by Mary Brendan
Alex gazed at her relentlessly, making her avoid his penetrative eyes.
‘I have suggested a solution to this dilemma, not at a very appropriate time or place, I’ll grant, but then we are in an unusual situation.’ He paused, his mouth pursing while he studied her through narrowed eyes. ‘I know you have turned me down once. I also realise you were in shock at the time and had little opportunity in Regent Street to properly consider every implication.’ Again he paused, watching her. ‘Have you given proper thought to my proposal, Elise?’
Elise swallowed. She’d feared him asking her again. And she knew now why that was. If only it was truly meant and incorporated the sentiment that should attach to such a vital moment, she might have relived that blissful calm that had bathed her when first he’d mentioned a way to defeat Whittiker. He was too gentlemanly to allow his tone of voice to reflect his regret at being pushed into a corner. In fact, there was nothing at all in his manner to indicate his feelings.
‘I have thought about it, sir,’ Elise began briskly, ‘and will admit at first I thought you had spoken in haste and wished to reconsider.’ She lifted golden eyes to his face, allowing him now to express that intention.
‘I’ve no desire to withdraw my marriage proposal and, as we have most certainly run out of time, I should like to know your answer and speak to your father.’
‘It is good of you to act honourably and try to protect me,’ Elise said. ‘But I think we both know that fine intentions are not enough to make a satisfactory marriage.’
‘And what is?’
Elise shot a look at him, wondering if he was mocking her, but he returned her sparking gaze quite gravely. ‘Love and respect and loyalty,’ Elise uttered, edging up her chin again. ‘I know such things are not always so important to people with wealth and land to protect and augment, but they are crucial to me.’
‘You believe I am unable to meet your requirements?’
‘Not all of them.’
‘Will you tell me where I lack?’ Alex asked after a tense quiet.
Elise met his gaze levelly. ‘I have always found you respectful.’ She glimpsed the beginnings of his sultry smile and her eyelids fluttered low at the memory of his passionate assault at Vauxhall. ‘Following an initial lapse, that is,’ she qualified her praise, pink cheeked. ‘I understand why you at first thought me a...disreputable character.’ She twisted away from him to shield her confusion. ‘I don’t blame you. You weren’t alone in judging me unfavourably that night.’
‘Oh?’ The single word sounded perilous. ‘Who else did, apart from Whittiker’s doxy?’
‘Every person I rushed past,’ Elise admitted with a forlorn giggle. ‘I got many hateful looks.’
‘Unfortunately it’s too late to remedy that, but I would if it were within my power.’ He shifted so he could again observe her expression. ‘So I now meet your approval as a respectful husband,’ Alex noted. ‘And as for the rest?’
Elise frowned, seeking a way to inoffensively convey she knew he’d be unfaithful. And why should he not spend his nights with a mistress he’d chosen rather than a wife foisted on to him by cruel fate? And as for love—did he love Celia Chase and had he intended to marry her before this calamity put paid to his hopes for the future? Aware he was awaiting her reply, she murmured, ‘I’m sure you can guess at that.’
‘I’d sooner you said what you mean,’ Alex harshly demanded.
‘I think, sir, you know very well what I mean!’ Elise quietly exploded, exasperated at his persistence in playing this cat and mouse game. ‘If a man has a mistress and little objection to committing adultery, pray tell me how his marriage might flourish in those circumstances.’
‘I assure you many do.’
‘But mine would not,’ Elise snapped. From his muted amusement she deduced he found her attitude deplorably gauche.
Of course, she was aware that in the rarefied echelons of polite society many marriages endured despite the mercenary method behind the pairing. For such people assets and pedigree were priorities, not a vulgar prerequisite for love and affection between bride and groom. Elise knew she would never have the sophistication to live that way; neither would she want to.
‘You live in a separate world to me and have been reared with different ideas,’ she stated, striving to control her temper. ‘I would not expect you to understand my silly sentimentality any more than I understand your lack of it.’ Elise tore her eyes away from a dark glittering gaze.
