Читать книгу Innocent in the Regency Ballroom - Christine Merrill - Страница 13

When she opened her eyes a while later, the carriage was pulling up in front of a row of fine houses, and he tapped on the door, waiting for the servants to open it and put down the step. Then he descended and offered his hand to her. ‘My dear?’

She reached out nervously to take it, while her mind raced to argue that she was in no way dear to him. The endearment was both inaccurate and unnecessary.

He saw the look in her eyes, and said, before she could speak, ‘It might go easier with the servants if we maintain a pretence of familiarity. They will obey you, in any case. They would be foolish not to. But all the same …’

She nodded. ‘Thank you, Adam.’ There. She had said his name.

A footman opened the door before them, and she entered on the arm of the duke, who greeted the butler with a curt, ‘Assemble the staff. Immediately.’

The man disappeared. He reappeared a short time later, accompanied by what Penny assumed must be the cook and the housekeeper, and, as she watched, an assortment of maids and footmen appeared from various entrances, lining up in an orderly row behind them.

She counted them. It must be a great house, as he had said, to need a staff so large. The home she had managed for her brother had made do with a staff of four. She reminded herself with some firmness that they were only servants and it did not do to show her fear of them.

The duke looked out over the small crowd assembled. ‘I have called you all out from below stairs for an announcement. On my recent trip north, things did not go quite as expected.’ He paused. ‘Actually, they went much better than I expected. I married.’

There was an audible gasp from the room, before the servants managed to regain control of their emotions.

‘May I present her Grace, the Duchess of Bellston—’

Before she could stop herself, she felt her knees begin to curtsy to the non-existent duchess, and her husband’s hand came out to lift her back to her feet.

‘—formerly, Miss Penelope Winthorpe. In celebration of this fact, you may all take the rest of the day off, to do as you will.’

There was an unexpected moment of tension.

‘With pay, of course,’ he added, and she could feel the staff relax again. ‘We will be dining out. You need do nothing on our behalf until breakfast.’

The gasp had turned to a murmur of excitement, as the staff realised their good fortune.

‘Three cheers for his Grace and the new lady of the house.’ The butler made an offer of ‘huzzah’ sound subdued and polite, but she accepted it with pleasure, as did her husband. ‘Thank you. And now, you are dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day.’

As quickly as they had gathered, the staff evaporated.

She looked at him, waiting for some indication of what was to be done next.

He glanced around him, seeking inspiration. ‘Perhaps, a tour of the rooms would be in order. And then we will refresh ourselves, before a trip to your bankers.’

She nodded. ‘An excellent plan. Please, your Grace, lead the way.’

He flinched. ‘Remember, I am to be Adam to you. And you shall be?’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘Do you prefer Penelope, or are you a Penny?’

‘Penny.’

‘Then Penny it shall be, and whatever small endearments I can muster. Come, Penny.’ There was a hesitation, as though he was struggling with a foreign language. ‘Let me show you your home in London.’ He led her down a short corridor, to doors that led to a parlour, which was grand; and a dining room, grander still, with room to seat twenty people. At the back of the house were a study, and a morning room.

‘And this shall be yours.’ He gestured into the sitting room, hesitating in the doorway as though he were afraid to enter.

She could understand why. Whoever had decorated the room had been the most ladylike of ladies. The furniture was gilt and satin, with legs so delicately turned that she was almost afraid to sit on it. If she chose a second sandwich at tea, the settee might collapse from the additional weight. And the desk, which would need to hold her books and writing materials, looked as though it might faint dead away, if expected to hold anything more serious than social correspondence. The other tables in the room were too small for anything larger than a rosebud, which would have to be candy pink to match the horrible silk upon the walls. The total was so sweet it made her teeth ache to look at it.

She looked in disgust at the ormolu clock on the mantel, which was supported by tiny gold goats and overflown with cherubs.

In response to her glare, the clock chimed the quarter hour, if such a stubbornly unobtrusive bell could be considered a chime.

