When she did not speak, he said gently, “As I recall it, you said Rockland would make you a good husband because he would never attempt to rule the roast. On the other hand, when he said it would teach you a lesson to be wed to a man less easily led than himself, he as much as suggested that you need to feel a stronger hand on the rein. Are you simply afraid that I might prove less amiable than Rockland?”
Her lips twitched, and to his surprise, her eyes began to twinkle. She said, “I was trying to think of a tactful way to explain how I felt about that, but I daresay there is no tactful way. Do you deny, sir, that you would make every effort to call the tune?”
“I am not unreasonable, I hope,” he said. “Nor do I think myself a tyrant. In fact, however, a man is legally the head of his household and responsible for the well-being of its members. I would not willingly waive the authority while I must retain the responsibility. To do so would be foolish beyond permission. However—”
“Does it not occur to you that men wrote such laws to benefit themselves at the expense of women?” she demanded.
Tempted though he was to tell her she was being imprudent to pick that quarrel with him just now, he knew he would be wiser not to do so. Instead he said evenly, “I trust you don’t accuse me of having a hand in writing those laws.”
“Neither have you ever attempted to change any of them, I’ll wager.”
“I have not. You will have to educate me about these matters. I won’t pretend that I am all agog to learn, mind you, or even anxious to change my ways or to question those of men in general. You are far too intelligent to be cozened into believing such things of me. But I will offer you a bargain.”
“What bargain?”
“You have clearly realized that no better alternative than marriage exists to free you from Alfred’s authority, or someone else’s,” he said, wondering how long it would be before she realized whose authority that might be if Alfred could not prove his claim. “Even if you renounce this marriage of ours for one with Rockland, marriage still remains your best course.”
“I can’t marry Rockland now,” she muttered. “Not after what he did.”
“Hence my offer of a bargain.” He was glad she tended to blame Rockland more than himself, but he could not help wondering how long that would last.
She swallowed visibly, squared her shoulders, and said, “Very well, I’ll listen.”
“Good. As I recall, you come into three thousand pounds upon your marriage. Unlike Rockland, I will engage to settle twice that amount upon you as my wife, now. Further, I will promise to arrange for an annulment of the marriage once Wellington’s visit is ended. At that time, I will further engage to provide an independence that will make it possible for you to set up housekeeping on your own, albeit in a modest way.”
“How can you do that?”
“By arranging for an allowance unless and until you engage to marry someone else. A husband, even a former husband, has the right to do that, you know.”
“But why are you willing to do this? You could easily investigate the plot to kill Wellington without me. Even the odious Alfred would most likely help you if you were to confide in him. Unless, of course,” she added with a touch of scorn, “you suspect him of being one of the plotters.”
“I don’t think that,” he said, “but neither do I want to take him into my confidence. Over the years I have learned to trust as few people as possible, and not just with regard to information I acquire.” He hesitated. Every instinct, all his experience, warned him not to say what he was about to say. He drew a deep breath. “There is … there is more to that than I have told you, I’m afraid. I don’t know if you remember exactly what I said to you about my work for Wellington.”
“You said you had come to Cornwall to unhinge a plot to assassinate him, and you mentioned that you had played some sort of similar role for him once in France. No, wait,” she amended, frowning in her attempt to remember. “You said that because he was the supreme commander, he was threatened many times, so I must suppose you played more than one role on the Continent.”
“I was fairly certain I had not confessed the depths to which I sank in that endeavor,” he said, watching for signs of reproach and seeing none. “I believe I did mention that upright British citizens have been quick to denounce these roles I’ve played, but I failed to mention that one of those upright folks was my own father. He did not see my actions as simple deceit, nor were they. I was a spy,” he added bluntly, making a clean breast of it at last. “I am one still.” He held his breath, waiting.
