Julian thought for a few moments. How could he explain so much to this young woman before him, a stranger to be exact, and one to whom he was about to propose an outrageous scheme. The new young earl had been devastated to return to his beloved Penrose and find the estates in ruin, the farms mismanaged by a dishonest bailiff, and the family pockets entirely to let. Three years later, and helped in part by the money his mother had left him, Julian had managed to restore some order. But money was running out and so was time. His only chance for salvation lay in fulfilling the conditions of his great-uncle’s will. Only a marriage could save him. Marriage was fine and well, and he could marry a dozen heiresses tomorrow, but Julian did not want the responsibility of children. He decided to avoid that question and hoped it would not come up.
“I’m sure Mrs. Dawson has told you of the manner in which our family fortune was frittered away and how I came to be earl, since I had an older brother who should have inherited the title by rights.”
Roxanne blushed. “I hope I was not encouraging gossip.”
He interrupted her with a small laugh. “No, rest assured that Mrs. Dawson would have found a way to take you into her confidence. I then was dealt an extremely good hand by Lady Luck in the form of my Great-Uncle Oswald, who left me his entire magnificent fortune, but with a terrible proviso.”
Roxanne was silent, but her interested expression encouraged him to continue.
“The condition is that I marry the woman of my choice at midnight on the eve of my thirtieth birthday in order to inherit. We must remain married for six months before I receive a penny of it.”
Roxanne looked perplexed.
“So, what is the problem?” she asked. “I’m sure you would have no trouble persuading a lady to join her life with yours.”
Julian stood up abruptly and stalked to the window. “You don’t understand and it is because I have not made myself clear. I cannot marry a lady with a view to establishing a household and family.”
Roxanne caught her breath. He looked at her shocked face and hastened to explain.
“No, rest assured I am not deformed nor is there madness in the family. For reasons I cannot explain, I need to marry to inherit, but I cannot marry for life.”
Roxanne frowned. “What are you saying to me, Mr. Trevallon?”
Julian strode back and forth in front of her, dragging his fingers through his hair. He stuttered a beginning and then his voice faded. Finally he flung himself down next to her on the sofa and took her hand.
“Miss Chesney, before you speak again, let me outline just what it is I am asking of you and clearly state what it is I am offering in return.”
Roxanne drew back a little at his emotional intensity and the vehemence of his words.
“I offer you the position of my wife for six months—no more!”
The look of horror on her face took him by surprise. She stood up as if to run from the room.
“What?” she croaked.
Realising his mistake, Julian caught her hand and pulled her back onto the sofa.
“Let me finish, dear Miss Chesney. Let me finish. I was too hasty in my words.”
He began speaking again in a calmer tone of voice.
“What I propose is a civil contract between us that holds us both to a promise and we will be honour bound to respect it. I need to be married on Friday evening at midnight.” He held up his hand. “Yes, I know it is Monday already. We will, of course, not unite in any way…er…physically, and you will have as many rooms as you desire at your disposal. I pledge my word of honour as a gentleman and a Trevallon to respect your need for privacy and your personal safety at all times. In exchange for you remaining here as my wife for six months, I will endow you with the sum of twenty-five thousand pounds.”
Roxanne’s mouth fell open. “Why, that is a fortune!”
“There is a fortune at stake,” he replied, and this time there was no dry wit behind his words. “An enormous fortune. You can have even more if you wish.”
“Why are you asking me?” Her voice was faint. “You must know ladies who would happily marry you.”
“Of course, I know ladies.” He made an exasperated sound. “But as I said, I do not wish to enter into a marriage where there is an emotional commitment or a physical union that could lead to a child.”
“But if you inherit this fortune and restore Penrose to its former state, surely you want the line to continue and your family to enjoy the fruits?”
“They will.” Julian’s voice was grim. “My nephew Francis, my sister Sophia’s son, is my nominated heir and there is no other male relative, so succession is ensured.”
Roxanne leaned back against the cushions. “This money…” Her voice faltered.
