A Perilous Marriage (5 page)

“Naturally, I shall say no. Fortunately, this will meet with Lucie’s wishes. She detests him and will not argue with the plans I have made to remove to London for the season. The trouble is, I have left things too long, but I have loved the child dearly and did not want to part with her. However, I must guard her interests in spite of the fact I am getting old—far too old to take on the rigours of a London Season. The very thought appals me, yet I need to see her settled before I meet my maker. She is a wealthy heiress, and the estate is not entailed. She will inherit everything I leave which does not give me a scrap of comfort as she will be besieged the moment the ton realises I am looking for a bridegroom for her. Tasker’s proposal might have provided an answer to the problem of removing to the city. A selfish thought on my part until your news has made indulging it totally out of the question. There is no way I would condemn Lucie to a marriage with Tasker. The problem is, what should I do now, Richard? Continue with my plans for London or what?”

He was about to reply when a knock at the door heralded Rowten. “I’m sorry to interrupt, your Grace, but Lord Tasker has arrived and wishes to speak with you again. Unfortunately, Thomas—the young footman I am training—answered the door instead and allowed his lordship to know you were at home and you would perhaps see him.”

Eleanor humphed and rose to her feet. “Very well, I suppose I’d better see him and get the matter settled. He’s in the drawing room, Rowten?” The butler nodded. “Wait here, Richard, I won’t be long. I shall put an end to his request to court Lucie. Fortunately, I have the authority to do so.”

Chapter Four

Leaning on her stick, Eleanor made her way to the drawing room, her mind working busily at what she would say. Advancing into the room beautifully decorated in shades of azure and pale pink as her butler opened the door for her, she only nodded towards the man without saying anything as Tasker bowed to her. Going to a cushioned chaise, she laid her stick to one side and sat down. Taking her time, she carefully arranged her skirts before looking up and gesturing to Tasker to sit opposite.

“Lord Tasker, this is an unexpected pleasure, how can I help you?”

Clearly irritated with her regal air and that she’d deliberately kept him standing before allowing him to sit. Tasker pursed his lips and frowned. “This is the third time I have called to see you, so it seems I am lucky to find you available. I am eager, as you probably guess, to know your intentions regarding your granddaughter and my offer. I have given the matter a great deal of thought as she is much younger than I, but I feel I can make a good marriage with her.”

The countess gazed intently at the man, wondering how, with all her experience of people and their devious ways, she had previously missed the hard glint in his eyes or the way his fists had momentarily clenched as he spoke. He did not like dealing with a woman. His attitude made that plain. However, he had no other option but to deal with her, aging and female though she was. Her wishes regarding her granddaughter were paramount. Had she been Lucie’s father, he would have felt far more comfortable being able to deal with a man. But, like it or not, the duchess was the one facing him, and it was her he would have to transact business with.

“Lady Lucie is dear to my heart, and I have viewed her future with regard to her wishes in the matter as well as my own. I gave your proposal much thought, my lord, and, like you, regarded the difference in age. Whilst your proposal had merit, the difference must be addressed. It was not necessarily insurmountable, but in this case, together with other factors, I found it did not suit either of us or recent plans I have previously set in motion before we came to dinner with you. I regret the delay in informing you, but I have been busy with important matters to do with my estate which always take precedence. For that reason, I’m sorry, Lord Tasker, but I do not give you leave to court my granddaughter. Neither of us finds it appropriate.”

To her surprise, he stood at once, as though expecting her answer, and chuckled. “Oh well,” he said. “Faint heart never won fair lady. Who knows, maybe circumstances will change and you will be more receptive of my suit when I ask you again, as I undoubtedly will. If I set my heart on something, I invariably win, be sure of it.”

She was about to answer that she wasn’t in the habit of changing her mind but became conscious that his eyes were impassive with no sign of humour. Worse, the strange chuckle had sent a cold shiver down her back. He bowed and went to the door. “Till we meet again, your Grace, I remain your obedient servant.” He bowed again and left.

Rowten showed him out and immediately returned to the drawing room and helped the duchess to her feet, his face even more grave than usual. “If you’ll pardon me, your Grace, I’m speaking out of turn, which is not a state I’m happy with. But you know I am devoted to you and have your interests always at heart. I have to say bluntly I do not like that man.”

