Lorraine shook her head. “It is Roger.”
Genie sat back. “I see. He never knew it was you who arranged the debacle, did he? He never realized that you wriggled out of your previous betrothal to Elgin by foisting him on me, and then wept your way into another, more advantageous engagement.”
“No. He never knew. He married me out of honor.”
“His, not yours.”
Lorraine nodded in acknowledgment. “I could not confess and ruin everything, even after you left.”
“But surely you expected to see me again. I was wed to your husband’s own brother. We would have come to Macklin Manor for holidays when the war was over.”
“No, Lady Cormack agreed it was best that you not be invited. She thought—”
“I know what she thought, that I was a doxy who had seduced Elgin. But Roger would have wanted to see his brother. I could have told Roger anytime.”
“I hoped he would not believe you if that day ever came.”
“So you would have stolen poor Elgin’s family from him, too, to keep your secret hidden?”
“No!” Lorraine shouted. Her husband started to stand, but Ardeth laid a hand on his sleeve, so he subsided. “No,” Lorraine said in a lower voice. “I never meant Elgin to die in battle or be estranged from his parents. One thing just led to another.”
“To protect your lies.” Just as she was protecting Elgin now, by letting Lorraine believe he had died in battle. Lady Cormack would never tell of her son’s disgrace. Genie sighed and said she understood.
“Thank you. You see, we have had a good marriage. But every time I see the Duke of Eldert’s daughter, the one they were touting for his bride, I wonder if Roger is wishing things had turned out differently. I never know if he is truly fond of me or simply too honorable to act otherwise. I do not know if he keeps mistresses or visits houses of convenience. I will never know, and that is agony. I have paid for my sins, Genie, every day of my marriage.”
“But not as I have paid for them.” Genie thought of the horrid months in Canada, the desperate months in Portugal, or when Elgin told people she was his sister so he could spend more time with his bachelor friends. “No, not nearly.”
“Elgin was a good catch for you. He was good enough to be my betrothed, after all.”
“A good catch? He was not a trout to be landed on my line! He loved you. And if not for your conniving, he would have married you, stayed to help our father with the lands, then taken them over. He never wanted to be a soldier. He never wanted to follow the army without the comforts he was used to. He never wanted me!”
Now Ardeth looked as if he would intervene. Genie waved him back.
“Ardeth wants you,” Lorraine said.
“Ardeth is different. Sometimes I do not think even he knows what he wants.”
“Faugh. Look at him watching your every move. The man is head over teakettle in love with you.”
“No, he looks upon me as a responsibility.”
“Then you are still that foolish little chit, if you cannot see what I see.”
Genie ignored her. What did Lorraine know of Ardeth, after all? She could not know that he intended to leave in six months—five now—or that he was planning on giving most of his fortune away. “So why have you let me be in the same room with your baron?”
“To beg you not to say anything. To beg you for forgiveness. I am a better woman now.”
“Now that you have what you want.”
“Time has made you beautiful, Genie, but it has made you cruel.”
“You are right. I have no need to be nasty.”
“Please understand, I did not simply want Roger’s title. I wanted his affection, too. I will never have my husband’s unconditional love. I have accepted that. But I do have my son.”
Genie could not resist asking, “How old is he? What is his name?”
“My Peter is nearly three, and more precious than life itself. He is all blond curls like I had, although he has your green eyes, I think, and Roger’s nose. He knows some of his letters and can count to ten. He seldom cries and never throws tantrums like some of my friends’ children. He is an angel.”
He was Genie’s own nephew. “I would like to see this paragon sometime. Is he in the country?”
“No, his health is worrisome, so we are in town, where the physicians are more learned than a country sawbones. Not that they have cured his cough.”
“I am sorry,” Genie said, and meant it.
“Then you do forgive me?”
“I… I suppose I must forgive you, since you ask. Every sermon and Bible teaching demands it.” Genie thought Ardeth would agree. He had spoken of atoning for sins to win redemption. How could Genie deny another’s repentance?