“The moment I receive it, you will be paid and you will be free to go wherever you want. Perhaps you wish to settle in Bath? Or even travel abroad for a while.” He watched her changing expression. “You will be a wealthy woman and if you will permit me to say, I have the feeling that your father left you very little in the world.”
Roxanne nodded. “It’s true. Father was not economically minded and the cottage, although pretty, is small and rather rundown. Whatever I get for it will not be much.”
“You could return to your birthplace and buy something more to your liking?”
Roxanne shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “I must get away.”
Julian stared at her. “Get away? From what? From whom?”
She gave a bright smile. “I mean get away from the past, start afresh, begin a new life.”
Julian nodded vigorously. “You’ll be your own mistress. You can enjoy the status and freedom you deserve with the money. You’ll never have to earn your keep or rely on others for support. After the six months is up you can leave, and if we both wait for a while you’ll be able to marry again and no one will be any the wiser.”
“What will you tell people?”
“We won’t.” He flashed a dazzling smile, full of assurance. “We won’t have to say a word. After six months we will go our separate ways.”
Roxanne shook her head. “That will not be possible, even if I hid in the attic for six months. Your lawyer handling the inheritance has to know. He will think you have contracted an alliance with a young lady of longstanding acquaintance. What if your sister decides to visit? There will be reference to or talk of the new countess somewhere. The servants have family. Someone is bound to pass on the news.”
Julian frowned. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. We’ll have to think of something.”
He brightened as a thought struck him. “I know!”
He jumped to his feet and eagerly strode up and down in front of her, waving a hand in the air as he sketched out a tale of love.
“We met a year ago at…let me think…a talk your father gave in…” He looked questioningly at her.
“Oxford?” Roxanne suggested. “He did give lectures around the countryside before his health began to fail.”
“Oxford!” Julian looked pleased. “Capital! I went to university there and have social connections still, so it would be a natural thing to do. Great-Uncle Oswald had given me a copy of your father’s book and it piqued my interest. That’s how we met.”
He looked at Roxanne and felt relieved to see amusement and excitement lurking in her expression as she entered into the spirit of this romantic fiction.
“Although we met and enjoyed each other’s company, we could not take the association further because Father fell ill and the thought of me leaving would have been too much for him.”
“Wonderful!”
Julian strode to the fireplace where he busied himself stirring the fire. Elated, he did not see the look of terror that passed over Roxanne’s face.
“What did we do?”
Roxanne’s voice sounded a little shaky, but she said with a smile, “We corresponded and pledged a secret betrothal, knowing that poor Father would not live very long. Once he had gone, we�
��”
Her voice wavered again and Julian was there by her side, his arm around her shoulder.
“You brave girl,” he whispered. “I am a selfish brute to pursue a charade when you are still grief-stricken.”
Roxanne shrank from his touch and dashed away the tears from her eyes. Julian produced a handkerchief, which Roxanne proceeded to use heartily.
“I am perfectly fine,” she announced, emerging watery-eyed and pink around the nose. “I cannot change the fact that Father is gone and I have a future to consider.”
Julian said gently. “Once you were able to leave, you came here and we decided to marry.”
Roxanne nodded. “But what happens after the six months? How do we make sure this is ‘all right and tight,’ as Father used to say?”
Julian took her hand in a brotherly way. “We would sign a legal contract. Only my personal solicitor Mr. Musgrove will know of it, and when the time is up we will part as dear friends who were able to help each other and both gain advantage by an act of mutual kindness. Mr. Huggett, who is the executor of Great-Uncle Oswald’s will, must know nothing of this.”
Roxanne stirred restlessly and he released her hand.
“What about the servants? Mrs. Dawson? Won’t they think it strange that you rescued me on the side of the road on Saturday evening and we are married the next Friday?”
Julian beamed, sure of his next words. “As for the servants, consider this, their security and welfare is inextricably bound to mine. If I fall, so do they. If I fly, so do they. Besides, I am sure Skelton has revealed all to the rest of the servants.”
Roxanne shook her head. “I am still so puzzled. You have to be married at midnight?”
