Lovers Forever (40 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Lovers Forever
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“Are you telling me that Hetty won't marry Alexander because she hasn't any money?”
The baron nodded glumly.
Nick took a deep breath. “But surely now that it is obvious that they can no longer stay at Mandeville Manor and are virtually dependent upon my wife and me for everything, Hetty has had second thoughts?”
“No, she hasn't—feels that now, even more, it wouldn't be right to marry Alexander. Afraid he'll think she's accepting him just because her situation is so desperate. Doesn't want that.”
“Of all the—” Nick broke off, aggravated. “This is ridiculous! Penniless women marry men of great fortunes all the time. There is no shame in it.”
Nodding, Rockwell said sagely, “Lot of women do. But not Hetty!”
Nick had never given Tess's fortune a moment's thought, but he was suddenly grateful that she was a great heiress. Knowing his bride as he did, he was certain that if she had been penniless like her aunt, he might well have found himself in the same situation as Alexander. He smiled grimly. Of course, if she hadn't been an heiress, Avery wouldn't have tried to compromise her and she wouldn't have run away and ended up in his arms, so the situation became moot. But it didn't help Alexander's suit, and he stared soberly at his wine, revolving different schemes to bring the two lovers together. When he realized what he was actually doing, the uneasy thought crossed his mind that being married to Tess must have addled his wits! Since when had he spared a minute to consider anyone's rocky path to love?
While Nick remained lost in his thoughts, the baron took another swallow of his wine and, putting down his glass, leaned forward. With a bright gleam in his brilliant blue eyes, he said confidingly, “Been thinking about the situation a lot. Know I ain't got any brains, everyone knows it! But you and Tess gave me an idea how to make things right for Alexander and Hetty. Got a plan.”
With something between amusement and trepidation, Nick stared at his friend. Warily he asked, “And your plan is?”
“Compromise 'em! Same as you and Tess!”
Chapter Twenty-three
U
ncertain whether to laugh or swear, Nick stared at Rockwell. What his friend had just suggested was both shocking and deplorable—and typically Rockwell! Harebrained and outrageous. But it just might work.... “Are you,” Nick asked, amused, “proposing what I think you are?”
The baron nodded eagerly. “Only way. We do it right, and by this time next week, Alexander will be leg-shackled to Hetty!”
Nick, who had been considering a much more mundane solution such as a mysterious inheritance, could only look at his friend in growing awe. “My dear fellow,” he finally said in a voice that quivered with laughter, “there are times when your intelligence is definitely underrated!”
“Don't know about that,” the baron said thoughtfully, “but I do know that Alexander is going to be the very devil to be around if he don't marry Hetty in the near future. Be dashed uncomfortable. Don't like being uncomfortable.”
Affectionate amusement dancing in his eyes, Nick asked, “Well, since you came up with this brilliant solution, how do you propose that we put it into motion?”
Rockwell looked thoroughly alarmed. “Uh, thought, p'rhaps,
you
could figure out the details.” At Nick's fascinated stare, he muttered feebly, “No brains, remember? Much better if you take over from here.”
Nick continued to look at him until the baron squirmed on his chair. “Now why,” Nick drawled, “do I have the distinct impression that I am being expertly maneuvered into doing your planning for you?”
“Now, Nick, old fellow, it ain't that way at all,” Rockwell protested earnestly. “You know that you are much better at this sort of thing than I am. Always were!”
“I am, am I?” Nick commented dryly. “This has been a most revealing conversation, my friend, and I'm just beginning to wonder how many of our harum-scarum adventures in the past were put into my brain by you!”
“Now, Nick,” Rockwell said placatingly, a glimmer of laughter in his own eyes, “you know that I ain't got any brains—had to have been your idea.”
At that, Nick did laugh out loud. Rising, he said, “That's all very well and good, but if you expect me to come up with an idea that will solve Alexander's difficulties with Hetty, you're going to have to leave me alone for a while to think.”
The baron protested, but Nick would have none of it. “Yes, yes, I know you don't want to look at any of the portraits of my illustrious ancestors, but I do have one or two things to take care of and I can't accomplish anything with you hovering over my shoulder demanding to know every two minutes if I've come up with a solution. Go find something to amuse yourself—look at the new hunter I bought last month at Tattersall's or chase one of the parlor maids about the house.”
