Pirate's Bride (Liberty's Ladies) (6 page)

Swirling the rich Madeira in a wine goblet, he surveyed the bottom of the cup, seeing in the depths things which weren’t apparent at first glance. Like this room. He didn’t doubt his mother had furnished the Oak Room with the earl in mind. Probably she’d wanted a refuge for her husband, a place where they could be together in loving camaraderie. Somehow Ian couldn’t imagine the earl sitting in loving camaraderie with anyone. Not Jessica. Most certainly not with the girl he claimed as his daughter.

The relationship between Talbot and Bethlyn bothered Ian a great deal. Clearly, the man resented her. Upon meeting the earl that morning, Talbot had made no effort to hide his eagerness to have her married and gone from Woodsley. At first Ian believed the man wanted only to marry off an unattractive daughter. Heaven knew the poor girl would have had an awful time finding a man if one hadn’t been readily available for her, Ian decided. The memory of her face, deathly pale with red-rimmed eyes was clear in his mind. However, Ian sensed an undercurrent of something else when the earl became angered at the girl becoming ill.

Why did Talbot hate her so?

Shrugging his broad-shouldered frame, Ian glanced out of the long, Palladian-style window at the garden, bereft of blooms. In the distance he spotted a broad walk, flanked by rosebushes and sloping lawns. From his vantage point could be seen the tumbling waters of a cascade and, beyond, a heavily wooded hillside reached skyward. An orangerie and a summerhouse dotted the landscape. Ian couldn’t help but be impressed by the beauty and immense size of Woodsley. For all its grandeur, however, he found the place lacking in warmth, in caring. Was that why he detected an eagerness to be gone from here in the voice of the girl he’d just married? Did she realize to what extent her father disliked her? Of course, she must, Ian found himself thinking. Just because the girl was homely didn’t make her stupid.

A wave of pity for Bethlyn Talbot, or Bethlyn Briston as she was now known, washed over him. He didn’t want to feel anything for the girl. He’d arrived at Woodsley with every intention of marrying her, of turning on his heels and leaving, minus the bride. An ache to see the well-controlled demeanor of the earl crumble with the knowledge that he’d been royally cuckolded by the son of the man whose wife he’d stolen filled him like a poison. During the sea voyage with Eversley that was all he thought about. He’d intended to leave his bride as soon as the marriage ceremony was over, but the girl had fallen ill and spoiled it all for him.

He couldn’t forget her pitiful young face, feeling such compassion for her, an emotion he never expected to feel for Talbot’s daughter. The sight of her being wretchedly sick before him, her father, the whole household, must have been quite humiliating for her. Yet, she’d been rather dignified about the whole thing. At least she hadn’t broken free with a gale of sobs. She’d cried softly to herself, but he could accept that. One thing Ian hated was an hysterical female. Somehow he knew that Bethlyn Talbot very seldom gave vent to her emotions, that she kept herself in check out of self-preservation. Living with a man like Nathaniel Talbot she would be forced to not show weakness. She was so young, so very young.

He shook himself, deciding he was veering from. his reason for being here. He mustn’t allow the girl to get to him. Guiltily he realized that her future rested in his hands now, and he had no clear idea what he should do beyond following his plan to leave Woodsley and never look back. Briston Shipping, in part, legally belonged to him now. He’d followed the terms of his mother’s will and married Lady Bethlyn. No one could deny he’d honored his mother’s request. But he didn’t want a wife, Bethlyn Talbot or any woman who’d cling to him, to be dependent upon him for her happiness. The fact of the matter was that he felt unable to love and couldn’t set himself up as his father, a man betrayed by the wife he adored.

As Ian poured another helping of wine, Talbot and Eversley entered the room. Eversley stood respectfully at a distance, playing the faithful solicitor to the hilt. Ian wanted to laugh at the man, suspecting that Eversley would knife the earl in the back if the man ever caught on to his pilfering. However, Ian didn’t care if Eversley stole from the earl’s accounts, as long as he never attempted to steal from Ian’s coffers. It was agreed that Briston Shipping would be run like two separate companies, under one name. As long as the British end was run adequately well, Ian didn’t worry about Thomas Eversley. In fact, if the crafty Thomas could steal funds from under the earl’s nose, Ian wished him luck.

