Anne Ashley (5 page)

His response was to grasp the decanter again, smiling
crookedly. ‘But, I digress. What you really wish to know is just why I was
willing to marry you. And to be brutally frank, m’dear, it was for the simple
reason the Manor offered me the perfect retreat, the ideal sanctuary. You see,
there is a certain lady of my acquaintance that I’m finding
increasingly—er—wearisome.’

The contemptuous curl that instantly appeared at one side of a
very shapely feminine mouth revealed clearly enough that snippets of gossip
appearing in newspapers had most assuredly been perused under the Manor’s roof
in recent months.

He gazed resolutely down into his glass again, doing his utmost
to suppress a twitching smile. ‘As I had no desire to be called to account by
the understandably aggrieved spouse, thereby causing a major scandal, I decided
it might be wise to abandon the metropolis before I was summoned to pistols at
dawn, so to speak.’

‘Such an edifying tale!’ she muttered, quite unequal to keeping
the derision oozing from each word. She hurriedly got to her feet, deciding it
might be wise to leave before she allowed the contempt she felt induce her to
say more than was wise.

He made no attempt to stop her this time, and succeeded in
bidding her a pleasant goodnight before she had whisked herself quite speedily
from the room. The instant the door had been closed quietly behind her, the
faintly inane look he had adopted during the past few minutes vanished
completely, and the earnest expression of a gentleman contemplating some
ticklish problems took possession of his features.

* * *

After arriving at the bedchamber that had been her
private retreat for so many very contented years, Briony discovered not the
young maid Alice awaiting her, as expected, and didn’t attempt to hide her
surprise at finding Janet tidying away some freshly laundered garments.

‘What on earth are you doing here? I imagined you would have
been putting your feet up, after taking all the trouble to prepare that
delicious dinner this evening. No doubt you’ll be pleased to hear your new lord
and master thought the meal couldn’t have been bettered,’ she added, seating
herself before her dressing-table mirror in order to begin removing the pins
from her hair.

‘That was very good of Master Luke to say so,’ Janet responded,
appearing well pleased with the compliment on her culinary skills, ‘although no
more than I would have expected from such a thoughtful gentleman. But even so…’
She shot a considering look at her young mistress through the mirror, as she
lent a helping hand to take down the long chestnut tresses. ‘I—I thought you’d
mayhap be grateful for a word or two of comfort from an older woman…this being
your wedding night and all, and you not having had a mother to guide you, so to
speak.’

It took Briony a moment only to appreciate to what her dear
Janet was alluding. It was perfectly true that she had no very real idea of what
took place in the marriage bed, her godmother having only ever touched briefly
on the subject by divulging that young brides had nothing whatsoever to fear,
providing they had married considerate gentlemen.

She wasn’t so naïve as to suppose all females found the married
state entirely to their liking. There were several young matrons in the locale,
and not all appeared well pleased with their lot. But what did that matter to
her? Her union was one of convenience only, therefore she had nothing to be
concerned about.

‘Don’t trouble yourself on my account, Janet. I assure you I’m
not in the least uneasy.’

‘Well, of course you’re not!’ Janet agreed, smiling
reassuringly. ‘As I’ve mentioned before, Master Luke’s such a kind, considerate
soul, one of life’s real gentlemen.’

And it’s in his own best interests to act
like one if he desires the marriage to be annulled!
Briony mused,
attaining more reassurance out of this knowledge than any words of comfort the
housekeeper might offer an innocent young bride.

‘And the way he looked at you in church!’ Janet continued,
oblivious to her young mistress’s highly contrasting thoughts. ‘Fair touched my
heart to see how much he cares for you!’

Briony scarcely knew what to say to this. She could hardly
dismiss it as arrant nonsense, thereby arousing the housekeeper’s suspicions.
Furthermore, Janet wasn’t fanciful as a rule. Evidently she’d seen something to
make her suppose that Luke cared for his new bride. Clearly he was doing his
utmost to appear the doting spouse. And she must at least attempt to do
likewise!

