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Authors: Sandra Heath

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BOOK: The Makeshift Marriage
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“Then why should you be?”

She smiled. “No adequate reason, I suppose. I think I am merely of a cowardly disposition.”

“As we all are, Laura. The trick is in masking the fact.” He smiled then. “Present a confident face to the world and it will not succeed in harming you.”

“Is that your philosophy?”

“One of them.”

“How many do you have?”

“Enough to suit each situation.”

“How very enterprising.”

He picked up his glass. “It is strange you should apply that word to me, for it is the same one used by my friend in America.”

“You have decided to go there?”

He shrugged slightly. “Possibly. There are pros and cons. However, I do not need to decide that just yet. I must await another letter from New York and then I will know exactly when he would like me to go there. Until then I shall remain undecided
—one day remaining in this green and pleasant land, the next determined to go to the land of fortune.”

“If you go, America’s gain will certainly be England’s loss, Daniel.”

He lowered his eyes to his glass. She was the only reason he was undecided, for while there was a chance of taking her from Nicholas, then nothing on earth would make Daniel Tregarron leave England…
.

She gave a short laugh. “So, we both expect to leave here soon then, for one reason or another.”

“Come with me,” he said lightly. “Be
my
companion instead of some doddering old dowager’s.”

“What a very improper suggestion.”

“It was a thought. Improper
—but exceeding agreeable.” He smiled at her. She thought he teased, but he meant every word.

Hawkins returned to the room. “My lady, Mr. Dodswell has returned.”

She could hear her own heartbeats.
Please let it be good news

.
“Show him in, Hawkins.”

“Very well, my lady.”

To her relief there was a smile on the agent’s travel-worn face, and she knew that everything had indeed gone as planned. His coat was mud-spattered and soaked through by the rain, and his boots left a damp mark on the carpet as the moisture trickled down. Droplets of water dripped as he removed his hat and gloves.

“Forgive my odious state, my lady, but I thought you would wish to hear my news as quickly as possible.”

“I do indeed.”

“The jewels fetched the necessary sum. Flaxton’s made no protest about the price asked, and I was saved from having to ride back to Taunton as the duns were having me followed. One of Peterson’s fellows was waiting for me outside Flaxton’s, would you believe! He relieved me of the sum owed, and gave me a receipt.” He put a piece of grubby paper on the table.

“Nicholas is free of them?”

“He is, Lady Grenville.”

She exhaled slowly. “Thank God,” she whispered.

“I have something else to tell you, my lady, a happy coincidence which I believe will be of interest. I lodged last night at the White Hart on the Bath road, and I shared a table with a certain young Scottish gentleman, a Mr. Alistair McDonald, who by good fortune happened to be a surveyor and engineer. He had until recently been assisting the eminent engineer Sir John Rennie in a scheme to drain part of the Fenlands in Cambridgeshire. He knew a great deal about the drainage of such marshy places, and so I took the liberty of requesting him to come to King’s Cliff to give his opinion of what might be done here. I realize that I overstepped my authority, but it seemed too good an opportunity to let pass.”

“When is he coming?”

“As soon as he can. He has several other minor matters to attend to first.”

She looked at Daniel. “It is so sudden
—”

“Don’t bite off more than you can chew, Laura,” he warned.

She laughed a little. “I shall not be going out personally with my spade to dig drains, Daniel.”

“Possibly not, but you will still be taking on responsibility.”

“No one is forcing me against my will.”

He said nothing more.

She looked at the agent. “Please sit down and take some wine.”

“No, my lady, if I sit down, you will never get me up again. But I thank you, all the same.”

“You have done very well, and I will be most interested to meet Mr
.
McDonald.”

“He is a very shrewd young man and I believe you will be able to rely on his opinion.”

“As I can rely on yours?”

“I trust so.”

“Then what would you say if I told you that I have decided to conduct the sale of the hounds, the land, and everything else through Christie’s?”

The agent nodded. “I would say that that is a capital idea, my lady.”

“Good. Then when you have recovered from your exertions in Bath, will you please communicate with them and make the necessary arrangements?”

