“Of course it wasn’t.” Beth was having none of that. “It was my idea, and I had to talk him into it. Anyway, you have been after me to marry this age, Aunt Augusta.”
“Not at Gretna Green!”
“There is no sense repining over what can’t be helped.” Her voice as soothing as cool water on a burn, Gabby smiled at him. “We are just so thankful to have Beth restored to us that a scandal seems a small price to pay.”
“To you, maybe,” Aunt Augusta said in the bitterest of accents. “I have borne much from you gels, but this—” She broke off, an arrested expression on her face. “Well. I have just now hit on the most famous notion, and now know how we may all come about. You are not breeding, are you?”
Even Neil blinked at this piece of plain speaking, which was addressed to Beth.
“I’m surprised at you, Aunt, for asking such an improper question!” Beth answered with a pert wrinkle of her nose, then as her aunt frowned direly tacked on a quick “No, certainly not.”
“Then this is what we will do. We will say nothing to anyone about any marriage. You must know, miss, that your sisters have given it out that you have taken to your bed with the influenza, from which you have supposedly been suffering most dreadfully. Rumors have certainly been flying to the contrary, but when you arise from your sickbed to rejoin the world, I am confident that we can put them to rest. Durham—if that is indeed who you are, sir!—must pretend to be an old friend of Richmond’s, newly returned from foreign parts, who has just arrived to stay with him for a while. As far as the outside world is concerned, you two will meet, fall in love under the eyes of the ton, and be married by special license at the end of the Season. No word of Gretna Green need ever get out at all.”
Lady Salcombe looked triumphantly around.
“How romantic everyone will think it!” Claire was the first to speak, though her eyes slid with some worry in them to Beth.
“It will serve, I think.” Gabby’s response was slower as she, too, looked at Beth. “Unless you dislike the scheme, of course, Beth.”
“I must say, I think Lady Salcombe has hit on the very thing, Miss Beth,” Miss Twindlesham said with more enthusiasm. “‘Tis better than owning to a Gretna Green marriage, I’ll be bound.”
“Why, I think so, too.” Beth gave her aunt an approving nod. “I must say, I wasn’t looking forward to the scandal, but I saw no way around it. How very knacky you are, Aunt Augusta!” As the old lady permitted herself a small smile, Beth’s gaze shifted to Neil. “You don’t object to the scheme, do you?”
“I know nothing of the matter,” he said. “You must do as you see fit.”
With those unwary words, his life was turned upside down.
By everyone save Richmond and, to a lesser extent, DeVane, both of whom clearly remained suspicious of him and seemed to take turns following him around, he was from that moment on treated as a friend of Richmond’s and a house guest in town for what remained of the Season. He had his own apartment in Richmond House as far from Beth’s as it was possible to get (he suspected that was deliberate), and was most bluntly told by Lady Salcombe that she had no wish to have the whole scheme undermined by servants’ gossip or a pregnancy, and so he would oblige her by staying out of her niece’s bedroom until the official wedding, which would, after all, take place in just a few weeks, so it was to be hoped he could contain himself. As Beth, having also been taken roundly to task by her aunt, agreed to the stricture, and he had no real objection to waiting since the ultimate outcome could not be in doubt, he was content to use that time to get his affairs in order and do his possible to fit into Beth’s world.
