15
“AND THAT, MOTHER—EVERY GORY DETAIL OF IT—IS what George did to her.” He felt bowed with fury and anger at George, who was gone from them, who would never have to face up to what he had done.
He’d had no intention of ever telling his mother the truth, but like the excellent, cunning mother she was, she’d awakened him from a deep sleep and gotten the truth out of him at a fine clip before he’d cocked half an eye open. He wanted to kick himself. But it was done and now couldn’t be undone. She’d gotten him, but good.
He was fully awake now, cursing himself for being such a deep sleeper. His mother wasn’t looking at him but rather was standing by the window looking down at the beautiful terraced gardens. He said, “I’m sorry, Mother. I hadn’t wanted you to know, there was no need. But you’re as shrewd as a mother superior. You got me at my lowest ebb.”
She turned slowly to face him. “Yes, dearest, your wits are never fully knitted together when you are first awakened.” Charlotte then fell silent. She began to pace Rohan’s bedchamber. He was still in bed, of course. Unlike her son, Charlotte had always been an early riser. She was always at her most cunning early in the morning. And, pity for her son, it was only six o’clock.
Rohan still regretted none of his actions from the evening before. He hadn’t changed his mind about anything, particularly about marrying Susannah.
He loved her name. It danced on the tongue. He imagined that even in a rage, yelling her name would be a treat.
“You know, dearest, as much as it pleases me that you wished to protect my ears from George’s infamy, I would have known that you would never have married a young girl and kept her hidden away. You would have paraded her out and spoiled her rotten, just as you’re planning to do now with both her and Marianne.”
There was sudden determination in her voice. “Now, no more protecting George. It is Susannah and Marianne who must be protected.”
She began her pacing again. “For nearly five years,” she said finally, more to herself and the fireplace than to him. She turned then to face her son, who looked delightful balanced upon his elbows in his bed, his hair tousled, whiskers on his chin, at least two whiskers in that cleft of his. But her look was only cursory. “What was George?” she said finally, unable to leave it alone. “This young man I don’t recognize?”
“I don’t know. I plan to go to Oxford and find out. There is no doubt that he knew the man who kidnapped Susannah for the map. I’m sorry, Mother.”
“I know. So am I. When will you go to Oxford?”
“I must go once I have Susannah’s agreement to wed me in private. No one else—none of our friends, neighbors, not even Fitz—must ever know the true state of affairs, Mother. As for what I learn, I will try to keep it private.”
“Yes, that would be best. I believe you should marry Susannah before you leave for Oxford. She is very proud. George betrayed her, made a fool of her, and she is doubtless tottering from the weight of it. She very probably feels perfectly useless, unwanted, worth less than nothing. Yes, you need to marry her because I fear she just might try to leave Mountvale, thinking to spare you this noble sacrifice. A very quiet wedding. You will obtain a special license?”
“Yes, as soon as I can.”
“You will adopt Marianne?”
“Of course.” He scratched his chest, realized his mother was looking at him, and quickly pulled the covers to his chin. Then he realized that she’d been looking through him, not at him. Well, she was his mother, after all.
“At least neither of us will have to worry about her once she’s your wife. She understands the way of things. She can remain here at Mountvale House, all snug and cozy, while you are in London, doing what you do so very well.”
“Why would I want to be alone in London? Really, Mother, when I travel to London, she and Marianne and Toby will be with me.”
She didn’t say another word, just stared at him. “But she is not like me nor is she a milksop. She told me that herself last night. But nothing else, as you know. Yes, Susannah would be miserable. It would not be just because of you. Think of your mistresses, dearest, all your parties, the Four Horse Club, White’s, the opera, the—”
“I daresay that Susannah might enjoy the opera and—” His voice fell like a rock off a cliff. He just realized how he was speaking to her, his mother. He looked down at his toes, wiggling them beneath the blankets. He cleared his throat. “That is, naturally when I wish to indulge my appetites, I will see to it that she is properly entertained. Surely you know that I would do that well.”
