“Frequents the racetracks and dice tables, does he?”
“Among other leisure pursuits that have a nasty habit of draining a man’s pockets.” Raeburn sighed, set the paperweight onto the desk with an audible thump. “Which is why I have decided to settle a sum upon Lady Jeannette that will guarantee her a comfortable, if not extravagant, way of life in the future.”
The duke rattled off a sum that made Darragh’s eyes go wide, leaving him to wonder precisely how wealthy the duke was. Extremely wealthy, from the sound of it. Wealthier mayhap than even the royals, if that were possible.
“The sum I mentioned, however, does come with some caveats,” Raeburn continued. “The money will be apportioned in a semi-annual stipend over which you will exercise only the appearance of control. In addition, should you have need of a suitable dwelling here or in England, funds will be forthcoming for its purchase or construction. The deed to remain in the lady’s name and my own, of course.”
“Of course,” Darragh said between clenched teeth, bristling at the implication that he was the sort of man who would squander a fortune for his own gain. Yet there were many such men in the world, including apparently Jeannette’s own father. He forced himself to relax, aware the duke knew little of him. Raeburn was simply attempting to provide for his sister-in-law in the soundest and safest manner possible. Had their places been reversed, he might well have done the same.
“As her husband,” the duke continued, “you will by association benefit from the arrangement in terms of both your living situation and your elevated social standing. I have many connections that may prove beneficial to you in the future, though for appearance sake you likely ought to cease accepting remuneration for your work as an architect. And so long as Lady Jeannette is well treated and the marriage sound, a minor title may be in the offing as the years go by. A knighthood or even baronetcy is certainly within reach.”
Darragh rocked back on his heels, affront now burning a hole in his gut. “ ’Tis quite a bribe you offer, your Grace, though a rank insult to any man with a thumbnail’s speck of pride left in his body. Were I the kind of base villain willing to take on such a bargain, Lady Jeannette would surely find herself saddled with a sad bastard of a husband. A man not worthy of her hand at all. So it is a good thing I’ve no need of taking you up on the deal.”
Raeburn lifted an imperious brow. “No need? Perhaps you see insult in my offer, but I see practicality and an interest in ensuring beyond any doubt that Jeannette will be well looked after. Legally, women are chattel, all of their assets their husband’s under the law from the instant the marriage vows are taken. I seek only to ensure that she, and any offspring that should arise from your union, will be protected and maintained in a manner befitting her status as a lady born.”
“ ’Tis my wish as well. Believe me when I say I have more than adequate means with which to provide for her as my wife, and for our children, should God grant us the blessing of them. But perhaps I ought to be begging your pardon for not introducing myself properly from the start of this interview.”
Darragh walked two paces forward. “Let us start afresh, shall we, your Grace? My name is Darragh Roderick O’Brien and I am the present Earl of Mulholland. The eleventh of us, if you’re interested in keeping count. My family comes from a fine lineage of brave men and women that stretches all the way back to our greatest Irish king, Brian Boru himself. I’ve holdings in County Clare with a grand house and fine land not far from the sea, held by my family longer than that of your own ancestors, I suspect.”
He held Raeburn’s gaze. “I’ve spent the past decade rebuilding my family’s fortunes, actions for which I take no shame. I’ve plenty of money, more than enough to keep Lady Jeannette in expensive dresses and silken sheets for the rest of her days. I can’t tell you what kind of husband I’ll make since I’ve never been one before. But I can say I come to this marriage with a willing heart, and I think with a bit of time the lady will come to it that way as well.”
“If this is true,” Raeburn said, “then why the deception? Why let us all believe you’re a commoner whose only distinction is his gift at designing and constructing buildings?”
Darragh rubbed a sheepish finger over his jaw. “Well now, that would be Jeannette’s doing. I’ve tried more than once to tell her who I am, but she always seems to be interrupting before I can get the words out of my mouth. She did it again last night. She’s a stubborn lass and chooses to think what she will, so I’ve been letting her.”
