by Allison Lane
“She has bewitched you.”
“Never.” His voice hardened. “I learned that fact from Wicksfield himself. As for your other absurdities, Joanna’s brother occasionally does odd jobs for the blacksmith, sending the proceeds to his brother at Oxford. Her father’s parishioners mourn her departure, for she was considered a saint in the community. You will either welcome her into the family or I will see that you are ostracized from Society. Is that clear?”
“How dare you speak—”
“Enough, Mother,” snapped Reggie, joining his brother to glare into her face. “You are completely out of line. Father’s illness is his own fault – or yours for summoning him to town against his doctor’s orders.”
“He had no choice if he was to protect the title.”
Sedge snorted. “He tried to protect the title by doing something he knew would kill him? How stupid can you get?”
Reggie overrode her response. “No, Mother. This has nothing to with the title. It has to do with your determination to retain your own power after he dies. You’ve a tongue like an adder, and you employ it freely. Do not think that I am ignorant of the lies you told to Father. I have seen the letters you wrote after I befriended her. You manipulated a dying man for your own ends. Your selfishness surpasses anything I have ever witnessed. But you lose. The day Father dies, you are moving out of the Close. To the dower house if you learn to keep your tongue between your teeth. To the Scottish property under guard if you don’t. Sedge is right about Joanna’s background, and all of Society knows it. Your puny lies have only made you a laughingstock. Open your eyes for once. Those two are perfect for each other. As for me, I would wed an opera dancer before accepting one of your protégées.”
Lady Glendale collapsed into hysterics, but Sedge let Reggie deal with her. His head swirled with guilt and shame.
What had he done?
Only now did he admit that his image of Joanna had been tainted from the beginning by his mother’s criticisms. Not the ones about her looks, which he had always found desirable; now that she had a decent wardrobe, she was stunning. But he had questioned her motives and flinched at her breeding more than once. Yet he had welcomed girls with even worse backgrounds into Society, and considered some of them friends. Caristoke’s wife was a case in point. Why had he parroted his mother’s judgments instead of thinking for himself? From her first tirade over Reggie’s infatuation, he had accepted her word as gospel. If only he had listened to Reggie! But he had been so furious over being compared to Crossbridge that he had rejected any hint that he might also be jumping to erroneous conclusions.
His antagonism had not helped Joanna. She knew he hated being forced. And leaving her to his mother’s mercy while he visited Wicksfield could not have been pleasant.
Reggie was making little headway.
“Leave me alone!” his mother shouted. “What did I ever do to deserve such wretched sons? If Glendale dies, I will never forgive you!” Slapping Reggie’s hand aside, she stormed out of the room.
Glendale’s door slammed behind her.
Sedge flinched. Temper had bested them all, prompting words none of them would easily forget.
* * * *
Joanna finished the last note and handed them to a footman. The job was necessary, but she could not shake off the conviction that Sedge had used it to keep her away from the sickroom.
It was time she took her place in this family. Allowing Lady Glendale to exclude her set a precedent that would make the future impossible. She would not stay in the marquess’s room, but at least she would look in to see how he was faring.
She was approaching his suite when angry voices halted her in her tracks. How dare you marry a nobody without even looks to recommend her … breeding is so base … whoring in the streets…
Dear God! She sagged against the wall. It was worse than she had feared. No wonder Sedge had been furious. She had never understood the extent of his sacrifice.
Society already ridicules your judgment … cannot allow her baseborn blood to taint the marquessate.
Nausea choked her throat. Placing her hands over her ears, she escaped to her room.
Sedge’s immediate friends had welcomed her, but matrons like Lady Glendale would ultimately decide her fate. Without their support, she could never become part of his world, making his sacrifice useless. Even his friends would balk when facing a choice between diminished credit and her company. She would hurt them and would ultimately hurt Sedge. If he used Society’s esteem to balance his parents’ criticism, then losing it would hurt twice over.
Or worse.
Already, their marriage was widening the rift with his parents. And she had been right. Concern over this mésalliance was worsening Glendale’s condition. Sedge’s resentment would fester, hardening into real hatred. London’s premier dandy was a proud man. He had suppressed that pride long enough to wed her, but it would not remain dormant for long. Their unequal union would chafe, destroying every spark of congeniality.
She could not tolerate such misery. Nor could she allow the rift between him and his family to broaden into a permanent breach. Blood ties were important. She loved him too much to ruin his life.
Dabbing at her tears, she turned to her dressing room. Marriage had been a mistake, as she had known all along. Why had she not listened to the voice warning her that it could only bring disaster?
Dumping the hat from a bandbox, she filled the box with her old clothing, then wrote a brief farewell before slipping from the house.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sedge stared from the doorway to his brother as the sound of that abrupt departure reverberated through the room. Reggie was white-faced.