‘I must own to having come to a—er—better understanding with Mr
Kingsley soon after his arrival in Dorset.’

‘That goes without saying, mistress, otherwise you wouldn’t
have wedded. And I’m so pleased you didn’t allow your head to rule your heart
for very long. It’s plain to see you and Master Luke are made for each
other.’

Oh, God!
Briony inwardly groaned.
Maintaining the pretence of a perfect union might well turn out to be far harder
than she had ever imagined. How on earth was she going to pretend to be a
blissfully contented married woman for a whole six months?

Striving not to dwell on the ticklish problem, she occupied
herself with getting ready for bed. Not attempting to make conversation, and her
rather business-like approach to changing into a freshly laundered nightgown
didn’t appear to arouse the least suspicion in the housekeeper’s breast. It was
only when Briony collected the book she had begun to read a day or so earlier,
before settling herself in the bed, that the housekeeper’s greying brows shot up
in surprise.

‘Why, Miss Briony!’ Dismay had clearly caused Janet momentarily
to forget her young mistress’s new status. ‘You’re never thinking of reading…not
on your wedding night?’

Briony was nonplussed for a moment. ‘Why ever shouldn’t I?’

Janet spread her arms in a helpless gesture. ‘Well…because I
swear I heard the master’s footsteps along the passageway a few minutes
ago.’

‘In that case you’d best not tarry,’ Briony advised.

Which had clearly been the right thing to say, for an
expression of approval replaced the look of bewilderment on the housekeeper’s
face, a moment before she whisked herself out of the room.

Briony released her breath in a long sigh of relief, as she
made herself comfortable against the mound of lacy pillows. At last she could
relax with her book and forget about all the subterfuge, at least until
morning.

No sooner had the comforting thought filtered through her mind
than she detected the click of the door leading to the master bedroom and
discovered none other than the tall figure of her husband filling the
aperture.

More intrigued than unnerved, she found herself studying his
attire, or lack of it, for beneath the crimson-brocade dressing gown she
strongly suspected he was wearing absolutely nothing at all. Dark curling hairs
clearly showed between ornately embroidered lapels, and there was a suspicion of
the same dark covering caressing the ankles of unshod feet.

‘Is there something amiss? I was informed all your belongings
had been placed in your room,’ she remarked as he slowly approached the bed, all
at once seeming far taller and broader in his casual attire. His face seemed
different, too—younger somehow, with several locks of waving brown hair tumbling
over his forehead—and there was a definite intense, almost hungry look in those
grey eyes that never for a second wavered from her direction.

‘Have you misplaced something, perhaps?’ she added, all at once
feeling decidedly ill at ease when he seated himself, uninvited, on the edge of
the bed and placed one bronzed hand so close to her that his thumb rested
against her thigh.

‘Only my bride,’ he returned silkily, sending her unease
soaring in an instant.

Her response was to draw up her knees and tug the bedcovers up
to her chin, clutching them frantically. ‘You—you f-forget yourself, sir!’ Even
to her own ears her voice sounded little more than a choked whisper. ‘Or have
you forgotten the bargain you made?’

‘I forget nothing. But for appearances’ sake I felt I must at
least—er—pay you a visit,’ he responded, his voice growing increasingly
guttural. ‘So whilst I’m here I might as well avail myself of the opportunity to
discover if, perchance, you’ve changed your mind and natural maidenly modesty
forbids you to reveal that you desire to become a wife in…every sense?’

The response to this was a violent shake of the head, which
sent silky chestnut tresses whipping across wide, frightened eyes, and induced
slender tapering fingers to clutch more frantically at white linen, as though
her very life depended upon it.

