Chapter Ten
Nash handed his belongings to the footman at the door of White’s. Trying to adjust to marriage and his new life had forced him to flee the house and spend some quiet time among familiar people and things. He’d forgotten the promised ride with Arabella, but with her mother settling in, most likely she would forgo the outing.
In less than two weeks, he had married a woman he barely knew, who’d spent the time since their vows recovering from an illness. His hopes for the funds to prop up his estate had been dashed, and his mother-in-law had moved in, as his own mother moved out. He shook his head. Too many changes in too short a time period.
“Clarendon!” Lord Langley waved at him from across the room. The longtime friend was a welcome sight in view of all the adjustments with which he was presently dealing. After weaving his way across the room, nodding to various members, Nash settled into the comfortable leather chair across from Langley. The familiar walls of the club, the hum of conversation, the cup of coffee presented by a footman, and the boisterous activity surrounding the betting book all worked to soothe him, bringing familiar normalcy back into his life.
“The new bridegroom, already escaping from his bride.” Langley grinned at Nash before taking a sip of coffee.
Although Nash felt a bit of resentment at his friend’s remarks, there was truth in the statement. He was, indeed, escaping. Not necessarily from Arabella, but everything she represented. Change. Change on which he hadn’t planned.
“I wasn’t aware that you were even acquainted with the former Lady Arabella, never mind ready to offer for her. Or is there substance to the rumors floating about?”
Nash waved his hand in the air. “I pay no attention to rumors. My wife—” He choked on the word. “And I, are well. She has household matters requiring her attention this morning, and I would merely be in the way.”
“As you say.” Langley placed his cup in the saucer and leaned back, resting a booted foot on his knee. “On a more interesting note, it has come to my attention that a very lucrative investment is in the wind, and I have every reason to believe it is something you would be interested in, as well. From what I hear, only a select few are being invited to join in.”
Langley’s words brought to mind his limited funds and current financial state. His feeling of contentment slowly ebbed away. “What sort of investment, and how much?”
“Only two hundred pounds per man.” Langley leaned forward and motioned to Nash to do the same. “A man will never make any sort of money from the Funds. This investment is in trade.”
“Trade?” Peers did not involve themselves in trade, although Nash had known several who had made a significant amount of money, in a very quiet way, by investing in trade. The school of thought was, as long as a gentleman did not directly involve himself, those who mattered were happy to look the other way. “Do you have the information on hand?”
“Silks and china from the Orient. Cloth from India.” Langley stopped as two members drifted by, close enough to hear their conversation. He drew out his calling card and after summoning a pen from a footman, scratched words on the back. He handed it to Nash. “There’s a meeting next week. Here is the date and direction. If you are interested in hearing more, come by about eight in the evening. You can judge for yourself.”
Nash took the card from Langley’s hand and studied it. The location he’d written was in a part of town containing warehouses that stored goods shipped from various parts of the world. He would be remiss if he did not attend this meeting. If he used part of Arabella’s dowry for an investment, the rest could be put aside to make at least some improvements for the tenants on his estate.
“Now I must leave you to your internal meanderings, as I have an appointment with my tailor. Have to keep up appearances, you know.” Langley grinned at Nash and stood. “I hope to see you at the meeting. From what I’ve learned so far, it could be quite worthwhile.”
Nash nodded. “And you believe it is possible I would be one of the chosen few?”
“I will meet you there. If you want in, it will be so.” Langley winked and strode through the room.
It would certainly be smart to at least see what the presenter had to say. He stuck the card in his pocket and picked up the newspaper Langley had discarded.
Close to the dinner hour, he entered his townhouse. He had no idea where Arabella was, and everything was quiet. He headed to the library. A study of his financial records was a good idea. He would be sure to pledge the two hundred pounds at the meeting, but would only relinquish the money if he was convinced it was the best use of Arabella’s dowry.
Deep in thought, he opened the library door and came to a dead stop, his nose twitching at the strong odor. “What is going on here?”
