Virtue and Vice (5 page)

She’d snatched the document from Papa’s hand to read it herself, much to the horror of her betrothed’s proxy. To Papa’s credit, he’d allowed her to read it all, ever a firm believer that women should be involved in the political and social process affecting their lives. Then he’d duly signed the contract without hearing her out further, trading her away for his own political and financial means.

Even now the terms of that document made her burn. The first part was straightforward enough. The date and time of the nuptials were laid out, along with the money and land to trade hands when the families were joined. 

The part of the contract pertaining specifically to her had been most appalling. If they’d been trying apurpose to insult her, they couldn’t have done a better job. Written out on the parchment in exacting detail were her future “duties” as the wife of such an elevated peer of the realm. All was described in meticulous detail— from the appropriate clothing she would wear, to the proper way she’d handle herself when amongst other peers— as if they feared she might be so lacking she didn’t already know how a lady should behave!

But the most galling stipulation of all was the clause dealing with the matter of her virtue. Ever an issue to a nobleman lest his all-important title go to a brat not of his blood, the contract stated that should it bear out she was no virgin on the wedding night, an annulment would be duly sought. It was a usual expectation and there was already a remedy at law should that bear out, but to put it into a betrothal agreement was unheard of! An insult! ‘Twas almost as if her betrothed
wanted
her to cry off from marrying him. If it hadn’t been meant as an insult then it could only be that her betrothed was truly puritanical, not simply a parliamentarian. She shuddered at the very idea.

She’d expected Papa to explode at the insinuation she might not be virtuous and do just that— tell the proxy where he could take the betrothal and shove it—, but Papa had taken it in stride, as though such clauses were commonplace. He’d not seen it as an affront to her character. That Papa hadn’t objected was proof of just how desperate for coin he really was.

Panic had set in, for she realized then her father was blinded by the money and the land. It was one thing to marry a roundhead for the sake of her family. But a man who couldn’t be bothered to put in an appearance to even
meet
her, and who could force her to sign a degrading contract with such rigid stipulations? What kind of life was she destined for with a man such as that? As much as she wanted to do right by her family, she couldn’t do it. She was not like most of the other unmarried young women she knew. She’d spent nearly a decade living in exile on the Continent, where she’d lived with a fair degree of freedom. She’d never been loose with her morals, of course, but the thought of binding herself for life to a man who sounded like nothing more than a stuffy puritan seemed as dire as a life sentence. She’d resolved anew to find a way to avoid the marriage.

Desperation cooled into resolution as she approached the house. She
had
found a way to avoid the marriage, she reminded herself, and his name was Julian. The memory of his warm grey eyes and soft lips made her smile. He was perfect. Perfect for the plan her cousin Belinda had unwittingly hatched upon the casual observation that if Izzy were no longer a virgin the requirements of the accursed marital contract would be broken.

As soon as Belinda said the words, Izzy had known that was the answer to her desperate plight. If she was no longer virgin, she could no longer satisfy the terms of the betrothal. Though she’d always imagined Paul would be the one to take her virginity, she didn’t fear giving it to a man like Julian. After all, she had spent most of her life amongst exiled courtiers and French aristocracy, and the French never shied away from discussing affairs of the heart. She knew what lovemaking involved, why, she’d wandered upon couples more than once in flagrante delicto in some secluded spot in one palace or another. She had no fear of the sexual act. There would be some pain the first time, and then, with the right man, there’d be only pleasure. What was there to fear?

Julian was the right man. She was convinced of it.

There were only three weeks and four days until the wedding. Only three days if she took into account it was well after midnight and now officially Thursday. But thanks to Julian, by this time tomorrow she would no longer be a virgin and her betrothed would cry off. Everything would be well. If Paul didn’t return for her, she’d choose another man to wed, one that would please both her father and herself. Giving away her virtue before marriage wasn’t a wanton act, it was a desperate one!

