Seduced by the Dandy Lion

by Suzanne Quill

  Her gaze met his once again. What should she say? Where should they start? How could they start anew now?

  ~ ~ ~

  “You look well, Marianne. I see my absence has caused you little if any distress.” He thought she looked stunning, in fact. No longer the slightly plump, bullied girl he had left behind when he had started his unplanned journey around the world. He had so much to tell her. But he hardly knew her. He had never had the chance to know her. His ineptitude on their one and only night together had been a regret he’d borne for close to four very long and eventful years. How must she have felt when he’d disappeared?

  He fingered the miniature he kept in his left-hand pocket.

  But there were other things he had to discuss for now. “I see you’ve made yourself at home in my town house.”

  Marianne pulled a handkerchief from her pocket but she didn’t wring it, she only dabbed at each eye in turn, then returned it to its place. “Your father, contrary to what he had said, made it clear within days of your leaving that I was not welcome in his house. I believe he felt me too much below his station. So he planted me here and told me I should prepare it for your return. And so you find it, refurbished and redecorated to the best of my abilities. I hope you find it to your liking.”

  “We can discuss the decorating at a later time.” Drew picked some imaginary lint off his sleeve. “Right now I’d like to discuss my father. I stopped at the house in Mayfair. It seems he passed on to his maker almost three months ago. Has no one tried to find me to let me know?”

  “My lord.” Marianne’s voice rang with the strength of steel. “We’ve done nothing but try to find you since you went missing. I’ve spent a small fortune on runners who have traveled the world looking for you or any word of you. All have come back empty of evidence you still existed.”

  “So you spent your dowry on runners and furnishings? What of my debts, those of the estate?”

  “Your debts were paid immediately. Regardless of your absence, all those whom you owed were paid outright. All of your estates are in full financial order. I invested what remained of my dowry after the debts and redecorating and, in point of fact, there is more to my dowry now than when you deserted me. Despite your father’s efforts to the contrary.”

  “My father? What has-had he got to do with it?”

  “He wanted my dowry turned over to him. He wanted full access to the funds. But my father and I consulted a small army of solicitors and found me to be fully within my rights to retain the monies until your return. I refused to sign the paperwork the late earl tried to force upon me.”

  Drew started to pace the floor. So in my absence, Father wanted to control the dowry. To use it as he saw fit? That would be just like him. Evidently, my wife, more intelligent than he had thought from the little he knew of her when I left, had prevented her dowry from going the way the rest of the family fortunes had, to harebrained investment schemes from swindlers who knew an easy mark when they came upon him. Well, thank you for that.

  Drew settled at the window, leaning against the frame, gazing out onto the gardens barely showing spring growth. The Season would be starting soon. Would it matter to her? To him?

  “I worried much that father would decimate your dowry. I had no time, no way to let you know exactly how our family had ended up in such financial disarray that I had to marry for money.”

  He heard a slight gasp from behind, evidently still sensitive to the subject. But then, so was he.

  He turned back to the room. “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be so thoughtless.”

  “No matter.” Marianne waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s the truth and we both know it. I pledged my loyalty to you, not to your father. The dowry belonged to you to disburse, so I merely did what I could while you were gone.”

  The door burst open once again, and a girl, little more than a toddler, with strawberry-colored hair festooned with a large pink bow that coordinated with her dress and pinafore rushed into the room. “Mama, mama, kitty, kitty. Keep her, please?”

  In seconds, she climbed into Marianne’s lap sharing the feline that curled sleepily in the child’s arms.

  So loyalty only went so far with his wife. She had evidently lost no time in using her newfound freedom fully. “What have we here? A child in the household. How surprising is that?”

  Drew strode from the window to inspect the sprite and discern who might be her father.

  Marianne stroked the kitten while she hugged her daughter to her. “My little love, I have a big surprise for you. Look who is here. It’s your papa.”

  Drew could not believe his wife would try to pass this bastard off as his own. There was no likelihood whatsoever the child would be his. One night of dutiful lovemaking, no, really it was just plain sex and poorly executed sex at that, did not a child make. About to remonstrate on the topic, the little tyke swiveled around on her mother’s lap and looked up, wide-eyed.

  Two bright sapphire-hued eyes looked into his. Except for her hair color, the toddler mirrored the image of the miniature his mother had made of him as a child.

  “Papa!” She screamed as she jumped off Marianne’s lap, dumped the kitten, now mewling from being disturbed, and ran to him. When she held up her arms and said, “Uppy, uppy,” Drew felt his heart melt and break at the same moment. He had missed the first three years of his daughter’s life and the entire pregnancy and confinement of his wife.

  He swooped down to pick the child up. As he stood again, Marianne said, “My lord, this is your daughter, Andrea. She welcomes you home and has been waiting patiently for your return.”

  His gaze met hers across the room. He knew his eyes brimmed with tears and he could see that Marianne’s, too, were full.

  What had this woman been through in all these years?