Julian laughed. “Very strange conditions, I know. Quite dramatic. My great-uncle lost his love and I think the years of loneliness fed his fertile imagination. I suppose he wanted to make sure I took the step seriously.”
“Why six months?”
“In the normal course of events, the marriage would be consummated and a child conceived.”
Roxanne flinched and he tried to reassure her. “But of course, that’s not going to happen if we enter an agreement. You can rest assured your virtue will be intact.”
“Have you thought of what will happen when I leave?” she asked. “How will you explain it to your family and friends who will know of my existence?”
Julian frowned. “I am perplexed on that point. I had hoped to keep it as quiet as possible, but I know now it’s not feasible. I think we should cross that hurdle when we come to it. Perhaps we should say we found that we didn’t know each other well enough. I will take the blame and say you were so unhappy that you desired to be with friends who are living…wherever you so choose.”
“It doesn’t seem to matter to you all that much what people will think.”
He felt a familiar anger rising within his chest. “It matters not one jot. I don’t give a damn for Society or people’s opinions. All I care about is restoring Penrose to how I remember it.”
Roxanne sat lost in thought for a few minutes, Julian watching her expression anxiously.
Finally, she said, “I have to think about this very carefully.”
He nodded. “It is an enormous commitment. We’ll talk tomorrow, if that is convenient to you. Remember, you have everything to gain and nothing to lose. You’re alone in the world. There are no obstacles. You are unmarried and so am I. We are free to enter into any agreement we choose.”
Roxanne blanched as Julian said the word “unmarried.” She felt as if she were teetering on the edge of a precipice. A wave of misery overwhelmed her. It all seemed to be too much. She did not know which way to turn to escape from her predicament of Edgar and the marriage that had possibly ended in murder. She wondered if she would be compounding her problems by escaping into this fictional union with such a rich reward at the end of it. Perhaps the safety of Penrose for six months would be enough for any suspicion to die down, whatever the outcome of that night of assault had been. The dress with the incriminating bloodstains had been destroyed. If Edgar survived, it would be hard for him to prove evidence against her.
Julian said, “I think you should rest now. Don’t think any longer on the subject. We’ll speak again tomorrow. Would you care to have supper sent to your room later on a tray?”
Grateful for his kindness, Roxanne nodded and retired, more exhausted than she would have thought possible. His words rang in her ears as she tossed and turned, waiting for sleep to come. “There are no obstacles…” But Roxanne was so afraid that there were, and the lies she had already told weighed heavy on her heart. Julian was planning eagerly, thinking she was a free agent. But what if she wasn’t? What if Edgar had survived? If she entered into this contract with Julian, she would have to bear the burden of more deception. Worn out by her tumultuous thoughts and with her nerves stretched to breaking point, Roxanne fell asleep at last.
Chapter Five
Roxanne passed a restless night. She dreamed of running down long, dark passages, hearing Edgar’s triumphant, braying laughter echoing behind her…the sound of his footsteps…the panting of his hot breath…the weight of his hand pawing her shoulder…the wet tongue that he thrust into her face…
Roxanne woke with a start to find sunshine pouring into her room and the owner of the wet tongue and the heavy paw sitting on the floor next to her bed, bent only on play and not on assault. A large feathery tail wagged as Rufus fixed his eyes imploringly on his new friend.
Roxanne struggled onto one elbow and ruffled his ears, laughing with relief. “You silly dog! You gave me such a fright.”
A tail-thumping tattoo indicated his approval of her opinion. Rufus was obviously skilled at breaking and entering since he had managed to nose the door open without difficulty. Becky arrived a few moments later with a breakfast tray.
“Oh shoo, you great, naughty brute!” she scolded. “Back to the kitchen or outside where you belong!”
Rufus ignored these insults and inspected the tray with interest.
“Leave him, Becky.” Roxanne giggled. “He can help me finish my breakfast.”
“I think it’s not hygienic!” Becky frowned at the impassive hound. “Mrs. Dawson’s awful strict about such things. We ’as to wash our ’ands all the time!”
