The Madcap Marriage (26 page)

“With the wrong man dead,” sneered Dudley.

“Hardly. Would
you
have confused Portland and Thomas?”

“I wanted the job, as you well know,” snapped Dudley in return. “But he—”

“Enough!”  Steven slapped both hands on the desk to restore order, then motioned Stone to a chair. “We must plan the next step. Does Thomas remain in Surrey?”

“No. He was leaving when he chanced upon Portland. But he did not return to London. His rooms remain empty, as does the Hanover Square house.”

“He’s headed for Somerset, then. This time, we’ll take the direct approach. We can travel openly to Audley. And if we hurry, we can reach it before news of Thomas’s arrival spreads beyond its gates. The staff will deny seeing him. Society thinks he was duped by a bawd, so no one will look for him at Audley anyway. Helen will wed Dudley immediately.” Without Thomas to support her, she wouldn’t dare oppose his commands. How the devil had she known he was her guardian?  “We’ll leave within the hour,” he added, shooing them out. It was time to end this farce once and for all.

* * * *

Rafe stared out the carriage window. Yesterday’s collapse had embarrassed him down to his toes, as much because he should have expected it as from the injury itself.

He’d tried to milk his condition to keep Helen close, but that hadn’t worked, either. Every time her body responded to his touch, her mind retreated another step, until she’d flung a wall of ice between them.

Portland’s fault. She longed to be free so she could return to her love.

Pain stabbed his ribs with the admission, for it made his situation worse. Like it or not, they were tied together for life. It had been bad enough when she’d started laying down rules. Now she was trying to escape.

The future looked grimmer than ever. Unless she forgot Portland, her distrust and dissatisfaction would grow. Which meant Rafe must guard his heart even more vigilantly.

He had never wanted a marriage of convenience. Such a passionless arrangement could not satisfy him. Yet he could not blame Helen. It was his own drunken stupidity that had landed him in this fix.

He should have listened to his mother the day she’d held forth on choosing a wife.

“You will one day marry,” she’d begun without warning a fortnight before her death.

“Not Alice!” he’d snapped.

“Of course not.” She patted his hand. “Marriage means more than dowries, or even breeding. You will have to live with your wife forever, so choose well.”

Relieved that she would back him against Hillcrest’s latest insanity, he’d ignored her discourse on the traits necessary for a congenial marriage. Only her final words had penetrated.

“Promise me, Rafe. Fidelity is important, though the concept is out of favor in our class. Sow whatever oats you must before you wed, then remain faithful to your wife. Promise.”

Her intensity had surprised him, but he’d readily agreed, unwilling to bring more strife into her life. “I promise.”

That vow bound him still, though he was beginning to question her purpose. Was making it easier to withstand Hillcrest’s pressure what she’d really wanted?

The question sounded disloyal, but he couldn’t ignore it. Hillcrest had first suggested wedding Alice a week earlier. Lady Hillcrest had opposed the idea. Extracting that vow had made sure Rafe would also reject it – how could he wed so insipid a miss after vowing fidelity?

Helen’s voice echoed –
argue just to be perverse…
  She’d hinted that Lady Hillcrest was as stubborn as her husband, caring for nothing beyond forcing her will on him. Something deep inside feared Helen might be right, which meant his mother’s lecture on matrimony had been a ploy to assure his continued support.

No!
  The very thought was abhorrent. And completely untrue. She had meant to protect him – she’d known he could never be happy with Alice. Her support provided the armor that deflected Hillcrest’s barbs. And the affection she’d showered upon him once he made his pledge had been born of relief that she needn’t fear for his future.

The carriage bumped to a halt to change horses, pulling his mind from the doubts that plagued it more each day. His mother was beyond Hillcrest’s cruelty now, as was he. Thinking about the past served no purpose. It was more important to seduce Helen.

To prevent his leg from freezing again, he gingerly climbed down, then paced the stable yard to loosen his knee while grooms buckled new teams in place.

By the time he returned to the carriage, he had settled on a strategy. Serious seduction must wait until they reached Audley that evening, for he couldn’t stay focused while rough roads battered his ribs. In the meantime, he could gather information – with more finesse than he’d shown yesterday.

