The Madcap Marriage

by Allison Lane

  A servant entered as they were washing up in the Blue Boar’s private parlor.

  “Tessa!” gasped Helen.

  “Miss Helen!” Tessa’s tray wobbled, spilling tea and ale.

  Rafe rescued it.

  Helen hugged Tessa. “My God! Are you all right? What are you doing here? I’ve been so worried about you. Steven swore you’d taken a better post, but I knew you’d never leave without a word.”

  “I take it you know each other.” Rafe leaned against the mantel, arms crossed.

  Helen jumped. “Of course. Tessa was my maid – one of the servants Steven turned off. Tessa, my husband, Mr. Thomas.” The name rolled easily off her tongue.

  “Married! I hadn’t heard.”

  “We wed last week. But why are you here? Surely with your training you could do better than serve at an inn.” And not a very good inn at that. They had left the turnpike several miles earlier.

  “I’m lucky to have this post, Miss Helen,” admitted Tessa. Her eyes flattened. “Without a reference, I mean. Sir Steven vowed he’d have me up for theft if I went near another lady. I didn’t steal nothing, sir!” She appealed to Rafe.

  “Of course you didn’t,” he agreed. “We know he turned you off because you remained loyal to your mistress.”

  Helen nodded. “Frankly, I need you back, Tessa. I have no maid at all just now.”

  “Really?” Hope lit her eyes.

  “Of course. You are a very good maid. And you can hardly enjoy working here.”

  “No, ma’am. It’s a rough place and not what I’m used to. Serving’s the least of what they expect of me.”

  “That’s over now,” said Rafe soothingly. “You can be sure I’ll hold Sir Steven accountable for what you’ve suffered.”

  “Th-thank you, sir.” Tessa burst into tears, turning toward the corner to hide her emotion.

  Helen laid a hand on Rafe’s arm. “You mean she had to—” Her whisper died before she could put her fears into words.

  He nodded, pulling her close. “Don’t question her. A girl without family or position has no other choice if she wants to survive. And she’s pretty enough to draw interest. With time, she will put it behind her, but she will be fragile for a while.”

  Helen agreed. Females were helpless without men to protect them. Even her own supposedly secure position hadn’t kept Dudley from trying to assault her. But Rafe’s tolerance was a surprise. She hadn’t expected compassion from a rake. It was one way he differed from Alex, who had never noticed servants, let alone imbued them with humanity.

  She met Rafe’s gaze. “How could Steven turn her off, knowing he was condemning her?”

  “I doubt he wasted a moment’s thought on her – which is yet another insult for which he must atone. The upper classes have many privileges, but they also have responsibilities. One is to care for those dependent on them.” Tessa was wiping away the last tears with her apron, so he returned to business. “Where is your room? I’ll collect your things.”

  “Leave them,” she said, sniffing. “There is nothing here I value. McGee will know if you go upstairs. He won’t let me leave without a fuss.”

  “In that case, we’d best depart. Wrap up the food, Helen. We’ll eat in the carriage.”

  “Here,” said Helen, settling her shawl around Tessa’s shoulders to cover her ragged gown. “And take my bonnet. Go with Mr. Thomas. I’ll follow with our dinner.”

  * * * *

  “Have you heard anything about Audley since you left?” Helen asked Tessa half an hour later, seeking a diversion to occupy her mind. Rafe had shared her seat since the Blue Boar, sending sparks along her nerves whenever a bump brushed him against her. The corner of her mind that wanted more was already whispering that Rafe was not like other men. She should trust him and seduce him. Yet the corner still reeling from Alex’s betrayal countered that Rafe had too many secrets and would use her to achieve goals that didn’t include her.

  “A little.” Tessa’s response made Helen jump, for her thoughts had moved far afield. “Rose’s parents live near the Blue Boar, you might recall. She visits them on her days off. We met twice. She swore you were betrothed to Mr. St. James.”

  “No, though Sir Steven wished it. He wants Audley.”

  “Everyone believes he owns it,” said Tessa. “I tried to set them straight, but McGee accused me of putting on airs. I needed the post. Even at its worst, the Blue Boar is better than the workhouse.”

