Chapter Five
Charles approached his uncle’s home with a large bouquet of flowers and a box of sweets. In order to disguise his knowledge of Marcus’ return, Cassandra had insisted it was best to proceed as if he’d planned to pursue a courtship with Miss Barrett. And so there he was, playing the role of a calf-eyed suitor. How he despised all of it! He wanted no part of her. But he did want her fortune and he wanted the title. He deserved it, after all. Marcus had never valued it and certainly never understood how their family worked. Their coat of arms should well have been the depiction an animal eating its young. It was their way, after all.
Climbing the steps, he knocked at the door and thought how odd it seemed that the simple wreath with its black ribbon was gone. He’d grown so used to the trappings of mourning that had initially been a constant reminder of his cousin’s fate. They were certainly quick to remove all traces of it, he thought bitterly, shaking off the black ribbons and widow’s weeds like a wet dog drying itself. The prodigal son had returned, after all. The fatted calf would be slaughtered by sundown.
Riggs, with his typically dour expression, answered the knock and ushered him inside. Charles noted the absence of his black armband and those on the footmen as well. “Riggs, has the house decided to throw off mourning?” Charles queried with false concern.
“We have no reason to mourn, sir,” the butler intoned, “and every reason to rejoice. Lord Althorn is returned to us.”
Even though he’d expected it, had known it would be uttered, the words still made his heart stutter in his chest. Those simple words represented a threat to every hope for his future. They could well mean that there would be no title, no fortune. Depending on how much Althorn knew, it was quite possible he would go to the gallows. Even if Althorn didn’t know the full extent of his war time activities, there was no doubt he’d be banished from the family if his plot failed to rid of him of Marcus once and for all. Cassandra thought it possible to brazen one’s way through even the most difficult of obstacles. For himself, he was not so sure.
His cousin had seen him, after all, had called out to him for help as he was being carted away by the French. At worst, he might suss out the truth and determine that it was Charles who’d set the French soldiers on him and that might lead to other questions about his dealings with the French. At best, Charles would be branded a coward and a liar for not helping him and for keeping his fate a carefully guarded secret for five years. Cassandra didn’t know that. She didn’t know that Marcus had recognized him there. He’d never told her because he’d thought it wouldn’t possibly come back to him. A folly he would, no doubt, come to regret.
“When did this happen?” he demanded. He allowed his voice to tremble. After all, no one would have expected he would be happy about the return.
“It was just after you departed last night, sir,” Riggs answered. “Why you must have passed Lord Althorn on the street as you were leaving.”
There had been a well-dressed gentleman on the opposite side of the street. He’d crossed the street just as Charles had climbed into a hackney. Had that been Marcus lying in wait even then? “You’re certain it is him? There’s no mistake?”
Riggs didn’t answer. His gaze drifted past Charles.
“As certain as anyone can be. It is good to see you, Cousin. Isn’t it?” The words were uttered in a deep baritone that he had not thought ever to hear again. They were also heavily laced with suspicion.
That voice was instantly recognizable. They had grown up together, after all. Charles turned. It was him, of course. Against all hope, he had to admit that it was true. There was no chance it was an imposter. A harder, leaner and more weathered version of his cousin, but his cousin just the same.
“We thought you were dead,” Charles said simply. His tone lacked any real degree of warmth, but then they had long since given up any pretense of familial affection. It was difficult to feign joy when the man’s very presence signaled so much disaster for him.
“Thought or hoped?” Marcus asked. The undercurrent of anger and veiled accusation was evident in his tone. “Remind me, Charles… when was it that our paths crossed last? You were at Corunna, were you not?”
“Thought, of course. Who could ever wish you ill? Yes, I was at that horrible place. The chaos and bloodshed has never left me. I took a blow to the head near the end of the battle… I laid senseless for days afterward,” Charles lied easily, his tone light and devoid of the fear-fueled rage he felt. That piece of fiction was a last ditch effort to cover his perfidy. “But now we are both here and in the bosom of our loving family. Welcome home.”
He despised Marcus. The moment in time when his general disregard had altered into true hatred was unknown to him. It had grown over time, he supposed, watching as every advantage was heaped upon his cousin’s head while he faced a life of struggling penury as a clerk or vicar. When Marcus had tossed all of that away, running off to fight in a war he, as a member of the aristocracy, could easily have avoided, Charles had both marveled at and reveled in his stupidity.
