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Authors: Christine Merrill

Tags: #Historical, #Fiction, #Romance

BOOK: Two Wrongs Make a Marriage
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‘As long as you stay, you are married. But when you stray?’ The earl shrugged again. ‘My brother has gone through the ceremony, of course. And some might call it more real than yours was. But you have not seen the way he treats his wife. The poor thing is little more than a cipher, trailing after him when he needs to seem respectable. But she is forgotten at home for the rest of the time, alone, childless and forced to turn a blind eye to his villainy.’

‘Childless,’ Jack said, as a wisp of an idea began to form in a dark corner of his brain. Then he focused on Spayne again. ‘You are right, in any case. Mrs De Warde is a fine example of what I would not wish on any woman.’ He brightened a little. ‘In comparison, Thea is lucky to have me.’ It was not as if he was some seducing rake, should he succeed with her. Her child would at least appear legitimate. It was more than his own father had left for him.

‘And it is not as if I will not take care of the girl and her offspring should anything unexpected occur,’ Spayne reminded him. ‘I should think, when she marries again after you are gone, that a maidenhead on a widow would be much harder to explain than the absence of one.’

‘I would probably be doing her a service by dispensing with it and saving her the awkward explanations, but, no. I cannot.’ And where had that last come from? Kenton, of course. Diddling with the pretty was exactly what Jack had planned to do when he had chosen her. And now he could not bring himself to do it. ‘Damn you, Spayne. I fear you have given me scruples.’

The earl laughed. ‘You speak of it as though it were a disease, my boy. As if I have given you measles along with a name.’

‘It might as well be. Unless the woman proves more willing than she has, I feel a moral obligation not to act on my desires, despite what the physical side of me might feel.’ He glared at the earl again. ‘Hence the bees. I am stuck with an arm up to the shoulder in the hive, the honey is on my fingers and I do not dare stick them in my mouth. Damn you, and damn the woman as well for being as sweet as she is.’

Spayne laughed at him, showing no mercy whatsoever for his difficulties. ‘Mark my words, boy. The time will come soon enough when the prospect of getting stung will not be enough to stop you from a taste. And when it does, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Neither of you will come to harm by following your hearts.’

‘Brave words from a man who should know better,’ Jack said bitterly and tossed back the last of his drink. ‘The sooner I am done with this and gone away, the better. Although it is vexing at the moment, in the future I will see that the girl is right to reject me. In the meantime, the safest course will be to keep my hands to myself.’

Chapter Seven

T
he return trip to London was quite different from the outbound trip, with none of the sparring and megrims of the day before. Spayne saw them off after a hearty breakfast with a promise to follow as soon as they could assure him of a real need for his presence, since he refused, even now, to spend any more time than was necessary in the same town with his brother.

But this left Thea alone with her husband. And despite the tenderness of the previous evening, there existed a kind of wary silence between them as though neither could decide upon the next move. At least today he was not whistling, apparently having decided to fall back on the part of Kenton so as not to provoke her.

In turn, she chose to behave as she thought Lady Kenton would, polite and reserved, receiving his courtesies as though they were sincere and responding to them with respect. It made the trip easier, as well as her re-introduction to the servants at the Kenton town house. It was clear that they held their master, if he was such, in a sort of awe. He might as well have been the Duke of Wellington, for the scraping and bowing of the footman, the rigid posture of the butler, round-eyed looks he got from the matronly housekeeper and the flounced skirts and pouting lips of the housemaids, which he magnanimously ignored.

She would have thought that, if a common actor was given such utter devotion from a gaggle of young ladies, he’d have taken advantage and worked it to his own ends. But from the disappointed looks on some of the faces, it was clear that he had no dalliances, no favourites, no scandals, and had done nothing to render his image any less shiny.

It seemed he meant to play Kenton as the sort of honourable gentleman that one hoped for but seldom saw in true society.

Then she remembered the way he had treated her on the previous two evenings. She had been convinced he was nothing more than Jack Briggs, once the bedroom door had closed and the facade could be dropped. And yet, though she would hardly call him polite, she had felt no fear for her virtue, or the sense that he might try to trick her into an intimacy she did not welcome. While not always to her liking, his actions were at least totally sincere.

