It's Marriage Or Ruin

by Liz Tyner

  ‘That was expected of me as well, but...’ he shrugged ‘...I like it.’

  They were near the pens and Marcus heard the foreman catching up to them.

  ‘I must check on the colt,’ she said, walking to the pen. The horse cantered to her.

  ‘Do you have any questions about the livestock?’ Marcus asked. ‘Mr Jonas can answer.’

  She patted the horse. ‘No.’

  Marcus watched. Jonas coughed.

  Marcus appraised the foreman and Jonas handed him a hammer. They both walked away.

  Marcus tossed the hammer up and caught it by the handle on the descent.

  ‘I can ask the men to stay on for a few more weeks,’ Jonas said, ‘but they’re anxious to get back to their families.’

  ‘The two from the village will provide enough assistance for us. As soon as they finish the house, let the others return to their homes.’

  ‘Everything will fall into place on the estate if the work is continued,’ Jonas said. ‘With the hands working, and your ideas, there will be a lot of labour ahead.’

  ‘I’ll have years of getting the place’s appearance to my satisfaction,’ Marcus answered.

  ‘What better do you have to do?’ Jonas asked. ‘You? A newly married man? A wife inside who fastens her eyes on you every time she goes on a walk to her painting and then returns several times back and forth during the day, and sometimes sets an easel up where her face is right in line with whatever you are doing. Yes, carpentry is very important, milord.’

  Marcus glared at him.

  ‘You can give me the hammer,’ Jonas said, reaching out. ‘My workers will complete the barn.’

  Marcus composed himself, kept the tool and went back to work. He was building something, only he didn’t know if it would fall to the ground in the first breeze.

  * * *

  Robert avoided him, but Marcus didn’t care. He preferred it. The valet personally held Marcus responsible for Emilie’s presence. And he hated the restraints on the brandy.

  He had heard no shouting. No one had found him to tell him the outrage of the day. He might sleep well if he could ignore the summer heat permeating his bedchamber. He had to believe that in a few days, maybe even tonight, Emilie would come to him.

  The thought of her in his bed made him ache with longing. If she didn’t come to him soon, he would go to her. He couldn’t wait much longer.

  She would have to realise he was flesh and blood and alive. Desire pounded in his body, and with each strike he’d made on a nail, he released tension, but not the longing.

  He was exhausted from the work and that helped a small amount. Still, he fought to sleep.

  * * *

  In the night, Emilie knocked on Robert’s door.

  ‘Robert,’ she whispered, holding her candle and turning the latch and sticking her head inside. ‘I need to stargaze. The night is bright and it is so perfect, plus the temperature is hot and I cannot sleep.’

  ‘Go get that man upstairs to indulge your fancy.’ Robert sat up. His hair was mussed and he even wore a nightcap. ‘I am not watching the skies.’ He waved her away, snuggling back into his pillow. ‘It is full of inadequate drops of light and they generally do not move much and they never sing or frolic. I see no reason to watch them.’

  She held up a bottle of brandy. ‘I was going to take this with me.’

  She saw the defiance fade and he wet his lips.

  ‘Now that I am awake, it is too hot to sleep. The heat in here is much too oppressive. Let me dress while you get a cup. I will meet you at the servants’ door.’

  * * *

  He nearly beat her outside.

  ‘See, Robert, how the heavens surround us.’ She spoke after she filled his glass and sat on the ground. An owl hooted in the distance.

  ‘I will search for them as soon as I have finished my brandy.’ He held it out from him as if he could see inside the contents in the darkness. ‘I see the heavens in it. I mean no offence, Lady Grayson, but I cannot tell one star from another. I am here because of your bribe and, I must say, that was thoughtful of you. How did you get Marc to release it to you?’

  ‘He didn’t hide the key very well and he knows I am aware of it. He has accused me of drinking too much of it already and I haven’t touched it until now.’

  She hid a yawn. Staying awake until she knew Marcus slept hadn’t been easy.

