Читать книгу Bartered Bride - Anne Herries - Страница 13

Sir Bertie and the marquis went off together after tea, leaving Lottie and her father together in the parlour.

‘Well, Lottie, what do you think now you’ve met him?’ Sir Charles asked in a low voice. ‘Can you bear it?’

‘Yes, I think so—unless the marquis were to relent and release you from the bargain and your debt, Papa.’

‘You will certainly have all the luxuries that money can buy, m’dear—but if you should hate the idea I can tell him it won’t do.’

‘I believe we must be realistic. I am two and twenty and I have no fortune whatsoever. This may be my only chance to marry well. After all, most young women marry to oblige their families, do they not?’

‘Your mother chose for herself,’ Sir Charles said heavily. ‘She made me promise that you and…’

‘Papa,’ Lottie warned with a glance over her shoulder, ‘please say no more. I do not see that we have a choice. Besides, I believe I should be foolish to turn down the chance of living in a house like this—and I have a fancy to be the Marchioness of Rothsay…’

Anyone who knew her would have guessed immediately that she was merely funning, but the marquis, who had returned from seeing his friend off, and stood outside the door heard only the last few words and thought the worst.

His ears were still ringing with the congratulations Bertie had heaped on him, and he had almost begun to think himself more than fortunate to have found such a lovely bride. However, catching the last few words and hearing father and daughter laugh together aroused his ire once more. The scoundrels! Did they imagine they had found a soft nest for the two of them? He would send them both packing and good riddance.

Nicolas was about to go in and have it out with the pair of them when he heard a squealing sound, a murmur of alarm and some very peculiar noises coming from inside the parlour.

‘Oh, you poor little thing. What a mess you have got into…’

Intrigued by the new note in her voice, Nicolas walked into the room and saw something that amazed him. The woman he had just decided was a scoundrel was clutching a very sooty and disreputable animal he thought might be a kitten. She was stroking it gently and he could see that the beast did indeed look to be in a sorry state. Glancing at the fireplace, he saw how much soot the kitten had brought down and made a mental note to have the chimneys swept before the winter.

‘How in the world did that get here?’

‘I imagine it must have gone up on the roof somehow and fallen down. It feels so thin,’ Lottie said and held the creature to her breast, stroking its filthy fur and getting soot all over her gown. ‘We have some milk left from tea…’ With one hand, she poured a little milk into one of the exquisite porcelain tea bowls. Still holding the kitten gently as she set both the bowl and the creature on the carpet, she allowed it to lap while supporting it with her hands. ‘Oh, look how hungry it is. Do you think Cook would spare a little fish of some kind?’

‘I imagine she might if you asked,’ Nicolas said. ‘You are, after all, to be the mistress here, are you not?’

‘If it suits you,’ Lottie replied without looking up. ‘For the moment I am simply a guest. The milk has all gone. I must take Kitty to the kitchens. She needs a little wash, but it must be done carefully so as not to harm her, and she will need to be fed small amounts regularly. I think I shall keep her in my room…’

‘She has already covered your gown and the carpet with soot.’ Nicolas glared at her for no particular reason.

‘Yes, I am sorry about your carpet, my lord. I know soot is difficult to get out. I will fetch a cloth later and see what I can do.’

‘One of the servants will see to it. Good grief,’ Nicolas said, feeling irritable without understanding what had changed his mood. ‘Ring the bell and Mrs Mann will come. One of the footmen can deal with the wretched thing.’

Lottie looked up, her green eyes sparking with anger. ‘It may be a wretched thing to you, my lord, but at the moment I believe it is to be pitied. I dare say it has been lost in your maze of chimneys for days, for I think it is near starving. I wish to care for it myself.’

He blinked and then lowered his gaze. ‘I did not mean the thing was undeserving of pity. Merely that it would do well enough with the servants. If you wish to care for it, that is your own affair.’

‘If you would kindly direct me to the kitchens.’

‘I shall ring for Mrs Mann. She will assist you…’ he said, but was saved the trouble by the arrival of the housekeeper and a maid to clear the tea things. ‘Mrs Mann—a kitten seems to have got stuck up the chimney…’

‘Yes, my lord. It is one of the kitchen cat’s brood. We did think one was missing. Rose will take it for you, Miss Stanton.’