“I promise you he is no trouble at all. Please don’t tell Mrs. Dawson. I have a feeling he’s not allowed upstairs.”
“No, not at all and well you know it, yer great lump!” Becky rebuked Rufus who grinned back at her, tongue lolling. “And make sure ’e don’t get on the bed or Mrs. Dawson will ’ave ’is ’ide! But I won’t tell, Miss. Shall I come back in a while and help yer dress?”
“Thank you, Becky.”
Roxanne ate a leisurely breakfast and allowed her faithful companion to finish the scraps as a reward. She lay back against the pillows and stretched. This was all nonsense, of course, and at any moment she would wake up and find herself back in her old life, but for now the dream was delightful and, if she so desired, it could last for quite a long time. Well, six months at least.
A luxuriant feeling of total relaxation spread over her. For the first time in a long while she felt safe, as if she need not look over her shoulder. Her thoughts turned to knottier problems. What was she to do regarding the earl’s proposition? A smile crossed her face as she pondered upon the eligibility of the elegant and charming Julian Trevallon. She allowed herself a fleeting daydream. He was the epitome of a knight in shining armour riding up to the fortress gate to rescue a helpless and, naturally, beautiful maiden from distress. After slaying the evil giant or dragon that had imprisoned the damsel, he would seat her in front of him on his white charger as he galloped away to safety and his magnificent castle. There they would consummate their love and live happily ever after.
Her expression darkened as she thought about the fear and trauma to which Edgar had subjected her in the name of making love. She wondered what Julian would be like as a lover. Her ine
xperience meant that there were things she could not imagine, and Edgar’s brutal introduction to the pleasures, but to her the terrors, of the marriage bed made it hard for her to proceed beyond the ride to the prince’s castle.
But was it possible that her heart beat just a little faster when thinking of Julian, despite her fears? Roxanne quelled the feeling. She shook her head to clear her mind of nonsensical imaginings. Inwardly she chastised herself for even contemplating the most fleeting of romantic thoughts about a man with whom she would possibly enter a hard, cold, purely commercial transaction. Roxanne decided that being attracted to Julian Trevallon, let alone any man for that matter, was a mistake; one she could not afford to make in what had already proved to be a harsh world outside the sheltered confines of her father’s home.
Her mind wandered back to Julian’s proposition. The money would be her path to safety. She shuddered at the thought of having to marry some man and endure his rough demands in bed just to have financial security. Roxanne felt that Julian would not be like that. But then, she mused, Edgar had deceived her and he wasn’t one iota as good-looking or dashing as the Earl of Pennington. Roxanne shivered at the memories that beset her and how Edgar’s warm, wet lips repulsed her when he kissed her hand, which was too often for her liking. It felt as if a snake’s tongue had flickered across her skin. His brown eyes reminded her of flat pebbles and she found his unblinking gaze disconcerting. His lank, mousy hair always had a faint greasy sheen, as if he did not wash his head often enough. Julian was like a god in comparison.
Suppressing any further thoughts on the dangerous topic of how attractive the earl was proving to be, she flung aside the bedclothes just as Becky reappeared with a jug of hot water to help her wash and dress. The emboldened handmaiden conveyed the message that Julian was taking Roxanne out in the gig. In Becky’s opinion, such an expedition called for suitable apparel.
“Ye’re goin’ ter tore the estate, Miss!” Becky exclaimed breathlessly, clasping her hands in excitement.
Becky showed hidden talents in her selection of an outfit. Once Roxanne was properly attired for a chilly February morning, with a chocolate-brown, fur-trimmed pelisse covering her green walking dress on Becky’s advice—“cos it’s a bit nippy out, Miss”—a poke bonnet with matching ribbons tied under her chin and kid gloves, she sallied forth with Rufus in attendance to find Julian already waiting outside in the gig. He was dressed as a prosperous country gentleman in the kind of garb that most became him: riding breeches, coat and top boots.
Married at Midnight: An Authentic Regency Romance Page 5