Authors: Cheryl Holt

Promise of Pleasure (33 page)

BOOK: Promise of Pleasure

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Victoria sensed Jordan’s fury, and she averted disaster by gesturing to the butler again.

“Why don’t you refill everyone’s glass? And pour some for Mr. and Miss Talbot.”

Harold puffed up. “Mrs. Barnes, I must make a slight correction to your mode of address.”

“What do you mean, Harold?”

“I am pleased to announce that I have married Gertrude, so she is
Mrs.
Harold Talbot.”

The new Mrs. Talbot giggled like a debutante, and the moment became even more awkward.

No one rushed to congratulate them. No one said a word.

“How . . . nice,” Victoria finally murmured, searching for the right tone. “Isn’t this rather sudden? I didn’t know you were engaged.”

Jordan was delighted that Talbot had wed Gertrude instead of Mary, but he was incensed, too. Mary had pinned her hopes on Talbot, had waited an entire decade for the smarmy man to publicly reveal their understanding.

“How could you have married your cousin?” Jordan asked.

“As far as I’m aware, you’ve been quietly betrothed to Mary Barnes for years.”

At his speaking Mary’s name, everybody stiffened, except the vicar, who was clueless as to the details of the unfolding drama.

Talbot blushed and stammered, “I haven’t any idea where you’d have come by such a ludicrous notion.”

“Haven’t you? Miss Barnes admitted it to me herself. She was just about to discuss wedding plans with Mrs. Barnes.”

“That’s not true,” Gertrude Talbot declared.

“How would you know?” Jordan snidely said. “You’re not from around here. Why would you have any information as to how Mr. Talbot trifled with Mary’s affections?”

“Harold told me how it was.”

“Harold
was lying.” Jordan disdainfully studied them, pretending great offense. “I’ll have my attorney contact you as to the amount of damages you owe Miss Barnes for breach of promise.”

“You wouldn’t!” Gertrude Talbot seethed.

“Wouldn’t I? Your husband is a sniveling coward, who constantly took advantage of Miss Barnes’s kindly nature.” Jordan scowled at Victoria. “Get them out of here, and I don’t want to see them back.”

Victoria looked as if she might lecture him on neighbors and rural villages, but on viewing his livid expression, she herded them out.

“Well, I never!” Gertrude exclaimed as their footsteps faded.

Jordan went back to the window, so angry that he yearned to throw something.

Why was he tolerating these horrid people? Why not walk out? Was he insane?

Mary had warned him that Felicity’s money wouldn’t make him happy, but he . . .

Ah! If Mary rambled through his mind again, he couldn’t predict what he might do.

Behind him, someone approached, and he whipped around, eager to hurl a scathing remark. On discovering that it was Cassandra Stewart, he bit it down.

He’d spent minimal time with her—or rather
she
had spent minimal time with him. She didn’t like him, and she’d been clear that she didn’t care to socialize.

What was she up to? If she scolded or nagged, he wouldn’t be civil.

“Is there something you need?” he asked.

“Yes, there is. I’m thrilled by how you put Harold in his place. I wish I’d done it myself. I wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh ... hmm . . .” He was embarrassed by her praise. “It was easy enough. He’s a horse’s ass, and I loathe him.”

“I’m relieved that Mary didn’t end up with him. She’d have been miserable.”

“I agree.”

“I should probably keep my mouth shut, but Mother mentioned that you had been involved with Mary.”

“Dammit!” he cursed, then flushed with chagrin. “Pardon my rough language.”

“I’ve heard worse. I won’t faint.”

“Good.”

“Felicity was present during the conversation, so she’s aware of the affair.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. Mother thought Felicity should know, so she wouldn’t have any illusions about you. It will make for an odd beginning to your marriage, don’t you imagine?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” He shook his head with disgust. “Is your mother crazy?”

“She can be.” Mrs. Stewart hesitated, then forged on. “I’m curious about your amour with Mary. Were you fond of her?”

He might have denied a relationship, might have contended that Victoria had been incorrect, but he missed Mary, and he wasn’t about to act as if the liaison hadn’t occurred.

