Vicar's Daughter to Viscount's Lady (7 page)

‘How awful. I cannot imagine being at odds with Lina and Meg. And you were both very young—if only you had been reconciled later.’ How strange of Rafe. Surely he would have welcomed a brother’s help with the country estate he seemed not to have cared for? Without thinking, Bella put her hand over Elliott’s. It was stiff and unresponsive and she lifted her own away, feeling she had erred.

‘It was doubtless good for me, as things turned out. I was forced back on my own small inherited estate. I learned to run that and how to invest wisely. Then I turned to speculation—mines, canals, housing—and found I had the knack for it. Rafe felt I dabbled perilously close to trade for one of our class and made that clear whenever our paths crossed in Town.’

‘Rafe seemed unused to rural life,’ Bella murmured. ‘He was out of place in the country, I thought.’ Elliott made no response, so she blundered on, ‘I expect he was much happier in Town. He was so sophisticated in our little village. He seemed to be polished, somehow, like a gemstone, all hard glitter.’
Stop talking about him. I don’t want to remember, Elliott does not want to hear this.

She had been nervous at the thought of London society. Then Rafe had told her that she made rustication in the sticks bearable, that she would convert him to country living, to the fresh purity of the simple life, and she had believed him and been comforted. Now she saw his lies like layer after layer of deceit.

‘Oh, yes, Rafe was polished. You will find that I am less so. Less polished, more direct. I belong to the Corinthian set—sportsmen. I box, I drive, I race. I attend prize fights.’ That explained the lean, hard look of him. ‘Do you find the thought of those kind of activities distasteful?’ Bella shook her head. If truth be told, she found the idea rather exciting. The picture of Elliott, stripped to the waist, fists raised, made her pulse race.

‘And perhaps I am even more demanding than he was.’ She was unsure how to respond to that—was it a threat or a warning? ‘Here we are at Mr Lewisham’s offices.’

Bella leaned back against the squabs and stared rather blankly at the passing countryside. Her heart still felt hollow, as though Rafe, wrenching himself from it with his harsh words, had left it wounded. But now his face was becoming mercifully blurred with Elliott’s; his voice was lost in the other man’s. She wished she could
tell Elliott everything, bring herself to talk about that dreadful afternoon in the tithe barn, tell him what Rafe had said and done and how she had felt. But she must hide her deepest feelings from his brother, who had his loss to contend with. Elliott clearly knew how badly Rafe had let her down, but however much Elliott might have been estranged from Rafe, he had wanted to make peace, she was sure. How could she tell him how foul his brother had really been to her?

And, besides, he did not need the fact that she was plain and naïve and unsophisticated reinforcing. Rafe had made that clear; Elliott had eyes, too.

She sat up straighter and tried to take an intelligent interest in the scene outside. It appeared they grew a great deal of fruit, hereabouts. She saved that observation up to make conversation later. A lady discussed neutral subjects of interest and she very much doubted that she had as many of those as a viscountess ought to be able to muster.

It would help if she did not keep thinking about those piles of clothes. Elliott was right, of course, she had to look the part, but even so, he could hardly have been expecting to outfit a wife who did not even bring her own trousseau with her.

‘What is worrying you now?’ Elliott asked, making her jump.

‘How do you know I was worrying?’ she asked to put off answering.

‘Your teeth were caught in your lower lip, and you were frowning. Is there something you want to ask me?’

‘I wanted to thank you for all the lovely clothes.’

‘I told you, it is necessary that you look the part.’ He sounded a little impatient.

‘I know. The gowns and bonnets and so on, I understand about that. But the other things.’ She could feel her cheeks warming. ‘The…undergarments and the nightgowns. I have never had pretty things like that before; it was kind of you to buy those for me.’

Elliott’s mouth twitched, she could see out of the corner of her eye. Bella turned on the seat so she could look at him directly. ‘Why are you smiling? Have I said something amusing?’

‘No, forgive me. It is just that a man really needs no praise for buying things that contribute to his own pleasure.’

