The Earl's Marriage Bargain

by Louise Allen

  ‘That would be compromising,’ Jane agreed after a moment. A dab of cream fell from the spoon she held suspended over the dish and the plop made her jump. ‘Yes, I can see your concern. How would you travel to Merton Tower, though?’

  ‘I can walk. Despite what I said about the cavalry, I am capable of walking the distance on a fine day.’

  ‘Yes, of course you are.’ She passed him a bowl that appeared to have received an absent-minded double helping of dessert.

  Ivo eyed her suspiciously. No reference to his injured shoulder, no arguments? No protests that he was being over-sensitive about guarding her reputation? ‘Have the fairies spirited Jane Newnham away, leaving you in her place?’ he asked.

  ‘Whatever can you mean?’ she asked with a twinkle that told him she knew exactly what he meant. ‘I am tired, that is all. I do not wish to quarrel, or argue. Could we not make a later start tomorrow? Perhaps order breakfast for nine?’

  Ivo was tempted. His bruises ached like the devil, his shoulder throbbed and the thought of a decent night’s sleep on a good mattress was powerfully tempting. ‘I would say, yes, but I fear your papa may be on our heels by now, breathing fire and brimstone. The sooner you are safe with your cousin, the better.’

  ‘It is not very likely that he will catch up with us,’ Jane said. She put down her spoon, apparently requiring both sets of fingers for calculation. ‘Billing would have spent an hour fussing and haranguing the innocent inn staff, then she would have had to catch the first coach into London that had room for her. Let us suppose that it was three hours after we left her that she found a seat. Then an hour, perhaps more, to get to central London, then she would need to find a hackney carriage to take her to Aunt Hermione’s house. She might, at the earliest, be back there five hours after we left her.

  ‘She would not find anyone at home except the staff because Mama and Papa and Aunt were going to an exhibition at a gallery in Piccadilly and then visiting Aunt’s elderly godmother in Hampstead where they were expecting to stay for dinner. Which means that by the time they had returned to Hill Street and Billing had told them what had happened and Mama had had the vapours it would be far too late to set out. Especially as they could not be certain where I was going,’ she added, a look of dawning apprehension wiping all amusement from her face. ‘Even Billing could not be foolish, or suspicious enough, to think that we met by arrangement, but I am sure they would all ascribe the worst possible motives to you—kidnap, or seduction or some such dastardly thing.’

  ‘So, you believe they would expect me to be heading for the Border with you? Or to some den of iniquity?’

  ‘Papa is probably expecting a ransom note. Oh, dear, I had not thought of it like that, but why would they think that I would pick up a strange gentleman and then continue on to Cousin Violet as though nothing had happened?’

  ‘I cannot imagine.’ It should have been the first thing he thought about, not how much his wounds hurt, not how bad he felt about his failure to fulfil his promise to Charles, not his own bruised heart or even how to stop this infuriating female careering around the countryside like a loose cannon with a sketchbook. ‘Do you think they will call upon Bow Street?’

  ‘That is exactly what Papa would do. He is not at all the kind of gentleman who would rush off in pursuit armed to the teeth. He is exceedingly conventional.’ She regarded him across the remains of their dinner. ‘You look very thoughtful.’

  ‘I am considering how to raise bail when I am arrested, without involving my grandfather,’ Ivo said, only half joking.

  She bit her lower lip, clearly taking him seriously, and the memory of her mouth under his, of the sweet taste of her and the light floral scent that she wore, made his breath catch. The last thing that he needed was an inconvenient physical attraction to an innocent who was under his protection, he told himself. Perhaps the attraction was that she was so unlike Daphne. ‘There is no need to worry, I was teasing you.’

  ‘Even so, perhaps we had best not linger too long. If we set out at, say eight, that would be safe, I think.’

  He had to agree. Given that Jane was going to exactly where she was supposed to go would probably be the least likely scenario that her parents might imagine so an eight o’clock departure should see them safely in Batheaston by one o’clock.

