Harlequin Historical July 2020 - Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  ‘I’m glad to see the double standard is alive and well and residing in my own living room.’

  ‘Alongside two uncomfortable and impractical chairs, I see.’

  One of which he had just sat on. ‘Sit with me, Wife—’ He smiled as she bristled, which had doubtless been his goal all along, and patted the other seat. ‘We have things to civilly and politely discuss this fine morning.’

  ‘As I haven’t had my tea yet, I can promise neither.’

  ‘It hasn’t escaped me you are grouchy in the mornings.’ He folded his arms across his chest and stretched his long legs out in front of him, making himself comfortable while she sat stiffly upright in hers, affronted at the accurate observation. ‘Hence I have already taken the liberty of ordering you tea. Slugger should be bringing it up at any moment, so try to remain civil in the interim.’

  Slugger, she now knew, was the big brute with ink tears etched into his cheeks. ‘He’s not your typical butler.’

  ‘That’s because he’s not a butler at all. He’s more of an assistant. A jack of all trades. One who happens to also be very good at ejecting rowdy aristocrats from the club with the minimum of fuss when they get too boisterous as well as gently pouring the inebriated ones into their carriages when they are too deep in their cups to be able to walk straight. He looks more terrifying than he is. In truth, he’s not terrifying at all once you get to know him. Slugger is the archetypal gentle giant and a soulful, suffering artist.’

  ‘And it was at his easel he earned the delicate name of Slugger, I presume?’

  ‘No.’ When he held back a grin, he looked too much like the mischievous stable boy she had fallen in love with. ‘He earned that in the ring, of course…where he remained undefeated until he retired from the sport.’

  ‘Only you would have a boxer for a butler.’

  ‘He wasn’t so much a pugilist in the traditional sense, more a no-rules, bare-knuckle, spit-and-sawdust sort who happened to paint on the side. Very well, as it happens. In fact, three-quarters of the artwork dotted around this building comes from his talented brush. He is particularly good at copying the old masters, although I’ve always preferred his original compositions.’

  ‘And a fellow convict, no doubt?’ Lydia made sure she looked straight down her nose, only for him to grin unoffended.

  ‘Half of Libertas is made up of fellow convicts and I’d trust each and every one of them with my life. And certainly over all of your lot.’ He made a great show of looking down his nose, too, those blue eyes twinkling and charming her when she had been so determined to endeavour not to be charmed once again. ‘But I didn’t come here to discuss Slugger or art or chairs or your disagreeable morning moods. I came here to ask your opinion on something, actually.’

  Now there was a novel idea. A man seeking a woman’s opinion. ‘Really?’

  ‘We’ve received all these.’ From somewhere inside his coat he produced a stack of invitations. ‘In view of the delicious scandal we have caused, I wondered which of these we should accept?’

  ‘From a business point of view?’ She supposed it was inevitable her new husband would want a quick return on his investment, so she really shouldn’t allow herself to be upset by it. It was, after all, what she had agreed to.

  ‘Partly… But I am also aware these are your people, Lydia, and I don’t want to make a mistake and unintentionally alienate them from you. I want your friends to remain your friends. In my experience, the world is always a nicer place with friends on your side. Nor do I want to inadvertently throw you into a pit of vipers. There seem to be a lot of those out there.’ He gestured absently through the window towards the city. ‘And most of them seem to also live in Mayfair.’

  ‘That’s actually very thoughtful.’ Touching, even. ‘There are certain individuals I would like to avoid—for a little while at least. Although I suppose everyone wants an opportunity to gawp and stare at us now that we are the latest scandal.’

  ‘Then let them. What’s the worst that can happen?’

  ‘Easy for you to say. You are used to being a scandal. This is my first time. I don’t even know what people have been saying about me.’

  ‘Randolph saved all the newspapers. Read them if you think they matter. From personal experience I think there is a lot to be said for blind ignorance. If I don’t know someone has been defamatory or told a bare-faced lie, I don’t care about it. It’s much easier to be civilised when you are not spitting nails.’

  ‘Am I to take that to mean not all the newspaper reports are favourable, then?’ She’d thought she was braced for the scandal. Now that lofty, pride-fuelled bravado was waning.