For the first three years of that long and arduous war, he’d waited with bated breath to see if his cousin would succumb to the fate of so many other soldiers. But opportunity had presented itself and he’d taken advantage. A well-placed word in the right ears, and Marcus had been taken on the field. His assumption then was that he would be killed, but he could never attest to his certainty of that without offering up a reason and incriminating himself in the process. Instead, Charles had bided his time and toadied to that vile tradesman, William Barrett, to assess his willingness to transfer the contract to any Duke of Elsingham present or future. Well, they were through waiting for that. Marcus would marry the cow and then they’d get rid of them both.
If it wouldn’t have utterly destroyed everything he was working for and everything he hoped to gain, Charles would gladly have run him through right there on the spot.
“Thank you,” Marcus said, his tone as equally devoid of emotion. “Is there some reason you stopped by, Charles? Perhaps you heard of my miraculous return?”
The animosity was palpable. Even the servants appeared to be uncomfortable, some of the footmen glancing nervously at one another until Riggs cleared his throat in warning. It appeared, Charles thought, that his recently returned cousin was willing to be much more forthcoming about their mutual antipathy than they ever had in the past.
“No. I was caught quite unawares,” Charles lied with complete calm.
Marcus smiled, his lips curving but in an expression that offered no warmth at all. “I understand that you made an offer to my betrothed the evening past. While I thank you for your concern for her future and wellbeing, as I have returned, it will be unnecessary for you to honor those obligations on my behalf. You understand, of course, that we will be using this time to become reacquainted with one another and will naturally want a certain amount of privacy in the family home.”
Charles stiffened, his spine going utterly rigid and his chin notching upward. Had she told him that? Had the two of them laughed together at his proposal as if he were some sort of buffoon? “I see you and Miss Barrett have developed a much more intimate acquaintance than you’ve had in years past… home only hours and already sharing tête-à-têtes.”
Marcus’ reply did not acknowledge the accusation buried within Charles’ own statement. Instead, he said simply, “We are both very appreciative of your wish to look after her but, under the circumstances, feel it is best if such advances were forgotten entirely.”
Charles placed the chocolates and posy on the hall table. “Naturally, we will proceed as you direct. Give my regards to Miss Barrett. I have recalled that I am late for another appointment and must be off. No doubt as a member of the extended family, I will be the first to know when you are once again receiving callers.”
*
Marcus watched his cousin leave with a feeling of unease. He didn’t trust Charles to simply fade quietly into the distance. Then again, he’d never trusted him at all. Charles’ acts of cowardice and self-serving during the war were not the first indications of his true character. The man was grasping, greedy, and begrudging of everything that anyone else possessed and yet careless with anything in his own possession. It was as if he only valued things that he perceived as being out of his grasp. Did Miss Barrett fall into that category?
As if he’d summoned her with the thought, she appeared at the top of the stairs. She wore a promenade dress, but one that lacked much in the way of embellishment. Even the black fabric was completely matte and lacked any sheen whatsoever. There were no pretty trims or bows. While he was not completely cognizant of all the rules of etiquette that governed women’s mourning attire, he’d never seen one dressed with such unrelieved austerity.
She cast a curious glance at the abandoned bouquet and box of sweets on the table as she descended the last of the stairs. “Did someone come to call?”
He considered lying to her, but only for a moment. Charles was no competition for her affection. Of that he was certain. “Charles came by,” he admitted. He did not believe for a moment that his cousin had genuine feelings for Miss Barrett. He also did not believe that as pragmatic as she appeared to be that she would be fooled by his thin veneer of charm. “I imagine he felt that today was to be the first day of your courtship… instead, it will be the first day of ours.”
A thoughtful frown caused her lower lip to turn out slightly and the faintest of furrows to appear between her brows. With her pale blonde hair and rosy cheeks, she was far lovelier than he would have ever imagined her to be. The years since they’d last seen one another had been kind to her, indeed. The awkwardness of her youth had vanished and left in its wake a confident, curvaceous woman who knew her own mind and was not compelled to seek the counsel of others. While he admired those qualities in her, he also recognized that those same qualities would only make it more difficult to win her hand.
Her hands were clenched at her sides and her chin notched upward as she asked finally, “Is this simply some sort of competition between the two of you? I’m well aware of the long-standing animosity—”
“I assure you, Miss Barrett,” he replied easily, “that whatever occurs between the two of us is just that… between the two of us. It has nothing to do with Charles, our meddling fathers or an ages old contract that neither of us should be bound by. I want to see if we can make this thing work between us.”