  The poignant moment shattered as a rap came on the door before it opened. An efficient looking, blandly dressed, middle-aged matron came in.

  “I’m so sorry, my lady. Andrea was so excited about the kitten she escaped in the middle of our gardening session. My hands were in the dirt so I had to stop by the kitchens to wash them before I could retrieve her.”

  “She’s just fine, Jane. Come in and meet his lordship, the Earl of Reignsfield. He’s just returned from his journey.”

  The governess made the appropriate obeisance. “My lord, shall I take her off and clean her up for you?”

  Drew then noticed the little bits of dirt and greenery clinging to the little girl’s pinafore. “Yes, Jane. I’ll look in on her later.” He chucked his newly discovered daughter under her chin. “Be a good lass now, Andrea, and I’ll be up to see you in a bit.” He bussed her cheek and handed her off to the nurse, then watched in wonderment as they left the room.

  His heart twisted yet again as the little one waved over her keeper’s shoulder. “Bye, bye, Papa.”

  Before the door could be closed, Blevins swept in with the refreshed tea tray and set it before Marianne. Then, just as quickly, he swept back out of the room with little more than a miniscule bow.

  Blevins knew this was no time for commentary.

  Drew’s attention returned to his wife sitting quietly on the settee stroking the kitten’s back, seemingly mesmerized by its purring.

  “Marianne, I had no way of knowing.” He started to approach her.

  Marianne rose from her seat cuddling the kitten against her chest. “There is much that has happened here in your absence, my lord,” she said coolly. “I will share as much as possible as quickly as I can. But for now it seems we have acquired a new family member. I will take the kitten to the kitchen for some milk. Then I must retire for some rest. This afternoon has been much too daunting by half.”

  “Wait, please, wait a moment if you will. I brought you something back from the Orient.” Drew reached into his right
pocket and pulled out the deep burgundy silk bag he had carried with him for over a year. Satin on the outside, velvet within, he handed it to his wife.

  Marianne reseated herself on the settee wide-eyed with incredulity. Setting the kitten beside her, she leaned forward to accept the gift. Tenuously she spread the folds of the satin and reached within. Pulling out a long strand of pearls and a ruby pendant encircled with diamonds, she looked up at him, her pale blue eyes filled with awe as well as appreciation for a gift so very fine. “For me?” she gasped. “You thought of me all this time?”

  “You are my wife. Of course I thought of you.” Truth be told, he’d done almost nothing but think of her while he had been gone. Evidently, he even dreamed about her and called out her name at night as some of the other sailors teased him incessantly about it. Despite their arranged marriage and brief courtship, she had been his anchor to home and family even having left knowing little about her. For the first two years, she had been the reason he stayed away after the disaster of their wedding night, believing life would be better for her without him. Then, after months studying with the Order of the Crimson Lotus, she became the reason he returned to see if that frisson, that awareness he had felt all those years ago held the promise he learned about while at the monastery.

  Marianne uncoiled the pearls, the richest, most beautiful he could find during his travels.

  “There are earrings in the pouch also,” he said quietly.

  She looked into its depths and retrieved a pair of matching ruby and diamond earbobs designed to accompany the necklace. She looked up at him, her face flushed. “Thank you, thank you, my lord. You are very kind and most generous.” She put the pearls away with great care, then gathered up the kitten. “I . . . I don’t know what else to say.” She rose to her feet. “I am very grateful. But I am most tired. I must go . . . I . . .” Seemingly overcome with emotion and confusion, she gave a pert curtsy. “Please help yourself to tea. And I see Cook has added some scones. They were freshly made with rhubarb this morning. Good day, my lord. And, welcome home.” She sailed from the room holding the purse of pearls gently in one hand and clutching the purring kitten as if her life depended on it in the other.

  Chapter 8

  Deserted by all, Drew eschewed the tea and scones to make his way to the library, hoping for a drink with a little more puissance. Too restless to go lie down. Too stunned by the revelation of his wife and who she had become in his absence. And totally thunderstruck by the revelation of their daughter. He needed to do something distracting, something productive . . . so, a trip to look at the ledgers, if he could even find them, would at least pass a little time and, just maybe, restore his equilibrium.

  To his surprise, this room remained much as he’d left it. True, the chairs had been reupholstered and the draperies had been replaced but the bookshelves, desk, and tables had not changed. Even the sideboard remained in place, holding a silver tray with crystal glasses and a decanter of amber liquid.

  He hoped it still held some stiff French brandy. He certainly could use a glass right now.

  He mulled over his return to London.

  What had he expected by catching his wife by surprise? He had expected her to be living with his father. After all, it should have been his father’s duty to look after his bride, not to mention the miracle child that came from their infamous wedding night. His father would then have known if anything untoward had happened in Marianne’s life.

  Did she gamble? Did she drink too much? Was there a lover? A smart man knew how to avoid complications like a bastard. He certainly knew how to keep his own life simple.