  ‘I suggest that you write to your parents and tell them you are on your way to your cousin, quite safe and sound. They should receive the letter by late tomorrow afternoon, I imagine. Then write again with some kind of explanation when you reach Batheaston.’

  ‘Without naming you, naturally. Let me think—I took you to an inn and called a doctor. When I was satisfied you were not in danger, I continued on my way. I simply do not mention that I continued with you, so it is not exactly an untruth.’ She beamed at him, pleased with her solution, and Ivo felt an unexpected jolt of sympathy for her father. For any parent of a daughter, for that matter, he concluded.

  ‘I suggest we have an early night and tell the staff that we require waking with breakfast and hot water at seven.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Jane said and tugged the bell pull.

  * * *

  Ivo slept like the proverbial log, only stirring when the faint light of dawn struggled between the gap in the curtains. He lay, half-awake, wondering what had woken him. A scuffling sound in the corner of his chamber? He came up on his elbows and peered into the shadows. Nothing stirred and he could just make out the shape of his clothes draped and piled on the chair. Mice, that was all. He punched the pillow into a more comfortable shape and closed his eyes again. This was an efficient inn, they would be woken up in plenty of time. He could relax again and get perhaps another hour’s sleep.

  * * *

  The sun streaming through the gap in the curtains woke him eventually. That and the noise from the inn yard. Ivo sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed for his pocket watch. The hands stood exactly at the right angle. Nine.

  ‘Nine?’

  He flung back the covers, pulled on his clothes and tugged on the bell pull. He was wrestling with his boots when a pert maid in a large white cap and crisp apron came in.

  ‘What kind of hour do you call this? I left orders to be woken at seven.’

  ‘Yes, sir. But the lady, your sister, said to let you sleep. She came down at half past six, sir, and said she’d break her fast at the first change and to leave you to your rest, sir. She ordered you a very good breakfast and she has paid the shot. Said something about needing to reach a relative urgently and that you would understand. There’s a note on the dresser, she said.’

  The little witch.

  Ivo grabbed the note and coins fell out as he opened it.

  Dear Ivo,

  I realised last night that just as I might be compromised, then so might you, and really the last thing you need is some kind of misunderstood entanglement with a country gentleman’s daughter! It was foolish of me not to realise the delicacy of your position.

  So, here is enough money to take the stage and then hire a gig or a horse when you are nearer home.

  Please do not worry about paying me back until a convenient time for you—it will be some weeks before I need money for a lease on a shop and studio, I am sure, and in any case I have the jewellery to sell.

  Thank you so much for your company on the road. I do hope your shoulder is much better soon and that you find your grandfather in the very best of health.

  With kind regards,

  Your friend,

  J.N.

  Ivo swore. The maid squeaked.

  He had no hope of catching Jane now. He had best go to the Tower. Go home, as Jane put it. Go home and face the future.

  Chapter Six

  ‘Jane, dearest girl!’ Cousin Violet surged down the path leading to her front gate, arms flung wide, bosom breasting the breeze, like a ship running before a high wind. She was a lady designed on genero
us lines by nature, with a personality that matched her figure.

  Jane was enveloped in an enthusiastic embrace and breathed in the familiar Violet scent of chocolate, jasmine and face powder.

  ‘You have been a very naughty girl and I am selfishly delighted, because it means I will have your company. Your mama wrote that I should chastise you, so consider yourself thoroughly scolded and then we can forget all about it and enjoy ourselves.’ Violet turned to lead Jane back down the garden path between rose bushes and mounds of lavender as generously proportioned as she was. Billows of scent rose around them. ‘Do mind the bees. I should have Tomlin cut it all back, but I do not have the heart.’

  ‘I should think not, it is wonderful.’

  Violet always referred to her house as a cottage. In fact, it was a late seventeenth-century house of three storeys built of mellow Bath stone and set back from the High Street behind the front garden. There was a walled back garden and a yard behind that with stables, reached by circuitous lanes.

