The Madcap Marriage (20 page)

“A Cit!” Hillcrest exclaimed, horrified.

“No. The heir of Sir Arthur St. James. I could buy this place a hundred times over – not that I’d want it. This has to be the most unattractive house I’ve ever seen.”

He straightened. “A pretty tale, but females haven’t the wit to handle money. I doubt you’d recognize decent land from waste.”

“You think so?”  Her voice sharpened. “If those fields we passed near the gates are yours, I’d say you were the one lacking wit. They are obviously on a two-year rotation, an agricultural plan discredited years ago. Changing to a three-year rotation would improve your yields by at least a quarter. But since the cattle and sheep look healthy, your claim of two thousand a year means you probably control about four hundred acres.”

“Rafe told you that.”

Helen ignored him, hardly pausing for breath. “Now Audley Court covers two thousand acres, including four villages, fifty tenants, and the most fertile land in Somerset. I’ve run it for four years – and done very well, despite the depredations of weather and war. We doubled the yields by adopting modern methods.”

Rafe’s head spun as she listed crops, animals, and local businesses. Hillcrest’s jaw hung.

“But most of my fortune derives from investment,” she continued over Hillcrest’s new attempt to interrupt. “I own controlling shares in three import companies and housing crescents in London, Birmingham, Bath, and Exeter. Then there are minority stakes in two coal mines, a woolen mill…”

Rafe stared. Helen knew to the penny what should be in her trust. The sums were staggering – and made his heart drop further with every word. He had assumed from Steven’s rant that her trust was worth forty thousand. Instead, it returned forty – with Goddard in charge, for God’s sake – so it had to be worth at least half a million. Probably more. She was right. His own fortune and Hillcrest’s were paltry in comparison. How could they ever get along when she wielded such a weapon?

His mind boggled. No wonder Steven was obsessed. And here she was acting the fishwife as she slapped Hillcrest in the face with her fortune – just as his mother had always done.

He shook his head over his phraseology, which couldn’t be right. His mother had been a saint, pushed beyond endurance by the unfeeling monster she’d married.

Helen gestured, pulling her pelisse tight across that generous bosom. Despite his growing terror of her wealth, lust stirred. She looked magnificent in a temper. And she’d achieved more than he or his mother had ever managed. Her barrage of figures had turned Hillcrest to stone.

Rafe drew her into his arms. “There is no point in continuing,” he murmured, rubbing her back. “He’s deaf. Let’s go.”

“No.” She pulled herself together. “We’ve come this far. Let’s finish our business. It is nearly dark, and you still have to see Alice. We will spend the night and attend Pauling’s interment in the morning.”

“Spend the night?”  Hillcrest shook himself and glared at Rafe. “If you must. But you will leave tomorrow and never return. Hillcrest Manor will be an empty shell by the time you inherit it. I’ll make sure of that.” He left them standing in the hall.

“This way,” said Mason.

“Go with him,” said Rafe. “I need air.”

Helen nodded, grateful for the respite. She needed to think. Losing her temper had been a mistake. Rafe now knew the extent of her trust. She’d seen his glazed eyes. He couldn’t be more shocked if her head had sprouted snakes like Medusa’s. Whether he despised it or coveted it, her inheritance would clearly cause trouble.

Several servants whisked out of sight as she followed Mason to a guest room. Her face heated. Losing her temper in front of Hillcrest’s staff was embarrassing. She hoped it didn’t cause new trouble for Rafe.

His rift with Hillcrest was worse than she’d expected. Even Lady Alquist underestimated the problem. If this was usual – and she had no reason to think it wasn’t – Rafe might never learn to live in harmony with others. Those who faced constant battles knew nothing but fighting. She could only pray that his willingness to compromise was real. If not, they were doomed.

* * * *

Rafe stumbled out to the terrace, so many thoughts crowding his head that he felt drunk.

He’d jumped blindly into his worse nightmare – a wife who must be one of the wealthiest individuals in England, who held absolute control over her fortune, and who wasn’t afraid to wield that fortune to win an argument.

His eyes stung.

