Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords & Ladies in Love)

by Callie Hutton

  “Thank you, Mrs. Davies. I look forward to speaking with you tomorrow, when we have time together.”

  The housekeeper nodded and turned to Nash. “Will you be dining this evening, my lord? Cook has a fine meal prepared for you and your bride.”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I believe we would like a light supper sent up. Lady Clarendon is recovering from an illness and I am afraid all the travel has left her weary, and we will be retiring early this evening.”

  “Of course, my lord. I am sorry to hear that.” She curtsied to them both and left the room.

  Arabella untied her bonnet and tossed it on the bed. “Thank you, Nash. I really was not anxious to dress for a formal dinner tonight.”

  For once she did not naysay him on his orders for them both. He walked to her and tilted her chin up. “We tend not to be formal in the country and keep country hours, as well. But you do appear tired. Why don’t you have Sophia arrange for a bath, and we can meet in the sitting room adjoining our bedchambers in say, an hour, for our meal?”

  “Yes. That would be perfect.”

  He bent and placed his lips on hers. Despite her fatigue, she responded, leaving him wondering just how tired his wife was. As soon as supper was over, he intended to find out.

  …

  The next morning, Arabella awoke alone in her bed at Clarendon Manor. After a lovely bath and a quiet supper the night before, she’d nodded off as she sat across from Nash over the small table that had been set up in the sitting room for their meal. He’d scooped her up and carried her to her bedchamber, tucked her in, and kissed her on the forehead. Then, instead of joining her, he’d left to return to his own bedchamber. She hadn’t seen him since.

  They’d been man and wife a few weeks, and he’d only come to her once. Had he found her so unsatisfactory that he’d decided to forego what she’d been told was a man’s favorite activity? Or did he, like so many in the ton, keep a mistress who satisfied his baser needs?

  The thought bothered her. Not a jealous person by nature, even so, she had no desire to share her husband with another woman. Especially one who would be much more experienced than she. Then, a little voice of reason whispered that she’d been sick for most of their married life, and the last two nights she’d been so tired Nash had been forced to assist her to bed. If she intended to keep him away from other women’s beds, she would do well to stop dropping her head into her dessert each evening.

  “Good morning, my lady.” Sophia pulled back the bed curtains and then moved to the window to open the drapes. Low-hung gray clouds covered the sky, just the sort of weather that enticed one to curl up with a fire, a cup of tea, and a good book. But Nash had said during their journey that he was anxious to visit the tenants.

  From what he’d told her, his steward, Mr. Jones, had been reporting less profits over the past couple of years than what they’d received for years before that. He had also claimed expenses had risen. When she questioned him, Nash admitted the thought had crossed his mind that Mr. Jones might be pilfering money from him, but he was an older man who had been employed by the Clarendon title for many years, as well as his father before him. It hardly seemed likely that he would suddenly begin to steal from them.

  Arabella climbed from bed and allowed Sophia to tend to her morning ablutions. With a blue and white striped day dress and her hair in a sensible braid that Sophia had wrapped around her head, Arabella descended the stairs to the breakfast room. She’d been so tired the night before, she’d forgotten where Mrs. Davies had said it was and had to have a footman direct her.

  Nash sat at the table, his newspaper covering his face. As soon as she entered, he placed the paper next to his plate and stood. “Good morning. You had a restful sleep, I assume?”

  “Yes, I did. I hardly remember finishing our supper last evening.”

  “You were a bit weary, but I must say, you look quite refreshed this morning.”

  Did the twinkle in his eye and lopsided smile mean he intended to play the husband tonight? A shiver ran through her at the thought of his warm, large hands on her naked flesh. Yes, she was ready for another go at playing wife.

  “I would like to make the first rounds of tenant visits in about an hour. There are several I wish to speak with about this drop in production Mr. Jones keeps sending correspondence about. Before you came down, I took a short ride to the closest farms and saw no evidence of such. That disturbs me for more than one reason. I do not like employing someone whose trust I question, and it reminds me that I have been neglecting my estate duties in favor of Parliament.”

