A Too Convenient Marriage
Page 3
‘What do you know of trade, Miss Lambert?’ She didn’t look like one to sit behind a counter all day or wander through a cellar in search of a bottle.
‘My mother’s family owned a wine shop in Oxfordshire. I assure you, I didn’t spend my girlhood learning to draw on plates, but to manage customers, inventory and accounts at my mother’s side. She was an excellent negotiator. It’s how she managed to extract Lord Rockland’s promise to support me, even after she passed.’ She swallowed hard. Justin pitied her and wanted to reach out and take her in his arms to soothe her. His grief for his own mother was as raw as hers, but he didn’t move. ‘I can garner for you the same type of deal.’
‘Can you now?’ She was certainly more experienced in the wine business than he’d imagined. He wondered what other surprising traits and talents she possessed.
She strolled over to him, allure and innocence wrapped up in the slow swing of her hips. ‘Judging from your willingness to start your own business, you’re a man not averse to taking risks. A betting man as some might say.’
‘I’ve been known to wager from time to time.’ Justin remained still, as intrigued by her offer as he was tempted by her full lips and what they would feel like beneath his.
‘Then let me offer you one now. I’ll prove to you today I can be an asset to both you and your potential venture. If you’re suitably impressed, you’ll agree to my father’s offer.’
‘And if I’m not?’ He was ashamed to admit it, but she was already halfway to impressing him up the church aisle. However, he wasn’t ready to tie himself to this strange woman, not yet.
‘Then you’re free to go. I’ll leave the decision up to you.’
* * *
Susanna waited for the tall gentleman with the brown hair to answer, ignoring how her chest caught every time his amber eyes caressed the length of her body. Lord Howsham’s hurried, fumbling touch hadn’t made her insides melt as they were doing now with Mr Connor standing mere feet away. He smelled of leather, sawdust and musk, a more masculine scent than the lemongrass preferred by the society fops. It wrapped around her, drawing her to him until she almost forgot it was she who was here to win him over. She was close, her victory revealing itself in the hold of his eyes on hers and the twitch of his jaw above his cravat as he struggled between detached uninterest and desire. For all his rejection of the proposal, he wanted her as much as Lord Howsham had, only this man possessed the self-control to deny himself. She wished Lord Howsham had done the same and not pressed her into an intimacy she hadn’t truly wanted. However, if he’d shown some restraint, she wouldn’t be in this position, with her freedom only a conversation away. ‘What do you say, Mr Connor? Are you willing to accept my challenge?’
He settled his muscled thighs covered by buckskin breeches against the edge of a small table and crossed his arms over his wide chest, his ease of manner both annoying and rousing. He reminded her of a tiger she’d once seen at the Tower lounging in the sun, relaxed but laced with an edge of danger one could almost touch. ‘How do you know I won’t simply say I will and then walk away?’
‘Because you’re the kind of man who keeps his word once it’s given.’
He tilted his head in silent agreement. ‘Are you the kind of lady who keeps hers?’
‘I am.’ She raised her chin, determined, in spite of the actions which had landed her in this muddle, to demonstrate her integrity. She might have made a drastic misstep with Lord Howsham, but she wasn’t a woman to cuckold a man or break her vow once it was given. ‘I promise you, when I change your mind, you won’t regret it.’
He tossed a cocky smile at her which made her toes curl in her half-boots. ‘No, I don’t believe I will.’
She held out her hand to him. ‘Then we have a deal?’
He eyed her fingers with the same amusement he’d demonstrated during their entire discussion. Embarrassment eroded her confidence as her hand hung in the air waiting for him to take it. For all his glib lightheartedness, she sensed the serious streak lying just beneath the humour. He was considering her offer and whether or not she was worth the risk. He wouldn’t be the only one taking a chance with this challenge. She would be, too, but it was worth it if it meant ending her time with the Rocklands and escaping the taint of being a mistake and an unwanted intrusion.
