Love and Marriage

by Alexandra Ivy

  “I would never ask the impossible,” she retorted, hastily backing from his touch.

  “Once again, you are quite off the mark.”

  “You are saying you would never take a mistress if I allowed you into my bed?”

  He smiled wryly at her disbelief. There were times his reputation was a deuced nuisance. “I am saying that I vowed to be faithful the day we wed.”

  Her breath caught. “Ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “I . . . you have always had a mistress.”

  “Not always,” he denied, holding her gaze with his own. “And never when I possessed a wife.”

  She gave a slow shake of her head. “And you wish me to believe that a wife will make a difference to you?”

  “It makes all the difference.” With an effort, Claredon battled to maintain his patience. She wanted to believe the worst in him. It would be up to him to teach her that he was more than a scandalous rogue—always supposing he did not strangle her first. “Regardless of the unfortunate reason for our marriage, you are now my wife. Your position demands my respect, and I would do nothing to bring embarrassment to you.”

  Her fierce expression briefly faltered with uncertainty. “It is hardly uncommon for a husband to seek pleasure outside his home.”

  Claredon winced as he recalled his own father’s peccadilloes. He had certainly never taken care to hide his infidelities, nor even to spare a thought for his wife left at home. It was not that he was a cruel man. He merely presumed his behavior was that of any other noble gentleman.

  “Perhaps not,” he admitted in low tones. “But after witnessing my mother’s distress when my father flaunted his birds of paradise, I made a personal decision never to bring such shame to my own family. As much as I love my father, I have never forgiven him for hurting my mother.”

  A thick silence descended as she regarded him with an unreadable expression. Claredon prepared himself for her condemning words. He had never before revealed his deeply hidden disappointment in his father, and he was all too aware his wife possessed no trust in him.

  Would she consider this yet another ploy to seduce her?

  The silence lengthened then, just when he was prepared to toss up his hands in defeat, she allowed her features to soften. “I am sorry.”

  Caught off guard by her low words, he regarded her with a lift of his brows. “For what?”

  “I know you are very attached to your father,” she explained with a troubled expression. “That was why I . . .”

  “Why you what?” he prompted.

  “Why I assumed you would be willing to follow his example.”

  Claredon breathed in deeply, realizing that there had been a great deal too much assumption on both sides.

  “Perhaps you could have spoken to me rather than simply having presumed the worst?” he said with a wry smile.

  “You have never indicated that you consider our marriage as anything more than a rather poor jest.”

  He acknowledged her hit with a bow of his head, well aware he had walked into her thrust like a simpleton. “Neither one of us have attempted to put our best foot forward.”

  “No,” she breathed.

  “Maybe we should consider the vicar’s words.”

  “What words?”

  “Of attempting to seek out the best in our situation. We are, after all, stuck with one another.”

  An indefinable emotion darkened her emerald eyes before she abruptly spun away. “It is not so simple.”

  Claredon swallowed an impatient sigh as he ran his hand through his dark hair. Blast it all, she was as stubborn as an ox. “You would prefer that we devote the next fifty-odd years to sniping at one another and making ourselves miserable?” he demanded.

  “Of course not.” Her head bowed with an oddly vulnerable motion. “But I cannot just dismiss the fact we are little more than strangers forced into this situation because you wished to seduce my own cousin.”

  Claredon stiffened, refusing to take the full blame for their damnable situation. “Or if you had not heedlessly been eloping with an incompetent fool while masquerading as your cousin,” he retorted stiffly. “If you will recall, there were two of us in that bed.”

  She shuddered, but refused to turn about and face him. “Did you love her?”

  “What?”

  “My cousin. Did you love her?”

  “Good lord, no,” he protested with a grimace at the mere thought of Lady Westfield. The beautiful but coldly predatory woman was a danger to gentlemen everywhere. It was incredible that she was even related to Victoria, no matter how remotely. “Indeed, I have been battling her attempts at seduction for the past year.”

  She gave a choked laugh. “Forgive me if I find that rather difficult to believe.”

  He batted the urge to shake her. He was unaccustomed to having to explain himself to anyone, let alone an innocent chit who knew nothing of the meaningless games played between the more jaded members of the ton.

  “If you must know the sordid truth, I thought she had followed me from London,” he grudgingly revealed, discovering he was not entirely proud of his actions upon that fateful evening. “It certainly would not have been the first occasion she had done such a thing. Once she even possessed the audacity to slip into my town house through the servant’s entrance. Since I had no desire to have her following me around the countryside, I had hoped that by offering her what she obviously wished for, she would leave me in peace.”

  She slowly turned to regard him with a startled expression. “Oh.”

  His lips twisted. It was not a simple matter to discuss his scandalous behavior with a true innocent. To be frank, he was beginning to feel a bit guilty—which was absurd, of course. “Have I shocked you, my dear?”

  Her lips thinned with disapproval. “I do not comprehend how you can be so casual about such matters.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head as he stepped toward her. He would not have her thinking he considered her just another female. She was his wife, his mate for life. “There is nothing casual in my response to you, Victoria,” he promised in low tones. “I do not believe I have ever had a woman haunt me with such frustrating persistence.”