  ‘Where is your maid? Has she gone around to the back with the post chaise? Your mama wrote that she was sending her woman with you. Trilling, was it? It cannot be Cooing, I refuse to believe that.’

  ‘Billing—and she neither trills nor coos. I sent her back shortly after Kensington. I have to confess to an adventure, Cousin Violet. A very small one,’ she added hastily as Violet turned to regard her with wide brown eyes full of speculation.

  ‘A man?’

  ‘Er...yes. A gentleman, of course.’

  ‘My dear! Tell me all. Are you in love with him?’ Violet swept on through the front door, Jane behind her like a skiff towed by a galleon, she thought wildly.

  ‘No! Not at all. He is infuriating, not at all handsome and far above my touch. I have to confess to missing him already, though. Much as one does a tooth after it has been pulled,’ she added after a moment’s thought.

  And she was faintly worried as well. Ivo had seemed strong and fit and able to cope with the after-effects of the beating and stabbing, but men were proud, devious creatures and more than capable of lying about their health. He would not be pleased to discover that she had tricked him, but she hoped he had slept long enough for him to realise that pursuit was futile and would take himself home at a steady pace.

  ‘Come and sit down and we will take tea.’ Violet ushered her into the front parlour. ‘The girls put the kettle to the fire the moment we saw your chaise. Now, sit there, take off that bonnet and tell me everything.’

  Jane did as she asked, around mouthfuls of tea and delicious cakes. Almost everything: she omitted the arguments about her proposed career as a portraitist—she would have to decide what to tell Violet about that and when—and for some reason she did not feel able to talk about that kiss.

  ‘So, you have travelled all the way from Newbury today? Alone?’

  ‘Yes. I have to confess I would not wish to stay at an inn by myself, because I did receive some impudent stares from a few men when I went into places to take refreshment or use the necessary along the way. But I gave them a very haughty look and they did not trouble me further.’

  ‘And so your mystery man does not know where you have vanished to? It sounds as though you were exceedingly fortunate in the person you chose to rescue so recklessly, for his behaviour seems most gentlemanly.’

  ‘I told him I was coming to you so that he would not worry. He is an aristocrat and an army officer. Or he was,’ Jane confessed. ‘But even if he had proved to be a street sweeper, I could not have left him to be beaten to death, now could I?’

  ‘Your parents would doubtless say that you should have fetched a constable.’

  ‘By which time he could have been dreadfully injured!’

  ‘I agree,’ Violet said warmly. ‘There are times when a lady must act. But you spent two nights with him...’

  ‘I spent two nights in the same inn as he did,’ Jane corrected. ‘Not with him. And no one but the three of us knows. I wrote to Mama and Papa explaining that I was not kidnapped or eloping or in any danger and I gave them the impression that after I rescued Iv...the gentleman, I continued on my way alone having left him at an inn in the care of a doctor. I must write now and tell them I am safely arrived with you.’

  ‘No, I will write,’ Violet declared. ‘Then they will be certain you are not being constrained to write by your dastardly kidnapper.’ She selected a small biscuit and nibbled it daintily, watching Jane as she did so. ‘Are you quite certain you have not fallen for this man? You would tell me if he did anything for which he should be called to account, I hope.’

  ‘I am positive I have not fallen for him.’ Wanting him to kiss her again and feeling a strange little ache inside when she remembered the smile in those deep blue eyes did not amount to falling, she was sure. ‘And he most certainly did nothing to make me feel at all uneasy in his presence. I confess to feeling a strong desire to box his ears on occasion, I must admit, but that was because of his stuffy attitudes.’

  Which makes it all the stranger that I wish he was here to talk to.

  ‘Excellent. Then I can write with a clear conscience to set Cousin Mildred’s mind at rest. I will do that now and then the letter will be ready for the evening Mail.’ She reached out and tugged the bell pull. ‘Dorothy will show you your room and unpack for you and you can rest after your journey. Then we can make our plans.’ She beamed at Jane. ‘Mildred said you can stay for weeks—I am so looking forward to it.’

