by Anne Ashley
He had not needed to think twice about accompanying Melissa to search for the young truants. It had rained earlier in the afternoon, and Melissa had suggested that her brother and Jennifer might have sought shelter in the small cottage by the wood, which Geoffrey had frequently used when out enjoying a day’s shooting. Their horses had been tethered outside: clear evidence that they were within. When he had entered, Melissa close on his heels, he had discovered the young couple naked in bed together: clear evidence of his wife’s infidelity. Geoffrey had looked terrified; Jennifer merely dazed, as though she had been sleeping soundly and hadn’t woken fully.
Even now, after all this time, Julian could still remember the all-consuming anger which had followed those first moments of stunned disbelief. If he had remained, he might well have ended by releasing his emotions in a physical attack on either Geoffrey or Jennifer, or possibly even both of them. So he had merely departed without uttering a single word. By the time Jennifer, looking more than ever the bewildered child, had followed him back to the house, he had regained that ice-cool control for which he was famed.
At least, he reflected, she had not nauseated him further by dissolving into floods of tears while begging his forgiveness. She had merely stood there, head bent, when he had informed her coolly that he would be returning to London immediately, that she would remain at Wroxam Park, receiving no visitors, nor venturing out of the grounds, and that when he had decided what action he intended taking about their future, he would then return and inform her of his decision.
He was forced to concede that it did not redound to his credit that he had not attempted to reply to any one of the several letters she had written to him during the ensuing weeks. He had been more annoyed than concerned when he had discovered that she had disobeyed his strict instructions and had visited his London home. It had been on the following day, when he had called at the Earl of Chard’s town residence, expecting to find her there, that he had first begun to fear for her safety.
A swift return to Wroxam Park had disclosed the fact that she had surprisingly not returned. The services of a Bow Street Runner had proved ineffectual in uncovering her whereabouts. As the years had passed he too had begun to believe that some misfortune must have befallen Jennifer, and yet not once had it ever crossed his mind to take steps to have her legally proclaimed dead… And all this time she had been living quite contentedly in Ireland!
His eyes narrowed as he reached for the decanter yet again. He couldn’t help wondering how she had managed to survive all this time. She had no relatives, not even distant ones, residing across the sea, he felt sure. Furthermore, she had taken nothing with her—nothing except the few clothes which she had managed to carry in a cloak-bag. With the exception of her wedding band, every item of jewellery had been accounted for. Only the pin money he had given her during their few short months together had been missing from the drawer.
So who had taken care of her? Who had clothed and housed and fed her? Who had supplied her with sufficient funds to return to England, to hire that fashionable residence and to live in comparative luxury? Who was her protector now? An emotion, every bit as virulent as anger, welled up inside him; an emotion he had never experienced before and one he chose not to define.
After tossing the contents of his glass down his throat, he rose to his feet and went out into the hall to discover his butler hovering there. Slocombe, who had worked for the Stapleford family all his life, would not have supposed for a moment that his master had consumed most of the contents of a brandy decanter. There was not even a suspicion of a slur in the Marquis’s voice when he announced his intention of dining at his club that evening, nor was there even a suggestion of a stagger as he mounted the stairs to his room.
If he appeared slightly unsociable whilst he remained at his club, no one thought too much about it. His lordship was never a garrulous companion, not even when in the company of his particular friends. His mistress also found nothing amiss in his manner when he paid her a visit later that night. His lovemaking was as peerless and passionate as ever, and totally satisfying, at least for her. His lordship, however, felt singularly unfulfilled and slept fitfully.
He awoke to see the dawn of a new day and, without disturbing the woman sleeping soundly beside him, rose from the bed and began to scramble into his clothes. Never before could he remember feeling so lethargic, so completely dissatisfied with life. He gazed down at his sleeping mistress, lying amongst the crumpled sheets, her ample breasts exposed, inviting further intimacy, and experienced not the smallest desire to remain. He raised his eyes to study the pretty face, with its full, sensual lips slightly parted, and the riot of golden curls stretching out across the pillow. Then, unbidden, a more delicately featured face, framed in a riot of fiery curls, appeared before him. He closed his eyes in a vain attempt to obliterate the image. If Deborah with all her sensual expertise had failed to thrust his wife from his thoughts, then it was high time he found a female who could!
Chapter Three
Within half an hour of Jennifer’s return to town she had received the first caller to the house. No sooner had that visitor departed than another arrived, and from then the door-knocker was never still.
‘Saints’ preserve us!’ Mary exclaimed, entering the front parlour midway through the afternoon to discover her young mistress quite alone for once. ‘Haven’t these heathen people anything better to do with their time than pay calls and sit about gossiping all the day?’
Well aware that her faithful confidante staunchly disapproved of time-wasting, Jennifer could not forbear a smile. ‘One would not suppose so on the evidence of this day. You must remember, though, Mary, that only the favoured few are blessed to live such comfortable lives. For the vast majority it is quite otherwise, as we both are only too well aware.’
She turned away from the window as a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘And speaking of which…have you managed to discover anything further about your sister?’
