Regency Mischief (26 page)

Lottie looked at her sister’s flushed face and wondered how Clarice could be so selfish. Did her twin never give a thought to anyone else’s comfort but her own?

‘What about Aunt Beth and me?’ she asked. ‘Where should we go if the house were sold? Aunt Beth has little enough income as it is—and I have nothing at all.’

‘I will find a rich husband and rescue you both.’ Clarice flashed a beguiling smile at her sister.

‘Surely the marquis is rich enough? Papa said he was rolling in the blunt.’

‘Well, I dare say he is, but I do not like him. He is arrogant and cold—and I shall not marry him.’

Clarice took up Lottie’s hairbrush and began to brush her twin’s hair.

‘I hate him, Lottie. Papa is mean to say I must marry him. I would rather die—besides, there is someone I really like. I met him in Paris and I think he is in love with me.’

‘Oh, Clarice…’ Lottie sighed. ‘If the marquis is that horrible, I should not want you to marry him. Is he very old, dearest?’

‘Oh, middle-aged, I should say…thirty or more.’

‘That is not old.’ Lottie frowned at her. ‘Is he ugly?’

‘No, not ugly…stern, I suppose.’ Clarice put down the brush. ‘You must agree with me or Papa will make me marry him.’

‘If he is presentable and rich…’ Lottie looked thoughtful. ‘It would be the answer to Papa’s troubles, Clarice. Could you not marry him for his sake and ours?’

Clarice made a face at her in the mirror. ‘If you think he sounds presentable, you marry him. He would never know the difference…’ Clarice stared at her in the mirror and her expression became one of excitement. ‘Why not? Why do you not wed him in my place? You could be certain that Aunt Beth had a decent home and Papa could come to you whenever he was in trouble.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Clarice.’ While it was true that
they were almost identical in looks, apart from a mole on Lottie’s right breast that Clarice did not have, they were very different in character. ‘Surely he would know the difference? I know that many people cannot tell us apart but he must know you better than most.’

‘We have only met once—and he does not know me at all, though he may think he does.’

‘What does that mean?’

Clarice shrugged. ‘He is so arrogant. I suppose I cannot expect you to marry him, Lottie. Yet I shall not. I would rather run away.’

‘You will not change your mind?’

‘No, not for the world,’ Clarice declared. ‘I am sorry if the house must be sold, but I dare say Aunt Beth can find a little cottage to rent.’

‘Is that all you care—after she looked after us for so many years?’

‘Well, I should not like her to be homeless, but I refuse to marry him. If you are so concerned, Lottie, you may marry him yourself. I do think you could for it would be better than being stuck here in the country the whole time.’

‘Do not be so ridiculous. It is you he wants—how could I marry him?’

‘You could pretend to be me.’

‘No, no, that would be cheating him. It is a foolish idea, Clarice. I cannot consider it.’

‘Then Papa will have to tell him the wedding is off,’ Clarice said and looked mutinous. ‘I shall not marry him and that is an end to it.’

‘Have you seen your sister this morning?’ Aunt Beth asked when Lottie came back from her walk the next
morning. ‘Your father wanted to speak to her, because the marquis has written to him, but she was not in her room. I knocked, but she did not answer’

‘I expect she is sulking,’ Lottie said. ‘I’ll go up and speak to her at once.’

Taking off her pelisse and bonnet, Lottie went to her own room first. She was thoughtful as she walked along the hall to her sister’s room. She had been thinking about Clarice’s suggestion that she marry Rothsay in her place ever since their argument the previous day. It was a mad idea that they should change places, yet if Clarice truly dug her heels in, what was the alternative?

Lottie knew her sister well enough to be sure that Clarice would never marry to oblige her family. She must dislike the marquis very much, which meant that he was probably a most unpleasant man. Yet if Clarice refused, their father would lose everything.

Knocking at her sister’s door, Lottie waited for a moment, then opened it and went in. The room was empty; by the look of things, Clarice had left it in a hurry. She had clothes strewn everywhere, an odd shoe dropped on the floor—and all her silver combs, brushes and perfume bottles were missing from the dressing chest.

Feeling cold all over, Lottie went to investigate. Looking in the drawers of the tallboy, she saw that some of them were empty of all but Clarice’s oldest things.

As she glanced at the bed, she saw a letter lying on a pillow. It was addressed to her. Tearing it open, her worst fears were soon confirmed.

Clarice had run away.

‘Oh, Clarice,’ Lottie sighed. ‘What have you done now?’

As a child Clarice had always been selfish and thoughtless, and, because most people could not tell them apart, she had formed a habit of making people think it was Lottie who had broken their vase or knocked over her milk or put a stone through a window.

Glancing at the letter again, Lottie saw the postscript.

