“And I don’t?”
“Certainly, if you wish to be disowned,” the baron replied.
“You can’t disown me,” Alex said smugly. “I’m your heir. If you allow Julian to jilt Miss Rampling, I will never marry Miss Peacock. Indeed, I will never marry at all.”
The baron flinched. “You can’t mean it! Think of the unbroken line,” he pleaded. “The barony has passed from father to eldest son in an unbroken line for five hundred years!”
“I do mean it, sir,” Alex assured him.
“But how am I to make Julian do anything? The boy don’t listen to me. He never has!”
“Go to Julian,” Alex urged. “Apologize.”
The baron reddened with anger. “Apologize! Never! Let him apologize.”
“Admit you were wrong, Father,” Alex insisted. “Miss Andrews has money. Lucy does not. I believe Julian still loves Miss Rampling. I saw him kiss her. He would marry her, if you would only give him an allowance.”
“I will not apologize,” declared the baron. “But if you will marry Molly Peacock, I’ll agree to bribe the worthless young man to marry Miss Rampling. But I will never receive them at the castle,” he warned, “and I will never acknowledge the connection.”
“You will see Miss Rampling,” Alex said firmly. “And you will treat her with every courtesy. The banns will be called in the village church, beginning this Sunday.”
The baron stuck out his chin. “For you and Molly?”
Alex nodded curtly. “And for Julian and Lucy. Miss Rampling is on her way here now with Perdita and Miss Andrews. They will be arriving within the hour. I suggest we go inside and make ourselves presentable.”
The baron scowled. “Miss Andrews? Why is she coming to Devize?”
“She thinks she is going to meet Julian here and marry him,” Alex explained. “You will have to tell her the truth. It won’t be easy. She fancies herself in love. However—”
“Have you no regard for the poor girl’s feelings?” the baron asked in astonishment.
“No, none,” Alex replied. “Miss Andrews is of no importance to me whatsoever. I’m sorry if her feelings are hurt, of course, but that’s life, isn’t it? There must be winners, and there must be losers.”
“You’re heartless,” the baron complained.
“I wish to God that were true,” Alex muttered.
“It’s quite a small castle, isn’t it?” Viola said, wrinkling her nose as the ancestral home of the Devize family came into view.
Perdita smiled at the young woman’s pretensions. “Fortunately, Julian will not inherit.”
“No,” Viola agreed. “But I should like it to be bigger all the same.”
Lucy was in awe of the ancient-looking Norman structure. “I think Castle Devize is very grand indeed. It is exactly what a castle should be.”
“You don’t think it too cold and militaristic?” Viola asked. “All those battlements? All those loopholes for the archers to shoot out of? It has a moat, for heaven’s sake! And a drawbridge, too! That hardly seems friendly.”
“It’s a fortress, Miss Andrews,” Perdita said dryly. “One can hardly expect a fortress to be warm and inviting.”
Viola sniffed. “At any rate, my country estate will not be a castle. I prefer a cozy, pleasant, welcoming place. Something a bit more like Versailles, perhaps, or the Pavilion at Brighton one hears so much about. A place where one’s friends can gather and make merry.”
Perdita dissolved into laughter. “You’re too much, Miss Andrews! As Julian’s wife, you have as much chance of making merry at Versailles as you do of flying to the moon.”
“I shall have to build, of course,” Viola conceded. “That’s the only way to get exactly what one wants. What do you think, Lady Cheviot, of pulling down Gambol Hall and Cross Mere and putting up one great, good place instead?”
Perdita stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head. “Pull down Gambol Hall and Cross Mere? Are you mad? They belong to the Duke of Fanshawe!”
Viola laughed at her astonishment. “Didn’t your husband tell you? I’m sorry, I thought you were in on my little secret. The Duke of Fanshawe is my elder brother. I’m Lady Viola. I daresay I can persuade my brother to give me his Hampshire properties as a wedding gift.”
Perdita choked, causing Viola great concern. “I hope Julian doesn’t choke when I tell him,” she fretted as Lucy rapped Perdita sharply on the back.