He led the way into the hall and paused again. “With my long service in your employ, dealing with so many people, I have gained enough experience to judge how some react. How their appearance or actions hide their true nature. I strongly feel he is not to be trusted. You will take care, won’t you?”

Eleanor patted Rowten’s sleeve as she went past, aware that he had probably listened at the door. “Don’t worry, Rowten, I know exactly what you mean and entirely agree. I do not like him or trust him, and I will take care. Meanwhile”—she smiled at her long-serving retainer, knowing how well they knew each other—“do all you can to instruct that footman. I don’t care for unexpected callers.”

* * * *

Richard knew at once, when Eleanor returned to the study, that the visit from Tasker had upset her. As he guided her into an armchair, he felt her trembling and gently rubbed a caring hand across her shoulders as he would have done if she was his mother. What on earth had the man said to cause the changed and whitened look of her face?

“Not the most pleasant of visits, I perceive, Aunt Eleanor. How can I help?” He drew his chair close to her and, reaching out, took hold of her hand.

She paused to think. “It wasn’t what was said—well, at least not precisely—it was the look that went with it. Oh, I don’t know, perhaps I’m imagining things, but it felt like a threat.”

“Even if I didn’t know what Tasker is capable of, I know you and the wisdom you own. I believe you are now aware I was not exaggerating when I told you of the events in New Orleans. The man was skint, grasping at anything that would make him money, almost begging, and a moment later, he suddenly appears back here in affluent circumstances. How do you know he is wealthy? Was he wealthy before he left here after his wife’s death?”

“When he first arrived and purchased the Willows from Emmeline’s parents, at the same time offering for Emmeline, he bought a much smaller property for her parents. So I presume he had money enough to spare. Getting Emmeline off their hands would also have sealed the bargain, apart from giving him a prime estate. She was a sweet girl but had nothing in the way of looks. Her parents jumped at the chance of getting rid of her and acquiring a fresh home for themselves. Tasker promptly changed the name of the estate he had bought from them to Tasker Hall. Why, I don’t know. It may be he is pretending to future visitors his antecedents went back a long way. The villagers were scornful. They said it was unlucky and would tempt the devil. However, I’ve gathered he spent well in the district, and money is the grease that solves many problems. Coincidently, after receiving an invitation to dine at his house, I also had a visit from my solicitor regarding routine matters. Intuition made me ask him to inquire about Tasker’s financial background. I had word his standing is rated well though not overabundant, and that was the reason I considered he might suit Lucie, as it seemed money was not an issue. But, primarily, I was happy that she would still live near by. I confess I was selfish to want that. Though she is dear to me, I fear I must now resign myself to losing her to someone far off and difficult for me to visit.”

“It is fortunate I’ve come at this time and have been able to apprise you of his history.” Richard frowned as he thought of Eleanor’s plea before she left to see Tasker.
What should I do now, Richard?
Not the easiest question to answer, especially as he had no idea.

True, Eleanor could use the London visit to solve her problem. Marry Lucie off to a reputable nobleman who would be delighted to add her wealth to his. Love would not be involved unless by the greatest of good fortune. The decision would likely be influenced by blood-lines rather than bodily desires, though Lucie was a beautiful woman who would stir any warm-blooded male in an instant. Regardless of his present need to put his Shropshire house in order, his own body had confirmed it was more than eager to be stirred.

“Richard, under normal circumstances, I would never even contemplate asking this question, but after seeing Tasker just now, I have a strange premonition of the future and feel I am beholden to suggest you might consider it part of your plans to seriously think of taking Lucie as your wife. You know I have always thought highly of you and regard you as a decent man. I cannot imagine a better person we will come across in the London scene. A person I’d have to take on trust to be good to Lucie.” She held up her hand as he went to interrupt. “Yes, I know you have only just met, and there is no love or even liking involved, but if you could use the time you spend here to consider my suggestion, I’d be grateful.”

“Aunt Eleanor, you know I would do anything to help and please you, but...”

A swift knock on the door and its prompt opening put paid to further conversation.

“There, all resolved!” Lucie appeared, looking pleased, a glow of health in her face. “Oh…” She surveyed the subdued look on their faces. “I’m sorry if I am interrupting, but I am done with Butters, and it is past time for your rest, Grandmamma. Ruth is hovering in the hall.”

