‘A man can’t always fight alone, Your Grace.’ As long as there’s a ‘we’, he’d once told Pavia. There wasn’t a ‘we’ any more, just him.
A shadow fell across the table. ‘Ah, my boy, I heard you were back in town.’ The Earl of Aylsbury leaned elegantly on his cane, managing to make ageing look like a fashionable feat. ‘And, Cowden, how good to see you. Congratulations on the news of your son.’ He turned back to Cam. ‘Your trunk arrived at Aylsbury House yesterday, full of your civilian clothes. I don’t imagine you’ll need them at the moment, just thought you’d like to know.’
He lowered his voice and drew Cam aside. ‘Seems your “wife” is back in town and living at her father’s. All’s well that ends well, hmm? We can all throw off this misfortunate interlude. I’ll start the proceedings for an annulment right away. It’ll be taken care of before you return from the Crimea.’ He winked. ‘It’s always good to have someone at Lambeth Palace in your pocket. A little money and an unfortunate fire, and there will be no proof there ever was a wedding. The both of you can be married to other people by Christmas. Caroline will look lovely in winter white and Honeysett has the Marquis dangling on a golden chain.’ He smiled coldly and clapped Cam on the shoulder. ‘I hope you’ll have time to call before you ship out.’
His grandfather sauntered on to meet other friends and Cam took out his pocket watch, his hand trembling with emotion; Pavia to marry another! And against her will. So this was the trouble Pavia was in. He had just enough time to make her rendezvous. ‘Cowden, if you’ll excuse me?’ He’d no more said the words and sent for his horse than an exclamation brought the club surging to the windows in excitement. A dray had overturned, blocking the street to horse and carriage traffic. He’d never make to the rendezvous point in time on horseback. He’d have to go on foot and he’d be late, even if he ran.
Cam tore through the chaotic crowd, his mind equally riotous. What would he do when he got there? Did he help her? Did he let her use him again? Did he even have a choice? This wasn’t just about Pavia. It was about him, too. He wasn’t about to stand aside and let others dictate the status of his marriage. She couldn’t marry another unless she were free to do so and the last time he checked neither of them were. No one, not even the Earl of Aylsbury, was going to take his wife from him.
* * *
Cam wasn’t coming. Pavia paced the lawn outside the Queen’s Temple in Kensington Gardens, hiding her agitation behind the ruffles of a white parasol. She couldn’t wait much longer. She’d told her maid she’d be back by five o’clock. If she wasn’t, her maid would sound the alarm. Her mother would worry and her father would be suspicious. She risked much with this meeting. A virtuous girl would not be out alone. Her father would scold her over what the Marquis might think if he found out. He might do more than scold her. In truth, she feared what her father would do to ensure the match. He had an important ally these days in the Earl of Aylsbury. Together, between the Earl’s power and her father’s money, they could cloak many sins.
Pavia turned to make another pass of the building, disappointment growing. Was Cam just late or was he simply not coming? Had he got her note and dismissed it? Had he decided in the week he’d left Little Trull that he was indeed better off without her? What man wanted to be tied to a woman who insisted she had no use of him? Until she did. But this meeting today wasn’t just about needing his help. It was about them. She’d been wrong to dismiss his love, to not believe in it, and now she’d put them at risk by playing into her father’s hand. Now she just had to convince Cam of that, if she ever saw him again.
‘Pavia Honeysett, I hear you have need of my services,’ Cam drawled from behind her.
She turned, relief making her weak. ‘You came!’ She stepped towards him, impulsively. It was too easy to want to throw herself in his arms. She stopped, seeing the wariness of his shuttered blue eyes. ‘You don’t trust me. That’s my fault,’ she said carefully.
‘Maybe I don’t trust myself when I’m with you.’ Cam’s reply was dry. ‘You are in distress about marrying the Marquis?’ His tone was cool, at odds with his appearance. His face was red and sweaty, his cravat undone. His horse was nowhere to be found.
