Two Wrongs Make a Marriage

by Christine Merrill

  ‘And he would swindle you blind for your troubles,’ Thea reminded him. ‘He has no bond of blood with you.’

  ‘He could steal no more than my own brother has managed,’ Spayne replied. ‘Nor could he make a bigger mess of things than I have myself.’ He leaned closer to her with a fond smile, retying a bow on the shoulder of her gown. ‘It is a sad thing to admit, but such titles as mine do not always fall to the wisest, the bravest and the most deserving. An honest history will show that I am far from the best of my line. Not as despicable as my brother, of course, but too craven to take the reins and make a good job of it. It does not do to be intimidated by one’s own tenants. If they continue badgering me, I am like to tell them that their roofs leak because I have not the money to fix them. But Jack always comes up with something. If he cannot find the money, he can at least make a decent excuse.’

  ‘You mean he will lie to them,’ Thea said.

  ‘No more than was necessary,’ Spayne replied. ‘He has a natural talent for dealing with difficult situations, probably since he can be all things to all people. If he must refuse a request, he does it in a way that keeps hope alive and sends the petitioner away with a smile. Strangely, it seems that they are more productive when happy, even when I can offer nothing more than his hollow reassurances.’

  When put this way, it did make a sort of perverse sense. ‘But he is doing none of this by choice,’ she reminded him. ‘He fears he could be hanged if he returns too soon to his old life.’

  Spayne laughed. ‘For what? I paid his debt and he has done more than enough for me to work off the amount. It is far more likely that he will be hanged if he stays. If his true identity is discovered, it would be easier for me to claim myself as his victim than to admit my part in the scheme.’

  ‘Then he stays for no logical reason?’

  ‘If he loved being Jack Briggs as much as he claimed, he’d have gone back to it by now. Instead, he is spinning a more elaborate role than before. And he does so out of his fondness for us.’

  ‘Fondness.’ That went some small way towards describing what he had said the night they had spent at Spayne Court.

  ‘And he wishes to bed you,’ Spayne added bluntly. ‘But I prefer to focus on the bonds of affection.’

  ‘So would I,’ Thea replied with a gasp. ‘He might wish to bed me, but I certainly will not allow it.’

  ‘You do not want him as well?’ Spayne asked, eyes wide and innocent. She opened her mouth to respond, and he added quickly, ‘Remember, you are quite adamant about the need for honesty in all things. Do not think to lie to me about your lack of desire and the need to maintain your reputation. I live far from London specifically so that stories of my antics may not escape to the city. The current situation with Henry is difficult, but not so dire that the pair of you could not adjourn to Spayne Court and enjoy a proper honeymoon. Even if anyone takes note of your behaviour, I seriously doubt that comment will arise from a husband and wife sharing a bed.’

  ‘It would be wrong,’ Thea insisted, although it had felt like an excellent idea when they’d tussled together in the hall just now. ‘He lusts after me, of course. That is only natural.’ As was her corresponding animal attraction to him. ‘But he is only pretending to be fond of me because Lord Kenton would have been had he married me. And he is such a good actor that he can convince even himself.’

  ‘I doubt it requires very much convincing to be fond of you. You are a very nice young lady and one that I will very much enjoy having for a daughter.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Thea said, too tired to argue that she was not his daughter at all.

  He took her by the shoulders and admired the work he had done to her costume, then gave an approving nod. ‘As a second father to you, I have a bit of advice to offer. Give in to your desires.’

  ‘Lord Spayne!’ It was the sort of shocking thing her mother might say to her—and exactly the sort of advice she’d spent her life fighting against.

  ‘I know that society tells you otherwise. But I also know the pain it causes to heart and mind to fight against who you are. If you want Kenton, or Jack Briggs, you may have him. There is no crime in it, no sin. Forget the name, forget the past. Remember only how you feel when you are with him.’

  ‘Frustrated. Angry. Confused.’

  ‘Confused,’ Spayne said with a nod. ‘Tell me—if he was so very wrong for you, why would you feel this confusion?’