  Or, at least, he used to.

  But then, his father had never inconvenienced himself for someone, anyone, else. Particularly someone he would consider to be so much below his station such as a merchant’s daughter. His father had made it clear, money was the sole purpose of the marriage. The ‘chit,’ as the earl had called his betrothed at the time, needn’t be bothered with at all.

  Throwing Marianne out to let her live by her own devices had probably extinguished any possibility of access to her dowry. Maybe if his father had thought longer term than his usual habit and kept her in Mayfair, Marianne might have relinquished control of the funds.

  But then, maybe not. He expected his wife to be much smarter than most people would ever credit her.

  As he watched the richly colored liquor flow into a crystal glass, he took a few deep, calming breaths. This day probably hadn’t gone as badly as it could have. After all, he had given no notice of his return. No, he had returned like the prodigal son. Only now, with his father gone, he was no longer the son but the master of whatever mess his sire had left behind.

  He walked over to the desk and settled into the leather chair, relieved to see the object he hoped to review laying in the center of the blotter.

  He opened the leather-bound tome to pages and pages of neatly entered numbers. At the front of the book, the dates of the entered year were written. Evidently every year received its own ledger.

  As he studied the entries, he discovered three things. First, his wife kept thoroughly detailed records. Second, not only were all of his holdings accounted for, they were all accruing and not losing income. Finally, the last pages held new additions that included all of the holdings he gained upon the death of his father, the only entries showing some negative numbers.

  Whatever he had expected, it had not been this. His interests had been totally controlled and protected by his wife while he’d been gone.

  He owed her a great deal. The value of the rubies, diamonds, and pearls would not even scratch the surface. And he doubted he had any way to repay her.

  Would she now want a divorce and the return of her dowry? That would cause quite the scandal in the ton but probably not impossible considering their unusual circumstances. And maybe she had met someone else in the interim. That might make it easier, though all the more embarrassing to all.

  Would she want to live separately, maybe staying in the town house while he moved to the family manor in Mayfair? Based on what he saw in the ledgers, there would be enough money to fund two complete and separate households when he added his fortunes to hers.

  Would she even consider trying to find some common ground to make the marriage work? If only so they could try to produce an heir. Obviously, she was fertile. And he stilled needed a son.

  So much to think about. In truth, as much as he’d thought of his return all these years, he had not been thinking of dealing with all that came with his father’s passing. He had expected his father to be there to berate and belittle him for leaving the way he had, no matter that the choice had not been his, nor had he had much control over the ensuing years.

  Except for the time he had spent in China with The Order of the Crimson Lotus. That had been his choice. And it had delayed his homecoming, as much as a whole year.

  Enough of these thoughts for now. He’d review the other ledgers. Surely they had to be in the library somewhere. Then he would prepare for dinner with his wife.

  ~ ~ ~

  Marianne closed the door of her bedchamber and collapsed against it. She still clutched the satin pouch in her hand, the bag of beautiful rubies and pearls he had brought back to her after all these years.

  How could his return cause her so much anguish? He had to return sometime. But in her heart, she had thought him dead, making her free to go about her life in whatever manner she chose.

  That no longer being the case, she had to reevaluate everything: her life, her daughter's well-being, her relationship with Robert.

  Robert. What would he say? What would he think? He had waited so patiently, looking forward until enough time would pass before she could petition the courts to declare her husband dead. True, they might have needed a few more years, but Robert didn’t seem to mind.

 
; She had to stop thinking about all of this for now. Emotionally exhausted, she rang for Ellen.

  Marianne stood by her dressing table and laid the jewels, still in their satin and velvet bag, purposefully on its surface. These were a profound surprise. And how he looked at her when he had gifted them, as she opened them. The heat in his deep blue eyes. Regret? Longing? Apology? What confusion of feelings must he be experiencing after all these years?

  As if she were waiting, her lady’s maid entered from the dressing room.

  The house must be abuzz with the sudden and inexplicable return of her husband.

  Why had he not advised them of his return? Any proper gentleman would have done so. But, then, he no longer looked the proper gentleman, much less the dandy he had once been. Something about his demeanor made him seem worldly, masterful, self-possessed, almost arrogant.

  She turned to her maid. “Ellen, I’m going to lie down for a while and recuperate. There has just been too much occurring for me to take it all in.” As she headed for the bed, she started to remove her clothing. Ellen came quickly to assist her.

  “Please tell Cook I’ll take dinner in my rooms, and Jane is to dine with Andrea.”

  “Yes, my lady. Will you still be going out this evening? Shall I ready your dress?” Ellen placed another piece of clothing over her arm.

  Marianne paused next to the bed and thought a moment. Climbing up and under the linens, she settled in. “Yes, I believe I will go out. No need to change my plans or the time. Press my dress and arrange all of the appropriate accessories as usual. Let John Coachman know what time I’ll be leaving. An evening out might be just what I need after the events of the day. Thank you. You may go.”