Talbot crossed the room to stand beside Ian. He inclined his head. “A physician has examined your wife. He finds she has caught a malady, peculiar to the servants of late. He feels that within a week she’ll be well and able to travel. I trust you’ll be comfortable at Woodsley until then.”

Ian placed the wine goblet on the mantel and squarely faced his father-in-law. “Thank you for your hospitality. However, I shall be forced to decline.”

“I don’t understand.”

The moment for which Ian had waited was now at hand. His palms perspired with anticipation. He spoke calmly, without emotion, like the earl. “Quite simple. I leave immediately for London to sail home. I’ve a shipping company to maintain, as you well know. The company was the reason for this unfortunate union between our families.”

“You can’t leave, man,” Eversley broke into the conversation. “The will stated…”

“Only that I marry the earl’s daughter, which I have dutifully done,” Ian spoke sharply to Eversley. “No one can fault me. I lived up to the terms of my mother’s will.”

Nathaniel’s mouth quirked into a scowl. “If you think to pawn the girl off on me after you’ve made her your wife … well, I won’t allow it.”

“She is your daughter, sir. A fact I think you have conveniently overlooked many times in the past. How can you stand there and see your only child bartered and practically sold to me as a wife? She is barely out of the nursery and not ready for the intimacies of marriage.”

“What difference does age make?” Thomas asked. “The girl simply lies there and does her duty by you.”

Ian turned on Thomas, a fire in his eyes which belied the calmness of his voice. “You’re a crass fellow for all your polished manners, Thomas. She is a human being, not some commodity to be bought and sold. The girl is abed with an illness. How do you expect me to take her to wife now?” His piercing gaze moved towards the Earl. “I wonder, Your Grace, if you have purposely saddled me with an ailing wife.”

Nathaniel Talbot surprised Ian then by laughing a deep hearty laugh, his eyes holding a hint of respect for Ian. “I assure you that my daughter will recover in due time. It appears I underestimated Jessica’s son.”

“It would seem so,” Ian said stiffly.

“You’ve bested me, son. I didn’t think you had it in you. “

“I’m not your son.” Ian’s voice contained contempt, something which brought the earl up sharply. The man’s amusement disappeared.

Ian grabbed for his cloak, eager to be gone from here and to put the whole sordid mess from his mind when Thomas blocked the doorway.

“What about the girl? Some sort of an arrangement for her welfare must be made. As the earl’s solicitor, I insist upon it.”

Ian glared at Thomas with burning reproachful eyes. There was nothing in Thomas’s bearing to cause him to dislike him. Actually, Thomas was well groomed, handsome, and finely dressed for a forty-year-old solicitor. Ian realized money was Thomas’s weakness, though the man made a vain attempt to hide it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Thomas would love to see him falter, that perhaps he begrudged him his inherited company while Thomas had been forced to struggle through years, of poverty to become a solicitor. Perhaps even the arranged marriage gnawed at Thomas. Might not a man with high aspirations, a man who loved the feel of gold in his palms, have harbored the desire to marry Talbot’s daughter if he’d been rich enough?

The thought flashed through Ian’s mind that with Thomas and her father constantly beside her, Bethlyn might need some protection. Until that moment he hadn’t known what to do about his bride. The whole ordeal had left him numb. The reaction he’d expected from Talbot about leaving her at Woodsley wasn’t the one he’d gotten, and now he felt responsible for the girl’s welfare. His plan for revenge had turned sour and he didn’t feel the exhilaration he’d expected.

“Would you like Lady Bethlyn to stay at Woodsley, Thomas?” Ian asked with dispassion.

Thomas was actually salivating. Ian supposed he was thinking about all the money Bethlyn might bestow upon him for legal advice, at empty business ventures in which he’d come away the richer. But being a dutiful solicitor and careful with his words, Thomas cast an eye at the earl, who shook his head in disgust.

