‘You may remember from our conversation a few days ago that I am in need of a wife,’ he said. ‘I was going to ask you to marry me.’
He saw her eyes widen with shock and realised that she had genuinely expected him to ask her to become his mistress. This different suggestion had thrown her utterly and convinced her, not unreasonably, that he was mad. She got to her feet and moved towards the fireplace to ring the bell for the maid. He got up quickly and caught her hand before she could press the button.
‘Wait! It is not as you think. Let me explain.’
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes very wide and dark. Then she smiled. It was a mischievous smile and it lit sparks in her eyes and made him smile in return. She shook her head slightly, as though she could not quite believe what she was hearing.
‘How you do surprise me,’ she said. ‘Very well, Robert Selborne, you have five minutes. And it had better be good.’
Half an hour and a pot of tea later, Jemima could see that Rob’s plan could not possibly work. First, and most obviously, there were the terms of his father’s will. Terms that she quite definitely did not fulfil.
‘Your father’s will specified that you should marry a lady present at your cousin Anne Selborne’s wedding,’ she said, wrinkling her brows.
Rob sat forward. ‘That is correct.’
‘But when it came to the point you could not bring yourself to apply to your cousin or to any of the other ladies present?’
Rob grinned boyishly. ‘I confess that I could not stomach Augusta as a wife. As for the other ladies, there were only about four who were eligible in principle but none were suitable in practice.’
‘And I am ineligible since I am no lady,’ Jemima said. She saw the flicker of amusement in Rob’s eyes and amended hastily, ‘That is, I mean, of course, that I was not born a lady.’
‘Maybe not, but you are indisputably a lady by education and behaviour,’ Rob said.
Jemima looked at him. A small smile played around his mouth. He was watching her closely and his scrutiny made her feel hot and a little bit bothered. His brown gaze was very warm on her. It felt like a physical touch. And it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was quite handsome. She had noticed it outside the church and she noticed it again now. He had straight, dark brows the same colour as his hair, and his face was triangular, tapering to the firm line of his jaw and to a very determined chin. Jemima remembered his quiet strength and authority the previous night. She cleared her throat, made self-conscious by his regard.
‘I am indubitably a chimney sweep’s daughter, my lord.’
‘You were educated as a lady, you speak like a lady and I am sure that you act like one as well.’
Jemima could not help a small smile. ‘Sometimes I do. And sometimes I do not.’
Rob laughed. ‘I hope to be on hand when you decide not to behave as a lady, Miss Jewell,’ he murmured.
Jemima gave him a very direct look. ‘I only mean that there are occasions on which I prefer a pint of ale to a thimbleful of Madeira.’
‘Well, if it comes to that, so do I,’ Rob said easily. He shifted. ‘What we are discussing here is the fulfilment of the terms of the will, Miss Jewell, and whilst marrying you might not have been precisely what my father intended me to do, I do not think that anyone will dispute that you meet the conditions.’
Jemima frowned again. ‘Your lawyer—’
‘Will accept that you are the appropriate wife for me in every way.’
He seemed very certain. Jemima shook her head. She was sure that it could not be so easy.
Rob took her hand. ‘Shall we move on to your next set of objections?’
The warm touch of his hand distracted Jemima, who had indeed been rehearsing her next point in her head. She looked at him suspiciously.
‘How did you know that I had further reservations?’
Rob laughed. ‘You have a very expressive face, Miss Jewell. I can see your doubts lining up in an orderly row.’ His thumb brushed the back of her hand lightly. ‘Come, tell me what the problem is.’
Jemima sighed. ‘Even were I to agree that I fulfilled the criteria to become your wife, my lord, I am not entirely sure I understand what you are asking of me. You mentioned a marriage in name only.’
Rob released her hand and sat back. Jemima had the distinct impression that he was uncomfortable about something.
