Only You (28 page)

“I told you we’d do it my way, Isobel.  Or we won’t do it at all.”

“That’s fine, so long as you
do
it.  I intend to be rid of her in the fastest manner possible, and you need a bride immediately.”

Isobel had known Bernard for twenty years.  She wouldn’t say they loathed one another, but they absolutely understood one another, and they were each greedily driven to get what they wanted. 

She’d craved wealth and status and had always been determined to achieve both.  She’d garnered the wealth by marrying his dolt of a brother, and she’d garnered the status by beginning her affair with Harold Postlewaite, by convincing him to wed Penelope. 

It had worked out splendidly.  Isobel had brought serious money to the table and she still controlled most of it, so Harold was wrapped around her little finger.  He had a pretty wife to bed at night, and Isobel had a beautiful home and a beautiful life with plenty of social standing, and everyone was happy.

Except Theo, but Isobel didn’t care about her.  She moped and staggered about like a phantom, watching Isobel’s every move and complaining about Isobel’s every decision.  Isobel had reached her limit, and Theo had to find a new situation for herself.

As to Bernard, he craved the freedom to be Bernard.  He was a randy, handsome devil, courteous when he had to be, headstrong when he had to be too.  But he had deviant tendencies, mostly involving young men who held an unnatural fascination for him.  It was the reason he’d never wed. 

There had been a particularly nasty incident when he’d been on holiday in Scotland, and Isobel had only barely tamped it down and prevented him from being arrested.  It had cost her an incredible amount to keep it all quiet, but she’d gladly paid the price.

With her establishing herself in London, she couldn’t risk that he might engage in outrageous behavior and her name be attached to it.  Plus, he needed the protection a wife would provide. 

Although Isobel had inherited most of her dead husband’s fortune—she’d been very conniving in persuading him to leave it to her—Bernard had inherited a bit of it too, enough to tide him over for several years.  Yet he had expensive tastes, and he was rapidly running through his funds.

She would add more to the pile so he had an even bigger nest egg, but the bargain they’d struck was that he had to depart England so when his next scandal erupted, no one in her world would ever learn of it.  He had to go—and take Harold’s gorgeous, alluring daughter with him. 

Isobel viewed herself as being exceedingly magnanimous about the entire affair.  Though Theo refused to realize it, Isobel was
helping
her.

“What’s your plan, Bernard?”  Her exasperation was extreme.  She wanted a ring on that girl’s finger!

“She’s still suffering from a broken heart.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!  She was tumbled—once!—by a disreputable cad in Cairo.  She needs to get over it.”

“If Lord Wood pushes her into a betrothal before she’s ready, she’ll never agree to have me.  We’d have to force her.”

“Well,
he
can force her.  She would never defy him.  If she tries, he’ll lock her in an asylum.  After she’s out, we’ll see how insolent she intends to be.”

“I’d rather talk her into it so she’s willing.  You know I can, Isobel.”

“Time is of the essence, Bernard.  I really don’t believe you should tarry in England much longer.”

“The authorities wouldn’t travel all the way from Scotland just to find me.  Besides, you spent plenty to guarantee they didn’t follow me.”

“They haven’t yet, but I don’t suppose it would be too difficult to figure out where you are.  What if that young man’s father decides he’d like more money?”

“I’m not worried about it.  I will court Theo so I can win her friendship and approval.  The minute she seems amenable, I’ll press ahead.”

“But a month, Bernard!  I don’t have to give you the funds I promised.”

“And I don’t have to take that unwanted daughter off your hands.  We’re in this together, Isobel, but you’ll have to permit me to manage the process.”

A muscle ticked in her cheek.  She hated that she wasn’t in charge, that she couldn’t command him.  He’d always been recalcitrant.  It’s why he always landed himself in so much trouble.

