The Inconvenient Elmswood Marriage (Penniless Brides 0f Convenience Book 4)

by Marguerite Kaye

  ‘That would have been Sir Marcus’s idea—he loves that sort of subterfuge.’

  ‘If I hadn’t been so wrought with worry I’d have enjoyed it. When I set sail from Portsmouth, though, I had no idea I’d be away for so long. I thought they would extricate you immediately, but when I arrived in Cyprus in February it was another two weeks before they finally brought you to me. Why did it take so long?’

  * * *

  Daniel shifted uncomfortably on the bench, refusing to meet Kate’s steady gaze. ‘I imagine they were obliged to bring me out by a circuitous route. But it doesn’t matter how I made it out. I made it. And you were waiting. And now I’m here. And I’m to remain here until I accept the error of my ways in disobeying protocol, and until the fuss over my last assignment has died down, and they’ve decided I’m fit enough to be put to use again.’

  Or at least that was what he bloody well hoped. Sir Marcus had, dismayingly, been vague on the subject, committing only to a review. But he’d persuade them when the time came—he knew he would. He was good, one of the best they had, and they knew it.

  ‘I think,’ Daniel said, ‘we should concentrate on the present and not worry too much about the future. I have no choice but to remain here for now. Sir Marcus, being extremely attached to the cover story he has concocted, insists that I cannot recuperate elsewhere. Though who he imagines will be checking up on me—But there’s no point in going over that. I am obliged to stay here, so we’re going to have to find a way of brushing along together for the next three months without murdering each other.’

  Kate smiled uncertainly. ‘I’m sure it won’t come to that. Despite what you think, I’m a very easy-going type.’

  ‘Are you? I’m not. I’m used to living on my own, on having everything my way and, more importantly, not allowing anyone else a say.’

  ‘Good grief—and you call me a despot!’

  Daniel grinned. ‘I prefer to think of myself as self-sufficient.’

  ‘I prefer to think of myself as practical and pragmatic.’

  ‘Now, that I know to be true, for I’ve seen you in action. You managed to keep me fed and watered and washed on ships where I’m pretty sure the crew were living off ship’s biscuit and had not seen a change of clothes, let alone a change of bedsheet, in weeks.’

  ‘That’s because Lady Elmswood was very adept at looking down her nose disdainfully and barking orders,’ Kate said.

  ‘Ah, but when it came to tending her husband she was a tender ministering angel.’

  ‘I can’t imagine how you remember anything of my ministering,’ Kate retorted. ‘You were delirious much of the time, and asleep the rest.’

  ‘Just because I kept my eyes closed it didn’t necessarily mean I was asleep.’

  Kate was blushing. She blushed charmingly. It was unfair of him to tease her, but she was a very pleasant distraction, and after the grilling he’d just endured he was in dire need of one.

  ‘You have a very gentle touch with a flannel.’

  ‘If I’d known you were awake I would have happily let you wash yourself.’

  ‘Precisely the reason I pretended to be asleep.’

  She slanted him a look, her mouth quivering on the edge of a smile. ‘I did only what any wife would do for her husband.’

  ‘I’m not complaining, believe me.’

  She turned towards him. ‘Far from complaining, I seem to recollect you enjoying it rather too obviously.’

  Her eyes were almost the same colour as his turquoise talisman. Colour tinged her cheeks, but the look she gave him was not in the least bashful.

  ‘Perhaps it would have been better if I’d forced you up on deck and sluiced you down with a bucket of cold salt water each day?’

  ‘If you continue to look at me like that, a bucket of cold water is exactly what I’ll need.’

  ‘There’s a pump over by the succession house,’ she said tartly. ‘Shall I fetch one?’

  Daniel laughed, amused and aroused in equal measure. ‘I already know you well enough not to call your bluff.’

  He leaned towards her, abandoning himself to the moment, surrendering to the urge to touch her, to test the challenge in her eyes, trailing his fingers from her shoulder down the bare flesh of her arm, lifting her hand to his mouth, kissing it lightly.