At last he slid his hand in hers, his hold hot and hard. Her heart began to race and she took a deep breath to steady herself, willing her body not to tremble. If he experienced any measure of the heat sliding through her at the joining of their skin, he didn’t reveal it, his eyes crinkling at the corners with an enticing smile. How the woman who’d leapt from his carriage last night could have walked away from such an alluring man Susanna didn’t know, but she was thankful she had.
‘We do.’ He smiled with a wickedness to nearly make her faint. ‘Now do your best.’
Reluctantly, she let go of his hand and strode to the double doors, struggling to make each step sure and to not peek back at him. It felt too much like something Edwina would do in the presence of the Earl of Rapping, gazing longingly at him from across the theatre, making a fool of herself as she all but drooled over a man who barely acknowledged her existence. The same couldn’t be said for Mr Connor. Without turning she knew he watched her and it gave an even greater purpose to her goal. If she succeeded, there’d be no need for all this girlish mooning about. She’d have the rest of her life to stare at his sharp cheeks and strong nose. It wasn’t an unpleasant thought.
She gripped the brass handles hard, as much to steady herself against Mr Connor’s influence as to prepare to face her father, and opened the doors. Everything depended on the success of what she was about to do. ‘Father, please return, we have a few more things to discuss.’
‘You’ve both seen the sense in the proposal, then?’ Lord Rockland asked as he returned, appearing quite pleased with himself.
‘Not until you agree to raise the dowry to two thousand pounds.’
This startled her father out of his usual imperiousness. ‘One thousand pounds is a very generous offer.’
Clearly he hadn’t intended to engage in a negotiation, but to hand her over to Mr Connor with little trouble and no further thought. She wouldn’t allow him to get off so easily. He was the man who’d helped make her a bastard, now he’d make her a legitimate woman, but not without some pain.
‘One thousand, five hundred, and you’ll purchase the wine for Lady Rockland’s masque from Mr Connor and see to it we’re both invited so Mr Connor may make the connections necessary to ensure the growth of his trade.’
‘Lady Rockland will never allow such a thing,’ her father scoffed and she wasn’t sure which he dreaded most, his wife’s wrath or the thought of connecting himself so publicly with his potential merchant son-in-law.
‘If you agree to this, in writing, I’ll marry Mr Connor and create no stir which might result in a scandal where Lord Howsham is concerned.’
Tense silence settled over the room as her father mulled through the points of her demands. She slid a glance at Mr Connor. If her negotiations couldn’t open his eyes to the benefit of having her as a wife and a partner in his business, nothing could. His admiration for what she’d done showed itself in the impressed half-smile he offered her. Freedom was within her grasp.
‘All right, I’ll do what you’ve asked.’ Lord Rockland looked to Mr Connor. ‘Are these terms amenable to you?’
She waited, hands tight at her sides for him to answer. It wasn’t so much the thought of freedom which captured her now but the sun from the window illuminating his hair and falling over the tan wool of the jacket covering the width of his shoulders. She shivered a little at the sight of him, tall, solid, a rock of a man next to her father, yet with a humour to soften his edges. She’d witnessed his strength last night when he’d flattened Edgar, but he wasn’t all unthinking, uncompassionate brawn. When her pain had welled up during their discussion, sympathy had whispered through his eyes. For reasons she couldn’t
explain, she knew he understood her loneliness, not in the mocking way Lord Howsham had pretended to understand, but in the way of a man who had shared something of the same kind of experience. If they married, she would come to know both the serious man and the one smiling at her father now, the one she desperately hoped would accept the offer.
‘They are,’ Mr Connor said at last. ‘I will marry Miss Lambert.’
Susanna unclenched her hands, relief sweeping through her followed by a new anxiety that tightened her neck. Her course was set, for good or for bad. Mr Connor was right, she knew nothing about him, but he was now her intended and no matter what, she must make the best of things, although being with him would surely be better than staying here.
Mr Connor turned to her, gracious in his surrender. He reached for her hand, bending his tall frame as he slid his fingers beneath hers and brought them to his lips. He pressed the firmness of them against her skin, raising a chill which raced up her arm to crash inside her against the fire his gentle touch ignited. She’d never experienced such a reaction to a man and she rocked a touch before the squeeze of his fingers steadied her.