Although he had been raised in accordance with his rank, he had never lived the life of a gentleman of the ton. It was, he discovered as he was introduced to it under the somewhat jaundiced wings of Richmond and DeVane, who seemed to be helpless to resist their wives’ directives even though they were clearly unenthusiastic about the chore they had been set to perform, an exhausting and complicated business, and he could discover in himself no great liking for it. But, since it was, in fact, better than being hunted, as he recently had been, or even dead, he persevered, and shortly found himself in possession of such an extensive wardrobe that he was embarrassed to own it, a number of horses, including a perfectly matched pair of sweet-goers designed to draw his new curricle, and a valet. His man of business—he had one of those, too—was looking for a town house, with every expectation (so he said) of achieving a happy result within a short period of time, as well as a butler and other servants, possibly a dozen in all, to staff it. Three maids—Mary, Peg, and Alyce, to be precise, and mighty gleeful they were about it, too—already had been personally engaged by Beth. Having discovered on the morning after his and Beth’s arrival at Richmond House that the gaggle of gooseberries had been given houseroom in the servants’ quarters until such time as other provision could be made for them, Beth had been in her element, securing a position in a most superior milliner’s shop for Dolly, finding work in an apothecary for Nan, and dispatching Jane to be the companion of a dear old lady who lived near Gabby’s country home of Morningtide. Mary still called him “yer worship”—though with more respect in her voice now that she had learned he was a genuine marquis and would be her employer—whenever she encountered him, but as neither she nor the others knew anything of his past beyond his rescue of them from Trelawney Castle, about which they had all agreed most fervently to say nothing, and because Beth desired it, he raised no objection to what Beth described to him happily as just the thing for them, and resigned himself to having them as a more or less permanent fixture in this new chapter of his existence.
A second chance: that was what DeVane had called it, but at some point in the process of resurrecting the almost forgotten Marquis of Durham, Neil realized that it was far more than that. He was embarking on a whole new life. Besides Claire and Gabby, to whom Beth had promptly confided the whole story—“Get accustomed to it; they tell each other everything” was Richmond’s caustic advice when Neil expressed some dismay upon learning that Beth’s sisters were in possession of the truth—no one outside himself, Beth, Richmond, and DeVane knew who and what he had been. The ruse had worked, according to Richmond; there seemed to be no suspicion in any of the circles Richmond had his ear to that the Angel of Death was not dead.
“Thank you,” Neil felt compelled to say to him, when Richmond revealed this bit of news in the very library where he had first met Beth. He was fully though less than happily conscious of the fact that he owed both Richmond and DeVane a great deal.
“Believe me, ’twas done for Beth, not you.”
“What of Clapham? He is the only one who could recognize me by sight, and I’d as soon keep track of his whereabouts for a while.” The knowledge that Clapham could identify him made him only slightly uneasy. Although it had been made clear that Clapham bore a personal animosity toward him and would kill him with alacrity and with no need for government orders at all if given the chance, he had no real expectation of ever encountering him again. Still, many years of having to work hard to keep himself alive had taught him to be careful, and much as he’d disliked requesting anything of Richmond, he had, in fact, asked him to locate Clapham if he could and find out what new assignment he was working on.
“There was no way of discovering precisely where he is, but I was able to ascertain that he had turned his attention to eliminating another of your ilk.”
Neil would like to have known more, but since it was Richmond, he was not about to say so.
“Again, I have to thank you,” he said instead.
The look Richmond gave him was hard.
“Beth is my wife’s little sister, and I count her as my own sister as well.” They were both standing, this private meeting having been of the shortest duration, and Richmond moved past him toward the door as he spoke. “As long as you are good to her, and she is happy with it, the situation will stand.”
The warning nature of tha
t almost prompted Neil to a pithy reply, but he kept his tongue between his teeth, and from that point on something very like a truce existed between him and his unacknowledged, reluctant brothers-in-law.
It was not to be supposed that the banks would just open his accounts to him after so many dormant years with no questions asked, so Neil had a good many meetings to go to in the city, and a number of persons he had to satisfy as to his identity. As he was, indeed, exactly who he claimed to be, not much difficulty attached to that beyond the tedium of it. Another, and to him far more important piece of business required him to slip out of Richmond House during the dead of night shortly after his arrival to pay a much-anticipated call. The unhappy object of that visit was William, Lord Rosen, and the outcome was that, having quickly confessed that he had, indeed, arranged for Beth’s kidnapping, Rosen took himself off to the continent within just a few days of Beth’s return to town. The alternative being death, as Neil had explained to him, he was almost embarrassingly eager to go. Had it not been for the certainty that Beth would not have wished him to do so, and would very likely have felt that she deserved some of the guilt for it when she learned of it, Neil would have killed him without a qualm. Instead, for Beth, he let Rosen go.