“Wherever the lady shall be the happiest is my wish, sir. “

“Well spoken.” Ian laughed heartily and slapped Thomas on the back. “When I arrive in London later this afternoon I’ll pay a call on my great-aunt Penny.” He turned towards Talbot. “You remember her, Your Grace. She is my mother’s aunt on her father’s side. Mother visited her that time she came to London, the time she met you.”

“I remember,” Talbot said blandly.

“I’ve heard through mutual relatives that she is quite lonely in her London townhouse. I believe Bethlyn would brighten her life up a bit if she went to live with Aunt Penny. Of course, I’d dispense a large yearly sum to keep my wife in the style to which she is accustomed. She can take any servants she wishes. I’ll incur all her expenses, of course. This agreement is satisfactory with you,” Ian said.

Talbot bowed stiffly, but his face barely suppressed his shock, his anger. Ian had finally gotten a rise out of the older man and he’d cherish the memory of it to his dying day. “Another thing,” Ian continued. “Both of you must understand that Bethlyn’s household is her own. Aunt Penny is there to see to her safety and never doubt that the old woman is quite right in the head and takes no lip service from anyone. At least, that’s what I’ve heard about her. Whatever my wife wants to do is her business. Neither one of you will have a say in her private matters. Have I made myself clear, gentlemen?”

“Certainly,” Talbot mumbled, and Thomas nodded, opening the door for Ian.

“See that my wife’s things are moved to my aunt’s home as soon as is feasible, Thomas. And, please Your Grace, explain to her that I was called suddenly away and wish only for her good health. I shall write her from London and explain the situation as soon as I see Aunt Penny. “ He bowed and unceremoniously left the room. As Ian climbed into the earl’s coach moments later for the journey to London, he knew he left behind two angry men … and a young, untried girl who was his wife. But he’d seen to her future and that was something he’d never expected to do.

Under the circumstances, this was the best he could offer her.

~ ~ ~

Three weeks later the sun shone upon the countryside, dispelling the frost which had fallen during the night. Inside Woodsley the frost of abandonment settled in Bethlyn’s heart, hardening it into a rock of ice. In her hand she clutched her husband’s letter to her, knowing the contents by heart, having read it one hundred times over the last weeks. In it, he explained the arrangements he’d made with his aunt Penelope Evans and hoped that all would be satisfactory. The last line of the letter requested she understand his decision and not think ill of him, that both of them were aware their marriage was a business arrangement, not a love match. He assured her she’d be well provided for and would never want for anything in her life.

 
“Except for love,” Bethlyn whispered fiercely and thrust the letter into the bedroom fireplace, taking a perverted delight in watching the paper burn.

Mavis glanced up from the bag she packed. “You said something, Bethlyn?”

Bethlyn shook her head and smoothed down her wool traveling skirt and turned away from the fireplace. “I can’t wait to be gone from here.”

“I feel London will be better for you. Your father won’t be there.”

“True. At least my marriage has freed me from him. I’m independently wealthy, Mavis. In London I’ll possess money and clothes and can have anything my heart desires. However, I’ll have no husband, no children to love. In effect, my husband has freed me from one prison to place me in another. All I ever wanted was a family, and it seems that he has unknowingly denied me that wish.” She stopped short, feeling a lump form in her throat, but she wouldn’t cry. The man had deserted her and wasn’t worth her tears.

Within the hour, Mavis waited in the carriage for her while Bethlyn parted from her father. “Your husband has more than adequately provided for you. I demand that you wipe that tragic expression from your face and realize how fortunate you are that he thought of your welfare at all,” he stated.

They stood in the entrance hall, her father towering over her. Displeasure shone on his face. His words wounded her, and normally she’d have bowed her head and immediately obeyed. This morning and the last few weeks of her life were far from normal circumstances, though. She’d been wedded and deserted, sent a pithy letter from her bridegroom assuring her that he’d seen to her future, and now her father still felt he could dictate to her, that he could tell her how she should look and feel. The pain of the entire situation took its toll upon her.

With a suddenness which surprised even herself, Bethlyn reared up, and with a controlled but deadly calm, evident in her voice, she faced him squarely. “You can no longer tell me how to keep my countenance, how to feel, or what to do, Your Grace. You abandoned me long before Ian Briston did, and for that I shall never forgive you.”