The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Inevitably, after dinner, she was asked to play the pianoforte and sing, which at least served to pass the time, although once when she glanced up from the music, she caught his gaze fixed upon her with a look that reminded her of the kitchen cat with a mouse he had caught. Though it made her shiver, she tried to laugh it off in her mind.

  In fact, she looked forward even more to his departure. And there would soon be the leaven of the other guests in just a couple of days. And the Vernes were coming for dinner tomorrow evening.

  However, there were many pitfalls to be avoided before then. The following morning, she nearly fell into one of them by walking out the side door with Minnie and turning right into Lord Rudd.

  “Miss Maybury.” He greeted her with a bow. “I was just taking the air. Perhaps you’d care to join me in a stroll?”

  Her heart sank. If he was asking her to go alone with him, he must already have asked her father’s permission to address her. Well, it was best to get it over with. A refusal this morning might even see him gone by the afternoon.

  Buoyed up by this optimism, she smiled. “I am a slave to this dog at the moment, but please do join us if you wish!”

  Since Minnie did not seem to care for Rudd, she was exerting all her growing strength on the end of the leash, tugging Henrietta toward the front of the house.

  Rudd’s hand closed over hers on the leash, bringing them to a sudden halt. “Would you like me to train her for you?” he asked softly.

  “Oh, no. She is my dog. But thank you.” She met his gaze, smiling determinedly.

  After a moment that stretched just a little too long, he smiled back and released her hand. Minnie scrabbled onward toward the voices at the front of the house, and Henrietta let herself be pulled. Rudd strolled beside her.

  At the front of the house, Richard stood on the top step with George balanced precariously on his shoulders, peering out over the drive, the view of which was blocked in places by the trees. The twins were dancing about on the terrace below, shouting up, “Who is it? Can you see, can you see?”

  Rudd made an ushering gesture in the other direction, clearly suggesting they avoid the racket by walking through the gardens. But Henrietta kept walking toward the children, calling, “What is it? What’s going on?”

  “There’s a carriage coming up the drive!” Horry shouted.

  “Well, you’ll see who it is soon enough. Although George isn’t likely to see anything at all if he falls off there and breaks his skull! It would be much simpler to run down the drive, you know.”

  “I’m perfectly steady,” George said with blatant untruth, grabbing Richard’s hair with both hands. “Don’t fuss, Henrie.”

  “I’m not the one making such a fuss about a mere carriage. It’s probably Jane!”

  “No, Jane’s not coming until later,” Eliza said. “She’s coming with Lady Cecily tonight and staying with us until tomorrow.”

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Miss Milsom exclaimed, hurrying out of the front door in alarm. “Is that quite safe?”

  “Not in the slightest,” Henrietta said. “Richard, he’s too heavy—put him down!”

  But George leapt down himself, crying, “I saw it! It’s the Alvan arms! Charlotte is coming!”

  “Already?” Henrietta exclaimed. “But that is wonderful! We never expected her before Friday!” She turned to the footman who had stuck his head out the door. “Quick, tell Mama, Gerald! The Duchess is here!”

  By then, the carriage, pulled by four perfectly-matched horses, swept around the curve of the drive and onto the terrace. Grooms ran around from the side of the house. The two footmen hurried down the steps after the children to let down the carriage steps, but the door flew open first, and Charlotte and Spring all but tumbled out together and launched themselves into Henrietta’s arms.

  Laughing, Henrietta hugged her sister whom, she was ashamed to remember, she had once taken rather too much for granted. She and Thomasina had been used to regarding themselves as somehow superior without truly considering what Charlotte had been through in her childhood. Of course, it had been all about saving the family, but none of it had been fair. Only now did Henrietta truly realize what a rock Charlotte had been in the family, and how much they all missed her.

  Spring, having slobbered over Henrietta’s head, launched himself off her shoulder at the boys. Laughing, Charlotte released her and hugged Eliza and Horatio instead, while Henrietta tuned to welcome her brother-in-law.