  She caught her breath. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘We’ve been married eleven years and I don’t believe I’ve ever kissed you.’

  She leaned towards him. ‘You still haven’t.’

  This time it was he who caught his breath. Did she mean it? Shocked, he realised he had no idea. This woman was his wife of eleven years and he didn’t know her at all. He did know, quite unequivocally, though, that he wanted to kiss her—and that shocked him too, for it had been a very, very long time since he’d felt any form of physical desire.

  Eyes locked on hers, he turned her hand over, and kissed her palm, allowing his lips to linger, and felt his heart picking up a beat as she inhaled sharply. He kissed her again, softly on her palm, his tongue tasting her skin. She gave a little sigh and he pulled her closer.

  ‘Kate—Oh, I beg your pardon!’

  Daniel started.

  Kate yanked her hand free, jumping to her feet. ‘Oliver! How lovely to see you. You have the garden looking absolutely wonderful.’

  Oliver, whoever the devil he was, was staring at Daniel. Tall, tanned, with bright gold hair and blue eyes, he looked to be about Kate’s age, perhaps a little younger. His clothing—flannel shirt, breeches and brogues—was rustic, but his voice was educated.

  ‘Daniel,’ Kate said, as he got to his feet, ‘this is Oliver St James, my—our head gardener. Oliver, this is my husband.’

  ‘Lord Elmswood. It is a pleasure to meet you.’ The man made a low bow. ‘You must excuse me. I had no idea that Kate—Lady Elmswood—was otherwise engaged. I thought she’d want to know how the garden—But of course it can wait.’

  ‘No, don’t go on my account.’ Daniel turned to Kate. ‘I have taken up far too much of your time already.’

  ‘But we haven’t...’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Daniel said wryly, ‘except perhaps my bedchamber. I confess I am a little weary.’

  ‘Are you feeling ill? Has the fever...?’

  ‘No! Don’t fuss. I simply need a little time to myself, and I am sure you have a hundred things to do. I’ll see you later. Good day to you, St James.’

  Chapter Three

  It was another beautiful day. Kate set her breakfast tray down on the table and pulled up her usual chair. It felt so strange, being alone in the dining room. It wasn’t the silence, for until the second pot of tea was brewed she and the girls had always preferred to be left to their own devices, it was the lack of physical company.

  There was no one to challenge her for the last cup in the pot; no Phoebe to bustle about, seeing to each of their various preferences for food; no Eloise tapping her pencil on the table as she planned her tasks for the day; no Estelle, the only one who would have preferred to talk, biting her tongue until the unofficial silence was over.

  Of course it had been a long time since all of them had sat down to breakfast together, for Eloise had been married for four years, but while Estelle had still been here the absence of the other two hadn’t felt so pronounced.

  It might be strange, but it was also strangely liberating. Now, Kate thought, as she poured herself the first and best cup of tea, she could enjoy her breakfast in blissful silence, plan her tasks for the day in her head, as she had always done, and work through them at her own pace without interference—something she had never had the luxury of doing.

  ‘There you are!’

  It seemed it was a luxury that was going to continue to be denied to her.

  Kate set her untasted tea down as Daniel, dressed in a loose white silk tunic and
trousers, wearing his slippers but this time without the gorgeous matching dressing gown, came into the room.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be up and about so early,’ she said.

  ‘I’m always up and about early,’ he answered testily. ‘Did you put a sleeping potion in that soup you sent up last night? My head feels like it is stuffed with wool.’

  ‘Sit down. I’ll pour you some tea.’

  ‘Dear God, no. I need coffee. I’ll ring for some.’

  Kate pushed her chair back, getting hastily to her feet. ‘I’ll fetch it. Sit down.’

  ‘You haven’t had your breakfast yet,’ Daniel said.

