Fascination -and- Charmed (2 page)

Arran put a fist to his mouth. “And the, er, other?”

“I gained the distinct impression that the lady will be more than satisfactory in the capacity that concerned me most during my search.”

“So you say.” Nothing in his experiences with women encouraged him to trust their word. “You made it plain to her that my habits are … unusual.”

Calum hoisted a boot atop a long-muscled thigh. “I told Miss Wren that you are confined … er, reclusive, I think was the term I used.”

“She
fully
understands what that means?”

“Well ...” Calum’s brow furrowed. “Now that I think of it, I should probably have mentioned your habit of using a disguise to masquerade as a peasant. And that you spend your days in the said disguise whilst working among your tenants—who think you are another man entirely from the Marquess of Stonehaven. And—”

“You will never speak a word of that,” Arran said.

Undaunted, Calum continued, “And I definitely omitted to speak to Miss Wren of your need for almost no sleep, that you work here all night and require physical labor upon which to vent your pent-up strength during the day. I did not tell her that I suspect you might turn to violence were there no outlet for that strength. Hah! Yes, and in faith, I forgot to inform Miss Wren that you have a friend!”

There were times when Arran itched to pounce upon Calum as he would have when they were children. “Which friend would that be?”

“Why, the fair actress in Edinburgh, of course. Naturally, since you are so set upon complete openness, you will wish your prospective bride to be aware of your mistress.”

Arran approached Calum with determined steps.

“Ah, ah.” Calum leaped from his seat and moved to put it between them. “I jest, of course. No mention of Mrs. Foster shall ever pass my lips in front of the marchioness.”

“There
is
no marchioness. Go and plague Hector. He probably wants to discuss his damnable sheep or some crippling new scheme for Yorkshire. I’ll inform you if I decide we should send for Miss Wren.” He went to the piano and began picking out notes. Solitude was what he needed.

Calum cleared his throat.

The music began to make patterns in Arran’s head. Perhaps the piece would do after all.

“We seem to have misunderstood one another,” Calum said loudly.

“Later, later.”

“I fear it will not be later.”

“What do you mean?” Arran looked up to find Calum crossing toward the door on tiptoe.

“Miss Wren and her mother were to depart London within the fortnight.”

“No! I will not be ready for this ordeal within a fortnight. Send word that I will let her know when the time is convenient.” Which it might never be.

“That won’t be possible.”

“Of course—”

“No, Arran. You forget that I did not return to Scotland direct from the drawing rooms of London. I had to deal with the West Indies issue and—”

“Get to the point, man.”

Calum opened the door. “It has been well more than two weeks since I last saw Miss Wren. By my calculations she is very likely to arrive … tomorrow.”

Freedom!
  Grace Wren all but bounced upon the carriage seat.  Freedom, and at last the hope that her mother would stop wishing her only child had been a son. No more pinching pennies. No more wistfully watching other ladies decked out in marvelous finery she could never hope to possess. No more walking when she might prefer to ride. No more trying not to notice threadbare furnishings in less than salubrious rented accommodations.
No more deferring to the wishes of any other human being!

“Grace, do settle. You quite exhaust me with all that wiggling and grinning. Really, grinning is something you should not do at all with that large mouth of yours.”

“Yes, Mama,” Grace said.

No more trying to entertain and indulge her mother when the available means were definitely not adequate.

“I do wish you had not chosen blue for today.” Mama primped pale pink ribbons that secured a rose satin bonnet decorated with full white ostrich feathers. “Blue does not at all suit you, Grace Charlotte Wren. Particularly so dark a blue. It accentuates your unfeminine lack of flesh. It is positively dull. It makes you appear far too thoughtful. Gentlemen do not at all appreciate thoughtful females. If only you would listen to me in these matters.”

“Yes, Mama.” Poor Mama, her life with dear Papa had been so confining. Little wonder she had such an insatiable appetite for frippery, endless gossip, and what she termed “her little pleasures” now that she was a widow. Ichabod Wren, a barrister of moderate success, had provided tolerably well for his little family. The inheritance he left Blanche should have been more than enough to sustain her and their daughter in passable comfort for many a year. Really, it was difficult to understand why, only five years after Papa’s death, they were evidently already almost penniless.

