by Cheryl Holt
“I don’t have a penny to my name. A friend of mine lets me live for free in a bachelor’s room above his gambling club. The bed I sleep on isn’t even mine.”
“If I could just be with you, I would endure any hardship.”
“I couldn’t support you,” he said with a ringing finality.
“We could find a solution—if you really wanted to.”
He sighed. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
She swallowed down more tears, feeling bereft, aggrieved, and so very alone.
“I see ...”
“I don’t want to get married, Mary—to anybody. I’ll be an awful husband, but if I have to proceed, then I’ll do it for money, but you don’t have any. I’m sorry. I’ve tried to be so clear with you.”
“I thought last night might have altered your decision.”
“It didn’t.”
She studied him, on tenterhooks, foolishly waiting for him to say he didn’t mean it, but he was stoically, intractably silent. He remained on the bed, watching her. Ultimately, he rose and walked about, tugging on his clothes.
“Would it make any difference,” she asked, “if I told you I love you?”
“No, none at all.”
“Then I don’t. Love you, that is.”
“Good, because I’m not worth it.”
He went to the door, peeked into the hall, and strolled out.
“WELL?” Victoria demanded. “What have you to say for yourself?”
“I hate him,” Felicity replied.
“I don’t care.”
Victoria was seated in the front parlor, Felicity standing before her. After pitching a full-blown tantrum, she’d been locked in her room, and Victoria had finally allowed her to be released, but she was defiant and mutinous.
“You can make me wed him,” Felicity vowed, “but you can’t make me like him.”
“You don’t have to like him. You just have to shut your mouth and do what he tells you.”
“I won’t live like that!”
“You will, and you’ll be fine. If not, he will beat you, regularly and thoroughly. He seems to have a strong arm; I’m sure he’ll get his point across quite vehemently.”
Felicity turned to Cassandra, who was perched on a nearby sofa.
“Help me,” Felicity implored. “Do something.”
“I tried to warn you,” Cassandra retorted, “but you wouldn’t listen.”
“He’s a monster.”
“All men are.”
“Aren’t you worried about what might happen to me?” Felicity wailed.
Cassandra scoffed. “You’ve been chasing this stupid dream for years, Felicity. It’s become a nightmare; but then, it usually does.”
“Cassandra!” Victoria snapped. “If you have nothing constructive to say, then don’t say anything.”
“She asked my opinion,” Cassandra rebelliously sassed.
Victoria glared at her older daughter. For such a young woman, she was so jaded, so cynical, and Victoria was weary of how she moped about, lamenting her widowhood.
Victoria wanted to marry her off again, to be shed of her upkeep and dour personality, but Cassandra refused to discuss another match. The ungrateful child had actually accused Victoria of selling her the first time, of deliberately placing her in mortal jeopardy, but Victoria wasn’t about to accept any blame.
She’d instructed Cassandra on how to deal with her degenerate husband, and it wasn’t Victoria’s fault that the unruly girl had declined to follow Victoria’s advice.
“If you insist on being horrid to me,” Felicity whined to Cassandra, “just go away. I have Mother sniping at me. I don’t need you, too.”
“I’ll go,” Cassandra rejoined, “as soon as Viscount Redvers arrives. I can’t wait to see you grovel.”
“You wicked shrew!” Felicity moaned. “Mother, make her leave. I can’t bear to have her watch.”
“She’ll stay,” Victoria declared. “If her presence shames you, so much the better. If I thought it would do any good, I’d invite the entire neighborhood.”
Redvers’s booted strides sounded in the hall, and the three of them straightened.
The butler knocked and announced Redvers, who was shown in. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his legs braced.
They rose, like a trio facing a firing squad.
“You wished to see me, Victoria?” he imperiously asked.
“Yes, Lord Redvers. I realize we had a bit of a situation last evening. I’m dreadfully sorry about any upset we might have caused you. I have talked to Felicity, and she has a few remarks she’d like to make.”
Redvers spun toward her but didn’t speak, and at viewing his angry countenance, Felicity squirmed and flushed with embarrassment.
“Lord Redvers”—Felicity gulped, then continued—“I should like to apologize for my behavior.”
“And ... ?”
“I understand that it was inappropriate of me to concern myself with your habits and your friends.”
“And ... ?”
“It won’t happen again.”
“And ... ?”
“I most humbly beg your pardon.”
He studied her, observing as she fidgeted. Victoria was on pins and needles, expecting him to call them a pack of provincial buffoons, then depart for London.
But he said, “Apology accepted.”
“Thank you,” Victoria replied. “I’m glad we can move beyond any unpleasantness, and I hope you are still planning to attend the village social with us. We would be delighted if you would deign to meet some of our neighbors.”
“I will,” he curtly stated.
Victoria nearly collapsed with relief. If he was willing to suffer through their paltry rural dance, then the wedding was a distinct possibility.
“Felicity has one other comment.”
Felicity was doggedly silent, and Victoria’s vicious scowl spurred her on.
