Contracted as His Countess

by Louise Allen

  * * *

  Two of his acquaintances were lounging in front of the counters when he reached the gunsmith’s shop in Dover Street. Viscount Carston greeted him absently while squinting along the sights of a duelling pistol the assistant was showing him. His companion, George Cary, grinned maliciously at the sight of Jack.

  ‘What’s this I hear—using the title and marrying an heiress? My dear chap, whatever has come over you?’

  ‘Respectability and the onset of middle age,’ Jack said. ‘I swear I found a grey hair the other day.’

  Carston snorted and handed the pistol back to the man behind the counter. ‘I’ll take them. Have them sent round, will you? You’re younger than me, Ransome, and I don’t feel the urge to hurl myself into parson’s mousetrap, even for an heiress.’

  ‘You’ve got three brothers,’ Jack pointed out. He realised that no one knew Madelyn’s dowry included his lost lands. Was that going to make matters better or worse? Better, he supposed—at least he would be seen to have a very personal and understandable reason other than her wealth for marrying the eccentric Peregrine Aylmer’s daughter.

  ‘Come and have a cup of coffee in Franklin’s.’ Cary nodded towards the coffeehouse opposite. That was unusually friendly for him, but then, Jack reflected, Cary did like to be abreast of all news, the more scandalous the better. ‘Tell us all about it—are we invited?’

  ‘But of course.’ It occurred to him that these two might be useful, because he had been wondering how to deal with the fact that Madelyn had approached him, had suggested the marriage. It was well known that she had been secluded in her castle, which meant it was highly unlikely they would have met. For her sake he wanted it to appear that he had proposed, not that Miss Aylmer was desperate for a husband.

  * * *

  They settled into a booth, ordered two pots of coffee and one of chocolate to satisfy Cary’s sweet tooth. ‘I’d been thinking about buying back some of the family land,’ Jack said. No point being coy about it, they knew perfectly well that his father and brother had lost the lot. ‘Turns out that Aylmer had bought everything up, so I went down to Kent, met Miss Aylmer and was decidedly intrigued.’ That mangled the truth and the order of events somewhat, but it was close enough. ‘She accepted my suit and here we are.’

  ‘Interesting lady,’ Carston said carefully, not meeting Jack’s gaze as he stirred sugar into his coffee. ‘Met her at the view at that new gallery in Spring Gardens the other day. Finding London a novelty, I gather.’ It wasn’t quite a question.

  ‘I believe so. Very loyal to her father, kept house for him, but the man was somewhat demanding and kept her close to home,’ Jack said easily.

  ‘So she is not an antiquarian like him, then?’

  ‘Good lord, no. Can you imagine me marrying a bluestocking?’

  ‘No,’ Carston said drily. ‘I can’t.’

  Jack returned the smile. It did not matter that everyone knew he was marrying Madelyn purely for her spectacular dowry, just as long as no one realised that she had proposed to him—that would complete the picture of the eccentric bluestocking he was trying so hard to avoid. And it would hurt her pride, he knew that. For all her calm, businesslike approach, she had not found it easy to do what she had, he was coming to realise.

  It was confusing to discover that he cared as much as he did for her feelings—she had made it clear enough that, as far as she was concerned, emotions did not enter into their marriage. Jack gave a mental shrug—doubtless it was basic gentlemanly instincts, nothing more. He hoped not: the thought of finding himself developing a tendre for the prickly, awkward female was distinctly unnerving.

  He shifted on the thinly padded bench and gave his smile more of an edge. ‘I know I can rely on my friends to make Madelyn feel at home in London.’ And if they made her feel unwelcome, the smile promised, no doubt they all, like Carston, owned serviceable duelling pistols.

  But this encounter only served to emphasise the fact that everyone was going to be looking out for unconventional behaviour from Castle-Mad Aylmer’s daughter and, for the sake of her future, and of the children, come to that, he needed to make certain that no one found anything peculiar about her. Vouchers for Almack’s, presentation at Court, the hope of finding suitable female friends—all hung in the balance.