“I hope we shall soon become acquainted with the marquess’s neighbors.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Oh, really, Grace! Can you say nothing other than ‘yes, Mama’?”

Grace sighed and smiled. “I’m sorry. We shall be there quite soon, and I confess that I am preoccupied.”

“No doubt. I know little of Scottish society, but assuredly the marquess moves in the very best of circles, so we shall be invited absolutely
everywhere.
”

“We shall see.” There was no point in ruining Mama’s happy dreaming so soon by reminding her that the peculiar circumstances under which they were to take up their new positions were unlikely to lead to amiable socializing. Grace looked at the scenery beyond the carriage. “Is it not beautiful? So green and wild.”

Mama sniffed. “Uncivilized. I am a Town woman. Give me a crescent of beautiful London houses and the rattle of fine carriage wheels on London streets. Far preferable to this barbaric wilderness.”

Silently Grace agreed that the hills they’d passed since traveling north from Edinburgh were indeed barbaric. A thrill climbed her spine and she hunched her shoulders. “Not all of London is fine, Mama.” Their own rooms in St. John’s Wood, the best they could afford after selling the Chelsea house to pay off debts, had been anything but fine.

“No matter,” Blanche Wren said, unmoved. “Mr. Innes told you the marquess has a house in London, did he not?”

“He did.”

“Belgravia,” Mama said reverently. “With luck we shall be installed there before the end of the season.”

Grace very much doubted that they would be installed anywhere but in Kirkcaldy, the marquess’s house some miles west of a village called Dunkeld, for many months to come. All of Scotland was a mystery to Grace, but Calum Innes had assured her the marquess’s house was agreeable, the staff compliant, and the marquess himself an undemanding man. Yes, she would tolerate Scotland’s mystery well enough under such circumstances—particularly while contemplating the pleasant rewards the final result of this liaison promised.

“Do you suppose the other ladies of our station hold regular salons?”

“What is our station?” Grace could not resist asking.

Mama straightened her spine. “You know perfectly well. You are to be a marchioness.” At forty-five, Blanche Wren was a pretty, plump woman with rather too many chestnut ringlets and a magpie’s fascination with flashy finery.

“There cannot be much farther to go,” Grace said. Her high spirits began to waver. “I do hope the marquess is as congenial as Mr. Innes told me.”

“Of course he is.”

“Of course.” And, after all, she must not forget the situation would be temporary. “Mama, please tell me what your friends said of Lord Stonehaven.”

“I see cottages,” Mama said suddenly, leaning toward the window. “Beside the river.”

“Yes. Do not evade me on this yet again. What did the ladies in your sewing group say?”

“They said nothing derogatory. Do look, Grace. This is quite a pretty place. See how it nestles in the valley.”

Grace looked where her mother pointed. “That will be Dunkeld and the River Tay.” The river was satiny and wide, and the hills the color of dark emeralds. Here and there patches of snow still clung to the higher reaches. “Which of the ladies knew Stonehaven the best?”

“Oh, fie!” Mama fell against the black leather squabs of the luxurious coach the marquess had so generously provided. “How you do persist. All right. Since you insist, I must tell you the truth. I cannot bear any misunderstandings between us.”

Apprehension made Grace shiver.

“I did not ask about the marquess at all. There. Now you have it.”

Grace laced her gloved fingers tightly together. “Mama, you
promised.
”

“I did no such thing. I
agreed.
But then I changed my mind, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“I’m afraid you shall have to hear several more words on the subject.” Vexation and anxiety thinned Grace’s temper. “You assured me that I had nothing to worry about in agreeing to this marriage. You implied that you had been told positive things about the gentleman.”

“I told you I had heard nothing derogatory about him. Which I had not.”

“Mama, that was deceitful. You said your friends knew the marquess.”

“Some of them probably do. And I deliberately said nothing of the matter to them. Nothing at all.”

