The Marriage Truce

by Ann Elizabeth Cree

  ‘Hardly, my dear,’ he ground out.

  ‘And what is wrong with Mr Kenton? He seems perfectly respectable.’

  ‘He is.’ Except the thought of him escorting Sarah home made Dev want to run his respectable, well-mannered neighbour through. He would have to be nearly senile not to notice Kenton’s interest in her. He ran a hand through his hair. What the hell was happening to his iron control? He was beginning to feel as if his own sanity was in danger of slipping. ‘Next time Kenton may not be around to rescue you. What if you met someone less respectable?’ The flicker of uncertainty in her eye made him press forward. ‘Nor do you know the area. What if you were hurt? And every time you’ve gone off by yourself in the past few weeks you’ve ended up in some sort of trouble.’

  The militant light extinguished. ‘Very well, you have made your point. I will not go out unattended.’ Her voice was subdued and she looked utterly defeated.

  That wasn’t what he wanted either. In truth, he was beginning to feel like her gaoler. ‘Why did you walk so far?’

  ‘I wanted to see some of the estate. And the old tower,’ she said quietly.

  ‘If that’s it—’ he frowned ‘—Dalton can take you.’ And then he had a sudden vision of Kenton meeting her there. The tower sat on the line of the two properties. ‘I’ll take you,’ he said shortly.

  She stiffened and looked away. ‘There is no need to trouble yourself.’

  ‘I’m not. And we’ll both dine at Kentwood tomorrow evening.’

  She glanced at him, a little frown on her brow. ‘Are you not leaving for London today?’

  ‘My business can wait. I’ll show you the estate tomorrow.’ He had no intention of leaving her to wander around on her own. The prospect suddenly seemed too dangerous. And he had no idea why.

  Nicholas threw down his cards and rose, too restless to sit. Adam glanced at him and quirked his brow. ‘Finished already? You’ve not yet relieved me of my purse.’

  ‘I make it a practice to leave my relations with something,’ Nicholas said lightly.

  Adam’s brow inched up. ‘A recent practice, I take it. Can’t remember you’ve concerned yourself with that before.’

  ‘I am attempting to reform.’ He gave Adam a half-grin and wandered out of the small room and towards the assembly hall where a ball was in progress. He watched for a moment, ignoring the coy glances cast his way by a trio of giggling young ladies. Since Mary’s death, he’d experienced little desire to do even the minimum social niceties. He walked through the French windows and out on the balcony overlooking the dark drive below.

  Someone stepped out behind him.

  He turned to find Blanton at his elbow. Blanton smiled. ‘Ah, Lord Thayne. I have not seen you since the Henslowe ball.’

  ‘I’ve been away,’ Nicholas said briefly. Cedric Blanton was not a man he wished to converse with at any length.

  ‘Have you? I am soon to leave myself in a few days. To attend a houseparty at Harrowood, Sir Ralph Filby’s estate in Kent. Very near the house where your unfortunate sister now resides.’

  Nicholas glance sharpened. ‘Why do you say unfortunate?’

  Blanton smiled in his bland, ingratiating way. ‘Why, the circumstances of her marriage. To be coerced to marry a man, particularly one she must detest, because he forced his attentions upon her.’

  ‘And how did you come to that conclusion?’ Nicholas asked tightly.

  If Blanton noticed the dangerous light in Nicholas’s eyes, he ignored it. ‘I must own I was there. Even now, I berate myself for not coming to your sister’s aid, particularly when I saw her bodice was torn as she struggled in Huntington’s grasp. Alas, Lord and Lady Henslowe arrived before I could make myself known.’

  Nicholas stared at him, barely containing his urge to shove Blanton against the wall. ‘I should throttle you if what you’ve said is true. If not, you’re to keep your damnable speculations to yourself.’

  ‘Of course, my lord. I should not wish to harm your sister’s reputation.’ But his eyes held an odd satisfaction that roused Nicholas’s suspicions.

  None the less, he intended to find out the truth of the matter. He quit the balcony and left the assembly. If what Blanton hinted was true, he’d kill Huntington.

  Lord Monteville was in his study, seated behind his desk. He removed his spectacles when Nicholas stalked into the room and regarded his grandson with mild curiosity. ‘The assembly has finished so soon?’

