His Lady Mistress (34 page)

‘The devil you will,’ said Max coldly, ‘even if she were here. As it is she has gone to Blakeney for a few days and I am joining her there. If, when we return to town, I hear the least murmur against her, the Faringdons will rue the day they decided to cheat her. I will have no hesitation in making public exactly what they did and seeing Lord Faringdon in court for criminally defrauding and neglecting his ward.’

Almeria appeared to swell. ‘Then, this afternoon’s meeting with the lawyers—you are determined to press your ridiculous claim?’

‘I will press my fully justified claim, yes,’ he said, between clenched teeth. Meeting? Oh,
hell
! He glanced at his watch, strode over and hauled on the bell pull. ‘Clipstone will show you out.’

Almeria didn’t bother waiting. She stormed out, nearly flattening Clipstone in the hall.

‘Clipstone!’ bellowed Max.

‘My lord?’

‘A hackney. And when I return I want my curricle and the greys at the door within ten minutes. See to it.’

Every fibre, every nerve cried out to go after Verity now, but he couldn’t. Thank God Almeria had reminded him about the meeting. He knew Wimbourne’s ability. Verity’s inheritance was safe. But still, a violent urge to see personally to the Faringdons rose up in him. And he had to make sure they understood the consequences of any gossip concerning Verity.

The sound of swift, halting boots on the flagged terrace jolted Verity out of the book and she swung around as Richard strolled into the library through the French windows.

‘Hullo, Verity,’ he said with a grin. ‘Come to kick me out? Henny said you’d arrived. You must have left London very early. When’s Max coming down?’

Verity closed her eyes in pain. ‘He’s not. Richard—’

‘Not? What the devil do you mean?’

If not for the ache in her heart, Verity would have laughed at the indignation on his face.

A frown puckered his brow. ‘Verity, are you feeling quite the thing?’

He came towards her and she forced a smile. ‘I’m quite well, thank you.’

‘Well, you don’t look it,’ he informed her. ‘You look as though you haven’t slept a wink.’ Verity flushed and then paled.

‘Richard—Max and I have agreed to…separate.’

‘What?’

He came to a dead halt beside her. ‘What the devil do you—?’ He broke off, distracted, and stared at the book in her lap. ‘Culpeper…
Directory for Midwives
?’ His jaw dropped. ‘Um, Verity, is there something you…are you…oh, hell!’

He swung away. ‘I beg your pardon,’ he said stiffly. ‘I’d no right, I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s all right, Richard,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry. I never meant this to happen. I didn’t realise that you…that Max had…’ Her voice failed her, as she thought of telling Max, imagined his response. She should have told Max. If not last night, then in the note she had left. But her eyes had flooded over as she searched for the words.

Stunned brown eyes bored into her. ‘Didn’t realise what?’ His voice was deadly.

Her breath tearing, she said, ‘That Max promised you the earldom, that he always intended you to inherit.’

‘Didn’t you?’ His voice sounded odd. ‘And you never meant to get…I mean, you never intended to…’ His voice trailed off into ominous silence.

She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry, Richard. It…it might be a girl.’ It might never come to be, but she couldn’t voice that thought, to suggest that the tiny life within her was unwanted. She wanted the baby so desperately. Because this was the only child Max would ever give her.

For a moment, she thought Richard might explode. ‘Tell me,’ he said in the sort of tones that suggested he had a very tight rein on his temper, ‘was my dear brother aware of this when you agreed to a separation?’

She shook her head. Oh, God. The cold anger in his eyes bit into her.

‘He doesn’t know. I meant to tell him last night, but…well…we…we didn’t talk very much,’ she whispered.

‘I see,’ he said, in a strangled voice. A moment later he said conversationally, ‘I think I might just kill him. Excuse me, Verity. I had better return to town immediately.’

He
couldn’t
be serious. Could he? ‘Richard, please, it wasn’t his fault! You mustn’t—’

‘What!’ He cut her off, staring at her in disbelief. She swallowed and fell silent.

His voice cut into the silence. ‘Believe me, Max will be
damned lucky if I leave enough of his hide for the scullery maid to use as a dish clout!’ He swung around and stormed out the way he had come.

She was still crying when Mrs Henty came in ten minutes later. Mrs Henty didn’t bother asking. She had her plump arms around Verity in a flash, patting her shoulder and wiping her eyes.

