Читать книгу Lady Traveller's Guide To Happily Ever After - Victoria Alexander, Victoria Alexander - Страница 13

“I’M CONVINCING YOUR mother as to our reconciliation.” James kissed that delicious juncture of neck and shoulder. Her scent—an arousing mix of jasmine and spice—wrapped around him and it was all he could do not to pull her tighter against him. “As she is one of the most notorious gossips in London, it seemed an excellent idea.”

“Well, she’s gone now.” Violet pushed out of his arms. “You can stop that.”

He grinned. “I rather enjoyed it.”

“You would.”

Given the charming flush on her cheeks and the look in her eyes, so did she, although she’d never admit it. Still, it was interesting. His grin widened.

“Nonetheless, it was entirely inappropriate. This is a farce, James. Nothing more. You do need to remember that.” Her voice was firm even if there was the tiniest breathless quality to it. That too was interesting.

“Did you say that just to annoy your mother?”

“Probably.” Her brows drew together in confusion. “Say what?”

“That you and I had reconciled. That after all these years we share a mad, passionate love.”

“Surely I didn’t say anything of the sort.” A blush washed up her face. Oh, he liked that. “Did I?”

“Your words exactly.”

“One says all sort of things when one fails to give due consideration to one’s words.” She blew a long breath. “Yes, I suppose I did say some of it to annoy her. But really, what one says in the heat of—”

“Passion?”

“Annoyance cannot be taken as irrefutable.” She cast him a questioning look. “So you remember my mother?”

“She continues to haunt my dreams.” He shivered. James would never forget how adamant Lady Cranton had been that they marry. How angry she’d been at him—justifiably—but how angry she’d been at Violet, as well. It wasn’t at all fair. As if any of this had been Violet’s fault.

“There is nothing my mother finds more scandalous or improper than mad, passionate love.”

“Actually, I was wondering about the rest of it.” He adopted a casual tone. “About staying in London. With your husband.” He held his breath. “Did you say that part to annoy her, as well?”

“No. I had already come to that decision.” She squared her shoulders. “I like my life, James. Three years seems a small enough price to pay for my independence and my freedom.”

“So you’ll do it for the money?” he said slowly. Relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment. Surely he couldn’t expect her to do it for any other reason. Still...it had been a long night and he’d done a great deal of thinking. All about her. Or rather, about them. Although he’d never not thought about her in one way or another through the years.

In the beginning, he’d gone on with his life as if he’d never married at all. In truth, his drinking, carousing and meaningless encounters with women had increased after Violet left. James blamed it on guilt. It was easy to forget what a cad be was, how he had ruined her life, if he was inebriated or had an anonymous woman in his bed. After he passed the second anniversary of his marriage, the appeal of raucous behavior, random women and drunken stupors began to fade. It was around that time too that Uncle Richard had been struck by a violent but blessedly brief illness and James had begun learning what was required to follow in his uncle’s footsteps. Upon later reflection, he acknowledged that was the true beginning of adulthood.

Violet raised a shoulder in a casual shrug as if money was as good a reason as any.

His brow rose. “You needn’t act as if you were doing me a great favor.”

“Oh, but I am doing you a great favor.”

“You have as much to lose as I do.”

She met his gaze directly. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh?”

She hesitated then shrugged. “It’s not important at the moment.” She turned and headed toward the stairs.

“It sounded important.” He strode after her.

“I’m not going to discuss this now.” She reached the grand stairway and started up. “But I’m not agreeing to this because I have no other choice.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about your choices,” he called after her.

Violet Branham, Lady Ellsworth, his wife, might not be aware of it but there had been nearly as much gossip about her over the past six years as there had been about him. He knew the truth about his behavior, but he had no idea if the stories he’d heard about her were accurate. Of course, some came from Duncan, Viscount Welles, who had mentioned running into Violet somewhere in Europe in recent years. Welles was an old friend, one of the very men who had issued the ill-fated challenge to kiss his fiancée on that night six years ago. Even so, the information was not firsthand. Regardless, what James heard about Violet’s behavior had grown increasingly bothersome as his own conduct had become more respectable.

“My choices?” She swiveled on the stairs and glared down at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Never mind.” He waved off her question. Discussing this now was a mistake. After all, they had three years ahead of them. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I suspect it does matter,” she snapped.

Apparently, she was not going to let the subject drop. Very well. Let the games begin. “You have not been entirely inconspicuous these past six years. There have been rumors, gossip.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What, exactly, have you heard?”