  “Why would people believe Steven’s claims?” Rafe asked Helen. “Surely they know about your father’s will.”

  A good question, she conceded. Inheritance news made prime gossip, especially when a will left everything to a daughter. Not that it would have surprised anyone. Her father had described his intentions for years.

  “Damn,” she murmured, suddenly sick.

  “What?”

  “There was no formal will reading. Mama’s collapse threw everyone into a tizzy. The doctor was sure she would die any minute. When Mr. Fielding’s clerk arrived – Mr. Fielding was too ill to travel – we spoke privately at her bedside. I told him to pay out Papa’s bequests to the servants. Everything else was in the trust and required no immediate action. But within the week, Steven replaced everyone who had known Papa’s intentions. Probate was in London.”

  “So no one actually heard his words.” Rafe frowned.

  “Exactly. How could I have been so stupid!”

  Rafe squeezed her hand. “Sir Steven claims that Audley is his?” he asked Tessa.

  “Yes, sir. And he has run it for so long that no one questions his right. He explained that Sir Arthur had arranged Miss Helen’s marriage to Mr. St. James to assure her security.”

  “That would prevent questions,” conceded Helen. Many neighbors would have applauded his apparent change of heart. They had paid lip service to her authority while her father lived, but she’d known she would face battles once he was gone. In her concern for her mother, she’d forgotten that. “What else has Sir Steven been doing?”

  “He doubled the rents, then turned off old Quigley when he couldn’t pay.”

  “Oh, no!” Helen stared. “Are you sure? The books show no increase.”

  “Positive. Quigley stopped at the Blue Boar on his way to his cousin’s house in Devonshire. That must be six months ago now. He said others will have to leave, too, unless the crops bring in more than usual this year.”

  Helen clenched her fists. Steven must have kept two ledgers, setting up to cheat Dudley.

  “That’s all I know about it,” said Tessa. “Quigley was that upset. He could barely talk.”

  “We have to make sure he’s all right,” Helen murmured.

  Rafe nodded, covering her hand in a gesture of comfort.

  * * * *

  Rafe stared as Audley Court loomed against the setting sun. Even Helen’s description hadn’t done it justice. His fears roared back, choking him.

  The drive circled the building – its current entrance was opposite the gates – winding through an elaborate park of open vistas, woodland, lake, and formal gardens. They passed the original Tudor manor, whose crenellated walls remembered medieval unrest while large windows anticipated more peaceful times. The Elizabethan wing dropped crenellation for ornate stone latticework, and boasted even larger windows with diamond-shaped panes. But the Palladian wing was breathtaking. A double sweep of steps cradling an ornate fountain led to an elaborate columned portico. Pilasters framed beautifully proportioned windows topped by elaborate pediments. Intricate cornices crowned warm stone walls.

  Pure elegance.

  And it belonged to Helen.

  He stiffened his spine. They needed to address her wealth, and soon. His mother’s fortune had been a festering sore between her and Hillcrest. He felt as though he were walking on eggs trying to solicit loyalty while avoiding any mention of her inheritance. It couldn’t last.

  A servant opened the carriage door as it rolled to a stop. “Miss Helen!” he exclaimed, s
miling in delight. At least someone seemed genuinely pleased to see her.

  “Robert. Is Sir Steven or Mr. St. James in residence?”

  “No, ma’am. Nor are they expected.”

  “Excellent. They must never again be admitted. See that the trunks are taken upstairs. Mr. Thomas will use the green bedchamber next to mine.”

  Robert circled the fountain and disappeared through the servants’ door. Two footman emerged a moment later and headed for the baggage carriage.

  Rafe followed Helen up the sweeping staircase, catching his breath when they entered a double-height marble entrance hall. Pilasters marched down either side, framing alcoves displaying oversized Greek statues. Columns across the end drew the eye to a split staircase leading to the next floor. Scenes from the Greek classics covered the ceiling.