  He took a sip of coffee from his blue and white china cup and placed it back into the saucer. “Will you be ready?

  She studied him as he spoke. His country dress was less formal than Town dress. His beige breeches, tucked into shiny Hessian boots, fit snugly over his bulging muscles. He wore no waistcoat under his dark green woolen jacket. A loosely tied cravat, giving him a somewhat rakish look, completed the outfit. The man was definitely not hard to look at. The heat rose once again in her face. “Yes, I will be ready as soon as I finish breakfast.”

  “Excellent.” He stood and pushed his chair back. “I wish to go over the correspondence I brought with me from London, so when you are ready, please join me in the library. If you don’t remember where that is, just ask one of the footmen to direct you.” Kissing her on the top of her head, he quit the room.

  Arabella took her time eating her breakfast since Nash had given her an hour. She idly looked over the newspaper. Since it had arrived by post, it bore the previous day’s date. As she leisurely turned the pages, she took only a quick glance at the Society pages. She’d never been interested in who was intending to offer for whom, who the new Incomparable was, and which debutante was not receiving enough attention, despite her large dowry. She shook her head at the nonsense she was so happy to be away from. Perhaps they could spend the rest of the Season in the country.

  She finished her breakfast and took a slow walk to her bedchamber to retrieve her bonnet and gloves.

  Her new home was a bit different from the home in which she’d been raised. Clarendon Manor boasted thick carpets, silk wall coverings, and old, but well-cared-for, furniture. While her childhood homes had been quite pleasant, this one spoke of a family with perhaps more funds to keep it up to standard.

  She hoped to have time during the day to take a tour with Mrs. Davies, but now she needed to present herself to Nash for their tenant visits. Drawing on her gloves, she checked her appearance in the mirror and followed a footman to the library.

  Nash sat behind an immense desk, an open ledger book in front of him, his hands propping his head up. From the condition of his hair, he must have spent some time running his fingers through it.

  “Are things bad?” She took the chair in front of his desk. In her entire life, she had never given money a thought. She’d visited the shops along Bond Street and had the bills sent to Father. Only once had Mother mentioned that perhaps Arabella could do without a gown she had desperately wanted for an upcoming ball. That had been the first time money, or perhaps a lack thereof, had ever been brought to her attention.

  “I’m sure my dowry can be put to good use. I know Papa always said it was a significant amount. I assume that will help?”

  Chapter Twelve

  I assume that will help?

  Nash studied Arabella. Apparently, her mother had not told her about dipping into her dowry to keep them both from starving after the late earl had cocked up his toes. But, since Nash had hidden their situation from his mother, he felt no obligation to tell his wife, either. Women were to be protected. It was his duty to provide for all the women in his life. Arabella, Mother, and now, his mother-in-law. He would get to the bottom of the lack of funds, and hopefully, the investment he hoped to join would help. Until then, it was his problem to deal with and solve.

  “Everything is fine, my dear. You are not to trouble yourself.” He slammed the ledger book closed and st
ood. “Now I would like to take my wife on a round of calls to the tenants so they can meet you. Cook has put together baskets that we will bring with us. It is a family tradition. If they are all prepared, have one of the footmen load them into the carriage. I will make sure the correct carriage has been brought around.”

  “How many will we be visiting?”

  “We will try perhaps four or five today. More tomorrow.” He rounded the desk and took her arm. “I like your gown. It suits you.” He studied her head. “And your hair. You look very much the lord of the manor’s wife.”

  Blushing prettily, she gave him a slight curtsy. “Thank you, my lord.”

  Life could be quite pleasant when they weren’t at odds with each other. One place his wife was quite amenable was the bedchamber. That was where her incongruous behavior was quite acceptable. He also saw in her a desire to try new things. His blood warmed and traveled south at all the new things he could offer to show her.

