Marriage Made In Shame (The Penniless Lords Book 2)

by Sophia James

  The new morning lit the patina of the walls in the breakfast room, the old paint chalked into lighter squares where paintings had been removed. The gentle stroke of penury, hidden under excess. In society it was not what you were but what others perceived you were that was tantamount.

  And Lord Gabriel Wesley was the most perfect example of all. Lost in shadow, but bathed in light.

  He needed rescuing. He needed trust. He needed honesty. And as his wife she was damn well going to give it to him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  She had finished her breakfast already. Gabriel saw that as he walked into the dining room and sat to one end of the table, waiting until the servant had brought him his usual plate of eggs and bacon before he spoke.

  ‘I hope you slept well, Adelaide.’

  She looked around to check the positioning of his staff before she answered him.

  ‘I have heard that you did not, my lord.’

  His fork stopped as he lifted it. ‘I seldom sleep for long.’ He wondered which servant had leaked out that information. All the stakes heightened again, a wife who might wish to know all the things he’d told no one.

  ‘Do you walk, my lord? Walking helps, I find. In the country I take a long walk every morning and it allows me the time to think.’

  ‘You are full of excellent advice, Lady Wesley. Perhaps I should indeed start.’ He wished he could have made that sound a little kinder, but the few hours of slumber he had finally managed were not enough to foster good humour. He needed to arrange the journey up to Ravenshill and his mother had been ill again in the night. Her health was failing, he had known that for a long while, but today of all the days he just did not have the temperament for her constant melancholy and complaints.

  He needed to get to Essex with his new wife. He needed space and time to adjust to being married. He could not leave Adelaide floundering in the no-man’s land of celibacy for ever without allowing her some honesty at least as to his reasons.

  She was looking down now at her empty plate, her hands in her lap and a frown across her brow. Irritation, he thought. Or uncertainty. The bright and quick mind that he admired lost under the weight of their awkward union and he felt guilty and wary over it.

  With a considered motion he lay down his eating utensils and stood, swigging down a mouthful of freshly poured tea as he did so.

  ‘Could you come with me to the library, Adelaide? I have things I need to say to you.’

  Another flash of concern in blue, though she nodded and did what he asked, following him down the short corridor. He shut the door the instant she was inside and gestured to a seat over by the window.

  ‘I would rather stand, I think, my lord.’

  ‘Very well. Will you have a drink?’

  ‘This early in the morning? No. Thank you.’

  ‘Would you mind if I did?’

  She didn’t answer that, but her frown told him she very much would mind. Still with the promise of shoring up his own courage he made certain to pour himself a generous brandy and downed much of it in one swallow. The liquor burnt a fiery path back to valour and he was glad for it. He had to stop drinking so much, he knew he did, and at Ravenshill he would make a start.

  ‘I have not slept well since the fire.’

  That was honest enough. He had not done anything with any true skill since, but this wasn’t the time for that particular confession.

  ‘Have you tried massage?’

  The sort of massage the Temple of Aphrodite was famous for? he thought wildly. The type that led to more than just a gentle touch of skin?

  ‘No.’

  ‘My aunt Eloise was an expert. She had a tutor from the East on the subject and people came for miles to have their aches and pains eased.’

  Pushing back her sleeve, she laid a finger over a point a little way up from the wrist on her right arm. ‘This is Nei Guan, a place known to calm the heart and the spirit. With stimulation it can lead to better sleep and is well known, too, for its quelling of anxious thoughts.’

  He began to laugh despite trying not to, the guarded tension in his shoulders relaxing with the humour.

  ‘Your aunt taught you this?’

  ‘Indeed, sir, she did.’ The words were given back to him without arrogance or pride and the floor beneath him seemed to tilt slowly to one side as he understood what that meant. She was not like any woman he had ever met before, neither boasting nor subservient. She just was. Herself. Different. Unusual. If Adelaide insisted she knew a method of Chinese massage that could put a grown man into the way of sleep, then she probably did.

  Finishing his brandy, he placed the glass down on a table beside him.

  ‘I have not the time to try it now, but perhaps at Ravenshill Manor...’

  The smile she gave him back made him want to tip caution to the wind and simply tell her everything. But if he did that here in London she might not be willing to journey with him up to Essex and he wanted her to himself and alone with more of a desperation than he could believe.

  ‘We will be departing for the Wesley family seat in a little over two hours as there is word of a storm coming and I don’t wish to be caught in it. The house itself has been badly damaged, you see, but has a wing that was left untouched and I sent instructions to the servants yesterday to have it readied.’

  ‘It will just be us...?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He saw her take a deep breath before she nodded and, not wanting to have any further argument, Gabriel bowed formally and left the room.

  * * *

  Her husband did not share the carriage, but rode on his large horse beside the conveyance, one of his servants alongside him. Outlined against a leaden-grey sky and with his heavy cloak whipping in the wind, he looked like a figure out of a book: dark, brooding and beautiful.