‘Miss Stanton wishes to care for the kitten herself. If you will show her where she can clean it a little and also provide some food for the wretched beast.’

Mrs Mann glanced at him, but made no comment. She turned to Lottie with a smile.

‘Rose will show you the kitchen and scullery, miss—if you are sure you wish for the trouble?’

‘It won’t be a trouble to Lottie,’ Sir Charles put in. ‘She always had a soft spot for any creature she found in trouble. Clar…uh, that is, Clara used to scream when she found wounded birds in the garden, but Lottie did her best to heal them if she could.’

‘And who is Clara?’ Nicolas asked. ‘I thought your aunt was called Beth?’

‘Oh, Clara is a just a friend,’ Lottie replied, eyes wide and innocent. ‘Excuse me, my lord. I must attend to the kitten—I think she has just wet herself.’

‘And you, miss,’ the housekeeper said. ‘You will have to house train the beast if you mean to make a pet of it.’

‘Yes…’ Lottie smiled. ‘I shall have to teach her better manners, shall I not?’

Nicolas let his gaze follow her as she walked from the room. He had meant to send both her and her father packing. It would be simple enough to cancel the debt and pay a lump sum to ease the lady’s pride. Yet the incident with the kitten had made him curious. He could not quite work out in his mind what was going on, but something did not ring true. Lottie had made nothing of the soot on her pretty afternoon gown or the kitten wetting her. How did the girl he had seen robbing his friend while he lay in a drunken stupor equate with the demure and compassionate young lady now staying in his house? She was like two different women!

She must be a consummate actress. Nicolas scowled, for he did not like the way she had played on his sympathies. Miss Stanton was not the only one to care for animals in distress. As a young lad he had rescued enough of them himself… Now what had made him recall his childhood? It was years since he had given it a thought, perhaps because painful memories had superseded the happier times.

He had, he supposed, been fortunate to live in a house like this and to have parents who cared for him, even if they spared him little enough of their time. His tutor and some of the grooms had been his companions, as he roamed the estate, fished with a net for frogs and newts in the streams and ponds, rode his pony and climbed trees. It was a very good place to bring up a family. The pity was that his mother had been a little fragile after his birth, and when she died from a putrid fever, the house had been plunged into mourning, from which it had never quite recovered. Nicolas’s father had not remarried, spending most of his time away from the estate, working. Nicolas had been left alone with his grief.

Glancing around the parlour, Nicolas saw that although the furniture was good quality and made to the finest standards, the curtains and décor had become a trifle faded. He had spent only a few days at the house in the last years, and never in this particular parlour. If his wife intended to use it, he must have it refurbished for her.

His wife… Nicolas walked to the French windows and looked out. Was the reason he had been avoiding the subject of marriage down to his disappointment in love years before—or to the fear at the back of his mind that he might love too well, as his father had? Losing his mother at an early age had made Nicolas a little reserved and afraid of giving his affections. When the first woman he had believed himself in love with had also turned him down, he had put up a barrier to protect himself.

For a moment he thought about Elizabeth, the beautiful young lady who had been his first love. He had believed her nature as sweet as her face. The realisation that her gentle manner was false and covered a spiteful character had swept the illusion of love from his mind. He had thought her a woman he could trust, but her dismissal of his declaration had been deliberately cruel and meant to wound, destroying his trust in women and convincing him that love was for fools.

His father had been a fool for love. As a child, Nicolas had not truly understood why his father could not bear to be in the house after his wife died. Nicolas had imagined the fifth marquis was too busy to be interested in his only son, but as an adult he could guess that his father had simply shut himself off from everyone who mattered because it was too painful; because he was suffering from a broken heart. Perhaps he had grieved as much as Nicolas, but been unable to show it, which meant they might have been more alike than either of them had realised.

No woman was worth the pain love inflicted. Nicolas was determined that he would never again offer his heart to have it crushed beneath a woman’s dainty foot.

‘Foolish…’ he muttered and went out of the French windows. Love was a waste of time. A marriage of convenience was much safer. It was best to keep his mind on practical matters. He would walk down to the stables and speak to the head groom to discover if there was a suitable horse in their stables for a lady to ride.