“Yes, I was. I was very fond of her.”

“Then I’m glad for you
and
for her. I don’t believe anyone was ever fond of her before.”

He shrugged, embarrassed again by her comments. Since she’d been blatant in her aversion, he hadn’t attempted to breach the distance between them, so he’d never previously seen this side of her.

He enjoyed it. She seemed to be a genuinely nice person, and she’d liked Mary.

“I have a question,” she said. It was her turn to look chagrinned.

“About what?”

“I had become cordial with Mr. Adair.”

“I’m not surprised; he always charms the ladies.”

“Since he left, it’s been positively dreary around here. We had intended to correspond, and he was supposed to provide me with his address, but he forgot. Might I impose on you to get it?”

“Yes. I’ll be sure to jot it down for you.”

“I appreciate it.”

“If you plan to contact him, though, you’ll need to write at once. He’s about to sail for Jamaica.”

“Yes, he told me he was.”

“He was anxious to start his adventure, so he’s leaving right away.”

“Do you think he’ll ever come back to England?”

“I hope so.”

Jordan pushed down the prospect of Paxton’s departure. What with all Jordan’s recent troubles, he couldn’t bear to consider Paxton’s journey, and he was furious at Paxton’s father for finally bribing his friend with an offer he couldn’t refuse.

If Jordan didn’t have Paxton as his companion, who would he have? No one else could stand him.

“Now I have a question for
you,
” he said, determined to change the subject. “It’s terribly indiscreet of me to inquire, but I’m going to anyway.”

“What is it?”

“What is your opinion of your mother’s cousin?”

“My mother’s cousin?”

“Yes.”

“My mother doesn’t have a cousin.”

“Yes, she does. Mary went to stay with her. I’m just wondering what sort of welcome she’ll receive.”

Before Mrs. Stewart could reply, Victoria returned, clapping her hands to get their attention.

“The Talbots have gone home, so let’s finish this, shall we?”

“Yes, let’s do,” Vicar Martin said.

He smiled, expecting everyone to smile back, but no one did.

Mrs. Stewart moved to the hearth, and Jordan studied her, confused by her statement. He wanted her to clarify what she’d meant, but he didn’t dare delay the ceremony to talk about his recent clandestine amour.

He walked over to the vicar, feeling as if he was gliding in slow motion.

As he stepped next to Felicity, she bristled.

“Mother told me about you and Mary,” she hissed as if Martin wasn’t three feet away and listening to her every word.

Jordan was grateful for Mrs. Stewart’s warning. He accepted the remark with equanimity. “Really?”

“I will never forgive you.”

“Why would it matter to me if I’m forgiven or not?”

Vicar Martin frowned and hastily searched for his spot in the prayer book.

“I’m only marrying you,” Felicity fumed, “because I’ll be a countess someday.”

“Yes, you are. Had you assumed it was for some other reason?”

“If Mother wasn’t making me, I’d wed a farmer before I’d have you.”

The vicar snapped his book closed. They all jumped.

“Miss Barnes,” he huffed, “there seems to be some disagreement between you and Lord Redvers. This is not the Middle Ages. I will not marry any woman against her will. Do you wish—of your own accord—to proceed or not?”

A lengthy silence dragged out. Felicity peered over at her mother, scowled intently, then said, “Of course I wish to proceed. I apologize for giving you the wrong impression.”

“What about you, Lord Redvers?” the minister queried.

“A dowry is a dowry. Get on with it.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Martin began to recite what had to be the fastest reading of the vows ever attempted, yet Jordan didn’t hear the phrases flowing by.

He kept pondering Mrs. Stewart’s comment—that Victoria didn’t have a cousin—and he was so rattled by the implications that he couldn’t focus.

What had he done to Mary? What had Victoria done?

“Do you, Jordan Edward Addington Penrose Winthrop Viscount Redvers, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Had Victoria tricked him? If she had, if he’d been duped, what had happened to Mary?

Eventually, he noticed that Vicar Martin had stopped speaking. Everyone was staring.