With much muttering about disloyal friends who deserted one in a moment of need, Rockwell eventually left the sanctuary of Nick's study. Shutting the door behind him, Nick smiled, then turned and walked back to his desk. The diary called to him, but the hour was growing late and shortly it would be time to dress for dinner and join the others. Rockwell had distracted him, and before he pondered various plots to unite Hetty and Alexander, there was something he wanted to do.
Nick hadn't been jesting when he had mentioned to Tess about writing to Avery and demanding that her belongings and those of her aunts be sent to Sherbourne Court. They had all left behind several personal items, and Nick saw no reason why Avery shouldn't send them to the court. After all, he was only asking for what belonged to the ladies.
The note that he eventually composed and sent to Mandeville Manor was brief and to the point. He wasted no time on explanations or politeness, merely stated that he wished that
all
the belongings of
his wife
and her aunts be sent over immediately to Sherbourne Court. Not giving Avery any room to wiggle around, he also sent several servants and two carts along with his note.
 
Nicolas's curt note sent Avery reeling. Understanding now why he had found no trace of Tess or her aunts, he was so stunned by the news that Tess was married to Nick Talmage that he numbly ordered the rooms of the three ladies cleared and loaded in the carts. Alone in his study, he stared blankly at the scrap of paper that lay in the center of his desk, drinking glass after glass of wine.
All was lost, he thought grimly, his hand curling into a fist. That bastard Talmage had stolen the march on him and married the heiress, leaving him to scramble wildly in the wreckage left behind. It seemed that the earl of Sherbourne had beaten him and that his golden future, becoming one of the leaders of the ton and living lavishly on Tess's fortune, lay in ruins. His arrangement with Mr. Brown was profitable, but not
that
profitable!
As the hours passed, Avery remained sequestered in his study, drinking heavily, brooding on all the wrongs done to him by one man: Nick Talmage. From their first days in the army, they'd been rivals. Bitterness grew within Avery as he recalled every time Nick had bested him during those days. Whether it had been a game of cards, the favors of a woman, fighting, or athletic abilities, it hadn't mattered: Nick had usually managed to vanquish him. The rivalry had been intense, and somewhere along the line it had become a deep, abiding hatred. Avery scowled. He didn't know when the rivalry had turned ugly, or when he had first started to hate Talmage, but he knew that he had hated Nick a long time before the other man had begun to hate him. Suddenly he smiled. He knew exactly when Nick had begun to hate him....
Her name had been Catherine, and she had been the daughter of a sergeant in Nick's regiment, one whose family had served on the Sherbourne estate for decades. Nick had been uncommonly friendly with his sergeant, and he and several fellow officers stopped occasionally to visit with Compton and his wife and their only child, when off duty and other pursuits had not called. Now and then Avery and a few of his friends had also found themselves at the jovial quarters of the Compton family. Mrs. Compton had possessed the knack of turning any place into a pleasant home, be it a leaky tent in India or a mud hovel in Portugal. She was also a marvelous cook, and for men far from home, the scent of plum pudding wafting in the air or the aroma of kidney pie was more powerful than any siren's call. It became the habit of several young officers to bring to the plump, genial Mrs. Compton for cooking any delicacies that came their way.
In fact, the Compton home, wherever it might have been, had been a gathering place for many officers even before Catherine began to grow into a beauty. And of course, once she had blossomed into a golden-haired, angel-faced creature with a merry smile, the younger officers fairly haunted the Compton household. It had all been very innocent, Avery recalled, the sergeant and his wife too well liked for anyone even to think of seducing their only child....
Avery's mouth thinned. He hadn't
meant
to seduce the silly chit! He had merely been playing with her, flirting with her in a lighthearted manner, much as the others did, and she had been stupid enough to fall in love with him. Well, perhaps he
had
led her on a bit after Nick had warned him off. Oh, all right—he'd deliberately set out to seduce her, to show the mighty Nick Talmage that his wishes carried little weight with
him.
Nick had always been protective of her, Avery remembered with a sneer, almost like a brother.