Perdita choked again. “Julian doesn’t know?”
“I don’t want him to know until after we’re married,” Viola explained. “I want to be married for myself alone, you see.”
“Oh, I see,” Perdita said faintly.
“You don’t mind if I pull down Cross Mere, do you?” Viola asked. “You can always live somewhere else. My brother owns houses all over Britain, you know, and we have a devil of a time finding tenants for them all.”
“Indeed, Lady Viola,” Perdita said faintly.
“Oh, and you must let me put you in touch with my old governess, Miss Taylor,” Viola went on. “I’m afraid I wore her out and had to pension her off to a cottage, but she can recommend somebody for you.”
“Indeed, Lady Viola. I’d be most grateful.”
“I don’t mind telling you, Lady Cheviot, I didn’t much care for your Miss Shipley. Never mind that her clothes hang funny on her, she was dreary and ugly. That whiny, grating voice! The tears and hysterics! Frankly, Lady Cheviot, I think your children deserve better.”
“But, Viola, you don’t even know Miss Shipley,” Lucy protested. “How can you say such terrible things about her?”
“Such terrible, accurate things,” sniffed Perdita.
“I know Miss Shipley as well I like,” Viola retorted. “Lord Cheviot introduced her to me. I stumbled upon them in that prettyish little wilderness you have there at Cross Mere, so he was obliged to present her.”
Perdita froze. “You saw my husband and Miss Shipley? In the wilderness? Alone?”
“It was quite an emotional performance,” Viola said, grimacing in distaste. “Water was pouring out of her face. Cheviot was so embarrassed, I believe he had no choice but to take her in his arms, which, of course, was exactly what she wanted. I shall never forget the way her big Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down as she sobbed. It was too hideous to be forgotten. ‘This has been the happiest time of my life!’ cried she. Ugh! I honestly thought I was going to vomit. However, I did not,” she added quickly as she became aware of Perdita’s shocked face.
Lucy looked shocked, too.
“You can easily see that you are better off without her,” said Viola.
“Quite,” Perdita agreed faintly.
The courtyard of the castle was a big, cobbled square open to the sky, with a handsome marble drinking fountain in the middle. Chiefly it was the province of the baron’s dogs and servants; both species rushed forth to greet the carriage. Lord Devize had not troubled himself to wash or change his clothes for the occasion, but he did remove the handkerchief from his head.
Henry did not run to meet his grandfather, as was his usual habit. Instead, he seemed glued to the skirts of a tall, well-formed female. The female, the baron noted with approval, did not shy away from the big mastiff that ambled over to sniff her and the little white dog she carried in her arms. As the bichon trembled in terror, Viola stood absolutely still.
“Come, Brutus!” the baron commanded as his daughter came to greet him, and the mastiff turned away reluctantly.
“That’s a dreadful name for a mastiff!” Viola rebuked the baron. “You’re not a Brutus, are you?” she asked the big dog, leaning down to scratch his head with a gloved hand.
The baron stared at her, enraptured by a vision that took him back in time more than twenty years. “Louisa Lyon! As I live and breathe!”
Viola gave him a dazzling smile. “Did you know my mother?” she cried.
“You’re Louisa’s daughter, are you?” he said, coming to his senses. “I knew your mother very
well, child. I was in love with her—I admit it. We all were. We called her the Highland Dasher, you know. She swooped down on London one Season and married the richest man she could find. I’m sorry, my dear. I don’t know what Louisa called you.”
“Viola,” she said, curtseying.
He beamed at her. “Yes, of course. Her favorite flower.”
“And her favorite sweet,” said Viola. “She adored violet creams. She ate so many during her confinement that I was quite blue when I was born.”
“Papa,” Perdita interrupted. “May I introduce Miss Rampling—”
“Not now, Perdita,” he said impatiently, taking Viola’s arm and guiding her into the residential part of the castle. “What brings you to Castle Devize, Lady Viola?”
She laughed. “Matrimony, of course! I’m going to marry your son.”
“Ah!” he said, eyeing her curves appreciatively. “Now there will be a great marriage! You look like you’d breed nothing but sons.”