“All right,” she grumbled.  “You can court her.  Bring her candy and flowers.  Write poetry about the color of her eyes.  Carve a statue of her for all I care, but get your lazy ass in gear and marry her!  Don’t you dare screw this up.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“If you do, you’ll have to answer to Harold.  He’ll turn you over to the authorities, and I won’t be able to stop him.” 

At the threat, he simply laughed.   “Don’t be melodramatic.  I can’t abide your hysterics.”

“Then for once, don’t be an idiot.”

“I won’t be.  I’m calling on Theo in the morning to escort her to a museum.”

“You?  Touring a museum?”

“Hilarious, isn’t it?”

“Very hilarious.”

“Be sure she’s up and ready, would you?”

“I am ever your servant, Bernard,” she snidely retorted.

“I’m doing you a favor, Isobel.  I have no idea why, but I’m doing it.”

“You’re doing it for money, you thick prick.”

“Yes.  Why are you doing it again?”  His impudent gaze roamed down her perfect torso.  “Oh, that’s right.  You don’t want a beautiful, single female living under the same roof.  People might start to compare the two of you.  Is it true that a woman begins to lose her looks after thirty-five?”

“No.”

“How old are you?”

“Bugger off, you sod.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He winked and sauntered out, whistling as he went. 

She’d have liked to throw a vase at him, but she never would.  Not with all of society watching, and she was so determined for all of them to love her.

She kept her smile firmly in place and walked out to stroll among her guests.

Edna heard a knock
at the door, but she ignored it.  She wasn’t expecting company, and she employed servants to handle menial tasks.

Though she hated to admit it, she detested London and wished she hadn’t come back.  She’d been away for too many years, adventuring with the Colonel in India.  He’d been a larger-than-life character who’d been respected by all, so as his wife she’d been respected too.

There had been camaraderie between the soldiers and their wives, which had generated balls and suppers and musicales.  Summers had had them journeying together into the Himalayas to escape the heat.  Winters had had them down in the flatlands, entertaining and socializing and generally having a grand time.

After the Colonel had passed away, there had been no reason to stay in India, and the army policy was for widows to return home.  She’d left as quickly as she could pack, but nothing about the city appealed to her.  It was rainy, cold, and gray.  The people were snobbish and shut off from each other.

She’d assumed she’d easily assemble a circle of friends, that she’d be as busy as she’d been in India, but it hadn’t transpired.

It was autumn, winter swiftly approaching, so the weather was worse then ever.  The house was quieter than ever.  She still hadn’t made any friends.  No one called on her.  No introductions were sought.  No invitations arrived.  The silence was driving her mad. 

The long, tedious days should have been filled by her children, but those dreams had been dashed.  She didn’t know or understand them and didn’t like them very much.  She had her widow’s benefit and a small trust fund.  Perhaps what she needed was to retire to a pretty coastal town, maybe in Italy or Spain.  She would loaf on the beach as the sun set in a purple sky over the ocean. 

It was such a soothing vision.

She realized she hadn’t been focusing on the papers in front of her.  With their trip to Egypt concluded, she had to enroll Fenton in school, and she had several choices. 

He was demanding to attend his prior school, but the headmaster insisted he wouldn’t be permitted back.  Since it wasn’t an option, she had to decide among others.  There were three excellent boarding schools, but there was also a military cadet academy that offered significant routine and discipline.  Did Fenton require that sort of strong male authority?  She suspected he might.

After Susan had eloped, Edna was initially glad to have her son all to herself, but in reality she couldn’t abide him.  It was a horrid assessment for a mother to reach, but it couldn’t be helped.  Fenton was seriously troubled, and Edna hardly possessed the expertise to correct his problems.

If the Colonel could see the boy, he’d be so embarrassed.

Suddenly, someone was climbing the stairs, and she glanced up as Susan entered the room.  Her aggravation soared.  She had given specific instructions to the servants that her daughter wasn’t to be allowed into the house.

Had she already fled her husband?  Would she already beg for money?

