by Anne Ashley
‘No doubt, it would eventually have dawned on me that poor Katherine was engaged in the oldest profession in the world had I remained under her roof for any length of time, but Mary and I left the following morning and journeyed to Bristol.’ She shook her head, drawing his attention to the sparkling green stones dangling from her ears. ‘Looking back, I can only marvel at my own simplicity. During that fateful night, I had decided to travel back to Ireland with Mary, and to support myself by seeking a position as a governess in Dublin. Unutterable madness! Who in his right mind would ever employ a girl of sixteen as a governess, no matter how well educated she may have been?’
‘Very few, I should imagine.’ He found himself smiling too as she chuckled at her own folly. Her actions had, undeniably, been far from sensible, but they proved one thing—she had never lacked courage, then or now. ‘I assume that your attempts at attaining a post in Dublin were not successful?’
‘I never reached Dublin, at least not then,’ she disclosed. ‘In fact, the only vessel bound for Ireland on the day we arrived in Bristol was one destined for Cork. We had little choice but to seek passage. Neither of us possessed the funds to put up at an inn for any length of time.’
‘So you reached Cork… What happened to you then?’ he prompted, when she fell silent, and knew by the suddenly guarded expression that he was destined to discover nothing further, even before she said,
‘I survived, Wroxam…I survived.’
Yes, and how! He regarded her in silence, while mentally assessing the value of the glinting green gems adorning her neck and ears. How had she come by them? His eyes narrowed. Who had been her protector all these years? There must have been someone, surely? So why was she so unwilling to disclose the fact? Or was there something else she was determined he would not discover?
‘So, you believe that it is a complete waste of time trying to discover the whereabouts of my companion’s sister?’ she announced unexpectedly, returning his thoughts to the matter taxing her at the present time.
‘I didn’t say that,’ he corrected. ‘I merely advised you not to seek the help of the Runners. Unless this woman has committed some offence, I doubt they’d bestir themselves unduly.’
She frowned at this. ‘But I understood that you had brought in the Runners when you wished to discover my whereabouts?’
‘That was a different matter entirely. You are someone, my dear. And I possess money and influence.’
She looked faintly subdued and he found himself experiencing a keen desire to help her, though why this should be he simply couldn’t imagine. ‘If you furnish me with the woman’s particulars, I’ll see what I can do. There is someone I know who might be able to help.’
Surprise swiftly replaced dejection. ‘That is most kind of you, sir! I shall make a list of all the details I know about Katherine Harper, and send a servant round to Berkeley Square with it in the morning.’
She rose to her feet, which forced Julian to do likewise. ‘And now I think it might be prudent if we part company,’ she suggested, the hint of mischief returning to her eyes. ‘Otherwise some foolish people will begin to imagine that we are about to embark on a reconciliation. And that will never do, now will it, sir?’
Most assuredly not! he was about to retort, but somehow the concurrence lacked the conviction to pass his lips.
Chapter Four
‘I’m sorry I cannot oblige you on this occasion, Serena, but, as I’ve already mentioned, I have made arrangements to spend several days in the country again, so I’ll be unable to attend your mother’s alfresco breakfast on Friday.’
Jennifer regarded her new friend in some concern, at a loss to understand what could be troubling her. Since the night of Lady Morland’s ball, Serena had been quite unlike herself. Frequently subdued, she often appeared as if she were living in a world of her own.
‘I do not perfectly understand why you feel the need for my support,’ she continued, echoing her thoughts. ‘You’re certainly not averse to socialising, and I’m sure you must be already acquainted with most of the guests attending your mother’s picnic.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Serena responded, looking if possible more subdued than before. ‘That is just the trouble. Lord Sloane is to be amongst the company.’
At last Jennifer began to see a chink of light. She had noticed during the past week or so that whenever Serena happened to be attending a certain party, Lord Sloane was lurking not too far away.