“So soon?” He seemed taken aback.

“What reason is there to delay?” She smiled. “You still have reservations because I am a woman, don’t you?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “King’s Cliff is a very large estate, Lady Grenville, and you have no experience
—”

“But you have, sir, and I shall be relying upon your help.”

“You may call upon me in whatever way you wish, my lady.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dodswell. You will write to Christie’s then?”

“I will, and I will inform you the moment I hear from them. And now, with your permission, I would dearly like to return to the farm.”

“Of course. And thank you again, sir.”

“For you and Sir Nicholas, my lady, I would attempt to move heaven and earth.”

She smiled. “I don’t know about heaven, Mr. Dodswell, but I sincerely hope you will shortly move a little earth, to say nothing of a good few pairs of hounds, and sundry other items.”

* * *

She did not disturb Nicholas, but stood for a moment by the bed looking down at him as he slept. Even when his health was brought so low, he was still very handsome, and so very arresting with his pale, clear complexion and golden hair. She touched his hair now, her fingertips so gentle that he felt nothing. She became aware of Augustine’s portrait at the bedside, and slowly she removed her hand.

The wind howled eerily across the park, flinging rain against the window, and she crossed the room to look out. A draught moved through the house, making the solitary candle in the room sway a little. Shadows loomed over the pale gray walls and the gilded plasterwork glowed momentarily before the light settled into an arc which fell across the bed. Laura’s reflection was broken by the rain, and her distorted face was that of a stranger seen in a nightmare.

She glanced back at Augustine’s portrait. She had spoken bravely enough to Daniel about not fearing to face her opponents now, but inside she was not at all confident. She had right on her side, but employing it successfully was another matter. And right would not keep her marriage intact, it would not win Nicholas’s heart, and it would not bring happiness.

He stirred a little then and she went to him. He heard the movement and opened his eyes. “Augustine?”

She stepped into the arc of light. “No, it’s only me.”

“Only you?” He smiled a little. “My poor Laura, have I been so neglectful a husband that you feel like that?”

“How are you feeling?”

“There is not so much pain.”

“You have Daniel to thank.”

“I know. I know too how much agony I have been saved by his interest in sweet vitriol.” He paused, remembering other things. “I have seen field operations during battle; I know only too well what it could have been like.”

“You will soon be well. Nicholas, I have good news for you. The jewels have been disposed of and so has the danger from the moneylender.”

“It went well?”

She nodded.

“For which I have you to thank.”

“I did nothing.”

“That is not true. Laura, there are things that must soon be said between us.”

“Yes.” Her voice was very small. Please don’t say it, please don’t tell me now…
.

He watched her for a moment. “Has Augustine returned?”

“No.”

“I must see her first.”

“I will see that she is told when she returns.”

“Laura, I want to tell you
—”

“You must rest,” she said quickly. “You need all the rest you can get. I only came to tell you Mr. Dodswell’s news.” She backed away from the bed. If she wasn’t in the room, then he couldn’t say it; he couldn’t destroy the little dreamworld she sought so desperately to cling to.

When she had gone, he thought he could still smell her perfume. So sweet a perfume.

 

Chapter 25

 

Daniel had departed the next morning when Augustine and her mother returned, their carnage arriving simultaneously with that of James Grenville, a coincidence which strongly suggested that they had been together while away.

Laura waited in the red saloon. She had left instructions with Hawkins that Augustine and her mother were to be informed that she wished to see them as soon as they returned, and if the earl was with them, so much the better, for Laura could get the confrontation over with in one fell swoop. She felt strangely collected and calm, her hands not shaking at all as she clasped them before her. She could hear their voices now, and the stunned, disbelieving silence as Hawkins duly delivered his message.

“Lady Grenville requests your presence in the red saloon.”

The earl demanded an explanation for such impudence, and was informed that Lady Grenville was the mistress of the house.

