by Jo Beverley
That summoned a bitter laugh. “But don’t you see…?” He went over to the window and stared out. She thought he would say nothing more, and looked with bitter dislike at the straggly writing on the page.
“I didn’t want her back.” It was said so softly that she almost missed it. His voice was clearer when he said, “My pride was hurt, and I missed the passion, but I’d tired of her tantrums. I abandoned her just as much as she abandoned me. And it killed her.”
“Ten years later.”
“She never would have died as she did if I’d kept her safe.”
“With a whip?” Lucetta asked caustically.
He turned and leaned against the wall, but his face was shielded. “Perhaps that’s what she liked. Wasn’t it my duty as her husband to give her what she liked?”
“No.” He frightened her in this mood. Her husband had sometimes, rarely, retreated into this kind of shell, but Lucetta had known ways of breaking through her husband’s icy shield that she could not use with her son.
“I was her husband,” he said quietly, “and I should have tried harder to be what she needed. That, surely, is part of the marriage bond. I knew she wanted gaiety and excitement, but I trapped her here in this decrepit house.”
“You had no choice. If you’d lived as she wanted, we’d all be in the workhouse.”
“So,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “she realized she didn’t like me anymore, and left, and I hated her for it. But I already knew I didn’t like her anymore, and I’d abandoned her in spirit, if not in fact. As Deirdre said, doesn’t honor require that we not take the easy way out once we have given our word?”
“What has Deirdre to do with this?”
“She has accused me, convincingly, of trying to do to her what di Pozzinari did to Genie in seducing her away from me.”
Lucetta tossed down the letter. “Deirdre and Dunstable are not yet married.”
“And does that make it right?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed a hand over his haggard face. “I don’t know what’s right and wrong anymore.”
“Santísima!” Lucetta spat, and for her it was swearing. It brought his head up, surprised. “Can you break their engagement?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“Then do it. If you can do it, there were deep flaws there anyway. As there were in your marriage. But don’t force her into marrying you.”
“It will hurt her.”
“Think of it as the surgeon’s knife.”
“Lord, but I have no taste for it.”
“Think of it as reparation then. You did not rescue Genie, but you can rescue Deirdre.”
“With a whip?” he said with distaste.
“At the very least, with a scalpel.”
Everdon returned to his study and spent some time in thought. Then, with a sigh, he sent a footman with a message for Howard Dunstable. He paced the room in restless indecision as he waited for the man to come.
Then Dunstable entered. “Yes, my lord?”
The man’s bland unawareness of any undertones decided Everdon on his course.
“Have a seat, Dunstable. Brandy? Wine?” The amenities over, Everdon looked at the man, trying to dislike him and failing. He didn’t like him, but Dunstable was merely charting his own course.
“I have been thinking on your comments about patronage of the sciences,” Everdon said at last. “I would like to do what I can to facilitate your work.”
Dunstable straightened. “I confess, I am surprised.”
“Are you? Why?”
“I didn’t think you liked me.”
“Liking has little to do with it. You don’t like me, but you are willing to take my money. From speaking with you, and from inquiries I’ve made, I’m convinced you have a remarkable ability. It deserves to progress unhindered. I am willing to cover generous living costs that should ensure your comfort—and therefore a lack of distractions. I will also allow for traveling expenses. I understand there are interesting centers of mathematics on the Continent.”
Dunstable blinked. “That is remarkably generous. Where am I to live? Here?”
“No,” Everdon said firmly. “Where would you like to live?”
Dunstable considered. “Cambridge, if I don’t have to teach.”
“Very well.”
Dunstable crossed his legs and eyed Everdon. “This will make Deirdre’s life more comfortable as well.”
Everdon refused to be goaded. “I suppose it may. However, I must make it clear that I will provide enough funds for a single man to live well. There will be no extra allowance for wife and children. How you stretch the money is up to you.”
They studied each other calculatingly. Everdon remembered: logarithmic tables at twenty paces.
Then Dunstable said, “Children. I hadn’t thought of children.”
“Tends to be the natural result of marriage, and I gather you are not of a naturally celibate disposition…”
Dunstable’s eyes narrowed. “Been spying on me?”
“Just servants’ gossip, Mr. Dunstable.”
“Children,” mused Dunstable again.
“Noisy little creatures. Then there are doctors’ bills, and schooling. Of course, I’m sure you could teach them at home…”
Dunstable blanched. “I don’t have a gift for teaching.” He showed his brilliance, it only took him a moment or two to weigh it all up. “I don’t suppose Deirdre would much care for travel, actually, and some prolonged visits to the Continent would help my work.”
“Certainly travel with children in tow would present problems. I have drawn up some figures and signed the agreement.” Everdon pushed the paper across the desk.
Dunstable read it and nodded. “Do you want me to sign anything?”
“There is no need. You can spend the money on opium for all I care. I judge, however, that mathematics is every bit as much of an addiction as any drug.”
“You could be right.” Dunstable stood. “I will achieve something remarkable, my lord.”
Everdon nodded. “I believe it, and you’ll do better without a family.”