“You said yourself nothing can be done about the past.” It was his turn to adopt an offhand manner, as if none of this was of any significance. “What’s done is done.”

“Nonetheless, I would like to know what you have heard.”

“I doubt that.” He turned and strode toward the library. This was not the sort of talk a man had with his wife without the benefit of spirits.

“You cannot make vague, unsubstantiated charges and then just walk away,” she called after him.

“Actually, I can.” He stepped into the library, snapped the door closed behind him and crossed the room to the cabinet where Uncle Richard kept convenient bottles of brandy, whiskey and assorted spirits.

A moment later the door crashed open and he tried not to grin. He’d suspected this new Violet wouldn’t be able to resist continuing the conversation.

“If you want to start something like this at least have the courage to finish it!”

James took a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass. “Would you like a glass?”

“Goodness, James, it’s barely past noon.”

“If we’re going to start the first day of the next three years reliving our sordid pasts, I for one am going to need fortification.”

“No doubt.” She moved to him, plucked the glass from his hand and took a sip. “My past is not the least bit sordid, thank you very much.”

He eyed the glass. “I believe that’s mine.”

“Not anymore.” She smirked and took another sip. “And I prefer to think of it as clearing the air. If we’re going to spend the next three years together as a happy couple in public, I daresay it’s best to get everything out in the open. To alleviate the possibility of untoward surprises.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” He poured a glass for himself.

“I’d rather not appear shocked when some well-meaning acquaintance decides it’s time I was informed of all of my husband’s indiscretions.”

He sipped his drink and studied her. As curious as he was about the rumors regarding her behavior, he wasn’t at all sure confessing his own transgressions was wise. Fuel on the fire and that sort of thing. “It seems to me, we have a great deal to discuss regarding the past six years. Are you certain you wish to start with this particular topic?”

“Why not?” A distinct challenge shone in her eyes. “I must say I’m surprised you’ve had the time to pay any attention to rumors about me when there’s been so much gossip about you.”

His tone sharpened. “One does tend to note gossip about one’s wife.”

“As one tends to note rumors about one’s husband.” Her voice hardened. “Something like, oh, say, his dalliance with an opera singer.”

“Or her liaison with a French count.”

Her teeth clenched. “His affair with an American actress.”

“Hers with an Italian sculptor,” he said sharply. That tidbit came straight from Welles.

“His with any number of merry widows!”

“Hers with some talentless Greek poet!”

Her eyes widened. Apparently he’d hit the mark with that charge. Not that it gave him any satisfaction. Until now, he wasn’t sure he really believed any of the rumors. This was Violet, after all.

She choked back a laugh.

Although she had certainly changed. “You find this amusing?”

“Yes, actually I do.” She grinned. “Don’t you?”

“No!” he snapped. “I don’t find any of this amusing.”

“You used to find much of life amusing.”

“I am not the same man I used to be.”

She snorted in disbelief.

“I shall make a deal with you, Violet,” he said evenly. “I won’t throw your affairs in your face if you don’t throw my affairs in mine. We’ll leave the past in the past.”

“I don’t know. Throwing your indiscretions in your face sounds rather enjoyable to me.” She sipped her whiskey and considered him. Apparently, she was not going to make this easy.

“What I’m proposing is a truce.”

“I was unaware we were engaged in battle.”

His gaze met hers directly. “We have been engaged in a game of warfare since the night I kissed you on a darkened terrace.”

“Nonsense.” She scoffed. “We haven’t even seen each other.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I suppose it has been something of a battle albeit a silent one.”

He sipped his drink. “Perhaps we could be, well, friends again.”

“Unwilling partners perhaps but friends?” She tossed back the rest of her whiskey in a manner any man would be proud of. “I don’t think I can be your friend.”

“Nonetheless, you are my wife.”

“Six years ago, you didn’t want a wife.”

Six years ago I was an idiot. “And yet I have one who now apparently has to act like a wife.” He drew a deep breath. “As I intend to act like a husband.”

Her brow arched upward. “Do you?”

“It’s what Uncle Richard wanted.” He paused. “We were friends once, Violet, you and I.”

“Once was a very long time ago, James.” She set her glass down on a nearby table and headed for the door. “Lady Higginbotham and her friends will be here for dinner at half-past seven. Don’t be late. And do dress appropriately.”

“That sounded very much like a wife to me,” he called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, my dear James, that’s just the beginning.”

“EXCELLENT DINNER, LORD ELLSWORTH,” Lady Blodgett said with a pleasant smile. “Do give my compliments to your cook.”

