Love with the Proper Husband

by Victoria Alexander

Marcus’s gaze met Whiting’s. “There was never any threat to my finances? No deadline regarding my thirtieth birth date? No…anything?”

  “Not to my knowledge,” Whiting said.

  “I thought the deadline was inspired,” she murmured to Reggie.

  “Excellent detail,” Reggie said under his breath. “Added just the right touch.”

  “A great deal of this makes sense now. I thought it was absurd at first, particularly the timing. That nonsense about not being informed until three months before my birth date and everything else. Still.” Marcus stared at his mother. “You seemed so shocked when I learned of this.”

  “I thought I did that part rather well,” she said modestly. “I would have made an excellent actress.”

  “Positively inspired.” Reggie grinned.

  “Let me assure you,” Whiting continued, “I had no idea the letter Lady Pennington presented to me was not legitimate. It was, after all, in the hand I had always known as your father’s, and I had no reason to doubt Lord Townsend’s signature. I was not made aware of this scheme of hers until after your marriage.”

  “And I begged him not to tell,” Helena added. “Frankly, it seemed pointless. You and she got on so well together. Indeed, I thought it had quite become a love match. It seemed such a pity to muck it up.”

  Marcus rubbed his hand over his eyes. “I am extremely confused.”

  Reggie shoved a new glass of brandy into his hand. “This will help.”

  “I doubt it,” Marcus muttered and drank anyway.

  “I admit, it is a bit complex if you don’t know all the details.” Helena’s brows pulled together. “You see, the idea only occurred to me after I discovered Jeffrey was searching for Gwendolyn. It seemed so perfect. Almost fated if you will. It was not until he actually located her that I put it into place.” She cast the solicitor an apologetic smile. “I knew if I presented you with that letter too soon, there was a significant possibility you would learn it was not entirely legitimate.”

  Marcus raised a brow. “Entirely?”

  “Thank you for your confidence,” Whiting said wryly.

  Marcus shifted his gaze from his mother to his solicitor and back. He struggled for the right words. “How did you…that is to say…with him and…”

  “Jeffrey and I are quite close.” Helena raised her chin and met her son’s gaze directly. “We have been…close for some time. Several years in fact. And I fully intend to remain close with him for the foreseeable future.”

  “I’ve asked her to marry me any number of times but she won’t hear of it,” Whiting said matter-of-factly. “I am quite head over heels for the woman.”

  “Jeffrey.” She cast him a most flirtatious grin.

  “More interesting every minute,” Reggie murmured.

  “This is all…” Marcus shook his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You could try apologizing,” Helena said.

  “Apologize?” Marcus glared at her. “Whatever for?”

  “If you had taken your responsibilities seriously and married long ago, I never would have been forced to take such steps.” Her tone was lofty, her manner unrepentant. “You made it necessary for me to do something.”

  Marcus snorted in disbelief. “You’re saying this is all my fault?”

  “I believe I am, although it scarcely matters at this point, dear. You have a wife you obviously care deeply for who returns your affection. Aside from today’s minor difficulty, all has worked out beautifully.” She cast him a satisfied smile. “I think you should thank me.”

  “Thank you? Thank you?” Marcus stared for a long moment, then reluctantly smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

  “Think nothing of it, dear.”

  “I would prefer that you not meddle in my life in the future.”

  “I can try but…” She shook her head. “I certainly cannot make any promises.

  “You can and you will,” he said firmly, knowing full well his decree was futile. “We shall discuss it when I return from London. With my wife.”

  “You think that’s where she’s gone, then?” Reggie said.

  “It’s not her final destination, but yes, I’m certain that’s where she’s headed. With luck I can catch up to her today.” Marcus shook his head wearily. “However, I shall follow her forever if need be.”

  “I’m coming with you, of course,” Reggie said.

  Marcus cast him a grateful smile. “Of course.”

  “Marcus,” Helena laid her hand on his arm, “promise me you’ll bring her back.”

