Rules for Being a Mistress (42 page)

“What is worse, she does not
know
she is stupid,” went on his lordship. “She
will
speak, just as if she had something interesting to say.”

Lady Wayborn took the hint.

“There is nothing whatever objectionable about Rose,” said Lady Matlock.

“This tea is not china,” Lord Wayborn snapped at the footman. “Take it away, and be damned!” He took out his snuffbox, employed the long nail of his little finger as a spoon, and sneezed manfully. “Dowry?” he said, snapping his box closed.

“Thirty thousand pounds,” Lady Matlock said proudly.

“Matlock will have to do better,” said Lord Wayborn coldly. “This is my son and heir we are talking about. I would not part with Westlands for less than fifty thousand pounds.”

Lady Matlock snorted. “Impossible!”

“Then we have nothing more to discuss,” said Lord Wayborn. “Lord Redfylde may marry a penniless girl if he wishes, but my son will marry to please me. Marcus will return to London and marry Miss Schwartz.”

“Oh!” said Lady Matlock. “Is Lord Redfylde to be married at last? And to a penniless girl? He seems to have a taste for that sort of thing. He proposed to your niece only weeks ago.”

“Yes; I know,” said his lordship, dragging his lady up from her chair by the arm. “It was unforgivably rude of Miss Vaughn to have refused his lordship. She ought to have gotten down on her knees and kissed his feet. But I will soon set
that
to rights.”

When they had gone, Lady Matlock wondered what she ought to do about Rose. She would never get a husband in England now. “What shall I do?” she asked Freddie Carteret.

“Send her to India,” he answered, “with the other rejects.”

“What would I do without you?” she purred.

Cosima received Lord Redfylde’s second proposal as gently as she had the first. “It’s so kind of you to think of me, my lord,” she said. They were seated in the drawing-room in Camden Place. “I would not have hurt you for the world. You were never anything but kind to me.”

Looking into her soft green eyes, Lord Redfylde quite forgot the ridicule he had endured when he left Bath. Miss Vaughn, he recalled, had been nothing but apologetic. It had been others who had ridiculed him. There would be no need whatever to punish the lovely girl after they were married. She was refusing him out of maidenly modesty, not mischief.

“I
will
be kind to you, Miss Vaughn,” he said fiercely. “You’ll see.”

“My lord,” she said sadly. “The truth of it is, I’d make you a terrible wife. And you couldn’t even divorce me, for I’m a Catholic, and we’d have to be married by Catholic rites.”

“I have no intention of divorcing you,” he said. “You will be mine until the day you die, like Caroline. You will, of course, learn to embrace the Church of England. You will never have to wear the same dress twice to Sunday services. You will have the best of everything.”

Cosima laughed nervously. “The best would be wasted on me entirely, I’m afraid.”

“You do not think you are worthy,” he said fondly. “If only more women were like you. My dear Miss Vaughn, the very fact that you
know
you’re not worthy tells me that you are.”

Her eyes widened. “Allie will be so delighted to see you,” she said, changing the subject. “I’ll go and get her; she’s sulking in her room.” As she spoke, she edged for the door, but Lord Redfylde forestalled her departure by seizing both her hands in his.

“My lord!” she said, a little sharply. “You go too far. I thank you for thinking of me, but I can’t marry you. I’m very sorry to have caused you pain, but I’m sure you’ll find someone loads better in London. A handsome nobleman like yourself! You shouldn’t demean yourself with the likes of me.”

She tried to pull her hands away.

As much as he adored her, Lord Redfylde was becoming impatient. “Your scruples are to your credit, Miss Vaughn! However, I did not make my choice lightly. I am fully aware that you are penniless. I am rich. You are ignorant of the ways of society. It will be my pleasure to teach you. Your clothing allowance would be very generous. You would be the envy of all other ladies. And your sister, as well, of course. The younger Miss Vaughn would have the best of everything, too.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said sadly. “But I’m sorry, I don’t love you.”

His hands tightened painfully. His pale eyes narrowed. “I will teach you to love me.”