He waited until they were out of town before speaking. “Tell me about your house. I’d like to know what to expect.”

She frowned. “It is huge – four wings enclosing a large courtyard – which makes upkeep difficult, as every owner can attest.”

“Expensive?”

“Very. And we haven’t even tried to maintain everything.”

“Tell me about it.”

She relaxed into the corner of the seat. “The oldest wing was an ostentatious Tudor manor with state apartments large enough to accommodate Henry VIII’s entourage – the builder was one of Henry’s advisors. But his fortunes declined under Queen Mary, forcing his heir to sell the estate. The new owner wanted to add three short wings to create an Elizabethan ‘E’, but managed only a ‘C’ before his purse ran dry. By the time his grandson sold Audley, poor maintenance left the Tudor wing unlivable, and the second Elizabethan wing was nearly as bad – they must have cut corners in its construction, for it deteriorated rapidly. Rather than restore them, the new owner closed the courtyard with a Palladian wing taller and broader than the Tudor section. But his grand vision outstripped his purse, leaving his heirs deeply in debt. Papa bought the place twelve years ago. He refurbished the Palladian wing and repaired the better Elizabethan wing so he could accommodate large house parties. The others remain derelict.”

“But Steven could enter if he decides to come here?”

She nodded. “He was fascinated by the house from the moment he arrived, exploring it every chance he could. I often found him poking about in odd corners.”

“What about Dudley?”

“Dudley explored nearby taprooms and gaming establishments, but cared little for the estate. He spent his few hours at Audley sleeping off excess wine.”

Rafe stared blindly at the passing scenery. Audley Court was larger than he had imagined. “What about the staff?”

“Most of the underservants have been at Audley for years. Steven replaced the upper staff. But as servants dare not oppose their superiors, I can’t trust anyone.”

“I don’t understand how he turned off your staff. It’s your house.”

“I made a mistake,” she snapped, lowering her gaze to the hands twisting in her lap.

Startled, he softened his tone. “Everyone makes mistakes, Helen. It’s part of living.” He covered her hand. “What happened?”

“I was so concerned with Mother that I left the supervision of everything else to my butler, housekeeper, and steward.”

“You trusted them.”

“Yes. But they couldn’t fight Steven. That letter he forged from Formsby gave him more authority than I initially realized, and he passed on numerous orders he claimed came from me. Before I knew it, his own servants were in charge, and no one would talk to me.”

“So we have a staff we cannot trust and a house that might already shelter an enemy.”

“That sums it up. I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She retrieved her hand, turning to stare out the window.

“Not stupid.” He stroked her hair, trying to soothe her distress – and remind her she was his. “You were wracked by grief and effectively alone. No one functions well under such conditions.”

“That’s no excuse. Papa put me in charge. He expected me to keep Audley safe and prosperous. He depended on me, but I let him down.”

“Relax, Helen. You—”

“Relax?  How can I relax?  The staff distrusts and despises me. God knows what the tenants believe. I’ve neglected them terribly and deserve their contempt. And what about the villagers?”

“Stop this, Helen. Hysteria won’t help.” He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his gaze. But inside, he cursed. He should have realized that Steven’s takeover had stripped her confidence. Assuming male responsibilities would have already left her susceptible to doubt – too many men would question her competence. Her spirit was badly battered. A husband she didn’t trust would add to the problem and might explain why she clung so tightly to duty.

He should have fetched a copy of Sir Arthur’s will from the Doctors Commons archives before leaving London. Granted, there ought be one at Audley, but Steven might have destroyed it. Was there any local authority who might know the truth?

“Who was your father’s solicitor?” he asked.

“Mr. Fielding. He has offices at Lincoln’s Inn.”

“London.” He should have known.

“Papa saw no reason to change advisors after we moved to Audley.”

Cursing, he sought some way to bolster her confidence. Facing Steven would be hard enough without fretting whether she would fall apart.

“Arthur would never have entrusted you with Audley unless he believed in you,” he began, again catching her hand. He wasn’t sure that was true – Arthur hadn’t had much choice – but calming her was vital. “Alquist often marveled at his cousin’s instincts and perspicacity.”

