The Rake’s Fake Marriage – A Regency Romance
Lady Adele Vaughan looked through her black veil as she shook Reverend Smith's hand. ''Thank you so much for everything you have done.''
''Not at all, it's been a difficult time for you. Losing one's husband is a traumatic experience,'' he said, smiling over his half-moon glasses.
''Well, everyone has been so kind. Perhaps you would be kind enough to walk me home, people are coming back for a cup of tea.'' Lady Vaughan had a splendid cook, and Reverend Smith was most anxious to fill his already considerable stomach with her excellent chocolate cake.
''Yes of course. I just need to go to the vestry and change. I'll be with you in a moment.'' They were standing in the cemetery at All Saint's Church, Kirkby Whisp in North Yorkshire, England. The gravedigger was standing under a tree out of sight, ready to fill in the grave of Lord Peter Vaughan, a twenty-eight-year-old gentleman who had died in an unfortunate hunting accident, three days earlier. When he saw Reverend Smith and Lady Vaughan locks arms, and leave the churchyard, he nodded to the boy standing next to him. They walked to the grave, took their shovels from under a green mat and began to throw back the soil.
''She's a fine looking woman,'' the boy said, throwing the first shovel full onto the coffin. He was just seventeen and gangling, as young men often are before they fill out. ''I feel sorry for her.''
''No you don't. Your youthful hormones are talking to you. You want to lie with her now she ain't got a husband.'' Cyril Wright was five feet seven and stocky. The strongest man in the village, he could dig a hole, six feet deep, in two and a half hours.
''No, I don't.'' Jimmy Horner, the apprentice, looked offended.
''Ain't no point in denying it, Jimmy. What boy of your age wouldn't want to sleep with a woman like her? ''He grunted as he thrust his spade into the pile of earth. ''Twenty-eight, blonde, blue eyes and a body like Venus. She's any young man's dream.''
''And rich. You forgot rich.''
''Rich,'' he scoffed. ''A big house and a fancy title. I hate them, the rich. They think they're something special.'' Cyril leaned on his shovel and watched Jimmy's expression which made him look dumber than he already was.
''Why do you hate them?''
''Because they're snobs. Always looking down their noses at us ordinary folk.''
''Well that doesn't alter my opinion of Lady Vaughan.''
''No. Well take it from me, her sort are idle snobs.''
*****
Newdene Hall was large and old. Lord Vaughan had inherited it from his late father, a year before his own death. When he and Adele got married they were just eighteen, and they lived in a small lodge in the wonderful parkland surrounding the great house. Nine years later they moved into the Hall after Lord Stephen Vaughan passed on. Peter had given his wife a free hand; she could re-decorate the house as she wanted. The Vaughan's were rich but not overly so. They had tenants, who produced a handsome income, but they didn't have vast reserves of cash.
The drawing room was full of well-wishers, dressed in black and white. It was a large room which Adele had tastefully decorated in pastel shades of peach.
''You know, it's such a pity Peter didn't live to see you finish your decorating work. You have really transformed this place,'' Eleanor Pimms said as she poured Reverend Smith his third cup of tea. She was the same age as Adele, but plain. Her mousy hair was always unkempt, and her stocky figure never fitting her clothes.
''Yes, it is a pity,'' Adele replied shifting her weight onto her other buttock. The sofa was too hard and, after a while, a position change was necessary.
Reverend Smith was a kind man, always at pains to avoid confrontation, but he felt the word 'pity' was misplaced in this context. ''You pity a dog or a cat. In Peter's case, surely you should use the word disaster or catastrophe.'' He sank his teeth into a piece of Lemon Sponge Cake, sending sugar flying over the easy chair he was sitting in.
''Yes, of course,'' Emily felt chastised. ''Will you marry again do you think?''
Adele threw her hands in the air almost colliding with the potted palm balancing precariously on an ornamental table which was too small for it. ''Never, never again.''
''Why, dear Lady Vaughan, would you have us believe that your marriage was so bad that it has put you off forever?'' Reverend Smith asked.
''Of course not, but I would like to have some freedom away from the demands of a man.''
Emily knew what she meant. Emily was Adele's best friend. She was married to Bartholomew Pimms, the country's leading barrister. He was very demanding, both inside and outside the bedroom. ''If my husband passed away, I would do the same as you, Adele.''
''In your case, I agree,'' Reverend Smith said, dropping his guard.
''What do you mean?'' Emily asked. Reverend Smith wasn't quick to answer, desperately seeking a way out.
''I think he means, you would never find another husband as gracious and loving as Bartholomew.'' Adele smiled, Reverend Smith nodded enthusiastically.
''Exactly what I meant,'' he said, knowing no shame.
''No, I shall never marry again. I will travel and enjoy my freedom. There is so much to see, and life is short. Today is more than adequate testimony to that,'' Adele said.
''Where is your husband today?'' Reverend Smith asked Emily. ''He and Peter were such good friends, I'm surprised he wasn't at the funeral.''
''In court. Seemingly a very urgent case came up yesterday, and he was called to the bar.'' Emily had been relieved when he'd told her he wasn't coming. He would have dominated the whole day and made it insufferable for her. The sound of his booming voice embarrassed her.
''Do you have any sherry?'' Reverend Smith asked.
''Of course. I didn't know you drank,'' Adele said.