  Tall and handsome, Alvan was inclined to aloofness, but Henrietta rarely saw that side of him. Now, he grinned easily and kissed her cheek. “How are you, Henrie?”

  “Happy,” she said honestly. “As I see are both of you! I’m so glad you’ve come early.”

  “So is Spring, although your guest seems a trifle uncomfortable.”

  In dismay—for she had forgotten Rudd—she turned to see Spring rushing at him, bouncing as high as his head. With quick thinking, he stepped back, and on his second bounce, Charlotte reached out and caught him.

  “I do beg your pardon, sir,” she said, laughing. “We put his ill-manners down to insanity, for he is perfectly goon-natured.”

  “Spring, sit!” Alvan commanded sternly, as Charlotte set the wildly excited dog back on his feet.

  Spring sat, his tail spinning as he waddled forward on his bottom toward Minnie, whom he’d just noticed hiding behind Henrietta’s skirts. Minnie emerged, wagging her tail, clearly desperate to talk to the adult dog but understandably wary of his excessive energy. Spring stood up, but without bouncing, and they went nose to nose.

  “Good God,” said Richard, awed. “Minnie is even better than you, sir. She’s tamed him!”

  “Not for long,” Alvan observed as Spring hurled himself at Gerald and the other footman, who were old friends, and then made a lunge for Lady Overton, who was hurrying down the steps to Charlotte.

  This time, the twins caught Spring with a flying tackle and subjected him to the tummy-tickling of his life.

  From inbred civility, Henrietta rejoined Lord Rudd, sorry in spite of herself that he had been left standing on the outside.

  “What a menagerie,” he observed without expression.

  Henrietta laughed. “Welcome to Audley Park. Come and meet my sister properly.”

  Without demur, he walked to the front steps, where Lady Overton smiled at him as though she’d forgotten him and was delighted to find him still here. “Ah, my lord! Charlotte, this is Lord Rudd who is staying with us this week. Sir, my daughter, the Duchess of Alvan, and her husband, the duke. Or are you already acquainted?”

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever met face to face,” Alvan said, offering his hand. “How do you do?”

  Rudd responded in kind, and the adults repaired to the house, although Charlotte could be heard arranging an assignation with the children half an hour hence.

  “Maybe you should keep Spring with you for now?” Charlotte suggested. “And perhaps Minnie, too? She is a lovely pup, Henrie.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Somehow, before the Vernes arrived for dinner, Henrietta had poured out everything to Charlotte, from her first meeting with Captain Cromarty at the theater, through her wager with Matthew, to the recent adventure on board The Siren.

  Charlotte, who was brushing her hair by the time the long story ended, looked concerned, but did not scold. “I would like to meet this man.”

  “I think he will come to the party on Friday, but we may run into him before. He is quite…unexpected!”

  Charlotte looked thoughtful. “And you love him?”

  “More than anything,” Henrietta whispered.

  Charlotte laid down the hairbrush. “And Lord Rudd? Thomasina seems to think you will marry him.”

  “I suppose I considered it once, and I’m very afraid that’s why he’s here. I was about to hint him away when you arrived and threw all such conversation out the window! Mama and Papa would like it, but I couldn’t, Charlie, not now.”

  “No, of co
urse you could not. And there is hope, you know. An earl is a step up from a mere viscount!”

  “Yes, but he isn’t earl yet and claims he will not live as such even after Silford dies.”

  “I suspect these things have a way of sorting themselves out,” Charlotte said comfortably. All the same, she wore a faint frown of worry she could not hide. Then her brow cleared and she said self-consciously, “I have news of my own. I’m going to have a child.”

  “Oh, goodness, Charlie,” Henrietta said, awed. “That is very grown-up.” She threw her arms around her sister. “And wonderful! I’m so pleased for you! When will it be?”

  “February, we think. I’ll tell Mama and Papa, of course, but it isn’t generally known yet.”

  “I shall be discretion itself,” Henrietta promised.