‘Now you must be good, Kitty,’ Lottie said and stroked the kitten’s fur. It still felt a little spiky and rough but with good food and care she did not doubt it would recover in time. Now that that the soot had gone, she could see that the kitten was a pretty tortoiseshell in colour. ‘If you must wet, use the sand tray as I showed you.’

‘You talk to her just as if she can understand,’ Rose said and laughed. ‘She will learn to use the tray in time. My mother puts the cats out to teach them, but they still wet in the house until they get older. Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to take her down to the kitchen?’

‘I shall keep her here until she is better,’ Lottie said. ‘If you would pop in and look at her now and then…’

‘I’ll come before I help with the dishes, miss,’ Rose said. ‘Cats are loners, you know. I dare say she will wander off when you let her outside. My mother says dogs are the best companions for they give love in return, and cats don’t.’

‘My aunt has a large and fat tabby that she adores,’ Lottie said and laughed. She had taken to the young maid and was pleased that Rose was to look after her. ‘I must go down now for the gong sounded five minutes ago. I do not wish to keep the marquis waiting.’

She went out, leaving Rose to tidy up. It would take a little time to get used to the idea of a maid waiting on her. At home they had a cook and one maid of all work, also Muffet, who had come with Aunt Beth and would turn her hand to anything. This meant that Lottie was accustomed to doing dusting and kept her own room tidy. She often cleaned her aunt’s room, too. Living here with so many servants to care for just her and the marquis would seem strange—though of course they would probably entertain friends much of the time.

Lottie realised that she was beginning to rather like the idea of living in this wonderful house. She wrinkled her brow, because if she went through with this deception it would mean living a lie for the rest of her life.

Was she cheating the marquis?

She could not help feeling a little guilty. When she had taken Clarice’s place, Lottie had tried not to question her motives or admit that she was doing something underhand—and when the marquis first greeted her so arrogantly, he had made her angry and she had felt he deserved all he got. However, her conscience was beginning to nag her. Perhaps she ought to tell him the truth before things went too far?

She was wearing a gown of green silk that evening. It had a dipping neckline, but was not low enough to show the little mole just above her right breast. Lottie was very conscious of the fact that in the more revealing gowns that Clarice wore it would have been easy to see that she did not have such a blemish.

As she approached the bottom stair, she was aware that the marquis had come out of the room to the right of the hall and was gazing up at her.

‘I was about to send someone in search of you, Lottie.’

‘Oh…’ She blushed. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to keep you waiting for your dinner. I was talking with Rose and forgot the time.’

‘Talking with Rose…you mean the parlour maid?’

‘She is looking after me. We were talking about cats and dogs. Rose’s mother prefers dogs, but Aunt Beth loves her cat—’ Lottie broke off and laughed. ‘You will think the subject obsesses me. I am sure you are used to far more stimulating conversation in London. I fear I do not know any amusing tales of the Regent to tell you. I have never mixed much in society…’ She realised that she had made a mistake. ‘Apart from the trip to Paris with Papa, of course.’

‘You seemed perfectly at home there.’ His brows met in the middle. ‘Tell me, Lottie—is this an act for my benefit? If so, you are wasting your time. I am not a fool and my memory works perfectly.’

‘I would never think you a fool, my lord…’ She sensed there was a deeper meaning behind his words and wondered whether he had seen through her disguise. Clarice had sworn she had met him only once and that he would not know the difference between them, but was there something her sister wasn’t telling her about her time with the marquis? She crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘I am not sure I understand you?’

‘No, then perhaps I should refresh—’ He turned his head as the butler came into the hall. ‘Yes, yes, Mann. We are coming now.’ His eyes narrowed as he looked at Lottie once more. ‘We shall speak of this another time. Dinner is ready and Cook will not be best pleased if we keep her waiting.’

‘No, that would not do at all,’ Lottie said and laid her fingers tentatively on the arm he offered. ‘I think it would be best if we talked soon, my lord. I believe there is something I ought to—’

A loud knocking at the door interrupted Lottie. The footman opened it and a lady entered, accompanied by several servants and a small King Charles spaniel, which barked noisily and jumped from her arms to rush towards Nicolas. He bent down and stroked it behind the ears, looking at the new arrival with rueful amusement.

