The Marriage Lesson (31 page)

She sniffed back her tears. She had to stop him. She couldn’t allow such a sacrifice from the man she loved.

The man who loved her.

She sucked in a sharp breath. He’d said it aloud and possibly didn’t even realize he’d done so. He loved her, and it might well be too late. If she’d married him when she’d had the chance . . . 

What was she going to do? How could she save him?

She paced the room and tried to think. She needed help. Her sisters would be of no use. Besides, this situation was fraught with potential scandal and it was best to keep them out of it altogether.

Pennington would help. He was, after all, Thomas’s friend. Surely he’d know what to do. How to stop this madness. She’d send him a note at once.

She stepped to the desk and pulled open the drawer, looking for paper. She brushed aside a set of legal documents. A name on the papers stared up at her.

Ephraim Cadwallender?

A knock sounded at the open door.

“My lady.” The butler stood in the doorway. “You have two more callers.”

“Tell them I can’t be bothered at the moment.” She picked up the documents. What kind of dealings could Thomas have with Mr. Cadwallender?

“Nonsense.” Pennington’s voice sounded in the foyer. “She will see us.” He brushed past the butler, followed closely by Berkley.

“Do you?” Pennington’s brow raised. “First we have a matter of some importance to discuss.”

“It can’t possibly be more urgent. . .  .” The look on their faces pulled her up short. “What on earth is the matter?”

Pennington and Berkley traded glances. Berkley drew a deep breath. “It has come to our attention . . .  that is, we have learned . . .  what I mean to say . . . ”

“Blast it all, man,” Pennington snapped. “Spit it out.”

“Are you the country miss?” Berkley blurted.

Shock stole her breath. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Pennington said.

“Why would you think such a thing?” she said weakly.

“We saw Helmsley coming out of Cadwallender’s shop,” Pennington said.

“That scarcely means—”

“It was not difficult at that point to put the pieces of this puzzle together.” Pennington studied her intently. “You are, aren’t you?”

“And Helmsley, then, is Lord W?” Berkley said.

“Yes.” She blew a long breath. “Although the adventures are not absolutely true.”

“What did I tell you?” Pennington nudged his friend. “I told you not to believe everything you read.”

“Regardless.” Berkley squared his shoulders and stepped forward. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“How could I, with that villainous Leopard on the scene? And now that the truth has been revealed, you cannot deny that I know you.” He took her hand. “And I care for you as Marianne and as the country miss.”

“That’s very nice and I am truly flattered, but”—she gently withdrew her hand—“marriage between us is not—”

“She’s in love with Helmsley,” Pennington said flatly.

Marianne’s gaze met his. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s obvious, my dear, once you know who the players really are in those adventures of yours.” He shrugged. “You are, aren’t you?”

“Yes . . .  yes, I am.” She wrung her hands together helplessly. “And everything has become a terrible mess because of those foolish stories. Thomas could well be killed.”

“Killed?” Pennington’s tone sobered.

“What do you mean?” Berkley asked.

She brushed her hair away from her face. “He’s going to duel Leopard.”

Pennington raised a brow. “So Leopard is real?”

“I knew it,” Berkley huffed.

“No, he’s not real. Or rather, apparently, he is. But I didn’t know that.” She turned on her heel and paced back and forth. “I thought I had made him up. You know, to add interest to the stories. I never dreamed he actually existed.”

“It certainly piqued
my
interest,” Berkley murmured.

“Don’t know anyone named Leopard.” Berkley shrugged.

“Rather silly name, I always thought,” Pennington added.

“I’m sorry you don’t approve,” she said sharply. “I was looking for something that no one would actually use, to avoid precisely this problem.”

“Still, doesn’t he have a real name?” Pennington asked.

“Of course. It’s Beaumont.”

“Beaumont? Viscount Beaumont?” Pennington frowned. “Tall, dark hair, arrogant—”

“Aren’t you all,” she muttered.

“Of course we know him. Hasn’t been in town much lately.” Berkley shook his head. “Never heard him called Leopard, though.”

“Never?” How was that possible? If indeed they knew him, surely they knew his absurd name?

“Helmsley has known him for years,” Pennington said pointedly.

She stilled and studied him. “You must be mistaken. That makes no sense whatever. I can’t believe . . . ” Of course, Leopard, or rather Beaumont, knew exactly where to find— “The brandy!”

She smacked her hand against her forehead. “He knew where the brandy is kept. He’s obviously been here before. I should have noticed it at once.”

Outrage rushed through her. “Thomas acted like they’d never met.”

“Perhaps, my dear,” Pennington said mildly. “
Act
is the key word.”

The men traded uneasy glances.

“They certainly make a convincing pair: a badger in leopard’s clothing and a . . .  a . . . ”

“Rat?” Berkley suggested.

“That’s it exactly. A rat. A nasty, vile rat. But why?” She paced once again, trying to sort it all out in her mind. “Why would they—why would Thomas—do such a thing?”

She swiveled toward them. “You saw him coming out of Cadwallender’s, you say?”

“That’s what brought us here,” Berkley said.