The amusement had been replaced by a curve of his lips that reminded her acutely of Rafe, just before he kissed her, and it took a sick moment for his meaning to sink in. The carriage went through a deep cutting in the road and shadow fell into the small space, almost hiding Elliott’s face. It gave her courage to utter the question. ‘You mean you expect a…a real marriage?’ she said all of a rush as they emerged into sunlight again.

‘
A
real marriage as opposed to what, exactly?’ Both Elliott’s dark brows winged upwards.

‘What we will be doing. Or not doing. I mean, we are marrying in the expectation that the baby is a boy, your heir. So we would not need to…to share a bed afterwards. If it was. A boy, I mean. If it is a girl, I can see you would want an heir, so…’ But that was a long time away, she did not need to think about that now.

‘Arabella, are you suggesting that I do not come to your bed until after this baby is born and that if it is a boy that I never do?’ Elliott demanded.

‘Well, yes. I mean, you do not want to marry me because you love me, or anything like that, so…’

Elliott twisted on the seat to face her, but she turned away abruptly and stared out of the window, presenting him with the rim of her new bonnet and what she knew was a pink-flushed cheek.
How did I ever get into this conversation? I am ready to sink…

She heard him draw breath in through his gritted
teeth. ‘Arabella, we are getting married. I am prepared to do my duty by Rafe’s child and by you, but I am not prepared to become a monk in the process!’

His voice deepened to a growl and she turned back, even more flustered by this sign of the temper she had suspected lurked beneath that calm and controlled exterior. ‘Oh! But I thought—but I do not know you!’ And, surely he did not
desire
her? Elliott showed no sign of finishing her sentences now. He sat and watched her flounder, his expression unyielding.

Eventually he said, ‘How long did you know Rafe?’

‘Eight days,’ she confessed.

‘You were constantly in his company? You became intimate in every way, understood him, mind and soul?’

‘Why, no. We could only meet in a clandestine way, snatch an hour here and there. How many couples know each other mind and soul before they marry? I
loved
him. I mean, I thought I loved him. I did not know him at all, of course,’ she added with wrenching honesty.

‘You fell in love with a man you had known for a handful of days, if you add up those snatched hours,’ Elliott said remorselessly. ‘Rafe was complex and complicated, just like any other human being. You could not possibly have thought you knew him any better than you know me.’

‘But I do not love you!’ she threw at him.

‘True.’ Elliott nodded. ‘What was it that so destroyed your judgement, your instinct for danger? Were you were dazzled, desperate, beguiled or seduced?’

‘No! Yes, I mean I was all of those things. But haven’t you a mistress?’ Bella asked rather desperately. She had to know, she realised.

‘No, not just at the moment.’

‘But you could get one,’ she suggested. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
Please take one. Then I will not have the humiliation of my ignorance, my clumsiness. My fear.

It was obviously entirely the wrong thing to say. Elliott looked thunderous. ‘Then you should mind,’ he growled. ‘Why should I in any case, when I will have a wife? As it happens, I believe in marital fidelity.’

‘Then you would want to come to my room.’ Best to be quite clear. ‘Next year, I mean, after the baby is born?’

‘I was rather expecting to do so tomorrow night,’ Elliott said. His voice was dry, but she could hear his temper tightly reined beneath it.

‘
Tomorrow
night?’ Her insides seemed to have become entirely hollow.

‘It is usual on a wedding night to consummate the union.’

‘But you do not love me,’ she protested.
How naïve, this is not some green boy, this is an experienced man who expects to gratify his physical desires. He thinks I have been Rafe’s mistress so I will know what to do. And what if he is just as angry as Rafe was when he realises how inept I am?
And Elliott did not think her pretty. How could he, looking as ill and drawn as she was? So this was duty, as he saw it. No mistress, faithfulness to his inconvenient, unsuitable wife. A nightmare and twenty-four hours to anticipate it in.

‘Love is not a necessity, you know,’ Elliott said, confirming her thoughts. ‘You are not repelled by me?’

She shook her head. No, of course she was not repelled by him. Part of her looked at him and ached
with a very shocking and basic desire to touch him. To be touched by him. He was big and strong and very masculine and she needed to be held and comforted. But that was nothing to do with what a man and woman did in bed. Marital intimacy was quite another thing.

