The Makeshift Marriage (12 page)

“Lady Grenville, I imagine that you are far from looking forward to your first meeting with Augustine Townsend and her equally disagreeable mother.”

“Equally disagreeable?”

“I make no secret of finding both ladies decidedly abhorrent.”

She stared at him. “But you are Nicholas’s friend
—”

“That does not mean to say I have to like Augustine Townsend. She and I loathe each other and always have done. Oh, I assure you I do not speak out of pique because she spurned me.”

“Henderson told me that she was not liked.”

“He spoke truthfully. She will do nothing to make your life here easy, she will do all in her power to hurt you. Never trust her, Lady Grenville, and if you need reason, then wonder only how she, who was expecting to marry Nicholas and who ordered the house into mourning, has still togged herself up like an altarpiece to go dancing with the odious Earl of Langford. The king is dead, long live the king. She will give her hand in marriage to whoever owns this house,
her
house as she so firmly believes. Nicholas is well out of a match with her.”

“Is he well out of such a match? His marriage to me is unconsummated, and therefore is a marriage in name only and can be set aside. We both know that, Dr. Tregarron. When he is well, he will want her, not me. How can I expect it to be otherwise? I am the intruder here, and soon there will be no place for me. He loves her, he told me that in Venice, and whatever anyone else may say of her, he obviously does not agree.” She felt very tired suddenly, but she did not know that she had swayed until Daniel suddenly put his arm around her waist to steady her.

“When did you last eat or sleep?” he asked.

“I don’t really know.”

“As the only doctor present, I recommend that you remedy both failings immediately.”

“I cannot leave him
—”

“Rubbish, you have me to do the worrying for you for the time being.”

“You will stay here?”

“I am at your command, Lady Grenville. I may be
persona
non grata
with Miss Townsend, but you are mistress of the house now. I will stay for several days if you wish me to.”

“I wish that very much, Dr. Tregarron.”

“Then I will do so
—provided you promise to follow my prescription of taking some food and then sleeping.

“I promise.”

He led her to the door, and on opening it she saw that a maid was waiting outside.

Daniel smiled at the girl. “Kitty Roberts, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Dr. Tregarron.” The girl looked adoringly at him, and Laura hid a smile. The handsome, dashing doctor did indeed have a way with him!

“Well, Kitty, I imagine that you are to be Lady Grenville’s maid.”

“Yes, Dr. Tregarron. With your permission, my lady.” The girl curtsied to Laura, her mobcap trembling on her neat, light brown hair.

“Show her ladyship to her room then, Kitty.”

“My lady?” The maid waited, her hazel eyes very wide and anxious. She knew as little about her new mistress as Laura did about her.

Laura managed a smile. She followed the maid along endless passageways carpeted in deep green. Hazeldon Court had been a large house, but it was a small dwelling compared with King’s Cliff.

The room that had been hastily made ready for her lay at the front of the house, but it was not one of the principal bedchambers. She supposed that those would be occupied by Augustine Townsend and her mother, which was natural enough. However, even though it was less grand that it might have been, it was still a charming room, furnished with gold and white Louis Quatorze chairs and tables, and with a beautiful bed hung with green and white floral curtains. A fire had been kindled in the hearth, for the room was a little damp still after the winter, and Kitty had laid Laura’s nightrobe over a chair to warm.

Beyond learning that Kitty was Langford born and bred and that her father was one of the many gardeners employed at King’s Cliff, Laura did not engage the maid much in conversation. She felt too tired for small talk and was now quite beyond anything but a long, deep sleep. On reflection she was glad to have been spared meeting Augustine Townsend and her mother, for she no longer felt up to such a confrontation. She thought about Augustine for a moment. What was she really like? From Daniel Tregarron and Henderson she had heard similar accounts, but was it possible for Nicholas to be so mistaken about her?

