A Marriageable Miss (18 page)

‘And, if I’m any judge,’ he added bracingly, ‘we’ll be waving you off on your honeymoon trip before that grandfather clock in the hall strikes three.’

‘Not going on a honeymoon trip, as it happens,’ said Richard, with a dismissive shake of his head. ‘It’s true that Wheatley was keen to send us off on an extended tour of the capitals of Europe, but since one of my brood mares is about to foal any day now, I decided that she’s far too valuable to leave to Grimthorpe to cope with on his own.’

‘Not even going off for a few days?’ asked Braithwaite, in surprise.

‘Later on, maybe,’ replied the earl, colouring slightly. ‘When things have settled down a bit.’

For a brief moment, neither of his friends could think of a suitable response to this rather enigmatic remark.

Then, eventually, ‘Well, I’d say that you’ve got yourself a real corker of a wife there, if you don’t mind me using that expression!’ offered Fairfax hurriedly. ‘Added to which, it would seem that your money problems are well and truly at an end. Not a bad day’s work, when all’s said and done!’

‘True enough,’ returned Richard, somewhat non-committedly for, despite the closeness and long duration of their acquaintanceship, he had an uncomfortable feeling that his two friends would be less than pleased to learn that he had turned down all of Wheatley’s various monetary offers. As a matter of fact, he had made a point of ensuring that every penny of the not inconsiderable dowry that her father had insisted on bestowing upon Helena should be instantly transferred into her own private account at the Thomas Coutts banking facility in the Strand. Luckily, the date of the wedding had happened to coincide with one of his estate’s quarterly rent days, temporarily furnishing the earl with sufficient funds to meet his current expenses, albeit that his hasty withdrawal of this providential input had also meant
setting back the late spring planting by some, as yet, indeterminate period!

To Richard’s relief, however, his friend’s speculation that the gathering was starting to draw to a close seemed to be proving to be the case as, one by one, a varied assortment of dignitaries and their wives drifted over to offer the earl their good wishes and bid him farewell. As the crowd around his wife gradually thinned, the earl, not entirely sure of the welcome he would receive from her, took a deep breath and strode across the room to stand at her side.

‘It all seems to have gone pretty well, wouldn’t you say?’ he ventured, as he tried, without success, to catch her eye.

Helena’s response was hardly encouraging. ‘Highly impressive, my lord,’ she said, in the tone of voice she might have used to speak to a total stranger. ‘Lady Isobel is to be congratulated on her outstanding organisational skills.’

Privately, she was of the opinion that the whole affair—lavishly funded by her father, of course—had been a long and arduous drag from start to finish. Having spent the past half-hour or so trying to fend off several breathtakingly explicit suggestions from a number of the so-called gentlemen present, she had been left wondering what on earth she had let herself in for by marrying into the so-called
beau monde
. How these people could prose on about their ‘standards of behaviour’ and ‘codes of honour’ whilst, at the same time, conducting their lifestyles in such an appalling manner, was quite beyond her understanding. Little wonder that her mother had renounced her own noble connections in favour of a lesser but far more satisfying life in the lower echelons of society! If only her father had been well enough to share her concerns, Helena felt sure that he would never have allowed this sham of a marriage to have taken place. As it was, Rachel Cummings’s attendance at the church had made it quite clear to her that Markfield, with the better part of her father’s money now at his disposal, had no intention of altering his way of life simply to accommodate any eccentric whims and fancies in which his new wife might choose to indulge herself!

Biting back the sigh that threatened, she stole a quick sideways
look at her new husband, who was now engaged in a serious conversation with her father and Lady Isobel.
If only I didn’t feel so drawn to him
, she thought forlornly, as she endeavoured to return her attention to the ongoing business of bidding the last of the guests farewell.
He has made it quite clear that he doesn’t love me, it is true, but I had hoped that, given time, some sort of mutual understanding might have developed between the two of us.

‘Time for us to leave, my dear.’

Startled out of her reverie, Helena was unable to prevent a momentary start at the unexpected touch of his hand at her elbow. A swift glance at her husband’s rigid countenance, however, was more than enough to inform her that he had registered the recoil and had mistakenly assumed the worst. Biting down hard on her lip, she did her best to suppress the sudden pricking of tears that this painful realisation brought about.

‘There, there, my pretty,’ came her father’s voice at her side. ‘No need for tears. As soon as you have had time to settle in to your new home, Lottie and I will be straight down to visit you, just you wait and see!’