  He smiled down at his mother, and a deep sense of gratitude flooded him. “Have no doubt of it.”

  “And the girls too,” she insisted.

  He glanced at Townsend. “That I cannot guarantee.”

  “I see.” She drew a deep breath. “Do what you can.”

  “I shall do my best.”

  “Promise me,” she said firmly.

  He sighed. “Mother.”

  “Swear to it, Marcus.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Spit.”

  He groaned. “I daresay that’s not necessary.”

  She fixed him with an unblinking gaze.

  “Very well.” He spit and held up his finger. “I promise by my very blood, so on and so forth, or face dire consequences.”

  “Amen,” Reggie said firmly.

  “Very good.” Helena nodded with satisfaction. “Now I shall have something to eat wrapped up for you to take with you, and you may be on your way.”

  “I should probably come as well,” Townsend said slowly.

  “Probably.” Marcus studied the other man carefully. “Whiting and I unraveled most of this puzzle this morning in London. However, I should like to hear more from you. We shall have a long talk about it on the way.”

  Marcus paused, then met the other man’s gaze. “One more thing before we go, Townsend.” Marcus smiled, fisted his hand and smashed it into Townsend’s face. The sound of flesh crunching flesh resounded in the room. Townsend staggered back, tripped, and landed on his ass on the floor. The stunned look on his face was well worth the sting in Marcus’s knuckles.

  “Just so you understand, my wife is suited to do anything she sets her mind to. She is clever and courageous and I am damn lucky to have her, regardless of how it came about. And if she seemed to you either irrational or unstable, it’s because she cares deeply for those children. As do I. Now…” He nodded at Reggie. “Help him up.”

  “Can’t I plant him one too?” Reggie grinned.

  “Later perhaps.” Marcus returned his grin. “At the moment, we have more important things to do. Prime among them, finding my wife.”

  “You said London is not her final destination.” Reggie’s brow furrowed. “Then you think…”

  “Without a doubt. But London is where her funds are and where her friends are. And given all that, it’s also the best place to find transport”—Marcus blew a long breath and prayed he would not be too late—“to America.”

  Chapter 19

  It is precisely when you have given up hope that a good man will become a true hero. It is why they are worth all the trouble.

  Gwendolyn Pennington

  “I still don’t understand why you insist on leaving tonight.” Madame Freneau’s words resounded in the darkness inside the duke’s coach.

  “I have told you over and over again,” Gwen said with a calm she did not feel. “It’s much better this way.

  “Better or easier?”

  “Both.” Gwen’s weary state echoed in the single word.

  She and the girls had made it to London the night before without incident. It was the height of foolishness, and Gwen thanked the heavens they’d arrived unscathed. She’d known full well how dangerous a nighttime ride across the country could be, especially for a woman and children unaccompanied by escort. Apparently the girls had understood as well. Hope had pointed out God was especially watchful over children and fools.

  There was every possibili
ty Gwen was indeed a fool. She’d been so certain when she’d left Marcus that she was doing what was best. That she’d had no choice. But with every mile put between them, her conviction faded. Still, it was too late to turn back now.

  “You have everything, then?”

  Gwen smiled in the dark. That too had been asked more than once. “Everything we shall need for the voyage.”

  They’d taken nothing with them when they’d left Holcroft Hall. But between the few purchases she’d made today and what Madame and Colette had managed to provide, she and the girls would make do until they reached America.

  America. Gwen shook her head with disbelief. She’d never imagined she’d ever return to those foreign shores again.

  A discreet knock sounded at the coach door.

  “If you insist on going through with this, Gwendolyn,” Madame said with a sigh in her voice, “it is apparently time.

  The door swung open and one of the duke’s servants offered a hand to help her out. She could already hear the girls’ excited chatter outside the second coach.

  Thanks to Colette, the duke had provided two vehicles to transport them all to the docks tonight, although he had not done so without adding his advice to that of the ladies. Absolutely no one save Gwen herself thought she was doing the right thing, and even she was having second thoughts.

