“It is good of you to say so,” she said stiffly, wary of compliments from him. “You resisted it all, I recall vividly!”
“Of course. No young man wishes to be bossed by a girl, and one younger than himself! Nevertheless, I was conscious even then that you meant our good. You have a good, honest heart, Lesley.”
Lesley frowned. All these compliments ... she had known from childhood that when someone showered her with compliments and flattery, it was usually to obtain some favour from her. And certainly as an attractive and wealthy heiress, she had found it the more so. Compliments usually meant a young man wanted something from her: favours, dances, the prospect of hated matrimony...
Mrs Meredith intervened smoothly. She had set down her cup at last, after twirling it between thumb and finger for some minutes. “My dear Burke, I think you mean that Sandy’s only chance for freedom from oppression is for Lesley to marry and take charge of him.”
“That is what I mean, madam,” he said, with a slow nod. “I realize this will be a large sacrifice for Lesley. She is accustomed to going her own way, she enjoys her reading and her quiet. To give up all that for the noise and confusion of running a household, to have complete control of a small boy, whose mischief is undoubted —”
“Sandy is a fine child, good as gold when well treated!” interrupted Lesley, with indignation.
“Yes, yes, but he will be noisy, and a handful as he grows older,” said Burke. “You may not be willing to give up the solemnity of your studies, the ordered leisure of your days —”
Mrs Meredith intervened again. “You do not know Lesley’s nature, her willingness to do anything for her family. And she truly loves Sandy,” she said thoughtfully. “I think the problem will be to find the right husband for her. A gentleman, of course. Someone not fortune hunting, so he must have a modest income of his own. Preferably intelligent, and not a fool. Someone she could respect and obey —”
“Obey!” gasped Lesley. She jumped up. Burke remained seated, gazing absently into space, not seeming to see her agitation. She walked across the room, from one chair to another, to the windows and back, unable to remain still. “Obey! And marriage to some man ... I do not wish to marry!”
“Of course not, to give up your freedom, your ability to run about as you wish,” said Burke, shaking his head. “I quite understand, I feel the same way. You are quite right. Even for Sandy, you cannot do it.”
“Nonsense, I did not say that,” said Lesley, more confused than ever. She pushed her fingers through her red-gold curls. “Oh dear, oh dear. Whatever shall I do? There is nobody I would wish to marry ... men are all tyrants...”
“Dr Theo was not,” said Mrs Meredith gently. “What a dear man he was, and how fortunate a woman I was! Never a tyrant, and when he did command it was for my own good. How much I miss his dear presence, the long evenings of reading to each other, his hand on mine —” Her voice broke. Lesley knelt impulsively beside her, and put her warm hands on those of her friend.
“Dear Aunt Maude! Do not weep. You were indeed the most fortunate of women.” Her voice was soft and musical in her soothing. “You had the best of husbands, dear Dr Theo. How good, how kind, how generous, and what a sense of humour. Do you remember how he laughed? Such a rollicking manner he had. It made one laugh to hear him. Never malicious, never cruel. And so intelligent!”
“Yes, yes, I was indeed a happy wife,” murmured Maude Meredith, wiping her eyes with a lace-edged white handkerchief. She tucked it back into her sleeve, and continued more firmly. “But we must think of the future, not the past. Dear Lesley, what are the possibilities?”
“Possibilities?” Lesley gazed up at her blankly. She sat back on her heels, frowning.
“Men to marry,” said Burke bluntly. “If you would consider it for the sake of Sandy. That is what I have been thinking about these two days, since my talk with Mr Pride and Mr Andrews. Yes, who would marry you?”
She stiffened and stood up, gazing down at him with youthful dignity. “Who would marry me? Is that not the wrong way about, sir? It is ... who would I marry!”
“Yes, yes, all the same,” said Burke, his hand to his forehead. “I have been about distracted. Who are the eligible men in London now?”
Lesley sank down into the chair opposite Burke’s, eyeing him with suspicion and worry. “You cannot be serious...”