‘Oh, Papa!’ she cried, as she flung her arms around him and hugged him tightly. ‘Just promise me that you will look after yourself—keep off the port and follow Doctor Redfern’s advice—don’t forget to take your medication—Lottie has all the instructions, so she can easily…’

Unable to carry on, her voice broke and the carefully restrained tears were at last allowed to flow unchecked. The somewhat dismayed Wheatley, having tentatively patted his weeping daughter on the back for several minutes, during which there was no appreciable lessening of the outburst, then cast a pleading glance in the earl’s direction, as though asking him for guidance. Richard, who, with a pensive frown on his face, had been watching the whole sorry drama unfold before him, stepped quickly forwards and, gently extricating Helena from her father’s grasp, wrapped his own arms about her and holding her firmly against his chest, murmured, ‘Hush now, my sweet. Everything is going to be just fine, I promise you.’

The sudden shock of finding herself in Markfield’s arms brought Helena’s outburst to a shuddering halt and, as she gradually became aware of the warmth and strength emanating from him, the oddest sensations began to ripple through her body, causing her to pull away from him in mortified confusion.

‘Oh, dear! What must you all think of me!’ she gasped, as she frantically attempted to wipe away the remains of the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. ‘Your handkerchief, if you please, Papa?’

But Richard, having pulled out the white silk kerchief that adorned the breast pocket of his jacket, had already anticipated her need.

‘Allow me,’ he said softly and, before Helena could summon up the wits to realise his intention, he had cupped her chin in his hand and had started to dab away at her damp and now rather highly flushed cheeks with the silken square.

‘Perfect!’ he then said as, thrusting the handkerchief carelessly back into its place, he gazed steadily down into her eyes. ‘Like violets in the rain,’ he whispered, before taking her unresisting hand in his and lifting it to his lips.

Markfield’s inexplicably sensuous actions having had the effect of increasing her mental agitation still further, Helena’s final ‘goodbyes’ to her father and Lottie were completed in something of a daze and, even after the earl had handed her up into his recently refurbished chariot and the coachman had whipped up the horses to set them on their journey, her mind seemed to be in no less of a turmoil.

That she had allowed herself to fall head over heels in love with the man who sat lounging on the seat beside her there was very little doubt. That another woman was mistress of that man’s heart was equally indisputable. Unfortunately, since she had no idea how to deal with either one of these unsatisfactory states of affairs, it would seem that she had been presented with the most insoluble problem of all.

A
lthough he could hardly help but be aware that, seated as they were in the intimate confines of a closed carriage, a more favourable opportunity to question Helena as to her inexplicable behaviour following the marriage ceremony was unlikely to present itself, Richard was not entirely sure how best to broach the troublesome matter. Since his brain had already begun to conjure up far more pleasant ways in which he and his bride might while away the next couple of hours, he could not bring himself to say anything that might damage their already fragile relationship.

‘I trust that you won’t find the journey too demanding, my dear,’ he ventured instead. ‘It’s just a little over sixteen miles—two hours at most, I would hazard.’

‘I dare say I shall cope,’ she replied, somewhat indifferently, appearing to be rather more interested in concentrating her attention on removing the many rice grains that had lodged themselves in the trimmings of her skirt. ‘May I ask where it is we are heading?’

Somewhat taken aback, he shot her a look of pure astonishment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Well, I know that Papa was rather disappointed that you had refused his offer of a tour of the European capitals,’ she said. ‘Since then, however, no one has seen fit to inform me of any alternative arrangements that you might have made.’

‘Good Lord!’

Clapping a hand to his forehead, Richard stared at her in dismay. ‘Doubtless you are thinking that this is yet another example of my high-and-mighty arrogance!’ he observed sardonically.

‘High-handed!’ she returned at once, doing her best to conceal the smile that had leapt, unbidden, to her lips. ‘I said “high-handed”, not “high-and-mighty”.’

‘Much the same thing, I should have thought,’ he replied, with a disconsolate shrug.

‘Not at all! ‘’ protested Helena. ‘“High-handed” implies imposing one’s will over other people, while “high-and-mighty” merely suggests an excess of haughtiness.’

‘I see,’ said Richard, after a brief pause. ‘And of which of these two admirable traits do I stand accused?’

Helena’s brow creased in a troubled frown, for she could not help feeling that any further perusal of this particular subject matter might well do more harm than good. ‘Well, if you really must have it,’ she proceeded, somewhat hesitantly, ‘both of them, I suppose.’

But then, as she caught sight of his utterly dashed expression, she at once wished the words unsaid. Despite all the pain that Richard had caused her, she loved him too much to seek to damage his self-esteem.

An awkward silence followed until the earl, uttering a slightly self-deprecating half-laugh, eventually riposted, ‘Hoist by my own petard, by George!’

‘Well, you
did
ask,’ she felt obliged to point out. ‘However, if I may now revert to the subject of our original conversation, I would remind you that you have still not acquainted me with our intended destination.’

