“Well, my lord, if you wished to formally announce your return and have it surprise anyone, you’ve taken the wind out of your own sails I’m afraid,” Miss Barrett offered caustically.
He said nothing, but his lips firmed and his jaw clenched. That was precisely the sort of thing that had made him reluctant to return. He had no wish to be an object of curiosity. Reclaiming his place in society was necessary to his future and thus those sorts of gestures were the most expedient methods of doing so. Conversely, if he wished to ferret out the truth about Charles and what had taken place at Corunna, he needed to be circumspect. He was at cross purposes with himself and would have to simply make do.
“Has no one anything better to do with their time than gossip?” he asked.
“No. They don’t. Why should they? Gossip, at least in society, is a kind of currency. If you can provide information or juicy on dits at parties, then you are a sought after guest. If you are the subject of these on dits, you may also be a sought after guest… because it makes you an object of curiosity and insures that the event will be a total crush so people can get a good look at you.” The explanation was offered dispassionately enough but there was a hint of disgust in her voice, as if she were completely disillusioned with society as a whole.
“You speak as if from experience.” Had she been a victim of such vicious gossip during his absence?
She glanced at him then. “You fled the country to risk life and limb simultaneously with the banns being posted for our marriage. Suffice it to say there were quite a few whispers. I was young enough then not to be bothered or even aware of them. But as I grew older and was invited to events, naturally before your disappearance and my five year period of mourning, I realized that the low hum of conversation was usually about me. It was occasionally offered up with a helping of false sympathy. After all, what better way to get the juiciest details than under the guise of friendship?”
“It was hardly worthy of gossip!”
“The truth… certainly it wasn’t worthy. But gossip and truth bear little enough resemblance to one another, my lord. You detested me. You opposed the match. You were in love with someone else. There was madness in my family and you didn’t wish to tarnish the bloodline of your esteemed dynasty—I could go on. A dozen reasons were offered up as to why you chose facing French muskets to marrying me, my lord, and not one of them had to do with the fact that I was simply too young to be a bride,” she explained.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I handled things very poorly then,” he admitted. “If I had known that my actions would have such detrimental consequences for you I would have done things very differently.”
She ducked her head as she uttered a grudging concession. “You did handle things rather impulsively, but I don’t know that if you’d handled them any other way we wouldn’t have both wound up at the altar when we were far too young to be there. They would not have let you simply refuse, as well you know. I’d be locked away at your country estate and you’d be… well, I can’t say what, precisely, you’d be doing. But I daresay, it wouldn’t involve being a doting husband. Resentment would have set in and we’d have hated one another by now, I imagine.”
“Parts of your assessment are true enough. We’d have been badgered and hounded to the ends of the earth,” he admitted. He noted how perfect her profile was with her slightly upturned nose and full lips. Her stepmother might have insisted she was too plump, but the softness of her cheeks and the gentle curves of her face were a welcome sight for him. He’d seen too many women haunted and starved during his time on the Peninsula. He never wanted to see that sort of desperation in another person ever again.
It wasn’t simply her health and vigor that he was noting, if he were to be honest. Even last night, when he’d first returned to his family’s home, there’d been a spark of attraction there. Whether it was that she had blossomed into the fullness of womanhood while he was away or whether it was his own proprietary nature in looking at her and recognizing that she was promised to him, he’d felt the stirrings of lust, of the desire to claim her. Or perhaps, it was because he hadn’t touched the softness of a woman’s body in more than five years. Regardless, he hadn’t anticipated that he would actually desire Miss Barrett. He also didn’t anticipate that she would be amenable to any overtures on his part that would reflect that.
“But that still does not answer my question from earlier… why have you suddenly embraced the notion of our marriage so wholeheartedly?” she demanded, her tone sharp and her question quite pointed.
She would not let the matter go and he did not have an adequately prepared answer that would not reveal too much about his own newly discovered feelings for her or about the circumstances of his capture. So he relied on the stoicism that his father had drilled into him during his childhood. “I have several reasons. The first of which is that I ran from my duties, my obligations, and even from myself,” he admitted gravely. “In doing so, I paid a very steep price. With that came a great deal of reflection on what my life ought to be and what I wanted from it.”
“And what is that precisely? I’m not foolish enough to believe some Banbury tale from you about having realized I’m your destiny,” she warned.
He chuckled in spite of the rather intense nature of their conversation. “No, Miss Barrett. But you are very cynical. Has anyone else remarked upon it or do you save your acerbic wit for my sole enjoyment?”
She pursed her lips in a familiar expression of disapproval. “This is very serious, Lord Althorn. You’ve professed a desire to court me that is supposed to have nothing to do with our fathers’ agreement, the wedding contracts or your desire to access my father’s vast fortune. There must be a reason.”
“Very well… I am weary of being alone. I spent far more time isolated in a tiny, rough-hewn hovel of rock and dirt than I care to even comment on. While there, I realized that no one would miss me… they might miss the role I was to fulfill or the obligations that it was my responsibility to meet, but no one would miss me. As a man, I’d had little to no impact on anyone’s life. That was a lowering realization, Miss Barrett, and I vowed that if I managed to once more set foot on English soil, I would wed. I would have a wife and a family and I would treat them infinitely better than my own father treated me or my late mother.”