A breeze sighed through the trees and she shivered, wishing she’d thought to bring a cloak. But then, she hadn’t meant to be out so very late. Her darkened home loomed like an impenetrable fortress ahead. How was she to get inside unnoticed and unseen? She dared not try the front door, lest the butler hear and remark to her parents about her late entry. Creeping around to the servants’ entrance in the back of the house, she tried the door, surprised to find it spring open beneath her fingers. Sending fervent thanks to whatever higher power was watching over her, she quickly locked the door and scurried up the back stairs, not stopping until she was safely in her chamber.

She slipped inside and as quietly as possible let the door close, then turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin to find a night-rail clad Belinda sitting in a chair, awaiting her return.

“Where have you been?” Her cousin cried, rising from the chair so abruptly she upended the book on her lap.

Izzy wasn’t expecting Belinda to be so distressed. “I’ve been at the village, partaking of the May Day celebrations.”

“I thought you ran away. I told your parents you were ill and wouldn’t be downstairs today and that I would care for you, but I began to think I made a terrible mistake. Had you not come home within the next hour I was going to wake your father and tell him everything.”

Izzy embraced her hard. “Oh, Belinda, you’re the best friend anyone could ask for. Did you leave the servants’ entrance unlocked for me?”

Belinda pushed away from her in a violent motion. “I did. Where have you been?” She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like ale, horse, and man.”

“I told you, I was celebrating the May Day.”

“With a man?”

“There were many men there, Bel.”

Her cousin rolled her eyes. “Don’t play coy with me, Izzy. Did you give up your virtue, as you threatened?”

Izzy sighed, glad to be able to tell the truth about this one thing at least. “I swear to you, my virginity is as intact as it was when I left this house this morning.”

Belinda heaved a great sigh of relief. “I’ve been worried sick all day.”

“I’m truly sorry, Bel. I didn’t know you would be so concerned.”

“What was I to think after your mad talk last week of letting a stranger take your virtue?”

“It’s not madness to want to find a way to be with the man I love.”

Belinda’s blue eyes widened with horror. “No reputable man will ever marry you if you gain a reputation as a woman of loose morals. Think you Paul would have you with such a reputation?”

“Paul loves me. He would understand if I need take drastic measures to avoid a marriage to one of Cromwell’s cronies.”

Even as she said the words, a twinge of doubt stabbed her. Paul was every bit a nobleman as any other. He wouldn’t want to tread where others had gone before. But he loved her. Surely, when she explained her reasoning he would understand her desperation. Especially when she reminded him she’d been driven to such an extreme act because he’d not come for her as he’d promised. If only she’d received any communication from him, hinting at when he might return to claim her!

Too weary to argue and afraid her arguments might raise Belinda’s suspicions, Izzy capitulated. “’Twas just talk on my part, and well you know it. Come, it’s late, and I’m exhausted. Can we discuss this tomorrow?”

Belinda nodded. “I think it best I sleep in here, lest your parents disbelieve I’ve been caring for you all evening.”

Damn and double damn.
It would be much harder to slip away for her rendezvous with Julian in the morning if Belinda were underfoot. Still, she owed her cousin for all she’d done this day. In light of that, Izzy forced a smile and pulled out the truckle bed for her cousin, as she’d done hundreds of times before.

When they were both in their beds and the lamps had been extinguished, she listened to Belinda’s breathing turn even, a sure sign her cousin was fast asleep. Izzy couldn’t slip into the same state of bliss. Memories of smoky grey eyes filled with promise and a white-toothed grin set into a chiseled jaw haunted her, set her heart pounding.

Morning couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Chapter 4

Ram waited in his father’s study first thing the next morning. After everything that happened yesterday, it was even clearer now why he couldn’t marry the girl his father wished on him. Oh, he had no illusions he could marry a peasant girl like Izzy, but he certainly didn’t want to be tied to a court-bred gossipmonger for the rest of his days. Somewhere there existed a happy medium, and he intended to find it.

His father entered the room, sent a speculative glance in Ram’s direction, and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

“I will not marry the girl.” Ram spoke in his most deliberate, clipped, and autocratic voice.

It was no surprise the Earl wasn’t cowed in the least.