  That evening’s dinner was a complete contrast from the stilted meal of last night. For Charlotte had imparted her news to her parents, and everyone was delighted—apart from Rudd, who knew nothing about it. Nevertheless, he was surrounded by a reunited family in celebratory mood, and he chose to be entertained by the informal fun around the dinner table.

  When the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, Lord Rudd sat next to Henrietta. “I hope I can induce you to play for us again this evening.”

  There had been a time when Henrietta had loved to show-off and be the center of admiring attention. But she had learned a lot in the last few months. “My sister is the true musician among us,” she said and rose to push Charlotte gently toward the pianoforte.

  Charlotte scowled at her, resisting until it would have been ungracious. Even so, she blushed as she sat at the instrument. Henrietta chose the nearest seat beside her mother.

  Lord Rudd blinked sleepily at her, clearly aware of her avoidance. But at least he made no effort to pursue her. The rest of the evening passed so pleasantly, the Vernes stayed later than they had intended.

  Eventually, everyone spilled out into the moonlight and waved the Vernes off from the front steps.

  “A turn in the garden, perhaps?” Rudd murmured beside Henrietta.

  “Please, feel free,” Henrietta replied. In truth, she was too tired to face this difficult conversation tonight. “I am for bed after all this excitement. Good night.”

  *

  Eunice Blackridge was expected the following day, so Henrietta wasn’t surprised when Matthew appeared during breakfast. He was delighted as always to see Charlotte and was civil to Lord Overton and to the duke and Rudd.

  “I knew you were here,” he told Charlotte, “when that ball of fluff you call a dog bounced onto my chest at the front door.”

  “He’s calmed down,” Charlotte said with more optimism than truth. “How’s Almeria? Is she not with you?”

  “Still asleep when I left,” Matthew replied, accepting his host’s invitation to help himself and join them at the table. He took his place beside Henrietta, and under cover of the general talk, asked questions about when and how Eunice would arrive.

  Henrietta teased him a little but provided the information. As she glanced casually away from Matthew’s ecstatic face, she caught Rudd watching her again. It always made her uneasy.

  It was decided they would all take a walk together after breakfast, but as Henrietta ran to fetch her shawl and bonnet, her father poked his head out the library door. “A moment, Henrie.”

  If her mind hadn’t been full of her other visitors, Matthew’s romance, Charlotte’s baby, dogs, and the fact it was only one day until, surely, she would see Captain Cromarty again, she would have been more prepared. As it was, she walked blithely into the library and was taken aback to see Lord Rudd rising from the armchair.

  “I’ll give you five minutes,” her father said jovially, and whisked himself out of the room.

  Instinctively, Henrietta made a move to follow him, casting desperately around for an excuse. But it was time to face this, time to end the uncertainty. It was hardly fair on Lord Rudd to keep him hanging without the truth.

  So, taking a deep breath, she turned back and found him right in front of her, as though he’d been hurrying to prevent her leaving.

  “My lord,” she began, “I beg you will say nothing, for if you speak as I think you mean to, it can only give us both pain.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How so? What do you imagine I am going to say?” He looked a little like the cat playing with the mouse again.

  She lifted her chin. “I think you are about to offer me marriage, and you should know I have decided not to marry anyone just yet.”

  “Thank you for the information,” he drawled. “But that is not what I was about to ask.”

  She frowned in incomprehension. There was no other reason for her father to have left her alone with a man not of her family. “Then, what is it you do wish to ask?”

  “Nothing,” he said, as though surprised. “I am not here to offer, ask, or beg. I am here to tell you what is going to happen.”

  “Are you? And what on earth is going to happen?”

  “You are going to marry me two weeks from today. We shall set off on our wedding trip the same day.”

  She could not help the drop of her jaw. She wondered if he was actually insane.

  “I am afraid you are mistaken, sir. Whether asked civily or told boorishly, I shall not marry you. Not in two weeks, or one week, or in any other time you imagine. Good morning.”