  Then he had a nightmare premonition of whispers eighteen years in the future: charming girls, but their mother is most singular...

  ‘You all right, dear boy? You’ve gone quite pale,’ Cary said.

  ‘Just the headache of all the wedding preparations,’ Jack said. ‘Do either of you know where I can find a reliable secretary?’

  Chapter Ten

  Jack called the next day to ask whether the fifth of September would suit and to take her walking in Green Park. Madelyn agreed that date would be most acceptable and went to put on a light spencer and the quite ridiculous little straw hat that Louisa assured her was just the thing to wear with it. She studied the effect in the mirror, decided that she looked like a sunflower with a rather large bee on top, and joined Jack in the hall, resigned to appearing ridiculous.

  ‘Do you like my new hat?’ she enquired, striving for the light and frivolous tone that Louisa assured her was correct for conversing with gentlemen.

  ‘A delightful piece of nonsense. I imagine the price is in inverse relation to the size,’ he observed as Partridge opened the door and handed him his own hat.

  ‘How did you know that? I imagine the cost of men’s headwear is not related in any way to that for ladies.’

  ‘I have purchased the occasional piece of fripp—Do look, is that Byron over there? No, of course not—foolish of me. He left the country in the spring.’

  As she had never read any of the poet’s works, the attempt to distract her failed. ‘You were about to say frippery, I think. For mistresses, I imagine.’ It had not occurred to her until that moment, but of course Jack must have had them. He probably still did, which was a lowering thought. But why should she care? He did not pretend to love her, he would undoubtedly be discreet and not embarrass her by flaunting an irregular arrangement. But I do care. It was a matter of self-respect, nothing more.

  ‘I can assure you,’ Jack said stiffly, ‘I am not involved with anyone at present and, naturally, would not be after our marriage.’

  ‘Naturally? I thought most men kept mistresses if they could afford to, married or not. My father certainly did.’ Mrs Milbanke, a most obliging widow in the next parish, to be exact.

  ‘I would not.’ It sounded as though his teeth were gritted, although as they were negotiating the traffic in Pall Mall it was difficult to tell. ‘And even if I did, a lady ignores the situation.’

  They arrived safely on the other side of the road and turned towards St James’s Palace.

  ‘That must be difficult if she has any affection for her husband,’ Madelyn said after a while.

  That was received in silence. Jack nodded towards the red brick mass of the Palace. ‘The Palace is where Drawing Rooms are held. I will take you to be presented to the Queen after we are married. It will be a debut for both of us, the first time I will appear at Court using my title.’ Mistresses had clearly been dismissed as an unsuitable topic for conversation.

  ‘Louisa showed me a picture of Court dress. I thought she was in jest, but apparently I am supposed to wear something like a vast bell and have ostrich plumes in my hair. Quite idiotic.’

  ‘I suggest you do not make that observation to Her Majesty. Console yourself with the thought that you will not be alone in your discomfort. I have to carry a chapeau bras, trip myself up with a ridiculous little dress sword and try not to rip my best silk hose with it. Tradition, my dear. I would have thought you would approve of it.’

  Interesting... The survival of the past into the present. Do the lords and ladies putting on their Court dress think of it like that? I wonder. And if it
is acceptable to dress in a palace as though one was in 1750—

  ‘Look out!’

  Madelyn found herself lifted and swung to one side. She arrived back on the flagstones with a bump. ‘What on earth?’

  Jack pointed at the pavement. ‘The milkmaids bring their cows to graze in the park this way and do not clear up after them. You need to take care where you put your feet. It might be best to take my arm if you are going to walk along with your head in the clouds.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Madelyn slid her hand under his proffered elbow. ‘You are very strong to lift me like that.’

  ‘That, I believe, is my cue to say that you are as light as thistledown.’

  ‘And mine to reply that I do not believe such nonsense for a moment,’ she retorted. ‘But Louisa would tell me that I must behave as though I do not have a sensible idea in my head, so please imagine I have just simpered and said something like, Oh, my lord, you flatter me and what wonderful muscles you have.’

