The Marriage Truce

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  It wasn’t until Sarah was in bed that Amelia finally spoke. She still had that careful concerned look on her face, as if Sarah was some sort of porcelain figure that might break any moment. ‘Sarah, are you all right? I do not wish to overset you, but what did happen? Mama and I had just finished supper when Cousin Penelope sent for us. She was quite hysterical and moaning about vipers in her bosom and said we must go to you right away as Lord Huntington had tried to seduce you! And then Grandfather sent word we should bring you home.’ Her face momentarily lost its worried look, and she suddenly looked fierce. ‘And if Huntington has harmed you, I vow I will call him out myself!’

  ‘No, he…he did nothing wrong.’ Except come to her rescue. She took a deep breath. ‘He was trying to help me. When Lord and Lady Henslowe found us he was trying to remove my brooch. I…I wished to use it to pin my bodice. It had a tear.’

  ‘Yes, my dear,’ Amelia said in patient tones. ‘But, Sarah, how did it come to be torn? And why ever were you in the garden with Huntington?’

  ‘I wasn’t. I went out by myself and then Cedric Blanton came. He started saying the most ridiculous things about how I was a vision of loveliness in the moonlight and when I said I must go in, he…he grabbed my wrist.’ She bit her lip and looked away, ashamed at the memory. ‘And then he…he kissed me.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, how awful!’

  It had been. Blanton had had a most peculiar look in his eye, almost as if he’d enjoyed her struggles. She had felt a clutch of fear that he meant to ravish her. And then Huntington had stepped in. She had felt such relief until she realised how the situation must look to him and then she had felt nothing but shame.

  ‘Sarah?’

  She forced her mind back to Amelia. ‘He wouldn’t let me go and when I tried to break away, he…he tore my gown. And then Lord Huntington came. Mr Blanton said I was his fiancée because Lord Huntington would undoubtedly tell everyone I was ruined out of revenge. Lord Huntington became very angry and said he would not, and finally Mr Blanton left. And Lord Huntington thought I could use my brooch to repair my tear and he tried to help me remove it. That was when Lord and Lady Henslowe came.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah!’ Amelia repeated. She looked stunned. ‘When I suggested we create a diversion, I hardly expected this!’

  ‘No.’ Sarah hugged her knees. She shuddered. ‘It was horrible. Lord Henslowe said that Lord Huntington would never set foot in his house again. That was after he demanded to know if there would be a betrothal.’

  ‘And what did Huntington say?’

  Sarah flushed. ‘He said there would be. But, of course, there will not be.’

  ‘But, Sarah, I do not think you will have a choice! When this gets about…’

  ‘But why must it? Only Lord and Lady Henslowe know and you and Aunt and Grandfather, of course. But no one else need know and once I explain it to Grandfather…’

  ‘Oh, Sarah, I fear it is far too late! Cousin Penelope has already told Serena and, although she means well, she can never keep a secret!’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Sarah said faintly. It might as well be announced in front of the entire neighbourhood. Lady Henslowe’s only daughter was kind-hearted in her own way, but she was an incessant talker and could never keep a confidence. And, unfortunately, Lady Henslowe always told her daughter everything. Sarah had realised that there was no hope of keeping anything secret.

  Even now, in the sanctuary of her bedchamber, she felt the same helplessness. And worse, she had no idea what Huntington had said to her grandfather. The thought had kept her awake much of the night. She only prayed he had not felt obligated to offer marriage again. In fact, she could think of no conceivable reason why he’d taken the blame for a situation which was none of his doing. Despite the rumours that he had driven his wife into the arms of another man, he had every reason to desire revenge upon her family.

  But his behaviour last night had been that of a gentleman.

  Her only hope was that her grandfather would see there was no need for an offer after he understood Huntington was innocent of all wrong. Her grandfather had a strong sense of justice. Surely holding Huntington responsible for any of last night’s disaster was anything but just?