''Just now and then,'' he lied. ''We can make a toast, to widows everywhere and their freedom.''
When Reverend Smith finally got up to leave, he was quite unsteady on his feet. Adele looked at the sherry bottle; it was more than half empty. When Emily waved goodbye, Adele went to her bedroom and left the servants to clean the mess. Why do funerals always degenerate into drink, she wondered. She ran the bell for her ladies maid and waited. As she sat on the bed, she told herself again, she wanted to be free, no second man.
*****
''Ladies, more champagne, I think.'' Nicholas Geraghty let go of another cork. As it shot off to the ceiling, he put the bottle to his mouth and gulped the mass of white bubbles that exploded from it. The ladies giggled and applauded as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.
Nicholas, the heir to the Earldom of Borrowby, liked women. There was nothing he or anybody else could do about it. And women liked him, so much in fact, that he was never short of a pretty face to talk to, flirt with, or worse. Twenty-eight, and still not married, he was the talk of society. He thought it was his looks that did it, but he was wrong. Although very handsome, women found he had more qualities than just his looks. He was a nonconformist, something different in a sea of social similarity. He wore different clothes, told people what he thought and never backed down from an argument or a fight.
Nicholas lived in a wing of Lotherton Hall, a stately home which had been in the family for three hundred years. His father was disappointed in him, calling him lazy, and a womanizer. He was rich enough not to have to work, and didn't. But what nobody knew, was that he donated a lot of money to the local orphanage. As a boy, he'd been playing in a wood on the boundaries of their three thousand acre estate and seen a group of four young boys playing on the other side of the wall. He'd talked to them and was horrified to learn that they were orphans. He was, even more, horrified to learn that they received regular beatings, and the only prospects they had, was a life of near slavery in the local tin mine. When he was older, he'd arranged for all of those boys to have jobs on one of the farms his father owned. At least, they'd be outside in the fresh air, he'd thought. One of them was now a farm manager, with a family and two lovely girls. The other three had all married local women and were great father's and husbands.
Lady Emily, Lady Georgina, and Lady Charlotte were all just nineteen and the latest in a wave of women who fancied their chances at being Lady Gerathy. He jumped back onto the sofa, champagne in hand, landing between the three beauties. Each of them looked at him affectionately, as they held out their empty glasses to be charged.
''Why have you never married?'' Emily asked, her eyes fluttering at him.
''I enjoy my life as it is. Look, today I have the pleasure of the company of three beautiful women. I couldn't do that if I was married.'' Nicolas leaned to Emily and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and giggled. The other two glared at her.
''But you should marry before you become even older,'' Charlotte added.
''I am still young, and I have time. Why marry when I'm having so much fun.''
''But what about an heir,'' Georgina asked, genuinely concerned for him.
''Ah, well, that may be a reason to marry. The only one as far as I can see. I suppose one day I will be forced into it.'' His eyes looked momentarily sad. ''Now, which one of you lovely ladies would like to accompany me to my chamber?'' he asked unashamedly.
All three gasped. A thought too dangerous to contemplate, yet enticing, appealing, and perhaps the only way to achieve their goal.
As Lady Emily and Lady Charlotte descended the sandstone staircase to their carriages, they looked up at the first floor and wondered what was happening behind the curtains. Lady Georgina, the most beautiful of the three, had been the first to nod at Nicholas' proposal. In an instant, she'd found herself upstairs with her gown around her ankles and Nicholas lying between her wide open legs.
*****
''But how can that be true?'' Adele said.
The man sitting opposite her was large and intimidating. A fighter and a small time criminal. When he'd arrived at the house, the butler had wanted to call the police, but Adele had insisted on seeing him. He'd made such a fuss, and she didn't want the man to strike Arthur. When he'd taken off his cap, she'd gasped at his shaven head. Until then, he'd looked half reasonable, but totally bald he looked evil.
''I'm telling you it's true. Your husband had a lucky escape.''
''What do you mean lucky? How is dying, lucky?''
''If you knew the people I do, then you would think him lucky to have died rather than fall into their hands.''
Adele wrung her hands and threw her eyes to the ceiling in despair. How could he have done it to her? She'd loved him, looked after him, decorated his house and tried to have his children. Tried so hard. ''What does it all mean, I still don't fully understand.''
Giles Kellet's hands were large, and Adele jumped when he clapped them together in frustration. He knew that the lady was innocent, a gentle creature, but he was beginning to find her ignore of her late husband’s affairs, frustrating. ''I will explain it one more time.'' He leaned forward and lowered his voice, hoping she would understand this time. ''Your husband paid me to murder someone of his acquaintance. I'm not a murderer,'' he said almost proudly as if it was a lifetime achievement. ''I passed the order on to someone I know, who is very much a murderer.'' Adele nodded, her brain full of horrible images. ''The problem is, your husband died without paying us. As his widow, we are appealing to your kindness to see that your husband's debt is honored.''
''But........'' Adele held her breath and tried to express herself clearly. ''Did the murder take place?'' She winced. She sounded as if she was involved, a party to the deadly deed.
''Not yet, but it will. After you've paid us.''
''Mr. Kellet,'' she doubted that was his real name. ''if you haven't carried out my husband's wishes, then how can you justify your fee?''
''The deal was, he would pay us upfront, and he didn't.''
