‘I shall come myself to collect her belongings,’ Mr Graystoke added and Stepmama spluttered, spots of outrage colouring her cheeks. ‘Shall we say in two hours? If you leave now, that should give you sufficient time to pack her belongings.’
The two men turned their backs on her parents and strolled back to Alex and Jane.
‘That shut her up,’ Lord Vernon said, with a wink.
Over his shoulder, Jane watched her parents leave, Stepmama gesticulating furiously. Even though she wanted them gone, it still hurt to see Papa walk away without a word.
‘Maybe you should take her back to the house, Alex, and not wait for Leo,’ said Mr Graystoke. ‘She’s had a shock.’ He crouched slightly and tipped up her chin, holding her gaze with his dark eyes. ‘All will be well, my dear. You are part of the family now. You are protected.’
The anxiety agitating her stomach settled and stilled. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced up at Alex, who was frowning at her. ‘What is it?’
‘You can’t go back with your gown all torn like that. I—’
His jaw snapped shut and Jane followed his gaze. Alex’s father, a gown draped over one arm, was approaching, the Duchess—Alex’s stepmother—by his side.
‘Vern, Zach, Alex...come. Let us return to our guests. Rosalind will help Jane. The fewer people who know what happened here, the better.’
‘We’d better find a way to stop Lady Stowford from spewing her poison all over the district, then,’ said Lord Vernon. ‘I believe Zach and I might have contrived to upset her. Just a smidgeon, you understand. And totally without intention.’ The twinkle in his eyes belied his apologetic tone.
‘I have already helped the Stowfords to understand it is in their best interests to remain quiet,’ said the Duke.
‘We met them on their way back to the house,’ added the Duchess, ‘and Lady Stowford made the mistake of attempting to pull rank on Leo, claiming rights as the mother of the bride. I believe she now accepts it is what Alex and Jane want that is important. Now, off you go, you men, and leave me and Jane to make her respectable. Go on! Shoo!’
Chapter Three
Left alone with the Duchess, Jane found her voice again.
‘I shouldn’t have accepted Alex, Your Grace. I’m sorry. He doesn’t want to marry me. I know he doesn’t. Stepmama gave him no choice.’ Suppressed tears thickened her voice. Why would anyone want to marry her? She wasn’t pretty or even vivacious. Alex had been trapped. ‘She would keep saying I was ruined and I must marry S-Sir Denzil.’
‘Jane...you cannot possibly marry that villain after what he tried to do.’ The Duchess took her hand. ‘You and Alex have always been friends, have you not?’
Jane nodded.
‘Then allow him to help his friend and...’ The Duchess paused, a line stitched between her brows. Then her chin tilted. ‘And, in return, you can be a friend to him. Alex needs someone like you in his life...’ she nodded, emphasising her words ‘...although he would never admit it. Unless, of course, the thought of being wed to him truly repels you?’
Hazel eyes searched Jane’s face. She shook her head. No. That thought did not repel her. Not at all.
‘Good. Now, come, let us get this gown off you and make you respectable. I have even brought a comb and hairpins. No one will guess what so nearly happened and Leo has already shut Sir Denzil in one of the outbuildings until he sobers up and can be...um...“brought to fully appreciate the iniquity of his actions” were, I believe, Leo’s exact words.’
They were all being so kind, but Jane dreaded to think what they really thought of her. She knew Alex had stopped Pikeford in time, but did anyone else believe her? She shuddered at the memory of his hand painfully squeezing her breast...his fingers between her legs... Her stomach roiled, pushing the contents up. She ran to a nearby bush, bent double and vomited. Tears blurred her eyes. She could not stop retching, even after her stomach was empty and sore. Gradually, the heaving slowed and she became aware of hands supporting her, holding her hair back.
‘Better now?’
‘Yes. Thank you, Your Grace.’
‘Then let us make you respectable again and return to the house.’
They avoided the lawn at the rear of the Abbey, where the garden party continued, by following the lake around until they met the grass path that wound up through the copse towards the formal gardens leading to the terrace and the library. The Duchess peered through the hedge into the gardens before smiling encouragingly at Jane.
‘They’re empty. When the Duke told me what had happened, I ordered bath water to be heated and a bedchamber prepared. You must be exhausted. Come.’
She slipped her arm around Jane’s waist and they hurried through the gardens and up the steps to the terrace, where one of the French doors into the library stood open. Within minutes the Duchess had whisked Jane upstairs.
* * *
Father, as was his wont, moved swiftly to avert any scandal. Pikeford had already left for Plymouth, escorted by two footmen to ensure he took passage on the first ship bound for the Continent, thus thwarting Alex of the chance to thump the bastard again. But Father did not broach the subject of Alex’s impending marriage until after dinner that evening, when he invited Alex to join him in his study.
Alex braced himself for the interrogation, every muscle locked tight, as though his body was preparing itself for physical battle.
‘Well, Alex?’
Alex unclenched his jaw with an effort. ‘Well... I hope you will wish us happy, sir.’
Father stared at him for several seconds, his eyes troubled, before pouring them both a glass of brandy. He handed one to Alex and gestured for him to sit in one of the pair of wingback chairs either side of the unlit hearth.