‘My parents were devoted to one another and I was glad to have been raised in a harmonious household.’ Alex crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his face to study his dusty Hessian boots. ‘I’m unsure why you imagine you know better than I what I expect from a wife and a marriage.’
It was a subdued set down, nevertheless Elise felt her face burning with mortification. He couldn’t have made it plainer he thought her unfit to pontificate, given her background. Her mother had run off with her lover—his bachelor uncle—then when that liaison was over had transferred her affection elsewhere. Her father had been caught embezzling, so enslaved was he by his fickle wife. In contrast to her own, his parents seemed paragons of virtue, his childhood, blissful. She knew he’d not concocted for her benefit the story about his upbringing. It was the simple truth and she humbly regretted having spoken out of turn.
‘Don’t condemn me as a hypocrite because of my parents’ failings.’ Her words, though strongly spoken, held a hint of plea. ‘It is precisely because they were so miserable that I crave something else for myself.’ She sank small pearly teeth into her quivering lower lip to still it. ‘Thank you for your proposal, but I cannot accept.’ She twisted away from him and nervously plunged a hand into her pocket, wishing he would say something conciliatory, too, so they might at least part on civil terms. All she heard was a low muttered oath and whether directed at himself or her she was uncertain.
Suddenly her fingers fluttered against the letter in her pocket and she pulled it out, pivoting to face him. ‘I have today received a note from my friend Verity. My father also got one from his sister Dolly.’ Her eyes widened on Alex as she realised she might hold in her hand the awful proof that Whittiker had already set the rumour mill grinding. Because of their heated exchange she’d omitted to mention it immediately. ‘The doctor turned up before we had time to read our letters. My father left his on his desk...but if both bear bad tidings...’ Her shaking fingers broke the seal and she forced herself to read her friend’s few neat paragraphs.
Chapter Sixteen
‘Oh...it is good news!’
Elise’s spontaneous sunny smile caused Alex to quizzically raise thick black brows.
‘There is no mention of any scandal.’ Elise suppressed an unladylike urge to whoop with relief. Her animated features lowered and she again scanned the script. ‘Verity has let me know that Jago Clemence has proposed to her and she has accepted. He is going to speak to her father this week on Friday.’
‘That’s good...’
From beneath long curly lashes Elise flicked a look at the owner of that drawling voice. But she wouldn’t allow his idle mockery to dilute her happiness for her friend.
‘Yes...indeed, it is good.’ Elise slipped the note again out of sight. ‘I think it is high time I introduced you to my father before he discovers you have been in his house some while. Then I insist you have some refreshment before you leave. I shall ask our housekeeper Mrs Francis to fetch you some.’
Alex caught at a soft arm as she would have hurried past towards the door. Slowly, deliberately he drew her back so she stood before him.
‘Is there someone living locally you are fond of?’
‘Someone?’ Elise selected a word to echo back at him, her confusion genuine.
‘An admirer,’ Alex clipped out. ‘I realise you accompanied your sister to London with the
intention of finding her a husband rather than one for yourself.’ He looked at the lone youth who remained by the curricle. ‘Have you a sweetheart?’
Her eyes followed his and alighted on Danny, a well-built fellow, stationed beyond the front hedge. He was patting the flanks of an ebony thoroughbred harnessed to a sleek low carriage. Nice as Danny was, he was only about seventeen and Elise certainly didn’t consider him a possible mate; she felt rather piqued that Alex appeared to. ‘He is the blacksmith’s son. His name is Danny...and if you are asking if he is my beau, the answer is no.’
‘I didn’t suspect he might be. He is somewhat unsuitable for a start.’
‘He might be an apprentice smith, but he is a good lad. I like him,’ Elise said stubbornly.
‘But somewhat younger than you, I’d guess.’
Elise darted him a sparking look. She had no wish to be reminded by anybody, least of all him, that she and her sister were considered past their marriageable prime.