Arabella rose from a kneeling position as he shouted, the front of an apron covering her dress full of blood and mud. A cat and a small dog lay in individual baskets on the floor in front of the fire. They were both whimpering and bleeding from several gashes. If blood had not been dripping from the cat, he would have sworn it was dead. A basin of brown-stained water sat between them, and his wife held a cloth fisted in her hand. “Oh thank heavens you are home. I need your help.”
“Madam, this is not a surgery, but my library. What are those animals doing bleeding all over my floor?”
Arabella wiped her hands on the cloth and moved toward him. “They are not bleeding on the floor. They are in baskets. To answer your question, Cleopatra and Hercules got into a fight with another animal who escaped. I’m afraid they both require stitches.”
Hercules? This dog was the one he’d noticed earlier, that he’d thought was no more than a large rat. She’d named him Hercules? There was no doubt in his mind. His wife was daft. Perhaps he could arrange for an annulment based on lunacy.
His or hers. It mattered not. Once he told the court his story, he was sure to prevail.
“Arabella, you are not a veterinarian. You might end up killing these animals.” He shook his head and placed his hands on his hips. “And you are supposed to be preparing to leave for Suffolk tomorrow.”
She raised her chin and glared at him. “I have done this sort of thing for years, my lord. I could use your assistance, but if you refuse, it will not stop me from helping them.” She waved her hand. “And I am all ready to leave tomorrow.”
Nash rubbed the back of his neck, still discombobulated at the scene in his neat, quiet library. “What I could use is some assurance that I will not come home to my wife performing surgery in my library. This is not the way a countess conducts herself, Arabella.”
“Maybe not, my lord, but this is the way I conduct myself.” Her eyes flashed, and she stuck out her little, stubborn chin.
He had anticipated a stronger presence in the ton with a wife to handle their social calendar and do all the things a countess does. His mind had conjured up pictures of Arabella involved in sewing circles to make garments for the poor, hosting dinner parties, and making and accepting afternoon calls.
Instead he was faced with a willful, hardheaded woman who refused to adapt to her new position in life. Lord what had he gotten himself into? “Perhaps that tidbit of information should have been shared with me before we said our nuptials.” He stalked across the room and poured himself two fingers of whiskey.
The wet, bloodied cloth still in her hand, she twisted her body to watch his march across the room. “Indeed? And when, pray tell, would I have had the time to disclose any information about myself? If you remember, we had about three days from the time we were discovered in the library at the Ashbourne ball and our wedding. And after that, I was delirious with fever for days.”
He waved the glass at her. “The hurried wedding was not my fault, I assure you. I had no intention of…”
“Of offering for me?” Her eyes snapped. “I know that, ’tis not a secret. And I asked you more than once to allow me to cry off.”
Although it was no more Arabella’s fault than it was his that they’d ended up married to each other, she still must learn to comport herself properly.
As he studied her, his body seemed to take notice of her appearance. Straggling curls fell about her face from her disheveled topknot, surrounding her flushed face. Her eyes were darkened, and she chewed on her lower lip. The last time he’d see her looking this way, she’d been underneath him, writhing with passion.
He drew in a calming breath, and trying to ignore what his body was doing, he placed the glass of whiskey on the table. “I doubt my feeble attempt at assistance will be of any service, but if it will help clear this mess up sooner, I will help.”
He tamped down his annoyance when Arabella cast him a glowing smile. He almost preferred the feeling of suppressed passion to the knot of something soft that teased his insides at the beaming look on her face. Something he preferred not to think about.
“But don’t let that cat near me.” He growled to cover his confusion.
…
A small twinge of happiness brought a smile to Arabella’s face. It appeared she’d won this battle. Of course, she was fully aware that countesses did not perform surgery. That was one of the reasons she’d eschewed marriage. She had wanted her freedom for as long as possible. As a young lady of the nobility, the only freedom afforded her was the choice of which gown to wear to a ball and which ribbon would match best.
“Here, Nash, hold this basket closer to the fire so I can see more clearly.” She pointed to the brown basket with Cleopatra.
“I am beginning to itch already.” He sneezed once. “It might be a better idea to go closer to the window.”