“Of course.” She groaned. “Then he knows I’ve been writing the
Adventures
. I’d wager he wanted to teach me some sort of lesson.” She narrowed her eyes. “He’s very fond of lessons.”

“And, no doubt, wanted to stop you as well.” Pennington studied her cautiously. “I can’t say I blame him. The longer the stories are published, the more likely it is that someone will discover the true identity of the author. And her Lord W. The scandal would be—”

“Enormous.” She huffed an impatient sigh. “I know that. And I admit, I have made a mess of things.” Still . . .  She stepped to the desk and snatched up the legal papers and handed them to Pennington. “What are these?”

“He’s far too smart for that. He knows full well, given the success of the
Adventures
, I could have easily sold them to another paper. This was probably his way of keeping an eye on me.” She stared at Pennington. “When did—”

Pennington studied the papers. “It’s dated approximately three weeks ago.” He glanced up at her. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, indeed it does. It matters very much.” Three weeks ago coincided with the dowager’s house party and Thomas’s increased efforts to lure her into marriage. Obviously, efforts spurred by his discovery of her writing and a desire to head off scandal.

And nothing more.

And what of his words today? Were they part and parcel of the act he’d concocted with his friend? Another aspect of teaching her some absurd lesson?

“My lady?” Pennington’s voice jerked her back to the present. His concerned gaze met hers. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Do you know where Newcombe’s Hill is?”

Berkley nodded. “It’s just north of the city.”

“Would you be so kind as to accompany me there?”

“Why? The only reason anyone goes there is . . . ” Berkley cringed. “Oh.”

“Indeed you are, my lord. I strongly suspect my presence is expected. After all, how can there be a final act without all the players? It should be extremely interesting.”

She favored the men with her brightest smile, disregarding the anger seething within her. And the pain.

“Besides, what farce is complete without a surprise ending?”

“I should have expected as much.” Thomas chuckled.

“You think she’ll come?”

“Of course she’ll come,” Thomas said confidently. “It’s all part of my plan.”

“Ah, yes, the plan.” Rand eyed him skeptically. “When you asked for my assistance this morning, you explained little beyond the point where I pretend to be this Leopard person—ridiculous name, by the way—you challenge me and . . .  now what?”

“It’s quite simple. When we see her carriage round the bend, we’ll get into position.”

“The duel having already taken place, I gather.”

Thomas nodded. “She’ll arrive to see you grievously wounded, of course—”

“Of course,” he said wryly.

“—and being carried into the carriage.” Thomas nodded toward the waiting vehicle and the four men he’d hired to act as seconds and interested parties. It wouldn’t do to involve anyone of his acquaintance beyond Rand in this endeavor. No one else he knew could be counted on to keep his mouth shut.

“Whereupon I will give another outstanding performance as to how I shall have to leave England forever to avoid prison. She will realize there is a great price to pay for adventures and will further realize what happens when one bases fictions on real people.” He grinned in triumph.

Rand studied him curiously. “That’s it, then?”

“There’s nothing more to it than that?”

“Well, yes. Actually, at that point she throws herself into my arms and admits that this is indeed all her fault. And further confesses about her stories and vows that she would do anything to change what has happened.” He leaned back on his elbows, gazed out over the countryside and blew a long satisfied breath.

“And?”

“And . . .  nothing. Well, she will agree to marry me and we will then spend the rest of our lives together.”

Rand studied him, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t see a flaw there? Some, oh, insignificant detail you might have overlooked?”

“No. None at all.” In fact, all was truly right with Thomas’s world at the moment. He’d get a special license and they could be married within the week.

“You don’t know this woman very well, do you?”

“I know her quite well.”

“Really?” Rand raised a brow. “Then tell me how she will react when she discovers all this is some kind of ruse to teach her a lesson.”

“She’ll be so grateful that it’s all an act . . . ” What if she wasn’t? His confidence dimmed.

“Will she?”

“Of course.” He brushed aside the uneasy suspicion that she might not be grateful at all. “Why, we’ll probably laugh about it someday.”

“I don’t know.” In point of fact, now that he thought about it, he had no idea when he’d confess all.

Rand snorted and shook his head.

Thomas pulled his brows together in a frown. “What is so amusing?”

“I’m simply recalling the last time we spoke, before I left London. If I remember correctly, your plan then was to find husbands for these sisters and get them off your hands so you could concentrate on finding the type of paragon you wished for a wife.” He chuckled. “It appears you failed miserably.”

“Marianne is the woman I want for a wife,” he said staunchly, knowing he had never spoken truer words.

“Rather ironic, isn’t it?”

Thomas cast him a wry grin.

Three riders turned the bend and headed toward them.

Rand squinted in the deepening dusk. “Is that her?”

“Couldn’t be.” Thomas shook his head. “She’ll take the carriage. Marianne isn’t an accomplished rider and she’d never come out from the city on horseback. Besides, she’ll be alone and there are three of them.”

The riders grew closer. Rand got to his feet. “Could you be wrong?” He nodded at the approaching trio. “One of them is definitely a woman. Or a man riding sidesaddle.”

Thomas stared for a moment.