Her gaze was level, earnest and unwavering. “Why? Why this change of heart?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
She stepped closer to him and whispered in a lower tone, “Lord Althorn, I have had a great deal of time to reflect upon it and I came to the conclusion that while you opposed marriage to me for a very valid reason that I have since been made aware of, you also opposed marriage in general at that time. One would think that after an eight year absence and five of those years in captivity the taste of freedom would be far too heady to give up so readily.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Why have you changed your mind about marriage and more specifically, marriage to me?”
“I will happily answer any questions but in private, Miss Barrett. Join me for our drive this morning and I promise to explain my reasons to your satisfaction,” he promised.
She considered the offer for a moment and then gave a curt nod. “Very well, Lord Althorn, we may go for our drive as planned, but do not think to evade the question.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said as he donned his heavy cloak before they walked outside to the waiting phaeton.
He didn’t gasp or recoil, but the urge was there. Calling the vehicle garish was a vast understatement. Painted an impractical powder blue and trimmed with white and gold, it was like a lady’s reticule on wheels. The interior was white leather and an ermine lap blanket draped the seat.
“For pity’s sake,” he muttered. “What in the name of all that is holy is this monstrosity?”
“I believe it’s called poor taste,” she replied easily. “But if one wishes to make a statement, and I assume you do, a better conveyance could not be found for it.”
He handed her up and then took the reins from the groom that held them as he climbed up himself. It was an embarrassment to be seen in such a vehicle. Why on earth his father would ever have permitted such license by his bride—well, it was best not to think on why his father had permitted it. In fact, he would rather think of anything else.
Taking Berkley Street to Curzon, he turned toward Hyde Park. There was a distinct chill in the air but, despite that, the streets were busy and crowded with pedestrians and other traffic. More than one person whipped their head around for a second glance at them as they drove past. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that it was merely the carriage that had caught their eyes. The stunned expressions of many passersby were all the confirmation he needed that his return had been well remarked upon.
“Well, my lord, if you wished to formally announce your return and have it surprise anyone, you’ve taken the wind out of your own sails I’m afraid,” Miss Barrett offered caustically.
He said nothing, but his lips firmed and his jaw clenched. That was precisely the sort of thing that had made him reluctant to return. He had no wish to be an object of curiosity. Reclaiming his place in society was necessary to his future and thus those sorts of gestures were the most expedient methods of doing so. Conversely, if he wished to ferret out the truth about Charles and what had taken place at Corunna, he needed to be circumspect. He was at cross purposes with himself and would have to simply make do.
“Has no one anything better to do with their time than gossip?” he asked.
“No. They don’t. Why should they? Gossip, at least in society, is a kind of currency. If you can provide information or juicy on dits at parties, then you are a sought after guest. If you are the subject of these on dits, you may also be a sought after guest… because it makes you an object of curiosity and insures that the event will be a total crush so people can get a good look at you.” The explanation was offered dispassionately enough but there was a hint of disgust in her voice, as if she were completely disillusioned with society as a whole.
“You speak as if from experience.” Had she been a victim of such vicious gossip during his absence?
She glanced at him then. “You fled the country to risk life and limb simultaneously with the banns being posted for our marriage. Suffice it to say there were quite a few whispers. I was young enough then not to be bothered or even aware of them. But as I grew older and was invited to events, naturally before your disappearance and my five year period of mourning, I realized that the low hum of conversation was usually about me. It was occasionally offered up with a helping of false sympathy. After all, what better way to get the juiciest details than under the guise of friendship?”
“It was hardly worthy of gossip!”
“The truth… certainly it wasn’t worthy. But gossip and truth bear little enough resemblance to one another, my lord. You detested me. You opposed the match. You were in love with someone else. There was madness in my family and you didn’t wish to tarnish the bloodline of your esteemed dynasty—I could go on. A dozen reasons were offered up as to why you chose facing French muskets to marrying me, my lord, and not one of them had to do with the fact that I was simply too young to be a bride,” she explained.
“For what it’s worth, I am sorry. I handled things very poorly then,” he admitted. “If I had known that my actions would have such detrimental consequences for you I would have done things very differently.”
She ducked her head as she uttered a grudging concession. “You did handle things rather impulsively, but I don’t know that if you’d handled them any other way we wouldn’t have both wound up at the altar when we were far too young to be there. They would not have let you simply refuse, as well you know. I’d be locked away at your country estate and you’d be… well, I can’t say what, precisely, you’d be doing. But I daresay, it wouldn’t involve being a doting husband. Resentment would have set in and we’d have hated one another by now, I imagine.”