Edna bit down a smirk of triumph, and she swore to herself that—whatever Susan’s request—she wouldn’t gloat.  Nor would she relent.  The idiotic girl had picked Mr. Pinkerton over her own mother, and Edna was delighted to leave her to it.

“Hello Mother.”

“Susan.  Why are you in my home?  You’re not welcome.”

“I’m sure I’m not, but I thought you should know I’m back from Scotland.  I didn’t want you to wonder or worry.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t worried.  You’re intent on forging your own way in the world, with no guidance or assistance from me.  Have at it, Susan, and good luck.  Please go away and don’t pester me again.”

Susan didn’t depart as Edna had commanded.  Apparently, she had something to get off her chest.

“I’ve married Neville Pinkerton.”

“I really don’t care to hear about it.”

“I’m having a baby.”

The news was shocking, and Edna blanched with astonishment.  “A baby!  Well!  I’m certainly aware of how babies are made, and as you’ve just wed, I can’t think it recently occurred.  So it must have been brewing while we were in Egypt.”

“It has been,” Susan admitted.

“I defended you to everyone.  I vouched for your moral character.”

“It appears I have no moral character.”

“No, it appears you don’t,” Edna snapped.  “Despite all evidence to the contrary, you constantly told me there was no relationship between you and Mr. Pinkerton.”

“Yes, I lied to you about it.”

“At least you have the courage to confess to my face.  Now go.”

Susan sighed.  “I understand why you’re angry, but I hope you’ll calm down someday.  We have a very small family, and I hate for us to bicker.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that before you disgraced yourself with Mr. Pinkerton.”

“Yes, but we’re married now, so some of the disgrace has been erased.  There’s a baby coming, Edna.  It will be your only grandchild.  I’d like you to be part of our life.”

“It won’t ever happen,” Edna seethed.

“
Ever
is a long time.”

“Yes, it is,” Edna said.  “I’ll pray that you don’t spend too many years in squalor.  I’ll pray that you can feed and clothe your child and that you don’t wind up on the streets.”

Susan rolled her eyes.  “I’ll keep Theo apprised of our whereabouts.  If you ever change your mind, ask her where we’re living.  Knock on my door, and we’ll be glad to see you.”

“I won’t ever knock,” Edna said with a grim finality.

“As I mentioned, Edna,
ever
is a very long time, and you’re not getting any younger.”

With that snide comment deftly hurtled, Susan spun and left.

Edna was frozen in her seat, listening to her daughter march down the stairs and out of the house.  When she was positive she’d exited, she snuck down the stairs to the main parlor.  She peeked out the drapes, furtively observing as Susan climbed into a rented cab.

There was a handsome blond man with her whom Edna assumed to be Mr. Pinkerton.  Edna had never met him, but he was smiling at Susan with enormous affection.  On witnessing it, she was unaccountably enraged.  She didn’t want Susan to be happy!  She didn’t want Susan to have a husband who adored her!

No, she wanted Susan to rue and regret, wanted her to miss Edna, to yearn for the comfortable life she could have had with Edna.  Yet she looked content with her choice.  Edna was so galled that she whipped away, unable to watch as the disrespectful pair vanished.

She dawdled, tamping down her spurt of temper, when she realized she could hear quarreling from down by the kitchen.  Who would be fighting?

She tiptoed down the hall, and when she peered around the corner, her footman was holding Fenton by his shirt and had him pressed to the wall.  Her housemaid was shaking a finger in Fenton’s face.

“I’ve had it with your mischief, Master Fenton,” she complained.

“Let me go!” he demanded, struggling against the footman’s tight grip.

“We’re all sick of you,” the maid went on, “but this behavior is too egregious, so your mother will have to be informed.  This is the last time we’ll hide it from her.”

“My mother will never believe you over me,” Fenton boasted. 

“We’ll see about that,” the footman threatened.

“I’ll tell her you’re a liar and flirt,” Fenton warned the footman.  “You’ll be turned out without a penny or a reference.”