  Jane smiled back. Cousin Violet was a dear and she felt like a sister because she was so warm and understanding. The youngest daughter of Mama’s youngest sister, she was only fifteen years older than Jane. The temptation to tell her everything—the sudden revelation that she could create a studio and shop in Bath and paint professionally, the unsettling effect Ivo had on her—was powerful and she hated to deceive Violet. But she resisted the urge to unburden herself. She had done nothing yet, so she was not deceiving her cousin. Time to worry about it when she found her shop.

  * * *

  ‘What the devil do you mean by presenting yourself here ten days late and looking like the riff and raff of an alehouse brawl?’ the Marquess of Westhaven demanded. He was seventy years old, as upright and belligerent as he had been in his forties. He was used to having his wishes obeyed instantly, to receiving all the deference he felt he was owed—which was considerable—and, Ivo guessed, no one had said him nay for years.

  ‘I look as I do because my luggage is in London and I have, indeed, been in an alehouse brawl. I am later than you requested because I had an obligation to a friend of mine who asked me on his deathbed to try and detach his sister from an unwise alliance. I was too late. She is married and took exception to my interference to the extent of setting her grooms on me.’ Ivo took the seat on the other side of the vast oak desk, noting that the Marquess still had no time for this modern fashion for furniture that did not look as though it had been hewn from a warship. He had not been invited to sit, but he was not going to stand there like a naughty schoolboy summoned for a caning.

  His grandfather, eyes narrowed in thought, appeared not to notice this disrespect. Ivo wondered if that was tactical and the old man suspected he would not win every round against his grandson nowadays.

  ‘That will be the Parris chit, I imagine. I recall you were friendly with her brother when you were growing up. They had a family place near Longfield, had they not?’ he said, mentioning the estate Ivo’s father had used most. ‘Her aunts are raising a merry storm in London, so my correspondents tell me. Foolish creatures. Nothing to be done about it now. Clement Meredith seduced her, bedded her and wedded her, they say. Probably got a child in her belly by now if he’s got any sense. Is she of age?’ He pulled a wry expression when Ivo shook his head. ‘They’d do better to put a good face on it and spend their energies on making sure he cannot get his hands on her money.’

  He focused su
ddenly on Ivo’s face. ‘I recall you and she had some boy-and-girl fancy for one another at one time.’

  Ivo shrugged, apparently not nonchalantly enough to fool his grandfather.

  ‘Ah, so it was more than that. April and May foolishness. You are well out of it if she is capable of such behaviour. Are you telling me that she ordered her men to do you that much damage? Don’t pretend your ribs aren’t cracked—and what’s wrong with your shoulder?’

  ‘We had an understanding, but that’s all in the past,’ Ivo said, slouching back as casually as he could in the chair and ignoring the twinges in his ribs and shoulder. ‘But she was unhappy with me interfering and there were four of them. Nothing’s cracked, just bruised, and I got a knife in the shoulder. It has been stitched.’ He shrugged to demonstrate it was not too bad.

  ‘Pshaw.’ The older man made a disgusted face. ‘And Meredith let her do it? That is not the action of a gentleman. He should have called you out, not set his bullies on you.’

  ‘He was not there. This was all Daphne’s idea, it seems. Do you think I should now challenge him so I could kill him and fulfil my promise to Charles?’ he suggested wryly. ‘I do not think that he would expect me to go to the lengths of becoming an exile on his behalf.’

  ‘No, I do not suggest you fight him. The man’s a bounder, not a gentleman. And don’t you waste any more effort on the foolish chit, you’ve done all her brother could have expected of you.’

  ‘I promised I would do what I could,’ Ivo said. ‘I would have tried anyway. Even if she no longer feels anything for me, there is an obligation. Once I realised that they were wed I suspected that nothing was possible, but I hoped one of your squadron of high-flown lawyers might be able to advise her aunts on possibilities.’