Adele had a sudden rush of bravery. ''Quite preposterous, coming in here, asking me to pay for something my husband allegedly asked you to do. I will not pay. The police would be very interested in your story.''
Kellet's eyes narrowed and his expression sinister. He leaned even further forward on his chair and grasped Adele's knee. When he looked at her, he saw fear, genuine fear and he loved it. ''You will pay, and the person will be killed. If you do not, I will let it be known in society that your husband was a murderer. What will that do to your reputation?'' He let go of her, and she instantly began to rub the place where his hands had gripped her.
''But I don't want to be responsible for.....''
''Shut up you stupid woman,'' he lost his temper. ''You have two weeks to pay or face the consequences.''
Adele began to weep. ''How much is it?'' She just wanted him to go.
''Thirty thousand pounds.''
''But I don't have that much. I could never pay you.....''
She saw his eyes shift around the room, looking at all the valuable porcelain. ''Ah, but you're wrong aren't you? You can pay, you just need to....'' he searched for the words. ''Liquidize your assets. This house, your land, your possessions, I'm sure they are worth enough to cover it.''
Adele didn't know how much everything was worth, but she did know she didn't have that kind of money in cash, not even a third of it. Kellet stood up and looked at her. She seemed to have shrunk since his arrival in her house. She'd sat upright and attentively, now she was hunched in the chair, her head hanging, and her hands white as they clasped each other.
******
Bartholomew Pimms looked like his name, brash. Tall, well over six feet, he was twenty-nine and already at the top of his profession. Dressed in a bright red coat with a yellow waistcoat, he was barrel-chested, much like many of the criminals he defended. Adele imagined him in his wig, playing to the jury in a courtroom. Making events sound more dramatic than they actually were.
''Elanor told me you wanted to talk to me,'' he said, as he sat in the same seat Kellet had, just a few hours earlier.
Adele didn't like him, but she knew of nobody else better placed to advise her. She hated having to reveal this to him. She knew how he would react when she told him. He would gloat, he'd always told her, her husband was a good for nothing. You should have married me, was another statement she expected him to use. ''I have a problem of the gravest nature.''
Bartholomew leaned back. Very little appeared grave to him anymore. He knew all the country's worst criminals, and he'd seen most of life's gruesome twists. ''Tell me.''
''There was a man here, this afternoon. A terrifying man.'' She fought more tears. The ringlets in her hair bobbing up and down as she shook her head in disbelief. ''He asked me to pay him thirty thousand pounds.''
''For what,'' he said in his courtroom voice, his hand flicking across his large hooked nose. Something he did when he didn't believe what he was being told.
''Listen, Bartholomew, please don't let this get out.'' He nodded. ''The man said that Peter had asked him to kill someone and that he hadn't paid him for doing so.''
Bartholomew raised his eyebrows. This was graver than he had expected. ''For murdering who, exactly?''
''He didn't tell me.''
''Did he carry out Peter's request?''
''I asked him that too. He said no. He told me Peter had promised to pay him in advance.''
''Why didn't you tell him to call off the deed and go away.''
''I did, sort of. But he threatened me. He's going to reveal the details to society if I don't pay.''
''Scoundrel. You should have married me, Adele. When you had the chance. Why didn't you?''
She wanted to tell him the reason. The real reason. Because I think you are conceited, pompous and ugly. But she needed him to help her. ''It's a long time ago.''
''But I loved you. You turned me down in a brutal, frank, manner.''
''Bartholomew, please. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But we can't go back. What good is it dragging up the past?''
He nodded. ''But I told you Peter was a good for nothing.''
''What do you propose I do?'' she said, trying to drive him in another direction.
''Tell the police,'' he said, simply. Was that all he could come up with, she thought? A barrister, in the most important court in the land, and all he could tell her was something a child could have come up with.
''But it will become common knowledge if I do that.''
''Yes, most likely it will.''
He wasn't helping at all. ''Then I will pay him. I don't want Peter's good name to be dragged through the mud, and I certainly don't want to be cast from society, I have nothing else.''
''Those are your choices. Either tell the police or pay him. But if you pay him you will become an accessory to murder.'' Adele hadn't thought of that. So I face prison for murder, or being cast out of society into a life of shame, she concluded, and there was nothing Bartholomew Pimms could do to help her.
*****
Nicholas Geraghty lay in bed and glanced at Georgina. She was his most beautiful conquest of the year so far, and there had been many. He stroked her naked back as she lay face down. She was still fast asleep. Nicholas was a demanding lover, and he'd totally exhausted her. She groaned as his hand slid down her back, onto her buttocks. Just as his hand was about to slip somewhere indelicate, there was a loud knock at the door. He jumped out of bed and covered himself in a dressing gown. He opened the door slightly; it was the butler, Manningham.
''Sir, Earl Geraghty has asked me to tell you he expects you in his study in ten minutes.'' Manningham knew Nicholas had a woman in his bedroom. He usually threw the door wide open when he knocked, but opening it just slightly was a sign that he was hiding someone.
''Oh, how tiresome. What does he want?'' Nicholas swept his hand through his unkempt hair.
''I'm afraid he didn't tell me what he wants to talk to you about sir.''
He returned to bed and pulled the covers off Georgina, who felt a sudden rush of cold air and woke up. She rolled over, revealing herself to him. He was sorely tempted by her, but his father was fierce sometimes, and he wanted to avoid confrontation.