It sounded like a threat. “My lord, you are hurting me,” she complained, but he did not release her hands until a sudden loud knock at the front door startled them both.

“Ah!” said Lord Redfylde complacently. “Here is someone who will overcome your ridiculous modesty with good sense.”

“I’m sure it’s the doctor,” said Cosima, again attempting to leave the room.

“Let the servant answer the door,” Redfylde said. “It is improper for a young lady to answer her own front door.”

“I’ll get it!” Allegra Vaughn shouted from the hall.

“Excuse me,” said Cosima coldly. “But I want to speak to the doctor.”

She opened the door and walked downstairs just as Allegra was opening the front door. Lady Wayborn had grown fat since Cosima saw her last, but Lord Wayborn was unchanged.

Cosima curtseyed. “My lord. My lady. It’s so good of you to visit us. Mother’s a little poorly today, but I’m sure—” She jumped as she suddenly felt a hand gripping her shoulder. Lord Redfylde had followed her downstairs.

“Ah, Wayborn,” he said easily. “Miss Vaughn is being very silly, I’m afraid. You are her uncle. I expect you to speak to her. Sanction her if you must, but I
will
lead her to the altar by week’s end, or the deal is off.”

“Deal?” said Cosima.

Lord Wayborn looked around for a servant to help him out of his coat. Finding none, he snapped his fingers for his own footman. “Your lordship is too kind,” he said, eyeing Cosima with dislike. “I would not say the young woman is being silly. I would say she is being selfish and ungrateful! I will soon teach her what she owes her family. She will do her duty.”

Cosima looked at him incredulously.

Lord Redfylde was smug.

“Allie,” Cosima said sharply. “Go and play in the park.”

“I don’t want to play in the park,” Allie said.

“Now, Allie!” Cosima said through gritted teeth.

“I never get to—!” she howled as her elder sister pushed her out the door and closed it behind her.

“Let me get this straight,” Cosima said, looking hard at her would-be husband. “I refused your lordship, but, instead of behaving like a gentleman, you ran crying to my uncle! You child!” she sneered. “And now the pair of you have come here to strong-arm me. Well, I won’t be strong-armed, gentlemen. Let me be clear,” she said loudly and distinctly. “I will never, ever marry you, Lord Redfylde. Now I think you should leave,” she added, opening the door for him.

“Take care, my dear,” Lady Wayborn trilled. “Or his lordship will change his mind about having
you
at all.”

Redfylde’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “No fear of that, my lady. I do not change my mind, once it is made up. You will be my wife,” he told Cosima softly. “I will have you.”

“Not,” said Cosima, “in a hundred years.”

“I had thought,” Lord Redfylde said coldly, “that you were merely being too modest. But now I see that you are, as your uncle says, selfish and ungrateful. I will cure you of that when we are married.” He stepped closer to her. “I will break you like a filly, my dear, and you will thank me for it. I will teach you obedience, and you will learn to submit to my wishes as if they were your own. You will belong to me as surely as any mare in my stable. The sooner you submit, the happier you will be. The longer you resist, the worse your punishment will be.”

Cosima said angrily, “You cannot force me to marry you, sir.”

“You think not?” he smiled. “Talk to her, Wayborn. Explain the facts of life to your stubborn niece. I will be waiting at my hotel.”

He departed with his head high.

“That is a very ugly dress,” said Lady Wayborn. “We must get you some new clothes.”

“Do be quiet,” her husband said irritably. “Now then, miss,” he continued, turning to Cosima. “In the absence of your father, I stand as your guardian. You must obey me or suffer.”

“I won’t!”

Walking up to her niece, Lady Wayborn swung her plump arm, striking Cosima across the face with an open palm. One of her rings cut Cosima’s cheek. Having delivered the blow, she turned to her lord, rather like a puppy that expects praise from the master. In this she was disappointed, however.

Lord Wayborn was incensed. “You fool!” he hissed. “You’ve cut her face.
That
is Lord Redfylde’s face. If she is damaged in any way, her
value
will be affected. You stupid, stupid woman!” Drawing back his arm, he dealt his wife a blow to the face that sent her reeling.