Face to face with his new bride in the secluded confines of a swiftly moving carriage, Richard found himself having to concede that his recent concerns over the fate of his brood mare now seemed rather inconsequential when set against the broader canvas of a non-existent honeymoon trip.

Racking his brains for a plausible answer, he replied, ‘Well, it
did occur to me that a short respite from all the hustle-bustle of the last few days might not go amiss, before we make up our minds where we eventually want to go.’ Then, improvising hurriedly, he added, ‘I thought it might be useful to spend some time at Westpark House—in view of any possible alterations or redecorating…’

Conscious that Helena was now eyeing him with an expression that could only be described as bordering on utter disbelief, he swallowed hurriedly and his voice ground to a halt.

‘I fear that I am obliged to admit that I haven’t actually arranged a trip of any sort,’ he acknowledged finally. And then, swivelling to face her, he reached out and grasped hold of her hand. ‘I really must beg your forgiveness, my dear. I realise that I should to have given such an important matter rather more consideration than I appear to have done!’

At the earl’s sudden and unexpected possession of her hand, Helena was forced to take in a deep breath, in an endeavour to counteract the rapid pounding of her heart. ‘It is really of very little consequence,’ she returned shakily but then, gathering courage, she tentatively squeezed his fingers and offered him a supportive smile. ‘I dare say you have had many more important things to attend to.’

As their eyes locked, Richard felt a powerful tremor run through him. Struggling to regain his breath, his lips twisted in a brief smile. ‘I confess it did rather seem so at the time,’ he said, shaking his head slowly as he gazed down at her. ‘But now, I am not nearly so sure.’

Unable to make sense of the unfathomable expression in his eyes, Helena’s mind was barely able to function and, even though every single one of her instincts was screaming at her to draw back while she still had the chance, all rational thought seemed to have vanished into oblivion as a rapidly spiralling passion suddenly erupted from somewhere deep within her soul. Powerless to tear her eyes away from his, she could only gaze at him in breathless wonderment, her lips parted in quivering anticipation.

As he inhaled a trembling breath, Richard gazed down at her and could feel himself being drawn, slowly but inexorably, into
the boundless blue depths of her breathtakingly captivating eyes. Completely beyond salvation, he let out an inarticulate moan and, reaching out, he pulled her towards him.

‘Time for that thwarted kiss, I believe,’ he whispered huskily as, wrapping his arms around her, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his own.

Hardly daring to breathe, as delicious quivers of ecstasy pervaded every inch of her body, Helena returned the kiss with every fibre of her being. Even though her heart was dangerously out of control, it seemed to her that, in that single euphoric moment, even the wildest of her dreams had become an instant reality. Sliding her hands across his chest and over his shoulders, she caressed the short hairs at the back of his neck, pressing herself tightly against him, in a feverish attempt to draw him still closer. At her unexpected intensifying of the kiss, a shuddering jolt ran through the earl and, with a strangled groan, he drew back, but only to begin a slow sensuous nibbling of her neck and earlobe, causing Helena’s delight to escalate to even more dizzying heights. All at once, his hands were in her hair, sliding out her hairpins and laying waste to her carefully constructed coiffure. Allowing her head to fall back, she closed her eyes in dreamy wonder, as she felt Markfield’s long, sensitive fingers ravaging through the tumbling curls, impatiently grappling with the fixtures of her pearl-studded coronet…

Suddenly, like an icy blast, reality hit her as her mind’s eye was once again confronted with the unprepossessing vision of that other bejewelled headdress and, beneath its triumphantly waving feather, the self-satisfied smirk of her husband’s lover!

Wrenching herself out of his hold, she scrambled as far away from him as far as the limited confines of the carriage would allow.

‘This was not part of the agreement!’ she panted, as the horribly vivid image continued to taunt her consciousness. ‘I will
not
play second fiddle to that brazen-faced trollop!’

The abrupt curtailment of his amatory advances had the effect of leaving the thoroughly shocked Richard not only gasping for breath but also in a high state of arousal, a situation with which
he was having the devil’s own job trying to come to terms. One minute it had seemed as though every one of his hopes and desires were about to be granted at a single stroke and the next…

‘Trollop?’ he echoed, when his brain had at last recovered sufficiently to make sense of her words. ‘What in God’s name are you talking about?’

‘You know quite well what I’m talking about!’ she flung back at him, as she shakily strove to repair the damage to her coiffure. ‘Your sainted mistress—that’s who! The female
you
invited to watch you getting shackled to the wealthy cit’s idiot of a daughter! What a very amusing experience that must have been for the pair of you!’

He blanched. ‘Are you referring to Lady Cummings?’ he asked, in astonishment.

‘Well, she was the only one of your paramours that I actually recognised!’ retorted Helena, with a defiant glare. ‘I dare say that there could well have been an entire harem of your floozies there, for all I was aware!’

