Mask of Duplicity (The Jacobite Chronicles Book 1) (42 page)

“Don’t lie to me. Let us be honest with each other, for once. If I can make a good marriage and in doing so end my financial dependency on you, I will. But I will not marry that affected molly, Richard, not even to escape you.” Her voice was soft, but steely.

She saw his face redden and his fist clench, and determined that she would not lose her temper, no matter what he did. She had the advantage this time; he wanted something from her. He seemed to realise this, and unclenched his fist with obvious effort.

“Elizabeth,” he said. “The man is reported to be immensely wealthy. He certainly dresses as though he is, and he has influential friends in very high places.”

“I seem to remember we thought the same of the earl of Highbury’s son, and look what a mistake that turned out to be,” his sister replied.

“Yes, but Sir Anthony is quite a different proposition to Lord Daniel.”

He most certainly was. In spite of the fact that he amused her at times, the thought of any intimate physical contact with him made her shudder with horror.

“You’re right. But then you must agree that you cannot assume Sir Anthony is rich just because he spends a fortune on clothes. Do you know if his tailor’s bills are paid regularly?”

“They are,” Richard replied immediately, thereby betraying that he had been expecting this proposal for some time and had done at least some research into the man’s credentials. “Everyone knows of his background, although I’ll research into it further if you wish. And no one can deny that the man is influential. Why, even the king himself thinks very highly of him!”

“The king is taken in by him, Richard, as is everyone else. Who would not be amused by such a witty chameleon? But you can save yourself the trouble of looking any further into his family tree. I am not going to marry him. Why, I cannot spend more than an hour in the man’s company without him irritating me, let alone the rest of my life!”

“Beth, please, don’t dismiss him out of hand. See reason. We are not titled or wealthy. Father worked hard to provide you with a dowry. You owe it to him to make a good marriage.”

All Beth’s pacifistic intentions almost foundered in her anger that he would dare to use her father’s love to persuade her. But her tactic was working. Her coolness was keeping her brother’s temper under restraint. Either that, or Sir Anthony had promised him the moon. She was quite enjoying listening to her brother plead with her. This was really important to him.

“What did Sir Anthony promise you, Richard?” she asked again.

This time he answered the question.

“He has promised to buy me my cornet’s commission, and provide the funds for a lieutenant’s commission as soon as a place becomes vacant. He promised to mention me to the duke of Cumberland when next they meet. He will also use his influence to help Lord Edward as far as he can. And he’s also agreed to finance some of the repairs and improvements to our house in Didsbury.”

Beth whistled through her teeth, ignoring Richard’s look of disgust at her unladylike gesture. She couldn’t care less about his promotion, but it would be wonderful to see her house restored to its former glory. But what was she thinking of? In spite of Richard’s words, the house was no longer theirs but his and his alone, as he delighted in reminding her on a regular basis.

“No, I’m sorry, but I won’t do it. You will just have to tell him that I decline his proposal.” She had carefully moved into position as she was speaking, and now had her hand on the door handle, ready to run if he should react. But he made no attempt to assault her, although he was looking at her with murder in his eyes.

“I can’t do that,” he replied. “I’ve already told him that you’ll meet him in the drawing room at four. You’ll have to refuse him yourself, if you’re going to. But remember, if you say no to him, you
will
say yes to Lord Redburn. Both Edward and I are determined on that.”

He brushed past her and stalked out of the room, leaving a pale-faced Beth even more determined not to marry Sir Anthony, and trying unsuccessfully to convince herself that she could withstand both him and Edward with regards to Lord Redburn.

* * *

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Beth gasped as she arrived at the door of the drawing room. Sarah had helped Beth to dress for her meeting with Sir Anthony, and had insisted on lacing her mistress’s stays so tightly that she could hardly breathe. In Sarah’s view, it seemed a hand-span waist was a crucial aid in rejecting an unwelcome marriage proposal.

She paused a moment in the hall to compose herself, and then, standing erect and raising her head, she opened the drawing room door and entered, closing it firmly behind her.