“But his mind died before he did, Rafe. Though I denied the truth to outsiders, Papa could barely function that last year, and his periods of confusion started much earlier.”

At least she trusted him enough to share a family secret. Perhaps he could build on that. “Tell me about him,” he urged, pulling her against his side. “From Alquist’s tales, he sounds a most unusual man.”

Helen relaxed and began to talk.

* * * *

Alice paced Hillcrest’s drawing room, wondering where to start looking for a companion. As Rafe had pointed out, she could not stay at Hillcrest without one.

An even bigger problem was her meekness. Hillcrest had easily intimidated her at dinner last night. His idea of a perfect female was one who never intruded on his thoughts. But if she remained silent, she might spend the rest of her life in this cheerless house. Hillcrest would never take her to town without a battle. So she must learn to stand up for herself.

Rafe’s charge that she was insipid, timid, and naïve had hurt, but he was right. Though she’d triumphed in scores of fantasy confrontations, her actual record was grim.

Mason appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Everly to see you, Miss Alice.”

“Who?”

“She
says
she is your companion.” His butler’s demeanor slipped, producing a disapproving frown.

“Send her in.” But she cringed. Any woman Hillcrest had summoned would never do. Selecting a chair, she tried to look formidable.

“Mrs. Everly,” Mason announced. A nervous middle-aged woman hovered behind him.

Alice gestured her to a seat, all the while castigating herself for expecting a battle-ax. Hillcrest would not allow a woman of strong character under his roof. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage,” she said, keeping her voice firm. “I hadn’t expected you.”

Mrs. Everly nodded. “Yes, I was told that the position was subject to your approval.”

“By whom?”  She perked to attention.

“Mr. Barnes.” When Alice said nothing, she clarified. “Mr. Thomas’s secretary. He called at my employment registry yesterday.”

Rafe?  She relaxed. Rafe knew how domineering Hillcrest was, and how obsessed with obtaining the Grange. Until he’d raised the subject, it had not occurred to her that Hillcrest could now claim it only by wedding her himself.

But she would never have believed Rafe would actually find a companion for her. It belied everything she knew about him.

Five minutes extracted Mrs. Everly’s background, references, and a note from Mr. Barnes explaining the employment terms he had negotiated. Another half hour convinced her that she and Mrs. Everly would suit quite well. Lady Sherwood, her most recent employer, had been active in London society, often taking Mrs. Everly on morning calls and to other affairs. Such experience would aid Alice’s come-out.

Alice gave Mrs. Everly the room next to hers, then headed for the library to inform Hillcrest that she had hired a companion. There would be no better time to lay aside her meek subservience.

“How dare you bring a stranger into my house?” he demanded the moment she entered his dismal room.

His fury struck like a fist. She wanted to run, but Hillcrest treated life as a war. One victory, and he would never relent. Straightening to her full five-feet-two, she locked gazes. “I need a c-companion, my lord. I c-cannot live here without one.”

“Ridiculous. I am your guardian.”

“B-but not a relation.” She gripped the door handle to stay upright. “P-people will talk, sir. We cannot seem improper.”

“Impro—”  Veins bulged purple at his temples.

For an instant, she feared he would collapse like her father, but he’d been far angrier when Rafe had appeared with a wife. “Improper,” she repeated, taking the chair he hadn’t offered – her knees could no longer support her. “P-people see what they wish to see – scandal. My reputation cannot sustain further damage. Mrs. Everly will make a p-perfect companion.”

“Hah!”  He rose to tower over her. “Females can’t think. A decision of such import is beyond you.”

Spots danced before her eyes. Only imagining him as her husband gave her the strength to continue. “P-please sit down, sir. A gentleman cannot rise while a lady remains seated.”

To her surprise, he sat. Did he actually apply manners to himself?  Her small victory steadied her nerves. “Mrs. Everly will do more than protect my reputation,” she continued softly. “She will prepare me for London.”

“You can’t visit that hellhole!”  His body vibrated, but he remained in his chair.

“I must find a husband, sir. If you don’t wish to go, then I will find another sponsor. In the meantime, I need instruction in the ways of society. Mrs. Everly will do quite well.”