He had become well acquainted with London’s dark and seamy side over the years, but the fashionable world was as new to him as the wilds of the Colonies would have been. There was White’s with its bow window, Watier’s with its deep play, Gentleman Jackson’s boxing establishment, Tattersall’s for the acquisition of horses, shooting at Manton’s Galleries, and Cribb’s Parlour for imbibing Blue Ruin and other libations. Neil did little more than give these establishments a look-in, and shunned completely the lesser gaming houses with which the city was rife, as well as the elegant brothels, the cockpits and the hells, and the other, even seedier establishments in which all manner of vice might be found. He drank no more than was good for him, played some at piquet, and dice, and faro, winning more than he lost, and rode his new horses with real appreciation for their quality and the freedom to do so. With the Season in full swing, there were callers and card parties, balls and soirees, musicales and picnic suppers, opera and the theater, in seemingly endless procession, and his new incarnation as a typical London swell was too important to his survival for him to not play the role to the fullest. He was, to his bemusement, quickly dubbed a prize catch in the Marriage Mart, and matchmaking mamas with their debutante daughters in tow pursued him in numbers and with a dedication unrivaled in his experience. Finding himself catapulted into the treacherous waters of the ton, he steeled himself to its demands and did his best to adapt to them. He submitted to the fashionable haircut recommended by his new valet, togged himself out in the snug-fitting coats, tight pantaloons, and mirror-bright Hessians that were de rigueur, and in general did his best to change his stripes to suit his surroundings. He received any number of instructions in what to do when, how to talk to whom, and other matters of general etiquette from Beth, who, he could tell, was deriving considerable amusement from his transformation. Since he found that he enjoyed her enjoyment, he was cooperative to the extent that, one bright sunny morning after arising from the breakfast table with the expressed intent of visiting his man of business, he found himself confronted instead with a dancing master who proposed to refresh him on such dances as the reel and the quadrille, which he had been taught as a youth, and to teach him the waltz.
Taking appalled measure of the dapper little man, whose attire consisted of a green coat, striped waistcoat, the tightest of yellow pantaloons, and shoes with pointed toes and heels, Neil almost balked. But having allowed Beth to wheedle him into the vast mirrored ballroom at the back of the house, and finding Miss Twindlesham at the piano already striking up a lively air, and Beth ready to cavort around the room with him under the interested eyes of her sisters, he surrendered to force majeure and got on with it. With Beth issuing nonstop instructions even as he held her in his arms, the dancing master demonstrating the steps with Claire, and Gabby, who he understood had a weak leg and thus rarely danced, clapping out the rhythm, Neil allowed himself to be tutored in the art of the dance. The chance to hold Beth close made up for a host of other ills, he discovered, and as a result he enjoyed himself far more than he expected.
This enjoyment lasted until, at a break in the music, heavy-handed clapping from the doorway caused Neil to glance around and discover, to his chagrin, Richmond and DeVane standing just inside the door, watching. They were clearly a good deal entertained at what they had witnessed, and if he’d been Beth, he would have no doubt reacted by turning as red as the walls. Thankfully, he was not. He sketched them an ironic bow instead, and had his revenge as their wives fell upon them and dragged them onto the floor. The three couples then twirled most elegantly around the room—although he was loweringly aware that Beth was the only female counting out the time—until Graham interrupted with a sonorous announcement that callers had arrived.
“You did wonderfully,” Beth said, beaming up at him. They were at the back of the room, in front of the long windows that overlooked the terrace and the garden, and the others had already begun to head for the hall. He held both her hands, looking down at her, surprised to find that he was reluctant for the session to end. Clad in a gown of lavender silk that was caught up with purple ribbons under her truly delectable bosom in such a way as to reveal the curvaceousness of her slender shape, with another purple ribbon threaded amongst her bright curls, smelling once again of the lavender scent he recalled from their first encounter, she was so lovely she took his breath. Had they been alone, he would have kissed her. As it was, he contented himself with raising both her hands to his lips and kissing them, one at a time.