‘Henri! You can hardly have had my letter more than a day. I intended to invite you to stay, of course, but this is a surprise.’

‘A pleasant one, I hope?’ The diminutive lady laughed confidently up at him. ‘I decided this morning I would visit you and here I am—and this young lady must be your intended bride?’ The lady bustled towards Lottie, exuding lavender and a warmth that seemed to envelop all she touched. ‘You are Miss Stanton? I am delighted to meet you. I have waited for this day too long.’ She laughed and seized Lottie’s hand, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘You are wondering who the devil I am, of course. This wretched godson of mine has not thought to introduce us—Henrietta, Countess of Selby. You may call me Henrietta.’

‘Ma’am…’ Lottie made a slight curtsy. ‘I am very pleased to meet you.’

‘And I you, though I really know very little about you my dear, not even your name?’

‘It’s Clarice, but everyone calls me Lottie.’

‘Well, it suits you, though I did not think your name was Charlotte?’

‘Clarice’s second name is Charlotte, which is why she often goes by Lottie. Anyway, enough chatter, Henri. We are late for dinner. Will you join us—or shall I have something sent up to you on a tray in half an hour or so?’

‘I shall rest this evening and will take a little soup in my room,’ she replied. ‘You may come in and see me for a few moments before you retire, Lottie—if it will be no trouble to you?’

‘No trouble at all, ma’am.’

‘Then I shall not keep you longer. Nicolas has a decent cook. You will not wish to lose her…’ She looked behind her, summoning a woman who looked as if she might be her companion. ‘Give me your arm, Millicent. That staircase looks daunting after a day spent travelling.’

‘You will become used to her,’ Nicolas said as his godmother began her colourful ascent of the stairs, her servants fluttering around her, the spaniel bounding ahead up the stairs. ‘Henri usually takes over the house when she arrives—though she has not stayed here often since…’ He shook his head. ‘Dinner awaits and we are now very late. We shall talk later.’

‘You must be very fond of her?’

‘I have many relations, but she is the only one I care for.’

‘I see…’ Lottie wondered what he had been going to say before his godmother arrived, but no doubt he would tell her later.

As it happened, Lottie did not learn what had been in the marquis’s mind that evening. Dinner had been served in what was more usually the breakfast room because, as he explained, there were so few of them.

‘Tomorrow evening I shall invite some of our neighbours,’ he said as they all rose at the end of the meal. ‘I had intended a period of quiet time for us to get to know one another, Lottie—but now that the countess has seen fit to join us we must entertain.’

‘Please do stay and enjoy some port,’ Lottie said. ‘You need not accompany me to the drawing room. I think I shall visit your godmother and then go to bed. If I want a drink, I am sure Mrs Mann will have a tray sent up.’

‘As you wish.’ Nicolas frowned. ‘I had thought we might talk?’

‘Tomorrow morning if you wish,’ Lottie said. ‘I am a little tired myself and would wish to retire after I have visited the countess.’

‘Very well,’ he replied, inclining his head.

Lottie sensed that he was not best pleased. She was not sure why she was putting off the evil moment, because she could surely not delay it much longer.

It would be embarrassing, but there was really no alternative. Lottie had been feeling guilty enough about deceiving the marquis himself, even though he did deserve it in a way, but to deceive the lady who had just arrived would be unforgivable.

She would simply go in for a few minutes and explain that she was too tired to talk this evening. It was clear that the countess expected an intimate heart to heart, but that could not happen. Not until Lottie had told the marquis the truth.

If he truly had no preference for her sister, he might be satisfied with her in Clarice’s place—but he must be given the choice.

Nicolas frowned over his brandy. He had offered to give Sir Charles a game of billiards but his future father-in-law had declined. They had talked in a desultory fashion of the King’s madness, which had resulted in the prince being called on to become the Regent once more, then discussed the price of corn and the weather. Then, after smoking a cigar, Sir Charles had excused himself and gone to his room.

Nicolas sat on alone in his library. He was not sure why his thoughts were so disordered. The day had not gone as he expected at all and he was still undecided what to do about the situation he had created.

