by Laura Landon
“They will stay with the house. You will take only the clothes in your closet and whatever personal items you have acquired since your stepbrother left.” Simon turned to Ira. “Is that what the will stipulates, Ira?”
Ira nodded. “Miss Jessica is entitled to only the money. The home and contents are Tanhill’s. Or will be on April twenty-fifth.”
Simon lightly touched Miss Stanton’s arms. “You will take nothing, my lady. Do you understand? No jewelry. No pictures. No mementos. Nothing. Only the clothes on your back and any items you have personally purchased since Tanhill left.”
He thought he noticed a dampness in her eyes, but she quickly blinked away any sign of emotion and stiffened her shoulders. “Yes, my lord. Only my clothes and what is mine. Is there anything else?”
Simon shook his head.
With a quivering sigh she stood and moved away from the sofa. She kept her back to them, hugging her arms around her middle while she stared out into the garden.
Ira Cambden made a move to go to her, but Simon stopped him with a glance. Starting today, she would learn to rely only on him. Simon walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened at his touch.
He turned her around so she could read his lips. “I don’t want her to be alone, James. Would it be possible for her to stay here until the wedding?”
Jessica started to protest, but Simon held up his hand to silence her.
“Of course,” the Duke of Collingsworth answered.
“Do you have some men you can send with her while she packs? I don’t want to take any chances.”
Simon disregarded the stifled cry he heard from her throat. The look of alarm on her face was more difficult to ignore.
The Duke of Collingsworth walked to the door. Miss Stanton’s gaze followed him. “I’ll have a room made ready for you, Jessica,” Collingsworth said to her. “And some men ready to go with her,” he said to Simon, then left the room.
Simon placed his finger beneath her chin and turned her attention back to him. “Give the orders to your staff to pack their personal belongings and close the house. They are to remove nothing from the premises except the food in the pantry. Any leftover foodstuffs they will give away to the needy. They are to keep nothing for themselves. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“I will trust you to take care of all the legal paperwork, Mr. Cambden,” he said to the solicitor. “I will stop by later today to go over the details with you.”
“Very good, my lord. I will have the paperwork in order to transfer Jessica’s finances over to you as soon as you are legally married.” The solicitor gathered his folder and walked to the door. “I will make sure that everything is documented so Tanhill will not be able to find anything we’ve missed.”
“Very good, Mr. Cambden.”
The door closed behind the solicitor, leaving Simon alone with his future bride. Her voice cut through the silence like a knife through warm butter.
“It’s not too late, my lord. You do not have to do this. I will not hold you to our bargain.”
He turned around to face her, expecting to see her tortured face gripped with fear and regret. What he saw twisted his heart in his chest. The look on her face was as stoic and resigned as if she had enabled herself to step outside her body to bravely accept whatever was expected of her.
“I have no desire to go back on our bargain, Miss Stanton. As you said, you are my only hope to save my inheritance and live a life free of financial worries. Without your money, I lose everything.”
Simon wanted to ask her the same question but realized he didn’t dare. He wasn’t sure she would give the same answer. “We have struck a bargain. It’s too late for either of us to change our minds.”
The finality of his words left no doubt there was no turning back. For either of them.
Chapter 7
Simon fastened the last button on his black waistcoat and studied his refection in the mirror. He looked like hell. His face was pale, which made the dark circles beneath his eyes look even blacker. He’d slept no more last night than he had each of the nights since he’d made the rash decision to forfeit his freedom in exchange for Tanhill’s death.
The room swam before him, and he rubbed his fingers against his temples to ease the pounding in his head. Every muscle in his body ached, but somehow he had to fight to keep this latest attack of malaria at bay until the day was over.
The clock in the entryway of his London town house chimed the hour. He braced his hand against the solid oak armoire and uttered a vile oath. In less than three hours, he’d be married. If he could still stand by then.
He wiped the perspiration from his face with a towel, then braced his arms against the new highboy and waited for the room to stop spinning. He’d sworn he would never offer his name to another woman again. Offering his name to Rosalind had been humiliating enough.
Simon slammed his fist against the dresser. If only the girl didn’t need him so. If only she wasn’t Baron Tanhill’s stepsister. If only she was not the means to an end. An end to Tanhill.
A little voice hidden deep within him questioned his fairness in using her to exact revenge on his nemesis. He couldn’t give an answer. He couldn’t see past his hatred for the man who had taken so much from him.
Simon reached for his tailcoat and slipped it on. He was chilled to the very center of his bones. Damn! Why couldn’t this accursed fever have waited until tomorrow? Until after he’d said his vows and signed his name to the papers?
He drank from the steaming potion Sanjay had fixed him earlier, and prayed it would keep away the worst of his weakness for a few hours more.
“His Grace, the Duke of Collingsworth, is downstairs, master,” Sanjay said from behind him. “Mr. Ira Cambden is with him.”
“Very well, Sanjay. Tell His Grace I’ll be right down.” Simon fastened the last button on his coat, then put the small box containing the ring he would put on her finger in his pocket. “Another shipment of furniture will arrive this morning, and Miss Stanton’s staff should be here shortly. See to it the mistress’s rooms are made ready and her staff gets settled properly.”