“I would be eternally obliged if you would...would...”—she was choking on the request—“tell Mrs. Bainbridge and Mr. Adair that we are charmed by their company, and that we would like them to join us at the village social, too.”
“I will extend the invitation,” he said. “Mrs. Bainbridge will likely be eager to go, but I’m certain Mr. Adair would rather not.”
He whirled away and left.
They were frozen in place, his footsteps fading down the hall, then Felicity whipped around to Victoria.
“I hate you,” she hissed, “and I will never forgive you for this as long as I live.”
“I don’t care,” Victoria repeated.
Felicity raced out, and though Victoria had tried to pretend great aplomb, she was shaken by the scene.
She staggered to the sideboard and poured herself a stiff brandy, downing it in one quick gulp. In the stress of the moment, she’d forgotten that Cassandra was in the room.
“That was ghastly,” Cassandra chirped. “Are you happy now?”
“I’m very happy.”
“Why would you do this to her?”
“She’ll be a bloody countess,” Victoria seethed. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t matter.”
Cassandra gaped at Victoria as if she was insane, and Victoria barked, “What are you looking at?”
“I’m looking at you and wondering why you behave like this. What are you trying to prove? That you can make Felicity miserable all her days?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. Get out of here.”
Without further argument, Cassandra left, too, and Victoria was alone with her brandy and her fury.
“SIT, darling, sit.”
They were in Jordan’s bedchamber, where Lauretta had had a table set in front of the fire. She gestured to it and flashed her most seductive smile.
“All right.” He sighed and plopped down in a chair.
Though she’d traveled to the country for the express purpose of entertaining him, they’d spent hardly any private time together, and she was panicke
d.
He had to be dabbling with a housemaid, but though she’d snooped and pried, she couldn’t determine the woman’s identity. If an affair was occurring, he’d been extremely furtive, and the fact that he would engage in stealth was troubling.
Why was he concealing his antics? Since he was never concerned as to what others thought of his conduct, he must have grown fond of someone who needed secrecy. But who was it?
The possible answers to that question kept her up at night, kept her fretting over the consequences both for her immediate and long-range future.
It was difficult to latch on to a nobleman like Redvers, and though he was temporarily in a financial bind, it would pass. When it did, she intended to be at the center of his life.
He had to recollect why he continued on with her, so she’d surprised him by having a special meal prepared for just the two of them.
She was attired in a red robe and negligee he’d given her the prior Christmas. The color accentuated her features, and the negligee was sewn of lace, and thus, transparent in all the pertinent spots.
For all his incorrigible ways, he was quite a romantic person, and she’d often organized similar evenings, which he’d thoroughly enjoyed. He should have enjoyed this one, too, however when he’d entered the room, he’d appeared irked, and she had to make him forget that he was displeased.
She walked behind him and massaged his shoulders.
“You’re tense as granite. Let me relax you.”
As she dug her thumbs into his muscles, he groaned with relief.
“That feels good.”
She rubbed more vigorously. “This visit is taking its toll on you.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Felicity has been so horrid.”
“She certainly has.”
“What shall we do about her?”
“We shan’t do anything.”
“But you can’t let her treat you so shabbily. Not with others watching!”
“I spoke with Victoria. She has the problem well in hand.”
In the matter of his marriage, Lauretta was his constant confidante. They’d analyzed his choices at length, and he’d heeded all of Lauretta’s advice. Yet suddenly, he was reluctant to confer on the topic, which was a very bad sign.
“What if Victoria isn’t able to rein her in?”
“Don’t worry about it, Lauretta. I’m not.”
“But she—”
“Lauretta! I don’t wish to talk about Felicity.”
He shrugged her off and leaned forward to lift the lids on the dishes the maids had delivered. There were slices of roast beef, a thick gravy, roasted vegetables, pie, and a hunk of cheese.
He seemed bored by the selection, and she scurried around the table and grabbed his wineglass, pouring to the rim, hoping some alcohol would loosen him up.
“Shall I fill a plate for you?”
“If you’d like.”
She heaped servings of everything, then did the same for herself and began to eat.
He was very distracted, and he picked at his food.
“I had the chef prepare all your favorites,” she mentioned.
“Be sure to thank him for me.”
“I will.”
He laid the fork next to his plate and sipped at his wine, the meal ignored.
She’d known him for years, and they were actually close friends, with common hobbies and acquaintances. Conversation between them was never difficult, but for some reason, she couldn’t think of a single comment.
A silence grew, then became awkward.
“What’s going on with you?” she asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“I rarely see you anymore.”
“We played cards yesterday.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Isn’t it?”
He was being deliberately obtuse. He’d never been the type to discuss their relationship, and he was making it clear that he wasn’t about to start.
“You brought me with you,” she reminded him, “so that I could entertain you, but you haven’t let me.”
She smiled, but it fell flat. To her own ears, her remark sounded resentful and desperate, like a shrewish housewife who feels her husband’s affection waning but has no idea how to reclaim it. He wouldn’t tolerate jealousy or possessiveness, and she had to smooth over any misconception she might have generated.