*
Jane stared at him in complete and utter astonishment. It was as if he’d mirrored her very own thoughts. For years, she’d been painfully aware of that same horrible truth. She was nothing to her father but a means to an end, a convenient way to attach himself to an esteemed title and an aristocratic connection. Had he truly felt the same way?
Refusing to acknowledge the significance of that or the softening of her heart that had occurred at his admission, she asked, “That’s all? You’re lonely and you think I can ease that loneliness for you?” She didn’t want to be moved by him, to feel any sort of kinship with him on such a painful subject. Sympathy might sway her and that could not be.
“Or that we might ease the loneliness for one another… by virtue of the agreement that was made for us by our parents, we have neither one had the opportunity to develop romantic connections elsewhere.” He paused then. “That is the case, isn’t it, Miss Barrett? Your reluctance to wed is a reflection of your disinterest in being married altogether and not simply that you’d prefer to be married to someone else?”
Lying would be expedient, but only in the short term. In the end, it would create far more questions and controversy than she wished to contend with. So, Jane opted for the truth. “You are correct in your assertion that my objection is to the state of marriage and not the groom in question.”
He continued to stare at her, studying her face as if she were some strange specimen. When at last he nodded and looked away, Jane felt oddly bereft at the loss of his attention.
Althorn spoke again, using the same reasonable tone that had prompted her presence in the phaeton to start with. “We have been isolated from t
he world in many instances by the same set of circumstances. In that regard, Miss Barrett, we understand one another.”
Suspicion reared its ugly head and she said, somewhat snidely, “There’s more, isn’t there? Some other reason why you want to wed me and not just any other girl who strikes your fancy, isn’t there?”
He stared ahead, his expression clearly denoting his inner turmoil as he weighed and measured what to say to her. Then he uttered the sad and soul shattering truth. “I won’t lie to you and say that the existing contract and the accompanying financial settlement is not a factor. Money, Miss Barrett, speaks volumes even in affairs of the heart. There are things I wish to do, changes that I wish to enact in how the men returning from the Peninsula are treated and the opportunities that are available to them. I cannot undertake the tasks I have set for myself without appropriate financing and our present arrangement would allow that and more.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. She didn’t want to marry him, after all, she reminded herself. But it did. It stung her pride, her heart, and the remnants of that little girl she’d once been who had quietly worshipped him from afar. “No one can fault you for your honesty, Lord Althorn. I’ve never known such a forthcoming fortune hunter.”
“A lie is no foundation to build a life together upon,” he answered evenly. “I am not only after your fortune, I merely acknowledge that it is not a dissuading factor. I cannot ignore the value it could have in our lives together or all the good it could do—that we could do. And I would have you with me, as more than simply a walking bank note. I want a partner in this life, Miss Barrett, and in all of my endeavors. I will not continue my existence as an idle aristocrat. I want it to have meaning. I mean for my life to have a purpose. Can you understand that?”
She blinked rapidly, attempting to fathom how stupid one man could possibly be. “What I understand is that the men of your family have absolutely no qualms in insulting me to my face. Whether you’re a fortune hunter to your own benefit or to others is of no consequence. Ultimately, I am not wanted or desired for myself at all but only for the funds I can bring. Between you telling me that I’ll do, especially since I have money, and your cousin telling me that he’s known me long enough and is fond enough of me to overlook how singularly unattractive I am,” she paused and drew in a calming breath. “I detest the lot of you. You’re all just as greedy and self-serving as your father is.”
“But I don’t wish to be self-serving. I’m talking about making sweeping changes in the way wounded soldiers are cared for—”
“To soothe your own conscience,” she snapped back at him. “Are you really so obtuse? This isn’t about them at all! It’s about you. Everything, from the moment you left me here to face the censure of our families and society all by myself, to the moment you returned and once again upended my life and everyone else’s… it’s all been about you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said.
“Take me back. I’ve no wish to continue our drive,” she insisted.
“Whether you wish to continue it or not, we are committed to this. The line of traffic will not permit me to turn around and I daresay this conveyance with its dainty wheels would not survive being turned in the grass,” he replied. “I had hoped being honest with you would be the right decision to make… and I still feel that it is. You asked for my motives and I’ve given them. I stand by what I told you last night. We will continue our courtship for the next six months and if at that time you wish to bow out, I will not protest.”
Her eyes rolled of their own volition and her tone, when she replied, was caustic. “The degree of your magnanimity is boundless, my lord! Boundless!”
“It is the way of society,” he replied quietly.
“It should not be,” Jane retorted hotly. “I should not have to give my life over to a man who only values the money I bring and not the person I am. If you can’t understand that then there’s no hope for you at all!”
“And am I not valued for the title I bring?” he asked, somewhat indignantly. “Is the fact that you will one day be addressed as her grace, the Duchess of Elsingham, not a point in my favor?”
