The Six Month Marriage (20 page)

‘I understand.’ Madeline swallowed her disappointment. ‘In
any case, it is time I returned to our guests.’

Philip made her a bow and then strode out of the room,
Crump following behind.

Madeline gave herself a minute or two to recover. Her
pulse was still fluttering and she walked over to the window to get some air.
Outside, the night was cloudless. Silver stars winked and glittered in the
velvet sky.

“Now you trust yourself to me”. Philip’s words rang in
her ears. He had been talking about the dance, but his words had gone far
deeper than that, because she realised she
had
trusted herself to him.
She had never thought she would trust any man but, impossible as it seemed, she
trusted Philip. Utterly and completely.

But then she reminded herself that she could only trust
him because they were not truly married. If they were really married . . . if
they were really married, what then?

It was useless to think about it. They were not really
married, and they never would be. That thought, instead of filling her with
relief, gave her pain.

She shook her head. It was nonsensical. How could it
give her pain?

She did not know. But it did.

She turned away from the window. It was time for her to
return to her guests. She had already been away too long.

Going back into the ballroom she was soon accosted by
Stuart.

‘Madeline! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ he
exclaimed. ‘I want to claim your hand for the next dance.’

‘I’ve already danced with you twice,’ Madeline reminded
him.

‘And why shouldn’t you make it three? You’re a married
woman, not a young girl, after all.’

‘There are other young ladies . . . ’

‘They have all found partners.’

He was looking at her so hopefully that at last she
relented. ‘Very well.’

He beamed in reply and offered her his arm.

‘But this must be the last time,’ she said.

‘Not
again!’ Madeline exclaimed involuntarily as, looking up from her
escritoire
,
she saw Stuart riding up to the house. In the week since the ball he had
visited the Manor three times, and this was his fourth. It was not that she did
not like him. He was amusing company and a good conversationalist. But he paid
her too many compliments, he held on to her hand rather too long when he kissed
it, and he made her feel generally ill at ease.

‘Not again?’ asked Philip from the doorway.

Madeline turned with a start. She had not heard him
enter the drawing-room.

She flushed slightly. She did not want Philip to think
that she did not welcome his cousin, or indeed any of his friends and
relatives. It was just that there seemed to be something so particular about
Stuart’s attentions. Although she was probably imagining it, she told herself.
Being unused to society she did not know how dapper young gentlemen usually
behaved.

‘Who is it this time?’ asked Philip, walking into the
room. ‘Clarissa?’

‘Not at all,’ said Madeline. ‘I’m always pleased to see
Clarissa.’

‘Then who . . . ?’ Philip began as he walked over to the
window; then saw who it was for himself. ‘Ah. Stuart,’ he said.

Madeline saw him tense. Philip was a hospitable host,
but Stuart had taken to visiting the Manor on some pretext or other almost
every day, and staying for hours when he called. He had a lot of time on his
hands, no doubt, but his behaviour was thoughtless nonetheless.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll take him into the study. I
know you have a lot to do.’

In fact, the ball being over, Madeline had much less to
do than previously, but she suspected that Philip wanted a quiet word with his
cousin. She guessed he was going to suggest, tactfully, that Stuart should give
them some warning of his visits in future rather than just turning up
unexpectedly every other day. So she did not remonstrate, and settled herself
to writing her letters: one to Lady Weatherby and the other to Emma, telling them
all about the ball.

Philip
met Stuart outside in the hall and greeted him warmly, then suggested they
retire to his study.

‘Oh!’ Stuart looked put out. ‘Madeline not at home? I
just thought I’d call to pay my respects.’

‘Later,’ said Philip, polite but firm.

When he saw that Stuart was about to protest, his face
took on a stern expression and Stuart raised his hand to his neck, nervously
loosening his cravat. Then he accepted Philip’s invitation to join him in the
study, even though it was clear he did not relish the interview, and Philip
guessed that Stuart had expected to find Madeline alone.