‘I am in distress about what my father’s delusions will do to us,’ she amended. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I ran most of the way, found a hack eventually. I wouldn’t recommend it in boots.’
‘Come inside the temple with me. We can talk in private and it’s cooler.’ Pavia held out her hand, but Cam didn’t take it. Still, he’d run across London for her. That had to be a good sign.
‘To marry the Marquis, I have to be free of my first marriage. My father and your grandfather are going to destroy it. There will be no record of it except our word against theirs.’
Inside, the temple undulated through three empty, cool, stone rooms. The place was deserted this time of day and they were alone.
‘He’s a good man. What is the distress?’
‘I don’t love him.’
‘That hasn’t stopped you before.’
‘I don’t recall you ever being mean, Cam. You know we had other circumstances to consider in the beginning.’ He wasn’t making this easy for her. She’d hoped he’d meet her halfway, that he would have been happy to see her the way she was happy to see him.
‘When I told you I loved you, you offered to help me pack. Forgive me if I don’t find that a resounding endorsement of your affections.’ He was as cold as these stones today.
Pavia whirled about, arms crossed. ‘This isn’t going how I hoped it would. Two men want to wreck our marriage for their own personal gain. Will you do nothing to stop them?’
‘How do I stop them when I could not stop my own wife from leaving?’
‘You left first.’ He could not put all of this on her plate.
‘Because you pushed me away. You told me to go after Fortis. Pavia, be fair.’ Cam pushed a hand through his hair, a weary gesture. ‘What would you have me do? I ship out in two days.’
‘Make our marriage public knowledge.’ She strode the length of the smaller chamber as she explained. ‘Everyone needs to know we’re wed. Your grandfather’s influence over us comes from the fact that our marriage is secret at the moment. He can disavow it, see it erased, because there is no one to contest him, no one to be appalled at how he is violating the sacrament of marriage by pretending ours doesn’t exist.’
Cam nodded. ‘So, a belated announcement in The Times?’
‘Yes, and tell all your friends. The more who know, the better. Your grandfather despises a scandal. He’d be horrified to do anything that attached one directly to his name. He can’t be caught bribing officials at Lambeth Palace.’
‘Then what, Pavia? We are publicly husband and wife. I think this brings us back to the question I asked you that last night in Little Trull.’ His voice was husky as he leaned against the wall, his arm bracketing her head. ‘Will you be here when I get back?’
Pavia licked her lips. ‘No, because I will be with you. You are not leaving me behind.’ This was the harder selling point of her plan. She could see resistance form behind his eyes. He’d want to protect her.
‘Balaclava is a war zone. It may not be safe.’
‘Other wives do it,’ she argued.
‘This is crazy, Pavia.’
‘Love is crazy, Cam.’ She reached up to kiss him then, a soft, sweet, lingering kiss as she caressed his jaw. It felt good to be back in his arms. More than that, it felt right. ‘I don’t deserve you.’
His hands were in her hair pulling out the pins. ‘We both made mistakes. I was so set on being a father I didn’t understand how it made you feel, as if you had no value except as the mother of my child.’
‘I’ve never had value, Cam.’ It was getting harder to talk between kisses, but she had to say this, had to share this. ‘I’ve been defined my whole life
by my fortune and my face. Until you came along, but by then, how could I believe it? How could a stranger want me for me?’
‘I’m not a stranger any more, Pavia,’ Cam whispered against her neck, her back against the wall, his hand sliding up beneath her skirts.
‘What are you doing, Cam?’ Pavia gasped, half-alarmed, half-thrilled at the illicit nature of their activity.
He kissed her hard, his finger sliding into her until she moaned her pleasure into his mouth. ‘I am making you a promise. I will come for you in two days’ time and this time it will be for ever. On the day we sail an announcement will be in The Times and the world will know. That you are my wife for now and for always.’
Chapter Twenty-Three
The plan was simple. She would simply walk out the front door and leave. There would be no fanfare, no trunks, no secret supplies to usher off to the docks. Nothing would go wrong. Cam’s ship sailed on the evening tide. With them on board. It was a litany Pavia repeated multiple times in the hours that remained. Never had two days crawled by at such a pace. A snail would have been faster.