But for the moment, he was being Kenton. And Kenton disappeared into his study, once they were through with the formalities. It was not her job to question what her husband did with his time, if he did not choose to spend it with her. He had requested that his man of business be sent for and was assured that the previous day’s mail awaited him on his desk, just as he liked it. It appeared that spinning wild tales of India in London ballrooms was only a facet of what his life had become since Spayne had found him. The rest, though mundane, was carried out with the same care and diligence.

And she had her job to do as well. She gave a few hurried instructions to the cook and housekeeper about dinner and a warning that there would be plans for a ball. Then she retired to the grand rooms provided for her use, which adjoined the master’s bedroom.

Once there, she found that her maid, Polly, had followed from her old home and was laying out a familiar day dress on the unfamiliar counterpane. It was a change she should have welcomed. Had she not been waiting for years to be truly out from under the roof of her parents, starting a new life in a house of her own? But if that was true, then why did she feel something not unlike vertigo, as though her whole life had slipped violently to one side, trying to throw her off balance? And why was a tear rolling down her cheek?

Without a word, the maid offered her a handkerchief. Thea returned a wet smile of gratitude. ‘I do not know what’s come over me.’

‘Nothing to fear, your ladyship.’ Polly gave a little grin as she said the carefully rehearsed honorific, which was another reminder that she was no longer Miss Cynthia Banester. ‘It comes over brides sometimes like this. At least my sisters say so, for they are both out of the house and properly married. It is a very big change, after all.’

‘You have no idea,’ Thea said.

‘Might I suggest a visit with your mother? It’ll be a great comfort.’

Comfort was the last thing she imagined when speaking with Antonia. Over the years, she had spent more time soothing her mother’s nerves than receiving comfort. But she surprised herself by saying, ‘That would be nice.’ And once she decided upon going, it did seem like the only answer. In the carriage, she found her emotions even more tumultuous than they had been at Kenton House. By the time she reached her parents’ doorstep, she was touching her face regularly with the damp handkerchief. And at the first sight of her female parent, Thea could not help herself. She launched herself into her mother’s arms, weeping like an infant with a wail of ‘Mother’.

‘My dear,’ the woman responded, gathering her close. For all her foolishness over some things, her affection was genuine and Thea welcomed it now. ‘Whatever is the matter? And why are you not on your honeymoon? I did not expect to see you back in London for some weeks.’

‘Honeymoon.’ She let out a fresh wail, trying to remind herself that the lack of such had been more of a narrow escape than a denial of reward. ‘There will be no honeymoon. Because there is no marriage. My husband is not truly Kenton.’

‘I do not understand. Is he cruel? Did he hurt you?’ Her mother pushed her away, searching her face and arms for signs of abuse.

Thea shook her head. ‘He is not even real. He is an actor, pretending to be a gentleman.’

She felt her mother stiffen and glance hurriedly around the hall to be sure that they had not been overheard. Then she pulled Thea into the drawing room and shut the door.

‘We are alone. Now quickly, tell me all. What did Spayne have to say on the matter? Or did you not go to his house as you were planning?’

‘He knew all along. It is terribly complicated.’

‘Well, then, there is nothing to worry about.’ She could feel her mother slump in relief. ‘If Spayne acknowledges him, then who will dare to doubt? And if we know it? What is a little secret between families?’

‘You do not mean to tell me that you approve?’ Thea pushed away from her. It was just the sort of morally suspect advice she should have expected from her mother.

‘It is simply that I admire a part well played,’ her mother said with no little awe. ‘I never would have suspected him. And I, of all people, should be able to spot a false coin. He acts as grand as any viscount of my acquaintance, and I have known a good number. Although he is more personable and more handsome than most,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘But those are hardly faults, my dove.’

‘He tricked me,’ Thea said indignantly. ‘He has no money and no name.’

‘Neither do you,’ her mother replied. ‘I believe you were perpetrating a similar trick upon him when you forced him to offer for you.’

‘It was not the same at all,’ Thea insisted. ‘He did this for money. And I was trying to save my family’s honour.’