  She spun on her heel, but without warning, his hand clamped on her shoulder and turned her back.

  “Unhand me, sir,” she said tightly.

  “Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. The sooner you get used to being handled the better. Remember, if you please, that up until a few weeks ago, you were more than happy to flirt with me and keep me dangling. I have grown tired of it and decided to move matters forward. Your father agrees.”

  “But I do not!”

  “But I think you do. What is it you imagine? That Sydney Cromarty will marry you and make you Countess of Silford when the old man finally turns up his toes? There may even be a lesser title to bestow earlier than that. It makes no difference to you.”

  “How true,” Henrietta snapped back. “I have no such imaginings.”

  “Liar. But you would do well to be rid of them for a sake of a contented life. We only have a few minutes, so let me say now that you will marry me, and with good grace, because any further attempts at refusal will mean Cromarty’s death.”

  She was trying to tug free of his hand, but at that last chilling word, she froze and stared at him. “What?”

  He sighed. “You heard me.”

  “What, will his cousin send more excise men after him?” she said contemptuously. “The captain can take care of himself.”

  “Oh, against the imbecile Charles, undoubtedly. I, however, am a very different prospect.”

  She gazed into his cold, hard eyes and believed him. For it wasn’t just cruelty she read there, it was pleasure. He liked hurting her. And he would have no compunction about a mere murder.

  “You see, although I would have let Charles take the risk and carry it out had he been able, I can call him off and his cousin will be safe. Or I can send my own men with one snap of my fingers. And they will not fail.”

  Henrietta swallowed, but her throat remained dry. “But…but why would you do such a thing? He means nothing to you.”

  “But he seems, my dear, to mean something to you.”

  “You would do such a thing just to spite me?” she said in disbelief.

  He regarded his immaculate nails. “Of course not. I would do it to compel you.”

  “But why?” she asked, bewildered. “What do you want with a reluctant wife who hates you?”

  He laughed. “Oh, my dear, you are such an innocent. That, also, I will see to. Suffice it to say, there are many pleasures in the world as yet unknown to you. I find pleasure in compulsion. And I will compel you.” He smiled. “I do, don’t I? Now, go and tell your eager parents you have accepted me.”

 
“No, wait,” she said urgently, as he pushed her toward the door. She felt as if she were in some nightmare from which she could wake if she only tried hard enough. “You cannot mean this!”

  He thrust his face close to hers. “A snap of my fingers, Henrie,” he sneered. “And the man you love is dead. Do you really want to take that chance?”

  He was right. She couldn’t. At least, not yet, not until she’d spoken to Sydney.

  He smiled as though he’d read her thought. “Don’t. There will be no further communication with him. You will not write to him or go to him. If you are forced to meet in public—which will not be often, I assure you, given his plebeian preferences—you will merely nod distantly and pass on. I trust I make myself plain, for I would hate you to cry all through our wedding.”

  “I shall do so anyhow!” she promised with a brief flash of spirit.

  “Don’t be childish,” he said, bored. “To be Lady Rudd is an honor a little trollop like you does not deserve.”

  Flabbergasted once more, she stared at him, unable to believe he had spoken to her in such a way.

  He laughed. “Did you think I did not know about your moonlit escapade at the Hart with young Lacey? Or that it was you who warned Cromarty off landing that night? Well, I believe you must cross Lacey off your list of acquaintances, too.”

  “If I am a little trollop, you should not marry me,” she whispered.

  “No, I shouldn’t,” he agreed. “But it so happens I have a soft spot for trollops. Off you go.”

  *

  The rest of the day passed trapped in the same nightmare. Congratulations washed over her, as did questions she could not answer. The only bright spot was that he made no further effort to be alone with her, merely watched her as though prepared to wait for the day she was totally in his power.

  She felt sick. And yet she had to welcome Eunice, and ride with her and the others in the afternoon. Afterward, she could barely remember what she had said or done, or even where they had gone.