The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

  Only Charlotte dragged her into her bedchamber before dinner. “What is going on?” she demanded. “Yesterday, you swore undying love for Captain Cromarty. Now you’re engaged to someone else and it’s as if the happiness has drained out of you.”

  I’ll never be happy again. “Oh, it’s not as bad as that,” she managed. “I’ve just changed my mind.”

  “No, you haven’t, Henrie,” Charlotte said.

  “Then how do you explain it?” Henrietta countered.

  “I can’t,” Charlotte said bluntly. “But you don’t need to do this, Henrie. You don’t have to marry Rudd.”

  She couldn’t help the tiny smile. “Yes. I do.”

  “No,” Charlotte disputed. “I’ll stand by you with any threat, any promise you like, and so will Alvan.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

  Charlotte took her hands. “I don’t know this Cromarty of yours. I don’t know if he’s suitable for you or if you’d be remotely happy with him. But I do know you’re not happy with this. End the engagement now before it goes any further.”

  Henrietta shook her head. She couldn’t speak. Already whirling in her head was the expression on Eliza’s face as she’d said accusingly, “But you promised, Henrie, you promised.”

  *

  It seemed her only relief could come at night. She could not even cry in her own chamber, for she had to share it with Eunice. And so, she lay awake, waiting for the change in the other girl’s breathing that would tell her she was asleep. Only then did she let the tears flow, tears of loss and fear and utter grief, misery over what he would think of her, how much she could hurt him now that he had let her into his heart.

  “Miss Maybury?” whispered a voice from the side of her bed. “Oh, please, Henrietta, don’t cry.”

  There was a sound of striking flint and a candle flared to life. Bleary-eyed with tears, Henrietta peered up at Eunice.

  “I did not know you cared so for Matthew,” Eunice said, distressed. “I never meant to cause you such grief.”

  “Matthew?” Henrietta was so surprised the tears stopped.

  “Is it not so? Have you not agreed to marry Lord Rudd because Matthew has chosen me?”

  “Oh, no!” Glad to be able to calm someone’s fears, Henrietta sat up. “Of course, I never wanted to marry Matthew. It would be like marrying my brother!”

  “Truly? That is what he said, but he spoke of you all the time, and you seemed so close…” One of Eunice’s spectacular smiles lit up her face before it quickly faded. “Then why are you so sad?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  “You love someone else?”

  Henrietta nodded. “But please don’t ask me anymore!” She reached out and squeezed Eunice’s hand. “Thank you. I feel better now and will sleep.”

  She did, eventually. But at least she woke with an idea. She could not write to Sydney without endangering him. But she could at least get a message to him.

  By dawn, she was scribbling a note at her desk. “My dear, please believe that though everything else has changed, my feelings have not.” There was no time for more, because the house was stirring and the maids all had duties. She dashed off her name, folded the paper, and wrote the letter S on it, before folding it within a larger paper with Miss Lily Villin inscribed upon it. Then she dashed into the passage and seized Nell the chambermaid.

  “Deliver this to the Hart Inn, if you please, right away. I will get someone else to cover your duties. Go!”

  Her eyes wide with intrigue, Nell dashed off. Henrietta went back into her room and sank onto the window seat, waiting to see the girl’s departure. Wrapped in her shawl, the girl hurried across the terrace.

  But someone ran after her in the grey morning light. A man who caught her playfully by the shoulder.

  “Hurry, Nell, hurry,” Henrietta muttered, and then the man spun around, teasing the girl, and she saw his face. It was Claude, Lord Rudd’s valet.

  The nightmare went on. Claude teased the letter out of her and hurried on, as if he meant to deliver it for her. But at the sound of the door closing again behind her, he stopped and walked back to the house.

  Outraged, Henrietta flew to her feet, meaning to confront him and obtain her letter back. But she wasn’t even dressed, and there was no servant to send in her place.

  Washed and dressed at last in the first gown that came to hand, she left Eunice to sleep and ran downstairs, meaning to go straight to the kitchen and the servants’ hall. Gerald would have her letter out of that vile valet’s hands in a matter of seconds, she thought with satisfaction.

