Desperate Measures (Regency Undone)

by Firth, Claire

  She remembered how he had told her he had finished with his mistress because it had seemed disrespectful to her. No-one had ever shown her such consideration before, not even her father of whom she had been so fond. She had been the middle of three children and with her mother dying so young, Isabelle had soon had to grow up.

  She had been distraught when on her father’s death, her older brother, recently married himself, had informed her that he could no longer afford to give her a home. That notion she was sure had come from her new sister who had clearly resented the authority and popularity Isabelle held within the household. A marriage to the Right Honourable Richard Rainham had therefore been arranged - a man thirty five years her senior who could not have been less honourable. For an innocent nineteen year old girl launched into such a dissolute household as Rainham enjoyed, it had been traumatic.

  But now - for the first time ever, she had begun to feel she was establishing her own identity. Guy may be of a cold nature but he accorded her the respect due to her as his wife, and likewise the servants who acknowledged her as their mistress. Even Charles had begun to call her mama within a week of her marriage. She had enjoyed taking over the running of such a beautiful home and Guy, true to his word, did not interfere at all in her arrangements. Even commenting sometimes on the small improvements she had effected. She had a place here at Sheldon Hall and she did not wish to lose it.

  She sat crossed leg on the bed and contemplated her situation. She should have known her growing contentment could not last; should have known her current situation was too good to be true.

  Yet, surely there must be some way to salvage the situation? A compromise with her husband maybe? If she were to explain to him for example the problems she experienced during the sexual act? But no … how embarrassing would that be? She’d been mortified when her first husband had sent her to consult with a doctor and even more mortified when the doctor had examined her and told her that her problems were all anxiety related and that it was tension that was causing her muscles to spasm so that her husband could not enter her. She had tried to relax, she really had but when he’d been so rough like that, trying to force his way into her, it was impossible not to become anxious.

  She’d considered herself very fortunate that her husband’s swellings had never been such that he could manage full entry – something that had fuelled his anger and his violence even more. But she had grown wily, finding other means of satisfying his needs so that he lay spent and exhausted in his bed with no chance at all of reviving himself sufficiently to penetrate her.

  She definitely could not speak of such things with Guy. But perhaps she could be wily again?

  Though she herself took no pleasure from the act, she had been trained well by one of the whores her husband had been particularly fond of. Her name had been Miranda and strange though their relationship had been, Isabelle had sensed a sensitivity in the other woman to her plight. ‘Men are a fool to their tool,’ Miranda had informed her scornfully. ‘If you manage to control that, there are many ways to deflect a man from his original intention if that is your inclination.’

  And it had certainly worked with her husband. Why should Guy be any different? If she could satisfy him with her hands, maybe that would be enough for him also and they could reach an understanding of sorts.

  But how to broach the subject?

  A knock on her door had her calling out for her maid to enter and she looked up from her bed. But it was not her maid, but her husband who calmly walked into her room.

  Immediately the atmosphere became tense. He had never entered her room before and his large frame seemed to dominate the space as he approached and sat down on the bed next to her. Isabelle stiffened, but even though he was barely inches away from her she did not move. Her eyes locked on her hands in her lap. She dared not look at him. She could think of absolutely nothing to say to retrieve the situation, so remained silent. She felt she had said quite enough for one evening.

  Guy had done a lot of thinking downstairs. He had been shocked by the vehemence of her outburst, affronted at first by her insults regarding men and their animalistic tendencies. But then he had realised that her torrent of abuse had not been aimed at him personally but had been based on her obviously traumatic experiences with her first husband. He could not help realising that normally he would have found such an outburst from a female extremely off-putting; confirmation of the hysterical nature of the fairer sex and a timely reminder as to why he wanted never to marry again. But with Isabelle, it surprised him to discover that he had felt anger that she had so obviously been ill used, and he had no doubt at all that should her first husband still be alive, he would be filled with an urge to call him out and make him pay for his atrocities. Yet where to go from here? He would not contemplate another failed marriage, yet there was only one sure way he could prevent an annulment from happening – and it appeared she had no intention of letting that happen.

  He turned to look at her, his manner stiff. ‘It wasn’t my intention to distress you Isabelle. But surely you must have realised that the time would come when I would want to develop our relationship further? When a man and woman marry, it is only natural that they make love.’

  ‘The normal reason for making love is to have children. I assumed when I told you I was unable to conceive and you said you had no desire for more children, that you would realise there was no need for us to be intimate.’

  ‘I’m afraid, for a man at any rate, there is more to the act of making love than simply having children. A man has … needs.’

  ‘I have already told you that I have no objection to you having a mistress. It is quite a common occurrence in many marriages I believe.’

  ‘And I have told you that is not an option for me. My father was never unfaithful to my mother and even when my marriage was collapsing around my ears, I did not take a mistress until our marriage was fully dissolved. I take my marriage vows seriously.’

  Her eyes filled with frustration. ‘But that is ridiculous when your own wife is saying she has no objection.’

  ‘I’m sorry if you think me ridiculous.’

  ‘I did not mean - of course I do not think you ridiculous, Guy. I only meant-’

  Guy sighed. ‘I know what you meant and I feel we are simply going around in circles.’