“You’re undoubtedly correct. Will you marry Deirdre, then? Is that what this is all about?”
“If she’ll have me.”
“Course she will. Be a fool not to. I don’t see why you’d want her, though.”
Everdon raised his brows. “For the same reasons as you, perhaps?”
“I hardly think you need a good housekeeper.”
Everdon closed his eyes briefly. “Mr. Dunstable, the sooner we close this discussion, the better for all concerned. Please inform Deirdre of your change in plans.”
“Oh, you can do that.”
“No, I cannot,” said Everdon with icy precision. “Let me make it clear. Our arrangement will start when you have informed Lady Deirdre of your intentions, whatever they may be, and left this house. If you intend to marry her, and she is still willing, take her with you. A coach will be at your disposal whenever you command it.”
Dunstable eyed him. “I’m very tempted to call your bluff, you know.”
Everdon met his gaze. “By all means.”
Dunstable shrugged and left the room.
Everdon sat for a moment, fists tight on the top of his desk. Then he leapt to his feet and swept two vases, a candlestick, and an ormolu clock off the mantelpiece.
The shattering crash was remarkably satisfying.
Deirdre heard the distant crash, even in her room, and ventured out into the corridor. Her mother popped out of her room, cap askew. “What was that?”
“I don’t know. A disaster in the kitchens, perhaps.”
“I haven’t heard kitchen noise before. Go and check, dear.” Then Lady Harby focused on her daughter. “You look a bit peaked, Deirdre. Are you catching a cold?”
“Perhaps. I do feel a bit sniffly.” Then to avoid her mother’s shrewd eyes, Deirdre hurried down the stairs.
She met Howard coming up.
“No.” He sounded hurried. “I want to talk to you, Deirdre. Come out into the garden.”
Deirdre followed him, thinking that this was the first time she could remember Howard seeking her company. Perhaps things were finally looking up.
They went through the garden room to the rose-walled patio. Her heart began to beat faster. He’d even chosen a romantic spot. Deirdre wondered if Howard would pluck her a rose, and whether it would be pink or red.
He paced, hands behind back. “The fact is, Deirdre,” he said, “I’ve decided it wouldn’t be fair to you if we were to marry.”
Deirdre stared at him. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. You’re not going to be silly and accuse me of jilting you, are you?”
She sought control of her wits. “No, of course not…But why on earth would it not be fair to me? Am I not the best judge of that?”
“Evidently not. Your parents have seen the truth all along. I can’t offer you much of a life, Deirdre. There’ll never be money for elegancies.”
“Howard, I don’t care for such things. Has Everdon been at you?”
“No,” he said sharply. “You’re being rather stupid about this, Deirdre. I simply don’t want to marry you.” Perhaps her pain showed, for he quickly added, “It’s not you particularly. I don’t want to marry anyone. I certainly don’t want children.”
Deirdre felt light-headed, but was bitterly aware that this was the most direct and meaningful conversation she and Howard had ever had. “Why did you ask me to marry you, then?”
“Are we going to hold a postmortem? Dissect the putrid corpse? Very well, if that is what you want. You are quite a tolerable woman, not much given to chatter, anxious to please, and truly grateful for even small attentions. Your family connections are excellent. I thought marriage to you would be an improvement in my circumstances. I was uncomfortable, and you seemed to add to my comfort. Now that Everdon is to be my patron, I can buy all the comfort I need.”
“Everdon?” she echoed faintly.
“Yes. And if you detect ulterior motives, you are quite possibly correct. He, too, wants to marry you, doubtless for very similar reasons. He doesn’t need a housekeeper, but he does need an heir. After his disastrous first marriage to a beauty, doubtless someone quiet and plain seems safer. Now, can we decently inter the corpse and get on with our lives?”
Deirdre stiffened her spine and summoned her pride. “Yes, of course.” She willed her lips not to quiver and held out her hand. “I wish you all success, Howard.”
He looked mildly exasperated, but he briefly shook her hand. “I’ll be leaving within the hour, Deirdre. If you want my advice, take Everdon. He’s a good catch for you and he won’t expect too much.”
Deirdre watched Howard Dunstable walk out of her life, then thumped down onto a bench, surrounded by the musky perfume of roses.
Everdon had been right, damn him. Howard had never even liked her, certainly never loved her. Truly grateful for even small attentions. The shame of it was brutal. She buried her burning face in her hands. She supposed that was how Everdon saw her, too.
After his disastrous first marriage to a beauty, doubtless someone quiet and plain seems safer.
That was doubtless true, and would explain the purposeful way he had pursued her. She was grateful, and safe—not the sort to run off with a foreign seducer, because no one would ever want to seduce her. Deirdre wished she, like Howard, could leave within the hour.
She rose to her feet, intending to hurry to her mother. They must return home, at the latest tomorrow. She must be allowed to end this impossible engagement.
Then she saw a figure in the garden room, and froze. She couldn’t face Everdon just now. She couldn’t. She whisked out of sight behind the trellis and ran.
She ran off into the park. Away. Away from the house. Away from Everdon, who doubtless thought he had won.