  Jack made a sound that was suspiciously like a snort of laughter. They had reached the edge of the Park and he began to point out landmarks. ‘This is Queen’s Walk. The reservoir is up there next to Piccadilly, and you can see the Queen’s House across the grass in the distance in that direction. Which way would you like to go?’

  ‘It is very green. Oh, there are the cows you were talking about, over by the trees. But where is Rotten Row? Is that not the fashionable place to promenade?’

  ‘That is in Hyde Park.’ Jack pointed at a far corner. ‘That way.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, suddenly realising why they were in this particular park. ‘You do not think I am ready to be seen in such a place as Rotten Row?’

  ‘It is always crowded, always confusing if you do not know everyone and I think you would find it easier to take in the scene and recognise people if you were in an open carriage,’ Jack said easily. ‘Besides, I want to drive you, not walk, and I am negotiating for the purchase of some horses at the moment. You would prefer to appear behind a good team drawing a high-perch phaeton to a pair of job horses and a hired carriage, would you not?’

  It was perfectly reasonable, but why did she have the feeling that Jack was tactfully attempting to control her movements? Probably because he is, she thought. Louisa had let slip that it was not she, but Jack who was deciding which invitations they would accept, who Madelyn was to be introduced to. Now she was not to be allowed to wander at will in Hyde Park, it seemed.

  ‘You do not trust me, do you?’ Madelyn said, suddenly desperate. The dizziness was back, the feeling of panic, of being trapped. ‘You do not trust me to learn my lessons, to behave as I should, to fit into this world. You think I am going to be an embarrassment to you because I am different.’ She should stop, but she could not. The words seemed to be tumbling out, taking a shortcut between her feelings and her tongue without any intervention by her brain. ‘Well, if that is how you feel there is an easy remedy. We call off the wedding.’

  Jack stopped and turned to face her. She braced herself for his reaction, but he only sighed and said, quite calmly, ‘You feel it is too soon, that we are rushing things? We could wait another month. Would that help?’

  If he had been surprised, or confused or even angry, she might have thought again, but his patient tone made it clear he was managing her, being forbearing. Patronising her.

  ‘What would help would not to be betrothed to you,’ Madelyn said.

  All around them there were the sounds of the Park and London going about its noisy everyday business. Children were screaming with delight as they played beside the reservoir, a cow lowed mournfully from the trees, the sound of wheels and hooves on the stones drifted over from the surrounding streets, but where they stood was only a bubble of appalled silence.

  Then Jack drew in a deep breath through his nose, released it and said, ‘You have signed documents, you have allowed the preparations to be made, you have said nothing as the news of our impending marriage spread through London. And now you want to go back on your word. If I did that, you could sue me for breach of promise and have an excellent case, but perhaps you have been so far removed from the real world that you have no more idea of honourable behaviour than you have of how to dance the quadrille.’ He turned around.

  ‘Where...? Where are you going?’

  ‘Preparing to escort you back to St James’s Square so you can write to your solicitors.’

  ‘Are you going to sue me?’ He had expected to receive all his lands, he had swallowed his pride and begun using his title again. Why wasn’t he angry? Then she saw his eyes and took a step back.

  ‘There is no need to flinch from me, Madelyn. I no more strike women than I sue them. Shall we go?’

  ‘It is better than an unhappy marriage, surely?’ she stammered, not moving.

  ‘Why would it be unhappy? I have assured you that I would be faithful, that I am not violent. What has changed since you asked me to marry you? Perhaps you were misinformed about my character and you have found that I gamble or drink to excess or that I am cruel to animals, perhaps?’

  ‘You know I have not. What has changed is that I now realise just how little you trust me, that you will supervise me and order my life and... I might just as well be shut up in my castle again. At least there I was my own mistress,’ she finished saying desperately.