Mary shook her head. ‘And I’m not so certain sure that it isn’t a blessing in disguise, Miss Jenny. We both know what she was. Thank the good Lord my sainted mother never discovered what Kate had become!’
‘You mustn’t think ill of your sister, Mary,’ Jennifer said softly. ‘She was forced into that kind of life in order to survive…whereas I…’
‘You’re no whore, Miss Jenny! And you never were!’
‘I know of at least one person who would disagree with you,’ Jennifer responded, resuming the seat she had occupied for most of the afternoon.
‘His high-and-mightiness can think what he likes!’ Mary snapped, betraying quite clearly that she did not hold the Marquis of Wroxam in the highest esteem. ‘Why, I don’t suppose for a moment that he’s deprived himself of his pleasures, whereas—’
‘Whereas I have lived the life of a nun,’ Jennifer put in, momentarily wondering why she had chosen to deprive herself of the company of younger men, when she had been given numerous opportunities to do quite otherwise during the past years. ‘And you’re quite right about Wroxam, Mary. Lady Carstairs took great delight in informing me only last week that he’s had a string of beautiful mistresses living under his protection.’
Mary expressed her opinion of Serena’s mother by giving vent to a derisive snort, before subjecting her young mistress to a prolonged and thoughtful look.
She possibly knew Jennifer better than anyone else did. They had been through so much together, especially in the early stages of their friendship. She had witnessed moods of almost black despair, displays of fiery temper and, increasingly over the years, she had observed the joy and contentment which had come into Jennifer’s life. Yet, she would be the first to admit that there were occasions when even she was hard pressed to know what her young mistress was thinking and feeling, most especially where the Marquis was concerned.
‘I must say, Miss Jenny, his lordship didn’t turn out to be quite as I had been expecting,’ she admitted at length.
&nbs
p; ‘No?’ Jennifer responded, betraying a mild interest. ‘As I recall, you had no difficulty whatsoever in recognising precisely who he was when you discovered him in this very room, even though you’d never set eyes on him before.’
Mary shrugged. ‘Intuition, I suppose. Although you’ve never spoken of him often, you have done so on the odd occasion, and I suppose I built up a picture in my mind. I knew he’d be proud and haughty. And he most definitely is! But I also imagined he’d be tall, dark, and handsome.’
Jennifer took a moment to consider this. ‘Well, you were at least two parts correct. He’s tall and he’s dark. He’s certainly striking, but I do not recall that I ever considered him particularly handsome.’
Leaning back in her chair, she allowed her mind to wander back over the years. ‘I remember vividly the very first time I ever saw him. He was staying with his friend, Theodore Dent, whose parents were my father’s nearest neighbours. I was in a field, as I recall, gathering wild flowers, and I looked up to discover the Marquis there, looking so striking, so very distinguished, astride a handsome bay. I rather think I fell in love with him at first sight.’ There was a distinctly self-deprecating ring to her sudden shout of laughter. ‘Dear me! What a naïve, gullible little fool I used to be! I actually believed that he loved me in return. What was worse, I imagined we’d live happily ever after!’
Unlike her young mistress, Mary found nothing amusing in this totally sincere confession. If the truth were known she had been startled when she had entered this very room five days before to discover his lordship standing there. After his treatment of her friend and mistress, Mary had made up her mind that she wasn’t going to like him in the least, and the haughty attitude he had adopted towards her had given her no reason to question her preconceived notions about him. Yet, she had detected something in those cool grey eyes of his that had convinced her that he wasn’t so indifferent to his lovely Marchioness as he might wish to appear.
‘Are you so certain sure that he never loved you, Miss Jenny?’
‘Very sure, Mary,’ was the swift response. ‘I’m no longer a romantic child. I do not try to delude myself. Wroxam married me because I was a complete innocent, uncomplicated, biddable and chaste, someone of good birth who would bear him the heir he required, and who would not attempt to interfere in his lifestyle.’ She laughed this time in genuine amusement. ‘My, my, how I have changed! Unless I much mistake the matter, I’m interfering in his life at the moment to a very great extent. I do not doubt that Society is watching his movements as avidly as it’s watching mine. How irritating he must find it all! Like myself, he is essentially a very private person who values his periods of solitude.’
‘And you, Miss Jenny? Are you finding all the attention slightly wearisome?’
‘I might well come to do so in time. At the moment, though, the experience still retains the charm of novelty. You must remember, Mary, that this is my first real visit to the capital, and I’m enjoying it very much.’ She shrugged what one languishing dolt had been overheard to call the most perfect shoulders in London. ‘Besides, I doubt we’ll need to remain for very much longer. Once Wroxam has seen his lawyers, and has taken steps to end our disastrous marriage, we’ll be able to return to Ireland.’
‘Are you certain sure he’ll see his lawyers?’
‘I should imagine he has done so already. He wouldn’t wish to be tied for life to a faithless wife.’ Jennifer regarded her loyal companion in silence for a moment, easily detecting the flicker of uncertainty in dark eyes. ‘What makes you doubt that he will?’
Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It was just something I thought I saw in his eyes when he paid his visit that made me wonder whether—’ She broke off, as she clearly detected the sound of the doorknocker. ‘Oh, now who’s that, do you suppose? I’ll leave you in peace to receive your caller, Miss Jenny. Just tell me which dress you’d like me to lay out for tonight.’
‘I’ll wear the gown I wore for my uncle’s ball, I think, and the emeralds.’
Mary tutted. ‘Black again! You know very well that Master James wouldn’t have wanted you to do that. He knew well enough how much you loved him.’
Jennifer made no attempt to respond. She merely glanced rather sadly down at the empty grate, but looked up again, the sadness swiftly fading from her eyes, when the door opened directly after Mary’s departure and a tall man appeared on the threshold, his large frame almost filling the aperture.
‘Why, Theo!’ Without the slightest hesitation she stretched out both hands in welcome. ‘How lovely to see you after all these years!’
He came forward to capture those slender fingers in his own massive hands, and held them with surprising gentleness. ‘Jenny, you’re a sight to take the most hardened man’s breath away! What a relief it is to see you looking so well, so radiant!’
A hint of mischief added a sparkle to those wonderful green eyes that he remembered so well. ‘My dear Theo, never tell me that you numbered amongst those who thought Wroxam had done me a mischief?’
‘Certainly not!’ he answered, looking as indignant as it was possible for a man of his amiable disposition to appear. ‘Wroxam may have his faults, but he ain’t no murderer.’
‘I sincerely hope you’re right, dear Theo,’ she responded, the teasing glint more pronounced than ever. ‘When he paid me a visit last week, he certainly looked as though he could quite cheerfully have strangled me.’
Theodore found himself chuckling at this artless disclosure. The Marquis had said very little about the visit he had made, save that he had found his wife somewhat different than he remembered. An understatement, if ever there was one! Theodore mused. It wasn’t so much the physical changes as the differences in her demeanour which had struck him most forcibly the instant he had entered the room. She simply oozed self-confidence now, and had developed into a young woman who, he too suspected, was no longer afraid to speak her mind. Little wonder poor Wroxam had been quite unlike himself since his visit! The lovely Marchioness, unless Theodore much mistook the matter, was no longer in awe of her proud, aristocratic husband!
‘I called to see you a couple of days ago, but your manservant informed me that you’d gone out of town,’ he remarked, gratefully accepting the wine she had poured for him, while lowering his large frame into the one chair which looked as if it could support his weight.
‘He isn’t my servant, Theo. He came with the house, together with a very skilful cook and efficient housekeeper. The owner was happy to leave his staff here in London whilst he and his family travelled abroad, for which I have been extremely grateful,’ she admitted. ‘Good servants are difficult to obtain at the best of times, and almost impossible to find during the Season, so I’m reliably informed.’
Jennifer seated herself in the chair opposite, feeling totally relaxed in this big man’s company. But then, she reminded herself, she had always felt comfortable with him. She may once have felt a little diffident in Wroxam’s company, but never in Theo’s. She had always liked him immensely, even when she had been that shy little girl, almost afraid of her own shadow.
‘And why is it, my dear Theo, that I still find you a bachelor?’ she enquired, betraying a hint of disapproval. ‘Surely at least one pretty girl has managed to capture your interest during these past years?’
‘Several have, m’dear,’ he admitted, after sampling the excellent wine. ‘Trouble is, pretty fillies aren’t interested in big, blundering oafs like me.’
Jennifer’s smile was gentle. Sadly what he had said was possibly true. He was, indeed, a large man, big boned and certainly not handsome. He had put on a deal of weight during her years away too, which had done nothing to improve his looks. His lack of physical attributes, coupled with a slight awkwardness when in female company, would very likely deter most members of her sex from attempting to try to know him a little better. Which was a great pity, because it was only when one became well acquainted with the Honourable Mr Theodore Dent that one realised what a
truly charming and kindly gentleman he was.
She shook her head. ‘I wonder at my own sex sometimes. You would make any lady a truly wonderful husband.’
His big barrel chest swelled, straining the silk material of his waistcoat. ‘Well, m’dear, I’d do my very best, if I could find a young lady brave enough to take me on.’
He sampled the contents of his glass once again, wondering as he did so if it came from the young Marchioness’s own cellar. If so, she could certainly pick a wine. ‘But that’s enough about me. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?’ He saw the decidedly wary expression flit over her delicate features and cursed himself for every kind of a fool. ‘Sorry, m’dear. Shouldn’t have asked you that. Don’t mean to pry.’
‘There’s no need to apologise, my dear Theo,’ Jennifer responded, instantly dropping her guard. ‘I felt sure Wroxam would have told you I’ve been living in Ireland.’
She could tell by his expression of surprise that he had not known, even before he said, ‘No, Wroxam didn’t tell me that. He only mentioned that he’d seen you.’
Jennifer regarded him in silence for several moments, and Theodore found her gaze disconcertingly direct, a trait she had never displayed years before. ‘But he told you precisely what led to the break up of our marriage, did he not?’
‘Yes, Jenny,’ he admitted gently.
She nodded, not unduly distressed to have her suspicions confirmed. ‘I thought if he were to tell anyone then it would be you, Theo.’