For a while Avery had enjoyed making seventeen-year-old Catherine Compton fall in love with him. She had been a beauty, a doe-eyed, long-stemmed rose, and he had clandestinely wooed her with kisses and promises of undying love. When she'd finally given in to his passionate entreaties and given him her virginity, he had been triumphant.
His mouth twisted. The feeling hadn't lasted long, just five short weeks. The stupid little slut had gotten pregnant and then had had the audacity to expect him to marry her! He snorted. As if he would have aligned himself with the daughter of a mere sergeant!
He took another long swallow of his wine, his mind on those last days in Portugal. They had been extremely uncomfortable, knowing as he did that sooner or later Catherine was going to tell someone of her condition and that he was going to have to bluff his way through her accusations, flatly denying them. It was going to be difficult, though, since the Comptons were so well liked, and he had steeled himself to be the object of open dislike among many of the officers and men. But he would continue to protest his innocence, and in time the gossip would die away.
Avery had had it all figured out, but he hadn't taken into account the extent of Catherine's wild desperation or the disagreeable fact that she would kill herself by throwing herself into the river . . . or that her mother would try frantically to save her and drown in the attempt. More tragedy was to follow—not twenty-four hours later, after seeing his wife and child laid in their common grave, in a frenzy of grief, the sergeant had taken his best pistol and blown his brains out.
At first Avery had thought that he had managed to escape unscathed from the horrible tragedy. But within a week the reason for Catherine's suicide became known. It had been very ugly. It turned out that he hadn't been as discreet as he had thought—there had been those who had seen him now and then with Catherine, and worse, Catherine had confided in a friend not only that she was pregnant, but the name of the father of her unborn child.
Drinking his wine and glancing around the fine room in which he sat, Avery conceded that it had all been a near thing—thank God Sidney had died when he had. Otherwise he might have had to endure the contempt of his fellow officers as well as fight a deadly duel with his hated rival. Avery had known that Nick wouldn't have been satisfied with merely wounding him—he'd have wanted to kill him. Fortunately, Talmage had been away at the time of the tragedy, so Avery had escaped, or postponed, as the case may be, retribution at the hands of his rival. But there had been another stroke of luck—not two days after his involvement with Catherine became known, word of Sidney Mandeville's death and his unexpected inheritance had reached him. Before he'd found himself facing a furious Nick Talmage on a dueling field, he'd resigned from the army, left the continent, and returned to England. It seemed, however, that he hadn't been able to completely escape from Nick Talmage....
Avery scowled again. It hadn't pleased him to learn that the duel that had killed Sidney had also killed Nick's brother and that Talmage was now the earl of Sherbourne—and his neighbor. All these months he'd half expected Nick to show up on his doorstep demanding satisfaction, and he'd begun to breathe a sigh of relief as time had passed and that hadn't happened. In fact, their paths had not crossed since they'd been in England, even though they frequented many of the same circles. But Avery had known that sooner or later Nick was going to become a problem that would have to be dealt with—he just hadn't expected it to happen so soon or in such a devastating way.
His clenched fist suddenly banged on the polished surface of his desk.
Goddamn
Nick Talmage! He'd ruined everything. Tess would be married to
him
by now if it weren't for that bastard Talmage. By God! He was the wronged one in this case—Tess had been under his protection here at Mandeville Manor. He'd been, he told himself firmly, coolly ignoring reality,
almost
been like a guardian to her. It was clear to him that there was something smoky about this sudden, unexpected marriage, and it was obvious, too, since to his knowledge Tess had never even met her new husband prior to her marrying him, that Talmage must have compromised her and married her out of hand. He dismissed whatever part her uncles may have played in the sudden marriage. They were such fops and cake-brained fools that they'd never even realized Tess's honor had been tarnished. It was up to him to make Talmage pay for taking advantage of an innocent miss! He was of a fair mind to ride over to Sherbourne Court and challenge Nick to a duel this very night. If he had his way, Tess would be a widow before she'd celebrate her first week of marriage....
Avery sat up in his chair. If Tess were a widow... If Nick were to die . . . He frowned. Of course, she wouldn't be able to remarry immediately, and he'd have to keep her sequestered here at the manor until the proper time. Assuming he could wrest her away from Sherbourne Court. His eyes narrowed. She could be breeding already, but that didn't matter—there were ways of seeing to it that an infant didn't survive.

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