''Get dressed, you have to leave,'' he said.
She looked insulted. She'd expected to be invited for breakfast, perhaps to meet his parents, and spend a lazy day, walking the gardens and getting to know him better. If she had known him better, she would have realized that he did this with every woman obliging enough to share his bed. He had sex with them and kicked them out of the house without further ado.
After he's seen her down the rear staircase, he washed and dressed. He walked down the long landing and took the grand staircase to the entrance hall where his father's dogs were lying. One of them got up and walked with him to his father's study. His father was a fair man, long suffering. He knew his son had a heart of gold, but he was angry with him on this particular morning, very angry.
Nicholas stood in front of his father's desk, his father seated behind it. He stood like a boy summoned to the headmaster's room after some terrible misdemeanor.
''Georgina Fletcher,'' his father said. ''Where is she?''
''I have no idea,'' Nicholas replied. Technically he didn't know where she was, exactly. But he did know her whereabouts, in a carriage he had provided, on her way home.
''Don't give me that. You know darn well where she is. She's in your bedroom.''
''No father, she is not.'' He tried not to grin.
''Well, she was a few moments ago.''
Should I deny it, Nicholas thought. It had never worked before. ''Yes, she spent the night with me.''
He had never seen his father so angry before. ''Do you know who she is?'' he snarled. His gray hair flopped over his forehead as he looked down at his clenched fists.
''Er.......not exactly......she's.''
''She's the daughter of Lord Fletcher of Banbury.''
The name meant nothing to Nicholas. “Who's that?''
''Who's that?'' his father mocked. ''He's in charge of the police. The most powerful man in the bloody country.'' He didn't often swear. ''And you had to bed his daughter,'' Nicholas noted his father's white knuckles. ''Do you know how awkward this is?''
Nicholas shook his head. In reality, he didn't care. He'd had his fun with Georgina. She'd been good in bed, remarkably good. One of the best ever.
''You use women. You think they are here to serve your seemingly insatiable sexual appetite,'' his father said. Nicholas wanted to nod because that's exactly what he thought the role of women was in society. He'd once shocked a friend by telling him that the only place he wanted to see women was in his bed with their legs open. ''Her father has demanded an apology. Her mother was out of her mind with worry when she didn't come home with the others. You will travel to Lord Fletcher's office, go down on your knees and beg his forgiveness. Do you understand?''
Nicholas nodded reluctantly and turned away to leave the room. ''I haven't finished with you yet,'' his father shouted. ''This really is the limit. I want you to marry, and stop this ridiculous behavior. So here is what I propose: you will find a wife within the next six months, or I will disinherit you, and your younger brother will inherit everything.''
''But......'' he realized it was no use, his father was already waving his hand for him to leave the room.
*****
The annual hunt ball was a grand affair. Peter had been a great enthusiast of the sport, and he and Adele had attended each year. The President of the Banbury Fox Hounds had invited Adele this year as well, in Peter's memory. She hadn't wanted to go, she was happy at home, but she'd felt obliged. She knew a lot of the members and didn't' want to appear ungrateful for all their support after Peter had died. Held in the ballroom at Greenfield Castle close to Banbury, it was attended by over three hundred people, including Nicholas.
When his carriage dropped him off at the Castle, he was in the company of David Henderson. They had been to Eton together, and apart from when Nicholas was pestering women, they were inseparable. Nicholas cast his blue eyes around the ballroom, looking for more prey. David noticed and recognized that look.
''I thought your father had told you not to,'' David said inquisitively.
Nicholas stroked his chin and pursed his lips. ''He did, but it's so tempting. Look at all these angels, just look at them,'' his hand made a sweeping gesture as if he was spreading seed in a field. ''It's more than any man can bear.''
''Stop your philandering and find a wife, it's serious. Do you want to be disinherited?''
''No, of course not. But I don't want to marry either. Outside the bedroom, women are insufferable, and I'll only marry when I really need an heir, not before.''
''Then you will be poor,'' David said in a matter of fact way.
He's right, Nicholas thought. I have no choice. Contemplating the end of his carefree days was more than he could bear. He cursed his father and followed David to the bar where they downed two glasses of champagne rapidly.
''I'm Nicholas Gerathy,'' he said putting out his hand to the woman next to him.
''Adele Vaughan,'' she replied. He looked at her. Even more beautiful than Georgina, he decided. He liked delicate women with a large bust. He peered into her blue eyes and saw pain.
''Are you alright?'' he asked.
He was handsome she thought, dark hair and a strong face with green eyes and a white smile, he looked healthy and fun to be with. But she'd seen men like him before. He was a womanizer, of that there was no doubt. ''What business is it of yours?'' It was harsh, but her life was in turmoil, and the last thing she wanted was an evening with such a man.
Nicholas was taken aback. No woman had ever spoken to him like that before. ''I'm sorry if I have offended you.''
''You have. You addressed me without introduction, and what makes you think there is anything wrong with me? And what made you think you can be so forward with me?''
''Forward? I am forward when I want to be and with whom I want.'' Nicholas was irritated by her. Beautiful she may be, but just a woman.
''No, tell me. Why do you think there is anything the matter with me?''
''If you must know, your eyes look sad.''
