And imagined myself rescuing her from the Moor.’

  ‘She had range,’ Jack agreed. ‘There was not a role she could not conquer.’

  ‘She played for kings,’ Danyl agreed. ‘And broke hearts all across Europe.’ Then he looked at Thea, as though just remembering she was present. ‘Then, one day she disappeared.’

  ‘She met my father,’ Thea said helplessly. And raised a daughter who did not believe a word of her stories.

  Danyl smiled. ‘A lucky man he must be, to have both a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter. I am doubly honoured to meet you, Lady Kenton. And to be of service to your mother through you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Thea responded, although it was more of a reflex than anything else. She had never thought of her father as a particularly lucky man, thinking her mother more of a burden than a gift. It was quite clear that she had understood nothing.

  Jack smiled in encouragement. ‘And remember, every lie Danyl tells is one that you do not have to.’

  The other man took her hand and bowed across the table. ‘You must allow me to assist you, my lady. I would not dream of anything less.’ Then he looked at Jack. ‘Now tell me more of your plans...’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ignorance truly was bliss. Thea had not appreciated it when it had been in her possession. She had been assured that her education was comprehensive and left school sure that she was prepared for any situation she might encounter.

  But Miss Pennyworth had been quite wrong about several things.

  It had been a day of firsts for Thea. She had seen the inside of both a pawn shop and a tavern. She had been assured that every tale her mother had told her about the fabulous successes of her youth had been true. And she had seen her mother perform for Mr de Warde, turning the unlikely story that Jack had presented into something believable. Apparently, she owed apologies to Antonia for a lifetime of injustices. In twenty years, Thea had believed not a word out of her mouth.

  In the carriage, Jack had educated her in quite another way. Then he had sat talking with his friend as though nothing had happened between them. Nor had he offered to continue the lessons on the return trip to Kenton House. He had said not a word about it as they’d had dinner, nor noticed when she had retired early, confused and exhausted. By that time he was deep in conversation with the earl, assuring him that they were nearing an end to the difficulties with de Warde.

  Thea toyed with the ribbons on her nightdress, unable to be still. Was this plan really likely to be met with anything other than embarrassing failure? If word of it escaped, the ton would greet it as far more amusing than her mother’s worst faux pas.

  It would be impossible to recover from such a scandal. Jack would recover as easily as a Harlequin hit with a slapstick. And her mother was accustomed to handling such slips, recovering from them with a graceful smile and an infectious laugh.

  Thea was not.

  Her education had been in the manners necessary for the scrupulous avoidance of disgrace. But not a word had been said about the recovery from a mistake, for it had been assumed that such knowledge was unnecessary. If she had the chance, she must write Miss Pennyworth and tell her just how useless that had proved.

  There was a knock upon the bedroom door that connected their rooms and she started. It could only be one person. How should she answer him? After a moment’s pause, she decided to follow her heart. ‘Come in.’

  Jack stood in the door frame for a moment, as though waiting for applause. ‘It is not locked? I’d have tried it earlier, had I known that.’

  ‘Brigand,’ she said. But her heart was not up to provoking him.

  ‘That’s my girl. I feared, after the loss of your ring, that you might be losing faith as well.’

  ‘It is not just any jewel, you know. The discovery that it is missing will reveal just how low Spayne has sunk.’

  He came forwards and took her bare left hand in his, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. ‘Do not worry. We will have it back in no time.’

  ‘You are always so confident,’ she said with a shaky laugh.

  ‘Because I know how people think,’ he replied, tapping his temple. ‘In assuming they will follow their worst natures, I am seldom surprised. We must trust that de Warde’s vaulting ambition will o’er leap itself.’

  ‘Shakespeare again?’

  ‘Of course. You may keep Miss Pennyworth. I have the Bard. Sheridan and Goldsmith are good for a laugh, but when one truly wants to know the hearts of men, one can do no better than Shakespeare.’

  ‘I must trust you, then,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I had no idea that marrying would require I consort with actors and Lombard dealers and charlatans of all sorts.’

  ‘Consort is a rather strong word,’ he said. ‘Although the urge to consort, when you look at me with those eyes, is impossible to resist.’

  She shook her head, ignoring the little thrill that the words raised in her. ‘Do not talk nonsense.’

  ‘I was merely wondering if you wished to continue what we began in the cab this afternoon.’

  It was a brazen suggestion, one that required her to make the decision. She could not pretend, as she had earlier, that there was no way to control what was occurring. Tonight, she had but to send him away and she was sure he would bother her no more. ‘If I say yes,’ she said, looking gravely into his eyes, ‘I do not know what is likely to happen, now or in the future.’

  ‘None of us does, really,’ he said. ‘But I promise, you will enjoy what happens tonight.’ He closed the door behind him and came across the room to stand in front of her, so close that she could almost touch him. ‘I will be gentle. I will protect you from any dangers, just as any husband would. And afterwards I will guard your reputation with my life.’ He was smiling at her and it was warm and fond and tender. His hands came to her shoulders and he pulled her into him, until his lips rested by her ear. ‘“Hear my soul speak: the very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly to your service.”’

  ‘Shakespeare again?’

  He nodded, and she felt his cheek move against hers. ‘But no less true, even if the words are not mine. When I am with you, I cannot help myself. I was yours from the first moment.’ And then, as though reveali
ng too much of himself, he tried to make light of the comment. ‘It was the cut of your dress, I suspect. I’d have done anything for a chance to lay hands on those breasts.’

  She sighed. ‘And now you are trying to spoil it. What shall I do with you?’

  She expected some sly comment in response, but instead he said, ‘Forgive me. You are not the only one who was not prepared for the turn some things have taken lately.’ He dipped his lips to the corner of her mouth and kissed her. Then he said in a quiet, amazed voice, ‘“When I saw you I fell in love, and you smiled because you knew.”’ He looked at her, his eyes blue and soft, and she believed the truth in them, down to her very soul.

  ‘Hamlet.’ She sighed.

  He nodded. ‘And you have a beautiful smile,’ he added, touching the corner of her lip with his fingertip.

  ‘That did not end well for Ophelia, I think.’

  ‘Because Hamlet was not truthful with her,’ Jack said softly. ‘He did love her. But he waited too long to share the fact.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I have played him many times.’

  Just as he was playing a part now. But she was tired and a little frightened and did not want to think about it. ‘So, when you are Hamlet, does Ophelia ever learn the truth?’

  ‘The next time, perhaps. I might make the ending happy, like Tate did for King Lear.’ He looked solemnly into her eyes. ‘Those who love deserve to be happy, despite what the playwrights may think.’

  ‘Sacrilege,’ she whispered with another smile.

  ‘There is enough tragedy in the world, is there not? Far too many kindred spirits kept apart by birth and circumstance.’ His lips were closer to hers now and she remembered the kisses they’d shared that afternoon, hot and passionate through the lace of her veil.

  ‘Star-crossed lovers?’ she coaxed.

  ‘Exactly that. A couple who are totally wrong for each other, but meant to be together all the same.’ There was an earnestness about him that made her want to believe, if only to have one more kiss. His lips brushed hers again.

  She tasted his after-dinner port, licking the flavour away with the tip of her tongue. ‘And what would you do to bring them together?’