‘Now,’ said Philip, sitting on the edge of his desk and
folding his arms across his chest as Stuart settled himself in a Hepplewhite
chair, ‘I think you’d better tell me what this is all about.’

Stuart looked surprised. ‘I’m not sure I know what you
mean.’

‘Paying court to Lady Pemberton. That’s what I mean.’

‘Paying court? That’s a strange way of putting it,’ said
Stuart with a nervous smile.

‘Dancing with her three times at the ball. Coming to the
house nearly every day on some pretext or other and then paying her the most
marked attention. Telling her her eyes are as deep as forest pools and her lips
are as pink as a rose. And yes, I heard that,’ he said as he saw Stuart’s
startled expression. ‘If you want to pay extravagant compliments to married
ladies I suggest you make sure their husbands are not within hearing distance
first.’

‘If I didn’t know better I’d think you were jealous,’
Stuart remarked, with a clumsy attempt at humour.

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ But even as he said it Philip had
a flash of self-knowledge, and no matter how ridiculous it seemed he realised
that he
was
jealous. The thought of Madeline being courted by Stuart
made his blood boil. He had watched his cousin’s clumsy attempts to win
Madeline’s favour with distaste, a distaste made all the stronger by seeing
Madeline’s obvious embarrassment, but he had told himself that what he felt was
not jealousy, it was concern for Madeline’s happiness. But he could no longer
deny it. It was the green-eyed monster.

To have her monopolised by Fitzgrey had been bad enough,
but to have her pursued by Stuart, of all people. A young puppy without any of
the qualities she needed to make her happy. He ignored the fact that, had
Stuart possessed every virtue, he would have felt just the same.

‘I agree,’ said Stuart. ‘It is ridiculous. After all,
why should you feel jealous when Madeline is not your wife?’

‘What?’ Philip fixed a penetrating glance on Stuart and
pushed himself away from the desk until he stood towering over the young man. ‘What
do you mean, Madeline is not my wife?’

‘Oh, you’ve no need to worry,’ said Stuart evenly, but
pressing himself against the back of his chair nonetheless. Philip when roused
was a magnificent sight, and clearly not one he had any wish to experience at
closer quarters. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

‘What are you talking about?’ demanded Philip.

‘You and Madeline. You’re not married at all – at least
not in any real sense of the word. Your marriage is a sham to get round your
father’s will. You see, I know all about it.’

Philip’s glance was hard. ‘Indeed.’

Stuart quaked as he looked at Philip’s grim face but
then he recovered his nerve and continued. ‘Yes. Indeed. You see, Aunt Honoria
told me everything. She said –’

‘Ah! Aunt Honoria.’ Philip’s mouth set in a line. ‘I
suspected she was behind it.’

‘It was Aunt Honoria who told me the marriage was a
masquerade, designed to let you collect your fortune, if that’s what you mean,’
said Stuart. ‘I can’t say I blame you, and neither does she. There’s a lot of
money at stake, and it would be stupid to let it go to waste.’

‘I don’t know what Aunt Honoria told you,’ said Philip, ‘but
whatever it was, I suggest you forget it. Madeline and I are man and wife, and
–’

‘Oh, no, that won’t wash,’ said Stuart, pursing his lips
and shaking his head. ‘You see, I saw the letter.’

‘Letter?’ Philip demanded. ‘What letter?’

‘The letter you wrote to Aunt Honoria before you went to
visit her, telling her all about it. How you wanted to marry Letitia, but if
you did so you’d have to forfeit the fortune. How Mr Murgo’d come up with the
idea of you making a temporary marriage, and how you’d married Madeline in
order to inherit the fortune. And how, at the end of six months - once you’d
got your hands on the money - you intended to have the marriage annulled and
marry Letitia.’