Lady Wayborn crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

Benedict had decided to give his disgruntled lover a day or two of quiet reflection, hoping that her hot Irish temper might cool. The carefully composed letter he sent to her on Tuesday was returned to him on Wednesday, unopened. This infuriated him so much that he forgot he was giving her temper time to cool. He crossed the park and pounded on her door.

To his astonishment, a supercilious manservant in a frock coat answered his knock.

Benedict had rather been looking forward to seeing Jackson’s unlovely face as he asked the absurd question, “Is it yourself?” He was taken aback by the manservant’s austere majesty.

“Good morning, Lord Oranmore. It is a great pleasure to see your lordship again.”

This one-sided familiarity was even more of a surprise.

“Who the devil are you?” Benedict demanded, frowning. “Where is Jackson?”

“This person your lordship refers to has been dismissed,” replied the man. “He drank, I believe.”

“Nora?”

“Attending Lady Agatha, I believe. I am Willoughby, my lord.”

“Willoughby,” Benedict repeated thoughtfully. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Your lordship is very good.” The man smiled. He was the sort to crowd as many honorifics into his speech as he possibly could. “I attended my master, Lord Wayborn, on the auspicious occasion of your lordship’s sister’s marriage to His Grace, the Duke of Auckland.”

“Is Lord Wayborn here?”

“Not at present, my lord. The family are all out.”

“Oh,” said Benedict, subdued. “His lordship is staying here, then? In this house?”

“Yes, my lord,” Willoughby replied. “And Lady Wayborn as well, of course. If your lordship would care to leave a card?”

“Yes, of course.” Pickering had had thousands of new cards printed up. Benedict thought with a pang how Jackson would have admired the new cards. Willoughby extended a simple silver tray upon which the card was placed. Willoughby wore pristine white gloves. He did not smell of whiskey. “When do you expect the family to return?”

“They are visiting Lady Serena Calverstock in the Royal Crescent this morning,” Willoughby informed his lordship. “My lord and my lady will be delighted to know that your lordship called.”

Benedict left in embarrassment. He had not known that Cosy’s uncle was in town; he had not been reading his newspaper with due diligence. No wonder his letter had been sent back unopened! It was most improper for a bachelor to write a letter to a young lady to whom he was not engaged. He ought to first ask Lord Wayborn’s permission to pay his addresses to her.

He could hardly do that when he was still engaged to Lady Serena Calverstock.

What a mangle.

And why the devil were they visiting Serena? As far as Benedict knew, there was no special connection between Serena and the Derbyshire Wayborns.

Miss Vaughn was playing a quiet, simple tune on the Broadwood pianoforte in the alcove when Lord Oranmore was announced. Benedict had been able to hear her playing as Lady Serena’s butler brought him up the stairs. He recognized the melody of “Caro mio ben” and smiled to himself. So her temper had cooled, after all.

Cosima stopped playing, but did not leave her seat. Lady Amelia was seated to her right in the alcove. Lady Elizabeth was on her lap. Cosima began guiding Lady Elizabeth’s pudgy pink fingers on the keys.

Serena sprang up as her betrothed was announced. “My lord! How pleased we are to see you.” She curtseyed.

“Are you?” he said rudely, giving his best impersonation of a villain. Why Serena had not broken the engagement yet was beyond his power to understand. No woman in her right mind would want to marry a man who snarled at her constantly. He glared around. “When we are married, Serena, I will not have you wear that perfume. It makes one sneeze. Have you gained weight? You need more exercise. That dress is most unbecoming. It makes you look fortyish.”

Besides Lord and Lady Wayborn, Lord Redfylde and Lord Ludham were also present. Lord Redfylde was watching his children in the alcove with an amused expression.

Lord Ludham set down his cup of tea. “I beg your pardon!” he said angrily.

“My lord!” Serena said quickly. “I believe you know everyone.”

