The Madcap Marriage (32 page)

Minor bequests were simple. Five hundred to Tessa. Smaller sums to other servants. A hundred to her old nurse. It was the rest that gave her pause.

Though her family tree was sparse, Steven and Dudley were not her only relatives. Others included the St. James spinsters – her grandfather’s sisters. That was all she knew about them, for they had backed Steven in the family quarrel that had disinherited Arthur, and now lived on his estate. She feared Steven would confiscate anything she left them, but she made a note to check their circumstances.

Another she’d not met was Alquist’s son, though he had a fine inheritance of his own, so needed no assistance. Then there was Lucas St. James, steward to a Yorkshire squire – or so he’d been the last she’d heard. He was another she must check on. Her father had been conscientious about his role as head of the family. That position was now Steven’s, but he would do nothing to uphold it.

She shook her head, irritated that she kept sidetracking. Her immediate problem was naming her main beneficiary.

Rafe was the expected choice. Yet Alice and his demand for an annulment complicated her decision. As did his similarity to Alex.

Alex was a liar who considered her a credulous widgeon, as every comment during their morning ride had proved. He might also be a fortune hunter – after losing everything to Rafe, he could hardly have recouped on a government salary. And he treated her like a fragile imbecile, becoming irritated if she questioned his assumptions.

He’d always been like that, she realized, though it hadn’t bothered her four years ago. It was she who had changed, replacing drawing room conversation with agricultural discussions, and feminine pursuits with estate management. Her interests were broader, her outlook more serious, her arrogance gone – or so she hoped. In short, she could take care of herself and her dependents without help. But Alex clung to his belief that she remained that silly, conformable miss who had followed him about like a besotted puppy.

She cringed, but the image was apt. Censure and loss had awakened her to the realities of life. Alex’s reactions proved that he, like most gentlemen, did not accept the change, nor did he approve of it.

But Rafe did.

She had been concentrating on all the wrong things, she realized in disgust. Rafe and Alex might seem alike, but while they shared many surface characteristics, underneath they were very different. Rafe had treated her with respect from the beginning, even when he was the worse for wine and thought her a courtesan. Recognizing her competence, he’d allowed her to conduct her business and had taken delight in how she’d handled Formsby.

When she tried to imagine any other man in that role, she shuddered.

Rafe also debated like her equal, conceding when she was right and accepting her apologies when she was wrong. He never used those apologies against her and continued protecting her from Steven despite wanting to end their marriage.

Rafe had more in common with her father than with Alex. Each had overcome a parent’s opposition, struck out on his own, then turned a modest gain into a comfortable fortune. Each showed empathy for victims because he had experienced the condition himself. Each respected anyone with intelligence.

Alex didn’t. Nor would he have made a good husband even four years ago. His precipitous departure had saved her from a ghastly mistake.

She needed a man who accepted her unconventional training, who listened to her ideas, who treated her as a partner rather than a possession.

In short, Rafe.

But he demanded an annulment, said her conscience.

Had he? 

She frowned, trying to remember his exact words. She’d been so shocked that the meeting remained fuzzy. But he’d been surprised at her fury. Had he expected her to leap at the offer?

Now that she thought about it, his behavior was odd. If he truly wanted an annulment, why was he still here?  Remaining at Audley might cost him his life. If he had stayed to pursue justice, then his reputation was as false as Lady Alquist claimed. Or perhaps he cared for her, at least a little. The idea warmed her heart.

You love him.

She cursed, but it was true. Her defenses had been too weak to lock him out, which would explain that dream. The false love had finally been replaced by the true, one that offered greater depth and far more excitement.

Rafe might still leave, she admitted – love could be one-sided. But at least this solved her dilemma. She would bequeath him everything.

Exhaling in a long sigh, she finished the letter and sealed it. Perhaps she was blinding herself, but it was done. If Rafe turned on her, she would accept it. Recognizing her love had showed her how much she needed him. Life would be empty if he left.

If only she’d trusted him earlier. Her nights would not have been as lonely.

Closing her eyes recalled his hands, his taste, his smell, his passion…

Her body tingled with awareness the instant he entered a room. She felt his every glance. His presence could protect or threaten, but it never went unnoticed. She would not let another night pass without him.