Lottie took the letter and went back downstairs. She met her father as he emerged from his study. He was looking tired and worried and her heart caught with pain.

‘Father—is something the matter?’

‘Your sister has informed me once again that she will not marry the marquis and I’m damned if I know what to do. I suppose I shall have no choice but to sell the house.’

‘Perhaps not…’

‘What do you mean? Has she changed her mind?’

‘You had better read this, Papa.’ Lottie handed him her twin’s letter. ‘I have no idea where she has gone, but
she has taken most of her things—including the silver that belonged to Mama.’

Sir Charles read it through and cursed. ‘She is a thoughtless minx. Well, that settles it. I must sell—and if the marquis sues for breach of promise, I shall probably end up in the Fleet.’

‘Papa! He wouldn’t sue?’

‘He might,’ Sir Charles said. ‘Rothsay will not take this well.’

‘Supposing I did what Clarice suggested?’

He stared at her. ‘Take her place, you mean?’

‘Yes. She says the marquis doesn’t love her.’

‘They only met twice to my knowledge.’ Lottie’s father looked at her with dawning relief in his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t do it—would you?’

‘Yes, I shall,’ Lottie blurted unthinkingly, desperate not to see her father suffer any more distress. She almost denied it instantly, but the look of relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from turning back. ‘Clarice told me that all Rothsay wants from his wife is an heir—and that it was always to be more of a marriage of convenience.’

‘Yes, he was clear that was all he wanted.’ Sir Charles seemed to have shed ten years in an instant. ‘If you could bear it, Lottie—it would be an end to my problems.’

‘Yes, of course I can.’ Lottie forced a smile. ‘Most girls marry for money or position, so why shouldn’t I?’

What else could she do in the circumstances? If she did not take her sister’s place, Aunt Beth would be left homeless, her father might end in a debtor’s prison; though he had given the family nothing but trouble over
the years, Lottie remained devoted to her father. No, she couldn’t bear for her family to suffer if there was something she could do to prevent it.

‘A
re you certain you wish to go through with this, Lottie?’ Her father reached for her hand, which was trembling slightly as the carriage horses began to slow to a steady walk. In another few minutes they would arrive at the marquis’s country house and it would be too late to run back. ‘I can tell him you are unwilling and ask him to give me time to pay.’

‘How can you pay, Papa?’ Lottie turned her lovely green eyes on him with a hint of reproach. ‘I have thought long and hard about my decision. Clarice will not marry him. She’s run away and we’ve none of us any idea where she is; besides, Aunt Beth is terrified of losing her home with you. How could she live on fifty pounds a year? I should have to find work to help support us both.’

‘I am ashamed to have brought you to this,’ Sir Charles said. ‘I know well that your sister is selfish,’ he added and looked rueful. ‘She takes after me, while you have your mother’s giving nature. I would not have minded that devil being married to Clarice, for I know
she would have given as good as she got—but you may be hurt, Lottie.’

‘I am stronger than you imagine, and, as I’ve said, there is no choice.’ Lottie smiled at him. ‘Now, Papa, you must be careful when calling me Lottie.’

‘Rothsay knows nothing of you. He will merely think it a pet name, which of course it is, Charlotte.’

‘Well, we must be careful all the same.’ Lottie took his hand. ‘As I told you, Papa—I shall see if his lordship will release us from the debt without marriage, but if he will not I shall become his wife. It is perhaps my only chance of marriage and I know I should like to have children, so it will not be so very hard for me.’

‘Will it not, truly?’

Lottie dropped her eyes. She did not wish her father to know that it was the end of her naïve dreams of finding love and happiness. Clarice had told her the marquis was a terrible rake. Clearly, she could not expect to find happiness with her husband, but at least her aunt would have a home—and she might find content in her children.

‘No, Father. I believe I shall be quite content—unless the marquis is good enough to relent.’

‘I do not think he is likely to change his mind,’ her father said and sighed. ‘I fear you will just have to make up your mind to marry him.’

Lottie did not reply. The carriage had just now drawn to a halt before a grand and imposing house built at some time in the last century, and her heart was beating so fast that she could not have spoken if her life depended on it.

‘The gentleman and young lady have arrived, sir.’ Nicolas turned his head as his butler spoke. ‘I have shown
them into the green drawing room, as you requested. Shall I ask Mrs Mann to take in some refreshment?’

‘Yes, you may bring it in ten minutes,’ Nicolas said. ‘I shall greet my guests.’

He was unsmiling as he walked briskly towards the green drawing room at the back of the house. He had waited for some protest, some inkling that the lady wished to withdraw, but none had been forthcoming. He could only hope that the young woman might give him some reason to request an end to this impossible arrangement.