  ‘No.’ Nicholas strode towards the desk and stood looking down at his grandparent. ‘I met Blanton tonight. He told me Huntington forced his attentions on Sarah during Henslowe’s ball. He claimed he was a witness. I’d hardly believe the man except he said her bodice was torn. And no one knew that except our family.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Damnation, I’ve no idea why I accepted Sarah’s explanation that she had ripped her bodice with her brooch.’ His mouth tightened. ‘If this has a hint of truth to it, I will put a bullet through Huntington.’

  Monteville rose, still calm. ‘Save your bullet. It is true in part, although Blanton has reversed the roles.’ He raised his hand. ‘My dear boy, before you rush away to avenge your sister’s honour, hear me out.’

  Nicholas forced himself to listen. When Monteville finished, he swore. ‘I wonder you did not call Blanton out yourself. I nearly went for his throat tonight. I regret I did not.’

  ‘I find violence rarely serves a purpose, and in this case, Blanton was quite neatly thwarted. However, I do not trust him. He has a deplorable habit of attempting to wed heiresses by foul methods. I was informed by the lady’s parent himself that Huntington foiled another such plot of Blanton’s last year. I rather suspect Blanton does not wish Huntington well. Which perhaps explains why he decided to tell his tale to you.’

  Nicholas gave a short laugh. ‘In hopes I’d shoot Huntington, I suppose.’ His brow snapped down. ‘Do you suspect him of the attack on Huntington?’

  ‘I am certain of it, although I do not yet have positive proof.’

  ‘He also informed me tonight he will be at Sir Ralph Filby’s for a houseparty.’

  An arrested look appeared in Monteville’s eye. ‘Will he? I did not know that.’ He frowned. ‘I wonder what his purpose is.’ He looked at Nicholas. ‘Have you an invitation to Sir Ralph’s?’

  ‘I may have, but I’ve no intention of going. I have yet to meet a worse set of toad-eaters under one roof.’

  ‘I think, however, that you will overcome your aversion to toad-eaters and go to Kent.’

  Nicholas stared at him and then laughed shortly. ‘Will I? Very well, sir. Although I doubt if Huntington will exactly welcome me into the neighbourhood with open arms.’

  ‘You may be surprised. I suspect your sister may wield more influence over Huntington than you think.’

  Nicholas smiled grimly. ‘That remains to be seen.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Sarah smoothed down the skirt of her drab riding habit. It had been made shortly before that fateful ball. The ball that divided her life into two radically different halves. She picked up the matching hat from her bed, wishing she did not feel so much trepidation. It was not precisely the emotion she’d imagined feeling at the prospect of meeting her husband. But then, she had always thought she would be in love with her husband, and her love would be reciprocated.

  She put on her hat and tied the ribbons. There was nothing to fear. He would probably be his usual high-handed self and make it perfectly clear she was nothing but a bother. Which hardly explained why he’d suddenly decided to show her the tower instead of his steward. Perhaps he thought she would try to escape Mr Dalton and lose herself again.

  She started at the knock on her door. She opened it. Her pulse leaped when she saw Dev.

  ‘I thought I would see if you were ready,’ he said with studied indifference.

  ‘I…yes. Except for my gloves.’ She stepped back, her pulse fluttering, and hoped he would not see how flustered she felt. ‘I just need to find them.’
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br />   She went to her dressing table and finally located her kid gloves. When she turned, she saw he had stepped into her room and was looking around.

  ‘The room is different,’ he said slowly. ‘It looks very comfortable.’

  ‘Perhaps you mean untidy,’ Sarah said, even more disconcerted that he would find her room in such disorder. She had not put all her paints away and a book lay open on her bedside table. At least her blue and white vase was filled with fresh flowers.

  He slanted a smile at her. ‘Not at all. Comfortable and very nice.’ He moved to inspect one of the watercolours she had hung on the wall. ‘Is this one of yours?’

  ‘Yes. It is a picture of the garden of our house in Lancashire. We…Nicholas and I, grew up there.’

  ‘It is very good.’ He glanced over at her. ‘When did you go to live at Monteville House?’