She looked to her husband and struggled to speak. The correct response should have been ‘thank you’. But it was quite beyond her. Eventually she said, ‘It is very—pretty.’

He nodded in apology. ‘We can find you furniture more suitable for work, and install additional shelves.’ He pointed to a rather foolish collection of porcelain shepherds that graced a corner of the room. ‘The bric-a-brac and nonsense can be dispensed with, if you wish.’

She looked dubiously around her.

‘The room itself is large enough, is it not?’

She tried to ignore the design, and focus on the dimensions. It was larger than the one she had been using. She nodded.

‘Very good, then. Redo it to suit yourself. I expected nothing less than that, from whatever woman I married. The rest of the house as well. If you see something that does not suit your tastes, it is well in your power to change it.’ He paused. ‘Except for my rooms, if you please. I would prefer that my bedroom and study remain as they are now.’

‘I think that is not an issue. For I have seen nothing so far that needs alteration, and have no desire to change everything for change’s sake.’ She neglected to point out that, since any cosmetic changes to the house were to be made with her money, it hardly seemed like a sensible use of the funds. ‘But this—’ she gestured into her new work room ‘—must go.’

‘Thank you.’ He seemed relieved as well. There had a been tension in his back that eased as she said the words, and she suspected the first marital hurdle had been jumped with ease. He made no effort to open the door to his study, and she suspected that he wished some areas of his life to remain unviewed as well as untouched.

Fair enough.

‘Let us go upstairs, then, and see the bedrooms.’ He led her up the wide marble staircase and turned to the left, opening a door for her. ‘These will be your rooms. There is a bedroom, a dressing room and a small room for your maid.’

None of which had been aired, she noted. The fireplace was cold and empty, and there was an uncomfortable chill in the unused room.

He noticed it as well, and wrinkled his nose. ‘Well. Hmm. It seems I spoke too soon, when sending the staff away for a day of celebration. I have left no one to light you a fire.’ He stepped across the room and opened a connecting door to his suite. There was a nervous pause. ‘And I see the servants have brought your things to my room. They assumed …’ He looked back at her, helplessly. ‘This is not as it appears.’

What upset him more? she wondered—that she might think he wished to bed her, or that the servants had assumed that he would? ‘It is all right. We will work things out between us, somehow.’

He nodded. ‘Do you wish to change? You are welcome to use my room. There is a basin of fresh water. And clean towels. I could send for a maid to help you … Oh, damn. If you need help, I suppose, I …’

She imagined the feel of his hands at her back, undoing buttons. ‘No. Thank you. I have become most adept at managing for myself, if there is no one to help me. If you will give me but a few minutes?’

He nodded and stepped aside, allowing her access to his room.

As the door shut behind her, she went hurriedly to the portmanteau on the floor and chose a fresh gown, struggling briefly with the closures at her back and slipping out of the travelling dress. Then she splashed some water from the basin on to her face, slipped into the new gown and used her brush to arrange her hair as best as was possible.

She could not help it, but glanced in the mirror behind her, examining the room. The man they had rescued from the street was obviously wealthy, but had seemed to have little care for health, his own cleanliness or welfare.

But the room behind her was orderly and immaculate. A sign of good housekeeping, perhaps. But there was more to it than that. The items in the room were expensive but well used and well cared for. The style and arrangement were elegant but simple. The whole suggested a well-ordered mind in repose. It gave her some level of comfort, knowing that her new husband’s private rooms looked as they did. This was what she had expected from the Duke of Bellston.

She opened the door to the wardrobe and examined the line of coats and neatly hung breeches and trousers, and the row of brightly polished boots. Expensive, but not gaudy. The man was well tailored, but not a dandy. If he had sunk his fortune because he was prone to excess, there was no indication of it here.

From behind her, he cleared his throat.

She whirled, shutting the wardrobe door behind her.

‘I am sorry. I knocked, but obviously you did not hear. Is there something you needed?’

That would cause her to snoop in his closet? He did not finish the sentence, allowing her a scrap of pride to hide her embarrassment. ‘No. I am quite finished, thank you.’

