Virginia And The Wolf

by Lynne Connolly

  The day was tedious, but Francis was glad of it, giving him a rest day and time to think. His head was still tender but healing well. His arm was a mass of bruises, but they were turning yellow now. And he was with the woman he wanted above all others.

  Francis sat next to Virginia, amusing her, playing cards for kisses, and wanting her more every day. That night they shared a bed again, and while he was gentle and only made love to her once, the experience only made him long for more.

  He wanted her, and he refused to wait six long years to claim her. Mistress was not enough. Not that she had offered that to him, but she would. He knew her too well. Marriage was what she deserved and what she could have, but he wanted her to come to him with a whole heart. He laid his plans, certain he could persuade her to marry him before too much longer.

  They were a day away from Exeter. With the countryside passing the window, combined with an occasional glimpse of the sea and the sails of the ships populating it, he said lazily, “I think we are out of trouble now. Your cousin must be a long way ahead of us.”

  “And nobody has tried to attack us,” she said, beaming.

  Which was one point he meant to address. “I don’t intend to leave you alone. Obviously, I can’t come and stay at Combe Manor with you in case word gets out, but I will find somewhere close by.”

  “You don’t have to,” she said quickly, glancing out the window.

  “Oh, but I do.” He watched her closely. “The manor is near Newton Abbott, is it not?”

  She nodded. “It overlooks the most beautiful bay. Or so I have been told. I’ve never been there. It is not uninhabited though; a caretaking couple lives there, so it will be ready for us.”

  She’d said “us.”

  Virginia was intelligent, she was beautiful, she was everything he wanted. But she was not as cynical as he was, and sometimes a man had to listen to the devil on his left shoulder instead of the angel on his right. A succession of showing her how he could make her feel and backing away to allow her to accept it should work. Not pouncing on her like a starving wolf all the time and forcing her to do something she hadn’t fully accepted.

  She would be his.

  They traveled to the next inn, where they would change horses in comfortable silence. This place was larger than they preferred, but they didn’t have much choice.

  This village boasted a mere two inns. The yard of the first one had more private, luxurious vehicles in the yard than less well-appointed ones. They moved on.

  Fortunately neither Francis nor Virginia had visited before, but he only learned when she gave him a terse, “No,” to his query. She was tense. Perhaps getting near to their home county was affecting her.

  He alighted first and held out his hand to get her down. She ignored it, but stumbled, so he had to catch her to prevent her tumbling onto the none-too-clean cobbles beneath their feet.

  “Steady, sweetheart,” he murmured, eliciting a smile from her.

  Francis snatched a quick kiss, outrageously brazen. Worse that she responded, giving him a quick smile before she pulled away.

  Relief swept through him. That was, until a voice boomed out. “Lady Dulverton! We were not expecting to meet you here!”

  Oh no, oh Lord, what were they going to do now?

  Sir Bertram had found them. They had been so concentrated on her cousin-in-law that they had entirely forgotten another person who could be on the road.

  If he did not think quickly, Virginia’s reputation and standing would be utterly destroyed. Unless they took him for a servant.

  Only one response came to mind. She might hate him for it, but he could see no other way.

  Chapter 16

  They had just alighted from the same small, enclosed carriage, and they had no companions. That was bad enough, but they were obviously traveling hugger-mugger, with the minimum of servants. Scandal or his way.

  Francis remained facing her. “Courage,” he murmured, and turned back to Sir Bertram, who unfortunately stood in the yard with his wife and three daughters. Keeping his head down, he waited for a miracle. Perhaps they would not recognize him in a bob-wig and plain, unadorned clothes. He could pass for a servant. As long as they had not seen that playful kiss.

  The miracle failed to appear.

  “Lord Wolverley!” Lady Dean exclaimed. She fanned her face with her hand, as if overwhelmed by shock. “Did I see you—embracing Lady Dulverton?”

  No help for it. Virginia would kill him, but he couldn’t see another way. He glanced at Butler, who was standing quietly by, while Hurst helped the coachman with the horses. He took a step forward, bringing a reluctant Virginia with him.

  “You mistake, Sir Bertram.” He pasted on a broad smile. “I have the ineffable pleasure of presenting Lady Wolverley.”

  Her hand tightened over his. Francis did not flinch, even though he suspected the feeling wouldn’t come back to his fingers for a while.

  The Deans did not speak for a whole minute. The busy yard seemed miles away as they waited. The three girls gaped, and Lady Dean’s expression hardened, as if she’d made an effort to freeze it, lest it slip into something more unseemly. Sir Bertram glared, a deep frown creasing the small space between his bushy brows.

  Francis was content to wait. The pause gave Virginia time to catch up with him.

  The masquerade was necessary, but it had jettisoned all his plans out the window. Not rushing her into anything was gone now. Only a small chance remained that she would ever talk to him again.

  Damn and blast.

  Eventually Lady Dean curtsyed, and her girls followed suit.

  Sir Bertram gave a reluctant bow. “When did this happen?”

  “In our own time.” Francis owed him nothing, and he would give nothing, in case they needed to change their story later. “We felt that too much fuss was somewhat—vulgar, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes,” Lady Dean said eagerly.