“Parts of your assessment are true enough. We’d have been badgered and hounded to the ends of the earth,” he admitted. He noted how perfect her profile was with her slightly upturned nose and full lips. Her stepmother might have insisted she was too plump, but the softness of her cheeks and the gentle curves of her face were a welcome sight for him. He’d seen too many women haunted and starved during his time on the Peninsula. He never wanted to see that sort of desperation in another person ever again.
It wasn’t simply her health and vigor that he was noting, if he were to be honest. Even last night, when he’d first returned to his family’s home, there’d been a spark of attraction there. Whether it was that she had blossomed into the fullness of womanhood while he was away or whether it was his own proprietary nature in looking at her and recognizing that she was promised to him, he’d felt the stirrings of lust, of the desire to claim her. Or perhaps, it was because he hadn’t touched the softness of a woman’s body in more than five years. Regardless, he hadn’t anticipated that he would actually desire Miss Barrett. He also didn’t anticipate that she would be amenable to any overtures on his part that would reflect that.
“But that still does not answer my question from earlier… why have you suddenly embraced the notion of our marriage so wholeheartedly?” she demanded, her tone sharp and her question quite pointed.
She would not let the matter go and he did not have an adequately prepared answer that would not reveal too much about his own newly discovered feelings for her or about the circumstances of his capture. So he relied on the stoicism that his father had drilled into him during his childhood. “I have several reasons. The first of which is that I ran from my duties, my obligations, and even from myself,” he admitted gravely. “In doing so, I paid a very steep price. With that came a great deal of reflection on what my life ought to be and what I wanted from it.”
“And what is that precisely? I’m not foolish enough to believe some Banbury tale from you about having realized I’m your destiny,” she warned.
He chuckled in spite of the rather intense nature of their conversation. “No, Miss Barrett. But you are very cynical. Has anyone else remarked upon it or do you save your acerbic wit for my sole enjoyment?”
She pursed her lips in a familiar expression of disapproval. “This is very serious, Lord Althorn. You’ve professed a desire to court me that is supposed to have nothing to do with our fathers’ agreement, the wedding contracts or your desire to access my father’s vast fortune. There must be a reason.”
“Very well… I am weary of being alone. I spent far more time isolated in a tiny, rough-hewn hovel of rock and dirt than I care to even comment on. While there, I realized that no one would miss me… they might miss the role I was to fulfill or the obligations that it was my responsibility to meet, but no one would miss me. As a man, I’d had little to no impact on anyone’s life. That was a lowering realization, Miss Barrett, and I vowed that if I managed to once more set foot on English soil, I would wed. I would have a wife and a family and I would treat them infinitely better than my own father treated me or my late mother.”
*
Jane stared at him in complete and utter astonishment. It was as if he’d mirrored her very own thoughts. For years, she’d been painfully aware of that same horrible truth. She was nothing to her father but a means to an end, a convenient way to attach himself to an esteemed title and an aristocratic connection. Had he truly felt the same way?
Refusing to acknowledge the significance of that or the softening of her heart that had occurred at his admission, she asked, “That’s all? You’re lonely and you think I can ease that loneliness for you?” She didn’t want to be moved by him, to feel any sort of kinship with him on such a painful subject. Sympathy might sway her and that could not be.
“Or that we might ease the loneliness for one another… by virtue of the agreement that was made for us by our parents, we have neither one had the opportunity to develop romantic connections elsewhere.” He paused then. “That is the case, isn’t it, Miss Barrett? Your reluctance to wed is a reflection of your disinterest in being married altogether and not simply that you’d prefer to be married to someone else?”
Lying would be expedient, but only in the short term. In the end, it would create far more questions and controversy than she wished to contend with. So, Jane opted for the truth. “You are correct in your assertion that my objection is to the state of marriage and not the groom in question.”
He continued to stare at her, studying her face as if she were some strange specimen. When at last he nodded and looked away, Jane felt oddly bereft at the loss of his attention.
Althorn spoke again, using the same reasonable tone that had prompted her presence in the phaeton to start with. “We have been isolated from the world in many instances by the same set of circumstances. In that regard, Miss Barrett, we understand one another.”
Suspicion reared its ugly head and she said, somewhat snidely, “There’s more, isn’t there? Some other reason why you want to wed me and not just any other girl who strikes your fancy, isn’t there?”