‘I’ll call for you later this afternoon for a carriage ride,’ he offered, his breath whispering over the back of her hand.
‘Please do.’ She could barely utter the words through the dryness in her mouth. It wasn’t like her to want a man so powerfully, not after the awkward way Lord Howsham had introduced her to the physical side of love, but Mr Connor was no Lord Howsham. There was tenderness beneath his teasing, something she’d never experienced with the earl. This man wouldn’t be rough with her. It would be smooth and easy like sliding into the warm water of a bath.
‘Until this afternoon.’ At last he released her and with reluctance she lowered her hand, wanting him to take her from this house now, tonight, so she could delight in the fire filling his eyes and the comfort of his good nature.
Mr Connor left with more confidence than he’d entered with, when she’d watched him through the crack in the door, listening eagerly for what he might say.
‘Well, there’s one matter resolved,’ her father sighed with relief once they were alone. Then he turned to her, his expression clouding with the disapproval he’d meted out to her last night. ‘Now you’ve accepted Mr Connor, there’ll be no calling off the wedding, no matter what happens, or I’ll cast you out of this house without a penny. Do you understand?’
‘I do.’ She stared at Mr Connor’s empty glass and the faint outline of his lips along the rim. In her desperation to escape the Rockland house, she’d misjudged Lord Howsham. She hoped she hadn’t misjudged Mr Connor. If he proved even a tenth of the man she gauged him to be, he’d make a good husband. She’d do her best to deserve him and put all of the unfortunate incidents of the previous day, and her life, behind them.
Chapter Three
‘Was your meeting with Lord Rockland a success?’ Philip asked as Justin strode into his friend’s study.
‘You have no idea.’ He explained to Philip the events of the interview. When he was done, he leaned back against the French door, feeling the sun warming his back through the glass. ‘I suppose you think I’m crazy.’
‘I’m the last person to judge a man for taking a wife so quickly, or for the most ephemeral of reasons,’ Philip admitted from where he sat ramrod straight in the chair behind his desk. Philip had proposed to Mrs Rathbone after she’d held him at gunpoint demanding the return of some collateral. It’d been a strange start to a very successful marriage, one Justin hoped to emulate.
‘Mr Connor, your father would like to see you in the morning room,’ Chesterton, the Rathbones’ butler, announced with more apology than efficiency. This wasn’t the first time Justin’s father had come here in search of him.
Justin looked at the liquor on the side table before eschewing the drink. Smelling alcohol on his breath would only give his father another reason to criticise him. ‘I’ll be back.’
He strode down the panelled hallway of the Rathbones’ house which was situated in Bride Lane just off Fleet Street. Across the street, the bells of St Bride’s church began to toll the noon hour. In a matter of days, he’d have his common licence and a date fixed at the church. It amazed him how the green-eyed hellcat had managed to snare him in a matter of minutes, though he’d rather be back with her than preparing to face the man pacing across the Rathbones’ fine sitting-room rug.
Mr Green, the young man Justin paid to reside with his father and keep him out of trouble, sat on a bench near the front door. He jumped up at the sight of Justin. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Connor, I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted on coming here to see you.’
‘It’s all right, Mr Green. You do your best.’ Justin waved the young man back on to the bench. It was hard for anyone to deal with his father, much less dissuade him from any course, including ruin.
‘’Bout time you came to me,’ his father grumbled as Justin approached. ‘Thought I was going to have to wait here all day.’
‘And a good afternoon to you, too, Father.’ He should have taken the drink.
‘I waited all morning for you to come and tell Mrs Green to stop shoving those damned tonics on me, but you never showed.’
His father’s housekeeper was a saint for putting up with him, as was her son.
‘I’m sorry I failed to arrive for our appointment. I was meeting with a young lady and her father to finalise the details of our engagement.’ There was no other way to make the announcement except the direct one. His father wasn’t one for polite conversation, though once he’d been charming and suave, able to talk a stranger into buying him a drink as well as putting down the pistol when he and the elder Mr Rathbone had arrived to collect a debt.