Pavia looked up from her letter writing, studying the little clock on her desk. One o’clock. Just two hours to go. She ran through the plan again. She would leave the house with her maid or other escort, it didn’t matter who, which was fortuitous since her maid had taken ill last night and wouldn’t be able to accompany her. She and the escort would walk a few blocks. Pavia would exclaim she’d left something behind and send them back for it. At which point, she’d hail a hansom and be off. She would meet Cam at a tavern on the docks and from there they’d go to his ship. The only trick was the speed with which it all needed to happen. She could not leave the house too early in case she was missed before the boat sailed and there was pursuit. Three o’clock would be just enough time to account for traffic should she encounter anything out of the ordinary.
Pavia stared at the incomplete note. She needed to finish it. The clock was truly running now, at last. The note was for her mother. She would leave it behind in her room. Pavia needed her to understand. Cam was the right man, a life with him was the right life wherever it led them. She had nearly thrown that away. If she didn’t go with him now, there wouldn’t be another chance. This was the right decision, but being right didn’t make it an easy one. She wished it could be accomplished in another way. Since it couldn’t be, since her father and the Earl were set on making them choose between each other and family, it had to be this way. She refused to give up Cam.
The thought of Cam bolstered her courage. She imagined him overseeing the organisation of supplies this morning, writing out orders, directing men, his gold hair blazing beneath the sun. She would be with him soon. She finished her note and changed into the walking ensemble she would take with her. Cam had promised to have a trunk of essentials waiting for her. She wouldn’t be without clothes, but this would be her last dress from home. When she’d left the first time, she’d had a trunk of her things with her. She took a final look around her room. No, not ‘home’. This wasn’t her home any more, it hadn’t been for five months now. Her home was with Cam. Wherever that was.
Pavia walked down the stairs, gloves in hand, as if it were any other day for an outing. Her pulse raced, though, because while it had to look like any other day for an outing, it wasn’t. The footman waiting to escort her rose from his seat in the hall. There was only her father’s office to walk past. As usual, she reminded herself. She walked past that room every time she went out. He hardly ever noticed.
‘Hatchard’s today, I think, Rosman,’ she said to the footman, proud of the casual tone in her voice when she felt anything but casual. ‘There’s a new novel I’d like to get.’
‘Very good, Miss Honeysett.’ His hand was on the door knob. She smiled. She was very nearly there. Just three more steps.
‘Pavia? Is that you? Can you spare me a minute?’ Her father’s voice seemed to boom like cannon in the hallway. Pavia froze, rapidly assessing her options. Should she make a run for it? Breeze past the footman, down the steps and out the front gate and into the streets? If she could make it that far, she might stand a chance. But her father had guards posted around the property to keep people out. Today those guards would keep her in. If she didn’t make it to the street, she wouldn’t make at all. Running would tip her hand. Perhaps it would be best to continue normally.
‘Yes, Father?’ She stood in the doorway of the office, hoping her choice not to enter fully communicated her need for urgency, a shorter conversation.
‘Come in, sit down. Your mother and I have something to discuss with you.’ He gestured to a chair by the desk.
‘Now?’ She smiled. ‘When I am on my way to Hatchard’s? I’ve been home all day.’ She tried to tease him, tried to appeal to her mother with a look.
‘This is important, Pavia.’ His dark eyes were sombre. Her laughter and teasing had no effect. ‘I’ve heard a troubling rumour that must be dealt with. You met a man secretly two days ago.’ He studied her, looking for a reaction. She kept her features neutrally confused, letting a small furrow form on her brow.
‘I don’t understand, Father.’ Although she did. Someone had discovered where she’d gone and told her father. Or her father had had her followed. Or Cam had been followed. She wouldn’t have put it past his grandfather to have men watching Cam. She folded her hands in her lap, a chill starting low in her stomach. Her father knew. That made him dangerous. She had to get out of this room.