‘You’ve had time to think this through, Son. Marriage is a big step—it is not something that should be rushed into on a whim.’
‘It was not a whim.’ As ever, he instinctively opposed Father.
One dark eyebrow flicked high. ‘Did you know this morning you would propose to Lady Jane Colebrooke today?’
‘Of course not! I—’
‘Then it was a whim.’
As Alex opened his mouth to protest again, Father held up one hand. ‘Hear me out, Alex, before you shoot me down again.’
Alex subsided. How he wished he could emulate Father’s cool, calm control. Nothing ever seemed to rattle him whereas he... Alex...flew into the boughs at the slightest provocation. He must learn to control that tendency with a wife to consider.
His insides clenched. A wife! Marriage! He’d never, ever imagined marrying. He knew himself too well to believe he could ever make a good husband.
‘It’s not too late to change your mind, Alex. Once you exchange your vows, you will be together for life.’
‘My mind is made up,’ Alex muttered.
‘Nevertheless you should listen to what I am about to say, not only for your own sake, but for Jane’s, as well.’
‘Jane’s sake?’
Father didn’t reply, but held Alex’s gaze with his own.
‘Jane will be happy to get away from that witch of a stepmother of hers.’
‘Granted. But if I can guarantee you that Jane will never have to return to her father’s house, will you reconsider your decision?’
Alex stared at his father. ‘How?’
Hope warred with resentment inside. Hope, because marriage was irrevocable. His father was right, although Alex would never admit that aloud. Resentment because...well, resentment was his habitual reaction to everything his father said or did.
‘I will undertake to find her a decent husband.’
He didn’t like the sound of that. How could his father possibly know a man’s character, or how he might change? Once Jane was wed, that would be it. She’d be bound for life to some stranger she didn’t even know. Every fibre of his being
rebelled against that idea... Jane was his friend. He’d always protected her, right from when they were children.
‘You think I couldn’t make her a decent husband? We’ve been friends a long time.’
‘I am aware of that. But...you’re only five-and-twenty, Alex. It’s a young age for a man to take such a big step.’
‘Dom is only a year older than me. He got married this year.’
‘He thought it his duty. But then, thank goodness, he fell in love. Besides, you and Dominic are very different characters.’
Alex scowled, biting back the urge to rip up at his father. The truth hurt sometimes.
‘You were only eighteen when you married my mother.’
‘The circumstances were very different. My father was dying and fretting over the succession of the dukedom. I married for him.’ Father thrust his hand through his hair. ‘Alex...this is not wise... Allow me to find a good husband for Jane... Don’t rush into this. You might both live to regret it.’
Alex drained his glass and rose to his feet. ‘And we might not! This is my decision. I leave for Exeter first thing to obtain the licence.’ He’d already arranged for Dominic to drive him in his curricle. ‘The wedding will take place as soon as possible.’
Then he could leave this place with all its threatening memories and go home to Foxbourne where he was happiest.
‘I intend to make the same offer to Jane tomorrow.’ Father’s voice was clipped. ‘She deserves to know she has a choice.’
Alex’s simmering temper boiled up at that. ‘There is no need for you to involve yourself—I don’t want you pressuring Jane just because you think you know what is best. You cannot manipulate us to your bidding like you manipulate everyone else. I bid you goodnight.’
His temper raged until he was halfway to his bedchamber when—as so often happened where his father was concerned—it cooled as suddenly as if doused in a bucket of icy water, leaving shame behind. He contemplated rejoining the family downstairs but couldn’t face having to act the part of happy brother, nephew and son. Not to mention happy prospective bridegroom. He couldn’t face his family. Couldn’t face his father again. He continued on to his room, eyeing the bed with disfavour, already anticipating the restless night to come.
Why was life never straightforward?
He’d refused his father’s offer, driven by that familiar but inexplicable defiance, but that didn’t mean he knew exactly what he did want.
He was torn.
He’d been fully reconciled to life as a bachelor, with no need—or wish—to share his life with anyone. And as for marriage to Jane—she was like his little sister! No. She was more than that. She was, and always had been, his friend. But...marriage? Didn’t that mean sharing his feelings and his innermost thoughts? That was unthinkable. He kept those to himself. Always had. He was an island—even when he was out with his friends, carousing, he was always separate, somehow, and that was how he liked it.
But, strangely, now he was faced with it, a part of him—a newly emerging, hesitant and hazy part of him—quite liked the idea of marriage. To Jane. At least she knew him and knew about his past. And at least she never looked at him with that infuriating mix of sympathy and pity he all too often identified in his family’s expressions. He and Jane were friends—surely they could at least be comfortable together, as long as he learned to suppress his black moods. He could do it with the horses...when he worked with them it was as though nothing else existed. No past. No future. Just him and the horse. Could he learn to do the same for Jane?
And Jane loved horses as much as he did—he was sure she would be as happy at Foxbourne as he was.
It would be a better start than many couples experienced.