‘Finally making that little widow your wife, heh?’
‘No. She’s accepted a proposal from another man. I’m marrying Miss Susanna Lambert, the Duke of Rockland’s illegitimate daughter.’
Shock lengthened the deep lines of his father’s face before he drew them tight into his usual scowl. He marched up to Justin. He was a good head shorter than his son, but it didn’t stop him from waving one thick finger in Justin’s face.
‘So a widow of your own class ain’t enough for you—you want to raise yourself up. Think you’re too important for your station and the life I’ve given you. Well, you aren’t. Reach too high and you’ll fall fast enough.’
‘Your faith in me is astounding.’ Justin laced his fingers behind his back. The insulting man was his father and he’d honour him, but no commandment could make him like him. The most he could do was tolerate him, much as he’d seen Miss Lambert tolerate her father. He’d admired and revered him once, but his father’s acerbic tongue had killed those feelings ages ago.
‘What have you ever done to give me faith in you except drink, lay about with easy widows and squander your money on ridiculous shipping schemes? How much of my blunt did you lose in that harebrained venture of yours?’
‘Not one ha’penny. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, I must ask you to get to the point. Mr Rathbone and I have business to attend to this afternoon.’
‘Well, la-de-da.’ His father made a mock curtsy, his hands trembling as he held them out. It was lack of alcohol which made them shake, a situation he’d soon remedy. ‘Knew sending you to school was a waste. I’ve come for money, since you think me too great a fool to manage it myself.’
Justin withdrew a few coins from his pocket and handed them to his father. He didn’t bother to point out he was acting in his father’s best interests. The older man wouldn’t understand any more than he understood Justin’s desire to emulate Philip and be more than another man’s assistant.
‘Taught ya’ everything ya’ know and this is how ya’ repay me, handing out a pittance as if I was a child.’ His father scowled as he plucked up the coins and shuffled into the hall. ‘Come along, you,’ he barked at Mr Green. ‘No-good son of mine thinks he’s better than his old father.’
Justin turned his hand over, studying the dark bruises on his knuckles. He wasn’t sure he should subject Miss Lambert to his father, but judging by the brief treatment he’d seen meted out to her by Lord Rockland, she more than anyone might sympathise with the necessity of managing a difficult relative.
‘Is your father gone already?’ Mrs Rathbone stepped into the sitting room, concern for Justin in her caring eyes. Her infant son slept on her shoulder, one small hand curled tight by his tiny mouth.
‘Not even pleasant company with me could keep him from his other errands today,’ Justin said glibly, hating to be pitied. This wasn’t the first spat Mrs Rathbone had witnessed between father and son. They were a regular occurrence.
‘You must recall the better times and ignore his taunts,’ she urged, rubbing the sweet baby’s back.
‘I do.’ He sighed out the lie, barely able to remember his father from before his mother’s death. Afterwards, his father had turned to drink, growing more callous and quarrelsome with each passing year. It’d come to a head last summer when Justin had taken over the management of his father’s finances after the older man had woken up in a ditch in Haymarket with no memory of the night before and a nasty bruise under one eye. His father had been so enamoured of his son’s desire to help him, he’d turned on Justin like a wounded dog.
‘I know he still loves you.’ Mrs Rathbone laid an encouraging hand on his arm. ‘But he has his demons to struggle with.’
‘Don’t we all?’ Justin flashed Mrs Rathbone a wide smile, stamping down on the anger and pain chewing at him.
‘On a happier note, I understand congratulations are in order.’ Mrs Rathbone beamed as her son snored lightly.
‘Indeed they are. I’m about to join you and Mr Rathbone in wedded bliss.’ Although the idea he might not enjoy a union as happy as theirs taunted him. Hopefully, the force to be reckoned with he’d witnessed this morning wouldn’t turn into a haranguing fishwife once they were married. He could only tolerate one person calling him a failure at a time.