He stared ahead, his expression clearly denoting his inner turmoil as he weighed and measured what to say to her. Then he uttered the sad and soul shattering truth. “I won’t lie to you and say that the existing contract and the accompanying financial settlement is not a factor. Money, Miss Barrett, speaks volumes even in affairs of the heart. There are things I wish to do, changes that I wish to enact in how the men returning from the Peninsula are treated and the opportunities that are available to them. I cannot undertake the tasks I have set for myself without appropriate financing and our present arrangement would allow that and more.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. She didn’t want to marry him, after all, she reminded herself. But it did. It stung her pride, her heart, and the remnants of that little girl she’d once been who had quietly worshipped him from afar. “No one can fault you for your honesty, Lord Althorn. I’ve never known such a forthcoming fortune hunter.”
“A lie is no foundation to build a life together upon,” he answered evenly. “I am not only after your fortune, I merely acknowledge that it is not a dissuading factor. I cannot ignore the value it could have in our lives together or all the good it could do—that we could do. And I would have you with me, as more than simply a walking bank note. I want a partner in this life, Miss Barrett, and in all of my endeavors. I will not continue my existence as an idle aristocrat. I want it to have meaning. I mean for my life to have a purpose. Can you understand that?”
She blinked rapidly, attempting to fathom how stupid one man could possibly be. “What I understand is that the men of your family have absolutely no qualms in insulting me to my face. Whether you’re a fortune hunter to your own benefit or to others is of no consequence. Ultimately, I am not wanted or desired for myself at all but only for the funds I can bring. Between you telling me that I’ll do, especially since I have money, and your cousin telling me that he’s known me long enough and is fond enough of me to overlook how singularly unattractive I am,” she paused and drew in a calming breath. “I detest the lot of you. You’re all just as greedy and self-serving as your father is.”
“But I don’t wish to be self-serving. I’m talking about making sweeping changes in the way wounded soldiers are cared for—”
“To soothe your own conscience,” she snapped back at him. “Are you really so obtuse? This isn’t about them at all! It’s about you. Everything, from the moment you left me here to face the censure of our families and society all by myself, to the moment you returned and once again upended my life and everyone else’s… it’s all been about you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said.
“Take me back. I’ve no wish to continue our drive,” she insisted.
“Whether you wish to continue it or not, we are committed to this. The line of traffic will not permit me to turn around and I daresay this conveyance with its dainty wheels would not survive being turned in the grass,” he replied. “I had hoped being honest with you would be the right decision to make… and I still feel that it is. You asked for my motives and I’ve given them. I stand by what I told you last night. We will continue our courtship for the next six months and if at that time you wish to bow out, I will not protest.”
Her eyes rolled of their own volition and her tone, when she replied, was caustic. “The degree of your magnanimity is boundless, my lord! Boundless!”
“It is the way of society,” he replied quietly.
“It should not be,” Jane retorted hotly. “I should not have to give my life over to a man who only values the money I bring and not the person I am. If you can’t understand that then there’s no hope for you at all!”
“And am I not valued for the title I bring?” he asked, somewhat indignantly. “Is the fact that you will one day be addressed as her grace, the Duchess of Elsingham, not a point in my favor?”
“No,” she said. “To my father, yes, of course, it is. But it has never been something I valued.”
“Then what do you value, Miss Barrett? For I find that I cannot fathom what goes on inside your head… at all.”
“Your kindness at breakfast was a point in your favor, but you have effectively wiped that clean.”
“That’s all?” he asked. “In all our years of acquaintance, I’ve only ever managed to do one thing right in your estimation?”
“We have no years of acquaintance! We barely knew one another. Beyond a simple greeting at family gatherings, you could never even be bothered to speak to me!” Jane literally wanted to scratch his eyes out. The man absolutely infuriated her and the fact that he was so patently oblivious to his own failings only goaded her ire more.
“And what should I have said? That’s a nice doll you have. By the way, I’m to be your husband!”
“Well, you might have said something! This is obviously not going to work and I don’t understand why we can’t simply end it right here,” she said. “You have no real desire to be with me… only with my money. And frankly, the more time I spend in your presence the less inclined I am to like you at all.”
They grew silent after that heated exchange. Sitting in the gaudiest and most ridiculously luxurious phaeton in Hyde Park, they were both stiff, tense and clearly unhappy with one another as some of society’s most vicious gossips looked on.