Chapter 8
Deserted by all, Drew eschewed the tea and scones to make his way to the library, hoping for a drink with a little more puissance. Too restless to go lie down. Too stunned by the revelation of his wife and who she had become in his absence. And totally thunderstruck by the revelation of their daughter. He needed to do something distracting, something productive . . . so, a trip to look at the ledgers, if he could even find them, would at least pass a little time and, just maybe, restore his equilibrium.
To his surprise, this room remained much as he’d left it. True, the chairs had been reupholstered and the draperies had been replaced but the bookshelves, desk, and tables had not changed. Even the sideboard remained in place, holding a silver tray with crystal glasses and a decanter of amber liquid.
He hoped it still held some stiff French brandy. He certainly could use a glass right now.
He mulled over his return to London.
What had he expected by catching his wife by surprise? He had expected her to be living with his father. After all, it should have been his father’s duty to look after his bride, not to mention the miracle child that came from their infamous wedding night. His father would then have known if anything untoward had happened in Marianne’s life.
Did she gamble? Did she drink too much? Was there a lover? A smart man knew how to avoid complications like a bastard. He certainly knew how to keep his own life simple.
Or, at least, he used to.
But then, his father had never inconvenienced himself for someone, anyone, else. Particularly someone he would consider to be so much below his station such as a merchant’s daughter. His father had made it clear, money was the sole purpose of the marriage. The ‘chit,’ as the earl had called his betrothed at the time, needn’t be bothered with at all.
Throwing Marianne out to let her live by her own devices had probably extinguished any possibility of access to her dowry. Maybe if his father had thought longer term than his usual habit and kept her in Mayfair, Marianne might have relinquished control of the funds.
But then, maybe not. He expected his wife to be much smarter than most people would ever credit her.
As he watched the richly colored liquor flow into a crystal glass, he took a few deep, calming breaths. This day probably hadn’t gone as badly as it could have. After all, he had given no notice of his return. No, he had returned like the prodigal son. Only now, with his father gone, he was no longer the son but the master of whatever mess his sire had left behind.
He walked over to the desk and settled into the leather chair, relieved to see the object he hoped to review laying in the center of the blotter.
He opened the leather-bound tome to pages and pages of neatly entered numbers. At the front of the book, the dates of the entered year were written. Evidently every year received its own ledger.
As he studied the entries, he discovered three things. First, his wife kept thoroughly detailed records. Second, not only were all of his holdings accounted for, they were all accruing and not losing income. Finally, the last pages held new additions that included all of the holdings he gained upon the death of his father, the only entries showing some negative numbers.
Whatever he had expected, it had not been this. His interests had been totally controlled and protected by his wife while he’d been gone.
He owed her a great deal. The value of the rubies, diamonds, and pearls would not even scratch the surface. And he doubted he had any way to repay her.
Would she now want a divorce and the return of her dowry? That would cause quite the scandal in the ton but probably not impossible considering their unusual circumstances. And maybe she had met someone else in the interim. That might make it easier, though all the more embarrassing to all.
Would she want to live separately, maybe staying in the town house while he moved to the family manor in Mayfair? Based on what he saw in the ledgers, there would be enough money to fund two complete and separate households when he added his fortunes to hers.
Would she even consider trying to find some common ground to make the marriage work? If only so they could try to produce an heir. Obviously, she was fertile. And he stilled needed a son.
So much to think about. In truth, as much as he’d thought of his return all these years, he had not been thinking of dealing with all that came with his father’s passing. He had expected his father to be there to berate and belittle him for leaving the way he had, no matter that the choice had not been his, nor had he had much control over the ensuing years.
Except for the time he had spent in China with The Order of the Crimson Lotus. That had been his choice. And it had delayed his homecoming, as much as a whole year.
Enough of these thoughts for now. He’d review the other ledgers. Surely they had to be in the library somewhere. Then he would prepare for dinner with his wife.
~ ~ ~
Marianne closed the door of her bedchamber and collapsed against it. She still clutched the satin pouch in her hand, the bag of beautiful rubies and pearls he had brought back to her after all these years.
How could his return cause her so much anguish? He had to return sometime. But in her heart, she had thought him dead, making her free to go about her life in whatever manner she chose.
That no longer being the case, she had to reevaluate everything: her life, her daughter's well-being, her relationship with Robert.
Robert. What would he say? What would he think? He had waited so patiently, looking forward until enough time would pass before she could petition the courts to declare her husband dead. True, they might have needed a few more years, but Robert didn’t seem to mind.
She had to stop thinking about all of this for now. Emotionally exhausted, she rang for Ellen.
Marianne stood by her dressing table and laid the jewels, still in their satin and velvet bag, purposefully on its surface. These were a profound surprise. And how he looked at her when he had gifted them, as she opened them. The heat in his deep blue eyes. Regret? Longing? Apology? What confusion of feelings must he be experiencing after all these years?
As if she were waiting, her lady’s maid entered from the dressing room.
The house must be abuzz with the sudden and inexplicable return of her husband.
Why had he not advised them of his return? Any proper gentleman would have done so. But, then, he no longer looked the proper gentleman, much less the dandy he had once been. Something about his demeanor made him seem worldly, masterful, self-possessed, almost arrogant.
She turned to her maid. “Ellen, I’m going to lie down for a while and recuperate. There has just been too much occurring for me to take it all in.” As she headed for the bed, she started to remove her clothing. Ellen came quickly to assist her.
“Please tell Cook I’ll take dinner in my rooms, and Jane is to dine with Andrea.”
“Yes, my lady. Will you still be going out this evening? Shall I ready your dress?” Ellen placed another piece of clothing over her arm.
Marianne paused next to the bed and thought a moment. Climbing up and under the linens, she settled in. “Yes, I believe I will go out. No need to change my plans or the time. Press my dress and arrange all of the appropriate accessories as usual. Let John Coachman know what time I’ll be leaving. An evening out might be just what I need after the events of the day. Thank you. You may go.”
With a curtsy, Ellen left for the dressing room to put away the recently shed garments.
Marianne snuggled under the covers.
What could possibly happen next?