  He intended to make love to his wife tonight. Two nights of tucking her into bed with no more than a peck on her forehead were beginning to wear on him. In the time they’d been married, he’d only had the pleasure of her body once. Frustrated last evening when she had again fallen asleep at the table, he’d left her and retired to his chamber, alone.

  After which he had doused his frustration with a few snifters of brandy. That was not a habit he intended to continue. He needed the release of a woman’s body and intended to have her as much as he wanted.

  He’d dismissed his mistress shortly after he’d announced his betrothal to Arabella at Ashbourne’s ball. Loyalty meant a great deal to him, and he felt his wife deserved his loyalty, just as he fully expected the same from her. He would not tolerate taking lovers even once an heir and a spare had made their appearances.

  The thought of Arabella lying in the arms of another man twisted his insides. Not that he was jealous. It was just that she was his and his alone. Nor did he intend to fall in love. That had never been his intention, no matter who he married. Love made for misunderstandings and hurt feelings. In addition to poor Wentworth, he’d seen other besotted husbands act in such crazed ways that he never wanted to be counted among their numbers. He’d always had an abhorrence of appearing foolish.

  Nash was discussing the mixture they used for feed for his horses with one of the grooms when Arabella joined him. A footman carrying the baskets followed behind. Once again, he observed her as she instructed the servant where to place the food inside the wagon. She did, indeed, present herself as the perfect picture of a noble’s wife. Off to visit the tenants and offer advice and food items.

  Her blue bonnet didn’t hide the front of her hair where the tight braids were fastened, the golden-brown locks woven into an intricate pattern. Even in the dull gray of the low-hanging clouds, Nash felt her presence like sunshine. Her smile was genuine, and warmth from her happy demeanor spread through his insides.

  “Are we ready?” The excitement in her voice brought a smile to his face, and a sense of adventure. Never before had he so looked forward to tenant visits. Of course, given how little time he’d spent at the Manor since he’d gained his title, tenant visits had fallen off since his father’s death.

  “Yes. We are all ready.” He helped Arabella into the carriage and followed her in. With the baskets piled on one of the benches, they sat together on the other bench. He took her hand in his and intertwined their fingers as the carriage rolled away from the manor and headed toward Mr. and Mrs. Blossom’s house, the closest cottage. Arabella turned to him. “Tell me about the first tenants we’re to visit.”

  Nash rested his booted foot on his bent knee. “Harold Blossom and his wife, Emma, have four children. They occupy what used to be his parents’ home and adjoining farm. Old Ned Blossom passed on a few years ago. Up until his death, he kept his finger in their farm operation, giving Harold a lot of advice.” He grinned. “Some of it even wanted, I imagine.

  “Harold and I, along with some of the other lads, spent our summers swimming in the pond—that is, when I could dodge my tutor.”

  Arabella appeared shocked. “Your parents allowed you to play with the tenants’ children?”

  Nash nodded and pointed out the window. “There is the Blossom farm.” Neat rows of oats and rye stretched from the back of the house and out a few acres. A small garden that supplied the large family with vegetables and herbs sat alongside the east side of the house. Mrs. Blossom had used the front area of the farmhouse to plant flowers. Even with four children to tend to, the house and yard were well kept.

  Nash stepped from the carriage and assisted Arabella just as Blossom and his wife approached them, bright welcoming smiles on their faces. Mrs. Blossom carried a baby on her hip and another little one attached to her skirts. Harold stuck his hand out. “My lord. I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

  Not standing on ceremony with these longtime tenants, Nash took the farmer’s hand and they shook. “’Tis good to see you, as well, Blossom. It’s been far too long.”

  “Yes, it has.” Harold motioned with his chin toward his wife. “We have two new little ones since you last visited.”

  Nash felt the stabbing guilt at having neglected the responsibilities to his estate. He had soothed his conscience by telling himself his duties to Parliament took precedence. Standing here with this hardworking farmer, looking at the land worked by the man’s family for generations, brought the realization that he had been quite mistaken. If, indeed, there were shenanigans going on with Jones, he truly had no one to blame but himself. He vowed again to make sure he spent more time in Suffolk, seeing to his obligations.