‘Then I would like to use my room as well, if you do not mind …’ There was a hint of challenge there, but his face showed bland inquiry.

‘I’ll just wait downstairs. In the sitting room?’

‘Thank you.’

She turned and exited the room before he could see the blush on her cheek, retracing her steps to her room on the first floor.

Adam waited for the click of the door latch before struggling out of his coat. It would be easier to call for his valet and admit that he had spoken in haste when releasing the staff. But he could manage to do for himself, if his wife had done so. And a day of leisure for the servants would unite them in support of the new mistress, and quell fears of upheaval and negative gossip. The minor inconvenience would be worth the gains in goodwill. He untied his cravat and tossed it aside, washing his face in the basin. Then he chose fresh linen, managing a sloppy knot that he hoped looked more Byronic than inept. He glanced behind him at the open door of the wardrobe.

She’d been searching his room. The thought should have annoyed him, but instead it made him smile. His new bride had a more-than-healthy curiosity. He walked over and pulled a coat off its hanger to replace his travelling clothes. Then she’d likely have been disappointed. There was nothing to see here. No skeletons. And not, fortunately, the bodies of any previous wives. Perhaps he should reassure her, lest she think him some sort of Bluebeard.

He glanced at her portmanteau on the floor beside the bed. Two could play at that game. Although what he expected to find, he was not sure.

He laid his hand on a spare gown, a clean chemise, a night rail, trimmed with embroidery and lace. It was all to be expected. Neatly folded and cared for, even though his wife travelled without a maidservant. The case was large and very heavy for only a few days’ travel. But that was very like a woman, was it not? To pack more than was absolutely necessary. His hand stopped short of the bottom of the bag.

Books. Homer. Ovid. A book of poetry, with a ribbon tucked between the pages so that the reader would not lose her place. Not the readings of a mind given to foolish fancy.

He replaced things carefully, the way he had found them, and turned to go to meet her in the sitting room. She was as studious as she claimed, if she could not manage a few days without some sort of reading material. And it was well that she had brought her own to his house. There were many books he fully intended to read, when he had leisure. But for the life of him, he could not think what they would be, and he certainly did not have anything to read in the London house that held any enjoyment. It probably made him look a bit odd, to be without a library but well stocked in Meissen shepherds. But there was little he could do to change that now.

He approached her room in trepidation. The door was closed. Should he knock or enter freely? It was one of many decisions they would have to make together. If they did not mean to live as most married couples, then boundaries of privacy would have to be strictly observed.

At last, he settled on doing both: he knocked and then opened the door, announcing himself and thinking it damn odd that he should need to do it in his own house.

His wife looked up from a book.

‘You have found something to read?’ he said, and wished he did not sound so surprised at the fact.

‘There were a stack of books on the shelf, here. Minerva novels. And Anne Radcliff, of course.’ She glanced around her. ‘Overblown and romanticised. They are most suited to the décor.’

‘They are not mine,’ he said, alarmed that such things even existed on the premises.

‘That is a great comfort. For I would wish to rethink our bargain were they yours.’ There was a twinkle in her eye as she said it. ‘But if you favour melodrama, I suspect that this afternoon’s meetings will be quite entertaining.’

And she was correct in what she said, for the trip to his wife’s bank was most diverting. He was not familiar with the location, which was far from Bond Street, nor did the men working there know him. But it was obvious that they knew his wife and held her in respect. She was ushered into a private office before she even needed to speak her request.

When her bankers entered the room, she wasted no time on introductions, but straight away announced that she had married, and that all business matters must be turned over, post haste, to her new husband.

He could not help but enjoy the look of shock on the faces of the bankers. There was a moment of stunned silence, before the men sought to resist, arguing that the union had been most impulsive and possibly unwise. They eyed him suspiciously, and hinted at the danger of fortune hunters where such a large sum was involved. Was she sure that she was making the correct decision? Had she consulted her brother in the matter?