“Nothing?” Grace moved to the edge of her seat. “Where do they think we have gone?”

Mama smiled archly. “They believe we are staying with rich relatives in the North. Soon that will be perfectly true.”

“It will
not,
”
Grace said, infuriated.

“Certainly it will. Stonehaven lives in the North. He is exceedingly rich, and we are about to be related to him.”

The whole thing was impossible. “Why didn’t you tell the truth and try to find out more?”

“Because I could not risk our losing this plum opportunity, you peagoose.” Red rushed to Mama’s already rouged cheeks. “Half of those women have unmarried daughters. Do you think I would risk one of them trying to usurp our position?”

Grace turned a shoulder to her mother and closed her eyes. She refused to enter into these silly imaginings Blanche indulged.

“It’s getting darker,” Mama said after some time had passed. “Perhaps we should have found an inn in Dunkeld to spend the night.”

“We will be there before dark,” Grace said, keeping her eyes shut. “The coachman assured us.” Was it too late to turn back?

“I only did what I thought was best.”

“I’m resting.”

“You are not. You are angry with me.”

Angry because again her mother put her own gain before her daughter’s happiness?
Yes
. “It really doesn’t matter.” She studied the landscape again. “The entire business cannot last too long.” She tried not to worry the question as to why her future husband had sought a wife through such unusual means.

“What an amazing offer this is, Grace,” Mama said, as she had said at least once an hour for the past four weeks since they had met Mr. Calum Innes. “A title. A comfortable home on a thriving estate.”

“Indeed.” Grace’s spirits lifted. “The marquess keeps to his house and requires only my loyal attention in trying times.”

“Yes.” Mama nodded solemnly. “I suppose he will make funds available to you immediately.”

“According to Mr. Innes, the marriage will take place almost at once.”

“The poor marquess needs you.”

He needed her. Grace tapped her toes together and fiddled with a loose thread on her pelisse.
Needed
her. “Mama ...” Surely now was an appropriate time to ask the questions that had formerly and summarily been dismissed. “Mama, what exactly do you suppose the marquess will require of me?”

“You have already been told.” Mama’s face took on the cross look that warned of a possible ill temper to come.

There might never be another opportunity to seek guidance in what was clearly a most sensitive area.
What occurred between a man and a woman ...
a married man and woman ... when they were alone?

“Mama, if I were not marrying an exceedingly ancient and mortally sick man, what might I need to contemplate when ...?” Oh, she knew so little of life. She knew
nothing
of life, and the most terrible part of it all was that she
knew
she knew nothing of life. “What do a man and woman do after they marry?” Grace asked in a rush.

“
Do?
”
Mama pulled her brows together over a wrinkled nose. “What can you mean?”

She meant that she had never been allowed the opportunity to make any friends her own age, had never known a single female to whom she could turn for guidance, and there were things she simply
had
to know. “It is all so puzzling. I’ve heard things your friends have said about marriage. Or
started
to say. Whenever they realized I was there, they whispered behind their fans and uttered long-suffering sighs as if they were withholding something quite terrible.” It was a beginning. “And I want to know because even though I shall probably never experience such matters for myself, I wish to be treated as an adult and to be aware of what I am
missing.
”
There. She had said it all.

Mama’s bosom rose and fell once, mightily.
“
Well,
”
she said, averting her face. “They say there can be hidden depths in deep waters.”

New boldness loosened Grace’s tongue. “I should certainly imagine there is. After all, one cannot see everything in water that’s deep, can one? Any more than one ever knows absolutely everything about a person from the outside—not if they have a single brain. Of any dimension at all, that is.”

Mama’s mouth, which had slowly opened, snapped shut.
“
Well!
”
Her fingers were wound together into a quivering knot. “I never thought my daughter capable of such ... You know everything that a gently born young female should know about ... about the subject you so indelicately raise.

“As you say, you are to marry an old invalid. When you are alone—after you are married—you will read to him from the Bible, keep your voice and eyes lowered at all times, smooth his bed sheets, and smile.
Smile,
my girl, not
grin.
”