  ‘The Marquess of Kelvedon has some supporters.’ Hardly a surprise when he was so well connected. ‘But you have more.’

  ‘Has my father said anything?’ She wished she didn’t care, but couldn’t help herself. In view of all she had sacrificed, she hoped he would at least defend her.

  ‘Not to the press. I expressly forbade him from saying anything derogatory in public as part of the agreement.’ Another surprisingly thoughtful thing—unless it hadn’t been for her benefit at all, but his. ‘But he hasn’t been able to stop himself from voicing his disapproval to a few, as you would expect from a man eager to keep Kelvedon on side, and those people have passed his words over to reporters.’

  ‘Who have doubtless twisted them to make us look bad.’

  Of course he wouldn’t defend her. How foolish of her to have hoped her sire might suddenly surprise her when he hadn’t even had the decency to send her belongings over.

  Owen shrugged, then sighed, and for once she believed the sympathy she saw darkening his lying eyes. ‘Sticks and stones… But we can postpone our first public outing for another few weeks if you’re not up for it. There’s no hurry.’

  ‘Would that make it any easier?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  ‘Then we might as well get it over with. I presume the press have been told we are madly in love?’

  He seemed suddenly embarrassed and uncomfortable in his own skin. ‘I left that part to Randolph.’

  She smiled then. She couldn’t help it while he was being so charming. ‘I shall take that as an affirmation then, as from what you have told me about him, I doubt Randolph could contain himself. I dread to think what far-fetched romance he has added to the tale.’

  ‘He annoyingly leans towards the theatrical. I blame too many years on the stage.’

  ‘Randolph was an actor?’

  ‘He likes to think he was. He spent his formative years in a travelling museum of curiosities where I suspect he was the loudest exhibit.’

  ‘That’s…dreadful.’

  ‘Maybe for some, but typically Randolph adored it. He enjoys nothing better than being the centre of attention.’

  ‘Unlike me. I can think of nothing worse. Thank goodness I am not at the centre of an enormous scandal.’ She tried to smile and watched his handsome face fall.

  ‘I meant it, Lydia…you don’t have to accept any of these invitations if you do not feel ready.’

  ‘I am not going to cower and hide, Owen.’

  ‘Then I shall hand these over to you.’ He held out the invitations as the shadow of the aptly named Slugger suddenly loomed large on the floor. ‘For you to peruse at your leisure later. Now, though, you must have a fortifying cup of tea to prepare you for today’s most terrible ordeal.’

  The brute looked confused as he came in. ‘Where shall I put this?’ To be fair to him, there was no table or sideboard, so she sympathised with the man’s plight.

  ‘I suppose the floor will have to do. Until my delightful wife decorates the place.’ Owen cheerfully relieved him of the burden and placed it at Lydia’s feet. ‘Assuming you want to decorate the place, that is. If not, I can arrange…’

  ‘No… I should like to decorate.’ Not that she
had ever bought a single stick of furniture before. There had been no need. Although the idea of building a home from scratch appealed.

  ‘Thank the Lord!’ Owen joined the tea things on the floor and began assembling cups on saucers as if preparing tea on the floor was the most natural thing for the master of the house to be doing. ‘I’m glad you said that. It’s one less job for me. Randolph keeps a list of reputable and reliable tradesmen and merchants. Use them and get them to send me the bills.’

  ‘I shall collect some catalogues first for you to…’ He held up his hand, frowning.

  ‘Just the bills, Lydia. I am stretched to capacity as it is with Libertas—I simply do not have the time. Unless you can magic some additional hours to each day, I shall have to trust your judgement implicitly.’

  ‘Why?’ Because she was stunned he did not want a say in it all. Her father insisted on his say in everything, from the weekly menu choices to the necklines and colours of her gowns, and what he said went regardless of anybody else’s opinions on the matter. ‘I might do it completely against your taste.’

  ‘As I have never owned a living room before and will rarely have use for it, surely it should be to your taste?’

  A polite way of informing her it would be her room because he really did intend to avoid her. The harsh realities of their marriage of convenience, which she should have been prepared for, but oddly wasn’t. Her new home seemed destined to be as lonely as her old one. Not that she would let him witness her disappointment.