He did not seem to see her. “There is Lord Ramsey. Yes, Pierce Nevers is quite a catch,” he murmured. “About thirty, never married, his mother dotes on him. Something of a rake, but perhaps he would settle down. And a fortune of his own — and a title, Lesley! Yes, a title, he is a marquess and has vast estates.”
He lifted his head, gazed hopefully at her. She grimaced. “I detest the man. He is a sneak, a Corinthian, a devil with women, he can be cruel. No, no, not Lord Ramsey! I fear he has an eye on Viola, and I will never permit it!”
“You may not have a say in that, if Viola remains under your Aunt Stukely,” he replied. “But forget him. Let me see ... I thought of several others. There is young Lord Gordon —”
“A fool and a drunk!”
“And Bobby Irving — he has such a nice manner about him,” reflected Burke, nodding. “How about Bobby Irving?”
“Under his mother’s thumb, and no mind at all!”
“Well, one cannot have everything,” he sighed. “How about James Livingston? Now, he is intelligent, well-educated, sober —”
“And more than fifty years old!” she said, scandalized.
She was becoming colder and colder with apprehension. She gazed at Burke pleadingly. Could he not think of someone more eligible, someone ... nice? Someone kind, who would leave her alone to raise Sandy — someone who would not bother her? She did not know how to express it.
There was a long silence, Burke leaned back to gaze up at the ceiling, as though for inspiration from heaven.
Mrs Meredith was tapping the arm of her sofa beside her. “Mr Amos Green!” she said abruptly. “Of course, he is older, and has buried two wives, but he adores children ... he has fifteen, and said to me that he longs for more in his quiver! He would take in Sandy, I know it...”
Burke’s head turned slowly towards Mrs Meredith. “He is about fifty, also,” he reflected. “Yet a kind man, a good man, intelligent, respected, in trade ... what do you think, Lesley?”
“Amos Green!” she repeated, feeling rather hysterical. “Do you truly consider I would marry such an — an unfeeling monster? He drove his two wives to death with his excessive demands on them! Fifteen children, and another one every year, and all to put them to work in his offices throughout England! He was raising an empire! A one-man empire to be ruled by all his children ... and half of them dying at birth ... my God, he is a sexual monster!”
‘Pray, Lesley, I feel you are becoming indelicate,” rebuked Maude Meredith very mildly.
Burke frowned. “Perhaps Lesley is right,” he sighed. “Well, how about me? I could ... but, no, Lesley would never agree to that,” he said, with deep resignation.’
“What do you mean?” asked Mrs Meredith, since Lesley was staring dumbly at him.
“She could marry me,” he said heavily. “I am considering marriage, right age, need an heir to the estates, and all that. But Sandy’s needs come first. I loved Cecilia, you know, my cousin ... and Alexander, best friend.” His voice was becoming more brusque, his words clipped. He scarcely looked at Lesley.
There was a brief silence. Lesley felt deep constraint.
“But you and I ... we always quarrel,” she said in a small voice.
He nodded. “It would be ... very difficult,” he said. “Of course, I always respected you, Lesley. Good mind, good heart, honest. Much like Alexander, come to think of it.” He considered it, staring down at his boots again.
She held her breath. He lifted his head, gazed directly at her dubiously, his dark brown eyes unfathomable. “What about it, Lesley, would you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Marry me,” he said. “Would settle everything. You would get Sandy, coddle him as you chose. I could settle Aunt and Uncle Stukely like a shot, once I had the authority to do it.”
She felt all aquiver inside. “Let me think about it,” she muttered, her hand to her head.
“While they abuse Sandy,” he said flatly.
“We would get Sandy at once?” she asked, wringing her hands.
He nodded. “I would see to that,” he said with satisfaction. “In fact, you write a note to your Aunt Stukely. I’ll take it over today! Right this morning.” He stood up, eyes alight. “By Jove, that would be a satisfaction,” he said forcefully. “I go over there, your note in hand, announcing our engagement and approaching marriage — and lay down the law to them. We will be taking Sandy right off, as soon as the marriage ceremony is over, and they had better treat him right!”
“Would you do that?” She gazed up at him, seeing him as a hero for once. He did look so tall, so powerful, such a match for mean Uncle Stukely! “Oh, I would be so grateful...”