  But someone fell into step beside her. Lord Rudd. She greeted him only with icy silence. Nor did he speak until she walked past the door to the breakfast room toward the green baize door to the servants’ domain.

  “I wouldn’t bother,” he said calmly.

  She glanced frigidly over her shoulder and saw that he held her letter in his hand. She flushed with fury, her heart sinking further than she’d known it could go. He held open the door of the breakfast room and she walked straight past him, her head held high.

  Annoyingly, no one else was up, so she stood alone with Rudd. Deliberately, he closed the door.

  “Who the devil is Lily Villin?”

  She stared at him. “The innkeeper’s daughter.”

  “Well, if you want to keep her safe, don’t use her as an intermediary any more. You might not have broken the letter of your promise, but you most certainly broke its spirit. This is the only mistake I will allow you. One more and I’ll have him killed immediately, and marry you the day after.”

  But she was growing wiser as to what pleased him. Any sign of weakness or distress made his eyes gleam. So, she merely shrugged and walked out of the room. For once, she took him by surprise and he did not stop her.

  *

  For the second time that month, Sydney Cromarty let himself into Lord Verne’s library.

  It was dusk, and Verne had only just entered the room, walked across the floor, and picked a book off the desk. He spun about at Cromarty’s entrance and glared at him. “Will you stop doing that? I’ll forget whose house it is.”

  “I didn’t want to disturb your lady.”

  “She’ll be more disturbed by people letting themselves into the house than calling at the front door.” Verne’s frown deepened. “You can, you know.”

  Cromarty gave a crooked smile. “Now that I’m an earl’s heir?”

  “Now your reasons for being here are not totally against the law,” Verne corrected. He lifted his brow. “Or are they?”

  “No.” Sydney paced across the room and back before throwing himself into Verne’s winged armchair. “Are you going to this party at Audley Park tomorrow?”

  “Yes. Are you?”

  “I don’t know.” He rubbed his forehead until Verne walked to his desk, poured two glasses of brandy, and pressed one into his hand.

  Sydney drank. “I’m a selfish dolt,” he said abruptly. “All my life, the only path I’ve followed has been to please myself, not even my parents. And I’ve looked on it as a virtue.”

  “Maybe it is.”

  Sydney cast him a dubious look. “Even the smuggling?”

  “Well, it’s led to your helping your country.”

  As though just remembering, Sydney delved inside his coat and took out a folded paper which he threw to Verne. “Message left at the Hart.”

  “I’ll pass it on.” Verne sipped his brandy. “I’m going to make a wild guess and ask if this heart-searching is anything to do with a young lady.”

  Sydney smiled ruefully. “Am I so obvious?”

  “You’re not yourself,” Verne admitted. “Cecily is convinced there is something between you, and she is rarely wrong about such matters.”

  “She’s young, pure, innocent, and I am…this.” He gestured to himself with loathing. “I have no right to her, and yet I would make her live like me.”

  “Does she want to?”
/>
  He couldn’t help smiling. “She says so. And in truth, she would enjoy the odd adventure. But she should be mistress of some fine house, with a stable home and family and every comfort.”

  “Does it have to be a choice?” Verne asked. “One or the other? Couldn’t she have both? Couldn’t you?”

  Sydney stared at him, frowning.

  “It isn’t just a matter of selfishness, is it?” Verne pursued. “You have a right to be comfortable and happy, too, whatever form that takes. But actually, I think you’d make rather a wonderful, eccentric earl. I suppose you might have to step back from the smuggling a little, though.”

  Sydney let out a crack of laughter. “At the very least.” He fixed his gaze on Verne’s. “You see nothing wrong in such a union?”

  Verne shrugged. “I’m hardly the best judge of such matters. But, no, I don’t. Not if you love her.”

  Sydney squeezed his eyes shut. “God help me. After all this time, slain by a chit barely out of the schoolroom. But she is so much more than that, Patrick.”