“You’ve no choice in the matter, son. The betrothal is a matter of law now. And we’ve been over this before. We need the connections marriage into the Beaumont family will bring to us.” The earl crossed the darkened study to light a beeswax candle, then moved to the enormous oak sideboard, where he poured whisky into two fine Venetian glasses with a leisurely hand. His father must have indeed been up early this morn if he were already reaching for the liquor. One day Ram would ask him why he didn’t bring his mistress to live closer so he wouldn’t always be journeying back and forth between Bodmin. But that mystery could wait.

“’Tis reputed she’s a hoyden. The last ten years of her life have been spent living amongst Charles’ debauched courtiers in exile. I’ve no use for a courtier as my wife.” An image of Izzy flashed through his mind, a woman as different from his betrothed as day was to night.

Chesworth made an exasperated sound as he handed the liquor-filled glass to Ram. “You know as well as I we must do all we can to find favor with Charles, now that he’s restored to the throne.” His sharp gaze grew steely. “The Beaumont family remained loyal to the monarch throughout the long years of war. Therefore, the Stuarts hold them in high favor. Yet the wars nearly bankrupted Beaumont. He’s in desperate need of funds to keep his estate running, and I hold land he is anxious to recover.” Taking a sip of the golden liquid, he smiled. “Our families have always gotten on well together.”

“I haven’t seen the girl since she was in swaddling.”

“Nevertheless, marriage is the perfect solution.”

“Then why don’t
you
marry the girl? If her father is as desperate as you say, surely he could have no objections to marrying his precious daughter to you! You’re a bloody earl, after all, and would make his daughter a countess!”

“Ramsay”, his father only used his full name when he was exasperated, and even now it always made him feel like a wayward boy. “Don’t be ridiculous. The girl is young enough to be my granddaughter, and while some men my age find such sport exciting, I’ve no desire to try keeping up with a girl in the fresh bloom of youth.”

Ram opened his mouth but the Earl cut him off.

“Besides, while marriage to me would make her a countess for a time,
you
are my heir, and therefore if I did happen to sire a son on her, he would never be earl. Beaumont would never accept that.”

“He would if he’s as desperate as you claim. Father, you are giving up far too much! Coin, land, a title…and for what? Very little in return.”

“There’s nothing as valuable as the goodwill of the King and his family, and the Beaumont’s have that in abundance. Things are changing quickly and ‘tis obvious Charles intends to reward those who fought for him and suffered by his side in exile. You have your title and will someday be earl. But what if you have more than one son? How will the younger advance without a title and the ear of the King?”

“Money has always worked well enough in the past,” Ram said, wryly.

“Not with this king.” Chesworth’s mouth stretched thin. “His father, Charles I, King of England by divine right, was beheaded by his own subjects, outside the Banqueting Hall he himself built. Charles may have pardoned all but a very few directly responsible for his father’s murder, but don’t convince yourself for a minute he’s ever forgotten those who didn’t try to stop what happened.”

“This falls on you for siding with Parliament in the first place!” Ram dragged his fingers through his hair. “You should have stood with the king!”

“So that we might have had all our holdings taken from us and ended up in prison cells, or worse, exiled in poverty like the Beaumonts?” His father snorted. “Son, someday you’ll understand the burden of representing the people of this country. I did what I felt was in the best interest of all. Sometimes one’s responsibilities prevent one from standing for a cause they believe in. I lack the luxury to be able to sacrifice myself for a greater good, not when so many depend upon me.”

The earl settled heavily into a hard backed wooden chair, taking care not to spill his drink, motioning for Ram to take a seat in the matched chair. “I never approved of the regicide, and thankful I am I had nothing to do with that mess, else my head wouldn’t be sitting on my neck right now. All your lands would be forfeit, handed out as rewards for those who remained loyal.” He took a sip of his whisky. “Charles is a shrewd man. We are lucky enough he chose to pardon those who fought against him who were not involved with his father’s execution.” Shaking his head, he looked weary. “I don’t enjoy kissing the arse of the man I’ve opposed for so many years. Yet sometimes one must do what’s best for one’s family, and the only way to do that is to be a loyal and faithful subject. Charles is handing out appointments left and right and it would behoove us to be aligned with one of the strongest Stuart supporters.”