“Mrs. Clarke will be pleased to hear you enjoyed it.” James smiled.

Lady Blodgett and Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore were the friends of Mrs. Higginbotham’s she’d said were going to help her oversee the conditions of the will. All three ladies were of advanced years although one could see they must have been quite lovely in their younger days. Marcus and Mrs. Ryland completed their company. Marcus had noted privately earlier in the evening how he and James were horribly outnumbered and they should be on their toes. If this was indeed a game there were three distinct factions as evidenced by the seating at the table. James sat at the head at the table, Violet opposite at the far end. Mrs. Ryland sat next to Violet and beside Marcus who was on James’s right. The three older ladies sat on the other side.

Mrs. Higginbotham proclaimed before they were seated that there would be no discussion of Uncle Richard’s will until after dinner. Both James and Marcus spent the better part of the meal doing their best to charm the females at the table. Which did seem to work well with the exception of Violet—who even while she directed the conversation around the table was cool and aloof at least toward James—and Mrs. Ryland, whose distaste for James was only barely concealed. Although she did not appear entirely immune to Marcus’s charms even if it did seem the widow was trying to resist the engaging solicitor. Apparently, she was reluctant to throw her lot in with the enemy.

All in all the meal was pleasant enough if one ignored the superficial nature of the conversation and the currents eddying just below the surface.

“So.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked around the table. “Shall we begin?”

“Perhaps we should retire to the parlor,” Violet said in her best lady of the house manner. Her mother would be proud. James stifled a laugh.

“Oh, I think here at the table where we are all on equal footing is preferable,” Mrs. Higginbotham said and looked at James. “Unless you object?”

“Not at all, Mrs. Higginbotham.” He smiled at the older lady. No doubt the next three years would be fraught with problems regarding her interpretation of Uncle Richard’s stipulations. It was not too soon to try to get her in his corner.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Excellent.”

Violet signaled Andrews, who nodded and left the room, returning almost at once with decanters of brandy, port and sherry. Andrews obviously anticipated the company staying at the table and James wondered if Violet and Uncle Richard had done so during her visits.

Once the table was cleared and they all had glasses of brandy or port, the older ladies insisting they preferred the more traditional lady’s offering of sherry, Mrs. Higginbotham began. “I gather the two of you have agreed to abide by the terms of the will.”

James met Violet’s gaze and they nodded.

“Excellent.” Mrs. Higginbotham looked at Marcus. “Shall we take Richard’s stipulations one at a time?”

Marcus nodded. “Whatever you prefer.”

“Very well.” Mrs. Higginbotham thought for a moment. “First, is the requirement that you live together for the next two years, eleven months, one week and three days or rather two days now with no more than fourteen days spent apart in any given year.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze circled the table.

“That seems fairly straightforward to me. Are there any questions?”

“Is there any requirement as to where we reside? Are we confined to England?” Violet asked.

“As long as the two of you are living together, under the same roof, not at all.” Mrs. Higginbotham paused. “Although it would be most difficult for Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore and myself to oversee the terms of the will if you chose to live abroad. In Rome for example.”

“In which case, Effie, Poppy and I would feel it necessary to reside with you.” Lady Blodgett smiled in an agreeable manner that in no way negated her threat.

“I for one have always wanted to live abroad.” Excitement rang in Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore’s voice.

“I don’t intend to live anywhere but England.” James’s tone was more than a little pompous. Where on earth had that come from? He’d never been even remotely pompous before. “And I don’t consider it confinement.”

Violet’s jaw tightened but her tone was cordial. “I wasn’t suggesting we live somewhere else. I was simply wondering if it was possible to travel.”

“Of course it is, dear.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore, who did seem the nicest of the older ladies, smiled at Violet. “You’d simply have to take him with you.”

“I have no desire to travel,” James said in an offhand manner. His reticence to travel had more to do with the violent reaction of his stomach to being on a ship than anything else. Even the rocking motion of lengthy train trips, especially those through mountainous areas, brought on a nasty queasiness. When he had discovered that tendency he had blamed it on an overindulgence in spirits. He really didn’t care to find out if he was right or not.

“Travel is the grandest of adventures, James,” Violet said. “There’s an entire world beyond England’s shores, you know.”

“I traveled the continent after I left school and found that more than sufficient.”

“Ah yes, the grand tour young men of privilege take to indulge in scandalous pursuits under the guise of culture.” Violet smiled pleasantly, belying the look in her eye that clearly indicated what she thought of young men on grand tours.