The doubt fell from her beautiful face. It wasn’t yet seven o’clock in the morning, she wasn’t wearing any cosmetics, the sun was flooding through the east window, and she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life. “That is what your dear father always did. Naturally, I did the same for your father whenever I wished to indulge myself. It is what makes a marriage successful. Both husband and wife must be attentive to each other’s needs and inclinations. I will never forget when dear Lord Westminster died in that hunting accident. I was devastated, really quite undone. Your dear father didn’t leave my side until well after the funeral.” Suddenly her expression became austere. “You know, of course, dearest, that you must breed an heir before Susannah will be free to indulge herself. You will explain this to her, will you not?”
“Mother, I don’t believe it will be effective. Susannah, I fear, is going to be an interfering wife.” He raised his hand quickly to hold her off. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to give Susannah instructions on the care and maintenance of a womanizer. But she was obviously appalled. “I shall bring her around, Mother, you will see. There is no need for you to say anything to her. I will deal with it. All right?”
“I suppose so, dearest. A man of your reputation should be able to bring any woman around to his way of thinking, wife or no wife.”
“Yes, you are right, of course. Now, I will get myself out of bed and make sure that Susannah hasn’t fled Mountvale House. Promise me you won’t speak to her.”
“Very well. How is Marianne’s bellyache?”
“She fell asleep in my arms downstairs in the library. She never realized there wasn’t a piano in sight. I suppose I shall have to teach her to dance a Scottish reel today. I think it was the reel. Yes, she would enjoy jumping and hopping about, sucking her fingers all the while Fitz pounded the tune on the piano.”
His mother arched a perfect eyebrow at the image of her son, a man of sterling reprobate character, dancing with a little girl.
Rohan, half an hour later, was whistling as he walked to Susannah’s bedchamber.
Sabine, his mother’s maid, was straightening the hair-brushes on Susannah’s dressing table. For the past three years, Sabine had been trying to get Rohan into her bed. He stopped the instant he saw her and very quietly began to back out the open door.
“My lord! Ah, you are here. To see madame? A waste, that one. No, it is a female of more interesting habits who would pleasure you, more—”
“Sabine, where is Lady Mountvale?”
“You mean your wife?”
How could he have possibly imagined that every servant within fifty miles wouldn’t know every detail? “Yes, my wife,” he said. “Where is she?”
“She was muttering to herself, my lord, about what, I’m not sure. She asked me where her valise was, but when I asked her why she wanted it, she wouldn’t tell me. No, she just looked—how you say it—ah, yes, she looked struck and left the room.”
Rohan paused in the doorway, gave Sabine a fat smile, and said, “I am married now, Sabine.”
She clasped her hands beneath her breasts, heaving them upward, and said, “So?”
He threw up his hands and left. Where the devil was she? “Ah, Toby? Where are you off to?”
“I’m trying to find Susannah, sir.”
“Tell you what, you try the nursery, and I’ll ask Fitz.”
Neither of them found h
er.
“Perhaps,” Fitz said, all new dignity now that Susannah was the mistress of Mountvale House, “her ladyship is with the Harker brothers learning more about racing cats. Ozzy told me the kitten is very nearly up to racing snuff for her ladyship.”
Her ladyship. If Fitz recognized Susannah as such, it was done. No one—not even the Earl of Northcliffe at his most imperious—would ever disagree with Fitz. It was amusing that Fitz hadn’t yet decided if racing cats were beneath a ladyship’s dignity.
Rohan said, “No, she is more likely planning ways to do away with me.”
“I might consider it an option as well, my lord, had you married me and kept me hidden for over four years.”
“Now that is an appalling thought.”
As was his habit, Rohan visited their villain each morning, to see if he was ready to talk. This morning the door was open, the footman Rory on guard.
Susannah was inside, standing over the man. He still looked very pale, and the bandage was still around his head.
Rohan said quietly, “Stand outside, Rory.” He went in quietly and closed the door behind him.