“No,” she said. “To my father, yes, of course, it is. But it has never been something I valued.”
“Then what do you value, Miss Barrett? For I find that I cannot fathom what goes on inside your head… at all.”
“Your kindness at breakfast was a point in your favor, but you have effectively wiped that clean.”
“That’s all?” he asked. “In all our years of acquaintance, I’ve only ever managed to do one thing right in your estimation?”
“We have no years of acquaintance! We barely knew one another. Beyond a simple greeting at family gatherings, you could never even be bothered to speak to me!” Jane literally wanted to scratch his eyes out. The man absolutely infuriated her and the fact that he was so patently oblivious to his own failings only goaded her ire more.
“And what should I have said? That’s a nice doll you have. By the way, I’m to be your husband!”
“Well, you might have said something! This is obviously not going to work and I don’t understand why we can’t simply end it right here,” she said. “You have no real desire to be with me… only with my money. And frankly, the more time I spend in your presence the less inclined I am to like you at all.”
They grew silent after that heated exchange. Sitting in the gaudiest and most ridiculously luxurious phaeton in Hyde Park, they were both stiff, tense and clearly unhappy with one another as some of society’s most vicious gossips looked on.
Chapter Six
After following the bickering couple through the park, Charles had returned to his rooms and consumed a goodly amount of the brandy that Cassandra had obtained for him—no doubt pilfered from her ailing husband’s cache. Regardless, there was enough of it in his belly that he no longer felt the burning anger that had overtaken him when looking at Marcus’ smug face.
A glance at the clock and he knew she’d arrive shortly. Her nighttime visits were more sporadic, but every afternoon she came to him. Even at the thought, the door opened.
Heavily veiled and draped in black, she’d have come by hack rather than her gaudy phaeton. It had been a brilliant maneuver on her part. Purchasing such a distinctive vehicle, all she had to do was send her maid out in a veil for a drive and Cassandra herself was free to move about as she wished while the whole of society could attest to “her” whereabouts.
“We might as well hang it up. It’s over, my darling. The prodigal son has returned. I’m just a poor relation, once more, with no prospects and no chance of taking you from this place,” he confessed. “Assuming I don’t hang that is.”
She shushed him. “Stop it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself! Our ultimate goal remains unchanged. Why on earth would you hang? Really, Charles, all this maudlin obsession with your cousin is very tiresome!”
“It’s impossible. Althorn has returned. Their engagement is doomed. She may revile him even more so than she does me,” he complained.
“Charles, we will find a way! I’ve not suffered years with that disgusting old letch only to be left an impoverished widow when he finally dies! Stop this at once!”
Charles looked at her and smiled. She wasn’t as young as when they’d first begun their affair, but she was even more beautiful, if such a thing were possible. The icy blonde perfection of her had always suited him perfectly. It concealed her fiery nature and the very passionate woman beneath.
“I recall when I returned home from the Peninsula and first set eyes on you,” he mused. “I’d never seen a more perfect example of fine English beauty.”
“Only English?” she asked.
He sipped his brandy before answering. “You will always be the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“It was a scandalous and foolish thing to do,” she said. “Embarking on an affair with my nephew-by-marriage. But you were so charming and so utterly wicked. And I think no one
else on earth could understand how much I despised Elsingham but you.”
He reached for her hand, tugging her down beside him. “I do hate him. Both he and Marcus can go to the devil!”
“But not before we both get what we desire the most,” she reminded him gently. “We deserve it, Charles, for all that we’ve had to endure.”
He sighed heavily. “He saw me at Corunna,” Charles admitted. “Marcus knows I was there and likely suspects that I was the one who outed him to the French. If he wonders at that, he might begin to wonder what other intelligence I shared with the French. It could be disastrous.”
“It will be fine, my love!” Cassandra insisted. “Have we not managed to carry on a clandestine affair under the nose of your uncle and all of London for nearly five years? From the moment you returned from the war, I knew we were destined for one another. I will not allow this minor setback to change anything!”
The room was spinning for him, so he closed his eyes for just a moment. She was his destiny. Maddening, demanding, by turns cruel and kind, she was a vexing creature but one who incited a passion in him like nothing else. It was she who had taken his idle hatred for his family and sculpted it into their current plan. It was she who had encouraged him to make himself invaluable to his uncle in the hopes of increasing the man’s willingness to have his only son and heir declared legally dead, paving the way for Charles himself to take the title. Her mind was always spinning and whirling, one insidious plan after another to get them what they both craved—freedom to be together and wealth to support them in the lifestyle of their choosing.
“And if he ever discloses that I set those soldiers upon him… that I orchestrated his capture, I’ll be hanged. Do you not see that?” Charles protested.
“Stop being melodramatic. You’re worse than a woman at times, I swear! He will not see you hanged. He wouldn’t allow for such a scandal to taint the family. Now sit up, for goodness’ sake!” She snapped the words off sharply, her tone brooking no argument.
The Missing Marquess of Althorn (The Lost Lords Book 3) Page 8
