Nicola Cornick (6 page)

She would never marry again. Alicia had known that already, before the unexpected encounter with Mullineaux had opened up wounds which had never truly healed, but could perhaps have been tacitly ignored. Unconsciously she had always compared every man she met with him and found them all wanting. And now he had come back…She shuddered at the prospect of meeting him socially in some dowager’s drawing-room and being obliged to treat him as the merest acquaintance. A moment later, her mind presented her with the even less palatable picture of Mullineaux choosing one of the approaching Season’s debutantes as his wife and she could not prevent a shudder of misery. Jealousy, long dormant, stirred in her again.

Shivering in the draught from the ill-fitting window, Alicia groped her way back to the armchair and drew her cloak about her for comfort. She was stiff and tired, but her mind stubbornly refused to rest. Huddled in the chair, she thought about their quarrel.

It was all too obvious now that Mullineaux considered her to be without a shred of honour. Briefly she tried to imagine explaining it all to him and gave up almost immediately. They were as strangers after
seven years—she could never tell him the terrible events which had overtaken her.

Emotionally exhausted at last, Alicia settled herself to sit out the rest of the night. The inn had a long-case clock at the foot of the stairs and she heard it chime every hour through the night.

Alicia did not look her best the following morning, although she had done what she could with no clean clothes, no hot water and no maid to help her. Jack had managed to retrieve her valise the night before, but it was both crushed and soaked from resting in the ditch and its contents were largely unusable. Alicia knew she looked wan and pale in her crumpled dress, and about as young as a schoolroom miss with her hair in one long plait down her back. Looking and feeling scruffy gave her none of the confidence she needed to face James Mullineaux over breakfast.

She pushed open the door of the breakfast parlour somewhat apprehensively and found Mullineaux moodily eating buttered eggs and toast. He rose to his feet, unsmiling, as she entered.

His immaculate appearance made Alicia feel both dirty and resentful. There was not a mark on the close-fitting buckskins and his boots had a high gloss again. The coat which fitted his shoulders without a wrinkle was not of Weston or Stultz’s making, but had an indefinable continental elegance for all that. He had not shaved and the stubble already darkening his tan only served to emphasise the piratical air Miss Frensham had observed the previous day. It did not detract from his spectacular good looks. Alicia, feeling as tongue-tied as a new debutante, looked away and hoped her colour had not risen.

‘Good morning.’ Mullineaux’s observant gaze did not miss the violet shadows beneath Alicia’s eyes, nor the fine lines of fatigue on her face. ‘I trust that you slept well and are feeling better this morning?’

‘I feel very well thank you,’ Alicia responded with obvious untruth, but in tones that dared him to argue. It won her an assessing glance, but he did not comment and she almost immediately regretted the impulse which set her on the defensive and made her snap at him when she was barely in the door. Fortunately the landlady came into the parlour at that moment and with her customary good grace slapped a plate of eggs and toast down in front of Alicia. There was also a pot of coffee which both smelled and tasted surprisingly good.

Mullineaux showed no inclination for conversation, simply staring out of the window in an abstracted sort of way, and it was Alicia who
finally broke the silence between them when it threatened to become prolonged.

‘Do you plan to continue your journey today, Lord Mullineaux?’

‘I do.’ The dark gaze focused back on her in a most disconcerting manner. ‘I have sent to enquire after both Ned and Jack this morning, and they are both well despite their soaking. Ned tells me that my horses are none the worse and have taken no chill.’ He smiled suddenly in a way that Alicia found immediately familiar and her heart gave a little jolt. ‘Indeed,’ Mullineaux added, ‘I believe Ned takes better care of them than he does of himself and would count it a personal insult were they to come to harm!’

‘Do you have far to travel?’ Alicia asked, determined to show she was perfectly able to pursue a civil conversation.