''Oh, my eyes, indeed,'' she spoke sarcastically. ''Do you always look so intrusively into a lady's eyes on first meeting them?''
''Miss Vaughan, I really don't know what to say.''
''Mrs.''
''What?''
''I am Lady Vaughan, not Miss. Do I look like an unmarried woman?''
Nicholas was beginning to wish he'd stayed away from the ball. He looked jealously across at David, who'd drifted over the room to talk to a beautiful young woman in a pink dress. ''I am not sure if it is possible to see by merely looking at a woman, whether she is married or not,'' he offered. Adele turned her back to him and struck up a conversation with the old man next to her.
“She's the most irritating woman I have ever encountered,'' he told David. ''Do you know who she is?''
''Adele Vaughan. Her husband was killed during a hunt some time ago,'' the young woman in pink said.
''This is Miss Julia Leatham,'' David said, by way of introduction. Nicholas bowed, and she curtsied.
''A very irritating woman. More irritating than I have ever encountered,'' he said, thrusting his hand into his cutaway coat.
''Pleas sir, you put me in a very difficult situation,'' Julia said, putting a hand to her cheek in shock.
''I apologize. Perhaps you would tell me why you feel disadvantaged?'' Nicholas asked.
''She is my eldest sister's, best friend. My sister is called Eleanor Pimms.''
''Ah. I'm sorry for embarrassing you. What is she really like?'' He had to shout over the orchestra now; they had started the first dance of the evening. ''I can't believe she is always so sensitive.''
''Whenever I have spoken to her, she has been most agreeable. Perhaps the manner in which you spoke to her was deficient.''
Deficient, me, he thought. ''Perhaps. But she is a most interesting woman.'' He meant her looks.
''If sir, you have any intentions toward her, I would advise you to turn them to another woman,'' Julia said.
''Why?''
''She doesn't want to have another man in her life.'' Julia took a fan out of her bag and wafted it around in front of her face. ''My sister told me. They discussed it at her husband's funeral. She's adamant she wants to enjoy her freedom, without male interference.''
''Indeed, interesting,'' he said, his eyes floating in Adele's direction again. With her hair pinned up and a tiara on her head, she looked regal. He loved the shape of her neck, suddenly wanting to run his fingers over its delicate contours.
''David, go to her and tell her I'm sorry.''
''What?'' David pulled his head back in surprise.
''Go to Lady Vaughan and tell her I am sorry. Ask her if I may approach her again.''
''Heavens, Nicholas, can't you do that yourself?'' David said.
''No, I can't. I don't think she will entertain speaking to me. Go and tell her I am extremely sorry.''
David reluctantly wandered across the room. ''Lady Vaughan, please excuse me. I am a friend of the man you were just speaking to, Mr. Nicholas Geragthy'' He became nervous when he noticed the expression of indifference on her face. ''He has asked me to tell you he is sorry for his behavior. Very sorry.''
Adele was beginning to find the whole evening quite tiresome. It reminded her of Peter, and now this with Mr. Geragthy ''Can't Mr. Geragthy come and apologize?''
''He thought you would not speak to him.''
''Tell me about him. Who is he?''
''Mr. Geragthy is my best friend.'' David was careful not to say too much about Nicholas's view on women. ''He's the heir to the Earl of Borrowby.'' Adele listened more intently now. The Earl of Borrowby was one of the richest men in the country.
''Then send him to see me, we got off on the wrong foot. I'd like to make amends.''
Nicholas could see by the look on David's face that he'd been successful. Without saying anything to him, he passed him and in no time was standing next to Adele.
''Lady Vaughan, I apologize for my behavior earlier.''
''Yes, your friend told me you would.'' Her expression relaxed, almost smiling. ''I am sorry too. I have been under a lot of strain recently.''
''Perhaps you would do me the honor of dancing with me?'' he asked. When she nodded, his heart lifted.
They spent the next hour, dancing and conversing. Suddenly she was bright and enthused by him. She was plotting. She fell to the floor. ''Lady Vaughan,'' he exclaimed as people stood in a ring around her. He tapped her face lightly, and she opened her eyes and groaned.
''Please help me to my feet. I felt quite faint suddenly.'' Nicholas helped her up and took her to the balcony, where he ordered sweet tea. ''I am so worried, it is ruining my health,'' she said, in a low helpless voice.
''What is worrying you?''
''I have terrible money troubles. Oh.......'' she began to cry.
Totally taken in by her beauty and vulnerability, he leaned towards her and spoke softly. ''Lady Vaughan, perhaps you would allow me to help you.''
''Oh, that would be so kind of you. But I'm afraid my troubles are very grave indeed.'' Hooked him, she thought.
*****
Nicholas woke up early the next morning. As his valet dressed him, he looked out of the window over the land his family owned and thought about Adele. Was he being cruel or heartless? She was a widow, could he really be so mean to her? Would she really go for it?
David had stayed the night, and at breakfast, Nicholas sent the servants away. ''I want to talk to you, David,'' he said.
David knew him well, and the tone of his voice told him Nicholas was scheming. ''What about?'' he asked, as he bit into a sausage.
''Lady Vaughan.''
Not again, David thought. ''What about her?''
''She's the ideal candidate.''
''Heavens, Nicholas, stop playing games and spit it out. What are you cooking up?''