“Why won’t you tell me the truth?” she was saying. Obviously this wasn’t the first time she’d asked him.
“Go take yourself off,” the man said shortly and spit, missing Susannah’s skirts by only an inch. It was a nasty habit.
“You and George were friends, weren’t you? I remember that you were one of the men I met that day in the inn dining room. Your name is Lambert, isn’t it?”
“You were George’s little lightskirt. Aye, I knew it was you. Here you thought you was his wife. How we all laughed about that. And it only cost him ten pounds a quarter. Cheapest mistress a man could ever have.” The man laughed, a rough, leering laugh, but still Susannah stood her ground.
“I don’t believe you. You’re lying about a man who’s dead and can’t defend himself. Please, tell me the truth about George. I need to know about him. Are you Lambert or are you Theodore Micah?”
He turned his face to the wall.
“You’re Lambert, aren’t you?”
This time the man flinched. Slowly he turned back to face her. “You give me that wretched map and I’ll tell you all about George.”
“There is no map. If there is, I don’t know where it is. I told you that. It’s the truth.”
“Then that means George did something else with it. I wonder.”
“Keep wondering, Lambert,” Rohan said, approaching from the corner. “Now that we know who you are, we will soon discover what this is all about.”
“Mangy bastard. George said you’d have a bone to pick with this if you ever found out about it. He told us he was real careful around you. He said you acted all indolent and good-natured, but there were depths in you he didn’t want to plumb. Looks like George wasn’t careful enough, was he? You just go looking, you’ll not find out a damned thing. Without the map, you don’t have a bloody clue.”
He turned his face once more to the wall.
Rohan said slowly, “I think it’s time you went to gaol, Mr. Lambert.” But there was a problem. The man knew about George’s sham marriage. What if he announced it to the world? It was an appropriate time, Rohan thought, to become ruthless.
Lambert didn’t go to gaol. Instead, that afternoon, after Dr. Foxdale had pronounced him fit enough, two footmen escorted him to Eastbourne, where he was turned over to Captain Muldoon, along with a long letter from Lord Mountvale. He would be in His Majesty’s Navy for six years or until he died, whichever came first.
There was nothing more that Rohan could think of doing. He found Susannah this time with Ozzy Harker, in deep discussion. “ . . . Aye, yer ladyship, there be many methods we see at the cat racing course. There’s old Mr. Bittle wot stands over ’is poor gray tabby and claps ’is mitts together real loud, right in the kitter’s ears. Scares the poor kitter out o’ ’er wits. She do run, fur all stiff, tail blossomed out, but most the time, she runs unner the skirts o’ the nearest lady.”
She smiled, for it was amusing, but she was thinking: I have to stop this. Everyone is calling me my lady. It is a horrible mistake. I must leave.
“Thank you, Ozzy. I have something important I must see to now.”
She walked away from him, her head down, and Rohan knew exactly what she was thinking. He followed her to, of all places, his estate room. He blinked when he saw her very quietly, very slowly, open his desk drawers, one after the other. He watched her pull out his strongbox. Unfortunately for her, it was locked.
“Don’t you think it would be easier to marry me than be hauled in front of the magistrate? Stealing money is frowned upon, you know.”
Susannah sighed deeply. She rattled the strongbox once again, then put it back in the bottom drawer of the desk. “I would have paid you back,” she said, her voice as dull as the consommé she made for her father whenever his innards rebelled against too much whiskey.
“How?”
That hit its mark. She stood straight and tall, like a veritable Diana. All she needed was a bow and arrows. Her chin went up. “Why, I think I just might go to Oxford and find myself a protector who will pay me more than ten pounds a quarter.”
“You know, Susannah, George’s problem was that he didn’t know how to prevent you conceiving a child. And it never even occurred to you. If Marianne had never been born, then he could have continued enjoying you without worrying about offspring. You told me he didn’t come around much the past two years. That was because he was terrified of getting you pregnant again.”