Mullineaux reached for the coffee pot and poured himself another cup. The strangeness of sharing breakfast with him suddenly struck Alicia forcibly; its intimacy made her abruptly aware of the sorts of rumours which would no doubt surface as a result of their enforced stay. She put her hand up to a head which was suddenly aching. She really was not feeling capable of thinking about that at the moment.

‘I am going to Monks Dacorum for a few days,’ Mullineaux was saying, effortlessly casual. ‘I own a small property there which has been let for the last few years. I wish to make sure all matters such as tenancies are in order before I leave, as I do not intend to spend much time in these parts in future.’

That, Alicia thought as she bent her head over the buttered eggs, could be interpreted in several ways, none of them favourable. Mullineaux was as aware as she that his estate of Monks Dacorum bordered on her own at Chartley, since it was the Marquis’s father who had sold that part of his estate to George Carberry some twenty years before. The Mullineaux family had never seemed fond of the house, however, preferring their homes in London and Oxfordshire. It could certainly not be wondered at that James Mullineaux would not wish to make his home so close to her! Alicia chewed the bitter crusts of misery and wished that the effort to make polite conversation, which so obviously came easily to him, were not such a trial to her. But then, he simply did not care, whereas she cared too much. Every moment in his company was a torment which Alicia hurried through in order to escape him as soon as possible.

Mullineaux put down his empty coffee cup and rose to his feet,
crossing to the window where a sliver of watery blue sky was visible above the bare trees.

‘Lady Carberry, there is something that I must say to you.’

He was standing half turned away from her and had his back to the light, but she could still see that he was frowning. Alicia’s first thought was that she disliked intensely the sound of her married name on his lips. Her second was that she did not in the least wish to hear what he wanted to say. Whether he was about to resurrect ancient history and demand an explanation for her behaviour seven years ago, or merely to ring a peal over her for her behaviour as recently as yesterday, she simply could not cope. She had no wish to dissolve into tears yet again. However, she had no opportunity to make a graceful excuse and retreat, for Mullineaux had already started to speak.

‘Circumstanced as we are, madam, I feel obliged to ask you to do me the honour of becoming my wife.’

For one dazed moment Alicia wondered whether she had misheard, or misunderstood his pompous words. It seemed unlikely, however, that one would mistake a proposal of marriage for anything else, and as Mullineaux merely waited silently for her reply Alicia found her indignation growing. He could at least have waited until she had finished her meal before he put her off her food so completely! Her appetite fading rapidly, she pushed her plate away and gave him her full attention.

‘How can you be so ridiculous, my lord, as to offer marriage to one you hold in such complete dislike?’ she demanded, with characteristic candour. ‘I declare I cannot believe that you would do anything so ill-judged! But perhaps I misheard you? Indeed, your enthusiasm was so half-hearted that I fear I may not have understood you properly!’

She watched with no little satisfaction as the angry colour came into his face. He already looked as though he would like to strangle her.

‘You did not mishear, Lady Carberry, nor misunderstand, as well you know!’ Mullineaux spoke through gritted teeth. His hands were clenched tightly by his sides and his whole body was taut with anger. ‘Nothing but the situation in which we find ourselves would induce me—’ He broke off and resumed as politely as he was able, ‘In short, I am making an offer in an attempt to limit the damage of this discreditable escapade, and would hope that your own sense of propriety would prompt you to accept!’

Alicia would not have believed that she could feel so furious so quickly. Normally she had her temper under tight control. She reluc
tantly rejected the idea of responding as her grandmother might have done—Lady Stansfield would no doubt have said, ‘A pox on your propriety, sir!’ or some such well-chosen phrase. That would not really help matters, tempting as it was. She bit her lip, trying to regain control of her temper.

‘I believe that it is customary for a lady to express herself honoured by a proposal of marriage,’ she said carefully. ‘However, I cannot find myself grateful for a proposal which clearly caused you as much pain in the offering as it did myself in the receiving. So I thank you for your chivalry, my lord, but I fear I must decline.’