There was no way he could live with her. Either he would spend every day in battles worse than his mother had endured or he would turn into a cipher, meekly following orders while his own persona shrank into nothingness.

Intolerable.

He fled to the end of the terrace, keeping his eyes on the flagstones so he couldn’t see the desolation that had replaced his mother’s gardens.

Every instinct urged him to return to town immediately, yet he’d never broken a vow in his life and didn’t want to start now. He’d vowed to restore Alice’s reputation, to protect Helen from Steven, to take her
for richer or poorer
…

The words of the marriage service, unnoticed at the time, now made his skin crawl. But he could satisfy the vow from a distance.

You can also achieve the rest from afar.

He considered the possibility, then relaxed. It was the perfect solution. By returning to town, he could eliminate society’s suspicion of Alice – he no longer cared if the truth tarnished Hillcrest’s reputation – then watch Steven and Dudley so they couldn’t harm Helen. She could go home and look after her tenants. Running her empire would keep her too busy to bother him.

Approaching footsteps whirled him around. His snarl turned to a frown when he identified Alice. “What the devil are you doing here?”

“I live here now. Lord Hillcrest is my guardian.”

* * * *

Married the first girl you saw.

Helen paced her depressing bedroom as she reviewed Rafe’s actions from the moment she’d run him down four days ago. But she couldn’t believe that he had acted solely from drunken fury. He had been far too attentive, touching her whenever possible, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. His eyes brightened whenever she joined him. There had to be an element of genuine interest driving him, which gave them a starting point toward creating a partnership. It might not be easy, but at least it was possible.

Relieved, she set aside her fears over her marriage. The London rumors were a more urgent problem. Hillcrest’s secretary would not have fabricated such stories even to support an employer’s prejudice. Hillcrest might have exaggerated the details, but not by much. So the tale had to be on every tongue. But why would society believe that someone had stolen her identity solely to trick Rafe into mar—

Rafe’s shout penetrated the window. Angry fragments followed. “—how could you … marriage … you know I …”

Fearful that Hillcrest had again accosted him, Helen parted the curtains and looked down at the terrace. Darkness had fallen, but light from a window illuminated Rafe leaning against the balustrade. A petite blonde laid her hand on his chest – one of the females who had listened to the confrontation in the hall. As Helen watched, Rafe pulled the girl into his arms and kissed her. Tension flowed from his shoulders.

Not a servant.

Shifting his hold, he led her onto the lawn, pulling her against his side in the same protective, possessive gesture he used with his wife – and with Lady Alquist, she realized, cursing. It was likely a habit he employed with every female he met, and thus meant nothing. His head bent to the girl’s in earnest conversation.

Helen watched until they disappeared around the corner of the house, then collapsed into a chair.

Betrayed. Again. That had to be Alice.

So it had all been a lie. Even his caresses had been a rake’s lies. He couldn’t go near a female without touching her, holding her, flattering her. He needed affection and adoration, and did everything possible to elicit them. But it meant nothing. Except with Alice, whom he’d known all his life.

Tears welled as Clara’s fate flashed through her mind. Despite his claims, Rafe must also love the girl next door. He might protest the match out of habit – he’d likely never accepted a Hillcrest suggestion in his life – but that didn’t mean he opposed it. As for Alice, she’d been furious, but his explanation had satisfied her.

Sealed with a kiss. Now they were off planning – or perhaps celebrating. Alice must know that Rafe could charm women into anything. He was a composite of every seductive wastrel her father had warned her against. Had he opposed this visit because he feared she would discover the truth?  He’d grabbed the first opportunity to slip away and meet Alice in private.

Horrified, she recalled his truncated comment when she’d told him that Alice deserved an explanation.
She knows I—

What did Alice know?  That he loved her?  That he would wed her in a few weeks or months?  That his sudden marriage was a temporary setback in their plans, but worth the wait?

“I should have known better.” Tears streamed down her face. “Never trust a charmer. They care only for themselves.”

The pain worsened. Why did she attract cads?  Alex. Dudley. Rafe. Had her mother been right that only helpless, fluttery females won men’s respect? 