Adam watched as his new wife grew very still, listening in what appeared to be respectful silence. Although there were no outward signs, he suspected the look of patience she radiated was a sham. And at last, when they enquired if she had obtained her brother’s permission to wed, her cool exterior evaporated.

‘Gentlemen, I am of age, and would not have needed my brother’s permission if the decision to take a husband had taken a year instead of a day. In any case, it is too late now, for I cannot very well send the man away, explaining that our marriage was just a passing fancy on my part. Nor do I wish to.

‘May I introduce my husband, and manager of all my finances from here on, Adam Felkirk, Duke of Bellston.’

He did his best to maintain an unaffected visage, although the desire was strong to laugh aloud at the sight of the two men, near to apoplexy, bowing and calling him ‘your Grace’, and offering tea, whisky or anything he might desire, hoping to erase the words ‘fortune hunter’ from the previous conversation.

‘No, thank you. I merely wish to see the account book that holds the recent transactions on my wife’s inheritance.’

The men looked terrified now, but the account book appeared, along with a cup of tea.

Adam glanced down the row of figures, shock mingling with relief. His financial problems were solved, for there was more than enough to effect repairs on the house, and tide the property over until a more favourable season. He was equally glad that he had known nothing of the numbers involved when he had wed the girl. Considering his financial condition, he feared he’d have lost all shame, fallen at her feet, and begged her to wed him, based on what he saw before him.

He looked at the line of monthly withdrawals, increasing in amount as time passed. ‘Do you have any regular expenses that need to be met, my dear?’

‘Not really. My brother allows me a small allowance, and I take care not to exceed it. I doubt I’ll need more than twenty or thirty pounds a month.’

Which was far less than the expenditures on the account. He tapped the paper with his fingertip and glanced up at the bankers. Where was the money going? To the only man with access to the account.

Until now, that is.

Hector had not touched the principal, as of yet. But Penny had been correct in her fears. If measures were not taken, there would be no fortune left to hunt.

He smiled, as condescending and patronising as he could manage. ‘You gentlemen were wise to be concerned with the prudence of my wife’s decision. But you need concern yourself no longer. Please prepare a draft, in this amount …’ he scribbled a number in the book ‘… and send it to my bankers. I will give you the direction. The rest can remain here, as long as the investments continue to be as profitable as they have been. But under no circumstances is anyone to have access to the account other than myself.’ He glanced at Penelope. ‘Or my wife, of course. She has my permission to do as she pleases in the matter. Should she send any bills to you, please honour them immediately.’

He shot a sidelong glance at Penelope, and watched her eyes go bright and her mouth make a tiny ‘O’ of surprise.

He smiled. ‘Is that to your satisfaction, dear?’

‘Very much so.’ The smile on her face was softer than it had been, with none of the hesitance that he had seen in her from the first day. Her body relaxed enough so that her arm brushed the sleeve of his jacket.

She trusted him. At least, for now.

And it cleared the doubts in his own heart, that he had married her for her money. Her fortune could stay separate from his, and he would leave her the control of it. With the look she was giving him, he felt almost heroic.

He was quite enjoying it.

After the success at the bankers, Penny had hoped to feel more confidence when confronting her brother. But as she entered the house, she could feel all the old fears reforming in her. Living here had felt a prison, as much as a haven. And her brother’s continual reminders that this was all she would ever know, since no one would want her, had reinforced the iron bars around her.

And now, after only a few days away, the house felt strange. It was as though she were visiting a friend and not returning to her home. She had not realised how thoroughly she had put it behind her, once she made her decision. But it was comforting to think that there would be no foolish longing for the past, now that she was settling into her new life. Once she had her clothing and her things, there was no reason to return again.

She rang for servants, signifying that a maid should be sent to her room to pack her belongings, and sent Jem and another footman to the library with instructions for the crating and removal of her books and papers.

In the midst of her orders, her brother hurried into the room and seized her by the arm. ‘Penny! You have returned, at last. When I realised that you were gone I was near frantic. Do you not realise the risk to your reputation by travelling alone? Especially when you gave me no indication of where you were going. I absolutely forbid such actions in the future. I cannot believe …’ Hector appeared ready to continue in his speech without ceasing, and showed no indication that he had recognised the presence of another in the room.