“You can scarcely marry at once,” said Maude Meredith drily. “It is Lent, after all, and besides, the haste would be suspect. What reason could you give for marrying rapidly? They will suspect it is only for the sake of the child. And you should look madly in love.”
“Hmm.” Burke frowned. “I have it! We have been secretly engaged all winter. Ever since I came to London.”
“Why not announce it, get permission and approval from Uncle Stukely?” asked Mrs Meredith. Lesley was looking from one to the other in amazement.
“Um, let me see. Ah, I have it. We quarrelled. I was furious, we kept quarrelling, broke off the engagement. I sought other amusements ... Lesley did not like it...”
“Mrs Huntington,” said Lesley flatly. She felt a little sick as she thought of that woman. Oh, it was madness to think of marrying Burke! She hated him — or rather, despised — no, disliked, no — she felt confused about him. He was strong, and she felt she could depend on him. Of course, it would be only a marriage of convenience, to get hold of Sandy...
“Yes, and the fact that you did not wish to remove to Penhallow. You dislike the country —”
“No, I do not! I love the country, and I adore Penhallow!” cried Lesley, distracted. “That is a lie!”
“Well, well, they must believe it. I finally convinced you that I have given up Denise Huntington — that I only escorted her about to make you jealous,” he invented, as he strode about, his hand to his chin. “Let me see ... we finally met again, talked, resolved our differences, and are resolute on marrying as soon as possible. Let me see the calendar,” and he caught it up from Mrs Meredith’s little mahogany desk.
“Easter is March 29 this year,” reminded Mrs Meredith. She did not seem as shattered as Lesley felt, but then she was not the one being swept into marriage.
“Um, yes. March 29.” His tanned finger traced the lines. “April 5 the following Sunday, yes, we could marry on April 6.”
“So soon!” gasped Lesley. “It is too soon.”
“The sooner we marry, the sooner we get Sandy,” reminded Burke soberly. He set down the calendar. “Yes, Monday, April 6, that would suit me admirably. We could then go down to Penhallow, taking Sandy and Viola with us! How about that?” He beamed at Lesley, seeming not to see her shock. “Marriage in the chapel at St Margaret’s — we both attend there while in London. I’ll see the rector there. Viola shall attend you, Edgar me. Let’s write to the gazettes at once, and you shall write to your Aunt Stukely. A nice girlish note, Lesley — full of enthusiasm! We must be convincing, you know.”
He sat down to write out the notice to several gazettes. She took up pen and paper to write a note to her aunt. Mrs Meredith said, “I’ll have a little gathering of our friends to announce it next Tuesday, dear Lesley. That should help spread word about. And other friends will be sure to have dinners for you both.”
“Monday, April 6,” Burke was muttering. “Daughter of — what names, Lesley?”
She supplied the names, pausing in her breathlessly ecstatic note to her aunt. He read the notice to her, she read aloud her note to the Stukelys.
“Good, good, I’ll be off then. Oh, Lesley, remember to act very happy! That will convince people why we are in such haste to wed. We want no gossip about Sandy. If the Stukelys and their solicitors think we have wed only to get hold of Sandy — which we have — they may find some way to block it,” he added soberly.
He was off, then, and Lesley turned to her friend. “I feel as though caught up in a whirlwind,” she said slowly, her hand to her head.
“Yes, of course, dear. We must decide about a small trousseau ... your gown will be white, dear? Or do you wish pale green or blue? Not pink with your hair, though we might manage a shell pink...”
Lesley did feel caught up then. Mrs Meredith had a little gathering for them on Tuesday. Burke had come early, with a ring for her finger. “It was Mother’s favourite, hope you won’t mind...” He slipped it on, eyed it anxiously. It was an enormous three carat diamond surrounded by small bright rubies.
“It is beautiful, I shall cherish it for her sake,” said Lesley gently. She remembered Burke’s mother.
“Good, good. I am having some of the other rubies cleaned for you. Hope you will like them, rather fond of them myself,” he muttered, seeming ashamed of such feeling.
