The Earl's Inconvenient Wife

by Julia Justiss

  Chapter Eighteen

  A few hours later, after recording on some stationary she’d found in the library desk the additional items she’d noted during her tour by the housekeeper earlier that afternoon, Temper set the list aside.

  Fortunately, it appeared that, for the most part, Fensworth House was in sound condition. There wouldn’t be a need for extensive repairs or renovations, and the furnishings, though outdated, were of a superior quality that would reveal itself after they’d been properly cleaned and polished.

  To her surprise, once they completed the tour and Temper had gone over a summary of what needed to be done, Mrs Hobbs, who had been wooden-faced throughout the inspection, made her a deep curtsy—and thanked her!

  ‘The Dowager was never much interested in Fensworth, your ladyship,’ she confessed. ‘We all knew she’d rather be in London. So I’m afraid...standards slipped. It will be a right pleasure to have the staff and funds to bring this old house back to what it should be.’

  So it appeared she would not have to waste time wrangling with the housekeeper—or trying to replace her, Temper thought gratefully.

  As she put away her pen, she heard a stirring at the doorway. Looking up, to her surprise, she saw her new husband striding into the library.

  ‘Giff!’ she said delightedly, genuinely glad to see him despite the disturbing sensual response he aroused, just by walking into the room. ‘I didn’t expect you to return this early. Mixton said you’re usually out quite late.’

  ‘I couldn’t stay away and let servants welcome you to your new home,’ he said, coming over to her, arms outstretched—before he lowered them and halted awkwardly a pace away. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he said simply.

  Scanning his face, she thought with a shock that she’d never seen Giff so drawn and weary. ‘You look so tired and thin!’ she exclaimed, her heart flooded with such sadness and compassion for him that, abandoning the restraint she’d promised herself to exercise, she rose and walked into his arms.

  As he hugged her tightly, she could almost feel his body vibrate with grief and sadness and a tension she understood only too well—a sense of being pulled out of his familiar world into a place and duties almost as foreign to him as it was to her. For long moments, she let him hold her, hoping to transfer to him her warmth, support and affection.

  Finally, he let her go. ‘I should go up and change. I’m still smelling of horse, although at least my boots aren’t muddy this time. And you’ve already begun setting things to rights, I see. Such a flurry of sweeping and polishing and cleaning I passed as I walked in! I suppose Mama has been too...cast down to look after things and I’ve been so preoccupied with the estate, I simply haven’t had time to deal with the house.’

  ‘That, dear sir, is why you have a wife. Mama might have been infamous among the ton, but she was a capital housekeeper and she taught Pru and me well.’

  ‘It will be a relief to come home and not find everything dark and grimy,’ he confessed. ‘Have you ordered dinner as well? Meals have been...haphazard of late.’

  ‘You shall have a proper dinner tonight! And every night hereafter. Shall we invite your mama to share it?’

  ‘I doubt she’ll leave her room, but we shall ask her. Once I’ve washed and changed, I’ll take you in to meet her.’

  Temper blew out a breath. ‘Oh, dear. I can only imagine what her friends in London have told her about me. About us.’

  ‘She knows all about the scandal, that’s for sure. Amid the flood of weeping that began the moment I walked in, the only thing she said was that she hoped I wouldn’t create here any scandals as tawdry as the one in London.’

  Though Giff gave her a rueful smile, she could tell by the hurt in his eyes how much that comment had stung. Furious on his behalf, she had a hard time restraining the acid comment that jumped to her lips. ‘I allow your mother a great deal of latitude, given her loss,’ she said after a moment, ‘but even so, that was...unkind.’

  ‘Probably, but about what I expected. The prodigal son come home to displace her beloved Robert? I couldn’t hope to be greeted with open arms.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t mind, really. I’m used to it by now. All I shall insist upon is that she treat you with respect.’

  Oh, he minds, she thought, holding on to her temper with an effort. How could a mother be so oblivious to the worth of her son? Well, that was another thing Temper was determined to change.