  ‘He hid the key well,’ Robert complained.

  ‘It is—’ She stopped, her hands behind her in the grass, and leaned backwards. ‘It is hidden.’ She toed off her slippers.

  ‘You will not tell me?’ He snorted. ‘It’s not that you care to imbibe.’

  ‘I won’t because Marc won’t believe either of us if we say that we were broken into and robbed of our spirits.’

  ‘I cannot conceive of anything else in that dilapidated mess a thief would deem worthy of his time. That heap of boards,’ he grumbled. ‘And the countrified maids all have their farm-bred noses stuck up.’ He stopped. ‘I shouldn’t have let Marc have such a hand in selecting servants. The boy has no idea of what a house needs.’

  She laughed. ‘It is a fine estate, or it will be, Robert, after the spate of repairing. And you are the lone servant who does nothing.’

  ‘Which goes to show how poor Marcus is with hiring. He is far too understaffed. The maids should have reprieves for mischief. Lightness. For staring at glowing spots in the heavens with you. Give me another drink before I die.’

  ‘If you die, I will bury you with a landscape of mine in your hands,’ Emilie said.

  He grabbed the bottle from her. ‘That concept will keep me alive.’

  She laughed and then laughed even louder when Robert glared. He put the glass on to the ground and tossed the cork in her direction. She batted it away.

  * * *

  In his bedchamber, Marcus stirred. The weather had cooled, but the night gave no respite. He dreamed of her again as he did whenever he slept. Over and over, but this time it was the sound of her laughter that had awoken him.

  He imagined her smiling and then he remembered her curves. She might have the heart of an artist, but her own shape was of a Venus.

  She probably could not sleep either. He would check to see if she might like his company. He wanted the length of her beside him, to feel the touch of her against him again, wrapping each other together, letting the warmth of their bodies soothe away the temperatures of the night.

  He could not plan a proper seduction of her heart with his mind tied around her warmth.

  Marcus walked to her room and didn’t knock. After all, he was the master of Stormhaven and she was the mistress. He missed her more than the cool temperatures of the night, or anything he’d ever longed for.

  Once he unleashed her passions, fully bringing her to an awareness of the moments they could share as a couple, surely she would see beyond her paintbrushes to her husband.

  When he entered her room, he stopped, not believing what he saw.

  She was not in her bed. He strode across to pull the counterpane up and looked under it, even while being completely aware she was not in the bed. How dare she not be in her bed? Nor his?

  He strode to his room, pulled his trousers on and went downstairs.

  He opened the door to Robert’s room and saw the empty bed. He was as awake as if he’d been dunked naked in snow.

  A hint of burning candle wax touched his nose and he realised the laugher he’d heard hadn’t been a dream. The sound had been from below his window.

  He opened the outer door and gently closed it. He moved barefoot, silent, and walked as if not to disturb smoke.

  Voices carried to his ears and he went towards them, but he stayed in the shadows to conceal his presence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Marcus could see Robert, glass to his lips, and co
uld hear Emilie talking. He discerned her outline, as she reclined on the ground as comfortably as any nymph.

  Darkness had intensified the world, bringing earthy scent mixed with summer blossoms to him.

  ‘You must learn to like the stars, Robert.’ Emilie’s voice carried to him. ‘They are night magic—their sparkles. It is the theatre of the heavens. We have crickets, frogs and owls for the orchestra. Wind is the applause when it rustles in the leaves. We are the audience and have the same seating as Roman emperors or kings of the past.’

  He knew he risked being seen if he moved closer, but he had to investigate the stars. He wanted to see them through her eyes.

  He gazed overhead into the immenseness.

  The night infused him with wonder and he realised he stood in a different spot in his existence than he had ever been before. The stars were the same, but he was no longer looking at them from the view of a child, or of a man who had nothing better to do than laugh away the hours of the night. He studied the phenomenon of the heavens above and realised the marvels didn’t stop at the end of the stars, but also reached to the people around him and his daily life.