Contrary to his expectation, she did not shrink away from him. She said only, “I suppose spying can be a distasteful task, sir, but if your acts helped the Duke defeat Napoleon, I think all patriotic British men, and women, ought to cheer you. No doubt you will say that is merely my foolish woman’s way of looking at things …”
“I’d never say that to you,” he said. In his relief, he chuckled at the thought of her likely reaction if he were idiot enough to speak so to her.
Thoughtfully, she said, “I know you speak excellent French, but how does one succeed as a spy in a country wholly unlike one’s own, and in such dangerous times?”
He sobered at once. “The simple fact is that I played Jean Matois, both in France and in Belgium. I acquired another name, too—Le Renardeau, the Fox Cub.”
“Good mercy, how thrilling!”
“Yes, very romantic,” he said dryly. “I was a veritable Robin Hood, except that instead of robbing the rich to feed the poor, I spied on the French to help the English. Ordinary French people gave me shelter, even the bread off their plates, and I repaid them by betraying their trust and repeating their words to Wellington’s commanders. Not the sort of manners one learns at school, as I’m sure you will agree.”
Her forehead wrinkled again in the way it did when she was giving serious thought to something, so although she did not reply at once, he felt no impulse to fill the silence. It was important to him to know what she would say.
At last, she looked up at him from under her lashes, and said, “I do see more clearly now why your father and others might have been displeased with your actions, for it does seem shabby to repay kindness of any sort in such a way. Still and all, the fact remains that the French were our enemies and would most likely have killed you had they known you were English.” She paused, looking expectant. When he said nothing, she said impatiently, “Well, would they not?”
“All armies shoot spies at once when they are caught,” he said. “They take only men in proper military uniform as prisoners of war.”
“There, you see. As for being a spy, I’m sure people here were forever talking about French spies in London and elsewhere. They have done for as long as I can remember, so the French, at least, look upon spying as merely an action of war.”
“Perhaps. However, among gentlemen—”
“Oh, pooh! How hypocritical! You cannot be speaking of French gentlemen, for how could Napoleon learn what our officers had planned if he never employed gentlemen as spies. As for our own, did they ever reject the information you got?”
“I only meant that ordinary gentlemen—in both countries—do not approve.”
“But how absurd. People on both sides gain by their spying, take complete advantage of information that their spies obtain, then condemn them for obtaining it. I have no patience with such hypocrisy, not in France and not in England. But why,” she asked shrewdly, “are you telling me all this now?”
“I want you to know the worst of me,” he said, forcing the words out. “That’s only fair, even if you remain my wife for no more than a short time. Moreover, I heard a rumor the other night that leads me to think someone suspects the presence of Le Renardeau in Cornwall. That is, I confess, yet one more reason I hope you will agree to put off the annulment of this marriage. As your husband I will be readily accepted in this neighborhood. We can keep Annabelle and Sebastian at Seacourt Head without undue comment, and I can use that
house much more easily than this one as a base for my activities. Come now, what do you say?”
“You leave me little to say that will not sound petulant,” she said with a sigh. “I own, the promise of an independence of my own is tempting, but it’s a bit lowering to discover that I can be so easily bribed. There is one thing, however—perhaps two—that you do not seem to have considered.”
“What?”
“Letty, Jeremiah, and possibly Great-Aunt Ophelia.”
He could not imagine at first what she meant. Then he knew. When she grinned at him in her usual saucy way, he rubbed his forehead and said ruefully, “I never gave Letty a thought. I ought to have done so, too, for I know you have taken responsibility for her and I cannot imagine that she would be happy to stay with Alfred. That clearly means accepting Jeremiah, but need we take Lady Ophelia? I like her, but she is as sharp as she can stare. Moreover, next you will say we must take your grandmama and Miss Davies, as well.”
“On no account,” she said, chuckling. “Tuscombe Park has been Grandmama’s home since she was seventeen. She will not easily agree to leave it, and certainly not to remove to Seacourt Head, which she thinks sadly exposed to the elements. Indeed, I think Cousin Alfred will have to build her an excessively fine dower house to persuade her to go anywhere. Cousin Ethelinda, being utterly devoted to Grandmama, will not pose any problem. As for Great-Aunt Ophelia, she might decide to remain with Grandmama, too, to lend her support against the encroaching Norfolk Tarrants, but I do think we ought to invite her. That way, she can decide for herself and not feel that we have abandoned her.”