  ‘It’s not your fault you had to replace her “beloved Robert”,’ Temper retorted. ‘And if she and your father hadn’t been so...short-sighted, you would have been far better prepared to step into his shoes. But enough of that. We shall have a good dinner, and I will do my best to amuse you.’

  That drew a genuine smile. ‘I could use some amusement. Although I’m not so sure how good the dinner will be.’

  ‘It had better be excellent, or we’ll be looking for a new cook.’

  He chuckled. ‘My little termagant. Have I told you yet how glad I am you are here?’

  ‘You have,’ she said, smiling at him fondly. ‘We’ll see if your “wild bride” can stir things up at Fensworth as effectively as she did in London. Let me change for dinner and then I’ll be ready to meet your redoubtable mother.’

  Giff tapped her nose with his finger. ‘I’ll see you shortly, then.’

  Watching him walk out, Temper frowned. If the Dowager Countess thought grief over her losses would allow her to get away with abusing Giff any further, she was about to discover otherwise. And probably get an earful of plain speaking into the bargain.

  * * *

  A short time later, Giff walked Temper upstairs to his mother’s rooms. ‘She still occupies what should be the Countess’s suite. I hadn’t the heart to insist she vacate the rooms.’

  ‘Are you occupying the Earl’s suite?’ she asked, more than a little nervous to know exactly where Giff intended to sleep.

  ‘No, I’ve gone back to my old room—just down the hall from the one you have. Which is the prettiest of the guest bedchambers.’

  Relieved to know he didn’t sleep in a room adjacent to her own, she nodded. ‘There will be time enough to change the living arrangements.’

  Giff sighed. ‘Yes. That’s one battle I didn’t want to have to fight yet.’ Pausing before an imposing chamber door located at the centre of the bedchamber wing, he said, ‘This is it. Are you ready?’

  Her anger over his mother’s shabby treatment of him still smouldering, Temper gave him an encouraging smile. ‘Remember, you married a hoyden who possesses not a particle of conventional maidenly deference and lets no one intimidate her. I shall have no trouble dealing with your mama.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘I don’t suppose you will. And for the first time, if I had to wager on the outcome, I wouldn’t bet on my mother keeping the upper hand.’

  * * *

  They entered a room with shuttered windows and a mantel draped in black. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, Temper made out the figure of a woman reclining against the pillows of a massive four-poster bed, a handkerchief clutched in her hand as she stared sightlessly ahead of her.

  No matter how much Temper resented the woman for her treatment of Giff, she had to admit the Dowager had good cause to grieve.

  ‘We won’t disturb you for long, Mama,’ Giff said, walking with Temper to his mother’s bedside. ‘But I wanted to present to you my wife, who arrived this afternoon from London. Mama, this is Temperance.’

  The Dowager glanced over, her faintly contemptuous gaze looking Temper up and down. ‘So you’re Felicia’s daughter. You certainly have the look of her. And her propensity for scandal, apparently. If only Gifford had used his time in London more profitably.’

  Squeezing Giff’s hand to forestall his reply, Temper said pleasantly, ‘Scandals have a way of being magnified out of all proportion. And Gifford has used his time in London most
profitably, indeed. As I’m sure you know, he’s a leading member of the group of Parliamentarians who are forging legislation that will make the most significant changes in the way the country has been governed since the Magna Carta. He’s now turning that same intensity and attention to detail to mastering the requirements of managing Fensworth—after having received very little preparation for the task! You must be very proud of his achievements. I know Lady Sayleford is and so am I.’

  The Dowager regarded Temper with some hostility. ‘Impertinent chit, aren’t you?’

  ‘Forthright, certainly. I know you aren’t feeling yourself yet, but we did want you to know we’d be delighted if you could join us for dinner.’

  ‘Join you for—!’ the Countess exclaimed, her eyes widening. ‘I am by no means ready yet to leave my rooms!’

  ‘I am sorry to hear it. You must let me know if there is anything I or the staff can do to make you more comfortable,’ Temper replied.