“Thank you,” said Viola, laughing. “Where is my bridegroom? Have you reconciled with him? I shall be very unhappy with you, Baron, if you have not.”
The great doors of the castle opened onto a vast medieval hall hung with dusty heraldic banners. The rest of the furnishings, however, looked comfortable and up-to-date. Perdita followed them inside, followed by the nursery maid, followed by Henry and Elizabeth. Lucy, bedraggled and forgotten, entered last.
“Of course we’ve reconciled,” the baron assured Viola. “There was never any serious contention between us. He’s upstairs, making himself presentable. Come in and sit down, my dear,” he invited her.
“I’ve been sitting for hours,” Viola protested, preferring to study the family portraits hung on the paneled walls. “Let me stretch my legs.”
“Of course. Would you care for some refreshment? Or perhaps you would care to see the garden? Ah, here is my son now!”
Viola looked up to see Alex standing in the gallery above them. He ran lightly down the stairs and went straight to Lucy, his hair damp and freshly combed. “Miss Rampling! I apologize for not being here when you arrived. I assume my sister has introduced you?”
Having dispatched her children up to the nursery, Perdita sank into a chair. “I tried,” she said, yawning.
Alex succeeded where his sister had failed. Although irritated to be parted from Viola, the baron graciously spared Lucy a moment. “So this is Miss Rampling, eh?” he said gruffly.
Lucy curtseyed. “How do you do, my lord.”
Unimpressed, he harumphed. “So you want to marry my son, do you?” he said gravely, looking at her with a lowered brow. “Personally, I would rethink the matter.”
Perdita sat up in her chair, and even Viola’s attention was caught.
Lucy began to stammer. “I-I had not thought to…I had not thought it possible, my lord! I never thought you would approve.”
“You seem all right to me,” said the baron, shrugging.
“It is very possible, I assure you, Miss Rampling,” said Alex. “My father has consented to have the banns read on Sunday.”
Lucy flushed. “I must say, this rather high-handed of you, Mr Devize. You haven’t asked me yet! I mean, not since the last time.”
Alex frowned. “Asked you what?”
“To marry you, of course,” Viola interrupted. “You have to propose to her, Mr Devize.”
“Really, Alex,” Perdita murmured. “If I were you, Lucy, I should refuse him again.”
“What?” said Alex.
“You can’t just have your father do it for you,” Lucy said angrily. “You can’t just have the banns read. Just because I’m thirty and poor doesn’t mean you can take me for granted!”
“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “I’m not asking you to marry me, Lucy. You’re going to marry Julian. It’s all arranged. You needn’t thank me.”
“Lucy marry Julian?” Viola howled. “No! I’m going to marry Julian!”
“You can’t marry Julian,” the baron protested at once. “You’re going to marry Alex, for he’s to inherit. Julian is nothing but a disobedient flea!”
“What,” said Viola, “is going on?”
“I’m sorry for you, Miss Andrews,” Alex said. “But Julian must marry Miss Rampling. I saw them kissing. There’s nothing else to be done.”
“That is ridiculous,” said Lucy. “That is like saying that I must marry you because you kissed me at the Cross Mere ball.”
“So you did kiss her!” said Perdita.
“That was before I knew about your affair with Julian!” Alex accused Lucy. “I know you’re in love with him!”
“In love with Julian?” Lucy said indignantly. “Affair! I am not such an idiot as that.”
“I’m the one who loves Julian,” Viola reminded them. “I’m the idiot.”
“No, no, no!” cried the baron. “Julian will marry Miss Rampling. You, my dear, must marry Alex,” he added, taking Viola by the hand.
“I don’t want to marry Julian,” said Lucy.
The baron shrugged. “I don’t really care if you marry him or not,” he admitted. “As long as Alex marries this magnificent creature, I shall be very well pleased.”
“What about Molly Peacock?” Alex demanded.
“Never mind Molly,” the baron said impatiently. “Who can think of a Miss Peacock when Lady Viola is in the room!”
“Who?” Alex said, bewildered.