  “There you are, Nalley,” said Helen to a nondescript man in a wrinkled coat standing near the stairs. “This is my husband, Mr. Thomas. Our butler, my dear.”

  “Husband?” Shock twisted Nalley’s face. “He c-can’t be. You are b-betrothed to Mr. St. James.”

  “Nalley!” She pinned him with a frigid gaze. “You are a victim of lies. There was no betrothal. I own Audley Court. My uncle and cousin took advantage of Mother’s illness to insinuate themselves into the household, but they have no rights here.”

  “But—”

  “If you wish, we can read Papa’s will. There is a copy in the archives.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Thomas.”

  Rafe wondered. More than shock had lit those dark eyes. Was it fury? Why?

  “Good,” said Helen. “Now that you know the truth, I will expect your loyalty. If either Sir Steven or Mr. St. James returns, you will deny them entrance.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Summon the staff. They must meet their new master.”

  “Of course.” But Nalley’s eyes grew darker with each command.

  Rafe suspected they would need a new butler.

  He watched the thirty indoor servants closely as Helen introduced him. Signs of laxity were everywhere – stained aprons, smudged liveries, soot-stained hands. Attitudes ran from pleasure through wariness to open hostility.

  “The staff will be a problem,” he said when Helen showed him to his room, an elegant guest chamber larger than the master’s room at Hillcrest.

  “I know. Even those who have been here for years are confused. I never dreamed that Steven might tell people he owned Audley. No wonder they turned against me so quickly.”

  “Where are the archives? I’d like to see Sir Arthur’s will.”

  “The muniments room. You don’t think—”

  “I think we need proof of your claims,” he said, pulling her close. “Victims of lies will be slow to believe a new story.”

  She nodded.

  “I wish we could turn everyone off.” His hand stroked her back.

  “Impossible.” She glared. “Where would we find replacements? This isn’t London. The next hiring fair isn’t until June. Besides, how can we turn off servants who have done nothing wrong? Many of them were born on the estate. I refuse to act like Steven.”

  “I wasn’t recommending such a course. I was merely contemplating the danger of sharing a roof with so many potential enemies. Nalley isn’t the only one disgruntled by our arrival. Vince and Charlie look more like bully boys than footmen. And Mrs. Lakes is the most disapproving woman I’ve ever seen. She makes Hillcrest seem congenial.”

  Helen swept her hand across the mantel, frowning when dust smudged her glove. “She is not overly competent, either,” she concurred. “Perhaps Tessa can discover if she is causing trouble among the maids. I agree about Vince and Charlie, but if we turn them off arbitrarily, what’s to stop them from attacking the tenants or slipping back to murder us in our beds? It would be better to catch them red-handed, so they have no complaint.”

  Rafe shivered. “In the meantime, we must be careful. It will be days, if not longer, before the last of Steven’s lackeys shows his colors.”

  Helen nodded, then headed for her own room.

  What the devil was he doing here? Rafe wondered as he watched the sunset fade beyond the formal gardens. Audley Court was intimidating. Despite living in substandard rooms for a decade, he had never felt as insignificant as when he’d stood in Audley’s entrance hall. It didn’t matter that a viscount’s heir ranked higher than Sir Arthur and much higher than the baronet’s daughter. He didn’t belong.

  Yet he had no choice but to remain, for abandoning Helen was impossible.

  He shivered, fearing he was becoming attached. But surely it was only lust. Anything more would leave him vulnerable. Not that he could further his campaign tonight. Seduction must wait – a painful decision, for he’d watched the heat grow in her eyes all day, helped by suggestive gestures and pointed glances at her lips, her breasts, her…

  He fought his lust into submission. Their immediate problem was safety. Nalley’s belligerence made standing guard essential, despite his aching ribs. He and Jameson would alternate watches, but he would have to sleep when not on guard.

  If only they could use the master suite. It was easier to defend than the guest rooms, but it had not been cleaned after Helen’s parents’ deaths.

  eleThis was a bad time to have servants they couldn’t trust.

  * * * *

  Helen dismissed Tessa, then stared into the grate while she tried to order her thoughts. Tessa had been agog to find her married – they reverted to friendship when alone – and had demanded every detail.