‘What I fail to understand, Jenny, is why Mama encourages his attentions towards me, when I’m certain she doesn’t like him at all.’
‘Yes, it does seem strange, I must admit,’ Jennifer agreed.
Reaching for the newspaper on the table by her chair, Jennifer began to scan the printed sheets, just as though she had lost interest in the conversation. Nothing, however, could have been further from the truth. Since her arrival in London she had become acquainted with a great many people, but only towards Miss Carstairs had she developed a fond attachment.
She considered her friend’s dilemma for a moment before adding, ‘You, of course, do not need to encourage his attentions, Serena, if you do not choose to do so. I realise that your mother would very much like to see you suitably settled before your sister’s come-out next spring. What mother would not? But surely neither of your parents would force you into accepting an offer of marriage from a gentleman you have taken in dislike?’
‘I sincerely hope not!’ Two angry crimson spots added becoming colour to Serena’s thin cheeks. ‘Nothing could ever persuade me to marry such a disgusting, dissolute rake as Lord Sloane! I would rather be forced to earn my own living as a—as a governess!’
‘Really?’ One of Jennifer’s finely arched brows rose as she turned her attention once again to the printed sheets. ‘Well, talking of such persons, how does one go about acquiring the services of one?’
‘What on earth do you want with a governess, Jenny?’ Serena demanded to know, swiftly forgetting her own concerns.
A moment’s silence, then, ‘I—er—promised a very close acquaintance that I would enquire for one whilst I was in London. She is intent on engaging an English governess for her son.’
The door-knocker echoed loudly in the hall, heralding, Serena supposed, the arrival of someone else wishing to see the very popular Marchioness, and she rose to her feet. ‘I’m afraid I am singularly ignorant about such matters. One could always advertise, I suppose,’ she suggested, just as the door opened, and none other than the Marquis himself strolled languidly into the room.
Her eyes instinctively turned towards her friend, but as always Jennifer appeared completely unruffled, only the slight raising of her finely arched brows betraying the fact that she was mildly surprised by her husband’s arrival.
During the past week or so, Serena had been present on three or four occasions when Lord Wroxam had graced the same function as his wife. Although he had never once displayed anywhere near the same attention as he had shown on the night of Lady Morland’s ball, he had never once failed to acknowledge his Marchioness by exchanging a few words.
‘Well, I must be on my way now,’ she announced, suddenly feeling like an awkward schoolgirl beneath the Marquis’s penetrating grey-eyed scrutiny, and wishing she could acquire a little of her friend’s admirable composure.
‘Please do not feel that you must leave on my account, Miss Carstairs,’ his lordship assured her politely, and Serena almost found herself gaping. Not only had he remembered her name, but the surprising smile which accompanied the assurance had completely softened his austere features. He really was a most attractive man!
‘I must be going, sir. I promised to meet my mother in Bond Street, and am already a little late.’ She moved towards the door, but turned back to add, ‘I shall see you when you return to town, Jenny. You haven’t forgotten, I hope, that you promised to make up one of Mama’s party at the theatre on Tuesday?’
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten. I promise I’ll be back in good time
.’ Jennifer assured her, and quite failed to notice the slight narrowing of his lordship’s eyes before he turned to open the door for Serena to pass into the hall.
Rising from her chair, she went over to the table on which the decanters stood, wondering what had prompted his visit. Like Serena, she too had noticed that he had never once failed to acknowledge her presence, exchanging a few pleasantries whenever their paths had happened to cross in the evenings. This, however, was only the second occasion he had attempted to see her in private. Which gave her every reason to suppose that he had something of a personal nature to discuss. Most likely their futures, she mused, wondering why suddenly she felt no desire whatsoever to discuss the matter of their impending divorce. It was, after all, the main reason why she had visited London… It was, after all, the only way forward for them both.