He ignored her. “Besides, I have entirely too many responsibilities here to take the time needed for traveling.”

At once five pairs of skeptical eyes fixed on him. Marcus nodded encouragement. James smiled and sipped his brandy.

Violet opened her mouth to say something, then apparently thought better of it and pressed her lips together.

“The second condition,” Lady Blodgett began, “requires you to be seen as a couple three times a week.”

“That seems rather a lot,” Violet said.

James leaned forward and met her gaze. “Don’t you want to be seen with me?”

“Not particularly.”

He smiled slowly. “You don’t really have a choice.”

She ignored him and turned her gaze to Mrs. Higginbotham. “What constitutes an appearance as a couple?”

The ladies exchanged glances.

“We’ve been discussing that very thing,” Lady Blodgett began. “We don’t believe it’s necessary to attend a ball or soiree or anything of that nature three times a week.”

“That would be most exhausting,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore added.

“Appearing as a couple is not at all complicated,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Why, tonight’s dinner is certainly the two of you as a couple with others.”

“Perhaps you should have dinner with us every night,” James said wryly.

“Sarcasm, my lord?” Lady Blodgett pinned him with a hard look, and James resisted the urge to squirm in his seat.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“We couldn’t possibly be here every night,” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore said then sighed. “Although the food was excellent.”

“We feel something as simple as guests for dinner would be acceptable to meet that obligation,” Mrs. Higginbotham said. “Especially in the beginning. We propose the three of us join you for dinner once a week although you may certainly invite other people. That takes care of one weekly appearance and will allow you to keep us informed as to the other two appearances, as well.”

“We have taken the liberty of asking your secretary, my lord,” Lady Blodgett said, “as well as Mrs. Ryland—”

Violet shot a surprised look at her friend who winced.

“—to gather the invitations you’ve received of late. We shall compile a list of those which would be suitable for your initial public appearances.”

James drew his brows together. “I think we are more than capable of handling our own social engagements.”

“No, she’s right.” Violet cast the older woman an admiring look. “While I have kept up on the comings and goings of London society there are no doubt nuances I have missed. And it might be best to ease our way into this new life rather than leap in headfirst.”

“I’ve always liked leaping in head first.” James smirked. Marcus bit back a grin.

“And that has proved to be so successful for you in the past,” Violet said in an overly sweet tone.

“We also suggest rides in Hyde Park, either on horseback or in a carriage, visits to galleries, attendance at lectures, the theater, exhibitions, concerts, that sort of thing.” Lady Blodgett smiled. “It might be quite enjoyable.”

“That would be four hundred and twenty-four appearances as a couple. I figured it out.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore paused. “Well, four hundred and twenty-three given this evening counts as one.”

“I’m not sure it was necessary to calculate the number of appearances, Poppy.” Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze shifted from Violet to James and back. “I believe you’ve frightened them.”

“It does sound rather overwhelming,” Lady Blodgett noted.

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore waved off the comment. “I can’t imagine much of anything scares either Lord or Lady Ellsworth.”

“I’m certainly not afraid of spending time with my wife.” James met Violet’s gaze. “I cannot speak for Lady Ellsworth however.”

“Goodness, James,” Violet said coolly. “The last thing I’m afraid of is you.”

“Excellent.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore beamed. “Then the final stipulation is the one prohibiting scandal or gossip.” She paused. “Although gossip about how Lord and Lady Ellsworth have reconciled their differences and are apparently quite happy would certainly be acceptable. Agreeable gossip as opposed to scandalous rumors. You understand.”

Mrs. Higginbotham’s gaze circled the table. “While neither Lady Blodgett, Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore or myself are prone to gossip—”

Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore choked. Lady Blodgett smiled serenely.

“—we are not without connections. We are well aware of the past gossip involving each of you. That is at an end.”

“I have no difficulty with that.” Violet smiled.

James nodded. “Nor do I.”

“To everyone outside of our little circle here, the two of you will appear to be happily reconciled. I believe it would be wise as well to keep the stipulations of the will private—to avoid undue gossip.” Mrs. Higginbotham turned to Violet. “You do understand that you will be taking up management of the household as per your position as Lady Ellsworth.”

Violet nodded. “I assumed as much.” She glanced at James. “Will I have a free hand? To manage the staff as I see fit? And with regards to all matters pertaining to the residences?”

“Of course,” James said. He really hadn’t considered that there was now a lady of the house. It was rather a nice idea. “Regardless of how little time you’ve spent here in the past, this is your home as is Ellsworth Manor. You are Lady Ellsworth, after all.”

