The Makeshift Marriage (30 page)

Augustine leaned her hands on the escritoire and her voice was a snakelike hiss. “I will make you sorry you ever heard Nicholas Grenville’s name!”

“So you keep promising me, Miss Townsend. I do not believe you have succeeded yet.” They were brave words, uttered in defiance of the truth.

Augustine’s slippers tapped angrily on the floor as she left the library.

Laura put the quill down. She was disturbed by Augustine’s hints about Daniel Tregarron, hints which after this afternoon were a little too close to the truth for comfort.

* * *

Before retiring to bed, Laura went to see Nicholas. She chose her time carefully, so that the moment Augustine went to take chocolate with her mother, Laura slipped swiftly along to his room. More than anything else at the moment she wanted to avoid meeting the Countess of Bawton and her friends, and maybe Nicholas would relent just a little…
.

He was not in his bed, but for the first time was sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace. He wore a rich brocade dressing gown and his hair gleamed very pale in the candlelight. He looked up as she entered and there was no encouragement either in his glance or in his tone when he spoke. “Good evening, Laura.”

“Good evening.” Hesitantly she went closer. “Nicholas, I have something to ask you, to
beg
you.”

“And I have something to demand of you, madam
—an explanation for your visit to Daniel Tregarron this afternoon.”

“A
—an explanation?” Augustine’s words rang in her ears.

“You know full well that I have severed all relations with him, and yet you flout my wishes by going to visit him. I wish to know why.”

“I went about the sale of part of Langford Woods.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes, Mr. Dodswell came to me today and told me that he had discovered there to be an agreement between your father and Daniel Tregarron, whereby if a particular portion of Langford Woods, that adjoining Daniel’s property, was ever to be sold, then Daniel was to have first claim.”

“It was hardly your place to attend to such a matter,” he said coldly. “It was Charles Dodswell’s place; he
is my land agent.”

Her anger stirred a little then. “Maybe it wasn’t my place, but I am mindful that but for Daniel Tregarron’s care, you might not be alive now, Nicholas. I don’t pretend to know why you and he now hold such bitter feelings for each other, but I do know that I haven’t quarreled with him. He has proved a good friend to me, probably my
only
friend since I came here.”
You aren’t my friend, Nicholas, you whom I love more than anyone
…
.

He ignored what she said, choosing instead to revert to the matter of Langford Woods. “And what does he wish to do about the land?”

“He is no longer interested, as he intends leaving England shortly.”

The gray eyes searched her face. Would Daniel Tregarron be leaving alone? He looked away from her then. When his cousin had insulted her that morning, his own rage and confused emotions concerning her had driven him to defend her, but since then she had been with Daniel Tregarron again. What had taken place in Daniel’s house Nicholas could only surmise, but when taken with the rumors which were so rife, it could only point to one thing
—a lover’s tryst. Jealousy and hurt urged Nicholas on now, making him cold and distant when he wished to win her, making him wish to deal to her the hurt he felt she had dealt to him.

His silence prompted her to think again of her purpose in coming to see him. “Nicholas, I wish to ask something of you.”

“Yes?”

“Allow me the right to stay away from this so-called reception tomorrow.”

“It is your duty to attend.”

“I do not entirely agree, not given the circumstances pertaining here. They do not come to greet me as friends, they come to
—”

“You will meet them.”

She looked into his cold eyes. “It was hard now to even remember how different it had been in Venice, how different it had been at first even here at King’s Cliff, for now there was no trace of the man she had fallen in love with. And yet he was still Nicholas, and try as she would, she could not conquer the feelings of love he always aroused in her.

“Very well,” she said, her chill matching his, “I will do your bidding, sir.”

For over an hour now the fashionable carriages had been arriving, and there was a long string of them drawn up along the drive in front of King’s Cliff. Laura had delayed as long as possible, but now she walked slowly toward the red saloon. An icy calm settled over her, even though her anger and resentment had not lessened overnight. She did not feel at all nervous, as Augustine no doubt hoped she would; instead she felt defiant, and more than prepared to give as good as she got.

