“I will not listen to threats, Lord Hawkeswell. When you have composed yourself enough to have a civil discussion, send word to me. In the meantime, I will be at the top of the stairs, with my pistol, should you think to be brutish.” Mrs. Joyes floated her ethereal, pale elegance out of the sitting room.
Summerhays had been poking in cabinets. “Ah, here is some port. Stop that infernal pacing and get that temper of yours under control, Hawkeswell. You are in danger of being an unforgivable ass.”
He could not stop pacing. Or looking at the ceiling toward where that woman had taken refuge. “If ever a man in the history of the world had an excuse to be an ass, Summerhays, it is I. She has made a fine one out of me, anyway, so I lose little in playing the part.”
“No glass. This will have to do.” He held a delicate teacup in one hand and poured the port. “Now, drink this and count to fifty. Like old times, when you got like this.”
“I will look idiotic drinking out of that—Oh, what the hell.” He grabbed the cup and downed its contents. It didn’t help much at all.
“Now, count.”
“I’ll be damned if—”
“Count. Or I will end up having to thrash sense into you, and it has been many years since your temper forced that on me. One, two, three . . .”
Gritting his teeth, Hawkeswell counted. And paced. The red drained out of his head but the anger hardly dimmed. “I don’t believe that Mrs. Joyes did not know who she was. Or that your wife did not.”
“If you dare to imply again that my wife lied in saying she was ignorant, I will not finish with you until you need a wagon to bring you back to town,” Summerhays said dangerously.
“Don’t forget, as you remember old times, that I give as well as I get, or better.” Hawkeswell bit back his fury and paced out his count. “What the bloody hell is this place?” he asked when he got to thirty. “Who takes in a stranger and does not even ask her history? It is insane. Mad.”
“It is a rule here, not to ask. Apparently Mrs. Joyes has cause to know there are often good reasons why women deny their histories and leave their pasts behind completely.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“Can’t you?”
Hawkeswell stopped pacing and glared at Summerhays. “If you imply that she had reason to be afraid of me, I swear that I will call you out. Bloody hell, she barely knew me.”
“That alone might make some women fearful, I expect.”
“You are talking nonsense now.”
Summerhays shrugged. “You are only at forty-five.”
“I am fine now.”
“Let us keep it neat.”
Hawkeswell stomped five more steps. “There. Now I am all becalmed. Go tell Mrs. Joyes that I demand to speak to my wife, damn it.”
Summerhays folded his arms and inspected him carefully. “Another fifty, I think.”
Lizzie sat on her bed, listening to the bellows of indignation coming from below. She would have to go down there soon. She could be forgiven, she thought, for taking a few minutes to prepare herself, and to accommodate herself to the notion of prison before the gaol door actually closed.
She had been a sentimental fool. She should have left as soon as Audrianna agreed to marry Lord Sebastian last spring. Or at least last week, after her twenty-first birthday passed. She had known that she had a war to fight once she came of age. Now she might not be able to fire a single shot.
Hawkeswell would have found her eventually when she returned to the world. There would have been no way to avoid that. However, she had planned to be among people who knew her and who would help, and she would have been prepared for him. Now dallying in this house had brought catastrophe, and she might find herself imprisoned by that marriage after all this effort to avoid it.
She stopped castigating herself. It had not been mere sentiment that made her put off her departure. She had not really been a fool. Love had kept her here, more love than she had known in years. She could be excused for surrendering to the lure of spending one final week with her dear friends, all of them together one last time. The news that Audrianna would visit had come the very day she planned to say good-bye, and it had been enough to vanquish her weak resolve and growing fear.
Stomping shook the house. Another curse penetrated the floorboards. Hawkeswell was in fine form.
That was to be expected of any man making such an unexpected discovery, but she had always suspected he had more of that male fury than most. She had surmised at once that they would not suit each other when they first met. They never would now, that was certain. He was in league with Bertram in all of this, of course. And she had humiliated him by running away and not dying for real.
A delicate rap on her door sought her attention. She did not want to face her friends any more than she wanted to face the man spilling curses below, but neither could be avoided. She bid them enter.
They came in wearing expressions much as she expected. Audrianna was wide-eyed with astonishment beneath her fashionably dressed chestnut hair, but then, she was too good to imagine a woman daring such a thing. Celia, who probably could imagine women doing any manner of things, appeared merely very curious. And Daphne—well, Daphne was exquisite and pale and composed, as always, and did not seem very surprised at all.
Daphne sat beside her on the bed. Celia sat on the other side. Audrianna stood in front of her.
“Lizzie—” Audrianna began. She caught herself as the name emerged, and flushed.
“I have thought of myself as Lizzie for two years. I suppose that you should call me Verity now, however. I expect I had better get used to it again.”
Audrianna’s face fell, as if she had clung to the belief that this was all a mistake.
“Then he is correct,” Daphne said. Her tone indicated that she had rather hoped it was a mistake too. “There has been no error. You are the missing bride of Hawkeswell.”