A smile started off slow, then spread over Raeburn’s face like a rising sun. He barked out a laugh, then a second.
“You’re not angry, then?” Darragh asked.
“Not a bit. Serves her right, the vixen. Won’t she be surprised and relieved when she realizes the truth?”
Darragh rubbed his jaw a second time. “About that. I’d rather you not tell her for a while yet, if you’d be willing to keep it a secret. Perhaps it’s a frightful conceit on my part, but I’m convinced she has a measure of love for me despite what she believes to be my meager circumstances. I’d like the chance to prove that love to both of us before she learns she will be a countess, and a wealthy one at that. A few weeks alone as newlyweds should give me enough time to work the trick. Once she admits she has tender feelings for me, I’ll put her mind at ease about the other.”
The duke’s eyebrows went high. “That’s a dangerous game you’re choosing to play. What if you are wrong?”
What if he was wrong? Darragh considered. He had naught but his gut to persuade him Jeannette felt more for him than simple passion. Yet surely she must feel more. What other than burgeoning love could have lured her to risk everything last night—especially her precious reputation—in order to tryst in complete abandon inside his arms?
Mayhap her actions did stem from nothing more complex than physical desire, but he didn’t think so. He couldn’t believe a woman with her social panache would ever be so foolish as to jeopardize her future unless her heart was engaged, at least a bit. Finding out how much she felt for him was now the gamble he must take.
Aye, he assured himself, casting aside his doubts, she loved him. He had only to make her confess it—to herself, as well as to him.
“Nay, I am not mistaken,” he told Raeburn with more confidence than he actually felt. “So, have I your agreement to keep quiet and let me tell her the truth in my own way and time?”
The grin widened on the duke’s face, brown eyes twinkling with an irrepressible gleam. “Deceive Jeannette? What a perfect turning of the tables. Yes indeed, you have my word and my permission to wed her, assuming you haven’t decided to run, after all.”
“Not a bit. Circumstances may have forced my hand, but fate has a curious way of working miracles. Even if we had no need to marry, I’d still want her for my bride.”
“In that case,” Raeburn said, extending his hand, “let me welcome you to the family, Lord Mulholland.”
“Darragh, your Grace. Darragh will do fine.”
Chapter Fourteen
“You look beautiful.”
Jeannette didn’t respond to her sister’s declaration, barely slowing as she paced from one end of the church’s narrow antechamber to the other. She gazed down at the dress, a garment that in its own way had played a part in leading her to this alarming turning point in her life.
It was the gown Darragh had given her all those weeks ago, the one she had once returned.
A few days ago, Darragh had presented the dress to her again, this time as a wedding gift, asking her with sincerity shining in his eyes if she would consent to wear it for the ceremony.
Caught in a moment of unexpected vulnerability—an emotion from which she seemed to suffer a lot lately—she had found herself murmuring “Yes.”
And it did make a charming wedding gown, as lovely as the instant she’d first glimpsed it, the delicate rose-tinted silk fitting her body as if the gown had been crafted exclusively for her, the band of embroidered white
roses and green leaves that trailed across the skirt lending the garment an unmistakably romantic grace.
If only today’s ceremony was truly a joyous one.
Quivering at the realization, she fluttered her hands in a flurry of nerves. “Oh, what am I to do?”
Violet reached out, stilled Jeannette’s restless hands inside her own. “You are to do what the situation requires. Walk down the aisle in a few minutes and marry Mr. O’Brien. That is all you can do and what you must do. There are no other options.”
No other options.
The words tolled between her ears like a funeral dirge. In the five days since she and Darragh had been caught together in the conservatory, she had tried desperately to conceive of a way out of proceeding with this marriage. Yet as the days flew past, one by one, nothing had come to mind, her panic increasing with the rising of each morning sun.
Her family was of no help whatsoever.