Despite the undoubted gravity of the situation in which he now found himself, Richard was unable to prevent the almost involuntary smile that flitted across his face as he strove to conjure up such an unlikely assembly. Was it possible that Helena could be displaying symptoms of jealousy? he wondered, a sudden hope leaping within him. But then, as he looked across and studied her clenched hands and downcast expression, he collected himself and reasoned that, whilst it might have flattered his vanity to assume such an implausible state of affairs, the more probable cause of Helena’s angry outpourings was too many sleepless nights. Having suffered from more than enough of those of late himself, he was well aware of the distinctly anomalous effect they could have on one’s mental processes—to which his somewhat over-eager conduct of a few minutes ago could well lay testament!

Shaking his head, he reached across and tried to separate her tightly entwined fingers. ‘You can’t possibly believe that even I would stoop so far as to invite an ex-paramour to attend my wedding,’ he attempted to cajole her. ‘If my memory serves me
aright, it’s barely fifteen minutes since I was striving to come to terms with the fact that you think me “high-handed”! Surely it’s not possible for me to be “low-handed”, as well?’

‘Very droll, my lord!’ she retorted, doing her best to shrug off his very determined advances. ‘But it still doesn’t explain the lady’s presence!’

‘Well, I assure you that she wasn’t there at my request,’ asserted Richard briskly. ‘
I
didn’t see her, I can promise you that.’

‘I’d say that she was pretty hard to miss, given the ghastly feathered concoction that she had stuck on her head!’ returned Helena, with a defiant toss of her head.

‘Very possibly,’ acknowledged the earl with a triumphant grin, having finally succeeded in capturing hold of one of her hands. ‘But then, you see, I had eyes for no one but my beautiful bride.’

Helena bit her lip in confusion, an embarrassed flush clothing her cheeks. ‘But, somebody must have invited her,’ she persisted, refusing to look at him.

‘Not necessarily—a wedding is a public ceremony, after all—and churches are supposed to be open to all and sundry.’

‘Especially “sundry”, it would seem,’ she returned, bristling.

His ensuing shout of laughter brought a swift, if albeit reluctant, smile to her face.

Still chuckling, he lifted her unresisting fingers and pressed them against his lips. ‘Try to put it out of your mind, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I give you my word of honour that I have neither seen nor spoken to Lady Cummings since the evening of the Kettlesham rout.’

Helena wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Then you must think me the most awful gudgeon for having behaved in such a very foolish manner,’ she said, in a small voice.

His eyes softened and, draping an arm across her shoulder, he drew her gently towards him. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he whispered, ‘it so happens that I think that you’re the sweetest, most adorable wife any man could possibly wish for!’

Her heart soared with elation. Could it be possible that everything was going to work out for the best, after all? she wondered
hopefully. Whilst it was true that he had not actually mentioned the word ‘love’, it was beginning to seem that Markfield did, in fact, hold her in some sort of affection and—if his recent performance was anything to go by—he was certainly desirous of her! But then, as she recalled her own, rather wanton, behaviour on that occasion, a rosy blush crept over her cheeks. It was difficult for her to understand how a simple kiss could have the power to create such inner turbulence—not that there had been anything remotely commonplace about
that
particular kiss—at least from her point of view! Even the thought of it was enough to send her pulse rocketing skywards and leave her fighting for breath—brought about by her decidedly limited experience in such matters, she supposed glumly. She doubted that Markfield had been similarly affected. Given his greater age and likely wealth of experience, she thought it probable that he had had more than enough time to hone his rather breathtaking technique! But then, as she recalled the several somewhat oblique references to the ‘joys of marriage’ that she had heard whispered of late, she found that she did not care to dwell too long on her husband’s past history.

Just as long as he has truly disentangled himself from the clutches of that beastly Cummings woman
, she told herself firmly, she was certain that she would be able to learn to cope with whatever unusual demands he might choose to make on her. The very fact that both her mother and her Aunt Daniels had managed to survive such onslaughts—rather frequently, in her aunt’s case, given the number of offspring she had produced—had led her to suppose that the whole business must depend upon the relative nature of the man concerned, and it was hardly fair to compare gentlemen of either her father’s or Markfield’s ilk to such creatures as the contemptible Viscount Barrington, or the foulmouthed ruffians who took their pleasure from poor Bet and Cissie and their like.

Nevertheless, as the carriage ate up the miles towards their destination, she found it increasingly impossible to ignore the growing knot of apprehension that had lodged itself in her throat, for it was fast becoming clear that, whatever the truth of the
matter, she would very soon find herself fully acquainted with it, and her nervousness regarding the unknown prospect that lay ahead was sufficient to cause more than just a flutter of uneasiness within her breast!