  Nash turned toward Arabella. “I would like to make known to you Mr. Harold Blossom and his wife, Mrs. Emma Blossom. Their family has lived here for generations.” He took her hand and pulled her forward. “This is my wife, her ladyship, the Countess of Clarendon.”

  Arabella smiled at the couple. The man tugged on the brim of his hat, and the woman did a quick dip.

  “Oh my lady, ’tis a true pleasure to meet you.” Mrs. Blossom smiled brightly at Arabella. “We were so thrilled when word reached us that the master had married.” She looked toward Nash. “I hope that means we will be seeing more of you, my lord.”

  “That is my full intention, Mrs. Blossom. I am afraid I have been somewhat neglectful since my father’s passing. That will soon change.”

  “We brought your family a little something from our cook.” Arabella held out the basket to Mrs. Blossom. “I hope you enjoy her efforts.”

  The woman’s cheeks grew rosy. “Thank you so much, my lady. I am sure we will.”

  …

  Arabella knelt to the ground and spoke to the little girl clinging to her mother’s skirts. “Hello, little one. What is your name?”

  The girl twisted her tiny hand in her mother’s skirts and tugged them forward to cover her face.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady,” the mother said. “She’s a shy one, this one. Her name is Dorothy.” She tapped the little girl on the head. “Remember your manners. Say hello to Lady Clarendon.”

  Dorothy shook her head back and forth and stuck her little thumb into her mouth, continuing to stare at Arabella with wide chocolate-brown eyes.

  “That is all right, Mrs. Blossom. I understand. I was quite shy as a child, myself.” Arabella rose.

  “Oh dear me. Here I am, scolding my Dorothy for poor manners, and I am leaving you to stand out here. Please come inside and have some tea. I just finished baking some biscuits.” Mrs. Blossom led the way for them all to enter the house.

  It was a small cottage, smelling of sugar and spices. Probably from the biscuits she’d just baked. Two little boys sat at a table, sharing a worn book. One was reading aloud with corrections made by his brother. The house was warm and comfortable. Mrs. Blossom had made a cozy home for her family. Arabella was amazed at what the family had done with the limited resources they had available to them.

  Arabella took a seat near
the two boys and read along with them while still conversing with Mrs. Blossom. Nash discussed farm matters with the husband, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown at some of the information the farmer gave him. After about twenty minutes, Nash nodded at Arabella and stood. “I’m afraid as much as I am enjoying our conversation, Lady Clarendon and I have other calls to make.”

  The couple walked with them to the carriage. Just as they were saying their final good-byes, one of the boys raced from the small house shouting for his father. Blossom grabbed the boy by the shoulders. “Whoa there, son. What is all the shouting about?”

  “You must come, Papa. Daisy has Bessie trapped in the corner and is about to eat her!”

  “Excuse us, my lord, but it appears my boy’s pet is in danger.”

  Before he took two steps a wired-hair dog raced from the house with a small animal in its jaws. “Papa, look!” The child pointed and jumped up and down frantically.

  The dog sprinted past them and huddled next to the carriage wheel, watching the humans with narrowed eyes. The small white kitten anchored between its teeth squealed and wiggled its body.

  Arabella looked at the little boy. “Is that your pet there in the dog’s mouth?”

  “Yes, my lady. That is Booker.” He wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “And Daisy’s about to eat him.”

  “How many times have I told you to keep that kitten in the cage and away from that dog?” Mrs. Blossom wrapped her arms around her son’s shoulders.

  Arabella walked toward the dog, murmuring to the animal. The dog hunkered down, its tail moving back and forth as it watched her approach. “You don’t want to hurt that little kitty, do you, Daisy?” She got down on her knees and reached out, petting the dog. After a few minutes the dog laid down. Arabella reached out and rubbed the animal’s stomach, murmuring until she scratched under the dog’s chin, and he opened his jaw, dropping the kitten, who scooted away.