“Did you never guess, Daphne?” Verity asked.
“No. Perhaps I have been blind. That tragedy seemed far away and in another world. Never once did I think the young woman I came upon near the river that day was the girl who had gone missing.”
“I guessed. Or rather, I wondered,” Celia said. “Once or twice, it crossed my mind.”
Audrianna gawked at pretty, blond Celia. Celia in turn took Verity’s hand and patted it. “But then I would say to myself, no, it can’t be. That girl is dead for certain. Lizzie can’t be that girl unless she has lost her memory. A woman does not run away on her wedding day to live in frugality and obscurity. Especially if she is an heiress, and her new husband is an earl.”
No one said anything. There was a rule in this house. One did not pry. One did not demand explanations. It was why she had been able to stay here. Now, she knew, explanations were very much on everyone’s mind.
“Why?” Audrianna blurted.
“I am sure there was a good reason,” Daphne said, coming to her defense.
Verity rose from the bed. She went to her looking glass and eyed the damage the bonnet had done to her hair. Should she set herself to rights before going below and facing Hawkeswell? It would be courteous. Only she feared the gesture would put her at more of a disadvantage.
She had to smile at her calculations. She suspected every woman was at a disadvantage with Hawkeswell, and that he took the imbalance for granted. Not only his title tipped the scales. He was a handsome man, tall, lean, and broad shouldered, almost godlike in his physical person. Even without his ruggedly chiseled face, those blue eyes would leave most women stammering all by themselves.
It had been those eyes that told her she had been found when he entered the garden. In her quick glance, that was all she had seen, and she had known him at once. Even from across a garden on a sunny day you could not miss noticing eyes the color of sapphires.
“I did not choose that marriage.” She set about straightening the dark topknot of hair that had gone askew. Celia came over, pushed her hands away, and dealt with it better
. “My cousin Bertram coerced me. He tried to force me, but I would not agree to it. Finally he tricked me. I discovered right after the ceremony how it was done, how a promise made to me, to obtain my consent, had been a lie.”
“What kind of promise would make you take such an irrevocable step?” Daphne asked.
Two years of discretion had formed a habit, and she hesitated telling them. She did not want to bring any more trouble to Daphne. However, she also feared that they now reassessed her character, and wondered if the promise had been some small, silly thing.
“Near my home, there is a woman whom I love like a mother. Bertram threatened to have her son transported, or worse, for his political views. My cousin has influence in the county, and friends with even more influence. I do not doubt he could harm that woman and her son if he chose. Right after the wedding, I was told that Bertram had indeed harmed the son, and through the son the mother.”
An echo of the series of shocks she had experienced that day sent tremors through her now again. Some of the same rebellious anger leaked into her blood in reaction too, however.
Celia stepped away. Now the looking glass displayed dark hair transformed by an artist, and a young woman with fearful blue eyes struggling to maintain her poise.
Verity faced her dumbfounded friends. “Should I have stayed? Just accepted my fate? I had been badly used. My consent had been obtained through the worst trickery, and I believe Lord Hawkeswell was in on the entire plot. Worse, the deception affected far more than my marital status. I was so angry that I could barely think. I decided that I would not let them do that to me. I would not allow their plan of deceit make me mere chattel. So I ran away.”
Audrianna pressed both her palms to her cheeks. Her green eyes misted. “Sebastian was supposed to come tomorrow, not today. You would have avoided him, if he had held to the plan, wouldn’t you? He told me below that he was at your wedding, and would recognize you, so you managed never to meet him, nor he you. He had not realized that until today, how cleverly you always slipped away.” She gazed over, still astonished. “I had not realized it either. I am so sorry that my presence here, that my visit and now his untimely arrival, has brought this about. I should have—”
“I will forever be grateful that you made this visit,” Verity said, embracing her. “This past week, with all of us together again, has been one of the finest in my life. I will never forget it.”
“What are you going to do?” Celia asked.
Verity removed the long apron that covered her simple blue dress. “I am going to go below, and hope that the stranger I married is not too angry to hear what I say.”
Chapter Three
Audrianna appeared at the sitting room’s door and gestured for her husband. Summerhays went to her and they held a private, whispered conversation.
Audrianna then left, and Summerhays returned. “Verity is coming down. I beg you to hear her out. She may have a very good reason for everything.”
Hawkeswell could think of several reasons, and there was nothing good about any of them. “I promise to listen to all she says.”
Summerhays did not appear confident that the storm was over. However, the ladies must have concluded it was safe enough because light footfalls could be heard on the stairs. Verity descended into view. The apron was gone. The simple, unadorned blue dress should have made her look very common, but she carried herself with a grace and confidence that would put some duchesses to shame.
She stopped at the threshold to the sitting room. Summerhays excused himself.
“Please close the door as you go,” Hawkeswell said.
Summerhays looked to Verity for agreement. She nodded.
It was the first good look Hawkeswell had of his wife in two years. He noted again how few of the particulars survived in his memory. The details of her appearance had quickly faded to mere impressions, along with those of her character.