It annoyed her to think that he cared more about her disobedience than he did her safety. She pulled away from him, and turned to gesture to the man in the corner. ‘Hector, may I present my husband, the Duke of Bellston. Adam, this is my brother, Hector.’ She hoped she had not hesitated too much on the word Adam. She did not wish to appear unfamiliar with the name.

Hector ran out of air, mid-sentence, taking in a great gasp before managing, ‘Husband?’

‘Yes,’ she replied as mildly as possible. ‘When last we spoke, I indicated to you that I intended to marry, to settle the question of who should control my inheritance. And so I have married.’

‘But you cannot.’

‘Of course I can. I am of age, after all.’

‘You cannot expect me to take a stranger into our home, on the basis of such a brief introduction.’

Her husband stood the rebuke mildly.

‘Of course I do not. I have come for my possessions and will be moving them to my new home as soon as is possible.’

‘Your new home.’ Apparently, her brother was having some problem following the speed of events.

‘Yes, Hector. I will be living with my husband, now that I am married.’

‘You will do nothing of the kind. I have had more than enough of your nonsense. This is what comes of too much learning. Ideas. And telling jokes that are in no way funny. You will go to your room, and I will apologise to this gentleman, whoever he may be. And tomorrow, we will all go to the solicitors and straighten out the mess you have created.’

This time, she did not even bother to count. ‘I will go to my room, Hector. To gather my clothing. From there, I mean to go to the library and the study, and empty them as well. And then I will be gone from this house and your presence. You have no power over me to stop it. And that, Hector, is what comes of not enough reading.’

His face was growing red, and he was readying a response.

And from behind her, she heard her husband, quietly clearing his throat. His voice was mildness and reason itself. ‘Perhaps, Penny, it would be best if you saw to your packing, while I speak to your brother.’

She had the most curious feeling that he had issued a command, although it showed in neither his face nor his voice.

She opened her mouth to object, and then remembered how effectively he had dealt with the bankers. If he wished her to leave the room, then perhaps there was a reason for it. It would serve no purpose, challenging him in front of her brother. That would only prove Hector’s point: that she had been foolish to marry in the first place. She blinked at Adam for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Very well.’ And then she left the room, shutting the doors almost completely behind her.

Then she turned back and put her ear to the crack.

Her husband waited for a moment, giving her enough time to get to her room, she suspected. And then he waited even longer.

When the silence became oppressive, Hector blurted, ‘Now see here, sir—’

Adam responded, ‘The correct form of address when speaking to me is “your Grace”. Perhaps you did not know it, since you obviously have little acquaintance with the peerage. But since we are family now …’ disdain dripped from the last words ‘… you may call me Adam.’

Hector snorted. ‘You cannot expect me to believe that Penny has been gone from the house less than a week, and has returned not only a married woman, but a duchess.’

Adam said, ‘Your belief is not a requirement, Mr Winthorpe. The marriage exists. The bankers have been informed of it, and I have taken control of my wife’s inheritance.’

This last seemed to give her brother pause, for he took a moment before letting out a weak laugh. ‘But you cannot wish to be married to my sister. She is a nothing. A nobody.’ There was another pause, and his tone changed. ‘Albeit, a very wealthy nobody. And that could not possibly have influenced your decision when seeking such a humble bride—’

‘Stop right there.’ Adam did not shout, but the command in the tone was no longer an implication. ‘I recommend that you pause to think before speaking further.’ His voice dropped to just above a whisper. ‘Here are the facts, and you would do well to remember them. Penelope is neither a nothing, nor a nobody. She is her Grace, the Duchess of Bellston. It will do you no good to hint that I am after her fortune, since she has gained as much, if not more, than I have by the union.’

There was another long pause, to allow the facts to sink into the thick skull of her brother. And then Adam said, ‘But you have lost by her marriage, have you not? I’ve seen the books at the bank, and the withdrawals you have been making to keep your business afloat.’