“Yes, I’ll retire for a while and see you both later for tea. Richard, unless you wish to rest too, Lucie will show you the gardens. She will, of course, bore you silly, as it is her pet subject, but the day is fine and you might enjoy it.”

Once the Duchess had gone upstairs, Richard held out his arm to Lucie. “I’m ready to be bored or charmed. The latter, I think, given what I have already seen of the estate.”

At his words, both of them thought of their first meeting, Richard with the wryness of embarrassment and Lucie with a spurt of impish amusement. It would be interesting to see if he still equated her as a kitchen drudge.

* * * *

Their stroll through skilfully manicured gardens filled with the roses and flowering shrubs that Eleanor loved ended by a large meadow bordering on the lake. It was festooned with wild flowers just coming into bloom. “This is one of my favourite places. Allowing nature to run extravagantly wild and delightfully showing off as usual,” Lucie said.

Richard nodded. “It reminds me of many places I’ve seen abroad. Some deserts appear stark and dry for most of the year, but after a heavy rain storm, they are covered only hours later with blooms that are amazing,” he said, gazing over the land before turning his eyes to the water and waving his arm. “This, too, has the wild look of lakes and water holes I’ve seen, oases in landscapes that are magnificent to see but dangerous to travel through. It is fortunate that you do not have the wild life here that is prevalent in America.”

"I envy you your travels and the freedom to choose where you want to go. I have never been further than High Wycombe or villages near us and have made only a trip or two to Oxford. London might be a revelation of buildings, museums and galleries to see, but I liken it to a jungle of strange people who may be friendly or not as the notion takes them. The future I face is not the path I would willingly choose. If I accomplish what my grandmother wishes, I shall marry an unknown—at least at the moment unknown—man. I will end up in a strange place and be totally subject to his whims instead of living here in a house I love.”

“You may fall in love with the bridegroom and be very happy,” he ventured.

“And pigs may fly. How many married couples do you know who are truly in love in our strata of society?” She rolled her eyes in despair and frustration. “The only ones I can say are truly close are some villagers who, in spite of being poor, are happy with their lot.”

“Ah, there's a choice? Is it poor but happy, or rich and miserable? Which do you prefer?”

She stared at him in disquiet, understanding that the knotty thoughts that had kept her restless each night since the dinner party, especially with her grandmother stating that Edmund Tasker had asked to court her, had turned her world upside down and were bursting out, regardless of decorum and good manners. All of a sudden, the light-hearted conversation they had indulged in during the tour of the gardens had taken a serious twist.

“I have no experience of being poor, but to be subject to a cruel husband would be the last thing I’d want.” She shrugged. “In that case, I’d opt for poverty.”

“I think we have taken this far too seriously. Your grandmother would never make you marry a man who is cruel. Rest easy, Lady Lucie, and we’ll try a lighter subject.”

“I think it time we return to have tea. The clouds have come over, and I’m feeling a trifle chill.” She shivered as she spoke.

“And you have no shawl!” In an instant, Richard had his coat off and placed it round her shoulders, and immediately, the warmth of his body cocooned her with heat. And not only heat, for she picked up the fragrance of the cologne he wore and the underlying musk of maleness that intrigued her senses. He lifted an index finger to touch the bottom of her chin as he snuggled the coat close. She didn’t wave him off. She drank in the sensation of his touch, anticipating the kiss that, even as innocent as she was, she was positive would come.

In the course of their stroll through the gardens, she had felt the tension he carried though it was well hidden within the blandness of their conversation. She wondered how she knew. At that moment, she felt she had always possessed a mental empathy for other people’s thoughts, and sometimes their stress, and had the ability to know and soothe. Was it her turn to be soothed? Who would it hurt? What could it hurt? Within the next two weeks, she would be on her way to London, and a man like Richard Martell, Earl of Copeland, would never be bothered to join with others who would be intent on marrying her for her dowry. Instead, he would be relieved to be back with other men of his calibre, visiting his clubs—Brookes, Whites—and boxing in Gentleman John Jackson’s club in Bond Street. Where she would be, she had no idea. Almost certainly, and with the greatest of reluctance, mixing with young blades who were being pushed by their mamas to make her an offer. Or fending off rakes that were only after the prize a marriage with her would bring. Surely she deserved one single kiss from a man of superior knowledge without feeling defensive.