She pushed away such pettiness. The viscount had mentioned the fount from which all their problems had sprung: Beatrice’s determination to go to London to find a husband. That in turn brought to mind the hazardous method her sister had used to attract suitors. Mr Best must take his share of the blame for the disastrous consequences of that clandestine meeting at Vauxhall, but it had been Lady Lonesome who’d started it all. Inwardly Elise cringed. She supposed she should be grateful he was too gentlemanly to fling that fact in her face.
With an amount of guilt Elise realised that since they’d arrived home she’d been too anxious over her own predicament to give much thought to Beatrice’s disappointment over Hugh. Yet, oddly, she no longer regretted being a part of the drama, or of meeting Alex Blackthorne despite the heartache that fateful episode was sure to bring. But she did very much wish that something good for Beatrice had come out of taking such risks.
‘How is Hugh? Has he sent word to Beatrice? I’m sure, in a moment when we join the others, she will ask you about him.’
‘I’ve hardly seen him, but believe he is now quite friendly with the Chapmans and visits the family since Whittiker stopped bothering them.’
‘Did Hugh know you were coming here?’
‘I imagine he heard from his Aunt Edith that Dolly Pearson had provided me with your address in Hertfordshire.
‘I see,’ Elise said quietly. And she did see. Hugh was not missing Beatrice as much as a broken-hearted man should.
She surfaced from her depressing conclusion to become conscious of him watching her, but not as before when intelligently assessing her reactions during their heated exchange. A polite squabble had not increased the tension between them, making his jaw tauten and the depths of his narrowed eyes appear as if burnished by a smoky fire.
He still desired her, she realised, an ache beneath her ribs stealing her breath, and might be tempted to reach out and touch her...
She stumbled back a pace towards the door. If he again sent her into that blissful state where she clung to him, wanting his kisses and caresses never to stop, she would beg him to marry her. And where must such a marriage ultimately lead, based as it was on cruel necessity tempered with his lust and her love? In less than a year she would be a bitter, jealous wife, wondering where her absent spouse was...and whose bed he shared, during long lonely nights. She might end like her father, obsessed by someone who eventually would choose to stay away rather than live with the oppression of hypocrisy and deceit.
‘You must come and have some tea.’ Elise whipped towards the exit.
‘Ah...there you are, miss; your father has sent me to look for you before the brew gets stewed. I’ve already brought a fresh pot, but that’s going cold...’ Betty Francis’s voice faded as, over Elise’s shoulder, she spotted the young woman had company. She gawped at the sight of an imposing gentleman standing at his ease by the mantel. The housekeeper could see from Elise’s face that something was amiss and her lips formed a knot. She might only be an employee, but she’d been around Mr Dewey’s daughters since they were knee high and believed she had a right to protect them from anything, or anyone, who might do them harm.
‘I...we...were coming along to the parlour,’ Elise said in a rush. ‘Viscount Blackthorne has just arrived from London and will have some tea as well. Would you make a fresh pot, please, Mrs Francis, and bring more biscuits, too?’
The housekeeper was unable to immediately close her dropped jaw to answer. Young Dr Burnett and elderly Squire Thaddon were what passed for gentry in the locality and Betty tended to like what she knew and distrust the rest.
She’d noticed straight away that he was Quality...but a viscount? Proper aristocracy were not much in evidence in these parts until later in the year when they arrived in great processions and took up residence in the halls and manors nestling in lush Hertfordshire valleys. The routs and parties that went on through the autumn and winter months brought plenty of work for local people as guests arrived from far and wide to stay at the big houses. Then come spring they were all gone back to town to enjoy the London frivolities while the locals took a breather and pinched pennies for lack of employment.
Mrs Francis gave Alex Blackthorne’s tall broad physique and darkly handsome face a sidelong look. ‘I’ll put the kettle on again, then, and get out the biscuit box,’ she announced, turning on her heel.