  Gwen glanced around the docks. The ship she had booked passage on would leave with the tide shortly after midnight. In spite of the lateness of the hour, the docks were well lit and a hive of activity. Waves of light spread outward from the ships and faded into the night and a deep fog.

  “Aunt Gwen,” Hope called and hurried toward her, a few steps in front of Patience, Charity, and Colette.

  How could Gwen possibly be wrong? She knew these children would grow up exactly as she had and in the very same house, if she did not act. Marcus had the best of intentions but even the Earl of Pennington was not powerful enough to solve this dilemma.

  She pushed aside any lingering doubts as well as an annoying voice in her head that refused to be silent and screamed she was making a horrendous mistake. She forced a bright note to her voice. “Are we ready then? For our grand adventure?”

  “We are, of course, but…” Patience paused. “We want to know why we left the hall in the middle of the night.”

  “Without bringing along any of our things,” Hope added. “We don’t have a great deal but I would have liked to have brought along something.”

  “There is a blue dress I am quite fond of,” Patience murmured.

  “The point is, Aunt Gwen.” Charity stepped forward. “We know something has happened. Something dreadful. We didn’t ask you last night because you were rather harried. And today when we weren’t sleeping, you were. Madames Freneau and de Chabot won’t tell us anything.”

  Patience leaned forward and lowered her voice in a confidential manner. “Madame de Chabot just sighs, mumbles something in French, and proceeds to lose to us at cards. I don’t think she’s even trying.”

  “We deserve to know what has happened,” Hope said firmly. “I know we’re children, but we are quite mature for our years. Everyone says so.”

  Patience nodded. “Charity is nearly grown and I am barely two years younger and—”

  “And I am more than capable of taking care of myself and oh, say, I know”—Hope grinned—“a dog.”

  “Oh, do stop talking about a dog, Hope.” Charity leveled her sister an exasperated glare, then turned her attention back to Gwen. “What we are trying to say is that we are about to board a ship, to America from what we’ve heard, and we have no idea why. We think it’s only fair that we know what precisely has happened.”

  “We do realize you’ve left Uncle Marcus.” Patience shook her head. “And we think it’s terrible.”

  “Which is why we are certain that whatever reason you have for taking us all so far away is probably an excellent one.” Charity finished. “We simply want to know what it is.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” And hadn’t Gwen always treated them a bit more like adults rather than mere children? At the start of a new life together, it was probably best to continue. “It is only fair.” Gwen blew a long breath and chose her words carefully. “My cousin, Lord Townsend—”

  “Pickleface’s brother?” Hope asked.

  Gwen didn’t bother to correct her. “That’s the one. Because he is head of the family and you three apparently have a sizable inheritance, as well as the fact that years ago he knew your father, he feels that he should be your guardian. He wants you to return to Townsend Park to live.”

  “With Pickleface?” Patience shuddered. “What a horrid thought.”

  Charity frowned. “Can’t Uncle Marcus do something?”

  Gwen shook her head. “I fear it won’t be enough. Which is why I think it would be best if we put as much distance between us and England, specifically Lord Townsend, as possible.”

  “But couldn’t we take Uncle Marcus with us?” Hope asked. “He looks like he could use a bit of adventure.”

  “Of course we can’t take him,” Patience scoffed. “He’s entirely too proper for an adventure of this sort.”

  “Aunt Gwen?” Charity studied her curiously. “Didn’t you say running away never solved anyone’s problems?”

  Gwen winced to herself. “Yes, well, I might have said something along—”

  “Oh no, you said it.” Hope nodded. “I remember distinctly.”

  “It was when we were going to stow aboard a ship and go back to the Friendly Islands to live on the beach and eat fish,” Patience added.

  “Why was it not all right when we wanted to run off but it is all right now that you want to?” Charity’s question was pointed.

  Colette snorted.

  “It’s an excellent question, Gwendolyn,” Madame said. “Perhaps you have an excellent answer?”

