Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife (22 page)

Rosamund gave a light laugh. ‘Oh, he caught me up before I had gone very far and came with me. He stopped on the way to speak to the smithy. I think his horse needed a new shoe.’ She paused. ‘Have you seen Mr Portman? I believe his lordship was expecting him.’

‘I think he is in the library, my lady. He arrived some time ago and has been prowling about the place ever since. Doesn’t seem able to sit still.’

Rosamund sent Annabelle back to Miss Gunstock and went in search of Francis. He had taken several books from the shelves and had them spread out on the table. She noticed that they were all about Bishop’s Court, its history and the men who had owned it. He looked up as she entered and scrambled to his feet. ‘Where is he?’ he demanded without the preamble of a greeting.

She made herself smile. ‘How do you do, Cousin Francis? I hope the servants have been looking after you properly.’

‘Yes, oh, yes,’ he said vaguely. ‘I thank you. Did you find Harry?’

‘Yes, indeed. He was visiting the Chappells. If you recall, they looked after Annabelle for years. He wanted
to ask them something about her health when she was with them. He will be here directly. He stopped to speak to the smithy.’

‘Going calling dressed as a muckworm? I find that hard to believe.’

‘He was not dressed as a muckworm, Francis,’ she lied coolly. ‘I fear your own exquisite taste in clothes has blinded you to what others are wearing. He is dressed in his usual attire.’ She hoped fervently he would not ask her to describe what Harry was wearing. In order to prevent it, she picked up one of the books he had been looking at and rattled on. ‘I see you have been amusing yourself with the history of Bishop’s Court. It is fascinating, don’t you think? The original Mr Bishop was a character to be reckoned with…’

She was greatly relieved when Harry put in an appearance. ‘You here, Frank?’ he said, as if surprised to see him. ‘I shall soon begin to ask myself why I have suddenly become so popular. You used not to visit so often before I married my lady. Perhaps it is she who is the attraction.’

‘No, no, course it ain’t,’ Francis blustered. ‘Oh, I don’t mean her ladyship ain’t attractive. Very comely she is, but…’

Harry laughed. ‘I understand, Frank, you do not need to empty the butter boat.’

Rosamund was becoming thoroughly embarrassed. ‘I have been telling Cousin Francis that you stopped at Feltham Farm to ask Mrs Chappell about Annabelle’s health while she was staying with them,’ she told Harry. ‘Did she satisfy your questions?’

‘Partly,’ he told her, without betraying by so much
as a flicker of an eyelid that this was the first he had heard of it. ‘I may have to pursue the matter further.’

‘If you will excuse me,’ she said, anxious to escape, ‘I will go and change my gown. Mr Portman, will you be staying tonight?’

He bowed. ‘If I may.’

Rosamund left them, thankful that she had not taken her entire wardrobe to London with her and wishing she had Janet with her, not only to help her change, but as an ally. She was feeling dreadfully lonely. And there was worse to come.

Harry refrained from saying anything but polite nothings to her during supper when Francis was present, but the atmosphere between them was icy. If Francis noticed it, he did not say anything, but kept up the conversation almost as a monologue. Rosamund said ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ in appropriate places and smiled a lot, though she ate nothing. Harry was unnaturally jovial, agreeing or disagreeing with his cousin in the politest way. On the surface it was a pleasant evening, though beneath the sociability the undercurrents were pulling each one of them in different directions. Rosamund was relieved when the meal ended and she was able to leave them to their cognac. ‘I am very tired after my long ride,’ she said. ‘I think I will retire. Goodnight, Cousin Francis.’

She escaped to her room, but she did not undress. She sat on a chair by the window and looked out on the courtyard and beyond that to the park where a herd of deer roamed. Night was falling and the trees in the distance were black shadows, though the church spire
stood out in silhouette against the night sky. No sound broke the silence except an owl hooting in a nearby barn and a dog barking somewhere in the distance. It was peaceful and she had come to love it, not because of the value of the land which must have been enormous, nor because she was the wife of the lord of the manor and must be addressed as ‘my lady’, but because it had felt like home from the first day she arrived and because she loved its owner. It did not matter what he had done, she could not help but love him.

She turned as the door opened and Harry came into the room.

‘Now, madam,’ he said, before she could protest at the intrusion, ‘we will have that little talk, if you please.’ He pulled up a chair and sat beside her at the window. Even by moonlight she could see he had pulled off his cravat and his eyes were dark-rimmed from fatigue. ‘And do not say you are tired. I know you are. And so am I, but I do not intend that you should sleep on it.’