Lovely, he had thought when he met her, and meek. Young and innocent too. Except for the first, these were not the qualities he sought in women, but then he had never sought a wife before and, of course, different requirements were in order.
She did not look especially meek now. Lovely still, yes. More than before. A little maturity favored her. The hair was just as dark, the face just as white, the eyes just as blue, but a subtle definition enhanced her softness. Her expression struck him as boldly confident for someone caught at what she had done. That prodded his temper, and he concentrated on not reacting to the pokes.
“I ask that you not blame Daphne or any of the others for harboring me. They did not know who I was. I would like your promise that you will do nothing to bring trouble to them.”
“My interest is in your behavior, not that of your friends. However, that is a conversation better held later, after we return home.”
“I may have no choice except to leave with you, but I will not go willingly.”
She did not hesitate to throw down that gauntlet, even if her manner remained mild and quiet. She left him no choice but to reason and cajole, which hardly seemed fair since he was blameless. The alternative would be to use force and be the brute Mrs. Joyes had intimated he might be.
Even his anger could not justify that. Nor would Summerhays agree to help carry her out. Verity had sized up the limitations this situation put on him, and was prepared to exploit them. Which meant she was not meek after all. At least not anymore.
He gestured to a settee. “Won’t you sit? If we are going to talk about this here and now, you may as well be comfortable.”
She accepted the invitation, but did not sit on the settee. Instead she perched on an armless wooden chair.
“You let us all think that tragedy befell you, Verity. Did you never consider that your acts caused others to grieve?”
“I am very sure that my cousin and his wife did not grieve. As for you—Did you mourn for me, Lord Hawkeswell? Our association was brief and formal, and it was not a love match.”
He felt himself flushing. No, he had not mourned. The cool skill with which she put him at a disadvantage increased the pokes at his temper.
“I may not have grieved, Verity, but I did worry. A good deal.”
“I am sorry for that. I thought that I would be accepted as deceased after a few months, as the evidence that I fell in the Thames mounted. I never thought two years would pass and still, legally speaking, I was only missing.”
“You speak of that evidence with amazing confidence. You planted it, I assume?”
“Oh, yes. I did not want you or Bertram looking for me, so I thought that it would be best if I were thought dead for a while.”
Yes, I did it. Deliberately. So sorry it put you through hell.
“There are some people who I think did grieve, however,” she said, finally displaying some remorse. “I regret the pain I may have given them.”
“A flaw in your plan, then.”
“Yes. That is my one consolation in your untimely discovery of me. I can make certain that they know the truth quickly now.”
He paced the length of the chamber, deciding how to approach the many questions crowding his head. He felt her gaze on him, and sensed an odd mixture of caution and pique in her. The latter did nothing to calm his own mood.
“Are you attempting to find the proper words to inquire about the state of my virtue, Lord Hawkeswell? I expected that to be foremost in your mind.”
Her frankness astonished him. “It is one of many questions that I have, Verity.”
“Allow me to put that concern to rest. There has been no grand affair, or even an ordinary one. I am still a virgin.”
He was glad to hear it, as far as the answer went. Her virginity hardly put the fullness of the matter to rest. There could still be another man involved. It was the most logical explanation, but all of that could wait for another day.
“And you, Lord Hawkeswell? As long as we are on the topic—What has been the state of your virtue during my absence?”
She a
stonished him again. Mockery sparked in her eyes at his stunned reaction.
“I read all the papers and scandal sheets,” she said. “My proximity to London allowed me to obtain news from all over the country, and keep apprised of the doings of the ton. I think that if we compare virtues, you will agree that you have little right to speculate further about mine.”
How in bloody hell had he ended up on the low ground here? “I thought you were dead. You knew I was not.”
Her lids lowered. “No court declared me dead, so I was only missing. I know all about your love affairs, is all I am saying. I do not mind, but I hope that you are not such a hypocrite as to question my word on this matter, or to pursue it any further.”
He fought to conquer the profound irritation that she had already bested him twice now in a skirmish where she should not even hold a weapon.
Exasperation won out. He crossed his arms and pinned her in place with a glare he felt all the way to the back of his own head. “Are you going to tell me why you did it? I think that I have a right to know.”
Her cool calm seemed to crack. Her blue eyes glinted beneath those feathery lashes. There was nothing contrite in her expression, and precious little fear. However, she stood, as if she concluded that his stance required that she respond from a less submissive height.
“I left because I was not needed anymore for your and my cousin’s grand plan. Everyone has had what they wanted for these two years, because the wedding ceremony took care of that. You obtained the money you sought, and Bertram continued to control my father’s business, and Nancy has had the social connection she craved. The marriage settlement was all any of you cared about. It did not matter whether I actually lived the marriage during this time.”
Her smug satisfaction almost undid him. “It did not work out as you assume it did, I assure you. The law in such situations is much more complex than you guessed.”
Provocative in Pearls Page 2