  “I know.”

  Sydney opened his eyes and gave a lopsided smile. “And I can’t believe I’m asking advice from a boy I fished out of the sea to preserve from the revenue men.”

  “Well, there was always more to you, too, Captain! Come and have a glass of wine with Cecily.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Spitting out some of his concerns to Verne helped clarify things in his head. He woke in the morning full of energy and as he went about his business, sending The Siren off to Ireland with Kettle, he realized he was almost bursting with happiness. Such an emotion was surely more suited to a youth in the throes of first love, but he couldn’t help it. He finally admitted to himself that he longed to see her, that every moment apart from her had become torture. And he would see her tonight.

  He suspected he would see his grandfather tonight, too, and perhaps reach some kind of understanding with him. People made mistakes. Who was he to judge his grandfather for hurting his father? He still couldn’t quite imagine himself as master of the palatial house at Steynings. He would always be much more at home on the deck of a ship. But with Henrietta, it would all be fun. And there were things he could do, surely, for the people and the land…

  He dressed with care in black coat and pantaloons, and a fresh, white cravat with a single diamond pin. A splash of color was added by his tastefully embroidered waistcoat.

  “Very handsome,” Lily approved as he left his chamber at the inn.

  To his annoyance, he actually felt a flush rise to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck, sir!”

  Damn it, did the whole world know of his plan tonight? Lord Overton was as likely to throw him out on his ear as to entertain him as a son-in-law, and Sydney couldn’t blame him. The question was really how to persuade him because he didn’t think Henrietta would take well to waiting three years until she was one-and-twenty. They could elope, of course, but while he was prepared to do it, he didn’t really want her to begin their married life with such a scandal.

  There were ways. There were always ways to do anything.

  As he rode up to the house, there were carriages halted on the terrace disgorging their splendid occupants. Sydney dismounted and gave his horse into a groom’s keeping before strolling inside.

  Compared with Steynings, the house at Audley Park was not huge. But it bore more signs of recent decoration and greater comfort. Sydney followed other guests into the drawing room and was not surprised when several conversations halted and many heads turned in his direction. Word had spread since the ball at Steynings. They knew who he was.

  “How good to see you. Mr. Cromarty, is it not?” Lady Overton said, offering her hand. “Or Captain?”

  “Mister will do perfectly. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Our pleasure, sir. Allow me to present you to my husband, Lord Overton. I’m sure you will find many friends here, including Lord Silford, as I’m sure you know.”

  Sydney made the correct noises and moved on, his eyes searching out Henrietta. Dressed in diaphanous white muslin trimmed with embroidered red roses, she stood with another young lady dressed in gorgeous midnight blue, and seemed to be chattering excitedly.

  Oddly, his first thought was that something was wrong. Her posture, her glittering eyes, the slightly jerky way she swished her fan, all seemed somehow not quite right. But, of course, she was waiting for him. She had no idea what he would do, whether he would speak to her father or carry her off like a damned pirate. God knew part of him longed to.

  Her darting gaze found him at last. But there was no surprise in it. She had seen him as soon as he’d come in, and yet made no move toward him. Her gaze slid away again.

  Sydney accepted a glass of champagne from a footman and strolled toward her. On the way, he spotted another reason for her discomfort. Susannah Carew, who smiled at him like the coquette she was. He nodded curtly and discovered he stood beside his grandfather.

  The old man sat on a sofa, a glass of wine in his hand. Sydney dropped into the place beside him. “My lord.”

  “Sydney.”

  “You like her,” Sydney said abruptly. “The daughter of the house.”

  “I think she’s just what you need.”

  “If necessary, will you speak for me to her father?”

  The old man’s smile was rueful. “Is this a condition of your coming home?”

  “No.” Sydney got to his feet once more and resumed his path to Henrietta.

  But Lord Overton was there already, with Rudd. Overton said something to her and she clutched the arm of the girl in blue beside her. Then her gaze flew beyond them and again connected with Sydney’s.

  Oh yes, something was very wrong.