  ‘I would really prefer not to be having this discussion in the middle of Green Park,’ Jack said, still sounding perfectly calm, perfectly reasonable, exceedingly dangerous. ‘Would you please go and sit on that bench over there for a minute, Madelyn? There is something I must do.’

  Madelyn walked to the bench, sat down, decided that she was not going to faint, or be sick or burst into tears because even she knew that was unacceptable within screaming distance of the Palace. It would be nice to stop shaking, though...

  She watched Jack walk up to a tree. He stood there looking at it, then kicked it. Hard. Then swore. She couldn’t hear what he said, but that kick must have hurt.

  Then he walked back, rather obviously trying not to limp. ‘I appear to have two things you want: my bloodline and the ability to father children, although you will have to take that on trust because I have no offspring to demonstrate my capacity. You have two things I want: my lands and yourself.’

  ‘You... You want me? I mean, you want me?’ Then she felt herself blush as she realised just what he meant by want.

  ‘Yes. I am presumably out of my mind because I have never come across a more provoking and difficult female, but, yes, I find that I do.’ He was frowning at her in a most unloverlike manner, but then, he was only talking about carnal matters, not pretending for a moment that he had fallen in love with her.

  ‘You are certainly not trying to charm me,’ she said with a pitiful attempt at a laugh.

  ‘No, I know perfectly well that will not work. You are not an idiot and we are not in love. You say I am patronising and controlling, but let us be clear about this. My father and brother behaved in ways that shame me and I am considered dangerously radical, a traitor to my class, for not using my title. Your father was considered by most people to be wildly eccentric and by a significant minority to be not in his right mind. If we are going to marry and raise a family, then I am not going to begin it by encouraging anyone to think that you are as strange as your father or that I am truly a radical or as ramshackle as my family. We can relax once we are married, but if we start with a scandal—or, perhaps worse, being a laughing stock—then it will be hard to make up the ground.’

  ‘I see,’ Madelyn said. ‘I understand. But I am not going to do anything scandalous. I find small talk very difficult, but I do not talk about history or the castle except to answer questions. I have been careful not to say anything to make people think I am trying to be an antiquarian. Most people seem kind, or at least, they tolerate me. I just want you to trust me to do my best, Jack.’


  He says he wants me. Perhaps he is telling himself that to sugar-coat marrying me for the land. He might be pretending, of course, but when he kisses me he does seem to enjoy it. So do I, she admitted to herself. But I do not look like the pretty girls and the elegant ladies he must encounter every day, so why should I believe he wants me? Perhaps, when he is kissing me, he does not have to look at me and, being a man, that is enough.

  ‘If I leave everything to Lady Fairfield’s judgement so the two of you can make decisions about social events and what you still have to learn, will that make a difference to how you feel?’

  ‘I...’

  ‘Because I warn you, if you jilt me at the altar steps, Madelyn, there will be hell to pay—for both of us. And let us be clear about something else as well, if we are to talk of trust. I give you my word of honour that I will be faithful, that I will look after you and protect you and any children we may have. I am my father’s son, but I will not squander or risk my family’s future. In return I expect fidelity and honesty. There will be plain dealing between us or there will be nothing. Is that clear?’

  She had been on the verge of apologising. But not in the face of threats. ‘Very clear,’ Madelyn said as coolly as she could manage. It came out sounding icy. ‘Yes, I will continue on that basis. You have my word that I will be faithful and I will deal honestly with you.’

  All she got in return was a sharp nod of acknowledgment and a silent return to St James’s Square, but as her anger cleared, she wondered if she had just glimpsed something very important about the man she was to marry. Trust and honesty mattered a great deal to him.

  * * *

  Lady Fairfield was more than happy to receive a note from Lord Dersington to say that he would leave his intended’s social engagements entirely to her own judgement. She was less happy when Madelyn told her that she need not trouble herself to accompany her to the modiste to order her wedding dress and the other gowns for her trousseau. ‘Harper will be adequate company, Louisa. I really do not want to drag you out to sit in shops for hours when you have a cold coming.’