Luke wrested the bed sheet from her grasp as easily as if he
were depriving a child of its toy and smiled softly. ‘There’s no need to look so
terrified, Briony,’ he assured her, reaching out to trace the soft line of her
jaw with surprisingly gentle fingers. ‘I’ve never yet forced myself on an
unwilling female and I have no intention of doing so now. The marriage will be
as you wish…mere pretence.’

Letting his hand fall, Luke rose from the bed. ‘I shall never
again enter this room unless bidden to do so. You have my word on that.
Goodnight, my dear.’

Briony couldn’t have responded even had she wished to do so. A
painful obstruction had unexpectedly lodged itself in her throat, making speech
impossible, and her pulse was racing, though no longer through fear. That
portion of her face that had been touched by, oh, so gentle fingers continued to
tingle strangely, and the unerring feeling that she had just rejected something
very precious entered her mind and remained there to torment her long after she
had watched the light disappear from beneath the communicating door.

* * *

By morning she was once again feeling more herself. Her
resolve had reasserted itself and restored her determination to play her part in
the mock union in order to secure what promised to be a very comfortable future
existence, once the farcical marriage had been annulled.

She woke much later than usual, a circumstance that certainly
didn’t seem in any way extraordinary to Janet, who brought in a breakfast tray
and cast her young mistress a long, considering look. The smile she received in
response appeared to please her because she went about the room humming a ditty
as she twitched back curtains to her satisfaction and rearranged several items
on the dressing table.

‘I trust you slept well, mistress?’

‘Eventually…yes.’

The housekeeper’s smile widened at this response. ‘Master
Luke’s up and about already,’ she revealed. ‘I expect he wants to familiarise
himself with all the old property again. People tend to forget that, apart from
the large garden, the Manor has quite a bit of land attached to it. Besides
which, two of his other people arrived earlier this morning, bringing a whole
string of horses with them, not to mention a couple of carriages. The stables
must be fair full, I shouldn’t wonder.’

This succeeded in capturing Briony’s interest. She’d always
enjoyed riding herself and was curious to see what kind of horses Luke now kept
in his stables. Whether she liked him or not—and the jury was still very much
out on that particular issue—honesty obliged her to own that he had been a fine
judge of horseflesh even in his youth, and she doubted that would have changed.
‘I’ll wander over to the stables presently myself.’

‘Well, you take your time, Miss Briony… Oh, there I goes again!
Can’t get used to calling you madam.’

‘Don’t concern yourself, Janet. I don’t object.’

‘You might not. But I dare swear the master would. He’s already
taking an interest in your well being, bless him! Said as how you weren’t to be
disturbed too early and that you’d be taking breakfast in bed.’

Briony wasn’t altogether sure she cared to have another making
decisions for her. She wasn’t accustomed to breaking her fast in bed; although
she didn’t object to doing so this morning, she had no intention of making a
habit of it just to please the new master of the house. So the sooner she made
that perfectly plain the better!

After the wonderful dinner she had consumed the night before,
she wasn’t feeling particularly hungry and was soon setting the tray aside and
turning her attention to getting herself ready for the day ahead. She had
finished dressing and was on the point of seating herself before the dressing
table in order to do up her hair in a simple chignon, when she noticed the
housekeeper staring fixedly down at the crumpled mound of bedcovers.

‘Something amiss, Janet?’

The housekeeper turned to look at her young mistress, her
expression clearly troubled. ‘I trust not, Miss Briony…I sincerely trust
not.’

Chapter Four

A
s Briony approached the stables she
discovered her late godmother’s devoted stableman, Samuel Dent, sitting outside
the coach house, whittling away on a piece of wood. His face broke into a
near-toothless grin when he finally caught sight of her and he made to rise.

‘No, sit yourself down, Sam. It’s all been very hectic out here
this morning, so I understand.’

‘That it ’as, miss. Takes me back years to when Master Luke
were a lad. Always kept a string of fine ’orses ’ere back in them days, afore ’e
joined that cousin of ’is up at Oxford. Master Luke always ’ad an eye for a fine
piece of ’orseflesh. And so ’e should. Taught ’im m’self! Sat ’im on ’is very
first pony not long after ’e were breeched.’