  ‘Yes, we are.’

  They seemed to have reached an impasse and for a while there was silence, neither of them inclined to take the conversation forward. Then Isabelle took a deep breath, fearing that at any minute he might bring up the option of annulment.

  ‘Perhaps it was unrealistic of me to expect that there would be no marital relations at all between us,’ she offered hesitantly. ‘I am not so ignorant that I do not know there are other ways of satisfying a man’s … urges.’

  ‘Good God woman, now you do shock me.’

  Was that a hint of humour in his grey eyes and in the twitching of his lips? If it was, it was gone before she could clearly identify it.

  ‘And how exactly would you intend satisfying my - urges, as you so delicately put it?’

  She looked at him helplessly. She wished she had not started this conversation. She certainly had no wish to continue it. ‘I think you are well aware of what I am talking about,’ she said stiffly. ‘And I feel we have conversed quite enough on this topic for one night. Perhaps we both need time to reflect on the situation. I know I certainly do.’

  ‘I think you might be right.’ He stood up and his gaze softened as he looked down at her. ‘This has certainly been an enlightening evening Isabelle, but I’m sure we can work our way through this. I don’t think either of us has an appetite for an annulment and all the fuss such an action would entail. Sexual intercourse should not be something that is feared; and it is something that is all the better when enjoyed by both parties.’

  ‘And that is something that is never going to happen. I do not wish to mislead you on that front, Your Grace.’

  He raised a cool e
yebrow. ‘We will see. I am very well aware of the type of household your husband was used to run. His parties were the talk of Brooke’s. And you were present, I believe? You are presumably no innocent in these matters?’

  Isabelle’s back went ramrod straight but she would not let him witness the acute embarrassment she felt at him knowing the sort of life she had been forced to endure. His own house party that she had witnessed would have been very tame meat compared to those thrown by her husband, she was sure. Her eyes flashed. ‘I may have been required by my husband to be present at his London Soirees but that does not mean I enjoyed them.’ she said stiffly. ‘And believing what you believe, I am surprised you wish to bed a harlot such as me.’

  Guy’s eyes snapped into a frown. ‘Did I call you that?’

  No, she thought sadly. But it was how she felt.

  She lifted her chin. ‘I do not wish to fight you, Guy. As my husband you can insist on exercising your marital rights, but if it is also your desire that I enjoy the act, then I am afraid you will be sadly disappointed. I cannot see you altering my views on that.’

  ‘Maybe you are right Isabelle,’ he said softly, ‘but there can be no harm in me trying.’

  Before she realised his intention, he bent down and placed his mouth lightly on hers. There was no pressure, no seeking; his lips were cool and firm for the briefest of times, before he straightened up to take his leave.

  ‘Sleep well. We depart for my mother’s tomorrow afternoon. And remember Sophia and Ralph will be here for luncheon before that. I daresay they are keen to see how we fare.’

  She waited until the door had closed behind him before prostrating herself flat on the bed and looking up at the ceiling. The sensation of his lips against hers lingered disturbingly even though it had been the mildest of kisses, and she touched her mouth questioningly with her fingers. He disconcerted her. In every way her new husband disconcerted her. And she didn’t like it.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘Oh, Isi, I do not need to ask you how you are getting on, it is so obvious from the look of you. You are looking a hundred times better than you have done in many a year.’

  The men had disappeared off so that Guy could show Ralph a new horse he had acquired and the ladies sat in the large morning room supping tea while Sophia’s little daughter played on the hearth.

  ‘Why thank you, Sophia,’ Isabelle smiled wryly. ‘Did I really look so awful before?’

  ‘You looked dreadful,’ her friend declared, ‘but there was no point me telling you as I knew there was nothing to be done to change the circumstances.’

  ‘I don’t think I would have survived the last few years without the support of you and Ralph and our secret meetings.’

  ‘I was always so worried that your husband would find out and do something terrible to you.’

  ‘So was I. However, he didn’t and I survived. As I am surviving again now.’

  ‘But Guy is not like the Earl?’ For a moment Sophia looked horrified.

  ‘No. No, not at all. He could not be more accommodating.’

  ‘That I think is a slight exaggeration,’ her friend smiled, relaxing again. ‘But I am glad to hear it. He is not the easiest of characters I know.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So - you have been married a little over a month now.’ She cast around quickly to make sure no other adult was in the room. ‘Are your other fears resolved?’ she whispered.

  ‘My other fears?’

  ‘Yes, your fears surrounding a certain subject.’

  A conspiratorial note had crept into her voice and despite herself, Isabelle couldn't help smiling. ‘You are incorrigible,’ she said. But then her expression sobered again as she hesitated.

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Sophia.’

  ‘Pah, do not preach to me about the impropriety of discussing such subjects. If you cannot talk to me, who else can you talk to? And remember I too was in a situation not dissimilar to yours.’

  ‘Hardly,’ her friend returned dryly. ‘I do not think you could ever compare Ralph to my first husband. Or Guy.’

  She sighed. ‘It is very difficult. We have not yet … become intimate.’