‘I do not want to sleep on it. Nor could I. And do not look so fierce at me, I am not afraid of you and I have done nothing wrong.’ She paused and went on to the attack. ‘But you are…’ She floundered under his steady gaze.

‘Me?’ He pretended surprise, watching her face, knowing that if she tried to dissemble he would see it in her eyes. Her eyes would always give her away.

She recovered her composure with an effort. ‘Yes, you. You have joined a band of no-good outlaws and provided them with coins to mutilate. I cannot for the life of me understand why you did that or why you let your daughter stay in that den of iniquity. Is that how you got in with them, through Annabelle?’

‘No. And leave Annabelle out of it.’

‘How can we? Your behaviour is bound to affect her.’

‘She need never know anything of it.’

‘She will if you hang for it.’

He laughed harshly. ‘I promise you, I shall not hang for it.’

‘Francis thinks you will. Did you manage to convince him not to go to the Watch?’

‘He has nothing to tell them. He listens at doors—’ He stood up suddenly and went to the door, opened it and peered up and down the corridor, then he shut it and returned to his seat. ‘He hears half a story and invents the rest…’

‘Is that so? I think he must have heard more than half to know that you were going to Chiswick by boat. I caught you red-handed, Harry.’

‘And I caught you. Why did
you
go to Feltham Farm? After more clipped guineas to take to your brother, were you?’ He did not know why he was being so belligerent, but he had to get at the truth and if it meant turning the tables against her, then he must do it. How could he protect her if he did not know the whole story?

She was shocked to realise he knew about Max passing those coins. ‘No, of course not,’ she retorted, doing her best to retain her anger and sense of injustice. ‘I knew nothing about what was going on there. We followed you there from Chiswick.’

‘Francis denies taking you there; he said he rode with you because you had no escort, but it was your idea to turn off at the farm and he did not want to become involved, so he rode on here.’

‘I am sorry to say it, but your cousin is a liar and you do not have to look far to find out why. If he can ruin our marriage, he will.’

He had to concede that and smiled ruefully. ‘Then why did you go there? And do not say it was to compensate Mrs Chappell for taking Annabelle away, for I will not believe that.’

‘Of course that was not true, but I had to say something, didn’t I? I was shocked when I realised where you were going and even then I did not know it had anything to do with forging counterfeit coins. That was what they were doing, was it not?’

‘You know it was. Oh, you were clever enough not to recognise O’Keefe when you saw him—’

‘O’Keefe?’ she queried. ‘Was he there?’

Was she really surprised or was she still acting a part? He could believe Sophie Charron, the real actress, could do it, but could the woman who sat facing him? His voice softened. ‘You did not know?’

‘I never met him. Which one was he?’

‘He was the one who tried to blackmail you with telling your husband of your association with Gus Housman.’

She managed a smile. ‘Is that the name you go by? You know, I am beginning to think of you as two men, two very different men. The trouble is I am married to both of you.’

‘And have no particular liking for either of us.’

‘I did not say that,’ she protested. ‘I certainly have no liking for Mr Housman and I wish he could disappear before he finds his head in a noose.’

‘Perhaps he will,’ he said softly. ‘When his work is done.’

‘Work for that dreadful gang!’ she retorted, too
incensed to notice the change in his tone. ‘Pulling the economy down with your illegal activities, making money from others’ misery. I am sure they were responsible for my father’s death…’

‘But is that not why you married me, Rosamund?’ he asked levelly. ‘To root out Sir Joshua’s tormentors?’

‘No, it was not and I certainly did not ask you to join them.’

‘But that was the way I chose to do it.’

‘For me?’ She gasped in surprise. Francis had been right, after all. He had assumed his disguise to help her and she had been angry and ungrateful. Oh, how she wished she had never mentioned Mr O’Keefe to him! It had been the biggest mistake of her life.

‘Partly. Partly to bring a rogue to justice.’ It was only half a lie and justified under the circumstances.

‘But I changed my mind.’

‘Yes. That was when I began to have doubts about you. And they seemed to be confirmed when I discovered your brother was passing clipped coins. Now where did he get them from, I wonder?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘A gentleman would never call a lady a liar,’ he said evenly. ‘Particularly if that lady happened to be his wife, but I do not know what else to call you.’

Rosamund remained silent, realising it was too late to retrieve the situation without betraying Max and much as she disapproved of what he had done, he was still her brother. And if he was arrested, she would soon follow, because she had known about the coins. Guilty by default. She sat looking at her hands folded in her lap and would not meet his gaze.