Chapter Seventeen

“Set Lady St. James’s personal effects in the blue room for now,” Rafe told Tessa and Rose. “Mrs. Thomas can decide what to do with them later.”

He was supervising the turnout of the master suite, a short wing separated from the rest of the court by an ornate door, with rooms forming a ‘U’ around a private corridor. That no spring cleaning had been done was another black mark against Mrs. Lakes. She had turned out Steven’s suite the moment he left for London, but she’d done nothing to the rest of the house, not even the weekly airing of unused rooms that was necessary to keep mold at bay. No one had entered the master suite since Lady St. James’s burial.

He crossed back to his own chambers. The master’s bedroom must reflect Sir Arthur’s taste, for it was the only room in the Palladian wing with Gothic décor. Screamingly Gothic, as expressed by dark paneling festooned with ornamentation. Its crowning glory – if one liked Gothic – was the fireplace wall of elaborately carved wood. Intricate trees supported and surmounted the mantel. Birds of prey swooped toward rabbits and other small animals cavorting in woods and meadows. Two deer raised their heads, ready to flee. A boar thrust vicious tusks from behind a shrub. The high relief meant viewers had to stand well away to keep from snagging their clothing on legs, wings, antlers…

Portland was watching Vince and Charlie roll up the bedroom carpet. Rafe had insisted on using the pair so he could keep a close eye on them.

“That mattress needs cleaning, too,” Portland was drawling as Rafe entered. “And probably restuffing.”

Charlie glared, but draped it over the carpet roll.

Rafe fanned dust from his face. The breeze from the open windows had not yet dissipated the cloud raised by pulling down the draperies. “We’re making progress, I see.”

“Slowly.” Portland paused until the footmen were gone. “Those two are the poorest workers I’ve ever encountered.”

“Deliberate, I suspect. Have you spotted anyone outside?”  They were keeping one eye on the grounds. The master suite overlooked formal gardens that could not be seen from the stables. Posting sentries during the day might draw unwanted attention.

“No, though I can’t watch every second. The carpet is back in your study, by the way. Where do you want the furniture?”

“I haven’t thought about it.” He led the way through his dressing room.

The study walls were dark green with cream moldings picked out in gold. Beating had uncovered intricate patterns in the red, green, and gold carpet. Low bookcases flanked the fireplace. A decent painting of Audley hung on that wall with a lady’s portrait across from it.

“Lady St. James?” he asked, spotting the resemblance to Helen.

Portland nodded.

Rafe hefted one end of the desk. “Let’s put it there.” He pointed to a spot near the window. None of this was his job, but if he relied on Vince and Charlie, Christmas would arrive before the work was done. Nor could he trust Nalley or Mrs. Lakes to supervise.

Portland lifted the other end. “I owe you an apology, Thomas.”

“What?”  Rafe nearly dropped the desk on his foot.

“You are not the wastrel I thought.”

“My reputation does obscure truth at times.”

“Why?”

He set the desk in place and adjusted its angle. “Two people have worked hard to maintain it – you and Hillcrest. Neither of you looks beyond your own conclusions even when contradictory evidence stares you in the face.”

“You dare compare me to that lunatic?”  Portland’s face darkened. “I just dressed him down for that very fault.”

“What did he do to you?”

“Interfered with my surveillance of a French courier, prolonging the war by allowing campaign strategies to reach Napoleon.”

“That sounds like him. Judge first, and don’t bother asking questions later.”

Portland moved a chair nearer the fireplace. “Maybe I
was
guilty of misjudgment. Losing that card game put me in a bind – my father refused to cover my vowels, sending me to the moneylenders. It took me three years to recover. It was easier to blame you than admit I’d had too much to drink. And watching you squander my funds—”

“Never.” Rafe shoved a marble-topped pier table against the wall. “I invested nearly all of it. The income now exceeds my expenses several times over.”

“My God.” Portland abruptly sat. “Have I misjudged everything then?”

“Probably. I’ve never acted against you despite your continuing slander.”

“Not even Hasley’s?”