  A footman rang a small hand bell, and into the surprised silence, Lord Overton said, “Forgive my interruption! I merely wish to welcome you warmly to Audley Park. And at the request of my eager son-in-law-to-be, to ask you to raise your glasses in a toast to the betrothal of my daughter Henrietta to Viscount Rudd.”

  The blood raged in Sydney’s ears. The sound of his life, his happiness falling in on him and crumbling to dust. She did not even look at him but at her father. It was the girl in blue who gazed at him, a frown on her brow.

  Dear God, he had been led up the whole garden path, and for what? A coquettish whim no different from Susannah’s? Humiliation seemed the least of his troubles. He had wanted so much. And once he had admitted it, let the happiness in, he had realized the depth, the strength of his unwanted and unlooked-for love for this girl. He’d been going to change his whole way of life, change the world if necessary, for her.

  And just like that, she engaged herself to another man, the man who had pursued her all along and allied himself with Sydney’s murderous cousin. There were so many betrayals in this engagement, he couldn’t count them.

  Instead, he eased his way through the guests and out of the drawing room. He abandoned his untouched wine glass on a table in the hall and walked out of the house. He wanted to kill.

  *

  She couldn’t run after him. Rudd would have him killed. Even Charlotte couldn’t help her. The nightmare stretched on, would spread throughout her life, made all the worse by the pain she’d inflicted on the man she loved.

  In the meantime, there was this dreadful party to get through. Only two days ago, she had looked forward to this night…

  At least Matthew and Eunice seemed happy in each other’s company. And Rudd, having made his point, totally ignored her. Not so Lady Carew who deliberately sat down next to her during a music recital and patted her hand with her fan.

  “What a clever choice, my dear. I wish you and Rudd very happy. He has a fine estate, and I am sure you will be able to do as you please very soon.” She smiled. “Now, you mustn’t worry about Sydney. Brutes like him are easily consoled.”

  He isn’t a brute! The words stuck in her throat.

  Lady Carew leaned forward. “I should kn
ow.”

  Henrietta turned her gaze away.

  “Have I shocked you? You see, you could never have handled him, let alone tamed him. It is best not to care too much when you marry an unfaithful man. In that respect, you and Rudd will work much better. As will Sydney and I.”

  Henrietta stood up. “Forgive me,” she muttered and walked away in search of refuge, any refuge.

  Had he really gone?

  Another thought struck her somewhat belatedly. Did Rudd’s reach really stretch so far? She had no way of knowing, not without talking to Sydney, and that was denied to her. She could not take the chance that Rudd was exaggerating or downright lying. Not with Sydney’s life.

  *

  Sydney woke on the coffee room bench at the Hart. Which was odd. Because although he was weary and bleary-eyed, he didn’t think he was drunk. He’d walked and run for miles over rocks and beaches before collapsing in here. He remembered why, though his mind still shied away from that. Instead, he tried to focus on where he had seen the girl now staring down at him.

  She wasn’t a girl, in fact. She was a lady.

  Frowning, he shifted position on the bench and a ball of furry energy landed on his chest. A cold nose was all over his face and ears.

  “What the…” He sat bolt-upright, and a small terrier tumbled into his lap before bouncing up with a hectically wagging tail. It leapt onto his shoulders, bounded onto the table and the floor, galloped a quick circuit of the room, and then hurled itself at Sydney again.

  The lady caught it with an ease clearly born of long practice, and passed it to a gentleman whom Sydney hadn’t previously noticed. But something had clicked into place in his sleep-deprived brain.

  “That,” he said, pointing to the dog who now sat on the gentleman’s boot, wagging his tail off, “has to be the infamous Spring. Which makes you…”

  “Charlotte,” the lady said.

  “The Duchess of Alvan,” Sydney finished and glanced at the gentleman.

  “Alvan,” the duke said succinctly.

  “I don’t seem to have the space to stand up,” Sydney said with a wave of one hand. “But consider all the necessary courtesies performed in spirit, and if you’re staying, take a seat.” He raised his voice. “Lily!”