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
The butler closed the French doors, which someone had carelessly left open, and continued the work of seeing a guest comfortably on his way.
11
EVERDON SAW DUNSTABLE off the premises. The man said he had made a clean break with Deirdre, so Everdon retreated to his study and waited anxiously for the repercussions. He wasn’t sure what form they would take.
She would probably burst in on him like a termagant, blaming him for Dunstable’s defection.
There was a faint hope that she would appear sweetly ready for love.
It only slowly dawned on him that she wasn’t coming at all.
He made inquiries and discovered that over an hour ago, even before Dunstable had driven away, Deirdre had been seen running across the park toward the wilderness. She had appeared upset, but the undergardener who had encountered her had not thought it his place to report such a matter.
Everdon cursed and set off in pursuit. He’d known she would be a bit upset, but not deeply. Had her feelings for Dunstable run deeper than he’d thought?
He had this frightening image of her running out of the park, away down the road, out of his life. Another woman fleeing him…This time he would follow and bring his beloved back.
He entered the wilderness calling her name. The carefully designed area of winding paths, streams, and little craggy hills seemed populated only by birds and insects. If Deirdre was hiding here, it would be next to impossible to find her.
What if she wasn’t?
He looked with concern at the small pond, which was easily deep enough for someone to drown herself in if she were determined on it, but then dismissed the notion. His Deirdre had too much courage and honor to take her life over such a matter.
But she could thoughtlessly put herself in danger.
After a last fruitless bellow of her name, Everdon hurried back to the house. He told his garden staff to keep an eye out for Lady Deirdre, particularly around the wilderness, and then had his best horse saddled. He spent the next hours riding the boundary of his estate, questioning people.
No one had seen Lady Deirdre Stowe.
He returned to the house to hear that Lady Deirdre had come in from her walk and was in her room.
Everdon almost collapsed with relief. Now the only trial was to see how she would treat him when they met.
Deirdre had huddled among some bushes when Everdon appeared, calling for her. She couldn’t face him. She wished she need never face anyone again.
Both her mother and Everdon had been proved right. Howard didn’t care a fig for her. What a fool she had been. No man was ever going to fall in love with ugly Deirdre Stowe. The best she could ever be was convenient.
And of course, she had made matters worse by running away; she had shown what a blow it was. If she had thought, she would have pretended she didn’t care. Too late for that now.
But for Everdon to find her hiding behind a rhododendron bush with mud on her skirts and tears on her face would be the absolute bloody limit.
When he’d gone, she crept out and made her cautious way back to the house. When she passed one of the gardeners she tried to look as if she were just enjoying the sun.
Back in her room, however, she let the mask fall. She had never been so miserable in her life. It wasn’t Howard’s defection that was torturing her—Deirdre was aware that she was almost relieved to have that commitment ended. It was that he had ripped away the pretty illusion she had constructed about Everdon.
She tried to recall those heated moments in Everdon’s study, to believe again that he had desired her, but now she could only see another clever man determined to get what he wanted. Well, she wouldn’t be used anymore.
She just wanted to leave Everdon Park and put the whole sorry business behind her. She blew her nose. She would remain happily single and dedicate her life to her embroidery.
That brought a thought. What about her promise to her mother? She leapt to her feet. Her mother surely would not ho
ld her to it now.
Would she?
Deirdre hastily washed her face and changed her gown. When she studied her reflection, her eyes were puffy, and her nose was red. She looked a fright, but then, that was nothing out of the ordinary. She was a fright, and always would be. She dusted a little powder on her nose to try to disguise her misery, then headed for her mother’s room.
“Deirdre.”
Deirdre froze as she passed the head of the stairs. She looked down to where Everdon stood, one foot raised onto the lowest step. He began to climb the stairs. She turned and ran to her mother’s room, slamming the door behind her as if fiends pursued.
Lady Harby took one look, and sat her down. “What’s happened, dearest?” She opened her arms.
Deirdre fell into them gratefully and burst into tears again on her mother’s ample chest. Lady Harby rocked and soothed her until the tears were over. “Now, love, tell me what’s amiss. It can’t be worthy of all this.”
Deirdre blew her nose, but she was already feeling a little better. Her mother’s presence had a way of doing that. “Howard doesn’t want to marry me anymore.”
“Well, you can’t expect me to shed tears about that, dear.”
Deirdre twisted the handkerchief. “He never really wanted to. I was just…convenient.”
“Ah. Well, I never did think him a downy one. Not, at least, as far as people go. What changed his mind?”
“Don Juan,” Deirdre spat. “Everdon’s going to be his patron. Look after everything for him. I suppose he’ll even find someone who can cook his…his damn eggs right!” She started crying again, but conquered it and blew her nose fiercely. “I will not become a watering pot.”
“Very good. Don’t see what you have to cry over anyway. Now the coast’s clear for you to marry Everdon.”
Deirdre looked up sharply. “I will never marry Lord Everdon.”
“Why on earth not?”
Deirdre found it hard to say. “He doesn’t care for me, Mama.”
“It looks to me as if he’s gone to some lengths to win you.”