  ‘I should be able to resist him,’ she agreed, wondering why she could not. She felt nothing but revulsion when Henry de Warde touched her. ‘But he kissed me, and everything stopped making sense.’

  ‘That is where the frustration comes from,’ Spayne said with a smile. ‘Yielding will take care of it.’

  ‘It will leave only the anger,’ she said firmly. ‘I doubt I should be able to stand the man, should he use and discard me, as he is likely to.’

  ‘Then you could make up your argument with him and be even happier than before,’ Spayne said with a sigh, as though this were some sort of bonus.

  Thea remembered the shoe-throwing tantrums her mother gave on occasion. Those outbursts had not weakened her father’s affections for her, for all their violence, but Thea had no desire to emulate them. ‘All the same, my lord, he is not someone I seek a closer relationship to. The sooner we are through, the happier I shall be.’

  ‘Very well, then.’ Spayne raised his hands to release her. ‘Return to your party and see to your guests. Let Jack take care of Henry and do not worry yourself about it. As for the rest, I am sure your marriage will sort itself out with enough time.’

  Given her extreme reaction to Jack, that was exactly what she feared and needed to guard most strenuously against.

  Chapter Twelve

  The last of the guests had strolled out of the large front door, and through the windows of the town house Jack could see the beginnings of dawn glowing above the houses to the east. He’d have cursed, if he could have managed to speak. But his voice was hoarse, nearly raw from too much chatting and breathing the smoke of the men taking cigars in the card room. The pain in his throat was coupled with the bitter taste of disappointment.

  As a party, the evening had been quite successful, but as a part of his actual goal it had been a disaster. Cyn had barely managed to deliver his message and de Warde had looked at her like a wolf with a lamb dinner. Jack’s own interference had done little to further the plot. He had been too lost in jealousy to keep the focus of his thoughts on the other man.

  And then he had finished by very nearly ravishing the beautiful Thea in a public hallway. As pleasant as that had been, he’d have been much smarter to keep a cool head in the ballroom and seduce her later in the bedroom, when she’d have had no reason to break away. Instead, he had frightened her to the point where she’d kept a marked distance from him the rest of the evening. When forced into proximity, she had fallen into the banal courtesy she seemed to think society demanded for the spouse of a noble, beautiful and aloof, and not nearly so much fun as she’d been in the hall.

  What had he been about in attempting this at all? There was not a chance of success. He had nothing more than a poorly written scene, a novice actress and his own insufficient education and experience, against an adversary who had already bested an earl and a baronet.

  Better to admit defeat now and let the whole thing collapse. He would go upstairs and tell Cyn that she need not worry about a repeat performance. Or, better yet, he would tell her nothing at all. He could leave by the same door as the guests and be gone before the sun was fully up. Let the nobility sort out their mess tomorrow. It was none of his concern. It was the coward’s way, he supposed, but it was the path he was most familiar with.

  And then he turned to find the woman who had been avoiding him for hours collapsed like a rag doll on the bench beside the door. He could not walk past her with no explanation, but a few words would have to do. He held out a hand to her. ‘Up you get, Thea. There is a matter we must discuss.’ She wo
uld be glad to be rid of him, he was sure. It would be a mercy on his part to remove himself from her presence.

  She gave him a baleful look, her society smile disappearing with the last of their visitors. ‘Please, simply leave me alone. I am not well.’

  As he looked at her, it did seem that she spoke the truth. But with her objection to convenient lies, was that any real surprise? She covered her face with one slender hand, as though the small amount of light shining through the leaded window panes was almost too much to bear. From what he could see of her complexion through the fingers, she was unnaturally pale. ‘What ails you? Your stomach? Or is it your head?’

  ‘Just a megrim. Such parties almost always bring them on. It is the stress, I am sure.’

  ‘This was a particularly difficult evening,’ he agreed. ‘But you needn’t have worried. You handled it all masterfully. It is a shame that you could not take more pleasure in it.’

  ‘I was the hostess,’ she said firmly. ‘It was my job to give pleasure to others, not to seek it for myself.’