“The first Lady Ellsworth in quite some time, given Richard never married,” Mrs. Higginbotham pointed out.

Violet smiled with satisfaction, a bit too much satisfaction really.

“However, even the most loyal of servants do gossip you know,” Lady Blodgett said. “Which means even here you will have to behave in a cordial manner toward each other.”

Violet shook her head. “This feels like a poorly written French farce.”

“Then perhaps you need to rewrite it, dear.” Mrs. Fitzhew-Wellmore smiled pleasantly.

“I have no desire to lose the property that has been in my family for generations but aside from all else...” James chose his words with care. “This is what Uncle Richard wanted. I am not thrilled with the manner in which he is forcing us to abide by his wishes but if Violet is willing to do so, I am, as well.”

“I told his lordship earlier today, I would abide by the terms of the will. For Uncle Richard,” Violet added and smiled at Mrs. Higginbotham. “He really was a wonderful man.”

“Then allow me to propose a toast.” Marcus rose to his feet. “To his lordship, Richard Branham, the late Earl of Ellsworth.”

The toast echoed around the table and James swallowed against a lump in his throat. As much as he would have preferred Uncle Richard had found some other way to encourage a reconciliation with Violet, James knew the determined old man had only done what he thought was best. His methods were questionable but his heart was not.

“And here’s to Lord and Lady Ellsworth and the next three years,” Marcus added. The gathering responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. James was fairly certain only he heard the rest of Marcus’s words. “God help you both.”

“WASN’T IT NICE of his lordship to send us home in his carriage?” Poppy snuggled back against the tufted leather seats.

“I’d say it’s the least he could do,” Effie said. “We are, after all, the only thing that might save his future.”

“Not, of course, the main purpose of his uncle’s will,” Gwen pointed out.

“Richard’s letter was very clear on that point,” Effie said. “There was no doubt in his mind that these two people potentially share a great love and belong together. I don’t see it myself but we shall take Richard’s conviction on faith. He has charged us with making certain that happens and has given us three years to accomplish it.”

“Three years might not be enough. This is going to be harder than I thought.” Gwen frowned. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve attended a more awkward meal.”

“But the food was excellent,” Poppy murmured.

“Surely you didn’t think Richard could simply throw them together and all would be well?” Effie scoffed.

“I had rather hoped that would be the case,” Poppy said. “As his late lordship did think they were fated to be together it seems to me, fate really should lend a helping hand.”

“One cannot count on fate,” Gwen said. “Fate however, can count on us.”

“No one said this would be easy.” Effie drew her brows together. “I agree that the evening was awkward and there was a palpable sense of tension in the air.”

Gwen nodded. “A great deal was left unsaid at that table.”

“At least they’re not at each other’s throats,” Poppy pointed out.

“That’s something, I suppose.” Gwen sighed.

“Actually, I don’t think it is.” Effie considered the evening. There was something missing... “There was no particular, oh, I don’t know, spark between them. There were moments of course but all in all, he was pleasant and she was polite. At least if they were arguing, if their blood was at a boil, that would indicate some sort of, well, passion.”

“Passion?” Poppy’s voice rose. “What on earth are you thinking?”

“She’s thinking’s there’s a fine line between the passion of anger and passion of another sort.” Gwen grinned. “I must say that’s brilliant.”

“There is nothing more satisfying than scratching a persistent itch.” Effie smirked.

“I don’t understand.” Poppy shook her head. “We’re going to make them itch?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Gwen said. “From tonight’s observation, I suspect James is more amenable to reconciliation than Violet. While they both seem quite stubborn, it would appear Violet is extremely wary, as well. Perhaps our next step should be to determine how they really feel about each other.”

Effie nodded. “The more information we have, the quicker we can move this along. We would hate for them to fall into the habit of merely existing together. No, we need to strike while the iron is hot.”

“One does prefer to avoid being mercenary,” Poppy said slowly, “but the longer this takes, the more Effie will be paid.”

“That is a consideration,” Gwen added. “We do need the money.”

“Richard’s money is nothing more than a momentary respite.” Effie forced a note of confidence even she didn’t believe. “It simply gives us a bit of room to come up with a way to salvage our sagging finances. Nonetheless, financial considerations will not influence our efforts. And I will not have a dead man’s final wish hanging over my head for the next three years. Richard believed James and Violet belong together. And together they shall be.” Effie set her chin stubbornly. “Whether they like it or not.”