  ‘Do you at least have a budget in mind?’

  ‘As budgets are notoriously problematic, I’d say you need to use your discretion. Invariably, from the experience of setting up downstairs, things inevitably cost twice as much as you originally anticipated.’ He handed her a cup of tea and then wielded the ridiculously tiny silver tongs in his big hands like snapping jaws. ‘Sugar?’

  ‘No, thank you, and that advice is not the least bit helpful.’

  He shrugged and loaded his own cup with three lumps of sugar, then for good measure, added a fourth. ‘Then here is some sage advice that is. Never take the first price. Or the second, for that matter. And don’t be afraid to walk away. That is the ultimate negotiating tool as no merchant or trade worth his salt wants you to take your business elsewhere.’

  ‘That actually is good advice.’ Advice her father would probably benefit from, but would never dream of listening to. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so quick to thank me—I still haven’t told you about this morning’s ordeal.’

  ‘Decorating your empty, sparse home is not the ordeal?’

  ‘Not even close.’ He exhaled loudly. ‘I had Slugger make the tea strong and I shall apologise profusely in advance for the horror I am about to subject you to—because, my dear wife, we are about to have breakfast with Randolph.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Randolph Stubbs magically appeared on the dot of eight, seemingly out of nowhere, and grinned before kissing her hand.

  ‘My lady… Welcome to your new home.’ Would this strange place ever feel like home? She sincerely doubted it, but smiled anyway. It was what it was and she would try to make the best of it for the sake of her own sanity. ‘I hope you will be very happy here.’

  ‘Thank you. I am sure I will.’ Hoped more like. Which she hoped wasn’t doomed to be futile.

  ‘My wife and I are excited to be breakfasting with you. Besides…’ he cast a withering glance at the two forlorn chairs she and Owen were sat on ‘…we also thought you might appreciate being able to sit in comfort.’

  The kind invitation on her first morning in this strange place touched her. ‘That would be lovely, Mr Stubbs.’

  ‘Oh, good gracious!’ He waved his hands in the air. ‘We have no airs and graces here! Everybody calls me Randolph and so must you. Especially as we are now family.’

  ‘Family? I wasn’t aware you and Owen were family.’ She had always believed Owen had no family, unless that detail was another one of his many lies. Instead of offering his arm, which in fairness she would have had to bend double to take, Randolph took her hand and tugged her quickly towards the open door and along the airy landing towards the opposite side of the house.

  ‘While not technically blood brothers, we are as good as brothers here…’ He thumped his small chest dramatically. ‘And that is where it counts.’

  ‘What he means is…’ the sound of Owen’s deep voice directly behind sent a tingle down her spine as he fell into step behind them ‘…he latched on to me a decade ago and, despite trying my damnedest to be rid of him, he remains a constant thorn in my side.’

  ‘I thought you had work to do?’ Randolph winked at her. ‘Obviously, you are welcome to break your fast with us if you must—but feel in no way obligated, Owen. We can manage well enough on our own. Or are you worried Gertie and I might gossip about you in your absence?’

  ‘I was more worried for poor Lydia’s sanity. I wouldn’t leave my worst enemy to the pair of you all alone. I hope you are braced for an ordeal, Wife.’ She was convinced Owen suddenly now used that endearment to vex her. ‘Remember, I warned you he is a menace to society.’

  ‘We are the perfect partnership,’ said Randolph, completely ignoring the insult, holding her hand aloft in his fingers as if she were a duchess. ‘I provide the brains, the ideas, the vision, the phenomenal good looks and he…’ He gestured behind with one stubby thumb and shrugged. ‘Well…to be honest, I am not entirely sure what Owen adds to anything. But my wife adores him and the children do not seem to mind him either.’

  ‘I am looking forward to meeting them, Mr Stubbs.’

  ‘It’s Randolph, remember—and so are they! Gertie, especially, is beside herself with excitement at finally meeting you. We so wanted to attend the wedding, but Mr Spoilsport here would have none of it. He can be very disagreeable sometimes. Have you noticed that, my lady?’

  ‘It’s Lydia.’ She couldn’t resist shooting the man in question a glance over her shoulder before dropping her voice to a stage whisper to his friend. ‘And, yes—I have noticed. He has quite the temper.’