‘I really do not know why you bother, little one,’ her mother said, honestly puzzled. ‘This is but a temporary annoyance, I am sure. We will come right, one way or the other. If all else fails, I will take to the stage again.’

‘Nooooo.’ It was an old threat and seemed to return, like a nightmare, whenever things looked darkest. ‘You will ruin me, Mother. No decent man would marry the daughter of an actress.’

‘You are married already,’ her mother reminded her. ‘Therefore it is no longer an issue. Now tell me...’ she leaned closer ‘...is the mock Lord Kenton as much a stallion as he appears? Or is that an act as well?’

‘Mother!’ She looked around, worried, even in the privacy of her old home, that someone might have heard the question.

Her mother scoffed. ‘You needn’t fuss so. Now that you are a married woman, you are allowed to be more candid about such things. You are still so skittish, one would think...’ A cloud of suspicion crossed her face. ‘You are still acting like a schoolgirl, Cynthia. Tell me you did not deny your husband his marital rights?’ Her mother was looking at her in shock, her tone outraged. It almost made Thea feel that she had done something wrong.

‘He is not my husband, Mother,’ she said emphatically.

‘If not he, then who?’

‘No one, I suspect.’ Although she was still not totally sure. ‘There was a ceremony, of course,’ she added doubtfully, ‘but it can hardly be called legal.’

‘And do you expect us to take him before the courts, tell the whole truth and ruin the reputations of everyone involved, including your own?’

There would be no way to sort it out legally without revealing everything. ‘I suppose there is no way that the blame can fall only on Jack,’ she said with a sigh.

‘You are quick to wish that on him. You liked him quite well enough a few days ago.’

‘That was before I knew who he really was,’ she said testily.

‘And every bride, since the beginning of time, has said something similar after the knot was tied. Most of them not as early as you, of course,’ her mother added with a shrug. ‘But all of us, even I, have sometimes looked at the man we married and wondered what in the world possessed us.’

‘You and Father?’

‘Of course,’ her mother said with a surprised smile. ‘The man bartered away everything we owned for a dusty doll with too many arms to be Christian. On the day I realised what he had done, could you blame me for doubting?’ And then she smiled again. ‘But we muddle on, my dear. We all muddle on. A disappointment is not the end of the world. Nor is it the end of the marriage. Sometimes, it is the beginning of true understanding.’

‘And how could that be?’

‘After a few short days of acquaintance, you know your husband for who he truly is.’

‘He is a liar,’ Thea said in disgust.

‘All men are. And not as good at it as they think. We women are forced to look the other way and pretend that we are fooled. But we know the truth. Jack owned his untruths on the very first night.’ Her mother smiled. ‘It is quite an achievement on your part. You unravelled all his secrets while he was still fully dressed. Were you wearing the nightdress I selected for you?’

‘That is immaterial.’ As was the gown, or very nearly. And it reminded Thea that Jack Briggs knew far more about her person than a stranger should. ‘You talk as if you expect me to forgive him.’

Her mother thought for a moment. ‘I expect you to give him a fair hearing. And to pay attention to how he treats you, now that you know the worst.’

‘I do not think he likes me very much,’ Thea admitted, almost in a whisper. It had been easy to dismiss that yesterday, when she’d thought him the worst man in the world. But after last night, she was not sure.

‘Have you given him reason to dislike you?’

Other than denying him her bed? And why was that making her feel so guilty when it was the most sensible decision she could have made? ‘I am often short tempered with him,’ she admitted.

‘Then try to be sweeter,’ her mother said, as though this would solve all.

‘There is no amount of sweetness that will make up for our differences. I suspect he would much rather have married you. He saw you on stage once, but he did not recognise you until I admitted the truth,’ Thea added with more than a little relief.

‘He knows of me?’ her mother said, totally missing the point of the problem.

‘He seemed quite...impressed,’ Thea admitted, remembering the dazed look that had come over Jack as he’d thought of Antonia Knowles.

‘I knew that he was a sweet boy,’ her mother said, pleased again. ‘You should be kind to him, if for that alone.’

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