Although this was news to Briony, it didn’t altogether surprise
her. Sam had worked for Lady Ashworth nearly as long as Janet had and therefore
had known Luke as a boy. Seemingly he held his late mistress’s nephew in the
same high regard.

She cast a speculative glance at the larger stable. ‘Is your
master about now, Sam?’

‘No, ’e be over at the lodge, Miss Briony,’ he answered,
thereby revealing that he, like Janet, hadn’t quite grown used to her new
status. She wasn’t in the least offended. Had the truth been known, she wasn’t
accustomed to it herself yet.

‘What on earth is he doing over there? I recall he did spend a
deal of time there when he fancied a day’s shooting and wanted an early start.
But the place hasn’t been used for years.’

‘Told ’im so m’self, Miss Briony. But ’e said as ’ow ’e didn’t
expect it would take much to put right and ’as gone over to take a look at what
needs to be done to the place with that servant of ’is by name o’ Carey.
Seemingly this man Carey be going to stay at the lodge to take care o’ the
stallion the master’s ’ad brought ’ere. Can be summut skittish by all accounts.
But, then, they can all act up from time to time, like young men that does need
to sow wild oats, so to speak.’

Briony decided it might be wise to steer the conversation into
a slightly different direction. ‘Evidently your new master intends to breed
horses, Sam.’

‘Seems so, miss. I said as ’ow the beast could go in the
smaller stable away from t’other ’orses. But master said as ’ow ’e’d ’andle
easier if ’e were kept at a goodly distance. And master should know.’

Leaving Sam to continue whittling in peace, Briony wandered
into the larger stable to discover an unknown youth settling four fine bays into
their respective stalls. Beside them, already champing happily away on hay, were
two fine greys and a handsome chestnut gelding.

Curious to see the other animal that had arrived that day,
Briony wandered through the large kitchen garden in the direction of a gate set
in a high brick wall, which sheltered the more delicate plants from damaging
winds. Beyond the wall were several fields where Lady Ashworth had kept various
types of livestock during her lifetime, more than enough to provide meat and
poultry for the household throughout the year. Beyond the easternmost field was
a small wood. This, too, had been the sole property of Lady Ashworth and had
provided her eager young nephew with plenty of game to shoot.

Although she had been taught to handle a gun herself, and was
judged to be a fine shot, Briony had never been keen on reducing the number of
rabbits and pheasants herself. Even so, she had wandered through the wood on
countless occasions during the years she had lived at the Manor, so had no
difficulty whatsoever in locating the single-storey, half-timbered structure
nestling among the trees, adjacent to a large thicket.

She spotted the tall figure of her husband almost at once,
standing outside the stable attached to the lodge. He was in earnest
conversation with a man of below average height who, like herself, scarcely
reached Luke’s shoulder. As she drew closer she noticed the stranger walked with
a limp; noticed, too, that they ceased talking abruptly the instant they
detected her footfall. Moreover, unless she was much mistaken, there was a hint
of disquiet flickering across Luke’s features, as though he suspected she might
have overheard some part of their private discourse, a moment before his
expression changed completely and he came smilingly forwards to greet her.

‘Why, my dear!’ He reached for her hand and held it firmly in
his own. ‘I didn’t expect to see you up and about so early.’

‘Not so early,’ she returned. ‘And I’m not accounted a
slug-a-bed as a rule.’ She cast a brief look at the man who was staring fixedly
in her direction, as though attempting to get her measure, and then raised one
fine brow in a questioning arch as she turned her full attention back to her
husband. ‘I trust I do not intrude?’

‘Not at all, m’dear,’ he returned with courteous aplomb, though
whether he truly meant what he said Briony wasn’t altogether sure. ‘In fact,
your arrival is most timely,’ he added. ‘It offers me the opportunity to make
known to you Ben Carey, who has been with me for a number of years.’