Lorraine looked relieved. Before she could consider the matter closed, though, Genie added, “I can forgive, Lorraine, but I can never forget. Does that make sense? I doubt I will trust you again.”
Lorraine brushed aside a tear. “I swear I will never do anything to hurt you. I will put a halt to any rumors, see that your reputation is restored.”
“That was already done, I believe, thanks to Lady Vinross.”
“But we can be seen together. A ride in the park, sharing a box at the opera.”
Both would be more to Lorraine’s benefit than Genie’s now, Genie thought, still doubting her sister’s motives and sincerity. “I have more invitations than I can accommodate.”
“Then I shall plead with Papa to acknowledge you and your marriage, and with Mama to write your name back in the family Bible. I will tell them you were innocent, that now I realize it was all a misunderstanding. They will be bound to invite you home on your wedding journey or for the Christmas holidays so everyone in the neighborhood can see what a fine lady you are now, a countess.”
“So they will all forgive me for a sin I did not commit?” Genie had ached for her parents’ love for her entire life. Their approval now might be satisfying, but would be far too late. None of her friends in the small community had stood by her, and she found she no longer cared for their good opinion. She shook her head.
“What more can I do?”
“You can introduce me to my nephew. I think that is a good start.”
Chapter 13
“Do you believe people can change?” Genie asked while she and Ardeth were waiting outside Carlton House for Campbell to bring their carriage. The night was warm and clear for a change, the air easier to breathe than the overheated, overcrowded, and overly scented rooms inside.
Ardeth looked up at the stars, taking a deep breath. “I live in hope.”
“But can someone truly change at heart? What if a woman has been selfish and spoiled her whole life, getting everything she wants? Can she suddenly stop being that way, do you think?”
“I have heard that acknowledging one’s faults is the first step toward eradicating them. If a person regrets his or her past actions, then they can try to be better. If they feel no remorse, I doubt they will change. But circumstances can also alter,” he reminded her, and himself.
“Yes, Lorraine is a mother now. Perhaps that brings out the best in a female, considering her child’s best interests first. Time will tell, I suppose.”
“It always does,” he said as he helped her into the coach.
Campbell gave Ardeth a jaunty salute as he shut the door behind the earl. From Campbell’s grin, Ardeth gathered that the former soldier had heard of the lord and lady’s success, right there on the carriage line. The rest of the household would know as fast as Campbell could drive through the city streets. It mattered to them, for a servant’s standing among the other butlers, maids, footmen, and drivers depended on the respect given each of their employers. A valet of a loathsome lord, for instance, no matter how well paid, would be pitied, not looked up to by younger gentlemen’s gentlemen.
“Do not rush,” Ardeth warned. “The horses can be skittish in the dark.”
So could his wife, Ardeth knew. He made sure s
he was comfortable on the seat across from him, then asked, “Were you pleased with the evening, other than the meeting with your sister? I know you were dreading it, but the party was not all bad, was it?”
“It ended better than it started, of course, but I found the ton’s approbation nearly as intimidating as their disdain. Some of the women seemed genuinely kind, not merely swayed by public opinion or spirit-laced punch.”
“But you won even the curmudgeons over.”
“Again, time will tell. Yesterday I was a wanton. Tonight I am a wonder. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”
He glanced around, as if to see a light. “Who, indeed?”
“I do not suppose it matters in the end.”
“Nothing matters right now but your own opinion of your worth, your own peace of mind.”
“Then it does not matter to you if I use the wrong fork at Lady Blessingame’s Venetian breakfast or forget which lady goes in first at the Hamiltons’ dinner?”
He laughed. “You are asking me about forks when I never used one until—that is, you could ride naked through Hyde Park and it would not make a ha’penny’s difference to me.”
“Oh. I see.”
