“So,” she said, “this is the way it is going to be?”
“Our marriage?” He snorted his opinion. “I needed money, Leonie. Now I have it.” Without waiting for her response, he put heels to horse and they were on their way.
She fell back on the seat as the coach began rolling. She’d go mad riding alone all day.
But then, he knew that.
She stuck her head out the window. Her husband rode as far ahead of the chaise as he could.
They did not stop for lunch. Roman took bread and cheese out of the hamper for himself and the post boy. Leonie was left to her own wishes.
At least she was going with him.
Once they reached Bonhomie, he would not be able to escape her. One way or the other, she would make her apology and he would have to listen. He liked her. She knew that. His regard for her had lasted for years. One night couldn’t make it vanish.
She hoped.
Leonie had hours to think in the coach. She relived the moments in bed last night. Roman had treated her with gentleness, the way a man who greatly cares about a woman would behave. She could not believe he could cut her out of his life so quickly.
She would win him back. She’d do whatever it took. She was heartily sorry and she would convince him of her remorse.
Of course, she could not drink. Not even sherry. The offer of ale that morning had been a trick to see if she was committed to being the wife he wanted, and she was.
It would help if he would spend even an hour with her.
Eventually, Leonie’s worries tired her. She was not a person given to anxiety. Her nature was more buoyant.
She began entertaining herself by trying to remember everything Roman had told her about Bonhomie. He’d painted a vivid picture with his words. She could see the fields that would soon be planted once they delivered the new plow. The flower beds especially intrigued her. Miles of flower beds, he had claimed. Leonie adored cut flowers.
What else had he said? There were seven bedrooms? He’d also described a ballroom that he promised was larger than any she’d seen in London. That would be quite a feat.
She could picture the wide, cobblestone drive lined by the trimmed hedges and stately trees Roman had described. There were stables so guests could go riding every morning.
And she would be the hostess. She began planning her first event. Of course it would be a dance and she and Roman would lead the first set.
Suddenly, being alone in the coach did not bother her. After all, she had spent a childhood learning how to entertain herself. She had many plans to make and she made them at will. She imagined the cut flowers from the garden decorating the summer cotillion she would hold. She would make a grand entrance and come down the stairs where the three stone framed windows were.
She would be a generous lady of the house and everyone from all over England would sing her praises.
In fact, Leonie was so involved in this story of her own making it took her a moment to realize the coach was turning. She looked out the window in anticipation. They traveled on an overgrown, narrow country lane. Hawthorns and scraggly hollies bickered for space along the road. The horses did not like their sharp thorns. The post boy barely managed to keep control.
Leaning out the window, and trying not to get her head swiped by low hanging branches, Leonie called to the lad, “Where is Lord Rochdale?”
“Up ahead. He said we can’t miss the turnoff.” He yelped as a low-hanging branch swiped across his face.
Leonie had to sit back in the coach. This road was a travesty. She couldn’t wait until they reached Bonhomie with its cobblestone drive. It would be more pleasant to ride on.
The coach turned another corner, but instead of a smooth drive, there were ruts so deep Leonie found herself tossed and bumped as they traveled. Worse, the side of the drive was more overgrown than the road was. The horses were having a hard time of it.
And then they reached a cleared expanse. The road was still rough but branches had stopped banging against the coach.
Looking outside, Leonie expected to see an expanse of well-manicured lawn. Instead, she found herself looking at what was little more than sheep pasture. Ahead, there was the house, or what looked like a house, although it lacked uniformity.
Something was wrong with it.
As the coach drove closer, she realized that one of the walls was collapsed. A good portion of the house just wasn’t there.
Furthermore, no one could tell what color the walls were because ivy as thick as a man’s arm had engulfed the building. Some ivy climbing walls was charming. This was alarming.
And the rooks! Big, black birds sat along what might generously be described as a roofline. They were in the trees all around and jumping in the ivy on the walls. Leonie prayed there was a roof—one could not tell from this vantage—and not a gaping hole, because if there wasn’t, with that many birds gathered, the insides of the house would be more ruined than the outside.
Roman had dismounted and stood in front of the house hugging people who could only be his family members. They apparently had been waiting for him. He said something to them and they all looked at the oncoming coach expectantly—and suddenly, Leonie feared she would be ill.
How could she look at that disaster of a house and meet his family with any sort of grace?
In that moment, she realized her morally superior husband had been painting rosy pictures of his assets to hoodwink her.
That she had been chastising herself for not being honest while he had been equally dishonest.
Leonie was no fool. There wasn’t enough money in the world to repair what needed to be done to that house. Fifty thousand pounds would not even make a dent—and she was married to the folly.
A rage she’d never experienced began building inside her and grew stronger with every turn of the coach wheel leading to her husband.
Chapter 15
So, Leonie had chosen to accompany him instead of returning to London.
Roman could not lie to himself and say he was not pleased.
When he had given his ultimatum, he’d been so angry he hadn’t cared which direction she chose. In fact, his life would have been easier if she had returned to the city.