  ‘My, but that is a grim assessment.’ He had always assumed that, with money and rank, there came a sort of automatic pleasure. But Cyn made it seem like another set of worries. He must remember to be glad of his freedom, now that he meant to take it back.

  ‘And, of course, there is the business with Mr de Warde. It was the point of the whole evening. But it went terribly.’

  ‘Not so bad, really.’ While she might stick at untruths, delivering a convincing lie was not all that hard for him. And if ever a woman deserved to hear one, it was his poor wife, who looked truly wretched as she remembered how it had gone. ‘We will find a way around him, once I have a little time to think.’

  He remembered how she had looked before the gathering had commenced and felt a stab of sympathy. ‘For now, I know something that might help.’ He stepped behind the bench where she was seated and leaned back against his legs.

  She resisted at first. It was no wonder that her head ached, for her body was as taut as a bow string.

  He pushed on her shoulders, forcing her closer to him. ‘Close your eyes,’ he commanded, then placed one hand on either temple and rubbed his palms in slow circles.

  Almost immediately she sighed and he felt some of the tension leave her. ‘I expect you are doing this so you can look down the front of my gown.’

  ‘I expect I am,’ he said and then surprised himself by not taking the suggestion. It was not that another glimpse of her breasts did not interest him. But, got this way, it was hardly sporting. ‘At least you will gain something by it, so do not complain.’

  ‘You are right. I should not be ungrateful.’ She relaxed even further, melting into him like butter.

  He pushed her head forwards and stroked the nape of her neck. ‘You are forgiven. Now be quiet and let me help you.’

  This was different. He could not remember ever saying such a thing to another human being. But it was nice, helping her. While the physical advantages of having a woman legally in one’s bed were understandable, the idea of finding satisfaction in nurturing and protecting a person frailer than himself had never occurred to him.

  Of course, he had never met Cyn.

  And now she was nestled into him like a sleepy kitten. She sighed again. ‘You are right. That is much better.’

  He paused, expecting a dismissal.

  ‘Don’t stop. Your hands feel wonderful.’ She had relaxed enough to be completely unguarded. If he was smart, he would press the advantage, turn the massage into a caress and gain what he had wanted from the first night. He could leave after and still be gone before the sun was fully up.

  Instead, he ran his fingers through her hair, removing the tiara and loosing the pins that held the elaborate coif so that he could massage her scalp. This elicited an almost-unladylike groan. ‘The late Lady Spayne was too right,’ she murmured. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown.’

  ‘Henry IV,’ he said with surprise.

  ‘Henry IV Part Two,’ she answered without looking up. ‘There is much I did not seek to learn from my mother, but a knowledge of Shakespeare was quite inescapable.’

  ‘And the quote is appropriate,’ he agreed. ‘You hair was bound so tightly it surprises me that you can think at all.’

  She shook out the mane of red so that it fell free to her shoulders. ‘I must dress it so. The curls run wild, otherwise.’

  ‘And we mustn’t have that,’ he mocked, remembering the shocking profusion that her mother had allowed and the way she’d refused to powder it, even when roles had required it. In response her daughter seemed to have adopted a style that, while most fashionable, was the picture of restraint. But as he undid the braids, Thea’s curls wrapped around his fingers as though they could tie him to her.

  ‘Tonight, the braids were the only thing holding me up. Now that you have undone them, I swear, I am almost too weak to stand.’

  ‘Then let me help you.’ He pulled her to her feet and scooped her into his arms. She was a surprisingly easy burden, fitting perfectly in his hold.

  She gave one sleepy murmur of protest before snuggling close again. ‘What are you doing to me?’ she asked, but it was hardly the demanding tone he’d grown accustomed to.

  ‘Putting you to bed.’ He turned and went into the house, down the hall and mounted the stairs towards their rooms.

  ‘But I don’t want to go. I want to stay here. With you.’

  He might inform her that if it was togetherness she wanted, a bed was just the place for it. Instead, he said, ‘You will not be so charitable once I am through with you, I am sure.’