‘Yes, Father, it is very beautiful,’ he heard the young woman’s clear voice as he stood outside the door. ‘I was just thinking how much Aunt Beth would love to live here. I wonder—’

The young woman broke off, turning to look at him with wide eyes as he entered, a faint flush in her cheeks. She was wearing a bonnet of chip straw tied with emerald ribbons, her carriage gown skilfully fashioned of velvet of a similar hue, and he was surprised. In Paris she had worn a gown that was, to say the least, bold, but this morning she looked a modest and very respectable young lady.

How dared she present herself as a demure country miss? Did she imagine he had such a short memory? His lips curled in scorn as his gaze swept over her. He thought the colour in her cheeks deepened. Was she remembering the night in Paris when he had caught her going through Ralph’s pockets?

‘Miss Stanton,’ he said and took two strides towards her, inclining his head. ‘Welcome to Rothsay Park. Sir Charles, how do you do, sir?’

‘Middling.’ Sir Charles looked hesitantly at his daughter. ‘I understand you plan to give a ball to announce your engagement to…my daughter?’

‘You would have preferred to give it yourself?’

The scorn in Nicolas’s voice assaulted his own ears. He was being rude to a guest and, as his father would have told him, that was unforgivable. In his father’s day it would have resulted in a beating and no supper. He added hastily to cover up his bluntness, ‘I thought it would be easier here for I have a deuced many relatives, and I fear they will descend in droves once the announcement is made.’

‘Ah, yes, well…’ Sir Charles floundered unhappily.

‘I am sure it will be much better held here, sir,’ Lottie said and smiled as she removed her bonnet, revealing hair dressed in waves back from her face and drawn into a secure double knot at the nape. In Paris her hair had been loose, tumbling on to her shoulders, as if she had just risen from bed—which she had. ‘I know my aunt will be very happy to visit. I do hope you will not mind my inviting her for the ball? There is no one else I truly wish to invite.’

‘Indeed? You have no relatives?’

‘Mama had one sister, who is now a widow and has no children. Papa has no family at all.’

‘Well, there is Cousin Agatha, Lottie,’ Sir Charles said. ‘You know what a tongue she has on her. If I do not invite her, she will never stop complaining.’

‘I think that perhaps I would rather not ask Cousin Agatha,’ she replied. ‘You should really call me by my name, Papa. The marquis will think my pet name unsuitable for the lady he intends to make his wife.’

‘Lottie?’ Nicolas raised his brows. ‘Is that not more usually given to those with the name of Charlotte?’

‘Mama liked the name. It was hers and it is also one of my names—everyone at home calls me Lottie.’

‘Do they? I wonder why. I thought Clarice eminently suitable for the young woman I met in Paris. It has rather more sophistication, I think?’

‘Yes, I am certain it has,’ Lottie agreed. ‘I am perfectly happy for you to address me as you please, sir.’

‘Are you indeed? Thank you, Miss Stanton. I shall give the matter some thought.’ He turned as the housekeeper entered with another maid bearing silver trays. ‘Ah, here is Mrs Mann with your tea—and something stronger for you, Sir Charles. If you’ll excuse me I have some business to attend to. Mrs Mann will take you up to your rooms when you have refreshed yourselves. I shall see you this evening before dinner.’

‘Thank you, sir. We are much obliged,’ Sir Charles said and nodded to the housekeeper as she indicated the Madeira wine. ‘Yes, ma’am, that will do nicely, I thank you.’

‘Miss Stanton, you will excuse me.’ Nicolas nodded to her abruptly and left the room.

‘Sir.’ She bobbed a curtsy, but not before he had seen a flash of anger in her eyes. He felt a flicker of satisfaction; that was better, he was getting to the real Clarice now.

Nicolas frowned as he strode from the house. His business with his agent would have kept, but he was not sure he could have controlled his temper much longer. How dared the lady look as if butter would not melt in her mouth?

Her smile had reminded him sharply of Elizabeth when they first met. She had seemed charming and innocent—but when he offered her his heart, she had laughed and told him she was looking for more than he could offer.

Clarice—or Lottie, as she seemed to prefer—was not Elizabeth, but Nicolas was no longer a green youth. If Lottie imagined he had forgotten that scene in the bedroom in Paris, she would soon learn otherwise.

He would not be rude to her in front of her father, but when they were alone, he would ask her what game she was playing.

Clarice was so right! Lottie’s hands curled into tight balls at her sides. What a rude, arrogant, cold, beastly man he was! She would have liked to give him a set down, for he had no reason to be so insufferably condescending. Papa had, it was true, lost more money than he could afford, but Rothsay could have insisted on being paid. He had accepted Papa’s offer of his own free will. The least he could do was to treat both Papa and her with respect.

He deserved all he got. During the journey, Lottie’s conscience had pricked her for practising this deceit on the unsuspecting marquis. She had feared that he was in love with Clarice and would spot the difference immediately, but he clearly hadn’t. Indeed, apart from that scornful glance he had bestowed on her at the start, he had hardly seemed to notice her.