‘Now, just you stop crying, dearie. His lordship will be down quite soon, I dare say. It’s just the baby upsetting you. Funny how women get all teary when they’re breeding. Never you mind. And that great looby Master Richard charging around like a mad bull! I’ll be having a word with the pair of them, so I will!’

The truth dawned on Verity. She lifted her tearstained face from Mrs Henty’s shoulder. ‘You
knew
?’

Mrs Henty’s smile broadened smugly. ‘Well, of course, dearie—my lady, I
should
say. What with you being sick all the time. And knowing his lordship.’ She coughed discreetly and changed the subject slightly. ‘Don’t know what he’s thinking of, letting you gallivant around the countryside unescorted! Anyway, he’ll be down soon enough.’

The note of absolute certainty nearly broke Verity’s control. ‘Of course, Henny. What did you want to tell me?’

Mrs Henty smiled. ‘Only that it’s time and more that Sarah went over to Martha’s. I thought to send her over in the gig this afternoon.’

Verity drew in a breath and thought about that. Anything was better than telling Henny the truth. That Max would not be down, not while she remained here. So—if one of the grooms drove Sarah…No. Definitely not.

‘No, Henny. I’ll take her. Better to show the villagers that she hasn’t been turned off in disgrace. Let them see she has our support. Send down to the stables for the gig to be brought around.’

Mrs Henty frowned. ‘Well, I’m not denying it’s a good
idea. But not today. Tomorrow, when you’re rested. I’ll send a message over to Martha to expect you then.’

‘But…’

Mrs Henty fixed her with a steely eye. ‘No buts, my lady. You’ll do as you’re bid and that’s all there is to it.’

Verity managed a smile that threatened to turn upside down. ‘Yes, ma’am.’

Chapter Sixteen

I
n the event Max didn’t return from the meeting until after five o’clock. The Faringdons had signed without a mutter, the jewellery had been handed over and Max had transferred the money to a trust in Verity’s name. Hers. Absolutely. Mr Wimbourne produced cognac in a way that precluded a hasty departure.

Max sipped his drink, responding automatically to Wimbourne’s toast, concealing his impatience to be gone. And his fear that he might already be too late.

It was five-thirty before he finally stepped out on to the front steps, ready for the drive down to Blakeney. Just as he was about to swing up into the curricle after the dogs there was a rattle of hooves and another curricle came around the corner at a spanking trot.

Disbelief held him as Richard drew his lathered chestnuts to a halt, cold fear slithering down his spine. Richard never drove his horses hard.

Verity.
Something had happened.

‘What—’

‘You bloody
idiot
!’ The roar of fury had Max’s greys snorting and throwing up their heads.

Max stared as Richard levered himself down from the curricle and limped towards him. He frowned. ‘What’s wrong
with your leg?’ Richard hadn’t limped that badly in years. And he couldn’t remember ever seeing Richard this angry.

Richard consigned his leg to oblivion in a few choice words. ‘All that’s wrong with it,’ he continued, ‘is driving up from Blakeney without a break to make damn sure I caught you! Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?’

Max stiffened. ‘Yes. As a matter of fact I do,’ he said. ‘I made a complete mess of everything and I’m going down now. I only stayed to go to the meeting with the lawyers over Verity’s inheritance.’

Richard’s remarks about Verity’s inheritance blistered the air. He went on without pause. ‘What I
do
want to know is—what the devil went on last night? I went down to Blakeney to give you privacy for a honeymoon! Not for you to tell her to leave!’

Max flushed and glared. ‘Damn it, Ricky! Verity is
my
wife! What went on last night is none of your business!’ He dragged in a breath, forcing his fists to unclench. ‘And I didn’t tell her to leave, she—’

Richard silenced him in one pungent and graphic phrase. ‘I don’t give a damn about my expectations! I told you that!’ he went on furiously. ‘What I do give a damn about is that your
wife
—and thank God you’ve finally realised that!—is sitting down there in Kent, crying her eyes out because she’s breeding—’

‘What!’ Max’s stomach lurched violently and his heart stopped totally. Pregnant. Verity was pregnant and she hadn’t told him?

‘And you told her I was supposed to inherit the earldom!’ Richard finished.

‘
I
didn’t tell her that! Almeria did!’