“Very well then, but I hope and pray that she will not come. That formidable old lady is shrewd enough to winkle out exactly what I’m up to within ten minutes of her arrival, and I don’t want to have to explain Le Renardeau to her.”
“I doubt she would be as shocked as you fear, sir.”
“Even so …” He sighed. “Did Rockland know you intended to saddle him with a child, a monkey, and an outspoken old lady in exchange for a wedding ring?”
“I don’t know what he expected,” she said tartly, “and at present, don’t care.”
“Well, you’d better give him some thought, because we need his cooperation.”
“What for? I don’t ever want to speak to him again.”
“I understand that,” he said patiently. “However, although almost any tale can be put about publicly to explain our marriage, since your being in mourning made it imperative to be discreet, we cannot have Rockland or any of Alfred’s or your people going about telling tales out of school.”
“But can we keep them all quiet?”
“I think you’ll find that Rockland will agree to keep quiet about the prank once he learns you’ve changed your mind about marrying him.” Antony saw nothing to gain by suggesting that Rockland might well be very relieved to hear that news.
She seemed to consider what he had said. “But what of Alfred and the others? The only servant in the room when Rockland spoke was Medrose, and he won’t breathe a word of what happened, but Alfred’s people have no cause to keep quiet.”
“Alfred will be glad to be rid of us all, I think, including Letty and certainly Jeremiah. I doubt that he will put any rub in our way, or allow his people to do so.”
As he expected, that belief soon proved to be accurate, for when he described to Alfred the scandal that would arise if word got around of the outrageous prank, that stern gentleman ordered both his wife and sister to say nothing about it to anyone, including their personal servants. “If any should suggest that Charlotte intended to marry anyone other than Sir Antony, you will simply inform him that he is in error.”
To Antony’s relief, when it was suggested to Lady Ophelia that she might like to remove to Seacourt House, she said that Lady St. Merryn would be more comfortable if she remained at Tuscombe. “Moreover,” she added disconcertingly, “newlyweds ought never to be saddled with a lot of well-meaning relations. You will do much better to have time together without interference, if only to get to know each other better.”
Antony exchanged a look with Charlotte, wondering when she would recall that their wedding night lay ahead. The startled look on her face told him the thought had entered her mind at almost the same moment it had entered his. When Lady Ophelia turned away, he said in an undertone, “Now that they know we are leaving almost at once, no one will think it odd if we keep the rooms we have. Plead an incipient cold or some such thing if you think you need offer any explanation to your maid.”
Looking relieved, Charlotte said, “I’ll simply say I’m tired, and leave Kerra to draw her own conclusions. I am not in the habit of confiding in her.”
The next day, being Sunday, passed quietly and without incident, and on Monday they accomplished the move to Seacourt House with little fanfare. Letty, at least, expressed herself delighted to leave Tuscombe Park behind. As they rode along the path to the cliff tops, with Sebastian dashing ahead of them, amusing himself by startling birds from the underbrush, the child said happily, “Cousin Charley, I’m very glad you decided to marry Sir Antony instead of Rockland.”
Antony watched Charlotte to see what her reaction would be, but although her cheeks reddened, she said calmly, “Are you, darling? I thought you liked Rockland.”
“I do. I just like Sir Antony better. Moreover,” Letty added with a mischievous grin as she scratched the little monkey’s head, which poked through the opening in her cloak, “now Jeremiah and Sebastian won’t have to spend all their time in confinement.”
Antony chuckled, but a thought crossed his mind, and he said, “Perhaps you are being too optimistic, Letty. There is every chance, you know, that your cousin Melissa won’t want monkeys or dogs running free in her house.”