  ‘So eager to wrest control from my hands?’ she said bitterly.

  ‘Not at all, Countess. Only doing what must be done. We won’t intrude upon you any further now, but I hope to visit you again soon.’

  As the Dowager made no response to that, Temper dipped her a curtsy. ‘Goodnight, Lady Fensworth.’

  She could feel the anger vibrating in Giff as she took his arm. But he merely inclined his head and said, ‘Goodnight, Mama.’

  Giff blew out a breath as they walked back down the stairs. ‘That didn’t go too badly, I suppose. Though I wish you had let me tell her in no uncertain terms that I will not allow her to insult you.’ Then he laughed. ‘Not that she was able to intimidate you one little bit. Bravo, Temper!’

  She chuckled. ‘That was just the first round. I do sympathise with her loss, but whether your mama likes it or not, you are master here now. Sooner or later she will have to acknowledge that. Or maybe not,’ Temper added thoughtfully, an alternative solution suddenly occurring to her.

  ‘Enough about my mother,’ Giff said as they walked into the dining room. ‘Ah, what a delicious aroma! I’m ready to tuck into the best dinner that’s been served me since I left London.’

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ Temper said as he held out the chair for her.

  ‘Thank you again, Temper,’ he said as he took his own seat. ‘I’m sure the meal will taste as delicious as it smells. After dinner, though, I’m afraid I must study the estate books and then look over some agricultural journals I had sent out from London. Will you be too disappointed if I abandon you? I expect you are tired after your journey and will be longing for your bed. You...you needn’t lock your bedchamber door. I intend to honour all the promises I made you.’

  Her greatest worry alleviated—for the moment—Temper felt a swell of relief and gratitude. ‘Thank you, Giff. I am tired. You don’t need to entertain me, you know. Concentrate on your duties. And if there is anything I can do to help, please tell me.’

  ‘You’re already making a difference,’ he said, motioning towards the gleaming silver, shining crystal and the array of dishes being brought in by the footmen. ‘How could I ask you for anything more?’

  So he wouldn’t be asking for...that, Temper thought, unease stirring in her belly. In spite of this temporary reprieve, with her new husband no longer simply ‘Mr Newell’ but now ‘the Earl of Fensworth’, the terms of their marriage would inevitably have to change.

  How much of a respite would she get before she must steel herself to perform that duty?

  * * *

  Deciding there was no time like the present to settle matters with the Dowager—who, if left to her own devices, would probably immure herself in her rooms in deepest mourning for years—after bidding Giff goodnight, Temper went up to knock on the door of the Countess’s suite.

  The door was answered by a dour-faced maid. Not waiting to give the Dowager time to refuse her, Temper walked past the woman and over to the bed.

  Looking startled, Lady Fensworth turned to Temper and frowned. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I wanted to see if there was anything I could bring you before I retire,’ she said pleasantly.

  ‘You could return me to my solitude.’

  ‘And so I shall. Once we...understand each other a bit better.’

  ‘Understand each other?’ the Dowager repeated. ‘All you need to understand is—’

  ‘I imagine your London friends keep you updated on the latest gossip,’ Temper broke in.

  Exhaling an exasperated sigh, Lady Fensworth said, ‘Of what interest to me is idle gossip?’

  Declining to answer that comment, Temper said, ‘You might want to leaven whatever you’ve heard about me—or my marriage to your son—with the knowledge that Lady Sayleford agreed to sponsor my debut, supported both of us through the fiasco at Lady’s Arnold ball—I’m sure you’ve heard both sides of that story—and was present at our wedding. She loaned her own carriage and staff to bring me here. So I would weigh any...negative assessments of my character against the fact of her steadfast support and her blessing on our marriage.’

  ‘Well, Gifford is her godchild. She would be bound to support him.’

  ‘There isn’t another high-ranking lady of the ton who knows more about what goes on in society than Lady Sayleford. You would agree?’

  The Dowager nodded reluctantly.

  ‘And Lady Sayleford has never given her backing to anyone who does not meet her exacting standards—has she?’