The footmen at the doors of the saloon waited for her signal as she paused, rearranging her shawl, and then she nodded to them and they flung the doors open to admit her. The room was loud with female chattering, which was immediately silenced by her appearance. Many pairs of critical eyes swept over her, scrutinizing the quality of her sprigged muslin gown, gauging the cost of the delicate lace in her day-cap, and noting the degree of fashion in her coiffure. Not one small detail of her appearance missed their eyes, from the black ribbon at her throat to the neat satin slippers peeping from beneath her hem. Teacups clinked and some throats were cleared expectantly as she crossed the floor to where Augustine stood.

Augustine’s eyes shone. “Good morning, Laura.”

“Good morning, Miss Townsend.” Gasps greeted this, for Laura quite deliberately denied Augustine the intimacy that had apparently been expected.

Augustine’s smile went out, like an extinguished candle flame.

“Will you not introduce me?” asked Laura, the epitome of calm politeness.

A succession of limp hands were extended to her, and an impressive succession of names succeeded them. They were stiff and formal; she was unreadable as she gave a small smile to each one, but then at last the moment they had been anticipating came, and she found herself face-to-face with the Countess of Bawton, the lady who had so pointedly snubbed her at Langford church.

Augustine’s voice was sweet. “Allow me to present you to the Countess of Bawton. Lady Elizabeth, this is Laura, Lady Grenville.”

“How do you do, Lady Grenville.” The crowlike voice was cold, the tone calculated to distance the recipient.

“How do you do, Lady Elizabeth.” Laura sensed the room closing in, the faces eager to savor the confrontation between their senior member and the upstart mistress of King’s Cliff.

The countess’s smile was cool. “Do tell us how long you have known Sir Nicholas, my dear; we’re all simply
dying
to know all about it.”

“I met him on the first of March this year, Lady Elizabeth.”

“Indeed? So short a time. How very intriguing. One does not often encounter such
—er, haste, does one?”

“Doesn’t one?”

“Why no, surely it is more usual for both parties to be acquainted over a number of years before taking their vows.”

“How very dull a picture you paint, Lady Elizabeth.”

“I paint a proper picture, my lady.”

“It is still very dull.”

Glances were exchanged now, and Laura knew that they did not like her impertinent attitude.

“You are entitled to your opinion, of course,” murmured the countess, her fan tapping her lips for a moment as she pondered her next move, “as I am entitled to mine. The circumstances of your nuptials are of course very unusual
—very romantic, but also unworthy.”

“Unworthy?”

“What else is it but unworthy to the name of love to rush so precipitously into wedlock? You know the saying
—marry in haste, repent at leisure.”

“Do you speak from experience, Lady Elizabeth?”

The room was very quiet now. The countess’s lips were pursed into a rosebud, albeit a withered one. “My dear Lady Grenville,” she said at last, “you simply must show us your wedding gown. That is one of the delights of meeting a new bride, inspecting her wedding toggery. Do show us yours, my dear.”

“I am wearing it.”

The countess’s nose positively twitched with disdain as she surveyed the sprigged muslin.
“That
is your wedding gown?” she asked faintly.

“Oh, come now, you know as well as I do, Lady Elizabeth, that precipitous haste such as was involved in my marriage would of necessity preclude the acquisition of elegant attire. None of the dressmakers I have ever frequented had such garments immediately to hand, but then maybe out here in the wilds of Somerset things are different. Oh, how quaint, how very provincial that you should believe I would be able to instantly acquire a dazzling creation from some Venetian
couturiere
.
”
Laura gave a short, vaguely amused laugh. “I declare I am tolerably diverted. And now, if you will excuse me, I will leave you all to scratch my character to your hearts content.”

The numbed silence was broken by the sound of Laura’s footsteps as she swept regally from the scene of battle.

The countess was very pale, weakly putting out a hand to a neighbor for support. “What a very
—disagreeable woman,” she muttered faintly, reaching for her sal volatile.

Augustine trembled from head to toe. This had not gone at all as she had planned, for the biters were themselves bitten! Nicholas, should hear of this; he would hear every detail of his wife’s disgraceful conduct! But for the moment Augustine must consolidate opinion to her side. “You see what I must endure?” she asked them all. “She is quite beyond all polite society!”