Philip sat back on his desk. ‘She showed you the letter.
I never expected that.’ His eyes became hard again. ‘But that doesn’t mean you
can come here making love to Madeline. What I do is my business; what Madeline
does is hers. It has nothing to do with you.’

‘Oh, but it does. You see, I intend to marry Madeline -
once your six months is up.’

‘You
what
?!’ Philip stood up, towering over his
cousin once more.

Stuart almost stood up, but then he seemed to think
better of it and remained seated.

‘Really, Philip,’ he said, his voice holding a peevish
edge, ‘it’s not like you to play dog in the manger. You don’t want Madeline,
but you’re determined I shouldn’t have her either. I can’t for the life of me
see why.’

‘Aunt Honoria has a lot to answer for,’ said Philip
between gritted teeth. ‘What did she mean by it?’

‘Come, come, Philip. That’s obvious enough. She was
trying to help.’

‘Help! Aunt Honoria doesn’t want to help. She wants to
make mischief.’

‘No.’ Stuart shook his head. ‘There you’re wrong. She’s
worried about Madeline. She told me so herself. Once the marriage is annulled
Madeline will have nothing left.’

‘She’ll have a handsome house and an even more handsome
annuity,’ said Philip, his eyes flaring.

‘But that won’t do for a woman as young as Madeline. She’ll
want a husband. A proper home. Children. A life.’

‘Take care, Stuart, you’re asking for trouble!’ said
Philip, surprising himself by the strength of his feelings. ‘You come into my
house, make love to my wife, and then proceed to lecture me on Madeline’s
future . . . ’

‘And why shouldn’t she have a future?’ demanded Stuart. ‘And
why shouldn’t that future be with me? I’m young. Personable. With no nasty
habits. I’m rich enough, good looking enough. And Madeline likes me.’

‘Oh does she?’ Philip’s voice was threatening.

‘Yes. She’s always pleasant to me when I come here.’

‘Madeline is a lady,’ said Philip icily. ‘She’s pleasant
to everyone.’

‘Maybe that’s so,’ retorted Stuart. ‘But she’s getting
used to me. And in a few short months, when your marriage is annulled, why
shouldn’t she start to think of me as a husband?’

‘You can say this, sitting here, in my house, about my
wife?’ demanded Philip.

‘I can say it, sitting here, in your house, about your
pretend
wife,’ returned Stuart. ‘If you loved her I wouldn’t dream of saying these
things and you know it. Besides, if you loved her, there wouldn’t be any point.
But that isn’t the case. What is the case is that Madeline will soon need a
husband; and I am in need of a wife. She is young, beautiful, intelligent, and
when you have made your handsome settlement on her she will also be rich.’

‘And now you have said enough. I will not abandon
Madeline to a fortune hunter. I want you out of this house right now.’ He
pulled the bell. ‘Ah, Crump,’ he said when the butler answered the bell. ‘Mr
Letts is leaving. Be so good as to show him out.’

Stuart gave him a glowering look but he had no choice.
With a last angry glare at Philip he left the room.

And why did I behave like that?
Philip asked himself as he strode over to the window.
Stuart
didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. And as for me accusing him of being a
fortune hunter, he’s nothing of the kind. And what’s more, I know it.

But he knew why he had behaved like that. Underneath, he
knew. And what’s more, he had known for some time. It was simply that he hadn’t
wanted to admit it. But now he could deny it no longer.

He was in love with Madeline.

Yes. He was in love with her.

As he thought over the time they had spent together he
realised he loved everything about her: her delectable curves; her elfin face;
the way tiny hairs escaped from her chignon at the base of her neck, tempting
him to kiss her soft white skin.

And more. So much more.

Her physical beauty, her innocently tantalising
mannerisms, were a part of what he felt for her, but they were nowhere near the
whole. Her courage and her resilience, her optimism and her determination - if
her beauty aroused his admiration, it was these qualities that aroused his
respect. And the depth and the complexity of her character; these were the
things that bound him to her.