She could almost like him then. But later in the evening, as the announcement was made and toasts drunk to them, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. She stiffened, shocked, and he whispered, “Keep up the act, Lesley!”
The kiss had startled her. She had never been kissed on the lips before, not by her father or brothers, or any man. She had felt the warm strong passion of his hard mouth, and it had shocked her. Somehow she had expected him to let her alone. They both knew it was a marriage of convenience. But would Burke mind the rules? They had not talked of this, it had been understood.
Doubt kept her awake that night, and the excitement of the engagement party. Felicia had been overstrung, giddy and excited, and amazed at them. “I thought you hated each other!” she had cried, staring from one to the other.
“Hate is the other side to the coin of love,” Burke had said lightly, with a laugh. His arm had gone around Lesley’s waist, he had kissed her cheek. Again she had stiffened, again he had warned her softly to “act, my dear!”
At a dinner later in the week, Denise Huntington was present. Someone’s malicious thought, probably, noted Lesley. Her violet eyes reproached Burke, and shot icicles at Lesley. She tried to corner Burke and kept catching him by the arm. Lesley had to admit he evaded her deftly, and turned her over to other men, friends of his.
Again they were toasted. With Denise’s hard look on them, Lesley stood uneasily in the circle of Burke’s arm. She tried to laugh with him at the jokes. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “You are doing beautifully, Lesley. Keep it up! We’ll win out yet.”
She smiled radiantly into his eyes, saw his dark eyes change and narrow. “Dear Burke,” she said tenderly, thinking she would give him a dose of his own medicine. “I can scarcely believe we shall be married so soon and all our problems resolved!”
“No, your problems will be just beginning,” said one cynic, overhearing her, and that occasioned loud laughter and more jests at the expense of the engaged couple.
Frank wrote to them, expressing his hearty approval. He was on the coast of England, he would come home in time for the wedding, his captain owed him a favour, he wrote in a jolly vein.
The plans moved on apace. Aunt Felicia Stukely came over one morning and tried to convince Lesley they were in too much haste. “You are too young to take over the care of such a headstrong child! And Burke! Why, everyone knows he is a rake, still sowing his wild oats...” The feverish green eyes watched her like a hawk hovering over a sparrow.
“He is much changed, Aunt,” said Lesley soberly, wishing it were true
. “You would not believe how tender he is. And he has always adored Sandy — and Viola, and all our family,” she added, hastily.
Aunt Felicia lost her calm. “I beg you to wait, Lesley! This is too hasty! To marry within two months! It is too soon, you cannot know your own mind. Why, only a few weeks ago, you expressed to me your hearty dislike of men, Burke Penhallow in particular!”
Lesley veiled her eyes, and did not have to pretend a blush. “I was fighting myself, Aunt,” she said softly, and twisted the heavy diamond and ruby ring on her finger. “I have always loved Burke, since we were children. I think ... I was very jealous of his attentions to other women. He says he was waiting for me to grow up! And then when we grew up, we fought...” She managed a soft laugh. “How happy I am, now we know each other’s hearts!”
She had almost convinced herself, she thought that night, lying awake in her four-poster bed with the blue silk canopy. When she thought that within a few more weeks, Burke would have the right to come into her bedroom — into her very bed! — it made her feel faint and weak.
It would not be like that, of course. Burke did not love her, and they were marrying to get Sandy. But all this pretence was troubling her. She was not a good actress. Somehow she was confusing acting with reality. She could almost believe she was in love with Burke. His touch disturbed her, his kisses were too warm and intimate. Well ... after the wedding, they would all settle down and be calm.
Settle down at Penhallow! That thought comforted her, and she lay drowsily, thinking of the countryside. It would be spring, the apple orchards would be masses of pale pink blooms, and the fragrance in the air would be heavenly, as it had been that one late Easter when she and her brothers and sister had spent the Easter holidays with Burke. And she and Sandy would run through the orchards, and visit the new white lambs, and help gather eggs. She would run Burke’s household properly and make him comfortable, for so long as he was there.
She would help find a good husband for Viola, one who would cherish the sweet girl, not a rake! And they would all be happy, she promised herself mistily.
The Ruby Heart: A classic Regency love story Page 5