He should, of course, have spoken to Sir Charles as soon as he realised what a fool he had been, made some settlement and withdrawn. It was clearly too late now. Bertie would have spread the news all over the neighbourhood—besides, Henrietta had rushed here as soon as she had his letter. The delight on her face when she saw his fiancée had struck him to the heart.

Lottie gave the appearance of being a modest charming woman, exactly the kind of person who would grace his home and make his relatives welcome. He knew that at heart she was a scheming adventuress, but for the moment she seemed determined to play the part of an innocent—why? What could she hope to gain?

His fingers drummed against the arm of his comfortable wing chair. What a dilemma! And he had only himself to blame. He frowned as he recalled the laughing words he had overheard outside the parlour—so she had a fancy to become the next marchioness, had she?

Well, would it be so bad? He had considered she would do before he had witnessed the theft of those guineas. It was that that rankled, he admitted—and the suspicion that she had been making love with—or at least been prepared to be seduced by—Ralph.

The thing was that he found he did not dislike Lottie. He was not sure he could trust her—and he would have to send her father packing after the wedding. Yet he did need a wife and if Henrietta liked her…he supposed she would do.

Nicolas groaned. He was such an idiot to have become embroiled with a pair of adventurers.

Why did he have the feeling that Lottie was playing a part? Had she decided to reform her ways now that she had a chance to move up in society?

Nicolas knew that he would not find it difficult to play his part in this strange marriage. It would be no hardship to make love to her—and her morals could be no worse than some of the ladies he had made his mistresses in the past. His last mistress had been grasping and selfish, which was why he had felt no remorse in finishing his arrangement with her. He would at least start his marriage without a clandestine attachment. He would certainly not tolerate being played false by his wife. If she imagined he would turn a blind eye to any future indiscretions, she would soon discover her mistake!

‘Damn it!’ he muttered and stood up. He would not find the answer in the bottom of a brandy bottle.

In the morning he would make it clear that, if they went through with this marriage, he would expect Lottie to be faithful—at least until she had given him a son or two.

Feeling unaccountably tired, he realised that for the first time in a while he would sleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

It must be the country air.

Lottie rose early, as was her custom. She sat up and looked over at the kitten lying on her bed. She had left it in the basket that Rose had provided for her, but it seemed that Kitty had other ideas. Reaching out, she picked the tiny creature up and stroked it, kissed its head and then climbed out of bed and placed it back in the basket.

‘That is your place, little one. You must not form bad habits, for I might roll on you in the night and suffocate you.’

Lottie found some water left over from the previous evening and washed her face and hands. She would have a proper wash before breakfast, but she wanted to go for a walk first.

Going downstairs, she surprised a maid already hard at work polishing the furniture.

‘I beg your pardon, miss. We did not know you were awake. Do you wish for something?’

‘Not until I return. I am going for a walk. I shall be back in time to dress properly for breakfast.’

A sleepy footman opened the door as she approached. She flashed a smile at him and went out into the early morning air. The dew was still on the grass and silky cobwebs hung between the perennials in the mixed border.

Walking across the lawns in the direction of the park, Lottie felt a sense of peace. The marquis’s estate was a lovely place to stay and she would have liked to live here, but she had decided that she must tell him the truth this morning.

She entered the park, reflecting that some of the trees here must be very ancient. One particular oak tree had grown so large that she thought it must have stood here for well over a hundred years. Lost in thought, she was startled by the sound of a shot somewhere to her right. Whilst it had come nowhere near her, she was concerned—she was certain that the marquis had said he did not hunt or shoot. Who could be shooting on his lands?

Without consideration, she turned towards the sound and a moment or two later came upon an unpleasant scene. A man had been shot in the leg. He was clutching at his wound, and the blood was trickling through his fingers. He lay on the ground and looked up at the man with the gun standing over him.

‘What is going on here?’ Lottie asked, walking up to them. ‘Why has this man been shot?’

‘He was poaching on his lordship’s land,’ the man who she instantly realised was a gamekeeper said, and touched his hat. ‘We do not allow poaching here, miss.’