“Ahem . . .” Martin cleared his throat. “Lord Redvers, the vows are important. You must pay attention.”

“What did you ask me?” Jordan inquired.

“I
asked
if you take Miss Barnes to be your lawfully wedded wife.”

Jordan gaped at Felicity as if she had two heads.

“The question isn’t that difficult, Redvers,” Victoria interjected. “Just say yes.”

Jordan looked at Mrs. Stewart. “You were telling me something right before the ceremony started.”

“About what?”

“About your mother’s cousin.”

“My mother doesn’t have a cousin. If she told you that’s where Mary is, she was lying.”

“Are you certain?”

“Mary went to London—by herself.”

He was dumbstruck at the news.

“But your mother and I had it all arranged.”

“I talked to Mary as she was leaving. Mother had ordered her off the property, and she was traveling to London, to try to find a job.”

“Cassandra!” Victoria barked. “That’s enough!”

Mrs. Stewart ignored her. “I didn’t think you’d want her going to London on her own, and I begged her to wait, so we could discuss it with you, but she wouldn’t—”

“Where is she?” Jordan demanded, advancing on Victoria.

“I have no idea,” Victoria calmly answered. “May we get back to the task at hand?”

“Where is she?” Jordan shouted.

“Lord Redvers,” she stated, “you are about to marry my daughter. Is there some reason you’re standing in my parlor and chatting about another woman?”

“Tell me where she is, or I’m walking out of here.”

“Mother!” Felicity wailed.

“You are at the end of your wedding,” Victoria continued. “You are about to make the final commitment that will bind you to Felicity forever. I insist that you concentrate on the ceremony and not your prior mistress.”

“Mrs. Barnes!” the vicar scolded. “Remember yourself. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Vicar Martin,” she said, “but he’s being foolish, and I’m weary of his antics.”

Jordan stared at Felicity, at her mother. What was he doing? Why had he chosen Felicity and a lifetime of misery? He’d assumed he could go through with the match, but why would he? He’d rather live in poverty, would rather forage on the streets than face Felicity over the breakfast table every morning. All the money in the world wasn’t sufficient to make it palatable.

He’d convinced himself that it was what he wanted, but it wasn’t.
Mary
was what he wanted. Mary, who’d been kind to him. Mary, who’d believed he was wonderful. Mary, who had loved him when he didn’t deserve to be loved.

A frisson of fear slithered down his spine.

Gad! Where could she be? How would he locate her? Anything could happen to her in London. She was insane going off like that.

“I don’t want your daughter’s fortune,” he announced. “Give it to some other poor sap who’s stupid enough to tolerate her.”

He started out, and Felicity howled, “Mother, he can’t do that to me, can he?”

Victoria stepped into his path, blocking his retreat.

“If you depart this room,” she threatened, “the engagement is terminated. If you slink back next week or next month, we won’t receive you.”

“I’m relieved to hear it.”

“Are you listening to me, Redvers? Felicity won’t take you back. I won’t let her, so the dowry will be lost to you.”

She appeared very smug, presuming she had coerced him yet again. And why wouldn’t she be confident?

He’d proven over and over that he would prostitute himself for cash, but in the nick of time, he’d come to his senses. He’d realized that—as Mary had always said—there were some things more important than money.

Mary was more important. A life with Mary was more important.

He picked up Victoria, setting her to the side, and he kept on.

“Redvers!” she shrieked. “You will not cry off. You will not go!”

“Mother!” Felicity howled again. “Stop him!”

“Lord Redvers,” Mrs. Stewart called, the only voice in the group that could get him to halt and turn around.

“Yes, Mrs. Stewart, what is it?”

“Don’t forget to leave me that address.” She grinned. “And have Mary write to me, will you? As opposed to the other members of my family, I’m worried sick about her.”

“I’ll definitely leave that address, Mrs. Stewart, and I’ll have Mary drop you a note—the moment I find her.” He glared at Victoria. “You had better pray that I locate her soon and that she’s all right. If she’s suffered any harm, I’ll take it out of your hide.”

He whirled away and raced up the stairs to pack his bags.

Chapter 21