‘Or frightened of me?’ Another shake, a little slower that time. Bella kept her eyes fixed on the reticule she was holding in a death grip. She was terrified, but how could she tell him? The humiliation would be even worse than keeping silent. ‘We will consummate this marriage.’

‘Must we?’ It came out as a whisper.

‘Yes. There is no way I am going to contemplate a sham marriage. This is for the rest of our lives. I am doing my duty, Arabella—I am asking you to do yours.’

He was quite right, of course he was. She understood duty and she understood obligation and she must pay the price. This man was saving her from poverty and shame and her innocent child from all the stigma of its conception. ‘Yes, you are right, of course. You will require an heir if this is not a boy and you are entitled to a proper marriage whatever happens.’ Could she counterfeit whatever was necessary for him to be satisfied with her?

‘I would not force you. Physically, I mean. I would never do that. But I will come to you tomorrow night and we will see what happens.’

‘I will not refuse you,’ she murmured, her fingers still crushing the worn reticule.

‘And you must always tell me if you are indisposed, naturally.’ How calm and unembarrassed he sounded, as though they were discussing whether she could hold a dinner party or accompany him to the races.

‘I do not make excuses,’ Arabella said, trying not to sound reluctant and hearing her own voice, colourless and flat.

‘No, you do not, do you?’ Elliott shifted across into the corner so he could look at her more directly and she made herself meet his gaze, her chin coming up a little. ‘You have little experience of men, I assume.’

‘Very little indeed,’ she agreed. ‘It has not been very successful so far,’ she added with an attempt at a dry little joke.

‘I will have to see what I can do to improve that,’ Elliott said. Mercifully he did not begin to explain just how he would set about it.

He was going to be her husband and he expected to be so, fully. Her brain did not seem to be working very well. Why had she not realised that he would require…
that
? She had known instinctively that there was a flaw with this perfect solution and here it was.

Somehow she must learn to please Elliott as she had not pleased Rafe, she
must.
She kept trying not to think of that, of what it had been like. Afterwards she had thought it had been her fault for being so ignorant, for crying out at the pain, otherwise he would not have risen from their makeshift bed so soon, without holding her, without so much as a caress. Now she tried to tell herself that he had behaved like that because of who he was and it was no fault of hers. But a voice inside hacked away at her confidence.
Repressed, ignorant vicarage girl
, it whispered in Rafe’s voice.
You are frigid…You will never please a man. Stupid, clumsy, plain.

The next day she had hardly seen him, his kisses had been brief, almost brutal. And then, when she had clung
to him, he had turned on her, his words full of angry, acid spite. At first she had not understood, then as the truth had sunk in she had clamped her hands over her ears, trying not to hear. She was a bore in bed, a bore for wanting to cling, a bore for not realising this was all a game to entertain him while he was stuck in this Godforsaken backwater. There had not been one word about her feelings, about her, at all.

Now, her resolution not to think about the act itself could not entirely suppress the thought of those quite shocking nightgowns. Elliott was expecting her to wear one tomorrow. Everything she would be wearing, every day, right down to her skin, was ordered and paid for by him. He owned her and she must do what he said.

A shiver ran down her spine. And he would own her baby, too. Yes, the diamond had a huge flaw in it, she could see it now so clearly. But that was the price she was going to have to pay for the security she and the child needed.

‘Would you like to rest?’ Elliott asked. Thank goodness, he showed no inclination to restart this discussion. He must have decided the matter was closed. Her husband-to-be had spoken. ‘It has been a long day. Stretch out on the seat. There is a rug you can use as a pillow.’

‘Thank you.’ Bella took off her bonnet and lay down. She was tired, now she let herself think about it, but more than that, if she pretended to sleep there would be no danger of any more conversation. Elliott folded the rug for her and she rested her head on it and closed her eyes.
He is kind
, she reminded herself. And honourable. And he will not be satisfied until he bends me absolutely to his will.