‘I think,’ he said quietly and reasonably, ‘that we have reached the end of the road, my dear. I will make arrangements to have this marriage of ours annulled…’

She looked up then, her eyes betraying her dismay. ‘So that you may have me arrested and give evidence against me?’

‘Do you know,’ he said slowly, ‘I never thought of that. I assumed you were telling me the truth when you said you knew nothing of what was going on.’

‘I was telling the truth.’

‘Then there is nothing more to be said. I will not cast you out without a shilling. You shall have your own house and money enough to support you in comfort. And in the fullness of time, you will find a new husband. One you feel able to trust.’

‘I am sorry I accused you,’ she said dully, unable to take in what he was proposing, even though she had been half-expecting it. ‘I did not know…And I am sorry about Max. I can quite see that you would not wish to associate with a family like ours.’

‘You misunderstand me.’

‘Yes, I suppose I do,’ she said wearily. ‘I do not understand anything about you.’ She stood up. ‘I think I should like to go to bed.’

‘Very well.’ He rose too and they stood facing each other, a chasm between them neither seemed able to bridge and yet they had only to reach out and they would be in each other’s arms. But neither seemed able to take that small step. He picked up her hand, put it to his lips. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’

Then he was gone and she flung herself on her bed in a paroxysm of tears.

H
arry went to his own room and sank wearily on to the bed, his hands dangling between his knees. His interview with Rosamund had not gone the way he had planned it. Their exchange had become more bitter and accusatory than even he had believed possible. How had it happened? Was his association with the Piccadilly Gentlemen and the criminal fraternity making him hard and cynical? Did he really believe she was hand in glove with the very coiners he had spent months hunting down? Of course he did not. Nor was her brother. That foolish man had simply taken advantage of a situation not of his making. Why had he not told her he understood that? Why had he pretended to be angry with her?

Oh, he had been furious at first, because she could have given the game away to Chappell and his gang and only his quick thinking and her swift reading of his mind had saved the day. But riding across the Heath with his arms about her, his nostrils full of the sweet scent of her hair, he had soon calmed down. If it had not been for the
need to change his clothes and placate his cousin, he would have talked it over sensibly with her straight away, established her innocence and his reasons for doing what he did in an atmosphere of goodwill. He would have offered her the annulment for her sake, not his. Instead, his anger with Frank had taken him from that odious man to her room in the frame of mind for a confrontation. And what a confrontation! He groaned and put his head in his hands. There seemed no way back.

Rosamund rose bleary-eyed next morning, dressed in the shabby gown she had worn the day before and went down to breakfast to face a stony-faced Harry. He was eating toasted bread and boiled eggs, but rose as she entered the room. She bade him good morning and began helping herself from the dishes on the table.

He sat down again. ‘Rosamund,’ he said, ‘you are still my wife. There is no need to dress like a servant. I wish you would wear something more befitting the lady of the house.’

‘It is good enough for pottering about Bishop’s Court while I await my fate.’ She spoke flatly, drained of all emotion.

‘Your fate?’

‘Yes. Am I not to be disgraced? Held up to ridicule? Banished?’

‘Good God, no!’ He reached out and put his hand over hers. ‘I am sorry for the way I behaved last night. It was cruel and unfair. I should have explained myself better. You were never meant to see me as Gus Housman.’

‘I am aware of that.’ Oh, how difficult it was to
pretend to be calm, when the very pressure of his warm hand over hers was making her heart beat wildly in her chest.

‘Hear me out, please.’ He paused, but when she did not reply, he went on. ‘Have you ever heard of the Piccadilly Gentlemen?’

‘Yes, according to your cousin, they are a drinking and gambling club who take on impossible wagers. I suppose pretending to be Gus Housman was one of those.’

He could have said yes, it was, but having made a start on his confession, he meant to finish it. ‘No. And the Piccadilly Gentlemen are not like that at all. Their real name is The Society for the Discovery and Apprehension of Criminals. I am one of them and Gus Housman is the guise I wear when tracking down lawbreakers.’

‘You are a thieftaker!’ she exclaimed. Of all the possibilities she had considered, being a thieftaker had not been not one of them.

‘You could so describe me, but the Piccadilly Gentlemen are no ordinary thieftakers. We are all gentlemen, we do not do it for money, but to make the country a safer place for its honest citizens. I had no idea about Sir Joshua and O’Keefe until you told me the story. It shocked me because I had been tracking O’Keefe for some time.’

‘Why did you not tell me?’

‘It was safer for you not to know.’

‘Did you know the forge was at Feltham Farm?’