That self-control which Serena so admired came to the fore, and her voice betrayed none of the conflicting emotions warring inside her, as she said lightly, ‘This is something of an unexpected pleasure, Wroxam.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him close the door and move further into the room. ‘Is it just a passing visit, or can I persuade you to sit down this time and partake of some refreshment?’
‘A glass of wine would be most welcome, for the news I bring will not be.’
He certainly appeared none too cheerful now, as he lowered his tall frame into the chair recently vacated by her friend, but she could not read too much into this. He was not a man given to smiling often, and she had always found it difficult to know precisely what he was thinking and feeling; though why he should look quite so cheerless, if it was indeed their divorce he had come here to discuss, she could not imagine. Unless, of course, he had come up against some hitch.
She succeeded in curbing her curiosity until she had handed him a filled glass and had seated herself in the chair opposite, then she came straight to the point by asking outright whether it was the matter of their legal separation which had prompted his visit, and saw the shapely hand raising the glass to his lips check for a moment.
‘No, I’m not here to discuss that,’ he disclosed, after sampling the contents of his glass, and giving a faint nod of approval. ‘You’ve developed a discerning palate during our years apart, madam.’
‘I can certainly pick a wine, Wroxam. Something which, I do not doubt, I inherited from my father.’ She sampled her own, before adding, ‘So, what brings you here?’
‘The commission I agreed to undertake on your behalf.’
It took her a moment only to realise to what he was alluding, and her brows rose in surprise. Although she had been prompt in furnishing him with a letter containing all the relevant details concerning Mary’s sister, she had not expected any response quite so soon. It was quite evident, however, that the news he had to impart was not good.
‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ she said softly, and thought she could detect a hint of remorse in his grey eyes.
‘I’m afraid so. The person I engaged to locate her whereabouts discovered that she moved away from the area not too many weeks after you had embarked for Ireland. That is perhaps one of the reasons why you had no luck in trying to trace her. Not too many people did remember her, but the one or two who did were sure that she had moved in with a man who had lived near the docks. This turned out to be true. Sadly, though, she contracted typhus a few months later and didn’t survive.’
‘And was no doubt buried with a number of others in a communal pauper’s grave,’ Jennifer murmured, before sipping her wine. There was nothing she could do for Katherine Harper now. There were others, however, and one in particular, who might appreciate her help at the present time.
‘Are you acquainted with Lord Sloane, by any chance, Wroxam?’
‘And what, pray, is your interest in that individual, madam?’
He seemed faintly annoyed, but she couldn’t imagine why this should be. Nor could she understand why she hadn’t taken exception to his blunt manner. She had not, however, and found herself more than willing to satisfy his curiosity.
‘My interest in him is minimal, I assure you. I have spoken to him but once, and was not favourably impressed. I fear he is the epitome of everything I most despise in your sex—a debauched womaniser, feckless, unscrupulous, a person devoid of any finer feelings.’
His frown disappeared, and a crooked but not unattractive smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. ‘A discerning palate is not the only thing you’ve acquired during our time apart, madam wife. It would seem you have developed a propensity for plain speaking. Which is no bad thing if wisely controlled.’
He paused for a moment to finish the excellent wine and placed the empty vessel on the table by his chair. ‘Yes, your assessment of Lord Sloane’s character is remarkably acute. He is certainly not the kind of person I should wish a female relative of mine to associate with.’
‘Precisely what I was thinking myself,’ she murmured, hardly aware that she had spoken her thoughts aloud, until she noticed those penetrating grey eyes firmly focused in her direction.
‘One other thing that might be of interest to you,’ he said, his gaze unwavering. ‘Sloane has only recently come into the title and is believed to be heavily in debt. So it is not beyond the realms of possibility that he’s on the lookout for a rich wife.’
Now that was most interesting! Jennifer mused, making herself more comfortable in the chair, feeling remarkably at ease in her formidable husband’s company. If what she had just learned was true, and she had no reason to suppose that Wroxam would lie, Lord Sloane’s pursuit of her friend Miss Carstairs was even more puzzling.