  Which was why she must speak to him as soon as possible. She had already learned from the maid that Lord Monteville had gone out for his customary morning walk. Surely he would be back by now. As soon as she dressed she would go to his study. Her stomach churned at the thought. He had never been anything but kind to her in the three years she had lived with him since her mother’s death, but she still found him intimidating. He did not tolerate fools or foolish behaviour. And her behaviour last night had been nothing but foolish.

  She had just put her nearly untouched tray aside and climbed out of bed when the door opened. Amelia peered around the corner. She looked fresh and pretty in a dress of pink sprigged muslin. She came into the room and looked at Sarah, her face worried.

  ‘Sarah? Are you well?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘You look terribly pale.’

  ‘I am just rather tired.’

  Amelia looked sympathetic. ‘I daresay you did not sleep well.’

  ‘Not particularly.’ Sarah managed a wan smile. ‘But I’ve had worse nights.’ Not many, however. ‘I thought I would see Grandfather.’

  ‘That is what I came to tell you. He wants to see you as soon as you are presentable. And, Sarah, Lady Beatrice is here.’ She knotted her hands together and looked as if she was about to deliver news of a death. ‘With Lord Huntington.’

  Sarah stood outside her grandfather’s study and took a deep breath. It was all she could do to keep from turning tail and scrambling back to her room. But that would be of little use. She had to face him some time, unless she planned to disappear forever. She only prayed Lord Huntington and his formidable aunt, Lady Beatrice, were not with him.

  She stepped inside and her stomach leaped to her throat. Heaven had not seen fit to answer in a favourable fashion. Her grandfather stood near his desk with Lady Beatrice seated in a wing chair in front of it. And Huntington stood near the mantelpiece. His cool, unfathomable gaze met hers before she tore her eyes away.

  She looked at her grandfather and forced herself to speak. ‘You wished to see me, sir?’

  ‘Yes. However, you may come forward, my dear. I assure you none of us will bite.’ There was nothing in his face that indicated any sort of disgust of her.

  ‘No, sir.’ She moved across the room, taking care not to glance Huntington’s way, although every nerve in her body tingled with awareness of him.

  She stopped tentatively in front of the cherrywood desk. Lady Beatrice rose. ‘Miss Chandler, I trust you are well.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Sarah replied. She managed to meet Lady Beatrice’s sharp blue eyes. ‘And you, my lady?’

  ‘Well enough.’ She looked at Sarah closely. She was a large, imposing woman with a forthright manner and a reputation for outspokenness. ‘I will be much better as soon as this affair is settled. I wish, however, that you and my nephew had chosen a more suitable time to discover your mutual affection for one another.’

  Sarah started. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Lord Monteville moved forward in a leisurely way. ‘I imagine it came as a shock to both of them to discover the feelings they had tried to keep suppressed were reciprocated. I believe they can be forgiven for their lapse in discretion.’ He looked at Lady Beatrice. ‘I am certain many of us have had a similar experience.’

  Lady Beatrice actually looked taken aback. ‘I assure you I never have,’ she snapped.

  ‘No?’ Monteville turned his gaze to Sarah. ‘My dear, Lord Huntington is here to properly pay his addresses. I hope you will not let the unfortunate circumstances of the past influence your answer. I have given my consent to the match and I have hopes it may serve to heal the breach between the families.’

  Sarah stared at him, wondering if she had taken lea
ve of her senses. Whatever were they talking about? Mutual affection? Between her and Lord Huntington? She realised he was waiting for her to say something. ‘You…you have given your consent?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was the slightest warning in his cool eyes.

  She stepped back. ‘Oh, dear.’

  It was obviously not the correct answer. Lady Beatrice’s sharp, suspicious gaze swung to Sarah’s face. ‘You are not pleased?’

  ‘She is just shocked. As I was.’ Huntington had stepped to Sarah’s side. ‘We had never expected that Lord Monteville or you would consent to the match so readily.’ His hand came to rest on Sarah’s shoulder, his fingers exerting a slight pressure as if he warning her to say nothing. ‘I would like to speak to Miss Chandler alone.’