Rafe shook his head. “I can’t be sure, since the vote was secret, but that black ball was probably dropped by Sir Thomas Kettering. He’d been muttering against you for days, gifting me with his diatribes since everyone knew we were at odds.”

Portland swore. “I should have known – would have, had I thought about it. I’d bought the town house he’d bid on a week earlier. He hates losing.”

Rafe refrained from another comparison to Hillcrest.

“I’ve been a fool,” admitted Portland. “About everything. Especially Lydia. If she’d gone to anyone but you I wouldn’t have minded, which she undoubtedly knew. Her prattling had become a bore by then, but I was away too often to care. It is like her to scheme to increase her consequence. I never should have taken on an intelligent mistress. They are too much trouble.”

“Yet you claim to love Helen, who is the most intelligent woman I know.”

“Hardly. In any case, she knows her place.”

Rafe stared. But before he could comment, Vince and Charlie returned, stifling personal conversation.

* * * *

Helen summoned Tessa to post her letters in the village, then headed upstairs to talk to Rafe. They needed to discuss the future. Did he want out of this match?  Why had he kissed Alice?  What concessions would keep him by her side, and could she live with them?

She trembled. Love left her more vulnerable than ever. Yet there was little she could do to entice him if he didn’t want to stay. Giving him Audley and her trust might elicit promises, but love that could be bought wasn’t worth a groat. Rafe had to accept her as she was. If he couldn’t, then seeking that annulment was their only course.

She mounted the stairs, then halted when someone rapped loudly on the front door.

“What now?” she muttered, turning around. It wasn’t proper for the lady of the house to answer the door, but she didn’t trust Nalley.

What if it’s Steven?

She paused. Between them, Steven and Nalley could easily overpower her. Rafe and Alex were too far away to hear her screams. Would Steven abduct her while others eliminated Rafe?

Nalley’s voice banished that fear. “Mr. Thomas is not at home.”

“Nonsense!”  Helen rushed down the stairs.

Nalley whirled so fast he nearly fell. “Mrs. T-Thomas.”

“It is not your place to decide whether we are receiving,” she said coldly, then turned to the groom seeking entrance. A crested carriage stood in the drive. “Who is calling?” 

“Lord Hillcrest, ma’am,” he said stiffly.

A curse nearly fell from her lips. What was Hillcrest doing here?  Had he found a way to dissolve her marriage?  Maybe he was unbalanced enough to arrest Rafe for killing Pauling.

Ridiculous
, she reminded herself. Reining in her imagination, she smiled. Whatever Hillcrest’s purpose, he was here. Which gave her an opportunity to soften his antagonism. She would not repeat his lack of courtesy. “We are delighted to receive his lordship.”

Her smile disappeared the moment the groom turned away.

“Frank, show Lord Hillcrest to the library.” The footman was standing behind the statue of Apollo. “Order refreshments, then tell Mrs. Lakes to prepare a bedchamber. Nalley, come with me.” She stepped into the dining room.

The confrontation was short and nasty, but she felt lighter as she headed upstairs. One problem gone.

Hillcrest’s arrival would postpone any discussion, though. Rafe was every bit as stubborn as his father. If she summoned him to the library, he would likely refuse. So she must personally convince him to meet Hillcrest – and do it without letting Alex or the servants overhear.

Rafe was installing a bolt on her bedroom door, while Alex worked on the bathing room. It was a crude measure but would prevent anyone from slipping in at night. The master suite’s internal doors had no locks.

“Did you post your letters?” asked Rafe.

She nodded. “Let Alex finish that. We need to talk.”

Rafe raised a brow, but set down his tools and followed her to his study.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded once the door was shut. “Do you want me gone now that you are seeking an annulment?”

“I will
not
seek an annulment,” she snapped, then reined in her temper before she could demand whether he would. An argument would make it harder to gain his consent to see Hillcrest. “I turned off Nalley.”

He frowned. “I thought we agreed to wa—”  He ran his fingers through his hair. “Why?”

“He refuses to obey orders, delights in irritating us, and threatens any servants who serve us. But the last straw was again denying entrance to a caller. There’s no telling how many others he might have turned away.”