As he touched his forelock politely, he limped a pace or two
towards her, thereby drawing her attention once again to his disability. ‘Would
I be correct in assuming that you met in the army, and that is also where you
acquired your injury, Ben?’

‘That you would, ma’am,’ he answered, in a distinct
north-country accent. ‘Got wounded at Oporto—lost part of my knee. Were lucky to
have kept my leg, as it happens, but my marching days were over. Would have been
sent home and kicked out of the army to live I don’t know what kind of life if
it hadn’t been for the Major here. Took me on as his personal servant—his
batman, like. Been together ever since.’

Clearly he was devoted to Luke. And understandably so, Briony
mused. Evidently her new husband possessed an altruistic streak, which he did
his utmost to refute a moment later by announcing that he had profited more by
their association.

‘After all, to whom else could I entrust such a fine piece of
horseflesh as Vulcan?’

This succeeded in capturing Briony’s attention. ‘Would that be
the stallion you’ve had brought to the Manor?’

‘It would indeed. Would you care to make his acquaintance?’

She didn’t need more persuasion than that and eagerly
accompanied both men into the stable, which she saw at a glance had already been
restored to good order after years of neglect, before her attention was well and
truly captured by the magnificent creature pacing his large stall.

‘Part Arabian, part Irish-bred stock,’ he enlightened her, as
his much-coveted possession stuck his head over the wooden barrier to receive
his customary treat.

Briony couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I see you spoil him. But I
cannot say I blame you. He’s truly magnificent.’

‘He is indeed,’ her husband wholeheartedly agreed, a moment
before his teeth flashed in the most wickedly provocative grin Briony had ever
witnessed in a member of his sex. ‘And like most virile young males he behaves
much better if offered a sweetener.’

Suspecting a double meaning, Briony flatly refused to be drawn
and, for the second time that morning, wisely changed the subject by asking if
the animal could be ridden.

‘Yes, but only by me and Ben here, who manages him remarkably
well considering the stiffness in his leg,’ he responded; although he had spoken
lightly, there was no mistaking the clear edge of warning in his voice.

‘Let me assure you I have no intention of attempting to do so,’
she declared with feeling. ‘I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I
rode one of your precious horses.’

He was totally bewildered, and it clearly showed. ‘Pray refresh
my memory! What did happen?’

‘You tossed me in the lily pond upon my return to the
Manor!’

Ben Carey’s shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter only
served to ignite one of his master’s occasional lapses into devilment. ‘Upon my
word! All I can say is I must have been in a rare good humour that day. You
wouldn’t get off so lightly if you attempt the like again!’

This was hardly destined to act as a salve on a young woman’s
bruised ego and it didn’t. Nor did the servant’s sudden loud guffaws help to
lessen the feelings of ill usage she’d experienced all those many years ago.

A descendent of the famed Celtic warrior queen herself could
not have looked more determined in her resolve. ‘You ever lay violent hands upon
me again, Luke Kingsley,’ she warned, hands on hips and swinging round to face
him squarely, ‘and I would strongly advise you not to sleep in your bed at night
without securely locking both doors.’

Once again those white teeth flashed in the most infuriatingly
goading smile. ‘Do I infer correctly from that that I might expect a visit from
you, my love, should I attempt to play the heavy-handed husband?’ he enquired in
an undertone, so that only she could hear. ‘Would that, perchance, lead to a
better understanding between us and a—er—more pleasurable way of passing the
night hours than in sleep? What a tease you are, to be sure! And after last
night’s rejection, too!’ he declared, much to her further combined chagrin and
acute embarrassment. ‘But then, I have ever heard it remarked upon that females
are fickle and have a tendency to change their minds quite often.’

‘Well, this one does not!’ she hissed through clenched teeth,
and swung away in high dudgeon, only to be caught the instant she had set foot
outside the stable.