  Lady Fensworth remained silent for a moment. ‘Not to my knowledge,’ she allowed at last.

  ‘Exactly. In any event, what you think of me isn’t of great concern. But I would ask you to remember that although Gifford wasn’t your favoured son, he is still your son. The staff need to know that you support, rather than resent, his becoming the Earl. As head of this household, they take their cues from you.’

  ‘That boy has been nothing but trouble since he was born!’ she burst out. ‘The birth itself was...difficult. I was recovering for months and, after that...I was never able to bear another child. Four babies I lost before their time, three precious daughters and another beautiful son.’

  Shocked, Temper sat in silence. So that explained the Countess’s animosity, she thought, compassion welling up for the woman. Her heartache and resentment of Giff were as deep as they were unreasonable.

  ‘I’ve never lost a child,’ Temper said softly. ‘I can’t imagine such devastation. But surely you recognise that it wasn’t Gifford’s fault?’

  The Countess sighed. ‘I suppose I do...in my head. But every time I looked at him as he was growing up, all I saw was the faces of those little dead babes.’

  ‘Which is why you sent him away to school and left him there. Why it’s so difficult for you to accept him here, now.’

  ‘He represents everything that has been taken from me!’ she cried. ‘First the babies and now my beloved husband and s-son!’

  ‘It must be hard,’ Temper acknowledged, trying to summon up as much sympathy as she could—a difficult task, since this woman had cheated Giff out of the mother’s love that should be a child’s birthright, for tragedies over which he’d had no control. ‘Giff tells me you love London. Your son may have married a woman your informers claimed is “infamous”, but she is also very wealthy. If it is too painful for you to watch someone else take Robert’s place, why don’t you lease a house in London? Live there for as much of the year as you wish, visit friends, go to the theatre, shop for whatever you like. It may help to ease your grief, if you don’t have to wake up every morning here, immediately remembering they are gone and feeling again that crushing loss.’

  For a long time, the Countess remained silent. ‘There might be something to what you propose,’ she said at last. ‘I do love London. Not that I could even contemplate going to balls or entertainments or the theatre.’

  ‘Not yet, of course.
But you would have friends to call on you and invite you to quiet dinners, walks or drives in the park, shopping and all the resources of a great city. Distractions only from your grief, I grant. But distractions have their uses.’

  Lady Fensworth turned her head to gaze at Temper. ‘Lady Sayleford approved of you, did she? Perhaps...I am beginning to see why. Very well, I will...consider what you’ve proposed.’

  ‘That’s all I ask. And now I will leave you in peace.’

  Temper walked out, closing the door softly behind her, her heart grieving for the tragedies that had ruined an innocent little boy’s youth and robbed his mother of loving a son who was so deserving of it.

  Maybe, if the Dowager were able to get away and clear her mind, she would find it in her heart to love Giff now.

  At the very least, Temper hoped she would take herself off where her contemptuous indifference wouldn’t continue to unfairly wound the man Temper cared about so deeply.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Two weeks later, the bone-weary new Earl of Fensworth turned his spent horse over to a groom and walked back towards Fensworth House. The day he’d stood in the parlour in Vraux House and discovered that tragedy had overtaken his family seemed a lifetime ago, he thought as he trudged towards the entry. His only worry then, how to continue with his life and work with as little disturbance as possible after having taken an irresistible bride he must none the less resist. He laughed without humour. How much simpler life had been!

  The last weeks had been a never-ending blur of packing, travelling, consultations with bankers, solicitors, estate agents, farm managers, housekeepers, tenants and the doctors who tended his still-ailing mother.

  The one, unexpected bright spot in the long dark agony had been Temper. His new wife had proved herself tireless, industrious and surprisingly capable in doing all she could to assist him. Fortunately, by the time he took to his bed in the wee hours, he was so exhausted both mentally and physically that he fell asleep before he could be tempted by the knowledge that his beautiful wife reposed in a chamber just a short walk down the hall.