* * *
‘I do recall your family.’ Walter Dewey took his spectacles from the arm of the chair and put them on, giving Alex a long, calculating look. ‘I believe your mother was originally from Scotland and had a brother.’
‘Viscount Blackthorne is a friend of Hugh Kendrick’s,’ Elise quickly interposed. ‘I mentioned to you that we met that gentleman in town, Papa.’
‘I recognise the name,’ Walter confirmed. ‘I recall he paid undue attention to your sister.’
‘Hugh is the nephew of one of Aunt Dolly’s neighbours.’ Elise hoped to placate her father with a mention of his favourite relative. ‘Edith Vickers moved from Mayfair to Hammersmith and has become good friends with your sister. Aunt Dolly likes Hugh.’
Elise flicked a sympathetic glance at Alex, a poignant glow enveloping her as his subtle smile thanked her for attempting to defuse the situation. It was obvious from her father’s prickliness that he’d not forgotten the Blackthorne family ties and knew the viscount’s maternal uncle had once been his detested enemy. She wondered if repayment of the monetary debt owed by Thomas Venner might improve her father’s mood. Her eyes strayed to Alex’s face, merging with his questioning long-lashed gaze. She answered him with a small nod. Now the memory of his old foe had lodged in her father’s mind it would be a missed opportunity if Alex did not raise the matter and offer to repay what Thomas owed.
‘I’m pleased to meet you, sir.’ Having judged it a timely moment for formalities, Alex stepped forwards, extending a hand.
Walter hesitated momentarily before gripping the chair arms to lever himself upright. The upholstery continued to support him while he held out five thin, freckled fingers to be firmly shaken. The ritual over, he sagged back on to his seat.
‘Please do sit down, Lord Blackthorne.’ Elise indicated a chair close to the unlit hearth. ‘Where is Bea?’ she asked her father cheerily. ‘Surely Dr Burnett has not already left.’
‘They have gone together into the garden to look for feverfew and borage.’
Elise cast a startled glance her father’s way as she perched on the edge of the sofa, hoping Mrs Francis would bring the refreshment and create a diversion to lighten the atmosphere.
‘The doctor is a fellow who knows all about potions and lotions, you see,’ Walter explained, peering over his spectacle rims at the viscount. ‘My daughter Beatrice mentioned we have a physic garden and Colin expressed an interest in taking a look at our stock of plants. Feverfew and borage are what he is after, by all accounts, since the slugs
and rabbits made a mess of his.’ He peered lengthily at his younger daughter before again removing his spectacles and folding them neatly. ‘Why do you not take your guest for a stroll and join them outside?’
‘Perhaps in a moment we will; Betty is bringing us a fresh pot of tea, Papa... Ah...it has arrived.’ Elise’s grateful smile welcomed into the room the housekeeper bearing a tray.
Elise distributed the cups once the servant had poured and then placed a plate of raisin gingerbread on a table close to the viscount and sweetly urged him to help himself.
‘I was sorry to hear of your father’s demise,’ Walter suddenly said before biting into a finger of cake.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Alex graciously dipped his raven head.
‘He was a good man...astute. I found him to be a fine judge of character,’ Walter added darkly before rattling his cup back on to its saucer.
A corner of Alex’s mouth twitched. He knew very well what lay behind the praise: his late father had openly loathed his brother-in-law and so had Walter Dewey.
‘And how is your mother? Is she well?’
‘I saw her just yesterday and she was a picture of health,’ Alex truthfully replied.
‘They were happy together, everybody said so...’ Walter mumbled, more to himself.
Elise quickly finished her tea and stood up. She glanced at Alex, hoping he would understand the significance in her removing herself. She wanted to provide him with an opportunity to talk privately to her father about Thomas Venner’s debt.
‘I think I recall where the feverfew is to be found outside. It isn’t in the physic garden at all, but up by the bonfire site. I shall show Bea and the doctor where to look while you finish your tea.’
‘Your sister might not appreciate your help,’ Walter remarked with the faintest of smiles.