Her rose-pink skirts rustled as she moved into the room and Sir Anthony, who had been standing by the window looking out across the square with his hands clasped behind his back, turned round at once.

He can’t have been waiting long, she thought. Any room he spent more than five minutes in reeked of violets, and she couldn’t smell his obnoxious cologne at all.

“My darling Elizabeth!” he piped, coming towards her and taking her arm. “How beautiful you look! Do sit down.” He ushered her into a chair and moved across to a table in the centre of the room, which had been set with a number of plates of small cakes and dainty biscuits along with a teapot and two delicate Sevres cups and saucers, chatting as he went.

“Isabella was kind enough to provide the most delightful fancies for us and even a pot of the finest Bohea tea, which is prohibitively expensive, as I’m sure you know. She has assured me that we will not be disturbed, so we can have a most pleasant chat.” He lifted the teapot. “I have so been looking forward to this meeting. Shall I pour you a cup of tea, my dear, or would you care to partake of a cake first? Or perhaps a biscuit? They are the most exquisite little things, and...”

Beth had stood up and made her way across to the table. She placed her hand flat across the top of the cup he had been about to pour tea into, and only his quick reflexes stopped him from pouring the hot liquid over her hand.

“Why?” she asked. She stared him straight in the eye, and he met her look for a moment before turning away and replacing the pot carefully on its stand. She could still smell no trace of violets, and realised with surprise and relief that he was not wearing perfume today.
He must feel naked,
she thought, amused, although he had not stinted on his powder and rouge. Beth repressed a shudder of distaste as he reached delicately for a cake, placing it on his plate with precision before addressing her question.

“Why does anyone eat such dainties, my dear? For the pure indulgence of the senses...”

“That was not what I was asking. Why do you want to marry me?”

Sir Anthony put his hand on his breast, shock written all over his face.

“My dear Elizabeth, do you not think you are being a little previous? I have not actually proposed to you yet, you know.”

“No, but we both know you intend to. After all, that is the only reason we are here. Why?”

“You confound me. I had planned the most beautiful speech, designed to win over the most recalcitrant of ladies, and you have destroyed the moment utterly.” He did not look
that
distraught, Beth thought, although in truth it was difficult to ascertain any but the most extreme of expressions on his face. The delicate changes in colouring that told her whether someone was shocked, embarrassed, about to lose his temper, were completely concealed on Sir Anthony under the heavy layer of paint. The man could be positively beetroot with distress and she would not have the slightest inkling of it.

“I am sorry if I have ruined your flowery speech. But it seems you have anticipated that I would be recalcitrant, and I assure you I appreciate plain speaking far more than lengthy monologues devoid of any content or genuine feeling. So I ask you again, why do you want to marry me?”

Sir Anthony sighed. Picking up the teapot again he poured them both a cup, briskly, without any of his customary affected gestures. He handed one cup to her, retaining the other for himself. Motioning her to be seated, he took the chair opposite her, arranging his coat carefully to ensure that it didn’t crease. Beth stirred her tea and waited while he considered his reasons.

“Very well,” he said at last. “I have lands in the north, and the lease on a house in London, which you would be the mistress of. I can promise you adventure, travel to interesting places, and the acquaintance of stimulating people, which I know you crave. We would, of course, have to consummate the marriage, if I may be so indelicate as to mention it, although you did ask for plain speaking, did you not? But after that, I assure you that if you find my continuing attentions distasteful I will not press them upon you, although if we remain together I would of course demand that to outward appearances we retain the semblance of a devoted couple. And, what is probably of greatest importance to you, marriage to me will free you to a great extent from this life you hate so much and which you are finding increasingly difficult to endure. It will also free you entirely from the machinations of your self-seeking bully of a brother.” Sir Anthony sat back in his chair and sipped his tea, regarding Beth over the rim of his cup with a pair of slate-blue eyes that suddenly seemed to hold a great deal more intelligence than they had a moment before.