She refused to demean herself by attempting an undignified
struggle and merely glanced down at the shapely hand that retained a firm grasp
of her upper arm. ‘Unhand me at once, sir!’ She stared up at him, the look in
her eyes clearly a challenge. ‘Or are you to prove once again that you are not a
man of your word? You swore you would not come near me unless bidden to do
so.’

He released her at once, letting his hand drop to his side,
almost in a gesture of reluctant acceptance, or even defeat. He even sounded
slightly despondent as he said, ‘I admit last night was a grave mistake on my
part and I assure you it will never occur again. You’ve decided we’ll not be
lovers and I shall respect that decision. But does that mean we may not at least
be friends? The next six months shall be bleak, indeed, if we remain aloof
strangers.’

All at once she felt ashamed of herself for overreacting to
what had been nothing more than, she now felt sure, a bit of ribald teasing on
his part. She wasn’t some pampered child who couldn’t take a little playful
tormenting from time to time. She’d always prided herself on her sense of
humour, for heaven’s sake! So why on earth did she react so negatively to this
man’s gentle goading?

‘I—I see no reason why we cannot become…friends,’ she returned
softly, and was rewarded with one of his most beguiling smiles. He really was
the most attractive man, she decided, most especially when his waving brown hair
flopped casually over his forehead, as now, and he was dressed for riding,
clothes that suited his muscular frame so admirably.

‘Good. And you can prove you mean what you say by accompanying
me to the local town. I need to engage some tradesmen to make necessary repairs
to the lodge. Besides which, it will do no harm at all for the locals to see us
about together.’ He cast a disapproving glance down at her attire. ‘But I have
no intention of taking you about dressed in widow’s weeds.’

She wasn’t sure whether he was teasing her again or not. ‘But,
Luke, Godmama has been dead a mere few weeks,’ she reminded him, but to no
avail.

‘And the very last thing Aunt Lavinia would have wanted was for
you to go round resembling a crow for a lengthy period,’ he returned, remaining
firm in his resolve. ‘If you wish to be seen showing respect, then don that gown
and pelisse you wore in church yesterday. In the circumstances, I do not imagine
anyone will think any the worse of you for putting off your blacks so soon.
People will consider it understandable as we are newlywed.

‘Now, hurry along and change,’ he added before she could
continue arguing the point, ‘and I’ll meet you in an hour.’

Obediently she turned and left him to study her departure.
Seeming to glide across the ground, she walked with all the natural grace of a
professional dancer, moving from the hips with a gentle, almost seductive
sway.

‘If I might be so bold, Major, you’ve gone and caught yourself
a very pretty little woman there. And spirited, too, I’m thinking,’ Ben Carey
opined, emerging from the stable in time to witness his young mistress
disappearing from view between the trees.

And also an exceedingly desirable
one,
Luke reflected, experiencing anew the surprising surge of bitter
disappointment and regret he had felt the night before at her rejection of a
normal relationship between them. Yet he ought not to feel so, he reminded
himself. A union in name only was what he had wanted, after all…wasn’t it?

In truth, initially, he had entered her bedchamber in the hope
of catching the maid in attendance on her mistress still—a ruse, merely, on his
part to convince the staff that all was well and as it should be between master
and mistress. Then suddenly everything had changed. After that initial glance
across at the bed to discover his young bride resting there, a prize that any
red-blooded male would covet, with those lustrous chestnut locks of hers
cascading about her face and shoulders, quite simply something within him had
stirred. And it had been more, he realised now, than mere lust, a desire to
explore the delights concealed beneath the virginal nightdress that had covered
her from neck to toe. Had he been given the least encouragement to join her in
that bed, one thing he would not be doing now was regretting his actions. Quite
the contrary! He would no doubt be looking forward to a future with the young
woman whom he was increasingly feeling would make him the perfect wife and
mother of his children.