Her heart began to beat a little more swiftly as they began to come up the staircase, the earl muttering furiously, the two women whispering together. Laura swallowed, her chin raised just a little as the doors were flung open to admit the bristling figure of James Grenville. He was followed more sedately by Augustine and her mother. Augustine looked exquisite in mauve velvet and white muslin, and the tall feathers in her little beaver hat streamed proudly as she walked. There was a mocking smile curving her lips and it was obvious that she expected the earl to dispose of Laura in a matter of moments.

James Grenville halted before Laura, his hands on his hips, his jaw jutting out truculently. “How
dare
you leave orders for me, madam!”

“I have every right to request something of someone who is in my house, sir.”


I
am master here while Nicholas is
—”

“I must correct you, sir. You are not master here, for Nicholas has given me power of attorney to act for him. You have no rights here, which I am at pains to point out
—just as you once did to me, only I believe that I am being a little more polite about it.”

“What damned nonsense is this?” he growled, his face pinched with anger and an expression in his eyes that told her he would dearly like to strike the smile from her lips.

“It
isn’t nonsense, sir; it is a legal and indisputable fact that my word is a command here now, not yours.”

Augustine no longer looked quite so sure of herself and she glanced at her mother. Something in Laura’s attitude suggested that she was not bluffing. Slowly Augustine teased off her dainty white gloves. “So, my
lady,”
she taunted, “once again you have tricked Nicholas into something foolish.”

“It is no trick; Nicholas was perfectly aware of what he did.”

“As he was when he married you?” The scorn was not disguised.

“He was hardly unaware.”

“I will go to him immediately
—”

“Do so, by all means, but you will find that everything I say is true.”

Augustine’s green eyes darkened. “He would not trust
you
with anything as vital as this!”

“Go to him then,” said Laura smoothly. “No doubt you are anxious to hurry to his side anyway.” She could not resist this last pinprick, and was gratified to see the uneasiness in Augustine’s manner as she glanced swiftly at James Grenville. His whole body stiffened as he waited for her reaction.

Augustine turned to her mother. “Mama, will you go to see Nicholas for us?”

Mrs. Townsend nodded, gathering her cumbersome brocade skirts and sweeping from the room.

The moments passed silently, as if on leaden feet, as they waited. Augustine’s eyes glittered with hatred as she looked at Laura, a fact Laura pretended to be unaware of. At last they heard Mrs. Townsend returning.

Her face was pale as she appeared in the doorway. “He confirms what she says,” she said. “He has given her power of attorney.”

Augustine turned in amazement. “He wouldn’t!” she cried.

“He is most definite, Augustine.”

A vein throbbed at James Grenville’s temple, and his face went pale and then dark again. He was impotent, and he knew it, but still he would not accept until Laura’s claim was backed by more than words. “I demand to see proof,” he snapped, “absolute proof.”

She placed the parchment on the table before him and he almost snatched it up. “I warn you,” she said, “that that is but one of two identical copies.”
And may God forgive me for my lie

.

Augustine came to read the document with him. “Tregarron! And that fool Dodswell!” she cried. “I might have known!”

James Grenville lowered the document at last. “You have been very clever, madam, for this gives you carte blanche, does it not?”

“You certainly do not have such powers here anymore.”

“For the moment.”

“Before you leave I have something to impart to you.”

“I leave in my own good time.”

“You will leave directly I have finished speaking to you.” She held his gaze, and he said nothing more. “I wish to inform you,” she went on then, “that I am about to implement Nicholas’s own plans for his house and estate. Those plans include the selling of the hounds, the
—”

“No!” cried Augustine. “No!”

“The selling of the hounds, the shedding of much unwanted land, and the eventual draining of King’s Cliff Moor to provide farming land.”

“It’s damned madness,” spluttered the earl. “Damned lunacy!”

“It is exactly the opposite, given the circumstances pertaining here at this time. What madness there has been has been of your doing, sir, and of Miss Townsend and her mother’s. Oh, and that reminds me…. Miss Townsend, about those invitations and plans you have set your heart on
—I am afraid that as I warned you, they cannot possibly be contemplated. I have issued orders that everything is to be canceled.”

BOOK: The Makeshift Marriage
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