  Lady Dean seemed to have recovered herself, for she swept a hand down, indicating their appearances. “Have you decided to change your style, now you are married?”

  “Hardly.”

  Francis was relieved to hear Virginia speak. She was coming out of her stupor. He had best make sure there were no weapons nearby when they finally reached their room, because she was like to kill him.

  Her voice could cut glass. “Our luggage was purloined. Stolen,” she kindly explained for Lady Dean.

  “Those jewels?”

  Virginia half closed her eyes. Despite her simple, worn clothing she was every inch the lady. “Naturally not. They went ahead. We decided to travel quietly, not wanting any attention. The thieves must have been sorely disappointed with what they found.”

  Virginia had turned from tired but adorable to haughtiness personified.

  When Lady Dean tried to scan their appearance, Virginia raised her chin and gave the lady a querying stare. “You will join us for dinner, my dear?” Lady Dean asked her.

  Francis watched, fascinated.

  “I’m afraid we have to refuse your kind offer.” Virginia glanced at Francis. Her hand was steady now, and her gaze cool. Oh Lord, what would she do to him when she got him alone? “We are traveling on until dark. I am keen to reach home as soon as I may. But we will take a little refreshment while the horses are changed.”

  Lady Dean smiled and gestured for her daughters to follow. “We have already bespoken a parlor. Please join us, even if only for a short time.”

  Sir Bertram regarded them carefully. Like Francis, he had remained silent while the ladies jousted, but he shot Francis an alarmingly astute nod. He drifted away, after a murmured, “Will you ladies excuse me?” as if planning to use the necessary.

  Taking the hint, Francis followed him, satisfied Virginia could more than hold her own with Lady Dean and her daughters. Finding himself in the rough building b
ehind the inn that contained a number of chamber pots, he moved to stand in front of one and unfastened his breeches. Since he was here, he might as well take advantage of them.

  “Do I congratulate you?” Sir Bertram asked.

  “If you wish,” Francis said cautiously. “My wife would not accept me for months, even though I have been courting her all season. Virginia is a lady of high standards.”

  “Glad to hear it. But you should have waited.”

  “What for? Snow in July?” He had waited long enough. In any case, who was Sir Bertram to question his actions?

  Sir Bertram concentrated on buttoning the fall of his breeches. “For Lady Dulverton to conclude establishing her orphanages.”

  What the devil? Where had that come from? “I will not prevent her from doing that, should she wish to continue. Do you have an interest in her philanthropy?”

  Sir Bertram sent him a considering glance. He didn’t answer immediately, but after a significant pause, he said, “No, but I admire it. I would be sorry to see her stop.”

  “There is no reason she should not continue.”

  “True enough.”

  When they’d done, they strolled together toward the main building, dodging past a couple of skittish horses being led into the yard. Sir Bertram put his hand on the latch of the door into the inn and paused, as if struck by a sudden thought.

  Francis was not fooled. This was no impulsive remark. Sir Bertram had something on his mind. He might as well hear it.

  “You know, this is all very sudden, your marriage.” He touched his wig, which unlike Francis’s was new and well kept, crisply neat. “This, for instance. One might almost think you did not want to be recognized.”

  “One might,” Francis said smoothly, “when one wished for privacy.”

  “Or an adventure.”

  “That as well.” What was the man getting at?

  Sir Bertram gave him an indulgent smile, the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes crinkling, reducing his already small eyes to slits in his generous flesh. “You are not truly married, are you?”

  Francis stared but said nothing, waiting to see what Sir Bertram was saying. What he wanted. He suspected the three daughters had something to do with this start.

  “If you wish, I can prevail on my good lady to say nothing of meeting you here. I suspect you wanted to reach Hatherton Cross unnoticed. Adventures take many forms, and I don’t pretend to understand the ways of the aristocracy, but you, sir, are entitled to any privacy you wish for.”

  “Aren’t you afraid we might corrupt your daughters?” Francis asked.

  “No, sir. My daughters are aware of the way the world works. Although if anyone were to treat them as you have treated Lady Dulverton, I would call him out. Unfortunately, Lady Dulverton’s parents take little notice of her these days, do they…?” He raised a brow.

  He was calling Virginia a whore, accusing her of immoral behavior. “So let me understand,” Francis said. Anyone who knew him would have taken his cool, slow drawl as a warning tone, but Sir Bertram did not know him well enough to take the warning. “You believe I am having an affair with the lady, and you are willing to overlook our indiscretion. In return for what?”

  “Why, nothing, sir. But I suspected as much the moment I saw you. I dare say I could think of a small favor…” He winked. “Never fear, I will not tell anyone.”

  Francis stepped back, prepared to walk around the man. “I’m sorry to disabuse you, Sir Bertram, but I need to get back to my wife. She will become concerned if she does not see me soon.”

  He walked away, fully aware he had burned his boats. He would have to warn Virginia that Sir Bertram suspected their story. Once she had finished ripping him to pieces.