Lottie had hoped that the marquis might relent and release them from the outrageous contract he and her
father had made between them. He was everything her sister had claimed and Lottie would not marry him.

Lottie’s indignation drained away almost as soon as it flared into being. With no offer of a withdrawal the contract would still stand; if she were to break the terms then it would be her family that suffered. It might not be so bad, she consoled herself, the marquis had a beautiful home and it would be pleasant to live here, especially if, as she suspected, her husband-to-be preferred London life. It was large enough for her aunt to stay on an almost permanent basis, for Lottie had no illusions about her papa’s promises of reform. He might be feeling chastened and sorry now, but within weeks he would become bored and once again the gaming tables would draw him like a moth to the flame.

It was a sickness, like Mama’s weak chest, which fortunately neither of her daughters had inherited. Lottie loved her family, even her selfish sister, and she knew that if she went through with this marriage she would probably be in a position to help them over the years. Her husband would have provided her with a small income in the marriage contract and she had a frugal nature.

She reasoned that if all the marquis required was an heir he would not wish to spend much time in her company. Perhaps she could bear to accept a certain amount of intimacy with him for the sake of her family—and she would like children of her own.

‘Shall I take you upstairs now, Miss Stanton?’

‘Oh…yes, thank you, Mrs Mann.’

Lottie recalled her wandering thoughts. She was here and there was no getting out of the bargain her father
had made, so she might as well make the most of things and enjoy her surroundings.

‘I shall see you later,’ Sir Charles said as she prepared to follow the housekeeper. ‘Is everything all right, Lottie?’

‘Yes…’ Lottie raised her head. Her father was relying on her to solve his problems, as was her aunt. She could not let them down. If the marquis had not been such an arrogant brute, she might have felt bad about deceiving him, but he deserved no consideration from her. ‘Everything is perfectly all right, Papa. I shall not keep Mrs Mann waiting.’

Following the housekeeper from the small but elegant parlour, Lottie walked up the wide main staircase, marvelling at the spacious beauty of her surroundings, the ornate ceilings and exquisite furnishings. The family that had built and maintained this house must be vastly rich. It had an air of wealth and security, of being the home of important men, like its present owner.

Why would a man like Rothsay choose to take a bride as payment for a gambling debt? There must be any number of eligible young ladies who would be delighted to marry him—unless his rakish reputation had made him an outcast as far as the matchmaking mamas were concerned?

Lottie’s thoughts were confused, churning round in her mind and becoming no clearer. Had the marquis been a little warmer at their first meeting, she thought she might have liked the idea of her marriage very well.

Did she have a choice? What would happen if she changed her mind and withdrew at the last moment?

Oh, fiddlesticks! He was an impossible man and she
was being torn two ways. A part of her wanted to run away while she still had the chance—yet in her head a small secret voice wanted to make a fight of it. Rothsay was rude and arrogant. It would give her some satisfaction to prick his pride if she could.

Lottie changed out of her travelling gown, which was fairly new, into one of the more comfortable dresses she wore at home when walking to the village or the vicarage. She had decided to spend the afternoon walking round the gardens and what she reasonably could of the estate.

From her windows she had seen a large park, and in the distance a lake. Being fond of water and wildlife, she was torn between the park, which looked to consist of many beautiful old trees, and the lake, which was, she was sure, newer and man-made. As the sun was shining brightly, she thought the lake might be within distance and set out for it without reference to anyone.

It was a lovely day for walking; the peaceful surroundings soothed nerves that had become ruffled by her dilemma. She still did not know what she ought to do for the best. Being a sensible girl, she had made up her mind to take things as they came. If the chance presented itself, she might raise the question of a postponement or a cancellation of the contract, but if it did not, then she would simply have to marry him.

Enjoying the beauty of her surroundings, Lottie knew that being the wife of a man who took himself off to town for most of the time could not be a hardship for a girl such as herself. There were many young women who married for the sake of a comfortable home and a
position in Society. Her marriage would be convenient to her in many ways, though the thought of how the heirs must be produced was a little daunting.

Could she really lie with a man as cold and arrogant as the marquis? A man she didn’t even love?

‘Oh, bother,’ she said aloud and sighed. ‘I shall not allow him to upset me.’

It was too nice a day for such anxious thoughts and staying at this wonderful place, even for a short time, was a treat.

Arriving at the lake, she stood admiring the excellence of the landscaping and how well the rock pools and greenery looked. A flock of black swans sailed majestically towards her, clearly expecting to be fed.

‘I am so sorry, my lords and ladies,’ Lottie said, feeling that royalty deserved the proper address. ‘Had I known you were in residence, I should have brought some food for you.’