  Her tongue peeked out to wet her lips in a nervous manner. “No doubt because no other woman has ever bothered to resist your advances.”

  “Ah, no, it is more than that. I . . .” His soft words of seduction were rudely interrupted as a distant cry echoed through the air. With a frown he glanced toward the door. “What the devil was that?”

  “It sounded like Vicar Humbly,” she retorted, moving with astonishing speed to wrench open the door and disappear down the hall.

  On his own, Claredon tossed his hands up in surrender.

  He could only presume he was being punished for his very long list of sins. Why else would he have been saddled with the one woman in all of England he could not seduce? It truly was an astonishing irony.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered, moving to follow his maddening wife.

  Five

  After nearly sixty years upon earth, few things managed to startle Vicar Humbly.

  He had once been shot at when he had come too close to a gang of smugglers. He had been forced to deliver a baby in the middle of a church service. He had even had a widow desperate for a husband slip into his chambers late one evening.

  But the surprisingly worldly vicar could not deny a decided flare of shock when he entered the library to discover a man crawling through the window.

  Coming to a startled halt, the vicar called out before he could halt himself.

  Not surprisingly, the intruder had briefly frozen in horror at being discovered. Then, with astonishing speed, he was shoving himself back out of the window and disappearing into the night.

  Belatedly realizing the scoundrel was escaping, Humbly hurried across the room to peer out the window.

  Blast!

  He never should have alerted the intruder he was aware of his presence. I
nstead, he should have quietly backed out of the room and sought out a couple of burly footmen to apprehend the villain.

  Now it was far too late.

  Muttering at his stupidity, Humbly turned and discovered Victoria hurrying through the open door with a worried expression.

  “Vicar Humbly, what is it?” she demanded. “Have you had an accident?”

  Unaware that his shout had carried throughout the household, Humbly gave an embarrassed grimace. “No, no. Forgive me for creating such a fuss,” he murmured as he moved toward the young maiden. “I feel very foolish.”

  She frowned with obvious suspicion. “Something must have occurred.”

  “Yes,” agreed a dark male voice as Claredon stepped into the room to stand beside his wife. “What is it, Humbly?”

  Humbly briefly debated within himself. He had no desire to worry Claredon or Victoria unnecessarily. After all, he was wise enough to realize that their marriage was not nearly as satisfactory as they desired him to believe. He was not such a fool as to miss the prickly antagonism that lay thick in the air between them, nor Victoria’s near panic when her husband touched her. It was obvious that they needed to concentrate on building a future, rather than brooding upon regrets of the past. He did not wish them to be distracted by this unfortunate incident.

  Then again, he realized that Claredon had every right to know his home had been invaded. Who knew what harm the villain had been intent upon? He could not in all conscience allow the household to be placed in danger because of his silence.

  Heaving a sigh of regret that he was adding yet more troubles to poor Victoria, he absently patted his renegade strands of hair. “Yes, well, I had gone to my room to retire for the night when I recalled that I had left my watch in the library. Hardly an unusual occurrence, I fear. I am always leaving it about somewhere. Devilish inconvenient, I assure you.”

  “Yes, I can imagine,” Claredon said with forced patience. “You were about to tell us why you cried out.”

  “Of course.” Humbly smiled with apology at his rambling. “As I said, I left my watch, so I decided to return to the library to retrieve it while I could still recall where it was. But I had just entered the room when I spotted a gentleman entering through the window.”

  “What?” Victoria gasped in shock, even as Claredon swiftly crossed the room to study the still open window.

  “I must say I was too startled to think clearly,” Humbly admitted. “Now I realize I should have gone in search of a servant to nab the thief, rather than calling out and frightening him away.”

  Victoria pressed a hand to her heart. “Good heavens, you believe him to be a thief?”

  “This lock has definitely been forced,” Claredon announced from across the room.

  “But why?” Victoria gave a shake of her head. “What could a thief desire?”

  Claredon straightened, his features set in grim lines. “It is difficult to say. Having so recently restored the estate, there are few objects of value. Most of my collection of art and rare manuscripts are still in my London town house. And, of course, the Moreland jewels remain in my mother’s possession.”

  “Perhaps the silver or the china your parents gave us upon our wedding?” Victoria suggested without much confidence.

  “Or perhaps the thief simply did not realize you were so new to the neighborhood,” Humbly added.

  Claredon gave a shake of his head as he closed the window. Obviously he was not reassured by the half-hearted explanations. Humbly had to admit he found them rather implausible as well.

  “It still does not make sense,” Claredon retorted as he paced back across the room. “Why would any thief chose this small estate when there are others far more grand within an easy distance? Or why, for that matter, would they chose to enter while we were at home?”

  Humbly gave a lift of his hands. “I suppose desperation could lead a man to actions not readily comprehensible to others. ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.’”

  Claredon appeared thoroughly unsympathetic. Indeed, there was a dangerous glitter in those blue eyes that sent a cold chill down the vicar’s spine. He would not like to be the poor fool who dared to anger Lord Claredon.

  “Can you recall anything of the intruder?” Claredon demanded in clipped tones.