Charlotte laughed heartily, and Antony realized it was the first time he had heard her do so. She raised her face to the cerulean sky and gave free rein to merriment.
Letty watched, clearly bewildered, and finally when Charlotte gasped for breath with tears running down her face, the child said, “But what is so funny? Do tell us.”
Charlotte looked from one to the other, still struggling to control her mirth. At last, she said, “I just suddenly saw a picture in my mind of Seacourt House filled with shaggy dogs and noisy monkeys, and us. How Uncle Geoffrey would have hated that! He was Melissa’s papa,” she said to Antony, “a perfectly horrid man. First, the thought of Jeremiah running free in his house made me laugh. Then I realized Uncle Geoffrey would dislike my living there almost as much as he would have loathed Jeremiah. But Melissa will not mind in the least. She will be delighted when she learns that we are turning her house back into a home, even if it’s only for a little while.”
Seeing curiosity leap again to Letty’s eyes, Antony said hastily, “You must write at once to her, my dear Charlotte, and explain matters to her. Tell her that we wanted a little respite from Alfred and the others, and her house was just too tempting to resist.”
“Oh, yes,” Letty said. “Once she learns how awful it was living with Cousin Alfred, she will understand entirely why you wanted to leave.”
“I wrote the letter yesterday,” Charlotte said, “and it went out with the post before we left this morning. I can just see Uncle Geoffrey, bellowing and carrying on. He was much worse than Alfred.” When she laughed again, Antony found himself looking forward to the next fortnight with more pleasure than he had expected. Life with the fascinating Charley as his wife was bound to be an interesting challenge.
Chapter Thirteen
WHAT ON EARTH HAD she got herself into, Charley wondered, as she and Sir Antony, and Letty and Jeremiah, followed Aggie Corlan upstairs to the family wing of Seacourt House. Not only had the child and Aggie accepted her marriage as unquestioned reality but it was rapidly being brought home to her that, although she had avoided the consequences of a wedding night, the marriage was nonetheless real.
She had recited her vows before a bishop of Cornwall, and they were s
acred vows. Amongst them lay a promise to honor and obey her husband. That she had not known she was pledging obedience to Sir Antony instead of Rockland seemed a mere quibble now. A new thought occurred to her, and she silently cursed Letty’s presence, and that of the housekeeper, as well, because they prevented her from asking Sir Antony the question now reverberating in her mind.
Aggie Corlan approached a tall, ornately carved white door and said as she opened it, “These be the master’s chambers, sir. Corlan and me did clear out the wardrobe and the chests in yon dressing room, and I’m thinking Mr. Hodson has already put your things in their places. We’ve no proper laundry maid at present, I’m afraid, nor proper chambermaids, for all that. Just myself and Corlan and the girl what comes to help me with heavy cleaning.”
“Her Ladyship will soon see to hiring more servants,” Sir Antony said.
Charley had been looking around the spacious, very masculine bedchamber with curiosity, but she turned in surprise when she realized he was referring to her. She remembered that Letty had mentioned soon after the fateful ceremony that she would have a title, but although Sir Antony had stopped calling her Miss Charlotte, no one had referred to her since as anything but Charlotte or Cousin Charley, or ma’am.
He went on without hesitation, “No doubt Lady Foxearth will enjoy seeing this house come alive again.”
Exchanging a look with Aggie Corlan, Charley said, “I don’t know that I can honestly say I’ve ever seen this house as a lively place. I’ve been inside it numerous times, to be sure, but I’ve never seen this room before. I’ve seen only the public ones, and of course, the old schoolroom, and Melissa’s bedchamber. Uncle Geoffrey did not encourage little girls to run free in his house.” Smiling at Letty, she added, “I daresay we will put you in Cousin Melissa’s old bedchamber. She will require a maidservant, too, Aggie. We’ve brought no one with us but Sir Antony’s man and Kerra, I’m afraid, and Kerra is not accustomed to helping with general housework.”
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