Joan Wolf (5 page)

Giles took Laura aside to say quietly, “I am glad to see Lady Maria. I had heard that you were alone at Dartmouth Castle. That won’t do, you know, my dear Laura. Not with Mark.”

Laura felt her temper rising. “Why ever not?” she asked sweetly.

He looked at her out of worried blue eyes. “I don’t mean to suggest anything sinister. It is only that Mark has a certain .. .reputation. Perhaps he has changed. God knows, I hope he has. He is a man of brilliant talent. It is such a shame to see his abilities soiled by the more ... immature aspects of his character.”

“Just what are you suggesting, Giles?” said Laura forthrightly.

He smiled a little tiredly. “I’m sorry. Don’t pay any attention to me. I suppose I just can’t forgive him for what happened to Caroline. Which is unfair of me, I know.”

“Uncle Giles!” came a clear child’s voice. “Did you know my papa was home?”

Robin was among them, and his presence did a good deal to break down the constraint that had been evident between the two men. He was so obviously proud of his father, so fond of his uncle, so carefree and full of life, that in a short while they almost appeared to be the family party that they were. Giles even accepted Lady Maria’s invitation to dinner.

* * * *

Another two weeks went by at Castle Dartmouth, and Mark began the work of recording his survey. Letters began to arrive for him in great numbers, letters from prominent antiquarians, travelers, and scholars. Lady Maria, looking at a letter from Major James Rennell, the foremost geographer of Britain, was rather awed. Evidently Mark’s reputation as a man of science was far greater than she had ever realized. His survey of the coast of Turkey, as yet unrecorded and unpublished, had already taken its place in the scientific world.

His reputation as a scientist was assured. His personal reputation, while gaining ground, was not yet secure. The memory of his tragically dead wife still lingered in Dartmouth. Lady Maria thought there was only one way the ghost of Caroline would ever be put to rest, and she set about rectifying matters with her usual tactful care.

“Whatever are you going to do with Robin when Laura leaves?” she asked her nephew one afternoon as they drove back from a visit to an elderly pensioner of the family.

“Leave?” he said. “Why ever should she leave?”

“She cannot stay here with you alone, Mark. Surely I have already made that clear to you. And I must be returning to Bath shortly.”

His brows were tense with irritation. “It’s ridiculous. She loves Robin. She has no wish to leave him. His heart will be broken if she goes. And all because some old gossips may talk!”

“They
will
talk. Laura may say she won’t regard them, but we must not take advantage of her affection for Robin. Nor would her parents permit her to remain.”

“She is her own mistress, surely,” he said shortly.

“Mark!”

There was silence as he turned a corner. Then he said more quietly, “What do you suggest. Aunt?”                         ^

She sighed unhappily. “I don’t know, my dear. You are right when you say losing Laura will break Robin’s heart. If only there were some way she could honorably stay!”

The horses stopped and, startled, she turned to find herself the target of a disconcertingly shrewd brown gaze. She didn’t say anything, and after a moment Mark drew a long quiet breath and then expelled it. “All right, Aunt, you have made your point.”

“You will think about it?” she asked hopefully.

“I will think about it.” He turned his gaze to the road and set the horses into motion once again.

* * * *

He thought about that conversation on and off for two days and then he asked Laura if he might see her privately in the library. He had caught her as she and Robin were coming in from their morning ride; evidently he had been on the lookout for her. She agreed in a tense voice, sent Robin upstairs to change, and accompanied Mark to the room he had taken over as his own.

There were a number of papers on the desk, all arranged in neat piles. She caught a glimpse of a map that was clearly in the early drawing stages and then she moved to take the chair he had gestured her to. A feeling of
deja vu
crossed her mind; just so had they sat on the day of his return. She even had on the same riding habit.

 She took her hat off and put it down on the table next to her, followed by her gloves. A long strand of hair had come loose from her chignon and she tucked it back again with unsteady fingers. Her heart was hammering. He was going to send her away; she knew it. She sat, mute in her distress, and looked at him out of slate blue eyes.