  ‘Sit down, Daniel,’ Kate said tartly. ‘There’s no point in ringing the bell. It’s half past six in the morning. There is no one to answer it. I will fetch your coffee.’

  ‘I’ll get it myself.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘I’ll find it,’ he said. ‘The kitchen, the hot water, the coffee—whichever one of those you were going to tell me I wouldn’t be able to find.’

  ‘All of them. Are you sure?’

  ‘I don’t want or need you to run after me. I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself. I’ve been doing it most of my life. And your tea is getting cold.’

  Nonplussed, Kate sat back down at the table and took a sip of her tea. So much for her breakfast of contemplation. She was destined for a breakfast of confrontation. She smiled to herself, helping herself to a slice of bread and butter, because there was no point in her pretending that she wasn’t looking forward to it.

  She had never in her life taken breakfast with any man other than her father, and Papa had always hidden himself behind yesterday’s newspaper, which old Lord Elmswood had sent down from the house at the end of each day. Sitting at the table with Daniel was a very different prospect.

  She had tried not to think of her behaviour in the walled garden yesterday, tried not to imagine what would have happened if Oliver hadn’t appeared. Daniel had kissed her hand—that was all he’d done. Just kissed her hand, for goodness’ sake! But even now she could feel the warmth of his lips on her skin, the visceral kick of her response, the urgency of her desire for more.

  The way he’d looked at her too, had left her in no doubt that he was as attracted to her as she was to him. She couldn’t say how she knew, but there had been a—a heat in his eyes, and the way her skin had tingled, the way she had been so keenly aware of him sitting inches away from her—she knew he’d felt it too. If only Oliver hadn’t turned up.

  It was just as well he had, for poor Daniel had clearly been exhausted by the events of the day, and she’d been racked with guilt afterwards.

  She ought to have ordered him to his bed after Sir Marcus and Lord Henry left. Yes, she could just imagine the effect that would have had...

  ‘What are you finding so amusing?’ Daniel sat down next to her at the oval table, placing a tray with the Turkish coffee pot and cup down in front of him.

  ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Would you rather I’d been longer? Are you one of those people who prefers silence at breakfast?’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘I don’t often have any choice, unless I talk to myself.’ He poured the first cup of his coffee and took a sip, closing his eyes. ‘That’s better. Did you put laudanum in my soup?’

  ‘Of course not. You slept well, then?’

  ‘I’m not sure if it was sleep—more like black unconsciousness. Is that all you eat for breakfast, bread and butter?’

  ‘Would you like some? Or I can make you some ham and eggs, if you prefer.’

  Daniel shuddered. ‘Nothing, thank you. Do you always get your own breakfast? I’m sure I saw a cook yesterday, answering the door. Grey-haired woman, shaped like an apple, covered in flour.’

  Kate giggled. ‘Mrs Chester. She is married to one of your tenant farmers who likes a much more substantial breakfast to set him up for the day than bread and butter. So she comes in afterwards, about eight each morning, and goes back to the farm in time to serve her husband’s dinner.’

  ‘What about your dinner?’

  ‘She leaves it already prepared with cooking instructions. Don’t worry, I won’t poison you.’

  Daniel set his cup down, turning towards her. ‘Have you taken some sort of vow of poverty or have you recently taken up gambling? Because the last time I saw a statement from my bank—admittedly, it was over a year ago—there were funds aplenty.’

  ‘There still are. Elmswood is a very profitable estate.’

  ‘Thanks to you. So why do you live so frugally?’

  ‘I live contentedly and comfortably. Do you want a slice of bread and butter?’ The look of horror he gave her made her giggle again. ‘Don’t you ever eat anything at breakfast?’

  ‘I’m partial to something called ful medames, which is beans cooked in oil with salt and served with flat bread, but I doubt even you, resourceful as you are, could conjure that up.’