But you do not love me.
That whispered protest seemed to echo in his brain. Of course he did not. Gentlemen did not expect love in marriage.
And neither had Rafe.
The words had been on the tip of his tongue, but he had not said them. He could not be so cruel as to remind her of that, not when Arabella looked at him and fixed those wide hazel eyes on his. Why had he not noticed before how clear her eyes were and how lavish the dark lashes?

If it had not been so serious he could have laughed at her innocent assumption that he would marry her in name only. It was not often that he was at a loss for words, Elliott reflected. But this time Arabella had succeeded in silencing him for several seconds.

Women were emotional creatures, he told himself. Yesterday she had been exhausted, she had received a huge shock and she was with child. Just one of those circumstances was enough to make any woman hesitate when faced with a man insisting he share her bed, although, without vanity, he knew himself to be an experienced and skilful lover. Arabella would not be dissatisfied, he vowed. He would be gentle and considerate and not ask too much of her, not for some time yet. But he would go to her bed, put down the marker that he belonged there.

She would do her best to be a good wife, he believed that, although she had so much to learn, not just about him or the household but the entire world of the
ton
and her role as viscountess. But
duty
was obviously a word with meaning to her and she would try and he must help her.

Elliott made himself more comfortable in the corner and watched Arabella’s sleeping face. When she had
blushed, putting colour into her wan cheeks, the effect had been rather charming. Perhaps he should make her blush more often. The thought of how he might achieve that brought a smile to his lips and a pleasant tightening in his groin. Yes, he was looking forward to tomorrow night.

He had felt a brute when he had won that argument, though. And when he had become angry he had the clear impression that she was used to being shouted at. She needed confidence to fulfil her new role and she was not going to get it if he was impatient—in bed or out of it.

At least he had been able to tell her the truth about his lack of a mistress. Keeping a
chère amie
and planning to court Frederica at the same time had seemed inappropriate to him, so he had paid Lucille off two months past. The lack of female companionship had been the least of his problems recently, but now it occurred to him that the dubious charms of celibacy were fast wearing thin.

Elliott crossed his legs, the heat of desire fading to be replaced by a mental image of Arabella regarding him reproachfully over the edge of the bed sheets. Patience was going to be needed, but she would soon become accustomed. It was fortunate that he did not suffer any lack of self-esteem in the bedchamber.

He made himself think of other things. He was beginning to admire Arabella’s courage. He tried to imagine what it would be like to be young, female, pregnant, to find your lover had rejected you and left you all alone. It was not easy for a self-confident, wealthy, privileged male to put himself in those shoes. Then he recalled the days after his father’s death, the
shock of bereavement, the hurt of Rafe’s rejection, the loss of the comfortably familiar future he had naïvely imagined would be his, the insecurity of a small income with no open-handed father to bale him out.

That had been bad, but he’d had his freedom, a small estate, the status of his family name, a man’s lack of constraints, his friends and pastimes. The shock had spurred him to take risks and forge his own, successful, path. But Arabella was a woman with no power and no freedom.

Together they could build a marriage, he felt confident, just so long as he could remain patient and she was open with him.

Arabella stirred in her sleep and he smiled. Yes,
charming
was the word, with those long lashes and her hand tucked under her cheek like a slumbering child. Her lips moved and Elliott leaned closer.

‘No,’ she murmured.
‘No!’

‘Arabella.’

She woke, confused, on a bed that rocked, woken by Rafe, who was dead and who she must fight. She had been dreaming about him, that blissful moment when he had lain his long, hot body over hers, had parted her softness with demanding fingers—and then the nightmare had begun.

‘Arabella, we are home.’ Not Rafe, but Elliott. Safety. Bella rubbed her eyes, remembering and wondering at the relief that filled her when she saw who she was with.

Home.
She swung her feet off the seat and sat up, pushing back her hair. Elliott looked tense. He must be impatient, chasing about the county because of her,
dealing with her fears and her emotions, when he had so much to do here.

Bella reached for her new bonnet and tied the ribbons, managing a smile for him. He stared back, serious, looking as though he was trying to read her mind. ‘This is a lovely house,’ she said, snatching at conversation. ‘I think I will enjoy discovering it and learning about my new home.’

‘You must make what changes you wish,’ Elliott said. ‘I have no sentimental attachments to anything here.’