  Rather unnerved by his piercing gaze, the vicar attempted to form the image of the man he had so briefly glimpsed. Not an easy task, considering he had been decidedly rattled at the time.

  “Let me think,” he muttered. “He was young. Not much older than Victoria, I would guess. He had a thin countenance and rather light brown hair.”

  “And what of his form? Was he tall or short?”

  Humbly gave an apologetic shake of his head, regretting that he had not taken better note of the stranger. “I really cannot say. He was only half through the window when I inadvertently frightened him away. And what I did see was covered by a black cape.”

  “A cape?” Claredon demanded sharply.

  Uncertain why a cape would startle the younger gentleman, Humbly gave a slow nod of his head. “Yes. A satin cape.”

  “Hardly the normal attire of a common ruffian, I would think.”

  “No,” Humbly agreed, at last comprehending Claredon’s surprise. What desperate criminal could afford a satin cape? Such a man was far more likely to be attired in rough clothing than clothes fit for an evening at the opera.

  “What is it?” Victoria demanded with a frown.

  “Now that I think upon it, he had more the appearance of a nobleman than a commoner,” Humbly confessed in thoughtful tones.

  “This grows more odd by the moment,” Claredon growled. “Can you think of nothing that would help us to recognize him?”

  Readily agreeing that it was indeed odd, Humbly searched his mind for a means of being of service. Unfortunately, he could think of nothing out of the ordinary to offer.

  “It is very difficult to describe a face with words.”

  “Wait. I have an idea,” Victoria abruptly said. “I shall return in a moment.”

  Without giving either gentleman an opportunity to protest, Victoria dashed from the room. Although startled by the maiden’s sudden departure, Humbly did not miss the manner in which Claredon stepped toward the door, as if reluctant to have his wife out of his sight.

  Humbly swiftly hid a smile of satisfaction. He discovered that unconscious display of protection far more convincing of Claredon’s feelings toward his wife than the deliberate displays of affection he had been offered since his arrival.

  The gentleman might not yet realize his feelings for Victoria, but Humbly was suddenly reassured that they did exist, no matter how reluctantly.

  They waited in tense silence for Victoria’s return. Humbly covertly studied the taut lines of Lord Claredon’s countenance as he restlessly prowled the room.

  Within moments Victoria rushed back through the door, carrying a sketchpad and small piece of charcoal. She moved directly to the desk, where she pulled out a clean sheet of paper.

  “What are you doing?” Claredon demanded with a puzzled frown.

  “We shall create a face that can be recognized,” she said simply, turning her attention toward Humbly. “Now, Vicar, tell me again his features. You said that his countenance was thin. Was it thinner than Claredon’s?”

  Intrigued by Victoria’s notion, Humbly moved to stand behind her chair, peering over her shoulder as she made a few bold lines upon the page.

  “Yes,” he agreed, dredging up the vague memories of the intruder. “And longer, with a pointed chin.”

  “And his nose?”

  For nearly half an hour, Victoria ruthlessly quizzed him on each feature, until, after nearly a dozen different sketches, Humbly was satisfied she had managed to capture the basic image of the stranger.

  “There,” he at last pronounced, holding the sketch in his hand. “This is very close.”

  Standing at his side, Claredon smiled at
his wife in a rather startled manner. “Very clever, my dear.”

  A hint of warmth touched Victoria’s cheeks as she rose to her feet. “We shall be able to use the sketch to question the servants and tenants. Perhaps they have noticed such a gentleman in the neighborhood.”

  “Yes.” The smile faded as Claredon’s expression hardened with determination. “I would very much like to have a word with our intruder.”

  Victoria cast her husband a worried glance, as if sensing he was prepared to go to any lengths to discover the stranger. “But not tonight, I think,” she said firmly.

  He paused, as if reluctant to concede there was nothing he could accomplish in the dead of night. At last he gave a rueful shrug.

  “No, it is rather late. You should go up to bed, my dear.”

  “Yes.” Victoria gave an absent nod. “Good night.”

  She turned to move toward the door, and Humbly hid a smile as Claredon swiftly followed in her wake.

  “Victoria.” He halted her as she prepared to slip through the door.

  Turning, she regarded him in puzzlement. “Yes?”

  His hand reached to gently cradle her cheek as he bent to brush his lips over her forehead. “Lock your door.”

  She appeared too startled to protest his soft command and with a flustered expression hurried down the hall.

  Watching the tender exchange, Humbly slowly smiled.

  It appeared Victoria at long last possessed a champion determined to protect her.

  * * *

  Unaware of the vicar’s scrutiny, Claredon watched as his wife scurried toward the shadowed stairs. It took a great deal of effort to allow her to be out of his sight.

  He had been badly shaken by the knowledge some villain had attempted to creep into his home. Not that he was frightened for himself. He had always kept himself in good shape and was as proficient with his fists as he was with a pistol. Any scoundrel attempting to best him would swiftly discover that he had taken on more than he had bargained for.

  But the realization that Victoria had been in danger made his blood rush in fury. What if Victoria had walked in on the intruder? What if he had managed to slip into her room undetected?