“I should like to discuss Robin’s future with you, Mrs. Templeton,” he began. She nodded, afraid to speak, and he went on. “My aunt will be leaving for Bath shortly, and she is adamant that you cannot stay here with me without a chaperon.”

“Lord Dartmouth, please be assured that I do not regard a chaperon as at all necessary. I am a widow, twenty-two years of age, and I have been taking care of myself very adequately for four years. I should be happy to stay here with Robin indefinitely.” She spoke with great earnestness, leaning forward a little in her anxiety to persuade him.

He was looking very serious. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“Yes. I will do anything to stay with him.”

The gravity of his expression gave way to a look of faint amusement. “Will you?” he murmured. He leaned back in his own high-backed chair and surveyed her coolly.

 “You cannot stay here unchaperoned. I have enough to live down with my neighbors without adding
that
to the tally.” It was the first reference he had ever made to his precarious reputation. She could feel her throat beginning to ache and tears prickling behind her eyes. Desperately she tried to beat them back, and so only partly heard his next words.

“What
did you say?” she asked incredulously.

“I said you could stay if you married me,” he repeated calmly.

“M-married you, my lord?” she faltered.

“Yes, Mrs. Templeton. I am asking you to marry me. It seems the best solution all around.”

“Solution?” she echoed, staring, at him and trying to see if he were really serious.

 It was hard to read his face. His surprising lashes, long as a girl’s in that thin, masculine face, were half-closed over his eyes. She wondered if that remote, guarded look of his hid a deep hurt or whether he truly was as unfeeling as he appeared. Either way, it was a disturbing expression for a young man of twenty-six to be wearing.

“Yes, solution,” he repeated patiently. “From my point of view, our marriage would have several advantages, the chief of which will be to gain you as a mother for Robin.”

“I see. And I would not have to leave him.”

“Precisely.”

“But... marriage! Surely there is some other way, my lord. We scarcely know each other.”

“We know enough, I should think,” he returned levelly. “Mainly I know that you love Robin and that he loves you. I do not want to have to separate him from you. And, then, I shall have to marry again anyway. One child is not sufficient to secure the succession.”

She felt a cold shiver run down her spine. He sounded so callous. “From your point of view, the arrangement would have merit also, I believe,” his cool voice was going on. “You are comfortable here at Castle Dartmouth. You have friends in the neighborhood. You will not find me an unreasonable husband. Come, Mrs. Templeton, let us be practical. You are not, as you pointed out earlier, a green girl. You have been married before.”

“Yes,” Laura said colorlessly. She looked at her hands lying clasped together in her lap. “May I have a little time to think about this, my lord?”

“Certainly.” He rose to his feet, indicating the interview was over. “There is no hurry—so long as Aunt Maria remains.”

“Yes,” said Laura stiffly. “I understand that perfectly. I shan’t keep you waiting for long.” With proud grace she turned her back on him and left the room.

Chapter Seven

The first thing Laura did, before even changing out of her riding habit, was to seek out Lady Maria. That lady was sitting in the morning parlor working on a lovely piece of embroidery when Laura came breathlessly into the room.

 “Godmama, I must talk to you! The most extraordinary thing has happened. Lord Dartmouth has asked me to marry him.”

“Has he?” Lady Maria put down her embroidery and turned a delighted face to Laura. “I must say I hoped he would do so. It is such a perfect solution.”

“Solution,” repeated Laura, and abruptly sat down. “That is how he described it also.”

“Well, it is, my dear. Surely you must see that. It solves the problem of Robin, which is the main thing, of course. And you are just what Mark needs. You are respected and esteemed by all the neighborhood. Marriage to you will bury all those unpleasant rumors forever.”

“I am glad it will be so beneficial to Robin and to Lord Dartmouth,” Laura said tartly. “I suppose it is selfish of me to consider my own welfare in all this.”

Lady Maria looked with concern at the flushed cheeks and snapping eyes of her goddaughter. “My dear, of course your welfare is of importance to me,” she said soothingly. “Such a marriage has many benefits to you as well. If you marry Mark, you will have one of the best positions in the country. You will be the Countess of Dartmouth. Castle Dartmouth, the most beautiful house in England to my mind, will be your home. And where will you find a finer, more splendid young man than Mark? He is handsome, rich and wellborn.”