  ‘No, but I bet Phoebe could. She is always wanting new receipts—especially for what she calls “real people’s food”. I have a whole sheaf of notes from my limited travels to send her. If only she were here I’m sure she would make it for you, she’s so clever at working out ingredients. And she’d be delighted to...’

  ‘No, Kate. Let’s not go over that again.’

  ‘But if you’re going to be here for three months, surely...?’

  ‘At the most. It will likely be less, if something urgent comes up. And something always crops up unexpectedly.’

  ‘You said that they want us to be seen out and about together,’ Kate pointed out.

  ‘They can force me to remain here, but what I choose to do with my time is my own business.’

  ‘But you can’t hide yourself away, Daniel. What is wrong with Elmswood that you don’t want to see more of it? Surely you must have some happy memories? Your sister...’

  ‘My sister didn’t give a damn about me. She eloped with that fly-by-night character without a thought for the consequences, and as far as I’m aware she forgot I ever existed.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch a raw nerve. I had no idea.’

  ‘Why should you? We barely know each other,’ he retorted testily. ‘And it’s hardly raw—it happened decades ago.’

  And yet he remained hurt and angry, Kate noted.

  Daniel seemed to be regretting his outburst. ‘As you know, I didn’t even know I had one niece, never mind three, and a nephew into the bargain, until my father died. You’ve been a much better mother to them than Gillian ever would have been.’

  ‘What was she like, Daniel? I mean, I know what she looks like from the portrait...’

  ‘What portrait?’

  ‘I forgot—I’m so sorry. I found it in the attics. I had no idea who it was until the girls came to Elmswood. If you want to look at it, you’ll find it on the wall in my bedchamber. Phoebe had some fanciful notion of reuniting them. Of all three, she is the most attached to her mother’s memory, but none of them say very much about her. So tell me, Daniel, what was she like?’

  ‘Utterly selfish. Extremely beautiful. Heedless. Charming, provided she got her own way. Petulant when she didn’t—which admittedly wasn’t very often. She was the apple of my father’s eye.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she had him wrapped around her little finger. He indulged her every whim.’

  ‘He must have been quite devastated when she ran off, then.’

  ‘More furious than anything. The one thing my father would not tolerate was insubordination.’

  ‘He did like to have his own way, but I don’t remember him as a martinet.’

  ‘Frankly, Kate—and don’t be offended by this—that was most likely because you were not of any particular relevance to him. At least not that he knew of.’


  ‘You did say all those years ago that he’d never have tolerated a female estate manager.’ Kate wrinkled her nose. ‘Papa was very easy-going and very loyal, which probably explains why he and old Lord Elmswood got on well enough. But I’m still very surprised that his estrangement from your sister was so permanent. If she really was the apple of his eye, surely he’d eventually have forgiven her?’

  ‘His word,’ Daniel said with a marked sneer, ‘was law. You may not have seen that side of him, but trust me—I know. He would not bend, not even for Gillian—even if she asked him to, and I’m not at all convinced that she would have.’

  ‘It sounds to me like a dreadful case of reaping what you sow. To indulge a child’s every whim inevitably produces an adult who thinks they can do as they please and damn the consequences,’ Kate said dryly. ‘I would never go so far as to say poor Gillian, but it does sound as if your father made excellent work of making the worst rather than the best of her.’

  ‘That’s certainly a charitable way of looking at it.’

  ‘The girls aren’t the least bit like her, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘I’m not. I’m sure they are fine young women whom I would like very much. But unfortunately that is a pleasure that must be denied me, given my line of business. I can’t afford ties or distractions. I can’t be Uncle Daniel when I am—well, whoever I happen to be next.’

  She swallowed her disappointment, telling herself that he wasn’t being cold, only practical. ‘For the next three months you are to be my husband. How will you like that?’

  ‘It will certainly be novel, but I am sure of one thing.’ He reached across to press her hand. ‘Marrying you was the best decision I’ve ever made. I mean it.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Daniel. I think it was my best decision too.’