Lord Wayborn’s smile was oily. “Lord Oranmore. We heard of your elevation the moment we arrived in Bath,” he said. He was standing between his wife’s chair and a tower of pink and blue iced cakes. Unaware that the cakes were weeks old, Lady Wayborn eyed them longingly, but she did not dare reach for them. Her husband thought she was too fat already.

“How wonderful!” Lady Wayborn echoed her lord, smacking her lips as she thought of those cakes. “Even if it
is
only an Irish title. You must be thrilled. And soon to be married! To such a pretty gel, too! I call her a gel, but I daresay, she is a fine lady. A fine lady, indeed!”

Lord Wayborn glared at his gabbling wife, but he smiled unctuously at Benedict. “And how is your lovely sister, my lord?”

“Oh, the dear duchess!” cried Lady Wayborn. “I long to see her. She was such a handsome bride. But, I daresay, Lady Serena will be a handsome bride as well. And Miss Vaughn, too,” she added generously.

Lord Redfylde stood up abruptly and joined Miss Vaughn and his two daughters in the alcove. He did not want the garrulous Lady Wayborn to spoil his surprise.

He placed his hand on Miss Vaughn’s shoulder. “You are just in time to hear our joyous news,” he said, smiling. “Miss Vaughn has at long last consented to end my agony.”

Benedict started in surprise. “Agony?”

“This beautiful creature has consented to be my wife,” Lord Redfylde explained. “We are to be married tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Serena exclaimed in surprise. “Is that not sudden, my lord?”

Redfylde looked at her coldly. “I do not believe in long engagements.” He turned to his daughters. “Kiss your new mother,” he commanded them. “You will call her Mama, and you will love her, as I do.”

Amelia kissed her new mother’s cheek obediently. Cosima enfolded both children in a warm embrace as Lord Redfylde went on. “The wedding will take place at nine o’clock tomorrow morning in Bath Abbey. I expect you all to be there.” He glanced at Lord Oranmore. “You are welcome, too, my lord. You are, after all, Serena’s fiancée. Serena, I expect you to have the children packed and ready to go.”

Serena was frankly astonished. “You’re taking the girls? What? All of them?”

“Of course,” he said coolly. “Miss Vaughn adores them. After the wedding, we shall go to London for a week or two. And then we shall depart for an extended tour of the continent.”

“All of you?”

“There will be servants, of course,” he snapped.

Serena felt that her world was falling apart. The only income she had was that which Redfylde gave her for the upkeep of his four children. Without it, she was so poor that she would have no choice but to marry that odious monster, Lord Oranmore.

She didn’t dare jilt him. He still had her bills, as far as she knew. If she jilted him, he would throw her into debtor’s prison. She had never wanted him for her husband, but now she was terrified of the marriage. He was beginning to show a cruel streak she had never suspected. She did not want to live among the angry, rebellious peasants of Ireland. She did not want to marry a man who was rich only by Irish standards. She did not want to eat cabbage. As she sank into these miserable thoughts, Miss Vaughn was being congratulated.

“You are a very lucky young woman, miss,” Lord Wayborn told his niece.

“Indeed, she is,” cried Lady Wayborn. “Ten
thousand
a year!”

“I am happy for you, Miss Vaughn,” said Lord Ludham. “Though I confess I am a little surprised.”

Redfylde looked angry. “Surprised, Felix? Why so?”

“Did she not refuse you?” said Ludham. “What changed your mind, Miss Vaughn?”

“Miss Vaughn,” Lord Redfylde said coldly, “believed she was undeserving of the honor. I have persuaded her that she is. That is all.”

Benedict had not said a word.
She will never go through with it,
he thought.
She is only punishing me.
He had underestimated her capacity for cruelty, that was all.

Miss Vaughn suddenly laughed. “Not so, my lord!” she said, smiling at Redfylde.

Redfylde stiffened. He did not like to be contradicted.

“I was testing the strength of your love, my dear,” she went on, cuddling the child in her lap. “I knew that if you truly loved me, you would come back. But, if you did not love me, you would simply go away and ask someone else and forget all about me.” She reached out her hand to him and looked up at him adoringly. “I am overjoyed to say you passed the test. I only hope you won’t be too disappointed in me when we are married.”