  She’d known he was a good rider back in London, but here on the rough pathways and the undulating hills she saw the true expertise. Horse and man seemed as one flying across the grassy countryside, the sleek pull of muscle and the easy motion of speed.

  ‘I have never seen a gentleman ride like that in me life, ma’am.’ Milly beside her leaned forward, watching the earl and smiling. ‘If he was unseated...’ She left the rest unsaid as Adelaide looked away. She had been enjoying the spectacle until then and wished her maid had not reminded her of the danger.

  ‘It cannot be far to Ravenshill Manor. Lord Wesley said it was only a few hours and we have been travelling all of that, I think.’

  ‘Tom said the drive into the property was lined in oaks. He said in spring the green reminded him of Ireland and of the little folk and that there is not a sight more beautiful in all of the land.’

  ‘The boy in the London stables, you mean? That Tom?’

  Milly blushed and made much of finding something in a large reticule she had brought along with her.

  Adelaide was astonished. Her maid had been with her for a good number of years and she had seldom seen her embarrassed. But before she could form a question the shout of the driver alerted them to a slowing in motion and turning into a new direction.

  ‘I think we have arrived,’ Adelaide said softly as they both looked out.

  The oaks were huge and numerous, the green leaves of summer upon them and clouds of blue flowers at their feet. A river wound its way alongside the small roadway, more flowers again along the banks. And then after a full five minutes a wider vista opened and a house came into view against the storm-filled sky.

  A ruined house, the remains of its walls rent by fire and left roofless and jagged. Thick carved stone sat at its feet, the only part that had not been taken by flame.

  So this was Ravenshill. She had heard the stories of its demise back in London, the magnificence it once had been, reduced to a hollow shell that threatened to bankrupt what
was left of the Hughes family funds.

  The earl had reined in his black steed now and was walking it in a more sedate fashion to one side of the carriage. What was he thinking, she wondered, as he looked at such damage?

  When the carriage stopped and the door opened Gabriel Hughes stood hat in hand, his hair only just tethered by a loosened leather tie.

  ‘Welcome to Ravenshill Manor, Adelaide.’

  The stark and dramatic truth of the house this close up was unbelievable, the scent of burning still in the air, but he made no apology for it or explanation.

  How had he escaped with his life? was all that she could think. How had anyone managed to get out of this devastation alive?

  ‘If you come with me there is an annex at the back that was not touched. It is a home for now, at least.’

  A dozen servants stood in line to one side of the drive, the wind on their faces as they waited.

  ‘If you feel you cannot stay here...’

  She stopped him.

  ‘Even as a ruin the place is beautiful.’

  For the first time ever he smiled at her without the ghosts of the past in his eyes and the lines that etched each side of his cheeks lessened.

  ‘I always thought so.’

  After walking down the row of staff and being presented to each one they made their way around the side of the manor, past the kitchen gardens still surprisingly full of myriad different plants and herbs and into the smaller untouched wing at the back.

  It was spartan inside, but the large lobby was open and light.

  ‘We lost much of the furniture and I haven’t had the time as yet to replace it.’

  The walls were newly painted, she saw as they came into a sitting room, the floors rubbed into shine with a beeswax polish. The furnishings were all of a solid clean line without any excess whatsoever.

  A man’s room, any small feminine touches completely missing save for a glass vase full of wildflowers that sat on an old desk under the windows.

  A pile of books was stacked on another side table, bookmarks of red paper bristling from almost every one. Maps and models of ships completed the tableau. A piano to the far end of the room was surprising.

  ‘Do you play?’ she asked and moved towards it. The cover was down and there were initials on the top within a circle of gold and blue.

  ‘Not well.’

  GSLH and CEAH. His initials and his sister’s, too? She wondered who might have drawn such a thing. A parent, perhaps, the trailing line of darker indigo reaching down into a red heart.

  ‘My grandmother was an artist. The pictures here are all hers.’

  Looking around, Adelaide saw that the room held many paintings, of landscapes and houses and in the corner a smaller study framed in gold showed children laughing in the sun.

  He caught her glance. ‘Charlotte and me, when we were young.’

  The two were holding hands, daisies spread about their feet and a large dog beside them.

  ‘The Irish wolfhound’s name was Bran. My grandmother enjoyed the exploits of the warrior, Fionn Mac Cunhail. She also thought he would protect us.’

  ‘Protect you from what?’ Adelaide’s question came unbidden, but there had been something in the tone he used that was not quite right.

  ‘My father was violent sometimes. Bran was trained to growl at noise and one had only to shout to have him bare his teeth in anger.’ Unexpectedly he smiled. ‘The skeletons in the Wesley family cupboards are numerous and well known. I am surprised no one has enlightened you on more of our shameful excesses.’

  ‘Scandal being the foremost currency of the ton?’