  ‘I shall return to detesting you when I am not so tired,’ she agreed. ‘And when you have not been so kind to me.’

  ‘And I will go back to being despicable tomorrow.’ Hadn’t his plan been quite the opposite only a moment ago?

  But leaving would mean leaving the delightful baggage who had twisted her fingers around his lapel and was now burying her face against his neck. ‘Do not send me to bed like a child. Tell me what you are planning.’ A touch of her old firmness was returning, now that her head was no longer bothering her. But it explained the real reason she wished to stay with him, even though it was not as flattering as the one he’d chosen to imagine.

  ‘I hardly know myself,’ he admitted. ‘And no amount of thinking will force it from me tonight. I suspect I shall wake with some idea of what to do next. I will share it with you then. It will be over soon enough and then you will be rid of me.’ Why did his impending freedom seem less appealing than it had only a moment ago?

  ‘I shall miss you,’ she replied. ‘I am growing quite used to you destroying my peace of mind.’

  They were at her door now. He fumbled with the handle. There were probably a dozen glib comments he could have made about what he would like to do to disturb her calm, but he could not manage to think of one. Instead, he carried her to the bed and set her down on the edge, then reached behind her to undo the lacing on her gown.

  ‘I should call a maid.’

  ‘No need, my dear. I assure you, I am quite an experienced dresser and not the least bit shy.’

  ‘Actors,’ she muttered with a laugh as he efficiently stripped her to shift and stockings, pulled back the coverlet and tucked her into bed.

  ‘Sleep,’ he answered, and planted a single kiss on the top of her ginger head before going through the door to his own room.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Lady Kenton, you have visitors.’ Polly drew back the curtains of the bed and let in the late morning light.

  Thea yawned and touched her temple, surprised that her head did not hurt as it had just a few hours before. She had a vague recollection of being put innocently to bed by the man who, earlier in the evening, had been trying to remove her gown in the hall. One or the other of the recollections had to be a dream, for they did not seem to correspond.

  She looked sleepily at her maid. ‘Did you say visitors in the plural?’r />
  Polly gave her a confused look.

  ‘Are there more than one? And do these people realise that I did not lie down until dawn?’

  ‘One of them is your mother,’ Polly said. It explained much. Since she had returned to London, her mother had shown little sense of convention, coming and going as she pleased without invitation or announcement.

  ‘And the other?’

  ‘Mr Henry de Warde, my lady.’

  At this, Thea sat bolt upright, gathering the sheets about her. ‘Here? Already?’ She squinted at the clock. ‘It is barely ten o’clock.’ She thought hurriedly. ‘Have Graves put him in the library and fetch my husband to speak to him.’

  ‘Lord Kenton is still asleep,’ Polly said. ‘And Mr de Warde wishes to speak to you. And the library is already occupied. Lord Spayne...’

  ‘Does not wish to see his brother,’ Thea agreed. Of course, neither did she. Damn Jack for sleeping when there was so much to be done. She had no instruction as to how to proceed. ‘The drawing room for Mr de Warde, then.’

  ‘And your mother waits in the morning room.’

  ‘Keep the two separate,’ Thea said, unsure what her mother was likely to do should she know of the man’s presence. Worse yet, what embarrassing question Mr de Warde was likely to ask of her after last night’s discussion. ‘Refreshments for everyone. Dress me in the blue muslin. And for heaven’s sake, send the valet to Kenton’s room and get him downstairs to help me with this.’

  * * *

  A few minutes later, when Thea entered the morning room, she found her mother holding court over the maid that poured her chocolate, looking as regal as a duchess and grander by far than the earl hiding in the library. But then, Antonia Banester carried out every social call as though it were an opportunity to take centre stage.

  Annoying as it was, Thea had to admit that it had served the older woman well. Her past should have been a damning blight on any reputation, but her mother had made it a sort of asset. She sat even the most common chair as though it were a throne and allowed gentlemen to admire her for her beauty and her vivacity, while acting as friend, confidante or sympathetic shoulder to ladies. As long as she was silent, she appeared to be the mostly gently bred of females.