 Yes, thought Laura to herself, and his first wife committed suicide after only a year of marriage. But Lady Maria appeared oblivious of the darker side of her nephew’s character. “He is a brilliant young man, Laura, and a wife like you is just what he needs to enable him to regain the equilibrium he lost with that tragic event of five years ago.”

They appeared to be back to Mark’s needs again and Laura looked with resignation at her godmother’s handsome, faintly lined face. With Lady Maria, she realized, Mark would always come first. This was a decision she would have to make for herself.

She went to her room after first checking on Robin and setting out some puzzles for him to work on. She took off her boots and her jacket and lay down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She would think this over very rationally, she told herself. She had been offered a marriage of convenience, and she must decide if it would indeed be convenient for her to accept.

There had been some truth in all that Mark and Lady Maria had said to her. She did like Castle Dartmouth, she did feel at home here. She would be sorry to leave. She looked around her familiar bedroom, with its pretty hangings, its comfortable chaise longue and well-appointed writing table. She had been happy here. She had been safe.

But if she married Mark, this would no longer be her bedroom. There was the rub. He was proposing a convenient marriage to her, not a nominal one. He had made that quite clear. He needed more sons—in case, she thought bitterly, Robin should die. She would have to move into the big bedroom that adjoined the Earl’s room that Mark slept in. She had been in there occasionally before he had returned home. She thought suddenly of the big four-poster bed that stood so majestically in the middle of the room, and she shivered.

 She couldn’t do it. He was a stranger and she had a suspicion that he would always keep his distance from her. But that would not stop him from doing his duty. No, she couldn’t do it.

Someone knocked on her door and she called, “Yes?” A golden head peeked into the room.

“Laurie? I came to see if you were all right. You looked peculiar before. And I finished my puzzles.”

She pushed herself up on her pillows. “I had a headache,” she said, “but I’m better now.”

He came into the room and climbed up next to her on the bed. “Would you like to read me a book?” he asked hopefully.

She looked into her boy’s beautiful little face and forced a smile. “Go and get one,” she said gently. Then, as he scrambled off the bed and headed for the door: “And, Robin, walk! I’ll still be here when you get back.”‘

She watched him slow down and close her door carefully behind him; then she lay back and once again regarded the ceiling. She didn’t know what she had been making such a fuss about. She had no choice, really. She had to be here when he got back. She would tell Lord Dartmouth that she would marry him.

* * * *

Mark had not seemed surprised by her answer. Nor had he seemed terribly pleased. She had made the sensible decision, he told her pleasantly. When would she like to set the date?

Laura didn’t know, and Lady Maria was called in as a consultant. If the prospective bride and groom were noncommittal, she more than made up for their lack of enthusiasm. She kissed Mark. She kissed Laura. She called for champagne. She got out a calendar, and pen, and some paper and sat down to make plans.

Laura and Mark agreed with almost everything she suggested. First a notice had to be sent to the newspapers. Then the banns had to be called. “There is no point in delaying for too long,” Lady Maria said briskly, and the two young people agreed woodenly.

“Now, where shall you be married from?” she asked finally. “Castle Dartmouth?”

“
No!” said Mark violently. Both women stared at him in surprise. Beneath its bronze sunburn his face was very pale. “No,” he said again, more quietly but with utter finality. He went over to the window and looked out.

Lady Maria stared for a minute at his back, and then she turned to Laura. “Well, then, we’ll have the wedding at Sydenham Damerel.”

For the first time since she had known him, Laura understood perfectly how Mark felt. “No,” she said, and he turned to look at her.

“London,” he said at last to his aunt. “Well be married at St. George’s, Hanover Square. Then Laura and I can stay at Cheney House for a few days. Perhaps you would be good enough to take Robin in charge for a week or so, Aunt Maria.”

“Of course, my dear. It sounds an excellent scheme.”

“Laura?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. She was no longer “Mrs. Templeton,” she noticed.