‘What difference does that make?’ snarled Richard. ‘You obviously didn’t give her any reason to disbelieve Almeria. For God’s sake, get down there and tell her you love her. I
did think of telling her for you, since apparently you haven’t the wit to tell her yourself, but on reflection I thought it might come better from you!’

Max arrived at Blakeney to find the house in darkness and drove straight to the stables. A very startled, sleepy groom came out to take the horses, ineffectually smothering a yawn.

The dogs sprang down, barking, and raced out of the stable yard towards the house, plainly delighted to be home. Max followed slowly, whistling for them. He could force the catch on the library windows—it was something he kept meaning to have mended and forgetting about.

To his surprise a light appeared at the side door. He changed direction. Who on earth…?

‘Henny!’ he said as he came close enough to see who held the lamp. ‘What are you about?’

A snort greeted this. ‘What does it look like I’m about? Letting you in, of course. Pesky dogs. Barking fit to wake the dead. If so be as her ladyship is asleep, which is unlikely. Just as well you’re here, my lord—something’s eating at her or my name’s not Maria Henty!’

‘She’s in her own rooms?’

‘Aye. Sitting staring into the fire when last I looked. Wouldn’t say a word about why she came home.’

He stared at the door leading from his bedchamber to Verity’s. He opened it softly, without knocking. If she had fallen asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. Shadows flickered and danced in the dimly lit room.

Mellow lamplight lit the small figure huddled in a chair by the fire, curled into it as though for protection. Verity. His wife. The mother of his child. She was awake. The tension in her body cried out to him. Gentle chimes rang out from the clock on the chimneypiece and he saw the jolt of shock that ran through her. She’d been miles away. Lost.

For a moment he hesitated. Should he go away? See her in the morning? The small figure eased back into the chair.
A stifled sob decided him. If Verity needed to cry, this time she was not going to do it silently, without anyone to hold her and comfort her. He tapped lightly on the doorframe.

‘I’m quite all right, Henny. And I ate my supper, thank you. Please go to bed.’ Her voice was soft, controlled. Too soft, too controlled.

His heart tearing, he kept his own voice gentle. ‘I’m sure Henny will be pleased to hear that. May I come in?’ He saw her freeze. Saw the way her head lifted sharply. She turned very slowly.

‘Why are you here?’

‘For you.’

‘For me? Why?’

He nodded. ‘Because…I was an idiot last night. When I realised what I’d done…why you came to me…and when Richard told me…’ He went to her and knelt beside the chair reaching for her hands.

She pulled them away. ‘No. It doesn’t matter.’ Then, warily, ‘What did Richard tell you?’

He lifted one small hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over it. ‘Amongst other things he told me that I am to be a father. Dearest, listen—’

‘
No!
It’s all right, Max. Please. Don’t do this to yourself. I…I didn’t understand with Papa. I thought if I just looked after him, helped him, told him I loved him it would be all right. He’d get better, stop taking the laudanum. It never occurred to me that just seeing me was a nightmare for him. That he literally couldn’t bear the sight of me…that
I
was the problem…until it was too late.’

Ignoring her efforts to stop him, Max grabbed her hands and gripped hard. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘Last night. I came to tell you—’

He broke in. ‘I
know
why you came. It was this week that he died, that he was buried. If I’d realised then—’

She cut him off. ‘That wasn’t the reason, I came to tell you about the baby, but then I thought you were upset about
Papa. That
you
needed comfort as well. I never meant to tease you…I…I know
you
don’t want me that way. Almeria explained it all. Why you wish Richard to inherit, but…’ Her voice shook but she forced it on. ‘It might be all right…the baby might be a girl. If you’ll just tell me where to live.’

His grip on her hands tightened fiercely. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘With me. With our child.’

She shook her head, tugging against his grip. ‘No. I can’t. Not if it means you sit there every night trying to forget me in a bottle of brandy.’

Pain shot through him. What woman wanted a sot for a husband?

Her next words put him right. ‘I won’t let you destroy yourself because of me. The…the way Papa did.’

‘Verity.’ His voice cracked. ‘What are you saying?’

She looked straight at him, her eyes bleak. ‘I loved him so much, Max. He was all I had, but he didn’t want me. He couldn’t even look at me without seeing her ghost…so, I won’t…I
can’t
do that again. Your vow…you’ll hate me…’