''She's a widow, right?'' David nodded. ''She doesn't want to get married again?'' David remembered that's what Julia had said, he nodded. ''Then she may well agree to be my fiancee without actually marrying me.''
David was lost. ''Why do you think she'll do that?''
''Because, dear boy,'' Nicholas looked like someone who had just won a lot of money at cards, ''she has money troubles.''
''You bastard, you absolute bastard,'' David exclaimed. ''She's a widow, how could you be so cruel? Using her disadvantage for your own gain.''
''That's the way the world works,'' Nicholas said, tipping his chair backwards on two legs.
''You would have her agree to be your fiancee in exchange for money? Just so your father doesn't disinherit you?'' David was genuinely shocked. Nicholas had just achieved a new low in his estimation. ''And you will continue to have your way with different women despite having a fiancee?''
''You know me too well,'' Nicholas said, smiling at him.
''Disgraceful.''
*****
Adele looked out of her carriage window to the rooks, nesting on top of the home of the Earl of Borrowby. So this was where Nicholas lived. A majestic stately home, a place of serenity and graceful charm. As her coach drew up, Nicholas bounded down the steps and onto the driveway.
''Lady Vaughan, I am so happy you were able to accept my invitation to tea.''
''It's a pleasure. I didn't know you lived in such a beautiful home.''
''It is nice isn't it?''
She took his arm, and they walked up into the house. Nicholas' wing of the house was just as magnificently decorated as the rest. It was really a large apartment, decorated with cream walls and gold leaf cornices. Adele was impressed by the pictures of his ancestors. Each framed in gold, staring back at her, expressionless.
When the tea arrived, Nicholas poured. They looked at each other as they took their first sip, each wanting to speak but not quite daring.
''May I ask you to elaborate on the kind offer of assistance you made the other evening,'' she said.
''I am glad you mentioned it. I have a proposal to make.''
Anything but marriage, she thought. ''Yes, please go ahead.''
''I think we can do a deal,'' he kept his eyes on hers, waiting for a reaction. When there was none, he continued. ''You need money, and I need a fiancee.''
''Please, let me explain,'' she interjected. ''I don't want to.....''
''Marry again,'' he finished the sentence for her. ''I know you don't. I am not proposing marriage.''
She looked confused. ''Then what? You mentioned the word fiancee.''
''My father has told me he will disinherit me if I don't find a wife. I don't want a wife, but if we were engaged it would pacify him, and we could call off the engagement later.''
''And in return you will assist me financially?'' she asked.
''Yes. That's the deal.''
''I need thirty thousand,'' she winced.
''That's a lot of money.'' It was, but Nicholas had that kind of money at his disposal.
''If it's too much, I........''
''No, not at all, I will help you.''
''But there is one more thing,'' she said. ''I would like to keep a high degree of freedom.''
Nicholas gave a sigh of relief. ''So would I, so would I.'' He was already making lists of new conquests.
*****
''So, you've seen sense at last. Good choice.'' Kellet said pocketing the large envelope.
Adele had been trembling since he'd arrived. He looked somehow more brutal than he had on his previous visit. ''Do whatever you want, but never come back here again, and if any of this can be traced back to me, please know I have friends in high places.''
''Not so high they could help you now, though,'' he smirked. ''So how did you come by this amount? You don't seem to have sold any property. Sold your body did you?'' She pulled back from him as he stepped forward, grinning.
''It's no business of yours.''
''Well then, I'll be on my way. Nice doing business with you,'' he held out his hand. Adele turned her head away and ignored him.
*****
''Lady Vaughan, I must say I am very pleased to hear you and my son have become engaged.'' Earl Borrowby said. ''I had given him up as a lost cause.''
Adele and Nicholas had agreed to spend two days a week together. Keeping up appearances. Earl Borrowby was delighted that Nicholas had finally committed himself, and he'd given up all thought of disinheriting his son. He liked Adele; she seemed mature, and he was convinced she would teach his son to value women as equals. Why he didn't already, would remain a mystery.
''We are pleased too, aren't we?'' Adele looked at Nicholas.
''Yes, yes, we are,'' he said. He'd been daydreaming.
''Good, well, it's lovely to meet you. I must be off now, a lot to do.'' He walked across the hall and suddenly stopped. ''It's a terrible business isn't it?''
Adele and Nicholas looked at each other. ''What father?'' Nicholas asked.
''That barrister, murdered. What was his name, Bartholomew Pimms.''
Adele turned white. Nicholas looked at his father indifferently. ''Never heard of him,'' he said.
''The best barrister in the country. Stabbed to death on his way home from court. It's in the newspaper.''
''Pimms, I've met someone called Pimms,'' Nicholas began to think. ''No she wasn't called Pimms, her sister was. She was called Julia......''
''Leatham,'' Adele said.
''Yes, Leatham. She said you were her sister's best friend. She was called Pimms. Is it any relation?''
''His wife,'' Adele sat down.
''You look terrible. Did you know him?''
''Of course, I knew him very well.''
Nicholas sat down next to her. His father left the room, shaking his head. ''Can I get you something?'' he asked.
''Perhaps a little brandy,'' she said. ''A terrible shock indeed,'' she added.
As the weeks went by, their agreement held wonderfully. Adele had thought it would be tedious to have to pretend to be his fiancee, and, even more, tedious to have to spend so much time in his company. But she began to look forward to her visits to his house.