‘That is correct,’ he said. ‘The marriage is to be a formality only. After the wedding I shall go directly to my home at Delaval in Oxfordshire. It is perfectly in order for you to stay in Town. I shall rent you an establishment and pay you an allowance to enable you to remove from your father’s house—’
‘—and when you come into your inheritance you will give me a lump sum from the capital,’ Jemima finished. ‘Once the fortune is secured, the marriage will be annulled. And all you demand in return is my discretion and my name on the marriage lines.’ She frowned. ‘I understand all of that, my lord. What I do not understand is why you are doing it.’
Rob shifted in his seat, and once again she had the impression that he was uneasy about something. ‘It seems a convenient arrangement,’ he said. ‘I achieve my inheritance and you are free from the tyranny of your father.’
‘Whilst neither of us is obliged to make a marriage that we dislike.’ Jemima jumped to her feet. The plan sounded straightforward and yet she still had a strong conviction that it would not work. She turned to look at him.
Rob looked at her enquiringly. ‘What is it?’
Jemima made a slight gesture. ‘Why, merely that there is so much potential for something to go wrong!’ She bit her lip. ‘You are intending to keep this a secret and I distrust that.’
‘How so?’
‘Simply because of your family! There is always a curious relative lurking in everyone’s background. Mark my words—someone will discover what is going on and then we shall be in trouble!’
Rob laughed. ‘I do not have many close relatives and I rarely see the ones that I do have.’
Jemima shook her head, unconvinced. ‘What about Mr and Mrs Selborne and your cousins? You seemed quite close to them.’
Rob shrugged. ‘I rarely see them. Ferdie Selborne is a friend of mine, but when I return to Delaval I doubt I shall even see Ferdie. He detests the country.’
‘Hmm.’ Jemima narrowed her gaze. ‘What about your other friends?’
‘I suppose that I should claim to have some or you would think me odd.’ Rob smiled. ‘I do have a couple of close friends and any number of acquaintances. Is that acceptable?’
Jemima tried not to smile. ‘Pray take this seriously, sir! I have the conviction that something will go awry with your plan.’
Rob shrugged lightly. ‘I do not see why it should. We shall tell no one of the marriage, we shall go our separate ways…’ He stood up and came across to her. ‘It is a simple plan and those are always the best. So do we have an agreement, Miss Jewell?’
Jemima hesitated. There was no denying that this unexpected offer had come at precisely the right moment to rescue her from a different, unwanted marriage. With some money behind her she might fulfil some of her dreams—to open a discreet establishment of her own where she might teach music and languages and various accomplishments in much the same way that Mrs Montagu had taught her. To follow in her mentor’s footsteps would be a fine thing. At last she would have a measure of independence, far more than if she had had to sell her body to achieve it…
‘How much allowance will you pay me?’ she asked.
She saw Rob relax a little, as though he realised that her decision was made. He named a sum that made her head whirl. With an immediate payment of fifteen hundred pounds she could easily achieve her aim of establishing a school. And then to have a lump sum at the end of it as well…But she needed an establishment, of course.
She looked at Rob from under her lashes. ‘You mentioned that you would rent me a house?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I shall require som
ewhere of decent size. A villa in Twickenham would be perfect.’
Rob did not look offended. On the contrary, he looked amused. ‘I feel as though I am bargaining for a mistress rather than a wife, madam.’
The wayward images crowded Jemima’s mind without warning. Rob visiting her at the villa…a boudoir full of tumbled sheets…his touch on her skin…A wave of heat suffused her whole body and made her tremble. But this was no time to be thinking such thoughts. Their agreement was purely business.
‘I apologise,’ she said, glad that her voice was steadier than her pulse. ‘I grew up on a hard street and had to struggle for everything I gained, Lord Selborne. Forgive me if I sound determined to extract a good bargain.’
‘Of course.’ Rob inclined his head. He was watching her closely and Jemima knew that her heightened colour had not escaped him. She hoped that he was putting it down to embarrassment rather than arousal.
‘Since I am demanding your discretion in this matter, I appreciate that I must arrange something suitable for you,’ he said. ‘You may leave it with me.’
Jemima let out a little breath of relief. This was simpler than she had expected. Rob Selborne seemed very easygoing. And of course he wanted this arrangement as much as she. Yet she knew that he was no soft touch. She had already seen a hard core underneath that easy exterior. She hesitated, then took a gamble.