Too late she wished she had been a little more conciliatory, for Mullineaux looked no less furious as he came across the room to lean on the table in front of her in a way Alicia found completely intimidating. His mouth was a tight, angry line and Alicia could sense his rage, elemental in the tense lines of his body. She shivered, unable to help herself.

‘You have no choice.’ Despite his anger he spoke softly, which was somehow even more chilling. ‘You must see that you have compromised yourself!’

‘I have a choice.’ Alicia met his gaze very steadily. ‘I accept that my reputation is compromised, but I cannot regard that as good enough reason to marry you. To accept your reluctant proposal would surely cause more speculation than to continue as though nothing important had happened.’

There was a moment of silence as Mullineaux held her gaze, his own thunderous with disapproval. Then he straightened up and turned away.

‘Very well, madam! Let me put this another way! You may reject my proposal with scorn, but have you really given any thought at all to our situation here and the gossip which will inevitably arise as a result? You think that you can ignore it? Think again, before you condemn us both to yet another infamous scandal!’

His arrogance took her breath away. Once again Alicia felt her temper rising and made a grab for her self-control. How dared he insult her by his insistence on doing the honourable thing when his dislike of her was so obvious? Only the previous night he had suggested that she no longer had a good reputation to protect, and whilst that might have been said in the heat of the moment his opinion of her was scarcely high. In her book it would always be better to face the scandal and ride it out than tie herself to so reluctant a suitor.

‘You are overstating the case, sir,’ she said, as calmly and coldly as she could. ‘Certainly it is unfortunate—’

‘Unfortunate! The most damnable mess imaginable!’ Mullineaux strode back to the window. ‘You may feel that you have the—“licence” was the word I believe you used last night—to do as you wish, but even your credit will suffer from a story that you spent a night alone in an inn with a man whom you once knew exceptionally well!’

He swung round to glare at her again. ‘And the story which goes round will not be that we were marooned here as a result of a carriage accident and inclement weather—a far better tale would be that I returned from a long stay abroad and arranged a secret rendezvous with you.’

His tone took on a wealth of anger and bitterness. ‘Then they will say that you deliberately sent your chaperon away and chose to spend the night with me—how romantic; how deliciously scandalous! And how does that suit your ladyship?’

It suited Alicia very ill and she could hardly deny it. Knowing society as she did it was impossible to believe that there would not be a great deal of speculation about the two of them and that the story which circulated would not be highly coloured; it was so much more interesting than the truth. Even so, she thought stubbornly, that was no reason to consent to a marriage where her feelings were still hopelessly engaged, and his were based on nothing but contempt. But how ironic! Alicia grimaced. She had just rejected the only man she had ever considered marrying!

She dared to raise her eyes to meet that furious dark gaze, and tried to speak composedly.

‘I take your point, my lord. I might even apologise for unintentionally causing this situation. However, I would have thought that to become betrothed to you so suddenly would only give rise to a great deal of speculation on its own account! It is no solution! No, I still would not marry you were the gossip twice as loud!’

Mullineaux ran his hand through his disordered black hair in a gesture she knew well.

‘You seem to take a perverse enjoyment in making life as difficult for yourself as possible!’ he exclaimed. ‘Of course there would be conjecture over our betrothal, but it would not be nearly as harmful to you as the gossip which will inevitably suggest that we are lovers!’

Alicia lost her patience. His scorn seemed to make a mockery of the feelings which she had tried so hard and so unsuccessfully to suppress.
His persistence when it was obvious that he detested her was the veriest insult.

‘Lovers! I would imagine that anyone with half an eye would quickly realise that there was no truth in that and that we could not bear each other!’ she retorted unwisely. ‘And for my part I cannot see that it would make my life any easier to be betrothed to you! Are you suggesting that we should break off this false betrothal after a respectable time has elapsed, or do you feel we should go through with the charade and actually get married? I am sorry, my lord, but I find the whole idea nonsensical in the extreme!’