When Nicholas made love to a woman, he was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. All too often his thoughts would drift to Adele. It was her moving under him, her kissing him and her legs wrapping themselves around his back.
Adele spent most of her free time comforting Eleanor. Eleanor had always complained about Bartholomew, but now he was gone, she could talk of nothing else but her beloved husband. Inside, Adele was riddled with guilt. She tried to dismiss any thought that it was her money that had financed Bartholomew's death. No, Peter would never have wanted to have him killed. It was all a cruel coincidence.
One day, however, her illusions were shattered. She woke at seven in the morning to hammering on the door. When the butler opened, two policemen pushed him aside and stepped into her house. ''Where's Lady Vaughan,'' the larger of the two asked.
''In bed.''
''Then wake her and ask her to come downstairs, we want to talk to her.''
When Adele saw her visitors, she felt faint. Two men dressed in blue uniforms with numbers on their shoulders and truncheons hanging from their belts.
''Lady Vaughan,'' the more senior of them began. ''We understand you knew Mr. Bartholomew Pimms.''
Adele sat down, her ghostly complexion already answering his question. ''Yes.''
''We believe you had something to do with his murder.''
That was it. She would rot in a damp prison cell, surrounded by women as evil as her. ''What makes you think that?''
''We have arrested a man called Wright, a grave digger.''
Adele didn't know a gravedigger called Wright. ''I have no idea who he is,'' she said honestly.
''He has confessed to the murder of Mr. Pimms and has told us that he carried out the killing on your behalf.
Adele knew Kellet, but not Cyril Wright. Keep denying it, she told herself. You really don't know this man. ''But I don't know him, really, I have no idea who he is.''
''Adele Vaughan, I am arresting you in connection with the murder of Mr. Bartholomew Pimms.'' He finished the usual speech about staying silent and took her by the arm. As they escorted her from the house, she was all too aware of her servants, as they watched in disbelief.
*****
When Adele didn't come to see him, as arranged, Nicholas became agitated. He'd begun to look forward to her visits, and her sudden absence made him aware how much. He took his horse and rode to Newdene Hall. When he knocked on the front door, Arthur answered.
''The police have taken her away,'' he said, white as a sheet.
At the police station, he was greeted by Sergeant Musgrave. “Where is she and why are your holding her?'' Nicholas demanded to know.
The sergeant looked at Nicholas as if he was insane. ''Who are you talking about?''
''Lady Adele Vaughan, who else?''
''She's helping us with our inquiries,'' he said, pushing Nicholas away from him.
''Into what? She's a lady, not a common criminal.''
''It's none of your business. Who are you?'' the sergeant was thinking of arresting him for impertinence.
''I'm her fiancee.'' He was surprised how proud he was calling himself that.
''Then you should know she's being held on suspicion of murdering Bartholomew Pimms.'' He folded his arms and looked please with himself.
''Are you out of your mind?'' Nicholas said. ''What on earth makes you think that?''
''We've got a witness.''
''This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. How do you think a delicate female could possibly murder a man in that way?'' Nicholas had read that Pimms had been stabbed to death.
''I'm not saying she did it herself, but she organized it.''
''You haven't heard the last of this. By the time I'm finished with you, those stripes on your arm will be a distant memory as you walk down the street behind a broom.'' Nicholas was incensed.
*****
Lord Fletcher of Banbury was at home, luckily. The last time Nicholas had spoken to him, it was to apologize for taking his daughter to bed. He'd done what his father had requested, and begged for forgiveness, really begged for the first time in his life. He hoped he wouldn't bump into Georgina, that would be too embarrassing.
As he stood in the same place he had a few weeks earlier, nerves began to get the better of him. It was the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of Lord Fletcher's study. He'd been ushered into the room by a footman and left waiting. When the door opened, he stood upright.
''You again,'' Lord Fletcher said. He was tall and lean, like a military officer. ''What do you want now? You haven't been with my daughter again, have you?'' he held Nicholas by the shoulder and squeezed.
''No sir. I come about something else.''
''Well, it was very brave of you to come and apologize last time. Very manly to stand in front of a woman's father and admit you'd bedded her. So speak, what do you want?''
''You are the highest policeman in the land, are you not?'' Lord Fletcher nodded and scratched his gray sideburns. ''The police in Banbury have arrested Mrs. Adele Vaughan, on suspicion of having something to do with Bartholomew Pimm's murder. She's a lady, I'm sure she didn't do it.''
''I can arrange bail for her, nothing more. I am not in the habit of interfering with my detectives.''
''If you could arrange for her to be released on bail, I would be most grateful.'' It was better than nothing, Nicholas thought.
*****
When Nicholas collected Adele from the police station, she looked drawn. ''I'm taking you back to my house, you need looking after,'' he'd said. But she'd refused. She wanted to go home, she was exhausted.
''I don't know how you did it, but thank you for securing my release.'' She held his arm, as he helped her to her front door.
''I did it because I ......'' he stopped, unsure of himself.
''Because you what?'' she looked at him.
To hell with it. ''Because I have grown very fond of you.''
''Fond?'' she repeated.
''Alright, more than fond, I am in love with you.''
Adele looked at him. Poor man, he's fallen in love with a murderer, a woman who will be locked up forever. ''Nicholas, I have developed strong feelings for you as well. But I have to talk to you about something.''