‘My wife is starving. I only wanted a rabbit for the pot…’ the poacher whined looking at her hopefully. ‘Tell him it ain’t right, miss. There’s more than enough game in these parts—and his lordship ain’t never ’ere to want it.’

‘Poaching is illegal and must be stopped,’ Lottie said. ‘For one thing it is cruel to trap things. You should have come to the house and asked for help. However…’ She fixed the gamekeeper with a reproachful look. ‘It was not necessary to shoot the poor man in the leg, sir. You will take him to the house, where I shall bind his leg—and then we shall give him some food for his family.’

‘I don’t know about that, miss. His lordship don’t hold with poachers.’

‘I dare say he does not, but I do not hold with what you have done, sir. If you will not help him, I shall do so myself.’ She looked down at the poacher. ‘Can you stand?’

‘If he gives me a hand up.’

‘I’ll carry him over me shoulder,’ the gamekeeper said grudgingly. ‘You had best take me gun, miss. It ain’t loaded now so it can’t hurt you.’

‘I should not fear it if it were loaded,’ Lottie replied. ‘My father shoots occasionally. I am used to guns in the house.’ She checked that it was indeed harmless and slung the strap over her shoulder, following the men up to the house, round the back to the kitchen. ‘Bring him into the scullery. Cook will not want him bleeding over her kitchen floor.’

‘Miss Stanton…’ Rose came out to them as they reached the scullery door. ‘What is going on?’

‘This poacher has been shot. He was stealing a rabbit because his wife is starving, or so he says. We shall give him some food to take home—but in future he must work for his wage. I dare say he can be found some kind of work on the estate?’

‘That’s Sam Blake,’ Rose said. ‘He has never done a decent day’s work in his life.’

‘Then it is time he started,’ Lottie told her. ‘He must obviously rest his leg for a while, but as soon as he can walk, he must be given a job cleaning out the stables.’

‘I’ll tell Mrs Mann you said to give him food, but you’ll have to ask his lordship about giving him a job,’ Rose said. ‘Sit him down on that stool, Jeb Larkin, and I’ll patch him up.’

‘I was going to cleanse and bind his wound, Rose.’

‘Best you let me, miss,’ Rose told her firmly. ‘He has a wound in his thigh and it wouldn’t do for you to tend him, miss. Besides, I’ll be sending your water up with one of the other maids. You’ll be wanting your breakfast.’

‘Yes, well, perhaps—but don’t forget to give him some food.’

‘I shan’t forget, miss.’

Lottie left the maid to bind up the injured man and went upstairs. She bit her lip as she reflected that perhaps she had been rash to bring the poacher to the house. His story had touched her, but if he was a rogue his wife’s plight might be his fault rather than anyone else’s.

She hurried upstairs. Her walk had made her hungry, though she would have gone further afield had she not chanced on the poacher.

Lottie was at the breakfast table alone when the ring of booted feet on tiles told her that someone was about to enter. Her hand trembled a little as she sipped her tea. The unpleasant incident had put the thought of her confession from her mind, but it must be made this morning without fail.

‘So you are here. What the hell do you mean by interfering in the way I run my estate? You are not mistress here yet.’

Lottie looked up and saw the anger in the marquis’s face. He was speaking of the wounded poacher, of course. She rose to her feet, feeling the nerves knot in her stomach.

‘Forgive me. The man was hurt. I thought your gamekeeper might have fired in the air as a warning.’

‘And so Larkin might had the rogue not been warned a hundred times before. Blake is a thief and a scoundrel. You may feel that taking what belongs to others is acceptable but I think you will discover that others do not. Far from giving him work in my stables, I have called the constable. Blake will see how he likes a few months in prison.’

‘That is harsh, is it not? His wife is starving…’

‘He has only himself to blame. Besides, his wife never sees any of the game; he sells what he steals to the inn in the village and gets a few drinks in return, I’ve no doubt. He will be lucky if he does not hang.’

‘Oh…I am sorry,’ Lottie clasped her hands in front of her. ‘And I do not condone stealing. I was just moved to pity for his wife.’

‘You do not condone stealing?’ He spluttered incredulously. His eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Then pray tell me whether you think taking gold coins from a man’s pocket when he is in a drunken stupor is theft? Not to mention going to a bedroom alone with a man in that state.’