“Yes, master.”
A frown of concern covered his servant’s face. Simon wiped his handkerchief over his face again and ignored the knowing look Sanjay gave him.
“Will you be all right, master?”
Simon ignored the question and walked across the room.
Sanjay followed him. “In my next life, I think I will come back as a gentle breeze. I will spend hours each day calming and comforting you. Then carry you away to a hillside far away where you can rest without worries. That is what I will come back as.”
Simon stopped and gripped the doorframe to steady himself. “I think you would not make a very gentle breeze, friend. My disposition would be so disagreeable it would turn you into a raging gale before you could calm me.” Simon dropped his hand to his side and prepared to leave for his wedding. When he reached the door, he stopped to issue a final instruction. “Have a room ready for me on the third floor. I will want to be well out of the way. If I am…indisposed when we return, be sure your new mistress has everything she needs.”
“Yes, master. Do not worry. Sanjay will take very good care of the missy.”
Simon walked to the top of the stairs and stood for a moment. What did it matter if he didn’t love the woman he was going to marry? With very few exceptions, how many men in London had felt anything more than lust or a sense of obligation for the women they married?
He hissed the air through clenched teeth in an effort to block out the vivid reminder of how his body had betrayed him when he’d kissed her. There was no doubt that he’d reacted so outrageously only because he’d had too much to drink that night. He knew her body had licked at him like the fames of a raging fire only because it had been such a long time since he’d held a woman in his arms.
He made his way down the stairs and entered his study, where
James and Ira waited for him. He refused to dwell on anything other than getting through this day.
The room was filled with beautiful new furniture—thanks to his future wife’s money. A sardonic smile crossed his lips. God knew he hated using her for revenge, but he had no choice.
One vow he’d made, though. Never would he allow his feelings to soften toward her. Even if it was to be her money that would pay off his creditors and furnish his house, never would he let himself care for her. Never. He’d cared for a woman once before and had nearly been ruined. Such a weakness would not happen again.
Nor would he owe her for what she’d done. If it took every waking hour until his dying day, he would work his fingers to the bone to replace every pound he’d received from her.
Simon walked across the room to where a brandy decanter sat on the corner of the desk and poured himself two fingers. The brandy went down with a welcoming sting. Before he took his last breath, the slate would be wiped clean. He would not die as his father had. In debt. He would owe no one. Especially his wife.
“And a pleasant good-day to you, too, Simon,” the Duke of Collingsworth said. “For a man about to be married, you look far from the expected picture of the happy groom.”
Simon ignored James’s barbed comment and refilled his glass. He raised his hand and stopped when the brandy touched his lips. Drinking would not help. He’d tried drinking before when he’d felt the symptoms coming on and it hadn’t helped. It would only make the sickness worse.
“Is everything taken care of, James?”
“Yes. The arrangements have been made. I have the special license with me,” James said, patting the inside pocket of his tailcoat.
“Is there anything else, Ira?”
“No, my lord. As soon as the marriage is over, I will take the court magistrates with me to the town house. They will attest that everything is in order and nothing has been removed from the premises. Then we will seal the house. No doubt it will take longer to sign all the papers after the ceremony than it will to perform the marriage.”
Simon turned his attention to his solicitor. “We cannot afford to overlook even one detail, Ira. It could be fatal.”
Ira worried his lower lip, then shook his head. “You forget,” he said with a serious frown on his face, “I know Baron Tanhill, too. Never have I met someone so evil. It was as if the devil himself had a hand in raising him.”
Simon turned to James and steadied his hand on the back of the wing chair. God, how he hated his weakness. He didn’t want to, but he had to tell them. He would probably need their help before the day was over. “I am not well, James.”
James rose to his feet and took a step closer. The worry was evident on his face. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No. There’s nothing. It will pass in a few days. A remembrance from my time in India. While there I contracted malaria. I prayed my fever would stay away until after today, but I am not to be so fortunate. I will have to rely on you and Ira to make sure everything is as it should be.”
“Of course,” they both answered.
“Just be sure no one knows. Not the clergy or the magistrates or the witnesses. We cannot afford to have anyone question my health. Not even my new wife. Since she’s marrying me because she requires my protection, I doubt she would be comforted to know she’s married a man so weak.”
“Begging your pardon, my lord,” Ira interrupted, “but I doubt Jessica thinks she has married a weak man. She’s a very strong woman, sir. Don’t be afraid to trust her.”
Simon laughed. His illness made him reckless. “Trust. I learned long ago, Ira, there is not a woman alive who can be trusted. Understand this here and now. I’m marrying Miss Stanton for two reasons alone. To pay off the creditors so I can keep what is mine. And to keep my promise to protect her from her stepbrother.”
Simon walked to the other side of the room. He wanted to get this day over as soon as possible. “Are we ready to leave?”
Ira and James both followed him to the door. “Yes,” James said from behind him. “Melinda has gone with Jessica to make sure everything is packed. I sent a small army with them. They will be safe.”
“Good.”