Arthur held the door open, pleased to see Adele again. ''Tea, my Lady?'' he asked.
''Yes, please, tea.''
They sat opposite each other and said nothing. Nicholas felt vulnerable. He'd told her of his feelings and received little in return.
''Nicholas, I have to confess to something, something terrible, that will prevent us from ever being together.'' She looked at his expression, and her heart sank. ''I am in love with you too.'' Nicholas beamed and took her hands, but she remained serious, and something told him to pull away again. ''But I did have something to do with the death of...''
She stopped as someone knocked on the front door. She remained silent, waiting for Arthur to deal with it. But Arthur came into the room with a disapproving look on his face. ''Mr. Kellet is here again.'' Adele got up and followed Arthur to the front door. Kellet was standing on the doorstep. He was holding an envelope.
''May I come in and speak to you?'' he said.
Adele drew breath. She stood aside and showed him into the dining room. ''Say what you have to say and leave, I'm already in enough trouble.''
''This is for you,'' he handed her the envelope.
''What is it?''
''Thirty thousand.''
''What?''
''The money you gave me, I'm returning it.''
''I don't.......'' Adele was speechless.
''It seems we were too late. So I'm doing the honorable thing and returning your cash.''
''What do you mean, too late?''
''Well, someone got to Mr. Pimms before we could. Someone else killed him. It seems he had more than one enemy.''
''Do you mean you didn't kill him? Or anyone to do with you?''
He shook his head. ''No,''
''Why did my husband want him killed anyway?'' She'd been too afraid to ask before, but now it didn't matter.
''Mr. Pimms had been blackmailing your husband.''
''Why?''
''I'm sorry to tell you, your late husband was having an affair with Mrs. Pimms younger sister. Miss Leatham. Pimms found out about it and threatened to tell you.''
''What?'' Adele's heart was racing. ''I don't believe it.''
''Well, believe what you want, but you have your money, and your conscience should be clear now.''
Adele went back to Nicholas after Kellet had left.
''You were about to tell me something important I think,'' he said.
She looked dazed. ''What? Oh, no it's not important now. Do you think I could become you proper fiancee?'' she asked.
He didn't care what had changed. He just got up and took her in his arms. ''I would like nothing more.''
*****
That evening, Adele gave Nicholas the money back. He didn't want to know what had happened. He assumed something positive had taken place and relieved her of debt.
That evening, she also gave herself to him for the first time. She'd flirted mercilessly with him at dinner, and by the time she let him into her bedroom, he was on fire.
Nicolas undressed Adele hastily and threw her onto the bed, catching a glimpse of her pink folds between her legs. Still dressed, he placed his mouth on her and ran his tongue around her entrance. Adele shivered with pleasure. Then he used his tongue to stroke her folds, flickering upwards to find her bud. Adele let out a moan, so Nicolas inserted a finger into her wet womanhood. Adele moaned louder this time. When he inserted a second finger, he felt her tighten and heard her scream out his name. When she relaxed again, he paused to let her catch her breath. Then he kissed her clitoris ever so slightly, and he heard her gasp. He moved his fingers slowly, massaging the swollen spot deep inside her. Her moans sounded more desperate this time, and as he moved his tongue gently in circles, she came again, and again.
Nicolas wiped his mouth and removed his trousers, his penis yearning to break free. Adele lay motionless on the bed, spent, her eyes taking in his muscles and all of his manhood, large, red, throbbing. She rose to her knees and took his penis into her hand and drew it into her mouth. She loved how soft the skin felt, a silk cover for a hard rod.
“Stop,” Nicolas said with a husky voice. “I wish to pleasure you. I’ve never before felt such a desire to pleasure a woman.” He lowered his fiancee onto her back and gently placed himself ontop of her. He kissed her like he had kissed no other woman, gently but passionately.
“Enter me,” Adele whispered, feeling his member tease around her opening.
Nicolas lowered his hand to his penis and guided it to the entrance. Then he slowly thrust his hips forward, Adele gasping as it slid against her walls. She raised her hips and Nicolas moaned this time. He moved slowly, sliding in and sliding out, and when Adele grabbed his buttocks, he started to pound against her, driven by the rhythm of her moans. Adele felt the pressure building in her vagina, up through her abdomen, and when Nicolas rubbed her clitoris, she came again. She tightened around him, and he could no longer contain himself, and he came, spilling his warm seed inside the woman he loved.
When they lay spent, their bodies entwined, she looked at him and smiled. ''Did we really do a deal: money for engagement?'' He nodded and laughed. ''Well it went spectacularly wrong didn't it? '' He nodded, and they rolled about laughing, before entering into another bout of lovemaking, this time, slower, more sensual.
*****
Cyril Wright got life imprisonment for the murder of Bartholomew Pimms. According to the judge, the motive was money. He'd done gardening work for Pimms and never been paid. Bartholomew had argued that he'd claimed for more hours that he'd actually worked. He'd tried to make out that Adele had ordered the killing because he knew her husband was having an affair with Miss Leatham and it was easy to portray Adele as the vengeful wife.
Nicholas and Adele married and had a child before the Earl died. As Earl, Nicholas employed many more orphans and had the old orphanage knocked down and rebuilt. He also paid for kinder staff.
*****
THE END