Dear Serena had been the first to admit that she was no beauty. There was certainly much room for improvement, however. Her warm brown locks would look far more becoming if left to wave naturally, and not permanently crimped into a frizz. Many considered her too tall for a woman, but her carriage was graceful and her figure, slim and curvaceous, was excellent, and would show to far better advantage in simply styled gowns in darker colours. Serena looked every one of her five-and-twenty years, and no amount of frills, ribbons and bows, and delicate pastel shades would succeed in making her appear like a pretty young miss embarking on her first London Season. It was a great pity that Lady Carstairs, whose word was law when it came to her daughter’s attire, was not sensible enough to appreciate this fact.
Not all men, however, Jennifer reminded herself, were beguiled by a pretty face. Perhaps Lord Sloane, having attained middle age, might consider that a sensible young woman in her mid-twenties, and one of good birth and gentle manners, would suit him better than a simpering miss straight out of the schoolroom. This might well be the case, but it still didn’t explain his pursuit of Serena, if money was, indeed, a consideration when selecting a wife. The Carstairs family, though an old and noble one, was not wealthy, and for the daughter of a Baronet, Serena’s dowry was woefully small.
‘Something appears to be troubling you.’
The softly spoken remark brought an end to her puzzling reflections, and she raised her eyes to the man seated opposite. Had circumstances been different, had theirs been in any way a normal marriage, man and wife in every respect, she wouldn’t have needed to think twice about confiding in him, for he was undeniably an intelligent man whose judgement and advice she would have welcomed. But how could she divulge her concerns to a man who was, not to put too fine a point on it, a virtual stranger? No, impossible! she decided without considering the matter further.
‘If I do appear slightly worried, then it is because I feel I have imposed upon you too much already, without taking up any more of your time.
Setting aside her half-empty glass, she rose to her feet, a clear indication that she wished to bring the interview to a close. Julian rose also, not knowing whether to feel amused or annoyed at receiving his congé. It was certainly a novel experience being so summarily dismissed, especially by one’s own wife.
‘Be good enough to send me an account of what I owe you in res
pect of the expenses you’ve incurred in discovering what became of Mary’s sister.’
The smile that curled his lips this time distinctly lacked both humour and warmth. ‘You forget, madam, that while you remain my wife, I am responsible for you, and any debts you may incur,’ he reminded her in a tone that was deliberately challenging, and for the first time he saw something akin to fear flicker in the depths of those lovely eyes.
Feeling inordinately pleased with himself for having at last managed to pierce that masterly self-control, he moved over to the door. ‘By the by,’ he turned back to add, as though the thought had only just occurred to him, whereas in fact it had crossed his mind soon after his arrival, ‘have you any intention of gracing the soirée tonight at Globe House, or the Fenchams’ ball on Friday?’
The wary look remained. ‘No. Why do you ask?’
He shrugged. ‘No reason really. It was just that I had considered putting in an appearance at both events myself. What a pity that I shall be denied the pleasure of your company!’ and with that he left, almost strutting like a gamecock which had struck first blood, and was savouring the sweet taste of victory.
By the time Julian had arrived back at Berkeley Square the feeling of satisfaction had long since dwindled, and he found himself once again prey to that tumult of conflicting emotions which frequently plagued him these days.
It seemed the more he saw of his Marchioness, the worse his affliction became. Whenever they had attended the same party, he had experienced no difficulty whatsoever in picking her out amongst the throng. It was by no means just those glorious auburn locks which made her stand out like a beacon. The way she moved, the way she talked, the way that rich gurgle of laughter floated in the air set her quite apart from other members of her sex. The simple fact was, of course, he desired her. And what red-blooded man would not? No doubt half the men in London lusted after the supremely lovely Marchioness of Wroxam, if the truth were known. Yet she had betrayed not the smallest interest in any one of those young puppies who gathered about her the instant she set foot inside a ballroom.