“She didn’t mean it,” Sedge said softly. “We are all too tired to know what we’re saying.”
Reggie sank into a chair, dropping his head in his hands. “She meant it. Every word.” His shoulders shook with sobs. “Dear God, I can’t take any more.”
Appalled, Sedge shut and locked the door. A decanter of brandy remained from last night’s vigil. Downing a glass, he poured one for Reggie, then returned to the window to stare into the square.
Not until he heard glass clink against the table did he turn back to the room. “How can you take her tirade seriously? You know it arose from fear of the changes she faces.”
“This is not the first time she has uttered those charges. Or the tenth. Or even the twentieth. Nor will it be the last.” He poured another drink, then stared into the fireplace. “Father is dying. I doubt the doctor has ever seen a man recover from this level of impairment. All that pap about keeping him calm was merely to give Mother hope, but the situation is hopeless. He won’t last a month.”
“Agreed.”
“You will have to deal with it, Sedge. I won’t be here.”
“What—”
Reggie looked like he was facing an executioner. The lines in his face had deepened, making him look fifty. “Sit down, Sedge. The title will be mine within the month. I can escape Mother’s pressure by sending her to Scotland, but she is not the only one. Aunt Barkley is just as bad. Half of Society already condemns me for reaching the advanced age of four-and-thirty without doing my duty. The rest will soon follow. I can’t take it any longer. My valet is already packing. We will be out of the country within the week.”
“My God! Why?” He stared as the awful suspicion formed. “Surely this is not about Joanna!”
Reggie actually smiled. “Dear Joanna. You still do not realize what a jewel you have, do you?”
He slammed his glass onto the table.
“Relax, Sedge. I have no designs on your wife, though I will admit this once that I love her. Deeply. But she has never returned my feelings, thank God. I am merely a friend and brother.”
“You are not making sense.”
“I suppose not.” He bit his lip, swallowed more brandy, then released a long sigh before finally meeting Sedge’s gaze. “You have never believed my vow to avoid marriage.”
/>
“Who can predict the future? You might meet someone who can return your love one day.”
“God, I hope not!” He swallowed hard. “You’ve no idea how thankful I’ve been that Joanna doesn’t care. Any hint of infatuation would have meant cutting all contact. Treat her well, Sedge. She will bear the next marquess.”
“How can you—”
“Please!” interrupted Reggie. “Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” His eyes glistened in the afternoon sunlight. “I’ve always vowed I would never wed, but it would be more honest to say I can never wed.”
“Do you have a secret wife tucked away?” Preposterous, but better than any other possibility.
“No.” Pain filled his voice. “I should have told you years ago, but it never—” He swallowed. “You deserve the truth before I leave. I cannot function as a husband should.”
“Oh, my God.” His knees buckled. Reggie was right. He should have sat down. “What are you saying?” he whispered hoarsely.
“It doesn’t work.”
“Doesn’t wo— You feel nothing?”
“I wish it were that simple. Unfortunately, the desire is there, but I can do nothing about it.”
“You have nev— But what about your mistresses?”
Reggie shrugged. “They have been aging courtesans, abused by previous protectors, who needed a safe place to recover and a friendly ear to listen to their problems. Most of them chose to retire to country cottages. I may take Pru with me – she has no family left and is fascinated by talk of foreign places.” He shook his head. “But that is irrelevant.”
“Are you sure the condition is permanent?” Fatigue and shock made their conversation seem unreal.
“Yes. It has never worked. I consulted the best doctors in Scotland some years ago – anonymously. They’ve no idea why, but all agreed the problem is unlikely to disappear.”
“Yet you said nothing.”
“How could I?” His eyes revealed unimaginable torment. “Have you any idea how hard it is to confess I’m only half a man?”
“I don’t consider you so.”
“I do.” His raised hand halted further protest. “Living with deceit is no longer possible. I cannot remain in England, for life will become intolerable once Father dies. Since I am not cut out to be a hermit, my only chance for a comfortable existence is to adopt a new name and build a life in another country – probably America.”
“You sound so calm. I can barely think.”
“I have been planning it long enough. This day was bound to come.”
“At least remain until Father’s death.” Tears stung his eyes.
“No.” His voice hardened. “You do not understand, Sedge. Father and I have fought for years. Bitterly. Last night’s argument was the last straw. I no longer care whether he lives or dies. Nor do I care what Mother wants or what Society thinks. I would leave tomorrow if there were not loose ends I must tie up. My solicitor is drawing up papers that will give you control of my affairs, including everything to do with the marquessate. I would give you the title if I could. The fortune I already control should be sufficient to cover my needs, so everything else will be yours. And I must say good-bye to Joanna.”
“I see. There does not seem to be anything else to say. But please stay in touch.” This time, his tears spilled over.
“Don’t,” begged Reggie.
“I can’t help it.”