That she willingly followed him to Bonhomie gave him a sense of satisfaction, and saved him from making excuses to his family about a missing wife. He knew they would already be upset at his abrupt marriage announcement. He would have plenty of questions to answer about that. Of course, Leonie really had no other meaningful choice but to join him. He certainly was not going to pay her expenses, not when he had more pressing needs in Somerset.
However, traveling alone, he had a good amount of time to think. The forty thousand pounds after paying the gambling debts was a magnificent fortune . . . until one considered all the work Bonhomie needed. He must take great care with his finances and not be overeager. Right now, the rent from his tenants brought in two thousand pounds a year. That could be increased, but only after much needed repairs had been made to yeomen’s cottages and the fields replenished.
Oh, yes, there was much to do and Roman was anxious to begin. Bonhomie was his home. The future for his children.
He had been so busy with his plans for his wife’s dowry he had barely registered the poor condition of the roads or the overgrown banks around them. He saw all as it could be and his chest swelled with pride.
At the sight of Bonhomie’s walls, he had kicked his horse into a canter.
A shout had gone out that he was coming. His sister Dora and his mother had seen him from the front window. They’d hurried out the door to greet him. He had reined in the tired horse and hopped down in time for them to now throw their arms around him in happy greeting.
The Gilchrists were a dark-haired lot, although his mother’s hair was turning white. Dora was thirty and a handsome woman with an opinionated nature. She and their mother were both of middling height and their eyes were blue instead of the gray that had come to Roman
and his sister Beth by way of their late father.
“We just received this post from you—” his mother started.
“You married?” Dora cut in.
“Who is she?” her mother worried. “Is she with you? We’ve been cleaning the house to make it ready.”
“Yes, she is with me. She is coming in a coach,” Roman said. “And thank you for preparing the house.”
“But you married,” Dora repeated as if she could not fathom the idea. “Did you know this woman before you married her? You’ve only been gone three weeks and you never mentioned a word about courting anyone.”
“Dora,” their mother softly cautioned. She was a peacemaker and they all knew too well how Dora could be overbearing. She was younger than Beth by a year but one wouldn’t know by Dora’s behavior.
Fortunately, Roman had much practice in handling his sisters. “I did know her. I’ve known her for years,” he answered easily, and was saved from saying more by the appearance of his stepfather, David, and his brother-in-law, Lawrence, a good-natured man with brown hair and eyes. They came from the side of the house. Lawrence carried a saw. They were both in shirtsleeves and acted as if they had been hard at it. David’s hair was all white, his jaw lean, and his blue eyes keen with intelligence. Few details escaped him.
“You have a bride,” David said in way of greeting as he held out his arm. Roman noted that his limp was more pronounced and he was favoring his left side. He was thankful he had been able to return from India in time to help his parents.
Giving David a hug and shaking Lawrence’s congratulatory hand, Roman said, “I do indeed. She’s following in the coach. I purchased a new plow and enough seed for the planting,” he said to Lawrence.
“We aren’t interested in plows. We want information about your wife,” Dora said. “I’m surprised you didn’t have Lawrence perform the sacrament. Then we could all be present.”
“Dora,” their mother again murmured to deter her daughter, but Roman waved her worries away.
“I would have, Dora, but there wasn’t time. I wished my wife to travel with me.”
That sounded so noble and fine. In truth, Roman hadn’t been entirely honest with his family on how dire his financial circumstances were. He was now their sole support and he didn’t want them to be uneasy.
Of course, standing here with Dora’s suspicions, he realized he had been a bit naive about introducing Leonie to them. Yes, he had written that he was about to marry but he had been deliberately vague, and for good reason.
His family knew about the duel and that it was over a woman. Years ago, his stepfather had written him long lectures about the weight killing a man would have on his soul. Dueling was foolish in his opinion. No decent woman was worth that sacrifice and he had raised his stepson to rise above his temper—or so he’d thought.
If they learned too much, the truth of what had happened would help no one, especially Leonie . . . and himself.
“Here comes the coach,” Lawrence said, nodding to where the drive emerged from the tree line.
All eyes turned in that direction, including Roman’s.
The chaise had not been particularly well sprung. Hired vehicles rarely were. This one now rocked in and out over the uneven drive behind the hard-working horses.
Leonie had stuck her head out the window but had been forced to pull back because of the coach’s bouncing—but she had taken a look at Bonhomie. He knew it. And in that moment, Roman saw his home as she did.
He saw the weed-filled lawn with its uneven terrain. She had to notice that a good portion of the house’s southern wall was missing. He had also told her the drive was paved and she would know that wasn’t true.
His impulse was to go in the house and bar the door.
Here he’d taken the high and mighty road with her. Now, he felt a bit of guilt for claiming things that were not true.
He should have been more honest with her, but damn it all, Bonhomie would be exactly as he described it to her . . . she’d just have to wait a few years.
The coach came to a stop. The post lad jumped off the lead horse. “Here we are, my lord. I thought I’d lose a wheel on that road coming in, but we managed fine enough.”