After the initial meeting in the study that first morning, Darragh and Adrian had emerged from the room grinning and talking like best friends. She’d been dismayed at first, then irritated. How could they be so cozy together so quickly? Did Adrian care nothing for Darragh’s lack of proper lineage? Surely he could not be eager to welcome the Merriweathers’ architect into the family?
But apparently he could.
Violet, Kit and Eliza Hammond were introduced to Darragh next, and after an initial spate of awkwardness, quickly fell prey to his charm as well. By the end of the first afternoon, it was as if she and Darragh were engaged by choice rather than necessity. Only she and her cousins seemed less than enthused.
The Merriweathers, in fact, could barely stand to look at her, particularly Cousin Cuthbert, who grew red-cheeked and flustered every time she came near. Wilda did her best to be polite, but the usual warmth she had always shown to Jeannette was gone.
And really, how could she blame either of them? She had embarrassed her relations in the most mortifying of ways. And despite the fact that her reputation would be restored upon her nuptials, the delicious details of the scandal would linger on. Likely for quite some while, since, unlike in London, scandals of this magnitude didn’t happen in the country all that often.
As for herself and Darragh, the two of them barely had time to exchange more than a few words. Her plan to waylay him prior to his conversation with Adrian had gone completely awry because Betsy had, of all things, let her oversleep! By the time she’d dressed and hurried down the stairs it had been too late, the men already behind closed doors.
Afterward she’d waited, expecting Darragh to seek her out for a private conversation. Instead he’d come to her when she was with company, her sister and Eliza in the room looking on.
“So we shall be wed, then,” he’d said as though it was a foregone conclusion and there was nothing else to discuss. She had wanted to argue but felt reluctant to do so in front of the others. Before she had a chance to shoo them out, Darragh had announced that he would be leaving immediately for Dublin, where he could obtain a special license. As soon as he returned, he declared, they would be married.
She’d balked at the notion of being married in such haste, but everyone else had chimed in, agreeing that she and Darragh must be wed without delay. To do otherwise would only prolong the scandal, inviting even more gossip, censure and disgrace.
So here she stood in her wedding dress that was not a wedding dress, waiting to be irrevocably joined in matrimony to a man she had never intended to wed. Even if said man did happen to make her pulse jitter and her knees turn to the consistency of pudding every time he touched her. Even if he had the power to make her emotions zing and zip from one end of the spectrum to the other, turning her madder than a yellow jacket one minute then teasing a hearty laugh out of her the next. A life spent with him would never be easy, she realized. Then again, it would also never be dull.
Violet gave her a knowing look as if she could read Jeannette’s thoughts—which perhaps she nearly could, considering they were twins. “It is obvious you have feelings for Mr. O’Brien, considering the cause of today’s hasty nuptials. And in spite of the unenviable circumstances, he seems a good man. Adrian told me he was most favorably impressed with him.”
“Mayhap Adrian is, but he isn’t the one being wed to the man. He isn’t the one being asked to give up her family and friends, being expected to move into the frontier.”
“Ireland has a frontier?” Violet queried, a skeptically amused gleam in her eyes.
“It does compared to England! O’Brien plans to take me to his home in the western wilds for our honeymoon. Even Cousin Wilda says she’s heard it is a rough, untamed land where half the populace doesn’t even speak English. I was supposed to be going back home to Surrey with you.”
Her twin gave her a sorrowful look.
“Oh, Violet, I can’t go through with the wedding,” Jeannette said, letting her trepidation show in her eyes, ring in her voice. “You have to help me. We must find a way to delay the vows long enough to send word to Mama and Papa. Surely once they learn what is happening, they will wish to aid me. Find some other, less irrevocable means of remedying the situation.”
She gazed down, studying one snowy satin pump. “I know I’ve brought disgrace upon them yet again, upon us all, but it isn’t entirely my fault. Darragh seduced me. I…didn’t realize how far a simple kiss might go until it was far, far too late.”