  He laughed. ‘Well, there is a train of thought that implies it is only other people’s misfortunes that make the world go around.’

  ‘Unless its your own world? Then I imagine it would be harder. What happened to your sister?’

  ‘She found her solace in bitterness and my mother’s sadness propelled her to flight. A dysfunctional family makes you realise that anything that happens from then on can only be better. There is a certain freedom in that when you are young. It allows you the unfettered opportunity to believe in yourself because nobody else does.’

  She touched him then. Simply stepped forward and drew her finger down his cheek. The gold in his eyes was brittle and guarded and he stiffened visibly and tried to move back.

  Who else had hurt him? she wondered, as her hand fell to his arm.

  ‘I believe in you, Gabriel.’

  He nodded and breathed out shakily, his eyes sliding from contact, but he did not break away from her, either. Rather they stood there in the morning light, two people thrust together in an awkward and unusual marriage.

  And right now it had to be enough.

  * * *

  They met later in the afternoon in the kitchen gardens of Ravenshill, more careful of each other after the honesty of their last few meetings.

  Gabriel had been out for he had the look of a man new in from exercise, a glow to his cheeks and his jacket over his arm.

  ‘I see that you have taken my advice about walking.’

  He laughed. ‘You are full of good counsel and the day is a fine one.’

  ‘I had a stroll around the Manor myself. From this direction it looks a little better than at the front.’

  He turned to face the structure and breathed out as if even the looking at it was hard. ‘Parts of it we may not be able to save, but there are walls that are still structurally sound.’

  ‘Will you rebuild?’

  He smiled and the tension seemed to leave the set of his shoulders.

  ‘It will be a long endeavour. I am not certain...’

  ‘We could ask all your friends to come and celebrate starting with a picnic.’

  ‘Here?’ From the expression on his face she knew he was not fond of the idea.

  ‘Beginnings are as important as endings, my lord.’

  ‘Gabriel.’

  ‘And the first step is often harder than the last.’

  He laughed. ‘Little steps. It is what my life has come to these days.’

  ‘You do not think our marriage was a giant leap?’

  Again he laughed.

  ‘Let me show you something, Adelaide.’

  She followed him down a path behind the house that led through trees and long rows of flowers. A small wooden building sat in a cleared grove.

  ‘Who lives here?’

  ‘I used to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It was a sanctuary.’

  Stepping inside, she saw it was bigger than she had thought. A four-poster sat in one corner of the room, heavy brocade curtains hiding it from view. Apart from the bed there were only two chairs placed before the empty grate of a large fireplace.

  ‘I haven’t ever brought another person here. You are the first.’ The words seemed wrung from him, as if he hadn’t wished to say them. ‘But then I have not been married before, either.’ He smiled.

  ‘Not even close?’

  He shook his head. ‘Why did you agree to this union, Adelaide? Really?’

  A different question from the one she thought he might have asked. ‘Perhaps I liked you, too. To talk with.’

  The light behind picked up the depths of brown in his hair and the strength of his body, but dulled his features. Like an ancient oil painting etched in shadow.

  ‘Did you ever wonder, Lord Wesley, exactly where your place was in the world, what your purpose was, and your truth?’

  ‘I did once. Now...’ He let the thought linger and frowned. As she waited for an answer he dredged one up. ‘Now I am not so certain.’

  ‘The house, you mean, with the fire and the burning?’

  He moved back. ‘Not so much that, exac
tly. If it is rebuilt, it is and if it’s not, then...’

  ‘You wouldn’t care?’

  ‘Less so than I had imagined.’

  ‘At least you have a home, though. Mine was sold when my parents died.’

  ‘So you moved in with your uncle in Sherborne?’

  ‘Not immediately. At first my grandmother took me in, but when she passed away I became wary of...’

  ‘Of life, and of trust.’

  He finished the thought for her and she nodded, liking that he understood so clearly. ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ He did not stop to give his reply a second thought.

  After that there was silence and Adelaide had the distinct impression that he wished he had not said so much. But something in her had been released by their honesty and she could not let it just stop there.

  ‘Betrayal can have the same sort of effect, I think.’ She spoke carefully, gauging his interest. From the sudden stillness she knew he was listening. ‘When I was sixteen I was...attacked.’

  He turned to face her directly. ‘How?’

  His concern was warm and real, no hesitation in it or reluctance. If she stepped forward she would be right within his arms. Safe.

  ‘A boy...I knew...tried to...’ The words were harder to say than she might have imagined. She had ceased to blame herself for Kenneth Davis’s actions years before, but still... ‘He tried...to rape me.’

  She was against his body before she knew it, close in, his arms about her and his fingers stroking her hair. She could smell sandalwood and leather upon him, his more normal caution replaced by fury.

  ‘Is he still alive?’

  ‘Yes, but his father sent him abroad afterwards and I did not see him again.’

  ‘And your uncle?’