“Caroline has told you all this,” she said in a shocked voice.

“Not at all, my dear. She would never divulge a confidence. I have eyes in my head. I have observed you closely over the last weeks. You are most dreadfully unhappy, and are fast reaching the point of collapse.”

“And you think marriage to you will prevent that?” she asked mockingly.

“Most assuredly so,” he replied calmly, taking a tiny bite of his cake.

Beth was speechless. She had expected an overblown declaration of love, promises of undying devotion, not this list of practicalities coupled with a highly astute and intensely disconcerting knowledge of her personality and family relationships. Now she knew what it must be like to be an insect pinned to a board and inspected minutely. Feeling the blush rise steadily up her throat to her face, she looked away from him, trying to regain the upper hand. When she looked back she detected a distinct sparkle of humour in his eyes, which disappeared almost immediately.

“I see I have embarrassed you, my dear Elizabeth, which I assure you was not my intention at all,” he said. “If you had only let me do as I wished, and propose to you in the proper manner...but you did insist on plain speaking and it is of course a prospective husband’s duty to indulge his lady in everything. Please do not be angry with me, I could not bear it.”

Ten minutes before she would have taken his words at face value, but now she wondered if he was being sarcastic, and looked at him suspiciously. But neither his voice nor his expression held the slightest trace of insincerity. She pulled her scattered wits together and tried again.

“You have still not answered my question,” she said.

“Have I not?” he asked, his face all innocence. “What more reason could you need to consider my proposal?”

“You have told me why I might wish to marry you. But you have not told me why
you
wish to marry
me,
which is quite a different thing.”

“Yes, of course. Well then, let me consider. You are, as I’m sure you know, a most beautiful and vivacious young woman, whose talents I both respect and would like to encourage. I would like to see you develop to your full potential, and it would delight me to help you to do so.” He held up a hand to stop her as she was about to interrupt him. “I assure you that whatever you may believe to the contrary, I am speaking the truth. Please allow me to proceed. I do, most assuredly, hold you in deep regard. I am aware that you do not feel the same for me, but I have hopes that you may come to think differently towards me once we are married. Of course, there are also practical considerations, and I will not insult your intelligence by denying that. There is the matter of your dowry, which is a not inconsiderable sum. And there is also the fact that I am heartily sick of being pursued by women in whom I have not the slightest interest, and of having my pedigree and status investigated by hopeful parents. It would be most pleasant also to have children eventually, but that is a secondary motive, and will depend on how our relationship develops. As I stated before, I most certainly will not force my attentions upon you. I also promise you that whilst you are married to me, you will have my full protection against anyone who tries to hurt you. And of course as my bride, you will remove me from the marriage market, for which you will have my undying gratitude.” He smiled at her, before offering further refreshments.

She accepted his offer of another cup of tea and a cake, and whilst he was occupied, considered his words. Her first instinct, in spite of her earlier resolve, was to accept him. His arguments were very plausible, if they were genuine, but she was also aware that he had unbalanced her by his unpredictable behaviour, and she did not want to make a decision that she would regret as soon as she had left the room.

She dithered, eating her cake and drinking her second cup of tea in silence. He did not press her for a decision as she had half expected him to do. Instead he resumed the position he had been in when she entered the room, looking out of the window.

After a few minutes, she could stand it no longer. She stood, and returned her cup and plate to the table.

“Sir Anthony,” she ventured. He turned round at once, waiting politely for her to continue. “I am sorry, but I find I cannot give you an answer immediately. I need a little time to consider your proposal.”

“I quite understand, my dear Elizabeth. After all, marriage is a life-changing decision. You would be foolish to commit yourself without due consideration. Take a few days to think about it, and give me your answer when you are ready.”

She turned at once to leave the room, anxious to be away from this confusing man.

“Oh, I nearly forgot,” he called when she was almost at the door. “I have a little present for you.” She turned back to see him fumbling in the pocket of his coat. He produced a small package, wrapped in tissue and tied with silver ribbon.