Her sister rested a hand atop her protruding belly. “So you’re saying he’s a rake?”
“No, I’m saying he’s…” She trailed off, trying to decide exactly what it was she was attempting to say. Swallowing against the tightness lodged in her throat, she continued. “He has a way about him that quite makes a girl lose her head. He approached me in the conservatory. I fail to see why I should be forced to accept all of the blame.”
“Women are always the ones forced to accept the blame when it comes to matters of virtue and modesty. Be glad, Jeannette, that he is honorable enough to wed you and restore what he can of your reputation.” Violet hesitated, a mild frown wrinkling her forehead. “Unless when you say seduced you actually mean forced. He didn’t force you, did he?”
This was her out, Jeannette realized, her way to gain her twin’s complete sympathy and support—and thus, her freedom. If Violet believed Darragh had tried to violate her, not even the ensuing uproar would keep her sister from rallying to her side and preventing the wedding.
Yet even as she opened her lips to utter the falsehood, she hesitated, the words refusing to come. Whatever Darragh O’Brien’s faults, however obstinate and outrageous, brash and, on occasion, bossy he might be, he wasn’t the sort of man who would ever resort to forcing his attentions upon a woman.
For one thing, he didn’t need to. Men like O’Brien attracted women the way flowers lured bees. She suspected he could stand silent in a field and some winsome girl would find him, an encouraging smile on her lips.
For another, he was too innately decent a man to ever cause harm to something smaller or weaker than himself, be that something a woman, child or animal.
He would be hurt, she thought, imagining his shock and disillusionment should she lie and cry rape. If she perpetrated such a horrible deceit, her conscience would haunt her for the rest of her days. So, no matter her misgivings over their pending union, she would not resort to using such a low method of escape.
Her shoulders sagged. “No, he did not force me. I returned his attentions of my own free will.”
“Then I am afraid there is nothing for it,” Violet said. “The two of you must be married. Now, if you are ready, I imagine we should be getting on with the ceremony.”
“But what about Mama and Papa? It only seems right they should be consulted before I take such a monumental step. Instead of proceeding with the wedding today, we could postpone it and return to England exactly as planned. Once there I shall plead my case. You could help me. They listened to you once. I am sure they would do so again.”
A
n expression of regretful resignation settled over Violet’s face. “Unfortunately, I am sure they would not. You have no notion of the lengths I went to in order to convince them to let you come home in the first place. And now with this new scandal…Oh, Jeannette, it’s just no use. And if you were to return home unwed…well, I hesitate to say this, but our parents might very well disown you.”
Jeannette drew in a harsh inhalation, then waved off her shock an instant later. “They would not, do not be absurd. Mama and Papa have always doted on me, you know that better than anyone. You are being extreme, that is all.”
“I am not. Papa grumbles and growls about everything, so I cannot comment upon his true feelings. But as for Mama, well, I have never seen her so thoroughly distressed as she was after learning the truth about what we did. She has been quite beside herself ever since. Breaking the news to her that you have made an impecunious marriage will be difficult enough. Telling her you are ruined with no wish to marry the man responsible—”
Violet broke off, shivered delicately. “I am sorry, but you must marry Mr. O’Brien and make the best of whatever is to come. Even if I were willing, there can be no trading places this time, no last-minute possibilities of flight. If you do not marry him you will bring irreparable disgrace upon our families. A disgrace from which neither Adrian nor I could ever hope to shield you, especially considering we have had our own difficulties of late in that regard.
“Should you be cast out,” Violet continued, “I don’t know what would become of you. You could live with us, I suppose, if Adrian would permit it. Otherwise, you would be on your own, and I fear for you should that happen. No one would have you as a governess—”
Jeannette gave a delicate snort. “I wouldn’t want them to.”
“—which would leave you with no reputable options. You might even have to become…” Violet broke off, clearly distraught.
The Wife Trap Page 19