She hadn’t thought of that; she had only felt the pain of rejection. “A man of your reputation—why, how could you possibly know what George thought or planned? Maybe it wasn’t at all like that horrible man Lambert said. Maybe he was just talking to me like that because he wanted to hurt me. I did escape him and you did shoot him.”
“That’s possible, but not at all to the point. Why don’t we just put an end to all this? Marry me, Susannah. I will fetch us a special license on the morrow. The local vicar, Mr. Byam, is a lifelong friend of the Carrington family. He would never betray us. He can marry us the next day. Then you won’t have to worry about stealing money from me.”
“No, that’s true. I would just have to worry about which one of your women you were with when you weren’t with me.”
“I know. That’s an insurmountable problem, isn’t it? A man of my reputation has much to live up to, doesn’t he? Perhaps we could just forget about all my women.” He waved his hands in front of him like a magician, and snapped his fingers. “There! The problem’s gone. What do you say?”
“George betrayed me. I couldn’t bear to marry another man who wouldn’t even pretend he wasn’t betraying me.”
“Perhaps,” he said very slowly, very carefully, “perhaps you and I could consider never betraying each other. There would be just the two of us. We would provide all of the entertainment for each other. I believe I could make that vow. Could you?”
She looked like she wanted to punch him in the nose. “Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t ever want to have a horrible man touch me again. I hated it. It was sweaty and embarrassing and humiliating. All that dreadful grunting and heaving, why—” She looked as if she had just blasphemed an angel to his face. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Her face turned red to her hairline. “Forget I said that,” she said between her fingers. “I didn’t say it, did I? No, surely I have sufficient breeding not to have spewed that out, don’t I?”
“Yes, you did say it. Sorry.”
“No, you must have misunderstood me. Please, Rohan, let me steal some money. All of us will leave and you’ll never have to worry about anything again.”
He studied his fingernail. It was short and buffed. He wanted to ease that finger inside her, he wanted . . . “You know, Susannah, physical love between a man and a woman doesn’t have to be horrible and embarrassing. I have no understanding at all of humiliation in lovemaking. What could be humiliating? S
weaty, probably so, but that’s not so bad when you’re enjoying yourself.”
She stared at him as if he had just grown another ear. Her chin went up again. “Since I didn’t say anything, I have no idea of what you’re talking about.”
He walked to her then. He took her hand and pulled her out from behind his desk. He pulled her against him. She tried to push away, her palms flat against his chest, but he was stronger and he was determined. “Say yes, Susannah.”
Her eyes were on his neck. She shook her head.
He began to stroke his hands up and down her back, easy, gentle strokes. “Everything will be all right if you will just say yes.”
Finally, she raised her eyes to the cleft in his chin. “You are a very kind man, despite your reputation. I would be a miserable woman were I to accept you. I would have no honor. Your brother didn’t believe I was worth anything other than what he got from me in his bed, which couldn’t have been very much. He didn’t think I was worth any more than ten pounds a quarter. Surely you aren’t willing to sacrifice yourself just because of George’s indiscretion?”
16
“I THINK I WOULD MAKE A SPLENDID SACRIFICE.”
“This isn’t a jest, Rohan. George obviously didn’t want me or his daughter. We simply weren’t important enough to him. Why would you want something that had no value at all to your brother?”
“What George did was despicable. It has nothing to do with us. Listen to me, Susannah. I will not allow you to say that you have no value—”
“It’s true. I have less worth than any decent mistress. It’s been proven. Only ten pounds a quarter for the likes of me. Tell me, what does one of your mistresses cost you per quarter? Or has one mistress ever been lucky enough to survive a full quarter?”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. He put his face right into hers. He said very slowly, “I will not let you goad me. I will say it again. You have great worth. Don’t you dare look down at your damned slippers. Look at me! It gives me pleasure just to look at you. It gives me great pleasure to hear Marianne sucking on her fingers. It gives me great pleasure to have Toby tell me he’s never indulged in a wild antic. You are an intelligent, caring woman. I want you for my wife. Let’s grow old together and have a dozen children.”
The Wild Baron Page 16