“My dear,” said the countess, recovering a little, “she is too low to be commented upon.”

* * *

Laura did not return to her room, but sent Hawkins hurrying to the stables to see that a horse was saddled for her immediately. She felt choked with emotion now that she had faced the ladies, and the icy calm left her, the resultant void being filled with a fierce desire to escape from the house, to hide herself away somewhere and weep in private. There was no privacy here…
.

She waited impatiently in the vestibule, and the moment she heard the horse being brought around, she hurried out and down the steps. The footmen, postilions, and coachmen waiting by the line of carriages that had conveyed the ladies to the house, watched in amazement as the new Lady Grenville hitched up her muslin skirts to mount the horse. With an inordinate display of dainty ankles and petticoats, she turned the horse toward the park, urging it faster and faster until its hooves drummed as it galloped to Langford Woods.

Her hair was snatched from its pins, but she did not care. Nor did she care that her progress had been witnessed not only by the visiting servants but also by the shocked ladies from the windows of the red saloon. Such was the tumult of emotion released in her now that she thought only of escape into some sort of oblivion for a while. The woods were cool and fresh, and the leaves so thick overhead that the sunlight did not penetrate them. On and on she rode, going further than she had ever ridden before, and at last she allowed the sweating horse to slacken its pace.

She looked around to find herself in a clearing she did not know, and slowly she dismounted, dropping the reins and leaning her forehead against the horse’s damp neck for a moment. Nearby there was a mossy bank, a secret place overhung with low, protecting sycamores. She sat down on the soft moss, drawing her knees up and bowing her face as she allowed the tears to come at last. They were tears of rage and humiliation, of frustration and unhappiness, and beyond them the ever-present tears caused by her hopeless love for Nicholas Grenville.

A bird fluttered in a tree, the horse’s ears twitched nervously to and fro, and then a jay burst chattering from the branches, dipping so low in flight that it almost touched the horse. Startled, the horse’s head came sharply up and in a moment it was gone, bolting into the relative security of the woods and leaving Laura lost and alone.

She closed her eyes in misery, for now her day was complete. Having flown defiantly in the face of criticism and propriety, she would now be reduced to walking ignominiously back to King’s Cliff and the undoubted storm that awaited her, for by now Nicholas would have been informed of his wife’s disgraceful conduct in polite society.

Someone was calling her nearby. “Laura?” It was a man.

Horrified, she searched for her handkerchief, but she could not lift her eyes to look at him. “How could any woman be indifferent to you, least of all me, for I have reason to be so grateful to you.”

“I don’t want your damned gratitude!”

“I know. I also know that what I feel for you cannot be compared with the feeling I have for the man who is my husband. I am being honest with you, Daniel. I find you very attractive, both as a man and as a friend, and it would not be at all displeasing to have you make love to me.”

“Then let me make love to you,” he whispered, his eyes warm and dark as he pushed her gently back on the moss, leaning over her, his lips only inches from hers. “Let me love you as I know you were meant to be loved, my dearest Laura, my love…
.
”

She closed her eyes as he kissed her, but the darkness only brought Nicholas to her. It was Nicholas she held in that moment, and it would always be Nicholas. She pressed her hands against Daniel’s chest. “No,” she said, gently but firmly. “No, Daniel, for it is wrong, both to myself and most of all to you. You would always be second, all the time, and in the end you would not be able to accept that. So I will not let it happen; I will not give in to feelings which I admit to be there when you kiss me. It would be so easy now to turn to you, for that way I would salve my pride and would know the sweetness of being desired, but you deserve better than that, Daniel. Much better.”

Do I deserve better? Do I deserve anything at all for the way I have conducted myself of late? I have allowed lie and innuendo to thrust between you and Nicholas when I could have prevented it…
.
He looked down into her lovely, flushed face, and saw that her love for Nicholas was unshakable. Gentle wooing and the burning desire of his own love would not win her; it would take a moment of the deepest hurt to her, an undeniable realization that she was once and for all rejected by the man she loved. That moment had not come yet, but it would, and then she would turn to the love Daniel Tregarron offered, to the love she already half acknowledged and he had tasted in her kiss.