‘And I would like a small carriage, if you please.’
‘Only a small one?’ Rob was still smiling, but his dark gaze had an acute edge to it. ‘Not a coach and four?’
‘I believe that you are teasing me,’ Jemima said. ‘A small carriage will suffice. I am not greedy.’
Rob nodded. ‘My man of business will attend to everything.’ He smiled at her. ‘Do we have a bargain, then, Miss Jewell?’
Jemima smiled back. ‘I believe we do, sir.’
Rob relaxed. ‘I will procure a special licence.’ He paused as a thought struck him. ‘I suppose that you are old enough to marry without your parents’ consent?’
Jemima laughed. ‘I am one and twenty, sir. How old are you?’
Rob raised his brows at the bluntness of her question. ‘I am six and twenty, mistress.’
Jemima put her head on one side and studied him. He looked a little self-conscious under her scrutiny. ‘Sometimes you look older,’ she said, thinking aloud. ‘As though you have seen too much.’
A shuttered look came into his eyes. ‘I fear that that can be one of the effects of an army career,’ he said, and though he spoke lightly Jemima heard the hardness in his voice. He took her hand. ‘I will send word when all is arranged.’
Jemima nodded. ‘And the house—and the money?’
‘Will all be ready for you as soon as we are married.’ Rob smiled. ‘I will have my lawyer draw up a contact, Miss Jewell. I swear I would not cheat you.’
‘I know,’ Jemima said. ‘You said that before—when you gave me the guinea.’
‘I remember.’ Suddenly there was an intent look in Rob’s eyes and Jemima wondered if it had been a good idea to remind him about the guinea—and the kiss. But this was a business arrangement, a marriage of convenience. No kissing was required. All the same, she wondered if he would give her a peck on the cheek to seal the bargain.
After a second Rob held out his hand in a formal gesture. ‘Thank you, Miss Jewell.’
Jemima put her hand into his. His own was cool and his touch made Jemima feel very hot. She tried to snatch her hand away, but Rob kept hold of it.
‘What is your name?’ he said abruptly.
Jemima felt slightly surprised to realise that he did not know. So much had happened between them already, but not the intimacy of a name.
She looked up into his eyes. They were very dark brown and flecked with green, the colour of moss. He had thick, dark lashes. She felt ever so slightly dizzy. No one had ever had this effect on her before and she was not entirely sure that she cared for it.
‘My name is Jemima Mary Jewell. I suppose you need to know for the marriage licence?’
‘I do,’ Rob said, ‘but that was not why I asked.’ He smiled slightly. ‘Jemima Mary. That is pretty. You already know that my name is Robert.’
‘Just Robert?’ Jemima asked.
Rob looked slightly embarrassed. ‘No. Robert Guy Lucius Cavendish Selborne.’
Jemima bit her lip to stop a smile. ‘No wonder you settle for Rob.’
She did not imagine that she would have much opportunity to use his given name. It seemed a pity.
‘Why did you ask me to marry you?’ she said impulsively. ‘Why me, particularly? I know you said that the other ladies at the wedding were not appropriate, but why ask me?’
There was a pause. Almost immediately, Jemima wished that she had not asked. She knew that he had chosen her because he had thought he might buy her. She was a tradesman’s daughter and as such understood the value of every commodity. She was no sheltered lady. And she had agreed to be bought.
‘I asked you because I thought you might agree,’ Rob said. He smiled. ‘And I am glad that you did.’
Jemima smiled too, reluctantly. She did not believe him, but she appreciated his gallantry. Rob gestured to the wedding veil, folded on the table beside her.
‘You are sure that you will not change your mind?’
Jemima shook her head. She wondered if he would think her mercenary, prepared to throw over a suitor of her own kind for a more lucrative offer. He could not be more wrong, of course—this marriage was her only hope of escape from her father and at least he understood that much.
She smiled at him. ‘I promise I shall not change my mind.’