  ‘And next you are to tell me that I can make wishes upon them and they will come true.’ Robert spoke.

  ‘What would you yearn for, Robert?’ She sounded genuinely interested.

  ‘I fear I cannot say. Your ears are too delicate.’ He swirled the liquid in his glass.

  ‘Robert. Is it worse than what you said when I bumped you with my easel?’

  ‘You dropped it on my injured toe. Now they’re all sore, thanks to you.’

  ‘You have ruined three pictures now. The first one you fell on to. The one of you as a shepherd gathering brandy bottles. The one of your nose. I insist you must stop.’ Her words had a lulling quality, almost fading away.

  ‘You had barely begun that last dabble,’ Robert stated, calmly. ‘And, it was not developing into one of your better ones.’

  For a few seconds, neither spoke.

  ‘I liked it.’

  ‘I could tell as you spat out oaths at me. Now, that was not appropriate for you to say. You sounded as if you have no upbringing. Did you learn that speech from Marc?’

  ‘Goodness, no.’ She straightened. ‘I don’t think he would even know how to say those words.’

  ‘I think he would,’ Robert admitted, refilling the glass. He took a moment to examine the stars. ‘As he has repeated them loudly to me and added his own variations.’

  ‘Mmm...’ She stretched back again, her chin to the heavens. ‘He does not talk much with me.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s told you that nonsense about listening to other people instead of speaking honest words.’ Robert ambled over and tapped her shoulder with the bottle. When she turned to him, he handed it to her, offering her a drink. She declined.

  ‘Yes. He has. He is near perfect, is he not?’

  ‘No—and Nathaniel was your first choice,’ Robert grumbled. ‘You should have seen the grief on Marc that morning after you cavorted with his brother. He told me about it, but had no notion of how he sounded. He would have fared better if someone had kicked him in the abdomen. I thought he might be catching some odious ailment and I feared for his safety.’ He took a sip. ‘Not yourself, of course. Another odious ailment.’

  ‘I selected Nathaniel because I didn’t hold out much hope for him.’ She pushed her toes into the grass. ‘Marc—I don’t know. I thought he detested me. And besides, he was... I could not figure out Marc—and who would want a husband with his own notions?’

  ‘He’s more sensible than Nathaniel. I assure you.’

  ‘Yes...’ She paused. ‘Yes,’ she repeated as she stared overhead. ‘I did end up with the better of the two. In fact, he’s—That was my mistake.’ She laughed. ‘I didn’t want a husband, but got one. Unfortunately, he is too honourable.’

  ‘Marc?’ Robert choked.

  ‘Yes. He is not the same man I’d heard tales of. He brought me to this place and I see deer daily and the birds are fascinating, and I do not have to go to parties and I have the stream—which I like. But he is not behaving as expected. I never dreamed he would stay here.’

  A breeze blew Marcus’s hair and he moved sideways, dislodging a pebble. He froze.

  Robert whispered, ‘Did you hear that? Something in the woods. What if it is an undead spirit?’

  ‘Robert, ghosts are more afraid of you than you are of them.’ She sighed. ‘I will not let them steal your brandy.’ He heard the resignation in her voice.

  ‘Lady Grayson, if I were not so thirsty, I would spill this on you. Accidentally, as you always do, of course.’

  ‘I have never hurt you on purpose.’ She sounded affronted. ‘And you did ruin my work.’

  ‘The last one was an accident,’ he said. ‘I really did fall. I hold you responsible for it, also.’

  Robert faced the sky. ‘These stars are dull. They ought to move about to give more interest. Yes, they should wander about.’

  ‘They do. They move all night.’

  ‘If you drink enough...’

  ‘Not another bottle, Robert.’ She tapped at his feet. ‘The one is doing you too well. I will need you all day tomorrow.’

  Robert cocked his head. ‘You are not the usual sort Marc courted. Not the feminine variety. He’s often remarked to me how he adores a woman who sways when she walks.’ Robert groaned. ‘And feet. Of all things, feet...’ Again, Robert groaned.