Lawrence spoke. “If we had known you were coming, I would have worked on the road instead of the lane to the village.”
Roman shook his head. “It is all well.” To the post lad he said, “The stables are around back. There is a man there named Whiby who will help you with the horses and see that you have something to eat and somewhere to sleep.” One of the blessings of this venture was that the stables and the barn were relatively intact. They were in much better shape than the house.
There was a moment of expectant silence, and then Roman realized everyone, including the post boy, waited for him to open the chaise door and present his wife. In fact, he was surprised Leonie hadn’t made her presence known, although she had been very chastened earlier. Perhaps she was still feeling justifiably unworthy?
Or she could have hit her head on the coach’s roof after all the rough riding and be unconscious on the floor? If that was the case, his mother would be furious with him.
He did the manly thing and stepped forward. He gave the handle on the chaise door a twist and opened it.
Leonie was in the far corner of the coach, her hands on the seat. She looked as if she had been jostled around one too many times. The jaunty crown and brim of her fashionable bonnet were hopelessly crushed. The pins had fallen from her hair. Half of it was curling down around her shoulders and the other half appeared as if it was being dragged along.
Daggers could not be sharper than the look she gave him with her brown eyes.
Roman offered his hand. “Would you like to meet my family?”
What else could he say? It was a warning of sorts that if she lost her temper, there would be an audience. An important audience.
She reached up and pulled the last of her pins from her hair and slipped them into her glove. She flipped up the crushed brim and slid across the seat. Ignoring his hand, she helped herself out of the coach.
Roman stepped back, tensing for whatever outburst might come his way.
He would have deserved it. He should not have painted such a rosy picture of Bonhomie.
She took a moment to flick out her skirts before facing his family.
Her mother gasped aloud. “Oh, my dear. What happened? This didn’t come from the ride up the road in the coach, did it?”
Roman had been so wrapped up in his outrage with Leonie he’d forgotten her bruises from her attack, or how they must look to his family.
“No,” Leonie said. “There was an incident on the road last night but all is well,” she stressed without offering further explanation. “You are my lord’s mother?” She offered her hand. Roman noticed that she’d carefully schooled the anger in her eyes. That would be saved for him.
His mother took the hand, covering it with her own. “You poor lass,” she said, instantly creating a bond for Leonie the way she did every creature on God’s earth. Roman had seen her nurse mice that lost their mother to health and birds that had broken wings. Of course her gentle soul would be moved by the bruises on Leonie’s face.
“It is behind us,” Leonie assured her, speaking like Lady Bountiful offering solace to the populace.
“I’m Roman’s stepfather.” David stepped forward. “Welcome to our family, my lady.”
Roman could swear Leonie managed a tear in her eye, and he didn’t know if it was real or some sort of elaborate performance for his benefit. “Thank you,” she said. “And please, this ‘my lady’ is all new to me and not meant for family. I’m Leonie.”
“And I will take pleasure in you calling me Father or David, my given name. Whatever you think best.”
As if on impulse, Leonie leaned forward to give him a quick hug.
“I’m your mother now, too,” his mother said. “Or you may call me Catherine. I have a salve that will work wonders on
those bruises and that cut. Come with me in the house. We’ll have a glass of elderberry wine to wipe away the aches of the road.”
Roman almost said no to the elderberry wine but his mother had already taken Leonie’s hand and would have swept her away except for Dora’s stepping up.
“I’m ‘my lord’s’ sister.” She pulled a face at Roman as she said it. There was enough jealousy in Dora that she had to have a bit of fun with his title.
“The older or the younger?” Leonie asked.
“The younger.”
Leonie smiled and it was as if the sun had come out behind clouds. “I’ve never had a sister before but I have had very good female friends in London. I pray we can be as close.”
Roman couldn’t imagine anyone close to Dora. Her tongue was too sharp. However, he had to admit that Leonie’s speech was a pretty one, and he was confused even further.
Was she angry at him? And lying in wait until they were alone? Probably.
True to form, Dora replied, “Perhaps we shall.” Neither an agreement nor a rebuttal. Dora could be tricky.
“And I’m Lawrence. I’m married to Roman’s other sister, Elizabeth.”
“Do you live here as well?” Leonie asked.
“No, my lady—”
“Leonie,” she corrected him mildly, and smiled.
Even with bruises, Leonie had a power over men. It was innate to her. Roman had to marvel how just that simple interaction made Lawrence blush.
“Leonie,” he conceded. “We have a cottage in the village. I have the living of the parish.”
He spoke with pride. Roman knew how much having this position meant to his brother-in-law. Before, Lawrence had been rector of a mouse-poor church in the wilds of Scotland. He considered it a blessing to be back in England while pleasing his wife as well.
Of course, if he knew how mouse-poor Roman had been when he’d offered that living, he would have been shocked.
And that was the crux of the matter.
Roman had made commitments when he’d taken on the title. He had wanted his family around him, and now he had to make things right. That was what he did—he made things right.
If Ever I Should Love You Page 17