‘Not until yesterday. And when you turned up as well, I was so taken aback, all I could think of was to
get us both out safely. And then O’Keefe said Sir Joshua was one of them…’

‘He wasn’t. I swear he wasn’t.’

‘But he did have false coins and your brother did pass them.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Max found them in Papa’s study. He said Papa had been cheated and they should have been genuine and he did not see why we should be the losers over it.’

‘He gave you some of them?’

‘No, I never had any of them, nor the proceeds from them either.’ She gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Unless you count the wine at our wedding…’

He chuckled. It was the first sign of good humour he had shown for two days if you did not count the false bonhomie of dinner the night before. ‘I drank some of that too, you know.’

‘Then we are both guilty.’

‘I think we can discount that.’

‘I can see your predicament,’ she said slowly. ‘You cannot have your wife and her brother arrested; it would be uncomfortable for you, so you decided to rid yourself of the wife.’

‘Oh, Rosamund, my dear, do you think so little of me that you can think I would stoop to that? I suggested an annulment because I thought that was what you wanted, that you might be glad to be free of a man who could not fulfil the role of husband.’

‘Could we not talk about that?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had been going to say remained unsaid, because Francis bowled into the room, a smile on his face. ‘Good
morning, my lady. Good morning, Harry.’ He did not wait for them to answer, but went to the sideboard and examined the breakfast dishes. ‘Ham and chops and hot oatcakes. I envy you your cook, Coz.’

‘You are up betimes,’ Harry said, assuming cheerfulness. ‘Does that mean you are thinking of making an early start back to town?’

Rosamund wondered if her husband was glad of the interruption. It saved him having to explain himself and she was still left with that annulment hanging over her. She sat silently watching, trying not to let her tears betray her, as Francis sat down with his loaded plate.

‘Are you coming?’ Francis asked.

‘Later. I have one or two things to see to before I can leave. But do not let me delay you.’ He stood up, gave Rosamund a brief smile, which she could not interpret, and strode from the room.

Francis shrugged. ‘I am afraid I am in bad odour with my cousin,’ he said, tackling his breakfast with gusto. ‘You were not meant to find out about his dark secret, but all I wished to do was warn you. I hope I have not caused a quarrel…’

Rosamund knew that was exactly what he had hoped. She smiled sweetly. ‘No, Cousin Francis, you have not caused a quarrel, however much you might have hoped for it. Please excuse me.’ And with that she hurried from the room in search of Harry. She was not going to let him off that easily.

She found him in the stables with Annabelle, having his horse and the child’s pony saddled. ‘We are going for a ride,’ Annabelle said excitedly. ‘Are you coming with us?’

‘If you will have me.’

‘Oh, we will, won’t we, Papa?’ she appealed to her father.

‘Of course.’

While Honey was being saddled, Rosamund went to change into a habit and soon rejoined them. They rode out across the park.

‘How did Hector come to be here?’ Rosamund asked Harry, as they followed slowly behind Annabelle. ‘You did not ride him out of London.’

He smiled. ‘You and Francis were not the only ones to follow me. Sir Ashley was hard on your heels with my mount.’

‘Is he one of the Piccadilly Gentlemen too?’

‘Yes, and a staunch friend. He rode back to town last night to alert the Bow Street Runners to raid that farm. If the coiners are not all already behind bars, they will be before the day is out.’

‘Do you think they will try to incriminate you?’

‘La, what for?’ he said lightly. ‘I am nothing but a foolish macaroni whom they made look even more foolish.’

‘I meant your alter ego, Gus Housman. They will guess who informed on them and if any managed to escape arrest, they will be out for revenge.’

‘I am afraid Gus will have to meet his end,’ he said ruefully, remembering Matilda Watson and her threat. She was probably still at large, but there was no need to worry Rosamund about her. He chuckled. ‘’Tis a pity, he came in very useful. But there are other guises; he is not the only character in my repertoire.’

It was typical of him to make light of it, but she
would not be easy in her mind until every last one of the gang had paid for his crime at the end of a rope.

‘What will happen to Mrs Chappell and all those children? I could not like her, but the poor woman should not have to suffer for the sins of her husband.’

‘I will take care of her.’ He laughed suddenly. ‘You are supposed to be paying her five guineas a month, to keep your sordid secret. We will not give her guineas but smaller coins, enough to bring up her children. Guineas are too much of a temptation.’

‘I agree with you on that.’ She paused and then went on, ‘I wish I knew how my father came to have those coins. I do not believe he was one of that wicked gang.’

‘I am sure you are right,’ he said lightly.

‘Will O’Keefe name him, do you think?’