  Marcus’s jaw dropped. He’d never said any such thing to Robert.

  ‘He has spoken many, many hours of the beauty of a woman’s ankles and how he loves to count each toe,’ Robert continued. ‘It brings him to rapture. Feminine feet.’

  ‘Toes? Feet?’ She picked up a stick and tossed it into the woods. The object crashed to the ground.

  Robert jumped, then relaxed as he realised what had caused the sound.

  ‘Nonsense,’ she said.

  ‘Whatever you say, Lady Grayson. I miss London, but I can’t leave Lord Grayson. He needs me and someone has to take care of you.’

  Emilie gasped.

  ‘Do you not go along with that?’ Robert knelt down and settled beside her. ‘You paint. You take no notice of the household. I’d wager you’re no different from how you were last year, or the year before or the year before that. Some people mature. Some people just age,’ Robert said. ‘I cast no stones. I compare you to myself.’

  ‘I’m not flattered.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be.’

  ‘Does he mention marriage or his opinion of it?’

  ‘Lady Grayson, how would I know?’ He grunted. ‘Yet, it is my job to know these things. I so envisioned you to be much more like the woman Marc mentions in his private papers.’

  ‘What woman?’ Emilie’s tone sharpened.

  ‘She is not real.’ Robert let out a loud yawn. ‘You woke me to ply me with drink and question me. Now get it over with so I do not have to listen as much tomorrow when I am with you. I don’t know why you couldn’t realise I will need more drink then.’

  ‘You mentioned a woman...’

  ‘In Marc’s list,’ Robert added. ‘The List.’

  Marcus let out a slow exhalation. Robert was lying through his sotted teeth.

  ‘What list?’

  ‘I’m not to know of it. But since he was a child, Marcus has kept a list of what he foresaw as necessary in a wife. It may not be in the box under his bed, of course, but I suspect it is. He has always hidden it from place to place. And I don’t know for sure where it is now, but he mentions it to me incessantly. I know he would not leave it behind. It is hidden somewhere within these walls.’

  ‘What did he have on it?’

  ‘This is good brandy, Lady Grayson. Might I have the location to the key?’

  ‘No.’

  Th
e silence reached a crescendo.

  ‘What is on the list?’ she asked.

  ‘I fear, for all the drink in the world, I could not divulge it, as I have never seen the document. It is something Marc has mentioned to me repeatedly—his list of what he concludes is perfection in a helpmate—and when I catch him scribbling on it, he hides it from my view. He read a paragraph to me once and said he has updated it as he matured. Once he may have said in passing how much he admired a woman and I saw him writing after that. A retiring woman. Compassionate to his family. Generous to servants.’

  ‘Do not assume I believe anything you say.’

  ‘Well, I may have added the part about being generous to servants—and for your edification, I do not deem myself a servant to Marcus, but a companion. I am a confidant. A mentor. Almost before he was out of his governess’s arms, I was there for him. His first word was “No”. His second “Mother”. And his first full sentence was “Robert, fetch my cravat.”’

  ‘Robert, be serious.’

  ‘You know, Lady Grayson, tying a man’s cravat could bring the two of you closer. He and I have had many deep conversations while I have dressed him in the morning.’

  Marcus tensed. Robert had best keep his confidences.

  ‘What do you speak about?’

  ‘Well... Let me see...’

  Marcus involuntarily made a fist.

  ‘We’ve talked about his musical abilities. His deep appreciation for good boots. And that is where I learned of his fascination with women’s feet and his comments on the list he has. Perhaps he has it stored in the box under his bed.’

  ‘Can you get me the key to the box?’

  ‘I could. But I won’t. Unless you give me another bottle to ease my conscience. I would not even ask Marcus about his inventory of the perfect woman if I were you as he will tell you it does not exist.’

  ‘Marc is more private than I anticipated.’

  ‘He would enjoy a journey to the pool with you. I should be ill in the morning.’