She made to open the door for him, but he touched her arm to detain her. ‘You are sure that you are recovered from last night?’
The sudden intimacy of the subject caught Jemima off her guard. Her hand went to twitch the neckline of her dress in a telltale gesture that made sure the material covered the offending bruise. She saw Rob’s gaze narrow.
‘Is it very bad?’
‘Not really.’
Jemima moved away from him and went over to the window. He had not even touched her, but she found that she was shaking and she was not sure why. It was something to do with the gentleness of his voice and the pity in his eyes. No man had ever treated her this way before. Jack was kind, but he was gruff with it and Rob’s tenderness twisted her heart.
She looked up and saw that he was still watching her. ‘Why did your father become so angry last night?’ he asked.
Jemima touched the wedding veil lightly. ‘I refused to marry the man of his choice.’
Rob’s expression was grim. ‘Was that why you agreed to marry me? To escape both of them?’
Jemima shrugged. ‘In part. The options are limited for a female, my lord, particularly one in my situation.’
Rob took her chin in his hand and turned her face up to his. ‘You should not take the responsibility for his behaviour on yourself, Jemima.’
‘I don’t.’ Jemima slid out of his grip. ‘You forget that I am not a lady, my lord. I have grown up with such things. Violence is commonplace on the street.’
Rob looked stubborn. ‘I do not doubt it. But make no mistake, Jemima—violence is no respecter of persons. It can happen to anyone, gently born and bred or not. And the ugliness of it is the same, be the victim man, woman or child, Duchess or—’
‘Chimney sweep’s apprentice?’
‘Precisely so.’ Rob smiled slightly. ‘Are you sure that you will not come with me now?’
Jemima smiled. ‘I will not. But I thank you for the offer.’
Rob let out his breath on a sigh of resignation. He took her father’s handbill from his pocket. ‘Do you have a pen and ink?’
He waited as Jemima fetched some from the bureau, then scribbled quickly on the back of the handbill.
‘This is my address. If you need to, you may come to me at any time.’
Jemima nodded. Her throat felt strangely tigh
t. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
Rob kissed her cheek. His lips felt soft against her skin—a butterfly touch.
‘Goodbye then, Jemima. I will send word to you in secret when the marriage is to take place. I will arrange it as quickly as I can.’
At the door he paused, removing his signet ring from his right hand. ‘Here, take this. It will be too big for you and you could not wear it without arousing suspicion, but I want you to have it.’
Jemima stared, turning the ring over between her fingers. It was made of solid gold and it was heavy and worn. It felt warm from contact with his body. She could see the patch of paler skin on his hand where the ring had been.
‘But you cannot give this to me—’
‘We are betrothed. You are mine now and I want you to have the ring.’
Rob sounded adamant. Jemima felt a tiny shiver. She slid the ring into her bodice.
‘Thank you. I will keep it safe.’
She gave him her hand and he kissed it, old-fashioned style. Jemima reflected that, for all his youth, there was much that was old-fashioned about Robert Selborne. She wondered if it was his army experience that had made him grow up so quickly. He was not at all like the gilded youth who roistered in the streets, turning over the street-sellers’ carts for a jest, destroying a man’s livelihood and moving on without a thought.
She saw him to the door, then went back into the sitting room and collapsed on the sofa, clutching one of the fat cushions to her breast. She felt breathless with disbelief and release. Her head was buzzing.
She could not believe that Rob had so carelessly bestowed on her the means to achieve all that she had ever wanted. It mattered nothing to him—all he needed was her name on a marriage certificate so that he could meet the terms of his father’s will. But for her it was the whole world. At last she could achieve her dream.
She would have bookshelves from floor to ceiling and visit Hatchard’s to stock them. She would buy a piano—a grand piano, since the rooms of the villa in Twickenham would surely be large enough to contain one with ease. And she would buy a harp and a spinet. She would need to practise the harp though, since she had never been as good at playing that as she had with keyboard instruments. Then there was the sheet music. She would buy piles of it, enough to fill the air like confetti…
The Penniless Bride Page 6