  * * * *

  Virginia listened to Lady Dean’s chatter with only half an ear. She nodded at what appeared like the right moments, but vouchsafed nothing new. Nothing Lady Dean could gossip about. When the oldest daughter, Mary, commented that her presentation at court had gone well, Virginia launched into a long story about her own presentation, sprinkling in more anecdotes than crumbs in a cake, spinning out the tale while she watched the family. Halfway through her account, Francis and Sir Bertram came in, but Francis motioned her to continue and watched her, seemingly fascinated, while she spun out the most boring story in her repertoire.

  But sometimes tedium proved useful, giving them a chance to observe and avoid awkward questions.

  Like, when did they marry? Why did they leave it until the end of the season? Why had they not held a ball to celebrate their union? Why did none of their friends know?

  Questions she would have asked in Lady Dean’s situation.

  Eventually, after several dishes of tea and a quantity of bread and butter and good farmhouse cake had been consumed, Sir Bertram pulled out his watch. His fob glinted gold in the daylight as he flicked open the lid of the elaborately chased hunter and checked the time.

  Taking the hint, Virginia brought her story to a close as Francis got to his feet. “We must be going if we are to make Exeter by nightfall.” He bowed and made their farewells.

  Sir Bertram shook Francis’s hand. “I would call on you soon, sir. I have a proposition for you that could benefit us both.”

  Francis raised a brow. “Oh?”

  “A favor, which should lead to an excellent investment.”

  Francis exchanged a glance with Virginia. She glared back. This was what it was like to be married, to have to stand by and watch men make all her decisions for her.

  Memories of events she thought she would never experience again crowded in her mind. All the times Ralph had undercut her, or spoken for her, telling hostesses what she liked to eat and drink, expressing opinions for both of them, instead of consulting her. Now here she was again, with another man riding roughshod over her.

  This was a nightmare. Surely they could work a way out of this.

  “I confess, sir, the marriage is so recent I have not considered anything except my good fortune in gaining a wife. But we agreed that she would continue to administer her late husband’s lands.”

  Sir Bertram smirked, a particularly unpleasant expression on his homely features. “If you say so, sir.”

  What a coil!

  Virginia did not speak until Francis handed her into the carriage, and they were once more on their way.

  “He will tell everyone,” she said gloomily. “What possessed you, Francis?” Although she tried hard to keep her voice and temperament under control, tears stained her voice, and she was trembling. Distress and anger had their effect, and she would have to work hard to keep her wits about her.

  She disposed her skirts and sat bolt upright, freezing him out.

  He did not remain frozen. “What would you have me do?” he demanded. “They recognized us both as soon as they clapped eyes on us. What else could we have done?”

  He leaned back, his expansive gesture of exasperation illustrating his words effectively.

  She had to concede that. Although she had been prepared to brazen it out, she had seen recognition in the eyes of the squire and his lady. “We could have come up with something. Like my carriage had broken down and you were taking me to the nearest inn. I was ready to come up with that when you said we were married. We could have thought of no end of reasons!”

  “Reasons why we are dressed like this, and in the same closed carriage? Why we kissed in the inn yard?” He gave a derisive snort. “Whatever the reason, Virginia, that situation alone is enough to ruin you. You have kept yourself aloof for years. You would never have willingly climbed into a closed carriage with a man. You’ve made a name for your virtue and correct behavior. The Deans would not have believed your story for one minute.”

  It was true. If she had not made a point of behaving correctly, of keeping herself completely apart, she might have escaped wit
h an excuse. But not this. And that kiss! If she had not kissed him, intending to punish him in the way lovers knew best, they could have escaped. She could not blame him for that particular indiscretion. “What do you suggest we do to get out of this pickle?”

  “Why, my dear, we must marry. Nothing else will suffice.” He sighed and tilted his head back. “If you must know, Sir Bertram only half believes our story, and offered to stop his wife and daughters talking about us.”

  “He wants you for his daughters.”

  He grunted. “I am aware. But I don’t trust them not to gossip anyway.”

  “Neither do I.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. What was worse was that she had brought this on herself. She’d taken too many risks, allowed Francis to be seen to court her, and then agreed to travel with him.

  Not to mention what had happened last night and the night before.

  “Did you intend this all along? To trap me into marriage, since I would not marry you another way?” Bitterness infused her.

  She was ruined. If she married him, any independence she might have won was lost. If she did not, all the rakes in the West Country would come knocking on her door.

  Her fears returned, the terror of returning to her parents, or being trapped in another situation just as bad. Francis was a charming, attentive lover, but sometimes they made the worst husbands. And she was too weakened toward him now. If she did not love him, she was close, try though she might to pull away.

  Ralph had promised her independence, but when he’d given it to her, it had come with severe penalties for failure. So severe, she would be left penniless if she disobeyed his dying wishes. Her parents would not concern themselves with her once she’d failed to add to the family prestige. She would be on her own.

  “No, I did not.” He leaned toward her but did not close the final six inches that lay between his lips and hers. “Virginia, I wanted to court you properly. I swear I had no intention for this to happen. I was and am genuinely concerned for your safety, but I don’t want your wealth. You must know that.”