Ram opted to ignore the invitation to sit in favor of pacing before the hearth instead. “Father, honestly, I’ve no desire to become entangled in the debauchery that has ensnared the royal court since Charles was restored. I’ve no interest in an appointment of any sort.”

His father let out a sharp chuckle. “Don’t play the puritan with me, Ram. I know for a fact you’ve a fine mistress set up in London, one rumored to be a very close associate of the king’s mistress, Barbara Palmer.”

Damn his father and his army of spies. Ram was fast running out of arguments why he shouldn’t marry the Beaumont lass. There was only one more argument, and Ram wasn’t yet ready to make it. He might never be.

“She’s Countess Castlemaine now.” He muttered the words as a stalling tactic while he struggled to find new grounds on which to protest the union.

“Who is? Barbara Palmer?” His father’s face cleared and he guffawed. “Oh ho, so these days it merely takes a romp in the king’s bed to be elevated to such a lofty rank?” He sobered and sighed. “I’ve no wish to discuss the corruption of the royal court. I’m discussing your upcoming nuptials to the Beaumont gel.” He raised his hand to forestall the comment Ram was about to make. “Would you prefer I betroth Julianna to a staunch royalist to cement our relationship with the monarchy?” His father’s tone, while quiet, was deadly serious.

Bloody hell, that was a dirty tactic!
He wouldn’t allow his fourteen-year-old sister to be used as a pawn in this political game, and well his father knew it. Ram would comply, if only to save his sister from a marriage match made in hell. Convention dictated that in his own marriage he could beget an heir upon his wife and then install her in a far-off country estate and live in isolation from her if he so chose. He’d
never
countenance such a marriage for his sister.

If only he could tell his father the unvarnished truth. There was no need for them to curry favor with the newly restored king. They already held it. But he could never confess his actions, dictated by his conscience, in the last few years. His father placed loyalty above all else, and if he ever discovered what Ram had done during the interregnum, he might never forgive him. There would have to be something so objectionable about the Beaumont girl that left Ram no other option but that he break his father’s heart rather than go through with the marriage. It was a last resort, only.

“I’ll marry the girl. But I don’t want a wife who’s been sampled by every royal lapdog, and perhaps the king himself. If I find so much as a hint of impropriety, the wedding shall be called off immediately.”

“I gave you my word, Ram. Should there be no virgin blood on the sheets the morning following your nuptials, we will seek an annulment. It is stipulated in the betrothal contract, which you would know if you’d taken the time to read it instead of sending your man here in your place to sign it.”

Ram ignored the jibe and chose instead to concentrate on the fact that his father had placed a clause in the contract regarding the Beaumont Girl’s chastity, or lack thereof. That had probably ruffled her spoiled little feathers, if she’d even bothered to read the agreement, and that amused him. “Fine.” He tossed back his whisky, cursing himself for a fool for agreeing to his father’s ludicrous plan in the first place. “I’ll go through with this debacle if I must, but I don’t want the banns read. There’s still time to secure an ecclesiastical license. I don’t want a big public spectacle should the marriage go forth.” He thumped the empty glass on the table before him. “But I will find a reason before the wedding date as to why this girl is an inappropriate choice for a bride. And I expect you to be the one to beg off when I do.”

“I’ve already said as much.” His father’s lips quirked and his eyes twinkled with what looked suspiciously like humor. “Why don’t you take a trip to London and visit that mistress of yours? It might go a long way toward curing your ill humor.”

“My ill humor will remain until I extricate myself from your political machinations. But a trip to London might well be in order. It’s entirely possible there might be less scheming in the royal court than here in my own home.”

But nay, he was meeting Izzy at noon, and that was an appointment he fully intended to keep. Tomorrow afternoon was the absolute soonest he’d consider returning to London, and even then it would only be a quick trip to sever his ties with his current mistress, assuming Izzy agreed to become his new mistress. And assuming he could tear himself from her bed.

His father’s hearty chuckles followed him as he stalked from the study, slamming the door for good measure.