  “So you can see my problem,” Helen had said after describing the last week. “I’m terrified that he will use his sexual expertise to make me sign over my trust.”

  “Nonsense!” Tessa set the brush down and started braiding Helen’s hair. “I watched him in the carriage. He wants you, I agree. But you, not your fortune.”

  “That’s his rivalry with Alex. Each covets what the other has.”

  “No.” Tessa paused, then inhaled deeply. “I’ve seen many men since leaving Audley, Miss Helen. And I’ve learned to read faces – lust, anger, celebration, and more. Mr. Thomas isn’t comfortable, but he is protective, and he wants you very badly. Don’t turn him away.”

  “I won’t,” she’d said, not quite meaning it. She wanted nothing better than a week alone to think before making any decisions.

  Tessa had left then, leaving Helen to brood. Was the girl right?

  It was possible. Tessa had seen much of the sordid side of life before entering service at age sixteen. Now she’d endured more – and survived, which she could only have done by anticipating trouble. So she probably could read faces, even aristocratic ones.

  The admission lightened her heart, though wariness remained. When Rafe joined her tonight, she would listen to his answers and try to believe.

  Chapter Fifteen

  May 27

  The next morning Helen slumped at her dressing table, her head in her hands. Tension throbbed in her temples. Why had Rafe avoided her last night?

  After his many pointed glances in the carriage, she’d expected him to bed her – had welcomed the idea. Her emotions had been so chaotic in the past week that she needed to soothe at least some of them. Lust was a good place to start. Perhaps relieving it would clear her head. So she’d prepared to meet Rafe.

  Needlessly.

  He’d not even stopped to bid her good night. When she’d finally found the courage to go to him, she’d found his room empty.

  It was mortifying to realize that she’d needed more than intimacy from him. The staff’s cold suspicion and her fear that Steven might appear at any moment left her craving Rafe’s warmth. But he’d offered nothing. What was he up to now?

  “I knew your head was bad,” exclaimed Tessa from the doorway. “You can’t hide pain from me. Here.” She produced headache powders and a pot of tea.

  “Thank you, Tessa.” It was stupid to hide her pain. As soon as their horses were ready, she and R
afe would call on the tenants. A pounding head would make the excursion unbearable.

  She closed her eyes, sighing as Tessa massaged her temples. “Did you learn anything new from the staff?” she murmured.

  “Not as much as I’d hoped. Mr. Nalley and Mrs. Lakes insist I was turned off for theft. The staff follows their lead.”

  Helen cursed under her breath.

  “But I learned some’at from Rose.” Tessa expanded her massage to the forehead.

  “What?”

  “No matter what you say, Mr. Nalley and Mrs. Lakes consider Sir Steven their master – you’ll have to replace both of them, like as not. Sir Steven vowed vengeance on anyone who opposed his orders, so no one dares speak up in your favor. He won’t toss troublemakers out without a reference this time. There’ll be heads broke.”

  Helen and Rafe had discussed the staff problem over breakfast – it had already been apparent that service would be grudging while Nalley remained. But turning off those acting from fear of Nalley or Steven was unfair.

  In the end, they’d sent Robert to London for copies of the will and the trust documents – the estate’s copies had disappeared. Robert had served as underbutler for several years and would replace Nalley when he returned, but she hoped the rest of the staff would settle once they saw the evidence for themselves.

  In the meantime, they would have to live with tepid water, slow service, and other annoyances. But at least she and Rafe had managed the discussion with no hint of argument, which boded well for the future.

  “There’s more,” continued Tessa. “Sir Steven told the neighbors that Sir Arthur came to his senses last year and apologized for the childish dispute that had caused their rift. He changed his will and summoned Sir Steven to Audley, but died before he arrived.”

  “That’s preposterous!” The outburst sent knives slicing through her head. “Father was too weak those last months to write, and his mind barely functioned. Half the time he didn’t recognize anyone. There was no way he could have corresponded with Steven. Nor would he have tried.”