‘I believe I do.’ Her father steepled his hands on his desk. ‘It comes down to two things, Pavia. Either the servant lied and it will cost them their position. I will not tolerate falsehoods about my family bandied about. Or, you did indeed meet a man, which is not out of the realm of possibility. That you had to do it in secret suggests it wasn’t the Marquis. If I had to wager on it, I would say you arranged a meeting with Major Lithgow.’ Her father looked at the clock on his desk. ‘Lithgow ships out today, in two hours. How convenient you were going out just now.’
‘I think you’ve put together quite a few tentative links, Father,’ Pavia replied coolly. ‘He is my husband—why should I need to meet with him in secret? I should be able to meet with him any time and any place I choose. May I ask which servant this was? Perhaps it is someone looking to make trouble or looking to earn your favour.’
Her father looked beyond her to Rosman. ‘Bring us the maid.’ He gave her a sly smile. ‘Neither, Daughter, which is why I feel certain I have the right of it.’
Rosman brought in Margaret, sobbing and trembling. ‘I am sorry, miss. I tried not to say anything, honestly, I tried.’ The poor girl looked sleepless, worn down, her eyes puffy. She’d not been ill last night. She’d been bullied.
Pavia glared at her father. ‘You forced her into confessing something—anything. You threatened to take her position. Did you also threaten to turn her out without a reference? That is despicable. Coercing servants with no power. Reneging on a deal with your daughter to send her to India. These are not ethical actions of conduct.’
‘Oliver, what is this?’ her mother broke in. ‘Is this true? Did you promise Pavia she could go to India? Did you force this girl to a confession?’ Her mother’s dark eyes flashed with fire. She rose. ‘Is there no honour left in you, Oliver?’
‘Sabita, wait. India was predicated on Pavia needing to hide a baby. That was a condition that no longer existed.’ Her father tried to placate her mother. He turned back to her, hoping to build the righteousness of his case. ‘You were going to run away with Lithgow today. Again. Don’t deny it. Why do you persist in doing things that displease your family and his?’
‘Because I love him and he loves me.’ Pavia pleaded with her mother, ‘Surely that means something, Mother. Reason with him.’
Her father laughed. ‘Marriage isn’t for love, Pavia. It’s for alliances. Did your mother teach you nothing? Did life at your uncle’s court or our
life here in London teach you nothing?’
‘Excuse me, I will be going.’ Pavia stood up and moved swiftly, hoping the element of surprise would buy her enough time to reach the door, the hall, the entry, that perhaps her mother would intervene.
‘Rosman, detain her, please.’ Her father’s order was crisp and sharp. Rosman moved to block her exit and return her to her chair.
Her father smiled coldly. ‘Pavia, we are not done. You will not be leaving this house. Rosman, have the front door locked and alert my men on the grounds. No one is leaving.’
‘Oliver, this is madness,’ her mother warned, but it had no effect. If he was willing to override her mother, then Pavia was truly on her own.
Real panic came to Pavia. They might as well have locked her in her room. She was being trapped, held against her will, and now the clock that had moved slowly for two days was racing its way around the hour.
‘I can see in your eyes that I was right. You were meeting Lithgow.’ Her father’s features were grim. ‘He loves you? Are you sure?’
‘I am sure.’
‘Shall we wager on that?’ He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of thick parchment. ‘Your wedding certificate against his imminent arrival. If he comes for you, you may go with him. If he does not, we’ll burn the proof you were ever married and you’ll wed the Marquis.’
Pavia blanched and her father scoffed. ‘Not so sure now? It’s easy to say you’ll risk all for love, it’s much harder to do it. Perhaps you’ll thank me for this one day. I am doing you a favour. A man who won’t come for his bride isn’t worthy of his bride.’ He gestured for another footman. ‘Be ready shortly, I want to send a message to Aylsbury. Perhaps he’d like to join us.’ Then he glanced at the clock. ‘Four-thirty, shall we say, Daughter? In an hour we’ll know what your Major is really made of.’
One Night with the Major Page 21