  ‘Oh, Isi, that must change. It is not good for either of you - and really there is nothing to fear, believe me.’ If it was possible for Sophia to blush, she did, though her eyes were saucy. ‘Indeed, you do not know what you are missing.’

  ‘Oh, Sophia, I think I do. I am clearly not like you. I am a cold fish, I know that. I cannot bear the thought of being touched again - violated.’

  Her friend reached out a hand to touch her arm. ‘Isabelle, I know I am something of an innocent in the ways of the world and I cannot begin to imagine how your first husband must have hurt you. But believe me when I say it is not always like that, and I cannot believe that Guy, difficult though he can sometimes be, would physically harm you in any way. He is too honourable a man. You must surely at least give him a chance?’

  ‘Coming on the back of the conversation she had had with Guy last night, Isabelle shook her head dispiritedly. ‘I’m not sure I can-’

  She broke off as the door opened, heralding the return of the two men from their trip to the stables.

  ‘Ye Gods, it is cold out there,’ Ralph said, rubbing his hands and moving to stand by the fire. ‘But it is a fine horse my cousin has acquired. We are thinking of siring him with the mare I purchased this year - any foal born from that reunion would be a stunner. What do you think Sophia? You were only saying the other day what a pretty thing she was?’

  ‘A good idea, my love,’ Sophia responded.

  He looked at her suspiciously, seeming to observe the way the two women were sitting closely together, as if in conspiracy.

  ‘So what mischief have you ladies been up to in our absence?’

  ‘Us? Mischief? What can you mean?’

  ‘Now I know you have been making mischief. You always get that certain look in your eye.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Guy commented mildly, turning his gaze onto Isabelle. ‘How long will we have been married do you think Isabelle, before I too can read your expressions so easily? I never know what is going on in that mind of yours.’

  ‘Well that makes two of us,’ she returned lightly, ‘for I don’t think there ever was a man who concealed his emotions as well as you.’

  They were words that were to come back to her later that day as they were welcomed by his mother, for his return greeting was almost jovial as he embraced her warmly.

  ‘We are well, thank you mother and yes, we are enjoying married life. Charles, come say hello to your Grand Mama.’

  Charles positively skipped up to his grandmother, in great spirits ever since Isabelle had suggested he ride with them in the carriage.

  ‘He usually travels behind, with Nanny Peters,’ Guy had said tersely.

  ‘Well, I think as this is our first outing as a family it would be nice for him to travel with us and give poor Nanny Peters a break. Do you not agree?’

  ‘As you wish.’

  Now as the old woman finished embracing her grandson she turned to her daughter in law.

  ‘And you, Isabelle. Are you also enjoying married life?’

  ‘Very much, thank you. I think Guy and I are getting used to each other’s foibles.’

  She could not look at Guy as she spoke, instead taking Charles by the hand and following the Dowager into the house.

  ‘Take the luggage up to the Blue Room,’ the old lady instructed the footmen, and for the first time it occurred to Isabelle to wonder about sleeping arrangements. She felt a flurry of nerves in her stomach.

  ‘I have put you and Guy together as you are so recently married,’ the older woman said with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Although that can easily be remedied if you so wish?’

  ‘That will be quite acceptable, mother. Thank you,’ Guy said coolly. His swift look to Isabelle held a hint of warning. His mother was the sole reason
for their wedding. Clearly he did not wish her to know their marriage was anything other than perfectly normal.

  ‘Good. Now come through for some tea…’

  That night it was just the three of them.

  ‘Claudia and Lionel will be joining us tomorrow,’ the Dowager informed Isabelle over dinner. ‘That will make Charles happy as he enjoys playing with his cousins. Claudia was the one who insisted on celebrating my birthday, even though if it were left to me I would far rather forget them now. But she has a point I suppose - who knows how many more I shall see in.’

  ‘Mother, I’m sure you will see a great many more now that you have recovered so well from your initial attack. But admit the reason you invited us was to keep you sane whilst my sister and her family are here.’

  His mother smiled. ‘I cannot tell a lie. I do find them all rather exhausting. And talking of which, I think I will retire now if you have no objection? I go to bed earlier and earlier these days.’

  After she had departed, Guy and Isabelle looked at each other. Then Isabelle made to rise from her chair. ’Well, I think I also may retire early,’ she began.

  ‘No. Stay and talk with me for a while if you will?’

  She stared at him uncertainly, not wishing a repeat of the previous evening, then sank back down on her chair. ‘As you wish,’ she murmured.

  ‘We have not talked in any great detail since our wedding. Are you quite settled in at Sheldon Hall now? Is your room to your liking, for example?’

  ‘I am quite settled Sir, thank you. And my room could not be more comfortable although it still feels a little strange to be living somewhere new.’

  In truth she could not believe her good fortune. Sheldon Hall was a magnificent old residence set in beautiful grounds that she could not wait to explore more thoroughly, and she was enjoying being mistress of such a house. Her belongings had all been transferred from her previous home and from Sophia and Ralph’s house, without her even being aware that it had happened, and for the first time in many years she had felt pleasure as she’d walked into her bedroom and seen all her familiar things surrounding her.