He could not see her face by the dim light of the carriage lamps, but he knew she stiffened in her seat. “I am sorry. I did not mean to imply that I do not care. In fact, I would not like another man seeing my wife’s bare body. I am trying to be generous, but I do have limits.”
“Like one of your possessions,” she said.
Ardeth heard the chill in her voice and almost shivered, just when he’d been getting used to the London weather. “Anyone may look at my collections. A wife is another matter altogether. What I meant, and should have said, was that I would be proud of you, pleased that we are wed, if you smote Prinny himself to reclaim your hand or knocked a duchess down on your way to the dining room.”
“Truly?”
“Truly. I know you went tonight for me, but you showed your true mettle. No foolish conventions could matter more than that.”
“And I succeeded, didn’t I?” She relaxed back against the leather cushions. “With your help, of course, and Lady Vinross and her son’s, and that of the Germanic contingent and the prince himself.”
“You did indeed. They all complimented me on what an excellent match I had made. I agreed.”
“Thank you. I must admit that I feel better about the match, too, for your sake. Now you do not have to be ashamed of your countess, or hope I stay hidden in the country. Of course you still deserve a far better wife.”
“I was never ashamed. And that was why I wanted you to attend, so you would see your own worth.” He laughed. “And if I got what I deserved, I’d be rolling the dice with the Devil. Instead, I am satisfied with our marriage.” Well, he was content, if not precisely satisfied. Ardeth feared he would never be satisfied again. Here he was, sitting across from a beautiful woman, smelling the floral scent she wore, thinking about every crass and crude sex act he had ever seen, heard of, read about, or performed—and doing it with her. Genie was his wife, by Hades, his sweet lady wife, whom he’d sworn to protect.
Now she needed more protection from him than from anyone else.
He was grateful for the changed subject when she asked, “What did you think of my sister?”
“I hardly spoke to her. She appeared tired, in body and spirits. I cannot imagine how anyone ever thought she was more beautiful than you. Perhaps the ugliness inside was eating at her these past years and now she can recover her looks.”
“I think she was merely concerned about my speaking to her husband, and worried about her son.”
“That, too.”
“What about Lord Cormack?”
“He did not mention the boy.”
“No, I meant your opinion of him. You did spend considerable time with the brother-in-law you never expected to see.”
Ardeth had fully expected to meet Cormack at the reception. If not, he would have sought him out tomorrow, to guarantee the baron’s cooperation in restoring Genie’s reputation. After all, the baron would eventually be head of Genie’s family and his goodwill might be a help to her. None of which Ardeth was willing to discuss with Genie. Why dwell on the passage of time when the present was to be savored?
“He seems a nice enough fellow, with his wits about him. He is already making improvements at the mills he inherited from the last baron. I believe I can convince him to make more.”
“The whole business about Lorraine’s wanting to speak to me, asking the princesses to intervene, even begging for my forgiveness, that was all for him, you know. Or to keep him ignorant, at least. Lorraine wants my silence so Roger never finds out how she trapped him into marriage.”
“He knows.”
“No, she swears she never told him. I was never allowed to speak to him myself at the time, lest he believe my story.”
“I told you, Cormack is not a dunderhead.”
Genie was confused. “But then why did he accept responsibility for the loss of Lorraine’s betrothal to Elgin? He could have refused to wed her, knowing she was at fault, leaving her with no fiance, her reputation in tatters instead of mine. Or was he simply acting nobly?”
Ardeth shrugged. He did not know the man well enough to guess his morals or motives. “I suppose he wanted her. Or perhaps he wanted a woman who wanted him badly enough to betray her sister and her lover. Maybe he felt sorry for her.”
“But he never told her he knew.”
“I say it again. The baron is no fool. Her guilt and uncertainty keep her wondering. Now she will never take him for granted.”
Genie thought about that a moment, remembering how Lorraine preyed on the weak. “He sounds as devious as my sister.”