  ‘Very wise,’ Monteville said. ‘Come, Lady Beatrice, we will repair to the drawing room. Perhaps some refreshment would be in order.’ He moved towards the door and held it open. Lady Beatrice had no option but to follow. However, when she reached the doorway, she paused and looked back.

  ‘I trust there will be no repeat of last night. I should not want to find you have been engaging in such indecorous liberties again before you are properly wed.’ She stared at Sarah as if she suspected Sarah would throw herself at Huntington’s person as soon as the door was closed.

  ‘Miss Chandler will be quite safe,’ Huntington said drily. ‘I generally do not ravish ladies before dinner.’

  Lady Beatrice frowned at him. ‘This is not the time for levity.’ She followed Monteville out, leaving the door open.

  Huntington moved to the door and shut it firmly, then leaned against it as if he thought Sarah planned to escape. His handsome face had that unsmiling, remote expression she was so accustomed to; if it weren’t for the slightly dark shadows under his eye, as if he’d slept no better than herself, she would have thought he was completely unaffected.

  Sarah finally spoke. ‘Would you please tell me what is going on, my lord?’ At least her voice was cool and steady, despite the feeling she had wandered into a strange dream where nothing made the least sense.

  ‘It seems we are betrothed, Miss Chandler,’ he said, his voice equally cool. ‘And in love.’

  She stared at him. ‘In love? What…what sort of ridiculous notion is that?’

  He folded his arms across his chest. ‘It was the only thing I could think of to explain last night’s débâcle, particularly after my aunt accused you of trying to seduce me.’

  ‘She thought I tried to seduce you?’ Had she even heard correctly? The sensation that she was in a bizarre dream only increased.

  ‘Yes.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? Your family thinks I tried to seduce you and mine is equally convinced you tried to seduce me.’

  ‘How…how odd.’

  His brow shot up. ‘That is one way of putting it.’ He uncrossed his arms and moved from the door, coming to stand on the other side of the wing chair from Sarah. ‘I decided the best way to defuse the mounting storm was to confess we have been harbouring a secret but hopeless passion for each other and finally last night in Henslowe’s garden our finer feelings overcame our reservations. Unfortunately, my aunt insisted on accompanying me over here. Thank God, your grandfather asked no questions and went along with the scheme.’ His gaze swept over her face. ‘And you did not swoon or run shrieking from the room. I must compliment you, Miss Chandler.’

  ‘I never do those things.’ She suddenly felt rather breathless, for he had never said anything remotely complimentary to her before. Unbidden, the memory of his dark head bent towards her, his hand fumbling with the pin at her breast, sprang to her mind and she felt almost shaky.

  She forced her gaze away. ‘So…so how long must we pretend to be betrothed, my lord?’

  ‘Pretend?’ His sharp tone made her look back at him. His eyes bored into hers. ‘My dear, there is no pretence. We are betrothed and we will be married as soon as I procure the special licence.’

  ‘No!’ She jumped back. ‘That is, I…I don’t want to marry you.’

  His eyes cooled. ‘You don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice. Not after last night. You, my dear, are ruined.’

  ‘I…I really don’t care about that.’ She would just go live with Great-aunt Charlotte in Northumberland, who was always hinting she wanted a companion. Anything would be better than marriage to a man who detested her.

  ‘But I do.’ His expression was grim. ‘I’ve no intention of living with that on my conscience. I’ve enough scandal attached to my name as it is, without it being said I attempted to seduce you for some sort of revenge.’

  ‘But, surely no one would think that.’

  ‘They already do,’ he said shortly.

  ‘But how can they? It is so terribly unfair and so…so wrong!’ Sarah wrung her hands together, completely distressed. ‘What did you say to Grandfather? Surely, if they knew the truth, that it was Mr Blanton…’ The dark look he turned on her nearly made her quail.