“You must. I cannot afford to collapse yet. In fact, Mother’s latest start means I must leave sooner than I’d planned. Lady Dorothy’s reputation might be salvaged if I am gone before she arrives. Meet me at my solicitor’s at ten in the morning.”
“Very well. But I expect to hear from you.”
He sighed. “If you insist. I will travel for a year or two before settling down to become an eccentric. But I will write.”
Downing the last of his wine, Reggie straightened his shoulders and left.
Sedge poured himself another drink. Back-to-back confrontations had left him feeling limp.
Cannot function as a husband.
Poor Reggie. He could not imagine a worse hell than feeling desire he could not satisfy. No wonder Reggie refused to wed. How could he put any woman through that? A lady’s primary duty was to provide an heir. Failure was always laid at her feet. And Reggie risked becoming an object of ridicule if Society learned the truth.
But dwelling on Reggie’s problems served no purpose. His own pressed heavily on his shoulders. His life was changing in ways he had never expected. He must make peace with Joanna and build a real marriage with her, inform his parents that Reggie would not return, take up the burden of the marquessate…
He shuddered.
He knew little of the Glendale affairs, for he had never expected to deal with them. Nor did Reggie, for that matter. Their father had been loath to involve his heir in estate matters, lest doing so reduce his own power.
Reggie was right about their mother. Unless he moved her out of the Close the moment she became a widow, she would cling to her position, refusing to believe that Reggie was gone forever. Whether he moved into the Close himself would depend on where she lived. He would not subject Joanna to her spite.
But that was for the future. He needed to talk to Joanna. If Reggie was right – and he prayed his impressions were correct – then he had wronged her yet again. She did not love Reggie. In any case, she must know the truth, for Reggie’s departure would affect both of them.
Dear God, he hoped Reggie was right. He needed her. She was the only rock left in his turbulent world.
But he could not find her. When he reached her room, he spotted a letter on her dressing table. A letter addressed to him.
I cannot cause a breach between you and your family, she had written in a hand that visibly shook. Nor can I inflict further damage to your reputation. Marriage was a mistake, as you must know. I regret allowing you to press me, for I knew that you did not want so low a connection. Even your vast credit cannot force the dowagers to accept me. Persisting can only hurt you. My training did not prepare me for entering your world, as events have proved. With your family’s connections, there should be no problem getting an annulment. Perhaps one day you will find someone you can care for.
His glass shattered on the floor as the realization hit him. She had heard part of his mother’s tirade, though she must have fled before his own response – not that she would have believed it. His mother’s insinuations threaded every word of this note.
This third shock left him teetering on the brink of total collapse. How much could a man take in one day?
Shaking his head, he read the note a second time. Why should he be surprised at her regret? He had made little effort to hide his anger before leaving town. He had left her to his mother’s vicious tongue. And they had had no chance to talk since his return.
He groaned. He had treated her badly. Even his anger was not her fault. In retrospect, he had been using her love for Reggie as an excuse to vent fury over his own carelessness.
She had been blameless.
The admission hurt. He had ignored her objections to marriage, believing they were an attempt to present a demure image. But she had been serious. She did not want him.
Yet he did want her, he admitted as he left her room. She was intelligent, caring, and altogether delightful. In fact, she possessed nearly every virtue of that ideal wife he had envisioned finding. But he had been too stubborn to admit it. What an ass he was. Something about her had attracted him from the first, though his conceit had balked at the idea. Perhaps his carelessness had been less inadvertent than he’d thought.
He had to find her. They needed to talk with no misconceptions to cloud their thinking. Where might she have gone?
A moment’s thought dismissed Wicksfield House. No matter how grateful Harriet was feeling, Lady Wicksfield would not welcome her. Would she seek Lady Hartford’s help?
He frowned. They had formed a fast friendship in recent d
ays, though he doubted she would risk seeking out one of his friends.
But he suddenly knew where she was. While protesting against marriage, she had mentioned her mother’s burdens. She had gone home to the vicarage.
Damn! He did not know where her father lived. Wasting no time on summoning a servant, he headed for the stables.
“I need help,” he admitted when he reached Reggie’s rooms.
He glared. “Is this some misguided attempt to keep me here?”
“Devil take it!” He inhaled to curb his temper. “No. Joanna overheard Mother’s tirade and bolted.” He handed over the letter. “I think she’s headed home.”
Reggie’s eyes blazed by the time he finished reading. “What the devil did you do to her?”
“Dumped my fury and resentment on her innocent shoulders, then left her to Mother’s vicious tongue,” he admitted. “You can curse me some other time. Right now, I need to find her. Where is her father’s living?”
Reggie stared a long moment. “Gloucestershire.”
“Could you be more specific?” He drew in a deep breath. “I admit I never asked a word about her family. But you are right,” he added. “She is a jewel.”