Arabella shook her head. “No, they need the warmth from the fire.” She held up a needle and pushed the thread through as Nash slid the basket over and knelt alongside her.
He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket, shook it out, and placed it over his nose. “Are you sure you know what you are doing?”
“I’ve done this many times. Now you will need to hold Cleopatra down while I sew her up, since this will hurt.”
“Egad! I’ll be sneezing until Christmastide morn. Why not give her a shot of whiskey to calm her down?”
Arabella sat back on her heels and studied him. “Whiskey? Why I have never thought of that. I tried laudanum once, but since I was afraid of using too much and killing Caesar—that was one of the squirrels I tended—I’m afraid it didn’t do much, and I ended up getting bit. Thankfully, Sophia offered to hold him, so we got it done.”
“And why, might I ask, is Sophia not here helping now?”
“She is packing. As you demanded, my lord.” She smirked. “And, she might have been sick to her stomach for the rest of the day after the last time.” Those words were mumbled, but nevertheless Nash snorted, so he must have heard them.
He rose. “I’ll be right back. Anything to get this over with.” He headed to the sideboard and picked up the small amount of whiskey he’d poured for himself. “Here.” He handed the glass to her.
“You need to hold her head so I can pour it down her throat.”
“She’s bleeding!” He sneezed.
“Apparently, all this disturbance in your library has not diminished your ability to see and hear,” she quipped.
“Arabella…”
“All right. I will hold her and you pour.”
With very little trouble, they managed to get enough of the whiskey down so that after about five minutes the cat was snoring. Arabella watched the cat’s eyes close with amazement. “That worked quite well. You are an excellent surgeon’s assistant.”
Nash blew his nose and wiped his dripping eyes. “Not a role I intend to repeat. Let’s dose the other one, so we can finish up.”
After dosing Hercules, Nash tied his handkerchief around his nose and mouth and put on his leather gloves as he held one animal, then the other, while Arabella sewed. She wasn’t quite sure since she was busy, but it sounded to her as though Nash gagged at one point.
“There.” She sat back and admired her work. “All I need to do now is cover the wounds with a clean cloth and let them sleep.” She grinned at him. “Thank you so much for your help. The whiskey was a wonderful idea.”
Nash grunted and stood. “This needs to stop, Arabella. If you want to take up some type of hobby, try watercolors or embroidery. Or gardening. Something suitable to your station.” He removed the handkerchief and used it to wipe his nose.
“Now you went and ruined it.” She accepted his hand and rose. “I do not see why I cannot continue to help my animals. For heaven’s sake, no one needs to know. Besides, Her Grace, the Duchess of Manchester conducts her botany experiments by digging in the dirt, and her husband not only allows it, but follows her about to help.”
“Everyone is aware that Manchester allows his duchess to act in an unseemly manner because he is completely besotted with her.”
As you will never be with me, nor I with you.
“If you will excuse me, my lord, I have a few items to take care of before I dress for dinner.” Her back stiff, she swept past him and left the room.
“What about this mess in my library?”
She turned back to him with her hand on the door handle. “If a countess does not perform surgery, then certainly, a countess does not clean, my lord. I will have the maids see to it.” With a little more enthusiasm than was warranted, she closed the library door just as Nash let out with a wholehearted sneeze.
Oh, the man absolutely infuriated her! She rounded the corner toward the stairs and practically ran her mother down. “Oh, Mother, you frightened me.”
“Arabella, a lady does not rush about.” She glared at her apron. “And what in heaven’s name have you been up to now?”
“Two of my animals were injured. I had to sew them up.”
Her mother actually paled. “What is the matter with you?” She spoke in a low, furious voice. “Your husband will not want his wife sewing up animals. You are a countess, now, Arabella. You must put these childish activities behind you. What would Lord Clarendon say if he saw you now?”
“I would say ’tis time she put these childish activities behind her.” Nash strode down the corridor. “But now I suggest we all clean up and dress for dinner. We have an early start in the morning, so I asked Cook to move dinner up two hours earlier.”