Simon fastened the buttons of his topcoat, then settled the black cape Sanjay threw across his chilled shoulders. There was another reason he was marrying Jessica. One he would not reveal to anyone. And it was the most important reason. Revenge.
Taking the inheritance Tanhill would steal from his stepsister was only the first step in his plan to destroy Baron Tanhill and make him pay for what he’d done to him.
And to Sarai.
Jessica smoothed the skirt of her simple ivory satin gown and stared at the three small chests that contained everything in the world she could take with her.
“Why don’t you sit for a while, Jess,” Melinda said, pulling back one of the protective covers that had been draped over the sofa. “James should be here with Simon shortly, and you can relax until they arrive.”
“Relax?” Jessica smothered a shrill laugh. In just a few minutes she would leave her home for the last time and take a total stranger as her husband. A stranger who had made a point of telling her that the only reason he was marrying her was because he was as desperate for her money as she was for his name—and his protection. A stranger who had taken every opportunity to instruct her not to expect anything more from their union than the safety his name could offer.
Jessica paced the length of the room again, stopping only when Melinda grasped her shoulders. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Jess? It’s not too late to change your mind. Perhaps James could arrange—”
“No,” Jessica said, not wanting to hear anything more. “I am doing the right thing. Marriage is my only choice.”
She could not let herself think she had another option. She was too close to jumping at anything that might keep her from marrying the Earl of Northcote. She took a shaky breath. “I should check with Mrs. Goodson. I want to make sure—”
“Everything is done, Jess. We’ve already checked twice. Hodgekiss gave all the leftover food to the poor like you instructed. Every fire in the house is extinguished, and every piece of furniture is covered to protect it.”
Jessica sank down on the sofa and let her weary shoulders drop. “He doesn’t want me, Mel. Every look he gives me and every word he speaks tells me how disgusted he is to take me as his wife.” Jessica brought her hands to her lips and covered the soft cry that wanted to escape. She turned her face away from her friend in case her eyes mirrored the hurt in her heart.
“When I was young, after my fever, I used to dream about getting married,” Jessica said without facing her friend. “Of finding a knight in shining armor who would fall at my feet in adoration. Silly of me, wasn’t it? Of course, in my dreams I wasn’t deaf, nor was I plain and ordinary. I was always quite lovely. The belle of society.”
Mel turned her by the shoulders. “You are not plain and ordinary, Jess. You are one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. Much braver than I could ever hope to be.”
Jessica shook her head and tried to breathe in deeply. “Have you noticed how domineering he is? He needs to control. I can’t surrender that much of myself to him, Mel. I won’t. I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen. I have had only myself to rely upon.”
“What about your designs, Jess? How will you keep what you do from him? What if he will not allow it?”
The muscles in Jessica’s entire body tensed with conviction. “Nothing will change, Mel. I doubt he will care enough one way or another. As long as society doesn’t find out, I can’t see where it will matter. I doubt that what I do with my time will be of any interest to him. I certainly will not let his opinion matter. I cannot trust him enough to allow him that much control over me.”
“Give him time, Jess. Someday perhaps you will see his dominance as a strength, as a comforting support for you to lean upon.”
Jessica lowered her gaze to th
e floor. She sincerely doubted it. “It doesn’t matter, Mel. I am not what the Earl of Northcote wanted for his wife. What if society discovers I’m deaf? What if I cannot hide it? How will the earl ever survive the humiliation of society finding out?”
Jessica bolted from the sofa and walked to the two doors that led to the terrace. Beyond it was a lovely garden filled with flowers just coming to bloom. She stopped before exiting the room and placed her fingers on the small oval table that stood against the wall nearby. She gently lifted the dustcover that protected special items that had always been a part of her life and picked up the tiny miniature of a woman in a beautifully carved oak rocker holding a small baby in her arms. The baby was she. The woman was her mother.
She stared at the picture and let the heartache and longing swell within her. Her mother looked so happy. She had a husband who adored her and a baby to love. A future Jessica had only dreamed of having.
She knew Mel watched her, and she looked away, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from gathering in her eyes. She’d said good-bye to so many special memories during the last two days. How could she ever give up more? She was afraid she would shatter when she had to leave behind one more reminder of the only life she’d ever known. Even if that reminder was nothing more than the faded likeness of a woman who was at times little more than a distant memory.
The picture in the miniature swam before her, and she swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay as she held the picture to her breast. “Perhaps I could just take…”
Her words lodged in her throat when a shadow moved to her right. Her gaze locked onto the large figure darkening the doorway.
The Earl of Northcote took a few steps into the room, then halted.
The look in his eyes made him appear weary and tired. The expression on his face seemed frighteningly serious. It was evident he regretted this even more than she.
He crossed the room, his demeanor resolved and determined. He towered before her, as magnificently handsome as he had been the first night she’d seen him standing on the top step of the Stratmore ballroom. His broad shoulders filled out the perfectly tailored black tailcoat to perfection, and the white shirt and cravat glistened against his bronzed skin. His dark eyes pinned her with a penetrating glare, and she couldn’t take her gaze from him as he loomed before her.