‘What..?’ Lottie felt the blood drain from her face. She was stunned, her mind reeling as she tried to take in what he was saying. ‘She… I would never… Where did this happen?’

‘You know full well where we were, at that gaming house in Paris. You were going through my friend’s pockets as he lay senseless.’ Nicolas stared at her intently. She looked so shocked and distressed that it suddenly dawned on him that it could not have been her. What an idiot he was! He should have seen it instantly. ‘Who the devil are you? You’re not her, are you? I thought from the start that something was different. You’ve been lying, trying to make a fool of me…’

‘No, it wasn’t to make a fool of you,’ Lottie hastened to reassure him. ‘I meant to tell you yesterday…to ask if you would let Papa repay the debt over a period of years. Clarice is my twin. She refused to marry you and—’

‘You thought you would take her place. How noble of you—or was it just a clever move to trick me into marriage, because you had a fancy to be the next marchioness yourself?’

‘No, of course not.’ Lottie’s cheeks were burning. ‘If you heard me say that to Papa, it was just in fun…to set his mind at rest. I was going to tell you the truth. I realised last night that I could not deceive the countess. She was so kind and—’

‘You would have deceived me happily enough, I suppose?’

‘At first I thought you deserved it. You have been exceedingly rude to Papa, to Clarice—and to me.’ Lottie raised her head, too angry now to care about what he thought.

‘Do you think you have deserved my concern?’

‘Mere politeness was all that was required. Well, you may set your mind at rest. I do not wish to marry you. Papa will just have to find the money to pay you what he owes. I dare say I shall find somewhere for Aunt Beth and I to live.’

‘So you will renege on the bargain you made?’

‘I made no bargain. And nor for that matter did Clarice. You made that deal with our father. Foolish Papa thought he could persuade Clarice to go along with your plans with the promise of wealth, but she dislikes you and—’ She broke off feeling embarrassed. ‘No, that is rude. I shall not be rude to you no matter what you have said to me.’

‘Your manners do you credit, Miss Charlotte,’ he sneered. ‘If only I could believe in that innocent outrage.’

‘Believe what you wish. Thank you for your hospitality, sir, but I am leaving.’

‘No, you are not.’ Nicolas grabbed her wrist as she would have passed him. ‘You will not make a fool of me in front of my neighbours and my godmother. Your father signed the contract. He owes me fifteen thousand pounds. If you refuse to marry me, I shall press for payment—and I shall tell the world that your sister is a thief.’

‘You would not…’ Lottie stared at him in horror. ‘How could you threaten to destroy my family? You are as cold and heartless as Clarice said you were. I do not know what happened in Paris, but she must have had good reason for what she did.’

‘Perhaps I am heartless,’ Nicolas said, his expression set in harsh lines. ‘However, when I make a bargain I stick to it—and you will oblige me by keeping your part.’

‘You are a devil! To think I felt guilty—almost liked you…’

‘Perhaps you may come to find my presence bearable,’ Nicolas said. ‘I shall endeavour to put my own disgust to one side and we shall muddle through.’

‘Why do you wish to continue? Surely you cannot wish to marry the sister of a woman you have named a thief? You clearly have no respect for Papa or me. Release me from the contract and I will make certain Papa pays you every penny from the estate.’

‘No. Jilt me and you will be ruined, your father and sister with you.’

‘But why?’ Lottie was puzzled.

‘Because I need an heir. One woman is as good as another in the dark. Your father owes me and you chose to deceive me. You will keep your part of the bargain whether you wish it or not.’

Tears were stinging behind her eyes, but Lottie refused to let them fall.

‘Very well, sir. You can compel me to honour my father’s bargain—but you will have no joy of your despicable behaviour.’ She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. ‘I shall be everything your bride ought to be in public. I will give you the heir you desire, but in my heart I shall always hate you.’

‘I never expected you to love me. Why should you? Love is a myth and ever was. I dare say you will be content in your role as my marchioness—and I need an heir or two, perhaps, just to be certain. Do your duty and we shall go along well enough.’

‘Have it your own way, sir. You hold all the cards, it seems, but you may come to regret this…’ She walked past him and this time he let her go.