  ‘What truth? That you went to the garden and Blanton accosted you? My dear, they will wonder what sort of young woman you are if it comes out you were compromised by not one, but two men in one evening. They will think I was coward enough to cast the blame on Blanton. Then there is my sister. I will not have her hurt by this. And she would be.’

  Sarah stared at him as she remembered Lord Henslowe’s words. And in her mind, she saw Jessica and Adam dancing, the obvious happiness in their faces. Would such a thing really affect them?

  He read her mind. ‘Yes, my dear Miss Chandler, she would be hurt. Her in-laws might tolerate her, but she would not be accepted. It is not a pleasant situation. You see, my mother was never accepted by my father’s family. She was Irish and they thought he had married beneath him.’ He was silent for a moment, a bitter twist to his mouth, before focusing back on Sarah. ‘So, we will be married.’

  ‘I am so sorry, my lord,’ Sarah whispered. She turned and walked to the window, not wanting him to see the sudden tears that pricked her eyes. Through the window she could see the gardener trimming the hedge. The ordinary, familiar sight suddenly seemed to belong to another world.

  She started when Huntington spoke.

  ‘It won’t be quite as bad as a death sentence.’

  She turned and looked at him, taken aback to find him standing behind her. ‘What won’t be?’

  ‘Marriage to me.’

  He was too close. She forced herself to speak lightly even though she wanted to cry. ‘Then only as bad as imprisonment in Newgate, my lord?’

  ‘No. I have no intention of being your gaoler. Our dealings together will be minimal. Only as necessary to quell the gossip.’ His eyes rested on her face. ‘Nor will I expect you to share my bed,’ he said indifferently.

  Colour mounted to her cheeks and she turned away. ‘I see.’ Such a thing had never even occurred to her. She could not even feel relieved, only confused.

  He still stood next to her. She forced herself to look at him. He was watching her, a slight frown on his face, almost as if he was concerned about her. ‘Are you well?’

  The thought he might actually care was so unexpected she found herself saying, ‘Yes. I…I promise I will not go into a decline, my lord.’

  ‘I hope not,’ he said softly. He stared at her, and she felt her heart begin to hammer in a most uncomfortable fashion. He suddenly backed up a few paces as if he wanted to put distance between them and went to stand near the mantelpiece. ‘There is one more thing, Miss Chandler.’ His drawl had returned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘We had best behave as if we are in love with each other.’ He folded his arms across his chest again.

  ‘As you are now?’ Sarah retorted, stung by his retreat into his usual indifferent shell. Anger had begun to fill the void she’d felt earlier.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  The startled look on his face was most gratifying. Sarah stared pointedly at him. ‘You are standing across the room from me and staring in
that…that odious way. And besides that, my lord, I have never accepted your offer. In fact, you have never made me an offer.’

  He uncrossed his arms and straightened. ‘Exactly what do you want?’

  ‘Since you have no particular sentiments for me, I don’t expect you to declare any fond feelings, but you could at least ask me, instead of assuming I would be delighted to marry you.’

  ‘Believe me, that assumption never crossed my mind.’ His gaze swept over her face. Then, without warning, he stepped forward and came to stand in front of her. He caught her hands, faint amusement in his expression. ‘My lovely Miss Chandler, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’

  ‘I am not your lovely Miss Chandler,’ she said crossly. Why must he always sound as if he was mocking everything? ‘No?’

  ‘Most certainly not.’ She stared into his eyes with the vague realisation they were not brown at all but a deep mossy green.

  ‘You’ve not answered my question,’ he said softly. His fingers tightened on hers.

  ‘What?’ she blinked. ‘I…I suppose so.’

  He continued to look into her face, his expression slowly changing. Her heart was beating too fast again. ‘Not exactly an unqualified yes, Miss Chandler.’ His voice held an odd huskiness.

  ‘Well, no…’

  ‘You have had more than enough time to settle this!’ Lady Beatrice’s voice cut through the air.

  Huntington dropped her hands as if he’d been burned. He backed away and retreated towards the door. ‘Yes, the matter is settled.’