Ardeth agreed. “A match made in heaven, but who is to say? What suits one man might strangle another.”
They were almost at the corner of their street when Genie’s stomach rumbled, loudly enough to be heard over the rattle of the wheels and the hoofbeats, to her embarrassment. Luckily the interior of the coach was too dark for him to see her scarlet blush. “I apologize. I have not eaten in a while.”
“Damme, I should have thought you might be hungry. You never did get to the refreshments table, and I forgot all about finding you a biscuit or something.”
“Nonsense, it is not your fault. I should have had some toast, at least, before we left. Miss Hadley offered me tea and Mrs. Randolph brought me some soup to fill my stomach, but I did not feel hungry then.”
Ardeth was staring out the window, as if he could conjure up a picnic hamper. “I don’t think we should go to a coffeehouse, not with you in a tiara and ruby, and me with no armed guard.”
Genie thought he could defend a fortress with the strength of his glare, but she kept quiet.
“We could stop at one of the hotels,” he suggested. “I hear they serve an excellent meal, no matter what time of day.”
“Oh, no. I can find a roll or some cold chicken at home. Only…”
“Yes?”
“Only I have a fancy for a raspberry ice. I have heard such cravings are common among women who are breeding.”
“I have never had one.”
“A craving?”
Those he’d had aplenty, and still did. “No, a raspberry ice.”
“I do not suppose you found easy access to ice where you were last.”
“Not hardly,” was all he said.
“Gunter’s makes the best, but they will be long closed at this time of night.”
Ardeth tapped on the roof, then gave new directions to Campbell, who efficiently turned the horses, despite a few low-spoken curses.
The confectionary was indeed closed and dark, except for a lamp burning at the back. No, there were no sweets to be had at this time, the floor sweeper told Ardeth, not even a spoonful. Every bit of raspberry ice—and lemon and strawberry, too—had gone to a party at Golden Gollub’s house in Kensington. A cit, Mr. Gollub was, born and bred of the ba
nking family. He was celebrating both the peace and his daughter’s betrothal, hosting gentlemen who would never be invited to the fete at Carlton House, but who might be invited to pay for it.
Ardeth directed Campbell to head to Kensington.
Campbell cursed some more. The Devil knew how long Marie would wait up for him. He turned the horses with slightly more swaying inside the coach.
Genie reached for the leather strap that helped a passenger keep her balance. “We cannot go to Mr. Gollub’s party. We were not invited!”
Ardeth never wavered. “As a matter of fact, I was. I did some of my banking with him. But no, I do not intend to play the aristocrat at his daughter’s ball, nor let my wife outshine the bride-to-be.”
He could not see Genie’s smile, but heard it in her voice when she said thank you. Her voice changed in a moment. “Why are we going out to Kensington, then?”
He laughed at her new, doubting tone. “What, do you think I am going to steal your dessert?”
“Thievery would be better than winkling it out of the house some less, um, ordinary way.”
“Silly little goose. I intend to bribe the servants. That is the way things are done throughout the world, throughout history.”
And he did, as easily as falling off a log—or finding a footman outside relieving himself. Before Genie could worry, alone in the coach a block away, he was back with a bowl of ice and two spoons.
“One bowl was all the fellow would take for what I had in my pocket. I did not think the diamond stickpin my new valet insisted I wear was a fair trade, not even for your pleasure. I must remember to carry more coins. Bribes are far more costly than they used to be.”
Genie was already devouring the cool, sweet confection. “This is so good, I do not care how you got it. Here, taste some.”
He moved over to sit beside her, then dipped in his spoon. “You are quite correct. This is worth petty burglary, if not sorcery.”
There it was again, the doubt. “Are you…?” Genie could not say the word “wizard” or “warlock.” He’d think she was the crazy one.
“Am I finished so you can have the rest? If I am a gentleman, I must swear to be.” But he kept filling his spoon, delight on his face.
The Hourglass Page 13