The best way to divert him was with sexual activity, so she slithered out of her robe, her elbows on the table. The position gave him a perfect view of her breasts, but he looked at them with the same amount of interest he’d shown the roast beef.
Undeterred, she tried to slip onto his lap. But before she could, he moved away, and she plopped onto the empty seat he’d vacated.
She was seething, wanting to demand, What the hell is wrong with you?
But she didn’t dare. He was entitled to brood, and if he kept his thoughts to himself, it wasn’t her business to inquire why.
He ambled over to the window and he gazed out at the park. It was evening, dusk settling in. Something in the distance had caught his eye, and he stared at it for a long while.
Eventually, he turned to her, and her heart lurched in her chest. From his cool, detached expression, she was positive he was about to split with her.
The bastard! After all she’d done for him! After all she’d endured!
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
“It’s all right.”
“You went to a lot of trouble.”
“It was no bother.”
The room was so quiet that she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears.
“I’ve been thinking ...” he murmured.
“About what?”
“I’d like you to go back to London.”
“But we’re scheduled to be here two more weeks.”
“I can resolve everything on my own. You don’t need to stay with me.”
“Honestly!” She chuckled, anxious to make light of his pronouncement. “As if I’d leave you in this dreary place all by yourself! You’d die of boredom without me.”
“It’s a definite possibility.” He managed a hint of a smile.
“I’m happy to stay.”
“That’s decent of you, but I’d rather you went home.”
The word home rang like a death knell, and she panicked, though she struggled not to let him see. He wouldn’t put up with any hysterics, so she wouldn’t give him any, but his curt edict had deeper implications than a mere request that she depart.
“Tell me what’s really happening,” she said. “Are you still marrying Felicity?”
“Of course.”
“Then ... why?”
“We both know what I’m going to do, and I don’t need you to watch me do it.”
“Has Felicity asked that you send me away? Has Victoria?”
The notion that he might have decided to grant the horrid girl a favor, that he might have decided to humor her horrid mother, was too galling to consider.
“No.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I told you: I don’t need you here.”
“It’s not a matter of needing. I’m here because you wanted me to be. Have you changed your mind about that?”
“I guess I have.”
“Have I upset you in some fashion?”
“No.”
“I must have. Please inform me of what I’ve done so I can apologize and fix it.”
“You’ve done nothing. I’m just ... torn by my choice, and I’m miserable company. You’ll be happier in Town.”
“You’re mistaken. I’m always happier when I’m with you.”
He cocked a brow, knowing she was lying, knowing she remained because she was paid to remain, but he was gracious enough not to mention it.
“I’ll make arrangements for you to go tomorrow,” he said.
“But tomorrow’s Saturday.” She flashed a credible pout. “I’d planned to attend the village
social. You’re aware that I was raised in London. I’ve never been to such a quaint, rural event. You can’t send me away before I’ve had my fun.”
“I’m not sending you away,” he insisted. “I’m asking you to go.”
“May I stay for the dancing?”
“I suppose, but I want you to head home the next morning.”
“When will you return to London?”
“As soon as I’m wed. I expect to arrive the day after the ceremony.”
“And we’ll pick up where we left off?”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
He assessed her in a way that had her completely unsure of his intentions, and he came over, clasped her arm, and escorted her to the door.
She glanced at the uneaten food, at the cheery fire and expensive French wine. All wasted.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t like me to tarry?”
She snuggled herself to him, but he was as responsive as a block of wood.
“I’m in a foul mood. Why don’t you play cards with Paxton? Perhaps I’ll join you later.”
“I hope you will, darling. It’s so dreadfully dull without you.”
She forced another smile and sauntered away. On the outside, she oozed smug confidence, but on the inside, she was teeming with fear and fury.
He’d either grown weary of her, or a fetching housemaid was keeping him occupied and he’d persuaded himself that he didn’t need Lauretta anymore.
Obviously, Victoria hadn’t heeded Lauretta’s warning about an amour, hadn’t sought out the perpetrator and gotten rid of her.
Lauretta would have to handle the problem herself.
She would not lose Jordan Winthrop. She would not give up her place in his life. Not for anyone. And she felt very sorry for the foolish female who imagined she could shove Lauretta aside.
“ARE you positive you want to proceed, Sunderland? I don’t think you should.”
“I don’t pay you to think, Mr. Thumberton,” Edward Winthrop, Lord Sunderland, said to his lawyer. “I pay you to act.”
“I realize that, but what if you sign this, then drop dead tomorrow?”
“What if I do?”
“When you’re looking down from Heaven, or up from Hell, as the case may be, I doubt you’ll be glad, but you won’t be able to change it.”
After Edward’s trek to Barnes Manor, he had redrafted his will. He’d cut off every penny, had tied up every piece of property. If he dropped dead, as Thumberton so darkly put it, Jordan would own a few mansions and some land that was entailed to the title, but he’d have none of the family jewelry, no furniture, no animals, no carriages, no farm equipment.