  Hope nudged Patience, and both girls grinned. Charity’s eyes widened and a smile broke on her face as well.

  “I’m glad you all find this so amusing.” Gwen’s indignation covered her search for that excellent answer. “Of course I have an answer. I—”

  “I should like to hear this as well.” Marcus’s voice sounded behind her.

  Her heart thudded in her chest and a multitude of contrary emotions surged through her. He would stop them, of course, and that would lead to disaster, but part of her was never so grateful to hear anyone’s voice as she was to hear his.

  She turned to face him and resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms.

  “Good evening, ladies.” Marcus directed his greeting to the others, but his gaze stayed on her. “Wonderful night for a voyage, don’t you think?”

  “At last.” Colette heaved a relieved sigh. “We wondered if you would make it in time.”

  “Everything today has taken longer than expected.” He shrugged apologetically, as if he were explaining something of no more significance than a late arrival at dinner. “Although I did determine what, if any, ships would be leaving tonight for America and knew I had plenty of time to arrive here before its departure. You see, the moment we arrived in London—”

  “We?” Gwen said sharply, her stomach twisting.

  “Reggie, myself, and your cousin.”

  “You brought him with you?” An overwhelming sense of defeat and betrayal washed through Gwen. “How could you?”

  “I couldn’t not bring him,” Marcus said firmly. “Given what Whiting and I learned last night, or rather this morning, it seemed appropriate.”

  “Appropriate for what?” She glared at him. “For you to determine there is nothing you can do save abide by the rules and laws propagated for the benefit of those with power, men in particular, that disregard the needs and desires and happiness of the rest of us?”

  “Now who is leaping to unsubstantiated conclusions?” Marcus’s manner was relaxed, even casual.

  She stared in stunned disbelief. What on earth was wrong with the man? He wasn�
��t taking this nearly as seriously as he should. Didn’t he realize the future of her nieces was at stake, not to mention their future? How could she ever forgive him for this?

  “It’s not at all what you think,” Marcus said.

  “It’s exactly what I think,” she snapped. “You’re going to hand these children over to that man. My cousin”—the word left an unpleasant taste in her mouth—“who cares nothing for them and is only truly interested in getting his hands on their fortune.”

  “You do your cousin a grave disservice, Lady Pennington.” A man’s voice sounded behind her. “He was acting at my request.”

  Gwen whirled around. A tall, thin figure stepped forward from the shadows and the fog.

  “Papa?” Charity’s shocked whisper sounded behind Gwen.

  Papa?

  For a moment it was as if time itself stopped. The stranger gazed with a hesitant smile and unabashed love at her nieces. His…daughters?

  “Papa!” Hope screamed and hurled herself at him, followed immediately by her sisters. At once, all four were in one anothers’ arms, laughing and weeping and promising each other that this was indeed real and not some specter formed by the night and the fog.

  A shocked gasp sounded from Madame or Colette, Gwen wasn’t sure, and she heard a sob of sheer emotion and realized it came from somewhere deep inside her.

  “Gwen, this is Paul Loring.” Marcus’s arm slipped around her, and she sagged against him. “I told you it was appropriate.”

  “I don’t understand.” Gwen sniffed back against the tears that trickled down her face. “How can this…”

  “It’s a long story,” Marcus murmured. “Fascinating though. I’m not entirely clear on all the details, but when their ship wrecked, Loring tossed the girls into a small boat along with a few others. He and your sister were washed away. He remembers very little about that but eventually woke up on an island somewhere. It was some time before he was rescued.”

  “And Louisa?” Gwen held her breath.

  “She’s gone, Gwen. I’m sorry.” Marcus shook his head. “Loring searched for her for a long time to no avail. He did find the missionaries who had rescued the girls and knew they were safe and had been returned to England.” Marcus paused. “He was headed home when he met up with your cousin. Townsend has been trying to locate Loring since he learned of his disappearance and the girls’ survival.”