Before retiring, she sat in a comfortable chair to eat the light supper Kitty brought for her. She had just finished when she heard the crunch of carriage wheels on the drive. Going to the window, she stepped behind the shelter of the curtains to look down at the elegant landau drawn by six magnificently matched white horses. It was a breathtakingly expensive and handsome drag, that much was plain even in the darkness. The carriage lamps arced as the coachmen tooled the team around in front of the portico steps and two blue-liveried footmen jumped down to lower the iron rungs and open the door. Laura’s heart sank. It must surely be the Earl of Langford bringing Augustine and her mother home….

A short, portly man in evening black emerged first, tucking his cocked hat beneath his arm as he turned to dashingly hold out his hand to the next occupant. Her graying hair and tightly laced waist marked her as being of an older generation than the man, who for all his paunch was only in his thirties. The earl and Mrs. Townsend, thought Laura, waiting with baited breath for her first glimpse of Augustine.

In a dainty flurry of shimmering silver gauze, Augustine stepped lightly down, her hair very red in the tight of the carriage lamps. She was as beautiful as her portrait suggested. Her skin was pale and clear and her figure quite exquisite, and Laura could hear her tinkling laughter as she leaned coquettishly toward the adoring earl. She tapped his hand with her closed fan and moved away as he tried to seize her fingers and kiss them.

Laura felt only loathing as she watched them. How they had enjoyed themselves tonight! Dancing the hours away and making merry when they were supposed to be in deep mourning for Nicholas! There was not the slightest hint of grief or sorrow in their manner. The earl’s attitude she could understand a little more
—he and Nicholas had never liked each other and Nicholas’s death could only be to the earl’s advantage. But Augustine was quite another matter. She was to have married Nicholas, and yet so swiftly she encouraged the earl’s advances. What had Daniel Tregarron said about her? The king is dead, long live the king. Yes, and that was precisely how the beautiful Miss Townsend was behaving now. Nicholas was dead, the earl very much alive.

“Oh, Nicholas,” she murmured sadly, “you do not deserve such a hollow creature as this.” She felt a savage pleasure at the thought of their faces changing when they learned what had happened in their absence. But the earl was spared the rude discovery, for he did not go into the house, but climbed back into his carriage and drove away. Augustine and her mother went up the portico steps and vanished into the house.

Stepping back into the room, Laura glanced at Kitty. “I shall not need you anymore tonight.”

“Very well, my lady.”

“And I do not wish to be disturbed unless I am needed by Sir Nicholas or Dr. Tregarron.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Sleep well, Kitty.”

The maid smiled shyly. “I shan’t sleep a wink, my lady, not after all that’s gone on today. Good night.” She curtsied and was gone.

Laura went to the door and locked it. She did not want to see Augustine; she wanted to hide away now. She extinguished the lamps and climbed into the bed, lying there listening to the silence. By now Augustine would know.

She distinctly heard the light, angry footsteps approaching, and the rustle of silver gauze as Augustine halted by the door and saw no light shining beneath it. The handle turned slowly, but the door would not open.

Laura made no sound at all and at last the footsteps went away again.

The much-needed sleep refreshed Laura, but her spirits were still desperately low when she awoke the following morning. Her first thought was of Nicholas and she slipped from the bed, pulling on her wrap and telling herself that the fact that Daniel Tregarron had not sent for her during the night must surely be a good sign.

She forgot Augustine as she hurried through the many galleries and passages she had memorized the night before when following Kitty. Her bare feet made little or no sound on the nighty polished floor of the main gallery overlooking the magnificent gardens, and she didn’t even glance at any of the statues or portraits lining the paneled walls.

At his door, however, she stopped abruptly, for it stood ajar and thus afforded her a clear view of the room beyond. Augustine was seated on the edge of the bed, Nicholas’s hand held lovingly in hers as she leaned tenderly over him, the very picture of loving concern and care. The contrast between her behavior the night before and this sweet anxiety now was almost obscene. She looked so very lovely in a yellow muslin gown which became her striking coloring so very well. Her shining red hair was piled with apparent abandon of the top of her head, but the almost negligent effect must have taken her maid an age to achieve. There were yellow ribbons looped around the light curls, hanging down to the nape of her neck at the back, and a choker of creamy white pearls was her only jewelry. She was almost too beautiful, perfect in every possible way. Gently she ran her cool fingers over the scar the baron’s bullet had left on Nicholas’s temple, and his eyes flickered and opened. In spite of the malaria which still held him in its grip, he smiled up into Augustine’s loving green eyes, and the smile twisted like a knife in Laura’s heart.