  ‘Shortly after my mother died, three years ago. My grandfather kindly offered us a home with him.’ It no longer hurt as much to speak of her mother’s death.

  ‘Why “kindly”?’ he asked.

  ‘My father had severed all connections with my grandfather after he married my mother. My grandfather did not approve of the match. My mother was only a vicar’s daughter and my father had nearly been betrothed to the daughter of a duke when he ran off with my mother. It was a horrible scandal at the time, I believe.’ At least according to her mother’s eldest sister, who had taken great delight in regaling Sarah with the details. Her mother had never spoken much of it, or of her husband’s highborn family, even after his death when Sarah was twelve. What little she had heard about her grandfather had made her dread the prospect of meeting him. But, despite his formidable appearance, he had turned out to be quite kind and regretted the years of estrangement from his only son’s family.

  ‘We have something in common, then,’ he said. ‘I believe I told that you my father’s family did not approve of my mother.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said a little sadly. ‘It seems rather a waste, does it not? I cannot think of a kinder, more loving or wise person than my mother. She was a lady in every way that matters. I think my grandfather would have liked her very much.’ She glanced at him. ‘And I think that you held your mother in a similar regard.’

  ‘I did.’ He looked away for a moment. ‘Shall we go, then?’

  ‘Yes, perhaps we should.’ She moved past him into the hall.

  The groom had already saddled two horses. One was a chestnut Sarah recognised as Dev’s and the other a slightly smaller bay. The groom, Jerrick, was a middle-aged man with grey hair and a long, lined face. However, a quick smile lit up his rather sober features when he spoke to Dev. Sarah could see the evident fondness and respect he held for his employer. As, she was beginning to discover, all his servants did.

  ‘I have saddled Perceval for you,’ Jerrick told her. ‘He’s not too difficult to handle, but has a bit of spirit so he won’t rock you to sleep.’

  Sarah smiled. ‘I am certain he will be fine.’ She patted the gelding’s neck, liking the intelligent expression in his fine dark eyes. Her spirits lifted a little. The day was slightly overcast but warm and she found she actually looked forward to a ride through the countryside.

  They left the stable yard and started along the lane that ran along one side of the property. When the lane widened enough to accommodate two horses, Dev slowed his mount down until she was alongside.

  He looked over at her. ‘Mrs Dalton would like to make your acquaintance. Would you object to calling on her first?’

  Sarah smiled at him. As usual, he was hatless, the breeze ruffling his dark hair. His face appeared relaxed today, as if he also looked forward to the outing. ‘Of course not. I should like to meet her. They have a new baby, do they not?’

  He looked surprised. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Sally told me.’

  ‘Sally?’ One brow quirked.

  ‘She is one of the housemaids.’

  ‘I see.’ He frowned.

  He probably disliked her gossiping with the servants. Half-expecting him to take her to task over it, she was startled by his next words. ‘Are you finding everything to your comfort?’

  She hesitated. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But not everything. What troubles you?’

  She decided to plunge ahead. ‘I have no idea what you expect from me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ He looked at her sharply.

  ‘I feel rather like a barely tolerated houseguest. Do you wish me to do anything useful?’

  ‘Useful?’ His expression was startled. ‘Such as?’

  ‘Well, the sort of things a…a wife usually does. Household things, that is.’ In case he thought she was hinting at something else. ‘I have done nothing at all. Mrs Humphries has everything running very smoothly and I know Jessica will soon return, but I dislike being so idle. Not that I am complaining, for you have an excellent library, and I have been drawing, but I feel rather useless.’

  He pulled his horse to an abrupt halt. Perceval obligingly stopped as well. Dev leaned forward, his expression incredulous. ‘You are saying you wish to run my household?’

  She flushed, feeling as if she’d just demanded that he hand over the family jewels. ‘Well, no. That is, I hardly wish to impose, but…’ Her voice trailed away and she fervently wished she’d never brought the matter up.

  ‘You are not.’ He looked at her oddly. ‘It never occurred to me. Jessica has managed most of the household in the past few years and, as you have noticed, Mrs Humphries is extremely efficient. Perhaps too much so at times.’ He considered her for a moment and a brief smile touched his mouth. ‘So, if you’re game, my dear, you may take over. I will inform Mrs Humphries she is to report to you.’