She was too tall to appear helpless and too independent to try. Nor could she fake naïveté or indecision. Her only asset was her fortune, which she’d stupidly disclosed. That must have won Alice’s agreement. Rafe had offered to lay it at her feet if she exercised patience. Though Clara’s husband had succeeded in weeks, Rafe must know it would take longer – he had to break her trust – but he would be confident of success. After all, she melted at his every touch.

Locking the door, she buried her head in a pillow and cried for all she’d lost. Alex had stolen her reputation, isolating her from friends until her parents had remained her only confidants. Their deaths had left her utterly alone, but with a purpose to sustain her – until Steven stole both her purpose and her independence. Now Rafe had stolen her last hope of building a loving family for the future.

She had no one. Yet surrender was impossible. Steven still threatened her dependents. Somehow, she must protect herself from Rafe while defeating Steven and defending Audley.

Examining her options convinced her that she could not turn back the clock. For better or worse, Rafe was her husband. Marriage was forever, tying them together until death.

On a positive note, Rafe could not harm her while she controlled her trust. As long as she refused to break it…

He would be furious, of course, and would do his best to coerce her. So she must guard her heart more assiduously than ever. Forming an attachment could give him a lever against her.

She must also keep Rafe’s true nature from Lady Alquist. Learning that her beloved nephew was a dishonorable cad would add to the grief she already suffered. And to no purpose. He honestly cared for his aunt, so her illusions hurt no one.

Helen frowned. Could she have misconstrued that scene on the terrace?  Lady Alquist knew Rafe far better than she did.

She reviewed every nuance but could find no other explanation. His easy intimacy surpassed what even lovers revealed in public. He must be pressing every advantage to bend Alice to his will. His relief when Alice accepted his plan had been palpable.

So her best course was to use Rafe to stop Steven and Dudley, then pray that time would produce a compromise they could live with. Alice would have to find a new beau, and Rafe would have to accept his marriage. Beyond that, she couldn’t see, though it was more than likely that Rafe would resume his London life, leaving her at Audley.

In the meantime, she needed time to retrench. Merely looking at him quickened her breath and made her fingers itch to explore his hard muscles and silky hair. But desire left her susceptible to his blandishments and vulnerable to searing pain when next he betrayed her. It also interfered with her logic, so seducing him must wait until she could control her emotions. She would not avoid her duty to provide his heir, but letting him dazzle her with passion could only lead to trouble.

* * * *

Rafe’s hand shook as he closed his bedroom door with a soft click. He wanted to slam it, but he wouldn’t give Helen the satisfaction of knowing how much she’d riled him.

Locked out.

He should never have brought her here. As he’d feared, Hillcrest’s tirade had turned her against him. She wouldn’t even answer his knock.

And it’s your own fault.

He tossed his coat over a chair, then frowned as he untied his cravat. For the first time in his life, he examined a confrontation with Hillcrest through impartial eyes. What had she seen?

Two angry men throwing insults at each other.

Two dogs fighting over a bone so worn it had long since given up all nourishment.

Two squabbling children.

His knees collapsed, dropping him into a chair. All his life he’d yearned for respect, praying that Hillcrest might finally treat him like an adult. Yet how could he expect it when he turned into a sullen child at every meeting?  It made him look weak. Even Helen had retained enough control to counter Hillcrest’s tirade with logic.

It was time to give up on Hillcrest. Since childhood, he’d believed that walking away would betray his mother and brand him a coward. But Helen was right that his mother was beyond caring. Let Hillcrest exert his petty tyranny over the manor. It no longer mattered. Only Helen’s respect mattered now, so he would forget Hillcrest and build a new life elsewhere.

He mulled Hillcrest’s latest diatribe as he stripped off his clothes – he’d been too furious to think about the charges earlier. Hillcrest’s depiction of Helen bothered him, for it could not be the product of Hillcrest’s warped imagination. Thus it must be real, which made it dangerous.

He had vowed to protect her. Sending her home while he went to London was cowardly and would seriously undermine his claim of a love match. As his wife, she deserved his support. So they had to stay together while he exposed the London rumors. Only when her reputation was safe could they address the problem of her inheritance.