Well, who would ever imagine her husband and Mother not only agreeing on something, but both of them glaring at her as if she were a disobedient child. All of the fight went out of her. Despite what she had told everyone, her body was still weak from her illness. “If you will excuse me, I will order my bath.”
Arabella turned to climb the stairs and stumbled as her knees weakened. Nash grabbed her around the waist and swung her into his arms. “We will see you at dinner, Lady Melrose.” He proceeded to carry her up the stairs. Instead of protesting, she laid her head on his chest. She tried to fight the comfort she felt, but it was no use. She snuggled into his arms as he reached her door and bent to open the latch.
Once inside, he carried her to the bed and laid her gently down. “Perhaps a tray in your room would be best tonight.” Her heart warmed at the look of concern on his face. He really was a nice man.
When he wasn’t being arrogant and self-righteous.
“I am sure after a bath I will feel much better.”
He studied her. “I think not. Call for Sophia and have her attend you, and I will join you after my bath. I will send word to your mother that we are dining here.”
Although she knew it was not a good idea to allow him to order her about like that, truth be known, she was too tired to argue. “Yes. Perhaps that would be best.”
He threw up his hands and raised his face to the ceiling. “Hallelujah. My wife agrees with me.” His harsh words were softened by the indulgent look he gave her. Something deep inside her twisted, but she quickly squashed it.
Nash bent and kissed her on the forehead. “I will ring for Sophia and join you shortly.”
Arabella was fast asleep when Sophia awoke her to help her into the bath. After a luxurious soak in lavender- and lemon-scented water, she climbed out of the tub and allowed Sophia to dry her off and dress her in another new nightgown, pale yellow with lace at the bodice and cuffs. Sophia left and Arabella slid into a matching wrapper just as Nash knocked and entered the room.
He wore a red and black striped banyan, his hair still damp from his bath. As he walked, the bottom of the dressing gown opened to reveal muscular calves covered with light brown hair. She had a hard time taking her eyes off his movements as his elegant feet drew him closer to her.
“Dinner will arrive momentarily.” He took her hand, kissing the skin with his warm lips. “You look lovely.”
“I should really have checked on the animals—”
Irritation flashed across his face as he held up his hand. “No. No animals, no surgery, no blood. Tonight, we will enjoy a quiet dinner, an early bed, and then off to Suffolk in the morning.”
She couldn’t help but wonder if early to bed meant a repeat of last night’s bed activities. Despite her fatigue, the thought of what they’d enjoyed the night before brought a flutter to her stomach. Before she had the opportunity to dwell on that, a scratch at the door announced the arrival of two footmen carrying dinner trays.
“Set them over there.” Nash pointed to the table in the middle of the room with two chairs all ready for their use.
Once the men left, Nash held out her chair, and inhaling all the wonderful scents, she said, “Everything smells wonderful.”
The display of fish soup, lamb chops, braised mushrooms, green peas, two jellies, a pudding, and fresh fruit reminded her how very hungry she was. Nash poured them both glasses of wine, and they began their dinner.
“Am I to trust you are all ready to leave first thing tomorrow morning?” Nash studied her over the top of his wine glass. “I do want to get an early start.”
“Yes. Sophia has everything packed. I believe she had the footman take my trunk down to the carriage already.”
He nodded. “Excellent.”
Once they finished their meal, Nash poured himself a brandy and a sherry for her, and they retired to the two chairs in front of the fireplace. All the enthusiasm for bed activities had been wiped out by her fatigue, the heavy meal, and the sherry. When the room grew quiet, she found herself nodding off, until Nash stood and took the drooping glass from her hand.
“’Tis time for bed, sweeting.” He took her hand and walked her the short distance to the bed. He helped her remove her wrapper, then slipping off his banyan, joined her under the covers.
Tomorrow they would head to Suffolk. Arabella was anxious to see the manor, specifically where they would be able to build a larger kennel than the one in London. There should be plenty of room at a country estate for her to take in more animals. With that pleasant thought, she drifted off to sleep.