Redfylde relaxed, took her hand, and kissed it. “My beauty! As though I could ever forget you. You should have known I would stop at nothing to possess you.”

Benedict could bear no more of this sickening spectacle. If the heartless wretch thought she was going to make him jealous with this absurd charade…well, she was right.

“What was that tune you were playing when I came in, Miss Vaughn?” he said sharply. “It sounded familiar.”

Her eyes swung to him. They were cold and green as the sea. Her temper had cooled, all right. It had cooled to ice. “That was nothing,” she said, with a mocking smile. “Only finger exercises. That reminds me, Lord Ludham,” she went on, dismissing Lord Oranmore. “I really must return the pianoforte you were so kind as to give me. Now, what would my husband think of me,” she went on as he began to protest, “if he knew I was in the habit of accepting gifts from other men? Think of my reputation!”

“I am perfectly capable of buying my wife anything she desires,” Redfylde added.

“Please keep it as a wedding gift,” said Ludham. “I insist.”

“I am so fortunate in my husband that I want no wedding gifts,” said Miss Vaughn, pressing Redfylde’s hand to her cheek. “But, with your lordship’s kind permission, I could give it to the Church. They could raffle it off, couldn’t they?”

“Of course,” said Ludham, miffed.

“Won’t you sit down, Lord Oranmore?” Serena said, holding out a cup of tea.

Benedict ignored her. “Where is Miss Allegra? Is she not here?”

“She is at school, of course,” said Miss Vaughn coolly.

“And Lady Agatha, I suppose, is in the baths on Stall Street?”

“Yes, of course,” said Lord Wayborn impatiently.

Benedict went to Miss Vaughn in the alcove. Her eyes widened, and she hugged Lady Elizabeth and Lady Amelia to her. “I fear I shall be too busy to attend your wedding, Miss Vaughn,” he said coldly. “Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations. You are indeed a very lucky young woman.”

He left the room without a backward glance.

“What a rude man!” cried Lady Wayborn. “No one would ever guess his sister was a duchess. He was most unkind to you, Lady Serena. If I were you, I would not marry him.”

“No one asked you,” Lord Wayborn said irritably.

“My betrothed is looking tired,” Lord Redfylde remarked. “You should take her home, Wayborn. I want her well-rested for the morrow. You will dine with me this evening at my hotel. There will be documents to sign, and so forth.”

“Oh!” said Lady Wayborn. “We should be delighted to dine with you, my lord!”

“Not you,” said her husband brutally. “Why would Lord Redfylde want
you
at his table, you silly cow? The sight of you is enough to put a man off his feed for a week.
I
shall be dining with Lord Redfylde alone.”

Lady Wayborn bustled to her feet. “Come, Miss Vaughn!” she said sunnily. “You must rest. Tomorrow is your big day.”

Lord Redfylde departed with them, Peacham came to collect the children, and Serena was left alone with Lord Ludham. Serena covered her face with her hands and sobbed. “Oh, Felix! What am I going to do? I cannot marry that odious man!”

Lord Ludham suddenly took her in his arms. “Of course you’re not going to marry him, you fool. You’re going to marry me!”

“I can’t marry you,” she wailed. Choking back sobs, she told him about the bills Lord Oranmore was holding over her head like the sword of Damocles. “I owe him quite ten thousand pounds! If I jilt him, he will throw me into debtor’s prison! He will do it, I know, for he is quite as cruel as Redfylde.”

Ludham frowned. “Has Redfylde been unkind to you?”

“Beastly,” she said. “He had my bills before Lord Oranmore got them.”

She did not elaborate.

“Don’t be afraid,” said Lord Ludham. “No one is going to throw my wife into debtor’s prison.” He took out his handkerchief and dried her eyes.

“Oh, Felix!” she said, sniffling happily. “I was sure you would hate me if you knew.”

“Hate you? After all the mistakes I’ve made, I’m glad.”

“Glad!”

“Yes,” he said. “You’ve always been there for me when I’ve made a muddle of things. Now it’s my turn to be there for you. You never seemed to need me.”