“Very pretty,” she approved with a twinkle. As he smiled down at her, he felt the weight of several pairs of eyes on him, and looked up to discover that they were being observed by everyone else, who had apparently turned back instead of proceeding out the door.
The expression on his face must have been something to see, because Claire, whose eyes caught his, suddenly broke into the sweetest of smiles.
“You learn very quickly,” she said to him with approval. They were the first words she had addressed directly to him since he had made her acquaintance, and he bowed slightly in response.
“We must see to our guests,” Richmond said, his hand possessive as it settled at Claire’s waist. She nodded and turned away. The party broke up, with Beth tucking her hand in the crook of his arm and pulling him along to the drawing room, where several eligible maidens and their mamas were amongst those waiting for them. That the females included one of this Season’s reigning beauties, Miss Rockham, an ethereal blonde who had just attained her eighteenth year, and her mother, was a matter of little interest to Neil, although he was well aware they had him in their sights. The Rockhams had come ostensibly to call on Claire, whom they called “the dear duchess” in a most ingratiating way, and their presence was a source of considerable annoyance to his hostess and her elder sister, as he learned from a whispered comment from Claire to Gabby that he was not meant to overhear. But if Beth felt displeasure at Miss Rockham’s presence, she did not show it. She was her usual animated self, vividly beautiful and vibrantly alive and the life of the gathering as always, which he would have appreciated more if there had not been a number of other gentlemen present who clearly also appreciated her charms. When Mr. Charles Hayden and the Earl of Cluny, who, he had learned, had been amongst the most assiduous of her suitors until Rosen had beaten them out, arrived and started paying her such extravagant compliments that she blushed and exclaimed, he decided that it was time to take himself off.
There was no need to stay and make a cake of himself, after all. The issue could not be in doubt, because in point of fact she was already his.
On other days, he took her driving in Hyde Park at the fashionable hour of five o’clock, escorted her to all the most modish shops and to Hookham’s bookstore, and walked with her along P
iccadilly, enjoying her company immensely even if he was denied her bed. But, in his guise as a friend of Richmond’s, he could not live in her pocket, as the saying went, and this still left plenty of time for her to enjoy other pursuits, including, as he realized to his growing annoyance, the company of other men. Riding his new bay, Talavera, in Hyde Park with DeVane at his side, as they were both returning from a fencing session at Angelo’s that sent them along the promenade at the time it was most crowded, he was floored to discover, amongst the cavalcade of riders and carriages thronging the drive, his wife bowling toward him in a high-perch phaeton driven by Cluny, laughing gaily at something the fellow was saying.
When she saw them she waved in the friendliest of fashions, and clearly desired Cluny to pull up, which he did, holding his restive horses with a firm hand. To Neil’s eyes, she was looking particularly beautiful in a severely cut riding habit of moss green velvet with a darker green velvet hat perched atop her fiery curls, her blue eyes sparkling, her complexion glowing in the fresh air.
“Nick! Durham!” She greeted them with a sunny smile as they pulled up their horses in turn. “Is not Cluny’s carriage the most famous thing? He has offered to teach me how to drive it!”
Neil could feel himself stiffening. His hands tightened on the reins to the point where his horse sidled, and he immediately loosened his grip. The emotion that he struggled with was both new to him and notably unpleasant. It was a fight to keep the polite smile on his lips.
“Only if you permit, of course, DeVane,” Cluny said, with an easy smile. He was a slender man of perhaps thirty-five, with a narrow, attractive face and sandy hair. His white drab driving coat was all the crack, as was the curly-brimmed beaver on his head. “Or should I apply to Richmond? When you are both in town, it’s devilish hard to know.”
His voice held a note of gentle complaint.
“Lady Elizabeth will do as she wishes, of course,” DeVane said, while Neil met Beth’s eyes. She gave him a quizzing look.
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