Augustine must have known the very moment Laura had appeared, for she turned now to look at her, a malevolent smile playing around her lips. Still smiling then, she bent to kiss Nicholas on the lips, lingering over the caress. Laura was unable to move, she could only watch in misery. The nightmare was real; she could only lose him to this woman.

Augustine stood then, still holding his hand. “I will leave you now,
cher ami,”
she murmured softly. “For you must sleep, but I promise that I shall come again soon. I cannot tell you how glad my heart is that you are safe after all and have come home to me.”

Laura felt rooted to the spot as the other emerged from the room and slowly closed the door, leaning back on it as if to emphasize her superiority by placing herself so firmly between Laura and Nicholas.

“So, my
lady,
we meet at last, and already I think you know how things will be here, don’t you? There’s no place for you at King’s Cliff and I advise you to leave now, before you suffer anymore.”

“I have every right to be here.”

“Because he is your husband?” Augustine gave a mirthless laugh. “Oh, come now, do you honestly imagine he will want to keep
you
as his wife when he recovers? Your so-called marriage can be set aside the moment I wish. Yours is a
mariage de convenance,
an empty contract. That ring you wear means nothing. No doubt you thought yourself so very clever, trapping a man on his deathbed into marrying you, but your plotting will come to nothing. I will see to that.”

Laura was gallingly unable to think of anything acid enough to say; her wits seemed to have deserted her, leaving her totally at Augustine’s mercy. “I do not think my marriage is any concern of yours,” was all she could manage.

Augustine laughed. “It isn’t worth anyone’s concern, my
lady,
I’ll grant you that. How Nicholas must be regretting his
mésalliance
.
”
The cool green eyes swept over Laura, at once scornful and triumphant, “Dear
God,
how he must be regretting it.”

“You hope. You can’t be sure, though, can you?”

“Oh, I think I can. You do not honestly imagine that
you
are capable of taking him from me and keeping him, do you? If you do, then you obviously dwell in the realms of fantasy.” Augustine straightened then, her eyes glittering coldly. “No tawdry adventuress with an eye to doing well for herself is about to turn
my
world around,
or
intrude upon my existence in any way whatsoever. You are nothing here, as you will soon discover if you are ill-advised enough to remain.
I
am mistress of both this house and its master. You are not welcome and I shall see to it that every moment you spend here is a misery from which you will wish only to escape
—I will see to that, I promise you.”

Laura said nothing, turning to walk away. She heard Augustine’s low, mocking laughter following her, and tears of anger and unhappiness filled her eyes. Oh, why had she not stood up for herself? She should have given as good as she got, but the words had simply failed her and her lips remained foolishly and weakly closed. She had allowed the first victory to Augustine, and it must have been a sweet victory indeed, for it showed the new Lady Grenville to be painfully unsure of herself and therefore a rival of little consequence.

“Oh, you fool, Laura Milbanke,” she whispered to herself, “You
fool!”
She pushed open the doors of the main gallery.

Daniel Tregarron was standing by one of the windows, and he turned as he heard her enter. “Good morning, Lady Grenville, I trust that the night’s sleep was agreeable.”

“G-good morning, Doctor,” she replied, praying that she sounded brighter than she felt. “Yes, I do feel a little better, thank you.”

His dark, shrewd eyes rested on the unshed tears for a moment. “You have been to see Nicholas?”

“That was what I set out to do.”

“I take it that you have met Miss Townsend.”

“Yes.” She looked away.

“I am afraid that she means to reassert her place in his affections.”

“She has no need, sir, for I do not believe she has ever been out of them.”

“That is defeatist talk.”

“I have nothing with which to fight an opponent like her.”