  ‘Are you certain?’ She had not expected it to be so easy.

  His brow shot up. ‘Cold feet now, Sarah?’

  ‘No.’ She lifted her chin and looked at him.

  ‘Good.’ One of his rare, unexpected smiles crossed his face, causing her to catch her breath. ‘And if you can persuade Cook to serve something besides fowl in some form, I’d be most grateful.’

  ‘I…I will.’ She found herself smiling back at him. She heard his sharp intake of breath as his smile faded and his gaze locked with hers. She knew, at that moment, he felt the same awareness of her that she had of him.

  He looked away first. ‘We’d best go,’ he said and for once she was glad of his abrupt manner.

  Sarah followed Nancy Dalton’s plump figure around the corner of the neat, thatched cottage. Sarah held a grey tabby cat that had been weaving around her feet since their arrival at the cottage. Now he was snuggled into Sarah’s arms, his eyes half-closed and his purr the most rumbling one she had ever heard.

  ‘I dare say his lordship is out here,’ Mrs Dalton said over her shoulder. ‘Hannah and Will, they had some kittens to show him.’

  ‘How nice,’ Sarah said faintly, trying to imagine Dev viewing kittens. Of course, she’d hardly expected the two young Dalton children, six-year-old Hannah and her four-year-old brother, Will, to launch themselves at him with shrieks of delight despite their mother’s embarrassed admonition to ‘show his lordship the proper respect’. Nor to allow Hannah to take his hand and drag him out of the cottage, Will happily babbling away at his other side.

  And Sarah had found herself on a wooden bench, holding a two-week-old baby while Mrs Dalton chattered about everything and nothing in particular and Sarah learned more about the parish in a quarter of an hour than she had in the week since her arrival. The baby had fallen asleep in Sarah’s arms and Mrs Dalton then announced he could be laid in his cradle and they’d best find his lordship before the children talked him to death. ‘They adore him,’ she explained. ‘He sometimes brings them sweets and the like, but more than that he pays heed to their nonsense. Men often do not.’

  The sight of Dev with a black kitten climbing up his elegant coat, the children bouncing around him, hardly helped her equilibrium. Hannah spotted them first an
d clapped her hands. ‘Mama! Look! Patience likes him!’

  He turned, his eyes meeting Sarah’s with an almost helpless expression. ‘I can’t get the thing off.’

  ‘How…how dreadful!’ She nearly laughed but instead she walked over to him. She set down the grey cat who gave her a reproachful meow.

  ‘It is really very simple.’ She gently tugged on the kitten, which mewed in protest and sank its tiny claws in further. She looked up at Dev. ‘I am afraid Hannah is right, it likes you. You may be forced to wear a kitten as an ornament.’

  ‘Sarah,’ he said warningly, ‘I don’t like cats.’ His eyes glinted down at hers and she suddenly felt rather dizzy.

  ‘Oh, very well.’ She gently disengaged the little creature’s front claws and pulled the kitten away, careful not to hurt its tiny paws. She handed it to Hannah.

  Her grey friend meowed and stared up at her. She picked him up and he began to purr again. Dev watched her, his brow arched. She smiled a little and stroked the cat’s head. ‘He reminds me a little of a cat I had when I was a girl. She was my best friend.’

  A smile tugged at his mouth. ‘He seems to regard you in the same light. However, we’d best go,’ he said.

  The children flung themselves at him for a final farewell. Over their heads, Mrs Dalton gave him a sly smile. ‘I expect you will soon be setting up your own nursery, my lord.’

  Sarah’s face heated. Dev froze, the expression on his face dumbfounded. ‘I…yes,’ he said. Faint colour stained his cheeks.

  If it weren’t that the topic was so uncomfortable, Sarah would have laughed at his discomfort.

  Instead, they made their farewells and left the cottage in awkward silence. He finally looked over at her, his expression stiff. ‘I hope Mrs Dalton’s speculations did not overset you too much. I, of course, do not intend to…er, set up a nursery.’

  ‘I suppose it is a natural assumption when two people are married.’ At least her voice was calm and logical despite the fact that her insides felt as heated as her cheeks had been earlier.