“Lady Viola Gambol! This young lady.”
“You mean Miss Andrews?” Alex said slowly.
“I’m not really Miss Andrews,” Viola said. “I’m Viola Gambol. You’re not going to choke, are you, Mr Devize?”
“I don’t care who you are,” said Alex, not choking at all. “I have no wish to marry you.”
“And I have no wish to marry you! Where is Julian?” Viola demanded to know.
The baron looked sulky. “He’s not here.”
“What! Where is he? He was supposed to meet me here.”
The baron shrugged his shoulders. “Says who?”
Viola glared at Alex. “Well?”
“My brother,” Alex said sheepishly, “has gone to London.”
Viola looked at him incredulously. “London! You said he was on his way to Sussex to reconcile with his father.”
“I lied,” Alex explained. “He went to London as planned, to get the special license.”
“Alex!” Lucy protested.
“I’m sorry,” said Alex. “I thought Miss Rampling was in love with Julian. I wanted her to be happy. So I lied to you, Miss Andrews—Lady Viola, I should say. My father had long been wanting me to marry his neighbor’s daughter. I offered to marry her in exchange for his assistance in persuading Julian to marry Miss Rampling.”
“You lied to me because you wanted Lucy to be happy?” Viola said angrily. “What about my happiness? Your brother’s happiness? Didn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Not really, no,” Alex said.
“Mr Devize!” Lucy protested. “Your brother thinks Lady Viola is waiting for him in Hampshire!”
“I’m going to London at once,” Viola announced. “I can be married there as easily as anywhere else, and my brother’s there, too.”
“I’m sure you could have the banns called here,” said Lucy. “Mr Devize can go to London and inform Mr Julian—”
“I’m not waiting three weeks,” Viola said decisively. “I’ve wasted enough time already, thanks to you, Mr Devize. We’ll be married at Gambol House. I suppose you are all invited. You too, Alex,” she added coolly.
“Fine,” said Alex. “Miss Rampling, may I speak to you for a moment in private?”
Perdita jumped up. “I’d better go and get the children ready,” she said.
“Stay where you are,” said the baron. “Alex can have nothing to say to this girl that anyone cannot hear.”
Viola took the baron firmly by the arm. “You mentioned a garden,” she said, leading him outside. “You may show it to m
e now.”
“He can’t marry her,” said the baron, shaking his fist in frustration. “I want him to marry you,” he told Viola.
“There’s no chance of that,” she told him frankly. “I’m going to marry Julian.”
“But a girl with no dowry! It’s scandalous.”
“She’s already refused him twice,” said Viola. “You can’t ask her to refuse him a third time, not at her age. And you can’t stop them from marrying.”
“How old is she?” he asked anxiously. “I expect a grandson, you know!”
“She’s only thirty,” Viola assured him. “You’ll get your grandson. Of course, if you make her nervous and unhappy, she isn’t likely to conceive, is she?”
“No,” he agreed.
“Then you’d better be nice to her, hadn’t you?”
“Oh, all right,” he said gruffly. “Come, let’s go in,” he said. “They’ve been in there long enough. Well?” he presently demanded of his son. “Are you going to marry her or not?”
Alex stood next to Lucy’s chair. “I am, sir,” he said coldly. “The banns will be called on Sunday,” he went on as Viola rushed to kiss Lucy, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“The banns?” said Viola. “Don’t you want to marry Lucy quicker than that? You should come to London with me and get a special license. We can have a double wedding.”
“She’s not getting any younger, you know,” the baron muttered.
“I suppose I’m old-fashioned,” said Alex, “but I think we should do the thing properly.”
“You do?” said Lucy.
“Don’t you?” he said.
“Of course,” she agreed. “But, after all, what is three weeks, if two people are in love?”
“An eternity?”
“Exactly,” she said, smiling up at him.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I’m so sorry, Mr Devize,” said the butler at Gambol House, but Julian could not help but feel that Lover was not sorry at all. “The family are all out. Her ladyship is in the country visiting a sick friend, and his grace has gone away for the weekend.”
The Heiress In His Bed Page 37