Hector sputtered, ‘I’ve done nothing of the kind. Those monies were for Penelope’s expenses.’

‘Then it shall not matter to you in the least that I am willing to take the management of the monies out of your hands. I can take care of my wife’s bills without your help. You need trouble yourself no further with the management of her funds, but devote the whole of your time to business.’ Her husband’s tone clearly said, ‘Dismissed.’

Penny covered her mouth to stifle a laugh.

But her brother refused to yield all. His voice rose to near a shout. ‘All right, then. Very well. She has married and you have taken her money, and her as well. I wish you luck, your Grace, for you will find her fractious nature, her impulsive temper and her unending stubbornness to be more curse than blessing. She may pack her clothes and leave immediately, if she is so eager to do it. But she shall leave the books where they are. I have no intention of allowing her to put the contents of the family library into trunks and carry them from the house.’

Her husband seemed to consider on it, and then replied, with a neutral, ‘If she wishes it, then it shall be so.’

Her brother shouted back, ‘But it will leave the shelves empty!’

Adam responded quietly, ‘That should not present much of a problem. You are a book printer, are you not? Bring home something from work to fill the shelves. I doubt it matters much what the titles may be, if one has no intention of reading them.’

If her brother recognised the insult to his intelligence, he let it pass without comment. ‘This has nothing to do with whether I wish to read the books in question.’

‘I thought not.’

‘It is the value of the things. Do you know how many pounds has been spent to furnish that room?’

‘Quite a few, I should think. She purchased many of those books herself, did she not?’

‘When I could not manage to stop her.’

Adam’s voice was cool reason. ‘Then I see no reason that she need purchase them twice to stock the library in her new home. It is not as if she will be returning here to study.’

And still her brother would not give up. ‘See here, you. You cannot think to take her from her family.’

‘That is generally what happens when one marries,’ Adam said, in a bored drawl. ‘There is something in the Bible about it, although I cannot say I remember the words. She is cleaving unto me, now. You have nothing to say in the matter of her future.’

Penny could almost imagine the wave of his hand, as he dismissed her brother’s argument.

‘Only because you have stolen her from me,’ Hector snapped.

‘Stolen her?’ The duke laughed out loud. ‘How long have you known your sister, sir? Is there some chance that you are adopted, or that she is some changeling, recently added to your family? I have limited acquaintance with her, I’ll admit. But in that time I have learned enough to know that it would be exceptionally difficult to steal her from a place she wished to be, or to dissuade her from a path she had chosen for herself.’

‘But that does not mean that I will allow her to behave foolishly.’

She was angry before she could even remember to count, and grabbed the door handle, ready to push her way back into the room and tell her brother that, after all that had been said and done, he had no right on earth to control her.

But Adam cut in before she could move. ‘You have no authority over my wife. Penelope shall arrange for the transport of the library and the rest of her things to my townhouse. She shall do so at her own pace and in her own way. If I hear of any interference from you in the matter, if you place even the slightest obstruction in her way, I will take whatever action is necessary to thwart you, and it shall be my goal, henceforth, to see that you regret the impertinence. Are we in agreement?’ His voice held a cold fury that she had never heard before, and he was every bit the man she had imagined from The Times, so powerful that he could move the country with a few words.

Hector appeared to have been struck dumb, and so Adam answered for him. ‘Very good. Our interview is at an end. I will be waiting in the carriage, should Penelope need me for anything. Which, for your sake, Mr Winthorpe, I sincerely hope she does not.’

Which meant he would be coming out into the hall in a moment, and he would realise that she was so lost to all manners as to listen at keyholes on private conversations. And, even worse, he might see the effect his speech had upon her, for her heart was fluttering so that she could hardly breathe.

She turned and sprinted towards the library, ducking into the open door, only to collide with Jem, knocking a case of books from his arms. The sound of the crash mingled with his bark of objection at people charging around the house and not watching where they were going.

Which in no way covered the faint chuckle she heard from the hall as her husband passed by on his way to the exit.