‘What reason can he have for doing so?’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘It will not help to get him off. Put it from your mind.’

‘Papa, Mama, watch me,’ Annabelle cried, making her pony jump a narrow ditch.

‘Bravo!’ Harry called, as Annabelle, triumphant, reined in to wait for them.

‘Harry,’ Rosamund said, gathering her courage, ‘I have come to love your little daughter as my own. It will break my heart to part from her.’

He turned to look at her. Her eyes were softly appealing, her lips slightly parted. A wisp of hair blew across her face and she pushed it away with an impatient gesture. How could he let her go? She had become part of his life, the person he returned to at the end of the day, the one with whom he most wanted to share his thoughts, his hopes, his plans. She had brought light and life back
to Bishop’s Court and given him back his daughter. Could she also banish his demons—given time?

‘I had no idea you were planning to leave,’ he said.

‘I’m not, but I thought you…’ She stumbled over her words. ‘You seem to have forgotten our bargain.’

‘I
have
forgotten it,’ he said, making her heart falter. ‘It was a foolish idea and one I have regretted making from the bottom of my heart.’

‘Oh, then I must go.’

‘Is that your wish?’

‘Oh, no, you know it is not. I have been happy here.’

‘Even though I have been less than a husband to you?’ He spoke softly, reaching across and covering her hand with his own.

‘Yes, because I believe there is a very good reason for it. And you are going to explain it to me, aren’t you?’ If she did not take the lead, he never would get round to it.

‘Yes.’ He retrieved his hand. ‘Shall we turn back?’

Francis had left while they had been riding. They ate nuncheon with Annabelle and afterwards the child was sent back to Miss Gunstock, leaving them alone, sitting side by side on a sofa in the small parlour. The time for explanations had come.

‘I hardly know where to begin.’ he said.

She smiled. ‘The beginning might be a good idea.’

‘When I met your brother and he told me about you—’

‘No, before that, long before that,’ she said quietly. However much it hurt, she was determined to make him open his heart to her. Even if he could not love her
as she loved him, she wanted to understand what made him the man he was. ‘Back to when you were young, back to Beth.’

He sighed. ‘I loved her, you know. When we married I was twenty-four and she was sixteen. I had known her all her life. Both sets of parents approved the match, both wanted grandchildren. In retrospect I do not think either of us was ready for that. Beth was tiny, almost like a doll, her body not yet fully formed. When she became pregnant everyone rejoiced—’ He stopped, his voice faded and his eyes clouded as if he were far away from her. She put her hand over his and squeezed it gently to encourage him.

‘All went well, until the birth.’ He shuddered at the memory. ‘It was her seventeenth birthday. We had been laughing together and saying what a grand birthday present a baby would be. Neither of us foresaw how difficult it would be. Beth had always been cosseted, she was not used to pain and the doctors had no patience with her; I could hear them scolding her. They sent me away. I paced the garden, but I could hear her, even there. She cursed me, Rosamund. With her dying breath, she cursed me. She said God would punish me for what I had done to her.’

‘She was distraught, Harry. I am sure she did not mean it.’

‘But I have been punished. Her ghost haunts me. I cannot bring myself to love again. Dare not, for how can I put someone for whom I have tender feelings through that torture?’

‘It is not torture to someone who longs for a child, Harry,’ she said, her heart lifting with joy that he seemed
to be admitting tender feelings for her. ‘What is a little pain compared to the joy of holding your own child in your arms? If Beth had lived, I am sure she would have said the same thing. If she had recovered and held Annabelle in her arms and felt her at the breast, she would have regretted those unkind words and begged your pardon.’

‘Bless you, my dear. But I was wrong to make that bargain with you. And I cannot forgive myself for it. It was your brother telling me about your predicament after your father died that put the idea in my head. If I could marry a stranger, someone I did not know, could coldly make her with child and beget me an heir, then I might lay the ghost to rest. But then I found I could not do it.’ He paused, waiting for her to castigate him for it, but she said nothing and he went on. ‘I came to know you, to appreciate your qualities and all my reasoning went out of the door. For that I beg your pardon and in return I offer you your freedom.’

‘Supposing I do not want my freedom?’

He turned to look at her to find her smiling at him. ‘But I might never…’

‘I am prepared to risk that.’

He took both her hands in his and looked earnestly into her face, studying every contour, the expressive eyes which told him of her sincerity, the slightly parted lips, the high colour in her cheeks. He leaned forwards and put a gentle kiss upon her forehead. ‘Oh, my dear, I do not deserve you,’ he said. ‘But if you will have patience…’