  ‘Indeed he does—and over the daftest of things, too, Lydia.’ Randolph dropped her hand to open a door. ‘Cravats in particular vex him immensely.’

  ‘As do door latches and innkeepers.’

  ‘I am here, you know.’ Again, that voice did odd things to her insides. Tiny goose pimples sprang to attention around her neck which she sincerely hoped he couldn’t see.

  ‘It’s his fingers,’ said Randolph, taking her hand again. ‘He has hands the size of shovels, so I suppose it’s hardly any wonder they struggle with delicate tasks.’

  They could be achingly gentle, too, she remembered, and immediately felt off-kilter as her body also remembered the heady power of just his touch.

  They suddenly came to another door which Randolph threw open. ‘They are here!’ Then he stepped to one side, dragging her with him, a split second before three children stampeded past.

  ‘Uncle Owen!’

  One was the usual size of a girl of about seven or eight. The other two, a younger boy and another blonde-haired younger still girl, were shaped like their father. All three threw themselves at Owen who engulfed them in a hug, before they clambered up his legs and he half-carried them, half-dragged them. The sight of him smothered in giggling children was disarming, especially because he clearly adored them. As he squeezed past her on the landing dragging his friend’s boisterous offspring, a beaming woman appeared.

  ‘Well, aren’t you a pretty thing!’

  She was a few inches taller than Lydia, more generous in both hips and bust, with bouncing blonde ringlets and a lovely, welcoming smile. She was also, if Lydia was any judge, about to give birth to another boisterous offspring at any given moment.

  ‘My husband said you were a beauty!’ Gertie Stubbs enveloped her in a per
fumed embrace. ‘I am so looking forward to having another woman in this house filled with infuriating men.’ Her accent wasn’t the least bit genteel and to her credit she made no attempt to make it so. ‘But listen to me carrying on! Where are my manners? Breakfast is almost ready, but in the meantime you will need tea.’

  As if the heels of her boots had suddenly sprung wheels, Lydia found herself manoeuvred into a cosy sitting room and into a comfortable chair near the roaring fire. She hadn’t felt her shawl leave her body, but saw Randolph spirit it out while his wife pushed a steaming cup of tea into her hand and their children continued to climb noisily over Owen on an equally comfortable-looking sofa opposite.

  ‘Get off him! Let the poor man breathe!’ Gertie shooed her brood away, then hoisted him up before she beamed at him, too, and hugged him tightly. ‘We’ve missed you, Owen.’

  ‘I’ve missed you, too.’ Instead of entirely pulling away, he continued to hold Gertie by the shoulders as his eyes dropped to her protruding belly. ‘No sign of the latest monster, then?’

  ‘As if I would dare go into labour without you here.’ Gertie gently caressed her own stomach before glancing affectionately at her husband, love shining in her eyes. ‘Who would deal with Randolph? You know he gets in a frightful state every single time I go into labour… Bless him. Besides, I knew you wouldn’t want to miss the big event either, so I’ve had words with the baby and we both agreed to wait till you got back.’ She dipped her head and spoke directly to her belly. ‘You can come out now, darling. The cavalry is back.’

  ‘Don’t be in a hurry, little one.’ Lydia was more than a little shocked and strangely moved to see her husband’s hand affectionately pat the bump as he spoke to it. ‘I’ve probably got a mountain of catastrophes to sort out after leaving Libertas in your father’s incapable hands for so long. Give me at least a week to fix it first.’ Then he kissed Gertie noisily on the top of the head. ‘Preferably two.’

  Such genuine and exuberant affection and easy camaraderie was not something Lydia was used to either witnessing or experiencing. The people of her acquaintance were never publicly affectionate. It simply wasn’t done. Obviously, she cared for her brother, but she and Justin never shared more than a polite peck on the cheek now that they were adults and her father was as cold as a dead fish. One packed to the gills in ice and frozen solid. Her mother had been a little more demonstrative in private, but she had died shortly after Lydia turned seventeen and there had been precious little since. She hadn’t realised she missed it—but seeing it now right in front of her made her feel envious of the bond Owen had with his adopted family.