* * *
Jane must have slept right through to the next morning because she vaguely recalled waking at one point to find it was night-time, but now, as she propped herself up on her elbows, she could see daylight limning the curtains. Memories of the previous day loomed—Pikeford following her, his attack, his strength...so much more than she could have imagined. It was frighteningly impossible to fight him off and then, just as she despaired of ever stopping him, Alex had rescued her.
She flopped back on to the mattress, biting her lip against the hot sting of tears. How long had she dreamed of him seeing her as someone other than simply good old Janey, the girl next door? How many years had she fed her fantasies with images of him realising, at last, that he loved her...proposing to her...?
But not like this. Never like this!
Sick dread clogged her throat. She was in an impossible situation. If she protected Alex against his spontaneous, quixotic gesture then she must go home, to the stepmother who would not hesitate to marry her off to Sir Denzil Pikeford. And he would be perfectly willing...
She shuddered, rolling on to her side, curling into a ball, her arms wrapped around her torso. She would die rather than end up as Pikeford’s wife. Her stomach roiled in disgust.
I cannot lie here for ever. I must face this some time.
She forced herself to rise, crossing to the window and pulling back the curtains. It was early, the sun still low in the sky. A movement caught her eye and she saw a curricle with two male occupants heading away from the Abbey. She couldn’t be sure, but she suspected the passenger was Alex and she recognised Dominic’s matched bays. She frowned. Where were they off to so early? Would Alex leave in order to avoid her? He had run away rather than face unpleasant consequences when he was younger, but she couldn’t believe Dominic would aid and abet him.
There’s only one way to find out.
* * *
After dressing—a trunk containing her belongings had appeared as if by magic at the foot of her bed—she ventured downstairs only to find it was too early for the rest of the family to be up and about. She refused breakfast, too embarrassed to eat when none of the family was present. Ignoring her growling stomach, she selected a book from the library and settled in an armchair to pass the time until someone else appeared.
That someone, to her dismay, was the Duke of Cheriton. Jane shot to her feet, nerves churning her stomach. The Duke had never been anything but courteous to her, but he was a formidable and powerful man and some of Alex’s feelings about his father had inevitably rubbed off on her over the years.
‘Good morning, Jane.’ The Duke gestured, indicating she should sit again. She perched on the edge of the chair. ‘Grantham said I would find you in here. Are you well rested?’
‘Yes, thank you, Your Grace.’
He pulled another chair across to sit opposite. ‘You have a bruise on your face, I see. Did Pikeford injure you anywhere else?’
Jane shook her head, mortified at talking of such matters, nervy at being the sole focus of the Duke’s attention.
His eyes narrowed and a groove appeared between his black brows. ‘Unfortunately neither the Duchess nor my sister are awake, but I can send for a maid if you are uncomfortable being here alone with me.’
Her face flamed. How rude he must think her, when she had known him all her life.
‘It is understandable you are still shaken after the events of yesterday.’ He went to the door. She heard a murmur of voices, then he returned to sit again.
‘I—I thought I saw Alex leaving,’ Jane said.
A smile crinkled the Duke’s eyes. ‘He has not run off, you know. He outgrew that tendency a few years ago, I’m pleased to say. Dominic is driving him to Exeter, to obtain a marriage licence.’
She struggled to meet his gaze. But she must say this...she couldn’t allow Alex to sacrifice himself for her. ‘I will not hold him to his promise, Your Grace. I could not forgive myself if Alex married me only to regret it. Please. Can you tell him he need not marry me?’
‘I have told him already and—’
He fell silent as the door opened and Jane breathed a sigh of relief when
Olivia, her old friend and only eight months older than Jane, entered.
‘Grantham said you needed me in here, Papa. Good morning, Jane.’
Olivia smiled, pulling a footstool over to sit close to Jane. She clasped her hand.
‘Thank you, Livvy. Now, as I was about to say, Jane...Alex understands very well he is under no obligation to marry you and that, if he chooses not to proceed, I shall ensure you never have to return to your father’s house. But I want you to understand—this offer I am about to make is for your benefit, Jane. Not Alexander’s.’ The Duke rose and crossed to the window, where the early morning sun lit his face, highlighting the silvering at his temples and the lines of stress around his eyes and mouth. ‘You have known my son all your life and you know he is not always an easy man. My fear is that if he feels constrained to go ahead with your union—even by his own decision—then, later, he may well rebel against it. And you would bear the brunt of his resentment.
‘You deserve to be happy in your marriage, Jane, and that is why I sought you out this morning...to make you the same offer I made to Alex. There is a third way and you may trust me when I say I shall find a way for you to be safe from both your stepmother and Pikeford.’
He returned to his chair, his silver-grey gaze on Jane’s face. She swallowed. She should grab his offer with both hands. For Alex’s sake. But the Duchess’s words resounded in her head, keeping her silent. Alex did need a friend...not the friends with whom he spent his time on the town, but someone who would be there for him, day after day. Night after night. Someone to provide him with a safe anchor during those times the past came back to haunt him. Because haunt him it did. They all knew it. But no one had ever found the way to help him come to terms with the day he had discovered his mother’s violated body.
And Jane, God help her, wanted to be that friend to him. If...
‘What was Alex’s answer to your offer, sir?’
Christmas with His Wallflower Wife Page 3